A Crack in the Glass

Chapter Eight: Across the Sinking Sands

Is this the place? Varkrai thought to himself.

The tall building stood out like no other within Ponyville. Slightly over decorated, brightly colored with different hues of purple and yellow, and the outside strewn with enough patterns to make Discord jealous, Carousel boutique was certainly unique compared to the rest of the town. The lack of any sign to distinct the structure as a clothing and design construct kept Varkrai hesitant of approaching the boutique, but the overwhelmingly complicated process that had seemed to go into making the building look like a dress was just about enough to give him a nudge. The pristine and shining condition of the building gave off the message that its owner had perfection down to an art, though it wasn’t always a good thing. But of course, Twilight Sparkle had told him that ‘Rarity’s boutique’ was the place to go for fixing busted seams, getting fitted for clothing, and generally getting a make-over should he be up for it. Varkrai had hoped she was only exaggerating.

“Yeah... this is probably the place,” Varkrai whispered.

He glanced down at the raggedy sweatshirt in his hands that he wore so loosely. From wandering dimensions and being slashed at to exploring Canterlot and having to be stretched to fit a pony, the sweatshirt had been through more than enough to have it withered down to a poorly held together piece of cloth barely able to withstand being pulled at. The zippers, the simple one in front and the harder-to-reach two in the back to slide wings out of, constantly got stuck in a few certain places along the metal teeth. Numerous cuts and slashes, while some only visible up close, had begun to come apart with the strings holding them together fraying and weakening at every movement. The hood held on to the rest of the cloth weakly and bobbed up and down with each step in any direction. The edges of the holes in the back of the sweatshirt were worn down to the strings from Varkrai flapping his wings. And, quite recently, the wrists were two sizes too big. Despite all of the imperfections within his clothing, Varkrai still held tightly onto it in his hands as he looked up at the red flag on top of the boutique. The sweatshirt was his only casual protection from the weather and curious eyes aside from the black, woolen, long sleeved shirt he wore underneath his overwear, and he didn’t plan on walking around much longer in the autumn weather in a flawed sweatshirt that barely held out the wind.

Giving the boutique one last look-over, Varkrai started for the front door alone. Confronting the locals hadn’t been the top of his concerns when it came to preparing for future problems, and having to visit a ‘master of fashion’, according to Rarity’s friends, by himself wasn’t on the top of the list of Varkrai’s priorities; nevertheless, getting his sweatshirt fixed was. While not being completely familiar with the fashionista type throughout his dimensional jumping, Varkrai still had an idea of what Rarity’s personality would be from the few designers he had come across in the past. Unfortunately for him, they hadn’t taken much of a liking to his attitude, and it was mainly Noitorum that did the talking. Unluckily enough, the afternoon he was fed up with his tattered sweatshirt happened to be the one in which Noitorum decided to look around Ponyville. She knew all too well that Varkrai always had trouble getting along with others, and seeing an opportunity for him to improve on his constant ill-tempered attitude, she decided that it was up to him to be the one to get his clothing back up to optimal shape.

The front door of the boutique was much more vibrant up close, though as with every other door in Ponyville it was only as tall as Varkrai’s chest. He leaned down to look through the diamond shaped window in the door. The inside of the boutique looked empty aside from the interior decorations and models, which gave Varkrai a slightly bigger sense of how into fashion Rarity was. The inside lights were on due to the cloudy weather from the weakening storm that had lasted through the night. The rain had passed in the middle of the resting hours for Ponyville, but the clouds managed to persist and hover in the sky. Ponyville continued to remain dreary for the early afternoon, though it wouldn’t last long as soon as the pegasi started clearing the weather up.

“Is anyone home?” Varkrai asked aloud, tapping at the door with his finger nail. No answer told him to turn back and deal with his sweatshirt the way it was, but the cold breeze running down his back told him to hurry up and go inside.

