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Garmonbozia
“Gotta light?”
Adagio Dazzle turned to regard the vagrant in her passenger’s seat. His thick, matted hair and tangled beard, and rumpled, unwashed clothing, lent him a wild air; and his eyes and teeth were islands of stark white against his soot-black skin.
“Gotta light?” he repeated, dangling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. His voice was a growly baritone; his gaze was intense, focused squarely on Adagio as she drove through the night.
Adagio looked at him a while longer. Then her eyes narrowed, and she turned her attention back to the open road. “Try the glove compartment.”
She heard it click open, and his hands rummaging through its contents. Then it clicked shut again. Evidently, there was no lighter, no book of matches, to be found; the smell of tobacco did not fill the car’s stifling interior.
That was a shame. The car stank of burning oil – cigarette smoke would have been an improvement.
“Worth a shot,” Adagio muttered.
Quite suddenly, though not unexpectedly, a building appeared in the night – a squat, dilapidated ruin with a metal staircase on one side, and a sign over the front window reading “Convenience Store.”
Adagio set her teeth and swallowed. She pulled off the road and parked beside it, killing the headlights. The passenger’s door opened; the vagrant stepped into the night. He hovered at the door.
Adagio reached for her purse with a shaking hand, fighting her own staggered breathing and rapid heartbeat to rummage through it. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
The vagrant stood expectantly.
Adagio glared at him. “You heard me,” she snapped. “Damn it, it’s not going anywhere. You can wait on me for a minute, can’t you?”
The vagrant stood a moment longer before walking toward the building that loomed nearby.
Grumbling to herself, Adagio found what she was looking for: the orange pill bottle, still half-full of pearly white tablets. She uncapped the bottle, and shook two into a shaking palm. Then she tossed her head back and threw them into her mouth-dry swallowing both and sighing.
The shaking in her hands gradually ceased. Her heartrate and breathing slowed to normal. Anxiety still clawed inside of her – she couldn’t chase that off so easily.
With a growl, Adagio threw open the car door and stepped into the night. The vagrant stood at the top of the metal staircase; it ended at a brick wall with no door. The whites of his eyes shone like pale lanterns in the dark.
Adagio drew herself up, clutched her purse close, and started up the staircase.
Sunset Shimmer walked through Canterlot High, a lone figure in an empty hallway. Walls of green lockers passed by, their monotony broken by the occasional windowed door interspaced between them. Classes were done for the day, and the weekend was ahead of her, a rare two-day stretch where her professional and scholastic obligations were nonexistent. For once, she could drop her books in her locker and walk out of the school building completely carefree.
Her locker was at the end of a row, beside a classroom which she couldn’t recall ever spending any amount of time in. The door to the room was ajar; Sunset thought little of it as she unslung her backpack and started spinning the dial on her locker.
Then a pair of pale, purple arms darted out of the open classroom, nabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her inside. Sunset yelped; the door slammed shut behind her as she wrenched herself free and spun around, fists clenched.
She was met with the supercilious gaze of Aria Blaze, inches away.
“Aria?” Sunset said incredulously. “What are you—”
“Adagio’s been missing for a week,” she said, quickly and bluntly.
Sunset’s eyes widened; her fists relaxed momentarily. Then she clenched them again, harder than before. “Cry me a river.”
Aria’s face contorted with rage. She rushed at Sunset, angling a punch toward her face. Sunset dodged with ease – with unusual ease – and Aria’s momentum carried her forward; she staggered toward the row of bookshelves underneath the classroom windows, and caught herself upon them. Her shoulders shook with ragged breaths as she turned to stare at Sunset furiously.
Something was wrong here. Sunset looked closely at the girl in front of her, and noticed for the first time the pallor of her skin, and the gauntness of her face. Her arms, too, were rail-thin and bony. Her physical state did nothing to dampen her usual intensity, but she was, for all intents and purposes, a paper tiger.
“What happened to you?” Sunset whispered.
Aria’s face reddened and she looked quickly away. “You. You and those freakshow Rainbooms did this. We’re starving because we can’t feed.” She rubbed her nose and sniffed.
Sunset’s fingers unclenched, and though she remained on guard, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of empathy for her one-time enemy.
Something in her eyes must have given her away, because Aria turned her head and spat. “Take your pity and fuck yourself with it. I’m not here to sing you a sob story. I’m here because I need to find my sister.”
That certainly served to harden Sunset’s heart again. “And you want me to help you.”
Aria sneered at the word ‘help,’ but she nodded stiffly.
“Why?” said Sunset flatly, folding her arms. “Because me and my, ah, ‘freakshow’ friends stopped you from making our school into your own personal buffet?”
“No,” said Aria with a condescending lilt. “Because helping people is what you’re supposed to be all about, you bleeding-heart pony bitch.”
Sunset snorted. “Well. If I was on the fence about helping you before, then that certainly clinched it.” She turned toward the door.
Aria balked. “You can’t leave me like this. Damn it, Sunset—"
“You have another sister, right? Get her in on this. Leave me out of it.”
“Sonata can’t help me!” Aria snapped. “You think I look bad? She can’t even get out of bed anymore!”
Sunset bit her lip, hard, as her fingers closed around the doorknob. “That’s not my problem. Find someone else.”
“It has to be you!”
Sunset held the knob tightly; the metal was hard and cool against her soft, warm skin. She looked over her shoulder at Aria, who stared, pleadingly, back.
“It has to be you,” she repeated, this time more quietly. “Believe me, you wouldn’t have been my first choice either, but it has to be you. I wish I could explain why, but. I can’t. Just – it has to be you.”
Sunset’s hand lingered on the knob as she looked searchingly at Aria. Finally, her grip loosened, and she turned around, leaning her back against the door.
“Talk fast,” said Sunset. “From the top.”
A silent sigh escaped Aria as she braced her bony behind against the bookshelves. “Alright. From the top. Like I said, we haven’t been able to feed since the Battle of the Bands.”
Sunset nodded. “You fed through the pendants.”
“Which are now broken. Thanks to you.” Aria gave her head a toss. “But we managed to use pieces from each of ours to put together one that barely – just barely – works. We take turns with it – we use it in shifts. One of us goes out every night, feeds, comes home, shares whatever’s left over with the other two. Now, me and Sonata, we never get that much – just barely enough to scrape by, and almost never enough for everyone to stay fed, but Adagio...”
Sunset bit her thumbnail, looking down at the floor tiles. “She gets enough for the three of you.”
“I don’t know where she’s going to get it – she gets angry whenever we ask – but she always comes back with enough in the pendent for all three of us. There’s never a lot to go around, but we never worry about going hungry when Adagio goes out.” Aria hesitated. “Thing is… it takes a lot out of her. She never says anything, never complains, but we can all tell – she’s a little more worn out every time she comes home, and she barely leaves her room for days after. Until it’s time to go out again.”
“And after her last turn,” Sunset muttered, looking up at Aria, “she didn’t come home again.”
Aria’s lips puckered like she’d bitten into something sour, and she nodded.
Sunset stared levelly at her for a long, silent moment. “Let’s say for a moment that I agree to help you,” she said at last. “What am I supposed to do, exactly? Missing persons cases are probably more up the cops’ alley—"
“This isn’t a job for the cops,” Aria interrupted. “They can barely handle cases that don’t involve freaky magic shit. I take this to them, and best case scenario, they laugh me out of the precinct. Worst case scenario, they start asking the kinds of questions that land me and my sisters in trouble.”
Sunset raised an eyebrow.
Aria flushed. “What, you’re surprised?”
“Guess I shouldn’t be.” Sunset took a deep breath, then released it slowly, and stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. “You said you don’t know where she’s been going to feed. Do you have any ideas at all? Any leads?”
Hope sprang onto Aria’s haggard countenance. “Does this mean you’ll—"
“Depends on your answer. I’m not going into this blind; you either have something for me to work with, or you don’t. And if you don’t, then I’m out. Understand?”
Aria smoldered, but nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand. And I have a lead.”
Sunset brow furrowed. “And that is?”
Aria’s eyes flashed. “We won’t know ‘til we get there.”
The wind whipped past Sunset as her motorcycle sped along the road, ruffling her leather jacket and tossing the strands of hair poking out from underneath her helmet. Aria’s arms were tight around Sunset’s waist, and her chin rested on Sunset’s shoulder, craning down to keep an eye on her cell phone’s screen. They’d been driving for hours, well beyond the limits of what Sunset had explored on the road, and were surrounded by scrub brush and sand on all sides. The only signs of civilization were the omnipresent asphalt, and the telephone lines stretching along the road.
Sunset’s stomach was in knots as she realized just how isolated they were. The possibility of a trap grew more likely with every mile they drove. If this was all an elaborate ploy by Aria Blaze to lure her into an ambush, if Adagio and Sonata were waiting at their destination, then Sunset was playing into their hands. She supposed she could always find the answers in Aria’s consciousness, tap into the Equestrian magic and rifle through her thoughts…
But that wouldn’t be very sporting (or ethical). And something about Aria told her that this was no trap. The girl wasn’t Adagio; she didn’t have the same guile – she couldn’t feign desperation convincingly. So Sunset took her at her word, and kept right on driving.
Then Aria’s hand squeezed Sunset’s stomach, a predetermined signal that they’d arrived at their destination. Sunset killed the engine and slowed her bike to a stop in a vacant, offroad lot, beside a four-door sedan whose front doors were still open.
A chill rippled down her spine.
Sunset tugged off her helmet and shook out her hair; behind her, Aria dismounted the bike, her eyes glued to her screen. “This is the place?” asked Sunset. Frowning, she stepped over to the car, leaving her helmet on her bike’s seat.
“Looks like,” Aria said, her thumb swiping across her cell phone’s screen.
Sunset reached the abandoned car and peeked inside. A fair bit of dust had accumulated in the interior, and a collection of wires – some torn and frayed – were knotted up underneath the driver’s console.
“This Adagio’s car?” she called to Aria.
There was a moment’s pause before she got an answer. “Uh, no. Adagio doesn’t have a car.”
Sunset looked up quizzically. “Then whose—”
“Beats the hell out of me.”
Sunset gave the wires another wary look before rising and leaving the car behind, joining Aria at a vacant, sandy lot. The air was hot, and dry; the landscape all around was desolate. The faint tang of burnt motor oil plied at Sunset’s nostrils; she grimaced at the unpleasant odor, fanning her hand in front of her nose.
“This is where Adagio went?” Sunset asked.
Aria shook her head. “Don’t know. Maybe?”
Sunset glared at her. “But you said—”
“I said I had a lead. That’s all.” Aria scoffed, jabbing furiously at her cell phone screen with her thumbnail. “Sorry if you jumped to conclusions.”
Sunset gave her a dirty look, but she didn’t offer any kind of retort – truth was, her skin was starting to crawl. There was an eerie feeling in the air, a sort of wrongness that she struggled to put a word to. Her bones felt like they were shaking, vibrating – right down to the marrow.
She tugged her jacket tighter, shivering despite the heat. “About this lead…”
Aria, unperturbed, and still not looking up from her phone, kept walking – slow, careful steps, into the vacant, lot. “Geographical coordinates.”
“In your phone, sure. I worked that much out myself.” Sunset worked her jaw, trying to fight back her unease. “Where’d you find them? Adagio’s diary, or something?”
“Please. Adagio doesn’t keep important shit in her diary; she knows that’s the first place I’d look.” A ghost of a smirk crossed Aria’s face for a second. Then she sighed. “I, uh. You’re not gonna believe this, but…”
Sunset watched her warily. “But?”
“…I got ‘em from a dream.” Aria rubbed her nose, ignoring Sunset’s incredulous look. “Or… I don’t know if ‘dream’ is the right word. You forget dreams when you wake up, right? This was more like a—”
“You dragged me out into the desert asscrack of Canterville county because of numbers you heard in a dream?!” Sunset thundered. Her hands balled into fists; she considered smacking the phone out of Aria’s hand.
“Uh. Yeah?” Aria didn’t look particularly disquieted by Sunset’s shouting. “Why do you think I didn’t tell you until after we got here? Figured you wouldn’t take me seriously.”
Sunset’s teeth clenched. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t climb back onto my bike and leave you here.”
“’Cuz I ain’t going home without Adagio. And you wouldn’t leave me here to die.” Aria grinned smarmily. “Bleeding-heart pony.”
Part of Sunset wanted to defy Aria’s assessment without a word or a thought. The rest of Sunset knew that she was, after all, one hundred percent right. So Sunset sighed defeatedly, flapped her arms, and said, “Tell me about your stupid dream.”
“I told you, it was more of a vision—”
“Stop it.”
“Eat me.” Aria stuck her tongue out at Sunset. “Anyway, in my vision… I was sitting in some room – a nice room, with antique furniture, and a phonograph. Everything was in grayscale, too – like something out of an old movie.”
“Mmhm.” The vibrating sensation was growing more potent. With a glance up, Sunset realized she and Aria were positioned almost exactly underneath a length of phone lines.
“So I was sitting in this chair,” Aria continued, “and in front of me was this somber-looking guy. He was huge, balding, and he looked, like, super sad. And he looked at me, and he said ‘Aria Blaze.’”
Aria stopped, and looked at Sunset significantly. “Except he said it kinda funny – kinda distorted. Like he couldn’t make the words come out right. And he said it slowly, too – like just talking normally was hard for him.”
She was completely earnest when she said it. Sunset couldn’t help believing her. She nodded.
Aria pursed her lips, then turned back to her phone. “So he said my name, and then he said ‘remember the numbers.' And he gave me a list of numbers, just like that. I didn’t know what the hell he was on about, so I said ‘hey, dude, what the hell are you on about?’ And then he said…”
They were right underneath the power lines. Sunset felt the vibrating sensation intensify – like her bones were threatening to shake so hard that they burst free from her skin. “Said what?”
“…‘Sunset Shimmer is the way home.’”
