There were many, scattered all throughout the oceans of the world, who asserted that even a siren’s blood was an instrument of chaos. There were some who said that cutting a siren just gave her another mouth, that her blood would pollute the waters around her and call those who swam in it to shed more blood. There were a scant few who said that it wasn’t blood at all that flowed through a siren, just more discordant music.
Aria could see plenty of her blood, and it seemed to her as though there was nothing special about it at all.
It came as some small relief that it wasn’t just hers that had been shed. A muse clung to life not too far from her—muses didn’t look all that different to sirens, but they always had pearly-white scales and their brains were too weak for any two to sing different songs—gasping pathetic attempts at music and widening its own wounds with its writhing.
“Now, what might we have here?”
A shadow crawled over Aria, descending upon the dying muse. The jagged hooves of a siren with scales as soft as silk but as bright as gold and harder than stone crept downwards. They skewered their helpless prey, pressing into it until it finally stopped moving and gave one last ugly death rattle.
And then the other siren faced Aria, forked tongue flicking out over her teeth as her mouth shaped into a wicked smirk. “Aren’t you a good little soldier, now? How does it feel, dying just like your queen would have asked you to?”
Aria scowled back at her, eyes falling on the twinkling ruby unnaturally implanted in Adagio’s chest. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, knowing all too well what kind of things beauty like Adagio’s could do to her. “Better a dead soldier than a witch like you.” She tried to snarl, but spasms of pain ripped through her chest and her voice came out as more of a strangled wheeze.
“I thought we sirens prided ourselves on individuality.” Adagio’s voice drew closer, slithering into Aria’s ear. “Are those your words or your queen’s? You don’t have to be afraid of me just because she is.”
Adagio didn’t wait for a response, nor did she get one. She just drew closer, then sent a spike of agony into Aria’s brain when she dipped a sharp hoof into an open wound. “Do you want to live forever? You can be beautiful, just like me. You can be feared, just like your queen. You won’t have to live your life for anyone but yourself.”
Weariness made Aria want to keep her eyes closed, but pain drove her to open them, and when she did, they immediately glued themselves to a second ruby pinched between Adagio’s hooves.
“What are you, Aria? The world will not remember soldiers. Your queen’s already forgotten about you.” Adagio drew closer still. “Leave a scar behind you, not a corpse.”
Weakly, the world growing dim around her, Aria reached out towards the ruby.
Canterlot High School looked peaceful, brightly-colored even at night.
Aria walked towards it, already pondering how it would look in a few hours after she’d set it ablaze.
The thought had came to her earlier that morning, in the shower.
That would be nice, she’d told herself. She could burn down the school, and that would be her scar. For months, years, maybe, she’d leave a stronger mark than she’d managed in centuries.
Plans that had been formulating in her head—most of which amounted to “Fuck it, I’ll figure something out” anyway—came to a halt when she passed in front of that ridiculous horse statue and heard a voice call out to her.
“Hey. Been a little while, hasn’t it?”
Aria stopped where she stood, looked and saw Sunset Shimmer calmly seated on the ground by the statue’s base, intermittently jotting a few things down in a notebook but mostly just staring at the school.
“Yeah. That it has.” Aria looked at the school, then back to Sunset. What a mood-killer. “What’re you doing out here so late? School’s not supposed to be in session.”
“It’s quieter this time of night, don’t you think?” Sunset barely looked at her, just kept writing. “I like coming out here when nobody’s around.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s… all pretty silly, really.” Sunset breathed out a sheepish chuckle, mouth lifting into a smile. “I’m actually kinda embarrassed to say.”
Aria cocked an eyebrow, leaned against the statue and folded her arms over her chest. “In that case, I’m not leaving until you do.”
Sunset laughed again—Aria couldn't believe how much she hated that stupid, cheerful sound—and patted the concrete next to her. “Wanna come and sit with me, then?”
“Alright.” The concrete was cold and rough. “So. What’s with you and the school?”
“I’m gonna be leaving sometime. ‘Bout a year or so from now, I’d say.” Sunset closed her book, leaned back and sighed. “I’d thought that I’d go back to Equestria, at one point, but now… I think this world is my home, and that school right there? That is where the life I always wanted to live began.” She smiled again. It was the happiest thing Aria had seen all day. “So, in a year or so, when I leave and… I don’t know, go off to college or something… I want to be able to look back and just know that this place existed and that I was there.”
