Chapter Two: The Root and the Third
“I made good money playing in town this weekend, so I thought I’d bring some food this time,” Aria said amicably, removing a loaf of bread and a paper-wrapped piece of her favorite brie from her saddlebag, “want some?”
“Oh, I appreciate the offer,” Adagio said, perched once again on her rock, “but I haven’t much taste for pony food.”
“Oh,” Aria replied, realizing a consideration like that should’ve been obvious, “well, what do you eat?”
“Look at my teeth,” Adagio chuckled, “and you can probably guess.”
“I suppose I could’ve figured that out on my own,” Aria conceded, the fact that her strange friend hadn’t automatically assumed she’d be squeamish about carnivores simply because she was a pony not lost on her, nor unappreciated. She’d never understood why the other intelligent creatures she’d met that didn’t share her dietary preferences – griffons, for example – all thought she would be. Just another reason why she was rapidly taking a liking to the siren, for that’s what she now knew the creature to be. This was their fifth meeting, as the first time they’d encountered one another, Adagio had offered to give her singing lessons. However adept Aria might be when it came to making music with an instrument, when it came to doing it with her own voice, she knew her abilities were severely lacking. If she wanted to make a name for herself as an artist – and that was very much her desire – she knew she needed to hone every skill at her disposal. But more so than the lessons, she just enjoyed talking to this very unusual person, and she suspected Adagio might feel the same way, as their time together had been more conversation than song.
“Tell me,” Adagio began casually as Aria sat down, fiddling with her instrument as she chewed, “what possesses an earth pony to learn the piano and the mandolin?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean that your form is…not exactly conducive to playing such things.”
“Yeah, so?” Aria demanded defensively.
“I meant no offense, my dear,” the siren said apologetically, “I think your ambitions are quite admirable, I simply wondered why, should one such as yourself choose to play music, she would do so in ways that would be so difficult for her.”
“Because,” Aria explained, feeling her mood return to relative calm, “I won’t let what I am dictate who I am. I promised myself I would be a great musician, and I will.”
“To see if you can?”
“No. Because I know I can.”
Adagio seemed immensely satisfied by this answer. “I think I can help you a little bit more than just teaching you how to sing,” she said.
“How do you figure?” Aria questioned. In truth, she hadn’t learned all that much thus far. Adagio’s talent seemed almost entirely natural, rather than owed to any particular kind of technique. In truth, she had come here for the company more than anything.
“With this,” the siren said, producing an object seemingly out of nowhere. It was a necklace, the centerpiece of which was a large red ruby that bore a striking resemblance to the jewel-like formation of scales at the base of Adagio’s neck. A gem of that size had to be worth quite a few bits, but Aria figured that wasn’t what her peculiar friend meant by “help”.
“What does it do?”
“More than you can imagine. It’ll make your voice like mine, for one.”
Aria’s heart was in her throat at the thought, but she wasn’t so very naïve as to believe she could get something for nothing.
“What’s the catch?” she demanded.
“There isn’t one.”’
-----
“Ari?”
“Eh?” Aria responded lazily. The sun was setting and she sat on the back porch of the trio’s residence, a neglected cigarette barely smoldering between her fingertips, an iced coffee that may or may not have contained a generous helping of whiskey in her other hand.
“Remember that song you were working on the other day?” Sonata asked rhetorically, sitting down on the nearby bench with her guitar. It had only been a few days since she picked it up, but she’d scarcely put it down in that time save for when she was cooking or eating, and sometimes not even then.
“What about it?”
“Listen,” Sonata said simply, and began to play. What followed was a surprisingly precise rendition of the same dark, jazzy piece Aria had been playing a few nights prior. However, the greatest surprise was that it didn’t end where her composition had left off. It wasn’t something she would’ve written, but she couldn’t deny it was a valid interpretation of a possible conclusion to the song.
“Sonata,” she breathed when the last note had rung to a halt, “that was…pretty damn good.”
“Thanks!” the other girl said cheerfully.
“How much have you been practicing? It’s only been three days; you shouldn’t be able to do that.”
“Playing the guitar is the most wonderful thing, Ari,” Sonata sighed happily, “I mean, it’s a lot different than singing, but it just feels so good to be making music again. I missed it so much. I mean, it’s not as easy; the songs don’t just kind of make themselves anymore, but I kinda like it that way better, because it’s so much more special when you actually come up with something good.”
