“They’re callin’ fer us,” Jack said, already dressed up in her armor, looking as handsome to Rarity as a soldier in uniform.

“Go ahead, darling,” Rarity replied, looking over her hair with a conjured mirror, the blue illumination of the frame strange and flickering, casting otherworldly shadows on the walls. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

Jack watched as the soul-folk began the arduous motion of applying eyeliner in sure, even strokes across her lashes and seemed to consider saying something, but instead brushed it off, giving a nod as a reply before she left the room and the telltale sounds of her footsteps went down the stairs.

Hearing her leave, Rarity breathed a sigh of relief. Not that Jack was gone, but that she finally had a second to herself—there was a clear difference between the two concepts to her and there was a necessity for clarification in her eye.

Alone gave her a moment to think. Think selfish thoughts.

She wished Jack and herself were back home, that Celestia had not drafted Jack for assistance—Why Jack? Rarity wondered. William or Gilda or Isabelle would have been just as effective in regards to a personal guard and it would have left the farmer to investigate that town in Cabello. A job Jack and herself might very well have finished by now, and they would be back home and listening to jazz albums and drinking tea. Neither would have to put up with this abysmal country, or questioning Celestia’s worth in regards to the grail. Rarity wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

The thought made her frown deepen. Curious, she gave a gesture and conjured a second mirror, this one behind her and levitating to where she could see its reflection from the mirror she was currently looking at.

The marks across her back were obvious, three wide gashes hastily stitched up and doctored to the best of Jack’s albeit limited abilities. It would be a miracle if they didn’t scar. The thought of having scars, visible, garish ones made her feel off-kilter. She should be aghast at her body, her beauty being marred as such, and the thought of what the upper crust would say on noticing her marks mortified her—they already questioned her newfound musculature, which she lied about, claiming yoga as the culprit rather than swordplay. If they discovered these, what could she do? She could lie, admittedly, claim something as innocent as falling from a horse was the guilty party, but what could make three claw marks so perfectly down her back? No stone or branch, that was for sure.

Not to mention the reaction if Jack found out Rarity lied about the wound, she’d be…

What, exactly?

Rarity paused, moving to put on lipstick. Debating among all the colors she brought, she decided on a deep cherry red, then moved onto her nails.

Jack would be nothing more than a little pained, if Rarity had to guess.

Pained that it was her fault that Rarity got hurt, pained that Rarity had to lie to not feel as bad about her injury, maybe pained at the fact Rarity had to lie in order to fit in.

She wished Jack understood why she did everything in her power to appear high-end among the elite, why she spent so much time researching just what tickled their fancy, what drew public interest. Anyone else she had been with had some knowledge of the cliques that ran Manhattan, the starlets of Camelot, the musicians of the shores. Anyone else she had been with had known the value of a silver tongue. Not Jack.

Jack had, on more than one occasion, made an ass of herself at parties, had talked and told crass stories, had gotten into a fistfight at one even. She did not care in the slightest for almost the entire clique Rarity had attached herself to.

That was not a bad thing, she mentally defended Jack despite the admonishments.

And that was true, the fistfight was centered around Rarity’s honor—an ex that she had left on rough terms spoke poorly of her, so Jack took him outside and showed what happened when years of hard labor met years of art school. The stories, too, were not as crass as some things that were said there, but rather than innuendo-filled words and mannerisms—lovemaking devolved into mere conquest —Jack instead spoke fondly of her sister and her first attempts at Macintosh, herself, and her grandmother toilet training the girl.

Jack drove her wild and she was sort of grateful for it. Jack was freedom to her through her simple ways. Beautiful and unafraid, as powerful and dynamic as a volcano, as friendly as a spring day, and a less-seen side as gentle as a moonlit field. A soft side that only the closest to her knew of. Her vulnerable side. The side Rarity had the pleasure to see during the days of idle on the farm, the side she saw when Jack would talk to Bloom. The side when they made love. It was this quiet, only seen occasionally part of her that let Rarity harbor something within herself that was much the same. A part of her only a select few could see. The part that put aside formalities, put aside the delicate mannerisms a lady should have and instead was a hard thing, able to stand right alongside Jack through her trials. Granted, the trails were usually dirty, and, as much as she hated to think of it, her hands were far from clean now, another thing that separated her from the elite she so tried to emulate. Even then, for Jack, Rarity wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty, to walk the same trails as the earth-folk.

