• 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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Evolution (New)

Evolution

The RSPT – RST would probably be a more accurate way of referring to them – quarters aboard the Hope were small, but there was enough for an exceedingly modest desk, upon which Twilight deposited the small canister in which swirled Sunset's magic. It glowed a bright and somewhat eerie green as it sat there, casting a light upon the desk around it.

Spike hopped up onto the chair and rested his forepaws on the desk, staring at the glowing canister with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He barked at the magic as it swirled within its container.

"Careful, Spike," Twilight informed him. "If that spills, there won't be any more where it came from." Not for some time, possibly not ever; there would be limits to how much of her own magic Sunset would siphon off for the sake of Twilight's research. Not to mention, there ought to be limits beyond which Twilight could not ask for more. Considering Sunset's misgivings about the idea, one could say that she'd given enough already.

Just to be safe, she moved the canister back until it was touching the wall, then lifted Spike off the chair and put him back down on the floor. He whined a little bit but swiftly started rooting around in her bag for a toy.

"Yeah, that's much safer," Twilight murmured, scratching him behind the ears. "After all, we don't know what magic might do to you. We don't know what magic might do at all. So much to find out, so much to uncover. Although probably something I should study at home; I don't want to raise too many questions about what I'm working on."

Spike barked.

Twilight smiled as she sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the lower bunk on the left hand side of the room, her legs hunched up to avoid touching the opposite bunk. She picked Spike up off the floor and put him on her lap and started to tickle him under the chin.

"I mean, I can't really deny that a part of me would like everyone to know," she said. "To prove that I was right all along, that there really is more out there than we're aware of… but it's not my secret to reveal. I don't want to make trouble for Sunset, especially since she didn't have to give me this magic in the first place, especially since I don't think that she really wanted to. Besides, I'll have to become used to keeping secrets."

She paused for a moment, looking down at Spike, who stared up at her with big eyes, his mouth open and his tongue out.

"I know so many things that I didn't know before, so much that is new, and I can't tell anyone about it, not even our friends. Not that I'd want to tell my friends everything, because some of what I know is kind of scary, but some of it is exciting as well: the Power of Creation. A power wielded by the gods themselves, and they left us a part of it. Just imagine what that relic could do, Spike! We could… we could feed the world, end poverty, make so many lives so much better. But I'll never get to tell anyone about it, and we'll never get to find out what it can do because, from the sounds of things, the only goal is to keep the Relics out of Salem's hands. And I get that that's important, and I suppose that if we used the Relics, then she'd be able to find them much more easily, but… I don't know; it just seems like such a waste to me.

"But do you know what the worst part is?" she asked rhetorically. "The worst part is that none of what I know now tells me anything about what happened to me when I was little. None of it tells me who the woman who saved us was or how she did what she did. I know Sunset thinks that this is all connected, that Professor Ozpin's organisation is connected to the Old Man and the wizard from the old stories, and I can see why she thinks that; I just… I don't know, maybe I'm just hoping that General Ironwood isn't keeping more secrets from us."

The door slid open, and Rainbow Dash came in. "Hey, Twi," she said, looking down upon Twilight as the door slid shut behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Just talking to Spike," Twilight replied.

Rainbow snorted. "What about?" she asked as she stepped over Twilight's legs before sitting down on the floor opposite her, her arms resting upon her upturned knees.

"This and that," Twilight said. "Sunset's magic and how I'll have to study it at home, for one thing."

Rainbow looked at the glowing canister on the desk. "Yeah, that… that's a thing, isn't it?"

Twilight pushed her glasses up her nose. "Does it bother you?"

"Do you understand it?" Rainbow asked.

"Not yet, but-"

"Then yeah, it bothers me a little bit," Rainbow said, cutting her off. "I'm okay with there being things that I don't understand, but the fact that you don't understand them either worries me."

Twilight chuckled. "Everything was incomprehensible at some point, until it became understood," she pointed out. "There was a time in our history when mankind didn't understand dust."

"And I hope they were careful with it until they did understand it," Rainbow said. "And when you understand Sunset's Do-Anything juice, then I'll relax."

Twilight smiled. "I'll try and clear up the mysteries for you as fast as I can."

"Thanks," Rainbow said. "I just flew over to the Skyliner to check on Applejack and Fluttershy; they're having dinner with Blake, Flash, and Weiss tonight; I thought you might like to join them."

"I wouldn't mind," Twilight said. "Although there is the logistical difficulty that I'm on this ship and they're on another one."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Twilight, I have a jetpack – a jetpack you made me – I'll fly you over."

"Are you going as well?"

"No," Rainbow said. "I'll fly back over here, and then you can text me when you're ready to get picked up."

"Okay, Mom," Twilight said, amusement in her voice. "Although you could always just eat with us, and we can fly back together when we're done."

Rainbow grinned. "I'm not sure the Wings of Harmony are appropriate dinner wear," she said. "And besides-"

"This isn't about giving Blake space or anything, is it?"

"No," Rainbow said quickly. "It's about the fact that if I go to dinner with the rest of you, then Ciel will be stuck watching Penny, and it's not right to offload that all onto her. I'll take you over, come back, spend the evening with Penny, then pick you up tonight. Come on, Applejack and Fluttershy would like it, and I think Blake could use a friendly face."

"Applejack and Fluttershy are right there," Twilight pointed out.

"She hardly knows them," Rainbow replied.

"She doesn't really know me, either," Twilight said.

"This is the perfect time to fix it then, isn't it?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight covered her mouth as a slight laugh escaped her. "Okay," she said. Twilight paused for a moment. "Hey," she said, "how big do you think the welcome home party is going to be?"

"I think it will be small, but really, really good," Rainbow guessed. "No guests, just us, but a really great time."

Twilight nodded. "I can see that," she acknowledged. "You know… it's going to be our first time back with all of them since we found out…"

"About all the stuff that we can't talk about," Rainbow murmured.

