There have always been those born with the innate talent to draw the spotlight's attention wherever they went. You- on the other hand- are the furthest person imaginable from such a gift: Wintertide Stretto. And you're okay with that, or at least pre
There have always been those born with the innate talent to draw the spotlight's attention wherever they went. You- on the other hand- are the furthest person imaginable from such a gift: Wintertide Stretto. And you're okay with that, or at least pretty sure the routine has grown on you at the very least. Well, routine until you let a homeless, jobless, and likely education-less redhead crash in your cozy apartment home.
Nobody blames you, bro. Nobody blames you…
Not gonna lie, I'm a bit rusty with my writing ability as of late. Another thing pretty late at this point is making a Rainbow Rocks inspired fic, but I really loved the villains of this one, especially Ms. Cheeto-head herself, Adagio.
I warn that "you" are somewhat of an OC-heavy character already, so it may be harder to insert yourself into his shoes, but I still aim to make him relatable. It'll also have a reoccurring theme of music, specifically melodic dubstep. Hopefully it should add to the atmosphere, but if it's not your style and don't wish to try it out, that's fine, you can still read the story just as well without listening to the music linked.
But without further rambling, I hope you enjoy!
Cover art drawn by myself. My gallery is pretty NSFW as of late, so tread cautiously.
“This is it, girls. The moment we’ve been waiting for...”
“Lunch?!”
“Eugh… The chance to get our true Equestrian magic back.”
“Oh. Right!”
“Our voices are just strong enough to make them want something so badly, they’ll fight to get it.”
“So we’re just going to do what we always do; stir up some trouble and feed off the negative energy? Some plan, Adagio.”
“It won’t be the same as the times before! There is Equestrian magic here, their negative energy will give us the power we need to get this entire world to do our bidding…”
“...But we can get lunch afterwards, right?! It’s Taco Tuesdaaay~!”
The thunderous, self-assured thrust of the double doors is counteracted by an acapella of angelic harmony. One by one glances evolve into full head rotations, talk filled of gossip and teenage angst slowly adjourns, and all eyes lock towards the cafeteria entrance, the trio of swaying hips escorting the suspicious serenade ever closer.
“♪ We heard you want to get together… We heard you want to rock the school~ ♪…”
The harmonious vocals are eventually met with variance by the silky lyrics stirred in, chimed in with the light strum of a guitar. The culprit of the former is that of the young woman with pale yellow skin, looking to be in her late teens- given the fact that their voices currently chimed through a high school cafeteria. Canterlot High to be exact.
One feature on the girl that stood out above the rest was her voluminous, vivid orange perm with bright yellow highlights, most of which pulled back into a fluffy ponytail held by a collar-like hairband littered with spikes. It clashed with, yet complimented her mostly purple attire almost perfectly.
“♪ We thought of something that is better… Something that changes all the rules~ ♪…”
Her petite fingers traced delicately along the passing heads to entice their attention, her eyes- a brilliant splash of raspberry- grace each student their way- simultaneously studying, yet looking down on them. ‘After all, not even one of you hairless apes could even dream to compare to the eternal beauty of even one of our scales.’
“♪ Why pretend we’re all the same… When some of us shine briiighter~ ♪”
‘And I’m like the friggin’ Sun~’
“♪ Here’s a chance to find your flame… Are you a loser or a fighter~ ♪”
‘Maaaybe shirt pocket over there wasn’t the best example to sick my feminine wiles on. I came for the magic, and I’d rather leave the premises stalker free...’
“♪ Me and you, you and me… Why don’t we see who is better~? We don’t have to be ooone and the saaame thiiing~ ! Oh what’s so wrong with a little competition~? Are you afraid of failing the audition~ ♪”
And at that moment, her sneer grew ever harder to contain. Already did she catch her food beginning to shoot skeptic looks at one another, ready to lash out at even their best friends
“♪ You’re a star and you should know it… Yeah you rise above the rest~ ♪…”
‘Pssh, star hairclip. This is becoming way too easy…’ The other two girls responsible for the accompanied vocalizing help lift their lead vocalist onto the cafeteria table, they and most of the cafeteria watching as she sashays her way across, in a manner that would make even a runway model envious.
“♪ It doesn’t matter who you hurt… If you’re just proving you’re the best~ ♪”
Oozing estrogen with every step, she kneels down at the edge of the table, a foot away from a student enjoying his lunch as the redhead uses a finger to raise his chin for the two to lock eyes. He swallows the remainder of his cafeteria gruel with a dopey smile.
‘And trust me, you’ll need more than a bandaid when I’m done with this school— no, this world! I’ll make sure you roll in your grave for sending us to this planet of the dung-slingers, Starswirl… ‘
“Jeez, are they having a friggin’ parade in there…?”
