SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Guess Who's Back?

May had heard Robyn speak plenty of times before: in bars and workers' clubs; on street corners, standing on a box, hoping to catch the ear of passersby; speaking to whatever camera would stand still long enough to pick up what she had to say – probably the most luxurious place May had ever heard Robyn speak was in an empty warehouse that had been between owners at the time, where they had built a stage so that Robyn could be seen above the crowd. May had heard Robyn speak plenty of times before, but never quite like this.
The stage upon which Robyn stood now was not something that had been cobbled together by the Happy Huntresses and a few supporters; what exactly it was made of was concealed beneath the blue cloth – emblazoned with the white snowflake of the SDC alternating with the gear-and-spear of Atlas – which covered it completely, but it was probably not made of discarded building materials scavenged from here and there across Mantle.
Nor was the location on which the stage had been erected the usual sort of place where Robyn Hill would have been found giving a speech. The stage had been set up in the middle of Nicky's Field, home of the Mantle Miners football team; it had once also played host to the occasional combat bout – this wasn't Mistral; they didn't have a dedicated colosseum for their fights – but those tended to be held in Atlas these days, which meant the field was just used for the football, for concerts sometimes… and occasionally for political rallies.
The stadium was big, big enough that when it had first been gifted to the city by Nicholas Schnee, so they said, one in five people in Mantle could have fitted inside of it. May wasn't quite sure if the population had gone up or down since then or if it had stayed the same, but either way, it was a pretty big place. And although, like everything else in Mantle, Nicky's Field was getting a little run down and in need of some touch-ups and renovations, that fact hadn't stopped it from being absolutely packed out. Every seat in every stand was occupied, a sea of faces from all directions looking down upon the stage or else looking up at the big screens that were displaying Robyn's face at four times actual size for anyone who was unlucky enough to be stuck looking at her back.
This was the kind of event that they had only dreamed of up until now: a packed crowd, a stage amidst one of the biggest, grandest locations in Mantle. It was a dream come true.
And yet, it hardly felt that way at all. It felt almost more like a nightmare.
It felt that way because Robyn wasn't going up onto this stage in front of this crowd to speak for herself, but to open up for Jacques Schnee. He was standing beside the stage right now, waiting for his moment.
Jacques Schnee. Jacques Schnee! The man who was more responsible than anyone else for the decline into which Mantle had sunk, and yet, Robyn was backing him, and for what? For promises?
It was true that May hadn't been born in Mantle, she had grown up amidst wealth and privilege as a member of the Marigold family, but it was because of her privileged background that she could understand the change in attitudes amongst the very rich that had taken place over the last few generations. Men like Nicholas Schnee, men like her own grandfather Stefan Marigold who had established Marigold Foods and made his fortune with a lucrative contract to supply canned food to the forces, they had felt an obligation to give back to the communities that they had come from. Yes, that giving had often involved big buildings with their names on them – like Nicky's Field, in which they now stood, or Marigold Hall where there was a Midwinter party held each year – but they had still given back, still invested in the city, still tried to do good, even as they did well. The generation that had come after them, like Jacques Schnee and May's parents, didn't care about that; in fact, no, not only did they not care about it, you'd have to pry any lien to help out Mantle from their cold dead hands. The rich all lived in Atlas now, hoarding the wealth they leached from Mantle, using it only to build ever larger and more extravagant mansions for themselves, surrounded by ever larger plots of empty land, simply to show that they were rich enough to afford land and then do nothing with it. And all the while, Mantle sank deeper and deeper into misery.
And yet, now, he was supposed to be Mantle's saviour? Jacques Schnee was going to fix everything? Give her a break.
May frowned. She stood in one of the tunnels leading out onto the field, one of the tunnels through which the Miners would have entered if there'd been a game on that day. She leaned against the bare concrete wall, her fingertips idly tracing the pockmarks and unevenness of the cold surface, and watched Robyn.
She got it. She wasn't clueless or naïve, and she didn't think of all this as just some game, no matter what Robyn had said to her. She understood that… she understood the lack of real results, she understood the odds stacked up against them, she understood the power that their opponents possessed; it wasn't like she thought the four of them were one day going to storm the Mantle headquarters and truss up Reeve and then everyone would have a big party in the street. But she also understood that they were doing good, that they were helping people every day; it might only be a little help, but a little help was better than no help at all, it seemed to her.
In truth, while she enjoyed hearing Robyn speak, and would never have been bold enough to say so under ordinary circumstances, she had been a little dubious about the idea of Robyn running for Council in the first place; how was she going to help Mantle when she was spending all her time amidst the glittering towers of Atlas? How was she going to help keep the Doc's clinic afloat when she was mired in politics? Robyn was a good person, a much better person than May's parents, but May had seen first-hand how the luxuries of the shining city in the clouds could have an intoxicating effect on people, could blind them to the fact that there was a whole world beyond Atlas which did not enjoy such luxuries and which was crying out for opportunity.
A part of May had always worried that sitting on the Council would mean nothing more than Robyn losing the opportunity to do good down on the streets, and although Robyn had withdrawn her Council bid, that she had done so at the behest of Jacques Schnee and his coterie, and in exchange for the favours that they had promised her… May was afraid that power would do nothing more than box Robyn in.
Robyn thought otherwise, of course. May would have liked to have trusted her about that. Perhaps she ought to trust her, the way that Fiona and Joanna did, but neither of them understood Atlas the way that May did; Fiona was Mantle born and bred, Joanna's parents had been soldiers constantly on the move across Remnant; neither of them had set foot in Atlas except at the Academy, and the academy was emphatically not the city. If all you saw of the Kingdom of Atlas was Atlas Academy, then you might come away with the impression – as Blake Belladonna, another outsider, had done – that Atlas was basically full of good people: flawed, a little short-sighted in certain areas, but brave, righteous, and honourable. Whereas if you grew up in the city of Atlas, as May had, you understood that those good people were far outnumbered by self-centred jackasses whose indifference to the suffering of others was made all the worse by being tinged with nigh unbearable self-righteousness, as though they had worked for their success instead of inheriting it, and all the problems of others could be attributed solely to their own folly and idleness.
And those were the people Robyn was in bed with now.
May wished she could have seen any good that would come of it.
But she could not.
Robyn was wrapping up her speech now. "And so, here to introduce a New Deal for Mantle, I give you the next member of the Atlesian Council, Jacques Schnee!"
