when it rains, it pours
there will be blood in the water
there will be blood in the water
Vendetta could not help the laugh that escaped her at the other woman’s words. How dare she suggest that the unicorn was somehow less than anyone. Whether Vendetta’s suspicions about this woman were correct or not, it seemed they had a very poor grasp of who she was, and what she did. “I suppose you mean...you, then?” And if the corner of her lip curled in amusement it was only for a moment, like an illusion. Let Solis go groveling for attention from the so-called pious. His wants mattered not to her, for he had absolutely no hand in her success.
Where had Solis been, then, when she’d been born into slavery, had her mother sold and then her child? Sitting happily up in his seat in the sky, looking down on them, bothering only with the devout and righteous. A fire burned in her ruby eyes at the thought. Oh yes, the nobles were no doubt very pious—worshiping Solis for his coat of gold, wishing they could have it for themselves, for all that mattered to them was their riches.
She might have scoffed if it weren’t for Azrail, his steady presence. She might have continued out loud, letting this so called disciple hear just what she thought of Solis, if he hadn’t spoken. ’Composure,’ is all he spoke to her and she knew he was right. Begrudgingly. So, the unicorn set her shoulders and narrowed her eyes and kept the rest of her opinions to herself.
“No, one certainly does not,” that much she could agree with this bone-bearing woman on. Her climb to power had taken cunning, intellect and mettle. Every step she’d been forced back, she’d taken 3 more for herself out from under the ones who stood in her way. Whoever this Isra was, she’d done something or been someone to catch the demi-goddesses attention. In time they would see if she was truly worth it. All truths were exposed in time.
Vendetta looked out at the room as the mare continued, catching on everything that adorned it. The decor on the walls, the tables, hanging from the ceiling all the way to the costumes worn by various staff members were black and white. Half one, half the other, swirling and mixing and contrasting each other. If this had all somehow been a magical creation of Denocte’s new Queen’s, it would stand then, to reason, that she could transform almost anything. Vendetta wondered what she really could create, that was not meant for idle enjoyment. “They could, if used properly,” was all she said.
@Avdotya *grimacing emoji*