Tiresome as it was to admit, to block out whatever racket was going on in the cafeteria, you’d need to lodge in your earbuds until they’re sharing a bed with your eardrums. It’d be generous to say your ear canal held more than a queen-sized too.
You take another bite of your turkey sandwich, simultaneously raising the volume on your mp3 player. It wasn’t quite enough to drown out the rambling cafeteria, but you could already feel the melody of your favorite song whisk your mind away…
Gently resting your eyelids shut, the simple view from outside the school walls transformed into a sight much more serene; trees of bare branches sprouted from the grass littered of leaves, replacing the wall you rested against with its coarse bark surface. You took a deep breath as you soaked in the smell of the Autumn air through your nostrils, allowing each strand of your pine-green hair to dance along the crisp breeze of Fall. Neither too sweat-stickingly warm nor nipple-hardening chilly. Juuuuust right.
You lightly twitch your foot in rhythm to each synthetic snare; you’d always wondered how your mind synced electronic music to nature of all things, but you weren’t complaining either. You were finally at peace—
BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING~
“…Goddammit.”
Thankfully the mixture of singing and shouting seemed to be coming to a close by the time you’d plucked the buds from under the grey, wool beanie protecting your ears. Or maybe the period bell was just enough to drown some of it out. It’s a sad day when that ear-piercing chime was your saving grace…
Either way, you peel your light-grey hoodie from the coarse, brick wall and head back inside…
Yup, it was definitely the bell, because waves of shouting blasted your ears as soon as you opened the door. Only, something was definitely off. Looks of distrust and animosity painted the faces of nearly every student, thankfully none of their eyes landing on you as you snake your way past. You even caught a few peeking over their lockers as though they were glaring their worst enemy dead in the face. You couldn’t help but raise a brow.
You could practically smell the angst. Bad Taco Tuesday? You couldn’t really say, but you decided to keep it at quick glances, as you’d strongly rather not catch anyone’s attention. Not that you ever did anyway.
…On second thought, you snuggly press the buds back into your ears, slide the volume to max, and hit play.
What? It’d be a crying shame if you never got to finish the song…
“Ugh, finally! My ears are practically ringing from all the attention…” The girl of a purple tint huffs, aggressively brushing aside one of her pigtails before crossing her arms under her chest.
“Mah noh, waight?!” the blue girl responds jovially, dually munching away at each of the hard-shelled Mexican treats piled in her arms. Dribbles of mild sauce roll from the corner of her lips as a shameless smile forms across her face. “Weh mahlmost mizz’d rumch!
Another groan parts her lips for what feels like the eleventy-billionth time today. “Adagio, wouldn’t just be easier to just ship her to Mexico or something? Or are you worried her eating would cause a national inflation?”
A childlike gasp escapes her lips—though not before swallowing—a hoping gleam twinkles in her bright purple orbs as her ponytail swishes excitedly. “Can we really, ‘Dagi?!”
“Hell no!” Aria’s eyes narrow, “You don’t get to go on vacation while we get stuck with all the work.”
“Who’s asking you, Aria?! ‘Sides, wuzznit yer idea, Ms. Frumpy-leggings?”
“I was joking, ya idiot!”
“Well it stunk!”
“You stink!”
“No you!”
“You!”
“YOU!”
Adagio kneads the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Her juvenile companions blend right in with the other students as they began pushing and jabbing at one another while keeping up the chain of dimwitted insults- if they can even be called that…
‘Why do I even waste my time with these clowns...?’
The answer snapped back at her with factual reality: she needed them. Her talents alone weren’t enough to conquer this world, much less this quaint little school. It didn’t help that her human body couldn’t even stir and absorb negative energy as proficiently her former one— especially if it came from Equestria, even with this stupid pendant of hers.
While she’d rather bite off her tongue than admit it, Adagio had grown rather adjusted to this world. She bought—or stole—outfits on numerous occasions with her voice, the three shared a cozy apartment that served them well enough, and she could even say she enjoyed playing around with this mop of a mane called hair. She had created a style for herself, something she wouldn’t have found as enjoyable to do if she were still a Siren.
But she’d be damned if she would give it all up now. The soothing sounds of the tides rolling back and forth. The salty breeze serenading her senses. The refreshing blanket of blue sliding against her scales as she maneuvered through with each spash of her tail. Adagio felt her muscles become weightless at the thought of each key in alt- allegro ma non troppo one after the other in rhythmic harmon—
‘Wait, what in Tartarus…?’
Her eyes darted along the halls to find the culprit, but she quickly picked up on her mistake. She was taught to always follow her ears; the most valuable weapon in a Siren’s arsenal next to her voice, capable of tracking the faintest pitch from a mile away.
