In the northernmost region of a vast expanse of chilly countryside whose likeness had never been drawn upon a map, there stood a great mountain, massive and un-scalable. A traveler approaching from the south only had two options. If he were to bear west, he would find a dense forest of evergreens. It was a place that was beautiful to the eye, but its tranquil appearance was deceptive, for within it, the wolves ruled. All other creatures that lived therein could only cower in the dark, wondering not if, but when they would become a meal and take their preordained places as rent, decomposing carcasses.
However, if the traveler were to walk east for an afternoon, he would notice the trees thinning until they opened up into a series of gently-rolling hills. Nestled among these hills, not a stone’s throw from the base of the mountain, there was a small village. Living so far to the north meant a trying life for its people; they grew what they could in the warm months, and when the winter came, they hunkered down, rationed their food, and waited out the cold. But they had been there for generations, they knew their land, and no outsider had ever tried to take it from them. Thieves desire reward without effort, and living in such a place was anything but easy. So the people of the small village were secluded, and they were happy.
Or at least they had been.
“Witches!” the man spat, struggling against his bindings. He rocked back and forth in the chair, but the ropes held him to it.
“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it, yes,” Adagio said thoughtfully, tapping her chin.
“Do what you will to me, succubus,” the man snarled, “but there are others who suspect you; your time is short regardless.”
On a moonlit night in the frigid dead of winter, they’d staggered through the trees – three seemingly young girls, naked and starving, wearing jewels around their necks fit for kings. Without hesitation, he’d rushed them home, and the small village had welcomed them with open arms. But now he understood his folly, for they were not girls, but devils. The year that had passed since had seen the town torn apart by hatred and strife. Men and women alike had been too absorbed in their petty interpersonal squabbles to attend to what really mattered, and they had fallen on a cold and lean winter. Rumors of deception and betrayal were still whispered in any open ear, and a mysterious fog had settled over the village that grew thicker wherever the strangers walked. He had found them out, but his legs had not carried him fast enough to escape their wickedness.
“You’re not helping your cause,” Adagio said icily. She turned, and with a tilt of her head, motioned for Aria and Sonata to follow her to the other side of the room.
“What do we do with him?” Aria prompted in a whisper, gratefully drinking in the warmth of the hearth that hissed and crackled beside her.
“We can just keep him here,” Sonata suggested in a similarly hushed tone, “as long as we make sure he doesn’t escape, he can’t tell the others.”
“How long do you think it’s going to take before they realize their only competent hunter has just vanished?” Aria asked, rolling her eyes, “and how long before they come looking here?”
“Aria is right,” Adagio murmured, partly to herself and partly to the others. Her eyes darted back and forth as she searched her mind for a solution. “If they find that we’re holding him captive, we’ll be no better off.”
“We could sing to him,” Sonata offered, “we could change his mind or make him forget.”
“We’re too weak,” Adagio replied, shaking her head, “it would be a waste of effort and what little magic we have left.” The magic in this strange land was not as it was in Equestria, the sirens had discovered. It was feeble and sparse. What little power they had gained over the past twelve months had been channeled back into creating more conflict, as it was no easy task to turn the residents of such a close-knit community against one another. They were nowhere near being able to cast their spell, not even on a single person. “We have only one option,” the eldest siren said after a long pause, her voice quavering almost imperceptibly. She reached to the mantle above the roaring fireplace to retrieve a disused skinning knife that lay collecting dust. Aria had enough self-control not to flinch when the reality of the plan dawned on her, but Sonata gasped.
“Adagio,” the blue girl whimpered, “no…”
“We are far from home,” Adagio said with a resolute expression and a far-off look in her eyes, “and I will not spend the rest of my life in this frigid hell. We cannot afford to lose the ground we’ve gained.”
“No,” Sonata insisted, arms hugged tight against her chest, “we can’t. We’re not monsters. We’re not…murderers.”
“Be quiet, Sonata,” Aria hissed.
“However trite it may sound,” Adagio breathed, staring at some distant point in space, “desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“No,” Sonata said again with greater force, her face hardening, “I won’t let you.”
“Sonata, I swear…” Aria snarled, but she was cut off by the voice of their leader.
“What else can we do?” Adagio demanded, her eyes wild and brow furrowed.
“We leave.”
“Do you want to die in the cold?” the elder siren fumed. “If the frost doesn’t take us, the wolves will. I will not die that way, not in this place!’ Her fingers tightened around the knife’s handle.
“If you do this,” Sonata began, quite obviously trying to keep her voice from trembling, “then I won’t sing with you.”
“Sonata,” Aria growled, “so help m–”
“Silence!” Adagio hissed, waving a hand sharply.