Hearing a fledgling musician speak with such passion and fervor about her craft, Aria felt something stir within her that she hadn’t felt for a very, very long time. She knew the only responsible thing to do was to encourage that passion, and – however contrary to her nature it was – nurture it.
“I like how you ended it,” she said cautiously. “It’s not what I originally had in mind, but now it’s got me thinking…you wanna help me finish the song? There’s a few things I would change in the way you did it, but we could do it together.”
“Oh, Ari! That would be awe–”
“No hugging!”
“Heh, sorry. That would be awesome.”
“Alright,” the elder siren said, “we’ll work on it tomorrow, then.”
“Why not tonight?” Sonata asked, obviously disappointed.
“I’ve had too much…coffee.”
-----
A number of somewhat blurry hours later, Aria sat slumped in the large, cushy easy chair that faced her television, hand barely clutching what was somewhere around the tenth drink since she should’ve stopped. She knew if she did it would only bring the headache on early. Bright, obnoxious images flashed in front of her unfocused eyes, accompanied by muffled sound that was just one notch above being muted. She hated television; it was possibly the biggest waste of time any sapient race in the entire multiverse had ever invented, but she had to admit it was a good distraction when one was in a state of drunken listlessness and being productive simply wasn’t an option. She also hated being drunk, but she had to admit it was a good way to distract oneself from how irritating television was. She wondered how Adagio could possibly handle feeling like this constantly for the past six months.
Adagio. Aria’s vision actually drifted into slightly better focus from sheer rage just thinking about her. The thought of the regal, golden siren with the silver voice that she’d met in that sunny meadow all those centuries ago being reduced to a despondent, abusive wreck made her angry to the point of nausea…though that might’ve had something to do with the room currently beginning to spin. It was so utterly pathetic. She was almost glad she was too drunk to stand, as the idea of beating Adagio out of her stupor was becoming more and more appealing with each passing minute.
Aria’s thoughts were forcibly pounded out of her skull by what she was sure was a crane slamming repeatedly into the side of the house, but belatedly realized was just someone knocking at her door.
“Whaaat?” she moaned, rubbing her temples and hoping it was locked.
“Ari?” a hopeful voice inquired.
“Sonata, I’m…” …busy…falling asleep…touching myself…overcome with ennui…in the midst of an existential crisis…“I’m having alone time. Please find something else to do.”
“Okay,” came the dejected response. Seconds and then minutes ticked by, but Aria never heard the sound of retreating footsteps.
“Are you just standing out there?”
“Yeah…”
“Fine, come in,” Aria huffed, the effort of being annoyed making her feel a little bit sick, “just don’t touch anything, and don’t touch me.”
The door creaked open, a pair of wide, curious eyes peering through the crack. In darkness, with only the flickering light of the TV illuminating their magenta irises, they could almost be mistaken for belonging to someone else, and Aria shuddered with contempt.
“Why’s it so dark in here?” Sonata wondered. It looked like she was contemplating reaching for the light switch, but then wisely decided against it. Instead she tiptoed across the room, being careful not to step on anything – as the place was a bit of a mess, and only Aria knew how to navigate it by heart – and sat down on the carpeted floor, leaning against the enormous chair that her sister siren had melted into. “Watcha doin’?”
“Being a deplorable waste of space,” Aria deadpanned.
“Doesn’t sound like you’re enjoying it…”
“I’m not,” the purple girl assured, “I could be working on music right now.”
“So why even drink in the first place?”
“Because,” she snarled, knowing that this was going to turn into a game of twenty questions, “sometimes there’s stuff I don’t want to think about, Sonata.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Well,” Sonata relented, “let me know if you change your mind.”
“In that hypothetical world,” Aria mumbled, finishing her drink and letting the tumbler roll out of her hand and onto the floor, “I will. Now be quiet, I’m sleepy.” She offered up the remote, adding “just don’t turn the volume up, and if you fall asleep, don’t snore.”
“Night, Ari.”
-----
“You can’t be serious, Adagio,” Aria said incredulously, “how could you even consider somepony like her?” The two sirens had – at the elder’s insistence – been watching the young mare for several weeks now, and she couldn’t fathom why. Everything she’d seen had told her that this pony was a moron, and not worth a moment’s thought.
“Why do you say that, Aria?” the golden siren asked innocently.
“Don’t be intentionally dense,” Aria snapped, wobbling a bit in the air as she gesticulated furiously. She still wasn’t quite used to her new form, nor to the act of levitation. “All she does is cook, pick flowers, and mingle with the other idiots.”
