//------------------------------// // 2019 project - Diamond Sisters - Chapter 4 draft 1 // Story: RoMS' Extravaganza // by RoMS //------------------------------// Rarity opens her eyes. She lies in a pile of hay, rough and coarse against her skin. Light slithers in thin rays through the cracks in a wooden wall painted red. Above her a mezzanine. She’s in a barn. “Are you there?” she asks. “I’ll always be.” Rarity lifts her head. The lady sits on a haystack, tying her hair in a ponytail above her shoulder. Kids laugh outside. “Will you ever tell me your name?” Rarity wonders. “Sugarcube, you already know it.” the lady props herself up from the rick and walks across the barn to the door. As she slips out, she turns back. The sun outside hits her broad smile. “It’s Applejack.” ⇜⇝ “Applejack,” Rarity murmured. “Hush,” Featherlight whispered. Rarity lay on her back, hurting all over from a rough sleep on a shaky floorboard. The cart’s engine hissed and clacked intermittently, though never in a rhythmic manner.  Rarity stared directly into Trixie’s wide eyes. The only light source was a flickering lamp dangling from the metal frame of the wagon. It dangled low enough there was no risk of lighting up the fabric that protected the inside from the rain.  Rarity fidgeted, sitting up, to look around the inside of the cart. She met Tempest’s glinting eyes. She pressed a finger to her lips. Rarity nodded as she took in the rest of the cart. Featherlight’s back was visible, sitting outside in the rain in the driving seat. A cool breeze was flowing in from the front. Rarity found herself between two wooden boxes where she’d fallen asleep. The space was cramped with goods, bags and boxes that’d be set for delivery. Rarity took a sudden, deep breath as the memory of the loading station rushed back to the forefront of her mind.  Rarity hit a box as the wagon hit a deep pothole. The cart slowly wobbled sideways as it continued. “Stay put,” Featherlight breathed. “I have to drive blind.” Rarity frowned, turning to pop a head out of the protective fabric coverhead. Two hands caught her before she’d reached the opening and pulled her back. Rarity tried to yelp but an arm wrapped around her jaw, choking in her cry. Rarity tried to turn to glare daggers at Tempest. Trixie was choking her. Trixie’s wide eyes were not from excitement but fear. Trixie’s gritted teeth reflected the light and her eyes glimmered as she breathed low and steady. Rarity turned her eyes to Tempest. She crouched at the back of the waggon with a dagger in hand, ready to strike.  A low muffle huffed outside the wagon. A mix between a growl and a pained wheeze. Heavy steps followed close. Something brushed at the tent, pushing the fabric several feet above Trixie’s head. They weren’t alone.  Rarity’s legs gave out as she stared at she watched the fabric ebb and flow against what she could only say should be the creature’s shoulder. It coughed, spitting out something that splotched on the side of the train the waggon careened on. As it shook itself, the cart took some head start. The creature quickly came back to travel along. Rarity sat against one of the boxes, breathing in and out slowly as she could focus on nothing but the creature’s low whines and pants. Long minutes passed and Rarity’s ears suddenly popped. There was no brushing against the fabric anymore, and the wheezes and paw hitting the mud had disappeared. Tempest and Trixie breathed in relief and slumped against the floorboard. “My goddess, it’s over,” Trixie heaved. “What the heck was that?” “A deadwood creature,” Featherlight scolded from outside in a hushed tone. “Please keep quiet till we reached a safe haven.” “It was...” Tempest caught a breath and letting out a hesitant laugh. “Big.” “Hush,” Featherlight ordered. “It might come back.” Tempest dug herself in a silent immobility, staring at the tip of her shoes.  Trixie was rubbing the sweat off her face and, after a moment of hesitation, crawled to Rarity’s side. A shaky smile on her face, she pointed at Rarity’s injured arm. Rarity nodded back and removed it from the dirtied arm sling. Shaking her head, Trixie took the arm sling off Rarity’s shoulder and threw it in a corner of the waggon. Rarity extended her arm out, taking care with Trixie not pull on the bandages. The recurrent sways of the carts and bumps on the road earned her a few winces and repressed hisses. Trixie moved around Rarity, trying to get an angle from every side of the arm in the low light of the swinging light. She took a long breath and gave a long look around the interior of the waggon. She nodded, got up, and slowly moved to each and every boxes. Whenever she could open one, she did, and rummaged through the content as silently as she could.  