8:20 ... Sunset grimaced inside, groggily worked herself out of bed over 20 minutes, and near fell over as she dressed. Two hours ... sleep ... not enough ... can't function ... can't sleep ... Fatigued though she was, no force could have stifled her expressions of stark enmity directed toward the world. "AUGH!" she raged -- disregarding any courteous semblances for her neighbors -- and pulled her hair in stress. "GR- FRIGG'N SON OF A- THI- THIS SUCKS!"
Stomping and spending herself in this fury proved a foolhardy venture, for Sunset's exhausted form collapsed back into bed at the expenditure -- heaving, shaking, and paled. There she tossed and turned for another two hours but, try as she might, visions of her past evils besieged her in successful bouts belaying her rest. Hell, she could not even focus on her neighbors' pounding assertions for her to be quiet at her first outburst.
When she again did stand, she could not walk in a straight line nor could she focus thoughts; only flashes of her own monstrous indulgences pervaded her mind. Water was something she retrieved and gorged upon due to instinct's compulsion alone, but it did little to improve her fearful, discombobulated status for her room's walls seemed melting and vying to ensnare her in guilt.
Coffee was the first full word to formulate during her daze and she forced herself to proceed with motions accomplished thousands of times, although -- she discovered -- the process was time consuming and very, very arduous.
Fresh-brewed coffee provided a familiar and comfortable scent, yet it failed to mollify or relieve this asphyxiating sensation Sunset experienced. Thence, upon barely holding a hot mug, she took deep breaths and continually began thinking: Air. Air. Air. Air, until she threw her body weight through a carelessly tossed open door. Of course, with all the fast motion, a quarter of her coffee spilled over her hand and feet, but this -- even the splash of heat -- meant nothing to her; all that mattered was escape, so she swiftly placed the mug on the floor and turned to yank her door closed. Instant safety -- ten times what she felt before -- flowed through her being as she locked, barred, denied the entryway to her inner madness. Thus, none (though she was only acting for herself) need confront the true extent of her pernicious wickedness.
However, this simple act was no cure; concrete still enclosed her in a twisted corridor begging -- nay, demanding -- she face retribution. Stairs ... stairs ... Escape! rang through her head whilst she snatched her coffee and stepped, faster than any other time in her life, through the hall and down stairs seen countless times ...
Suddenly, life was beautiful from a near-empty asphalt parking lot; Sunset stood in sunlight uncontested by but a cloud. Perhaps, in shade, the air was bone chilling, but the sun lifted temperatures definitively above freezing and felt good. Sunset could breathe and think in such wind-less, open environs. A mourning dove called; its sweet, three-tone tune radiated serenity. Piece by piece, Sunset's bated concentration returned and she depressed onto a metal stair. Nary a thought of her coffee-seared hand flitted through her mind as she sipped the drink and settled into this day's portrayed, non-inimical peace.
Shaky-yet-measured breath slowly calmed her and -- when an alert from school sounded on her phone -- consideration of how to proceed befell. I am not going to school. Sure, refusing attendance was clear violation of her self-inflicted punishment, but: Celestia can whip me tomorrow for all I care, today is my day. After yesterday ... I'm sure she'll understand.
Mind made, Sunset silenced her phone and reached into her jacket's left pocket. Phew, relief swept over her as she thumbed a small wallet containing a decent quantity of ... questionably attained (stolen) cash; this meant, in order for her to -- say -- purchase coffee or breakfast somewhere, she did not have to return to her room. Within some sect of herself, of course, she knew it immoral to use that money for her own desires, but she was in a frame of mind ignoring 'morality'.
If I have to go through this because of what I did, so be it, the least I could get is some peace of mind from my crimes. Theft justified in one line of thought, Sunset walked off -- leaving her empty coffee cup underneath the stair (ensuring it was not taken was not worth again entering her room) -- in search of ... something ... some distraction from ... herself.
Half an hour later found Sunset relaxed once more; her head was held high and her shoulders rolled back as she strolled down streets occupied by few others. No Canterlot students, was the most alleviating observation for her. Alas, when she abandoned the kind elements' comforts for the quiet atmosphere of a café, the sun's light could no more reach her and -- following paying for a strawberry-cream-cheese-topped bagel and coffee -- a scathing, vexing, abhorrent snicker graced her ears.
First, Sunset wrote it off as an hallucination but it developed to a degree which addressed her. "Such a strange sight. Sunset -- playing hooky? Who could've imagined?" Turning toward the voice's source revealed who Sunset was certain she might find: Trixie Lulamoon sat in a booth shuffling a deck of cards with obstinate smugness across her features; she had clean, silver hair (unobstructed by headwear), and an alluring, star-spangled motif patterning otherwise plain clothing. Of course, her purple irises -- reminiscent of Octavia's -- depicted an admittedly demure demeanor.
Sunset glanced to the café's exit ... Trixie was not someone she awoke each day dying to spend time with, but today -- after extending her lower lip in consideration -- the sleep-deprived girl decided to make an exception. What else am I going to do? Peregrinate from place to place without aim until tomorrow? Hence Sunset sauntered to Trixie's spot and slid into a cushioned seat opposite her.
