The Moon Also Rises

by Nicroburst

One

The Moon Also Rises

Part One

Often, I wonder how others see me.

Do they see their princess, struggling against fate to save them from peril? Do they see her turning tail, fleeing from a threat they cannot understand?

What would they say, if they saw me as I am; another pony, no more or less. I did not ask to be set apart, to be saddled with this responsibility.

When they look at me, do they see me as I see myself? Maybe, in their hearts, they wonder—just as I do.

One

LUNA STEPPED FORWARD, carefully navigating the tangled plants obstructing her way. She could have flown, of course, but there was something compelling about the sound of the wind, rustling leafy branches as it moved through the ravine.

She hadn’t known what to expect, leaving Equestria. It certainly wasn’t this; a rocky mountain range, cutting off all access on ground. The wind wove gently through, whispering to her. It gave the mountains a low hum, a sound not unlike the background tremor of life.

Carefully standing on the border, following her sister’s instructions carefully, Luna hadn’t been able to see anything. A great red plain, barren and endless, stretched out to the horizon, carrying the dry air and scent of dust. Little surprise nopony had ever tried to cross it.

Yet when she stepped forward, over some intangible boundary, the landscape changed. Great mountains appeared before her, barely a mile away. A cloud of mist hung over the land, obscuring her view, but the peaks were clearly visible, rising high above the clouds. Perhaps too high for a pegasus.

The Drac’s foreboding words hammered at Luna’s mind, spinning around and around. They haunted her dreams, chased her through every day. They whispered in her ear, hinting at dark truths and secrets, kept even from a goddess.

The titles he’d ascribed her, the Dreamer, the Guiding Light – her names from a time long past. He honoured her with them, though she had no right to them now. These she remembered.

Yet the ‘Veil’, that was something new, something that had occurred in the last thousand years, during her . . . exile. It wasn't something Luna was prepared to ignore. Celestia hadn't known anything about it.

So she’d left, crossing the border, leaving Equestria. Seeking what she’d lost.

Climbing to the crest of the ravine, she got her first glimpse of the land beyond. But where the mountains had breathed life, the scene before her resembled nothing so much as death.

The Wastes stretched out, like a carpet of sand laid across the land. She could see for miles, a great barren plain reaching out from under her hoof to grasp at the edges of the world.

Here and there, scattered amidst the sand and grey dust, Luna noticed ruins. Rubble, scarred stone and charred wood lay in great heaps amidst broken cobblestone, even marble. Her mind quickly resurrected the scene before her, imagining buildings, houses, roads and cities. The scope was humbling; the bones of an entire civilisation.

What happened here?

***

Celestia’s sun shone down on another perfect day in Equestria. Its light, rising over the eastern horizon in a brilliant blaze of red and orange, spread warmth everywhere it went, touching walls, roofs and streets. It stole through the gap between curtains, illuminating a sliver of a pony’s bedroom. It crept under the door, leaving a becoming, promising gleam of radiance. It caressed the sleeping citizen’s cheeks, bidding them wake, rise, and enjoy the day.

Indeed, many ponies were already about their business, even with dawn just now leaving the horizon behind. Trixie yawned. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, saddled with the last watch. Not that there had been much to watch; they had given no reason for suspicion, and there were very few ponies wandering near the Canterlot slums in the middle of the night.

Instead, Trixie watched the light, catching impurities in the glass, throwing colour on the world before her. It danced, weaving softly around the wind-stirred blades of grass. It held the ponies walking the streets, claimed each as they stepped out of the cold darkness. Steps became stronger, more confident. They trusted its assurance. That if the sun rose the next day, you knew not everything had gone wrong. There was still somepony out there, looking out for you.

She shivered. The basement they were staying in consisted of more than several rooms, connected by a central chamber. The watch-post she was stationed in was just one of a series of small cells, with high windows that let you look out at street level. The entire place was designed for security; riddled with bolt-holes and hiding places, it would be near impossible to catch anypony holed up in here. Unfortunately, that meant it was cold and windy on the best of days.

It also carried sound exceedingly well. Trixie heard soft hoof steps coming up behind her, turning moments before the door swung open. A head poked in, eyes alighting on her.

“Ah, Trixie, there you are. Ready?” Boundless asked.

“Always,” she replied, meeting his gaze squarely, letting a small grin appear at the upper corner of her mouth. It wasn’t a sneer, not quite.

