Long Unspoken
"I see that you've redecorated," Sunset observed, as her gaze flew around the throne room. A smile pricked at the corners of her l- her mouth; of course she didn't have lips as a pony. "I don't like it."
In truth, the throne room was mostly the same as she remembered it; it was probably not exactly the same red carpet, considering how many hooves walked upon it every day, but whoever was in charge of replacing them had managed to get the exact same shade; the dais rose above the room, just as it always had, and Princess Celestia's throne sat atop the dais, just as it always had, although the princess did not sit upon it at present but had descended to a level with Sunset and Princess Twilight – or perhaps it should be said that she had declined to ascend, given that they had all entered the room together.
Even the flowers that sat beneath the dais, on either side of the carpet, looked the same, even though they were manifestly not, unless they were the longest-lived flowers that were ever heard of. Nevertheless, they were the same shade, the same breed, the same shape as Sunset remembered.
At least, she thought they were. Her memories were not what they could have been; perhaps she was simply projecting continuity into what was, in fact, new and different.
Nevertheless, the only substantial changes that Sunset noticed in the throne room, amidst the familiar pillars and walls and carpet, were the stained glass windows that dominated the white walls and provided most of the decoration in what was otherwise an almost minimalist place. In Sunset's day, they had been mostly abstract: phases of the moon, a sun falling upon a world, that sort of thing. There were still some of those, but fewer now than there had been before.
In their place had been erected monuments to Twilight Sparkle. In Sunset's time, only a single window had existed depicting some great triumph of the past, and that the victory of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna over Discord – although there had been also, and remained, a second window displaying the tyranny of Discord from which they had redeemed Equestria. Now, stained glass commemorated the defeat of Nightmare Moon, Discord for the second time, the changelings, Sombra, Tirek, not to mention Twilight's ascension to the crown and rank of princess.
In her latter days here in the palace, Sunset had always told herself that Cadance's accomplishments were not that impressive, her ascension nothing so special, because if it had been, then Princess Celestia would have immortalised it in these windows.
That didn't really hold water anymore.
It was a good thing that Sunset was past caring.
Princess Twilight, on the other hand – other hoof, rather, while she was here; even if it was only for a brief visit, she should at least try and get back into the local jargon – seemed to care a little bit, albeit not perhaps in the right way, judging by the way that a flush of embarrassment rose to her cheeks and she started to look away.
"Oh, don't act like that," Sunset snapped good-naturedly. "You're as bad as Pyrrha."
Princess Twilight seemed to avoid looking at Princess Celestia as she murmured, "I didn't ask for any of these."
"It doesn't mean you didn't earn them," Sunset replied. "Let me tell you, if I had saved Equestria…" – she began to count the windows – "one, two, three-"
"That one's not me," Princess Twilight pointed out, when Sunset's hoof reached the window celebrating the defeat of the changeling. "That was Cadance and Shining Armor."
Sunset squinted at the two ponies drawn in outline against the pink background; yes, that was Cadance, wasn't it? Now that she looked more closely, she could see it plainly. "Okay, two-"
"Although," Princess Celestia interjected wryly, "while Princess Cadance and Shining Armor repelled the changeling attack, it was only thanks to Twilight that the changeling threat was uncovered to be repelled."
"Right," Sunset said. "We'll call that two and a half. Three and a half-"
"That's not me, either," Princess Twilight insisted as Sunset began to count King Sombra's downfall. "I told you, that was Spike."
"With your help," Princess Celestia reminded her. "By placing the good of the Crystal Empire above your personal objective, you showed you were one step closer to being ready."
"Princess," Twilight moaned.
Princess Celestia covered her mouth with one hoof as she chuckled. "Forgive me, Twilight; your humility is very charming, but as your teacher, as somepony who has watched you grow up before my eyes, it's only natural that I want to celebrate your accomplishments and let the rest of Equestria know how proud I am of you." The gaze of her royal purple eyes shifted for a moment to fall on Sunset and lingered there for a few seconds.
The smile returned to Sunset's face, more in earnestness this time, as she resumed her counting. "We'll call that half as well: three, four – if I had saved Equestria four times, including partials–"
"All of my victories have been partials," Twilight insisted. "I couldn't have done any of those things without the help of my friends."
"–and ascended to become an alicorn and a princess in the bargain," Sunset went on, ignoring Twilight's protestation – just because she'd done everything with help didn't change the fact that she'd done it, "I would want everypony in Equestria to know exactly who I was and what I'd done."
"Would you still?" Twilight asked. There was no judgement in her voice, only curiosity, and yet… Sunset felt that it was a question which invited judgement.
Her ears – her only set of ears, for now; it was weird only having two again; Sunset felt ever so slightly deaf – drooped down into the midst of her fiery mane as she considered the question. "No," she admitted. "Probably not, not anymore. I… I just want this to be over. They can forget my name, they can curse my name for all I care, but I want this to be over. I want it done before it kills Pyrrha, before it kills Ruby. I want it done before Cinder dies fighting at my side because I couldn't walk away from it and she wouldn't walk away from me, I want… I want all of this to be over, and everything precious, rare, and beautiful that presently lies beneath the threat of Salem's malice to be… safe." She snorted. "I don't want much, do I?"
"You want nothing, Sunset," Princess Celestia declared. "Nothing but what we ponies take for granted here in Equestria."
"'Take for granted'?" Sunset repeated. "I'm not sure that I'd say that, Princess." Once more, she glanced at the stained glass windows, the records of Twilight's many valiant deeds and accomplishments for Equestria. "I'd say that it is fought for, and bravely so."
"Will you both stop?" Twilight asked. "It's bad enough that… do you know what the best part of being a princess is?"
"When I last lived here, I would have said either 'the power' or 'the glory,'" Sunset replied. "So it can't be either of those, so… more magic to protect your friends?"
Twilight's eyebrows rose.
"What? I'm serious," Sunset said. "The best thing about being an alicorn from my perspective is it increases the number of ways I can fight."
"And for that, I feel sorry for you," Twilight murmured. It was a sentiment that could have easily sounded patronising or pitying, but coming from Twilight, it sounded nothing less than wholly sincere and earnestly meant. "But no, the answer – my answer, at least – is that the best thing about being a princess is that very rarely does anypony seem to care that I'm a princess."
"That fact has not always pleased you," Princess Celestia reminded her archly.
"Yes," Sunset agreed. "I seem to remember being told that you were going through something of a crisis of faith at one point, something about not knowing what the point of it all was?"
"That wasn't because I wanted people to praise me or kiss my hooves," Twilight insisted. "That was because I wanted to make myself useful. What I mean is that, after defeating Nightmare Moon, after defeating Discord, even after becoming a princess, I went right back to the library in Ponyville, just like Pinkie went back to the bakery and Rarity went back to her boutique and Applejack went back to her farm. I would have gone back to the library after stopping Tirek too, if it hadn't been destroyed." A sigh of regret escaped from Twilight. "My point is that I never did any of this because I wanted to be worshipped, and I… Princess, I know that you're proud of me, and I'm so glad that I've managed to make you proud and repay you for everything that you've done for me, but at the same time… that doesn't mean that I like… I sometimes worry that I-"
"That you'll be put on a pedestal?" Sunset suggested. "That people will make such a fuss about how great you are that they will start to believe that your very greatness puts you beyond their reach? That they will admire you only from a distance, condemn you to be only what they wish or hope or need you to be? That the princess of friendship will be left without any friends at all?"
Twilight's brow furrowed. "How did you-?"
"Like I said, you're just like Pyrrha," Sunset said, a slight, tight smile fleeting across her features. "Personally, I wouldn't worry too much about it, not while… not while you have those girls around you."
Twilight chuckled. "No, I guess it won't be a problem with them around."
Sunset hesitated for a moment. Was there a polite or diplomatic way to ask this? Was it rude to ask this? Should she simply ask on behalf of herself, but then, she was curious about Twilight as well. Perhaps there was no nice way to ask, only a direct one. "Twilight, do you know… has ascension made you immortal?" It was not a guarantee that becoming an alicorn would, in fact, lead to immortality. In fact, more often than not, it did not, else Equestria would have been overrun with alicorns – for this was not the only generation in which one or two ponies had ascended to a state greater than that which had been born; Twilight and Cadance – and Sunset, it seemed – were not the first to tread this path. Yet, alicorn or no, they had succumbed to the passing of the years. And yet it was not always so, as the presence of Princess Celestia gave proof of. Some alicorns rose higher even than the rest of that exalted pack, enduring time as though it were a light rain, as permanent as the mountains upon whose slopes sat Canterlot. Was Twilight in the former or the latter camp? And in which camp was Sunset?
