Powder Keg (Rewritten)
Powder Keg
Cinder kept her face composed. She did not want to show her emotions in front of Emerald, especially not now that they were approaching a greater degree of equality, and so, she kept her expression calm, emotionless, inscrutable.
Inside, she could feel the fire stirring to life anew. Inside, she could feel the beowolf start to growl.
She clasped her hands together behind her back, so that nobody could see them clench into fists.
“Come in,” she said, keeping her tone even and neutral.
The door into the library opened, and the girl who had identified herself from without as Tempest Shadow walked in.
Cinder recognised her, vaguely; she was an Atlas student, part of Team … Tsunami, yes, Team Tsunami, the one with the loudmouth for a leader. Cinder could remember them, but that did not translate to memories of Tempest Shadow, although from that, Cinder took the fact that she, unlike her notional leader, was not a loudmouth.
What she was was tall, as tall as Pyrrha — and thus, annoyingly, taller than Cinder herself — and seeming taller still by the Mohawk in which she wore her rose-coloured hair, which rose like the crest of a helmet and added almost an extra foot to her not inconsiderable height. A black bodysuit, skintight but with everything that might have been revealed covered up by additional armour-like pads of semi-solid looking plastic, embraced her entire body from the neck down, although she was wearing a pair of black boots with dark purple toecaps upon her feet also.
Her eyes were opal and marred upon the right side of her face by a scar that descended down from her temple, crossing the eye and continuing down her cheek.
She had a weapon slung across her back, although being slung across her back as it was, what the weapon might be exactly, Cinder could not yet tell.
So, this was Doctor Watts' better agent. Cinder could already see why he might have wanted to keep her to himself. Between Tempest and Sweetie Drops, there was no doubt in Cinder’s mind that Tempest was the favourite.
That much was clear to her from the way that Tempest stood, mirroring Cinder’s stance with her hands clasped behind her back, her face as expressionless and as impossible to read as Cinder was endeavouring to make her own.
She was not afraid of Cinder, or if she was, then she was determined not to show it. She didn’t want to let Watts down by showing fear in the presence of his rival.
It was intolerable. To waltz in here, after so long, after so much delay, and then to offer not a single word of apology or excuse, not to explain, not to do anything, just to stand there as though nothing was wrong.
Cinder might have been willing to accept an apology, if delivered with the right amount of fawning, but this? She was supposed to bear this?
Cinder took a deep breath. “Emerald, would you mind leaving the room?” she asked, showing more courtesy than she had in the past reserved for Emerald, now that they were closer in social status; besides, it would send all the wrong messages if she taught Emerald how to speak and act and carry herself in such a way as to win the respect of others and then went on showing her no respect herself. “I fear I am about to do something unladylike.”
Emerald got up from her seat. “I … of course, Cinder.” She started to make her way towards the door.
“Back straight,” Cinder whispered, because she could see from her stance that Emerald was tempted to assume the slinking gait that came so naturally to her.
She could understand why; this was a situation that seemed to invite slinking and smallness and moving in such a way as not to be noticed, but once you started down that road … no. You held your head up high no matter the circumstances, and damned all who tried to bring you down. That was the only way. That was what it meant to still have your pride.
Emerald glanced at her, and a brief smile flitted across her lips, and she walked towards the door with her back straight and her chin up and damn Tempest Shadow.
“Oh, Emerald,” Cinder called to her, when she had almost reached the door. “Would you kindly fetch Sonata Dusk, bring her here, and wait with her outside until our business is concluded? Tempest will be out to take charge of her soon enough.”
Emerald hesitated for a moment, and then she curtsied, even though she was hardly dressed for the gesture, crossing her left leg behind her right and spreading her arms out slightly on either side of her. “Of course, Cinder,” she said, “as you wish.”
The corner of Cinder’s lip curled upwards in the slightest smile. Good girl.
Emerald turned, ignoring Tempest Shadow completely — as she should; one should never pay any visible attention to the help until one had need of their services, which was not, of course, to say that one shouldn’t keep a discrete eye on what they were up to, just that you should never, ever make it obvious that was what you were doing — as she walked out through the doorway.
She shut the door behind her, leaving Cinder and Tempest alone in the library.
Tempest glanced at the closed door. “Was I interrupting something?” She smirked. “I can come back later, if that’s more convenient.”
Oh, you think you’re terribly witty, don’t you? Cinder thought. She glanced down at The Mistraliad in her hand. Diomedes had known how to deal with wags and wits.
“Sit still and wait for orders from your betters, you who are worthless, counting for nothing in battle or debate.”
She carefully put the book back on the shelf, since it seemed that the literature lesson had been postponed for just a little while.
“So,” she said softly, “you are Tempest Shadow.”
“Yes,” Tempest replied.
“Nice of you to finally show yourself,” Cinder remarked.
Tempest snorted. “I was busy.”
Cinder wondered if Tempest had any idea just how badly she wanted to roast the other girl alive. Nevertheless, she forced herself to face Watts’ agent and chuckle.
She had no idea whether it was at all convincing or whether it sounded as false as it felt, but nevertheless, she chuckled. She chuckled as she strode across the library, bearing down on Tempest Shadow.
She advanced upon her, until practically no distance at all remained.
Tempest Shadow looked down on her.
She looked down on Cinder Fall.
It was the final insult, slight upon slight piled upon Cinder’s head, and now, she looked down upon her.
It was not to be borne.
Cinder’s face contorted into a snarl of rage as she swept Tempest’s legs out from under her with a swift kick. Tempest Shadow was broad of shoulder, and with firm legs besides, but Cinder had caught her by surprise, and her legs went flying out from under her as she fell sideways with a startled gasp, hitting the wooden library floor with a thump.
Cinder kicked her while she was down, driving her slipper-clad foot into Tempest’s gut, before kneeling on the floor and grabbing Watts’ prized pet by the throat.
“Just who,” she snarled, “do you think you are?”
Anger flared in Tempest’s opal eyes, warming them somewhat as, with one hand, she reached up and grabbed Cinder’s forearm, trying to wrench her away from Tempest’s throat.
Cinder offered a grin that was something of a grimace. “Nice to see some honest emotion out of you,” she said, as with her own free hand, she grabbed Tempest’s hand and, with her semblance, began to apply a little bit of heat to it.
Tempest didn’t react; she kept on trying to pull Cinder’s hand away from her neck. She didn’t appear to notice that her arm was getting steadily warmer and warmer.
Strange, unless…
Cinder cocked her head to one side. “Did you lose the arm in the service of Atlas, or of Doctor Watts?”
Tempest’s eyes widened. “H— what are you doing?”
“This,” Cinder said, and began to apply her semblance to her other hand instead, to the one that was holding Tempest by the neck.
Tempest winced and began to squirm and writhe in Cinder’s grasp, trying to shake free of the heat that was becoming increasingly unbearable.
“I don’t know whether Arthur put you up to this, or whether it was your clever idea,” Cinder snarled, “but let me make one thing very clear to you: you are not Arthur Watts, and you are not my equal. I have not affection for your master, nor he for me: he thinks me too erratic, too arrogant, too … unpredictable.” She chuckled. “He might even be right. And so he snipes at me and makes mock of me, and since we are equals, I must bear his insults and put all thoughts of vengeance or retribution from my mind. You, on the other hand, are not my equal. You may be Doctor Watts’ favoured servant, but you are a servant nevertheless. You are a servant, and right now, you are serving me. Do not play games with me again, do I make myself clear?”
Tempest nodded. There was anger in her eyes, hate even; Cinder cared not. Let Tempest hate her all she liked, it was of no import.
Cinder released her, rising to her feet and ostentatiously turning her back upon the other girl. “I have been chosen to carry this operation forward,” she declared. “Without me, this enterprise, so crucial to our cause, cannot succeed. Remember that.”
Tempest rose to her feet, clutching at her neck with one hand, not the one that Cinder was fairly sure was artificial. “It seems,” she said, “as though you can’t succeed without me either.”
“You believed that, and yet you dallied?” Cinder asked, without confirming whether or not it was true. “Some might question your dedication.”
Tempest was silent for a moment. “What is it you would have me do?”
“Outside that door there is a Siren,” Cinder said. “She is … an otherworldly creature, although she may not seem so by her manners or behaviour. You will escort her into Vale, and there, she will sing.”
She had no idea if Watts had briefed Tempest Shadow on all of this already or not, but there was no harm in going over it all again; it eliminated the possibility that Watts had given Tempest the wrong instructions to trip up Cinder and make her look foolish.
“'Sing'?” Tempest asked.
Cinder turned to face her. “Her voice has magic in it; she can control people, spread negative emotions.”
“Ah,” Tempest murmured. “That explains it.”
Cinder didn’t ask her to clarify what she thought had just been explained. “I need her to spread negative emotions throughout Vale; this will require more than one trip, I know, so you will find yourself busy. You will escort her into Vale, let her give her performances, and then bring her back here. In addition to that, I will give you the names of men in Vale I wish you to contact on my behalf.”
“What kind of men?” asked Tempest.
Cinder debated not telling Tempest, leaving her ignorant, informing her that she had no need to know that particular detail; however, if matters proved to be more complicated than simply going to certain addresses — if, for example, contact was lost between them for whatever reason — then it might be as well that Tempest had sufficient information to operate independently. After all, Cinder had to admit that one of the reasons that Sweetie Drops had been so useless to her was that Cinder had attempted to micromanage her from a distance, doling out very little information and only bare instructions that Sweetie, without context, had failed to properly execute.
It might be better to give Tempest Shadow a little more to go on.
“Grimm cultists,” Cinder said. “Black Shepherds, in the main, sect leaders; I need them to come here so that I may give them their instructions.”
Her plan — which she was not about to reveal to Tempest in its entirety — was two-pronged. First, she would use Sonata’s power to spread strife and discord amongst the defenders of Vale; since she could not cripple the Atlesian power with a computer virus, she would spread a virus through the hearts of men. Vale already resented Atlas for saving them from the Breach; it would only require a little sweet siren song to enflame that resentment into something more dangerous.
The second part of her plan involved using the deluded worshippers of the grimm and of their mistress to carry out acts of sabotage against the defences of Vale when the moment of decision came. She would plunge all of Vale into a state of chaos.
And as the confusion reigned, she would take the crown for Salem and the magic for herself, and then … and then, she would seize the CCT and let the world know that it was she, Cinder Fall, who had brought these great powers to their knees.
Then she would kill Pyrrha while the cameras were rolling.
Admittedly, she hadn’t quite thought through the logistics of getting Pyrrha alone for their last fight yet — it would be something of a challenge to separate her from her teammates, let alone anyone else — but she would think of something before the moment came.
Maybe she’ll come running to stop me when she finds out that I’m at the tower.
No, Sunset would never let her do that by herself, even if she was so foolish.
Never mind; the answer will come to me.
In any case, that was only the last part of a plan that was otherwise fully developed. She had sewn the seeds with the Breach, giving the Atlesians a moment of glory which the Valish would seethe and stew at; now, Sonata would plough the ground for her.
And then it would be a simple matter of waiting for the appropriate harvest time.
“I see,” Tempest said softly. “On the other side of that door?”
“Or will be, soon enough,” Cinder replied.
Tempest snorted. “I’ve never met an otherworldly magical creature before. You won’t mind if I get started right away?”
Oh, now you want to get started. “By all means,” Cinder said, gesturing towards the door.
Tempest walked to the door and opened it.
“Hey there! I hear that somebody is my brand new escort!” Sonata cried. “Hey, can we get something to eat when we’re in the big city, because I am staaaarving!”
Tempest looked at Cinder in disbelief.
“As I said,” Cinder reminded her, “‘despite her appearance and behaviour.’”
“Oh my gosh this is so amazing!” Sonata yelled through her mouthful of food. “What did you say this was called again?”
“It’s called a taco,” Tempest said slowly. “And they’re not really that great.”
“'Not that great,' have you tried these?” Sonata asked. She had the rest of her taco clutched in one hand, wrapped in silver foil. “You wanna try it?” She waved the half-eaten taco in Tempest’s face.
Tempest leaned away. “Thanks … I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself,” Sonata said. “More for me, I guess.” She swallowed and immediately took another bite. As she chewed, she seemed for the first time to notice the looks that she was getting from the populace as she and Tempest walked down the Vale street. “Why is everybody looking at us?”
“Not us: you,” Tempest said. “They’re looking at you because you’re dressed like the heartwarming orphan in a musical theatre production. Speaking of which…”
“Shopping first, then singing,” Sonata said cheerfully. “Like you just said, I need to change out of this outfit.”
“Sure,” Tempest said. “Just remember that this is my money you’re spending before you go too crazy.”
Sonata nodded as she swallowed her next bite of taco. “So, how long have you been working with Cinder?”
“I don’t work for Cinder,” Tempest said firmly, rounding on Sonata, who came to a hurried halt, almost — but not quite — dropping her taco in the process. “I work for Doctor Watts. I … he has temporarily placed me at Cinder’s disposal, but I do not work for her.”
“Oh, yeah, sure, that’s a big difference,” Sonata agreed, nodding eagerly. She took another bite out of her taco and tried to speak with her mouth full, to incomprehensible results.
Tempest’s eyebrows rose. “You want to try repeating that?”
Sonata swallowed. “Sorry. I was just saying, I think you’re pretty lucky; not everyone who works for Cinder seems to like it very much.”
“Really?” Tempest murmured. That was interesting to know, if true, but she wasn’t sure that she would trust Sonata to tell her that the sky was blue at this point, the way that she was acting. “Emerald didn’t seem to have an issue with her; in fact, they seemed quite close, the way that they were carrying on together.”
“Yeah, they’re tight,” Sonata agreed. “But Lightning Dust … she’s not a happy camper, if you know what I mean. I don’t think she’s feeling very appreciated.”
“Is that a fact?” Tempest said softly. When she returned with Sonata to the manor, she would have to find an excuse to talk with Lightning Dust, find out if there was any truth to what Sonata was saying.
“It is!” Sonata insisted. “Cinder was talking about her behind her back to Emerald; it was really mean.”
“Seriously?” Tempest demanded. “Talking about her behind her— how old are they?”
She sighed. No wonder Doctor Watts had nothing but contempt for Cinder. Still, anything that she could use would do; if she could strip Cinder of all her subordinates, it would make supplanting her so much easier.
Perhaps Sonata wasn’t as foolish as she looked.
“Don’t answer that,” Tempest added, before Sonata could respond. “Anyway, we should—”
“Tempest?”
Tempest rolled her eyes. “Oh God, it would be her, wouldn’t it?”
“Tempest?” The voice that assailed the ears of Tempest Shadow was aristocratic, refined, and thoroughly detestable to… Tempest supposed that there was someone to whom that voice was not thoroughly detestable, but for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine who that somebody might be.
The voice belonged to Phoebe Kommenos, leader of Team PSTL, and she was making her way down the street towards Tempest and Sonata. She was dressed in a provocative red summer dress that, much as it pained Tempest to admit, flattered her figure exactly as much as she seemed to think it did, with her bright golden hair hanging in artful, almost regal-seeming ringlets all around her head. Golden bangles gleamed in the sunlight upon both her arms, and her eyes were concealed behind a pair of designer sunglasses. Her teammate Mal Sapphire, a goat faunus with a pair of horns growing out of her forehead, followed in the footsteps, her arms heavily laden down with shopping bags that Tempest already knew belonged to Phoebe, not Mal.