Boundless gave her a large smile in return, mirth twinkling in his eyes. “Well, then, shall we?”

“We shall.”

Trixie hopped down from the balcony she’s been perched on. She missed the old observatory; but, it had been too conspicuous for prolonged use. They’d taken up residency here, instead, in a burned out old house, harbouring a large basement. It had been abandoned for years, ever since the fire.

And what a fire it was.

Trixie clenched her eyes shut; Brash’s voice; reminiscing.

She trotted after Boundless, stepping outside for the first time in days. Not since the last time. It was her first rule; be careful. Don’t draw attention. Lie low for a while after a job. Trixie blinked her eyes several times, squeezing them shut against the light, overbearing after her time inside.

Not that Boundless would follow that. Trixie had lost count of the number of times they’d nearly been caught thanks to his recklessness. Brash liked him for it, Cumulus hated it.

You should leave.

And there he was, right on schedule. Trixie sighed quietly, as the two voices in her head began bickering.

Why would we do that? This is a nice little niche we’ve got here. Brash said.

He’s insane. He’s going to be taken down eventually – don’t get caught up in his wake. You’re better than that. Cumulus replied.

Trixie shook her head, trying to clear the voices away. She couldn’t afford to indulge herself today. Not now. Glancing around herself, she slunk to the street, following Boundless down the road. Here and there, she saw passing ponies, going about their mornings. Some even gave her a smile, and a wave, which she returned, not wanting to draw attention.

Not yet, Cumulus warned.

Eventually, they arrived on a small shopping street. Despite the early hour, there were lines of ponies snaking down the street, waiting a chance to enter several of the fancy jewellery stores lining the road.

Trotting to the head of the line, Boundless shoved himself into a tall stallion next to the doors, sending him crashing into the wall of the store. Ignoring the cries of shock and alarm around him, he pressed into the stallion, pinning his throat with a foreleg. Leaning over, he spoke next to the stallion’s ear, loudly enough for everypony near to hear.

“Good morning, Equestria! I’m afraid we’ve some bad news for you all today, but listen and act carefully, and you might even escape without any broken bones!”

Trixie tore her gaze from the scene, focusing on her task. It still sickened her, what they were doing, however she justified it to herself. So long as she felt that way, felt that deep unease in her gut that set her legs to trembling, she thought she was okay.

The stallion shifted his weight, either trying to get a decent breath of air, or preparing himself to buck Boundless off. Trixie couldn’t tell which, but she didn’t think Boundless much cared. He simply raised a hind leg, planting his hoof squarely in the stallion’s stomach, driving him to the ground. Boundless didn’t remove his hoof. Trixie distinctly heard several ribs crack, the sound amplified by a loudspeaker spell emanating from Boundless’ horn. She winced, though careful to keep her face clear of emotion.

“And that is why we don’t try anything. Now, if you’d be a dear,” Boundless said, gesturing to Trixie. He had the sense not to use her name, thank Celestia.

Even if he did just make a scene for no discernible reason. Cumulus said.

Does he really need a reason? Trixie replied dryly, though the crack resonated in her ears, to Brash’s enthusiastic agreement. He had a tendency to be overeager, sometimes. It made him easily led.

She entered the store with a confident grin. There was no room for hesitation here; theft was highly uncommon, but not entirely unheard of. There would be some sort of security.

Ah, yes. All the jewellery locked away tightly, spell-coated metal sheets sliding out to cover the display cases. The staff was behind the counter, trying to look calm and collected. Trixie slid her eyes around the room, taking in every detail. There were cameras in the corner, probably an alarm panel under the counter; best not to stay too long.

“Hey, you there, with the hat. What’s the meaning of this?” a cashier called out.

Ignoring her, Trixie stepped forward, spying the manager. No coincidence he was in the store now, they’d planned this out quite carefully, to ensure Trixie had a target. She approached the counter, leaning over it to capture his gaze, heart pounding. So much rested on this moment, it needed to be perfect.

Now.

They made eye contact. Trixie slipped gently into his mind, like a leaf falling to the ground. As always, she immediately felt hollow, like she’d lost something precious, and was reaching out, grasping futilely after it as it fell away. She ignored it, blocked it into a corner of her awareness along with Brash and Cumulus. They couldn’t help here.