The balance between happy and stupid was a perilously thin one, and that last part tipped Sunset firmly in favor of the latter. “So take a picture and be done with it.”
“Already did, actually.” Without being prompted, Sunset whipped out her phone, pulled up a picture of the school that looked only a few minutes old, and winked. “Do you have someplace like that?”
Aria stared at Sunset for a long while. “No. I don’t,” she drawled. “Queen of the sirens just couldn’t stand having someone else claim to be prettier than her, so she started a war. Got a lot of people killed—including me, if you’re wondering—and then didn’t even live to see the day Adagio won it for her.”
“I’m sorry.”
Aria waved her hand, muttering curses under her breath. “If I wept for stupid cunts like her, I’d have myself another ocean. No, she didn’t care about anything but stroking her own ego. Maybe she had more in common with Adagio than she thought.” Aria’s lip curled. “It took Adagio two tries, you know. To get me to take that gem she offered me. I guess I told her no loudly enough the first time that she took it as a challenge. Said she’d make me powerful and beautiful and all that stupid crap, stalked me until I was desperate enough to say yes.”
“Wasn’t that what you wanted?”
“Little girls want to be beautiful. Then they grow up.” Aria looked back at herself and wondered if she’d done that part yet. “No,” she said, more to herself, “Adagio didn’t do anything for me but beat me over the head with a silver spoon until I just knew I was better than people like you.”
“So, what did you want?”
“Who knows? I didn’t want to die for a queen who didn’t even know I existed, that’s for sure. Now… I don’t think there’s anything I want. Just a bunch of stupid dreams. Nothing worth spending a life for.” Not when you’ve only got one left to give.
“Our lives are spent doing nothing but chasing dreams, and every step we take brings us just a little bit closer to the person we’ve always dreamed of being.”
Aria snorted, reached out and flicked Sunset in the forehead. “Well, aren’t you pretentious?”
Sunset chuckled, and gestured towards the school. “It’s something that a very wise mare told me once. I didn’t believe it until I was… oh, right about there, on my knees, crying my eyes out, begging forgiveness.”
“Good for you.” Aria glowered at the sky. “But suppose my dream was to… oh, I don’t know…” She gave a flippant shrug and a dry chuckle. “We both like the nighttime. What if I wanted to put the sun out? What would you tell me to do then? Chase that dream ‘til I’ve ground my feet down to bone and burned my eyes to a crisp?”
“Well…” Sunset laughed again. Aria didn’t hate it quite as much as the first time. “No, I’d ask you to find a different dream. Why do you want to make the sun go out?”
Aria shrugged. “Why not? Nobody else ever has.” She kept looking up and felt her mouth shape into a smirk. “I could be the first. Wouldn’t that make for a good story?”
“Fame, then? You still want to be adored, don’t you?”
Of course. Who didn’t? “Nobody who’s not adored gets remembered.”
Sunset lifted an eyebrow. “What about the other sirens? They’d remember you, right?”
Aria snorted, spitting out a mirthless cackle. “Adagio’s probably already forgotten either of us ever existed. Sonata’s sure trying to, only she’s dumb enough to stick around.” She shook her head. “No, they don’t exactly adore me.”
Sunset looked at her for a while. “I disagree,” she said, lifting an index finger pointedly, “but not with that.” Then she pointed at a spot on the concrete, just a few feet in front of them. “Stand over there for a second?”
Aria shot a glare, but complied. She stood up, walked over, and turned to face Sunset with a grimace adorning her face.
“Perfect.” Sunset held up her phone, pressed a button, and then hurried over and showed Aria a freshly-taken picture. “How does that look? I could get it printed out and bring it to you sometime, if you’d like.”
“Why bother?” Aria looked back at the school, idly pondering how long it would take for a burned-down school to be rebuilt, as well as the odds of Sunset being there two nights in a row.
“Because now, even if you walked out of this city and never came back, I’d be able to remember you. As long as this photograph exists, I’ll be able to look at it and think, ‘Yeah. Aria was there that night, and she wasn’t so bad deep down.’ ”
“That’s it? You’ll remember that you talked to me that one time? That’s not very much.”
“No, it isn’t,” Sunset said with a flippant shrug and a cheeky grin. “But it’s a step, isn’t it? You’ve got one person who’ll remember you now no matter what you do—and, no offense, but I think we can both agree I don’t adore you. But if I show this to my friends, that’s seven. Who’s to say you can’t find more? Don’t fight to put the sun out, because that’s a fight you’ll never win. Fight to be remembered, because you’ve already got one good hit in.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard in a long, long time.”