A gaggle of other Atlas students, all girls, followed in Phoebe’s wake. Tempest could only assume that they got something out of her company, because she couldn’t imagine that anyone would choose to willingly associate with Phoebe Kommenos unless there was some advantage in it.
Or perhaps, given by the way that their hair was all exquisitely arranged, their faces made up, and their clothes all of the very finest quality, they were all just as awful as Phoebe herself. Birds of a feather and all that.
For herself, it had been many years since Tempest had seen the point of friends. In this world, you could only rely on yourself, ultimately; when the crunch came, everyone else would abandon you, even those you thought loved you the most.
Phoebe might learn that lesson herself, in time.
Tempest kind of hoped she would.
“Tempest,” Phoebe declared again, condescension rolling off the name. “So it is you.” She smirked. “I thought I recognised your grim countenance and dour dress.”
“And I recognised you,” Tempest said, “using your teammate as a pack mule.”
Phoebe laughed. “Well, you know how it is, one needs to keep one's hands free just in case, and really, what else are the little beasts good for, after all?”
Her human companions giggled appreciatively, as though she had just said something terribly witty. Phoebe herself smiled as though she had reason to be pleased with herself as her gaze slid from Tempest to Sonata.
“And who is this?” Phoebe asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, and I think I would have remembered somebody dressed so unfashionably. Tempest, are you volunteering with the homeless now?” She laughed again and, once again, was joined by her fawning hangers-on. “But that gem looks like it might be worth something.” She leaned forwards to affix Sonata with a glare. “Now where did someone like you get something like that? Did you steal it?” She reached out one lithe-fingered hand to it, as though she had half a mind to steal it herself. “It obviously doesn’t belong to a little—”
Sonata’s hand intercepted Phoebe’s before it had gotten half-way, closing around her wrist with a strength that made Phoebe Kommenos cry out in pain. Tempest tensed, Phoebe’s cronies gasped in shock, Mal made a squeaking sound of alarm.
This could be very bad, Tempest thought. She didn’t want to fight all of these students — her fellow students, supposedly — but of course she couldn’t allow Sonata to come to any harm. Cinder or no, Doctor Watts had impressed on her how crucial the siren was to the best plan that they had right now.
Tempest would just have to defend her and hope to wriggle free of any consequence.
And if not, then she would have to take the consequences for the sake of the mission.
For the sake of the mission and Doctor Watts.
Tempest steeled herself for the outbreak of violence … and then Sonata began to sing.
It was hard for Tempest to focus on the individual words; it felt … it felt as though there was a kind of fog coming down on her mind, inhibiting her concentration, clouding her thoughts. She couldn’t hear the words; although she knew that there were words, it was as though … it was as though they weren’t really meant for her somehow. She felt anger rousing inside of her, but it was like she wasn’t meant to feel that angry, and so … so, she didn’t. She felt angry, but nothing compared to the fury that she could see boiling on the face of Phoebe Kommenos.
“P-Pyrrha,” Phoebe growled through gritted teeth. “Going … get her…”
Sonata crooned softly, and as she sang, she released Phoebe’s hand and began to circle around her, stroking the Atlesian team leader on her shoulders and her neck, leaning in to practically whisper in her ear.
Around Tempest, she could see other people in the street starting to argue with one another, muttering angrily and one or two even shouting at one another. She could see Phoebe’s acolytes turn on each other, accusations thrown this way and that, petty things but seemingly no less heartfelt for all that.
The gem around Sonata’s neck seemed brighter than it had done a moment ago.
Sonata ceased her song and stood behind Phoebe with a bright smile on her face.
Phoebe growled at the empty air, Tempest and Sonata seemingly forgotten. “Come on, girls!” she said, turning away. “Mal! Don’t just stand there like a moron; get moving!” She stalked off down the street, and her companions followed in her wake, still muttering amongst one another, shooting dirty glares at one another as they trailed after Phoebe.
In whatever state they left, they left.
Tempest was left alone with Sonata.
“So,” Tempest said. “That’s your power, huh?”
“Yep!” Sonata chirruped. “You don’t mind, do you? She wasn’t a friend of yours, was she?”
“Hardly,” Tempest muttered. “What was it you did, precisely?”
Sonata shrugged. “She was a pretty angry person; I just made it boil up a little bit. What’s that about, anyway? Why is she so angry?”
Tempest smirked. “You ever heard of the Invincible Girl, Pyrrha Nikos?”
“I think Cinder might have mentioned her once or twice.”
“Phoebe would like to think of herself as Pyrrha’s rival,” Tempest said. “One of them anyway; even Phoebe knows that Arslan is the real rival. That … would not be ideal, from her perspective, but a champion can never have too many rivals, can they?” She smiled thinly, a smile which failed to reach her eyes. “No, the real trouble is that it’s such a one-sided rivalry, and even Phoebe knows it. It’s not that she’s never beaten Pyrrha — nobody has ever beaten Pyrrha, after all; that’s the point — it’s the fact that she’s never even come close. The public don’t like her; her fellow competitors don’t respect her. It eats at her, and she blames Pyrrha for it.”