Hesitant to do so, Varkrai pushed the tip of his finger against the door and lightly poked it ajar. He slipped his head inside to look around. The inside of the boutique looked even more glamorous than looking at it through the window. The mirrors, gems, and delicate outfits strewn throughout the walls and floor gave the entire main room a glimmer. The sound of sparkles coming off of the cleanliness of the windows and mirrors was just barely audible over the wind outside, and it was hard not to notice with the stillness outside. A quiet humming of a song sounded in another room.

Quietly, Varkrai pushed the door open the rest of the way, but ultimately made as much noise as possible as he heard the bell above the door ring. Startled and suddenly on the offense, he dropped his sweatshirt and reached up to the bell in the middle of its ring, ripping it from the handle it was held on. As soon as it had detached, he flung it onto the floor and he stood in a stable stance on slightly bent knees, an arm extended outwards. A low hum sounded into the room as Varkrai brought a collection of solance into his palm, starting at the bell with full intention to launch the charge straight into it. Now that he saw what had gotten him worked up, however, he suddenly felt that he was being watched.

As slowly as he could, Varkrai rotated his head to the side. To his surprise, a unicorn stood at the bottom of the stairs across the room, staring right back at him. With the entrance bell mutilated and crushed on the floor, along with some strange creature holding a peculiar energy in his hand in the doorway, Rarity couldn’t decide whether to run, scream, or both. She stayed still for a moment, not even blinking, but her heart found a way to pump faster than her sewing machines still poking away upstairs.

Varkrai, cautious as to not make any sudden movements, stood as still as he could, and spoke quietly, “I... uh... thought it was... something else.”

Still confused with what to do, Rarity could only take a deep breath inwards and hold it. It was a second later that she figured she could let it out with the company of a high pitch, deafening scream.

The solance in Varkrai’s hand disappeared and he held his hands out to Rarity, ducking his head back a little as he flinched. “Wait wait wait! Don’t do what you’re going to do I can explain don’t scream please!” he sputtered. “Sunlight Sparkle! Applejacks! Pinkie Pie! They’re your friends! I know them! I’m not here to do anything harmful!”

Rarity only let out a small squeak from what she planned to be a glass-shattering shriek. Stuck with her mouth open and her eyes open wide, she managed to force a few words out of her mouth, “What- what are you doing!? Who are you!?” Still panicking, and slightly confused by the names Varkrai had spit out, her speech was constrained and rough with her neck squeezing itself.

The unicorn not the only one panicking, the only thing Varkrai could think to do was point a finger at the worn out cloth at his feet, still holding his other arm out in front of him as if he were shielding himself. “I- I came here to get this fixed,” he explained, still bracing for when Rarity actually did scream. “I was told that you were the ‘pony to go to’ when clothing needed fixing. You can ask your friends.” He parted his fingers to peak out at Rarity. She still stood in place, though the horrified look on her face was replaced with worry. “Just please don’t scream at me.”

With a last careful examination of Varkrai, Rarity slowly took a step down off the stairs and onto the floor of the room. She eyed the dark green sweatshirt on the floor while still keeping her distance from its owner. “Who... are you, exactly?” she asked.

The air within the boutique had settled enough for Varkrai to lower his arms and vigilantly pick up his sweatshirt again. “Varkrai,” he answered. Judging from the pristine and perfected condition of Rarity’s mane and coat, along with her flawlessly styled eyelashes, the conclusion as to who he was speaking with was almost instant. “It’d be naive of me to assume that you’re someone else than Rarity. This is your boutique, yeah?”

Rarity, trying not to keep her eyes off of Varkrai for too long, nodded and looked around the inside of the her store and home. “Yes, this is my residence,” she affirmed. She limply pointed a hoof at the tattered sweatshirt in Varkrai’s hands, though she found her gaze slightly more directed towards the appendages holding it. “What was it that you came here for...?” She had a hard time refraining herself from calling him dear.

