Life Was A Blur Due To Her Lifestyle. Despite Always Going For The Highest Bounties With A Famous Catchphrase

Life was a blur due to her lifestyle. Despite always going for the highest bounties with a famous catchphrase of ‘I don't get out of bed for less than $3000’ (which was only partly true), she wasn't collecting the money to settle. Most of the time she didn't even sleep in hotels, saloons but out in the desert instead. Money was spent spoiling her horse (Akhal Teke being a high maintenance breed) with quality grains, good equipment, if she liked something she bought or commissioned it and simply gave away what wasn't needed. Tipping mariachis, paying more than supposed when she felt the business owner is struggling, generously paying prostitutes even if she didn't sleep with them; acts of kindness everywhere. And it was natural to do so: those people needed money and she could always hunt down an another criminal to get paid a small fortune.

Karma was always fascinated by heartbeat, how a simple muscle kept someone alive, how the pulse spiked in certain situations. She loved to listen, to kiss and nibble at pulse points, as time went on stronger the strange craving became. His heart sounded like thunder, like a hundred men marching and she was lost in the sensation, only realizing what transpired when it was quiet. Too quiet. She had taken his life without intent and a weapon; her horror only heightening upon feeling her previously stiff joints work like a freshly greased machine.

She doesn't remember when she stopped aging. Doesn't remember when the shadows' whisper became audible words. When she started seeing things no human eye could. She only knows when her human time is about to end because she is cursed with a feeling of withering away alive, an unquenchable famine soothed only by an another life. It is usually drained by prolonged physical contact or through a deep emotional bond, the latter getting more rare since Karma figured out it also counts.

She can take by her usual means, it took a while to master. While otherwise immortal, she still can be wounded, the healing can be sped up by the process she reserves as last resort, the ability so strong to be able to fully restore her vitality even if the wound is fatal. Karma also can give. She doesn't fully understand how her curse sometimes can act as a gift, healing others similar way she would've taken their life.

Because of her bond with Villám, both the curse and the life force she takes is transfered into the horse as well, her weapons also tainted by it. More she was forced to take, more her appearance changed till her hair became bone white, eyes emitting an unsettling light in darkness, lips permanently tinted black. People began to whisper about a legend, an immortal gunslinger haunting certain places even into the 21st century. They say, unlike in the Bible, Death rides an oil black horse.

Karma has been dead in a way since she was accidentally fully given the Blessing of Death when trying to heal her from a deadly illness; one of the most powerful curses from an ancient coven originating from Mesopotamia worshipping Nergal, God of Death, Pestilence and Plague. Karma doesn't have a soul but a perfectly balanced essence between what divinely deemed good and bad. A true neutral. The hollow feeling during her first life was kept at bay by the constant adrenaline, risky behavior and sex. But her time had ran out and getting close to being done, the curse defends itself by hungering for an another life.

With her abilities sharpening, she also began to hunt the harmful supernatural entities as well as humans. Ghosts, ghouls, creatures from folklores; which one of them wouldn't leave when Death herself asked them to? And if they don't, well, her quickdraw only became more faster and lethal with the weapons absorbing her powers. Being around supernatural creatures cause her own features to surface even more: her sclera tainted dark poison green, ability to manipulate and transform into shadows or even the unique ink black and seafoam green decaying mist, move, shoot faster than sound & even curve the shot.

She cannot take a demon's life passively to add it to her existence, while she lacks a soul she doesn't need it, yet the victim must have one for her to be able to sustain herself. Trying to perform it on, let's say a vampire would feel like running into a wall, the channels of life flow are blocked/protected from her touch. But not from her bullet.

what soft romance cliché are you?

/oh./

the italicized oh. often seen in romance novels and fanfics. when a character looks at someone, wondering why their chest tightens when they're near, why their heart beats quicken at the slightest touches, why they lose their breathe at the sight of them and suddenly realization dawns on them— oh. they've been in love for a long time now. you are soft and quiet, probably the most overlooked. though when you love, you fall deeply. i'm sure you have a lot of anxieties when it comes to love, and you're more inclined to fall in love with a longtime friend than a stranger. though, your love is pure. and maybe if you have someone in mind, this is your sign to tell them.

𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕤

Alternative modern verse/Cryptid Ghost Hunter

After death/Hazbin-Helluva

Modern verse

Spiderverse ➡ @venomtorn

Apocalypse

Mafia

Don't ask me for relationship advice cause I'll tell you to kill him

About Karma's wardrobe, behavior & the reasons behind them turned into a half character study thesis.

One word: outrageous.

From her weapons, wardrobe, horse and behavior; Karma is absolutely outrageous. She is more than aware she's very attractive, beyond talented both as a marksman and as a rider. She is a mystery, but not many people stop to think about exactly who is she, where did she came from, why, what's her true name because Karma stifles those questions with blinding flair before they are formed. She doesn't hide what defines her: she kills people for a living, she's fast with perfect aim, great with horses, she swings both ways, doesn't mind more than one person with her in bed.

