S͍̫̠ͨ͂͆ͅW̘ͧ̍ͧͬ-̣̔͋̌̿͂͂E͇̯̺̩͕ͫ͆̈ͩͫ̅̚ͅ-͎̖̒̃-̪̃̔̉̂̓͋Ȅ̦ͩ̏̏ͦT̲̹̥̱̲͎̖̏ͧͪ̍͆̿̎~ͥ̂̂ ̘̟̉ͮͯͣL̹͔͙̟̤͗̽ͧ̐Ȉ̗̘̙̭͓̫ͅT͚͙̤̭̝͍͎̽̈́̂ͯ̐́͒Ț̺̝̾ͤL̥̜̞̂̈́̏̈́̐̿ͅ-̤̳̣͚͎̂-̱͔̎ͦ̃͆̈́E̩͖̪̼̘̰ͫ̆̎̀͌̋~̫͖̲̟̇͐̇̉̽ ̟̹̘̝̯͊͑̊̔̓͛F̯̮͙͖̟̻̀ͦͥͫI̓͊̂S̙͔͙̗H̲ͪͬ͐-͖̠͈̮̞ͥͧ̊̑-͈̙̖͖̣̪͓͌̎̿͋̋-̣͈̼̤̂̐E̝̠̱ͩ̃̒ͮ́͗͗Ṡ͔̖̥͔̣̗̎̃~̼̭̻̱͓̤͐̎̂ͪ̆ͣ̓
feralarmageddons:As soon as she’s distracted, he scrambles off the throne and starts to prowl around the room, keeping out of Embris’s and Madhur’s way. They knew what they were doing better then he did. She’s turns to Madhur and Sollux instantly drops to a crouch, muscles tensed and coiled as he waits for a brief second, making sure she isn’t about to turn back, then is taking off. He clears the distance between him and his target in seconds and without a sound and lunges for her again, attacking at a slight angle so were she to teleport suddenly, he wouldn’t land on Madhur.
/Fingers curl into claws reflexively as he moves closer to corner her, somehow, trying to get a hit to land instead of being sucked up or dodged, and he snarls in frustration when she just takes what shots he does manage to get in, eyes unnaturally wide and the sticky strands of hair whipping around as she moves and he hisses again when she turns to face Madhur, to try and push and corner and take him, and shifts himself into position to attack while her back is turned. Waiting for the right moment for a few terribly tense seconds where he can feel the rage boiling up until it makes everything clear and sharp, and then he sees Sollux lunge out of the corner of his eye and drops, into a crouch, aiming the blast of psi energy low at her legs, out of the way of the weapon and of the two others./
/He’s the weak link here and he knows it, steels himself against the possibility and does his best not to flinch when she turns to him. He makes himself meet her eyes, realizes with a certain amount of shock that he is looking down - she looms so high in his memories and his imagination that he never truly realized. Stronger than that is her smell, rich and sweet and inky-black and tempting, but he can smell the rot underneath as well. She is not perfect./
/He has nothing to say to her, and a deep growl rumbles up from his throat as he stands his ground, drawing energy to himself. She may be fast, but he’s watching for the shift in posture, the split-second tell that alerts him that she will strike, and he brings his hands around and grabs it, grabs her too, with psionics, and hisses as the metal/crystal structure absorbs the energy into itself, drains it out through his hands until he could almost believe he’s back in the rig. But he knew that would happen, and his smile is grim and hard. He doesn’t have the energy to hold her like this for long./
/The important part is to hold her in place until the other two land their blows./
/The trajectory of her weapon is interrupted with a jerk when he seizes hold of it, and she doesn’t move it, holds her ground when the sudden sharp tang of bicolour powers wreathe around it. Stolen life and energy surge up into her grip, and every single one of her sharp jutting teeth shows as she prepares to suck it all out, pull him to the brink of collapse as she has so often so that she can remake him in her image. But what she draws in is offensive, wild, it fights back the way it never used to and surrounds her in a binding haze, and trying to suck it up is like handling lightning, too much too fast to use it to increase her own power, not without giving up all concentration on anything else.
