Chapter 8
The morning after the party Scarlet Scribe found himself sleeping in. A rarity indeed for Saturdays, but with Di out of town he didn’t have to worry about corrections on the school paper. Which was a good thing because he had enough problems on his hands, and fortunately he didn’t have any incriminating evidence lying around.
The phone woke him up rudely and with a silent groan he reached over for the cell on his combination nightstand and bookcase. “Is there a reason you’re calling me at eight AM on a Saturday, Sugarcoat?”
“Lemon Zest suffered a very bad head wound and she refuses to let me know what it was. Talk. Now!”
Cringing at the loud tone of voice from his favorite cousin, Scribe blearily sat up and rubbed at his eyes. “First of all, have you ever been to a party with Lemon Zest?”
“I have not had that pleasure.” Sugarcoat’s tone sounded a little edgier than usual.
Scribe moaned; his shoulder ached, reminding him of his own self-inflicted injury from the previous night. “Yeah, not even going to try and explain how wild she can get. There was stage diving involved, I’ll let you fill in the blanks.” It was a lie, but one clouded by the tendrils of truth.
Sugarcoat sighed on the other end of the line. “Details would be helpful, however I can already envision what may have happened.” The telltale scratch of a nail file came over the line and a much more loaded question followed. “Did you get what you needed for your precious Diamond Tiara?”
Scribe let out a sigh. “That’s another complicated kettle of fish. I was sussed out last night; I’ll be meeting with the CMC today to discuss options on how to handle things.” Gritting his teeth he shoved his comforter aside and made his way to the personal restroom his mother insisted he have.
Glancing at his back briefly he spotted a rather telling bruise. Moving to relieve himself he paused, just noticing something rather important. He’d slept in the nude last night. Rather different from the norm on his part.
“So why would you have to listen to anything from those three?” Sugarcoat demanded.
Scribe shook his head. “I told you it’s complicated, need to know. The less you know the better off you’ll be.”
“I’m only trying to look out for you.” Sugarcoat’s tone changed; it was a very subtle difference but anyone who truly knew her could tell what it meant.
“I know, cuz.” Scribe grinned. “Thanks for your concern. I should get ready to face the rest of the day, tell Lemon… I had fun last night, and if she’s up to it again we could always go some other time.”
Sugarcoat was downright curious now, but chose not to say anything about it. “I’ll pass on the message.”
“Bye, SC.” Scribe smiled fondly and waited to hear the curt response before hanging up. Yawning broadly he made his way over to the shower and started the water running. A long soak might have been better for his shoulder, but he didn’t feel like it today.
As he bathed he contemplated all of his options. They weren’t pleasant. Diamond Tiara would know if he tried to obfuscate the truth, considering she already knew what the hell the club was about. Being her witness would mean reporting his findings to Vice-Principal Luna, and getting Ms. Cheerilee in big trouble, along with every student that attended the Naturist Club.
Not to mention he would be branded as a pariah for the rest of his life. Or, as another option, he could abandon Diamond Tiara and all of his hopes and dreams for the future, team up with Silver Spoon and just ignore Tiara’s obsession.
The more he thought about last night and all of the ramifications of being a member of the enemy camp, as it were, the more he felt himself growing nervous and frustrated. One wrong move and it would all be over. His pathway to a dream career, his hopes of having some kind of normal social life for the sake of his mother’s wishes; everything. Maybe he should take up meditating in the back yard - it couldn’t hurt.
Scribe finished his morning routine with a quick brush of the pearly whites and a run of a comb through his hair. He studied his face briefly; not even a hint of stubble, still as smooth as everything.
Genetics in this instant were more of a blessing, as he knew he’d start to itch something fierce when his facial hair started to come in. He already had a minor scalp condition due to hereditary genes. He didn’t even want to think what would happen when he started growing a beard.
Absently wandering from the bathroom with the towel wrapped firmly around his waist he forewent the dresser and made his way downstairs. Mother went to early morning classes on weekends; dance schools didn’t really have summer vacations, not the same way ordinary schools did. Shrugging, he made his usual breakfast, toast and oat cereal, and sat down at the divider to eat.
He’d probably have to get his shoulder looked at on Monday. The family doctor always took weekends off and he wasn’t about to walk in to the clinic and have to sit who knows how long just to get it looked at. He probably sprained something or pulled something; it didn’t feel serious, and certainly hadn’t broken. He wouldn’t have been able to carry Lemon into Cheerilee’s dressing room if that had been the case.