“And she likes to sing,” Adagio added.
“She’s nothing special at it. Besides, what does it matter? There are millions of creatures in Equestria and beyond that like to sing, and I’ll bet you any of them would serve us better than her.”
“Aria,” the older siren began sternly, “what is the difference between you and I?”
“I’m not in the mood for rhetoric, just get on with it.”
“The answer is very little,” Adagio frowned. “You see things in ways that I don’t, and you possess certain strengths that I do not, but when you get right down to it, our thoughts align more often than not.”
“And?” Aria demanded, “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“We need balance, Aria,” the golden siren insisted, “we need someone who will not always agree with us – someone with an entirely different perspective than ours. There is a reason that there are three amulets, and there is a reason that their full potential can only be unlocked when wielded by three separate entities. The old gods who bequeathed us this magic knew what could happen were it beholden to the will of a single individual.”
“But…her? What do you see in her?”
“She has certain qualities that I believe will be valuable, if not now, then in the future.”
“So, what?” Aria glared, “we pick her because she may or may not be useful at some point? That’s asinine.”
“Why do you think I chose you?” Adagio countered, “anyone can sing with these pendants on; I could’ve snatched up the first two willing beings I laid eyes on. I gave you this opportunity because of who you are, as I intend to do for her. I ask that you trust me.”
“That’s a tall order,” the newly-minted siren said, “considering what happened the last time I trusted you.” She indicated the strange new form that she’d slowly been acclimating to over the past few months.
“Did I lie to you?”
“No, but you never said anything about fins and losing a pair of legs.”
“I said there was no catch,” Adagio corrected, “and there isn’t. If you truly wish to leave, all you need do is return the gem to me, and you will have your old life back.”
“If I get the sense that this plan is going sideways, I will,” Aria assured her.
“Very well.”
-----
Returning to consciousness was not a pleasant affair for Aria, not by a longshot. Her first waking breath made plain just how parched her throat was, and when she attempted to swallow, her esophagus felt as though it was made of sandpaper. The feeling of vaguely sticky coarseness made her want to retch, and it took a moment to get her stomach in check. It was immediately apparent that she was not alone – seeing as a voice was what had roused her – and this fact did nothing to help the situation.
“Go away, Sonata,” she croaked, feeling another wave of nausea as soon as she spoke, shutting her unopened eyes even tighter. Surprisingly, there was no verbal response; instead she felt something cold touch her palm, and her fingers instinctively wrapped around it. Realizing what it was, her other hand fumbled for the cap, only to find that the bottle was already open. She spilled more than a little on herself, but couldn’t have cared less. She took a deep, grateful draught of the sweet, slightly-salty liquid. It eased the fire in her gullet and the turmoil in her stomach, and she didn’t stop until the vessel was drained. Feeling markedly better but still quite ill, she tossed the plastic bottle aside and belched rudely, immediately regretting it as she felt her aching skull rattle with the force. Clutching her throbbing head, she slowly forced an eye open, finding the lid had the same dry, abrasive texture as her throat had moments ago.
“C’mon, sleepy,” Sonata encouraged at an uncomfortable volume, “wake up!”
Aria’s one-eyed gaze found the world a depthless, unfocused blur, and she was disoriented to the point of being unable to summon the strength to even get angry. Of course, the inability to muster her default emotional response to any given situation enraged her, and she pounded her fist against the arm of her chair, shaking her head violently in an ill-advised attempt to shrug off the hangover.
“Sonata,” she rasped hoarsely, “whatever you woke me up for, it better fucking astonish me.”
“I brought you breakfast in b– uh…chair,” Sonata said cheerfully, hardly missing a beat. The smile on her face was audible, and it made Aria want to commit indiscriminate genocide.
“I’ll hurl if I even look at food,” the purple grouch snarled, “but if you piss off now I might let you live.”
“It’s eggs benedict and hash browns,” Sonata told her in a sing-song voice, “but, you know, if you don’t want them, I guess that’s more for me.”
Struggling to keep her eyes open and pointing in a single direction, Aria turned slowly to see that her sister siren was indeed holding a tray of her two favorite foods, as well as what looked like French toast and fruit salad.
“Fine,” she grumbled, yanking the tray away as forcefully as she could without spilling anything, “you’re lucky I’m nice.” The smell of eggs, fried ham, and what was obviously scratch-made hollandaise caused her gut to forget the abuse it had taken the previous night and realize how empty it was. Without a word, she dug in, paying even less heed to manners than normal.