Another laugh, and then that beam persisted. “That, I don’t disagree with. But does it help? If it does, then, well… I’d say it doesn't really matter, wouldn’t you agree?”
Aria went silent. She listened to what Sunset said, stared at the picture, and heard a dozen questions echoing through her head. Rhetoricals, many of them had been once.
When she looked at that picture, a few answers dawned on her.
“Yeah,” she muttered under her breath, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “Yeah, I guess it does.” She felt her brow knitting, spun slowly on her heel and walked away. “I’ll...” She bit her lip. “I’ll see you around,” she said, but more important things needed to be done.
It took Aria a week to hunt down the courage she needed. Long silences were always the hardest to break.
The house they’d all swindled their way into had never really been a home, but then they’d never tried to make it one. Plain walls marred by cracks and peeling paint stood grim and silent, with nary a sound and only a hint of a stagnant scent in the air.
Aria had hated that house for as long as she could remember. Vicious barbs echoed in her memories, accompanied by a twisted scowl, a slam of a door, and a rapid, one-way march into the night.
Now that she thought about it, maybe it had all been for the better.
Aria stood outside a door, staring at the wood. She’d walked by it without sparing a glance hundreds of times, and now that she finally stood ready to change a habit, she realized she’d all but forgotten what effort felt like.
No better time to learn, she’d told herself every day for the past week.
That day, she finally took her own advice, stepping into a room of prettiness in shambles. In the distant corner, sprawled out on a bed, a blue shape stirred, the empty stare she’d been wearing growing tinted with worry. The face that had known Aria the longest of all the ones she’d seen that year regarded her with the most fear.
Aria wasn’t sure what sort of feeling that gave her. Regret seemed too strong of a word, perhaps. Icy demeanors and heated invectives sprang to mind, but she couldn’t think of a single one she’d take back if she could. The past didn’t matter, and maybe she had pretended it did.
Longing, then. That seemed as good a word as any.
Swallowing a breath, Aria walked over, only to be wounded when Sonata responded by scurrying farther into the corner. What kind of face was she supposed to wear to make someone stop being afraid of her?
And when had innovation ever frightened her before?
“Hey.” She faltered for a moment, then forcibly lifted the corners of her mouth. Smiles were probably a safe bet. It didn’t work right away, but whatever. Aria moved closer until she stood right by Sonata’s bed, then breathed out a sigh to calm herself, gesturing to the bed. “Mind if I join you?”
Worry blended with confusion, but a small nod gave her permission. Aria sat cross-legged on the bed, facing Sonata, and struggled to maintain eye contact. She felt her smile slipping, and didn’t feel like her efforts to keep it up made it quite natural. “So…” She faltered again. What am I supposed to say? “Let’s be better than this,” she said, finally.
Sonata gave her a silent stare, then looked away, drew her knees to her chest and hugged them. “What do you mean?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.” Aria bit her lip, fought to keep thinking. Bull-headedness finally stopped caring about inarticulateness. “We can… I don’t know, try and learn to sing again, or” —Fuck, what do normal people do— “maybe get jobs or something.” She saw Sonata wilting again, clenched her teeth and pushed forward. “Come on.” She stuck out her hand. “Let’s just… do something. We’ll worry about whether or not it works later.”
Sonata hesitated, staring at Aria like she didn’t recognize her. There was an air of wariness to her, but a faint glimmer of desire in her eyes. “Aria, wh-why are you being so…” She hung her head, retreated farther into the corner. “What are you trying to…”
“Hell if I know.” Aria pressed her fingers into her temple, knitted her brow. “You don’t have to listen to me,” she murmured. After a pause, she forced out a dry chuckle. “Who knows, maybe you’d be better off if you just walked out and forgot all about me. But, if you are gonna stick around—” breathing deeply, she met Sonata’s eyes “—I don’t want your last memory of me to be a part where I was a bitch.
“So, c’mon.” Aria inched closer, still holding out her hand. “What we were doing didn’t work out, so we’ll find some other way to get what we want.”
After a long pause, a flicker of a smile played on Sonata’s lips, the first that Aria had seen for a long time, and it bolstered an already-kindled spark of hope.