Stirring, the cereal absently his mind wandered back to the fun Lemon had been having. It had been off the wall weird and definitely out of his comfort zone, but it had been kind of interesting. She’d looked so relaxed, so in control, it was enough to make his cheeks start to flush slightly.
“Wait a minute? Am I feeling stirrings of something for Lemon Zest of all people?” he blurted when he realized how dangerous it was to let the mind wander, even if he was home alone. “Oh no, no, no, no! I can’t do that, she’s like two years older than me, and I’ve been friends with her… Er… well acquaintances anyway since I was five and three quarters.”
Choosing to take his mind off of these new troubling thoughts, Scribe puttered about putting the dishes in the dishwasher and turning it on after noticing it was pretty much full. That over with, he walked straight outside into the backyard and unfurled the towel around his waist. Ordinarily he might have stopped to truly think about what he was doing, but he was still a little damp from the shower.
The sun was nice and warm on his bare skin, and Angel Mist owned a considerable piece of property. Nowhere near as grandiose as the Rich estate, or any sort of estate, but it was private property in the better side of town. All of it inherited from his grandfather, destined to be his one day - he was not looking forward to that. Aunty Brisque got the lion’s share of the wealth, but Angel Mist was no pushover in the funds department.
It was part of the reason Scribe wasn’t too worried about not having a summer job yet. His monthly allowance was considerable, and his investment portfolio - all overseen by mother’s solicitors - was doing alright. He still desired some semblance of independence, however that would come in time.
He just had to find the right job. And working for Flim and Flam was definitely not it, even if they did offer to pay him a small fortune to handle all of their bookkeeping. Just because he was good with numbers did not mean he wanted to get into trouble by doing anything shady; tax evasion was a serious crime.
Closing his eyes he took in a few deep breaths, thankful once again that his mother was so independent as to not desire servants, and started to meditate to help clear his mind. It was actually a pretty decent pastime, and he wondered why he hadn’t started it sooner.
It should have bothered him that he wasn’t wearing anything; that he hadn’t even thought about clothes since waking up that morning. Scribe was many things but exhibitionist was not one of them. Still, he was feeling a lot more relaxed than normal, and nobody was around. Private property meant sprawling backyards and very high fences. It also meant back-breaking labor, lawn care and maintenance for the most part.
When Angel Mist said no servants she meant no servants; only the pool boy ever stopped by, but that was often when his mother was home and sunning herself in one of her skimpy string bikinis. His parents were separated; dad traveled a lot for his job and he tended to have a wandering eye when he did. Mom hadn’t taken too kindly to that.
“Ohmmmmmm!” Scribe let out as he took in several deep breaths and let all of his negativity out. Just like Tree Hugger had taught in her little meditation circle last night. He would have to apologize again to Lemon for not letting her in on his special coping mechanism. Considering how the song was a pretty decent one from when his mom was a teen, it was possible she’d like the song too. It kind of had a decent enough beat. And he felt like sharing.
There was that growing feeling towards Lemon again, what was the deal with that? Ok, so she was the least grating of the Shadowbolts, she didn’t have any really serious issues aside from her overreliance on good music, but that didn’t mean he had a thing for her. Nope, not a thing. She probably didn’t even like younger guys, besides, she was going to be eighteen this year, and he would be sixteen. A two year age gap full of dangerous connotations.
“OHMMMM!” His mind went blank and he felt himself blissfully reach a state of true nirvana. No cares, no worries, just a calm deeply spiritual centre. The sun beamed down on his bare skin warming him up and drying away the last of the dampness. He felt oddly complete in this very moment.
Then his phone started ringing and the world came crashing back down in startling focus.
“Damnit!” Scribe reached down and picked up the phone. “If that’s Sunny or Indigo wanting to know what happened to Lemon…” His eyes widened in abject terror when he saw the caller ID. “Hello.” His throat was dry just from uttering that one word, but he couldn’t just ignore the caller. They’d keep phoning until he answered, or he would get chewed out for not saying anything.
“Scribey, my favorite little minion, tell mamma you have something very good for her.” Diamond Tiara was attempting a playful little tone, trying her best to get on his good side and butter him up.