“What’s the combination?” she whispered, bringing her mouth up to his ear. Appearances, always appearances; she made a show for the camera, making sure it caught her whispering. Abruptly released from her hypnotic gaze, he recoiled from her closeness.

“Go to Tartarus, you ruffian,” the manager replied.

Trixie smiled. She was getting better; subtler—he hadn’t even noticed her steal all the various combinations that arose in his mind. Some ponies would feel her, a slight pressure, or sudden headache. She withdrew, reclaiming that part of her awareness that maintained the connection, and, turned to the door, where Boundless had just entered. She gave him a brief nod.

He’s not even covering his face from the camera.

“What’s going on? I demand an explanation!” the manager exclaimed. Already cowed by Trixie’s behaviour, the staff visibly wilted at Boundless’ glare. Trixie thought she heard a quiet ‘eep’ from one of them.

With a grin, Boundless jauntily trotted over to the office at the back. Breaking through the lock with his magic, Boundless quickly found the safe, gesturing to Trixie. With a sniff, she entered the combination, unlocking it to uncover a sizable stack of bits, enough money to provide for them for months, even with her exorbitant expenses. Trixie quickly tucked it away in her saddlebags, turning to leave.

Boundless had other ideas. Eyeing the wall that they knew faced onto an alley; a viridian aura surrounded his horn.

Show-off. Cumulus and Brash said at the same time. Trixie found herself agreeing with them.

His horn flared, doubling over itself. The aura slowly spread over the wall, covering what would be a comfortable hole. Then the plasterboard, bricks and mortar shattered, rapidly disintegrating into a grey cloud of dust. The magic disappeared, allowing the dust to billow out into the alley, and into the office.

Coughing, Trixie made her way out the hole in the wall, rejoining Boundless on the other side as they began to gallop away.

“How did you do that?” Trixie asked as they ran. “Turn the wall to dust, I mean. I’ve never heard of a spell like that.”

Boundless raised an eyebrow, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Just came naturally. I’ve a flair for destruction.”

And melodrama.

“How do you learn the combinations?” Seeing Trixie’s blank face, he rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now, fair’s fair.”

Careful, now.

The trouble was, Trixie herself didn’t know. It was just something she could do, a talent she’d stumbled upon accidentally. There was no record of a spell like it—every one she’d found had required physical contact. She couldn’t explain how it worked, or why she seemed to be the only pony that could do it. Nor did she know its limits.

But there was no need to let Boundless in on that. She knew better than to give up such an advantage. Sometimes, she was sure it was all that kept him from turning on her.

Trixie shook her head, smiling. “Sorry.”

Trixie and Boundless approached the safe-house, quietly slipping inside under the protection of an invisibility spell. Passing under the wooden doorframe, Trixie clearly smelt the charcoal, that acrid, smoky smell that clogged her nostrils. Even after all these years, the house remembered. It remembered her.

“So, how much did we get?” Boundless asked, resting his eyes on Trixie’s saddlebags. She tossed them onto the table in the centre of the room, scattering the bits over it haphazardly. They clinked softly against each other, the soft tinkle of metal resonating in Trixie’s mind against that harsh snap of breaking bone.

Trixie ignored it, filling her mind with dreams of what she could do with the money. A few more simply jobs like this, and she’d be able to buy access to the Royal Archives; a contact in the palace administration had let slip that he was . . . willing to negotiate.

Once in there, perhaps she could finally learn more about her condition. Mind-reading, and voices in her head; voices of friends long gone, they were symptoms of something. She was sure of it, some explanation as to why she was so different.

Manehattan had failed her; the year spent getting into private libraries, legally or illegally, wasted. Baltimare had fallen through within four months, then it was an arduous trip to Dodge City, and a few weeks terrorising the small town. Trixie had brought back her travelling stage show, though under a different name, allowing Boundless free reign while she performed, holding the ponies’ attention.

Las Pegasus had been no better, though Boundless had managed to lose all their saved money several times over at the casinos. It had taken a considerable amount of effort for them to evade capture there. Who knew private security would be so much more zealous than the police?

She’d even been up to Cloudsdale, the pegasus city in the clouds. There were a few unicorns, all making use of expensive amulets enchanted to allow them to walk on clouds. Trixie had found the spell back in Baltimare.