Sunset heard a faint crackling sound – then, in the distance, the cough of an engine backfiring. The motor oil smell intensified. “Sunset Shimmer…”
“That’s why it had to be you,” said Aria. “That and, well, the bleeding-heart pony thing. And the numbers – I kinda figured out, when I woke up, that they were geographic—” She stopped when she glanced up from her phone at Sunset, seeming to realize, for the first time, how shaken she was.
“The hell’s wrong with you?” Aria said, shrouding her concern behind flippancy.
“Something’s wrong here.” Sunset looked at Ari, confused – surely she could feel it too. “There’s an energy around here.”
Aria shrugged and shook her head. “Don’t freak out on me, Sunset. You’re supposed to be the big swingin’ dick when it comes to Equestrian magic—”
“This isn’t Equestrian magic,” Sunset hissed. She looked about frantically. “The feel of it, it’s – it’s all wrong. Can’t you tell? Can’t you sense it?”
Aria narrowed her eyes. “No. Because some bitch broke my pendent.”
“Well then, take my word for it.” Sunset’s eyes lifted to the power lines. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s nothing I’m familiar with. It’s… alien.”
Aria smirked. “Scared, huh?”
“Yes,” Sunset said emphatically. She grabbed Aria’s hand. “We need to leave. Now.”
Aria wrenched her hand free, scowling. “I’m not going anywhere without—”
Quite suddenly, then, the space between the power lines tore open. A swirling vacuum of black, a spiral rip in the visible fabric of reality, spun open, like a backwards tornado in the sky.
The motor oil smell grew stronger; the backfiring engine went off again. Sunset felt her bones shaking in her body, every one of them. One hand sought the geode tucked underneath her blouse, clutching at it instinctively. The other remained closed around Aria’s hand, which was tightening around Sunset’s.
Sunset felt her body stretch, condense, as though she were being drawn into a narrow filament. Then she was rising, rising into the vortex, her hand never leaving Aria’s. Through the hole, she saw eyes – milky white eyes against the darkness, boring into her.
Then Sunset was gone – and she knew not where.
Gradually, the world regained substance, and form. Sunset felt solid wood underneath her feet, saw walls and windows and furniture around her. Aria Blaze still stood next to her, their hands linked together. Their eyes met; Aria flushed, and pulled her hand free from Sunset’s immediately.
Sunset might have said something – but the room they were in, and its occupants, took priority over witty repartee.
The room was dingy and dimly lit. Windows, framed by filthy curtains and blinds, looked out into an expanse of pale yellow light. Against the walls were chairs, occupied by filthy men in filthy clothing, with natty beards and soot-black skin. They rocked back and forth, eyeing Sunset and Aria hungrily. One of them lifted his hand and thumped it, twice, against his thigh – the gesture struck Sunset as obscene. She couldn’t quite place why.
In the middle of the room was a table – a green, formica table – at which was seated a little man in a red suit. His face was grotesque, and lumpy, covered in wisps of thin, sandy hair. He, too, looked at the two girls; his eyes were blue, and shrewd, and seemed to pierce Sunset to the core.
A greasy smile spread across the little man’s face, his eyes glinting. “!sdneirf weN” he proclaimed. The words, though comprehensible to Sunset, grated against her ear like the screech of metal on metal. “!slrig weN !slrig tsoL !emoh neve toN .og ot erehwoN”
Then he cackled, squeezing his hands together. The men around the room joined in, inhaling their laughter.”
Sunset chanced a look at Aria – she was trying to stay stoic, at the very least, but Sunset could see the traced of fear on her face, the subtle droplet of sweat tracing down her jawline. She didn’t need a pendant to sense how wrong this all was.
For the first time in a long time, Sunset started to wonder if she was in over her head.
The little man stopped laughing and reached under the table, producing an object that hadn’t been there before and setting it on the formica tabletop. It was a purse, a light purple clutch, covered in pale purple triangles. Dangling from one side by a purple string was a yellow gemstone, superimposed over a light purple treble clef.
Sunset heard the hiss of air from Aria, and moved quickly to grab her shoulders. “Easy,” Sunset breathed.
Aria shook her off and glared at her. “That purse—”
“I know.” Sunset let out a slow breath. “But take it easy.”
Gently, the little man undid the clasp on Adagio’s clutch. Looking at Aria, he beckoned her over with a tiny, small-fingered hand. Aria swallowed, and strode stiffly over, pausing at the other end of the table. The little man gestured eagerly at the open purse.
“…emos ekil uoy dlouW”
The little man produced a spoon, and dug it into the purse. Sunset could hear the squishy, sloppy sounds of something fluidic spreading around inside. Then he withdrew the spoon, and held it up to Aria’s face.
“Garmonbozia?”
Aria’s nose wrinkled. She stumbled backward, coughing and hacking; Sunset caught her, and held her, until she stabilized.
The little man cackled again, and slid the spoon into his mouth, slurping down its contents greedily and smiling all the while. Sunset squinted, trying to glimpse the substance he was eating: a thick, golden mush, dotted with tiny lumps of darker yellow. It looked like…
“…Creamed corn?” Sunset released Aria, let her steady herself, and moved to inspect the purse herself. It was, in fact, full of the same substance – full of creamed corn.
The little man rubbed his hands together, filling the room with a sandpapery sound. He met Sunset’s eyes, and ran his tongue along his lips.
“.efil sevig esroh elap eht ,morf er’uoy erehW .ereh gnoleb t’nod uoY”
“Well…” Sunset paused, inhaled slowly – the scent of burning motor oil didn’t make that easy. “I don’t want to be here. Whatever this place is.”
The little man’s head inclined.
Sunset pointed at Aria, who’d mostly recovered. “We’re here for her sister. Adagio Dazzle, the girl who owns that purse.”
“.lrig ehT” The little man’s lips pursed tightly. “.erofeb dna reveroF .worros teews sgnis ehS”
“I don’t… know what that means,” Sunset said numbly. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the tabletop. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
The little man nodded once.
Sunet’s fingers tightened. “Do you know where we can find her?”
The little man placed his fingers flat on the tabletop and leaned his face closer to Sunset’s. “.moor gnitiaW .moor deR”
Waiting room. Red room.
“Is that where we’ll find her?” Sunset looked around, but the room had no doors, no entrances or exits. “How do we get there?”
“.syaw owt seog noitulovE” The little man placed one hand on his chest, and pointed at Sunset with the other. “.eb lliw I tahw dna ,ma I tahW .erew uoy tahw dna ,era uoy tahW .ereht dnif lliw uoY”
Sunset shook her head uncomprehendingly.
The little man looked annoyed. He pointed at Aria, scowling. “.eb nac tahW …niaga em ees uoy nehW”
“Keep pointing at me, and I’ll snap all your fingers off and plug your body with ‘em,” Aria growled.
The little man’s frustration turned to mirth. He looked at Sunset, smiling that greasy smile again.
“.em htiw klaw eriF”
The light outside flooded the room; tongues of flame engulfed the men seated against the walls, and the little man at his formica table. Sunset raised her arms to ward away the flame, but she didn’t feel the heat, didn’t feel the searing sensation of flesh being flash-cooked.
And when the light faded, and she lowered her arms, she saw curtains – rich, red, velvety curtains, on every side. Above her head was stark black, inky black, like the black of the void that had sucked her inside. And below her, at her feet, were zig-zagging tiles of white and black.
Aria was still with her, though – for better or for worse. She looked just as shaken at Sunset, and this time, didn’t try to play it off.
“Are you okay?” Sunset asked quietly.
Aria stared at her, nodding slowly. “Where are we now?”
“I didn’t know where we were before, Aria.” Sunset swallowed, trying vainly to peer past the endless sea of red curtains. “But if I understood that little guy right… we’re wherever Adagio is.”
“Geez.” Aria wiped her palms on her thighs and stepped up beside Sunset. “I think you were right – this isn’t Equestrian magic we’re dealing with. And we’re sure as hell not in Canterville anymore.” She whistled a dry, airy whistle. “What the hell did ‘Dagi get herself into?”
“Whatever it was, I suspect she got in over her head.” Sunset looked at Aria. “Which doesn’t bode well for us, trying to save her.”
Aria narrowed her eyes at Sunset and stuck up her middle finger. “Bode this. I’m not pissing and moaning about it; I’m just saying. And I’m still not leaving without my sister.”
Sunset gave a small smile – it was nice to see Aria’s bravado come out, even if it was clearly tempered by a healthy dose of fear. “Well, I did the talking to get us here. If you want to lead the way in looking for her, be my guest.”
“Fine. Just, uh…” Aria turned around, frowning, scanning along the curtained perimeter. “Just give me a minute to… get my… bearings…”
Sunset watched her spin a while, smirking, until Aria came to a dizzy stop. “How ‘bout them bearings?” Sunset quipped.
“Eat me,” Aria growled, rubbing her forehead with her palm.
Sunset chuckled.
From nearby came the sound of fabric rustling, the curtains being displaced. Sunset whirled to face the source of the sound, falling into a defensive pose. Something – no, someone – was emerging from the curtains.
It was a man – a tall, thin, older man, in a dapper black suit, handsome despite his years. His black hair was well combed, slicked back and parted; his face was stony, but his eyes alight with warmth. And in his hands were two steaming, white mugs.
He approached Sunset and Aria with slow, measured footsteps, and stopped a respectful distance away. Slowly, he extended the mugs to both of them.
Sunset exchanged a look with Aria. Then, carefully, she moved to meet him, accepting a mug and peering into it. A sea of black stared back at her, and she saw her reflection inside. A thin curl of steam wafted past her nose; she breathed… and smelled rich, fresh coffee.
Uncertain, Sunset glanced up at the older man. He smiled, and nodded once.
Hesitating for just a moment, Sunset took a sip of the coffee.
Aria moved swiftly to her side. “What are you doing? Don’t—”
Sunset swallowed the mouthful; her eyes opened wide. She grinned at Aria. “No, it’s okay. It’s okay! This is—” She looked at the man. “Excuse me— this is a damn fine cup of coffee.”
The corner of Aria’s mouth tugged down. “The hell?” She looked at the remaining mug in the man’s outstretched hand, as Sunset continued to gulp down the fine brew.
The man smiled at Aria. “You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”
“Mm. Yeah, we sure could.” Sunset finished her coffee quickly, and sighed. “Is there more?”
The man’s smile faded; he shook his head.
Grumbling, Aria took the mug from him and downed a quick swig. She smacked her lips, and grunted. “Not bad. I don’t usually drink mine black, but—”
“Don’t be picky,” Sunset said, elbowing Aria. She turned to the man, cradling the coffee mug in her palm. “You talk normally – you don’t sound like that other guy. The little guy.”
The man shook his head again. “I’m not from around here. Not like him.” He looked pointedly between Aria and Sunset. “And not in the same sense as you, either.”
Sunset set her empty mug on the floor – the mug promptly vanished – and stuck both hands into her pockets. “Where is ‘here?’”
The man’s mouth opened, but he shut it with a frown. “It’s difficult to explain. And I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you.”
Aria grunted into her coffee. “Great. So what’re you good for, exactly?”
The man looked at her for a long moment, before returning his gaze to Sunset. “I know why you’re here. And I’m going to help you find her.”
Sunset and Aria followed the man through a seemingly unnavigable maze of identical red curtains and zig-zagging tiles, the minutes stretching on and on as they went. Aria kept silent through most of it, though she emitted the occasional bored grunt or epithet, and scuffed the tiles with her toe impatiently.
On the other hand, Sunset had an inexhaustible well of curiosity, and a boatload of questions by nature. So she drew closer to her guide, and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention as he led them through another stretch of identical rooms and curtained corridors.
“You said you weren’t from around here,” Sunset said quietly. “Does that mean you’re from, you know. Out there?”
The man stayed silent, but eventually nodded.
“How’d you get in here?” The man didn’t answer that; Sunset tried a different tack. “How long have you been here?”
“…I don’t know, exactly,” the man said. His jaw worked for a moment. “Time… it’s hard to tell how time passes in a place like this. If it has meaning at all, I haven’t figured it out.”
He pulled aside a flap of curtain leading to a new room, but instead of passing through, he paused and looked at Sunset. “I’ve been here long enough to understand some things. Not long enough to understand it all.”
Aria brushed past Sunset from behind, jostling her rudely. “’Scuse me,” she muttered. Then she ducked underneath the man’s arm, through the opened way.
Sunset rubbed her shoulder where Aria’d struck her, muttering to herself. Then she caught sight of the man’s eyes – his gaze was sad.
She tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”
“What year is it?” he asked. “Out there, where you’re from – what years it it?”
But before Sunset could answer, he held up his hand, smiling wanly.
“I think it’s better if I didn’t know.”
Hoofbeats echoed behind Sunset. She almost turned to look behind herself.
“Don’t,” the man said quickly, a cautionary edge in his voice. “Don’t look. Not yet. Just go.”
He pulled the curtain higher for Sunset. She, swallowing hard, no less frightened and no less anxious, and ducked underneath into the next room.
This room was wide – wider than the dingy room, wider than the curtained room, about as wide as the CHS courtyard, Sunset guessed. Aria stood there, her arms limp at her sides; a look of utter incomprehension dominated her worn features as she gazed at the room’s one and only feature.
It was a sycamore tree, its jagged branches pointing upward. At the top of its trunk was a round, bulbous object, glistening with moisture – the shape of it recalled the little man’s head.
Bound to the tree’s branches was Adagio Dazzle – pale, and gaunt, her voluminous hair hanging in lank, sweat-matted tangles around her bony face. Her clothes were torn, and her limbs twitched intermittently, as groans of pain issued periodically from her throat. Around her neck was a shattered pendent, a few fragments of glassy red rock clinging to a lanyard; around her ring finger was a band of gold, set with a pale green stone, inscribed with a symbol Sunset had never seen before.
“What the fuck,” Aria whispered hoarsely. She rushed toward the tree, toward Adagio, her hand extended.
The man in the suit moved quickly to intercept her, catching her by the wrist and stopping her mid-step. He looked at her, firmly, yet with gentle patience in his eyes.