Scarlet Scribe was having none of that. “Define good?” This was extremely dangerous, but he had to play for time to think.
“Scribe, did you or did you not bear witness to the depravities of that little Naturist Club?” Diamond’s tone was like ice.
“Well at least that proves you knew about it.”
“Of course I knew about it!” Diamond shrieked. “Silver Spoon had photographic proof of what it was about confirming several rumours Snips and Snails had reported. And then she erased it!” Diamond sounded like she wanted to throw something. “Made me look like a fool in front of Vice Principal Luna!”
Scribe pulled the phone away from his ear with a flinch. That had been loud. Diamond must be in a really bad mood after having to put up with her grandmother for just one night. At least she’d be away all weekend.
“Scribe. You were there. I need to know everything!” Diamond insisted.
“Really?” Scribe’s tone grew colder. “Every little thing concerning my humiliating night in front of practically the entire student body. Without my clothes on!” he shouted back at Diamond.
Diamond sighed. “What does it matter? I’ll be letting you see me without my clothes on anyway to repay you for what you had to put up with.” Her tone implied a sudden sultry smile spreading across her lips. “You get the goods as soon as you help me stick it to the Career Minded Compatriots.”
Scribe gripped his phone tight enough that his knuckles started to ache. “What makes you think I’d want to do that?”
“What?” Diamond’s shrill cry in that moment almost reminded Scribe of Spoiled Rich. Almost.
“Diamond, you forced me to crash that party to bear witness to a naturist club. I don’t get why you’re so uptight about it, but I’m not really that put off by Naturism.” Scribe flinched when he heard something shatter distantly over the speaker.
“Of all the!” Diamond began a rant that would have made her mother quite proud. “After what happened with Silver Spoon, you would dare threaten to abandon me the same way she did? You do realize that I could shatter your dreams for that little career you’re harboring, right?” Diamond’s tone grew more frantic as she spoke. “Scarlet Scribe, if you dare think you can get out of this you are sorely mistaken. If I have to I will force things into the light. Things you dare not wish to be exposed.”
Scribe gulped nervously and began to sweat. The harsh light of the early morning sun no longer felt as good as it had before. “Diamond. Even if I could, what would we do? I have no physical proof, it’s my word against the CMC and all the rest of the members of their club. No phones allowed, no pictures allowed. Any journalist would tell you the same thing: we can’t go to press with nothing. Luna would just do the same thing she did when Silver Spoon erased the picture she had.”
Diamond was quiet for a lot longer than Scribe cared for, but in the end she gave a little grunt of acknowledgement. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Scribey. I’ll just pretend this little conversation didn’t happen, and I want you to think all weekend about how we might get a camera in there for next Friday’s party. But if you fail me, rest assured, you will suffer the consequences!” she hissed before hanging up so abruptly that Scribe was left holding the phone to his ear for a few minutes listening to the dial tone.
“Well, shit! What am I going to do now?”
Lemon Zest frowned slightly as she looked at the large welt on her head. It hadn’t been too big of a problem for her - she’d had much worse - but there was just something about it, how she got it, that made her wonder. She’d grown up with Sugarcoat and the others. She loved them all equally as decent friends, even if going to Crystal Prep had sort of soured them on friendship as a concept for a while. That being said, she was a little worried that maybe the hit to the head had done something.
“Scarlet Scribe?” she asked herself as she gazed in the mirror.
“He’s smart, even if he doesn’t want to admit it,” her reflection replied.
“Yeah, but he’s like, a baby brother!” Lemon should have been concerned that she was talking to her reflection and hearing it respond back. She had other problems to worry about just then.
“True, but he’s a really caring and compassionate guy. I mean he didn’t even care about his own injury.”
“What injury?” Lemon frowned in confusion.
Her reflection rolled her eyes and pointed to her shoulder. “Duh, he hurt himself when you slammed him into the ground. And despite the pain he carried you someplace you could be treated in privacy.”
Lemon waved her hand in dismissal. “He’d do that for anybody. Hell, even Sour Sweet on her worst day.”
“But he did it for you.” Lemon’s reflection shot her a sly look. “And he doesn’t look half bad without his clothes on.”
Lemon’s cheeks flushed darker with remembrance.
“Lemon Zest, is everything alright?”
“Yeah mom!” Lemon responded with a roll of her eyes.
