Archive of Our Own

No, really, you don’t. See. Shit. First of all, you’re — surprise, surprise! — blind, duh. The fact that right now you are rushing through the black, eye gouging space so fast you can barely catch a smell, catch a breath doesn’t help. Still not fast enough.

Everyone on Earth C — or whatever your new world is called now — is settling down and moving forward. And you? You flipped a coin, threw on a jet pack and fucking bounced into the space first moment you got a chance. "Gloriously stupid decision," you state as a certified Seer of Mind.

You’re glad they all stoped asking stupid questions like “When are you going home?” and shit. It was getting kinda annoying typing “WH3N 1 F1ND H3R” over and over again.

You still talk to them. Just… not much.

You know what they have to say, you know oh-so well. Karkat can give you an awfully awkward lecture. Kanaya can give you a perfectly sensible lecture, too. Hell, you bet they can even compete with each other in this noble craftsmanship. At the Troll Olympics or something, — what a show! — yeah, Kanaya’s matesprit-human-wife could be a referee, and the Mayor would give out the awards, and—

They can, but they won’t. You think they know it won’t change anything.

And with Dave you don’t talk about the Real Stuff, nah, you’re bros. You two always would be like long time NO S33 — fucking hilarious (so, so stupid) — he’d send you some of his sweet new rap, maybe some sick memes, which you’d upgrade and send back.

You are kinda — what’s a synonym for “thankful” that not so godawfully sappy? — to him. To all of them. And still you can’t stay.

You flipped a coin, but you never even checked what side you got.

It’s only logical for you to go look for Vriska — you tell yourself. After all, you are the one that didn’t stop her, let her fuck off god knows where, just so she can play a hero, her favorite fucking role. You should’ve told her no. You are the Seer of Mind and should’ve known better. Been smarter. Thought harder. There must’ve been a better way and you should have known it. You should have never let her go.

In another timeline — another life — you killed Vriska: stabbed her in the back just not to let her go.

That’s not normal. She’s no good for you.

You’re the goddamn Seer of Mind: you know what’s better for you. Everyone grows, and changes, and gets on with their life. And you should too. You should move on. Find peace with yourself. Learn to be your own person. Stop acting like Vriska is the key to solving all of your problems.

You should let her go.

You know that. You just don’t care.

You don’t use your Seer powers much anymore: you don’t need to be shown hundreds and hundreds ways you fail: you are already imaging it yourself all the time, thank you very much.

Your ancestor laid down her life just to catch Serket. And then she fucking died and Vriska’s ancestor got away. End of the story. The crowd boos and throws some rotten tomatoes.

You are afraid that history tends to repeat itself. You are troll Icarus. A burning pile of space junk. You’re going to crash, and burn, and never reach her.

And it will happen — one way or another. You either catch her, but one day die, and let her slip away once again or die trying to find her.

You never went God tier. You are no God and therefore will die. Those are the facts, the prosecution rests its case.

Whatever. Can’t Aradia, your Maid of Time, like, make you some fucking time? Shouldn’t be that hard, right? Heck, you think even Feferi (not your Feferi, the one that went God tier) can do the trick. The fact that they can be anywhere — literally anywere — in the shithole that is Paradox Space is another question.

Still you don’t even worry about it and that is kind of worrisome. You curse Vriska for blinding you once again.

Besides, it’s kind of silly to be bothered by you dying eventually when you don’t even know if she’s alive. Which she probably isn’t. She probably died some glorious death of a hero. What a bitch.

And yet you are not turning back. Even if she’s dead your going to find her. You won’t stop searching even if you die looking for her. Right now you feel a hell lot of obsessed and a little broken hearted. You always knew you needed her more then she needed you.

It’s so funny: you don’t even know what you gonna do when (if) you find her. You are oh-so lying: you daydream about it all the time. You want to punch her hard. You want to tell her how fucking stupid she is in so many words that Karkat would be impressed. You want to hear all of her annoying bragging and count her scars. You want to hold her. You want to kiss her stupid face and taste her tears.

You’re nine sweeps old, however, you feel like you know her for all eternity.

You were best friends, sisters in arm, partners in crime. You were rivals, enemies, mortal nemeses. Black like madness and pale like bone dust. Never red, though. Thinking about it now is so funny. “I fucking love red!” Say the two stupid girls aggressively avoiding the red quadrant with each other. So dumb.

And now? The truth is you don’t even care anymore. You want her in every quadrant like a desperate fool.

You are so tired. You don’t know what day it is. What perigee it is. You don’t know where you are or where you’re going either. You have nothing left: no anger, no hope. You just miss Vriska. You miss your friend.

She’s no hero. She’s no villain. She’s not some kind of inter-dimensional mastermind or universal war criminal. She’s not a savior, a scapegoat or some kind of plot device. She’s not her ancestor or whatever character she has built in her head.

She is a stupid reckless teenage girl. Just like you.

You don’t want to catch her anymore. Just to find her. And hope that when (if) you do, she stays.

You want to write a story with her. The one with a happy ending. The one where she doesn’t have to be killed like a Villain. The one where she doesn’t need to die like a Hero.

You… Wait. A fucking. Minute.

You bring your rocket wings to the limit, fire roaring and blood pounding in your ears. Your cheeks are cold with tears.

You smell something painfully, gut wrenchingly familiar. You feel like a razor wire’s tugging on your blood pusher. You feel like you’re sleepwalking. You feel just like the day you were blinded by the sun. The day you were blinded by Vriska.