Silence crashed resoundingly into the throne room, and Sunset began to wish that she hadn't spoken. And yet, if she could not speak of it here, then where? If she could not speak of it now, then when? If she could not speak of it to these two, then to whom?
Twilight's face fell, and her ears drooped. "I… I try not to think about it," she said softly. "But… yes, I am immortal. I asked Princess Celestia about it, not long after I ascended."
Sunset looked at Princess Celestia. "You can tell," she said, not asking a question so much as stating a fact.
Princess Celestia's expression was solemn. "It can be determined, once one knows how," she said, her voice quiet. "Would you like to know, Sunset Shimmer?"
Not really. "I think I probably should," Sunset said. "If I am, and it creeps up on me unawares, then it might seem disingenuous to my friends to suggest I didn't know." She looked back at Twilight. "Do your friends know?"
Princess Twilight nodded.
"How did they take it?" Sunset asked.
"Better than I did, actually," Princess Twilight admitted. "Pinkie said that we'd just have to make the most of the time that we had; Applejack pointed out that it wasn't likely we'd all live to the exact same age in any case; Fluttershy pointed out that I wasn't the only friend she had who was going to outlive her, and she hadn't let it stand between her and Discord; Rarity… Rarity said she was glad someone would be around to watch her fashion empire continue under her carefully-chosen successors," Twilight said. She smiled. "And Rainbow asked me to keep track of how long it took for anypony to break her Wonderbolt records."
Sunset chuckled. “You’re very lucky.”
Twilight smiled. “I know. Trust me, I know. For what it’s worth, it sounds as though you haven’t done that badly yourself.”
“I’m aware of that too,” Sunset acknowledged. “But still-”
“It isn’t easy,” Twilight murmured. “As much as Applejack’s right, that still doesn’t make it easy to accept that, one day, I’ll… one day, they’ll… one day, I’ll be alone.”
“Cadance?” Sunset suggested weakly.
“Isn’t immortal,” Twilight said, her voice becoming even quieter. “And neither is Flurry Heart.”
“Who?”
“Cadance’s daughter,” Twilight explained. “Doesn’t Cadance have a daughter in your world?”
“Not as far as I’m aware,” Sunset admitted. “But we’re not close, so who knows?” She paused for a moment. “That is… that’s…” She glanced at Princess Celestia, who stood before them as still as marble and just as effulgent, her mane of many colours shimmering and wafting gently even in the still, calm air of the throne room.
Princess Celestia closed her eyes for a moment. “Indeed,” she said, and for all that her voice was soft yet, it carried across the room. “it is, in many ways, unspeakable. And yet, as I am sure that your Professor Ozpin could tell you, Sunset, besides the obvious disadvantages come great blessings also.” She smiled. “For instance, if I were not immortal, then I would not have lived long enough to know such gifted fillies as the two of you.”
Sunset felt her cheeks heat up and guessed that Twilight’s blush was mirrored on her own face. “You… you are too kind, Princess. Far kinder than I deserve.” She glanced down at her hooves, and then glanced up again. “I see that hasn’t changed.”
“It is true,” Princess Celestia began, before her voice faltered and trailed off. She walked closer towards them, her steps delicate, graceful and entirely silent. “It is true that a mother will never cease to love her children, but nevertheless…” – a smile blossomed on her face like the rising of the sun – “I think that in your cases, it is very well deserved.”
Sunset looked at Twilight and found Twilight looking at her in turn. I guess… this makes us sisters? Strange, that that was the only reaction that she had. Princess Celestia had just declared herself to be Sunset’s mother – and Twilight’s mother, or one of her mothers, too – and yet she felt… well, what was there to feel? It was not surprising enough to produce a great well of emotion out of Sunset Shimmer, comparable to how she had felt simply beholding Princess Celestia again. It was one of those things that they had never said, that had lain unspoken between them, but having lain unspoken, it was something that, once spoken… well, yes. Of course she was Sunset’s mother, which was not something Sunset thought in entitlement but rather… what else did you call the pony who woke you in the morning, tucked you in at night with a bedtime story, nursed you when you were sick, watched you grow… forgave you all your trespasses? A teacher? A princess? No. What else did you call them really but a mother?
