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Vienna held her pack close to her legs, watching as Technoblade slowly picked up the objects laid out on the ground, consisting of mostly heavy layers and coats. There were a few hidden things Philza couldn't quite see, but didn't pay them any extra mind.
"So.., I guess-" Philza started, watching Vienna nod and lowered her head, stray silver strands falling into her eyes as she stared at her hands. They were shaking.
"Oh." The older blonde says. "I see.."
Oh.
One word. One singular word that made Vienna's heart clench. One word that could have many meanings, so many memories that the woman could remember hearing over and over again. A broken record were her thoughts, repeating each and every time she'd heard 'oh'. An overreaction, she knew that, but she couldn't help what her mind did when she closed her eyes.
"My head hurts.." she thought, closing her eyes as Technoblade approached the table she sat at, Philza following close behind. Technoblade's hand gently reached out for the blood red cloak sitting on the table, confusion littered across his face as his finger brushed the fabric, but never picking the altered memory off of the wooden table. Vienna kept her eyes closed, trying to quell the ache in her skull.
Technoblade smiled absentmindedly, knowing that this was his cloak, and that Vienna had kept it. The reason? He hasn't a clue, but she did. For that reason only, he was over the moon.
"When do you leave?" Philza said, laying a soft hand on Vienna's shoulder, rubbing a small circle to ease the woman, which did little. She was waging war on her thoughts and losing with little surrender.
Technoblade answered his friend, mindlessly playing with a little green gem handing his neck. "I was hoping tonight, I've already stayed longer than I anticipated. Staying longer may get you in hot water." He said, laying the cloak back onto the table, knowing it would do little for him. Over the days, he had grown much taller than he was when he wore that cloak.
Philza and Technoblade entered into a conversation Vienna had no intention of listening into, it wasn't any of her concern. She couldn't care less about their conversation. She just wanted to leave. She just wanted to get up, leave the house, leave the damn world for just a second. Just a damn minute.
She opened her eyes, and realized tears had made her vision hazy, made it hard to make out any figure clearly. There was nothing that she wanted to see, but having the ability was taken from her. So she held two fingers onto her closed eyelids, and rubbed the tears back into nothingness. She didn't want to cry.
Standing from her chair, blocking out any sound that cluttered the space around her. She blocked out the sound of the chair against the wood floor, blocked out the sounds of Philza's and Technoblade's conversation taper off as they watched her start towards the door. She blocked out the sound of Philza stopping his friend from stopping her, and blocked out the sound of her own heavy footsteps as she reached for the door, and walked out. She wanted to leave.
She wanted to leave, and so she did. Vienna started walking towards the rising sun just as it caressed the clouds, just as the birds started to sing their songs to the gods who watched their favorite puppet with smiles. They placed bets and paid up, asking what they'd do next to her, wondering if her strings should be cut, or if the crowd would still be entertained by her dance with death. They played with her strings like they would a simple guitar, like they would play with the children jumping between the clouds with golden sun rays forming their shadows. The shadows that filled Vienna's mind.
How could something once so pure, be turned to nothing more than an empty husk? What act could one commit to earn such a terrible fate?
How could one still walk in the light of the sun after being wronged by every small part of that damned sun? How could one stay, when there was nothing left to stay for?
Vienna had the answer, but she didn't know it. Instead of finding the answer to the question no one asked, she just simply walked to a place she once called home, and hoped she could find her old self again. Even if it were shattered pieces of glass, or burnt wood planks, or torn pieces of paper, or broken metal swords, or the rubbled foundations. She hoped she could find a fragment of herself, and she hoped it made her feel whole when she was missing more than one vital organ.
She wanted a piece of a lung when she needed two, a chunk of a kidney when she needed the whole. Half a heart when she needed the cracks in hers to be welded together. She needed so much.
