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In war, no one tells the truth -not even believers. No one tells the truth about the fingers crossed behind their backs, or the secrets laying beneath sheets of paper. There are half-truths and half-lies, traitors and saviors, but no one is entirely pure in a matter of war. Not the neutrals, with white flags, not the two sides, claiming each of them is fighting for what’s right.
No one has a halo above their heads when war is over, even the one’s who start with one.
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Ranboo should've known that, but under the assumption of peace, liers can hide. He should've known that the welcome of swords through his chest should've been a sign, a sign to leave, to run, but he didn't listen. Because in peace, the liars are in homes, easily hidden by the people. Ranboo's never had a home, never had someone who cared, and naivety covered up rationality.
Isn't that what always happens to kids in wars, who are just kids with scars?
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Ranboo's always known how to run, run from the people who taunted him, and now run from the people who protected him. He's standing all alone in a world where people are a tool, a weapon you can use, and he's defenseless. Phil comes by and tells him, amongst the ashes of a nation that never truly accepted them, to join him and Techno. The angel of death, with the god of blood, offers him a home, and Ranboo thinks it's the best place he's ever been in. The voice in his head whispers to him, about the irony in him joining the people who destroyed his home.
He has no more naivety, not after ashes stain his crown, but he still has hypocrisy.
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The person he once called his brother, arrives in his nightmares now, not his dreams. The person he called his sister, screams in his ears as he sleeps, and he wakes up in pain every time. He hears the haunting melody of the disc ring through his head every time, he's standing over the ashes of his once home. Every day is a challenge, the places he wakes-up in become sporadic, and the inner monologue he has becomes louder and louder. He finds himself wondering if he should leave -if he should go.
The stars hold the stories of the believers, the ones who were cursed by the gods, simply for being human. Ranboo wonders if it applies to him.
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Cassandra was a mortal that was cursed with the gift of prophecy but also never be able to have anyone believe her prophecies. The day before Doomsday, Ranboo screamed at them with warnings that came true the next day, he screamed and screamed, but no one cared or believed, for they believed he is a liar.
He doesn't even know if he's a liar or a believer.
(The answer is liars are naive enough to be hypocritical.)
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A day has twenty-four hours, and a month has four weeks. The issue is that Ranboo only remembers up to six-hours at a time, eight maybe, and 10 in jagged sections if he’s lucky. Every time he wakes up, the world around him seems to crash and burn- just a little. Tommy’s house is built of netherrack (He has six stacks left in his inventory) , he has a disc in a buried chest (Skeppy doesn’t have his, and Dream still has one) , and his hands reek of gunpowder (the community house was blown up) .
He feels like a puppet, and he has no way to get rid of the strings that tie around his neck.
Ranboo has been on this server for barely any time, and he's already gone too far into hell, the walls are closing in, and he can't get out. There's only one way out, that's not something he wants to do, but now it seems like something he has to do. It seems like something that was inevitable, something that was always he’s
Ranboo stands at the edge of the cliff one day, he has no wings like the skeleton's of Phil's, he has no shoes like the one's Techno have. He has nothing left to lose, no friends, no items, and no pets. He is not Icarus, he has no one to fall back onto.
He falls and falls and falls.
He thinks he knows the answer, he is a believer and a liar, and he is cursed.