Out of the frying pan and into the pyre.
Out of the frying pan and into the pyre.
October. Crisp, golden October. The slow dreg of winter had already begun to bloom ice floes across the pier, sticking to its yearly prey of rotten boards and capsized boats.
Even with the sun setting, lighting the world ablaze with colors, a flurried jury of snow lazily drifted down, hitting the rooftops like a gavel to a sound block. It chipped and whittled away at the old wood, soaking deep into its long dead bark.
The evening was foggy, even after the sun had tried to breathe warmth back onto the Earth, like trying to warm your hands with your breath, it was in vain, however. But the long fingers of the sunset still clawed across the horizon, leaving long shadows from its wake.
The distant dream of summer still echoed through the hollow slits of carnival rides and game stalls. Shuttered and empty, a ghost town at the mercy of its sole inhabitant: the ocean.
The salty waves spit in the air, crashing down white water like the gleam of a chef’s knife against a cutting board. They rose and fell, sometimes folding the white edge into itself like how dove’s tucked their wings or how children curled the edge of their blankets to their chin.
The wind whipped wildly, in bouts of restlessness. It pulled down hoods and ripped umbrellas from hands, pushed people against buildings until they almost walked sideways, even tripped people over by either blurring their sight or just sheer happenstance.
It wasn’t helped by the subtle rocking and creaking of the wood below, groaning with generation upon generation of weight and weathering. If you stood still for long enough, you could feel the gentle sway of the night ever so slowly push and pull against the silted pier. And if you closed your eyes, for only a moment, you could even believe that you were floating on the waves below.
The water continued to heave up and down, and up and down the rocks and tangles of trash. Adagio watched the waves with a deep yearning in her soul. These waters, though wild and free, were another reminder of the manacle of humanity now forced upon her. An anchor to her own waves mocking her with their fury. How ironic. How pathetic.
She sighed and savored the last bits of warmth summer still clung too, trying not to recall what had happened at the beginning of the season. But it would always be there at the end, haunting her, taunting her, because now there was an end to face now.
A better being would reconcile with their new sudden change. Her sisters, both her better and worse halves, were better at this. It's why they left after all.
And why she was subjecting herself to this stupid, incompetent, inane, completely ridiculous-
“Hey!” Sunset Shimmer waved at her once enemy, jogging up from the pier to join her. “Sorry, I’m late. Had to find a parking spot for my bike.”
She joined Adagio in leaning against the railing on the pier, letting her breath catch up to her for a moment.
Adagio sized her up immediately, knowing now not to underestimate this pony-turned-human.
Her leather jacket was worn, originally a smooth, shiny black, it had grown matte with apparent age. Crackles of brown velvet skin spread from its joints like an oily morning, still murky with cloudy-river-soaked veins that rumbled and pushed against gravity like stubborn smokers lungs.
The frayed hem of her jeans tucked in her thick soled boots, and the shiny leather of her fingerless riding gloves was stark against her corn-starch jeans. And Adagio could see just the hint of color from beaded, weaved, even embroidered friendship bracelets on her wrists hidden under spiked-black wristbands.
But that’s not what held her attention. No, it was what Sunset wore on her neck that drew her attention. The thing she always looked for first on a person even if it was instinctual rather than rational. And lo and behold one of her damned ‘saviors’ was wearing one. She felt like puking.
“So.” Sunset rocked on the balls of her feet. “I was thinking for our first meeting we could try-“
Adagio cut in, still zeroed in on Sunset’s neck, “is this some sort of joke?”
“Huh?” Sunset replied, dumbfounded and surprised.
“This.” Adagio pinched the tip of a shiny green ribbon tied around Sunset’s neck. “Is this meant to be some sort of mockery of our gems?”
Sunset involuntarily reached up to the hollow point of her throat, where a red gem would have set if present. “Oh, I didn’t realize…” she trailed off for a moment before focusing back on Adagio. “No. I didn’t mean for it to come off that way.”