Whilst the senseless and spiteful bickering of her own making echos through the school, muffling the notes that had grabbed her attention, the melody only elevated as she stood completely still. Closer. Closer…
She snaps her head over her shoulder, the rest of her turning with as her eyes lock with a pair of clear icy-blues, unaffected by the hateful haze suffusing the school. Strands of a shaggy green mop somewhat obscured them from under a beanie. All of which belonging to that of an ivory-tanned boy.
She was staring dead at you.
Your eyes met briefly before you pull away your gaze, face flushing as you skitter past the first girl to even glance in your direction in a long time. You were sorely unprepared for this moment, and now isn’t the time to be brave. So you tell yourself anyway.
Her raspberry gems trace your fading figure as you scurry down the hall, the tune dying down with you until it was only estinto.
‘Did we miss one…?’
“Must not’ve been in the cafeteria during our little number.” The ditzy Siren finally sliced through the silence like a knife, outfit and ponytail noticeably in shambles. The outcome of from their little game of pattycake no doubt.
“Ah, who needs ‘em,” Aria sneers, appearance similarly frazzled, “S’not like one less dork is gonna matter after we took an entire cafeteria’s work of dorks.”
“Yeah, abso-tively! We got dis in da bag!”
“Sonata, I swear to Discord…“
She knew her colleagues were right, for once in an Equestrian moon at least, but Adagio’s ears still kept locked onto the phantom melody, now indistinguishable from the rest of the sounds around her.
Your thoughts are pretty much on autopilot at this point, jumbled together in pure beflusterment as you twiddle with your eraser. Even recalling those red orbs made your heart skip a beat.
It felt awful. Though for good... well, semi-good reason, not many tended to pay you a glance, much less a full-on stare. Not that you never tried, though your crippling diffidence, social anxiety, and stage-fright didn’t help matters.
In short, you were shy. Y’know what else was short? Your friend count. Like, “100 x friends = 0” short. Even someone like that stetson-wearing cowgirl wouldn’t need a calculator for that one. Probably.
Anyway, it was something you were used to by now. You had nearly eighteen years after all… Well, in school years anywa—
“—Stretto? Stretto.”
You nearly jump out of your ivory skin at the outloud mention of your own name. You look up from your hardwood desk at a deadpan harlequin stare before quickly flicking your own to the side. “O-Oh, sorry Ms. Cheerilee, m-ma’am…”
She sighs with a palm on her forehead, “It’s fine, dear. It’s not like anyone else here is paying attention today…”, or at least you’re pretty sure is what’s said under her breath, her slight scowl scanning along the rest of the constant bickering class. “But now that I have someone’s attention, could you please give me a synonym for the word ‘clandestine’?“
You could feel several dozen staring eyes drilling into you. You’re too scared to check as you open your mouth dryly, “Alright, u-um… secret…?”
“Excuse me? A little louder, please?” You could hear the patience thinning from her voice.
You mentally kick yourself. “S-Secret?”
“Correct, thank you.” the gratitude in her words sound surprisingly sincere, or at least over a simple English question. You couldn’t be more happy not being a teacher.
Your anxiety left your lips through a silent exhale, just before being interrupted by the sound of that school bell. Ear piercing, yet simultaneously rivalling the a choir of angels.
“Okay, kids, hold your hormones for when you’ve officially stepped off school grounds. Hope you’ll all be in better spirits tomorrow…”
You rise from your seat once a good portion of the students are out the door. Everyone you passed today was already in a terrible mood, so all the more reason against bumping shoulders with some pumped-up meathead.
“Oh, and Stretto?”
Your body ceases to a halt on it’s own halfway through the door frame, rigidly turning to the call of your name like a poorly-oiled machine. “Y-Yes, ma’am?”
Any irritation prior to the signal to exit her classroom was masked by a kind grin, pushing the sprinkle of light freckles farther up her cheeks. “Chin up, won’t ya?”
You can only bring yourself nod with a small smile in return. You’re touched, but not enough to stick around for much longer. It’s already been one hell of a day, and you desperately crave to be in the one place you didn’t have to worry about anything interrupting your spacing-out- one hundred percent alone-time with infinite smoke-breaks.
Home.
‘Talent’ could not be a more accurate word in the English dictionary to describe Canterlot High; reputable in the school’s own right, the national Board of Education has always shown high hopes and expectations—given the school’s stellar track record for some of the highest academics and junior athletes in the country. However, once known for it’s rather lacking display of school spirit, five female students—lead by a mysterious bookworm and her dog pretending to be enrolled—managed to fix that up nearly a full year ago, clubs and several other after-school activities booming like never before.
And boy, Adagio was going to enjoy feeding the hungry with the school’s ever-producing supply of prestigious baloney.