A song by Weiss Schnee – May thought it might be It's My Turn, but she wasn't the biggest fan, and the Schnee Heiress' songs tended to blur together a bit in her head – began to play as Jacques Schnee strode up onto the stage, shaking Robyn's hand as she made way for him. Jacques took his place behind a podium with 'Rebuild Mantle, Save Atlas' emblazoned on the front as thunderous applause deluged him from every corner of the stadium, drowning out his daughter's voice and the accompanying music.
Jacques waited for the applause and the cheering to die down. "Thank you, thank you all," he said, in a voice that May couldn't help but find oily and unpleasant. "I'm delighted to be here in this great city of Mantle."
More cheering. Jacques once again stopped and waited for it to die down, waving occasionally to the crowd, keeping a smile fixed on his face, as best as you could tell from beneath that walrus moustache anyway. Only once the crowd in the stadium was nearly quiet again did he continue.
"Yes, I'm delighted to be here not just in Mantle, but in Nicky's Field, a gift to this city by my father-in-law, Nicholas Schnee. Now, I grew up without a father, but I was lucky enough to find one in old Nick: a great man, a man I could emulate, a man I could aspire to be like. A teacher, a mentor, a good friend. Now my father said… my father-in-law said to me once, he said, 'Son, treat your workers like family, and they'll always come through for you.' And that's why…"
May frowned, tuning him out as she began to turn away. There was no point sticking around to listen to vacuous drivel like that. She wasn't even sure why she'd come here in the first place.
Maybe she'd been hoping that Robyn wouldn't go through with it in the end.
She turned around and nearly walked into Gia Smoketree coming the other way.
"Leaving so soon?" she asked.
May took an involuntary step backwards. "Arriving so late?" she responded.
Gia ignored that. “I… I hoped I’d find you here,” she said.
“You found me; congratulations,” May muttered. “Excuse me.” She started to walk around the other woman, only to be stopped by a hand upon her arm. The grip was gentle, but with a suggestion that it could become firmer, if need be.
Gia stared into May’s eyes. “What happened to you, May?”
“What happened to me?” May repeated.
“You used to be kind,” Gia said softly. “Kind to me, anyway. Kind to a girl with no family, no friends. I wouldn’t be here without you.”
May hesitated. “I’m honestly not sure what to say about that.”
Gia chuckled. She let go of May’s arm. “Is there no way that we can be… how we were?”
“We were never how you wanted us to be,” May reminded her.
“Not yet,” Gia allowed. “But we’re on the same side now-”
“I doubt that very much,” May said.
Gia smirked. “Wasn’t that your glorious leader who just introduced Jacques Schnee to the crowd?”
“Yes,” May admitted through gritted teeth. “But that doesn’t mean that I have to like it, less that I have to think of myself as a part of it.”
“You don’t have to like it, that’s fine,” Gia granted graciously. “But whether you like it or not, this alliance is happening. Right now, right here. There’s no way that Robyn can back out now. And that means that we don’t have to be enemies anymore.” She paused. “For my part, I never considered you my enemy.”
“I’m not sure your boss would be pleased to hear that,” May said.
Gia smiled. She glanced down at her polished boots. “Do you know what people think that you’re doing right now?”
May folded her arms. “All the people I know think that I’m here, helping how I can.”
“I mean the people who matter!” Gia said dismissively. “People in Atlas, society, your own circle.”
“That was never my circle,” May declared.
“No?” Gia asked. “You could have fooled me. You always moved through that world with such grace, such confidence. That was what I admired about you. I was grateful for your compassion, I appreciated your strength and skill, but what I admired… what I admired about you was the way that nothing seemed to get to you. You didn’t struggle to fit in, you didn’t have to hide any part of yourself or pretend to be someone else, you… you belonged. You owned the room. Nobody could look at anyone or anything but you, so long as you were there.”
May was silent for a moment. “You get that that was all fake, right? That was all… a mask. You think I wasn’t struggling the whole time?”
Gia, too, hesitated. “I know,” she said softly. “But all the same… do you remember the New Years’ party that you took me to, at your parents’ place? You… you hadn’t come out to them yet, but you decided-”
“I decided ‘to hell with it,’ I wasn’t going to hide any more,” May murmured.
“And you wore the most stunning dress that I had ever seen in my life,” Gia went on, “and you wouldn’t let me see you until you were done; you kicked me out while you were getting ready, and I had to go change in Team Aurora’s dorm room.“
“I’m sorry; I didn’t want to see me while I was…” May trailed off for a moment. “While I was… changing.”
“I’ve never seen anyone look as beautiful as you did on that night,” Gia whispered. “Never.”
May looked away. “That was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t mean that it cannot come again,” Gia insisted. “The Happy Huntresses are done now, you get that, right? They’re done. There’s no need for them anymore. The deal is done: Robyn will get everything that she wanted on a plate. No more crime; no more hiding in the shadows. You can step back out into the light where you belong. Do you think that Robyn will need your help when she has the whole of the Mantle office to call on?”
“I am a graduated huntress, you know,” May reminded him. “Maybe I’ll join the military and work under Robyn that way.”
Gia snorted. “I’d like that. You and me, together again, just like old times back at the academy.” She paused. “People think you might be dead.”
May blinked. “People… did my parents tell everyone I’m dead?”
“Well, you can’t expect them to tell people that you’re… this,” Gia muttered, waving one hand dismissively. “But no, your parents told everyone that you were on a world tour. They even had someone take over your social media accounts and post doctored photographs of you in locations across Remnant.” She grinned. “I’m glad you found Mistral so spiritually renewing.”
May rolled her eyes.
“You were in Vale, as it were, when the battle began,” Gia said earnestly. “Now the story is that… nobody knows what the story is. You might be dead, or you might have missed the evacuation flights out and be stranded there. With the CCT down, there’s no way to know for sure. If you come home, it will be a miracle.”
May’s eyes narrowed. “I… I’ve been a Happy Huntress for years now, I didn’t just start last week; have they been paying to cover that up?”
“Yes,” Gia said. “Although… it wasn’t out of pure concern for my career that they recommended me to General Reeve. If I can’t convince you to come home, then I can at least keep your name out of any official documentation, anything that might identify you as one of them.” She paused. “I think that might warrant at least a ‘thank you,’ don’t you?”
“I’m not the one who’s ashamed of where I am or what I’m doing.”