The room was quiet for several minutes.
Her distant gaze seemed to drift back to the immediate area before she spoke again. “Pack whatever you think you can carry,” she whispered, “we’re leaving tonight.”
“Then we’re as good as dead,” the middle siren spat. A million different scenarios played out in her head, and all of them ended in fire, ice, or blood. She turned to her younger counterpart. “Because of you, Sonata.”
“I’m sorry,” the blue girl sniffed, “but I can’t let y–”
“There’s no time for this,” Adagio interrupted with authority, “we have to move. Go!”
-----
Aria rarely second-guessed herself. When she chose a course of action, she did so with deliberation – most of the time – and once she’d made a choice, she saw it through to the end. The fact that she was here in this place at this moment in time was the result of her personal code of conduct failing about as spectacularly as it had the potential to. She’d made a snap decision, and upon realizing how questionable her choice was, had stubbornly resolved to carry it to its conclusion.
Still, she maintained that the course her life had taken could be laid at Adagio’s feet as much as her own. The kind of doubt she was feeling right now was entirely new to her, for at the moment, she was not questioning a decision she’d made, but rather who she was supposed to be. In a single moment of vulnerability, the wall she’d built around herself over the course of ten centuries had come crashing down. She’d salvaged from it what she could, but Aria felt like she’d lost a part of herself.
The question she was asking herself now was whether or not that was an acceptable price to pay.
The sun had nearly completed its breach of the horizon, and she sat in her chair, the autumn chill made comfortable by the warm cup of black coffee she held close to her chest. As it turned out, there had been coffee, she’d just been so sure that there wasn’t, she hadn’t bothered to look for it. An entirely pointless but nonetheless maddening thought had wormed its way into her mind: if she’d known that yesterday morning, would the events of the previous evening have played out differently? An even more unsettling question was whether or not she would’ve wanted them to. The idea made her wish she hadn’t finished off the kahlua, because she sorely wanted a drink, but felt that putting anything else in one’s coffee was tasteless, both literally and figuratively.
Still, regardless of any facets of her personality that had been called into question, she knew there was one place she could find solace. Taking another thoughtful sip from her cup, she stood, intending to head inside and sit down in front of her piano, but found her thoughts of which piece might fit her current mood interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open.
“Oh,” Sonata said with a start, “hi, Ari. I’ve never seen you up this early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Aria replied curtly, thinking for a moment before she slowly sat back down.
The blue girl shuffled sleepily over to her brooding counterpart and set her mug – which Aria noted with disdain was full of tea – down on the small table between them.
“You okay?” Sonata asked with palpable concern, “you look angry again.”
“Yeah,” Aria sighed, “just tired.”
“Well, what’s on your mind?”
“Hey,” she snapped, slamming down her coffee and glaring, “just because I lost my composure once does not mean that I suddenly like to talk about feelings, got it?”
Sonata jerked back just a hair, a slightly wounded look on her face.
“Wait,” Aria’s voice cracked, “I’m sorry.” Feebly, her hand reached across the table, but the effort seemed to die about halfway. Sonata, seeing it for what it was, put her hand on top of Aria’s and squeezed it affectionately.
“It’s okay,” she said gently.
“I’m just…” Aria trailed off, rubbing her temple and shutting her eyes tightly, “I can’t…I’m just sorry, alright?” she finished lamely and with more aggression than was warranted.
“It’s okay,” Sonata repeated, “really. I’m not gonna say I like it when you yell at me, but it’s a lot easier when I know you don’t mean it.”
Aria attempted a grateful smile, but was pretty sure it came off as more of a grimace. She couldn’t think of anything to say, and so remained quiet.
“Want some breakfast?” Sonata asked, breaking the silence with her trademark cheer.
“You don’t always have to make food for me. I could go get us something.”
“Nah,” the younger siren dismissed, “I like cooking. I was gonna make something for myself anyway. What do you want?”
“Well,” Aria said casually, “those eggs benedict you made the other day were really good…I mean, all of it was good.”
“Okay,” Sonata nodded, “I’ll make that stuff again. Hey, have you ever heard of eggs Florentine? It’s, like, the same thing, but with spinach instead of ham.”
“Heresy,” Aria breathed, eyes going wide with horror.
“Just asking,” Sonata said innocently, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Once it appeared her friend had calmed down, she stood to head inside. “I’ll be back in just a bit,” she assured as she slipped through the door.
Aria was alone again on the back porch, watching the day break. Her coffee was gone, but that small source of warmth had been replaced by the sun, which washed over her from head to toe.
