• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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Friends of Rainbow Dash (Rewrite)

Friends of Rainbow Dash

Gilda found herself surprised by how pissed off hearing the rage in Rainbow Dash’s voice made her.

Even more surprisingly, that anger wasn’t directed at Rainbow Dash.

Maybe it ought to have been. Maybe listening to Rainbow fulminate over a pair of humans, Atlesian humans what was more, ought to have been the thing to make her furious. But it didn’t. It made her sad because she’d missed that anger. She’d missed having that anger on her side. She’d missed having the rock-solid certainty of Rainbow Dash behind her, of knowing that no matter what happened, no matter what got thrown at them, no matter what the world did to them or didn’t do for them, Rainbow Dash would have her back.

She might have found a cause in the White Fang, but she hadn’t found a friend half so loyal as Rainbow Dash, and being reminded of that – being reminded of what it meant to have Rainbow Dash on your side, someone who would be protective of you no matter how much you needed it, who would be rendered furious at any injustice done to you or threat made against you – made her sad.

Having to stand silently in this dark room in this dead city and listen to Cinder Fall threaten their prisoners all for the sake of getting a rise out of Rainbow Dash made her angry.

As it went on, as the human who held the whip-hand over them as firmly as any Mistralian overseer in the bad old days only grew more and more smug, and more and more vicious, it became an increasing struggle for Gilda to both hold her tongue and keep her swords restrained.

By the time that Cinder implied that she wouldn’t be able to ‘restrain’ the White Fang for very much longer if Rainbow and company didn’t walk into the trap soon, it was only Adam’s presence that was keeping Gilda from announcing herself and doing something drastic.

She couldn’t believe that Adam could stand there, arms folded, and listen to this in silence. That was the kind of ‘human women aren’t safe around faunus’ crap that the most unapologetically outspoken racists thought but hardly dared to say anymore, and yet, Adam was willing to just stand there and let Cinder play on it without a word of protest.

It wasn’t even that he was angry but keeping it inside. There were none of the telltale signs that Adam Taurus was losing his temper; that mask hid half his face, but it couldn’t hide his jaw, the expression of his mouth, the way his hand strayed towards the hilt of Wilt whenever he was fantasising about chopping someone in half with it. There was none of that now. He just didn’t seem to care that much.

Gilda cared. She cared as she listened to the horrified anger in Rainbow’s voice; she cared as she listened to Cinder threaten Rainbow’s friends. She cared as Cinder made the White Fang out to be animals restrained only by her human guiding hand.

She cared about everything that she heard in this room, and it was making her mad.

If the call hadn’t ended when it did, she would have done something. That was what she told herself anyway: she would have done something, would have said something, would have let Rainbow know that she was there and that she would protect Rainbow’s friends.

And she would have believed me. Wouldn’t she?

Yeah, she would have believed me because we’re friends.

Kind of friends, anyway.

Rainbow would trust me if I gave my word. She would, because she knows that I’m trustworthy.

Because we’re still friends, after all that’s come between us.

We are still friends. That’s what makes it so hard to hear her voice like that.

The only thing worse than facing off with your best friend across the battlefield was having to entertain the possibility that you might not be the one with the moral high ground.

Gilda told herself that she would have done something if it had gone on longer, but it did not go on, and she did nothing.

She just stood there, in the shadows of this room, until Cinder was done and Rainbow Dash’s voice was gone from it.

Fluttershy, tied to the chair, made a sound that might have been a sob. “Why?”

Cinder looked at her. There was only a single light in the room, and it mostly illuminated the two captives – for Cinder’s benefit, mainly; Gilda had the eyes of a nocturnal predator, and Adam could see pretty well in the dark himself – leaving Cinder herself more in darkness than in light. Yet even in darkness, Gilda could see that her expression was cruel.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing any of this?” Fluttershy cried. “Why do you want to hurt Rainbow Dash and Twilight?”

“Because they got in my way,” Cinder replied dispassionately. “Before then, it was nothing personal.”

Fluttershy stared at her, and with her back to Gilda, the latter was left to imagine the look of horror on her face. “Is that it? Is that the only reason you have?”

“I have reason enough to do what I do,” Cinder said. “You couldn’t understand my cause even if you tried.”