“You know a lot about her, don’t you?” Sonata asked.
“I’m curious about people,” Tempest said. “I like to understand them, how they think, what motivates them.” She paused for a moment. “When things happen that you don’t expect, when you get blindsided by a surprise … that’s when you get hurt. When you understand everything and everyone around you, when you can predict what they’ll do, that’s when you can plot the path to victory.” Her gaze lingered upon her Siren companion. What is it that motivates you?
Sonata took a step back. “Do I have something on my face?”
I’m more concerned with whether or not you’ve got anything in your head. “No,” Tempest said. “So … is that what you do? You bring people’s anger up to the surface?”
Sonata shrugged once more. “It’s one of the things I do.”
“Why?”
Sonata blinked. “Why what?”
“Why do you do it?” Tempest asked.
“Why does a shark swim?” Sonata asked. “Why does it eat all of the other little fishies?” She stuffed the remainder of her taco into her mouth. “Now can we go shopping? I really want to change out of this mess and get some cool clothes like everybody else is wearing.”
So, you do this because … you’re born this way? That wasn’t particularly helpful, even if Tempest believed it. It was hard to predict a creature driven by its base instincts when you only had a feeble, rudimentary grasp on what those instincts might be.
In any case, Tempest didn’t believe her, not completely. It might be that some of this was in her nature, but Sonata would have to be stupider than she was — and while she wasn’t as stupid as she wanted Tempest to think she was, Tempest did not think her very bright; that comment about sharks had been an accidental slip of the mask. She could have asked why the fish swam, but she had had to say shark and reveal how she really saw herself: a predator — to have no will or desire of her own.
She wanted something. She wanted, it seemed, to cause a rift between Cinder and those around her, like Tempest and Lightning Dust. That was fine by Tempest, but she couldn’t yet work out why Sonata wanted it.
Perhaps she wanted nothing more than to escape in the confusion when the knives came out.
Or perhaps there was more to it than that, but Tempest wasn’t going to find it out by staring at her or standing here pondering. In order to understand people, you sometimes had no choice but to observe them in action.
And besides, she had a job to do.
A job that entailed taking Sonata clothes shopping.
It was not fair to say that Doctor Watts wasn’t paying Tempest for her services; it was not widely known, but there were those — like Trixie and Starlight, from whom it was hard to have secrets — who knew that Tempest received a modest income courtesy of an anonymous benefactor who was watching her career with great interest. But the key word in that was ‘modest,’ so Tempest took Sonata to one of Vale’s more budget clothing stores; paid, albeit reluctantly, for the things that Sonata chose; and then waited outside the changing room for the siren to emerge.
“Ta-da!” Sonata cried when she actually did emerge, throwing her arms up and outwards, forming a Y shape with her body as she struck a pose, one foot in front of the other, her back contorting as she thrust her bosom outwards.
The siren was dressed in a short-sleeved violet jacket that matched her eyes and left her forearms bare; beneath that, a short skirt of bright neon pink covered her thigh, while high violet boots with bright pink socks underneath went up almost to her knees. A pair of pink bracelets studded with metal spikes clung to her wrists, while her hair was bound up in a high ponytail which still fell down to her waist before curving back upwards.
“Do I look great or what?”
“You look … fine,” Tempest said evenly. It wasn’t as if she was a great judge of fashion in any event. “Are you ready now?”
“Ready to sing? You betcha!” Sonata said. She hesitated. “Uh, what am I supposed to be singing about again?”
Tempest rolled her eyes. She suspected that Sonata had genuinely forgotten. “You’re supposed to be causing ill-feeling amongst the Valish towards Atlas.”
“Oh, yeah, right; I remember now,” Sonata said. “Piece of cake. I could do that all on my own, which is a good thing, considering I am alone, right?” She chuckled. “So, where do you want me to start; shall I start right here?”
“Not right here, no,” Tempest said. “Wait until I give you the word.”
The store to which Tempest had brought her was in a pedestrianised street, where cars were off limits and the whole road was reserved for foot traffic, so as to reduce noise pollution and provide a more convivial — and safer — experience for shoppers. People thronged the street; the initial shock of the Breach that had driven the people of Vale to huddle in their homes and shun the out of doors had subsided now, people had realised that they were not in imminent danger of being devoured by beowolves, and the late summer weather had brought them out to pack the street, passing in and out of the shops, heading up the street towards the movie theatre and the shopping centre or down it towards the metro station. The weather was still just warm enough to make ice cream a tempting treat, and there was more than one cart selling it, alongside lollies and lemonade and various other peddled foods and drinks for the end of summer. The air hummed with conversation and with the thumping of hundreds of footsteps on the pedestrianised road.
And in the sky directly above them, an Atlesian cruiser hung, casting a shadow over the road, a visible and inescapable symbol of Vale’s failure and its shame.
With Sonata now dressed in a casual style, nobody paid her much mind as she followed Tempest’s lead; Tempest’s own get-up attracted no notice at all, since it was hardly unusual to see a young huntress on the streets.