Rarity looked at the front of the cart, Featherlight was looking in. Bags had formed under his eyes and he was trickling with rain. He watched Trixie intently but said nothing. With a side, he turned back and left the group for the intimacy of the rain. Trixie came back with a pout on her face, empty handed. She sat to Rarity’s left. The teen pointed at her left hand. Rarity hesitantly extended her arm. Small jabs of pain followed as Trixie pulled slowly on each finger to decontract them. The knuckles cracked as Rarity felt her fist open under Trixe’s fingers, smooth like ones that’d never known toil. As Rarity looked down, she saw her reddened palm. Blood had caked where her nails had bitten into the skin. Trixie took the edge of her shirt and scraped the residues. Rarity mouthed a thanks when Trixie finally looked up. They exchanged a smile. Tempest perked in her corner of the wagon. She sat on her knees, tilting the head to the side. Rarity frowned until she caught it too. The sound of rushing water.  Trixie didn’t wait, she got up and walked hunched over to the head of the cart. She tapped on Featherlight’s shoulder who, after a long pause, pushed the curtain of the tent. Trixie poked her head out and they exchanged a few words. When she crawled back in, she’d a smile on her lips. She sat back next to Rarity and glanced a second at Tempest who quickly made her way to the duo. “We’re arriving at a, uhm… Featherlight call it a loading station. It’s next to a waterfall three hundred or so yards.” Rarity pondered the size of the fall to be heard from that distance already. She didn’t question it, though. She lay on her back and listened as the carts ever slightly slowed down as the sound of rushing water gradually transformed into a deafening din. The wagon finally stopped and Featherlight walked in on the three girls. The tired smile on his face still betrayed a sense of relief. “Alright,” he said, raising his voice to be heard. “We’re safe enough to talk next to the waterfall.” Tempest grunted. “Finally.” She exited the wagon first, shaking on her legs from what Rarity guessed were pins and needles. Trixie followed Tempest right behind and the two helped Rarity walked down the single over-elevated step of the carriage.  Rarity gulped as she looked at the Deadwood. It was still day yet the light still crawled the fog, obstructed by many jutting branches of long dead or hibernating trees.  The rain dripped from the trees, streaming down glinting till they met the mud that puddled under the roots of the ominous that ensnared rocks and old walls. Rarity looked down at her feet. What had once been a paved street was overrun with water, sludge or sickly moss and grass. Ancient traces of erosion from bustling traffic marked the path with grooves. She looked further. Tree trunks, pavement, an old wooden guardrail. Everything extended till the fog swallowed them whole. In a sense, Rarity felt stuck in a small bubble of darkness. Rarity turned around and gaped. A small house had been dug into the foot of a granite promontory sticking out of a steep hillside. The rock obscured a flat paved area that had once been a loading ground and a massive waterfall kissed the side of the rock, hurtling down the steep under a decrepit wooden bridge Featherlight had driven over. The water moved a large wheel that clacked each time an old metal choke slipped to the next gear. The contraption linked to the wheel continued to a series of rotating rods. Their tips ended with a series of three small hooks. “Help me out, here,” Featherlight said, walking to the front of the cart. Helping with her only valid hand, Rarity pushed the wagon around with Tempest and Featherlight taking the lead. They walked the wagon until the tip of the nearest turning rod touched the front of the engine. Tempest walked on top of the wagon head, propping herself on the driver’s seat to have a higher view of the area. Meanwhile, Rarity and Trixie watched Featherlight walked to the House wall to retrieve two large blocks of wood he swiftly propped against the right wheels of the cart. He walked back to the front of the engine, opened a trap and dragged a rod out of it. Waiting for the right moment, he linked the engine to the waterwheel-actioned one and a slow winding sound rose from the machine. “It’s set. We can get inside now.” Featherlight asked Tempest to retrieve the oil lamp inside the wagon. They headed to the door and, after casting some light to check that nothing was inside, walked into a damp, cramped, dusty space. “Rustic,” Trixie commented, looking down at two slabs of