"Mhm," Twilight agreed. "It feels weird. I've never… never lied to them before."

"Keeping secrets doesn't have to equal lying," Rainbow argued.

"It's a pretty thin line, don't you think?" Twilight responded.

"It's for the right reasons, don't you think?"

"I understand why we have to do it," Twilight said. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"There are things that I like less," Rainbow said. "I mean, I… I'm glad I know, aren't you?"

"You mean would I rather not know?" Twilight asked. "No, no I wouldn't. Unless, of course, there was nothing to know."

Rainbow snorted. "Yeah. That would be awesome, but-"

"If it is the way it is, then I'm glad I know," Twilight said. "At least this way, I can help."

"From your brand new lab," Rainbow said teasingly.

Twilight felt her cheeks heat up a little. "The General might be going a little overboard there."

"Twilight, you've been putting yourself down all year for not being something you were never meant to be," Rainbow said. "Don't put yourself down over what you actually are."

Twilight hesitated. "Yeah, thinking that, just because I was on this team, I ought to be a great huntress, or even a capable huntress, was kind of stupid of me. Trying to play huntress at all was kind of stupid of me. I admit that, I realise it, and it won't happen again, but-"

"But nothing," Rainbow said. "You made my wings, you made that armour, you created Midnight. Hell, you helped make Penny! And the first of those three, you did by yourself in your spare time. Think what you could do with, like, work time and proper resources. I don't know what you have in mind-"

"I've got one or two ideas."

"-but I know it's going to be awesome," Rainbow finished, "and I can't wait to see."

A smile briefly crossed Twilight's face, then faded. "Hey. I… I understand that you saw… down there, you saw-"

"Yeah," Rainbow said gruffly. "Yeah, we did."

"What was-?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Rainbow said quickly. "I'm sorry, Twilight, I just… I don't want to, okay?"

Twilight thought that was perhaps unwise, but nevertheless, she nodded. "Alright, but if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Always," Rainbow said as she got up. "I've got to go."

"I didn't mean to drive you off!" Twilight protested. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's not about that," Rainbow assured her. "I need to go and speak to Penny."


The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss as Rainbow Dash walked into the room where Penny was being kept until they reached Atlas.

Since the Hope was the same class of ship as the Valiant, it was no surprise that her room on the Hope looked pretty much the same as her room on the Valiant. Penny was on a table in the middle of the room, just as she had been, and she was even wired up to a computer – although the computer was on the opposite side of the room. This room was less cluttered; there wasn't much paperwork in evidence here. It was just Penny.

Rainbow could only imagine how boring this was for her right now, and for a moment, she wondered if she was doing the right thing, telling her off for not appreciating Ciel enough, trying to change the way that she saw her teammates. Maybe it wasn't the right time. But… if it wasn't the right time, then when was the right time? The longer she put this off, then the harder it would be to get through to Penny, and it would be hard enough already. Maybe it was unfair to take advantage of a captive audience like this, but it was also a chance, and one that she had to take.

"Hey, Penny," Rainbow said, as she walked in. She didn't bother asking how Penny was, because the answer was both obvious and pretty dispiriting.

"Hello," Penny said, and the voice that emerged from out of the computer sounded very appropriate for how downcast Rainbow imagined Penny's mood to be.

There was one thing in the room besides Penny, and that was the book of fairy tales that Blake had given her on their Cold Harbour mission. Ciel had been reading it to Penny while she was incapacitated. Rainbow put the books tucked beneath her arm down beside it with an audible thump before she sat down in the chair next to Penny.

"Did you bring a new book?" Penny asked, unable to see for herself.

"Uh-huh," Rainbow said. "I thought you must be getting to the end of those fairy tales by now."

"I don't mind hearing them again," Penny replied.

"Do you still like The Shallow Sea the best?"

"I think so," Penny replied. "But I really like The Girl in the Tower, too."

Rainbow got up, looking downwards so that Penny, looking up, could look at her in turn. "Is that how you see yourself?" she asked. "Locked up by your cruel father?"

Penny did not reply.

Rainbow frowned. "I'm going to need you to give me an answer on this, Penny."

"Are you ordering me to answer you?"

Rainbow sighed. "I'm asking you to tell me how you feel."

"Like you asked Ciel to carry me away," Penny replied. "And then you ordered her to do it when she didn't want to."

"Do you think that was wrong of me?"

"I'm not sure it's really asking if you insist on getting your own way regardless of the answer."

Rainbow sighed. "Penny… you're very young, I get that, believe me, but… you can't be a kid about this kind of thing. On the battlefield, as a leader, I can't always nicely ask, and I can't always respect everyone else's opinion, especially when they're not making any sense. The only reason Ciel argued with me about taking you back was because she was too proud to want to leave. Yes, I yelled at her, and I threatened her, but what should I have done instead, with you in the state you were in?"

Penny didn't reply.

"Exactly," Rainbow said. "Like I said, on the battlefield, sometimes, I need to give orders, and I need those orders to be obeyed immediately. But we're not on the battlefield, so I'm not ordering but asking you to tell me how you feel?"

Eventually, after some hesitation, Penny said, "What's my father going to do to me?"

"Nothing," Rainbow said.

"Won't he be upset with me for failing so badly?"

"I don't know how he's going to feel, and I don't care," Rainbow replied. "He's not going to do anything to you, I promise."

Penny was silent for a moment, before she said, "I don't believe you."

Rainbow closed her eyes for a moment. "No, I bet you don't." She opened her eyes again. "Penny, do you remember that I let you stay at Beacon, even when I was sent to bring you back to Atlas? Do you remember that I let you tell Ruby and Pyrrha about what you really were?"

"Only because the General gave you permission," Penny replied. "And you made me promise to do exactly as you said while we were at Beacon."

"And I had good reason for that."

"If General Ironwood had told you no, bring me back, then you would have," Penny pointed out.

