i leave you my dust, and dry bones;

[Osyva]

ooc: @Straia - so sorry for the wait<3 

Vultures do not come, but rather a raven. The black bird seems strange amidst the muted grays, and twinkling yellows that play along the dewy grass. Even stranger still is the raven when it shifts into a painted mare. Osyva snorts warily, and looks around to see if anyone else had witnessed the transformation that had just taken place before her.  Magic. Alas, there is no one. No one to reaffirm what she has seen, save the black feather crown the other wears round her ears. This magic is different though. This magic she can see; not like the sudden, invisible pop that had stolen her father from right before her eyes. There is comfort in this thought, but not enough to keep her tail from swishing in sign of her discomfort. Surprisingly, this is all she allows to escape before she manages to collect herself again. She returns a gentle nod to the painted mare as the distance closes between them. “Osyva.” she offers in a voice filled with new resolve. No longer would she be the small, helpless filly that missed her father, and feared magic. At least, not on the outside. “Tell me about your home?”she asks with the faintest of smiles across her gray lips, because they both know why they are here. No need for idle talk, for soon the sun would burn off the coolness of the morning, and the flies would come to gnaw at their skin.