Three Little Visitors: Pt 10
Once Pinkie Pie had left that day, Sunset began a very long and in-depth correspondence with Twilight via the magical journal, eagerly describing the effects and what she had conjectured regarding them. Twilight was unable to return yet as she had, under Princess Celestia’s guidance, elected to use dark magic on the pendant shards, and had to monitor their reactions closely.
Over the following days, Sunset discussed the probability of regulated access to the pendants’ knowledge through the limited contact that she had theorised Pinkie to have undergone. Twilight was incredibly unsure with the idea, but did agree at least that there was a great deal of precedence in favour of it.
They argued the point back and forth for days, Sunset even taking her journal to school with her in order to maintain the discussion. Her friends became really quite nosey about the whole situation, and sometimes even brought attention to it in class when Sunset was pretending to take notes. Fortunately, she had a collaborator who managed to prevent any serious instances of discovery by her friends or the teachers.
“Ack!” Rainbow yelped. “What the hell, Pinkie?” she hissed, leaning across the divide between her and Pinkie’s desk as the latter retracted her foot.
“Ms. Dash,” Mr. Flake snapped. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Rainbow’s lips tightened. “No, sir,” she grumbled.
“Well here’s something I’d like to share with you,” Mr. Flake replied coldly, setting a detention slip onto her desk with a firm smack. Dash’s expression soured, and she gave Pinkie Pie an evil stare of quite high intensity.
“I only wanted to know if Twilight was coming back soon!” Rainbow raged, still giving Pinkie the meanest glare she could muster.
“Simmer down, Rainbow Stack,” Applejack said dispassionately.
“Twilight said that she’ll be back soon,” Sunset assured her friends. “She’d have been back a week ago, but she and Princess Celestia have been running some pretty dangerous experiments. Even Princess Luna has looked into the problem, although Twilight didn’t say how.”
“Yeah, I saw,” Rainbow said without thinking. “Dark magic. Who knew?”
“Twilight can use dark magic?” Rarity asked, looking worried.
“A lot of advanced magic students can,” Sunset explained. “Try not to think of it as bad; dark magic is a natural force like any other.”
“Isn’t it different from other kinds of magic? Surely there’s a reason it’s called dark magic.” Rarity asked, narrowing her eyes.
Sunset took a moment to consider the question. “Try to think of the difference between dark magic and other forms of magic as the difference between fire and water. Unrestrained, dark magic will spread anywhere and everywhere it can, whilst other forms of magic flow and take a path of least resistance. Most other forms of magic are easily storable, but dark magic is notoriously difficult to contain. Dark magic can be destroyed by overpowering it with most other forms of magic, whilst dark magic will slowly erode other forms over time. Dark magic will consume you if mishandled, and is generally considered to be very dangerous to use by the untrained. It has no will or intention, it just follows a very destructive nature if let loose.”
“Like fire,” Applejack summarised.
“Exactly. So when using it, Twilight must have someone watching it at all times. Considering how potentially dangerous it might be, I can’t imagine her letting many ponies be exposed to that kind of risk.”
“Certainly not,” Rarity said robustly. “She’s far too responsible for that,” she added, a hint of pride in her voice for her friend.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” Fluttershy put in timidly. “But, um, I don’t suppose that you have come up with anything yourself, have you?” She paused. “It’s okay if you haven’t, I was just wondering,” she added in one breath.
Sunset looked at her for a moment, and then glanced at Pinkie Pie. Pinkie didn’t look back, or give any sign that she knew Sunset was looking at her. She hadn’t been as talkative as usual ever since what had happened, but fortunately the tell-tale sign of her deflatable hair hadn’t occurred and given her away.
“Not yet,” Sunset said, rallying a little. “I’m hoping that Twilight’s experiments might give me some new ideas on how to proceed. I think the pendants must have had an extremely specific way of being used, possibly to make it difficult for any would-be thieves to make use of them. I’ve considered that they’re probably attuned to a current user.”
“Well no one’s usin’ ‘em now!” Rainbow said, grinning in a satisfied sort of way. “Not thanks to us, anyway.”
“Do ya think that’s making it hard to study ‘em?” Applejack asked, giving Sunset a serious look. “The fact that they’re broken means that no one can use ‘em like the sirens use’ta.”
