Sunset Shimmer held a smart phone overhead while dour breath passed through her lips. From her bed she could only see by the device's light and she internally begged time to halt so she could remain lying down without being made to confront those she'd wronged. Alas, ignorant of her wishes, her phone's clock changed from 6:29 to 6:30 A.M., and she was required to arrive at school before 8:00 if she desired Celestia's placation -- which she, in this instance, did.
After half an hour of going through a standard morning routine to maintain the physical vessel and enjoy a bitter drink of coffee, Sunset retrieved a black-strapped auburn backpack, tossed the last bits of a peanut butter sandwich she couldn't finish into a wastebasket, and pushed her room door open while throwing the somewhat small bag over a shoulder. What a surprise, she thought with a roll of her eyes upon seeing Rainbow Dash, also entirely prepared for a school day, sitting cross-legged on the floor before her. "Have a good night?" the athlete threw at Sunset before springing to her feet with a deep, one-sided frown and narrow eyes. "What exactly did you go to do last night?" she demanded, as though Sunset had actually orchestrated the previous evening's events in a ploy to achieve some vile retribution.
Rainbow stepped forward, preparing to clutch Sunset's shoulders and interrogate her farther, but Sunset finally had enough of these antics. Conscripting little effort, she stepped backward to offset her stance compared to Dash and used her closer arm to backhand the athlete's attempted grapple away; she saw Rainbow widen her eyes in response, as though this display was unacceptable and unforeseen, and step forward. However, frustration channeled, Sunset raised her voice to halt the surprised girl's advance.
Although Rainbow initially scoffed at this unbiddable demonstration, Sunset approached, glaring hostility, and growled the volcano that was her internal ire into eruption -- asserting, "Enough! Look here, highlight maniac, I have tried to be patient and cooperative with this!" After gritting her teeth, Dash mirrored Sunset's diagonal stance and leaned her head back; clarifying via body language that she would listen before continuing questioning.
"I have tried to demonstrate and- ... " Sunset paused for a second in a vain attempt to remain calm. "And explain to you that I understand: I lost! Not only was I beaten in the sense that I failed, but I failed in the worst possible way ... I was forced to recognize that I was wrong to begin with -- that all of you were not only right but benefiting the world by defeating me!" She saw Rainbow glance away, breaking eye contact for but a moment, and shook fiery hair before grumbling, "If I were you: I wouldn't trust me either!" Rainbow flinched when Sunset, emphasizing threatening implication, jabbed a finger centimeters from her eye. "But, right now, I see no reason to antagonize you or anyone else. Do you want that to change? Because if you do -- by all means! -- keep pushing me, and you'll get the enemy you want." After this unleashing, Rainbow found herself unsure of what words to use. In the end she chose none and simply returned a stern gaze as Sunset locked, and pulled, her room door closed. Without anymore exchange of speech, and bag secured to her back, the fiery-haired threat maker bashed her shoulder into the athlete's before taking leave.
When Sunset's phone struck 7:43, she crested the familiar hill to Canterlot High and felt her feet adhere to asphalt below. Fewer than ten minutes away, surrounding the building, were people of all different sorts. Had there not been so many, Sunset would've tried circling around the building to retain some semblance of stealth, but in the absence of such fortune she deigned to stalk toward the school not unlike any of the other congregating students. Some of them wore hoodies or jackets, others sweaters or coats, but all held one commonality; when Sunset reached the school's main concrete path, which she had personally repaved, each of them shot the girl hostile, appalled scowls.
Initially, Sunset attempted to keep her head high and forward; she tried to ignore each pair of prying pupils but, as the stares lingered, she began feeling a tangible nervousness. Everyone's eyes almost appeared to harbor intent -- for what she could not conceive. Though, out of caution, she began scanning around her as she approached the school's glass entrance. Perhaps it was slight paranoia ... at least she hoped that to be the case. However, while each passing fleer dug into her thoughts, people began pointing and whispering.
Sunset found herself taking deep breaths continually and gripping her backpack's straps a little too tight. Before she reached the school's entrance, which she was far more relieved to see than she expected, she was not only searching around her but above, as she considered the possibility of someone throwing something over other students' heads. Fortune apparently favored her brazenness but she couldn't trust fate nor calm her nerves, so upon walking through the main door into a branching corridor and seeing a girl with hair like a lion's mane, who she subconsciously recognized as Gilda, marching toward her ... she panicked.
Her heart imitated a mosso tempo, other students had eyes on her almost before she had closed the glass entry, and she moved without two thoughts toward the only door which led to a place she felt safe: Celestia's office. After barging into the room, she found herself flat and stiff against a mahogany door with white knuckles clutching her bag for dear life. During just that moment she closed her eyes and released her backpack, but she failed to employ this calmness before her fingernails drew blood from her own palms.
