Glimmering Oil Preview · 9:58pm Jun 16th, 2018
I realize it’s been a while since I’ve posted a new chapter of Glimmering Oil, so I’m going to go ahead and give a short clip of what I have so far. Hit the page break below to take a look. (Spoilers, as usual.)
The journey back had thankfully been uneventful, with no other Phyrexian abominations crossing their path, yet as they continued through the forest Sunset could swear that the trees were slowly becoming more metallic in sheen. It wouldn’t be long before the entirety of Camp Everfree fell to the contagion, along with all the surrounding woods. Every step that they walked was filled with a sense of dread that crawled across her skin, the constant tension suppressing the urge to speak.
When they finally arrived at the campground’s driveway, Sunset was the first person to speak since they left the cave.
“We’re here,” she said, her eyes drifting to the SUV. “Twilight, can you still fix the engine without your glasses?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” said Twilight. “I can see the engine just fine as long as it’s close.” She stepped forward, and began walking in a direction that would have moved her at a forty-five degree angle away from the vehicle. She let out a yelp as Sunset grabbed her shoulders and spun her towards the right direction.
“Uh, the car is that way.”
Twilight flushed. “Oh... right. I think I see it now, thanks.” She paused, squinted, and pointed at the car. Her face contorted in concentration as her finger motioned back and forth between its front and rear bumpers. “Sunset? Could you tell me which end the hood is on?”
“The one on your left,” said Sunset. “Here, let me get the hood open for you.”
Sunset gently brushed her hand against Twilight’s, guiding her towards the car. She stepped aside and popped open the hood, and allowed Twilight to step forward. Her right hand glowed with purple light, and a translucent wrench materialized within her grasp as she leaned over.
“Huh?” said Twilight, voice muffled by the car’s engine. “Well shoot, that explains it.”
“What is it?” said Sunset.
Twilight pulled herself out of the car’s hood. Her hair had become more frazzled, and a twig had somehow embedded itself in one of her bangs. “There’s, um... vines. In the engine. I think Gaea Everfree sabotaged it when we drove into camp.”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “That figures. Can you still get it running?”
Twilight grinned. In a flash of light, the wrench in her hand vanished, replaced in the same instant with a pair of gardening shears. “Just leave it to me!”
As Twilight began her work on the engine, Sunset turned around and gave a deep sigh. The other girls were already milling about the remains of the camp, uneasily attempting to keep themselves occupied. Aria had distanced herself as far as possible from the rest without going out of sight, while Sonata begrudgingly listened to Pinkie chattering on about whatever was on her mind. However, she couldn’t help but notice that one person in particular was missing.
“You and Twilight seem to get along pretty well, huh?”
Sunset exhaled deeply, and turned around to see Adagio with the same insufferable smirk she’d always worn. “What do you want, Adagio?”
“Oh, nothing!” Adagio said in a lilting voice. “I just couldn’t help but notice how close the two of you are. Why, you obviously care so deeply for each other that I can barely imagine you without her.”
Sunset immediately felt her body go rigid. Her teeth clenched, her right finger jabbed itself forward with accusatory force, and the sound of a single sneaker clomping against the dirt crossed her ears. “Adagio, I swear to God, if you do anything to hurt her—”
Adagio’s eyes gleamed in the dim light. It was the look of a spider that had just caught a fly within its trap. “And who said anything about hurting anyone? I’m not the one that goes around leaving others to die slow, agonizing deaths. Am I?”
Sunset couldn’t even begin to finish whatever thought she’d started. A pang of guilt had struck her so suddenly and forcefully that it caused her to physically flinch.
Oof. She certainly knows how to twist the metaphorical knife.
And probably the literal knife, too. Ooh, do you think she could teach us how to make a shank?
To be fair, by siren standards, this probably qualifies as gratitude.