Rainbow winced. "I mean… okay, yes, I would have-"

"Just because the Girl's gaolers let her out into the garden sometimes doesn't mean that they stopped being her gaolers," Penny replied. "Or that Tower became a home."

"So you do see yourself that way," Rainbow murmured. "And we're the gaolers, right? Me, Ciel, and Twilight?"

"Aren't you?" Penny asked.

Rainbow sat down again for a moment, gathering her thoughts together as she pondered how exactly to answer that. "I should have spoken to you about this a long time ago," she muttered. She raised her voice. "You don't like us, do you, Penny?"

Penny didn't say anything.

"You can be honest," Rainbow urged.

"Why should I like you?" Penny demanded. "You're only here because General Ironwood ordered you to be, to keep an eye on me for him and my father. You're here to make sure that I don't do anything that they don't approve of. And Ciel treats me like a kid, and you baby me and act like I need protection, and the worst part is… the worst part is that you might be right."

"Don't take that last part personally; I act that way with all of my friends," Rainbow told her.

"That's not funny."

"Good, because it's not a joke," Rainbow said; she stood up again, so that Penny could once more see her face and tell that she was being serious about this. "I treat all of my friends as though they need help to keep from breaking. You saw how I was with Twilight after the fight with Cinder in the tower. Let me tell you something: it is killing me that Fluttershy and Applejack are on another ship right now, and it doesn't matter that I can fly over there whenever I want with my wings; the fact that they're over there, on another ship, an unarmed ship, a ship that I'm not on… it's making my hands itch. Now maybe that's a flaw on my part, I don't know; I hope not, but it might be. But even if it is, it's something that I can't change. Some things are just a part of who we are, and we can't alter them without losing who we are. You don't have to like it – which is good, because you obviously don't – but it's not about you or what you are or how this team was put together. And as for Ciel… Ciel is really who I wanted to talk to you about. You're treating her badly, and it isn't right, and I'd like you to stop. You can dislike me all you want, but Ciel doesn't deserve it, and… do you know what Ciel is risking to be here? Do you know what Ciel has given up to be here?"

"'Given up'?" Penny repeated.

"Ciel should have gone to the Academy last year," Rainbow reminded her. "If she hadn't been injured, then she'd be a sophomore by now. Even taking the injury into account, if she'd started at Atlas as an ordinary freshman, I bet she'd be a team leader right now. Gods know that she's got the smarts for it; she knows the rulebook inside out. She's… the kind of person they put on the recruiting poster, because she looks the part just that much. But she didn't start at Atlas as an ordinary freshman; she took a post on this team because the General asked her too, even though it meant serving under me, no chance of being team leader."

"She's so unlucky."

"Don't be sarcastic, it doesn't suit you," Rainbow said sharply. "It never suited you, and it certainly doesn’t suit that voice." She paused. "What I'm about to say may sound… not very nice, but here it is anyway: this mission has an equal chance of ending in disaster as triumph for Ciel. And she's the only one who can really say that. Yes, if everything works out, if you do great in the tournament, if at the end of your testing, everyone is really impressed, then we'll all reap the rewards: General Ironwood will be impressed, people will remember our names, we'll get headhunted by elite units once we graduate. But if it doesn't work, if you don't work out, then Twilight will go back to the lab, nobody's going to blame her; I'll still be able to count on General Ironwood, unless I screw up majorly, but Ciel? What's Ciel going to do, who's going to take her side? She's got a lot to lose, but she's here anyway."

"For her duty," Penny said.

"Because duty called, yeah," Rainbow admitted. "But also for you. We care about you, Penny. Maybe… maybe we didn't, at first, maybe you were just an assignment to us, a job that we'd been asked to do, a feather in our caps, but… you've really grown on us. On Ciel especially. I think… you know she's got six younger brothers?"

"No," Penny said. "I didn't know that."

"Well, she does," Rainbow said. "And so, if it seems like she's babying you, try and remember that, with two parents in the military, she's probably spent half her life babying everyone around her, and mommying them, and… telling them what to do. That's another reason she'd have made a good team leader. But what I'm trying to say is that when she treats you like that, it's not because she doesn't like you, and it's certainly not because she doesn't care. It's because she's treating you like part of her family; that's… that's the opposite of not caring. And the fact that you don't… the fact that you treat her like she's some machine just following orders… it's hurting her. And she doesn't deserve to be hurt."

"She doesn't seem hurt," Penny replied.

"Yeah, well, that's… that's part of what it means to be a family," Rainbow said. "You don't… you don't let them see you bleed."

Saying that made her think of her own parents, packed off to Menagerie and out of her life. How much had that hurt them, how much had all of her rejections hurt them, that they had never let on?

Maybe something else I have to make amends for.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Penny asked.

"That… that's a good question," Rainbow admitted. "And I get it, I mean… the worst thing that anyone ever said to me was when they suggested that Twilight and the others weren't really my friends, that they just wanted a faunus friend they could parade around in some kind of virtue signalling. And it hurt because I kind of believed it; I thought it might be true. I get that it's hard to have faith sometimes, and it's hard to take some things on trust, but you… you can feel. If you give Ciel a chance, I know that you'll feel how much she cares about you. So will you do that? Will you give her a chance, not for me but for Ciel? And for you too." She paused. "I know that we aren't the friends that you chose. I know that you didn't get any choice in the matter, and… I can see that might bother you. But that doesn't mean that we can't be your friends, if you give us a chance."

Penny took a very long time to answer, but answer she did, "Okay."

Rainbow let out the sigh of relief she didn't realise that she'd been holding in. "Great," she said. "Thanks, Penny; Ciel will appreciate it, and you… you won't regret it, I promise." She sat down. "And now," she added, "I know that you could listen to those stories over and over again, but I thought we might try something a little bit different today." She picked up the book. "My grandpa read me this story when I was laid up in bed, sick. It's about a farmboy who has to rescue the princess after she gets kidnapped by a pirate. Or is he an evil prince? It's been too long since I've read this, but I remember it being really good, sword fights and romance and everything. What do you say?"