"Mm ... ," hummed the dignified Principal Celestia, who needed only one glance to identify the not-really relaxed girl, with a dry intonation. "Sunset, I do believe this is the first time you've stepped into my office of your own volition without threatening someone or issuing immediate demands. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?" Observing the room veiled nothing from Sunset. There were a few filing cabinets, drawers, and papers directly in front of her, and a coffee-lacquered, rectangular oak desk separated Sunset's position from Celestia's workspace. Situated on the same side of this desk as Sunset sat Trixie and Octavia; the latter was busy scribbling something onto a page in a purple binder splaying across the principal's desk.
"Look at her! She's stiff as a stone -- I'll bet she's scared!" the so-called magician began laughing -- Sunset was getting tired of that laugh -- but Celestia didn't take this comment as comedy.
Not before raising both brows, the principal looked up from a flat red folder and asked, "Is there something you're afraid of that I should know about, Sunset?" Alright, things will be fine, the questioned one mused, shook her head, and answered the first query posed instead of the second.
"You told me to be here before eight. Here I am. Do you need something, or shall I leave?" Sunset wasn't halfway through her sentences when Octavia dropped a blue, mechanical pencil and brought her left hand's fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose. Celestia dropped her head while maintaining her gaze to Sunset, removed a few papers from the aforementioned folder, and blinked slower than a tortoise with still-raised brows.
"Actually, I said to be in the library, where paper copies of attendance are before they come to me, before eight. I thought getting here early might make the first day easier for you and your ... friends, but it seems someone mentioned that idea to the rest of the students." Trixie, lacking a single shred of shame across her features, flashed both Sunset and the principal a wry smile. "Oh well," Celestia continued, "seeing that you are here, looking for a task no less, it seems only fitting that you hang these up on the bulletin boards in front of this office, the cafeteria, the auditorium, and the gym."
Tilting her head and reaching for a stack of four papers that the principal was offering, Sunset identified individual copies of the petition Octavia so politely requested her signature for and frowned. "Sure ... ," she drew out the word to indicate sarcasm. "Are you positive you don't want me to add something? I dunno, say, a clause where 'stoning Sunset' is not only accepted but encouraged?"
"It would not be the first time such a thing happened," Councilor Octavia chimed in. "Especially to someone like you ... whose humility is like a racer who has never seen a track; it knows no starting line and has never won anything."
"Harumph," came Sunset's attempting-to-mimic-Octavia's-old-fashioned-demeanor retort with a scoff.
Celestia tossed her left elbow onto her desk to rest her chin on its corresponding fist, grimaced, and dreamed aloud, "One day, Sunset, you and I are going to sit down, have a normal conversation, and neither of us are going to want to see the other expelled from their life."
"That'll be the day," Sunset quipped before glaring at Trixie and turning on her heel. Much to her delight, it turned out that Gilda had vacated the locale and being focused on a basic task allowed the dimensional interloper to ignore each snide remark or pointed finger from her peers. Things were looking for the better. Even her mates in class were less ... aggressive than she expected; when she entered the designated square classroom for science, her teacher, Mrs. Myer, was the only confrontationist. Once Sunset entered the class she was flagged down.
Mrs. Myer called, upon seeing Sunset attempting to walk passed the class's front row, "Sunset, half of me is of a mind to reassign your seat. How about right here?" Frowning at the teacher's suggestion toward the most forward and centered seat in class, Sunset pretended to consider the idea, sashayed to Myer's desk, and placed both hands on the surface between them before giving a remark.
"Honestly, that's a good idea. If I scoot forward, then maybe, just maybe, one of the spitballs will hit you!" Mrs. Myer narrowed her eyes in a poignant display of boredom toward the response. Apparently that was all Sunset needed, though, as the teacher said nothing when she walked as far away from the room's front as possible. However, not every subject's instructor was so easily swayed.
Cheerilee -- Sunset's English teacher -- had none of the girl's hiding, for when she saw Sunset retreating to the class's rear she explained, seemingly without looking, "Sunset Shimmer, your seat is three rows forward. Don't be difficult or I'll assign detention. I'm sure you'd enjoy sitting with everyone else who has a record of delinquency." Alas, this was a serious threat, and Sunset could find no cutting comment that didn't seem too pushy. Well, she learned upon the class's start and reaching behind her head to find a wet wad of paper, at least now I know what spitballs feel like. Each class felt as though small contingents were waiting for a moment to ambush her, but no such assault came ... until lunch, anyway.
Keeping to her forte of discretion, Sunset refused to enter the crowded cafeteria. Instead she ducked into what would have been her last subject of the day: Mr. Powers's Calculus class. Of course, she couldn't miss a rather focused stare from Gilda before she entered. None inhabited the room save for the teacher himself -- who Sunset so courteously addressed as, "Nential-san" for his Japanese cultural indulgence. Mr. Powers was by no means an ordinary teacher, and when Sunset infringed upon his space he tossed an apple her way which she caught without thinking.