Varkrai pinched the collar of his sweatshirt and let it hang loose, showing the fashionista everything that was wrong with it. “I was hoping you’d be able to stitch this thing back up to what it used to be. Your friends told me you were good at this sort-”

The sweatshirt was quickly yanked out of Varkrai’s hands by a strange force. Instinctively, he felt his feet plant into the floor, his wings flare, and his arms stiffen, but he gradually calmed himself as he drew the connection between the glow around his sweatshirt and Rarity’s horn. The unicorn seemed more interested in the clothing levitating in front of her than Varkrai’s sudden shift in position. She stretched the cloth this way and that, examining every corner and cave that she possibly could in mere seconds. It was more of the shape and general format of the cloth that caught her attention than the colors, which at first she had almost gagged at the sight of the simplicity. She looked back and forth between Varkrai and his shabby sample of attire, intrigued by the material the sweatshirt was made of. Hand in hand with the tears and loose threads, she also wondered how he managed to do so much damage to a simple piece of clothing.

“My, my!” Rarity exclaimed at the sight of a rather large cut barely holding itself together. She paced around trying to get better lighting on the sweatshirt, almost forgetting that Varkrai was in the room. “How in Equestria did this happen? Oh! This thing is an absolute mess! A simple stitching won’t do anything to fix all of this. What kind of stitches are these, anyways? I’ve never seen these before. They don’t look like they’re doing a good job of holding together, no less.”

“It’s hard to repair feerian cloth with just a stitch,” Varkrai noted. “Doesn’t help much that I had no idea what I was doing when I was fixing the cuts.”

Frightened by Varkrai’s sudden voice, Rarity stopped in place and turned to him. Now realizing how beat up his sweatshirt was, the lighter, though still noticeable scars on the shirt Varkrai wore became apparent. “Feerian?” Rarity asked curiously. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

The sweatshirt made a return back to Varkrai with a flowing white aura around it, almost causing Rarity to stumble backwards as she noticed the aura also around Varkrai’s outstretched hand. “The type of cloth this is. Feerian,” Varkrai spoke as his overwear settled in his grasp, the aura disappearing from both of them. “The material that it’s made of is only found on a caldance, which is a type of animal that has a strong yet soft coat. Unfortunately, it can’t withstand the edge of a blade very well, but the tip of a spear is easily warded off by it.” He lightly poked the tip of his finger into the chest of the cloth, pointing out how the material grew slightly stiff and firm.

“A... caldance?” Rarity sounded the word out. “Why, I’ve never heard of such a creature before.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Varkrai threw the sweatshirt back to Rarity, who narrowly caught it in the air before it landed on her head. “I just want it fixed.”

Giving Varkrai an unhappy glare, Rarity looked over the fabric once more. “I would have to gain a bit more an understanding of how the cloth functioned before I started to work on it,” she noted. She picked up a nearby needle and tried to force it through the material, though she only found herself bending the metal in an effort.

“You’re an ‘expert fashionista’, aren’t you? I’m sure you can find a way.”

Becoming frustrated as she bent another needle, Rarity looked to Varkrai and said, “While I may eventually, it would be helpful if you showed me how you managed to get a needle through, yes?”

“I think you can see how that worked out,” Varkrai mentioned, pointing out one of the bigger cuts in his sweatshirt he had tried to fix. The frayed and tattered holes he made for the stitches spoke for themselves.

“It is a rather messy procedure,” Rarity agreed, frowning at the damage that Varkrai inflicted. “Might I be able to ask what managed to... ruff up your clothing?”

“It’s probably best to leave that at a mystery.” Varkrai crossed his arms. “So? Can you fix it or what? I didn’t come here to stand around and talk.”

The tone of Varkrai’s voice noticeably growing irate, Rarity couldn’t help but form hers the same way. “Well I didn’t plan on having my doorbell broken today, so it may be a while until I find a new one. I suppose you’ll just have to wait for a little bit.”

“I wouldn’t think a doorbell is the most crucial thing in your business right now. I’m sure you have plenty of needles. Besides, it doesn’t look like you get a lot of customers by the way things are right now.”

