//------------------------------//
// Parlante 
// Story: By the Daysong 
// by MetaSkipper 
//------------------------------//

	“So, where’d you learn to play the guitar?” Sunset asked, the clamor of the pillow fight finally at rest, the girls content to lay about the bedroom.
Aria half-scowled at the question, eyebrow raised. “Sonata taught me.” She scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “Really, Sonata is the one who’s good at playing instruments.” She crossed her arms and faced away, clearly loathe to admit the fact.
Sonata giggled. “Aww, I just taught you the basics.” She nudged Aria’s shoulder and winked at her. “Besides, you’re much better at the guitar than I am.”
“How I pity you, you who cannot play one of the many instruments you play better than the one I play.” It’s a fact, much as Aria is loathe to admit it. Still, she can’t seem to stop a smile from creeping onto her face. “Besides, you’re an amazing piano player.”
“Ooh! You play the piano too, Sonata dear?” Rarity, impossibly fast, closed the distance between her and Sonata, and plopped next to her, listening intently.
The blue haired teen looked up to the ceiling and pouted, then shook her head and gave a small smile. “Naaaah. It’s been so long since I’ve played. Our power comes from singing, so I just stopped playing eventually.”
Aria in turn rolled her eyes and smirked as she returned Sonata’s previous nudge with one of her own. “Pah. If I can still play a guitar, I’m sure you can still play the piano. Don’t sell yourself short.”
And as the girls crowd around a now-blushing Sonata, Aria can’t help but feel a pang of pride for her fellow Siren.





Aria had already walked out, but she still caught the clang of clatter crashing about.
“I’m not cleaning that mess up!” Aria turned to see the blonde cowgirl – Applejack, that’s her name – walking out as well, heaving a sigh. “Why did I agree to let them bake a cake in our house? I don’t know what to do with those girls sometimes…” she added under her breath, rubbing her temples as she fell against the wall.
“Getting to you too?” Aria asked as she leaned her back against the wall beside Applejack.
The cowgirl gave a laugh, forceful and humorously sharp. “Pinkie’s a walking disaster, Rainbow’s too big for her britches, and Rarity brings drama wherever she goes! Fluttershy’s critters get everywhere, and while Sunset isn’t a she-demon anymore….” Her eyes and face became downcast, now looking at the ground.
“And you’re friends with them of your own free will?” Aria couldn’t stop one of her eyebrows going up. She got a chuckle in return.
“At this point? I’m not even sure anymore.” Applejack replied in jest, something resembling a smile of amusement on her face. It was replaced with a grimace and a palm against her forehead as another crash came from inside.
“How do you do it?” Now Aria was intrigued. Now she leaned against the barn by her shoulder, facing Applejack.
“Do what?” For a moment, it seemed as if Applejack didn’t understand the question. “Are ya talking about staying friends? It’s not that hard, really.”
“Oh?”
“No, not at all! It’s not like I don’t have my share of silly moments.” A wistful smile crosses her face. “That time I tried to harvest all the apples on the orchard by myself... Hoo-wee, Rainbow Dash still has that scar, doesn’t she?”
“…Scar?”
“It’s not my story to tell.” Applejack leaned back against the barn, eyes now gazing into the distance. “But, I guess, to really answer your question… they just make me happy, I guess. I don’t know, I never really thought about it before.”
“…Happy?”
“If you think we’re giving each other ‘happy endings,’ no, that’s not–“
Whatever the farmer had intended to say was cut short by another set of loud crashes, both girls sent recoiling at the sound. “What in tarnation are those girls doing!?” The commotion clearly too much for her, Applejack stormed back inside.
But Aria can’t go back in yet. She’s become strangely fixed on the word “happy,” a word that she couldn’t use to describe herself for… how many years now? Centuries, perhaps? Amused, sated, proud, but not happy. She’s not the kind of girl to feel “happy” as most people do, but wouldn’t it be nice to be happy, happy like Sonata? For a moment, the image of her acting like Sonata flashed through her brain, and it is enough to make her shudder. No, she’s quite, dare she say it, happy with how she is.
But Sonata seems happier now, doesn’t she? She fits right into their strange group. And it really is strange, now that she thinks about it. What do a cowgirl, a soccer player, a fashion designer, an animal caretaker, a party girl, and a pony have in common? Aria decided to not search for the punchline, especially since she’d then have to throw a siren in as well.
“Aria! You’re gonna miss dinner!”
And then the punchline hits her. There’s no physical blow, but the cruel joke forces the air out of her chest, violently. The door suddenly seems miles away, and it is somewhat miraculous Aria can reach it. Her vision is swimming now; she thinks she opened the door. She’s now at the table, eating. All the while, the punchline echoes through her head.
What do they have in common? It doesn’t matter, since you have nothing at all.