-----
“Hey Ari, what’s your phone number? I can’t believe I’ve never asked you.”
Aria was not one for idle chit-chat, and even less so when she was eating, but the question caused her to pause, chew carefully, and swallow before replying.
“Sonata,” she said slowly, cocking an eyebrow, “we live in the same house.”
“Right…”
“Ergo, we have the same phone number, yes?”
“Wait,” Sonata said, shaking her head in disbelief, “you don’t have a phone?”
Aria suddenly knew that there was a rabbit hole, and she was peering over its edge. She could’ve sworn she heard sci-fi-style theremin music in the distance, but she shrugged it off.
“Sonata, the phone is right there,” she insisted, pointing to the telephone that was clearly visible through the sliding glass door that led from the back porch into the living room.
“I mean, like, a cell phone,” the blue girl clarified. She reached into her pocket and produced a flat plastic rectangle that Aria had seen a million times.
“Oh,” the elder siren said, comprehension finally dawning, “of course not, I hate those things. And how come I never see anyone talking on them?” Aria demanded, dropping her fork to gesticulate angrily, “they’re always just poking them! Everywhere I go, all I see is people poking and poking. It’s maddening.”
“They’re texting…”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Ari,” Sonata began cautiously, a hint of worry creeping into her voice, “when was the last time you…uh…did something…as in something that wasn’t music.”
“What do you mean? I watch TV sometimes.”
“You only do that when you’re really drunk,” Sonata reminded, “and you usually just get mad at it. When was the last time you read a magazine or played a video game or something.”
Aria tapped her chin, eyes drifting upwards in thought.
“I bought a magazine once,” she remembered, “about twenty years ago.”
“What one?”
“I don’t know, I just remember the name was something that really pissed me off.”
“‘People’?” Sonata guessed.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Aria confirmed, snapping her fingers.
“And…how did that go?” the younger siren asked, her tone pessimistic.
“I’m pretty sure I burned it,” Aria said, stuffing a forkful of hash browns into her mouth.
“What about video games?” Sonata queried, “there’s gotta be one you like, right?”
“I tried that once, too…” Aria replied darkly, her gaze distant, “never again. It was this dot eating other dots in a maze – which I couldn’t find the end to, not once - and these horrible things with-dead looking eyes were chasing after me. Then they would change color and run away from me, and I never understood why. It was like a goddamned fever dream, but without the sublime existential terror.”
“Have…have you ever used the internet?”
“I’ve heard of it,” Aria admitted. “They have that at the library, right?”
“Ari,” Sonata wondered with complete innocence, “do you hate fun?”
“What are you talking about? I love fun! Music is fun. We played music together the other day. That was fun!”
“Then why did you look so angry while we were doing it?” the blue-haired girl asked.
“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve gotten that question…” Aria sighed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Look, Ari, music is great, but you should try to do other things,” Sonata said simply.
“Why?” Aria questioned defiantly. “And if you say ‘variety is the spice of life,’ I’m going to raze an orphanage.”
“Because,” Sonata countered without missing a beat, “if you only ever do one thing, how do you know you’re actually enjoying it if you have nothing to compare it to?”
Aria’s mouth opened and closed several times, her finger gesturing repeatedly at some point in space above Sonata’s head.
“Fuck,” she said finally.
“Yay!” Sonata grinned, clapping her hands together, “I’m gonna show you all the fun things I like to do!”
-----
“Yes!”
Aria was beside herself, and for the first time in recent memory, it wasn’t with rage. Well, there was definitely a lot of rage, but it paled in comparison to the glee she felt at having bested another opponent.
“Eat me you bottom-feeding plebeian! How does it feel to fail? Your ancestors weep for their lineage! And furthermore, fuck you!”
Sonata had been adamant that she try something new today. Aria had complained and resisted. The past few days had been a bit unusual, and she sorely wanted to return to music in order to center herself, but her bubbly friend had insisted that devoting all of one’s time to a single hobby wasn’t healthy. She disagreed, and had tried to steer the conversation into an esoteric debate on the philosophy of artistry, but Sonata wouldn’t have it.
Aria hated video games – in fact, she considered them worse than television – but to their credit they’d become a lot more interesting since she’d last played one, which had been roughly a quarter century ago. This particular one had a simple premise: you just hit the other person until they died. She’d commented beforehand that they could just as easily go out into the street and do this in real life, and most likely with much less resistance, but Sonata had explained that that wasn’t the point.
The game itself was entertaining enough, but it had taken her all of fifteen minutes to realize that it wasn’t much more than hand-eye coordination, timing, and memorization – three things which she excelled at. No, the real fun part was the headset she’d been given, and “conversing” with the other players.