She needn’t even open the gymnasium doors to hear the fruits of her labor; shifting glares, cursed tongues held in mutters, and tightly-knit bonds coming undone: such a breathtaking choir they had orchestrated! It gave Adagio goosebumps, almost comparing to the ecstasy she felt from the small towns the three had visited back in their day.
These students were going to be polishing the tip of the Siren’s boots with their lips by the time she was through with this stale, magic-less world…
“Oh nooo, no one’s mingling!“ the redhead feigns in a mocking tone, admiring her handiwork all the same. “It’s like… there’s some kind of underlying tension that could bubble up to the surface at any minute!”
“It’s the fruit punch, isn’t it? I knew I used too much grape juice!”
“It’s not the fruit punch, it’s us!” Adagio also doesn’t need eyeballs in the depths of her perm to guess that the juice in question identifies as anything but grape.
And as if it couldn’t get any more scatterbrained, “But the punch is awful too.”
Sonata raises an eyebrow, glowering suspectedly at the purple Siren, “What d’you know about good fruit punch?”
“More than you.”
“Do not!”
“Do too.”
Aaaand that giddy feeling from a few seconds ago? Almost whisked away before she could truly grasp it from the winds of her colleagues’ unfathomable stupidity.
Thankfully it’s left at nothing more but a triumphant smirk from Aria as Sonata is left fixing her rumpled bangs, allowing Adagio to reclaim their focus once more. The tantalizing thought of what the angelic triad could achieve once they get their pendants on actual homegrown magic was more than enough incentive to put up with these two.
“This is just the kick-off party, girls! Imagine what a tizzy they’ll be in by the time the Battle of the Bands starts.”
“There isn’t going to be a Battle of the Bands!”, because she really needed more clowns to entertain at the moment, “We’re going to make sure of that!”
The Dazzlings turn their attention with brows raised, as six girls of a rainbow variety- quite literally for one case- standbefore them.
Wait, were they… posing? Oh Discord, they’re locking hands, as if Adagio wasn’t already gagging on the cliche…
“FRIENDSHIP IIIIS MAGIIIIIC!!!”
…
The thick layers of awkward would need be hacked with a butcher’s knife. Thankfully it wasn’t just Adagio who agreed with such a sentiment, as even their allies couldn’t help but cringe. Seconds snailed along before her gifted eardrums could pinpoint which of the many carrying whispers belonged to these new players.
“Uuuh… weren’t there rainbows and lasers and stuff last time?” The crayola disaster-child leans toward their lavender leader of this preschool special.
She looks to her hand-holding buddies for reassurance, making the mistake of showing weakness in front of a Siren. “I don’t understand… We’re all together again… Why isn’t it working?”
And just like that, the cogs have begun to piece themselves together, setting everything in motion. These were the brats that took down Sunset Shimmer. This alone was almost too good to be true, but they were practically gift wrapping her ammo decorated with a little white flag.
…Also, did that purple mutt just talk? I guess we’ll just ignore that for now.
Even Adagio would question her morality if she were standing in front of a mirror, as their smirks swelled to each corner of their cheeks.
“Talk about throwing down the gauntlet!” she boomed her voice enough for the rest of their audience to partake. Oh, and the animosity a few of the six glared their way was absolutely delicious. “This group is obviously serious about winning! A little cocky though, aren’t they? Claiming their won’t reeaaally be a battle. Seems they think they’ve already got this thing all, locked, up!”
‘Headbob for added effect,aaand…’
“NOT IF THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRRRRIXIE HAS ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT!”
“Whatever, Trixie! We’re the best band at C.H.S!”
“Nnnooo, the Crusaders ‘r gunna win!”
‘Jackpot.’
The delicate freedom fighters were like needles in a haystack, surrounded by a swarm of competition, the hunger for pride dashing the six’s bravado in no time at all.
But wait, it gets better; a cloud of malicious green mist rises forward from the melodic chaos, the three Sirens embracing its presence as it begins fading into the glowing, scarlet jewels dangling safely- yet powerfully around their necks. Adagio wraps her dainty fingers around the gem, its sated appetite pulsating through her palm before her raspberry orbs find their underwhelming competition once again.
“…I think we may have found what we’re looking for. Or rather, it found us…”
“…?”
“MAGIC!”
Adagio could share the sentiments of Aria’s palm audibly clasping her face. Not a whole lot different from planning world domination with a brick wall that could eat five times its body weight…
“Don’t you see? Everyone else has fallen under our spell… but not these girls. These girls are special…”
Adagio paused, her smile dropping for a moment. ‘Not under our spell... Am I forgetting something? Whatever.’ Her smirk twice as wide as before, she turns to her two clumsy cohorts. “Come, Sonata, Aria, we’ve got a feast to prepare for.”
‘Battle of the Bands’ is hardly very fitting if you asked Adagio. Even ‘Tribulance of the Tryhards’ is rather generous, though it does have a slight ring to it.