"Sure," Penny said. "I'd like to hear it. Go on."

Rainbow smiled. "As you wish," she said as she opened up the book.


Rainbow Dash walked into the RST room, wearing her Wings of Harmony upon her back. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready to go,” Twilight replied.

She had exchanged her spectacles for contact lenses, which she found somewhat uncomfortable, but at least they probably wouldn’t fall off on the flight between the two ships and leave her blind. She was dressed in a knee-length dress of bold pink with a ruffled skirt three layers deep and a white sash bound tightly around her waist, tied into a bow off-centre in front of her. A strip of lavender, and then another of white, crept up the bodice towards the shoulderless sweetheart neckline. Her legs were exposed, but since it was likely to be at least a little chilly flying through the air – however briefly – she had covered them with a pair of long lavender stockings, while a maroon jacket served the same function for her arms and shoulders, which would otherwise have been left bare by her dress. A pair of plain, high-heeled purple shoes enclosed her feet, with straps around her ankles to ensure that they too did not fall off, while her hair was bound up in a bun to ensure that it didn’t blow into Rainbow’s face as they were flying.

“What do you think?”

“It’s a little much for my taste, but you make it work,” Rainbow said approvingly.

“Good to hear,” Twilight said as the two of them headed out, leaving the room empty save for Spike.

Save for Spike, and the glowing green canister of Sunset’s magic that swirled upon the table.

Spike barked. He snuffled. He ran around the room in a circle and leapt up onto Twilight’s bed.

He lay down upon the pillow for a moment, but then got up again and restlessly leapt down onto the floor.

He barked and then leapt up onto the chair from where, standing on his hind legs, he could see the canister and its swirling green contents.

The magic danced, reflected in his eyes, as he barked once more.

From out of a crack between the lid and the canister, a thin, wispy tendril of magic emerged, creeping out of its container like a thief. It danced in the air, turning in circles, making a loop, but moving closer, ever closer, towards Spike.

The reflection of the green glow in Spike’s eyes grew ever closer, but Spike didn’t move. The magic held him spellbound as it worked its way through the air within the room until, finally, it touched him on the nose, as though giving him a gentle gesture of affection.

Spike’s eyes glowed green for a moment as he sat down upon the chair.

“Whoa,” he said.


Weiss dressed simply for dinner, in a white dress with a gauzy, semi-transparent collar, and a slightly flared skirt that stopped just below her thighs. The only accessories that she added to this simple accoutrement was a slight and slender diamond bracelet which she clasped about her right wrist and, of course, the tiara set in her off-centre ponytail.

There was a knock on the door into her cabin.

“Who is it?” Weiss called out.

“It’s me, Flash,” Flash replied.

The doors on this airship were not automatic, and for Weiss, that was a good thing, seeing as it came with a certain suggestion of privacy that would have been lacking on a man-of-war.

She picked up a small white purse – containing her room key, lien, and a few other necessities, since she couldn’t exactly wear belt pouches with this dress – and crossed the small stateroom gracefully to the door, which she opened to reveal Flash waiting outside. He was dressed in a suit, minus the tie and with his collar undone; she seemed to recall that he’d been dressed that way at the dance, too.

Not that there was anything wrong with that; so was she.

“Is it that you don’t own a tie?” she asked playfully.

Flash let out a slightly nervous laugh. “I’m not a huge fan,” he admitted, “but now I’m starting to wonder if I should have worn one anyway.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Weiss said. “It’s not as if we’re dining first class. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, sure,” Flash replied. “Would you, um, I mean, would it be too much if I…” He trailed off, but offered his arm in any case to demonstrate what he meant.

Weiss smiled. “No, that wouldn’t be too much at all,” she replied as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “In fact, that would be quite courteous.”

Flash smiled, and a faint blush rose to his face as the two of them left Weiss’ room behind – the door slammed shut behind them – and began to walk towards the nearest elevator, the dining room being located at the bottom of the ship.

“Thank you,” Flash said as they approached.

“What for?” Weiss asked, as they reached the lift; she pressed the button to summon the car. “Having dinner with you?”

“Having dinner with my friends,” Flash corrected her. “I haven’t seen Applejack or Fluttershy in a while; it’ll be good to catch up.”

“It’s no problem,” Weiss assured him. “They seem like nice people.”

“They are,” Flash assured her. “They’re… they’re the best people I know. Everyone at school – hell, everyone in Canterlot – knew that they could depend on those girls in a pinch. No matter what the problem was, no matter what was going on, you could always rely on them to help and to find a way to fix it.”

The elevator arrived, the doors sliding open to reveal an empty cab. The two of them stepped inside, and Flash pushed the button for the deck they wished to go to.

“Please stand clear, doors closing,” announced the automated voice as the doors slid shut. The lift began to grind downwards, thrumming and throbbing as it went.

Weiss looked up at Flash. “Did they ever help you?”

Flash glanced down at her. “Once or twice,” he said softly. “After Sunset and I broke up… they were there for me when I needed them. Twilight, especially.”

“Ah, yes,” Weiss remembered the awkwardness of their first meeting when RSPT had shown up at Beacon. “You had a crush on her, didn’t you?”

Flash laughed. “I misread the signals,” he replied. “Not for the last time,” he added, glancing down at her again.

Weiss adjusted her grip on his arm. “I wouldn’t say you misread the signals,” she said casually, “so much as the situation.”

“I… see,” Flash murmured. “Doesn’t it come to the same thing, in the end?”

“Perhaps,” Weiss admitted. “But it isn’t your fault, and it isn’t something you should blame yourself for.”

The lift came to a stop. “Doors opening.”

The doors did, in fact, open, and Weiss and Flash stepped out into a lobby, tastefully decorated in emerald furnishings, made all the greener-seeming by the soft green lights which illuminated everything. Beyond the lobby, Weiss caught sight of their dining companions – Applejack, Fluttershy, Blake, and Twilight Sparkle too – all standing at the bar, drinking something that she was too far away to identify.