“What is wrong with you, lady?” a young man’s voice on the other end asked in disgust.
“What’s wrong with you?” Aria shrieked, “you skill-less, spineless waste of flesh! If I ever meet you on the street, I will bend you over and drill you until you vomit up your own digestive system! I–”
She was cut off when the screen suddenly went blank.
“Okie dokie,” Sonata said, switching off the console, “I think that’s enough of that.”
“Sonata!” Aria shouted, “turn it back on, I was having fun!”
“Why don’t we do something more low-key instead?” Sonata suggested, “we could go for a walk or something.”
Aria was about to refuse simply because that was her default response to any suggestion, but then she thought about her diet over the past week and the fact that her pants seemed just a hair tighter than they normally were.
“Yeah, okay,” she conceded, “I guess I could use some exercise.”
She had to blink a few times to get her bearings when they left Sonata’s room, as going from a place where everything was pink, purple and blue back into the more subdued shades of the house proper was disorienting. It was probably just because she’d been listening to sound effects for the past two hours, but the house seemed oddly quiet.
The sky was clear, but summer was well over, and there was a chill outside which heralded the approach of winter. Aria had a beat-up brown bomber jacket with a wool lining for just this sort of occasion.
The air was cool and crisp when they stepped outside; it smelled like leaves and the faintest trace of rain. The sirens’ residence was out of the way on the very edge of town where the wealthier citizens congregated. They had been there for nearly a century, having charmed its previous owner out of the deed when they arrived in this place.
The two girls began to stroll toward downtown in silence, appreciating the colorful scenery. Aria saw that her more forward-thinking neighbors had already begun preparations for the coming holiday. Lights and playfully spooky decorations abounded, and there were pumpkins on many of the doorsteps. This was quite possibly her favorite time of year, partly because the weather was perfect and the scenery beautiful, but also partly because she felt much less out-of-place when the strange and the eerie were the word of the day.
Sonata had the fuzzy hood of her jacket up, but Aria held her head high and did not try to hide. The recent happenings at Canterlot High were shrouded in so much magic and confusion that the general populous really didn’t know who they were or what they had done, but they were still greeted by strange looks and an atmosphere of unease wherever they went. They were those girls who had done something, however most people weren’t sure what. Regardless, Aria felt no shame for her actions, and her defiant confidence combined with the general sense of trepidation towards her and Sonata caused more than a few passersby to simply move to the other side of the street. She paid them no mind, instead choosing to admire the red and gold leaves that hung from branches all around her.
Eventually, the pavement beneath her feet took on a more even, well-maintained consistency that told her they were moving into the heart of the city – if one could call it that. It was mid-afternoon, and the streets were alive with people walking briskly to and from shops and restaurants. She saw more than a few faces she knew; despite having no relationship with these people, she’d been in this town for a very long time, and she’d watched many of them grow up. There was that tall athletic-looking fellow with the curly, blue hair whom she’d chased off her property more than once when he was a kid. He was leaving the comic book shop, accompanied by another boy she knew – the short scrawny one who always wore a bowtie. They were chattering animatedly and gesturing at a particular comic that the latter was carrying. That was certainly an unlikely friendship.
Aria had walked a few more yards before she realized Sonata was no longer with her. She turned around, making her way back through the swarm of other pedestrians to find the youngest siren gazing through the window of a small music shop. She knew this place well; she’d come here on many occasions to buy books of sheet music, amplifiers, and on one occasion they had specially ordered her a set of piano strings.
Sonata was staring at the window display, which held several very attractive instruments, but one in particular had obviously caught her eye – a cherry-red, hollow-bodied electric guitar with lightning-shaped inlays. Aria was not exactly well-versed when it came to guitars, but she recognized it as a tool of classic rock, possessing none of the electronic nonsense that a good portion of modern instruments featured.
“I’m pretty sure they’d notice if you shoplifted from the front window,” she commented with a wry smile.
“It’s so cool,” Sonata said breathily, voice barely audible amidst the surrounding bustle.
“What’s wrong with your guitar?” Aria wondered with some disapproval.
“Oh, nothing!” Sonata said apologetically, but her gaze turned back to the object of her fixation, “but that one…I just mean, it’s just hard to really rock out on an acoustic guitar, you know?”
“You’ve been playing for less than a week,” Aria chided, “you should be thinking about your technique, not ‘rocking out.’”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Sonata conceded dismally.
“Come on,” the elder siren prompted, trying to force some levity into her voice, “if we’re out here, we might as well get lunch. You can eat something that you didn’t make yourself for once.”