Applejack struggled against her gag, an incomprehensible mumble emerging from beyond it.

Cinder rolled her eyes. “You can take that out now. Let her have her say.”

Gilda hesitated for a moment, then decided that she’d kind of like to hear what Applejack had to say, and so, she pulled the gag gently out of the other girl’s mouth.

Applejack took a deep breath before she said. “You know what I think? I think if you had a single good reason for any of this, you’d come right out and say it, ‘stead of acting like we couldn’t possibly get you or what makes you.”

“And why would I feel the need to justify myself to you?” Cinder said. “You are held captive at my mercy. Why should I care one whit what you think about me or my motives?”

“Because even animals have a reason for hurting other people,” Fluttershy said. “No living creature kills for sport, but only to survive.”

Cinder laughed. “A lovely sentiment, but quite unrealistic. Humans, being so much more than mere beasts, kill all the time for sport, for vengeance, for power… or simply out of nothing more than cruelty.”

“There ain’t no way you’re gonna get away with this,” Applejack said.

“No?” Cinder asked. “And who’s going to stop me?”

“Rainbow Dash will!” Applejack snapped.

Cinder’s smile widened. “If she survives, Rainbow Dash will do as much to further my plans as anyone, and more than most.”

Your plan to do what exactly? Gilda wondered. Get all of us here killed?

“Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?” Applejack demanded.

“Oh, it’s very simple really,” Cinder said. She held out her hand, palm up. A flame appeared there and danced reflected in Applejack’s eyes. “You see, there are certain qualities, certain virtues, that are so very easy to manipulate. Love, for instance. Those who care the most can be induced to do the most terrible things in the name of that devotion.”

“I don’t buy that,” Applejack said. “Not for one red hot minute.”

“No?” Cinder asked, amusement in her voice. The flames leapt higher. “Don’t be so quick to make assumptions about yourself; it’s easy to say that you would pass a test of character which you have not yet been called upon to face. For instance, what if you had a choice between helping me or watching your friend, your innocent friend, Fluttershy get-?”

Now Gilda acted. She stepped forward, placing herself between Fluttershy and Cinder, both hands reaching for the katanas she wore slung across her back. “That’s enough.”

Judging by the way that Cinder looked at her, she had forgotten that Gilda was there.

“Is there a problem?” she asked as she turned to face Gilda.

“They’re prisoners, not playthings,” Gilda declared.

Cinder snorted. “Is there a difference?”

“The difference is me,” Gilda said sharply. “I won’t let you hurt them.”

Cinder cocked her head to one side. “Do you think that you can stop me?”

Gilda drew both her swords with a flourish, the low light dancing off the blades as she settled into a high guard, both swords pointed at Cinder’s heart. She unfurled her wings and spread them out across the room to make herself look bigger, and she prepared to use her semblance if she had to. Swallow Strike wasn’t the strongest or most powerful semblance in Remnant, but it was fast and almost impossible to block. It would give her a surprise if she needed one.

“You don’t scare me, you smirking bitch.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed, though her irritating smirk remained. “Why do you care what happens to a pair of humans?”

“Why do you care what I care about, human?” Gilda countered.

“Because it might jeopardise our operation, if your concern for their lives outweighs your duty.”

“'Duty'? You’re not one of us; you don’t get to come in here and lecture me about my duty when you’re plan is-”

“Gilda,” Adam spoke at last. “That’s enough. Cinder, let it go.”

The flame died in Cinder’s palm. “Are you telling me to do something, Adam?”

“I’m asking you to let it lie, for now,” Adam said. “I trust you can find your own way back to your tent.”

Cinder smiled. “Of course, although I may wish to confer with you again later.” She glanced at the two prisoners. “Girls. I’m so glad to have had the chance to meet you.”

Her glass shoes clicked on the ground as she walked away, closing the door behind her.

Adam stared at Gilda. The mask hid half his face, but even so, Gilda could tell that he was angry. Everything about the way he stood and held himself proclaimed it.

Gilda sheathed her swords and folded her wings up behind her back. “Boss, I-”

“Quiet,” Adam said. “Step outside with me for a minute.”

Gilda swallowed but complied without argument, opposition, or resistance. She followed Adam outside and let him slam the door behind them.