Still, it had been exciting. Four years, now, spent running all over Equestria with Boundless. She wasn’t sure what to think of him, even after all this time. Not quite a friend, nor did they share any real trust. But their partnership worked, and so long as it continued to work, they’d remain together.

The Royal Archives of Canterlot. The largest repository of knowledge in Equestria, it had always been Trixie’s best hope, and the furthest from reach. It would be difficult to ask entry without revealing her purpose, particularly to the princess. After all, she thought Trixie dead, perished in a fire ten years ago, the fire that also left dead her two childhood friends.

Brash and Cumulus, the earth pony and pegasus that Trixie had grown up with. Not related, though they spent more time together than some siblings they knew, they had been best friends until graduating from the public school. Trixie had wanted to travel, see the world while showing off the incredible feats of illusion that had made her so popular. Brash had wanted to settle down, focus on his trade—metalworking, in the city smithies. Cumulus, on the other hoof, had wanted to attend the University in Cloudsdale, learning all he could about weather production and management.

“There’s over three hundred here, at the least. Enough for quite some time, then,” Trixie said, estimating the size of the pile before her.

“A few days, anyway,” Boundless muttered, closing his eyes. His mouth moved silently, counting.

“I need my cut for bribes and food,” Trixie warned. “Don’t even think about taking it for one of your schemes.” He gave her a wounded look.

“Would I do that?”

Yes, yes you would. Sometimes, I wonder if there’s anything you wouldn’t do.

Trixie merely sighed, exasperated. Boundless slammed his hoof onto the table, sending the bits jumping into the air. Some rolled off the table.

“What I need, when I need it,” he warned, giving her what he thought was a stern look. Trixie stifled a laugh at the expression, utterly unfazed by the show of force. It still surprised her, how boyish he was, despite everything. Just a foal, just a mere sixteen years to his name.

The trouble was, he meant every word. It was easy to get caught up in that innocence. She’d seen it happen to others, and every time he used them up and discarded them, useless husks of what they were.

Picking up a coin, Boundless gave it a careful stare, placing it back on the table amongst the others.

“Remember that,” he said, not noticing her temporary lapse. She sighed inwardly, though keeping a straight face.

“That goes both ways,” she replied, sliding a portion back into her bags. “Boundless?”

“Fine, whatever” He replied, still staring at the money, a distant look on his face.

Trixie turned her back, holding her neck stiff as she quickly left the room, returning to her corner of the basement, breathing heavily. Depositing her saddlebags in the corner, she huddled under the window, trying desperately to calm herself. Trying to convince herself she was okay.

But you aren’t, are you? Brash said sadly.

No matter how she tried, the foal still managed to intimidate her. She knew the tricks, the little movements and posturing’s that made one appear threatening, yet she was allowing them to put her off balance. It was dangerous, so dangerous. One hint that she was afraid and he’d have her.

She had no reason to be afraid. Despite his freakish ability to break out of telekinetic containment, he hadn’t manifested anything abnormal. She’d be able to beat him, should it come to a fight, easily. He couldn’t stop her from teleporting, or throwing tables around; his magic was far weaker than hers. He couldn’t perceive her illusions. So why was she so afraid?

Because he can do anything, Cumulus said. We fear his potential.

Everypony has potential, and anypony can do anything, Trixie snapped.

No, listen. Not everypony can—in fact, most can’t. Could you, for example, kill somepony? Not for any reason, just because I told you to?

The voices in my head are telling me to kill. Great, now I do need to see a shrink.

He could, Brash said, cutting in. Absolutely, no problem. Without a second thought, so long as it helped him in some way.

Even Brash sees it, Cumulus sneered. Potential, Trixie. That foal is utterly amoral. You fear that potential.

He had a point. Trixie thought back to that awful snap, the way he completely removed the dozens of ponies outside the store from the robbery so effortlessly. That many witnesses, and so many of them unicorns, should have easily restrained the two thieves. Instead, they’d stood like sheep, too shocked and frightened to move.

Trixie had been watching Boundless’ face. He hadn’t displayed squeamishness, or reluctance. There was no hesitation in his actions. Equally, his eyes hadn’t lit up in delight, mouth hadn’t curled slightly as he dominated the stallion before him. No malice, just simple, clear, efficient action.

“What I need, when I need it,” he’d said, holding her eyes.

Four years and you never realised? I’m disappointed, Trixie.

I . . . I can beat him. I -

You can’t stop him from cutting your throat in your sleep.

