Work Text:
She had actually done it.
Vriska laid there, awkwardly, pinned to the ground by the blade of the person she had trusted most in the world.
Terezi, too, had been shell-shocked.
Vriska couldn't tell if her once-ally had even shed a tear before leaking her there, alone, planted in the ground like a butterfly on display.
It felt odd, the blade warm in her chest as cerulean seeped through the fabric of her shirt and rapidly cooled, which made her shiver.
She couldn't move.
She'd always suspected that she'd die on a battlefield somewhere, never alone. Never like this.
A bell seemed to chime in the distance as she closed her eyes, unwilling to force another breath from her broken body.
Just.