Aria was firm without being gentle or patient. “Get the hell off!” She pulled at her arm, tugging vainly to free herself; she swung at the man, but his head moved swiftly aside. “That’s my sister! That’s my fucking sister, you—”
“It can’t be you,” the man interrupted. “Do you understand?”
He looked toward Sunset; Aria followed his gaze. Comprehension dawned on the Dazzling’s face as the man’s hand released her wrist.
“That thing you wear,” the man said, pointing at Sunset. “Around your neck.”
Sunset’s hand sought her geode, and she gripped it tightly as she stared at the writhing Adagio. The geode, Equestrian magic, the power she had to read minds by touch – her mind made those connections rapidly, told her what she needed to do.
Her feet carried her toward her task less quickly. Nevertheless, toward the tree, she walked, stopping within arm’s reach of Adagio.
The man stepped up beside her; she looked at him, biting her lip. “It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?”
The man looked sympathetic as he nodded.
She gulped. “That’s what I thought.” She took a deep breath, and looked at Aria. The other girl looked torn between any number of emotions. Fear seemed dominant – fear for herself, most likely. Fear for Adagio, also likely.
Fear for Sunset… well, that would have been nice.
Sunset faked a smile. “I do this for you, and you never call me a ‘bleeding-heart pony’ again.”
Adagio’s lips quirked up for just a second, and she made a huffy sound that might’ve been a laugh.
Then Sunset turned back to Adagio, to the tree. Her hand shook as she reached toward Adagio…
“Not her,” said the man softly. “The tree.”
The tree, Sunset thought. Her hand drifted toward the tree, hovering over one of its thin, frail branches. She imagined she could feel the prickle of static stinging her skin, just from being that close to it. Fear kept her back for just a moment longer…
Then her hand tightened around the geode, and she seized the branch.
Sunset screamed, and the tree screamed with her.
In her mind, insulated from the searing pain of corporeal existence, Sunset saw them all.
A thousand, thousand victims, and a thousand, thousand lifetimes of suffering barreled toward her, an inferno of agony. She saw them all, as clear as day – the father who forced his daughter to suffer, and the daughter who suffered in silence, the madman who overstepped himself and was burned and consumed for his arrogance, the lady in the convent with the knife to her wrist, now on a stage, now lying in sterile white hospital sheets in a bloodstained gown…
Among them all, Adagio Dazzle, alight with a fire of her own – shrieking, screaming, eyes closed tight. Sunset saw her, and understood it all – the pact she made, and the secret shames and slights she bore, all for the sake of the ones she loved.
Sunset stood fast as the inferno washed over her; her clothes caught fire and her skin flash-cooked, and her hair was a crown of flame. Yet she waded into the fire, waded toward Adagio, and took her by the arm.
Adagio’s shrieks ebbed; she opened her eyes, and stared at Sunset, mouthing words of incredulity.
Sunset could only smile.
Sunset screamed, and the tree screamed louder. The fire radiating from Sunset’s body engulfed the tree’s branches and boughs; the head, that bulbous lump of flesh, withered and blackened as the tree itself became ash.
Just as Sunset’s geode crumbled to a fine, pale powder.
When it was over, the head rested upon a pile of black soot; a flap that might’ve been a mouth opened and closed, with the faint sound of breathing.
And Adagio, freed from its grip, slumped forward into Sunset’s arms.
Aria raced forward, and Sunset passed Adagio into her embrace. Slowly, Adagio’s arms moved to encircle Aria, as Aria wept into her sister’s shoulder.
“Aria,” she mumbled thickly. “How…?”
Adagio didn’t answer – she looked into Sunset’s eyes, pleading wordlessly.
Sunset groped at her chest for the geode, hollow inside as she realized the enormity of her sacrifice. The man’s hand on her shoulder came as comfort; her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed.
[i]She made a deal.[/i[
They moved quickly through the curtains after that, Aria pulling Adagio’s limp body beside her. Adagio drifted in and out of consciousness; when awake, she’d mumble incoherently, occasionally taking on the odd vocal cadence of the little man.
Behind them, ever present, was the distant clop of hooves on tile.
Sunset barely heard it. She drifted after the threesome in a daze, and more than once, the man in the suit had to stop and shepherd her closer. “Don’t get lost,” he warned her after the last time. His face was intense, his tone carrying an implication of what, precisely, happened to those who got lost.
Once more, she wondered how long he’d been in that place.
Finally, they arrived at the end of a corridor, staring into a red, velvet sheet. The man paused in front of it, and turned to regard the three of them.
“The way out,” he said, drawing back the curtain. “The way home.”
Sunset’s spirits lifted at what she saw beyond: the façade of Canterlot High in the false light of dawn. With a pang of regret, which shifted into annoyance, Sunset realized she’d have to schlep back into the desert for her bike.
But that was a small price to pay, she supposed.
“Not my home,” Aria mumbled, looking suspiciously at the school beyond the curtain. “Kind of inconvenient for me, actually.”
“Aria,” Sunset sighed.
Aria shook her head, throwing up her hands in defeat. “Fine, fine, whatever; I’ll take it and I’ll be grateful. Sheesh.” She hefted Adagio and trudged toward the exit…
“The ring,” said the man. He looked at Adagio, his mouth set in a scowl.
Aria blinked at him, then followed his gaze, and noticed the band around Adagio’s finger. Shrugging, she tugged it free, and dropped it into the man’s upturned palm. He stared at it with an inscrutable expression.
“You’re a cop,” Aria blurted. “Aren’t you?”
The man blinked at Aria and tilted his head.
“Sixth sense,” Aria said. She hefted Adagio again, and trudged toward the exit. “Thanks for the coffee, officer friendly.”
They passed through, and into the Canterville morning. Sunset moved to follow them.
Only for the man’s arm to drop the curtain. The exit vanished before Sunset’s eyes.
She whirled on him furiously. “What are you—”
“Not yet,” said the man. He looked past Sunset, down the corridor. “You can look behind now.”
Sunset did, and beheld herself.
The sunny-coated unicorn trotted toward Sunset, her mouth stretched into a rictus. Pale eyes, white eyes, stared lifelessly into Sunset as she emitted that bizarre, obscene, inhaling laughter.
Sunset groped for her geode, and felt nothing. She turned toward the curtain, toward the flap that led home. The man stared stoically at her.
Slowly, he extended the hand with the ring.
“It’s not for you,” he said quietly. “You must understand. It is not for you.” He paused. “Do you understand?”
Sunset looked at the ring. At herself – the milky-eyed doppelganger of herself, now breaking into a gallop toward the curtain. At the doppelganger’s horn – her long, slender horn.
Sunset swallowed, and set her jaw. She took the ring from the man’s hand, and whirled to face the other her.
The doppelganger leaped toward the curtain, and Sunset leaped toward the doppelganger. She caught the unicorn around her middle, and wrestled her to the ground, slamming her hard against the tile. Sparks of red shot from the doppelganger’s horn as it flailed and roared its anger, thrusting its horn toward Sunset’s body. The tip pierced Sunset’s jacket, right through to her shoulder, and gouged just deep enough to make her cry out in pain. Sparks from the horn cauterized the wound, and made her nerves light up.
Sunset tasted corn on her tongue, and remembered the fire rushing toward her.
Steely resolve took hold then, and Sunset’s elbow slammed into the doppelganger’s throat; it made a choking sound and went limp just long enough for her to pin its head to the ground. She grabbed the horn; it felt like gripping a white-hot shaft of steel. Sunset fought back the pain, held the horn in place, and in a single fluid motion, slid the ring down its length.
The doppelganger made one last high, keening shriek. Then it shriveled, and collapsed, its entire mass condensing into a shiny gold pebble, perfectly smooth and round, and encircled by the ring.
Both melted into the floor, merging with the zig-zagging black and white.
Sunset lay there for a moment, too pained to stand, too worn to even cry out. The man’s firm grip took her under the arm, and he guided Sunset back to her feet, steadying her until she could stand on her own. Then, gently, he took her burned hand, covered it with both of his, and pressed it gently. His skin was cool, and soothing, against Sunset’s, and his eyes warm as his gaze found hers.
“He asked me to help,” the man said simply.
Sunset blinked. “Who?”
“The fireman. He asked me to help you.”
Sunset’s eyebrow arched. “Well. That clarifies a lot of things, thank you.”
The man actually laughed at that – he looked so young, so bright and cheerful, that Sunset found herself blushing.
“I wish I could say more,” he said at length. “But it would take too long to explain, I think. And you’ve been here long enough.”
“Could you tell me one thing, though? Before I go?” Sunset’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Could you tell me your name?”
The man hesitated, his smile shrinking, before coming back again in full bloom. “Dale.”
“Dale,” Sunset mused. She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. “Mine’s Sunset.”
Dale stepped away from Sunset, and pulled back the curtain. CHS still stood there, the false dawn giving way to golden radiance. “You remind me of someone, you know.
Sunset stepped toward the exit, giving him a coy look with her foot on the threshold. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
Dale’s gaze turned wistful. “You remind me of someone wonderful.”
With a nod, and her hand at her breast – at the spot where the geode should have been – Sunset turned away from Dale, from the red room, and stepped through the curtain, toward home.
The Dazzlings weren’t at CHS when Sunset arrived – evidently, they’d decided not to wait up for her. So, the next day, after fishing around through phonebooks and websites of questionable repute for their home address, Sunset went to them. Aria greeted her in a bathrobe, grumbling. She let her in regardless.
“Coffee’s on in the kitchen,” she mumbled, slipper-shod feet sliding against the carpet as she led Sunset toward said kitchen. Her eyes were brighter, her face a little clearer, not quite as lined or as gaunt as it had been even the day before. “Not as good as the stuff that cop served up, but good enough.”
“You don’t mind sharing?” Sunset asked.
Aria snorted as she and Sunset entered the kitchen; she gestured for Sunset to take a seat beside a wooden table. “Of course I do. But I owe you. After this, though, we’re square. Got it?”
“Hmm. Yeah, that sounds fair. One free cup of shitty coffee is totally equivalent to rescuing your sister from eternal torment."
“Bleeding-heart little—”
“You said you wouldn’t call me that anymore.”
“You said,” Aria corrected. She poured a mug of coffee for Sunset, then shuffled out the kitchen door. “Wait there a minute, alright?”
Sunset nodded, and sat alone. Her hand reached for her geode, and clutched at nothing. She sighed, and clenched her hand against her breast. Then she took a sip of coffee, and grimaced.
“Celestia, this is disgusting.”
“Aria does the shopping,” a raspy voice called from the kitchen entrance. “She likes that cheap shit.”
Sunset looked up to see Adagio, still pale and haggard, but moving on her own power. She was dressed in fuzzy pajamas bedecked in Sonata’s personal sigil, and sat at a chair opposite Sunset.
“How is she?” Sunset asked quietly. “Sonata, I mean.”
Adagio’s tongue ran along her teeth. Then she nodded. “Better. I don’t know how – the pendent, the new one, it broke when I was…” A shudder silenced her; she took a deep breath. “There’s no reason they should be feeding. They’re not feeding – there’s nothing for them to feed on. But she and Aria, they’re both doing better anyway.”
Sunset nodded, and took a sip of coffee, before clearing her throat. “Are you?”
Adagio didn’t say anything.
The minutes passed awkwardly – silence, interspaced with sips of coffee. Outside, the morning birds sang to greet the dawn; in the distance, an owl hooted, and Adagio seemed to cringe.
“…You didn’t say anything,” she whispered. Her eyes refused to meet Sunset’s. “You didn’t tell Aria what you saw in there. Didn’t tell her what I…”
Sunset finished her coffee and pushed the mug aside. “No. No, I didn’t.”
Adagio’s hands trembled on the table. “Why?”
Sunset folded her arms tightly around her middle. “Do you want them to know?”
“I don’t even want to know,” Adagio whispered. She folded her hands, wringing them together; Sunset noted the way that she traced along the length of her ring finger, around a narrow band of skin that was paler than the rest.
“…Pain and sorrow,” she rasped. “It’s easier to find out there than adoration. My sisters and I can’t eat it, can’t survive off it, though. But those things… they can.”
“So you made a deal with them,” Sunset said softly.
Adagio nodded. Her hair seemed to be regaining some of its normal poof, and it bounced with the motion of her head. “I’d go out. Gather pain and sorrow. Most of it mine. I didn’t mind if it was for Aria's sake, for Sonata's. And I’d bring it back. They’d trade it for… feelings that we could survive on. Except last time… I didn’t have enough. They told me I was breaking the contract, and to make it right… I had to…”
Sunset remembered the prickle of electricity against her skin and shivered. “Would they have let you go?”
“Maybe. Eventually. When they’d gotten their fill. Or when they’d just wrung me dry.” Adagio’s hands relaxed and lay flat on the table. “All I know is that things could’ve been a lot worse than they were, and they sucked pretty hardcore to begin with. And… gallingly…”
Adagio looked up at Sunset, a spark of the old Dazzling in her eye.
“I have you to thank for that.”
“Save your thanks. Got no need for them.” Sunset leaned back in her chair smugly. “I’ll take another cup of crappy coffee, though.”
Adagio fixed Sunset with a long, unsettling glare. Then the corners of her mouth lifted.
“Get it yourself.”
With a chuckle, and a shake of her head, Sunset reached for her cup and rose from her chair.
Adagio Dazzle turned to regard the vagrant in her passenger’s seat. His thick, matted hair and tangled beard, and rumpled, unwashed clothing, lent him a wild air; and his eyes and teeth were islands of stark white against his soot-black skin.
“Gotta light?” he repeated, dangling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. His voice was a growly baritone; his gaze was intense, focused squarely on Adagio as she drove through the night.
Adagio looked at him a while longer. Then her eyes narrowed, and she turned her attention back to the open road. “Try the glove compartment.”
She heard it click open, and his hands rummaging through its contents. Then it clicked shut again. Evidently, there was no lighter, no book of matches, to be found; the smell of tobacco did not fill the car’s stifling interior.
That was a shame. The car stank of burning oil – cigarette smoke would have been an improvement.