It’s him that her real injured, insulted, jealous desire lies with, the eyes that used to look at her with a reverence born of pain now bright and narrow with contempt and hatred, and that she concentrates all her energy on taking him, trying to rip his snares apart and feed on them and make him back into the meek slave he used to be, is what makes her react a few seconds too late when a weight slams into her back, and that and a blow to her legs knock her clean over. The force almost rams her into the opposite prongs of her own trident, indeed makes them rake over her stomach dangerously hard, and with a screech she lets the weapon go and goes down, claws tattering the back of her clothes and gouging furrows into her back. Before they can dig in quite enough to be lethal she flickers away and lands harshly on her own throne, her legs too damaged to support her quite yet. Unnatural healing begins to knit them together already but there’s not enough life force there to speed the process up quite how she would like it, so in a flash of petty fury she turns the life-sucking force on the one who wounded her, Embris, the mirror of her slave, aiming to draw his life out and repair herself with it./
Anna loved cruel jokes. She had fire bells rung throughout St Petersburg just to see the panic. She had Prince Nikita Volkonski feed her dog with cream; his wife fed lettuce to her rabbit with her teeth. Volkonski would be forced to ‘marry’ Prince Galitzine; they had to dress as birds, sit in a straw basket outside Anna’s bedroom, and squawk. Finding delight in humiliating old nobility, she arranged the marriage of old Prince Galitzine, who had incurred her displeasure by marrying an Italian Catholic, with one of her maids (after the death of his first wife), an elderly Kalmyk called Avdotaya Ivanovna. The couple were presented with a fleet of carriages, each carrying a member of one of the empires races, each pulled by a different farm animal. The couple had to ride an elephant. Anna dressed them as clowns, and had them spend their wedding night naked in a specially constructed ice palace during the exceptionally harsh winter of 1739–40. This palace was 80 feet long, 30 feet high and 23 feet deep. It even had a stove. It cost 30,000 roubles and came with a bed, clock, Cupid, elephant, dolphins, cannon trees and plants: all were made of ice. The dolphins squirted naptha and the elephant squirted water. Somehow the couple survived their wedding night.
[Some information about the completely batshit Russian Empress that Tia is partially based on.]
sugarcoatedtyriant:/She is so utterly nonplussed by the attack that she flattens herself against the throne for an instant, nonsensically, and the wicked claws catch her across the neck when she tries to twist her head away. Then she regains her faculties, with a tittering laugh that has nothing sane about it, and flickers briefly out of reality, appearing a few feet behind Sollux, the double-ended trident already dropping into her hand. She brandishes it high so that it points at his chest when he turns, and smiles terribly at him. The claw slash has caught her right across the neck, and while it’s not enough to kill her though blood sheets down from her torn gills, violently pink, it’s certainly enough to make her angry./
T)(ere was no call for t)(at, dearest~ Now I will )(av̎̍͒̕ě̷͈̻̩͓̤͍͈̒ ̘̝͎͊̀́͑t̟̱̭̼̳̥̯̽o puniĭ̮s̨̙̜̊̅)( you~ Ṅa͆̆̚u̟̗̤͊g̈́)(ty̚ littl̠̗̖̠̘̟̄͡ͅe̢͊̒ ̭̟̦̲̯͇̈́p̍͑͑͒sỷ̥̚c̘̳̩̘̊͒̄̌)(ics get w)(at t)(ey deserve~
/An expression of amusement crosses her face as she turns her head towards the door too quickly to be natural, greeting the newcomers with a beaming smile, the effect of which is marred terribly by the blood that now coats her entire neckline. She keeps the trident pointed at Sollux, the metal not golden like that of her alphas’ but gleaming sickly white, wreathed in fuchsia. Her grin widens until it seems to split her face./
You would k̒n̗̳ȍ̵̩͎̼̱ͅw t)(a̯̎̉̃̍,t wouldn’t you, )(o̹̬̤̹̗ne̶̙̲̔̉y~
He’s almost surprised when she only presses back against her throne, but shoves away any worry when he feels his claws cut into her neck, a triumphant grin spreading across his lips for a brief second before she laughs and disappears. Instinctively, he spreads out his wing to stop his lunge, but he had forgotten that he was missing a wing, so the maneuver instead throws him off balance and sends him toppling into the throne. He is quickly scrambling back to his feet and twisting around to face the Empress again, feathers completely flared and jaws snapping as he crouches, ready to attack again, the only thing making him hesitate being the trident. His ears twitch when she turns to look at Madhur and Embris, but he doesn’t dare take his eyes off of her.
