[open] so come and face me now, here on the stage tonight

[cullscuttlefish]

Characters: Empress Feferi Peixes and all her subjects (OPEN)
Setting: Dorm floors, Floor 10, Floor 73, and around the tower - name your place!
Format: Prose to start, but I'll match you in comments.
Summary: The rumor carved in tiny print on the back of Feferi's neck is well-hidden, and she honestly meant well. She wanted to protect everyone. But a wish like that is never so simple in the Tower.
Warnings: LOTS OF THEM. Coddling and meddling in business that isn't hers, in the interest of 'helping' people. Trying to control others' behavior, in the name of 'not letting others suffer' - and this means pushing them towards believing in other Tower rumors, pointing your character towards death traps, stopping anything that will hurt it* or saying 'let me put you out of your suffering'. Also, a quick temper, and the writing is on the wall - if she thinks your character is in the wrong, there will be no card-game challenge**, only death.

But it's all for the best, really. She doesn't want you to hurt anymore, or to fight.

Character death is especially likely on Floor 73 - Feferi is angry and will justify any murder as one against her. If you only want her to mess with your character, don't tag into that prompt.

* except the resistance. she didn't mention it in the original rumor, and it's safe.
** but you will get a gold star for trying to challenge her to a card game.



Dorms:

Feferi Peixes isn't one to patrol the dorm floors. Going from place to place, greeting her friends? That's normal. But this is a patrol, nothing more and nothing less. That's unusual.

What's even more unusual is that her normal clothing is gone. She isn't normally so skilled with a needle and thread, but she's managed well enough, upstairs in the sewing room: the tyrian symbol on her clothing has been carefully removed and sewed onto a simple long, white dress, with a few accents: the long tails of her skirt have become a sash at her waist, trailing downwards, and there are tyrian accents just at the hem of the dress. She wears a bit of coral in her hair, and her jewelry and her tiara seem to shine with a bit more pride than normal. Perhaps it's because Feferi is standing straighter, and it seems to add a few inches to her normally diminutive height, heels clicking against the floor as she moves. Is it just a shadow, or is her hair even longer than it normally is? It trails down her back and past her hips on a normal day, but now it seems to reach the floor.

...is that blood dripping off the edges of her trident? Well, it doesn't matter if it is or it isn't. The Empress only kills when it's merited, after all.

Floor 10:

It should surprise no one that Feferi is here, in the aquarium. It's normally one of her favorite places, and as usual, she's laughing with the cuttlefish. Her fingers trail through the water, leaving little swirls and eddies for them to follow. The sound of her laughter isn't normally as - it isn't cold. It's hardly that; the problem is that it's too saccharine. Feferi has always had a sweet nature, but she's never let it go over the top.

Or is it that she's always been like this? Of course it is. She's always sweet, always kind. The Empress loves all of her subjects just the same way, even the smallest ones. Isn't that obvious?

Floor 73:

"This should have been mine."

Feferi's voice is a quiet, angry hiss. Every now and then, she comes up here, to allow herself to feel a moment of anger. It's always been a thorn in the Empress' side that when her control over the entirety of the Tower was taken, so was her castle. It was taken, and left a wreck, as a constant reminder that nothing here can be entirely hers, that her control only goes so far. It's all right, really; in the end, it just meant that she could keep a closer eye on her people. That's what she tells herself, in order to quell the anger. It works, most of the time, but not when she's here. Not when she's facing it.

Here, she can let her mask crumble, just a little, for a short while. When she leaves, she will be the benevolent Empress once more, but even the most kind person has their flaws. Her tendency to come here and remind herself of how her control was broken is one of hers.

Elsewhere:

Feferi can be found throughout the tower, checking on the residents. She's accompanied by a retrieval unit sometimes, and sometimes her trident is bloodstained, indicating that it's angered her and has had to be dispatched. But that's all right. She means so much good.

Comments

[cullscuttlefish]

No, it wasn't a hallucination. Not in the slightest. If Her Imperious Condescension had been the Black Queen - in clothing and in actions only, so far as Feferi was aware on any conscious level - Her Imperial Consideration would be the White Queen. Trade the black bodysuit for a white dress, be softer and prettier, warmer and more approachable. Become a symbol of life, not a thief of it; be a protector, not a tyrant.