When they stood directly outside, under the rocky ceiling that separated the subterranean undercity from the sky above, Adam rounded on her with a voice as sharp as Wilt’s edge. “What’s going on?”

Gilda took an involuntary step backwards. She swallowed, because her throat was dry. “I owe them.”

“You owe them?” Adam repeated. “What could you possibly owe to them?”

“Rainbow Dash could have killed me,” Gilda explained. “She could have taken me prisoner when the train job went south. But she didn’t. She let me go. I owe her, but if I take care of her friends, then-”

“Rainbow Dash is a dog of the Atlesian military, a traitor no better than…” Adam trailed off, unable to bring himself to say Blake’s name. “And they are humans.”

“So is Cinder Fall, our new leader,” Gilda snapped back at him, irritation at the current state of affairs temporarily proving stronger than her fear of Adam.

“I am your leader,” Adam said, in a voice that was no less intimidating for being quiet.

“Then why is she the one calling the shots no matter how dumb they are?” Gilda demanded. “Why am I the only one who remembers that you don’t go muzzle to muzzle against the Atlesians? Why am I the only one who realises that they’re going to obliterate us from the sky the moment we stick our heads above ground?”

“Then we will die in the fire rather than live in chains!” Adam yelled. A wordless growl escaped his lips. “It’s true that the plan is not what we expected. It is true that the battle will be more desperate than we had anticipated, but have faith!”

“In her?”

“In me,” Adam insisted. “But yes, in Cinder too. Do you really think that I would just place the chapter at the disposal of any human with a silver-tongue and a grand ambition?”

Gilda hesitated for a moment. “You never told us how she convinced you.”

“She showed me things,” Adam declared. “Things that you wouldn’t believe if I tried to describe them. If you had seen what I have seen, Gilda, you wouldn’t be so quick to question Cinder. She has power of a kind the likes of you and I can scarcely conceive of.”

“The grimm,” Gilda muttered. It’s powers like that which worry me, just like it worries me that they impressed you.

“Indeed,” Adam said. “But more than that, so much more. And behind her…”

Gilda frowned. “Cinder… isn’t in charge?” That was news to her, if true. She’d never seen Cinder answer to anyone, nor seen any hint that she did so.

Adam’s face twitched with annoyance. “She can’t be stopped. Atlas can’t stop her. Huntsmen and huntresses can’t stop her. The four kingdoms and all their might can’t stop her. A great change is about to sweep through Remnant, and when it does, all that we have known will be swept away until nothing is left but… ruins.”

Gilda shivered. She only had to look around her to see exactly what he meant. They were presently based out of the world’s largest tomb, a monument to foolishness and pride in the face of the power of the grimm. The areas in which the White Fang lived and worked and prepared for their attack on Vale had needed to be cleared of dead bodies before they were truly habitable, and their patrols were constantly coming across more remains, more signs of battle, but also food and clothes and weapons and toys and evidence of the lives that had been wiped from this place when the dark tide swept over it. Adam prophesied that the same fate would fall on Vale, but how? How could Cinder, or her master, achieve such things?

“I don’t understand, boss.”

“The faunus will be swept away as well,” Adam said. “Unless we prove ourselves useful. So we will obey her and follow her plan and fight for her-”

“No matter the cost?”

“And we will strike such a blow against Vale and Atlas both that history will record it as the beginning of the end,” Adam declared, ignoring Gilda as though she hadn’t spoken. “And if we have to hurt two spoilt little Atlas girls to do it, then so be it.”

So they were back to that. Back to where they started. “Adam,” Gilda said, hoping that she could call him Adam. “I don’t know what that woman has over you. I don’t know what you know about her or what she’s capable of. And I’m not sure how much I care. I can’t let her hurt them. Or… or you, for that matter.”

“They’re our enemies.”

“Just because we wear monster masks doesn’t make us monsters,” Gilda said. “Only acting like monsters does that.”

“They already think we’re monsters; they always have.”

“We don’t have to prove them right,” Gilda said. “Their friend could have killed me, but she didn’t. I owe her this.”

Adam stared at her for a few moments in silence. “You’re a good fighter, Gilda,” he said. “With so many of my lieutenants having either been imprisoned or… having betrayed our cause, you’re probably the best fighter I have aside from myself. But I’m beginning to worry that you lack the strength to do what must be done.”

