rulers make bad lovers, you better put your kingdom up for sale
She rests beneath the surface of the Oasis, with only her dorsal fin breaking the surface -- absorbing the warmth of the sun in the lazy afternoon air, her forelegs stretched out along the shallow muck, her body submerged in water just deep enough to hide her. There was no need to lift her head above the water for oxygen, this strange body of hers adapting whenever she found herself submerged, and so she simply lazed beneath the water.
At least, until a disturbance above managed to draw her from her reverie, her narrow snout breaking the surface of the water and quickly followed by the rest of her neck and chest as her legs straightened beneath the water. It was a mare she’d never seen before, one bright and flashy with horns of ruby red, and she found herself intrigued almost instantly. A quick wiggle of her tail freed her from the sandy floor she’d been resting upon before she was approaching the fair lady, ears perked and fins flared up along her neck.
“You seem to wear a crown meant for a queen, my lady,” She calls out with a smile that shows the sharp teeth beneath her lips, her eyes scanning across the wide, proud horns and the roses that decorated them. “Might I be lucky enough to learn your name?”
Vendetta had discarded the mask she’d worn to Denocte long before leaving for the return trip to Solterra. It had been an interesting vacation, if you could call it that, from her day to day role at home. The company had been at times questionable, the scenery like something out of a fairytale and the food, well that had been alright. The most exciting thing the unicorn had come out of it with was the dagger, and she was ready to take it home and add it to her collection.
Along the way, she decided to stop off at Vitae for a short rest. Even for someone acclimated to Solterra’s unforgiving heat and never ending sand dunes, the trip was lengthy and she had no plans of letting the sun suck all of the moisture from her body. Vendetta stepped beneath the shade of the oasis and made her way toward the pool of water in the middle. Low hanging fronds dragged across her skin as she walked, and the light and dark of her skin made a strange camouflage effect in the dappled sunlight.
She stood a short distance from the water and considered taking out the dagger she’d purchased to admire it in the light of day. Her tele played gently along the handle, gripping it lightly, until suddenly she was no longer alone. Vendetta’s ruby eyes snapped to the shape that had risen from the water and was now speaking to her. For a second she thought about brandishing it just for the interruption, but luckily for the intruder, Vendetta happened to take well to flattery.
“And a queen I am,” she said, looking over the other equine as they pushed themselves out of the water a ways. Queen enough at least. Vendetta may not be able to call herself Queen of Solterra, or any of the courts, but in her profession she may as well have been. Nobody could say that she lacked confidence. When the other requested her name, she paused for a moment if only to observe her a little closer. A hippocampus, but confined to the water. Curious, and what an awful small jail cell she’d found herself in. “You may call me Vendetta.” Truthfully, she did not care enough to ask the same.
rulers make bad lovers, you better put your kingdom up for sale
There’s an art to how she endures being trapped within the Oasis -- for as large as it is, it is still a prison of sand and water. She spent most days beneath the still waters, laying in wait for her prey and exploring the stone-layered floor, praying to find some sort of exit from this sand hell. Otherwise, well -- when she got a visitor, she certainly wasn’t going to squander the ability to have a conversation and not go out of her mind from boredom.
When fate dropped a gorgeous lady in front of her, she definitely wasn’t going to question it.
“Vendetta, hm?” She grins again, rakish and charming -- and her second set of eyes blinks, once, twice, before closing, realizing they were no longer needed above the water. “It must be my lucky day, then -- I don’t often get visited by beautiful queens. I would bow for you, but…” She glances meaningfully towards the thick, finned tail, the fins atop her crest giving a cheeky little wiggle. It’s been a long time since she’s flirted -- since Daeva had demanded her attention entirely, since her daughter had been born and stolen away, since she had been trapped here in this cursed Oasis.
“So -- any chance there’s somethin’ interesting happening out there you could tell me about, lovely? It’s been awfully boring here before you showed up.”
The other woman grinned and Vendetta watched as a second pair of eyes blinked and then closed. It might have been strange, if Vendetta didn't rule the underground of Solterra. She had seen many strange thing in her years. Stranger, even, than a hippocampus trapped in an oasis in the middle of the desert.
“Your lucky day indeed, but do not fret, I don't make women bow before me.” Only men with monsters in their skin, on their knees before her, with a knife to their throats. Some weren't even that fortunate. A delightful shiver passed over her skin as she thought about it, and remembered again the dagger hiding just beneath the cover of her skirt.
