#erifefsol

your name is eridan ampora and someone should remind you never to dance with terezi again.

shes been leading you on a death-waltz across the ballroom floor, frightening some poor troll into leaving the dance floor at a run. for what your partner lacks in vision, she more than made up with in sheer enthusiasm. you lean against a marble pillar to breathe and watch the festivities around you. 

the gala is beautiful, kanaya's touch in the bright lights and soft loveseats against the walls and tucked away in private, low lit corners

once a matchmaker, you suppose.                                                                                              

 highblood trolls whirling around on the dance floor and chatting eachother up on the sidelines with the confidence only 3 straight glasses of firewine can give a troll.  fef, the guest of honour, is talking to a handful of the more liberal highbloods here (someones moirails matesprits auspices friend works on the fleet, a valuable contact. you smile, ever the politician, your fef) karkat on her arm, occasionally shouting down a particularly horrible sentiment while she smiled like a star and patted his hand softly.                                                     they were a perfect diplomatic machine, his radical ideas and the future empress of this whole goddamn rocks approval and coveted quadrant. no one dared to argue with the heiresses beloved kismesis, so they got their radical gospel into peoples ears, and it had been working. this gala was full of allies to her future empire, their future empire. 

she caught his eye, leaning down to whisper in karkats ear and kiss him on the cheek (you know he hates that, and he tugs on her fin in gentle revenge) she leaves her little court, floating over to him, the light playing off the beads in her hair and the dusting of glitter on her bare shoulders. you take her hands when she reaches you, kisses them both gently, and she laughs, light and unburdened. she leads you over to sit on a cosy seat with a good vantage point of the whole affair. your chosen seat is currently taken up by all 6 galgly feet of sollux captor, a glass of firewine in his hand, blind eyes gazing out into the bright room. a lazy smile snakes across his face as feferi sits next to him, tucking herself as close as she can get, with all her skirts. she rests her head on his shoulder, and you sit down on his other side, lifting the drink from his hands and draining it. he elbows you in the ribs and you drop a kiss on his head. shes telling him all the gossip shes been collecting over the night, speaking low and quiet, describing people to him as she fills him in. you pull them closer, and listen to her idle chatter, occasionally filling in tidbits of information you’ve heard, laughing as sollux feins surprise at a particularly juicy detail

and you, alternias most powerful trolls, like young gods, hold eachother in the light of the ballroom, in this repite of youth and idle conversation. no empire to build, no weight to bear, 

just three trolls, 

“Maybe you’re playing it wrong.”

“Fuck you, there’s no wrong way to play a carillon. Allow me to lay it out in common vernacular for you. Hit key, ring bell.”

erifefsol treat fic for @thescyfychannel! in traditions of old i took their music prompt and used it as an excuse to write 4.5k words of LOWAA setting study. nice