A frustrated and surprised gasp escaped Rarity’s mouth. “I get plenty of customers! I’ve never seen you around here before; I doubt you know the basics of fashion! Obviously not, with such a bore of an outfit.” She turned away from Varkrai and draped his sweatshirt over a clothing rack. “Besides, I have a very important order I’m working on right now. I suppose you’ll just have to wait for a while.”

Varkrai could feel his blood heat up. “I’m not leaving here until I get my sweatshirt back, fixed,” he declared through partially clenched teeth. “However long it’s going to take, my feet are planted.”

“Why, then I guess you’re going to be there a while,” said Rarity, shuffling through the dresses on one of the racks. She looked back at Varkrai with an eyebrow raised as she heard his wings unfold and hang loosely off his back. Remaining where he was, he only glared at her. “And would you please stop staring? If you’re going to be here, then you might as well be of some use and fix the doorbell. It’s probably the most you can do.”

Suspecting the doorbell to be a bit troubling still on the floor bent and battered, Varkrai complied with hesitation. Now holding it within his hands, however, he could see why she would want to replace it so quickly. The shape it had been beaten into out of account, the golden bell was definitely crafted with care, and now that Varkrai had realized it was just a harmless mold of metal, it had created a noticeably unique sound that he had never heard before. Whether it be the extinction of doorbells, or rather just any type of bell, throughout the dimensions or just that Varkrai had never come across one, it was strange to hear such a perfected tone outside of his regular attuning with energy. Grown up with the perpetual ringing of his own toying with his solance, hearing a different yet similar sound raised some curiosity in if he could replicate the bell. He felt the need to ask Rarity a question about it, anything that he could to find out where she had gotten it, but her back turned to him and her silence gave him the answer beforehand. Nevertheless, he gave the unicorn one last glare and look-over before he found his way to a wall and begun fiddling with the bell.

______________________________________________________________________

A puff of dust rose off of the dirt track leading to Carousel Boutique as two feet planted on the ground. The air settled to its regular flow as Noitorum’s wings fastened against her back, and she shivered subtly now that she stood still. The autumn weather had been noticeably getting colder over the past few days, though the contribution of the clouds constantly in the sky were likely responsible on some level. Noitorum had expected that Varkrai was going to get his sweatshirt fixed sooner or later due to the cold wings, but she hadn’t expected it to take so long. The sun was already nearing early evening, and Noitorum wasn’t quite sure if Varkrai was still in the boutique. She knew that returning back to Varkrai through their solance would let him know of her presence, so she remained in her own form to search for him. She wanted to catch him by surprise, maybe find him actually making a friend for once, but she hadn’t anticipated on him spending the entire day within the boutique.

Having scoured all over Ponyville already, Noitorum’s only place to look was the very place she wouldn’t expect Varkrai to be in any longer. She had talked to many of the ponies around the town, some of them still a bit afraid of her, and she even spent some time shopping in one of the kiosk areas, though her lack of money availed her nothing to come out with. When she asked the majority of the ponies if they had seen Varkrai, either their answer was a blank stare and wide eyes or a question in return of who Varkrai was, though when she had given a description of him, the ponies only shook their heads and walked away hurriedly. Of course, Noitorum still had no information of Varkrai’s mishap with the ponies, but she could assume that they were still weary of her and Varkrai because of them being out of the ordinary within Equestria.

A rather unnatural, strong gust of wind ran down Noitorum’s back. She felt a shiver run up her spine and her entire body prick with goose bumps, Noitorum quickly turning around to see what had caused it. Somewhat expected, there was nothing there aside from a rather colorful-maned pegasus off in the distance kicking at the clouds, though an occasional sweep of her wings forward sent a small whirlwind off in random directions and cleared a line in the blanket in the sky. Slightly confused and startled, Noitorum simply shook her head and looked down at the town. A few ponies, dressed in light clothing, walked around the buildings and streets and others played in the leaves raked up in piles, but nothing too exciting was out in the open. Noitorum smiled at the sight and turned back to Carousel Boutique, eager to walk inside and meet the owner of the building along with seeing of Varkrai was still inside. Rarity being a friend of Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle, Noitorum was excited to meet another of the group.