She can easily “persuade” Principal Long-Legs to change the name. It isn’t like she can say “no”; the irony that her greatest pawn on this board is the counterpart of the eventual dual monarch of her home country doesn’t slip past her one bit, but such a fact sure makes it all the more sweet.
It’s hard to deduce whether she was bragging, or complaining at this point. Even she can’t quite come to a sure conclusion.
“♪ Blindsided by the beat… Clapping your hands, stomping your feet; you didn't know that you fell~! ♪”
And fall they did. The competition has just been one giant joke, and a damn hysterical one at that. Her favorites are probably Triangle Girl and MCs Drops and The Mic- though those two putzes very potentially made her eligible for a hearing aid with that one.
“♪ Now you’ve fallen under our spell~! ♪”
But in all fairness, Adagio has come to acknowledge a couple of bands that stood out in terms of potential:
‘Trixie and the Blowhards’ has a fairly good rhythm going for them, but their choice of lyrics have no soul put into them whatsoever! Adagio wouldn’t be all too shocked if that egomaniac only created the band to stroke her own ego, but she had to give her points for being able to tame a pair of cohorts who weren't braindead- it’s just too bad they aren’t sirens.
“♪ We've got the music— makes you move it, got the song that makes you lose it~! ♪
♪ We say "jump", you say "how high?" Put your hands up to the sky~! ♪”
And those ‘Rainblossoms’- or whatever they’re called- aren’t half bad either, but for The Dazzlings to call them their “main competition” was a stretch. Decent sound, and they’re lyrics were certainly better than the former’s- if you liked that sugarcoated, fru-fru dribble you’d hear in a little girl’s show anyway. Still, their “sync” with one another in the spotlight has a lot to be desired.
Especially when it comes to poor ol’ Sunset, but to be fair, who counts cheerleaders and groupies as part of your band anyway?
‘Though they did put on quite a show all things considered, ahaha…’
“♪ Listen to the sound of my voice… Soon you’’ll find you don’t have a choice~ ♪”
If there’s one thing Adagio has to give credit to the two girls currently sharing the stage with her, it’s that they at least maintained perfect back-up harmony with her when it mattered.
Otherwise… not so much.
“♪ Captured in the web of my song! Soon you’ll all be singing alooooong~!”
‘But yeah, waaaay too easy~’
“J-Just let me clarif—er… “review” this order t-to make sure I have everything correct… s-sir?”
“That’s ma’am to you, y’little nitwit!”
“P-Pardon me, ma’am! So…” You look down at the mini monitor bolted to the counter, “… One- no, two extra large Senior Veggie burritos… with extra cheese?”
You know better than to ask, but… is she planning on dieting, or putting herself in a corn-roll, triple-layer comatose?
“A girl’s gotta keep her figure somehow, something a walking bag o’ bones like yourself wouldn’t know, would’ja?”
You let out an inaudible sigh, confirming her order on the small screen as she waddles her way to an empty table. “Your first mistake was not passing this place over like everyone else during your jog,” if you can even assume that much. Though if you’re being honest, customers like this tend to be a rarity at ‘Señorita de la Grasa’.
Yes, you are fully aware the name sounds like it was sewn together with the help of a free internet translator…
You also hold onto a sliver of hope every moment you volunteer for register duty; a miniscule voice in the back of your mind assures you that maybe- juuuust maybe- taking orders at face-value could stave off some of your social anxiety. And as odd as it sounds, you can always feel it growing worse. When you aren’t on the verge of a mondo meltdown, you can always feel their eyes not on you, but through you. Most of the time you never even make eye contact. Them perceiving you—or any of the other employees at the small establishment preparing their gas inducing gruel—as a human being is a bit of a stretch.
All as well, you figure. Business is business, but it never seems to boom quite like it did a few blocks down anyhow. Your icy-blue gaze wanders directly ahead, tracing the many groups of characters strolling past the front window- namely teenagers you recognize heading towards their usual hangout, the ‘Sugarcube Cafe’.
You lean the weight of your head against your palm as you continue to stare. If they’re only just coming from the school building this late in the afternoon, there isn’t a doubt in your mind that this whole ‘Battle of the Bands’ thing has something to do with it. It’s stating the obvious by this point, but it’s still the only word of mouth you hear anyone angrily grunt at each other about all week. Quite literally actually.
It’s partially understandable as of today, since tonight’s apparently the big finale. And good riddance! The sooner everything can just go back to being just slightly less angsty around these meme-ridden parts, the better.
You raise up slightly due to your vision being attacked by a flurry of orange. Confirming your “giant cheesepuff” suspicions to be incorrect, you take note of the three all too familiar trio sauntering their way past the building. The one with the ponytail somewhat lags behind to window-shop, as per usual these past few days.