So many scandalous facts that nobody has any of those crucial questions, only wondering how the hell is she still alive. She's wondering that too. She doesn't speak too much, actions are much louder, flashier: be it a trick on a horse or hitting a seemingly impossible target or seducing a married woman.

Her clothing, all custom made and it shows; not only she wears pants in that period of time, somehow she managed to have that fact the least extreme as her wardrobe consists of:

As expensive as it looks and it never fails to have its effect, the initial shock, the double, triple takes usually earning a smug smirk from the decorated woman.

However, Karma isn't the only showstopper, her horse, Villám is a star on her own:

A half Lipizzan, most importantly half Akhal Teke pure black mare with a coat that seems to glisten like oil. Agile, slim with defined muscles, elegant and intelligent; the unique racehorse is a fitting companion for a woman so...bold. Villám is a beauty, a definite rarity probably only seen on the ranches, estates of the richest. Their bond is outstanding, shining the best when Karma decides to entertain curious children (and adults peeking from curtains) with her esquetarian skills and she isn't the only showoff in this duo. Just like owner or more akin to friend, Villám is proud, mischievous, playful and loves the attention.

The less trained eyes notice her dual revolvers last. 10" Colt Buntline, with decorated grips and the trigger guards missing from the frames (although that little detail goes undetected); basically rifles in quickdraw holsters.

The reactions are mixed depending on the people: fear, outrage, intrigue. Whenever she only wants to die dressed like that, the experienced ones recognize the challenge she radiates with each thundering step of steel heeled boots, others want her story, some wants to see if she's up for sex. Karma aims for intrigue and she never misses her target. She doesn't tell anything that isn't directly asked, her voice is soft, melodic, pleasant to listen to, with a musical lilt when speaking Spanish. Her smile is bright and sparkling but her eyes are sharp, barely hiding the black mamba she actually is.

She came to turn the town upside down, be the gossip of the month, be remembered for years, the reason old ladies clutch their rosaries tighter when she saunters by. Her walk is confident, proud with a sharp sway of narrow hips; head turning for many reasons.

Local races? Shooting competitions? By all means count her in! What do you mean by women can't enter? Now there's a previously hidden rattlesnake shot dead in the grass a few yards distance. Was the demonstration enough? If not, at least the very manly men will have fun watching a girl struggle with those activities. And despite fitting the rich poser category so perfectly, the men doesn't get their amusement because all flair she carries is backed up by tremendous amount of talent. Best, fastest shot, deadly accuracy even from horseback, winning every race riding without spurs, riding crop and sometimes even without a saddle; the crosshair eyed woman keeps upping the stakes so effortlessly.

Karma is only in for the thrill and the applause. She is magnetic, a siren, challenging, tempting anyone to chase after her achievements, take bigger and bigger risks, try to follow her blazing lead. And when they thought they gave it all, is when she uncovers she is perfectly ambidextrous, exactly how long range can that modified Colt cover, how fast Villám truly is; leaving everyone lured into the death of their ego while she victoriously gallops away into the desert where she emerged from. After all, she's in for a good not a long time.

Why. Why would an unmarried lone woman live in a way that would still earn many eyebrow raises even nowadays? Why would she take on the most dangerous bounties, kill in cold blood and then give the orphaned kid $100 from the bounty she collected? As mentioned previously: thrill. Adrenaline at all cost. To live, to feel alive. Karma feels extremely hollow, as if she had died already (she, in fact did.), only the fiercest desert heat can warm her up, the split second of tranquility before pulling the trigger and adrenaline strike after like lightning. Risky sexual encounters that make her blood sing, an other person's strong, quickening heartbeat against her usual lazy, steady rhythm. Feverish pulse points, roaring life, the standing ovation and screams of amazement after an especially risky trick; she lives for it. Exists to live, chasing life in the rarest form while corpses line her path.

After all, she isn't a savior no matter her good and selfless deeds. Taking a life comes just as naturally. She is a killer, not lurking in the darkness (...not while having a vacation after a job), not even hidden in plain sight, but blinding most with her looks, mannerisms, skills, sexual liberty. She makes it seem you know her. But exactly what do you know? That she fucked the handsome ranch hand? And the sheriff's mistress? That she paid the old man's tab at the saloon who got injured in the war? That she seems to spit on everything the Bible and the preacher say? But have you noticed how her eyes linger so sharply; looking for her next target, her next pay? Where is she from? Do you even believe she was telling the truth when she said she's a bounty hunter? What kind of name is ‘Karma’ anyways? Have you asked about the scar forming a crosshair around her eye, how she's gotten it? Of course not. Have you seen her shoot a man faster than eye could follow and walk away completely unfazed, as if it's an everyday occurrence? Did you think that was normal?

Her radiance obscures her shadow of death, almost too long, spidery fingers compensating for the length of the ten inch barrels when it comes to draw. Her kindness towards the less fortunate hides her searching cold gaze for the ones responsible. Her encouraging dazzling smile eager for drunkenly spilled stories, secrets given so freely in hope to impress.

At the end of the day, she is just a strange attractive woman with pricey custom tailored clothing and an even more expensive horse. You have nothing to worry about! You aren't the one responsible why was Mrs Jackson widowed and violated at such young age, are you?