cause i am, i am a little wicked
hands red, hands red just like he said
hands red, hands red just like he said
Very little surprises Vendetta.
In the desert there are Teryrs, Sandwyrms and all manner of venemous creatures. She has seen boy-kings and mad kings and elks that turn the sand to a winter wasteland. It is not the things that happen to you but how you react to them, and Vendetta has always reacted in her best interest.
She wouldn’t be where she is in the hierarchy of Solterra’s underbelly otherwise.
So when the island snake rises out of the clamoring pieces of nature as it merges together before her eyes—in mere seconds—Vendetta takes her chance to observe. It is made of nothing but wood and leaves, with eyes of water and a tongue of seaweed. Alive by magic, it is some freak of nature certainly, but a danger nonetheless.
Many of the equines attack, whether the front or the middle, which will no doubt keep the beast occupied, but it is a massive creature still, twisting and twining about the relic.
Even if she sneaks around the back, Vendetta will need to be careful to stay clear of its thrashing tail. But she is not one to get her hands dirty, and if there is a way for her to get to the relic without having to attack the creature head on she would rather take that route.
Sometimes, the first to strike is not always the wisest.
So, ruby eyes sharp and keen and cloven hooves sure, Vendetta presses forward and around. Let the others attack, risk injury and perhaps even death. No, she would bide her time on the fight.
Vendetta chooses option 3