“So,” Sonata prompted, her mood still chipper as ever, “can we work on music today?”
Aria managed a guttural assent between bites.
“Oh! Yay! I’ll go get my guitar!”
“Waig frr meaffimmish…” Aria gulped down her current mouthful when she realized her words were unintelligible, “wait for me to finish eating first, you spazz.”
“Can’t I go tune it while you eat?” Sonata shrugged, as if to say “this is obvious even to me.”
“No.”
“Okay,” she smiled, sitting down on the floor and crossing her legs, “so, what’s on your mind?”
“Nothing you need to know about.”
“So…” Sonata trailed off, furrowing her brow, “you just want me to sit here and watch you eat?”
Aria said nothing, continuing to shovel food into her face at a breakneck pace.
“There’s a piece of ham in your cleavage,” Sonata pointed out solemnly.
“Go tune your fucking guitar!”
-----
“Stop,” Aria commanded, ceasing her playing and holding up a hand, “that right there…that was good. Play it again.”
As requested, Sonata retraced her steps and repeated the last phrase she’d executed, playing it over and over until her partner finished scrawling down a series of notes and gave her a curt nod. Aria had never written music with anyone else before – despite centuries upon centuries of experience, composition had always been a solitary act for her – and so it had taken them several hours to figure out some sort of rhythm for the process. Trying to get someone the likes of Sonata to sit down with a blank staff and write out notes was impossible, and so eventually they’d simply taken to improvising indefinitely until they played something that sounded right. Despite her irritation at having to deviate from her normal methods, Aria had to admit that there was a certain…something between them. An understanding, one might’ve called it. While it was true they’d never properly played music with one another, they had been making a certain sort of music together for a very, very long time. There was no more magic left to guide them, but an indefinable something still remained that caused their improvisations to align more often than they didn’t.
“I’m doing okay, right?” Sonata asked with plain vulnerability.
“Yeah, why?”
“You just look kinda mad.”
“I’m not mad,” Aria said, rolling her eyes, “well, I mean I am mad, but not at you. Actually, no, you know what? I am mad at you. Why’d you let me drink so much?”
“I told you to stop like five times,” Sonata protested.
“Well, why didn’t I listen?” Aria demanded, squinting at a sudden twinge of pain in her forehead. “You obviously weren’t persuasive enough.”
“I tried all my sad faces, Ari!” Sonata insisted, “even this one.” As a demonstration, she stuck her lower lip out in a pout, letting it quiver ever-so-slightly as her brow knitted with concern and her wide, suddenly-glossy eyes seemed to shimmer in the afternoon light.
“Whoa, whoa,” Aria exclaimed, turning away and holding up her hands as a shield, “be careful where you point that, you’re gonna give me emotions.” Maybe Adagio wasn’t so crazy after all; she must’ve picked Sonata as the third siren with the intent to weaponize her and hold the world hostage with the threat of a diabetes epidemic. “Anyway,” she continued, “I need a break, my brain hurts.”
“Want me to make lunch?” Sonata asked, reverting to her usual cheerful self.
“Nah,” Aria dismissed, patting her stomach, “I don’t think I need to eat again for the rest of the year. What’d you make that sauce with, anyway? Lead?”
“I used whipping cream.”
“Oh god,” the elder siren cringed, feeling her chest to make sure her heart was still beating, “I didn’t need to know that.”
Sonata didn’t seem to hear, as she had busied herself noodling around on her guitar. Despite being uncommonly dedicated, she was still more or less a novice, and so took every available opportunity to explore the instrument. Aria ignored the twanging and stretched, realizing how painfully tense she was. Her neck popped as she tilted her head, wishing there was some way she could procure a back massage while still avoiding things that made her uncomfortable, such as “touching” and “people”. The desire conjured memories she had no wish to recall, and she almost welcomed the mental jolt when a familiar bassline crept through the periphery of her hearing.
The siren amulets had possessed many more powers than simply granting perfect voices. Despite her proficiency as a musician, Aria’s skills had never been needed when it came to the musical accompaniments to the girls’ performances. Music had simply manifested as it was needed, as loud or as soft as it was required to be, and on more than one occasion she’d wondered if the gems had greater potential than what Adagio had decided to use them for. The droning, minor progression that emanated from Sonata’s guitar brought her back to that night – the stage, awash in green smoke and an unnatural red glow…the eager, helpless crowd…the feeling of power and impending triumph as she and her two companions had strode through the dusk, ready to claim their places as this world’s new overlords.