“Well stop muttering to yourself in the bathroom and get your butt down here, it’s your day for laundry duty.”
Lemon sighed at her mother’s reminder. “Fine, I’ll be finished in another minute.” Glancing down briefly at the pamphlet she’d brought back home last night she gave another wistful sigh.
“I wish mom could get behind this kind of lifestyle, she’s got enough laundry to fill a small warehouse.” Lemon grew thoughtful, no one was coming today to the house. No one ever did unless it was her friends. Maybe she could give the idea a proper try, it could be fun, and mom was going to work anyway.
Her decision made up she got to her feet and headed for the door, turning briefly to give her reflection one last look.
“Lemon Scribe has a nice ring to it.” Her reflection laughed at the flush on her cheeks before she left the room.
“Lemon Zest!”
“I’m coming already! Sheeh, give me a break mom!”
Zecora stretched lavishly in her large bed. Her father had decided that it was best she have the finest things: being an only child had its perks. Her mother was no doubt already on her way to work, which meant it was time for the usual debriefing. Zecora sighed.
Commissioner Zheria was a tall and imposing man who had climbed the ranks of the police department by never taking no for an answer, and working hard to ensure that crime and corruption were a thing of the past. He kept his family life and work life separate… with one exception.
Zecora joined her father in the kitchen and offered a polite bow. “The day has begun so warm and free. Must we discuss yet another party?”
“Of my daughter I but ask, that she not fail at my appointed task.”
Zecora nodded briefly. “Then this latest party of which I speak, was refreshing holding not what you seek. None of the students at CHS practice the dangers of excess. There were no pushers, no drinkers, no gangs of unruly rapport. All of them were laughing, dancing - fun seekers galore.”
Zheria nodded slowly as she spoke. “To be expected of the school run by Principal Celestia.” Ending it there, he turned back to his paper.
Zecora grinned; her father humoured her by allowing her to differentiate herself. She lived her life as she desired, which meant being allowed to speak in rhyme. It was her favorite pastime and sharpened her wits considerably. Unfortunately he drew the line when it came to rhyming anything with Celestia’s name during their daily talks. He just couldn’t think of anything that would fit that didn’t sound made up or ridiculous.
“Have you any rumors of parties today? Or am I free to go and enjoy the day?”
“It’s a bit warm today, daughter. Wear your lightest ensemble and ensure that you take plenty of water.”
Zecora grinned and rushed up to hug her father. Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek she then made her way back upstairs to prepare.
Zheria chuckled and shook his head. Turning the latest page of the paper, he reached over for his morning cup of coffee. Then he remembered something a little out of place. “Now when did Zecora get that new body art?”
Glancing up briefly with a concerned expression, the current Police Commissioner offered a brief shrug. “She would have told me if it was important, probably just something at the party. She’ll wash it off in a day or so I’m sure.”
Being a very forward-thinking man, Zheria didn’t even bother to wonder when, at a party on school property, Zecora would have found time to get some new body art. So used to his chosen lifestyle, which he shared with his family, he didn’t even consider that a naturist club might be involved.
Lemon popped the washing machine closed and pressed the start button. Two full loads already inside, and she still had at least one and a half to go. Her mother had too much clothes and changed too often from day to night when she had activities to do. She spent way too many hours looking for the perfect ensemble. Lemon began to wonder if maybe her mother was a little more obsessed with personal appearance than was healthy.
Rapping on the dryer as she danced off to the kitchen for a quick snack, Lemon ignored her mother’s mindset. She didn’t let it bug her before; why should she let it bother her now that she was starting to let her inner Naturist out. As a test only, right now. She wasn’t ready to fully embrace the lifestyle, but she could definitely get behind it in the home. And if it meant she could spend time at CHS in that awesome party pad…
Lemon snatched a handful of grapes and nibbled them before she flipped her phone onto the counter and started sifting through her contacts. The only real problem with not wearing anything in the house was no pockets to hold the phone while she walked around the house.
“Let’s see. Already talked to Indigo, Sugarcoat and Sunny when I got up around six. Not really feeling like dealing with Sour until after she’s had at least three cups of coffee… Hmmm that leaves Twilight or Scribey to call up.” Lemon grew thoughtful as she studied the names on her phone.
