About Karma's Wardrobe, Behavior & The Reasons Behind Them Turned Into A Half Character Study Thesis.

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?

As a result of being almost constantly exposed to gunfire, Karma suffers from hyperacusis which is a reduced tolerance for sounds. She has difficulty holding conversations, staying in loud places for too long because every sound merges into one distorted noise, causing her headache and messing up her otherwise sharp senses. On top of that, her hearing has always been great as she was/is a bounty hunter and wasn't looking for finding herself on the wrong end of a barrel.

She almost always speaks softly, calm; cold even when angry. Rarely raises her voice, let alone shouts; mostly hisses loudly in irritation if her horse isn't near. When she does shout/yell, it is probably due to being overwhelmed by noise she can't stand anymore. Or someone managed to piss her off to a level of no coming back

What kind of love are you?

Love as a Flaw

Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. It’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.

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“Anyway.”

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