“I hope we haven’t kept you waiting,” Weiss said as she and Flash swept – well, Weiss swept; Flash just walked – across the lobby to join them. The bar was deliberately antique in style, with a wooden, well, bar, to stand at, and two pumps like they used to have in the old days, even though all beer was bottled now. Weiss wondered what the point of the pretence was; it struck her that, in its own way, Vale looked to its past just as much as Mistral did. It just didn’t shout about it so much.

Fluttershy lowered the orange juice – as she got closer, Weiss could see that they were all drinking some kind of fruit juice – and said, “Not at all, Weiss, you’re just in time. And you look lovely, by the way.”

“Thank you, Fluttershy,” Weiss replied. Applejack and Fluttershy had not bothered to dress, although considering their circumstances, that was quite understandable, indeed to the point where Weiss might have felt guilty about dressing up herself except that Twilight had bothered to dress, and rather nicely too, as had Blake, who was wearing a plain dress of dark purple with a narrow skirt and a black belt around her waist. “Good evening, everyone.”

“Evenin’, Mi- I mean, Weiss.”

“Good evening, Weiss, Flash.”

“Hey, Twilight.”

“Weiss,” Blake said softly. “Flash.”

Weiss inclined her head. “Blake.”

“I feel,” Blake added, “as though I ought to thank you.”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “For what?”

“For being at the Breach,” Blake said. “For standing your ground there and being part of the fight, both of you.”

“For being huntsmen and huntresses, you mean?” Weiss replied. “No thanks are necessary. It’s what we – what I, for one, signed up for.”

“What we both signed up for,” Flash added.

“Hear hear,” Applejack murmured, raising her glass of apple juice and taking a drink.

Blake’s golden eyes locked onto Weiss’ icy blue eyes, and for a moment, neither said anything.

“So,” Twilight said, “would you two like something to drink, or shall we get our table?”

“Why don’t we sit down?” Weiss suggested. “If that’s alright with everyone else?”

Nobody had any objections to taking their seats, so they approached the ‘Wait here to be seated’ sign, where fortunately, there was a waiter in a waistcoat and bow tie waiting to take their reservation and show them into the dining room proper. It was somewhat crowded at this hour, and the waiter led them through tables occupied by couples, families, or work colleagues talking shop before he brought them to a trio of square tables shoved together to make room for six places. A white tablecloth covered the table, as such a cloth covered all the tables, but did not disguise the joins.

Flash pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down on the left-hand side of the table, finding herself opposite Blake with Flash sitting at her right. Twilight sat opposite Flash, next to Blake, with Applejack and Fluttershy taking the last places at the table. Applejack took off her hat and placed it on the floor beside her.

Everyone except Weiss and Flash already had drinks which they hadn’t finished, but the waiter took their order and left them with the menus before they disappeared.

Weiss studied the menu in front of her idly. The food was not of the highest quality, but then, if she’d wanted that, then she ought to have travelled first class and used that, separate, restaurant. Besides, it looked to be as good quality as the food at Beacon, perhaps even a little better.

It wasn’t all particularly healthy, but considering where she was going and how reluctant she was to be going there, Weiss wondered if she could perhaps afford to indulge herself just a little.

If her figure was even a little too wide in the waist when she arrived back home, her father would have it put right soon enough.

Unfortunately, he would also feel the need to mention it to Weiss, repeatedly, and without much politeness in his tone… or in the method of his correction, most likely.

Her mother had begun to let herself go a couple of years ago; her father had tolerated it up to a point, but when his patience with it had snapped…

Weiss was already letting him drag her back to that house; she wasn’t about to give him an excuse to lock her in her room on a strict diet for the duration of her stay there.

She dismissed the idea of indulgence and turned her gaze upon the healthier options.

Yes, the seabass ought to be safe enough.

Weiss glanced up from her menu. “Applejack, Fluttershy,” she said, “I imagine you’re relieved to be going home after what you’ve been through.”

“You can say that again,” Applejack muttered.

“Oh, yes,” Fluttershy said. “It was fun up until… well, you know, but I’m glad to be going back to Atlas.”

“You were really unlucky, running into those people the way you did,” Flash said, “and nobody knows what they were doing or why? Four students just decided to try and hack the CCT, almost killed Twilight, kidnapped you two, and allied with the White Fang, and no one knows why?”

“'There are more things in heaven and earth than we can dream of,'” Weiss murmured. “I’m sure that their reasons made sense to them, even if to an outside eye, they appeared nonsensical or deranged.”

“And they didn’t say anything to you about their motives?” Flash asked.

“They don’t have to talk about it,” Blake said.

Flash frowned. “I know, and I’m sorry if you don’t, but… when Blake and I were being held by The Purifier, he had plenty to say about why he was doing all of this.”

“Oh, that Cinder had a few things to say,” Applejack agreed. “Not much of it of any use in workin’ out why she was doin’ the things she was doin’.”

“The White Fang made a little more sense,” Fluttershy offered. “I felt… I felt sorry for them.”

Blake blinked rapidly, and looked down at her menu and said nothing.

“'Sorry for them'?” Weiss asked. “After they kidnapped you and held you hostage?”

“They didn’t hurt us,” Fluttershy pointed out. “Their leader even set me free, since I wasn’t a huntress or a fighter.”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “I… really?”

“You don’t believe her?” Blake asked.

Weiss was quiet for a moment. “The White Fang does not have a history of sparing non-combatants.”

It hadn’t helped her father’s temperament when the few friends he had started being picked off, either in bombings or kidnapped and executed. None of them had been huntsmen or fighters, either.

“No,” Fluttershy whispered. “I’m aware of how lucky I am. But that doesn’t change the fact that it happened, and it doesn’t change the fact that the faunus we met down there weren’t evil; they’d just been given bad opportunities and so made bad choices.”