"You're supposed to be in the cafeteria," he laid out. "Go." Sunset threw her backpack and a small, brown paper bag onto one of the room's numerous desks in blatant disobedience; this act failed to elicit glee from the mathematician. "Do you have any idea how tempted I am to make a scene here and call security?" he prodded Sunset with the threat, but she refused to budge.
"Come on," she plead. "Leniency?" Nential Powers tapped his chin with an index finger a few times at this.
"Celestia certainly thinks the staff should give it to you, but I'm not so sure." Sunset karate chopped the surface of the desk, which occupied her things, with either hand and tilted her head to silently inquire what she needed to do to clarify this expressed uncertainty. Momentarily the teacher continued to tap his chin, but he soon raised a finger to the ceiling and presented his criteria. "What is the difference between tensile strength and shearing force? Answer that correctly, mostly anyway, and I'll forgo that call to security."
What! Sunset pointed at Nential's face and stated, "That's not even a math-based question ... 'mostly'!"
Mr. Powers only shrugged. "It's also the question I've asked you to answer rightly before I kick you out. You have three minutes by the way." Ugh, Sunset internally fumed. Tensile strength and shearing force weren't exactly hard for her to differentiate, but she hoped that Nential-san would at least try to trip her up with a question related to his class.
"Tensile strength is an object, such as a rope or wire's, ability to resist a force which is pulling it apart in a parallel manner. Shearing force has to do with a pulling force perpendicular, or otherwise intersecting, to such an object." Sunset's delivery was concise and slightly depressed, as though she was trying to egg Mr. Powers on. However, her teacher ventured a very particular route.
"Alright," he began while standing and collecting a few items. "You can stay, but here's another one for you: why did I ask you that instead of something more appropriate to my class?" In lieu of an answer, Sunset, as she was still working to solve that exact problem, only hummed and watched her teacher saunter through the sole door which led into his class. Nothing that man said outside of textbook quotes or course material ever seemed to make sense, so Sunset chose to ignore this most recent riddle and began unraveling the paper bag she used to contain her day's lunch; this she began to consume in a kind of peace she had not expected to receive. However, she had not taken two bites into her newly-attained apple before Mr. Powers's classroom door opened again. Where she expected Gilda, or another with something to assert, and raised the apple in prepared defense, she was pleasantly relieved by a gentle face and dangling pink locks.
Fluttershy inched her head into the room, peaking around the door which opened in toward the room's center, and smiled to the apple-wielding defender; then she turned her head to address unseen individuals with a quick, "Here she is! I told you she'd be somewhere ... outside of public view." From behind the class door stepped Rarity and Rainbow Dash with their own plain backpacks; the latter of them walked in slow and held a gaze toward Nential-san's single window across the room rather than into the hiding girl's curious aqua eyes.
Sunset sighed and shot like a javelin, "Do you three need something from me, or are you just continuing to keep tracking my movements?" Rarity more or less gave an apologetic head tilt, but Rainbow saw no reason to sugar coat any of their instructions.
"It was the request of our principal and student council, after all -- not to mention that of a magical pony turned human! What would you do?" Logic received, Sunset delivered an indifferent shrug.
"Please, then," she invited the trio with a wave to the rest of the class's seats, but she wondered why only they appeared. "Where are farm girl and party planner?" she voiced.
Fluttershy offered a quiet, "They're in the auditorium doing something for the eventual winter dance." to which Sunset acknowledged with an offhanded hum. Though, once this point was clarified, she tried to ignore them by focusing on a small Tupperware container of garlic-basil mashed potatoes; this distraction proved fruitless, however, as Rainbow's desire for Sunset to answer questions seemed to comprehend no limitations.
Giving the trying-to-eat girl little in the way of personal space, the athlete retrieved an unrestricted chair from an unoccupied desk, sat directly in front of Sunset, and interrogated, "Exactly what did you say to her?" This question was not only reasonable but expected; despite this, Sunset couldn't resist concocting sweet justice. Alas, she would hold her tongue momentarily, as Rarity interrupted -- thus attempting to mollify her friend's rather blunt approach.
"Dash!" she called with a light nudge at the interrogator's shoulder. "At least try to be a little tactful." Rarity's idea of 'tactful' interested Sunset, so she raised an expectant brow to whom she knew as a purple-haired fashion designer. Not only did this curiosity appeal to Sunset, for Rarity's eyes suddenly shifted to three different prying, waiting peoples' and she took a seat before equipping her words. "How's the first day been? I know how ... eager some of us are to reprimand you." Ah, was Sunset's first thought. Had you started there, and I had no idea where you were trying to go, I probably would've answered you without resistance, so bravo ... but ...
Laughing out, "Haha, oh my," Sunset answered this question rather than Rainbow's with a dismissive, "Nothing too bad ... just a few spitballs and some -- okay, a lot of -- attention." Dash, resting her chin on a fist, bookmarked her previous question and raised another.
"What's the matter -- not the kind of attention a tyrant usually goes for, eh?" The athlete's eyes were met by a cold glare and a shaking head instead of words. Rainbow rolled her eyes to this silent answer and leaned close -- always the interrogator -- with a convicted declaration. "Don't expect royal treatment from me either," she stated before flicking the surface of Sunset's mashed potatoes to ensure she had the girl's attention. "What did you say to her?" Sunset, gritting her teeth to avoid grinning, knew precisely who the athlete referred, but she refused to pass up this opportunity.
Instead of divulging her account of the prior night's events, she tilted her head and wondered aloud, "Who?" Dash clicked her tongue while ignoring the glance from Rarity which was intended to warn her from pursuing this clear bait.
"Don't play dumb, I know you ran into ... " she pretended to weigh two objects in her hands, sitting mouth ajar, and searched for a word. " ... yourself." After faking a concerned expression, and placing a hand over her heart, Sunset tilted her head and inhaled.
"What? Rainbow ... are you sure you're remembering right? Are you sure you didn't have too much fun at the concert." In response, the athlete prepared an interjection with a reddening, tensing face but was stopped before she began, as Sunset hopped out of her seat and threw two fingers forward. "How many?" she asked to immediately receive a desired growl from Dash.
"Ha. Ha ... Very funny, Sunset, you got-"
"How many?" Sunset pressed. Rainbow narrowed her eyes, Rarity pinched the bridge of her nose, and the three of them were ready to hear the athlete's next word choice. However, a crashing clatter captured everyone's attention; Gilda kicked through Mr. Powers's door with a grit grin across her features. Traditional shinobi pants covered the girl's legs in contrast to a more modern, cotton flannel. Gilda was somewhat taller than any of the girls who originally occupied the room, and Fluttershy's eyes became more white than anything else at the sight.
She gasped before spewing, "You!"; this immediately caught Rainbow's attention who averted her narrow eyes to the intruder. Upon recognizing Gilda, Dash stood as though Sunset no longer existed and stepped between the door and Fluttershy to block greater advancement. Three girls followed Gilda but only one looked toward the four conversing individuals; this observing person was recognizable to both Sunset and Fluttershy as the girl who furiously broadcasted the bacon-haired one's location to the previous night's pursuers. Gilda's other two lackeys immediately turned, blocking the door, to look into the halls beyond where Rainbow could see many students awaiting entry.
"Shy," Rainbow started with a glance to both her surprised friends. "How do you know Gilda? Has someone besides Sunset been bullying you who you've neglected to mention?"
Flutter shook her head and, in an immediate decision to clarify any misunderstanding, explained, "No! That's just one of the girls who chased Sunset yesterday!" Meanwhile, Sunset refused to concentrate with her eyes on anything besides the movements of Gilda. After all, Gilda was originally the president of a traditional martial arts club which was disbanded when Sunset found the space useful for ... meetings with other students, so it was no wonder when the wannabe warrior gave Rainbow a wry smile and placed a hand on her shoulder in clear preparation to push her aside.
Obviously demonstrating to the athlete that she was to be ignored, Gilda allowed her smile to stretch as she looked passed Dash to the stiff, standing-tall Sunset, and apprised, "As much as I would love to have another chat with you, dewdrop, I'm here on ... " Sunset's aqua eyes locked, impaling her steely gaze into Gilda's own pupils, before widening and narrowing in conjunction with a deep breath. " ... other business."
"Sunset Shimmer! Been a while, has it not?" Gilda shouted thus inciting a number of voices outside the class to join with their own incoherent ululations of malice; this told Sunset that Gilda wasn't here just to hold her own, personal discussion with the fiery-haired girl who, with tensions rising, began looking for an opportunity to bolt for the window. Rainbow was about to create that chance, much to Sunset's surprise, by asserting her position between the two of them, but the addressed one needed first to gauge Gilda's intentions.
"Gilda ... looks like your club room is free again." the dimensional interloper forayed -- seeking a distraction.
The taller girl had not denoted demure deviousness through gold irises at this before mentioning, "Oh, you can keep it. I have a much less limiting space now."
Dash saw that she could spite Gilda, who was admittedly an enemy with more resources and freedom than Sunset, by guarding the multidimensional addressee, so she decreed, "Well, whatever chat you want, you're just going to have to wait, for the moment Sunset is mine to torment." Alas, this order fell on deaf ears as Gilda bellowed laughter, turned toward the class's entrance, and rephrased Rainbow's declaration.