Even then, as a single sob escaped her, Trixie couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. The thought was just so foreign, so completely contradictory to everything Equestria stood for. There was crime, sure, born of desperation, there was some violence and hate and social oppression. But for a thousand years, there had been no murder. No rape, adultery or kidnapping. Some things were sacred; everypony grew up believing that in their bones.

Stay strong, Brash advised. Don’t show him weakness.

Can’t leave, Cumulus agreed. He needs you for something. That’s why we’re still here.

T-thanks, guys, Trixie managed, before the enormity of the revelation encompassed her once again. She lay on the wooden surface, the high noon sunlight streaming in the window and over her face, as she watched stallion be knocked down, and heard the sharp snap over and over again.

“You still haven’t told me how you knew about this place,” Boundless said when Trixie re-emerged from her room.

“Spent some time here as a foal,” Trixie replied. “Nothing important.”

Nothing important?

“Was it burnt then too?”

“No, that happened . . . after.” Trixie shook her head, staring at the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The fire . . .

“Oh? What happened here,” Boundless pressed, face lighting up.

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it,” Trixie rebuffed, turning away. She didn’t have the energy to deal with him, not right now. Trotting to the door, she pulled it open and left before she could change her mind.

Risky . . . but perhaps a walk will clear my head

Perhaps. Perhaps it will get you caught. There were dozens of witnesses, even through your disguise. Cumulus told her, ever cautious. She could almost see him, face serious and stern, gesturing with a hoof.

I know, I know.

Back off, Cumulus, give her some space. One thing at a time, Brash said, interjecting. Dear, dear, Brash, he was always standing up for her.

The evening air was crisp and cool, a refreshing breeze playing over her face. The sun’s radiance died in the distance, heralding the emerging stars, glimmering overhead. Trixie turned a corner, headed through town.

Where are we going?

I don’t know.

They would have been with her for five years in a few weeks. Five years, spent as voices in another’s head. She still entertained thoughts that the experience had simply driven her mad; hiding the truth under a veil of comfort. But they’d disproved that long ago.

She knew, now, what it felt like to be burned alive. To choke on the smoke until you fell to the ground, unable to move, intense heat climbing over your body. She could see the bodies, sprawled on the floor as she quailed nearby.

She shuddered.

She had reached forward, grasping her friend’s limbs, nearly unconscious herself. There was no escape; the heat bore down with a physical weight, pressed her down against the searing wooden floor. But she dragged herself forward, some lonely fear driving her, and held them close.

And the fear drained away, peaking with an intensity rivalling the raging fire before disappearing, sucked away somewhere. She’d passed out.

Why choose that place to stay? Was it nostalgia, or some foolish hope of coming full circle? She had never really recovered, and could never forget. Not with their constant presence reminding her. Empowering her.

It had been a strange thing, waking up in the hospital. She’d been told they were dead, to a furious declamation in her mind. That shock had almost broken her, unable to deal with a war between reality and her unwilling mind. But somehow, she’d persevered.

The doctor told her she had protected herself somehow, shielded the flames. Trixie did not know how to do that, hadn’t ever learned such a spell, and couldn’t remember casting it. Yet she’d come out of the experience barely singed, impossible, considering.

Then Brash had proven himself, throwing around terms of his trade, rules to observe around a forge, and Cumulus the advanced properties of weather, cloud physics, lightning and snow. Disconcerting, to suddenly acquire knowledge she had no right to.

Ah. I see. We’re here.

Trixie looked up, spotting the gilded gates in front of her. Inscribed in an arch across them, she read with the quiet dismay of her own betrayal.

Noble Deed’s Orphanage

Her old home; a tiny room in a mansion full of tiny rooms, it was where she’d met them, for the first time. Where they’d grown together, and fallen apart. Where they’d discovered themselves, who they were and what they wanted. They’d planned their lives, a grand weaving, insignificant and precious.

The Orphanage was for foals, each asked to leave when they got their cutie mark. It was a sign that you were ready for the world, prepared to make your own way, pursue your dreams. For Trixie, that day, the happiest day of her life, had been the end of an era. It marked the last period she spent with them, alive and well.

Trixie stared through the bars, gazing at the mansion. It had changed, though without aging a day, fresh paint and construction marking it out from her memory. Scaffolding was still set up around the eastern wing, where the unicorns stayed.