“Hmm,” Weiss murmured. “Very bad choices. And I, for one, feel better for knowing that the consequences of those choices caught up with them.”

“You mean you’re glad they’re dead?” Blake demanded.

Weiss did not flinch. “They were willing to encompass the deaths of the entire city of Vale,” she replied, her voice calm and a little cold. “They unleashed a horde of grimm into one of our great cities, the heart of a kingdom. I feel as though that should be borne in mind before we start shedding tears for them.” She paused for a moment, but not long enough for Blake to get a word in before she added, “I suppose you must be glad to be going home as well, Blake, after so long away on your undercover assignment.”

You’d do well to remember your cover story, even though everyone here knows that it’s false; it was bad enough at Beacon when you nearly gave yourself away with your attitudes; not everyone in Atlas will be as forgiving.

Blake hesitated for a moment. “I, yes, my… undercover assignment,” she said.

Weiss smiled at her. “Try and keep up, Blake; this is supposed to be your life, after all.” She paused for a moment. “May I offer you a piece of advice?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“I suppose that, being among the White Fang for so long, it became very easy to sympathise with them,” Weiss suggested.

“You… could say that,” Blake murmured.

“I have no opinion on that, one way or the other,” Weiss said, “but that sort of talk won’t go down too well everywhere in Atlas. Not from anyone,” she added, with a glance at Fluttershy, “but certainly not from a faunus, however valiant your service to the kingdom. Just something to bear in mind, for your own good. Not everyone who has suffered at the hands of the White Fang will be as tolerant as Flash is being.”

“We’re not without experience of the worst of the White Fang ourselves,” Twilight reminded Weiss.

“All the more reason to remember what others have been through,” Weiss told her. “I’m not denying that the faunus have suffered, and I’m certainly not denying the part that the SDC has played in that… but that doesn’t change the fact that, in their campaign for justice, the White Fang has left a trail of bodies in their wake.”

For a moment, the table fell silent. Then Blake said, “You’re right, of course; after… after spending so long with the White Fang, I do feel the desire to help my people, because they are still my people. But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t also feel the need to stop them.”

“As I understand it, you have,” Weiss said. “In Vale, at least.”

Blake glanced away. “Well… so it seems.”

Weiss’ brow furrowed. “I apologise, perhaps I shouldn’t have brought the subject up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blake said quickly. “You… you gave me some very good advice, which I’ll bear in mind, and which I needed, having been… so long away from Atlas.” There was a pause as the waiter returned with Weiss’ and Flash’s drinks. Once he had set them down and then – having taken their orders – departed once again, Blake raised her glass. “To Atlas.”

The rest all raised their glasses, clinking them together in the air above the white-clothed table. “To Atlas!”


Twilight carried her shoes in one hand and walked barefoot down the corridors of the Hope back to their room, with Rainbow following behind her.

Neither of them said anything as they reached the room itself. The door slid open, and the two stepped inside. Rainbow flicked on the lights as the door slid shut after them.

“Hey, Twilight, check this out!” Spike cried in a high, boyish voice.

“Aah!” Twilight cried, stumbling backwards into Rainbow Dash, hitting her in the act of stumbling backwards in turn so that they both fell over together, landing with a crash on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

“Uh,” Rainbow said, “did Spike just-?”

“That’s right,” Spike said smugly, grinning from where he sat on the chair. “I can talk now. Pretty cool, huh?”

“No!” Twilight yelled, as she untangled herself from Rainbow Dash. “Not, ‘pretty cool,’ not cool at all!”

“Well-” Rainbow began.

“Not cool at all!” Twilight repeated, louder and with additional emphasis, silencing Rainbow in the process. She returned her attention to Spike. “What… how… since when? How did this happen?”

“I dunno,” Spike said. “I was looking at that canister, and then this green light came out of it-”

“What do you mean it came out?” Twilight demanded. “It’s sealed up!”

“Apparently not,” Spike replied.

Rainbow groaned as she picked herself up off the floor. “Great. Spike, did you see any more green stuff come out of there and where did it go?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Twilight snapped.

“Look, Twilight, I admit it’s kind of weird that Spike can talk now-”

“'Kind of weird'?”

“But I’m more worried about what magic leaking everywhere could do to the ship,” Rainbow went on. “Or, you know, the crew. Or us.”

“I didn’t see any more coming out,” Spike replied. “Just the stuff that got me.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Rainbow said. “All the same, I think we should try and find somewhere safer to put that, just in case. Like a dust case; they’re resistant.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Spike said. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to count on us getting that lucky every time,” Rainbow said.

She knelt down and reached under the lower bunk, dragging a shining metallic case out across the floor. Rainbow opened the case with a click, revealing various phials of dust of every different type and colour nestled within. Two by two, Rainbow began emptying the case, depositing the dust on the floor beside her.

“Will you please stop having a conversation with Spike?” Twilight moaned as she sat down on the bed.

Rainbow looked at her from over her shoulder. “I mean, he’s answering back. It’s not like I’m talking to a regular dog.”

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to a regular dog,” Twilight declared. She sank down onto her bunk. “It’s the answering back that’s the problem!”

“But why?” Spike asked. He hopped into her lap. “Twilight, I’m still me.”

To prove it, he leapt up and licked her face for good measure.

A smile crept onto Twilight’s face in spite of herself. “Sorry, I just… this is… how do you feel?”

“Confused?” Spike suggested. “But not that I can talk. More like I’m confused that I couldn’t do it before. It’s so easy.”

Twilight couldn’t help but chuckle as she picked Spike up and cradled him in her arms.

“So long as you’re okay, then I guess that’s okay,” she said, pressing his face to her cheek. “After all, I guess we all change, all the time, and that’s a good thing.”

“Sure,” Rainbow agreed. “But I’m still going to lock that canister away until we get to Atlas.”

The laughter of Twilight – and Spike – filled the room.