The fact she even had Twilight’s number was a curiosity. Being the least antagonistic towards the science-loving loner she was the first one the others turned to when supplying Twilight’s contact info. Sunny suggested it in case the CHS girls wanted to hang out or something. “Still haven’t hung out with any of them yet.”
Making up her mind she selected the name and started tapping away with her fingers to send a quick text.
~ZestyBeats~ “Hey, Twi, how’s your weekend looking?”
~Twilighlicious~ “Getting ready for exam studying with Sunset. Why?”
~ZestyBeats~ “Oh yeah. Another week and everybody needs to hit the books.”
~Twilighlicious~ “Would you like to join us? I know how difficult it can be to prepare properly for Crystal Prep exams.”
Lemon rolled her eyes and snatched a few more grapes, still enjoying her tunes.
~ZestyBeats~ “Nah, if I wanted to hang with eggheads I’d go join Sugarcoat and Sunny Flare during their study sessions.”
~Twilighlicious~ “So... then why did you start texting me?”
~ZestyBeats~“We never just chat, Twi. And you’ve been pretty distant since the Friendship Games. Is everything ok?”
~Twilighlicious~ “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Lemon sighed.
~ZestyBeats~ “Because you just answered my question with a question and Crystal Prep students are experts at spotting mental flaws.”
~Twilighlicious~ “I don’t recall that while I was attending there.”
Lemon smirked.
~ZestyBeats~ “Trust me, Twi, you’ve got something on your mind that’s been bugging you.”
~Twilighlicious~ “How would you even know that?”
Lemon blinked briefly and then nodded.
~ZestyBeats~ “Because I’m psychic. That plus I saw you the other day leaving CHS and you looked beat.”
~Twilighlicious~ “So why are you so concerned?”
Lemon shrugged briefly and got up to empty the dryer. The incessant buzzing broke through even her loud music selection and so she knew that it was time to start folding, pressing and all that wonderful junk. Laundry day was a pain.
Dancing down the hall she thought about the question briefly and then decided it would be kind of odd for her to just suddenly start caring. But Crystal Prep looked out for their own, just like Sugarcoat always said, and Lemon was the least anti-social out of the group in that respect.
Dropping the laundry basket in front of the dryer so she could start hauling out the clothes, she paused to finally send her reply.
~ZestyBeats~ “Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?”
Popping the lid, she started yanking out the clothes and dropping them into the basket, being mindful not to drop any on the floor because she wasn’t in the mood to wash them twice. While she did the busy work her thoughts returned to Scarlet Scribe.
He was handsome, charming, and totally stacked in all the right places. Though he tried desperately to avoid any physical embarrassments, once they were on their way home and he was dressed again he’d allowed himself to get a bit lax.
Being that it was pretty dark by then he probably hadn’t noticed, but Lemon had. Licking her lips briefly at the thought of that tent pole doing some decidedly naughty things, she noticed her phone vibrating and went to check Twilight’s response.
~Twilighlicious~ “My current study on Friendship would seem to indicate that is a normal response. I am flattered that you are concerned, but I’m confident that the problem shall be dealt with as soon as school is over and the summer trip to Camp Everfree scheduled by Principal Celestia begins.”
Lemon rolled her eyes. Typical Twilight response. Juggling the basket and the phone in one hand she made her way to her mom’s room so she could put the clothes away after it was folded and junk.
~ZestyBeats~ “Whatever. If you ever need somebody to chat that understands Crystal Prep PTSD you know who to call. Say Hi to Sunset for me, didn’t get to chat with her last night at the party.”
Lemon smirked as she imagined Twilight’s shocked look once she found out about her being at CHS last night. Getting to work on sorting the laundry to begin putting it away she glanced briefly at her mother’s vanity.
Lemon’s reflection winked at her. “Just keep ignoring Scribe’s tight-looking bod; it’ll only make it all the more sweeter when you finally hang with him again.”
Lemon rolled her eyes. “Scribe doesn’t have a tight looking-bod. He’s a lanky dweeb.”
“But he’s our lanky dweeb,” Lemon’s reflection reminded.
“What’s with this we stuff? We’re the same person,” Lemon snapped. “Stupid head injuries.”
Lemon’s reflection shrugged. “Yeah, I know. By the way, Twilight sent you another reply.”
Frowning slightly Lemon glanced at her phone to read the text.