The door quietly swung open as Noitorum pushed it with the top of her head, the feer standing back up straight as she emerged into the boutique. To her surprise, the main room seemed empty from the appearance, only the remnants of a few broken needles left on the floor indicating that someone was home. She scanned the room as best as she could as she walked further into the room, grabbing her hair with her hands and straightening it over her left shoulder.

“Hello?” called out Noitorum, leaning to look behind a clothes rack in the middle of the room. “Anyone home? Varkrai?”

A muffled, irritated groan from another room gave Noitorum a small start. She quickly locked her eyes on the stairs as a familiar voice shouted out loud, the talking seeming to come from upstairs. She had now noticed the amount of feathers laying on the ground, almost all of them black save for a few decorative ones. She leaned down and pinched one of them in between her fingers, examining it as close as she could. The tips seemed like they had been either bent, cracked, scratched, or just fallen off with no particular reason. On most of the feathers, the barbs had been squished against the shaft and frayed out in various directions, an indication as to what Varkrai had been doing with them, which was more than likely etching something with them.

“What is he doing?” Noitorum wondered to herself, dropping the feather.

Another loud outburst from the upper level of the boutique prompted Noitorum to quickly ascend the stairs. Despite being barefooted, she tried her best to be quiet on the tips of her toes as to see what was going on without disturbing it, even if it was just a casual argument. At the same time she did her best to go up the stairs as fast as she could, trying not to let her wings rub against the walls. She knew all too well about Varkrai’s behavior when he either got annoyed, frustrated, or for the worse, completely irritated. The feathers scattered across the ground, while Noitorum assumed that they were just being used for some sort of writing, were a sign that Varkrai had been on the borderline of anger, and she wanted nothing else than to keep him calm.

Noitorum crept quietly up to the doorway at the top of the stairs, leaning forward to just barely peek in the crack between the door and the wall. The circular room seemed to be intact despite the usual mess that Rarity had it in, with her models lined up along the wall and a few of the fabric racks slightly unraveled. Luckily, the room wasn’t in terrible danger, as Varkrai was remained seated at a workbench on the opposite side of the room, but she could see the fury radiating off of him as his wings and legs shook in his attempt to keep himself calm.

“No, no! If you’re going to ever thread a needle, you’re going to have to be steady!” Rarity instructed, putting a levitation spell on Varkrai’s hand to keep it still.

Already in a temper enough, Varkrai almost yanked his hand out of the spell before he caught himself and only jerked it slightly. “Then let go of my hand,” he forced through his teeth.

“Maybe if you would hold it still by yourself then I wouldn’t have to steady it!” Rarity let go of the levitation spell. “Now, make sure you hold the needle in place as well. If you think you can do this by yourself, you’re going to have to do it properly. I can see why you made such a mess the first time around.”

Varkrai slammed his hands down on the table, turned his head to Rarity, leaned forward, and shouted, “Veta lox’el kah muth vis, kah cryinsa noxtest!?”

“I beg your pardon!?” exclaimed Rarity, leaning back and putting a hoof to her chest.

“Varkrai!” Noitorum shouted from the door as she quickly burst through the door.

“What!?” yelled Varkrai, turning his head to Noitorum. Startled as to who had spoken his name, he soon grew cautious of what he was saying and unclenched his fists. He wasn’t the only one to become quiet at the sight of Noitorum, as Rarity quickly became frightened at another one of Varkrai’s species walked into her boutique unannounced.

“There’s no need for that type of language!” Noitorum scolded as she walked up to Varkrai and leaned over him, almost causing him to fall off his stool and tip backwards onto the workbench. “What’s wrong with you!? Why are you yelling at her!? And where’s your sweatshirt?” Focused on Varkrai, she almost forgot that Rarity was standing right beside her, the unicorn staring up at her with wide eyes and a partially open mouth. Self aware now that she was giving Varkrai a death stare, Noitorum quickly backed up from both him and Rarity, smiling nervously and bunching her hands together behind her back. She looked to the startled unicorn. “Uh, forgive me. You’re Rarity, right?”