“As it so happens, I've just returned from another court which was hosting a masquerade,” Vendetta tells the stranger, though there is a sigh on her lips as though taking a detour to explain this was an inconvenience to her. Which it was. She just needed to be back in the court, at the head of her empire where she rightfully belonged.
“I'd say it was for the most part rather uneventful,” and when she said it she thought of a man with twilight on his skin and a woman with a skull for a mask, “but I am difficult to please.” And she smiled, sharp like a weapon forged in diamond and steel, her ruby red eyes sparkling in the shaded light.
rulers make bad lovers, you better put your kingdom up for sale
“What if I wanted to bow for you?” There is an edge to her smile, the unspoken acknowledgement that she knows exactly what she’s doing, toeing at the line of the horned woman’s patience -- it’s a game, to her, a way to break up the endless monotony as she sits in her watery prison cell. After all, what stakes in this world did she have have any longer -- what could the woman take from her except a life spent wasted, and a burning desire for revenge that slept coiled within her veins, waiting for the day she could strike?
The witch had taken her mate, her daughter, her freedom. She had nothing left to lose.
“A masquerade?” And her attention is piqued -- how could it not be, at the thought of moonlit nights and music playing, of a thousand bodies mingling beneath the stars? Once upon a time, she had been a queen who had thrown masquerades in honor of her newly-claimed crown -- once upon a time, she had an entire kingdom to roam. She had never thought she would miss the Iron Valley and her heretic subjects, and yet, her heart aches for them. “I’m certain you were the most beautiful woman there.”
Vendetta looked at the hippocampus woman and didn't miss the glint to her eyes or the curl to her lips. It reminded her of Roshan and the many ways he pushed and pushed the boundaries she constantly laid down for him. Familiar circumstances, new face. “Well I cannot very well stop from doing it as you please,” her voice was a strangely lyrical drawl, laced through with her Solterran accent.
At least this woman was far more flattering than her thief's flirtatious and agitating banter. Sometimes just thinking about him made her head ache, and the more she did think about it the more she was concerned he had done something completely idiotic while she had been gone.
“Yes, a masquerade fashioned by a dreamweaver,” Vendetta said, and she was still not impressed. Now, the strength and realism of the magic itself was quite interesting, but the practice of it, to paint fairytales. Well, fairytale were not real and trying to turn the world into one would not make it easier to deal with. “I am certain, too,” she replied offhandedly. Most beautiful, best dressed, brightest, most dangerous. She could think of a hundred titles that would suit her in a crowd.
rulers make bad lovers
you better put your kingdom up for sale
There is a simple delight in the push-and-pull of their banter, in the way the woman takes whatever she has to dish out -- and yet, she is not stupid, not blind to the fact her flattery is merely deserved compliments to the lovely lady. She has turned away enough suitors herself to recognize it, and the hippocampus offers the mare a strangely toothy smile. “Perhaps another day, then?” She hums with a flick of her tail from side to side, head tilting to the side.
A dreamweaver. That was certainly interesting -- perhaps she would meet this dreamweaver some day, when she finally freed herself from this forsaken Oasis, when she finally managed to hunt down and kill the witch that had so thoroughly ruined her life. At the thought, she is suddenly somber -- all six eyes open suddenly, peering at the mare for a moment.
“I am sure you would like to get home,” She decides, with another tilt of her head, and in a flash the hippocampus has turned and disappeared back beneath the deep waters.
Vendetta looks at the hippocampus’ toothy smile and pauses for a moment as if to consider. Did she really think that the unicorn would return here to seek her company? “Perhaps,” she says, but knows it is highly unlikely. Vendetta rarely leaves the Solterran proper except for very important matters of business.
And trips to the oasis for friendly conversation and unwarranted flirtations are not matters of business. Nor very important.
She is suddenly struck by the sight of 2 additional pairs of eyes opening upon the woman’s face and Vendetta narrows her sharp, ruby gaze. How curious, how strange. That doesn’t seem usual of hippocampuses, nor the sharp teeth she keeps getting glimpses of. Who, exactly, is this bizarre woman?
“Yes…” the unicorn responds, not having time to say much else before the hippocampus is gone, within the depths of the oasis. Idly, she thinks, as she turns to cross the desert toward the court, if she should warn anyone about the horse living in their freshest source of drinking water out in the desert.
