Saccharine.
She was, quite possibly, the most outcast of their strange, twisted, ragtag group.
She was always there to laugh and be cheerful and assure all the rest that everything would be fine, just fine, don't be silly—
(except nothing's ever okay, not for me and not for you and not for anybody and I CAN'T TAKE THIS SOMEONE ANYONE HELP ME)
But she kept on smiling anyway, nothing but sweetness and airy thoughts and innocent giggles, because she was a good girl, and she took care of her friends that didn't know the slightest thing about her.
She kept Eridan afloat (pun intended), simply because she really did care and it truly distressed her to see him lonely, even if his lack of personality didn't really help him in social regards.
She was the sort of perfect, sickly sweet that made you sick if you stuck around it too much. The candy girl, with her pretty, bright colors and shiny jewelry and (seemingly) relentless optimism and stupid puns.
She was made of sugar, and everything she said or did with the others dripped with syrupy sweetness.
She really was the candy girl, down to her bubblegum lips and beyond, down, down, all the way down to her blood.
Her blood.
She hated her blood.
She'd hurt herself before, not to do any lasting damage, nor because she enjoyed it; not in an attempt to leave her twisted existence—
(she was far too responsible for that)
—but rather in a simple, strange, morbid curiosity. She'd wanted to see it, this ambiguous, stupid thing that set her apart from other trolls and made her the caretaker of the dark, dread Gl'bgolyb. Oh, it wasn't that she resented being royalty, necessarily—but she did hate the way her peers saw her because of her bloodline. She was naturally very outgoing; she wanted to make friends, and yet those same friends set her apart even while they called themselves companions.
The first time she'd dragged a shard of sharp shell across her skin, she'd stared at the blood that floated away, fascinated and disgusted. The rich purple trickle billowed slowly away for several long minutes before clotting, and she loathed it.
(but she loved it too, because without it she'd never be any kind of special, would she)
Feferi had realized that day that she was really and truly the candy girl, even without her blood the color of falsity, arrogance, and lies.
She was the candy girl because she was afraid of the world, and so she glossed over everything she said or did with a layer of fake happiness. She was lovely to touch and to talk to, for a little while. Just for a little while.
(eat too much and you'll be sick)
And, well, maybe that suited her best.
After all, everything around her seemed to be touched with disaster and despair.
(too much candy is bad for you, didn't you know?)
It was so much safer to love from a distance, to support and giggle and act foolish, without a care in the world.
Sometimes being lonely was better.
(brush your teeth before the candy rots your mouth)
And at the very least...
She was a pretty picture, all wrapped up in bright skirts and gold accents and put upon her pedestal. Some things were meant to be admired and never seriously touched. Some days she wished things could have been different, but...
She was spun-sugar perfect.
She was unattainable, a deadly, beautiful pinnacle of power and status, and she was born to it.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything! :) In any case, I hope you enjoyed, and constructive criticism is always welcome!