“Only someone who grew up coddled by wealth and status could speak of ‘shame’ as something that is of so little consequence, rather than something that is as life and death as… as life and death,” Gia replied. “You are an insurgent against the Kingdom of Atlas; if that got out, it could ruin your parents socially, blacken the Marigold name for good, cast Henry out of society forever; is that what you want? Would you really subject them to that? Bring them all down out of sheer spite?”
May hesitated. “No,” she murmured. “No, I wouldn’t.”
Her parents were deeply, deeply flawed, and they were making Henry in their image, but at the same time… they were still her family, and whatever they had done to her, that didn’t mean that she wished ill on them, still less harm. That wasn’t why she had come down to Mantle. She was here because she believed in the cause, not because she was trying to spite or wound anybody.
But she would not thank Gia for it either. She hadn’t asked for this, and she would not be grateful for it.
“I never understood why you got involved in all this in the first place,” Gia said.
May snorted. “That was always the difference between us,” she said. “I wanted to help people. You only wanted to help yourself.”
Gia’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m sorry, but all those parties and dinners that you took me to, the whole glittering world of the Atlas elite, was I never supposed to want a piece of that for myself? Was I not supposed to want to become a part of it? Or was I supposed to accept that all of that would be forever out of my reach except as a treat occasionally fed to me by Marigold generosity?”
I took you there to make it more bearable for me by having a friend there, May thought, although she was self-aware enough to realise that wouldn’t sound so great if she said it out loud.
Gia stepped forward, forcing May to take a step backwards.“You were born with everything, absolutely everything that you ever wanted or could wish for-”
“Except for being able to feel like I was who I was supposed to be,” May said.
Gia ignored her. She stepped forward again, and once more, May retreated. “And you have the audacity, the absolute gall, to look down on me for wanting something, anything! You have no idea what it’s like to grow up with nothing at all!” Her hands clenched into fists as she took another step, forcing May back against the tunnel wall. “Where do you get off judging me for wanting to make something of myself instead of throwing everything you had away!”
“Is everything okay?” Blake asked as she sauntered down the tunnels. The tails of her long white coat trailed after a little as she walked with a slow, considered, graceful tread. Her long, wild black hair waved behind her a little.
Gia glared at her. “Yes it is, Specialist, but thank you for checking.”
Blake’s golden eyes narrowed as she glanced between Gia and May. “Are you sure?”
Gia inhaled through her nostrils. “The name is Smoketree. Captain Smoketree.” She paused, expectant. When Blake didn’t react, Gia snapped, “Haven’t you learned yet to salute a superior officer?”
“As I understand it, a salute is a sign of respect,” Blake said dryly.
A hiss of anger escaped from Gia’s mouth, and her hand strayed towards the hilt of her sword.
Blake did likewise, reaching to draw her blade across her back. “That’s what I thought,” she said softly.
Gia glared at Blake, and for a moment, May thought that she really would draw her sword and attack her, but then a wave of applause erupted from the crowd in the stadium in response to something that Jacques Schnee had said, and the noise recalled Gia to her senses. Or at least, to her sense of where she was and what was going; she probably realised it wouldn’t look good to start a fight in the middle of Jacques Schnee’s campaign rally.
She slowly moved her hand away from her sword. “You’re insolent, Belladonna.”
Blake did not move her hand. She simply said, “I’ve been called worse.”
Gia’s face twitched with irritation. May watched her visibly attempting to mask how angry she was, attempting to subsume her anger beneath an appearance of calm and tranquillity. It was something that she’d been a lot better at when they were at the Academy; rank, it seemed, had given her license to indulge her temper more.
Nevertheless, when she turned back to May, it was almost as if she wasn’t bothered. She gently reached out and took May’s hand, raising it to her lips. “May,” she murmured. “Always a delight.”
She let May’s hand fall and began to walk away. The sound of her boots echoed in the tunnel as loud as the applause.
As she drew level with Blake, she stopped. “I don’t know whether it’s your exalted birth, General Ironwood’s favour, or the fact that you’re currently flavour of the month with the media that leads you to put such airs and graces on, but if I were you, I’d learn your place, and learn it quickly. A princess of savages is still a savage, and the press will forget you soon enough.”
Blake eyed her. “And General Ironwood’s favour?”
Gia smirked. “Sic transit gloria mundi,” she said. “Do you know what that means?”
“'Thus passeth all earthly glory,'” Blake replied.
“Exactly,” Gia said, and with that, she resumed walking, leaving May and Blake behind in the tunnel.
Blake glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Gia really had gone. Then she approached May. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice concerned and considerate in equal measure.
“I’m fine,” May replied. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I disagree,” Blake said. “I… I know a danger sign when I see one.”
May hesitated for a moment. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Blake paused a moment. “Who is she?”
“My old partner from the Academy,” May replied. “I went one way, she went another.”
“I… see,” Blake murmured.
“Really?”
“No,” Blake admitted. “But… it’s not my place to pry into your past or your affairs. You’re safe; that’s all that matters.”
“For now,” May said. “You’ve made an enemy, you get that, right?”
“I’ve made more dangerous enemies than her,” Blake said.
“Is that supposed to sound cool?”
“No,” Blake answered. “It’s just the truth.”
May stared at her for a moment, but Blake gave nothing away. “Fair enough, I guess,” she said softly. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I… I suppose I wanted to see it for myself,” Blake confessed. “Even though I haven’t been here very long, from what I understand… it’s a lot to take in.”
“You think it’s a lot to take in?” May asked. “It’s not because you’re new, trust me; I’ve lived here for years in the thick of this, and I’m still finding it a lot to take in.” Her eyes narrowed. “I blame you for this. I know that Robyn spoke to you.”
“If I’d known this was what she was talking about…” Blake trailed off. “This wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“So it is your fault.”
“No, I… if you could blame me, would it help?”
May drew in a deep breath, and then let out an equally deep sigh. “No,” she growled.
Blake folded her arms as the two of them drifted back towards the tunnel mouth, where Jacques Schnee was continuing his speech.
“We’re going to bring so many great jobs down here that you’ll all be spoiled for choice!”
“Do you believe him?” Blake asked.
“No,” May answered curtly.
“But Robyn does?”
May did not immediately respond. “Robyn… you spoke to Robyn yourself, you know what she’s thinking.”
“She wants to win,” Blake murmured. “But sometimes, the price of victory is too high to bear. I hope she doesn’t find that out first hand.”