Feel the wave of sound…
As it crashes down…
“Sonata, stop,” she found herself saying, “I don’t want to hear that right now.”
The blue girl – ever the sensitive one – halted immediately, but looked up with hope in her eyes.
“But Ari, I had an idea,” she explained cautiously, “I mean, I want to know how the song ends…”
“Sonata…”
“…and you want to know how the song ends…”
“Sonata, no.”
“…so I was thinking: we could write the rest of it. I’m sure we can figure it out.”
“No, Sonata.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said no.”
“But…we could at least tr–”
“I have been trying!” Aria all but shrieked, standing abruptly and upending her keyboard. She marched over to the far wall of her room, thrusting a damning finger at the sheet music Sonata had been gazing at just the other night. “I’ve been trying for six months, Sonata! I’ve written a hundred different endings to that song. They all make sense in my head…they all look good on paper…but they don’t sound right, because you can’t write what's already written,” she punctuated this last declaration by slamming her fist against the wall, dislodging several sheets of paper. “That song was created by Equestrian artefacts channeling the most potent magic this world has ever known; there is an ending to it etched somewhere in the halls of the old gods, but you and I will never know it.” She closed in on Sonata, vision tainted red by pent-up frustration. “There is nobody on this planet or any other more qualified to finish it than me,” she jabbed a thumb into her chest for emphasis. “I have been composing for generations. I helped wield the very magic that created it. If it’s anyone’s song to finish, it’s mine, so don’t you dare insult me by acting like you can bring something new to the table. The only way we could do it is with our magic, and thanks to her,” she waved a hand in the general direction of the living room, and a certain person who occupied its only couch, “we will never, ever have that chance.”
“You…you blame Adagio for this, don’t you?” Sonata whispered, comprehension finally dawning on her.
“Yes,” Aria muttered coldly as her wrath returned to a smolder, “I do. Her hubris, her fall, her fault.”
“No wonder,” the younger siren mumbled, more to herself than anyone else.
“No wonder what?”
“No wonder she’s hurting so much,” Sonata said, her words still quiet, but low and laced with acidity. “I didn’t see it, but now I do – the way you look at her and the way you treat her. You’re putting this all on her shoulders,” she quavered as her voice rose, entire body shaking and fists balled up with the kind of righteous indignation only the empathic can know, “and it’s killing her. What have you said to her, Aria? What have you said to her that I haven’t heard?”
“Nothing,” Aria stated truthfully, “I’ve said nothing to her, because I have nothing to say.”
Sonata deflated, shoulders slumping and eyes glistening with sorrow.
“You’re cruel,” she said simply, as though it were a statement of fact, “you’re cruel, and I don’t understand why. After all we’ve done, Ari…after everything we’ve been through, how can you have nothing to give her?”
“I’ve given her more than I owed her, Sonata. We both have. Why can’t you see that?”
“Why can’t you see that that’s not what this is about?” Sonata asked. When there was no answer, she shook her head and turned, leaving and closing the door quietly behind her.
It was only when Aria looked down that she realized Sonata had left her guitar behind.
-----
“Get up,” Aria ordered, receiving no response.
“Get up,” she commanded again, seizing her target by the shoulder and shaking her rather violently. Something stirred amongst the unruly mop of carrot-colored hair, and after a moment the moonlight found a bloodshot pair of magenta eyes. Adagio yawned apathetically.
“If this is going to become a regular occurrence,” she grinned lazily, voice as sultry and nonchalant as ever, “I might consider migrating to somewhere more private.”
“You have a room, you know. I don’t know why you can’t feel sorry for yourself up there.”
“Oh, I would, Aria,” Adagio intoned innocently, “but I don’t like to drink alone. Besides, what’s an example if it’s not laid out for all to see?”
“You need to stop this,” Aria hissed through gritted teeth, yanking her sister siren into a semi-upright position, “you need to stop this now.”
“I don’t need to do anything. If I needed to do something, surely I’d be the first to know, yes? You must mean something else.”
“Fine,” Aria conceded, “but you should stop this. You should stop doing this to yourself.”
“Should I?” Adagio wondered in mock-contemplation, tapping a finger to her chin, “what should one do? What shouldn’t one do? Such nebulous, philosophical notions…”
“Fuck you,” Aria said, releasing her and exiting through the door that led to the back porch. She slammed it as hard as she could, not caring if she woke Sonata or any of the neighbors. It was very cold outside, and she welcomed it, because there was no shame in hating the cold.