Nobody questioned them as they made their way towards the metro station, where hordes of people filed in and out, rising up out of the underground or else descending down into its depths.
Nobody marked them. This was a common spot for buskers and singers, a place where you were guaranteed an audience, willing or otherwise.
The lack of sound pollution, courtesy of the no-traffic policy, was certainly a big help too.
“Here,” Tempest said, “but don’t start just yet.”
Doctor Watts had warned her about this, and after hearing a little of Sonata’s voice, Tempest could understand why he had warned her. Out of a pouch at her hip, she fished out a pair of noise-cancelling headphones — Trixie’s noise-cancelling headphones, to be precise, which was why they were purple with silver stars on them; Tempest should be okay, provided Trixie didn’t find out that she’d borrowed them.
They were wireless, fortunately for her purposes, and Tempest had already connected them to her scroll, so it was just a matter of turning on her selected music, a death metal track that sounded like a demented cheetah screaming into a microphone at three hundred decibels while angry gorillas backed him up on guitar and drums, and giving Sonata a thumbs up.
Sonata gave a grin that was almost savage in anticipation. Tempest couldn't hear a single thing going on around her; a goliath could have snuck up behind her, and she wouldn’t have noticed until it picked her up in its truck, but she could see Sonata make a throat-clearing motion.
And then, Tempest guessed, she began to sing.
Tempest could hear none of it. She was glad that she could hear none of it, the memory of the way that Sonata’s singing with Phoebe had affected her was bad enough, and that, she thought, had turned out to be rather mild in the end. This was going to be Sonata singing her heart out, and that was not something…
No, that wasn’t true. Tempest did want to hear it. But she understood that just because she wanted to hear it didn’t mean that she should; she had a mission to complete for Doctor Watts; she couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk failing him, just to indulge herself.
When you allowed yourself to be surprised, when the unexpected happened, that was when you got hurt. And magic was something that would definitely surprise Tempest Shadow.
That was why she was curious about it.
Still, Tempest kept the headphones on, and as she kept the headphones on, she could not hear the song, not one word, not one single note.
But she could observe the effect that it was having on others though. People stopped what they were doing; whether they were coming into a store, leaving a shop, coming into or out of the metro station, buying a snack or a drink, they stopped all of it. They stopped, people barging into the people in front of them, the whole street staggering to a sort of ragged halt, everyone turning towards Sonata.
Tempest herself, though she couldn’t hear, she could feel … something. It wasn’t much, but it pricked at her, urging her to take off the headphones. She resisted, of course, but it pricked at her nonetheless, like needles being jabbed into her forehead.
Tempest frowned and concentrated on watching the people around her. They were not just stopped now; they certainly were not frozen, no; now, they were becoming angry. She could see them, the people who had been walked into rounding upon those who had walked into, voices moving quickly in what Tempest could only imagine to be angry words. Hands were clenched into fists.
And then someone pointed upwards towards the Atlesian cruiser in the skies, a sharp, angry jab with a finger. Faces turned upwards, faces set in scowls of snarls. Someone shook their fist to heavenward; another raised it and held it there, as if in defiance. More quick mouth movements, and Tempest could only imagine what curses were being hurled in the direction of the warship.
The gem around Sonata’s neck was glowing brightly now, much brighter than before; it looked more beautiful than any ruby ever had, as sharp as diamond and as red as blood. Sonata smiled coquettishly at Tempest as she stepped away, moving into the crowd, leaving Tempest as she darted into the press, the crush of people preventing Tempest from following. For a moment, Tempest’s eyes widened, darting back and forth, fearful that Sonata had attempted to escape already, but no; no, there she was. Tempest could see her now, weaving her way amongst the crowd. She was moving … Tempest couldn’t hear her, but she could see her swaying, moving, moving her arms; it was … it was not quite like anything she had seen before; it wasn’t dancing … except it clearly was … except it was like no dance that Tempest knew; it was … it was like some kind of aquatic creature, flowing in the water, tensionless … alluring.
Beautiful.
Tempest watched Sonata sway and flow amongst the ground, cupping one man’s face as though she might kiss him, tilting a woman’s chin up as though she might kiss her, touching those that she could reach before gesturing lithely upwards towards the Atlesian man-o'-war. She could not watch anything else. She was transfixed by her.
Her hands itched to tear off the headphones so that she could hear as well as see.
She might have done it too, her resistance crumbling, but then … then it was over. It seemed to be anyway; the crowd … the crowd did not settle, or at least if they settled, it was into quarrelling, a whole mass of people standing in the street growling at one another, snarling at one another, muttering angrily at one another, pointing in the faces of those around them. But Sonata seemed to have stopped singing; the brightness of the gem around her neck was faded a little as she slunk back to where Tempest was standing.
She beamed and held both thumbs up.
Tempest took off her headphones, reflexively folding them back up to put away. “That was … that was incredible,” she murmured, surveying all that Sonata had done, all of these people turned to wrath so swiftly.
“Aww, that’s nice of you to say, but that’s nothing really,” Sonata said, clasping her hands behind her. “And anyway, you didn’t even hear my song!”
