The anger is almost physically painful for the Considerate herself, and she sets her jaw and closes her eyes for a moment. Her facial fins flutter, but it's not a pretty motion - it's sharp, too sharp, and her fingers tense and relax along her trident in the same staccato rhythm.
If she were anything but good-intentioned, if she had been anyone else before her coronation, the sound of her name and the sound of Karkat's footsteps breaking the bubble of her personal space would have resulted in her whipping the weapon around and using it as a blunt-force instrument. But this is Feferi, and while she is every inch a tyrian, she has made so many efforts to be different from the others that share her blood.
In an instant, the storm clouds of her anger flare, but there's no lightning strike of a golden trident, no thunderclap of an angry roar. Instead, she breaks down into tears, falling to her knees. Her weapon is still in one hand, but the other is clutching handfuls of her hair, pulling painfully.
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If she were anything but good-intentioned, if she had been anyone else before her coronation, the sound of her name and the sound of Karkat's footsteps breaking the bubble of her personal space would have resulted in her whipping the weapon around and using it as a blunt-force instrument. But this is Feferi, and while she is every inch a tyrian, she has made so many efforts to be different from the others that share her blood.
In an instant, the storm clouds of her anger flare, but there's no lightning strike of a golden trident, no thunderclap of an angry roar. Instead, she breaks down into tears, falling to her knees. Her weapon is still in one hand, but the other is clutching handfuls of her hair, pulling painfully.