“Okay,” Sonata smiled. “Can we go somewhere with fries? I can’t make those at home…well, except the frozen ones you bake in the oven, but those are kinda gross.”
Aria knew just the place. She led the way for a few blocks, and upon rounding a corner saw the façade of a small, hip-looking café come into view. It was one of those places where the drinks came in inconveniently-shaped glasses and all the menu items were in various foreign languages – which made her want to run for president just so she could declare war on their nations of origin – but it was close by and she knew the fries were good. Most of the patrons were clustered indoors, but the tables that lined the outside had heat lamps placed by them, and so she opted to take a seat at one of those.
The waitress asked all the usual questions regarding what they’d like to “start out” with, but a few curt utterances from Aria convinced her to cut to the chase.
“Can I see your ID?” she asked when the elder siren ordered an Irish coffee. Aria gave her a withering look before reaching into her pocket and retrieving the wallet that was chained to her belt. The waitress glanced intently between the card and its owner before finally handing it back. Of all the irksome things about her banishment to this world, one of the most irritating was the fact that she would forever look like an eighteen-year-old girl. It hadn’t been much of a problem until recently, when society had suddenly become preoccupied with legal identity. She was more than able to pass for drinking age, but could only hold onto an ID for an absolute maximum of half a decade; she never looked any older, so with each passing year, her printed birthdate became more and more implausible.
“So,” Aria said tentatively, realizing she’d been staring into the distance for a good five minutes, “are you ever going to come get your guitar from my room?”
A small weight seemed to lift from Sonata’s shoulders.
“I was so mad at myself for forgetting it,” she huffed, “but I didn’t come back for it because…you know…”
“Because I was being a huge bitch?” Aria offered.
“Yeah, that.”
“Well, when we get back home you can grab it. We should try and finish that song tonight.”
“Yeah…”
“What’s with the lack of enthusiasm?” Aria prompted.
“Well,” Sonata murmured as quietly as the ambient noise around them would allow, “I just haven’t seen Addy since yesterday, and it’s hard to think about music right now. I’m worried about her.”
“You seemed pretty interested in that guitar back there,” the pianist pointed out, stirring the coffee that had just been set down in front of her and wondering who in the deepest hells of Tartarus had authorized putting cream in it.
Sonata didn’t say anything. Aria kept stirring with increasing vigor and interest, despite the fact that her drink was going to get cold. When she finally picked it up and took a sip, it was indeed tepid, but that at least meant she could chug the entire thing in preparation for the next part of this conversation.
“Sonata,” she groaned, setting down her empty cup, “what do you want me to do?”
“I think you know,” the younger siren said quietly.
Aria was relieved that the waitress chose that moment to deliver their food.
“Chicken caesar and a side of fries,” the green-haired woman said cheerfully, setting two plates in front of Sonata, “and a double-bacon-cheeseburger with fried red onions, extra pickles, no ketchup, and exactly one leaf of lettuce on a toasted bun with no sesame seeds,” she finished, offering up Aria’s plate. “Oh, and no tomato, of course,” she added upon seeing her customer’s questioning glance.
“Well done,” Aria said, examining her food.
“Well done? I thought you said medium-rare,” the waitress panicked.
“No, I meant well done,” Aria clarified, “as in you might actually get a tip.”
“Oh,” the waitress laughed nervously, “okay then! Do you want anything else to drink?”
“I’ll have another one of these,” Aria drawled with boredom, raising her empty coffee mug, “but bigger.”
“Alright! And you ma’am?” the woman turned to Sonata, who just shook her head and smiled apologetically. “Back in a moment,” she said, beaming with questionable sincerity and hurrying off with the empty cup.
“You’re not this picky when I cook for you,” Sonata commented.
“Idunncurr,” Aria attempted a reply before chewing quickly, swallowing, and then beginning again. “I don’t care,” she shrugged, “I just like to see what I can make them do. Except for the tomatoes. I hate tomatoes.”
“I know,” Sonata chuckled. After a moment her expression became more severe. “Look,” she said, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice, “I know I can’t make you forgive her – that’s something you’ve got to want to do – but please, just tell her you’re sorry.”
“For what?” Aria demanded, “all I said was that if she wants me to pay for her house, she needs to get a job. Are you seriously telling me that’s unreasonable?”
“It’s our house, Ari.”
“Sonata,” the elder siren moaned, “I can’t. I can’t just…give her something for nothing, not after what she did. She can live on my dime, but it’s going to come at the expense of her pride, and that’s the best I can offer.”
“I just….” Sonata sighed, “I don’t see how you could hold on to this much hate for so long. I wouldn’t be able to do it…it would make me a bitter, angry person…” her voice trailed off as she realized what she was saying. “Aria, please,” she continued after a moment, a new sense of urgency in her voice, “you have to try to forgive her.”