The strength to keep my mouth shut and not interfere, you mean? Or the strength to tell you over and over again that you’re making a mistake but it’s not too late to change. Gilda doubted it was the second one; not even Blake had had that kind of strength, in the end. “There are a lot of different kinds of strength… and I’m not sure that I want all of them.”

“Just remember which side you’re on,” Adam snapped. “The justice of our cause is adamant, and nothing that we do will ever rob us of the cloak of righteousness. Keep your prisoners safe for now, but remember that we do what we must for the sake of all our people who suffer under oppression… and remember that you chose your side when you put on the mask.”

He turned away and stalked off in the direction of the train.

Gilda watched him go for a moment. Then she went back inside.

Fluttershy and Applejack hadn’t gone anywhere. How could they? They were shackled to suppress their auras and bound to chairs. Applejack looked as though she might have been trying to loosen her restraints, but she hadn’t managed to do it; without aura, it wasn’t likely that she would.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re safe now.”

“I don’t know if anything’s okay right now,” Applejack muttered. “But… thanks, anyway, for what you did and… for what you’re doin’, I suppose.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’d be interested to know why you’re doin’ it, mind.”

“'Cause you’re Rainbow Dash’s friends,” Gilda said. “And that… I guess that still matters to me.”

“You know Rainbow Dash?” Fluttershy asked.

“I… I used to,” Gilda murmured. “I’m Gilda.”

She got blank looks from both Applejack and Fluttershy. “It’s nice to meet you, Gilda,” Fluttershy said, but without any kind of actual recognition in her voice.

“Gilda?” Gilda repeated. “Gilda Swiftwing? That doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”

“Ought it to?” Applejack asked cautiously.

“Yes, it ought to mean something!” Gilda snapped, her anger not so much for the two girls in front of her but for Rainbow Dash. “I had to sit through so many stories about the five of you whenever Dashie bothered to come home: oh, the girls this and my friends that and there was this one time, at Canterlot. But she never mentioned me to you at all? Not even once? You’re pulling my feathers, right?”

“No,” Fluttershy murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t the ones who ought to be sorry!” Gilda yelled. “Some friend, huh? When I see her again, I’m gonna-” She stopped, struck as if between the eyes by the absurdity of the situation. A bitter laugh passed her lips. “I… I guess it’s a stupid to get mad about at a time like this.”

“I don’t think so,” Fluttershy said. “I think that, if you were close, then Rainbow ought to have mentioned you to us, especially if she mentioned us to you.”

Gilda found herself starting to smile. “Well, aren’t you every bit as nice as Dashie made you out to be?” she said. “But the truth is, I can’t blame Rainbow for what she said. What she didn’t say. I can’t think of a faunus I know who’d talk about their old life if they got lucky enough to fall in with a bunch of rich and fancy humans.”

“We ain’t all rich,” Applejack said. “Even Twilight’s only well-off, and only Rarity’s really what you’d call fancy.”

“You’re better off than we were,” Gilda replied. “So my point stands. Anyone would have done what Dashie did and kept quiet about it, especially the way that we grew up.”

“How did the two of you grow up?” Fluttershy asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Gilda muttered.

“I would like to know more,” Fluttershy insisted. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

Gilda frowned. “Seriously? You want to know about Low Town?”

“I’d like to know where my friend came from,” Fluttershy replied. “You’re right; Rainbow never talks about herself before she met Twilight.”

“Like I said, it’s a faunus thing,” Gilda said. “Stuff that is… normal, for us, it might upset humans to hear. You might get the wrong ideas about her, change your mind about being her friend.”

“We would never do a thing like that,” Applejack said.

“Why not?” Gilda demanded. “Because you’re different? Because you’re special? Because you don’t see race? Rainbow was smart enough to know that she couldn’t afford to take a risk like that. Especially…” She trailed off.

“Especially what?” asked Fluttershy gently.

Gilda scowled. “Rainbow and me, we… we didn’t exactly… I said some things that were… well, I was an asshole, that’s the long and the short of it. I told her that you really didn’t give a damn about her. That you were just using her, playing nice and not-racist and showing how wonderful you were. I reckon I must have touched a nerve, because she got real pissed off about it, stormed out of the house, and I didn’t see her again… not until we were facing one another across the battlefield.”

