“ o’ ranger girl , o’ ranger girl , flown too far from y'er nest , ” creaks of old, salt weathered wooden docks signal her approach, her hands playing with some trinket, a compass of some kind it seemed. Out of the shadoes does Kaia appear, smiling her direction most sinisterly, oozing black spread down the corner of her peaked lips. Her hair, vibrant as it was, flowed as if she were in water, weightlessly it seemed, her attire clearly of the Bilge but… from an older time.
@justicewinged
“Better to have flown my nest than to died inside it,” the corsair replies, her eyes reflecting the great scrutiny with which she regards the stranger, the spirit. This isn’t the strangest thing she’s seen, this week, let alone in the past year, and it’s kind of old hat at this point.
She straightens. “Spirit you may be but I don’t find myself concerned with those who should not still walk. If only I had silver bolts on my person…”
She approaches still, but seven steps from the woman would she begin circling, like a shark as one chums the waters... pacing to one side the back around one-hundred and eighty degrees , before turning and continuing this semicirclular motion. Golden iris's to place themselves over the woman to see if she were lying about the silver bolts... she wasn't.
" Aye. . . ye've got life left in ya, yet here you stan' bef'r me, the -- spirit, " so she quotes, shaking her head with some amused chuckles escaping those blackened lips. To be referenced to such a lower form of undead was... somewhat funny, but pressing that idea any more would cease to tickle her funnybone.
