"You seem tired," Sonata said.

"I am."

"Why?"

"Sleep. Bad." Artifex rubbed his eyes. "Sorry; tired."

She patted him on the back, nodding while doing so. "Don't worry; I get it. Sometimes I can't sleep either."

"Why?"

"Well, sometimes Aria is up making a lot of noise or yelling at someone or something. It's kinda annoying, to be honest."

Artifex exhaled. Normally, such a conversation with Sonata would have brought an amused smile to his lips, but all it did now was cause him to reflect on his own situation. In doing so, he only grew more and more tired; a detail that was lost on the former Siren.

She sat next to him, and beside her was Rainbow, who was busy talking about something-probably sports; he barely tuned in-with Sunset and Soul. Next to the couple were Rarity and her boyfriend, Clyde. Applejack sat by them, idly sipping a juice box, while Fluttershy calmly ate her lunch. Pinkie and Swift had yet to arrive.

There was an extra seat next to Artifex. Empty and void of a presence, Sonata described it as being "kind of sad looking," and tried to fill it with her backpack. It didn't quite bring out the intended effect. Artifex felt more aware of the absence than he had before.

He stirred his spoon in his soup, one hand resting underneath his chin. He stared down at his tray, absent in thought, staring intently-but without intent-at a single point on the tray. Beside him, Sonata chewed on her sandwich; she had not had to borrow from Artifex this time. It was kind of annoying, hearing her smack the sandwich; but he was tired, and didn't want to tell her to try and be quiet.

He closed his eyes for a second. Drifting, Artifex. You're drifting. Focus. Focus on... what?

His eyes opened, and suddenly, swiftly, he had his hand clenched around the spoon, as if he meant to catch it before it fell. Indeed, just before he had fallen into a sudden and unexpected sleep, the soup left in his spoon had begun to slowly drip off of it and onto the tray. A neat puddle already had formed.

He sighed, a bit louder than he should have, and grabbed his napkin, and wiped the little puddle away. He set the spoon down, no longer feeling hungry.

"Uh, you okay?" came Sonata's voice from his side.

He rubbed his temples, and then ran both hands through the side of his head. "Yes, Sonata, I'm fine, Sonata, just tired, Sonata."

"Ookay? I think? Maybe you should take a nap."

"No. Too early."

"Maybe so, but you look really tired. Like, really, really tired. As in, how tired I was after my amulet broke and I had to put up with Adagio and Aria arguing all the time and I was really hungry but gradually my body adapted to become more human and soon I wasn't as hungry but I was still really, really tired and-"

Artifex tuned her out, lowering his hands back down to his lap. He stared at his soup, face drawn, lips almost etched in a frown.

"It's not going to get any prettier the longer you stare at it."

At first, he thought that was his mind speaking. But as a presence made itself aware behind him, and as he heard Sonata let out a surprised gasp, he realized that it was an actual person. And she was familiar.

"I don't care," he simply said.

"Mmhmm. Is this seat taken?"

"Ye-"

"You can sit there!" Sonata cheerfully interrupted, much to Artifex's hidden annoyance.

"Thank you, Sonata. Girls, guys? You don't mind, do you?"

Sunset waved an acknowledging hand. "It's alright, Adagio. We're all pretty much friends here." She narrowed her eyes. "Unless, of course, this is part of some devious plot to take over the school again."

Adagio half-grinned, half-smirked, and mused, "Well, isn't that a fine idea."

She settled down next to Artifex. He noted that she was careful to avoid bumping elbows with him. On her tray was the school lunch: soup, with a package of crackers next to it.

Seeing his curious half-gaze, she said, with a touch of smugness added in, "I usually get a boy to buy lunch for me. Unfortunately, I had to resort to more... mortal means of getting any food."

"Aw, the food isn't that bad, Dagi!" Sonata exclaimed. "In fact, those tacos are superb!"

"You think that all tacos are superb, Sonata," said Adagio.

"That's not true! For instance, you know that one Mexican restaurant down the road? It's actually a lot worse, I think, than the cafeteria's! And that's saying something!"

"I'll take your word for it."

The others at the table gradually turned away, moving back to whatever was their original conversation. The sounds of the cafeteria-the chomping, biting, laughing-became diluted in the mix of Artifex's thoughts. As aimless as they were, they were plentiful, completely overcoming his raucous background.

"I know my soup looks so delicious, but could you please perhaps stare at your own?"

Aware that, for some reason, his gaze had drifted over to Adagio's soup, Artifex jolted back. "Uh... sorry."

Adagio met his blushing expression with her signature smugness. "Well, at least there's one thing about me that's gotten your attention."

"But that's not..." He cut himself off with a sigh. "Never mind."

"Hmm." She went back to poking at her soup, disinterested, just as he did the same with his.

"You seem..." she started to say after a few moments, but stopped herself.

"No, please, continue," he said, irritation seeping into his voice.

"... colder."

"Mmm."

"So I take it that was a good guess?"

"Mmm." Artifex turned away, twirling the spoon between his fingers.

"Hmph, you are different." Adagio brought her spoon up to her face, almost like she was examining it. "Then again... maybe not so different," she mused.

She glanced at him with fuchsia eyes. "Yeah... now that I think about it-"

"Adagio," he warned.

"—you're much more like how you were when we first met—"

Somehow, when Artifex slammed the spoon onto the tray, it created a much louder sound than he had anticipated. The spoon's end split in half. Everyone else's conversations suddenly ended, replaced with curious and tense silence, as they all turned to him, questions already rushing to pursed lips.