concrete that had to be bed. Featherlight laughed, erasing a bit of the fatigue that had him hunched over. “Everything rots around here. One of your mattresses wouldn’t last a week.” “Such a shame.” Rarity scanned the place. The house was a single large room roughly dug inside the granite promontory. A bucket, a rusty iron desk, some metal stools, and several lined-up concrete slabs worked as only furniture. Finding a hearth at the back, Rarity jostled with the chimney hatch with her right hand. A bucket-worth of water splashed down as it swung open. “So much for a nice fire,” Rarity pouted, closing the hatch back. “Ah, don’t worry, I’m sure we can work that out,” Featherlight said with a strained voice. “Those are sturdy walls,” Tempest commented, walking around the one-room house. “Was it built specially for monsters.” Featherlight dragged his feet to the closest concrete slab and sat down. “No, that building predates the fog. We, runners, just use it as a safe house. The waterfall usually keep beasts at bay because of the noise. And, you’re right, the walls keep the curious one out of reach.” Featherlight smile. “You can drop the knife, now.” Tempest looked down. Rarity could read the surprise in her eyes as she lifted her hand and the dagger still clutched in it. She set it on the iron desk. “I’m hungry,” Trixie stated, sitting next to Featherlight, giving him a brush of her silver hair. “Did you pack anything before we left?” Featherlight replied. He smirked as Trixie didn’t reply. He ruffled her hair, to which she took offense. “Don’t worry. There’s a hatch behind the desk. Usually there is a bottle or two of compressed gas downstairs in the mushroom room. We can make a stew. Anybody’s got jerky?” Featherlight lay down as no one answered. “Mushrooms,” Trixie muttered. “I hate those.” “Well, you should have thought about it before wishing upon an adventure,” Tempest said, spitting in a corner of the room. “Now we’re far out in creepy land and Canterhigh is–is…” Tempest let out a long sigh. “Will home be okay?” Trixie asked. Tempest didn’t answer. Featherlight didn’t either. “I’m sure it will,” Rarity said with a smile, sitting next to Trixie, patting her on the elbow. Rarity held a sigh as she felt the teen shivering at the tip of her fingers.  From the corner of her eye, Rarity caught Tempest shaking her head. Featherlight was the first to break the silence. “You know. I’ve seen and heard my fair share of crazy stuff in the Deadwood.” He slapped his face with both hands and let a long breath out. “But what I saw in the loading yard takes the cake.” “What’s a cake?” Tempest asked. “A witch, eh?” Featherlight said, lifting his head up to glance at Trixie and Rarity. Rarity gasped. “You believe it?” “I’m a runner, miss…?” “Rarity.” “Miss Rarity, I’ve seen boulders move by themselves, heard tree laughs and, though nobody believes me, I’ve seen a dragon.” Trixie laughed, springing to her feet. “Please, tell them the story!” “I just saw a thing in the sky that spat fire. Nothing more, it’s you who told me it was a dragon.” Feather light covered his eyes, laughing. “I’m just tired, Trix. I need to rest for a bit. I was at the end of my run when you swung by in the yard.” “I’m going to fetch the compressed gas,” Tempest said. Featherlight didn’t protest. “Can you make it glow again,” Trixie asked, monotonically. Rarity had kept her left arm close to her chest since Trixie had thrown the arm sling in the carriage. It hurt but she’d known worse. Featherlight’s work had been salvatory. The pus has stopped being grey. “Let’s wait till it’s cleaned up.” Rarity hesitated before giving a hug to the teenager who’d curled her arms around her legs. “You don’t want it to throw weird light under all this… nastiness.” Trixie snorted. She and Rarity watched Tempest work out the rusty lock of a trapdoor behind the iron desk. It swung loose after a minute. Tempest walked down a series of steps and disappeared underground. Metal banging on metal followed suite. Trixie huddled against her, Rarity looked up through the windows. The forest was rapidly plunging into total darkness and she could barely see the faint light coming from the house reflect against the white fabric that arched around the wagon stail. Tempest walked up the stairs, panting. She carried a head-sized metal container with curved edges over her arms. Rarity had only seen one of those a few times. They were very expensive. “Damn this thing is heavy,” Tempest said, bending her knees to keep her back straight. Tempest sat with the canister in front of her. She turned it around to find a notice hard-printed in the metal. She concentrated to read the list of