“Why?”
“Please,” Sonata begged, “if you can’t do it for her, do it for yourself.”
“Why would I do something I have no interest in doing ‘for myself’?” Aria wondered skeptically.
“Fine, then can you do it for me?”
A million expletive-laced responses barreled through Aria’s mind like steam engines as she felt a familiar fire rise in her chest. She wanted to flip the table over, hurl her plate through the café’s window, fist-fight the cops when they arrived, and pay with exact change, but she was above such pedestrian displays of emotion…usually. Instead she took a long draught of her recently-served coffee and grimaced, rubbing her temples. She could not bring her mind to a place where she didn’t want to cause Adagio some grief – she simply wasn’t that charitable – but now she had to weigh that desire against the prospect of disappointing the one person in this world she actually cared about.
“You know,” she growled, setting her cup down and resisting the urge to raise it again and smash it to pieces on the edge of the table, “you’re playing that card awfully soon for someone who just became my friend yesterday.”
Sonata gave her an indulgent smile that was accented with just the barest hint of “really?”
“I think it’s been longer than that,” she said simply.
“Fine!” Aria huffed, “fine! But I’m going to need like…five more drinks.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sonata asked delicately.
“Of course,” Aria spat venomously, rolling her eyes, “two angry drunk people trying to bury a thousand years’ worth of animosity in a forced conversation…how could that possibly go sideways?”
“Well, it’s never going to work out if you’ve already given up on it before you’ve even tried,” the blue girl retorted.
“There is a difference, Sonata,” Aria said, voice quavering slightly with restrained ire, “between giving up and acknowledging your limitations.”
“And which one are you doing right now?” Sonata asked.
It was a challenge if Aria had ever heard one, and heaven knew she couldn’t back down from one of those.
-----
Steeling herself, she knocked.
“What?” Adagio’s voice sounded harshly from the other side of the door.
“It’s me, open up.”
“No.”
“I’m too hammered to do anything productive and Sonata’s fed me enough for the rest of the month. I can stand here all night, Adagio.”
After several minutes of silence, there was some shuffling, and the door cracked open just wide enough for one magenta eye – framed by a curly orange mop – to peer through. The eyebrow arched.
“What do you want with me, then?” the eldest siren asked. “It seems like your life is just peachy.”
“I just want to talk.”
“As fate would have it, that happens to be the exact opposite of what I want; request declined.”
The door slammed, and Aria briefly considered simply kicking it down – she basically owned this place now, after all.
“I’m not leaving,” she half-shouted through the still-standing door. “Also, if getting drunk and binge-eating is your definition of ‘just peachy’, then your worldview is even more fucked than I thought.”
“Look around you Aria,” Adagio called back, “that’s all these people do. It’s nice you’re finally embracing the culture, because we certainly aren’t going anywhere.”
“If we’re going to do the whole sarcastic banter thing, can you at least open the door?”
“It’s unlocked.”
Wondering why that hadn’t occurred to her, Aria turned the handle and pushed the door open. She hadn’t seen Adagio’s room for at least a decade, but was surprised to find it exactly as she remembered it. The place reflected none of its occupant’s recent troubles – everything was still impeccably neat and sparse. Despite it being the master bedroom of the house, there was hardly anything in it. A bed stood against the left wall, and a table on the right, which was home to a few personal possessions, most of which looked like they might not have been touched since the last time Aria had seen them. The hardwood floor was bare, unadorned by so much as a rug. Against the far wall, at a desk that Aria recognized as one of the few things salvaged from their previous residence, sat the eldest siren, her back turned. There was a faint whirring sound in the otherwise-silent room, and when it was finally accompanied by a few keystrokes, Aria realized that somewhere on the other side of all that hair was a computer.
“What are you doing?” she blurted out with earnest curiosity, wondering what use Adagio, of all beings, would have for humanity’s latest fad. “Are you playing that game with the mines? Because that thing is rigged, I swear to the gods.”
Adagio swiveled her chair around, leaning on one arm, her expression reflecting the kind of disgusted fascination one might feel when picking at a scab.
“Do you take some kind of backwards pleasure in being the world’s greatest troglodyte?” She asked.
“Fifty years from now, nobody’s even going to remember those things existed,” Aria declared, folding her arms, “and yeah, maybe…” she added quietly.
“Right,” Adagio said, rolling her eyes, “just like telephones, cars, and CDs, yes?”
“I was right about CDs,” Aria countered.