“But you still think of her as your friend?” Fluttershy asked.

“I’m not the one who ended it,” Gilda said. “She walked away.”

“On account of what you said,” Applejack pointed out.

“I was angry, okay!” Gilda snapped. “I was losing my best friend, and I hated it, and it made me say something stupid. It didn’t mean I didn’t like her anymore. If I didn’t like her, it wouldn’t have bothered me that she spent so much time with you and wouldn’t stop talking about you and-”

Fluttershy threw Gilda off with an unexpected question. “Would you like her number?”

“Huh?”

“Would you like her number?” Fluttershy repeated. “Maybe you could get back in touch again. I’m sure that Rainbow Dash would like to hear from you again.”

“Are you? I’m not,” Gilda muttered. “Just because I’ve kept you alive doesn’t mean that I’m not still in the White Fang. I’m White Fang; she’s Atlas military. We’re enemies.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t still be friends,” Fluttershy replied. “If you want to be.”

Gilda stared at her. “You… you’re really weird,” she said. “But in a good way. I think.” Her stomach rumbled, which reminded her that she should probably feed Applejack’s dog – Emerald had gotten bored with her, which meant that she was Gilda’s responsibility because she doubted that anyone else would take an interest – soon, because the poor girl had to be getting hungry.

Maybe the two girls were getting hungry as well.

Gilda reached into one of the pouches on her black flak vest and pulled out a trio of dessert bars taken from an Atlesian military train during one of their more successful robberies. “You want one?”

Applejack nodded. “We’ll have a bite.”

Gilda sat down on the table near the door. “Okay. Give me a second.” She was the captor after all; there was no reason why she shouldn’t eat first. She unwrapped one of the vacuum packed bars – mocha flavour, apparently – and bit into it. Her face contorted into a cringe as she swallowed the foul tasting thing. “Gah! Do you actually eat these, or is this some kind of joke you play on us: laughing as we steal the crap you’ve made us think is your food?”

“Nope,” Applejack said. “That’s what we get.”

“You don’t even get real candy bars?”

“The candy bars ain’t that great, either.”

“No, they’re not, are they?” Gilda asked, with a slight shudder. Coming to Vale from Atlas, she’d been astonished at how much nicer the chocolate was here; there was just no comparing it. “I’m amazed you haven’t all died from food poisoning.” She forced herself to take another bite, and then another, because she was hungry, and food was food and not to be wasted. Supplies were too scarce to throw things away just because you didn’t like the taste. She felt like she was going to be sick by the time she was done, but she had eaten the whole bar, and so, she could take comfort in a warm glow of good behaviour – that didn’t quite match the indigestive feeling in her stomach. She held up one of the other bars – cherry tart, for whatever it was worth – to Applejack. “You still want this?”

“Fluttershy first,” Applejack said.

Gilda grinned. “You hear that; she wants you to get ill before she does.”

Fluttershy smiled and looked as though she might laugh, but any laughter died before it could get out. Her voice, when it came again, was quiet. “When… when Rainbow Dash gets here… what are you going to do to her? And to Twilight?”

Gilda knelt down in front of Fluttershy and stared up into her face, into eyes that were full of fear, but not for herself. “I don’t know, exactly,” she said, which was partly a lie, and partly the honest and very frustrating truth. “I don’t even know if Cinder knows what she wants. Adam wants to kill Dashie, I must admit, but Cinder… you heard what she said; I think she might want them alive as part of some grand plan. Or maybe not, I can’t understand what she’s thinking. I don’t know what any of us are thinking any more. This whole thing is nuts.”

Fluttershy sighed. “I’d rather… I’d rather die than-”

“Fluttershy, no!” Applejack yelled.

“I don’t want to live knowing that Rainbow Dash died trying to save me, do you?” Fluttershy cried.

Gilda’s eyebrows rose. The declaration itself wasn’t that unusual; indeed, it was so commonplace as to inspire more derision than respect in her. The White Fang was full of people who would loudly state that they would rather die for the cause than surrender to the cops or the huntsmen, but the number who actually did that when given the choice was small at best. But most of the people saying that hadn’t already been caught by the time they said it, like Fluttershy had. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t bravado from her; she didn’t exactly seem the type to boast about how brave she was. Maybe she meant it.