~Twilighlicious~ “How did you get in? You’re not a CHS student. Are you stalking me now? Sunset will deal with you if you cause any problems, Lemon and… OK Sorry, Lemon, I think Twilight is getting a little paranoid. This is Sunset by the way. Can we meet up later to talk?”
Lemon finished folding all the laundry and started putting it away while she thought about what Sunset had asked. The two teams hadn’t met up at all. She promised Scribe she wouldn’t cause him any problems, but perhaps everyone from Crystal Prep and everyone from CHS needed to clear the air.
~ZestyBeats~ “Two conditions. Nobody mentions naturism or the guy I was with at the party last night.”
Picking up the now-empty basket after sending her response, she made her way out of the room. Another fifteen to twenty minutes and she’d probably need to shift the load in the washer into the dryer and start the last full load.
~Twilighlicious~ “Deal. Call the girls and we’ll meet at Rarity’s house this afternoon.”
Sighing, Lemon sent an affirmative before moving to the contacts list again. “Sunny and the gang aren’t going to like this.”
Adagio burst out of her locker prison literally shining with fury, almost as if her magic was still active. Sadly, that was not to be the case; she was just really, really, really, really angry. Storming out of the changing room where her siblings had ‘conveniently’ forgotten her she glanced around at the now empty Student Union Room.
Adagio’s expression darkened and she began to grind her teeth as she tried to find any sign of anyone. Especially her two ‘favorite’ sisters. Slowly sliding through the room stalking every corner she at last came to the conclusion that she was alone.
“Those two idiots are going to rue the day they messed up my plan for last night,” she declared as she made her way back upstairs. “First I’ll take away their food privileges and then I’ll strap them down and force them to wash my hair. After that I might consider letting them out of the house again, but they will…” Adagio stopped ranting when she saw her reflection in one of the trophy cases. “By the shallows! I look terrible!” she cried in sudden horror.
Spinning on her heel she made her way towards the gym and the showers that were kept there. First she’d get a decent shower, swipe some girl’s gym clothes so she wouldn’t have to wear this rumpled outfit any longer, and then she’d enact her vengeance upon Aria and Sonata.
Adagio glared darkly at nothing in particular as she fumed over the utter failure of her plan. She should have known her sisters were too whipped now to care about exacting vengeance. Sonata obviously had lied about how much she cared about that pink Rainboom. And Aria… Well, Aria was just a jerk.
Once she was feeling better she could plot for her next attempt. Adagio may have been many things, but a quitter wasn’t one of them. She would have her revenge, even if she had to find someone she could manipulate to do her dirty work for her. Someone with a vendetta against the Rainbooms also. Someone like… Frowning, she came to a stop not far from the entrance to the school newspaper room.
She couldn’t explain why, but she took a moment to glance into the room after opening the door. There was something here. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it seemed to be calling to her.
Striding through the room she approached the large desk that the current editor was using. Adagio studied it carefully. Then she noticed it: a faint flicker from one of the drawers. Pulling it open her eyes widened in shock. She had tried to find this the day after the Battle of the Bands, but after managing to check out the stage and surrounding area with nothing to show for it she had assumed the Rainbooms and their Pony Princess had taken them.
It called to her, these remnants of what had once been the necklaces of her and her sisters, and she reached down to remove the object. The surviving shards of each siren’s jewel had been strangely housed within a curious-looking amulet, crafted from a strange gleaming metal of unknown type. It was shaped like their former siren-empowered forms.
They flickered with a tiny bit of residual energy, and a faint echoing siren’s voice seemed to be calling to her in a barely-audible whisper of remembered music. Adagio’s eyes lit up with glee and she took note of the name on the nametag written on the desk.
“Well, well, well. Perhaps I’ve found an ally after all. One who seems to have found something that doesn’t belong to her.” Adagio grinned darkly as she pocketed the amulet and resumed her trip to the shower room. As she walked she started to hum a little tune, and the residual magic clinging to the slightly restored crystalline form made her voice sound less grating than usual. “I will be adored. I won’t be ignored. Nothing can stop me now!”
Ahhhhhhhh, ahhh, ah, ahhhhhhhh, ahhh, ah, ahhhhhhhh, ahhh, ah, ahhhhhhhh. A familiar green mist floated around Adagio’s form briefly as the ghostly whispers from the necklace echoed in tune with her singing, restoring some of her image after the night spent trapped in the locker.