"Hear that, Everyone! According to Rainbow Dash, she is the only one who gets to have a word with Sunset! Do we consent to that, though!" This moment, while Gilda's attention was on the door and gesturing for her allies to open the way, Sunset sprinted to the apparently-sliding-glass window which was her only escape route in lieu of a wrecking ball. Students poured into the room, Gilda cackled when she saw Sunset's attempted fleeing, and Rainbow Dash and company were shoved aside like thin, protruding branches blocking a wilderness trail; any pleas or objections from them to this chaotic display were drowned by the angry cries of those cramming into the room.
Misfortune and anxiety found a home in Sunset's mind when she reached the window, saw that it was unlocked, and pushed with all her might to discover ... it refused to budge; on the exterior side of the window frame, connected to a chain which joined it to a rather large-looking weight resting on grass, a thick, threaded-metal hook was drilled inside. Defeated, Sunset turned to a mass of people who were only separated from a small, four-foot-diameter semicircle of breathing space by Gilda and her goons.
Beyond the four of them were too many students spewing vitriol for the enclosed girl to keep track of, but she wasn't about to just quietly be accosted. "Did you have a lucky guess, or did you seal off every class window like this?"
"I at least waited before I saw you walk in here before I actually attached the chains, if that's any consolation."
" ... " Sunset frowned before quipping, "Vandalism suits you, Gilda."
"Hohoho," the wannabe warrior passed a guttural laugh through wickedness-radiating lips. "Birds of a feather ... they say ... " was her facile retort, and Sunset closed her eyes in stoic apprehension when Gilda commanded, "Grab her!" Without farther repartee, Gilda seized Sunset's left bicep, let the only ally to her that Sunset recognized take the other arm, and began dragging the captured girl through a sea of hysteria. Moments later, when she was being carted through the cafeteria and saw no teachers or staff of any sort, Sunset finally respected that this was no improvised venting of anger. Rather it was a well-considered, premeditated attack which likely garnered support throughout the week school was closed.
Five or six times, while the crammed parade relocated toward the school's only sports' field (outside where the sun shined yet it was almost freezing), Gilda laughed as a few of the eager students' reaches ended up smacking or otherwise poking Sunset's face. Before she knew it, Sunset really was surrounded by a who-cared-to-count-how-large army which she could not see through. However, visible above the mob was an enlarging football goalpost which turned out to be their ultimate destination, for Gilda alone pressed Sunset's arm behind her back and stopped five feet from the metal structure.
"Clearly they're listening to you," Sunset began and craned her neck over her left shoulder to see some of her captor's face. "That means there's still time for you to call this off ... I'll forget about this and call truce if you do, Gilda." Accidentally letting out an intended-for-suppression chuckle, the wannabe warrior pretended to consider this demand.
... she underwent a few moments of silence before answering, "You're right. They are listening to me, and I wonder if you know why." Sunset offered no more threats or demands before Gilda redirected her to face another student, placed a foot between the assailed girl's shoulder blades, and kicked her toward them. "MAWWWWWWWSH! the taller girl cried like a priest with incredible righteous indignation.
The student -- a boy -- caught Sunset while screaming in support of Gilda's suggestion like many others; Sunset's face flinched involuntarily as the boy's beef-smelling breath projected, and she yelped when he elbowed her to his left. From within a ten-foot circle centered around the metal football goalpost, Sunset was passed from student to student. Some knee'd or kicked her like Gilda, others tackled her, -- though these were all easily healed injuries -- but the extent of the populace's discontentment was revealed when an unfamiliar teeth-barring boy turned her around and slugged her square on the nose.
"Son of a ... " she cursed while barely maintaining her footing and prepared for the attack of another approaching student who was about to perform a tackle, but someone else yanked her out of the trajectory. Alas, this person was no savior. Although the interceptor pulled Sunset by her wrist, into an almost gentle embrace, her word choice upon pushing away from the -- definitely female -- chest was not one of gratitude.
"Ugh, gross," she spat blood which had dripped into her mouth from her nose onto Trixie Lulamoon's cheek.
Trixie wasn't even phased. Instead, she wiped the blood off with her hand, smeared the still-wet substance on Sunset's mirroring cheek, and fleered out, "Red is a good color for you ... let me help." With this, Trixie gripped both of the bleeding girl's shoulders and smashed the top of her hat-devoid, pale-blue-haired head into the already injured nose; once the blow connected she released Sunset, stepped forward, and kicked the assaulted one's wind right out of her. "Under Trixie's foot!" the so-called magician ensured was audible.