Adagio hummed for a moment, creaky and out of tune, still pinching the ribbon between her fingers before dropping it like it was hot. “The so-called ‘friendship ambassador’ is already insulting her first assignment.” She strutted back the way Sunset came, leaving the ribbon fluttering in her wake. “Keep this up and you’ll definitely get me on your side.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance.” Sunset huffed, almost stepping on her heels from behind her.
Adagio rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Sunset hit her head against the railing, the cool almost frozen metal doing wonders for her headache. She had tried everything. Games, food, hell even a knitting club, but no luck.
Adagio watched from beside her, dully checking her nails for any lingering ash from the knitting fiasco. Never trust a bitch named Beverly within weapon distance. Words to live by.
“I think I know what’s wrong.” Sunset muttered, resting her head against the railing.
Adagio groaned. “You’re fruitlessly trying to justify dethroning the most powerful creature in your puny existence with friendship?”
Sunset stood up straight, turning fully to enter Adagio’s space, grinning, deviously and full of cunning. “I keep doing the things that taught me friendship. What I really need to do is pick the thing that will teach you friendship instead.”
Adagio grinned back, baring her teeth in the way they both knew was meant to be a threat. Animalistic. Ravenous. Curious. “Oh? And pray-tell, what is this mysterious thing that will finally tame the great siren, Adagio?”
“The same thing that brought you down,” Sunset began, the blues of her eyes shining inhumanely for a second. “Music.”
The ceilings were low, painted black that made you really feel enclosed in. Exposed brick on one wall with heavy vampire-red muslin theater curtains hung across the opposite side.
Mismatched picture frames splattered against the walls, sharpied over dollar-store families hung next to ornate gold-leaf frames with art-nouveau drawings of scantily clad women trapped inside, blue smoke draping down from the ceiling in thick plumes blowing across sweaty faces.
The deep rumbles of the bass and drum ripped through the air, quite literally sending goosebumps through the smoke, from up and down the bar to the stage. Like a personal frequency meter that blared the peaks and valleys of the song onto the street.
The crowd moved with the song, breathing, jostling, cramped elbow-tucked-in, arms-stuck-in-the-air dancing, that was more shuffling in the same two by two area.
Adagio watched them, humans, bodies of moving flesh and blood, from her self-proclaimed throne on a red velvet couch tucked in the corner of the room. Just out of sight where the human flesh bags couldn’t see her if they didn’t know to look, and most didn’t bother. It both irked and pleased her.
Sunset suddenly came into view, parting the masses in a way she didn’t consciously know she was doing, but she still had her moments of hitting shoulders and stepping on toes.
Adagio watched her every movement, letting her eyes stretch across Sunset, a spotlight in the dark dinghy club, and nearly giggled at the way the pony turned human shuddered under the eyes of a true predator. She would learn that. With time. And perhaps a biting hand.
Breaking free of the sweat-slinging crowd, Sunset loomed over the siren, drinks sweating in both hands, blocking the bit of dim light behind her head. Adagio felt no challenge or threat at her meager attempt at imitation, only a lingering sense of thrill at the hunt.
“Come here often?” Sunset smirked down at her.
Adagio laughed a broken, throaty, and clipped note that came with the same sounding pain as pulling a shard of glass out from your foot.
“Only when I’m forced too,” she crackly purred.
Sunset hummed in reply, setting down one of the sugary neon blue and pink drinks next to the siren.
“Careful now,” Adagio chimed in, resting the points of her canines over her lips. “Wouldn’t want someone to… ah, spike your drink.” She slowly dragged her middle finger around the salty, sugary rim.
“Good thing that I’m holding mine then.” Sunset placidly said.
Sunset kneeled down, knee first, into the soft plush velvet love seat that Adagio presided over her makeshift kingdom in. Her knee balanced between Adagio’s legs, she twisted and turned until she sat on top of the arm of the chair, batting her eyelashes at Adagio so close to her face she could feel the minuscule hairs brush her cheek.