The door slid open before her.

Ciel stepped inside. Her footsteps echoed upon the metallic floor beneath, and the door hissed a second time as it closed after her.

Other than that, the room was silent. Like an empty church after the congregation had departed.

No, not like that at all. There was a comfort to be found in such silences, or at least, Ciel found it so; she meant nothing against an organised service, there was something to be said for hymns or communal prayers, there were certainly times when there was something to be said for a sympathetic ear from the pastor, but there were also times when Ciel preferred to simply walk into the empty church — the door was left open, even though the valuables were often secured at such times — and sit in one of the pews in the back row and pray. Or to approach the altar and kneel at the feet of the Lady, as the Lady knelt before God, and seek solace, wisdom, guidance, whatever one felt the need of at the present time.

It was sometimes good to be able to commune with the Lady — and through her, with God — absent intermediaries or interruptions, with nothing getting in the way of one’s thoughts flying heavenward. And, to speak truth, an empty church was about the only place left in the world where you could truly escape the world; there was no getting away from it anywhere else these days; if the people didn’t follow you, the culture would.

This was not a comforting silence. This was not a silence conducive to contemplation or to seeking solace. This silence had a prickly and uncertain edge to it, a silence that bred fear and misgiving, a silence that revolted against her presence. A silence that evoked darkness, however brightly lit the room might be.

A silence that made her want to leave.

But she would not leave. She would not turn and flee. She was a Flower of the North and made of braver stuff than that by far.

This … this might not be pleasant, but it was necessary.

Although the fact that the room was so silent was not a good sign.

Penny lay on the desk. It revolted Ciel to see her this way: immobile, naked, voiceless. It reminded her of the … the streets of Mantle, her home, were full of the homeless; they lurked upon street corners, and whether they sat hunched under the light or sought the shadow was a good indicator of whether one should offer them alms or stay well clear; sometimes, they were not alive to receive such charity. Despite the heating grid, the cold of night sometimes claimed them all the same. One saw their bodies, eyes open, bodies frozen in the position of their last shivering moments. One morning, they had found one such poor fellow blocking the stairwell of their tenement. It was never a pretty sight, and never an easy sight to forget. And Penny was lying there in just such a way, it…

Ciel trembled, as though the cold of Mantle’s night was reaching her even here. She swallowed. Her throat was dry.

“Penny, will you speak?” she asked, words tripping swiftly out of her mouth. “Say something, anything.”

“Good evening, Ciel,” Penny replied, her voice issuing out of the computer to which she was connected. “Is everything okay? You sound anxious.”

Ciel swallowed again, and was glad that she had not yet stepped into Penny’s field of vision. “I am … as well as you are,” she said. “Or ‘So long as you are well, then I am well,’ as the Lady opens her epistles.”

“I don’t feel well,” Penny opined. “I can barely feel anything.”

Ciel stepped forward, until she was looking down on Penny, so Penny could see her. She hoped that none of her feelings about Penny’s present condition communicated themselves in her expression. “Then my own wellness is reduced accordingly, for how could I be…”

Ciel trailed off; even in her head, that sounded absurdly melodramatic; it was one thing for the Lady of the North to write that way, but she was not the Lady of the North to speak so.

“I am not happy if you are not happy,” she said plainly.

“Sceptical: Really?” Penny asked.

Ciel frowned. “What is that?”

“What is what?”

“Saying the word ‘sceptical,’” Ciel explained.

“How else are you supposed to know how I feel?”

“Don’t do that,” Ciel instructed her. “It sounds ridiculous.”

“Now you understand why I’m sceptical,” Penny said.

Ciel paused for a moment. “I apologise; that was poorly judged of me.” She sat down. “Although, that being said, simply because I cannot be happy while you are unhappy does not mean that your happiness alone is enough to bring me joy.”

“Because I have to be happy doing what you want,” Penny said.

“What I want is not the issue,” Ciel insisted. “The issue is … Penny, why do you think that we have etiquette classes at Atlas?”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I don’t know. I thought they were boring.”

“I suspect you are not alone in that,” Ciel muttered. “Nevertheless, there is a purpose.”

“What?”

“Well,” Ciel said, “in one of the trashy novels with which Rainbow Dash is unfortunately enamoured, the hero identifies a supposed ally as an enemy spy by the fact that he is so gauche as to order red wine with fish, which no well-educated Atlesian would ever do.” She cleared her throat. “Not that I’ve read any of them, of course.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, don’t worry,” Penny said.

Ciel chuckled. “I miss your voice, Penny,” she confessed. “I … miss being able to hear the emotion in it as you said such things.”

“Amused: Your secret’s safe with me.”

“That is no substitute at all, I’m afraid,” Ciel said dryly. “More pertinently, the reason for an etiquette is not merely the whim of some past headmaster; rather, it is because we are civilised people, defending a civilised world, and it behooves us to behave as such. Virtus, Penny, sometimes translated as virtue — although that is not as exact as the similarity in words might have you think — as set against the furor of grimm and of barbarians alike. And the higher, more refined quality will always triumph over the baser. The Vacuans think us soft, they think that a hard land has made them strong, and with their strength, they would sweep us aside if it came to it, but history shows it is not so. Nor shall it be so, because our virtus will always be superior so long as we maintain it. So, if it sometimes seems that I am hard on you, that I hold you to standards that are unnecessarily higher … it is only because I do not wish to see you fail.”

“Because that’s your mission,” Penny said. “To make sure that I don’t fail.”

“That is the mission,” Ciel conceded. “But it is not the source of my desire. I … I care about you, Penny. It… I confess it saddens me that you did not realise that.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “Rainbow Dash says that I should apologise to you, for being mean,” she said, “but I don’t think this is my fault; how was I supposed to know that you cared when you treat me like that?”

“I treat you as I would treat any of my own brothers!” Ciel declared hotly.

“Do your brothers know that you care about them?” Penny asked.

