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It had been a long time since Essempi experienced a quiet day. The lake shimmered silently next to the immobile trees, not even the branches daring to sway against the gentle wind. When the birds flew by, it was without much fanfare.
This peace was soon broken. Four footsteps smashing against the precarious wooden path. In full armor, Alyssa marched through the Community House with Dream hot on her heels.
“Alyssa! Alyssa, come back!” Dream yelled, grabbing Alyssa’s shoulder and forcefully turning her around so she was facing him. Her eyes were vacant as she came face to face not with something human to connect to, but that wretched porcelain mask with the beady black eyes that mocked whoever they laid eyes upon. It was too much to look at it and not be reminded of the betrayal that occurred against her. She was sick of it all. She was tired.
And sad.
“What, Dream?” she seethed. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
Using her as bait against their enemies because she was a woman; pushing the attention of the forest fire around L’manberg onto her so Sapnap could continue to burn it to ashes-- that was all Alyssa would ever amount to in their eyes.
She didn’t want to believe it at first, but with hindsight, it was all crystal clear. She was always the butt of the joke, always the last to be picked with these men. It was juvenile at first-- jokes from their childhood-- but now as they entered and cemented themselves in adulthood, in times of maturity and severity, it was worse than being the butt of a joke, she was now the scapegoat.
L’manberg wanted women, so Dream decided to give them a ‘woman.’ L’manberg needed someone to chase? Throw the weak one into the line of fire. Throw the least necessary one.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t contributed. She went out and cut her own wood, mined her own stone, built her own fucking buildings. She helped Ponk with his lemon forest, accompanied Sam when he built his redstone contraptions, and she gave up her soul to help Dream with his putrid war.
She gave them her everything and they gave her nothing.
The rest were guilty, but above them all sat Dream. He had always been their de facto leader, the one everyone looked to for guidance. And it was he that made the call not to immediately extricate her from the L’manbergians’ clutches. It was he that let them carry the narrative that Alyssa had burned their goddamn forest instead of the literal pyromaniac under Dream’s command.
“I don’t deserve this,” she snapped when he still didn’t answer.
She didn’t even know who he was anymore with that mask on. She remembered the sweet Dream with forest green eyes and the wheeze in his laughter. Now he was just-- now he was just sick.
A mask to hide the scars, hide the emotion.
“All’s fair in love and war,” Dream said quietly. “We did what we thought was the most strategic--”
“I could have died!” she screamed, tearing at her scalp.
“Please don’t get emotional over this,” Dream pleaded. “It’s war--”
“Emotional?” she repeated in a ghostly tone. How dare he use her feelings as a weapon against her. It was her emotions that made her help him in the first place. How could he turn the sword on her like that? She could not reconcile this. “You used me. I am a human being! I am not just a woman!”
“I know, but we’re all disposable objects when it comes to war--”
She grabbed his armor by the straps and shook him as hard as she could, though it was hard since he was so much taller and heavier than her. She’d give it her all, though, if it meant a sliver of sense might return to him. She prayed it would. “I am not an object! I am not an object! You can’t do this to me!”
Dream grabbed her wrists and pushed her off of him. She stumbled back and hit the wall of the Community House. “I can do what I like, Alyssa. This is my server. I make the rules.”
“You don’t own me. You don’t own anyone.”
Dream just shrugged. “If you don’t like it, leave. Go someplace that I don’t own.”
There was a time before Dream was a god. That wasn’t exactly right, though. There was a time before the god had fused with Dream. Before the mask.
No one was born evil.
It was created through war. Created through the illusion of control. There was nothing Alyssa could offer Dream that would make him see her as someone anymore.
“Alright,” Alyssa whispered, her body folding in on itself. Not in defeat, but rather a tactical retreat. She didn’t offer him a moment to change his mind: no lasting looks, no turning back. The last thing he’d see of her would be her back. Her ruined armor, her singed blonde hair.
Alyssa walked, not ran, to her house just around the corner of the Community House. It’s closeness to the centerpiece of the server was a testament to her long history with the others. Now it would become a relic.
It was a two story wooden cabin. Unassuming compared to some of the eccentric architecture in the area. She passed through the front door, heading upstairs to her bedroom. In her closet was a small yet sturdy duffel bag. She threw it on her bed, zipping it open and emptying it of the dust and rocks that stayed from the last time she used it.
It had been the first couple months of being here in this new area. No one had a house yet; not a single building had been built, so they had used their bags as pillows as they slept around campfires. It had been nice to go to sleep looking at the faces of her dearest friends.
Alyssa shook off the memory. She had a surprising amount of clothes, but she only picked the comfiest. What would be easiest to travel in? She didn’t know how long she’d be on the road. She didn’t know if she’d ever make a home anywhere else, or if she’d ever come back.
Alyssa loved this place, but she knew it was no longer good for her. It was one war after another, and no matter how playful they started, someone always got her. Alyssa was tired of it being her.
Alyssa glanced over at her desk, wedged in the corner of her room. There was a pile of stationary spread out over the surface. She considered writing a letter to her friends, informing them of her absence. Ponk, someone who kept her company, healed her wounds, and mostly did right by her. Callahan, her closest confidante and perhaps her only true ally.
They were all still Dream’s.
Even Callahan.
The idea was discarded.
When her bag was packed, she slung it on her shoulder and walked around the house, blowing out all the candles. It wouldn’t hurt so much to part with this house. It wasn’t the house that was so important after all. Alyssa would still try to think of it fondly.
She shut the front door behind her, quietly. She didn’t know who she was sneaking around for, but leaving in the night felt like a deception all the same. The lights hanging over the Prime Path lit her way. The street was empty. Everyone was licking their wounds or strategizing the next move in this goddamn war.
Good.
As long as they were away from her.
She passed by the walls of L’manberg, shuddering at the memory of their swords piercing her armor, cutting at her arms and legs, the hot iron of the flint and steel burning her neck. The land surrounding it was ashy and grey, burnt stumps of once beautiful trees making up the land. The river that Alyssa used to fish in with Dream and George was covered by cement.
This place had changed so much since Alyssa had first arrived. It was warped by conflict. It wasn’t what she signed up for. She wondered if the others, like Sam, would agree with her if she asked them about it. Would Sam come with her? He’d been largely avoidant of all of it. Bad too, though Skeppy was a natural instigator, and Bad would never abandon Skeppy, especially not for Alyssa.
She eventually made her way to spawn, standing in front of the cracked, cobbled wall. The small hole in the ground that most people filed through to make it to civilization seemed much larger than she remembered it being. It had been a while since she had been to spawn. All the new people arriving in the land were people she was not previously acquainted with; she had no reason to be at spawn.
Now, here she was, squeezing her way through, her duffle bag scraping the top of the tunnel to make it to the other side. Alyssa must have been the first person to crawl through the opposite way. To look into the daunting forest and see a new path.
Alyssa clutched the strap of her bag tightly.
This was it.
Briefly, she considered this being the last time she’d ever see any of her friends again, but was her peace of mind worth keeping these friends?
In this cycle?
Alyssa dusted off her leggings as soon as she made it out onto the other side, and began her journey to a new life.
Through the forest, she began to feel differently. Like there had been a weight lifted off her limbs, Alyssa found it was easier to move her limbs. She could walk faster; she could swing her arms back and forth.
She could whistle a tune.
Even Alyssa’s heart felt lighter.