After a few more similar ... conversations, Sunset heaved over her hands and knees trying to calculate how much time passed since the beginning of lunch; she concluded no more than ten minutes. Finally, when Sunset could hardly stand, Gilda stepped forward -- bidding the mob to settle down -- with both hands raised and waited for the crowd to be quiet before yanking Sunset to her feet by a bundle of streaking hair. "Now, I know we all have a voice, -- something to say to our old ... ruler here -- but I beg you to hold your tongues for just a moment!" Gilda began an address prior to pulling Sunset to the goalpost and nodding to one of her allies who, in response, walked forward with a black bag no larger than a few human fists; from it she revealed, and offered to Gilda, a foot-or-so long, quarter-inch steel wire and a pair of yellow pliers. The crowd's speaker took the items without hesitation ... continuing her public speech with, "Those who stopped Sunset from really having power have let her off the hook in the name of friendship, and we should absolutely honor that request!"
Contrary to her words, Gilda forced Sunset's wrists behind her back compared to the goalpost and began using the pliers to bend her retrieved wire. Thus she fastened an impromptu set of handcuffs; the only caveat being that these cuffs, which had their conjoining sections being twisted like ties sealing bags of bread, could not simply be removed by a key's turn. "But first," the wannabe warrior went on once Sunset was unequivocally bound. "Let's take a few moments to honor recent events, shall we?" Collecting herself and hearing the crowd cheer in answer, the constrained girl wondered if anything that Gilda said at this point would sound good to the students. Of course, the dimensional interloper believed that anything related to chastising her was certain to ...
"First, she came here and spied on us -- stole our secrets and privacy! -- but she didn't stop there!" Sunset's head, in silent response, hung low in a shame that she knew was deserved. However, Gilda refused to let her hide from these past transgressions; the public speaker seized Sunset's hair again and pulled back so aqua eyes were forced to view nothing or face those slighted. "Since she got here her greed for power has demonstrated no end; she even stole our very minds!" Boos from the mob resounded and Gilda repeated, for greater inspiration, "Our very minds!"
Suddenly, when Gilda scooped up a handful of cold -- but not frozen -- dirt, Sunset's irises and pupils retracted into puddles of white. "She wanted to rule us that bad -- she did for years too! -- but now our queen has no crown; it was stolen from her!" Gilda raised the handful of soil over her head and added, "Shouldn't we give her majesty a new crown? Shouldn't we pay our respects!"
Boos became cheers, students prepared their own offerings of dirt, and Sunset called Gilda's attention with conviction. "You don't wanna do this, Gilda, you can still call this off!"
"Whatever you're gonna do," the public speaker responded and stepped close to Sunset, dirt still held high, with a wicked smile. "I'm hoping you try to make it your worst." Gilda then returned her gaze to the crowd for one last message, but Sunset had more to say; she arched her back, pressing her spine against the goalpost, pushed her arms forward despite clear pain, and bucked her hips and knees up to perform a stationary dropkick against the back of Gilda's head. This act, which floored Gilda for but a moment before she could recover, turned out sweeter than any fruit Sunset ever tasted ... even though it caused one of the wound-up students to loose a compacted dirt ball right at her chin. Apparently, it wasn't just dirt either, for a three-inch, disk-like stone caused a crackling pain when it contacted Sunset's jaw. "Arrrrrgh," Gilda grimaced and stomped at Sunset, holding a new soil clump, with both arms extended either side of her; she seemed to want to be the instigator of this public humiliation. "That. Was. Really. Stupid," she growled mugient hostility into Sunset's face, pausing between each word to enunciate powerful intention.
"Trust me," the injured, bound girl started, having never lost a seething desire to ensure, with her own powerful intention, that Gilda knew she was not making friends today. "Not as stupid as what you're doing ... You're gonna have to kill me before I stop hunting down every way to make your life a living hell."
Gilda smiled, glanced over her shoulder without moving her head, and whispered, "I might not have to," before stepping -- backward this time -- a safe distance from Sunset and turning to make one final statement; she pumped the dirt into the air along with her fist and screamed at the top of her lungs, "Long live the queen!" That said, she crashed the soil over Sunset's head and stepped away so to allow others easy access.
Students followed suit one after the other. Some spoke, others spat, and some just quietly added to a growing pile of muck and leaves with contempt subsuming their mouths. Not long after Gilda's incitement, Trixie approached with a handful of mud. "This should be good," Sunset sighed before having the wet dirt happily smeared over her face by the so-called magician. Then, with a profuse smile, Trixie cleared some of the muck away until a shit-stain colored mustache and goatee were obvious. Last, she used her index finger to spell the word, 'Queen.' across Sunset's forehead; Trixie stepped back to admire her work and seemed unable to contain her signature, irritating cackle, and, in that same vein of incapacity to disobey indulgence, she revealed a pink-cased smart phone and snapped a picture.