A befuddled, hesitant puff of air escaped Rarity’s mouth in an attempt to speak. From Sapphire Shores to the casual customer, she had never seen anything of the likes of a strange, unfamiliar creature walk straight into her home and store as Varkrai had, and even then she hadn’t expected another one to accompany him six hours later. She also hadn’t planned on spending six hours trying to force a needle through a sweatshirt.

“Ha... plbu...babuda...” Rarity mumbled through her lips, confusedly looking between Varkrai and Noitorum.

The two feers gave each other a quick glance. “Is... that a yes?” Noitorum asked quietly, raising her eyebrows with hope.

A moment of silence fell over Rarity as she let her mind catch up with her eyes. She suddenly shook her head rapidly and opened her eyes wide, blinking a few times before she focused on Noitorum. “Y- yes, that is a... yes,” Rarity confirmed, wiping a drop of sweat from her face. “Do you two know each other...?”

“It’s not obvious enough as it is?” Varkrai asked blatantly as he sat up straight, though he flinched back against the bench again as Noitorum raised a wing in the air as if to hit him.

“Yes, we do know each other,” answered Noitorum. She let her wing back down and put her hand out for Rarity. “My name’s Noitorum. My companion here is Varkrai, if he hasn’t told you his name already.”

“I’ve been here for six hours,” Varkrai noted, standing up, but he managed to find his way back to the stool again as Noitorum shoved him back down with an extension of her wing.

Rarity hesitantly put her hoof forward, and Noitorum shook it gently. “It’s... wonderful to have you both here,” she hollowly spoke with a smile. “Might I ask what brings you, Noitorum, here?”

“I just thought I’d check on Varkrai if he was still here,” Noitorum said as she let go of Rarity’s hoof. “I didn’t think it would take so long to get his sweatshirt fixed.” She quickly caught herself and put her arms out. “No no, I didn’t mean it like that! I meant- I mean- I’m not saying you’re a bad-”

“She gets it, Noi,” Varkrai interrupted. Casually, though with some force, he stood next to Noitorum and pushed a wing out to his side, sending Noitorum half way across the room. He crossed his arms at Rarity, who gave him a glare. “Yet I would rather stick with the way you first let it come out.”

“If I must remind you,” started Rarity. “I’m not familiar with whatever kind of material that raggedy sweatshirt is made out of, thank you very much. How am I supposed to know how to properly work with it if the only way you can get a needle through is by making an even bigger cut?”

Taking a step forward, Varkrai pointed to what now was just a dark green heap of cloth on the bench. “Hey, at least what I did managed to fix it temporarily. All I’ve seen you do is break every single needle that you prodded it with.”

“Yes, ‘fixed it temporarily’ is a word for what you’ve done to it.”

“What? What have you done? Wasted half of your needle storage? Poked yourself numerous times because you broke them?”

“And what have you done? Sat there and watched and complained?”

“What do you want me to do!? Keep trying to hopelessly thread a needle that’s going to be broken anyways!?”

“At least I can thread a needle!”

“Stop it, you two!” Noitorum shouted, pushing her way in between them. “What is wrong with you!?” She poked at Varkrai’s chest. “Especially you! Why can’t you just be nice to someone for once?”

“Well that would require me to actually like whoever it is, first off,” Varkrai mumbled, peaking around Noitorum’s wing at Rarity.

“Varkrai!” Noitorum shouted. She reached out and latched onto the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards her. Her hands were distinctly shaking, both with anger and a vague sense of despair. “All I want is for you to be nice! Is that so hard to ask!?”