/He has just enough presence of mind left to turn towards his kismesis and whisper urgently - “Cha2e her iif 2he teleport2. II’ll try two hiit.” and then his feet aren’t touching the ground any more, immediately limned with power and hissing with rage, tearing into the room, trying to get to the side of her so he won’t hit Sollux with anything if she phases out of the way.
Half mad with worry and desperation, he risks a quick glance at Sollux, finds him upright and angry, bares his teeth in a snarl regardless, enraged by her cruel mercy. Next to that, there’s a vicious burn of possessiveness in his gut, staring at the woman who’s made the life of one of his kin — trickster copy and rival or not — hell.
Scything to one wall of the room, he throws handfuls of energy at her, dense spheres of light that should be enough to rip a hole where they touch, fueled by rage. and curses when she raises the gleaming white trident and it sucks up the power like the rig would. He needs to get closer, and he does so, trying to summon more energy as he advances./
/He doesn’t respond to her taunts, just lets out a long hiss like boiling steam, sidling around to the other side of Her as Embris moves. Keeping his body angled towards her, he circles, inching closer, and fights down the instinct to submit, with the cloying familiar smell of the ship all around him. He will not kneel. He does not belong to her./
/He gathers power to himself but doesn’t attack, watching Embris’s projectiles absorbed into her trident, and inches closer, lightning crackling off his horns and face twisted into a snarl./
/She doesn’t bother to step out of the way at first, letting the crackling bolts meet the steel/crystal sugar/something else entirely of her trident, though there is a little whomp of power excess that grounds itself in her and makes her bare her teeth in a grin that is all reaction and taunting. Her eyes flick back and forth between these two new, interesting toys, one all broken and baleful already and one all new, all different. She feels something almost like petulance at the thought of who to choose first, who to go after — the idea that harm could come to her registers, but only as a minor inconvenience — because she wants them all and is perfectly within her rights to want them.
But the choice is made easily. Never mind the new ones, they can be dealt with later. It’s her toy, Hers, by right and desire, that she’ll take back first. He did have the courtesy to bite the bait, and now she’ll reel him in and eat him raw, she thinks. The tip of the trident pivots around to face him, she follows, and remembers with a sickly radiant smile how good his dirty gold blood looked dripping off the ends./
“Sͯͫͅw͐ͪ̓ͭ́e̫̺̻͙ͮ̽͊̇ͧ̈̽ĕ̹̥̤̅̈́ͨ̇̂ͅṫ̾ͫͩͪi̞̤̖̐̆ͨ͋ẹ͉̋̓, didn’t you m̂̄̏ͤͯi̙̹͕͓̘̝ͮ̄̍̓̐s̓ͦ͂s̬̙̺̭̲̑ͦ̚ me~? Did you forget everyt)(ing I͖̯̿́̎ ̭ͯtau͚̮ͪg̠͚͈͒̑̍̀̇̏̔)(tͯ ͇̹̝̗ÿ̫̠͙ͯ̇ͅͅo̳̜̱̦̝̝͊͐̍̔u̳̬̳͍~? O)(~ don’t w̦̬̺̮͎̟̻͗o͚͍͍̮r͔͈ͦ̄̏͆r̻̦͉͔̅ͭỵ̝̰̬̥̙ͥ͗͌ͭ͌~ we’ll )(ave you r̯͔͚̱̹̬͈̄͐̑u̫̞̱̖͕̲ͅnnỉ̱̮͑n̮̣̙͈̂̚g̤ ̣̰̝̜͍͆̒͐́p̤͕̮̲̘̺̎ͨͬ̅̓rop̬̗̺ͨ̐ͧ̔͒̚er̆̓̎l͓͖̥̭̮̈ỹ̭͉͈ again in N̻̗̫̓̂O̗̫̯͍̬ ̦̙̩̺̬̗͑̊̊͛̽̑̽ͅT̬̜͇̃̇̆̒IM-̯̜̻͎̼̾̉̎͐̓͌-̩̯̱̩̲̇͒̈̎E~͕̟̞̭̻̩͒͂̈́!”
/She brings the trident around unnaturally fast, aiming for his ribs./
Fuck yes! #Trolli #sour #octopus #candy (Taken with Instagram)