instructions, frowning from time to time. Rarity coughed to call her attention. “Do you want me to—” “No, no,” Tempest said with a tinge of anger. “I can do it.” She went back and forth between the instructions and the head of the container, a miniature version of an inverted shower head set under a hollowed-out circled that could support a pan. Tempest would a small brass wheel. Tempest got up with a heavy grunt and walked to the door. She snapped some of the wild grass that snuck under the rotten wood and walked them to the oil lamp. Once a small flame burst from the tip of the rapidly drying grass, Tempest quickly walked back to the canister, set the flame next to the head and rolled the wheel. A blue flame burst to life. “Done it!” Tempest exclaimed, glancing at Rarity with victory in her eyes. “See, your night lesson can pay off.” Trixie frowned glancing at Rarity with a questioning look. “Taught Tempest reading a couple of years ago,” Rarity said, beaming. Trixie nodded, pursing her lips. She opened her mouth, but closed it quickly. She extracted herself from Rarity’s hug and walked to the canister.  “Do we have a pan?” she asked. “I’d like to boil Rarity’s bandages. There’s also a bag or two in the wagon we could empty to make a new arm sling.”  Tempest grabbed the bag she’d brought from the room downstairs. She glanced at the door with a worried look. “Can’t you use that bag?” Tempest asked, opening it to show Rarity and Trixie a couple pounds of mushrooms and a pan. “I don’t want to think we broke something people from Canterhigh could be using,” Trixie said. “If… If any come by soon, I mean.” Tempest bit her lip, took the pan out, and got up.  “Just look if there’s wood stuck to the mushrooms, it was growing on some logs,” Tempest ordered hesitantly. Tempest took a deep breath and opened the door. Her two hands on the pan handle, Tempest ran to the wagon, jumped at its back and disappeared inside. Tempest burst out the front a few seconds later, a full bag on her shoulder, and ran to the waterfall out of view. Tempest ran in front of the windows, an arm out gripping on the handle of the filled up pan. She slammed the door with her back and heaved, dropping her hips to the floor. Rarity repressed a laugh. “There are monsters outside,” Tempest growled at her friend. Rarity didn’t answer. She got up again and febrily went to set the filled up pan over the canister flame. “Could you also fill up the bucket over there,” Trixie asked hesitantly between clenched teeth. Rarity clenche hers too, expecting Tempest to refuse. “It’s to have refills. You need to clean and cook the mushrooms, but I also need to boil the bandages and bag.” Tempest’s cheeks puffed out. She grabbed the bucket, ran out and back inside like a lightning bolt. “Here you go.” She spat. “Now get to work. I’m hungry.” Trixie didn’t answer right away. She mulled over Tempest’s angry expression and a wicked smile drew on her face. She got up and stuck her chest out. “The great Lulamoon family will not dirty their hand on anything as low as cooking. They will, however, requisition this flame and water to heal the people under their care.” Trixie threw the bag of mushrooms at Tempest’s feet and walked to Rarity. “Can you come closer to the fire,” she asked. “I need to see your arm.” Rarity glanced at Tempest. She was boiling. Still, the towering women dropped to her haunches and hunched over the bag of mushrooms. “Thanks, Tempest,” Rarity said. “You’re my friend. And you’re wounded,” she replied, never looking up. “I can suck up to that brat if it means you’ll be fine.” Trixie stuck out her tongue, which Tempest caught from the corner of her eyes. “By the way, catch,” Tempest laughed, throwing the bag on her shoulder straight at Trixie’s face. The bag rotated in the air and caught Trixie around her forehead, folding it in a deflating sound. Trixie didn’t falter. As the bag slid off her face, she grabbed it in her hand and opened it. A sudden smile brightened her face. “Where did you find this!?” Trixie burst out loud enough Featherlight jerked awake on the slab. “It was stuck under a bag filled with diamonds.” Trixie stomped her feet down. “I’ll have a word with my father. It’s not the first time a loader put something heavy on the expensive stuff.” Rarity frowned as she didn’t quite catch Trixie. “What could be more precious than gems?” “This!” Trixie bubbled, opening the bag in front of Rarity. Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Fabric, really?” Trixie returned the expression. “Well, yes! But it’s not any trash fabric you, paupers, drape yourself it. It’s silk, satin, and fine woven linen!” Trixie grabbed Rarity’s able hand and stick it into the bag. Rarity guffawed, feeling a softness she’d never experienced before. Trixie let go of her wrist but Rarity didn’t pull back. She turned her hand left and right inside. Finally, she drew out a small spool of thread. Inspecting it with her eyes, she found it was the same color as her air, a deep shade of amethyst.  Rarity caressed the spool against her cheek. “It’s so—” “Delicate?” Trixie completed, getting up to retrieve something off the desk. Rarity closed her eyes, appreciating the feel against her skin. “Alright, water is boiling,” Trixie said as she came back to dunk Tempest’s knife in the boiling pan. “Let me have a look at your arm.” Trixie stuck the knife out of the water, waiting for it to cool slightly before she started lifting and removing all the bandages. She threw them away. “What are you doing?” Rarity sputtered.  “Well, replacing your bandages?” Trixie said, a knife in her hand. With the other, she rummaged from a clean and clear piece of fabric, cut two large rectangles out of it and dunked them into the boiling water. “That’s going to be one fancy bandage,” Rarity joshed. Trixie squinted, finding it hard to see in the half-light. With a sigh, Rarity moved her hand out of Trixie’s care and scraped her bottom around on the floor, pointing forward. As she drew an arc, the brands glowed their light sapphire shine as she extended towards and above the desk. “That’s one hell of a convenience,” Tempest deadpanned. A couple seconds later, Featherlight sat up on the slab. Fixating on the arm, his face swayed left and right. “What the…” “Magic!” Trixie wooed, drawing waves in the air with her knife-wielding hand, as she circled around the canister and Tempest to sat on Rarity’s left. Featherlight leaned forward, switching off the canister. “You gonna burn Miss Rarity if you apply that linen directly. And I’d be glad you don’t give out or destroy any more of your father’s merchandise.” “Tell him when you see him,” Trixie huffed, her traits growing dark. “If you ever see him.” After a few minutes, Trixie dipped a little finger in the pan and flicked the water drop away. With the tip of her knife, she removed the first rectangle and folded it in her hand, taking care not to touch any of the forward facing parts. Trixie scraped the pus and some scabs off Rarity’s arm. The painfully hot water trickled down her arm, washing away some coagulated blood, slowly revealing the pattern again. “Tell me who you’re tattooist is, Miss. I’ll make sure never to go there.” Even Tempest laughed.  As the linen started to pull, Trixie threw the fabric out the broken window.  Trixie was about to retrieve the last bit of linen out of the steaming pan when she noticed the glow was gone. “Rarity, please don’t move your arm,” Trixie said, pushing Rarity’s palm up at the tip of a finger. “I didn’t do anything. It just disappeared.” Rarity yawned. “Anyway, let me shake a bit.” As Rarity stretched outwards, the glow came and vanished again. She looked at the mark and traced it back to further above the desk this time. She kept her arm out hanging until the glow disappeared again. Working to find the direction of the source, Rarity started following a direction in the air, moving ever so slightly. “That’s one mystery I’m not wishing to follow up with,” Tempest said. “Well, keep your arm up there while I finish on those bandages,” Trixie added. Proceeding similarly, she exchanged the last rectangle for a new canvas arm sling. As she held the rectangle at two angles, Trixie gave it a steamy squeeze and wrapped Rarity’s forearm with it. “A magnificent and beautiful bandage designed by the sole and only Trixie!” Rarity was glad, admiring the shine of the bandage. Once the sling out, Tempest got to work and an hour of pestering and blabbering later, Rarity shared a tin cup of mushroom gravy with everyone. “Where did you find the cup, Tempest?” Trixie asked.  “By the window, why?” “You washed it, I hope.” “Uh… Yes, definitely.” “I’m going to keep guard to see if anything comes around,” Tempest offered. “Or anyone?” Trixie asked. Tempest sighed. “Or anyone, Trixie. I’ll look out.” ⇜⇝ “I want to pee,” Trixie said, standing by the window as she rubbed sleepiness out of her eyes. “Where’s the bathroom?” “Just go outside,” Tempest growled. “Be an grown-up for once.” “Can’t, there is a big thing standing by the cart.” Rarity scratched her back, feeling needles of pain carries down her spine as she emerged through a rough sleep on one of the concrete slabs.. Tempest or Featherlight had managed to light up a fire in the hearth. It crackled and threw shadowy light across the cramped space. Apprehensive, Rarity exhaled as