The black winged feer stared blankly into Noitorum’s eyes. He tried his best to hide any emotions from forming onto his face, worrying that anything would seem as mockery or disagreement towards Noitorum, but even remaining at a cold glare looked as if he wasn’t taking anything in. It was rare that Noitorum, the one being that he could put his trust into, ever had to use her voice to scold or yell at him, but it was something about Equestria that made Noitorum stray from her usual self. The environment, the ponies, the general feel of the world contributed to her growing need to settle down and relax, yet Varkrai’s branded disgust for those other than him and Noitorum held back the chance to live normally. It was the glistening of a tear in Noitorum’s eye that compelled Varkrai to let his fists loosen, his temper calm, and his eyes relax.

“Alright,” Varkrai whispered, gently wrapping his hands around Noitorum’s. He could feel her fingers let go of his shirt and he held onto her wrists, keeping her close. “Okay. I’ll be nice. I won’t yell any more. I promise.” He managed to sneak his mouth into a faint smile.

Noitorum stayed still for a moment before she nodded subtly. “You’re not just gonna bottle it up, will you?”

With a twitch of his mouth upwards, Varkrai shook his head and rubbed his thumb across Noitorum’s wrist. “No. I don’t think I can anymore.”

Smiling, Noitorum shifted forward and wrapped her arms around him. She squeezed him as she felt his hands brush against the bases of her wings. “I’m gonna keep an eye on that. I’ll determine if you can or not.”

Varkrai looked up from Noitorum’s shoulder. Rarity still stood in place a few feet away from them, watching with a slightly impatient, yet content look. “I’ll see to that you won’t have to,” Varkrai assured as he lowered his eyes. “But if it’s alright, I’m gonna need a bit more time to get my sweatshirt fixed. Are you staying?”

Noitorum rubbed her chin side to side on Varkrai’s shoulder. “I’ve been flying around all day; I think I need a rest.” She softly pushed herself back from Varkrai and looked in his eyes. “Please don’t get upset again?”

“I won’t,” Varkrai reassured.

Fitting one last hug in, Noitorum whispered, “Ralin kah.”

A flash of light burst into the room, and Varkrai was left standing with his hands folded over each other in front of him, standing alone. He shifted his eyes from the ground up to the unicorn watching him carefully. She remained quiet as Varkrai settled his weight on one leg and slid his hands in his pockets, clearing her throat soon after.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Varkrai suggested, motioning his head to the bench.

Rarity nodded firmly as she watched him walk over to his sweatshirt. “I suppose it would be the best course of action.” She watched as Varkrai picked up a needle in one hand and pinched a line of thread in the other. “I trust you’re sticking to your word to her, yes?”

Glancing back at the unicorn from the corner of his eyes, Varkrai spoke, “Don’t push your luck.”

______________________________________________________________________

“Stay awake, Hutch.”

“I’m awake, I’m awake. It’s not like I’m going to fall asleep, anyways.”

“I’m just making sure that you don’t. Where’d you put the scope?”

“It’s uh... around here somewhere.”

“Don’t tell me you lost it.”

“Stop whining. I got it right here. What for?”

“Just trying to keep the best eye out that I can.”

“It’s going to be a while before the last truck gets here, Myers. I’d advise you to just relax and keep your ass planted as long as you can.”

“It’s hard to sit still when I’ve been in this damn tower for a day.”

“And we’re all sorry for you, but we need someone with good eyes and a clean pair of goggles to keep an eye out for the rest of the soldiers coming in.”

“When’s the last time we heard from them?”

“Adrian got a signal a few hours ago. They reported they got caught up in some denser fog areas and had to take a detour. He said they’re about three hours away, so don’t get your gear all twisted up.”

“What about the civvies that were with them?”

“Lost ‘em in the fog. Got nothing from the driver’s radio.”

“Damn it. I just want to get out of here.”

“Well the machine’s up and running. S’just waiting to be put to action.”

“Have you sent anyone through a gate yet?”

“Last time we tried that Gale lost the lamnirex, so we’re just waiting until everyone gets here and we can all account for it.”

“Who did you send through?”

“A stuffed bear. We named it Phillip.”

“Cute.”