“Oh, but remember what happened in the mansion?” Rarity objected. “Perhaps there’s still some sort of a link.”
Sunset glanced at Pinkie again. Maybe she was imagining it, given her own feelings, but she thought that she saw Pinkie shudder a little.
“Ah think we all remember what happened at the mansion,” Applejack said severely, taking hold of Sunset’s wrist and holding up her bandaged fingers. They really were taking a long time to heal.
Rarity blushed. “I wasn’t suggesting—You can’t think that I was saying—“
“We don’t, Rarity,” Sunset said. Applejack had the grace to look apologetic. “There might well be a way to use that connection. Just differently.”
They were right of course, for Sunset had already thought of a way to do just that with Pinkie’s help. She didn’t want to tell her friends just yet however, since it was clear that at least some of them – Applejack in particular – had major reservations about the idea.
But as she had said, she wasn’t going to try anything out until Twilight was finished with her own experiments; she wanted Twilight back to help her with the experiment she had in mind, and as much as she trusted her friends, she didn’t want to put them in danger over a possibly disastrous magical experiment. Twilight at least would have some knowledge to defend or protect herself should something go wrong.
Whilst she waited for this promised time, Sunset focused her attention upon another tantalising subject; that of Adagio’s dark past.
Fascinated though Sunset was to know precisely what had happened, her primary motivation was of a far nobler origin; she was genuinely concerned for Adagio, and solicitous for her future health and happiness.
When she tried to think of the older, villainous siren that had stalked the school and insinuated her metaphorical claws around the collective throats of the student body, Sunset could honestly see the primordial beginnings of it in the smug or aloof looks Adagio frequently employed to meet any and all attention anyone paid to her. The older siren had worn them like a skin, a comfortable approximation of her true feelings to those all around her, making it clear how superior she was, and how certain she was of that superiority.
The younger Adagio on the other hand, wore the expressions like a set of clothes that she hastily pulled on whenever she was conscious of being observed. Sunset could tell that it was already a comfortable fallback for her whenever she was unsure of how she should present herself, but she didn’t think that Adagio felt the way she seemed. Sunset would often observe her in the apartment or out amongst her sister sirens looking entirely different from her scowling, abrasive attitude. Happy, carefree, mischievous; just as a child should look.
If Sunset could facilitate the preservation of that happiness and (relative) innocence, then she certainly would do so.
Sunset had considered how she could learn more of Adagio without seeing the memories from the pendants; they had been a starting point, but until she and Twilight experimented with them more, they were temporarily a dead end.
She immediately determined that asking Adagio herself about her past were a bad idea, and even indirect methods might be problematic should Adagio catch wind of what she was doing. Instead, she began with asking Sonata.
Being by far the most sympathetic of the three children to Sunset, Sunset imagined that Sonata would be an ideal informant, especially if Sunset made it clear that she was asking in order to help Adagio out.
Unfortunately, the attempt was largely unsuccessful.
“Um...” Sonata said, sucking thoughtfully on some red liquorice. “I don’t really know.”
Sunset paused. “You don’t really know what?”
“Well, I know about what we did together,” Sonata said. “Like, living with the other children and taking stuff to people to get coins, but I don’t really know what Adagio did when she wasn’t with us.”
“Did she ever seem unhappy?”
Sonata stopped sucking the liquorice for a moment. “We were all kind of unhappy sometimes,” she said, contemplating her candy as though it no longer tasted very sweet.
Sunset thought for a moment, trying to think of a more specific question to ask her that she might be able to answer with more clarity. Whilst she was doing so, Sonata seemed to be following her own train of thought.
“I think Aria said something once about Adagio being sad.”
“Did she say anything else about it?” Sunset asked cautiously.
“Well, thinking about it,” Sonata mumbled, stuffing the entire string of red candy in her mouth, “it might have been a few times. I think Aria followed Adagio somewhere once. Or twice. Or maybe a bunch of times.”
Sunset watched her closely, hoping for more information. Sonata smiled at her innocently.
“Sorry, I don’t listen much to Aria when she gets all serious. Got any more liquorice?”
Sunset sighed, but obliged the little siren’s capacious hunger for sweets. The best thing to do, Sunset thought as Sonata tore into a new string, was to ask Aria herself.