And what did you call somepony who didn’t realise how much they had taken all of that love, affection, and attention for granted until it was no longer there but a daughter?
Judging by the look on her face, it seemed as though Twilight was thinking much the same thing: it did not provoke any feelings that hadn’t been there all along.
None save for gratitude, immense gratitude, that she had said it.
Sunset moved forwards, her hooves clattering – she did not have Princess Celestia’s silent grace – upon the floor of the throne room, and she found that Twilight was moving forward as well, the both of them bearing down upon Celestia together, even as she crouched down and wrapped them both within her wings’ embrace.
Sisters, then.
Sunset closed her eyes and relaxed into Princess Celestia’s loving, maternal embrace. “I love you too, Mother.”
She heard Celestia chuckled softly, her cheek trembling slightly as it pressed against Sunset’s own.
“I wish that I could keep you with me,” Celestia murmured. “I wish that I could keep the both of you here, and safe, and with me. I would not send Twilight hence to battle any more monstrous threats that might arise against us, and I would not send you through the mirror to confront the horrors that infest the world of Remnant. I would… I would keep you safe.” Celestia’s smile was touched by frost as she rose. “But you have both grown up too much for that, haven’t you?”
“I fear so,” Sunset said, “though for my part, at least, it took me long enough.” She hesitated. “I only hope that I can make you proud with my actions on my return.” She held up one forestalling hoof. “Don’t say that I’ve made you proud already. I… I have done little enough worth your pride.”
“You have ascended,” Princess Celestia reminded her. “You have become an alicorn, and a princess-”
“An alicorn, perhaps,” Sunset conceded.
“There’s not really much of a 'perhaps' about it,” Twilight pointed out. “Your wings are right there.”
“Okay, smarty-pants, an alicorn then,” Sunset said. “But a princess?”
“The one goes with the other, at least in this world,” Celestia declared. Her smile was a little sly as she said, “If only because ‘princess’ rolls a little easier off the tongue than ‘alicorn’ and is more readily understandable to non-ponies.” She winked. “It is unfortunate that we cannot have a coronation, but I fear it would raise too many questions about who you are and where you have come from, not to mention the further questions that would be raised once you disappeared again. Nevertheless, when you return to Remnant, you may hold your head up high and call yourself a princess, and anyone who wishes to dispute your claim may take it up with me.”
Sunset grinned. “I fear that doing so would make me more a figure of fun than of respect in Remnant… but then, I’ve made myself a figure of fun in Remnant plenty of times to plenty of people, so why stand on my precarious dignity now, of all times?” She paused. “It’s funny how…” She glanced at Twilight. “You didn’t want this, wings or crown or temporal glories; you never sought or strove for any of it, and yet, here you are, Princess of Friendship, possessor of a castle, beloved and celebrated in stained glass and in much else. You… you really are like my friend Pyrrha; for all her talk of destiny and duty and the great task that she would accomplish, I think a part of her, the heart of her, would like nothing more than a simple life with Jaune, to be his wife and have his children and enjoy his love while they grow old. But fate would have it otherwise, and though she claims her destiny is in her choosing, destiny, it seems, would have it otherwise as well. And me, I… I wanted everything that you have. I wanted all the things you did not seek, I wanted them with a burning eagerness, a flame that burnt out all else within me, and yet now… yet now-”
“You have achieved it all,” Celestia said, “in ways that neither you nor I could possibly have imagined.” She sighed. “Save, if you still desired it, immortality.”
Sunset stared up at her, face unmoving. “You… you did whatever… while we were hugging?”
“It was not a trick,” Celestia assured her. “I simply didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or self-conscious.”
“I see,” Sunset whispered. “Thank you for your concern.” She hesitated for a moment, gathering up her thoughts.
It was strange that she had thoughts about what was, after all, a mere continuation of the status quo. She had been mortal before; she was mortal now. She had known that she would die at some point; that truth remained the case.
What, then, was there to think about?
Was she disappointed? No, at least… no. No, she was not. She would have been, once upon a time; at about the same that she would have been envious of all of Twilight’s stained glass windows. When she had looked into the mirror for the first time and seen in it not a reflection but, as she had taken it then, a premonition of glory to come, she had seen herself not only as an alicorn but an immortal, too.