“I’m not sure this will be a victory at all,” May replied. “There’s a catch; I just can’t work out what it is.”
Blake frowned. “If Schnee wins-”
“When he wins,” May interrupted. “The fix is in; that was the whole point of getting Robyn on side in the first place. They know she can deliver the votes.”
“So sure about that?”
“I live here, remember?” May said. “You and your Atlas military friends may not think much of Robyn, but a lot of people trust her word more than anything or anyone else.” I would have been one of them, until this. “They trust her. And now, they trust Jacques Schnee.”
“If you say so,” Blake said, not sceptically but matter-of-factly. “In that case, when Schnee wins, what do you think this will mean for Mantle?”
May thought about it for a moment. “Honestly? Nothing. It will mean nothing because nothing will change. Reeve might get promoted out of this city, Robyn might get welcomed back into the military, she might even the big office here in Mantle, but she won’t get the resources she needs to actually make changes around here, and she’ll get blamed for the fact that nothing is getting better because she’s the one on the ground supposed to be running things. If I’m right, it’s ingenious in how vile it is.” She paused. “What do you think it will mean for Atlas?”
Now it was Blake’s turn to think about it. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I don’t expect anything good.”

"Listen, Miss Weiss," Silver Spoon said excitedly. "They're playing your song!"
"Mhm," Weiss said, through gritted teeth, keeping her opinions firmly to herself.
It was indeed her song. Her father was walking on stage to the sound of It's My Turn, one of her empowerment ballads, artfully cut in such a way as to remove all of the ways in which she had, as brazenly as she dared, implied it was about her relationship to her father, rendering it into something like a rallying cry for the dispossessed. There was still a degree of irony in that to which Father, the wealthiest man in the whole of Remnant, appeared to be blind… but then, the crowd appeared to be blind to it as well as they cheered enthusiastically for Father's entrance.
Her song. Her song, and he was just using it as though it belonged to him, as though she belonged to him, sweeping her up in his campaign without a second thought, much less a request to see if she minded or not. He had no more asked her if she agreed to this any more than he asked her to attend his parties and his dinners with his supporters. She might not be up on the stage with him, but she was still a prop in his campaign arsenal.
She clasped her hands together in her lap and attempted to ignore the sharp pangs of irritation which she felt. It wouldn't do to show it in front of Whitley's guests. Silver Spoon appeared to think she should be flattered, and for all Weiss knew, Diamond Tiara might feel the same way. If they found out or began to suspect that she felt otherwise… why raise the questions?
Best to try and ignore it, to try and let it all roll over her. There were only a few more days remaining, and then she would be gone, away from here, on her way to Mistral with Blake and Rainbow Dash.
Only a few more days.
Weiss glanced at Whitley and the other girls; while Weiss sat in an armchair in the sitting room, Whitley, Diamond Tiara, and Silver Spoon were sharing a plush, royal blue settee. Whitley sat on one end, with Diamond Tiara snuggled up beside him, her feet tucked up on the cushion, while Silver Spoon sat more conventionally beside her. Weiss wasn't sure why they were watching the broadcast of Father's rally, still less why Whitley had insisted that she watch it with them; apparently, it was 'expected,' but although Weiss was quite sure that Father would expect it, she couldn't imagine Klein telling on them if they did not. Perhaps there would be a quiz later.
She hoped not; Father hadn't even begun to speak yet, and she was already finding it a struggle to concentrate. Her thoughts kept flying south to Mistral and to the wars to come that waited there.
That reminded her, she would have to say goodbye to Flash; she didn't want to leave him without a word of explanation, and she wanted… well, she wanted to ask him to wait for her, although if he didn't wish to, she would understand.
She needed to ask, however; she trusted him not to say anything that might get back to Father before she left.
It was a pity he couldn't come with them, but his rank and responsibilities to the Council were not so easily shirked as her complete lack of same.
Weiss attempted to focus as Father, having waited for the tumultuous applause to die down, began to speak.
"…Now, I grew up without a father, but I was lucky enough to find one in old Nick: a great man-"
Weiss got to her feet. He dared? He… he dared? Bad enough that he had usurped her grandfather's company, taken his name and proceeded to drag it into the gutter, trampled upon everything that the SDC had stood for at its foundation, and now, he dared, he presumed to take up her grandfather's Mantle, to speak of him as a father, to talk about him as though they had been anything alike? And to talk about the workers as his family? Considering how he treated his own family, that was… sadly, not inappropriate.
Weiss could stand no more of this. It was bad enough to take her music and twist it into something it was never meant to be, but to then spread these lies about her grandfather, about the family… she could not swallow such disingenuousness, she would not sit here and suffer it.
"Weiss?" Whitley asked.
"Excuse me," Weiss said, in a small, prim voice, her heels clicking upon the polished tiles as she stalked between Whitley, his guests, and the television, walking around the sofa and heading to the door.
Her chin was up and her back was straight as she left the room, marching down the hall with more appearance of direction than she felt. Perhaps she would go down to the kitchen and see if Klein was there, or she would just repair to her room and count the days until she could put all this behind her. She turned a corner, making for the stairs.
"Weiss!" Whitley's voice was not too loud, but it was emphatic.
Weiss stopped and half-turned towards her brother as he approached her.
"You should come back," he said quietly.
"Why?" Weiss demanded. "Why should I listen to that? Why did you want me to listen to that in the first place?"
"Because it's foolish to upset Father," Whitley said quietly.
"And who will tell him that I wasn't watching?" Weiss replied. "You? Your girlfriend?"
"If Father asks you what you thought of his speech, it would be better if you'd actually seen the speech, don't you think?" Whitley suggested.
"Some things cost too high a price," Weiss replied. "I'm done caring what Father thinks."
"Don't be naïve; you're not at Beacon anymore," Whitley reminded her.
"I'm well aware of that," Weiss said.
"He almost stopped you seeing your friends already, have you forgotten that?" Whitley asked. "What if he actually followed through with it, what if he stopped you from seeing Flash? Had you not considered that?"
Weiss hesitated for a moment, wondering how much she dared to tell Whitley. They had not always been close as children, but since her return… he had been nothing but decent to her, and he seemed to feel the same way that she did about some things, if not everything. "What Father thinks, or doesn't, won't be a problem for me for much longer."
Whitley's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Weiss spoke quietly, even if there was nobody around to eavesdrop. "I'm leaving soon, in a few days at most. I'm going to Mistral, with Blake and Rainbow Dash and a couple of others; they've been assigned a mission there, and they've asked me to join them."
