Celestia looked down at Twila, smiling as the woman led her through their dance. But like all good things, the music ended, and Celestia gave a small step away, curtsying.

“That was exquisite. Your skill at dance almost matches your abilities in study, Lady Shields,” Celestia said with a joking smile. “Thank you.”

“It was honor to share the moment with you, Princess,” Twila replied, giving her a little bow. “But if you think I’m skilled at any dance other than this, you’d be sorely mistaken.”

She chuckled. “As modest as ever. You really have grown into a woman we all can be proud of.”

“It seems like you’re trying to out modest me,” Twila batted back, chuckling to herself.

Celestia held out her hand to Twila’s, her expression fading a moment as she guided the woman back toward the table. “...If, if we were to pursue something, there will be a lot of things said about you. About us.”

“Paparazzi, you mean?” Twila exhaled with dread, sitting down. “They’ve already been somewhat of a sticking point for me.”

“Paparazzi, the nobles, and, perhaps even the commoners.” She shook her head, a genuine frown on her face. “We can’t pretend you weren’t a former student of mine. It’s going to raise questions—legitimate questions—about us.”

“And from their own view, refusing to answer any would be a sign of weakness. Or that we’re hiding something. Some people can never be pleased…” Twila propped her elbow on the table, resting her head against her hand.

“They would be the least of our concerns,” Celestia said, bridging her hands tightly together as she looked at Twila. “As soon as less scrupulous people hear of this… they’ll see another opportunity to hurt not only myself, but the nation.”

“You’re worried about them using me to get to you,” Twila guessed. “I’m capable enough to deal with a lot of would-be threats and I’m not reckless enough that I don’t know when to retreat and hide.”

“Which is why I almost lost you during the Dmitri fiasco,” the all-folk countered. “Do I need to elaborate?”

As much as she tried to hide it, Twila flinched. “And I’ve learned from that. I wouldn’t want to go back to a time like that again.”

“And I don’t want you to either.” Celestia extended her hand across the table. “But your confession came at an interesting time, Twila. There was a matter I needed to address to your friends here anyway. Doubly so now that you’re…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “If you could gather them in about five minutes time for me and have them meet me behind the stage, I’d like to discuss with them a few things.”

“Very well,” Twila said, getting off her chair and neatly pushing it under the table. “I’ll see you there.”

The newly minted all-folk set about her task, rounding up everyone that was needed. Once done, she reported back to Celestia and they went to the stage, where, for lack of a better word, the crew was assembled. Isabelle, Gilda, Jack, Rarity, Spike and Diane, alongside Chylene, who stood a hair timidly off to the side nearby Gilda. Luna observed them all as they offered a few curious words to one another. Beside her stood Iron Will, looking casually at the people surrounding him.

Twila and Celestia shared a glance before Celestia coughed, drawing the group's attention. She gave a small curtsy in her dress.

“I apologize for your wait, and for pulling you away from the dance. You can rejoin it after I have a moment of your time.” Celestia addressed. “We needed to call your attention regarding a situation.

“Now. I brought you all here to discuss a matter with you.” Celestia clasped her hands behind her back, taking to pacing. “We can all recall what happened a few short years ago involving a certain Dmitri Dorcus, correct?”

Jack took in a slow breath, a wave of emotions washing over her recalling the monster—no, monster was too nice. The devil. The coward that tried to take Rarity away from her. The abomination that nearly killed Jack. Though she normally was reluctant to say it, Jack was glad he was dead, slain by her own two hands and never coming back.

Hearing no answer, Celestia continued. “That situation was a wake-up call for my sister and myself. We had nearly lost the country through subterfuge and our own carelessness. If it wasn’t for every single one of you, Dmitri might of won.”

“I didn’t do shit,” Gilda snapped, drawing Jack’s attention. The griffon-folk took a step towards Jack and clasped a hand on the farmer’s hard shoulder, giving it an aggressive shake. “This bitch, though? This is your gal.”

Jack couldn’t say she liked the language, but eventually, the farmer shook her head. “I jus’ swung where I got pointed. Dash an’ Twila really took care-a the heavy liftin’.”

“You did more than I did, Jackie!” Pinkie chirped, moving to Jack’s other side and giving a pat to the farmer’s free shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“In some way or another, all of you are responsible,” Celestia chimed in. “The humbleness from all of you is astounding, however.” She began pacing, raising a finger up as she lectured. “But to return to point, and why I wanted to speak with you all: I wish to make this nation safer. And, after months of our finest researchers investigating reports, ancient journals, and second-hand accounts, I believe we found a way.”

“Is this going to involve archaeology? An expedition?” