#she's the Empress but her outfit is so simplistic- take away the gold and it's just a wetsuit and heels

[catman-draws]

i think the condesce is wearing a wetsuit with a bunch of jewelry

Yeah, but take s closer look at that jewelry.

[luminescentlyricist]

∞ The Anarchist ∞

"I wis)( t)(at I could be t)(ere wit)( t)(em. I could argue t)(at my fate, being stuck in t)(is cod dam violet )(ive, is so muc)( worse t)(an t)(eir dead session. As wrong as I'd be, it'd make for conversation... t)(oug)(, I doubt any of t)(em would agree wit)( me on t)(e subject. I'm a spoilt brat, and I s)(ould know t)(at I )(ave absolutely no rig)(t to say anyt)(ing on t)(e subject, but I'm just so, so sick of everyt)(ing. Posessing no freedom turns out to become more stifling t)(an it seems at a first glance. I )(ave everyt)(ing I could ever want, except for freedom."

She grumbled as she stared at the blackened screen of her husktop, a cleaning cloth clutched between her fingers as she rubbed at it. Cirlun was often prone to such rambles, especially when she was feeling isolated. Of course, she felt this way constantly, as she was isolated from the majority of civilization. Her Trollian didn't even have any contacts on it yet. She was cleaning the screen of her husktop because dust had settled on it, due to the fact that she really had no use for it if her Trollian contact list was empty. She preferred the proper books in the library when it came to research.

She sighed softly, the noise barely moving past her lips at all. Cirlun knew that she'd never be able to meet the expectations that had been placed upon her, and she intended to rewrite and reform those rules and expectations when she ascended to the throne. It was only right. She couldn't live up to what the world intended, so she knew that she had to make the change. For now, she'd be doomed to suffer in silence. And that was how it had always, always been. Her intent to change would have to wait until she worked up the courage to... She couldn't even think of killing Astril. The mere notion was upsetting, especially because she was so young. It felt immoral. The violet dyed across the fabrics of the hive, visible at her every twist and turn, was important to her. Although she loathed her advisor, in essence, and all-too-commonly felt hatred strong enough to drive her to murder, she didn't. Not yet. The thought was always in the back of her mind, as much as she protested her fated ascensions. She didn't want to commit matricide at all, as the violet blood - and memories of the violetblood - would stain her conscience for the rest of her sweeps.

It was Cirlun's fate, though, and she couldn't argue with that. She knew that the day would come wherein she was forced to kill her advisor to take the throne and lead her subjects into a new era of prosperity. Her hands shook now, that much was clear, and it scared her beyond anything else she'd ever had to experience. The thought of killing Astril haunted her, just as the woman's soulless, rage-filled ghost would undoubtedly do the same. She cleaned the screen in front of her, swallowing harshly as she felt vomit rising in her throat. All she could do was choke it down and continue.

So she did, with no regards to the dark, looming thoughts that plagued and threatened to consume her. Her eyes then swept to the book on the desk beside her, a small frown etching itself onto her lips within seconds. She was overthinking everything. The stain on the cover wasn't even purple, but her thoughts wandered. Old blood could fade to brown, she realised, and that was the colour of the mark on 'Doomed - Stories of the Third Earth'. It, of course, was just one of the many expansive books she was utilising to study the sessions of Earth A, B and C, though that one focused on Earth C.

Envy wreathed around her. Oh, how she wished to be there. She wanted to live with the trolls that were recounted in those pages, the ones that were yellowing with age. She traced the writing on the page that she read, noting the script that she knew very well. They had written using the quirks they donned to distinguish each other on Trollian, the very same program that lay open on her husktop. She knew that she had no contacts on it, but didn't bother. The twelve trolls had their own legacies, and that was one thing she'd never had - and would never have - herself.

She had no idea that Eridan, Gamzee, Feferi - her own role model in a different time - and the rest of the twelve were still 'alive', of course, due to the ageing that appeared on their 'first-hand' accounts. The books had been enchanted ten times over so that any hope the young heiress might have had was appropriately and immediately crushed. She had seen the Amporas at meetings, of course, but had shied away from the aristocrats at every opportunity she had. In the meetings, she was always insignificant and unnoticed anyway.