Whitley stared at her. "Mistral?" he said. "You… you're leaving?"
"I'm going to do my part for Atlas."
"You're leaving again!" Whitley snapped. "I thought that after what happened in Vale, things would be different this time, but… you haven't changed at all, have you? I should tell Father all about this!"
"No!" Weiss gasped. "Why would you do that?"
Whitley stared at her in exasperation. "You have no idea what it's like for me here, do you? You waltzed off to Beacon, and you never looked back."
"I-"
"I don't have the hereditary Schnee semblance," Whitley told her. "The birthright of our family, and it passed me by. I am… I'm too much Father's son, it seems."
"You're nothing like Father," Weiss murmured. "Even though… sometimes, it seems as if you're trying to be."
"Of course I am," Whitley told her. "What else do I have? I can't go to Atlas where General Ironwood and his serried ranks can protect me from Father; I can't go to another kingdom beyond his reach. I'm stuck here, all alone, with them. You left me, you both left me alone with them. All I can do is please Father. If he finds out that I knew what you were planning and didn't say anything-"
"I'm sorry," Weiss said quickly. "I… I should have thought, I should have… you're right. I left, and I didn't consider what it meant that I was leaving you behind with… with both our parents. I should have thought about what that meant, and so should Winter. But, please, Whitley, if you say anything… this isn't just about me getting out of here, it isn't even about me getting to do something useful, this is about the good of Atlas and Mistral." She recognised that that was a hard argument to make for someone who was facing rather more immediate consequences close to home, so she added. "You're not alone, Whitley, Winter-"
"Doesn't care about me," Whitley said with a look that suggested he was no longer sure if Weiss cared about him either.
"Diamond Tiara-"
"Do you honestly expect her to give me a second look once Father cuts me off?" Whitley demanded.
"Is that what you think?"
Whitley froze. Weiss did too. Over Whitley's shoulder, she saw Diamond Tiara round the corner from around which, having no doubt followed Whitley out, she had been able to overhear… how much? Almost anything would be more than Weiss was entirely comfortable with, although the other girl didn't seem particularly interested in Weiss right now. Her attention, the livid gaze of her blue eyes, was entirely fixed on Whitley as she stalked towards him.
Around the corner, Weiss could see the other girl, Silver Spoon, peeking; she, at least, was still trying not to be seen.
Diamond Tiara's hands were balled up at her sides as she bore primly down on Whitley. "Is that what you think?" she demanded a second time. "That I'm just here for your money? For your expensive gifts?"
"I-"
"I have money of my own, you know!" Diamond Tiara declared proudly. "If I wanted diamonds, I could just ask my Daddy to get me some! I'm not some gold-digging tramp looking for the easy life! Shame on you, Whitley Schnee!" She raised her hand as if to slap him.
Whitley recoiled, turning his face away, half-bringing up his thin arm to shield himself from the blow. Diamond Tiara stopped, her eyes widening. For a moment, she was still, frozen in place with her hand raised, just as Whitley was frozen waiting for the expected blow.
But the blow did not land. Instead, Diamond Tiara lunged at him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing his head upon her shoulder.
"Even if you are disowned and disinherited," she whispered softly into his ear, "you're not getting rid of me that easily."
"But," Whitley murmured. "Your mother-"
"I," Diamond Tiara said firmly, "am not my mother." She pressed her cheek against his. "And after all, my semblance is getting people to do whatever I want, so if the worst comes to pass, I'll take care of everything." Her tone made it hard to tell if she was joking about her semblance or not. She looked at Weiss from over Whitley's shoulder. "And as for you, Miss Weiss… I won't pretend to understand why you'd want to leave Atlas and risk your life, but no one will hear about it from me."
"From either of us," Silver Spoon added, stepping out from hiding.
"Thank you," Weiss said, "both of you." She smiled at Diamond Tiara, still embracing Whitley. "Take care of him."
"Of course," Diamond Tiara said proudly. "Someone has to."
Weiss did not reply; in all honesty, it was probably less than she deserved.
And good on Whitley, for finding someone to say it.
I may have left you behind, but you seem to have done alright for yourself.
Even if you didn't realise it till now.

Blake walked briskly across the docking pad to where Rainbow’s airship, distinguished by its bright paint job, was sitting waiting for her. She could see Rainbow sitting in the cockpit, waiting for her every bit as much as the airship itself, but as she climbed the docking ramp into the craft, she found that – contrary to when she had left the airship – Rainbow wasn’t the only one inside.
“Sun?”
“Hey,” Sun said, his voice subdued. “Twilight told me that I’d find you here.”
“How did you… did you stow away somewhere again?” Blake asked.
“No!” Sun replied quickly. “I got a Skybus. I even paid for a ticket. Well, Lady Nikos paid for a ticket, because she’s got all the money, but someone paid!” He paused. “I thought… maybe we could talk, you know?”
Blake nodded, without much expression on her face. “Sure,” she agreed. “Rainbow Dash, I’m going to ride back here for the flight back, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Rainbow called from out of the cockpit. “Buckle up, both of you.”
Blake wasn’t sure that was entirely necessary, but it was Rainbow’s airship and, thus, Rainbow’s rules; she and Sun sat down on the same bench next to one another, and both buckled up their seatbelts as the ramp folded up inside the airship and the side door slid closed.
Through the side window, Blake could just about make out Mantle disappearing beneath them as the airship rose into the sky.
She glanced at Sun. “So… how’s Neptune?”
“Oh, Neptune’s great,” Sun declared. “Well, his mom kinda kicked him out of the house for supporting Pyrrha-”
“What? Really?”
Sun nodded. “People are worried,” he said.
“There’s a lot of things for them to be worried about, but that doesn’t explain why Neptune should be disowned for trying to do something about them,” Blake replied.
“No, they’re not worried about those things,” Sun explained. “They’re worried that Pyrrha’s going to take over the kingdom.”
Blake stared at him. “So they aren’t worried about the things that they should be worried about, but they are worried about things that are ridiculous.”
“I guess?” Sun agreed. “Although they don’t know about the things that they should really be worried about.”
Blake frowned. “Do you… do you feel like I should have told you?”
“I’m glad someone did,” Sun admitted. “But I get it. From the way I hear it, you weren’t exactly supposed to know yourself.”