Sunset approached the coming questioning with all of the precision and care of military reconnaissance, and executed it with all of the success of British Intelligence cracking the German Enigma machine.
“Thank you, Alan Turing,” Sunset muttered, as this pleasing analogy occurred to her. “Ah, I think that’s Pinkie Pie!” she said to her children.
As was to be expected, Sonata leapt up from what she was doing and sped to the door to open it, whilst Adagio and Aria remained seated amongst the colouring books they’d been focused on. Adagio as usual was being careful of her dignity, whilst Aria was simply pouting. She kicked aside the book she’d been working on and stood up to flounce off out of sight of the door.
“No pouty-butts in the house,” Sunset warned her sternly, as Aria threw herself onto the sofa and folded her arms tightly. Aria ignored her. “Hi Pinkie,” Sunset said, smiling, as an enormous tangle of pink hair bounced across the threshold.
“Hi there!” the person the hair belonged to tittered. “Are we ready to go?” she asked the two standing in front of her. “Oh? Where’s number three?” she asked in a mock concerned tone.
Sunset’s mouth thinned a little at how badly Pinkie could fake confusion. “She was naughty,” Sunset said with a sigh. “And naughty girls don’t get to go. Have fun at the playhouse, you two,” she said, kissing both girls on the cheek. Sonata hugged her, and Adagio gave a disgusted groan, trying in vain to suppress the glow in her cheeks.
Sunset waved them down the hallway, and then closed the door.
Target cornered, she thought. As she felt her hands rising to rub themselves together in a sinister way, she stopped herself and decided to dial back the creepy a little.
This has to be done carefully, she reminded herself. Aria is the most reclusive. It might be difficult getting her to talk about something like this to me.
After concurring with herself, Sunset glanced sideways at Aria, trying to gauge the mood. As expected, Aria was looking most unhappy with her. But Sunset had had no choice; the girls did everything together, even take baths at the same time. It was a wonder they didn’t use the toilet together too. This had been the only way Sunset could tear them from each other short of kidnap. Again.
“So,” Sunset said, leaning over the back of the sofa.
Aria said nothing.
“Hey, I said no pouting,” Sunset chided in a faux-severe tone. With any other child she’d never have tried it, remembering herself how obnoxiously annoying it had been whenever her uncle Starshine had done it to her, but with her index fingers she reached down and pulled the corners of Aria’s mouth into a disgruntled smile. Aria still didn’t move.
“Oh come on,” Sunset said, sitting down on the sofa, making Aria bounce a little. “You know it was Sonata’s turn on the television.”
“She watches dumb stuff,” Aria muttered resentfully.
“And Adagio thinks that what you watch is dumb,” Sunset said with a shrug.
“Huh!?” Aria exclaimed, shocked out of her straightjacket-like resentment.
“Oh yeah,” Sunset continued blithely. “All three of you have very different tastes in TV. Adagio just doesn’t tell you to your face.”
Aria sat fuming for a few moments, but then gave a violent sigh and returned to grumbling silence.
“Adagio doesn’t tell me a lot that’s going on with her,” Sunset admitted. “I’m guessing she doesn’t talk to you or Sonata much either.” She watched Aria out of the corner of her eye, hoping for a reaction. For a few moments it seemed like Aria wasn’t going to say anything, but then she gave a disparaging sort of sound out of her nose.
“She doesn’t say anything, but it’s not like I can’t tell,” Aria mumbled, her arms tightening.
“Can’t tell what?” Sunset asked.
Much to Sunset’s surprise, Aria looked quickly around at her, her expression almost shrewd. But then she recovered and looked away again.
Aria’s grasp of English was more tenuous than the other two, but Sunset was able to compensate enough in order to make out what was being said.
“Tell me,” Sunset prompted. “What can you tell?”
Aria scowled. “She acts like a princess all the time,” she grumbled. “She doesn’t think I know how she really is.”
Sunset decided to ignore the transparent resentment. It was clear to her at least that Aria was simply angry about Sonata and Adagio getting to go to the playhouse. This could be information gold.
“How is she really?”
“Do you think I haven’t had grown-ups look after me before?” Aria snapped. “Always prying, always asking, always wanting something.”
“I only ask because I’m worried for you guys,” Sunset said solemnly.
Aria scoffed.