“A broken clock, Aria…” the eldest siren quipped, turning around and returning to her work. “Now,” she began after a few moments full of soft key-taps, “what do you want. I have trouble believing you came here for small talk.”
Aria suddenly remembered that there had been a point to this conversation besides exchanging passive-aggressive witticisms and backhanded insults. She opened her mouth a few times to try and say something, but when she finally did get words out, they weren’t productive ones.
“Do you have anything to drink?”
Adagio didn’t move, but she raised an arm, pointing lazily in the direction of the nightstand by her bed, upon which sat a few haphazardly-stacked books, and a multitude of bottles in various stages of emptiness. Aria flopped down on the bed, not bothering to remove her boots, and she could see her sister siren twitch slightly, which caused a derisive smile to spread across her face. She rolled across the impractically large mattress and grabbed one of the bottles, settling in a very unladylike position on what was obviously the side of the bed that Adagio preferred. She took a swig, letting out a small cough at the end and cringing.
“Wow, Adagio,” she chuckled, eyes watering, “why don’t you just drink battery acid? It’d be cheaper.”
“You’re wearing out your welcome, Aria,” Adagio said as she stared at her screen, her voice taut, “please get to the point.”
“Look,” Aria said, taking another drink and coughing again, “I’m s…I’m not going to make you get a job, okay? Just forget about that. I can carry us for a while until you figure out the next plan or con or whatever.”
“Oh,” Adagio scoffed, wheeling around to face her, “how touching. I feel so loved. We must add charity and compassion to your list of virtues. Now,” she growled, eyes narrowing, “I don’t know what Sonata had to do to put you up to this, and I’m sure I don’t want to, but your generosity is neither wanted nor needed.”
“So what? You’re back to selling the house?”
“No,” Adagio snapped, waving her hand sharply. “I wouldn’t do that to her,” she continued, a subtle head-tilt indicating the only member of the trio not currently in this room, “but I will not live under your thumb, either.”
“Since when do you care about Sonata?” Aria shouted, sitting up.
“Since that night, Aria,” the eldest siren said darkly.
Despite centuries of tumultuous existence on this plane, Aria knew the exact moment her counterpart was referring to. Memories of the crackling hearth and the fire’s light dancing on the edge of a knife flitted through her psyche. They had entertained an unspeakable notion, and if Sonata hadn’t stopped them, would’ve carried it out. The memories of what followed overwhelmed Aria, and she felt a resurgence of the anger she’d been suppressing for the last twenty-four hours, all of which she channeled into one spiteful utterance.
“I guess Sonata’s lost her touch, now that I think about it…or did she even ask you to stop when you slapped her around?”
She ducked instinctively, and not a moment too soon. With terrifying force, the entire swivel-chair passed through the space her head had occupied just moments ago, crashing into the nightstand and toppling it as all the bottles shattered. She rolled off the bed and scrabbled for the door, feeling a boot connect with her ribs before she could stand. The force sent her tumbling into the hallway just as the heavy door slammed shut behind her, the walls rattling in accompaniment to the incoherent scream that came from the other side. There were a few more thumps and clatterings before the noise subsided.
Rather than trying to stand, Aria dragged herself over to the nearby stairwell, propping herself up against the banister. She’d failed miserably, that much was certain, but exhaustion and cheap liquor dulled her disappointment. She just wanted to sleep, and though here was not the best place, she closed her eyes anyway.
As her consciousness began to flicker out, the answer to a question she’d been asking for most of her life suddenly made itself plain.
Why Sonata? she had always wondered, but no longer. There was a new question now.
Why me?
-----
They had fled into the night, and not a moment too soon. They’d barely reached the edge of the town when shouts and the barking of dogs had begun emanating from its center. And so they ran across the frozen countryside, heading for the only place no one would dare follow – the forest.
Aria was so very cold, and she knew the others were too, but she didn’t dare light a fire. The last distant pinpricks of searching torches had disappeared hours ago, when the moon had risen and the howling had begun, but she couldn’t be too cautious. It would only be safe if they moved further into the trees, but then they risked an even less-appealing end.
The chill was growing by the minute, and though they had seized the warmest things they could in such haste, furs and fabrics would not see them through the wee hours of the morning. They were truly damned, for any attempt to stave off one death would simply invite another. They walked close, and she could hear Sonata’s shuddering breath and Adagio’s shivering. She pulled her coat tighter, but the cold was penetrating. Here and there, a few rays of moonlight stole through the trees, sometimes momentarily illuminating the faces of her companions. She hoped it was the pale light that made them look so blue, but there was no dismissing the fear in those eyes that were wreathed by frosted lashes.
Maybe an hour had passed, or maybe two, but she heard a soft, wet crunch as something impacted the snow beside her.