Were they sisters? Maybe they each come from a different parent, otherwise they must have one colorful gene pool. Maybe all this mumbo-jumbo is their idea, but hell knows how they could possibly manage to sway the entire C.H.S faculty, especially after having just transferred.
You knew it’s rather cynical to point out the new students right off the bat, but those three stand out like a sore thumb- and not just because they look as though they walked straight off the set of an 80’s music video.
Especially the redhead up front, oozing confidence with every step she takes. As much as you hate to admit it, the first time the two of you locked eyes has left a slight impression on you. It’s not something you’re all too proud of exactly, so you pray it’ll fade in due time. Time usually does that, eventually…
Um…
…You come back to reality a deer in headlights, only able to watch in horror as the ponytailed girl smushes her cheeks against the window.
You’re never even left with a chance to question if what you’re seeing is real. Your pupils reduce to pinpricks, her tongue hungrily lapping against the glass like a starving puppy. You quickly realize that her eyes aren’t pointed at you, but instead the Mexican-themed treats a blissfully ignorant old couple are enjoying.
You are severely under-trained to deal with a situation like this.
Are you supposed to run out there with a broom and shoo her off? Call the police? Does this even count as vandalism of store property? …Sexual harassment of food products?
All these questions and more interrogate your thoughts until you catch two pairs of hands yank her out of sight.
…Is this enough of an excuse to garner an early smoke break…?
“...Y’know, if someone were to walk in and see this right now, they’d probably guess that we were raised in a world with a monarchy run by barn animals… on their first try.”
Raspberry orbs lay half-lid, inspecting every nook and cranny of the small apartment; a trio of colorful dented cans were left lazily huddled around the can they should be laying in themselves, the repugnant stench of a bag of what used to house pork rinds catches the attention of her nose. And dying the pigment of the living room rug orange in an army of crumbs, not four feet from her boots was the remains of… cheese puffs. She came close to painting what she had for lunch an hour ago onto the remaining canvas.
Clatters of rearranging refreshments and leftover takeout journey from the kitchen, only a glance away as a blue ponytail pokes its tail-end from behind the gaping fridge door.
The other end of the apartment sports a couch hardly wide enough to seat three sirens, yet Aria alone occupied the remaining spots with her legs; the lights and sounds emitting from the small television change brightness and pitch with every click of the small remote in her fingers, leaving a steady atmosphere unable to stick in the room for long. Despite the indecisiveness, her deadpan stare—partially hidden behind purple strands normally pulled into a ponytail—kept fixated on the illuminated glass screen.
“Ahem.”
Aria’s gaze remains unshaken from the screen, the only response from her facial features coming off through a tired snort. “Oh yeah, ‘I forgot that we had a whole guest list of people to impress with our cozy little shithole— I mean, abode. Who’s coming over today? Admirers? Boytoys?” Her cold mulberry spheres roll to face Adagio’s own scowl. “Friends? Why don’t we just invite the whole family for a good ol’ grill-off while we’re at it?”
Adagio admits to herself that the last one tickled a nerve, but her glare remains stern. “Dodge the subject all you want, Blaze, but it’s your turn to pick up this mess. Or are you preoccupied with the same twenty stations at the moment? I swear I’m the only one who actually doesn’t like to swim in garbage around here! Is it so much to ask that this place doesn’t smell like rancid ground beef and sweaty feet—…”
Aria raises a single brow. “Uuum, today’s your turn to clean up around here—”
“—and I don’t care if you are tired from cramming that lisp-girl into a locker, just do your damn—Er… come again?”
“It’s friday.” the purple punk stated woodenly. “I had cleaning duty last sunday, and tuesday’s turn was assigned to the fatass likely devouring our entire fridge right about now—”
“Um, like, I can hear you, emo eyeliner!”
“Yeah? And I don’t need super siren senses to smell your tear gas and chilli farts from a block away, you juvenile ass blaster!”
Tuning her two roommates out to look around the apartment once more, Adagio came to a different mindset as her stomach began to churn Considering her options, she finally came to the most dignified choice, “…On second thought, we need to be backstage by a couple of hours anyway, right? Move over~”
“And you wonder why nothing ever gets done around here…” Aria sighs, making enough legroom for an extra seat.
“What d’ya call what we’ve been getting done all week with those twerps at C.H.S then? Soon, we won’t even need to clean anything for ourselves~!” Adagio plops down on the couch with a triumphant smirk, resting her crossed legs atop the lap of her partner in chime. “Though looking around this dump, I guess pigtails really do suit you well now that I think about it, haha…”
The currently hair-down Aria couldn’t help but purse her lips at Adagio’s attempt at humor, as she began to rest her eyes. “Y’know, I’d probably sock you one in the mouth right about now if I weren’t used to you being such a colossal bitch.”
