#00.02 Diego Hargreeves 🔪 The Kraken (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deadlycurves) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
f20202020-09-08 07:05 am
deadlycurves) wrote in f20202020-09-08 07:05 am
deadlycurves) wrote in f20202020-09-08 07:05 am
space & the empress → 4 years ago.
Josh's project had culminated in the spring and meant they were finally able to break away, like a peninsula shearing off from the main continent, tumbling into the ocean and to freedom. News has come trickling slowly out of the Tower since then — delicate political maneuvers, the wary truce, a marriage announced, a new High Chancellor and his new wife in Parliament, someone the Hargreeves had once worked with — all the way until today, their first time returning as official representatives.
Which means they have to show up. Bright, brittle smiles at one of the endless late-night parties, somehow trying to look perfectly unruffled, proving that Krakoa has been doing absolutely fine since leaving, doing fantastically, thanks, and you?
So Luther can feel that prickling between his shoulderblades as others look at him, and for perhaps the first time in his entire life, he wishes he weren't so tall, that he didn't stand out so conspicuously in a crowd. It turns out that leaving the Tower was surprisingly easy — but coming back for this diplomatic conference and the social engagements in the White City, seeing the familiar faces of former colleagues and their mistrustful scowls, well, that's worse.
(He hates to disappoint people.)
He's sipping his drink and watching the crowd when he feels a ripple in the air; a faint disturbance that he can't put his finger on (darkness? it tastes of darkness), but which makes him glance to the side. To yet another stern, familiar face. He tries to flash her his most winning smile; it probably doesn't work.
"Good evening, Palpatine," Luther says. A beat, then: "Or is it Palpatine-Stark now?"
no subject
"Still just Palpatine," she replies rather coolly. "I don't intend to resign from my post, so I thought I'd keep it."
Even the smallest reminder of the name had once made her stomach churn, but she had carved out a place in this faction with it. It felt like reclaiming it, even if few knew the baggage that her legacy carried. Palpatine would not be a name to fear here, but one that conveyed security and safety.
She had been making serious strides at that as a young but tenacious member of Parliament, and even though a faction had broken off here and there, it's not as if any could really rival the White Tower. Kylo's departure had stung but at least she was able to reconcile it her own way.
Krakoa though... she had thought these were her allies. Friends even. If there had been problems with the White Tower, she could have worked to change them. But instead they had lied to her face, manipulated her, and betrayed her. And the rest of Parliament had just let them go.
"It was a small ceremony. Although you probably would have been too busy to attend, wouldn't you?" The jab still feels odd. Sort of forced even if it's coming from a place of genuine hurt. She had picked up more of these subtler high-society aggressions, but parts of her still want to lash out like a scavenger.
no subject
Luther, on the other hand, is a blunt weapon, a cudgel. He tends to say what's on his mind, and can't hide his true thoughts that well.
"Yeah, it's been pretty busy. And I'm not even on the council." He answers without cattiness or an attempt at a buried dig: it's just the bare and unvarnished truth. He shifts awkwardly, takes another swig of his drink, then looks surprised to realise that it's already empty. Goddamnit. He wants that cover of alcohol loosening him up; discomfort is already prickling in his fingers, tight-knotted in his muscles. He's having trouble looking at her.
"I would've thought it would be, I don't know, a huge affair. Pomp and circumstance and ceremony."