Rhina took a moment to drain her cauldron after the contents of it was sufficiently neutralised. She could feel her frustration abating slightly as she collected herself. Of course she didn’t expect something as intricate as necromancy to come quickly to her. What she was surprised about was that a God who controlled death was so accepting of an attempted resurrection. Rhina let out a laugh. “Everything. The entire process is a problem, but I’m fine. I’ll manage it eventually I’m a witch after all.”
"May I ask why you see fit to undo our work?" Moira's head cocked to the side a bit, like a bird's. A crow's. Some dark carrion bird with glittering eyes. "There are better ways to gain a minion. Is this love? Or are you merely teasing eternity to see what its fangs look like when bared?"
Moira knew more of death than any being alive. But how it hurt and why it hurt was completely lost on her. Her attachments were a mystery to herself and others' were even stranger. "What do you want, Rhina Tempest?"