“That woman in Fleece,” Sunset said, watching Aria closely. “She looked after you, and other children too. She sent Adagio some... where.”
Sunset tailed off when she saw how pale Aria’s face had gone. Aria looked up at her.
“What do you... did she tell you about—“
“I saw in the pendant fragments,” Sunset explained. “Do you know what happened then? Did that woman send you where she sent Adagio?”
Aria sat unmoving and unspeaking. Sunset wondered if she’d pushed Aria too far, but then Aria looked up at her, a new and almost striking look in her face and eyes. It was almost a pleading look.
“We all did work,” Aria said. “You don’t make us do work for coins. You make us go to academies.”
Sunset supposed that Aria meant school. “Yes,” she admitted. “It’s important for you to learn.”
“She told us we had to work. We needed coins for food.”
“Did you have to work?” Sunset asked, wondering what a six year old could possibly do.
“Sonata and me, we took things places. We got coins for taking paper and jars to people.”
“And Adagio did...” Sunset swallowed as her throat constricted a little. “Something else?” she finished. “I don’t suppose you ever—“ She stopped herself here. It was clear from her face that Aria did not enjoy being reminded of her past. “Hey look, it’s lunch time,” she said with a stab at cheerfulness. “We’ve still got some of those make-your-own-pizza lunchables if you like.”
Whether it was from a genuine adoration of pizza-like lunchables, or because Sunset had dropped the subject, Sunset did not know, but Aria seemed much happier eating than talking. They watched television for a while as they ate, Sunset trying to gauge whether or not she should press Aria for more. It was clear that Aria knew a great deal of what had happened, and that she wasn’t comfortable with how it had turned out. But Sunset needed to know what had happened. She knew that at least Adagio had been... sold at least once, but had anything else happened? Had it continued? What had happened to make the sirens what they were?
How had they attained the pendants?
To Sunset’s surprise, Aria raised the subject herself.
When the show they had been watching ended, Sunset took away their plates, and Aria sat perched on the edge of the sofa. Sunset observed the clock, and saw that they have a little less than two hours before Pinkie returned.
“Do you really care about us?” Aria asked suddenly as Sunset came back into the lounge.
“Of course I do,” Sunset said earnestly.
“Why?” Aria asked sharply.
Sunset sighed a little at the question. “Well, first it’s just not right for kids to be out on the street. But I do have personal reasons too,” she added, as Aria gave her a sceptical look. “You three... well, I used to know three people a lot like you. They tried to do awful things, and my friends and I stopped them. But looking back on what my friends and I did... I think we should have done something to help them. We didn’t.”
“Did they die?” Aria asked after a short pause.
“In a way,” Sunset said quietly. “I suppose I was trying to make up for some things when I took you in, but I do care for the three of you. I can’t make you believe that, I know; all I can do is hope that you’ll believe me.”
Aria seemed to take a moment to consider this. After a while, she spoke to the floor.
“If you want to know what happened to Adagio, then you need to ask her,” she said flatly. Sunset’s insides sank a little at this answer. She bit her thumb nail, wondering how to prompt Aria to say more, even if it simply softened her up for a fresh attempt in the future, when unexpectedly Aria spoke again. “But if you care,” she said quietly, “then keep her away from those red stones.”
Sunset blinked. “Red stones?” She frowned. “Why would I need to keep her away from the pendants? Does she want them?” An unpleasant thought occurred to Sunset. “Has she been trying to get them?”
Aria bit her lip. “No. She doesn’t remember,” she muttered. “She doesn’t remember any of it. I asked her. Sonata remembers, but Adagio doesn’t. The stones are bad.” She grabbed Sunset’s sleeve. “You saw what they did to you!”
“I understand,” Sunset said quickly, taking hold of Aria’s hand in a reassuring way. The little girl’s voice had been rising a little hysterically, and her usually impassive face had developed an intensity that Sunset had never seen before. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to expose any of you to them. Although,” she said, trying to smile, “you seemed to handle them well enough.”
Aria’s mouth twisted. “They’re bad,” she repeated.
“You said that Adagio didn’t remember the pendants,” Sunset said, frowning a little. “What did you mean?”