Adagio can’t help but let out a small chuckle at that. ‘Is that really her excuse?’ The more she thought about it, she couldn’t help but find it a tad endearing that she was crossed off Aria’s list, simply thanks to getting used to Adagio’s attitude. Maybe she’s been in a fairly good mood with things finally going her way—now that Equestrian magic was almost in her grasp—but the word that kept ringing and invading Adagio’s head was akin to ‘sisterly’…
“D’awwww! Like, so cuuuute~!”
Despite the gushing coming from the “blue haired bimbo”’s lips, Aria’s features remain soft as she partway peaks past a single eyelid at her colleague. “Zip it, worst.”
“I vote movie night!” Sonata exclaims, drowning out the “grumpy goth”’s retort.
“We won’t even be here when it’s night, remember?” Adagio scolds her straight-faced, a twinge of worry coiling around her stomach as she ponders if the ball of spaz really did forget. “We shouldn’t be wasting too much time before our set begins anyway—”
“Then we’ll make it a quick one! Preeeeetty puh-leeease, ‘Dagi?”
All eyes are on Adagio, and for once she could do without. “Fine, but you’d both better have your A-games ready tonight, capiche?”
“Yay! Scoot your patoots, because I know the bestest channel to watch a movie!” The two girls complied, making room for Sonata’s bouncy collision with the couch cushion. “Preeeetty sure it was channel nine…”
Aria’s expression isn’t unlike witnessing a ghost playing cards with Jigsaw. “We… We don’t have that channel. It’s literally just static…”
A few minutes fly by before finally settling on a cheesy action-thriller that somehow manages to capture the attention of everyone but Adagio. She could catch and pinpoint every childish trope and cliche mile away, but kept it to herself as not to ruin their fun. Adagio figures it simply came with being accustomed to this world…
“Pssst. Adagio.”
“Aria, everyone in this room could hear a flipping tack drop. In a crowd. Onto carpet.”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” A small tint of rose nestles over her cheeks before deciding to press on. “So, can I ask ya somethin’?”
“It’s never stopped you before.” Adagio smirks, her sadistic nature revealing itself in the form of button pushing.
“Alright, Lil’ Miss Sassafras,” Aria groans, “… Soooo… My question…”
“Yeeess?” Patience is a virtue…
“So… What exactly are we going to do after all of this?”
“You’d better be talking about the movie,” a hint of poison seeps into her voice, “Because if you’re starting to get cold fins after we’ve gotten this far…”
Aria can’t help but roll her eyes, “Of course not, now answer the damn question.”
“We rule this putrid world, isn’t it obvious?”
“Uh huh,” Aria takes her turn with the pushing, “And then what?”
“We use the Equestrian magic to get out of this ape-infested dump!”
“And then what…?” Both girl’s hearts lightly jump, turning to face the third member on the couch they’d forgotten about on the seat for three. Neither decided to address the elephant; the question of when did a bowl of popcorn sneak onto Sonata’s lap…?
Adagio feels her jaw tighten, a growing sense of betrayal staking into her heart. “Both of you can do whatever in bloody Tartarus you want by then for all I care, but I’ll be busy paying Starswirl everything he owes us!Me!”
Hurt visibly forms in Sonata’s red jems at her surrogate sis’s answer, the cynicism triggering a brow to involuntarily raise by Aria. “Adagio, you do realise how long it’s been… right? As much as I hate to say it, no doubt the bastard’s long gone by no—”
“You think I don’t knowthat?! We’ve been trapped here for nearly A MILLENNIA for Discord’s sake! I don’t care who it has to be, SOMEBODY will pay!”
Wide eye’d, it finally begins to creep in for the two as to just how long they’ve been prisoners in their own skin. And whatever pain and anguish their damaged pride delivered them, Adagio’s lay shoddily taped together like a broken mirror, requiring but a meek breeze to send it all crumbling back down.
“Look, let’s just finish this stupid movie and get ready to head to the ‘Battle of the Bands’. The sooner the better…”
Aria and Sonata share a quick look, mirroring one another in an unsure shrug of supposed agreement before turning back to the TV, anything but the movie still running through their minds.
Rage slowly giving way to a hefty sigh, a pang of determination was surging through Adagio’s being, rivalling the rush she’s received from the millenia of absorbing magic from her victims—a food source and nothing more.
Though cleaning duty would be a thing of the past after today, the trio of dented cans still bore deep in the back of her skull.
“Augh, bad Snowball! Friggin’ nasty…”
You know you shouldn’t blame the poofball of pure white for doing what nature intended of him—not that the chestnut in his feline noggin ever recorded the memories of former scoldings—but cleaning bloodied, mutilated rodents from the carpet every few weeks ventures beyond the point of “old”.