“Worth a shot,” Adagio muttered.
Quite suddenly, though not unexpectedly, a building appeared in the night – a squat, dilapidated ruin with a metal staircase on one side, and a sign over the front window reading “Convenience Store.”
Adagio set her teeth and swallowed. She pulled off the road and parked beside it, killing the headlights. The passenger’s door opened; the vagrant stepped into the night. He hovered at the door.
Adagio reached for her purse with a shaking hand, fighting her own staggered breathing and rapid heartbeat to rummage through it. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
The vagrant stood expectantly.
Adagio glared at him. “You heard me,” she snapped. “Damn it, it’s not going anywhere. You can wait on me for a minute, can’t you?”
The vagrant stood a moment longer before walking toward the building that loomed nearby.
Grumbling to herself, Adagio found what she was looking for: the orange pill bottle, still half-full of pearly white tablets. She uncapped the bottle, and shook two into a shaking palm. Then she tossed her head back and threw them into her mouth-dry swallowing both and sighing.
The shaking in her hands gradually ceased. Her heartrate and breathing slowed to normal. Anxiety still clawed inside of her – she couldn’t chase that off so easily.
With a growl, Adagio threw open the car door and stepped into the night. The vagrant stood at the top of the metal staircase; it ended at a brick wall with no door. The whites of his eyes shone like pale lanterns in the dark.
Adagio drew herself up, clutched her purse close, and started up the staircase.
Sunset Shimmer walked through Canterlot High, a lone figure in an empty hallway. Walls of green lockers passed by, their monotony broken by the occasional windowed door interspaced between them. Classes were done for the day, and the weekend was ahead of her, a rare two-day stretch where her professional and scholastic obligations were nonexistent. For once, she could drop her books in her locker and walk out of the school building completely carefree.
Her locker was at the end of a row, beside a classroom which she couldn’t recall ever spending any amount of time in. The door to the room was ajar; Sunset thought little of it as she unslung her backpack and started spinning the dial on her locker.
Then a pair of pale, purple arms darted out of the open classroom, nabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her inside. Sunset yelped; the door slammed shut behind her as she wrenched herself free and spun around, fists clenched.
She was met with the supercilious gaze of Aria Blaze, inches away.
“Aria?” Sunset said incredulously. “What are you—”
“Adagio’s been missing for a week,” she said, quickly and bluntly.
Sunset’s eyes widened; her fists relaxed momentarily. Then she clenched them again, harder than before. “Cry me a river.”
Aria’s face contorted with rage. She rushed at Sunset, angling a punch toward her face. Sunset dodged with ease – with unusual ease – and Aria’s momentum carried her forward; she staggered toward the row of bookshelves underneath the classroom windows, and caught herself upon them. Her shoulders shook with ragged breaths as she turned to stare at Sunset furiously.
Something was wrong here. Sunset looked closely at the girl in front of her, and noticed for the first time the pallor of her skin, and the gauntness of her face. Her arms, too, were rail-thin and bony. Her physical state did nothing to dampen her usual intensity, but she was, for all intents and purposes, a paper tiger.
“What happened to you?” Sunset whispered.
Aria’s face reddened and she looked quickly away. “You. You and those freakshow Rainbooms did this. We’re starving because we can’t feed.” She rubbed her nose and sniffed.
Sunset’s fingers unclenched, and though she remained on guard, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of empathy for her one-time enemy.
Something in her eyes must have given her away, because Aria turned her head and spat. “Take your pity and fuck yourself with it. I’m not here to sing you a sob story. I’m here because I need to find my sister.”
That certainly served to harden Sunset’s heart again. “And you want me to help you.”
Aria sneered at the word ‘help,’ but she nodded stiffly.
“Why?” said Sunset flatly, folding her arms. “Because me and my, ah, ‘freakshow’ friends stopped you from making our school into your own personal buffet?”
“No,” said Aria with a condescending lilt. “Because helping people is what you’re supposed to be all about, you bleeding-heart pony bitch.”
Sunset snorted. “Well. If I was on the fence about helping you before, then that certainly clinched it.” She turned toward the door.
Aria balked. “You can’t leave me like this. Damn it, Sunset—"
“You have another sister, right? Get her in on this. Leave me out of it.”
“Sonata can’t help me!” Aria snapped. “You think I look bad? She can’t even get out of bed anymore!”
Sunset bit her lip, hard, as her fingers closed around the doorknob. “That’s not my problem. Find someone else.”
“It has to be you!”
Sunset held the knob tightly; the metal was hard and cool against her soft, warm skin. She looked over her shoulder at Aria, who stared, pleadingly, back.
“It has to be you,” she repeated, this time more quietly. “Believe me, you wouldn’t have been my first choice either, but it has to be you. I wish I could explain why, but. I can’t. Just – it has to be you.”
Sunset’s hand lingered on the knob as she looked searchingly at Aria. Finally, her grip loosened, and she turned around, leaning her back against the door.
“Talk fast,” said Sunset. “From the top.”
A silent sigh escaped Aria as she braced her bony behind against the bookshelves. “Alright. From the top. Like I said, we haven’t been able to feed since the Battle of the Bands.”
Sunset nodded. “You fed through the pendants.”
“Which are now broken. Thanks to you.” Aria gave her head a toss. “But we managed to use pieces from each of ours to put together one that barely – just barely – works. We take turns with it – we use it in shifts. One of us goes out every night, feeds, comes home, shares whatever’s left over with the other two. Now, me and Sonata, we never get that much – just barely enough to scrape by, and almost never enough for everyone to stay fed, but Adagio...”
Sunset bit her thumbnail, looking down at the floor tiles. “She gets enough for the three of you.”
“I don’t know where she’s going to get it – she gets angry whenever we ask – but she always comes back with enough in the pendent for all three of us. There’s never a lot to go around, but we never worry about going hungry when Adagio goes out.” Aria hesitated. “Thing is… it takes a lot out of her. She never says anything, never complains, but we can all tell – she’s a little more worn out every time she comes home, and she barely leaves her room for days after. Until it’s time to go out again.”
“And after her last turn,” Sunset muttered, looking up at Aria, “she didn’t come home again.”
Aria’s lips puckered like she’d bitten into something sour, and she nodded.
Sunset stared levelly at her for a long, silent moment. “Let’s say for a moment that I agree to help you,” she said at last. “What am I supposed to do, exactly? Missing persons cases are probably more up the cops’ alley—"
“This isn’t a job for the cops,” Aria interrupted. “They can barely handle cases that don’t involve freaky magic shit. I take this to them, and best case scenario, they laugh me out of the precinct. Worst case scenario, they start asking the kinds of questions that land me and my sisters in trouble.”
Sunset raised an eyebrow.
Aria flushed. “What, you’re surprised?”
“Guess I shouldn’t be.” Sunset took a deep breath, then released it slowly, and stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. “You said you don’t know where she’s been going to feed. Do you have any ideas at all? Any leads?”
Hope sprang onto Aria’s haggard countenance. “Does this mean you’ll—"
“Depends on your answer. I’m not going into this blind; you either have something for me to work with, or you don’t. And if you don’t, then I’m out. Understand?”
Aria smoldered, but nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand. And I have a lead.”
Sunset brow furrowed. “And that is?”
Aria’s eyes flashed. “We won’t know ‘til we get there.”
The wind whipped past Sunset as her motorcycle sped along the road, ruffling her leather jacket and tossing the strands of hair poking out from underneath her helmet. Aria’s arms were tight around Sunset’s waist, and her chin rested on Sunset’s shoulder, craning down to keep an eye on her cell phone’s screen. They’d been driving for hours, well beyond the limits of what Sunset had explored on the road, and were surrounded by scrub brush and sand on all sides. The only signs of civilization were the omnipresent asphalt, and the telephone lines stretching along the road.
Sunset’s stomach was in knots as she realized just how isolated they were. The possibility of a trap grew more likely with every mile they drove. If this was all an elaborate ploy by Aria Blaze to lure her into an ambush, if Adagio and Sonata were waiting at their destination, then Sunset was playing into their hands. She supposed she could always find the answers in Aria’s consciousness, tap into the Equestrian magic and rifle through her thoughts…
But that wouldn’t be very sporting (or ethical). And something about Aria told her that this was no trap. The girl wasn’t Adagio; she didn’t have the same guile – she couldn’t feign desperation convincingly. So Sunset took her at her word, and kept right on driving.
Then Aria’s hand squeezed Sunset’s stomach, a predetermined signal that they’d arrived at their destination. Sunset killed the engine and slowed her bike to a stop in a vacant, offroad lot, beside a four-door sedan whose front doors were still open.
A chill rippled down her spine.
Sunset tugged off her helmet and shook out her hair; behind her, Aria dismounted the bike, her eyes glued to her screen. “This is the place?” asked Sunset. Frowning, she stepped over to the car, leaving her helmet on her bike’s seat.
“Looks like,” Aria said, her thumb swiping across her cell phone’s screen.
Sunset reached the abandoned car and peeked inside. A fair bit of dust had accumulated in the interior, and a collection of wires – some torn and frayed – were knotted up underneath the driver’s console.
“This Adagio’s car?” she called to Aria.
There was a moment’s pause before she got an answer. “Uh, no. Adagio doesn’t have a car.”
Sunset looked up quizzically. “Then whose—”
“Beats the hell out of me.”
Sunset gave the wires another wary look before rising and leaving the car behind, joining Aria at a vacant, sandy lot. The air was hot, and dry; the landscape all around was desolate. The faint tang of burnt motor oil plied at Sunset’s nostrils; she grimaced at the unpleasant odor, fanning her hand in front of her nose.
“This is where Adagio went?” Sunset asked.
Aria shook her head. “Don’t know. Maybe?”
Sunset glared at her. “But you said—”
“I said I had a lead. That’s all.” Aria scoffed, jabbing furiously at her cell phone screen with her thumbnail. “Sorry if you jumped to conclusions.”
Sunset gave her a dirty look, but she didn’t offer any kind of retort – truth was, her skin was starting to crawl. There was an eerie feeling in the air, a sort of wrongness that she struggled to put a word to. Her bones felt like they were shaking, vibrating – right down to the marrow.
She tugged her jacket tighter, shivering despite the heat. “About this lead…”
Aria, unperturbed, and still not looking up from her phone, kept walking – slow, careful steps, into the vacant, lot. “Geographical coordinates.”
“In your phone, sure. I worked that much out myself.” Sunset worked her jaw, trying to fight back her unease. “Where’d you find them? Adagio’s diary, or something?”
“Please. Adagio doesn’t keep important shit in her diary; she knows that’s the first place I’d look.” A ghost of a smirk crossed Aria’s face for a second. Then she sighed. “I, uh. You’re not gonna believe this, but…”
Sunset watched her warily. “But?”
“…I got ‘em from a dream.” Aria rubbed her nose, ignoring Sunset’s incredulous look. “Or… I don’t know if ‘dream’ is the right word. You forget dreams when you wake up, right? This was more like a—”
“You dragged me out into the desert asscrack of Canterville county because of numbers you heard in a dream?!” Sunset thundered. Her hands balled into fists; she considered smacking the phone out of Aria’s hand.
“Uh. Yeah?” Aria didn’t look particularly disquieted by Sunset’s shouting. “Why do you think I didn’t tell you until after we got here? Figured you wouldn’t take me seriously.”
Sunset’s teeth clenched. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t climb back onto my bike and leave you here.”
“’Cuz I ain’t going home without Adagio. And you wouldn’t leave me here to die.” Aria grinned smarmily. “Bleeding-heart pony.”
Part of Sunset wanted to defy Aria’s assessment without a word or a thought. The rest of Sunset knew that she was, after all, one hundred percent right. So Sunset sighed defeatedly, flapped her arms, and said, “Tell me about your stupid dream.”
“I told you, it was more of a vision—”
“Stop it.”
“Eat me.” Aria stuck her tongue out at Sunset. “Anyway, in my vision… I was sitting in some room – a nice room, with antique furniture, and a phonograph. Everything was in grayscale, too – like something out of an old movie.”
“Mmhm.” The vibrating sensation was growing more potent. With a glance up, Sunset realized she and Aria were positioned almost exactly underneath a length of phone lines.
“So I was sitting in this chair,” Aria continued, “and in front of me was this somber-looking guy. He was huge, balding, and he looked, like, super sad. And he looked at me, and he said ‘Aria Blaze.’”
Aria stopped, and looked at Sunset significantly. “Except he said it kinda funny – kinda distorted. Like he couldn’t make the words come out right. And he said it slowly, too – like just talking normally was hard for him.”
She was completely earnest when she said it. Sunset couldn’t help believing her. She nodded.
Aria pursed her lips, then turned back to her phone. “So he said my name, and then he said ‘remember the numbers.' And he gave me a list of numbers, just like that. I didn’t know what the hell he was on about, so I said ‘hey, dude, what the hell are you on about?’ And then he said…”
They were right underneath the power lines. Sunset felt the vibrating sensation intensify – like her bones were threatening to shake so hard that they burst free from her skin. “Said what?”
“…‘Sunset Shimmer is the way home.’”
Sunset heard a faint crackling sound – then, in the distance, the cough of an engine backfiring. The motor oil smell intensified. “Sunset Shimmer…”
“That’s why it had to be you,” said Aria. “That and, well, the bleeding-heart pony thing. And the numbers – I kinda figured out, when I woke up, that they were geographic—” She stopped when she glanced up from her phone at Sunset, seeming to realize, for the first time, how shaken she was.
“The hell’s wrong with you?” Aria said, shrouding her concern behind flippancy.
“Something’s wrong here.” Sunset looked at Ari, confused – surely she could feel it too. “There’s an energy around here.”
Aria shrugged and shook her head. “Don’t freak out on me, Sunset. You’re supposed to be the big swingin’ dick when it comes to Equestrian magic—”
“This isn’t Equestrian magic,” Sunset hissed. She looked about frantically. “The feel of it, it’s – it’s all wrong. Can’t you tell? Can’t you sense it?”