she rose from the slab, her knees popping under her weight. She dragged her feet to Trixie’s side and set her hands against the edges of the window. The window pane was long gone. Only a burrow remained and Rarity made sure never to slip a finger past it. Trixie pointed at the cart, never putting a sliver of skin out in the open. “Do you see it?” Trixie said. “It’s behind one of the trees that overlook the loading area. You can see it blink.” Tempest walked behind Rarity, setting her two hands on her friend’s shoulders. She let out a shaky breath. “I can see it.” Rarity squinted, watching closely she saw one tiny pinprick glint half-hidden a mangled, dead tree. It blinked. A cold shiver ran down Rarity’s back. Tempest’s hands stopped her from giving a fearful step back. “That’s one damn predator,” Tempest said. “How do you know?” Trixie said with a hesitant smirk. “Your type never left the city before.” “Underground, some men act the same,” Tempest stated.  Trixie frowned but didn’t answer.  “It’s what was following us along the pathway,” Featherlight commented. His face betrayed a slight unease. “They’re not the stalking type usually.” Featherlight tried to glance at the waterfall from the safety of the room. “Those creatures are nearly blind, they’ll track down sounds. The waterfall should have kept that one at bay.” “How do we leave?” Rarity asked with a treble in her voice. “We just do,” Featherlight said. “It won’t attack us if we don’t disturb the silence. It may follow us, though.” He turned to Trixie. “I’ll slap your way back to Canterhigh if you peep a single pish posh out of your mouth, nose and ears. And you keep your hands in your pockets.” “I was well-behaved the first time,” she protested.  “Keep it that way. Rarity?” Featherlight breathed, starting the small woman. “I don’t know if they have a good sense of smell but…” He looked at her arm. “Keep yourself from hitting your arm or bleeding.” Tempest had already swiped the room, sticking the dagger in her belt, and slinging the bag of fabric over her shoulder, she rummaged through her deep denim pockets. Rarity looked dumbfounded at the dynamite stick.  “Would a diversion work?” “No, keep it away.” Featherlight gulped. “We might need it if it attacks.” Tempest nodded. “I’m going to stock up the oil lamp.” “So what do we do?” Rarity pressed on. Featherlight closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As he reopened them, he clutched the crooked door handle and twisted it open. “We walk to the cart.” Rarity’s legs shook as she took one step after the other. Tempest stood at the back of the queue, a hand on Rarity’s back, pushing her to keep the pace. Trixie’s hands clutched Featherlight’s back. She hid her face in his dirtied shirt. As the processed forward, the shape of the beast slowly appeared in the thinning fog. It was longer than the cart, if not higher. It crouched on all fours, the side of its hideous head resting against the dead tree it couldn’t hide behind. The beast was covered in extrusions of woods or what Rarity could only see as wart-like protrusions that had hardened and grown into jutting hardshells and bones.  Rarity could see the spikes click against each other as it breathed slowly. She met his eye. A milky yellow pinprick piercing through two large block of black calluses that replaced its eyelids. The other side of its face was empty of life, a rugged, oozing scar that looked like someone had popped a scab of bark off a rotten log. Tempest grabbed Rarity by the shoulder, stopping her from faltering into the puddles they made their way through. Rarity watched Tempest’s face twisted with anger and she looked down. Tempest had nearly dropped the oil lamp. As they arrived at the cart, Featherlight and Tempest made footboards of their hands and helped Trixie and Rarity up.  Rarity saw the print of the light on the wagon’s fabric round around the cart. Tempest appeared in the slit of the Fabric as she stepped on the driver’s bench to helped Featherlight up. Her right hand clawed on oil lamp handle and the dynamite stick. Wood cracked and split and Rarity heard heavy claws hit the mud as the beast made its way to the cart, stopping shy of hitting its muzzle against the tent that covered the merchandise inside. A pungent smell took over the wagon as Rarity sprawled slowly against one of the boxes and glanced at Trixie. The teen turned her back, huddling herself against her own box too. The beast gurgled as the engine popped out of the rotating claw that linked it to the waterwheel.  Featherlight waited for the intermittent clacks of the motor to hum to slowly turn the cart and start on the road deeper into the Deadwood.