And she'd tried. It had been a hard-fought battle, so much blood spilled, but the problem would always be that it hadn't been a complete victory. There had been a single bright, shining moment, a moment where everything was in her grasp - homes, safe and restored, for those that wanted to go back to them. Safe harbor in the Tower, no monsters and no threats, for those that couldn't go back home. It had been in her hands, the gates hers to open. Right here, in this very place, she would have done the thing they all wanted so very much.

It wasn't to be. For all her power, for all the potential that ran in her blood, Feferi wasn't a goddess. She'd been robbed of her chance to ever become one, and without that last bit of power, what could she have done? It was all she could do to keep herself alive during the brutal counterattack. She'd done everything that she could to keep everyone else safe.

At least that's what she told herself. This place itself was the painful reminder of that failure, and her loss. A destroyed castle, hiding a destroyed gate. Her anger flares, and she almost screams, but - no. The voice behind her forces her to at least try to keep it in check. Her fingers tighten on her trident, her face fins flaring as she takes a deep breath, then turns around.

"...Karkat. How may I serve you?"

[caliginous]

If nothing else, Karkat excelled at acting his part. Even when he had come to believe that it wasn't worth it anymore, that death meant nothing in a Tower where your soul and body were two seperate entities, Karkat still managed to keep up his facade when it mattered. He even took a moment to bow after a short pause of consideration -- after all, he coul feel tension and it quickly and easily made him nervous. All of his focus was spent keeping his expression impassive.

When he straightened again, he would regard Feferi evenly.

"I couldn't help but notice your distress, Empress," he replies, folding his arms across his chest out of reflex. It was not a polite posture (and some part of him knew that) but it was the only comfort he could find. "Thought maybe you'd want to talk about it troll to troll. I ain't a bad listener. Its actually kind of in my job description to be a good listener."

[cullscuttlefish]

She was nothing if not tense, and it showed in the faint fluttering of her face fins as she took another long, deep breath. It took a moment, but she gave a light curtsy in response to the bow.

"There's a reason I prefer to be alone up here, and 'distressed' is probably the nicest word you could use for it. The reminder of what happened is unpleasant, to say the least."

She shook her head. No, no. None of that, even if it did make her hands tense once again. "It's not something that anyone else should have to handle. The memory is here, and once I leave, I leave it here. I only get angry long enough to remind myself of what's at stake."

That was a lie, but she thought she was composed enough to make it convincing.

[caliginous]

"You'll have to forgive my presence, your highness. Side effect of my caste," Karkat adds without thinking. He lets his eyes flicker to the castle briefly before they float back to Feferi and his arms unfold -- not because he was any more comfortable, but because if he didn't move something he was going to burst from the force of his own nerves. Instead of disagreeing with her talk of keeping things to herself, Karkat merely nodded. He managed to keep the smirk out of his expression -- he may have been nervous, but this topic was one that had occurred frequently enough to be humorous, especially if they were talking about themselves.

"Anger is a fickle emotion. Nice tool, also a pretty shitty enemy," he remarks, slipping his hands in his pockets and balling them into fists. He'd be a sitting quacking featherbeast if she decided to turn that trident on him. Stealing her fury wouldn't help -- in fact, it would likely make things worse for him. Walking away was a bad choice -- getting on Feferi's good side had been hard enough with his previous prejudice. Talking...well, talking was also probably a bad idea, but it was what he was best at. Talking out of his nook.

"You don't have to beat yourself up about this, Pei--Your Highness."

[cullscuttlefish]

She nods - picking her battles is important. She'd prefer to be alone, when she's here, but Karkat isn't being a threat, at least at the moment, so she takes another long, slow breath. The Empress can't relax; she's never able to, not when she's here (and if she's honest, never completely, even when she isn't - she doesn't remember the last time she slept without nightmares). She's trying, though, even through the haze of her anger and a building 'please, just leave me alone' that she wants to quash.

"Fickle, it may be, but it isn't always a bad thing. It's all in what's done with it. Using it to shield others is what I've been doing. It works, as a rule."

She turns her head, looking behind her.

"I do. It was my fault, after all."

[caliginous]

"I never thought it was all that bad so long as people knew how to use it the right way," Karkat adds thoughtfully. "Bragging about the ins and outs of emotion doesn't mean much around here anymore, so I've stopped wasting my meager supply of free oxygen."

And finally, the cerulean blooded troll frowns visibly. There it was -- that was what he could use to his advantage here...he hopes. Inspiring mistrust in supposed allies worked well about seventy-five percent of the time in his favor. His tone changes, he sounds almost put off by her answer to him.