Sunset waited while Aria took a moment to gather her thoughts. She considered how strange it was to be having such an adult conversation with someone who was biologically only six or seven years old. Aria looked the part of a child, making all manner of facial expressions as she went over internal dialogues, kicked her feet against the front of the sofa, bouncing up and down slightly in her agitation. Anyone watching might think they were an older sister sitting with a younger.
Aria sighed, and looked Sunset in the eye. “There was a man who came to where we lived. He asked for Adagio all the time to take to the grown-up house.”
“The grown-up house?” Sunset asked uncertainly.
“The place she went to get coins!” Aria said, twisting her fingers and looking uncomfortable.
“Sorry, sorry,” Sunset said hastily. “I know what you mean now.”
Aria’s discomfort eased a little, and she went on. “Adagio didn’t come back for a while. Days went by, and we didn’t know where she was. We weren’t allowed to look for her, but then she came back, and took us away.”
“Took you away?” Sunset asked, puzzled.
“Sonata and me. She came back wearing the red stone.”
“And she was... different?” Sunset guessed.
“She was happy,” Aria whispered.
Under usual circumstances, this statement would seem perfectly innocuous. Even the way in which Aria said it, although chilling, wouldn’t have been all that concerning despite the implied horror. But what Aria followed it up with made Sunset wonder what exactly had happened.
“She had... little spots all over her. Little dark spots everywhere.”
Sunset waited for her to elaborate, but after a few moments of silence she asked “You mean, on her skin? Like, she was sick?”
Aria shook her head. “Everywhere. On her clothes, in her hair, everywhere. Little dark red spots. I think it was...” Aria didn’t seem able to go on. Not that she needed to; Sunset got the gist.
Again she was struck by just how adult-like Aria was acting. She wondered if having these old memories impressed upon Aria’s mind the sense of just how old she really was. Or maybe having such harrowing childhood experiences made Aria mature for her age. She and Adagio seemed much alike in that regard, with Sonata being the obvious exception.
“So you don’t know where she got the pendant from?” Sunset asked. Aria shook her head. “Where did you get yours?”
“Adagio gave them to us,” Aria replied with a shrug. “She had three of them.”
“And then what happened?”
Aria gave Sunset an odd look. “I don’t know.”
Sunset stared at her. “You don’t know?” she asked, sure she’d misheard. Aria shrugged again. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”
“She gave us the stones, and then I can’t remember what happened,” Aria said slowly, as though speaking to someone a little dim. “Or at least, I’m not sure what happened afterwards. Sometimes it’s like I can remember, but if I try to think about it, it goes away.”
Sunset’s brow furrowed. If what Aria said was true, then Adagio at least had no idea of what the pendants were for, or what they could do. Sunset asked Aria specifically what Adagio had done when she returned with the pendant.
“She sang,” Aria replied.
“Makes sense,” Sunset mumbled. “And when she did, did people start acting strangely?”
Aria blinked. She gave Sunset a searching look. “How did you...?”
“Thanks for telling me all of this,” Sunset said smilingly. She rubbed Aria’s shoulder gratefully. As she made to get up, Aria seemed to force herself into speaking.
“What are you going to do?”
Sunset looked back into Aria’s intense, almost suspicious eyes. She couldn’t help but sigh internally a little; Aria still didn’t trust her. But Sunset didn’t take it personally, nor to heart.
Really, she thought with a little smile, it’d have been weird if she did trust me, after everything they’ve been through.
“I don’t know,” she said frankly. “But if I can, I’m going to help. Oh,” she said as an afterthought, “and any coins you earn, you keep them, okay?”
With that, she left Aria sitting on the sofa, looking confused.
“Why are you smiling so much?” Pinkie asked.
“Am I?” Sunset considered the point. “Mm, things turned out well today, I think.”
Sunset flipped the eggs in the pan and with deft aim managed to catch it on a plate. Sliding across the counter she continued “Can you pass that to Adagio, please? Now, who wanted their scrambled?”
“I did!” Sonata cried, popping up next to Pinkie and veritably drooling.
“It’s kinda weird,” Pinkie said in a far away voice, swallowing an entire bread roll whole. “When I think about how you used to be, seeing Momma-Sunset is just bizarre.”
“Well not to sound like a Disney heroine,” Sunset said, grinning, “but people change, you know?”
Pinkie took a moment to digest this. “Do I count as people?” she asked, frowning. “I like the way I am.”