Throughout another half hour, each crowd participant brought Sunset their ... taxes, laughed, and took all kinds of photos until finally leaving a half-buried Sunset whose feet, from a forced sitting position, stuck out from the base of what appeared to be a thigh-high hill. Seeing all said and done, and being completely alone, Sunset abandoned her stern, stoic expression in place of unrepressed anxiety, shaking breaths, and fear; her face paled and tears trickled from either eye before she noticed an approaching figure from the school. However, this person didn't exit the building from the same door that Gilda's mob had disappeared into. Rather they came from around the school's front.
Stoicism mustered once more, Sunset used her shoulder to wipe her tears, looked up with newfound spirit, and saw Octavia, with a raised brow and a tilted head, standing overhead as though she'd crossed the distance a little too fast. No matter, by this point Sunset was prepared for anything; though it would have been a lie if she told herself that whatever Octavia had in mind didn't scare her more than what anyone else had done.
"Come to say your piece?" the dirt-and-mud covered girl sighed when she met Octavia's unreadable, purple eyes. Without speech, the councilor squatted before Sunset. A grey, long-sleeved tunic-like buttoned top connected into a trailing skirt which swayed in a strangely intimidating fashion as she descended into the closer position, covering her black leggings from the knee up. Councilor Octavia then leaned her face toward Sunset until their eyes were only inches apart. Immobile, Sunset became increasingly fidgety under the stare. In fact, her heart began beating in her ears and fear could not be contained, for she knew nothing about what Octavia's twisted, self-serving mind was capable of.
Abruptly, Octavia broke from the staring contest and glanced up for a moment before inhaling; the words she next spoke served to confuse Sunset yet still inspired anxiety for some reason. "I shall not stone you, if that is your meaning. Do you take me for some anarchistic barbarian?" Grabbing her right sleeve with her left hand, Octavia brought the fabric so she could grip it in such fashion to protect her wrist. When she swiftly brought that wrist to Sunset's face, the admittedly-terrified one flinched and closed her eyes, so she couldn't see when the councilor shook her head. "I am no savage ... " she started whilst wiping Sunset's forehead so that Trixie's handiwork became illegible. " ... and you are no monarch," Councilor Octavia then declared preceding a quick reach into a pocket; thus letting her reveal Gilda's yellow pliers.
"How did you-" Sunset tried to ask with narrow eyes but wasn't given the opportunity to finish.
"People consumed by vengeance are generally too distracted to consider what could annihilate their plans ... but that should come as no surprise for you." Sunset, who tried very hard to maintain eye contact despite her flushing face, bid to change the subject.
"Why are you helping me?" Octavia, motionless from her squat, held the pliers between the pair's faces and dropped them in Sunset's dirt-covered lap.
"I am not. I thought that, by now, you would have recognized: I only serve my own wishes."
Rolling her eyes, Sunset rephrased, "Call it a Freudian slip. What I meant was: how does bringing me these benefit your 'wishes'?" The councilor tilted her head back and forth, along with her gaze, a few times as if in deep pensiveness.
"Suffice it to say," she stated after a moment, "Celestia is preoccupied and has no desire to manage this mess, so here I am." Octavia brought an elbow to her horizontal knee so she could rest her chin against a palm before wondering, with an almost mocking intonation (though Sunset had so rarely seen Octavia use such vocal devices that she believed it must have been imagined mockery), "You do realize I can tell Celestia who is responsible for this and have them punished ... Would you like me to do that?"
Feeling a little goaded, Sunset shook her head vehemently, announcing a little too loud, "No, that won't accomplish anything ... I'll have to manage somehow."
"Good answer, it makes me think you found the starting line." the purple-eyed stoic said with finality, stood, looked at the muddy-faced girl once more, and turned to walk off; at this, Sunset tilted her head, wondering, Will I ever understand that girl? When the councilor took two steps away, as if the interaction had never occurred, Sunset raised a brow.
Developing a sense of urgency, the bound one called, "Wait, so ... you really aren't helping?" There was no delay in reply.
"Like I said: I have no reason to, or did I stutter? I surely hope I did not fail to enunciate my position." the councilor fired these words like precise needles -- there was no room for misinterpretation -- without so much as glancing back. "Though I suppose Celestia might want me to tell you that she won't be upset if you leave early." Octavia was gone, along with her indecipherable, ever-imposing aura, almost as fast as she'd arrived; she left Sunset to her own mind and a pair of liberating pliers she couldn't use.
However, once Octavia was well away, Sunset spotted the trio she was originally talking to approaching. "Oh dear ... " Rarity muttered as they got near enough for Sunset to hear. Fluttershy, on the other hand, said nothing and put a hand over her mouth before she began digging. Rainbow Dash, though, with an eye twitch, retrieved Gilda's pliers and huffed.
"Gilda's sense of humor has only gotten crueler, I see. What I would give to see that ... to see her get her get what she deserves." During the excavation, Sunset decided to omit that it was actually Octavia who left the pliers there. Instead, she voiced her first curiosity.