She traced her finger over the script of the famed ceruleanblood Vriska Serket, whose eight-dominated writing style she had learned to decipher as easily as reading normal Alternian scripts. It was easy enough to get used to, in any case, as it was simplistic. She had noticed that she had adopted a sort of 'quirk' that she was going to use in her own Trollian-type, a part of which was unintentionally similar to Feferi's. She muttered the words as she read, and she stayed in a trance-like state of reading through the dust-coated tome for hours.

As she read and muttered to herself, though, her thoughts darkened even further, causing her to rub her eyes in irritation and close the book. Her mindset had completely and utterly shifted for the worse. For the better of herself, and herself alone. She realised just how much was being kept from her, and rage began to take control of her actions. Finally, her fuchsiablooded tendencies of anger were awakening, and her treatment at the hands of her advisor would only serve to foster that nature. She stood, fists so tightly furled that they cut into her palms.

Cirlun had realised that she was only going to suffer if Astril took the throne any longer. She hadn't wanted to kill Astril a few hours ago, but that had changed. Everything was going to change if she had her say in the matter. She would. Within a mere second, she had donned her hunting outfit. Her specibus bubble wand was in her hand, and when she blew one, the large, golden double-edged trident was contained within it. With a satisfied smirk crawling onto her lips, she took it and slotted it into its place in the back sheathe.

When she did this, she noted with a sadistic glee the way the gold arced through the light and caught it in flashes so bright it could blind. She'd do far worse than blind, of course. She'd make her 'mother' pay for the pain she had caused. Her breathing was heavy but her steps made no sound against the floor as she moved, light and quick as a shadow. Cirlun could slip away into virtually nothing, due to knowing every shadow and shade in the library. Her isolation had paid off, as she knew every escape.

Many were to be found in the expanse of the palace, and she was grateful now for each and every one. The trident remained in its sheathe. Her snarling lips revealed sharklike teeth that she only possessed due to the fact she was a seadweller. Her eyes swept around, pupils narrowed, seeing everything as if the darkness wasn't beginning to fall. It'd be no fun, she decided, if she were to murder in the dark. That wasn't what she wanted. She wanted each and every seadweller she'd rule over to fear her.

Her tyranny was only the start of the ruination, though. She hadn't forgotten what she had to do. How much she had to mould and shape into her own. Violet sickened her. She tore down every draping, every banner, every decoration with the colour of the rest of the seadwellers. The only way she would like the colour was when she smeared it down the walls and marked the murder and the rise of the new empress both. Humming gleefully, far too brightly for what she was going to do, she approached the hall, stepping out into broad light.

"Your comeupance greets you now and forever, mot)(er."

She hissed, eyes dark and full of hatred for the being in front of her. She knew that Astril wouldn't reply; the Empress was far too busy herself doing whatever she needed to do. Her kingdom would be swept up into chaos soon. A soft laugh came from Cirlun's lips, and she walked up to her mother. One thing she had learnt that was different from other trolls was her use - or overuse - of decidedly human mannerisms. For this reason, she embraced her 'mother', hugging her and pinning the royal's arms to her side.

"It is so g∞d to see you, as always, Astril."

She muttered, her voice sweet as syrup. It had always been that way when she had addressed the Empress, and she didn't see why it had to change. She felt the royal stiffen under her arms, and she frowned in faux alarm. Nothing was wrong, surely? She then changed to massaging Astril's tense shoulders gently, her smile remaining as she dug her nails into the flesh of her shoulders. Cirlun's nails gouged into it, and Astril made a muffled sound of discomfort. That was all. She thought nothing of it.

"Relax. All of your stress can melt away. I'll take care of everyt)(ing, and you don't need to move a muscle."

She placed her trident at her side, taking a few deep, slow and calming breaths. She was by no means calm, and wouldn't be for quite a while, but she did it to help herself concentrate more than anything else. Cirlun continued to make her maternal guardian feel as comfortable and pampered as possible in that short amount of time. She didn't want to make her mother's last moments bad ones, as it meant she'd just be an annoyance later on, or her screams would attract more attention. Cirlun bought her trident to the woman's throat quickly.

"I'd rat)(er you didn't move at all."

These words were followed by a quick slash, and that was it.