“No,” Tempest said softly. “But I…” She hesitated. What had she been about to say, that she would? That she wanted to?
She did want to. And why not? Because Doctor Watts did not wish it so? He didn’t own her. Why should he forbid what she wanted?
Because she owed everything to him; where was this coming from?
How could she be affected when she hadn’t heard a thing?
“Maybe … maybe I will,” Tempest muttered.
“Really!” Sonata cried. “I would love that!” She grabbed Tempest’s arm and glomped onto it, clinging on like a barnacle to ship. “You and I are going to be besties, I can feel it!” She smiled. “So, where are we going to go next?”
Tempest looked around at Sonata’s handiwork, all the anger and the discontent, the glares shot upwards at the power of Atlas hanging over them. It was not much, compared to the size of Vale, a mere pebble tossed down a mountainside.
But it was a pebble that would start an avalanche.
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I didn’t think about it last chapter, but Sonata feeds on negative emotions, she can create strife, distrust, as much negativity as she wants. Grimm are drawn by such. Salem essentially has three herolds who can draw entire armies of Grimm to whatever place they are. Man, the sirens are a pretty serious threat in Remnant.
And Sonata put aside her nice attitude for a little by nearly breaking Phoebe’s hand, even with aura. How strong is she to be capable of doing something like that? O.O In addition, her song is mighty stuff if Tempest is drawn into her own world by hearing Sonata sing.
I can already see that Sonata might very well cause a real conflict between the armies of Atlas and Mistral, in the middle of Vale non less.
Phoebe...she was one of Cinder's step-sisters, IIRC? The one who Cinder didn't manage to trap in a burning building and murder?
I worry for Tempest's integrity. Sonata's song is clearly not targeted towards her, so the effects are much lessened, but she's still being affected by her singing.
That was Cinder's step sister!
And Oz is seeing some of his mistakes. He keeps himself apart and his word doesn't hold near as much weight as he might have thought.
9699269
It wasn't Tempests team leader
That was Cinders step-sister
Any time I read about the Sirens doing, well, Siren things, it chills me so much. Their power is so insidious, so subtle, but it's so powerful. Even with Aura, Sonata can basically mind-control anyone in hearing range whenever she damn well pleases.
I can only wonder how much of her magic she'll be getting back, and how fast, working on such enormous crowds rather than a small high school.
9699462
Aura does not provide magic resistance. So if anything, the singing works way better in those without magic.
It also seems to be a thing of personality, those who tend to rebel, to not obey authority if they do not agree seem more resistant, Sunset is like that.
She disagreed with Celestia so much she jumped into a magic mirror and Celestia was the world to her.
Tempest is easy to.manipulate in canon, no wonder the songs afffected her so hard.
I wonder if the mole at Beacon is the strange old man we've been seeing everywhere?
I's Tempest developing Siren song addiction?
Also siren music is apparently addictive...huh.
By the way Scipio, given the circumstances shouldn't Ozpin recall Qrow a month or so early? I feel bad that he's missing out on so much here. It also makes sense that Ozpin would want one of his best agents and trackers on hand with things now getting tense in Vale. Plus, I can't wait to see Qrow meet Sunset and the rest of SAPR!
***
UNOFFICIAL OMAKE:
Down in Vale, the sliding door of Random Seedy Bar was roughly pushed aside, and a tall, lanky man staggered out, one hand holding his head while the other still gripped a small silver flask as though it were a priceless belonging. With the person that was holding it, it just might have been.
As the hand on his head moved down to swipe across his face and rub the mass of stubble at his chin, he released a long-drawn-out sigh. Red eyes squinted through a drunken haze to focus on the blurred form of the shining tower in the distance.
With his head turned in the opposite direction, he never noticed as a truck drove past and rolled over a puddle, drenching him with street water from a recent downpour. Spluttering from surprise and staggering back a distance from the curb, he waved his arms wildly at the driver who howled with laughter, disappearing along with his vehicle into the night with not as much as an apology in sight.
Just his luck.
"Ah crap. Now I've gotta get this cleaned or Glyn's gonna scream." A hiccup, followed by a dry chuckle. "Screw it. She'll scream at me either way. Not really going to make a difference."
Patting himself down, he set his sights back on the combat school one final time before turning aside and slowly making his way down the road. The next bar was only one block down. He could make it in time for a few more drinks.
Gods knew he was going to need it.
"You better have a damned good reason for dragging my ass back here, Oz."
Well, they may be evil, but Tempest and Sonata are cute together, so there's that, I guess.
Something to hold onto as civilization collapses in fire.
Question: do the sirens share the same power set with their magic or do each of them get their own unique power to stir a crowd?
This is because from the chapter it sounds like sonata was amplifying people fixations with her song and it gave me the idea that each of the sirens can do their own song to manipulate people, like aria making people more angry and hateful and adagio' singing making them prideful and selfish.
9699937
Question when Sonata makes her entrance she is in rags and has to go shopping for clothes right? Why is she in rags in the first place assuming she's been under someone's care mainly Salem's shouldn't she have some better attire or was she previously on a mission of some nature. Sorry small stuff like that gets caught in my brain and stays there.
