“What was it going to be?” Her voice is sure and sharp, if the black mare hadn’t noticed her walking down the river’s edge before, she does now. Kota stops some feet away, to rush a stranger seems unwise, even while blindly inserting one’s-self in their affairs with bones (or maybe especially so?). It takes her eyes a moment to adjust to see the twitching, clicking pile of bones strung together at her side.
Her eyes move from the mare’s face to the creature, then to her unfinished design lying dead in the moss. She bends to sniff the ground, almost idly and for lack of knowing what to do next. She’s not sure why she doesn’t want to simply walk away, bid the stranger a friendly goodbye and move along. Perhaps she likes to explore the lines between healing and death – she does play in this realm of magic often, there is a reaper out there that probably curses her name. She feeds him oft enough too though, letting go of lives in her possession because sometimes bringing someone's body back isn’t doing anyone any favors. Who let her decide? She doesn’t ask.
Kota
those great whites,
they have big teeth
@[violence] eh, lemme know if you want a tag or no
<3