Aria Blaze was awake. This wasn’t necessarily unusual, except it was two in the morning and everyone else was asleep. Aria Blaze was currently in the kitchen. That wasn’t necessarily unusual, except it wasn’t her kitchen and she wasn’t hungry. Aria Blaze was upset. That definitely wasn’t unusual, except she was upset at herself.
That was unusual.
Elbows on table, forehead in hands, eyes closed, Aria scowled. She can’t even tell if she’s more upset at this new revelation in her life, or at the fact she has no idea why she’s upset. She has never, ever aspired to be like Sonata, in any way.
This is not how it is supposed to be. Sonata was always supposed to be the ditz, the fool, the one who was always behind. That hadn’t changed. So why did Aria feel this pit in her gut when the thought about Sonata? 
Because Sonata has changed. She’s found something Aria will never touch, never know. And how can Aria keep thinking she’s the better Siren when Sonata knows something she never will?
Of course she can. Aria has never really known the strange machinations that ran through Sonata’s head, and she has never desired to. Why should this be any different? She had no right, no reason to be angry right now. So why wouldn’t her heart settle?
The sound of footsteps drew Aria’s attention, and she saw the cowgirl come through the door. She blinked twice before realizing she didn’t have her hat on.
The cowgirl blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes when their eyes met. “Aria? What are you doing, up at this hour?”
Caught off guard, the Siren blinked a few times herself. “I… had to use the bathroom.”
“That would explain why you’re sitting in the kitchen.” The slightest smug grin was on Applejack’s face, curse her, and Aria found no retort.
“Well, I could ask why you’re up.”
Applejack sighed, shoulders now dropped, her back now hunched over. “Well, someone has to clean this place up.”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t clean this up.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” A chuckle, the beginnings of a smile. “Made a liar out of me, they did. I hate it when they do that.” Applejack shook her head, then faced Aria once more. “Well, as long as you’re here, mind giving me a hand?”
Trapped, Aria mumbled something in the affirmative, and stood up.
“So tell me. Why are you up?” Aria only gave the floor a scowl in reply as she picked up a fallen pot.
Besides… I’m not sure I could answer anyway. Not that she has to let the cowgirl know that.
But her mind started running against her will, started trying to explain away the growing pit in her stomach. Really, what was the worst that could come out of this whole development? Sonata would just keep hanging out with them more, spending less time with Adagio and her. 
Sonata was leaving her. Sonata was walking out of her life.
Aria dropped the lid she was carrying. She never registered the clang as it hit the ground. She stood there, almost tragically comical expression on her face.
Sonata was leaving her. That useless, pathetic, closest thing she had to a little sister was leaving her. That foolish, good-for-nothing, better-than-you’d-think-and-only-I-truly-know companion wasn’t going to be a part of her life anymore.
Eventually, the repeated calls of “Sugarcube?” break her trance. 
“I just remembered, I started the laundry before we came. I need to finish it. Adagio gets cranky when she doesn’t have any clean clothes.”
It’s a perfectly legitimate reason to leave. She’s already halfway to the door.
“So you came down here to not eat, not clean up, and now you have to go finish your laundry?” She doesn’t need to look to see the dry disbelief on Applejack’s face.
She had the doorknob half-turned when a voice stopped her.
“Aria… what’s wrong?”
She turned the doorknob, pushed through the door, and walked out.





She is walking home at a brisk pace. She is running.
She is not cold. She is freezing.
She is not crying. She can’t see through the tears.
She is perfectly fine.
…
Why does it hurt so much?