Disclaimer:I do not own, blahing blah blah.
This is what happens when you combine me, melancholy and unexpected inspiration. Kind of angsty, but that's kind of the point.
Enjoy!
The toss of a coin.
Funny how one action could change everything, even something so small.
Really, Vriska supposed, she had been asking for it, turning her back on the enemy like that. Especially when she knew how much Terezi liked to play the vigilante, even when she didn't even have all the facts like she thought. Her nemesis could be terribly naive for a Seer.
Could she really call Terezi her enemy? Or was this one of those "unstoppable force meets immovable object" deals?
Although, the only one who lay unmoving and completely stopped was Vriska herself.
The acrid, all-too-familiar scent of her own blood wafted up to her nose, and the sensation of the metallic scent invading her nostrils offered her a temporary reprieve from how the world around her was growing steadily more black, or how the stabbing pain in her chest was slowly spreading out towards the rest of her body as her precious blue blood oozed out into an aquamarine puddle forming beneath her, sharply contrasting with her orange god-tier outfit. Her wings would twitch every now and then, like they were gently being blown on by some invisible force, even though there was no wind to be spoken of. Vriska didn't fly quite fast enough to evade the stab that felled her.
As Vriska strained for Terezi's footsteps as they walked away from her, only to be met with a pointed silence, she found herself thinking of Mindfang. Of how it must have felt when the Summoner's lance pierced her chest, probably breaking her ribs and puncturing her lungs. Did it hurt more, knowing that you were to die by the hands of your own matesprit? Or was it easier being able to prepare your entire goal unhampered by the looming threat of death, knowing that you could at least ensure that your memory, your legacy, would live on? Do things like betrayal hurt less when you know the one doing it is in just as much pain as you?
Vriska doesn't know. Her own experiences of betrayal have always been treated as more a business transactions than anything else, particularly where Equius was concerned. It was expected, she would have been shocked if Equius had taken it personally. As for Terezi, she didn't consider that betrayal. If anything, that was revenge for Terezi, as always, sticking her nose in Vriska's business with her own personal brand of what she called justice. An eye for an eye.
As for death, well, she had been convinced that nothing would be worse then her ascension to God-tier, her crazed writing littering the walls with Tavros' clumsy, shaking fingers.
The irony that Vriska's fate so closely mirrors what happened to Tavros hangs in the air. She thinks it unfair that everyone cries over Tavros, pitying him, yet she's the only one who tried to do anything about it. As far as Vriska is concerned, coddling him was the very worst thing she could have done. She didn't initially intend to kill him, but she could see that no matter what she did, he would just never quite measure up.
Of course, the sad thing is, now neither will Vriska.
As the last of the light fades and Vriska's open yellow eyes take in nothing, her body slowly beginning to grow cold, she has one last clear thought;
The Summoner, her ancestor's killer, he at least had the common decency to stay with her, hold her as the air left her lungs and light fled her eyes.
Mindfang never had to die alone.
She was one of the lucky ones.