Maybe she was a whole lot stronger than she looked. In some ways, at least.

She unwrapped the cherry tart bar. “Eat up,” she said, pushing it up towards Fluttershy. “Don’t give up yet. One thing I learnt being friends with Rainbow Dash is that it never pays to bet against her.” The fact that she was, in a great many ways, betting against Rainbow right now was one of the many uncomfortable things about this situation.

“You grew up together then, you and Dashie?” Applejack asked as Fluttershy began to eat.

Gilda nodded. “We were inseparable, once upon a time. I know you might not believe it, but it’s true. Even if it does feel like it happened to someone else. Our parents worked together. Well, my parents worked for her parents. Our moms used to take turns walking us to school; we used to hang out at one another’s places.”

“But Rainbow ended up in Atlas, and you didn’t,” Applejack observed.

“I didn’t have the guts to risk sneaking aboard the shuttle,” Gilda explained. “Dashie was always braver than I was.”

“So how’d you end up in the White Fang, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The question you should be asking is how did Dashie not end up in the White Fang,” Gilda said.

Fluttershy swallowed. “Because she’s a good person.”

“Oh, and I’m not?”

“You’ve made some bad choices,” Fluttershy observed.

That struck closer to home than Gilda liked. “The White Fang didn’t always used to be like this.” She sniggered. “Listen to me, I sound old. But it’s true. I joined to fight the good fight, and that’s exactly what I did.”

“Is that right?” Applejack asked sceptically.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Gilda insisted. “None of this 'going to war' crap. None of this gathering like some army. None of these humans walking around like they own the place. You know it’s not the cops in Atlas or Vale that protect the faunus neighbourhoods and keep the crooks and the gangs out; it’s the White Fang. And it isn’t the law that does anything about the assholes discriminating against faunus; it’s the White Fang. And the money that we take from the SDC and the crooked banks, that goes to help faunus who need it.”

“Widow and orphans?” Applejack asked.

“Yeah, and guys broken from working down the mines,” Gilda said. “We’re not terrorists; we’re… we’re like a…” What had the person who recruited her called it. It had been a bit of a five-lien word, outside of Gilda’s ordinary range. Hopefully, she could remember it anyway. “We’re a benevolent society. Like insurance.”

Applejack’s eyebrows rose. “Insurance.”

“Yeah, insurance,” Gilda said. “And a neighbourhood watch. And vigilantes. And a few other things as well, but we’re not terrorists. Or we didn’t used to be.” We’re not terrorists now; we’re becoming something worse: soldiers.

And it’s going to get us all killed if we’re not careful.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” she said aloud.

“What didn’t?” Fluttershy asked politely.

Gilda scowled. “Last time I spoke to Dash, I told her that she was a traitor to her race, not a faunus, for fighting against the Fang. I told her that she was nothing. I wish I hadn’t said that.”

“Then tell her you're sorry,” Fluttershy said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Do you think she’ll want to hear it?” Gilda asked.

“I don’t know,” Fluttershy admitted. “But I think so.” She smiled. “Just like I’d like to hear about you and Rainbow Dash, that is, if you don’t mind?”

Gilda snorted. “You want to hear some stories about the old days?” Since Fluttershy had finished eating, she got up and returned to the table, where the last dessert bar was waiting. “Ooh, bad luck, you get stuck with apple jam.”

“That ain’t apple jam,” Applejack muttered. “I know apple jam, and that ain’t apple jam. I don’t know what that is.”

“Do you want it?”

“Will I get anythin’ else later?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take it, no matter how it tastes,” Applejack said. She grinned. “And I wouldn’t mind hearing a couple of those stories, neither.”

“Really?” Gilda asked, unwrapping the bar. “Okay…” she thought about it. “Okay, let’s see… well, there was this one time, when we’d been left at home by ourselves, and we were getting bored. So Dashie decided…”

Author's Note:

Rewrite Notes: The chapter title has changed, because calling a chapter 'Gilda' doesn't make a lot of sense when Gilda has quite a few POV sections in other chapter, but other than the gist is the same.

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