Rota wasn't made for the snow with his trailing train of peacock feathers sprouting from his sides or the huge wings of peacock feathers that dragged the ground at the edges. Every eye on every feather a different hue. The greens and purples that dominate his colors clashing with the bright yellow he is wearing. His whole presence is a riot of color and life to the point that animals may be following or flowers sprouting through cracks and snow if he lingers in one place too long.

He is not flustered by the air of death or the presence, especially after being around the fallen with their risen from the dead horses and Death itself living among them. However, he does sense that this presence is the opposite of his own, the other side of the wheel so to say and his natural curiosity draws the angel in. His six eyes fixated on the horse and being. The two main eyes, where most beings have them, are watching the horse; one blue as the sky and the other crimson with a slit pupil. The other four, two on each temple and other colors, are observing the rider. A yellow hawk eye and an orange fish looking eye on the temple beside the red eye and a green frog looking eye as well as a purple horizontal pupiled eye on the other temple. He's taking it all in with a rambunctious curiosity.

"What disc do you mean?" Rota asks with a voice high and airy, light and warm as the rainforests he loves so much. What an odd question. The angel can't help but wonder what disc this being means.