There was supposed to be no racism at the Orphanage. That had been another lie, though a justified one. After all, Canterlot was primarily a unicorn city.

Despite that, she had happy memories here. Warm memories, the comforting knowledge of home assuring her, being surrounded by ponies her age and status. Orphans were pitied in society. In a way, that made life harder, a constant reminder that she had missed out. They drew in to each other, and became their own family.

She forced her gaze away from the place, deliberately turning her back and trotting away, back to the hideout. There was no room for reminiscing, no time for nostalgia. She had her friends with her still. That would be enough, would have to be enough.

Boundless still terrified her, but as long as she didn’t know what he wanted, there was no point trying to guess. For all that potential, as Cumulus put it, he carried the bluntness of youth. She could beat him, could stay ahead of him, and slowly lose relevance to his plans without becoming a threat.

A meagre plan, though . . .

We’re not going anywhere.

***

There was no obvious source for the wind. It blew from the south, a heavy wind, unchanging and unceasing. Luna followed it, tracing a lonely path through the desolate plains. The wind whispered to her, a desperate plea for release that she heard with no hope of answering. It was mindless, a wild, animal thing.

The wind was not responsible for the death of this land, couldn’t have reduced an entire civilisation to dust. Luna heard it, and knew it to be helpless, impotent and trapped. What, then, had done this? What was Celestia trying to protect Equestria from? What had the Drac sent her here to find?

Luna followed a dry riverbed, hard, cracked clay visible under the shifting sands. It wound its way through these Wastes, slowly meandering south. It had been hot, coming down from the mountains, like the peak of summer, but that heat was abating now, the air growing colder.

There remained no moisture in the air, nor was there cloud cover, sheltering her from the sun. No, it had simply grown softer, a mild heat, as if the seasons rolled past as she walked.

The wind was stronger here. It did not gust, didn’t blow sand in her face or tousle her mane. It made the air thicker, closed off and opposing her, as if Luna was pressing herself through water. It did not matter, she would not be dissuaded.

She did not know how long she’d been walking. It seemed blasphemous to fly, or teleport. She forced herself to search each fallen building, each ruined hut, or pile of rubble, though she didn’t know what she was looking for. Some sign of the creatures who had lived here.

It didn’t matter how long it took. At high noon, one day, she saw something new. A dark smirk on the horizon, a fingerprint, was just barely visible under the haze of the sun’s heat.

Eventually, she came to the centre. A large dome, the only structure she’d encountered still standing in the Wastes. Beginning to circle, it seemed the wind emanated from here, blowing out from openings in each side. The riverbed Luna was standing in ran straight through the northern opening and appeared to continue south, emerging on the other side.

The dome itself was solid, a mountain of rock easily a mile across. Completing her circuit, Luna faced the northern entrance once more, stepping lightly inside. Perhaps here were the answers she searched for.

“Good den, Princess of the Night,” an ancient voice rasped. She hadn't heard anything, no sound reverberated around the long tunnel. It had spoken to her mind, yet she heard the weight of years in it.

Luna paused briefly, before continuing.

“Greetings, Moon’s Veil,” it continued, dripping with malice.

Luna snorted, nostrils flaring. She struggled to press forward, now, the wind almost immovable, a vast force pressing down upon her.

There was no doubt in her mind now; this was the threat Celestia guarded against. It was probably what had reduced the land outside to the barren waste she had crossed.

“Greetings, Luna, and welcome home.”

Alarmed, Luna turned to look for the exit. The voice began to laugh, a horrible, cackling sound that raised her hackles and set her ears back flat against her skull. Rising into the air, Luna shot forward, wings catching the incredible pressure the wind provided. She covered the distance in less than a second.

But the exit wasn’t there. She flew on, well past the limits of the dome. The wind behind her was unfaltering, and the blackness seemed to go on forever.

Author's Note:

Notes: Chapter One

Comments

[Lostzilla]

Trixie... I have some problems regarding Trixie, mostly because I think she is the "perfect OC" . The majority love her, is accepted as a character in the series, but have so little run time that gets easy to mold her, fits anywhere your heart desires

fair's fair, what makes any character good is how it is written, and I do not doubt you, tracking

ps. WEEKLY YEAAAA, man how that is hard to find

edit:

I forget one thing, i love the way you describe the scenery and give the atmosphere to the story,tha is so often overlooked