“I’m not sure how much that’s actually true,” Blake replied. “From what I understand, I think Professor Ozpin expected Sunset and the others to tell me everything.”
“Wasn’t it supposed to be a big secret?”
“Yes,” Blake allowed. “But obviously, it wasn’t a complete secret, or Ozpin would never have told anybody.” She paused. “How did it feel, when you found out?”
Sun tucked his hands behind his head. He shrugged. “I dunno.”
Blake’s eyebrows rose. “You… don’t know?”
“Come on, Blake, it’s not like you’re asking me if I like raisins in my oatmeal,” Sun said. “To which the answer is-”
“You don’t like oatmeal,” Blake answered. She smiled slightly. “I remember. You prefer porridge, with banana, and you know that’s a stereotype, but you don’t care because it's delicious.”
Sun glanced away from her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember,” he murmured.
“I was always paying attention,” Blake said softly. She hesitated for a moment. “So, um, you were saying?”
“Oh, right, yeah, the whole 'we’re all gonna die' thing-”
“We’re not going to die, Sun,” Blake said. “Well, okay, yes, we are all going to die, someday, but we’re not all going to be killed by Salem. Not if we make the right moves, anyway.”
“Doesn’t she have a magic crown that lets her make all the right moves herself?”
“If she knew all the right moves, we’d be dead already, don’t you think?” Blake replied. “I don’t know how the Relic works, but there must be limitations. Clearly, you’ve thought about this a little bit, in spite of how you acted just now.”
“I never said I hadn’t thought about it,” Sun said. “I just don’t know how to think about it, if that makes sense. It’s just… it’s too big, you know? I can’t get my arms around it. It’s… it’s too big. So I just focus on the small stuff, like the people I can help, the good I can do.”
“You sound a little like May,” Blake murmured.
“Who?”
“The girl that I was here to meet,” Blake explained. “May Marigold of the Happy Huntresses.”
“Aren’t they the bad guys?”
“You’ve been talking to Rainbow Dash,” Blake observed.
“You weren’t here when I showed up,” Sun pointed out.
“The Happy Huntresses break the law, that’s true, but… that doesn’t mean that they aren’t moved by an earnest belief in their cause.”
“So were the White Fang,” Sun said.
“And the White Fang…” Blake trailed off, stopping herself from saying ‘and the White Fang had a point’ in favour of rephrasing. “That doesn’t mean that there aren’t real issues that the Huntresses, like the White Fang, are trying to highlight. They’re both going about it in the wrong way, but that doesn’t mean that their causes should be dismissed out of hand.”
“So what’s the problem?” Sun asked.
“Mantle is poor,” Blake said. “It’s suffering from underinvestment as money flows out of Mantle in taxes but doesn’t come back from Atlas; the SDC and the kingdom itself are the only major employers left in town, but the mines are drying up, so even the SDC might not stick around for much longer, and if they pull out, the only people with jobs will be the people who work for Atlas, either in the civil or military administrations. And they don’t have enough money to keep the city’s economy afloat, and everyone else is going to hate them even more than they already do. And I have no idea what the answers to all of this are, but if I’m serious about rising in this kingdom-”
“Are you?” Sun asked. “Serious?”
Blake was silent for a moment. She felt as though they were coming close to it, to the moment when… it was too soon, it was all happening too soon, she hadn’t gotten the chance to ask Twilight her advice yet. “So… if Neptune got thrown out by his family, how is he doing great?”
“What? Oh, because he and Ditzy are together now,” Sun said brightly. “Well, Neptune says they’re not ‘together-together,’ but it’s pretty obvious, if you know what I mean.”
“Ditzy has a boyfriend?!” Rainbow exclaimed from the cockpit.
“Rainbow Dash!” Blake snapped.
“Sorry, sorry, private conversation, gotcha,” Rainbow said. “You know, a lot of the special features that we added to this airship when we were fixing up are pretty obvious, like all the guns; but one thing that is not so obvious to the untrained eye is that this Skyray now has a kickass sound system, perfect for warning off unwanted eavesdropping. So hang on just a second.”
She must have done something up in the cockpit, because the entire airship began to fill with the sound of strummed guitar, followed by the voice of a singer raised in song.

“You like this song?” Blake called.
“Of course I like this song,” Rainbow shouted back. “Who doesn’t love Tailor, huh?”
Blake could dimly hear her starting to hum along as the airship flew across the icy wastes to Atlas.
Blake returned her attention to Sun. “Can you still hear me?” she asked. “I don’t really want to have to shout.”
“I think that would make it kind of pointless Rainbow putting the music on,” Sun replied. “Don’t worry; I can hear you just fine.”
“Good,” Blake said. “That… that’s good.” She paused, no, she hesitated. She had good reason to hesitate. “You know how Pyrrha can say ‘I’ve always thought it was my destiny to save the world’ and not sound completely full of herself?”
“…yeah?”
“I wish I knew how she does that; it would make this so much easier,” Blake said. “I never wanted to save the world. I always thought that saving the world, like so many heroes did in so many stories, was always so… conservative. Saving the world, and then what? Things just keep on going exactly as they were before? But what about all the problems that meant the world was in jeopardy in the first place? What about changing the world, what about making it better than it was before?
“One of my earliest memories was attending a White Fang rally, back in the days when my father was running the organisation. I don’t remember what my dad said, but what I do remember is the energy in the crowd, this feeling like… like anything was possible, like we could reshape Remnant if we wanted to, like we could transform the kingdoms into something better, fairer. That’s what I wanted. That’s what I’ve always wanted. That’s why I stayed in the White Fang even when my parents left, because I still wanted to change the world, and I was willing to embrace methods that my parents found unpalatable to do it.
“After I left the White Fang, when I first went to Beacon… I couldn’t tell you how I thought that becoming a huntress was going to help me do any of that. I never admitted it, not even to myself, but I think that for a while… I gave up on that dream. It was only after I became friends with Rainbow and started to grow closer to the Atlesians that I began to see another way, a path that I could walk to use my skills and work towards that old dream at the same time: to become a Specialist, to climb the ladder, to achieve real power, to help get other faunus in the room, just like Antonio advocates for.
“Sun… there will never be a time when I can put you ahead of what I’m doing here in Atlas.”
“I know,” Sun said.
Blake blinked. “You… you know?”
“I mean, it was always kind of obvious,” Sun told her. “You were always a ‘mission-first’ kind of woman.”