“This seat taken?” She asked, feigning dumb kindness.
“It was.” Adagio scowled, sneaking a hand around Sunsets waist, making sure to drag the edge of her acrylic nails against the exposed flesh of her hip. “Then it got taken up by a tall hot glass of skank.”
Sunset took a sip of her drink, letting the sweat from the glass hit Adagio’s face. “Mm. Classy.”
Adagio growled, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. She felt less like a bird trapped in a cage to sing and more of a fish with human teeth that bites when the water stirs, and by Celestia the water was disturbed.
“You know, I’ve tried a lot of things to teach you friendship,” Sunset muttered looking out across the raving sea of bodies with a wistful look in her eyes. “Even some you probably didn’t even notice me doing.”
Adagio felt like gagging. “Why bother, we both know how this little plan ends; you on the leash of that perky purple princess and me actually living a free and wondrous life.”
Sunset turned her head to address the siren. “And how has that wondrous life been lately, hm?”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve to be yanking my tail when you’re the one sitting on my lap.” Adagio gripped her hand into a fist against Sunset’s lower back, yet her prey didn’t so much as flinch.
“You didn’t stop me.” Celestia damned her, what she wouldn’t give to bite that smug tone right out of her neck. “I don’t blame you, by the way. For the battle of the bands.”
“Then you are as stupid as your mentor.” Adagio gruffly barked the words out, relaxing her hand just a little.
“Perhaps.” Sunset gulped down another shot of her drink, setting it to the side. “Perhaps I want to do something stupid to get back at her.”
Adagio leaned forward, brows furrow and licking her lips. “Don’t call me stupid.”
Sunset leaned in for a kiss, breath skirting on the edge of Adagio’s jaw, sending lapping waves of smoke across her lips, down her neck, before dissolving into nothingness across her collarbones.
Even without touching Adagio could taste the bitter vinegar on those lips, like she hadn’t been kissed in so long her tongue almost turned to alcohol with desire. Filled with that yearning you can only find at the bottom of a bottle.
“Take it off,” Sunset whispered almost, chewing the words against Adagio’s ear. Lightly taking Adagio’s hand and guiding it to the edge of the ribbon around her neck. “You’ve earned it.”
Adagio grinned. Finally. Finally, things were going her way. Pinching the edge of the ribbon Adagio pulled, unspooling it from Sunsets neck.
Then Sunset arched her head back, neck bared to Adagio’s face, and she kept going. And going. And going.
With every subsequent horrid crack and snaps of muscles and bone popping air bubbles between them, the green ribbon that had once been neatly tied around Sunsets neck fell away.
And still she bent her neck further and further until the back of her head touched her shoulder blades, and the real reason for the moment became clear.
A puckered pink outline warped around her neck, something that could have been mistaken for a scar, was instead lips to the second mouth between her jugular and chin. Perfectly sliced evenly across the pale flesh of her neck.
The muscles inside Sunset’s body squeezed and relaxed with every breath, and Adagio could see the marrow churning inside the notches of her spine that bent with her head like a slinky down stairs.
Her tongue lolled out, not from the remaining stump of a neck, but from Sunset’s head. Looking down the barrel of her head, a peak of light shone through where her first mouth was, like someone had taken a flashlight and pressed it against fingertips; a dull bruise yellow edging on ripe red.
Rows of teeth, a mismatched human menagerie of yellow, white, even plated gold, plaque ridden teeth gleamed in the low light, glittering like white-hot stars.
They circled around the edge of her neck-mouth. In fact, if it wasn’t so dark, Adagio would have been able to see them underneath her skin before this even happened. Grinning. Laughing. Without ever having to move Sunset’s face.
And then she bit down.
Author's Note
if you can find the meatloaf reference you get a cookie