She just needed a bath afterwards.

See? That’s what introspection grants you, dear, she reprimanded herself. No great discovery about yourself, no hidden revelation regarding Jack. It’s simply treading old ground. You’re still your majestic, graceful self, with a few new beauty marks, that’s all.

Finally done with her makeup, she gave a look over her face once more, and then concentrated her magic to her body. The cast around her broken finger seemed to recede into her skin, gone within seconds of channeling her magic. Likewise, the wounds on her back closed up, becoming red scars, then fading to white lines, before vanishing completely off her body, letting her back become unblemished.

The illusion spell would need to be reapplied throughout the day, but at least this way she felt better about her situation, having a sort of makeup on that only a soul-folk could manage. The others wouldn’t have to know about her injuries this way, and she could have something to concentrate on during their travels.

Nodding to herself, she finally moved to the door and shut this part of her life closed.

Rarity tromped downstairs into the main lobby of the inn, where a few scattered men and women sat by the counter. Despite it being a mere ghost of last night, the place was already livelier than it was yesterday morning and, as she headed towards the door, the people there spoke to her, thanking her, raising their mugs as they passed by, even the barkeep gave a nod of respect her way and, as she made her way to the cooler air outside held, she felt a smile creep her way. Jack was already outside waiting for her amidst the group and she gave a concerned look Rarity’s way.

“Sug, ya ok?” Jack asked.

“As fine as I can be, considering what we’re about to do,” Rarity agreed, dismissing the worry on Jack’s face. “I hate walking on dirt roads, it gets my boots filthy.”

“I’ve got a whole list of travelling songs for the trip!” Pinkie said, suddenly standing next to Jack, her arm over her shoulders. “And campfire songs for when we sleep under the stars! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

Celestia smiled. “I hope so, Diane. I’m sure you’ll make the travels fun.”

“I’ll keep our spirits up! You just worry about keeping our bodies safe,” she replied, winking.

Celestia’s smile widened. “Sounds like a fair trade.”

“Soooo…” Pinkie trailed off, darting her head about. “Where’s the horses and cart?”

“Town this small? I’d reckon not, sug. We’d have ta go ta Freya fer ‘em. Hell,” she gave a gesture around them. “Do ya even see a stable?”

“You mean we’ll have to walk?” Pinkie asked.

“Is that a foreign concept to you, dear?” Rarity questioned. “You’ve walked from St. Charles to the school before. Just think of it like that. Only we, um, have no idea when it’s ending.”

Pinkie threw her hands up in the air, waving them in front of Rarity. “We can’t make a lady like yourself walk all those countless miles! That’s madness!”

“Madness is a lady like myself slaying monsters. A walk sounds refreshing in comparison,” she countered, tilting her nose upward. “Frankly, I’ll walk over riding horses in the first place. They’re almost as filthy as cattle or pigs.”

It was a lie, she loved the horses back on the farm, but it made her feel better complaining regardless.

Pinkie sighed, her fringe flicking up as she exhaled. “Fiiine. But you lot better be quick! There’s no time to waste!”

With one last look over the town, the group departed.

Though the air had taken on a chill compared to mere weeks back, the group made their way through the fields of the countryside with little effort. The hours bled away, taking them miles away from the town and civilization in general. Nobody talked much, not until evening, when they set up a meager camp and ate some bread and cheese Spike had got from the innkeep.

Pinkie clapped her hands together, looking over the little spot where they had set up. “Great work, everyone! We made some real good progress.” She paused, frowning. “I think.”

“Yeah, uh, jus’ when are we gettin’ there, Celestia?” Jack asked. “I don’t mind walkin’ when I need ta, but usually I know where I’m headin’ when I’m doin’ it.”

Dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, Celestia shut her eyes. Right when Jack thought the all-folk had taken to ignoring the question, she opened her eyes again, the faintest spark of magic fading from them.

“If we keep up this pace, I would believe we’ll be there in two days time.”

“And do you know where ‘there’ is, exactly?” Rarity asked, rubbing at her foot as she sat by the fire Spike had constructed.

“That I do not know. I believe it may be underground, judging by its elevation being lower than the lowest point we crossed today. But as for what sort of underground, that’s a mystery.”

“Oooo, spelunking! Maud and I used to love doing that when we got the chance!” Pinkie said fondly.

“Yer sister?” Jack asked. “Can hardly keep track of yer kin.”