"Exotic! Sunset actually faces the Magnificent Trixie for once!" the third-person speaker began whilst placing her cards down, drawing one, and reaching for a paper cup of her own sitting on the booth's table -- the only thing separating the two. "Such twists from her usual running away. Bless'd the saints art." Thence hearing this, Sunset raised a brow; if it was psychoanalyzation Trixie desired, she was happy to oblige.
"Ah, Trixie, I s'pose we each run off and have our own reasons," she started with idle pondering before declaring her own cognition. "I avoid the gaudy, over-bearingly pompous behavior of people such as yourself -- and their tributes -- and you seem always escaping the shadow which you live each moment ... " She paused for dramatic effect, patted a palm onto the table just loud enough to turn a few heads, looked from it to Trixie and back a few times with an intensity intended to enrapture attention, and detailed slowly (each word was enunciated and given pause so to really hammer her point deep), " ... Ahem ... Courtesy. Of. Octavia ... by incessantly assaulting at each arisen opportunity one who's done little more to you than berate your, 'magic shows.'"
Thenceforth Sunset had Trixie's undivided concentration; the magician held her card at arms' length before rotating her wrist 270 degrees -- clockwise for Sunset -- and made the card seem to disappear. All the while she deadpanned. "What delight! Not only does she speak but she hath a tongue! Oh, this shall be a fun one, for Trixie never anticipated Ever-Austere, Almighty Sunset would deing'st speak with her as if they were ... equals or something of the sort."
Mocking Trixie, Sunset too began speaking unorthodoxically. After all, she was practically raised in a castle. "O', the Ever-Austere, Star-Striking, Astonishing, Gorgeous, Brilliant -- need I go on? -- Able-Bodied Sunset Shimmer doth falleth from graces today. Madness and Discord reigneth over thine world, lowest Parlor Trickster."
Trixie sipped something from her own cup, placed it down with a soft puff, and leaned forward -- seeming amused; the magician's head rested on either fist. "Ah, but for'st Sunset the ingracious refused to seeketh compromising accommodations therein herself and throughout her worlds. Thusly she needs must find herself accosted by souls of residences North, South, West, and East all lands she holdeth dearest. Hence, at least, that hath been the conclusion of any sane man exposed to her such clique of barbarity."
Okay, Sunset barred her teeth. At first, the tone was meant in jest, but the gauntlet dost get thrown with those words.
"Such hubris. Doth thou findeth thyself reiterating these dogmas to disguise thine thoughts from'st thee truest forms? Dost thou not realize thine modus operandi for venting thyself?" With this, Trixie sat back a bit and played with her cup.
Silence only lasted a moment, for Trixie then countered after quick thought, "Each moment of mine wrath -- and that of all those who scorneth thine very walked soil -- i'st thee livelihood earned as every scar which shall haunteth thy days to kingdom com'st berateth thine insolence!"
Ah, we have honesty. Hearing this, Sunset stood, took a deep sip of warm coffee, and announced (louder than she maybe should have but none in the café seemed to care), "Thine words befalleth hearing ears and ring'st my ambitions to annihilate any vestiges or armies thou dare marcheth upon my lines." Pleased as punch with herself, she spoke again whilst retrieving her still-unbitten bagel so Trixie had no time to respond. "You were right, this hath been fun."
Tapping her fingers on the table, the magician spoke not. Instead, she leaned back and shook her head with a grin. Sunset thought no retort was coming so turned to leave, but Trixie did laugh out, "Henceforth they shall marcheth. Look'st 'hind thy head; soldiers attacketh already." To this Sunset held her bagel with her teeth, pawed behind her ears, and found ... Trixie's playing card. Giving the parlor trickster the last word, Sunset merely glared, flicked the thing -- not caring about actually disposing of it -- toward a nearby garbage can, and departed.
Alas, another face she would've rather punched than stared into appeared. "Sunny," Gilda's grating tone was not less annoying compared to Trixie's; the dialect was just ... different ... very, very different. "Out here playing hooky? Why? Because it's such a beautiful day, isn't it? Or does something else bother you?"
Sunset chewed her -- rather delicious -- bagel for a moment before again barring her teeth. "Avast, or doth ye ha'st me something new to speaketh? I doth prefer you not wasteth my moments." Shit, she realized after hearing the words coming out of her mouth, Trixie's contagious!
Gilda sensibly showed an inquisitive look -- as if trying to process what she just heard -- before replying, "Looks like you're busy, too and -- much as I'd love to spite whatever weirdness that is -- I'm also ... well, busy." Seeing little left to say, Sunset used a few short nods to acknowledge the wannabe warrior and watched her walk into the very café whence she left.
Hmm ... Gilda? Trixie? Same place? That can't be a simple coincidence, she recognized the possibility that they were conspiring and thought about spying, but the shop offered no discretion and the pair would be on alert. Bah, they're perfect for each other. Hence sensing future conflict, she began trudging generally toward Canterlot High and staring at her phone; on the electronic display were a few messages from unknown numbers.
"Are you not coming to school today because you're sick?
Celestia knows about yesterday but she still wants to know.
You don't have a lot of strikes, Sunset
-RD" was written in simple English and -- contrary to her prior assertions -- Sunset composed a short-and-sweet response, for she knew that, despite her desires otherwise, in order to fend off Gilda and Trixie ... she would need allies.
"I'll be there in just a bit. Tell her I overslept because I felt poor this morning."