“Don’t worry,” Sunset laughed. “I think it only happens to people with something wrong with them.”
“That sounds just vague enough to work. I’ll take it!” Pinkie said, folding her arms. “Hey, Sunset? You know those eggs are burning, right?”
“What?” Sunset said, looking down. She swore as quietly as she could.
“Yeah, the smoke kind of gives it away,” Pinkie went on, gesturing at the whitish steam rising from the pan. “Then there’s the smell, the black eggs—“
“Thank you, Pinkie, I get it!” Sunset said cheerfully through her teeth.
“What were you looking at, anyway?” Pinkie inquired, bumping Sunset out of the way and taking over. Sunset paused for a moment whilst Pinkie removed the bits of burnt egg with the spatula. “I always make these in the microwave.”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“Oh?” Pinkie said.
But Sunset didn’t elaborate. Perhaps because of her conversation with Aria, Sunset found herself watching Adagio warily. She didn’t expect anything nefarious from her, not at all. Well, not anything out of the ordinary anyway. But suddenly some of what Adagio had been doing in the past seemed altogether less innocent. Coming into Sunset’s bedroom when Sunset was working, asking questions about what she was doing, and inquiring specifically into the red fragments.
At the time Sunset thought nothing of it; Adagio was a child, of course she was curious. And like Aria said, she didn’t remember the pendants. Why would she be after them? It made no sense that she would be. What could she even do with them? If anything they would harm her more than anything else.
That’s the problem, Sunset thought to herself. Maybe it’s just paranoia, but...
“Hey Pinkie?”
“Yeah?” Pinkie said from the sofa.
Sunset blinked; how long had she been standing there?
She shook off her torpor. “Could I ask you to watch the kids for a little bit? I need to pop out for a moment.”
“That depends,” Pinkie said, her expression falling into the closest approximation of seriousness it was able to. “How much ice cream you got?”
Sighing audibly and making a mental note to pick up some more Häagen-Dazs on the way home, Sunset walked swiftly to her destination.
“Seriously, I can only afford the small ones,” Sunset grumbled as she waited for the traffic light to turn. “That girl eats too much. That ice cream is expensive.” She jumped as the car waiting for her to finish crossing honked its horn.
After having sworn loudly at the driver and endured a vulgar diatribe back, Sunset fumed all the way to her destination, and had to stop herself kicking the door open in frustration. Opening it as demurely as she could, the bell above the door tinkled with a delicate and refined resonance, the echo of which she heard coming from speakers upstairs. The sound of which was almost instantly shattered by the distinct sound of a gun going off.
Sunset shrieked, having been completely caught off guard by the sound, and almost tripping head-first into a sale’s bin. Catching herself on its rim, she looked wildly around for the source of the noise, and instantly heard a loud and angry female voice ringing from above.
“—could have killed someone, you idiot!”
Sunset barely had time to push herself up and set the basket to rights before two people came running as quietly as they could down the stairs.
“What happened?” Sweetie Belle hissed at her older sister. “Mom told dad he couldn’t load his guns in the house!”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Father’s still remembering the robberies,” she said impatiently. “Despite the fact that I’ve told him a hundred times that those were caused by—“ she stopped as she roved automatically behind the till and saw Sunset. “Oh!” she exclaimed, doing a double-take. “Sunset, darling, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Oh, so you caused dad to fire prematurely,” Sweetie Belle said, glancing shrewdly at the bell above the door.
Sunset decided to ignore that; the obvious joke was beneath her.
“Go play somewhere, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said, waving her off.
“Mom told you not to talk to me like that!” Sweetie Belle growled, giving her sister the kind of look that burns.
Rarity retorted with a cold shoulder that put icebergs to shame. “And mother told you not to stream movies from the internet, now go run along.”
Sweetie Belle blushed and stomped back up the stairs. Rarity meanwhile put on a delighted smile.
“What can I do for you, Sunset?”
“Trouble in the household?” Sunset asked quietly, directing an eye upwards.
Rarity pursed her lips. “Pay no mind. I’ve told father again and again that the robbieries have stopped – didn’t mention names of course – but he just seems to have developed a fondness for his guns.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, with a name like Magnum after all.”
Sunset again chose to ignore the obvious dirty joke, and brought the conversation around to the reason for her visit.
“I don’t suppose you have a jewellery box I can borrow that’s lockable, do you?” Sunset inquired.
“Oh certainly,” Rarity trilled. “Just as a matter of interest: why lockable?”
Sunset explained her suspicions as succinctly as she could. Rarity rubbed her chin and stared thoughtfully at the countertop.
“Well, darling,” she said slowly. “It sounds to me as though you need a safe-box more than a jewellery box.”
“I didn’t want to make it seem weird or suspicious,” Sunset explained sheepishly. “If I do something obvious like hide the pieces or put them in a place that’s obviously meant to be difficult to get to, I think it might make her want to get at them more. That’s how I was when I was a kid,” Sunset finished reminiscently.
“I see your point, dear,” Rarity concurred, momentarily directing a mysterious look at the ceiling. “I have just the thing.”
Rarity turned, and marched smartly back upstairs. Sunset waited, looking idly around at the racks of coats, dresses, and other articles, until Rarity came back with a beautiful, albeit slightly worn looking box.
“Here you are,” she said, her chest expanding with apparent pride.
Sunset stared at it. The box was not large, and had shiny blue fabric with a golden trim. It was a pretty thing to be sure, and by most standards would have been handsome, but in the context of Rarity it looked oddly dull and out-of-place. Sunset made an I-don’t-get-it face.
Rarity tutted impatiently, and held the box up, pointing at its front. Where usually there might have been a little handle to open the box, or perhaps a tiny, ornate padlock, there was a little row of numbers.
“It’s a combination lock,” Rarity said proudly. “And don’t let its looks fool you; this little gem can withstand a crowbar.” She patted the box like one might pet a cat.
“Oh yes?” Sunset asked, looking sceptical.
“Oh indeed yes,” Rarity said, smirking. She pointed to a part of the gold trim; there was an irregularity there, as though something had been trying to wedge the box open. “Sweetie Belle and her friends tried it once.”
“Wow,” Sunset said, impressed. “What were you keeping inside it?” she asked, turning the box over to see if the size would give any indication.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Rarity said hastily. “You want it or not?”
“Sure, it should work. How much?”
“Oh, nothing, darling,” Rarity said cheerfully. “Consider it a gift.” When Sunset protested this, Rarity tutted again and waved an airy hand. “Very well, very well, consider it a loan. Return it when you’re done with it if you want to.” She gave Sunset a coy smile. “It’s bad manners to refuse a gift, you know.”
Sunset had no real issue with leaving her three girls home alone, or with Pinkie Pie; they could take care of themselves no problem, and she trusted them enough by now to not cause any serious issues.
Re-entering the apartment with a bag of replacement ice-creams, she made sure not to rustle any of her bags. Keeping an eye on the back of Pinkie’s head, she managed to toss the bag containing the box onto her bed through the bedroom’s open door. Unfortunately, whether because she heard the light thump of the box hitting the bed, or because of her innate sense of smell for anything remotely sweet, Pinkie turned around.
“Oh, sweet!” she said. “More ice cream!”
“No more ice cream,” Sunset said, pointing severely at the little pile of empty containers on the coffee table. Pinkie grinned and gave a nervous laugh.
“Aww,” Sonata whined, popping up next to Pinkie’s head. She put on the old puppy-eyes, the effect of which was a little ruined by the residue of dulce de leche around her mouth.
“You’ve had enough for tonight,” Sunset said, and then muttered “or any other night,” as she put the replacement ice cream in the freezer.
“What did you go out for?” Adagio asked.
Sunset looked back at her. Her expression seemed innocent enough.
“Nothing in particular, just went to see Rarity. Incidentally,” she said as the thought occurred to her, “I don’t want any of you three going to her boutique alone.”
“Why?” Sonata asked, looking bemused.
“Her dad’s gotten a little... trigger happy.”
She allowed Pinkie to explain the nature of the idiom, and what exactly guns were.
“I want one,” Adagio said, smirking.
Sunset knew better than to contest this assertion. Challenging her would simply push her to solidify her position; she just had to be cautious should the desire arise again. Seeking then to change the subject, she sat down between them all and asked what was on TV.
“Storage Horse,” Aria said, waving the remote.
Next to her, Sunset heard Adagio give a thinly veiled sigh.
- To be Continued