Andalusia

SHE'S MY COWBOY
EDIT: Name is Andalusia Laverre
Don't have a name for her yet, but she's a drifter. She just showed up in Desara one day without explanation, and no one questioned her. It was like she was born to be there- in a matter of hours, she became another one of the locals.
She's not a quiet person by any means, but sometimes when she thinks no one's looking, she can be caught with a faraway look in her eyes. It's then that you remember she came here on the wind, and at any moment, she could be swept away by it again. She has scars running up from her left palm to her shoulder, her nose is crooked from a life of fighting, she only has half a pinkie on her right hand, and burns cover her back and wrap around her chest. She doesn't mind talking about her scars- and she has many- but it's doubtful any of the stories she spins are true. But she's here for a good time not a long one, as she's quick to point out, so why not have another glass? Another round? It's on her. And then she turns the conversation around again, and by your third drink you forgot all about why you were so worried about her in the first place.
-Considering how much she frequents the taverns, it comes to a surprise for most she's not actually an alcoholic. She just likes the atmosphere and meeting new people.
-She has a bit of a Spanish accent to her voice, but it's not present when she sings. Then, her voice is crooning and soft, and while her range isn't that great, she can can sing the heck out of the few notes she can hit.
-She has two humongous dogs named Petrichor (Peter) and Scout. Sometimes she'll bring them to town with her, but mostly they stay on her ranch in the Ruins. She also has a toad named Jeremiah, and she'll carry him around in her breast pocket or on her shoulder.
-Speaking of her ranch, she never named it; she just calls it the Ranch. She supplies most of the clan's meat, and doesn't understand why the Court doesn't use the land around Okorra (the ruins) anymore. People have tried to warn her about dark things lurking in the shadows, but she brushes it off as superstition and keeps on living there. She tried to start growing crops once, but just as the field sprouted, every plant died overnight and the ground she had tilled was covered in knee-high, swaying, golden grasses. She tried again and again, but it was the same result every time. Eventually she gave up, claiming she just didn't have a green thumb, but deep down she knows something's wrong. Only the golden grass can survive in Okorra; everything else will fade, given enough time.
-What one takes from Okorra, one must give. She does not yet know this, but she will learn. Soon.

Experimental Sehna stuff--
"This world never deserved you, Sehna, but the afterlife deserves you even less." Goshawk's voice had taken on a strange quality as it broke the silence between them. Sehna glanced down at him through the corner of her eye, though she wasn't fully paying attention.

"Gos, what are you talking about?"

"I'm saying now isn't your time. You shouldn't be dying like this."

Sehna furrowed her brows together. "I'm not exactly excited for me to die either, but I've accepted it. You should too. There's nothing I can do," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

"But what if there was something I could do, Sehna?" Goshawk sprung to his feet, his eyes alight with a manic gleam. "You aren't dead yet. I can still fix this." He turned away from her, but she could still hear him muttering something. Sehna's mouth turned down into a slight frown as she said, "How? Aren't you just another piece of this dream?"

She tried to push herself up, but her muscles weren't working. The sun was almost completely set. She would die any second now. Why had Goshawk changed so suddenly? This wasn't supposed to be happening.

Goshawk turned back to her, but his eyes were... different. A trick of light had made them appear to glow earlier, but this was something else entirely. Now his eyes were a shifting, swirling molten gold that streamed light. It wasn't natural, and it scared Sehna.