“And it never bothered you?”
“Should it have?” Sun asked. “It wasn’t like you were cheating.”
“Some people might say I’ve been cheating on you with Atlas.”
“Morons, maybe,” Sun said. “Look, Blake, there were some things that were pretty obvious about you pretty much from the moment we met. If you remember, the very first night we met, as soon as you found out there was going to be a White Fang raid on the docks, you started plotting to go down there and stop it, no matter how dangerous it was. And that… that’s kind of what I liked about you.”
“You can’t possibly have known that when you handed me that umbrella.”
“No,” Sun allowed. “I just knew you were in trouble. But later… if you weren’t so passionate, if you weren’t so determined, if you didn’t give a hundred percent, if you didn’t run straight towards your dreams… you wouldn’t be Blake Belladonna, and if you weren’t Blake, then… then I wouldn’t be here in the first place. I’m not asking you to put me first, I’m not asking you to give up the path you’re on; all I’m asking is that you let me stay by your side because… because you’re my sun, and I need you like plants need the light.”
Blake stared at him. “I don’t deserve you,” she said, and she had no idea how he was able to hear her over the music, so softly did she speak.
He grinned. “Well, if you don’t, then no one does.”
Blake covered her mouth to stifle the giggle that otherwise would have escaped her. “Well, that is very sweet… and also a matter of opinion.” She sighed. “A princess of savages is still a savage.”
“Huh?”
“Something an officer that I met said to me today,” Blake explained.
“They sound charming.”
“Mmm,” Blake agreed. “The point is… my ambition is to change Atlas and Remnant, but until I do, while I’m getting there… no one will ever let you forget what you are or where you come from. Are you okay with that?”
“Are you?” Sun asked. “Or am I going to hold you back?”
“I-”
“You can be honest,” Sun said.
Blake’s jaw tightened. “It’s a possibility.”
Sun was quiet for a moment. “What if…” He stopped, then after a moment began again. “What about those Happy Huntresses? Do you think they’d take a Happy Huntsman?”
“You want to join the Happy Huntresses?”
“You said that I sounded like one of them,” Sun pointed out. “Let me guess, they don’t know how to fix Mantle, but they’re just helping out, focussing on the things they can do.”
“Pretty much,” Blake said. “Robyn, their leader… I think there’s the idea of a plan, but ultimately, yes, it comes down to helping out. Or it did, anyway. Now that Robyn is supporting Jacques Schnee, I don’t know where that leaves the Huntresses.”
“Maybe I can start my own group,” Sun suggested. “I mean, it’s not like I can actually help you to find any of the answers to the big problems, but maybe I can help out with the small stuff around Mantle, and the kingdom, while you figure all this stuff out.”
“And where would that leave us?” Blake asked.
“Whatever you want us to be,” Sun said. “Allies who share-”
“A bed?”
“I was going to say a bond, but that’s not to say we can’t hook up sometimes.”
Blake laughed. “You… you’d really do all that, just to be near me?”
“I’d do all that to help you,” Sun said. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Blake stared into those guileless blue eyes. Where else am I going to find someone who accepts me so completely and utterly for who I am, without a single note of hesitation? Gently, she reached out and took him by the hand, “You know,” she said, “whatever the future holds for us in Atlas, we’re going to be in Mistral for a while first. Where I won’t be an Atlesian officer with her reputation to think of.”
“While I’ll be one of Pyrrha Nikos’ Myrmidons, a hero of Mistral,” Sun said. “Or something like that anyway.”
“The point being,” Blake went on, “that while we’re there, I’m sure that nobody would mind if we were to share-”
“A bond?”
“Something like that.”

Three weeks earlier…
“Without wishing to appear ungrateful, there seems little need for you to have come and seen us off,” Ciel said. “I am sure you must have many pressing responsibilities.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Twilight said, waving one hand dismissively. “I can take a little break. I just wanted to see how you would… I mean I wanted to see you leave.”
Ciel’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Ciel glanced from Twilight to Penny, who was bouncing softly on the balls of her feet. “Really? Somehow I doubt that.”
“We’re just really excited,” Penny said. “I mean, I’m excited to set off on my big tour!” She gasped. “Look! There’s the airship.”
“I have ears,” Ciel said, for she heard the airship’s engines as well as any of them and could see the Skyray as well as they could too as it swooped in towards the docking pad. The pilot was clearly a bit of a show-off, because they performed a completely unnecessary victory roll as they came in before descending smoothly onto the platform.
There was a moment’s pause before the ramp descended and the side door opened to reveal Thunderlane.
“So,” he said, “I don’t suppose this means we can have our second date a little sooner than we thought?”
Ciel’s eyes widened. “Thunderlane?”
“I was as surprised as you when I got the orders to replace your pilot on the tour,” Thunderlane said, leaping down from the airship. “But orders are orders, especially when they’re orders that I like.” He grinned.
Ciel stared at him. “Will you pardon me, just one moment?” she said before turning to look at Penny and Twilight. “You two had something to do with this, didn’t you?”
Twilight smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Now…
“I must confess,” Ciel said, “that at that moment, I was somewhat irritated at their behaviour.”
“You were hoping to get away from me?” Thunderlane asked lightly, amusement in his tone.
“No,” Ciel replied quickly. “But it is not their place to interfere in my romantic relationships… and in any case, I disapprove on principle of… I do not know how they did it, whether they spoke to the General or Twilight meddled with the official records, but in any case, I dislike the idea of using personal influence to change postings and orders for personal benefit. It smacks of corruption.”
“If that’s true, then doesn’t that make the whole system corrupt?” Thunderlane asked. “I mean, everybody does it.”
“That does not make it right,” Ciel replied.
“Didn’t you only meet the Dragonslayer in the first place because General Ironwood knew you already and trusted you to be a safe pair of hands?” Thunderlane asked.
Ciel felt her face flush. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well… can I not wish that we had a… purer system, even while I have been a beneficiary of its impurities?”
Thunderlane shrugged. “I don’t see any way around it,” he said. “Unless you’re going to have… I don’t know, AIs or something deciding all the promotions and who goes where, then so long as the choices are made by people, then personal preference is always going to have something to do with it.” He paused. “And based on Penny, I think even if you did have AIs making the choices, then personal preference would still have a lot to do with it.”
Ciel covered her mouth demurely to suppress a chuckle. “Yes, Penny is… I take your point on that, at least. And in any case, it would be remiss of me not to add at this point that… I am glad that they did what they did.”
