mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.
he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.
you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.
in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.
"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."
standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.
"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.
and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.
with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."
silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.
"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"
had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.
his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.
(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.
you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seams from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.
you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)
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yea i very much agree with ur take on sollux in his relation to older technology, u get it
please id love if youd share some more of ur analysis on his character (as well as ur art bc that shit is 👌👌👌)
either way, thanks for feeding my brain worms
im glad it resonated!! :') always happy to explore his character, he contains multitudes!!!
i think i may be out of sollux analysis for now, in the sense where i don't have anything new to add that hasn't already been covered in these posts? (please add if there's more...)
why i like sollux (lackadaisicallexicon, 2014)
comprehensive sollux status guide (syblatortue, 2016)
bioware machine (lime-bloods, 2016)
fridgestuck (LaureledEevees, 2017)
mary sue (3d-gla22e2, 2019)
favorite sollux trait (3d-gla22e2, 2020)
doom-bound static (gendertrickster, 2023)
however i will say there's another thing i really like abt him:
his Range!
he has a v flexible face.. even with his neutral expression, you cant help but read a tinge of melancholy/pensiveness to it.
he deters people from getting too comfortable with him by acting crude, but no matter how unapproachable he looks you can't help but wonder if he's ok. seems like he's never content with himself.
just like karkat, anger gives him purpose = something to care about & react to. without it he can appear aimless/uncertain.
it's especially interesting when you compare him to aradia, who despite having endured a lot of shit, ends up enjoying the freedom of expanding her worldview, riding the unpredictable tide of the narrative and observing the changes. sollux... doesn't.
he doesn't like watching major things progress in a way he can't predict. the lack of certainty actually overwhelms him.
and it's pretty clear why; imagine the only reassurance you get after unknowingly killing ur gf is that "it needed to happen". the only way to appease that sort of emotional turmoil is by intellectualizing those events as inevitable and out of your control.
(hs, A6I5)
when you’re just a tool for the author, trying to sit out is just feeble self-preservation until you’re needed again. if you’re not called on stage to help/assist in some way, it feels like your presence spells doom (either you or someone else will get hurt). so you avoid Events as best you can.
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