“They like to keep to themselves, so I don’t blame ya.” She flashed Jack a cheeky grin, pointing to herself. “Betcha didn’t know I’m a twin, either.”

“Darling, I’ve known you longer than Jack and I didn’t know that.”

The only thing Pinkie could offer Rarity was a shrug, along with the words, “You never asked.”

“Ya know, half the stuff ya say I ain’t never asked ‘bout, then ya keep the twin business close ta heart.” Jack chuckled. “Full-a surprises.”

Suddenly, Pinkie perked up, exclaiming, “Surprises! Right! We need to sort out whose doing watch duty when so we don’t get any nasty surprises. Those ones are the worst.”

“I’ll take third,” Celestia remarked. “Typical attacks happen at about four in the morning. It would be best if I handled them.”

“We ain’t doin’ much guard duty if yer the one watchin’ over us,” Jack remarked. “Me an’ Rare can do it instead.”

“And I’ll just snatch first watch if you all don’t mind…” Pinkie slipped in.

“Very well,” Rarity agreed. “As long as you wake us up at the slightest disturbance.”

“When should I watch?” Spike asked.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. There’s usually one person that gets a full sleep. Yer jus’ the lucky dog that has that happenin’ tonight,” Jack answered.

“Aw dang it, I didn’t realize that would be a thing!” Pinkie cried, kicking the dirt.

“Always tomorrow, considerin’ we’re a few days out, goin’ by what Celestia is sayin’,” Jack offered.

Pinkie nodded at her. “Then tomorrow it’ll have to be!”

Bedtime came for the group, and it was without preamble that they split, each retiring to a meager bedroll, save for Pinkie, who sat by the fire, taking her job surprisingly seriously. While her eyes were hard at work watching for beasties, her hands made themselves busy juggling her knives.

A snap from a twig drew her attention over to the shadow.

She shot up immediately, holding an arm back, ready to throw a knife, while her free hand was outstretched in front of her. “Who’s there?!”

“Jesus,” Jack breathed out. “Relax, Diane. It’s me.” She came out from the shadow to join Pinkie, looking alarmed at the woman’s reaction.

“Oh!” Pinkie giggled, dropping her stance. “Sorry! But I like to take my job very seriously. Were you doing some business in a bush or something?”

“Passin’ water count as a business?” Jack questioned, raising a brow.

“Well if you just wanna be blunt and saying peeing, sure…”

“Oh. That’s what ya meant by business.” Jack rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment. “That shoulda clicked with me.”

“Nah, I’m sure you’re just sleepy.” Pinkie sat down, resuming her playful handling of her knives. “Good thing there’s a snuggly bedroll with your name on it!”

“Not fer long. Got watch soon.” Jack moved to sit down, her back to the fire as she looked out to the blackness of the evening.

Pinkie blinked, putting her knives away. “That time already?”

“Gettin’ there. Ain’t much fer sleepin’ right now anyway.”

Pinkie frowned, shuffling closer. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ that ya need ta worry about.”

She just laughed, waving a hand at Jack. “Silly, you know you’re not going to hide from me now that you spilled the beans.”

Jack remained silent for a long, long time, mulling her words over. Finally, she shrugged. “I don’t want ya ta think anythin’ less of what we’re doin’ or who we’re travelin’ with. Jus’ gonna keep my mouth shut. I shouldn’t have said nothin’.”

“So you’re just gonna brood away and let your thoughts nibble at you, like rats on cheese, until one day it all gets too much and you’ve got a million holes in you?” After a brief silence, she coughed into her hand. “Talk to me, Jackie.”

“Do ya really think the grail’s the smart thing ta go for? Do ya really think we should bother with it?” Then, adding on in a lower tone, “Do ya think Celestia should have it?”

“Why shouldn’t she? Who else could have it?” Pinkie asked, tilting her head.

“Nobody. Nobody should have the damn thing,” Jack said. “An’ why? Because she’s human. An old as hell one, but a human.”

Diane narrowed her eyes, struggling to get to the crux of it all. “So? What’s your point?”

“My point?” Jack repeated, a hair exasperated. “How ‘bout we all make mistakes. That good enough? How ‘bout what she thinks is right might not be right ta us now? How ‘bout if we don’t get the damn chance ta mess up as a society, we ain’t gonna amount ta nothin’.”