"Gilda's goons hold you back?"
Fluttershy started the answer with, "Apparently they had the staff distracted and thought we might try to tell on them."
" ... she was right." Rarity, helping to unearth her supposed-to-be friend, added with a huff.
Once Sunset was standing and Rainbow untwisted the makeshift binding, the still-dirtied one laughed. Lighthearted and joking, Sunset asked the athlete, "Does this mean we're all buddy-buddy best friends now? Are we gonna play soccer and talk for hours about how much we hate everything Gilda embodies?" Dash half grinned at this and relieved Sunset by presenting a warped, messy steel wire.
"I dunno about that ... not even friends. It's more like a ... 'the enemy of my enemy' type of arrangement."
Well, in the absence of being at each others' throats all the time, Sunset could live with such a relationship, and she clarified as much. "Ah, still, progress in one direction is progress," she began before adding with a hint of sarcasm, "Wouldn't Twilight be so proud of you? Letting bygones be bygones and all." This comment failed to elicit the athlete's laughter, so Sunset, gladly flexing her red-lined, bruised wrists, moved on. "You have a grudge against Gilda, I have a grudge against Gilda. Really, it's just the natural order of things."
Dash raised her brows at this and inquired, "So ... the natural order of things is that one of the people you hate most becomes semi not awful, or at least incapable of practicing how awful they are, and you team up with them to take another person you both really hate down a peg or ten?"
Slack jawed for but a moment, Sunset raised a finger and offered, "That's ... not really what I meant ... no, but common motivations aren't unwelcome."
"I wouldn't really call it a grudge either," Rainbow returned while Sunset lowered her hands into lightly-clamped fists. "It's more like a difference of opinion so deep that ... Well, let's just say I wouldn't mind seeing her go ... gone." Upon hearing this, Sunset mulled over plans for the near future (none of which failed to involve Gilda or Trixie in one way or the other), and hummed for a few seconds.
Concluding some train of thought, she reiterated, "Celestia probably won't mind if we slip away early today," and suggested, "We could go discuss ideas to make Gilda go ... 'gone' if you want." Rarity and Fluttershy, who were mostly quiet during this conversation as they thought it might make the pair less hostile toward one another, both displayed aversion to this idea; the former shook her head while the latter looked away and fiddled with her hair. However, the athlete, upon considering the possibility, didn't take much time to agree.
"Well," she stated, "I would rather do that than go to English; seeing how not fun words are ... " and turned to her friends to ask, " ... you two wanna join?"
Fluttershy answered before Dash had barely finished her last syllable, "Actually, I want to sit through English. Since, to me, words are pretty fun ... and sometimes silly." Rainbow quietly scoffed in refusal to acknowledge this statement and shot Rarity an expecting gaze.
The fashion designer huffed and gave Dash a scalene frown but exchanged it for a wide-eyed head tilt away from Sunset before explaining, "I would rather wash my hands of this and finish the school day, but I'll catch you at Sugar Cube Corner after?"
'O' was the form the athlete's lips took as she recognized Rarity's idea, but she quickly pressed her expression into a line before glancing back at Sunset. "Fine by me, but first ... " Dash waved her hands at her suddenly-scowling friend, trying to use gestures to explain that what she requested wasn't too cumbersome a task, but it was in vain as the only thing Rarity would allow to reassure her were words. "Would you bring us our bags? I mean, if Sunset's is even still there."
"Hmm," the fashionista hummed. "Are you sure you're not just trying to stay out of school for as long as possible?"
Much like Sunset did prior, Rainbow put a hand over her heart, faked a hurt face at this, and said, "Wha- Rarity I am surprised at you! Don't you see I'm just thinking about our newest friend, here? Imagine how you'd feel about walking back in school after something like this." Rarity curled a hand into a fist and placed it on her hip with an ever-so-quiet growl; she didn't exactly buy Dash's words.
"That confirms it -- whatever -- I'll be right back." she tossed out before turning on her heel and walking toward the school.
Seeing no reason to stick around either, Fluttershy left the pair with a frown and apologized, "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Sunset, but maybe now that it's out of peoples' systems ... they'll leave you alone a little more?" Her words sounded less like reassurance and more like she was trying to convince herself of an optimistic perspective.
Regardless, Sunset needed no such apology, so she affirmed to Flutter, "It wasn't like you did this, but thanks anyway." That said, and Fluttershy having left, the muddied girl wiped a hand over her upper lip and stared into Trixie's work, as though the annoying Lulamoon would appear and simply burst into flames with enough concentration. "So," she addressed the athlete again in hopes to cast the so-called magician out of her mind. "What's step one for dealing with Gilda?" Dash, who was staring into her precious sports' field's defilement of a hundred dugout holes, glared at the school.
"First, we compare notes."