"I'm going for a walk," he said, before anything could be asked. He stood up, not bothering to be subtle about his discomfort; then, he limped away, and was out of the cafeteria moments later.

"Dagi, that wasn't very nice," Sonata said as Artifex's figure vanished.

Adagio raised an eyebrow. "What? I didn't say much."

"Ya obviously said enough," Applejack pointed out. "Ah haven't seen Artifex this mad since that first day."

"Really, dear," Rarity said, "did you have to push his buttons so hard? Why couldn't you just have left him alone?"

Adagio leaned back, eyes closing. "What, like you have?" She opened an eye, seeing a fuming Rarity before her. "I thought friendship was about helping your friends; not pushing them aside and hoping that they'll be able to sort out their problems themselves."

"Why, you-"

"We have been trying to figure out what's up with Arty," insisted Rainbow. "The problem is, he's not the most open of people."

"Which makes it hard for us to even approach him about it," said Soul. "You saw how he reacted just now. Who knows what would have happened if we tried to pull it out of him?"

Adagio opened both eyes and leaned forward, resting her chin on top of her laced-fingertips. "I suppose that's always an issue. Still, at least I pointed out the obvious discrepancy between how he acts now, and how he acted during the first week."

"Yeah, but did you have to do so in such a blunt manner?" Sunset asked.

"Wouldn't you?" Adagio suddenly turned to Sunset. An unknown feeling coursed through her veins, a combination of anger and frustration. "Oh, no, don't tell me; that's not how the 'magic of friendship' works."

"It really doesn't work like that," murmured Fluttershy. "At least, I'm pretty sure it doesn't."

Something closely resembling a thoughtful growl rose out of Adagio's throat. At first, it sounded threatening; Rainbow could be seen clenching her fists. The tension dissipated, however, once they all realized that her attention was no longer fixated upon them, but upon where Artifex had sat.

If the soup had not yet already been so disinteresting, surely now it had become a bowl of metaphorical bleurgh that Adagio disheartenedly stirred. Her other hand cupped around her chin.

What was with Artifex? That question was prominent in her mind, but so was another one. One that was much more surprising and highly irregular of her.

How can I help him?

Snowdrops always were Ruby's favorite flower. Their pure white petals often shined in the moon's glow, and if they had been fortunate to have had a brief, nightly rainfall, in the morning those same leaves would glisten with fresh dew. Ruby had liked snowdrops so much that she, back in Manehattan, had had her own windowsill garden growing outside their apartment.

They bloomed in the lateness of winter and of the early spring, often when there was still snow on the ground (as their name implied). Most did not last into the summer. Ruby's, however, did; the first generation of her snowdrops lasted for an entire year. By the time she was in college, her garden of snow had surpassed many expectations; the fifth generation could theoretically survive a minimum of two years, while also still spreading its seed on the city's wind.

In a way, that was Ruby's special talent. Oh, sure, she might have been a gifted student with a winning streak for volleyball and a penchant for chemistry—and, indeed, her grades, scholarship, and attitude certainly propelled her into those fields—but her passion—and she so clearly made that distinction between "job" and "passion"—was in cultivation; in growing things; in nurturing life.

Perhaps that was why she had been a good teacher for Artifex. Perhaps that was why she still was. And perhaps that was why he had always looked up to her, admired her, loved, adored, and cherished her.

More importantly, that was why her death had crushed him so severely.

These were not random facts, but rather familiar thoughts—at least, to Artifex, as he stood out in the courtyard, staring at the snowdrop that Sonata had planted. Such facts simply reminded him of a better time, a less complicated time. They, combined with the dreams, the nightmares, were remnants of a past he knew he could never let go, never relinquish; never find a peaceful coexistence.

That was the tragedy in tragedy, he supposed. It was simply too abnormal to fully become normal. Incorporating it could only go so far.

How far have I gotten? he wondered.

Artifex's legs began to move. First they directed him around the snowdrop; then, around the tree that lay at the end of the courtyard. They moved him without so much of a care for his thoughts or his mind, like they didn't matter; only movement, only physically continuing, did. In a way, that was true; staying still was a death sentence for him. He'd much rather suffer while moving than suffer while not. Pushing ahead was, really, all he had been able to do. After Ruby's death…and after what he had tried twice.

Those scars on his wrist burned; he rubbed them, hard and fast, then soft and slow, attempting to alleviate his pain. No matter how much he tried, he knew that they would be there for a long time, if not for the rest of his life. No amount of long-sleeves, or smiles, or joy, or sorrow, or anything, would be able to remove those blemishes upon his wrists.

Yet, at the same time, he knew that, if he had to be honest with himself, he would not want to take those scars away.

Lessons. Ruby taught me lessons. She taught me many things. Like how to be a good person; or how to ask questions; or how to learn, and not let formal schooling get in the way of a proper education.

He walked back to the snowdrop and bent down, feeling the sloping leaves. The soil was dry. He fished around his backpack, and took out a small bottle of water.

She taught me how to grow snowdrops; how to care for something that was more helpless than you.

He poured the water around the snowdrop, watching as the soil turned dark and moist.

I just wish she was still around, to teach me some more. Maybe then I wouldn't have to feel this way.

The bottle now empty, he shoved it nonetheless into his backpack, stood, and slung the belonging around his shoulder. He waited a moment, hoping that the snowdrop would wave, or wink, or do something.

It merely stood there, wet, motionless.

So Artifex, dry as opposed to wet, did the same.