‘I see somepony who could rule all of Equestria.’ So she had said, proudly and unabashed, and that somepony who could rule all of Equestria would, of necessity, be immortal. No mortal could rule, or at least not for long; they would die, and what would happen then?
But that dream had died a long time ago. The rule of Equestria was no longer her desire. And as for immortality… perhaps there would have been some good that she could do with it, perhaps she could have taken Professor Ozpin’s place in watching over the world – after all, she had originally scorned and derided his ability or lack thereof to do so precisely because he was not immortal.
So perhaps, if an immortal was necessary to watch over the world, to keep Salem in check, to guard and guide the people of Remnant as Professor Ozpin had sought to do, then…
Then what? Then I should have been immortal to take on the burden? Well, that isn’t going to happen, is it?
Or at least, it hasn’t happened yet, and if it didn’t happen during my ascension, I don’t see when else it would be likely to take place.
Was that a pity, though? Was that something she ought to regret, that she would one day die, that she would be unable to defend Remnant and ensure that any progress she and her friends made would endure?
Should she regret that she would have to watch her friends succumb to old age and the decay of years? Should she regret that she would not have to watch, unchanged, as they laid Pyrrha to rest in her family crypt? Should she regret that she wouldn’t have to hold Cinder’s withered, aged hand and endure the pain in Cinder’s eyes as she looked up into a face that was as young and strong as it had been on the night they met?
No. No, she did not regret that. She would not, could not regret that.
She would live a mortal life and die when her allotted time was done.
Everything ends, and it’s always sad, but if something didn’t end, that might be even worse.
“Thank you,” she repeated. “Thank you, Princess; that is…” She glanced at Princess Twilight, not wanting to say anything insensitive.
Princess Twilight smiled. “You can admit it’s a relief, if you want to.”
“It is,” Sunset admitted. “I didn’t really want to-”
“Be alone?” Twilight asked.
“I might have been about to say something less selfish,” Sunset murmured.
“It’s okay,” Princess Twilight assured her. “It’s… there was one more thing that I didn’t tell you, about how my friends reacted when I told them… about what I had become.” Twilight closed her eyes as her smile widened. “They were all worried about whether I was going to be okay without them, and they made me promise that I wouldn’t… that I wouldn’t let myself become lonely once they were gone.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “How… how does any mare get so lucky as to have five friends like that?”
“By having it in her heart to become Princess of Friendship?” Sunset suggested. “Still, I hope that you don’t take it too hard when I say that… I do not envy you. I do not envy… either of you; there may be consolations in it, as you say, Princess, there may be general advantage to, but the cost… no, I do not envy either of you, and I do not envy Professor Ozpin.” She licked her lips. “So, if I have still only a relatively brief time remaining, then I will have to make that spur me to ingenuity in the time that remains.”
“How do you mean?” Twilight asked.
Sunset looked at her. “I mean… that I don’t intend to pass this war onto Pyrrha’s children,” she declared. “I mean to make an end of it, and of Salem too.” She smiled. “I would see Pyrrha’s destiny fulfilled.” That smile turned into a rueful chuckle. “Of course, I haven’t actually figured out how I’m going to do that yet, but such is my ambition, at least.”
“And a worthy one too,” Princess Celestia pronounced. “Any help that we may offer, any assistance that you may require… you have but to ask.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Sunset said. “I will… give it some thought before I go.” She paused for a moment. “Can I ask a question?”
Princess Celestia’s smile was inviting as she said, “Anything you wish.”
“Thank you,” Sunset said. “I don’t suppose that either of you can tell me what I’m a princess of, if I am a princess?”
“You are a princess,” Twilight said. “You might not think you’re worthy – I didn’t think I was worthy either – but someone or something does.”
“Okay, fine,” Sunset said quickly. “But a princess of what?”
“I think the answer to your question depends, in part, upon a question,” Twilight replied. “How did you ascend, and where?”
Sunset unfurled her wings out on either side of her in a sort of shrug. “I… I’m not quite sure. As you can imagine, it’s not as obvious as it is here.”
“You must have noticed when you acquired new powers,” Twilight said.