“Of—” Ciel stopped, because as easy as it would be reflexively to declare that of course they did … she hadn’t actually asked.

Such things … they didn’t tend to talk about such things in her family. Feelings, care, all rather awkward. And there were always more important things than sentiment, and in any case, with mother and father both so frequently away, she had — as the eldest — been forced to step into a role that made her somewhat more than an equal to her brothers. It was hard to talk about love and devotion when you were trying to corral an increasing number of boys to get their baths, or brush their teeth, or go to bed on time, and I know you didn’t say your prayers, Maurice! God may forgive you, but I may not!

She thought about her youngest brother, Alain; he was ill, quite grievously so, if the doctors were not very much mistaken. His condition made him fragile, and Ciel — they all, but Ciel’s focus was upon her own behaviour — took great pains with him on account of it.

She wondered, suddenly, if he found that as irksome as Penny apparently found her treatment.

“I … I hope so,” she said softly. “But I fear … you are correct; the fact that you could not discern my intent is not your fault. I should have been … I should not have assumed. I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Penny said. “I didn’t want to … I just wanted to … I want to be my own person.”

“And you think that I do not allow that?” Ciel asked.

“What is it that you want me to become, Ciel?” Penny responded.

Ciel considered her response for a little while; she would not lie to Penny — she might only get one chance to say this — but she would phrase the truth in the best way.

“I want you to be a good Atlesian girl,” she said.

“Like Rainbow Dash?” Penny asked. “Is she a good Atlesian girl?”

Ciel licked her lips. “Rainbow Dash … our esteemed leader has her virtues, although she is not without fault.”

“What about Neon Katt? Or Trixie Lulamoon? Or Starlight Glimmer?”

“Neon is a fine fighter and a better wit,” Ciel admitted, “but she takes her virtue to such excess that it becomes a vice; she has in her a little too much levity at times. I confess I do not know those other two save by reputation.”

“Are they good Atlesian girls?” Penny asked.

“I think you have a point to make,” Ciel guessed. “I would have you share it.”

“Why do they get to be weird, or flawed, or less than perfect, or something other than a good Atlesian girl, but I don’t?” Penny demanded. “Is it because I was made?”

“Yes,” Ciel admitted. “But not for the reasons you think.”

She paused for a moment.

“My brother Tyson wants to enlist as a mechanic, the same as my father,” she said. “I have no doubt that he will be accepted; he has skilled hands, and the military is always eager for recruits. In that position, any eccentricities he possesses — I confess I do not know if he has any — will be tolerated, as long as he keeps the airships flying. But I … I desire more than that.”

Again, she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Do you know that Neon Katt and I grew up in the same tenement in Mantle? That our families worship at the same church?”

“No,” Penny said. “I didn’t know that.”

“No, Neon doesn’t seem the religious type, does she?” Ciel commented dryly. “Nevertheless, it is the truth. Neon … Neon is more entertaining to be around than myself, I grant; I myself enjoy her company, although perhaps I should tell her so in case she, too, has failed to realise it. She is witty, charming … and I fear she will be lucky to reach lieutenant in this army, let alone higher. Starlight Glimmer, with her record … she may behave as she pleases, for she has blotted her copybook with her conduct already; no one will trust her with a command. Rainbow Dash enjoys General Ironwood’s favour and his patronage. Trixie Lulamoon … as I say, I do not know her; I cannot say whether she realises what an impression she is making with her antics. But I do know that she is not from Mantle.”

She took a deep breath and forced down the anger that she felt, the anger that she did not allow herself to feel, over the way in which those who hailed from Mantle were treated like second class within their own kingdom. Over the way in which those with ability and the accomplishments to prove said ability were passed over in favour of those who spoke with the right accent, who came from ‘the right background,’ who had ‘good families’ who would speak up for them and ensure their places.

“Do you remember our mission to Cold Harbour?” Ciel asked.

“Yes,” Penny replied.

“I fear I maligned Blake there,” Ciel admitted. “When she … gave you cause to doubt yourself, and to doubt how Ruby and Pyrrha would react to learning the truth about you, I was very cross with her. But the truth is, she was not entirely wrong. You and I … we will always be outsiders, and that means that we cannot afford to be anything less than good girls, not if we wish to prosper on the inside.”

“And what if I don’t want that?” Penny asked. “What if I’d rather just be me?”

“You do not know the cost of what you ask,” Ciel replied.

“And you do?”

“I know it well; my father has lived it his entire career,” Ciel declared, her voice rising even as she herself rose to her feet. “My father … my father wanted to be a pilot. He had the educational qualifications necessary to qualify him to enter flight school, but when he went to the recruiting office, the sergeant assumed, based on his background, that he had come to join up as an enlisted man.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?”

“He was too nervous,” Ciel said, “and confrontation is not his way. It has to be admitted that he is a good mechanic, but at the same time, it must gall him, to have been treated in such a way, never to rise beyond the middle reaches of the non-commissions, to grow old in the service taking orders from a succession of arrogant young officers who do not know one tenth of what he has learned about airships or engineering, but they were born in the right place, and they know the right people!”

She turned away, half-covering her mouth with one hand.

“I am sorry, Penny, I did not mean to raise my voice. The Lady teaches us that anger is not a thing to be indulged. And yet … and yet, there are times when … there are times when I fear that the light of Atlas is not so pure and untarnished as I would have it.” She sighed. “But we must live in the world that is, even if we seek to make a better one. I would be more than my father was condemned to. That will not happen if I am not … correct, in all aspects.”

“That’s what you want,” Penny pointed out. “But that doesn’t have to be what I want.”

“You want to spend your life watching others rise around you while you are ignored?” Ciel asked, turning back towards her.

“I don’t think I want to be a general, or a colonel, or even a major,” Penny said. “I think I’d rather be happy. Are you happy, Ciel?”

Ciel did not reply for a moment. “So long as you are happy, Penny,” she said, “then I will be happy.”

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