tell me that i'm cutthroat
Vendetta does not often leave Solterra. She has a lot of business to attend to in her desert home, and ears and eyes all across Novus to keep her up to date on the things she might miss when she doesn’t travel.The one place she does not have eyes and ears, however, is on the island. That’s solved, somewhat, by the fact that everyone seems to talk about it. News of the island travels quicker than any news Vendetta has gotten her hands on before (and the unicorn is very familiar with the passing of information).
The island, mysterious and strange as it is, is the one place Vendetta has visited again and again. Why, she can’t be sure. It’s a fascination, an urge. Perhaps she’s searching for something, hoping to find something. Perhaps...
And when time begins again, suddenly, and the world trips over itself and the ground is not quite as secure as she remembers it being, Vendetta follows the calling. Sand has never been a secure thing. Like water, the sand that you step upon in the desert is rarely ever the same for long, but the way the sand here moves like waves.
It’s not right.
But she follows, because if Vendetta has learned anything it is that one does not simply happen upon things of great value. They must be sought, discovered, found. So she goes, brushing aside the forest with her great curving horns and peering between the foliage with bright ruby eyes.
When she steps into the clearing Vendetta is hardly the first to arrive, but no doubt also not the last. There in the middle stands the relic, ripe for the taking, and Vendetta doesn’t understand why nobody has made the first move yet. Someone will have to, of course.
The unicorn takes a moment to appraise the gathered equines and sees a few familiar faces. Young Apolonia—wielding that hurlbat of hers—third eye sharp and bright. Lucinda, who Vendetta is both surprised and not, to see standing gathered here among so many. Not when she considers the prize to be had. There are more. Eik, the woman she had run into in the markets of Denocte during their masquerade, and more with sun and sand on their skin.
More who she doesn’t know, but none of them matter to her. When she steps out from the shadows of the trees there is no finery, no shimmering gold pearls and fine draping silk. Just a unicorn with ruby-blood eyes that are sharp enough to cut and a world and wealth of experience at her hands. Whatever game it is these equines are playing, their challenger has arrived.
Staying!
STAFF EDIT***
@vendetta has rolled a 6! She has been awarded a brittle horseshoe.