“Sonata,” Adagio hissed, her breath a cloud of vapor, “get up!”
“I c-cant,” Sonata whispered as the other two tried to pull her upright, “I can’t feel my foot.”
Aria suddenly realized just how cold the other siren’s flesh felt beneath her fingers. She hooked her arms under Sonata’s, dragging her to the base of the largest tree in the vicinity and hastily clearing away as much of the snow as she could with her boot. The light of the ascending moon caught the white powder as she kicked, and she could hear the wolves calling to it in the distance.
“Find something to burn,” she whispered to Adagio, “anything that’s dry. Don’t go out of sight.”
Even in the half-light, the protest in the eldest siren’s expression was plain, but it seemed she was too cold to voice it, and so began searching the surrounding area for firewood. Aria found a few pieces around the base of the tree sufficient to sustain a flame and piled them up, retrieving the tinder box from her pack, along with some kindling. She was no expert with it, no more than she was with the alien appendages she had to operate to use it, but if ever there was a time to push her limits, it was now. The sound of flint against steel was painfully loud in the eerily quiet forest. Several times, she thought she saw the glint of an eye in the periphery of her vision.
A spark gave way to a smolder in the small heap of straw, and she blew on it as carefully as her trembling breath would allow. It glowed momentarily and then died, and she fumbled the flint with increasing freneticism, trying to get another spark to catch. Adagio returned with some passable scraps of wood, but there was nothing to feed them to. She dropped them clumsily, half-sitting, half-falling next to Sonata and hugging her close, presumably for warmth. Aria felt something bite into her chilled flesh, and looked down to see that she’d cut her finger. It barely bled before the escaping droplets of blood began to freeze. The small modicum of dexterity she’d developed with this oddly-proportioned body was dissipating by the second as her extremities became numb and unwieldy.
Then the tinder caught again, and Aria cupped her hands around it, feeding it air. The fizzling strands of straw were the embers of life, and she knew if they went out again, so would her last chance. After the tensest few moments in her recent memory, a small flame sprang to life, and she huddled closer, both drinking in its warmth and protecting it. As soon as her digits had returned from the brink of frostbite and the fire was strong enough to stand on its own, she roused Adagio, who had wrapped herself around Sonata, trying to keep some warmth in the girl. She couldn’t seem to move on her own, and so Aria used the small surge of strength that the heat had given her to haul them both as close to the flame as was safe. A few minutes passed, and the eldest siren began to shiver back to life and breathe more easily.
“Warm her up,” Aria whispered, “and keep this going.” She gestured to the small pile of scrap wood they had collected. “I’ll go find more.”
Away from the burgeoning warmth, she was quickly reminded just how icy the air was. Moving quickly, she searched near the trunks of the trees for any twigs or branches that hadn’t been soaked and frozen. The numbness had begun to creep back in, but she had collected enough to keep the blaze going for a few hours. She was about to turn back toward the fire when a glint in at the edge of her vision caused her to snap to attention.
She saw the eyes, no longer just a conjuring of her paranoid mind or a trick of the shadows, but as real as day, staring from beyond the edge of the light’s furthest reaches. They were bright, emotionless, and hungry, and she could hear it breathing heavily. It must have smelled the blood, she realized, feeling the dull thrumming of pain in her finger. If she made it back to the fire, she might use the flame to scare it off…unless it was hungry enough. She knew there were more of them, too; they might already be there, lurking just out of sight.
Even as a siren, with her imposing size, sharp teeth, and formidable magic, she’d never considered wolves creatures to be trifled with – they were best avoided and left to their own business. Now, as this small, gangly, fleshy creature that was quite rapidly freezing to death, what could she do?
This was absurd, Aria decided. Just eleven years ago she’d been a citizen of Equestria, born and raised, living a peaceful – if somewhat boring – life. By day, she played her mandolin in the streets for the few bits she needed to eke out a living. By night, she composed on her piano, waiting for the day when she would break out and earn the respect and admiration she longed for. And yet now she was crouched in the frigid dark, watching her fate slip from grim to sealed as she stared down the muzzle of a hungry killer, the sounds and images of sunny fields and beautiful music flitting across her psyche. It was absurd, but not in a way she could find funny right now.
Never letting her gaze falter despite the mounting shivers that wracked her frame, she reached into her coat and withdrew the long, rusty skinning knife that Adagio had nearly applied to much more nefarious purposes that night. Aria felt herself trembling more and more violently, and she knew it wasn’t just the cold. With a raspy breath, the killer took one step forward.
She didn’t know what she could do, but she knew there was one thing she would never do.