“Not at first,” Sunset admitted. “I noticed that my magic was getting stronger after I saved Amber, but I didn’t notice that I possessed earth pony strength or the pegasi ability to manipulate the weather until after I saved Cinder, so… it could be either of those, but my preference would be that I did not ascend until after I rescued Cinder from Salem’s darkness. At least that was actually a success.”
One of the reasons she was finding it a little hard to accept the idea of herself as a princess was that she had failed at far more than she had succeeded at in Remnant. Amber had betrayed their cause and died; Professor Ozpin had died; the Relic of Choice had been taken by Salem’s forces; about the only two things that Sunset had indisputably done right were keeping her team alive, sometimes in the teeth of their own best instincts, and saving Cinder. If her ascension had come about as a result of what she had done to Amber… that would be bittersweet, to say the least.
“Is there any way to find out?” she asked. “How did you work out that you were the Princess of Friendship?”
“Just as you said: I worked it out,” Twilight said. “Nopony told me; I didn’t wake up realising it. It… it showed itself to me, and it will show itself to you too. Just give it time.”
“The way that my cutie mark showed itself to me?” Sunset asked. “The cutie mark that I still don’t actually understand?”
“There, I can help you,” Twilight assured her. “Or at least, I know three very special fillies in Ponyville who can help you.”
“On which note,” Princess Celestia said, “perhaps we should rejoin the others?”
“Actually,” Sunset replied, “could I speak to you alone for just one moment?”
Twilight smiled encouragingly at her. “I’ll be right outside.”
Her horn glowed a bright lavender as she opened the door with her magic. It opened nearly silently – Twilight’s hoof-falls as she trotted out made more noise – and closed every bit as quietly.
The hinges, Sunset recalled, had always been kept well-oiled.
Nevertheless, the door had closed, and Sunset was alone with Celestia.
Just as she had wished.
“You never… you never called yourself my mother before,” Sunset murmured.
“No,” Celestia replied, in a voice that was just as soft. “Perhaps, if I had-”
“No,” Sunset said quickly. “No, it… none of what happened to me was your fault. You gave me more love than I deserved, and it was not enough. A word, a word that was no less true for being unspoken, would not have changed that.”
A sadness appeared in Celestia’s eyes. “But the love that you received in Remnant, that is enough?”
“That is not the difference,” Sunset whispered. “That isn’t… that’s not why I changed.”
“Then why?” Celestia asked.
Sunset blinked rapidly. “I… honestly, it’s hard to say. I… maybe I just got older, and a little wiser along with it? Maybe it’s the fact that I was forced to mingle with other people until I realised that it wasn’t so bad. Maybe I needed to go to a world where there were other people as obnoxious as me, so that, by seeing myself reflected in their imperfections, I could revile myself as others reviled me and as I reviled others.” She chuckled darkly. “I cannot point to one single thing, but there was nothing else you could have done but did not do. You cannot blame yourself. I will not allow it. All blame for what befell, for what broke between us… it is on me.” She bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Princess. For everything.”
“You have apologised already,” Celestia reminded her.
“Not in pony,” Sunset pointed out.
“Nevertheless, you have apologised and been forgiven,” Celestia declared. “No more of that. What’s past is past.”
“Says the pony who was about to apologise to me?”
Celestia chuckled. “Very well. No more of that from either of us. Let the past truly be the past and let our eyes be fixed only on the future.” She smiled, as warmly and as brightly as the sun which she controlled. “I’ve missed you, little sunbeam.”
Sunset covered her mouth with one hoof as she giggled at that fillyhood nickname. “I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed… I’ve missed this place. I’ve missed these halls, I’ve missed the gilded spires, I’ve missed the city. And I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you most of all.”
“And yet you cannot stay,” Celestia murmured.
Sunset shook her head. “A piece of my heart desires it,” she whispered. “To remain here, to never pass beyond the mirror again, to leave it all behind and live in the peace that you have wrought… but duty and destiny compel me otherwise. I… perhaps it is indulgent to say that I have earned a little respite, but nevertheless, I may only take a brief rest before the storm bears me on its wings again.” She paused. “And I think, if I felt otherwise, you would have far less reason to be proud of me.”
Celestia was silent for a moment. “I think you may be right. I suppose that I will simply have to make the most of the time that we have together.” She smiled. “Now, shall we rejoin your friends?”
“Yes,” Sunset agreed. “Yes, let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”