Pinkie’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Riiiight. I get it. You don’t want us to take the easy road, right?”

“I ain’t sayin’ we need ta go uphill both ways in the snow, but if I hadn’t gotten kicked down enough, I wouldn’t have became the woman I am now.”

“Well, I’m not the authority on this kinda thing but who's to say if this Jack next to me is better or worse than another Jack, who never experienced that kinda thing?” Pinkie asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“I do. I say it. If I had jus’ grew up another pampered punk, I wouldn’t know shit ‘bout takin’ care-a people. Of my family, my friends. I wouldn’t know what sacrifice fer other people was. I wouldn’t know none-a that. An’ that ain’t nobody I wanna be,” Jack argued, though her attention never broke from the line of woods they were by, as if she dared something to even attempt attacking her.

“I know what you’re saying, and I kinda agree but…” Pinkie hummed, twiddling her thumbs. “There’s gotta be a limit to how much you gotta suffer, right? Am I any less of a person than you ‘cause I’ve never had to save anyone from some big scary monster?”

“No. Yer you. I’m me. I jus’ know what I woulda been without rough patches ta get my damn head on straight.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Jackie. The Jack I knew long ago still knew what hardship was. Farm work couldn’t have been easy after all!” Her voice dropped quieter, just barely above a whisper. “And looking after Bloom all those years… you think that wasn’t hardship too?”

Jack’s brow narrowed as she looked at a quick flicker of something within the darkness. On finally realizing it was simply a raccoon, she continued to talk. “I never thought of it like that too hard. Watchin’ her grow up all these years? It’s a privilege. It was hard, but it’s jus’ like farm work, ya reap what ya sow.”

“Exactly!” Pinkie suddenly cried. “What you sow. I’m sure you didn’t have to take such an active role in Bloom’s life but you did it anyway and you learnt from that, right?”

“Do ya really think it’s the same thing? A kid teaches ya humility. Somethin’ like the grail…?” She shook her head. “No. I was dumb before. Never really thought ‘bout what could happen.” Crossing her arms, Jack narrowed her brow. “But the hell can I do ‘bout it now? Nothin’. Nothin’ aside from tryin’ ta talk her out of it, an’ she’ll think I’m Goddamn crazy if I do now.”

“She’s not a tyrant, Jackie. And she isn’t a stuck up noble either. She’s your friend.” Pinkie gazed over at the all-folk, serenely asleep. “You should be able to talk to her like any other.”

“Should. An’ I’m gonna. But…” Reaching down, Jack picked up some dirt and ran it between her fingers. “Ya ever get somethin’ stuck in yer head that ya know ya gotta do? No if ands or buts?”

Pinkie ran a thumb against her chin. “You mean like planning parties? ‘cause I always know I need to do them for friends.”

“An’ what happens if someone stuck a finger in yer face and said ya couldn’t? Even though ya think they’d make yer friends happy?”

She sat in silence for a few moments, her brow furrowing in thought. “I suppose… I’d just do it anyway and ignore the one party pooper.”

Jack offered a wry smile. “Well, I think me an’ Rare might be the party poopers here, sug.”

“Well, I, uh…” Pinkie fumbled with her words a bit, before coming to a single question, “You’re not gonna back out and go home now, are you?”

“Celestia’s a good woman. I know that, you know that. If she wasn’t, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place.” Jack’s brow creased with thoughts, clearly caught between a rock and a hard place. “An’ it’s… she’s a responsibility, ya know? Ya don’t jus’ give up on a job because it’s hard.”

Pinkie flashed her a small smile. “You’re good person too, for keeping on trucking with this.” Her expression then shifted, adopting a serious stare that was rare on the girl. “But you need to figure out when you’re gonna spill the beans to her. It’s gonna be reeeal easy for her to tell when your heart isn’t in it anymore. And I know you, Jackie, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll talk ta her soon. I promise. Jus’ gotta think, ya know?”

“Guess you got the perfect time to do that now.” Pinkie stood up and crept over to her bedroll, slotting herself in like a card within a deck. “Juuust keep watch too, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Have a good night, Jackie.” Giving her a wave, Pinkie then laid her head down and wiggled her way closer to the resting form of Spike.

Jack looked down at her hands. The worn and calloused things that had seen so much in so little time, then back to the darkness that threatened to swallow their meager light. No words would be said that night, and no sleep would let her quell the conflicting thoughts circling in her head.