Thunderlane smiled at her. “You mean you’re glad I’m here?”
“I’m glad we didn’t leave it at our first date,” Ciel confirmed.
The broken moon shone down upon them both as they walked through the grounds of Canterlot Combat School. It might have seemed a strange place for them to be, but after dinner, neither of them had wanted to go back to their hotel rooms yet, and yet, in a small town such as this, there was not a great deal to do. The Combat School dominated all. And yet, despite its martial purpose, it had a quite excellent set of gardens; as Principal Celestia had described them earlier, generations of students had built them up over time, and as they were now, they were a very pleasant place to take a walk, arm in arm, with the moonlight falling upon them.
Thunderlane drew her in closer. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. I can fly you from town to town as well as anyone-”
“Some might call it a waste of your talents,” Ciel murmured.
“Flying you and Penny from town to town would be a waste of the talents of any pilot worth their salt,” Thunderlane pointed out. “So it might as well be me wasting my talents as anyone else. The tour is going well, and we’re going well, so what’s the problem?”
“No problem,” Ciel conceded. “Far from it.” She leaned against his arm. “As I said… I am glad, very glad, that you’re here.”
Thunderlane tucked one of his dark wings around her shoulders. “I’m glad that I don’t have to worry about all the men that you might meet on this tour while I’m stuck at base.”
“You do not trust me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Thunderlane replied. “I just have… a sense of my own limitations.”
“A sense too humble, by far,” Ciel murmured. “Pilots are supposed to be vain of their dashing qualities, are they not?”
Thunderlane chuckled. “Human pilots, maybe,” he said. He paused for a moment. “It’s weird, you know.”
“Not unless you explain, I’m afraid,” Ciel said.
“Being on this tour with you and Penny,” Thunderlane said. “It’s like… it’s as if I’m seeing two sides of this kingdom. Or at least, I’m seeing one side of it out here with you: the rapturous crowds that come out for Penny, the donations… I mean it seems to be going pretty well.”
“I am not privy to the financial minutia myself, but nothing that I have heard indicates any displeasure,” Ciel replied.
Thunderlane nodded. “And then, when we watch the news, there’s the other side of the kingdom, the side that looks like it’s going to elect Jacques Schnee onto the Council. It’s almost hard to believe they’re the same place, you know?”
“You are not a fan of Mister Schnee,” Ciel said.
“That… that’s a fair way of putting it,” Thunderlane acknowledged. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be either.”
“Indeed, I am not,” Ciel replied dryly. “Although it must be acknowledged that the SDC has been a help to the military technologically… I feel as though we could have done as much in-house, and probably cheaper too, were it not for the influence the SDC possesses enabling them to get a foot in the door. I sometimes wonder why Jacques Schnee wants to be on the Council; he was not without influence on it already.”
“It sounds as though he’s tired of working with the military,” Thunderlane muttered. “Maybe it’s selfish to be worried about this, but I’m afraid that if he gets on the Council… if we start mothballing ships and squadrons to save money-”
“One man, even one man on the Council, cannot make those kinds of cuts to the establishment,” Ciel assured him.
“But if people are willing to elect one man like that, why not more down the line?” Thunderlane asked her. “I just… I’m a faunus, and I’m a double amputee: two reasons why I’ll be one of the first on the chopping block if they start rolling back the strength.” He paused. “I… I don’t know what I’d do if they won’t let me fly any more.”
“That will not happen,” Ciel declared.
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“Because…” Ciel hesitated for a moment. “Because I will use whatever influence I have to ensure that it does not.”
Thunderlane looked down at her. “Benefiting from the… impurities of the system?”
“While the system remains impure, why should I not?” Ciel asked. “As you say, it is not as though others will be abstaining. And besides, allowing you to be discharged because of your race or the sacrifice that you have already made for Atlas… it would hardly be in the best interest of the kingdom.”
“Not something I ever thought I’d think would be one of the sweetest things that anyone has ever said to me, but,” Thunderlane bent down and kissed her, “thank you.”
“Thank me not for a promise,” Ciel told him. “Especially not one that I very much hope I will not have to fulfill. I hope it will not come to that. I hope that Atlas will not show itself… I wish for this kingdom to be better than that. I would rather not see it elect a man who spits on the military despite having not served a day in uniform, who attacks… everything that Atlas is supposed to stand for, a man who would have us turn our backs and hide from… I am sorry, I’m beginning to rant.”
Thunderlane laughed. “Don’t apologise; it was actually getting… kind of magnificent.”
“As my boyfriend, do you feel you have to say things like that?”
“As your boyfriend, I have to tell you the truth,” Thunderlane replied. “And the truth is… I agree. I don’t want to wonder what it means that people want a man like that on the Council. I don’t want to have to wonder what changed or-”
“Or whether nothing changed,” Ciel murmured. “Or whether it was there all along.”
A silence descended upon the pair of them.
“Well, that turned into a downer, didn’t it?” Thunderlane asked. “Let’s… I don’t want the night to end like that; let’s see if we can’t find something, somewhere, a little more fun to put this behind us, huh?”
“I’ve no objection,” Ciel said. “Do you have anywhere in mind?”
“Not a clue,” Thunderlane admitted. “Let’s just take a look, huh? There must be somewhere.”
They left the gardens, crossing the open courtyard in front of the school. In the moonlight, the statue of the horse mounted atop the central plinth gleamed brilliant white.
As they were passing before the statue, Ciel and Thunderlane were halted when one side of the plinth glowed brightly, shimmering for a moment like water as Sunset Shimmer stumbled out of the plinth itself to land flat on her face upon the ground.
“What the-?” Thunderlane exclaimed.
“Sunset?” Ciel gasped.
Sunset rose to her feet. “That’s the same as it was the last time,” she muttered. She held her hands up in front of her. “Fingers.” She paused. “Toes.” She ran her hands through her hair, touching her twitching equine ears. “Four ears. Again.” She pumped one arm, and felt her biceps with the other. “I was kind of hoping that with that new strength, I’d come back toned like Pyrrha. Pity.” She sighed. “Looks like I’m just like I was before. On the outside, anyway.”
“Sunset?!” Ciel cried, more loudly this time.
Sunset’s ears pricked up. She turned around. “Oh, hey Ciel,” she said. A slightly nervous laugh escaped her lips. “So… who’s the guy?”