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5269811
Oh, I intend to.
5269826
I'm a poet myself, so the idea that this story inspired someone to write a poem makes me giddy.
Adagio is such a butt. Good stuff.
5269830
How fitting. I'm glad we could please you~
They're making small, but resolute progress. Now, if only Adagio too would break free.
Spiraling away,
fading into a reality void of purpose,
finding rest within that pain.
To indolently dream a nightmare this cold night;
then surely,
the blackness shall consume them.
Let it clamour,
the music within your soul,
and seek warmth in companionship,
until the end of this despair.
Awaiting further releases.
This is one of those stories that really hits you hard. You can feel the time and effort that's been devoted to it. I was never much of a fan of the 'sirens go into a downward spiral after being beaten' story line, but I realise now it was because I hadn't found a story that channelled as much care and complexity into exploring the notion. I tend not to read many stories about these characters, but I'll definitely keep tabs on this one.
Hm, a story based on Esidesei instead of Wamuu for once.
This ought to be good.
Wow I haven't seen Rainbow Rocks yet, but I'm invested.
I just hope that Adagio gets her life straightened out. I hate seeing characters burn out in such a horrible way.
I don't really know what to say... This is just so sad. I feel so sorry for all three of them, but especially sorry for Adagio.
5271615
That's...a fucking good point. This is what I get for chugging a few brewskis while I write.
5271684
Yeah man, the third chapter's already written, I'm just editing it.
I hope for Adagio's sake that the Siren's immortality extends to their livers
This has quickly become on of my favourite ongoing stories. I look forward to more
This story is so good! I love it. When will chapter 3 be available? (I'm not even done with Chapter 2 but I want more so much!!!!)
5273837
If you can't wait for chapter 3, there's an unpolished version in my pastebin, which is linked on my profile.
There has been a flood of siren stories lately, but this one stands out enough to earn a spot in my favorites list. It's well written with decent pacing and the characters actually feel like reel people. I could go on, but i'm lazy. All in all I greatly enjoyed what I've read so far and look forward to more. I also feel that there should be more Aria centric stories on this site, ever since Rainbow rocks came out I've developed a minor girl crush on her. Keep up the good work.
I can't help but imagine Aria playing this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEknPFB-7PY
It is absolutely beautiful. As is the song.
I like this.
I like this.
A great origin story for the sirens! (I've seen one story where they started out as sea ponies.) I really enjoy stories with this much thought put behind them and that respect the characters (and the readers) as this one does. Also, Aria's hungover brain has a wicked sense of humor.
Just one question: did Adagio also start out as a pony, or is she the Original Siren? I would say in which case where did she come from, but that way lies madness.
"Sonata" is being used as an interjection, so it should have a comma in front of it.
Same here with "Aria".
5276343
5276294
Thanks bro, I'll get those.
>tfw no editor
5276343
Direct address is the term you're looking for.
I love it... But I hate the swears in there.
5279788 Sounds like a personal problem.
I feel as though wrote should be replaced by written.
I somehow can understand Sonata, but it sometimes it seems, like Sonata was the only one, which ever had thought of the other ones as friends.
Now it looks for me like Sonata would not even understand, that Aria possibe never had a emotional bond to Adagio and well maybe Adagio did liked them or simply can´t stand that pressure right now.
I don´t know if Sonata should really force Aria to befriend with Adagio like this, but i suppose they can´t leave her like that if Adagio lives there and hurts Sonata sometimes.
This is an excellent line.
5285044
I think you're wrong, though. Aria seems to have at least thought of Adagio as a friend in the past, before becoming a Siren. I think the main issue is that Aria isn't big on forgiveness and over the years, especially with this last debacle, resentment has started over-powering her other feelings.
Man, this really broke all of them, huh? The raw emotion this story evokes is uncanny. I seem to spend an eternity reading these chapters because they are . . . well, they seem almost real. I can't get over that. You've done a great job with this story so far, and I've only just started!
It suddenly dawned on me the other day that there might be more to the chapter title here than just a compositional reference. Not sure if I'm reading way too much into it, or if that was your intention all along? I'm rereading the story now, and am less sure.
Does the root and the third refer not just to the notes of the chord/scale, but also to Adagio as the siren root to which the others were added, and to Sonata as the third addition to their trio? And does it go deeper still, referring back to music theory, since the root and third sound harmonious together? Yet if Aria is the second, she adds only dissonance, in any combination with either or both of the others?