"Your fault? What about all your subjects that sat around on their cushy fat asses, huh? Where was their support for their Empress? Wars are never won by just one person, my Royal Consideration," he snaps a little in what appears to be empathy.

[cullscuttlefish]

"That's fair enough," she answered. And it certainly was; acknowledging that would hurt no one.

But the part that came next? The Empress hadn't expected it. She froze, then, visibly shaking after a moment. The war hadn't been won by just one person, no. The last attack had been hers, and the chance given to her by others, but that wasn't the point. That wasn't where the anger and the upset had come from.

The counterattack was the point. Her weakness then, and her lack of power when she'd needed it most, and how she'd lost everything.

"...no. They aren't. But this wasn't about the war. It was about what happened afterwards."

[caliginous]

Subconsciously, Karkat scratches at the collar around his neck. Its brief, quick, something to put him back in the zone. Manipulating people was a lot harder when you were nervous, after all. Karkat is not a fighter -- that's not a secret to anyone. He shakes his head, obviously still not accepting the answer. His hands come out of his pockets, his fingers curl emphatically as he gestures along with his words.

"Everything falls in line in the end, doesn't it?" Karkat adds, gesturing toward the broken structure. "Nobody takes anything lying down on the proverbial resting slab without being a coward about it, right? There's no such thing as passive resistance anymore."

He's not confident enough to be overly familiar with Feferi, but he does close the distance a little.

"...shit happens, Your Highness. One failure isn't a testament to the future. Just an excuse for more retaliation. Anyone who can't rally behind you isn't worth it."

[cullscuttlefish]

"It isn't that they didn't rally behind me. They did. The blame is not with them."

Her voice cracks as she speaks; it's not something she should do, but she's past the point of 'should'. It's to the point of what she is and isn't doing, and right now, she is all raw emotion - a blast of pure anger, but directed inward. This isn't anger she can use to protect anyone; if anything, it's a time bomb, and all of it directed towards herself.

If it weren't unbecoming of her station, she would run towards the ruins and tear them apart, not caring about breaking her claws or ripping her dress.

She breathes again, a long, shaky noise, almost a whimper, one hand going over her blood pusher. She suspects that its beating might be visible through the white of her dress, but she also trusts that even if it is, no one would be rude enough to point it out.

"The blame is with me. I ought to have known that it wouldn't be so simple. I ought to have - I can only protect everyone here. That's the problem."

[caliginous]

Thank the abyssals for small miracles. Karkat could not have imagined how he might have retaliated if he didn't have such a tight lock on his empathy. The anger makes him hurt in return, enough for him to stop all movement and halt breath for a moment. Its an incredible sensation, one that makes his head pulse behind his eyes for a long moment. He had never felt it from a tyrian before -- Gamzee's anger had been something to behold, but this was somehow worse.

He didn't want to think about it, least he turn into a cowardly snivveling mess in front of the angry highblod.

"Feferi..." he forgets momentarily, still somewhat lost in the fog of fury he feels from the Empress. Instinctively (and perhaps against his better judgement), he closes the distance and enters the personal space bubble he had set between them. Despite that, he stands almost helplessly, looking as if he may want to try and comfort her but not being nearly confident enough to do so. After all, he had decided months ago that he was going to keep his distance from the other trolls and help them without direct interference. He didn't have to be their friends -- as long as the trolls made it out of this, that was all that mattered. Feferi, while he had perhaps been more wary of her, counted in his group of friends -- or friends he wish he had. Direct interference never ended well. He could count at least twice where it had resulted in his death.

But he couldn't stand around. No matter how much his sense of self-preservation screamed otherwise.

[cullscuttlefish]

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.

[caliginous]

This is making him physically ill. He has to do something.

He doesn't lay a hand on her weapon -- that would be a challenge, and he has no intention of even hinting at anything like that. Karkat doesn't try and hug her out of comfort -- that would be too familiar, too intimate even for such a simple little thing. He has to be careful here...not just for his life, but for personal comfort. For all his posturing, Karkat's limits were very defined.

His hand slips over her's, the one tangled in her hair. He takes a short breath, realizing that he has no idea if Feferi is going to retaliate against him for his boldness, and begins to attempt to siphon her frustration from her. The skin contact alone makes his muscles tighten with shared emotion, but it seems he is much better at keeping it contained outside of minor visual queues.

He says nothing -- nothing needs to be said, and he needs to concentrate until he feels her relax. Karkat clearly makes no plans to stop trying to thieve her negative energy until she's back under control of herself.