Scrubbing out the remains of the murder scene as best as you could, you can’t help but sigh at the purring ball of death and destruction, only hoping the little homewrecker moved up his tongue bath schedule for your own convenience. A creature whose fur was the perfect canvas for red-dyed paws and maws doesn’t exactly make it easy to sense any companionship
Or maybe that’s because he’s a fucking cat… But you’re fairly certain your apartment complex doesn’t allow for anything bigger..
Still a hint of pink on the otherwise alabaster carpet, you decide to celebrate your empty victory with a smoke and tunes as you closed the front door behind you. The chilly air engulfs you, taking no time at all to dance along your bare ivory skin. You can’t help but relax now that the wet, humid season is finally over. Even without a jacket, you always manage to bask in and tolerate what many consider freezing, though equivalent exchange demands the opposite be true for warm weather.
“Summer bites dick anyway, so who’s complaining,” you chuckle at your own hypocrisy, taking a long, rewarding drag of the lit cancer stick, the aroma of smoke wafting into the Autumn breeze. Your eyes unconsciously drink in the fading traces of red and orange painted along the darkening sky, becoming fainter once the moon persists itself further through the sky.
…
Welp, your mind can’t help but wander to the place nearly every one of your peers currently occupied.
But really, you knew from the start the ‘Battle of the Bands’ had nothing to offer you. You hardly snuck by through a locke rroom hallway, so the thought of being caught in a mosh pit is straight out of your book of nightmares. You doubt any of the bands playing right now could match your tastes, and not to mention you aren’t talented enough to play in a band to begin with, had you entered. Even if the minimum entrance was as low as one member, you didn’t see it possible doing it without friends.
Not that you didn’t have any friends… Apart from in the real world anyway. The internet, however, was a slightly different story, emphasis on “slightly”. But hell, it’s all you needed, or at least it’s what you told yourself…
…
…
Welp, fuck it. A walk through town can’t do you any harm at this point. You were already outside, and any excuse to listen to more music was good enough for you. At the very least you can catch some grub during the after party—and the only one you’ll ever have the chance to attend. Might as well rip it off like a bandaid now, rather than… y’know, having a bandaid stuck to your skin, forever…
…
…Maybe you were hungrier than you thought.
The final fleeting fireworks pop through the air, a teen of fair blue skin strut her way backstage with a triumphant smile. “Try to top that!”
Adagio was quick to return with sarcasm, likely defusing any fist-happy urges in Aria in the process. “Oh gosh! I don’t know if we can!” Her hands cut through the laughter of her cohorts, gesturing with ease that it was time to move. ‘Discord be damned I’m good.’
And as a well-timed appetizer to their soon-to-be main course, a delicious mist of green seeped from the trap door below.
‘What was I— er, I mean ‘they’—even worried about? Such a feast that I might have to go on a diet afterwards~!’
Once their angelic euphony catches the ear of every audience member in awe, the ruby red pendants begin to devour the smoke once engulfing them. The redhead’s vocal cords nearly betrayed her by delivering a blissful sigh, and she was certain she wasn’t alone.
‘This is it…’
“♪ Welcome to the shoooooow… ♪”
“♪ Ah-ah-ah-ah, ahh~ ♪”
“♪ We’re here to let you knooooow~! ♪”
“♪ Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah~ ♪”
‘Everything’s… coming… together…!”
“♪ Our time is noooooooow~! ♪“
“♪ Ah-ah-ah-ah, ah~ ♪”
“♪ Your time is running oooouuuut~! ♪”
A millenia of patience and hunger is finally coming to light with a delectable banquet of victory. An ancient, once untouched void fills to the brim and ready to bursting from her chest. Sound waves themselves bends to their will—her will. The glow of red enveloping leaves her feeling drunk, yet the adrenaline splashing her skin and spine convinces her body that it hasn’t gone numb, keeping her alive, aware, and most of all, rapturous. Her body was lighter than air, and Adagio obtains a feat she always grasped for—one every Siren only daydreamed about since their hatchling days;
Adagio’s voice and inner thoughts speak one and the same.
“♪ We will be adored; Tell us that you want us! ♪”
Adagio’s vision was replaced by an endless red, a warm blanket of light enveloping her very form, creating a lightshow around the stage.
“♪ We won’t be ignored; It’s time for our reward~! ♪”
Her physical structure began to morph features less, and yet more recognisable to them—more equine. Most of all, her vocal cords now radiate with more strength than limitations previously allow. She knows it’s only the beginning of their power growing too much for their current form, and it wouldn’t be long until the complete rejection of the human bodies they’d grown adjusted to.
“♪ Now you need us! Come and heed us! “♪”
Adagio was reborn. The confines of the cosmic cocoon crumbles and shatters from their skin, creating room for the fin-like wings sprouted from their shoulder blades.