Aria narrowed her eyes. “No. Because some bitch broke my pendent.”
“Well then, take my word for it.” Sunset’s eyes lifted to the power lines. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s nothing I’m familiar with. It’s… alien.”
Aria smirked. “Scared, huh?”
“Yes,” Sunset said emphatically. She grabbed Aria’s hand. “We need to leave. Now.”
Aria wrenched her hand free, scowling. “I’m not going anywhere without—”
Quite suddenly, then, the space between the power lines tore open. A swirling vacuum of black, a spiral rip in the visible fabric of reality, spun open, like a backwards tornado in the sky.
The motor oil smell grew stronger; the backfiring engine went off again. Sunset felt her bones shaking in her body, every one of them. One hand sought the geode tucked underneath her blouse, clutching at it instinctively. The other remained closed around Aria’s hand, which was tightening around Sunset’s.
Sunset felt her body stretch, condense, as though she were being drawn into a narrow filament. Then she was rising, rising into the vortex, her hand never leaving Aria’s. Through the hole, she saw eyes – milky white eyes against the darkness, boring into her.
Then Sunset was gone – and she knew not where.
Gradually, the world regained substance, and form. Sunset felt solid wood underneath her feet, saw walls and windows and furniture around her. Aria Blaze still stood next to her, their hands linked together. Their eyes met; Aria flushed, and pulled her hand free from Sunset’s immediately.
Sunset might have said something – but the room they were in, and its occupants, took priority over witty repartee.
The room was dingy and dimly lit. Windows, framed by filthy curtains and blinds, looked out into an expanse of pale yellow light. Against the walls were chairs, occupied by filthy men in filthy clothing, with natty beards and soot-black skin. They rocked back and forth, eyeing Sunset and Aria hungrily. One of them lifted his hand and thumped it, twice, against his thigh – the gesture struck Sunset as obscene. She couldn’t quite place why.
In the middle of the room was a table – a green, formica table – at which was seated a little man in a red suit. His face was grotesque, and lumpy, covered in wisps of thin, sandy hair. He, too, looked at the two girls; his eyes were blue, and shrewd, and seemed to pierce Sunset to the core.
A greasy smile spread across the little man’s face, his eyes glinting. “!sdneirf weN” he proclaimed. The words, though comprehensible to Sunset, grated against her ear like the screech of metal on metal. “!slrig weN !slrig tsoL !emoh neve toN .og ot erehwoN”
Then he cackled, squeezing his hands together. The men around the room joined in, inhaling their laughter.”
Sunset chanced a look at Aria – she was trying to stay stoic, at the very least, but Sunset could see the traced of fear on her face, the subtle droplet of sweat tracing down her jawline. She didn’t need a pendant to sense how wrong this all was.
For the first time in a long time, Sunset started to wonder if she was in over her head.
The little man stopped laughing and reached under the table, producing an object that hadn’t been there before and setting it on the formica tabletop. It was a purse, a light purple clutch, covered in pale purple triangles. Dangling from one side by a purple string was a yellow gemstone, superimposed over a light purple treble clef.
Sunset heard the hiss of air from Aria, and moved quickly to grab her shoulders. “Easy,” Sunset breathed.
Aria shook her off and glared at her. “That purse—”
“I know.” Sunset let out a slow breath. “But take it easy.”
Gently, the little man undid the clasp on Adagio’s clutch. Looking at Aria, he beckoned her over with a tiny, small-fingered hand. Aria swallowed, and strode stiffly over, pausing at the other end of the table. The little man gestured eagerly at the open purse.
“…emos ekil uoy dlouW”
The little man produced a spoon, and dug it into the purse. Sunset could hear the squishy, sloppy sounds of something fluidic spreading around inside. Then he withdrew the spoon, and held it up to Aria’s face.
“Garmonbozia?”
Aria’s nose wrinkled. She stumbled backward, coughing and hacking; Sunset caught her, and held her, until she stabilized.
The little man cackled again, and slid the spoon into his mouth, slurping down its contents greedily and smiling all the while. Sunset squinted, trying to glimpse the substance he was eating: a thick, golden mush, dotted with tiny lumps of darker yellow. It looked like…
“…Creamed corn?” Sunset released Aria, let her steady herself, and moved to inspect the purse herself. It was, in fact, full of the same substance – full of creamed corn.
The little man rubbed his hands together, filling the room with a sandpapery sound. He met Sunset’s eyes, and ran his tongue along his lips.
“.efil sevig esroh elap eht ,morf er’uoy erehW .ereh gnoleb t’nod uoY”
“Well…” Sunset paused, inhaled slowly – the scent of burning motor oil didn’t make that easy. “I don’t want to be here. Whatever this place is.”
The little man’s head inclined.
Sunset pointed at Aria, who’d mostly recovered. “We’re here for her sister. Adagio Dazzle, the girl who owns that purse.”
“.lrig ehT” The little man’s lips pursed tightly. “.erofeb dna reveroF .worros teews sgnis ehS”
“I don’t… know what that means,” Sunset said numbly. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the tabletop. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
The little man nodded once.
Sunet’s fingers tightened. “Do you know where we can find her?”
The little man placed his fingers flat on the tabletop and leaned his face closer to Sunset’s. “.moor gnitiaW .moor deR”
Waiting room. Red room.
“Is that where we’ll find her?” Sunset looked around, but the room had no doors, no entrances or exits. “How do we get there?”
“.syaw owt seog noitulovE” The little man placed one hand on his chest, and pointed at Sunset with the other. “.eb lliw I tahw dna ,ma I tahW .erew uoy tahw dna ,era uoy tahW .ereht dnif lliw uoY”
Sunset shook her head uncomprehendingly.
The little man looked annoyed. He pointed at Aria, scowling. “.eb nac tahW …niaga em ees uoy nehW”
“Keep pointing at me, and I’ll snap all your fingers off and plug your body with ‘em,” Aria growled.
The little man’s frustration turned to mirth. He looked at Sunset, smiling that greasy smile again.
“.em htiw klaw eriF”
The light outside flooded the room; tongues of flame engulfed the men seated against the walls, and the little man at his formica table. Sunset raised her arms to ward away the flame, but she didn’t feel the heat, didn’t feel the searing sensation of flesh being flash-cooked.
And when the light faded, and she lowered her arms, she saw curtains – rich, red, velvety curtains, on every side. Above her head was stark black, inky black, like the black of the void that had sucked her inside. And below her, at her feet, were zig-zagging tiles of white and black.
Aria was still with her, though – for better or for worse. She looked just as shaken at Sunset, and this time, didn’t try to play it off.
“Are you okay?” Sunset asked quietly.
Aria stared at her, nodding slowly. “Where are we now?”
“I didn’t know where we were before, Aria.” Sunset swallowed, trying vainly to peer past the endless sea of red curtains. “But if I understood that little guy right… we’re wherever Adagio is.”
“Geez.” Aria wiped her palms on her thighs and stepped up beside Sunset. “I think you were right – this isn’t Equestrian magic we’re dealing with. And we’re sure as hell not in Canterville anymore.” She whistled a dry, airy whistle. “What the hell did ‘Dagi get herself into?”
“Whatever it was, I suspect she got in over her head.” Sunset looked at Aria. “Which doesn’t bode well for us, trying to save her.”
Aria narrowed her eyes at Sunset and stuck up her middle finger. “Bode this. I’m not pissing and moaning about it; I’m just saying. And I’m still not leaving without my sister.”
Sunset gave a small smile – it was nice to see Aria’s bravado come out, even if it was clearly tempered by a healthy dose of fear. “Well, I did the talking to get us here. If you want to lead the way in looking for her, be my guest.”
“Fine. Just, uh…” Aria turned around, frowning, scanning along the curtained perimeter. “Just give me a minute to… get my… bearings…”
Sunset watched her spin a while, smirking, until Aria came to a dizzy stop. “How ‘bout them bearings?” Sunset quipped.
“Eat me,” Aria growled, rubbing her forehead with her palm.
Sunset chuckled.
From nearby came the sound of fabric rustling, the curtains being displaced. Sunset whirled to face the source of the sound, falling into a defensive pose. Something – no, someone – was emerging from the curtains.
It was a man – a tall, thin, older man, in a dapper black suit, handsome despite his years. His black hair was well combed, slicked back and parted; his face was stony, but his eyes alight with warmth. And in his hands were two steaming, white mugs.
He approached Sunset and Aria with slow, measured footsteps, and stopped a respectful distance away. Slowly, he extended the mugs to both of them.
Sunset exchanged a look with Aria. Then, carefully, she moved to meet him, accepting a mug and peering into it. A sea of black stared back at her, and she saw her reflection inside. A thin curl of steam wafted past her nose; she breathed… and smelled rich, fresh coffee.
Uncertain, Sunset glanced up at the older man. He smiled, and nodded once.
Hesitating for just a moment, Sunset took a sip of the coffee.
Aria moved swiftly to her side. “What are you doing? Don’t—”
Sunset swallowed the mouthful; her eyes opened wide. She grinned at Aria. “No, it’s okay. It’s okay! This is—” She looked at the man. “Excuse me— this is a damn fine cup of coffee.”
The corner of Aria’s mouth tugged down. “The hell?” She looked at the remaining mug in the man’s outstretched hand, as Sunset continued to gulp down the fine brew.
The man smiled at Aria. “You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”
“Mm. Yeah, we sure could.” Sunset finished her coffee quickly, and sighed. “Is there more?”
The man’s smile faded; he shook his head.
Grumbling, Aria took the mug from him and downed a quick swig. She smacked her lips, and grunted. “Not bad. I don’t usually drink mine black, but—”
“Don’t be picky,” Sunset said, elbowing Aria. She turned to the man, cradling the coffee mug in her palm. “You talk normally – you don’t sound like that other guy. The little guy.”
The man shook his head again. “I’m not from around here. Not like him.” He looked pointedly between Aria and Sunset. “And not in the same sense as you, either.”
Sunset set her empty mug on the floor – the mug promptly vanished – and stuck both hands into her pockets. “Where is ‘here?’”
The man’s mouth opened, but he shut it with a frown. “It’s difficult to explain. And I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you.”
Aria grunted into her coffee. “Great. So what’re you good for, exactly?”
The man looked at her for a long moment, before returning his gaze to Sunset. “I know why you’re here. And I’m going to help you find her.”
Sunset and Aria followed the man through a seemingly unnavigable maze of identical red curtains and zig-zagging tiles, the minutes stretching on and on as they went. Aria kept silent through most of it, though she emitted the occasional bored grunt or epithet, and scuffed the tiles with her toe impatiently.
On the other hand, Sunset had an inexhaustible well of curiosity, and a boatload of questions by nature. So she drew closer to her guide, and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention as he led them through another stretch of identical rooms and curtained corridors.
“You said you weren’t from around here,” Sunset said quietly. “Does that mean you’re from, you know. Out there?”
The man stayed silent, but eventually nodded.
“How’d you get in here?” The man didn’t answer that; Sunset tried a different tack. “How long have you been here?”
“…I don’t know, exactly,” the man said. His jaw worked for a moment. “Time… it’s hard to tell how time passes in a place like this. If it has meaning at all, I haven’t figured it out.”
He pulled aside a flap of curtain leading to a new room, but instead of passing through, he paused and looked at Sunset. “I’ve been here long enough to understand some things. Not long enough to understand it all.”
Aria brushed past Sunset from behind, jostling her rudely. “’Scuse me,” she muttered. Then she ducked underneath the man’s arm, through the opened way.
Sunset rubbed her shoulder where Aria’d struck her, muttering to herself. Then she caught sight of the man’s eyes – his gaze was sad.
She tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”
“What year is it?” he asked. “Out there, where you’re from – what years it it?”
But before Sunset could answer, he held up his hand, smiling wanly.
“I think it’s better if I didn’t know.”
Hoofbeats echoed behind Sunset. She almost turned to look behind herself.
“Don’t,” the man said quickly, a cautionary edge in his voice. “Don’t look. Not yet. Just go.”
He pulled the curtain higher for Sunset. She, swallowing hard, no less frightened and no less anxious, and ducked underneath into the next room.
This room was wide – wider than the dingy room, wider than the curtained room, about as wide as the CHS courtyard, Sunset guessed. Aria stood there, her arms limp at her sides; a look of utter incomprehension dominated her worn features as she gazed at the room’s one and only feature.
It was a sycamore tree, its jagged branches pointing upward. At the top of its trunk was a round, bulbous object, glistening with moisture – the shape of it recalled the little man’s head.
Bound to the tree’s branches was Adagio Dazzle – pale, and gaunt, her voluminous hair hanging in lank, sweat-matted tangles around her bony face. Her clothes were torn, and her limbs twitched intermittently, as groans of pain issued periodically from her throat. Around her neck was a shattered pendent, a few fragments of glassy red rock clinging to a lanyard; around her ring finger was a band of gold, set with a pale green stone, inscribed with a symbol Sunset had never seen before.
“What the fuck,” Aria whispered hoarsely. She rushed toward the tree, toward Adagio, her hand extended.
The man in the suit moved quickly to intercept her, catching her by the wrist and stopping her mid-step. He looked at her, firmly, yet with gentle patience in his eyes.
Aria was firm without being gentle or patient. “Get the hell off!” She pulled at her arm, tugging vainly to free herself; she swung at the man, but his head moved swiftly aside. “That’s my sister! That’s my fucking sister, you—”
“It can’t be you,” the man interrupted. “Do you understand?”
He looked toward Sunset; Aria followed his gaze. Comprehension dawned on the Dazzling’s face as the man’s hand released her wrist.
“That thing you wear,” the man said, pointing at Sunset. “Around your neck.”
Sunset’s hand sought her geode, and she gripped it tightly as she stared at the writhing Adagio. The geode, Equestrian magic, the power she had to read minds by touch – her mind made those connections rapidly, told her what she needed to do.
Her feet carried her toward her task less quickly. Nevertheless, toward the tree, she walked, stopping within arm’s reach of Adagio.
The man stepped up beside her; she looked at him, biting her lip. “It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?”
The man looked sympathetic as he nodded.
She gulped. “That’s what I thought.” She took a deep breath, and looked at Aria. The other girl looked torn between any number of emotions. Fear seemed dominant – fear for herself, most likely. Fear for Adagio, also likely.
Fear for Sunset… well, that would have been nice.
Sunset faked a smile. “I do this for you, and you never call me a ‘bleeding-heart pony’ again.”
Adagio’s lips quirked up for just a second, and she made a huffy sound that might’ve been a laugh.
Then Sunset turned back to Adagio, to the tree. Her hand shook as she reached toward Adagio…
“Not her,” said the man softly. “The tree.”
The tree, Sunset thought. Her hand drifted toward the tree, hovering over one of its thin, frail branches. She imagined she could feel the prickle of static stinging her skin, just from being that close to it. Fear kept her back for just a moment longer…
Then her hand tightened around the geode, and she seized the branch.
Sunset screamed, and the tree screamed with her.
In her mind, insulated from the searing pain of corporeal existence, Sunset saw them all.
A thousand, thousand victims, and a thousand, thousand lifetimes of suffering barreled toward her, an inferno of agony. She saw them all, as clear as day – the father who forced his daughter to suffer, and the daughter who suffered in silence, the madman who overstepped himself and was burned and consumed for his arrogance, the lady in the convent with the knife to her wrist, now on a stage, now lying in sterile white hospital sheets in a bloodstained gown…
Among them all, Adagio Dazzle, alight with a fire of her own – shrieking, screaming, eyes closed tight. Sunset saw her, and understood it all – the pact she made, and the secret shames and slights she bore, all for the sake of the ones she loved.
Sunset stood fast as the inferno washed over her; her clothes caught fire and her skin flash-cooked, and her hair was a crown of flame. Yet she waded into the fire, waded toward Adagio, and took her by the arm.
Adagio’s shrieks ebbed; she opened her eyes, and stared at Sunset, mouthing words of incredulity.
Sunset could only smile.
Sunset screamed, and the tree screamed louder. The fire radiating from Sunset’s body engulfed the tree’s branches and boughs; the head, that bulbous lump of flesh, withered and blackened as the tree itself became ash.
Just as Sunset’s geode crumbled to a fine, pale powder.
When it was over, the head rested upon a pile of black soot; a flap that might’ve been a mouth opened and closed, with the faint sound of breathing.
And Adagio, freed from its grip, slumped forward into Sunset’s arms.
Aria raced forward, and Sunset passed Adagio into her embrace. Slowly, Adagio’s arms moved to encircle Aria, as Aria wept into her sister’s shoulder.
“Aria,” she mumbled thickly. “How…?”
Adagio didn’t answer – she looked into Sunset’s eyes, pleading wordlessly.
Sunset groped at her chest for the geode, hollow inside as she realized the enormity of her sacrifice. The man’s hand on her shoulder came as comfort; her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed.
[i]She made a deal.[/i[
They moved quickly through the curtains after that, Aria pulling Adagio’s limp body beside her. Adagio drifted in and out of consciousness; when awake, she’d mumble incoherently, occasionally taking on the odd vocal cadence of the little man.
Behind them, ever present, was the distant clop of hooves on tile.
Sunset barely heard it. She drifted after the threesome in a daze, and more than once, the man in the suit had to stop and shepherd her closer. “Don’t get lost,” he warned her after the last time. His face was intense, his tone carrying an implication of what, precisely, happened to those who got lost.
Once more, she wondered how long he’d been in that place.
Finally, they arrived at the end of a corridor, staring into a red, velvet sheet. The man paused in front of it, and turned to regard the three of them.
“The way out,” he said, drawing back the curtain. “The way home.”
Sunset’s spirits lifted at what she saw beyond: the façade of Canterlot High in the false light of dawn. With a pang of regret, which shifted into annoyance, Sunset realized she’d have to schlep back into the desert for her bike.
But that was a small price to pay, she supposed.
“Not my home,” Aria mumbled, looking suspiciously at the school beyond the curtain. “Kind of inconvenient for me, actually.”
“Aria,” Sunset sighed.
Aria shook her head, throwing up her hands in defeat. “Fine, fine, whatever; I’ll take it and I’ll be grateful. Sheesh.” She hefted Adagio and trudged toward the exit…
“The ring,” said the man. He looked at Adagio, his mouth set in a scowl.
Aria blinked at him, then followed his gaze, and noticed the band around Adagio’s finger. Shrugging, she tugged it free, and dropped it into the man’s upturned palm. He stared at it with an inscrutable expression.
“You’re a cop,” Aria blurted. “Aren’t you?”
The man blinked at Aria and tilted his head.
“Sixth sense,” Aria said. She hefted Adagio again, and trudged toward the exit. “Thanks for the coffee, officer friendly.”
They passed through, and into the Canterville morning. Sunset moved to follow them.
Only for the man’s arm to drop the curtain. The exit vanished before Sunset’s eyes.
She whirled on him furiously. “What are you—”
“Not yet,” said the man. He looked past Sunset, down the corridor. “You can look behind now.”
Sunset did, and beheld herself.
The sunny-coated unicorn trotted toward Sunset, her mouth stretched into a rictus. Pale eyes, white eyes, stared lifelessly into Sunset as she emitted that bizarre, obscene, inhaling laughter.
Sunset groped for her geode, and felt nothing. She turned toward the curtain, toward the flap that led home. The man stared stoically at her.
Slowly, he extended the hand with the ring.
“It’s not for you,” he said quietly. “You must understand. It is not for you.” He paused. “Do you understand?”
Sunset looked at the ring. At herself – the milky-eyed doppelganger of herself, now breaking into a gallop toward the curtain. At the doppelganger’s horn – her long, slender horn.
Sunset swallowed, and set her jaw. She took the ring from the man’s hand, and whirled to face the other her.
The doppelganger leaped toward the curtain, and Sunset leaped toward the doppelganger. She caught the unicorn around her middle, and wrestled her to the ground, slamming her hard against the tile. Sparks of red shot from the doppelganger’s horn as it flailed and roared its anger, thrusting its horn toward Sunset’s body. The tip pierced Sunset’s jacket, right through to her shoulder, and gouged just deep enough to make her cry out in pain. Sparks from the horn cauterized the wound, and made her nerves light up.
Sunset tasted corn on her tongue, and remembered the fire rushing toward her.
Steely resolve took hold then, and Sunset’s elbow slammed into the doppelganger’s throat; it made a choking sound and went limp just long enough for her to pin its head to the ground. She grabbed the horn; it felt like gripping a white-hot shaft of steel. Sunset fought back the pain, held the horn in place, and in a single fluid motion, slid the ring down its length.
The doppelganger made one last high, keening shriek. Then it shriveled, and collapsed, its entire mass condensing into a shiny gold pebble, perfectly smooth and round, and encircled by the ring.
Both melted into the floor, merging with the zig-zagging black and white.
Sunset lay there for a moment, too pained to stand, too worn to even cry out. The man’s firm grip took her under the arm, and he guided Sunset back to her feet, steadying her until she could stand on her own. Then, gently, he took her burned hand, covered it with both of his, and pressed it gently. His skin was cool, and soothing, against Sunset’s, and his eyes warm as his gaze found hers.
“He asked me to help,” the man said simply.
Sunset blinked. “Who?”
“The fireman. He asked me to help you.”
Sunset’s eyebrow arched. “Well. That clarifies a lot of things, thank you.”
The man actually laughed at that – he looked so young, so bright and cheerful, that Sunset found herself blushing.
“I wish I could say more,” he said at length. “But it would take too long to explain, I think. And you’ve been here long enough.”
“Could you tell me one thing, though? Before I go?” Sunset’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Could you tell me your name?”
The man hesitated, his smile shrinking, before coming back again in full bloom. “Dale.”
“Dale,” Sunset mused. She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. “Mine’s Sunset.”
Dale stepped away from Sunset, and pulled back the curtain. CHS still stood there, the false dawn giving way to golden radiance. “You remind me of someone, you know.
Sunset stepped toward the exit, giving him a coy look with her foot on the threshold. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
Dale’s gaze turned wistful. “You remind me of someone wonderful.”
With a nod, and her hand at her breast – at the spot where the geode should have been – Sunset turned away from Dale, from the red room, and stepped through the curtain, toward home.
The Dazzlings weren’t at CHS when Sunset arrived – evidently, they’d decided not to wait up for her. So, the next day, after fishing around through phonebooks and websites of questionable repute for their home address, Sunset went to them. Aria greeted her in a bathrobe, grumbling. She let her in regardless.
“Coffee’s on in the kitchen,” she mumbled, slipper-shod feet sliding against the carpet as she led Sunset toward said kitchen. Her eyes were brighter, her face a little clearer, not quite as lined or as gaunt as it had been even the day before. “Not as good as the stuff that cop served up, but good enough.”
“You don’t mind sharing?” Sunset asked.
Aria snorted as she and Sunset entered the kitchen; she gestured for Sunset to take a seat beside a wooden table. “Of course I do. But I owe you. After this, though, we’re square. Got it?”
“Hmm. Yeah, that sounds fair. One free cup of shitty coffee is totally equivalent to rescuing your sister from eternal torment."
“Bleeding-heart little—”
“You said you wouldn’t call me that anymore.”
“You said,” Aria corrected. She poured a mug of coffee for Sunset, then shuffled out the kitchen door. “Wait there a minute, alright?”
Sunset nodded, and sat alone. Her hand reached for her geode, and clutched at nothing. She sighed, and clenched her hand against her breast. Then she took a sip of coffee, and grimaced.
“Celestia, this is disgusting.”
“Aria does the shopping,” a raspy voice called from the kitchen entrance. “She likes that cheap shit.”
Sunset looked up to see Adagio, still pale and haggard, but moving on her own power. She was dressed in fuzzy pajamas bedecked in Sonata’s personal sigil, and sat at a chair opposite Sunset.
“How is she?” Sunset asked quietly. “Sonata, I mean.”
Adagio’s tongue ran along her teeth. Then she nodded. “Better. I don’t know how – the pendent, the new one, it broke when I was…” A shudder silenced her; she took a deep breath. “There’s no reason they should be feeding. They’re not feeding – there’s nothing for them to feed on. But she and Aria, they’re both doing better anyway.”
Sunset nodded, and took a sip of coffee, before clearing her throat. “Are you?”
Adagio didn’t say anything.
The minutes passed awkwardly – silence, interspaced with sips of coffee. Outside, the morning birds sang to greet the dawn; in the distance, an owl hooted, and Adagio seemed to cringe.
“…You didn’t say anything,” she whispered. Her eyes refused to meet Sunset’s. “You didn’t tell Aria what you saw in there. Didn’t tell her what I…”
Sunset finished her coffee and pushed the mug aside. “No. No, I didn’t.”
Adagio’s hands trembled on the table. “Why?”
Sunset folded her arms tightly around her middle. “Do you want them to know?”
“I don’t even want to know,” Adagio whispered. She folded her hands, wringing them together; Sunset noted the way that she traced along the length of her ring finger, around a narrow band of skin that was paler than the rest.
“…Pain and sorrow,” she rasped. “It’s easier to find out there than adoration. My sisters and I can’t eat it, can’t survive off it, though. But those things… they can.”
“So you made a deal with them,” Sunset said softly.
Adagio nodded. Her hair seemed to be regaining some of its normal poof, and it bounced with the motion of her head. “I’d go out. Gather pain and sorrow. Most of it mine. I didn’t mind if it was for Aria's sake, for Sonata's. And I’d bring it back. They’d trade it for… feelings that we could survive on. Except last time… I didn’t have enough. They told me I was breaking the contract, and to make it right… I had to…”
Sunset remembered the prickle of electricity against her skin and shivered. “Would they have let you go?”
“Maybe. Eventually. When they’d gotten their fill. Or when they’d just wrung me dry.” Adagio’s hands relaxed and lay flat on the table. “All I know is that things could’ve been a lot worse than they were, and they sucked pretty hardcore to begin with. And… gallingly…”
Adagio looked up at Sunset, a spark of the old Dazzling in her eye.
“I have you to thank for that.”
“Save your thanks. Got no need for them.” Sunset leaned back in her chair smugly. “I’ll take another cup of crappy coffee, though.”
Adagio fixed Sunset with a long, unsettling glare. Then the corners of her mouth lifted.
“Get it yourself.”
With a chuckle, and a shake of her head, Sunset reached for her cup and rose from her chair.
Well, that was interesting. I guess my complaint here is that it's a little fast paced. Not much you could do about that, though.
Anyway, thanks for contributing!
Anyway, thanks for contributing!
Genre: EqG Cosmic Horror?
Thoughts: Can I just start by saying that I love what you've done with the Sirens here? There was some grousing when EqG characters appeared in a previous round, but I don't mind in the slightest if it's well done. The Sirens have their place in canon, and I think it's great to get a fresh take on the old starving-Sirens scenario.
Next up, I have to give props for the ambitious storytelling on display here. You could've done stories just with Aria's, Adagio's, or Sunset's bits of this, and probably could've succeeded at making them engaging. As it is, we get all three, and they all help drive the narrative in crazy and creative directions. The hints we get about what's going on are unsettling, as is the imagery. The final explanation of what Adagio was up to is poignant and dark, as it should be.
There's simply so much going on here that I'll bump this up a little on principle. However, I could use some more explanation of some things. E.g., what's up with the corn, or the evil horse, or the dude stuck working with the creepy guys? What exactly does Sunset do with the tree, because everything at that point reads like some kind of unspecified substance trip? It's all vivid and cool and weird... and with cosmic horror stuff, I get it that not knowing is part of the package deal that the characters end up with. But I don't feel like we get any real explanation of what happened or where the little dudes came from, and the problem with that is how the ending leans on the happy resolution of their deal with Adagio. If we had the straight Cthulhu-eats-your-sanity ending, then I wouldn't care as much about some of those details. As it is, I feel like the story is trying to add layers of complexity but stumbles a bit in their execution.
Again though, the ambition is strong with this one, and the execution comes pretty close to living up to it.
++EDIT++ Tier:Strong Abstain (apologies, but I find myself struggling to reconcile what I'd interpreted as very great ambition in the concept and imagery with the revelation that portions of those may have direct roots elsewhere. It's still very well-delivered, but the "wow" factor for me really did come from some of the stuff that looks to have its origins in Twin Peaks, and I'm no longer sure how that should lead me to rank this against other stories.) No Bloody Clue -- this deserves recognition for the quality of writing and the adaptation of the ideas it borrows for the MLP universe. It still suffers from an acute lack of clarity on some key plot points, such as Aria's vision and who the Fireman might be. Not to mention all the uncertain stuff like who the little dudes really are, and what's up with the Sunset-horse, et cetera. But it's really well done regardless...
Thoughts: Can I just start by saying that I love what you've done with the Sirens here? There was some grousing when EqG characters appeared in a previous round, but I don't mind in the slightest if it's well done. The Sirens have their place in canon, and I think it's great to get a fresh take on the old starving-Sirens scenario.
Next up, I have to give props for the ambitious storytelling on display here. You could've done stories just with Aria's, Adagio's, or Sunset's bits of this, and probably could've succeeded at making them engaging. As it is, we get all three, and they all help drive the narrative in crazy and creative directions. The hints we get about what's going on are unsettling, as is the imagery. The final explanation of what Adagio was up to is poignant and dark, as it should be.
There's simply so much going on here that I'll bump this up a little on principle. However, I could use some more explanation of some things. E.g., what's up with the corn, or the evil horse, or the dude stuck working with the creepy guys? What exactly does Sunset do with the tree, because everything at that point reads like some kind of unspecified substance trip? It's all vivid and cool and weird... and with cosmic horror stuff, I get it that not knowing is part of the package deal that the characters end up with. But I don't feel like we get any real explanation of what happened or where the little dudes came from, and the problem with that is how the ending leans on the happy resolution of their deal with Adagio. If we had the straight Cthulhu-eats-your-sanity ending, then I wouldn't care as much about some of those details. As it is, I feel like the story is trying to add layers of complexity but stumbles a bit in their execution.
Again though, the ambition is strong with this one, and the execution comes pretty close to living up to it.
++EDIT++ Tier:
>>Zaid Val'Roa
Oh dang, I should've just Googled the title. So this is a Twin Peaks crossover of sorts? Interesting... though unfortunately I've never seen Twin Peaks, so it doesn't work for me in terms of any connections with deeper lore. I guess I feel a bit disappointed, though, because some things that I'd interpreted as sheer creative WTF can be explained away by referencing a Wikia page. (Which, granted, might mean I should check out Twin Peaks...)
Hmmmm.
Oh dang, I should've just Googled the title. So this is a Twin Peaks crossover of sorts? Interesting... though unfortunately I've never seen Twin Peaks, so it doesn't work for me in terms of any connections with deeper lore. I guess I feel a bit disappointed, though, because some things that I'd interpreted as sheer creative WTF can be explained away by referencing a Wikia page. (Which, granted, might mean I should check out Twin Peaks...)
Hmmmm.
Okay. I'll be back in a while, because Christ there is some shit in there that needs proper unpacking, and I need a coffee with extra whiskey.
And we're back. Okay.
Rereading this was a treat. Little clues that I didn't quite catch the first time, because I'm dumb. The staircase that leads to nowhere is a big clue that little Adagio is into some heavy shit. My gut reaction was that she was pimping herself out, and wasn't quite wrong, but not nearly in the way I expected. Hot damn.
Building off of that, I always enjoy stories that paint the Sirens as real sisters. Bitchy and mean to each other, perhaps, but when push comes to shove any one of them would torch the world—or themselves, apparently—for the others.
The price of the rescue was perfect.
The bit with the unicorn does confuse me a bit still, but on second reading I think maybe she's a trap for Sunset. My case:
1) The unicorn glows in the same manner described by the vagrant in the beginning, meaning it's probably something from that mirror[1] world
2) It follows (heh) her around, its hoofbeats tempting her attention away from the mission at hand
3) Dale makes it very clear that the ring isn't for her, so it's clearly not some projection or manifestation from herself.
Case against: The Fireman asked Dale to help, and for what reason I can't quite say why. Also doesn't make sense in the context of Aria receiving a vision of how to find Adagio in the first place, but... so maybe not. I'm stumped. Still cool and weird.
I also don't understand the deal with the creamed corn. At first, I thought that's what was left of Adagio and they were rubbing her in Sunset and Aria's faces (makes sense given Ara's revulsion), but then it's just... corn.
I had a really good time reading this, twice no less, even if some things still don't make a whole mess of sense.
[1]Given that everyone native to the dimension speaks and laughs backwards, I'm guessing there's some mirror-logic going on.
And we're back. Okay.
Rereading this was a treat. Little clues that I didn't quite catch the first time, because I'm dumb. The staircase that leads to nowhere is a big clue that little Adagio is into some heavy shit. My gut reaction was that she was pimping herself out, and wasn't quite wrong, but not nearly in the way I expected. Hot damn.
Building off of that, I always enjoy stories that paint the Sirens as real sisters. Bitchy and mean to each other, perhaps, but when push comes to shove any one of them would torch the world—or themselves, apparently—for the others.
The price of the rescue was perfect.
The bit with the unicorn does confuse me a bit still, but on second reading I think maybe she's a trap for Sunset. My case:
1) The unicorn glows in the same manner described by the vagrant in the beginning, meaning it's probably something from that mirror[1] world
2) It follows (heh) her around, its hoofbeats tempting her attention away from the mission at hand
3) Dale makes it very clear that the ring isn't for her, so it's clearly not some projection or manifestation from herself.
Case against: The Fireman asked Dale to help, and for what reason I can't quite say why. Also doesn't make sense in the context of Aria receiving a vision of how to find Adagio in the first place, but... so maybe not. I'm stumped. Still cool and weird.
I also don't understand the deal with the creamed corn. At first, I thought that's what was left of Adagio and they were rubbing her in Sunset and Aria's faces (makes sense given Ara's revulsion), but then it's just... corn.
I had a really good time reading this, twice no less, even if some things still don't make a whole mess of sense.
[1]Given that everyone native to the dimension speaks and laughs backwards, I'm guessing there's some mirror-logic going on.
I continue to struggle with how to rate this one. The strength of the writing is top-tier for sure, but the head-trippy/Twin Peaks-y stuff is just such a curve ball.
I *think* I'm putting this at the top of my slate based on the quality of the writing. However, I actually very much hope this gets discussed on the upcoming Radio Writeoff episode because I could benefit from hearing some other people analyzing it in detail.
One last thing: is Dale a past-version of the central little dude? And is the head-tree a future version of Dale? I don't know for sure, but something that the backwards-talking dude said made those possibilities jump out at me during my last read of this.
I *think* I'm putting this at the top of my slate based on the quality of the writing. However, I actually very much hope this gets discussed on the upcoming Radio Writeoff episode because I could benefit from hearing some other people analyzing it in detail.
One last thing: is Dale a past-version of the central little dude? And is the head-tree a future version of Dale? I don't know for sure, but something that the backwards-talking dude said made those possibilities jump out at me during my last read of this.
>>CoffeeMinion This should answer most, if not all, of your questions.
https://youtu.be/e82MTFSxz8Y
:trollestia:
https://youtu.be/e82MTFSxz8Y
:trollestia:
>>Posh
*watches clip*
*watches next clip of woman saying she'll see a guy in 25 years*
*screams in terror*
*watches clip*
*watches next clip of woman saying she'll see a guy in 25 years*
*screams in terror*
>>CoffeeMinion What's funny is that the clip which followed the one I posted might give you some context for the events and imagery on display in the story.
!regnagleppoD
!regnagleppoD
>>Posh
Yes, actually it did, it really, really did. I won't pretend to understand the full context but HOLY CRAPAPPLES BATMAN does the story line up with the milieu there.
So then the Sunset-horse must be some kind of... evil reflection? Like Sunset's past dragged back up to the present and sent to torment her?
Dag, yo. Now I've got a craving for some black coffee and creamed corn.
Yes, actually it did, it really, really did. I won't pretend to understand the full context but HOLY CRAPAPPLES BATMAN does the story line up with the milieu there.
So then the Sunset-horse must be some kind of... evil reflection? Like Sunset's past dragged back up to the present and sent to torment her?
Dag, yo. Now I've got a craving for some black coffee and creamed corn.
Well, I wasn't in the mood for this fic when I started reading, but it won me over by the end, so that's something. </review>
More seriously, it is a pretty solid piece that executes well, particularly on the surrealist horror stuff. Which is good, because while I might not be feeling grit or EqG right now, I'm always up for a bit of surrealist horror.
At the same time, I am put in a bit of an awkward spot. I never actually proper finished Season 2 of Twin Peaks (and haven't watched 3), so being so direct with your riffing is a bit awkward since it opens up the question of "am I missing something in the story, is it left intentionally vague, or is it just stuff from TP that I don't know?" Similarly, it also interferes with me trying to decide how impressed I am with your ability to do the surrealism stuff because I don't know quite how much is a direct TP lift and how much is "you" if that makes sense. In a lot of ways, I think this would be more satisfying had you simply used TP as inspiration rather than actually use it.
Coffee line is too on the nose.
While Sunset's sacrifice is notable, there is something to be said for the fact that Sunset and Aria are basically led through all of this and don't actually have to do much. A little more work on their end (or at least a little try/fail cycling, since that idea is stuck in my brain right now) would probably help that.
More seriously, it is a pretty solid piece that executes well, particularly on the surrealist horror stuff. Which is good, because while I might not be feeling grit or EqG right now, I'm always up for a bit of surrealist horror.
At the same time, I am put in a bit of an awkward spot. I never actually proper finished Season 2 of Twin Peaks (and haven't watched 3), so being so direct with your riffing is a bit awkward since it opens up the question of "am I missing something in the story, is it left intentionally vague, or is it just stuff from TP that I don't know?" Similarly, it also interferes with me trying to decide how impressed I am with your ability to do the surrealism stuff because I don't know quite how much is a direct TP lift and how much is "you" if that makes sense. In a lot of ways, I think this would be more satisfying had you simply used TP as inspiration rather than actually use it.
Coffee line is too on the nose.
While Sunset's sacrifice is notable, there is something to be said for the fact that Sunset and Aria are basically led through all of this and don't actually have to do much. A little more work on their end (or at least a little try/fail cycling, since that idea is stuck in my brain right now) would probably help that.
I have very little idea why any of the things that go on in this story happen.
I think it started at the beginning, where Sunset's motivations feel kinda opaque to me. There's this vague idea that Aria coerces her, or she pities the sirens, but... she seemed awfully uncaring, and then she helps out for some reason? I dunno. It felt weak.
And as the story got weirder, the feeling got more intense. Sunset and Aria are basically totally reactive for the rest of the story; they don't make any choices as the story goes on. I felt like I got more and more distant from the narrative, until the very end, where she fights the other unicorn (her doppelganger?) and I basically abandoned hope on gleaning any understanding of what's going on here and gave up trying to connect with the story at all.
Her visit to the sirens at least gives Adagio some rationalization, so that was nice. I have no idea why Sunset would visit them, though, considering her 'who cares' attitude.
Urgh, those backward sentences. :/ I will say, though, that the line about the pale horse is pretty brilliant.
The opening scene, especially with the pills, seems entirely pointless to me, as far as the contents of the story goes.
Skimming through the other comments, it seems like this is fanfiction with other influences? If so, I don't think it works for me, as someone who hasn't seen whatever 'Garmonbozia' is from.
Here's the thing, I think; I want whatever goes on in the story to affect the characters in the story. There's a lot of weird stuff that goes down, a lot of strangeness that happens, a whole bunch of things that should be earth-shaking, soul-scarring, mind-numbing, but... in the end, Sunset and Aria seem... barely changed. They treat each other the same, they act the same, they seem to think the same. As such, none of this really seemed to be worth the while. Maybe I missed whatever emotional climax is supposed to be in it for Sunset; she seems to be feeling something about the time of the fight with the other unicorn, but it didn't seem to be meaningful in more than a 'of the moment' way.
Maybe for people who've seen whatever the other thing is will find more to be entertained by here; whether it's clever and subtle references, or whether it's whatever this means for the cop and the fireman and the guy with the creamed corn, I have no idea.
The prose is clean, the descriptions are bright, the character voicing is clear, the weirdness is interesting on some level... But this story just didn't do much for me.
I think it started at the beginning, where Sunset's motivations feel kinda opaque to me. There's this vague idea that Aria coerces her, or she pities the sirens, but... she seemed awfully uncaring, and then she helps out for some reason? I dunno. It felt weak.
And as the story got weirder, the feeling got more intense. Sunset and Aria are basically totally reactive for the rest of the story; they don't make any choices as the story goes on. I felt like I got more and more distant from the narrative, until the very end, where she fights the other unicorn (her doppelganger?) and I basically abandoned hope on gleaning any understanding of what's going on here and gave up trying to connect with the story at all.
Her visit to the sirens at least gives Adagio some rationalization, so that was nice. I have no idea why Sunset would visit them, though, considering her 'who cares' attitude.
Urgh, those backward sentences. :/ I will say, though, that the line about the pale horse is pretty brilliant.
The opening scene, especially with the pills, seems entirely pointless to me, as far as the contents of the story goes.
Skimming through the other comments, it seems like this is fanfiction with other influences? If so, I don't think it works for me, as someone who hasn't seen whatever 'Garmonbozia' is from.
Here's the thing, I think; I want whatever goes on in the story to affect the characters in the story. There's a lot of weird stuff that goes down, a lot of strangeness that happens, a whole bunch of things that should be earth-shaking, soul-scarring, mind-numbing, but... in the end, Sunset and Aria seem... barely changed. They treat each other the same, they act the same, they seem to think the same. As such, none of this really seemed to be worth the while. Maybe I missed whatever emotional climax is supposed to be in it for Sunset; she seems to be feeling something about the time of the fight with the other unicorn, but it didn't seem to be meaningful in more than a 'of the moment' way.
Maybe for people who've seen whatever the other thing is will find more to be entertained by here; whether it's clever and subtle references, or whether it's whatever this means for the cop and the fireman and the guy with the creamed corn, I have no idea.
The prose is clean, the descriptions are bright, the character voicing is clear, the weirdness is interesting on some level... But this story just didn't do much for me.
My initial impression of this story was basically exactly >>Not_A_Hat's "I have very little idea why any of the things that go on in this story happen." Learning that it was a Twin Peaks crossover at least explained where some of the elements came from, but I had to do about half an hour of research into Twin Peaks to understand why your story's biggest emotional beats made any sense.
The titular garmonbozia, for example, is never explained. The only time you ever get close is with a line in the final scene:
But if you haven't watched Twin Peaks, there's nothing in the text to connect that to the creamed corn. In fact, since Sunset Shimmer drinks the coffee and remarks specifically on it, it would make more sense for a reader coming in blind to draw the conclusion that it's the coffee that's plot-relevant! (Especially since the Dazzlings are now subsisting on negative emotions, and the coffee in their apartment tastes vile ...)
And if you have watched Twin Peaks enough to know what garmonbozia is, the thing you reveal at the end is crystal clear halfway through the story. By adding context at the end, either you're leaving Twin Peaks fans in the dust (by spoiling an important late revelation) or leaving non-fans in the dust (by not giving them information when the rest of your audience picks it up).
That's the example it's easiest to talk about, because garmonbozia is easy to google and read up on the context of. But there's a double handful of things here that just have no emotional resonance for me, and probably a bunch more that I don't even know I'm missing. Why is it important that the fireman wants to help? What's with the ongoing motor oil theme? Why-- other than following a TP plot beat -- does Sunset Shimmer get a doppleganger in the weird-other-world-which-I-gather-is-the-Black-Lodge? Given that Dale is literally the one helping guide her through, why doesn't he have a doppleganger, which was a major element of the show? And why would the gold ring be important to Sunset, especially given that I still don't know why it's important in the show?
Basically, the story veers straight into Twin Peaks logic from the time they enter the Lodge -- not the internal logic of your story so far, and certainly not the standard logic of MLP. If you don't care that your story is inaccessible to non-TP fans, then fair enough, but you're gonna lose me and a lot of Writeoff readers. If you want to make this accessible to a Writeoff/FIMFiction general audience, then you have to remember that MLP logic is the only logic you can rely on your readers knowing -- and the exact same thing is true for your protagonists. When Dale tells Sunset that the fireman wanted him to help, her response should be the same as ours: "What the eff? Who the hell is the fireman and why am I supposed to think that's important?" And if Dale can't explain that in under a paragraph, then maybe it shouldn't be a major plot point.
The good news is that when you're not leaning hard on your crossover, your character work feels solid. The Sunset/Aria bickering is the most consistently strong part of this, and I do appreciate Aria's arc of moving toward grudging acceptance here. Unlike !Hat, Sunset's acceptance of the mission didn't bug me (she's trying very hard to be a Hero and that's what Heroes do), and I can buy her visiting the sirens at the end, but like him, I just couldn't follow any of their decisions within the Lodge. Despite the text lampshading a few times that they feel in over their head, they aren't asking the very basic questions that someone truly lost -- i.e., us, the readers -- would need to ask to understand things; they just sort of flow with the Peaks logic and leave us behind.
I'd suggest rewriting the middle section for a general audience and using the ignorance of your characters as a way to bring the rest of us up to speed. I certainly hope to see the entire thing brought up to the quality of the first half's character work and solid hook.
Tier: Almost There
The titular garmonbozia, for example, is never explained. The only time you ever get close is with a line in the final scene:
“…Pain and sorrow,” she rasped. “It’s easier to find out there than adoration. My sisters and I can’t eat it, can’t survive off it, though. But those things… they can.”
But if you haven't watched Twin Peaks, there's nothing in the text to connect that to the creamed corn. In fact, since Sunset Shimmer drinks the coffee and remarks specifically on it, it would make more sense for a reader coming in blind to draw the conclusion that it's the coffee that's plot-relevant! (Especially since the Dazzlings are now subsisting on negative emotions, and the coffee in their apartment tastes vile ...)
And if you have watched Twin Peaks enough to know what garmonbozia is, the thing you reveal at the end is crystal clear halfway through the story. By adding context at the end, either you're leaving Twin Peaks fans in the dust (by spoiling an important late revelation) or leaving non-fans in the dust (by not giving them information when the rest of your audience picks it up).
That's the example it's easiest to talk about, because garmonbozia is easy to google and read up on the context of. But there's a double handful of things here that just have no emotional resonance for me, and probably a bunch more that I don't even know I'm missing. Why is it important that the fireman wants to help? What's with the ongoing motor oil theme? Why-- other than following a TP plot beat -- does Sunset Shimmer get a doppleganger in the weird-other-world-which-I-gather-is-the-Black-Lodge? Given that Dale is literally the one helping guide her through, why doesn't he have a doppleganger, which was a major element of the show? And why would the gold ring be important to Sunset, especially given that I still don't know why it's important in the show?
Basically, the story veers straight into Twin Peaks logic from the time they enter the Lodge -- not the internal logic of your story so far, and certainly not the standard logic of MLP. If you don't care that your story is inaccessible to non-TP fans, then fair enough, but you're gonna lose me and a lot of Writeoff readers. If you want to make this accessible to a Writeoff/FIMFiction general audience, then you have to remember that MLP logic is the only logic you can rely on your readers knowing -- and the exact same thing is true for your protagonists. When Dale tells Sunset that the fireman wanted him to help, her response should be the same as ours: "What the eff? Who the hell is the fireman and why am I supposed to think that's important?" And if Dale can't explain that in under a paragraph, then maybe it shouldn't be a major plot point.
The good news is that when you're not leaning hard on your crossover, your character work feels solid. The Sunset/Aria bickering is the most consistently strong part of this, and I do appreciate Aria's arc of moving toward grudging acceptance here. Unlike !Hat, Sunset's acceptance of the mission didn't bug me (she's trying very hard to be a Hero and that's what Heroes do), and I can buy her visiting the sirens at the end, but like him, I just couldn't follow any of their decisions within the Lodge. Despite the text lampshading a few times that they feel in over their head, they aren't asking the very basic questions that someone truly lost -- i.e., us, the readers -- would need to ask to understand things; they just sort of flow with the Peaks logic and leave us behind.
I'd suggest rewriting the middle section for a general audience and using the ignorance of your characters as a way to bring the rest of us up to speed. I certainly hope to see the entire thing brought up to the quality of the first half's character work and solid hook.
Tier: Almost There
Just to resolve my own personal drama with this one: I ended up tossing this back up into my Strong tier. The Radio Writeoff discussion (and especially Quill's points about appropriating TP themes for non-TP thematic reasons) ultimately brought me back around to my original position. With that said, I think >>horizon's points about not being able to rely on properties other than MLP remain valid, and doing this kind of crossover represents a very high-risk approach to the Writeoff.
But hey man, you made it into finals, so what do any of us know? :-p
But hey man, you made it into finals, so what do any of us know? :-p
The idea of writing a full-length retrospective on this story is, frankly, exhausting. So I'm going to keep this short.
The idea for this story came about after the end of Twin Peaks's recent third season. Given the media hype that's surrounded the show over the last few months, I assumed that there'd be a broader audience for a crossover story between these two properties. I was mistaken, and ended up alienating a large number of my readers. Similarly, readers who were familiar with Twin Peaks were, understandably, disappointed in how I handled that end of things.
I appreciate the positive comments that Garmonbozia garnered, particularly Quill's defense of it in the podcast (in which I learned that nobody knows how to pronounce "garmonbozia" :P), but to be honest, this story just feels like a failure to me. I was not in the best state of mind when I wrote it, and, like I said, cobbled it together in a series of fervent, disjointed writing sessions over the course of the last day before the deadline. I made virtually no edits or changes to the rough draft, and it shows through in how poorly proofread and formatted it is (also, at one point, Adagio is referred to as Aria; did nobody catch that? I was mortified when I caught that). And the dialogue and narration could certainly have benefited from at least one thorough pass.
Further, my use of the Twin Peaks property feels disingenuous. As noted in the podcast, Twin Peaks is a show which leans heavily on symbolism, and on the viewer's interpretation of that symbolism; David Lynch leaves things very open-ended so that his viewers can draw their own connections and read their own meanings into things. By contrast, the elements from Twin Peaks which I use in this story are prescriptive; the symbolic meaning is absent.
It's Lynchian imagery, without Lynch's subtlety, or the freedom for the reader to assign their own meaning to the symbols. And that's why, I think, this story is a failure. I don't believe I'll revisit it for FiMfiction, at any point. I'm gonna just leave it where it lies.
A couple of responses:
>>Rao
I'm just gonna go whole-hog with this and explain what's going on here:
Adagio was captured by the inhabitants of this netherrealm (the Black Lodge, in the show), who intend to feed on her ongoing pain and suffering. The Fireman is a benevolent spirit who appears to be opposed to the Lodge's spirits; in the show, he's known as the Giant, and helps Agent Cooper (Dale) with his investigation into the murder of Laura Palmer. He contacts Aria, and gives her the means to enter the Lodge and find Adagio. Knowing, however, that the Lodge has a tendency of swallowing mortals' souls if they face it with "imperfect courage," he gets Agent Cooper to act as a guide for them. Without his guidance, Sunset would have been overtaken by her doppelganger, and would have been trapped in the Lodge indefinitely while her doppelganger roamed free in the real world. (**TWIN PEAKS SPOILER**which happens to Coop at the end of the series' first run**TWIN PEAKS SPOILER**). That may, in fact, have been the Lodge spirits' plan from the get-go. The Fireman, and Coop, upended their plans by ensuring that Aria, Sunset, and Adagio made it out in one piece.
>>AndrewRogue
Yes. Yes, it is.
>>Not_A_Hat's and >>horizon's reviews, I think, are pretty much spot-on, and Hat's, in particular, I ended up agreeing with the most out of all the comments.
Thanks to everyone who read, enjoyed, and pushed this into the finals.
.elihwneaM .sraey evif-ytnewt ni niaga uoy ees ll'I
The idea for this story came about after the end of Twin Peaks's recent third season. Given the media hype that's surrounded the show over the last few months, I assumed that there'd be a broader audience for a crossover story between these two properties. I was mistaken, and ended up alienating a large number of my readers. Similarly, readers who were familiar with Twin Peaks were, understandably, disappointed in how I handled that end of things.
I appreciate the positive comments that Garmonbozia garnered, particularly Quill's defense of it in the podcast (in which I learned that nobody knows how to pronounce "garmonbozia" :P), but to be honest, this story just feels like a failure to me. I was not in the best state of mind when I wrote it, and, like I said, cobbled it together in a series of fervent, disjointed writing sessions over the course of the last day before the deadline. I made virtually no edits or changes to the rough draft, and it shows through in how poorly proofread and formatted it is (also, at one point, Adagio is referred to as Aria; did nobody catch that? I was mortified when I caught that). And the dialogue and narration could certainly have benefited from at least one thorough pass.
Further, my use of the Twin Peaks property feels disingenuous. As noted in the podcast, Twin Peaks is a show which leans heavily on symbolism, and on the viewer's interpretation of that symbolism; David Lynch leaves things very open-ended so that his viewers can draw their own connections and read their own meanings into things. By contrast, the elements from Twin Peaks which I use in this story are prescriptive; the symbolic meaning is absent.
It's Lynchian imagery, without Lynch's subtlety, or the freedom for the reader to assign their own meaning to the symbols. And that's why, I think, this story is a failure. I don't believe I'll revisit it for FiMfiction, at any point. I'm gonna just leave it where it lies.
A couple of responses:
>>Rao
The bit with the unicorn does confuse me a bit still, but on second reading I think maybe she's a trap for Sunset. My case:
1) The unicorn glows in the same manner described by the vagrant in the beginning, meaning it's probably something from that mirror[1] world
2) It follows (heh) her around, its hoofbeats tempting her attention away from the mission at hand
3) Dale makes it very clear that the ring isn't for her, so it's clearly not some projection or manifestation from herself.
Case against: The Fireman asked Dale to help, and for what reason I can't quite say why. Also doesn't make sense in the context of Aria receiving a vision of how to find Adagio in the first place, but... so maybe not. I'm stumped. Still cool and weird.
I'm just gonna go whole-hog with this and explain what's going on here:
Adagio was captured by the inhabitants of this netherrealm (the Black Lodge, in the show), who intend to feed on her ongoing pain and suffering. The Fireman is a benevolent spirit who appears to be opposed to the Lodge's spirits; in the show, he's known as the Giant, and helps Agent Cooper (Dale) with his investigation into the murder of Laura Palmer. He contacts Aria, and gives her the means to enter the Lodge and find Adagio. Knowing, however, that the Lodge has a tendency of swallowing mortals' souls if they face it with "imperfect courage," he gets Agent Cooper to act as a guide for them. Without his guidance, Sunset would have been overtaken by her doppelganger, and would have been trapped in the Lodge indefinitely while her doppelganger roamed free in the real world. (**TWIN PEAKS SPOILER**which happens to Coop at the end of the series' first run**TWIN PEAKS SPOILER**). That may, in fact, have been the Lodge spirits' plan from the get-go. The Fireman, and Coop, upended their plans by ensuring that Aria, Sunset, and Adagio made it out in one piece.
>>AndrewRogue
Coffee line is too on the nose.
Yes. Yes, it is.
>>Not_A_Hat's and >>horizon's reviews, I think, are pretty much spot-on, and Hat's, in particular, I ended up agreeing with the most out of all the comments.
Thanks to everyone who read, enjoyed, and pushed this into the finals.
.elihwneaM .sraey evif-ytnewt ni niaga uoy ees ll'I