Formula for getting Sonata on the good side:
War = Food shortages = Fewer if any tacos!
It'll be an instant conversion.
9700001
I've been thinking that Salem keeps them prisoner, because they'd be a challenge to her power. They might even disrupt her control of the grimm on a larger scale by stirring them up everywhere. Plus Adagio is too ambitious for her own good. Sonata said she hadn't eaten for hundreds of years.
Edit: And maybe they're like Salem's maidens of darkness that she kept hidden like Oz does, but she wasn't nice about it.
9699774
I'm not at all convinced that Ozpin did recall Qrow; the impression that I got (from the way that everyone reacts as though he's gone dark and he acts as though nobody's been in touch with him either) was that he just decided to show up; plus, when he does show up, he doesn't actually seem in any hurry to report in (he goes to a bar, watches three matches in the Vytal Festival even though he's not enjoying them, then picks a fight with Winter and if he hadn't done that then nobody would have known he was in Vale at all) which doesn't suggest any kind of urgent summons from Ozpin.
Nice Omake though.
9699599
In canon, only the Humane Six are able to resist the sirens' first song due to their magical, fated friendship; this suggests that a loner like Tempest would be one of the most susceptible.
9700012
Yes, Salem has been keeping the Sirens prisoner and in poor conditions; the reason Sonata is alone is that Salem doesn't trust them to stay loyal to her if she lets them out (and she's right not to trust them; her mistake is in thinking that holding a knife to the throat of Aria and Adagio will make Sonata behave).
9700516
Thanks.
As for the Sirens, I commented once before that the Sirens wouldn't be working for Salem of their own free will. Even without Salem's desire to have her will made absolute over others, the Siren's own goals conflict with hers. Their powers may be golden for starting wars and causing civil unrest with negative emotion to draw Grimm... but that negative emotion is their food source rather then a means to an end. If the Grimm wipe everyone out, they have no one left to feed on.
9700516
And I also meant that with Vale turning into a powder key, Ozpin would actually see fit to send an urgent recall signal to Qrow, regardless of where he's going.
9699394
Right, my bad.
I asked this on spacebattles so I'll ask it here too can the sirens feed on negativity that's already there like what they did to the rainbooms in EQG
9702385
Yes.
9702403
Thanks
I'm so glad it looks like you're going with a slightly more sadistic and possibly even slightly clever Sonata I always prefer that version of her in opposed to just being a child is sort of dragged along with the others
9703906 By far my favorite version of Sonata too. People like to make her out as some airheaded marshmallow who the others are just a bad influence on, but she was hypnotizing the school and smiling while doing it, she helped push Trixie into trapping the Rainbooms, and she was trying to murder them in the battle along with Adagio and Aria. She's vicious.
9704671
9703906
In part its a function of narrative necessity. An airheaded Sonata only really works in company with her more intelligent and vicious sisters (Adagio especially); in a context where she's on her own - while I suppose if I was better at writing comedy I could get some humour out of Cinder being driven up the wall by Sonata's ersatz-Pinkie schtick - she needs to be able to move the plot along in her own right.
9704898
BTW will you do SAPR Chibi after you are finished with 'Volume 3' story?
9704906
Ha! No, I'm nowhere near that good of a comic writer.
9705069
You could do it as a side series if you ever get a writing block
You are great at writing character interatcions so it could focus on that insted (and your comedy is preaty good compered to some other authors)
For exemple something like a race between Sunset and Yang or Sunset testing a Speed spell (like Accelero) on Ruby or Cinder and Suset just henging out while makeing Pyrrha and Emerald very uncomfortable or Ozpin and Sunset playing Chess , or Penny hanging out with Team SAPR , or a bit more interactions between Pyrrha and the Arcs , or maybe a Fight between Weiss and Sunset
There are alot of posibilities for you to do things that simply don't fit with the main story
You could write it when you need a break from the main story
Also since I am already wiring this I have another question , Did Sunset enchant her own weapons or reforge her own sword while they ware at because I can't figure out why she wouldn't , also she should put a little magic for every team member (or maybe make some magic bullets for Ruby at least) , for exemple a bit of fire magic on her sword so she doesn't have to use dust for it , or an ampification spell for her gun , meybe some speed spell for Pyrrhas shield , sharpness spell for Cresent Rose (or maybe an Ipact spell for the Sniper form) or at the very least some magic bullets
9705900
No, she didn't, because...because I didn't think of it, unfortunately.
It's very interesting to see Tempest being more careful here. I wonder if that will lead to anything different...
This became one of the funniest, albeit unintentional, lines in the entire fic if only for the parade of images it sent through my head. I am half tempted to ask for art.
In all seriousness, a great chapter as the pieces continue to move, but not always as the players intend.
9705069
9705900
I feel like this would be a conversation sparked by Ruby. "Hey Sunset, you can do magic right? Could you enchant stuff?"
And Sunset just has this moment of thinking 'Why didn't I think of this sooner?'
Also just saying, Sonata in her element is beautiful and seductive as anything. There's this small part of me that wants to hear her sing, if only to see what passions she might dredge up from the depths.
Nope, no no no, noooope. Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare.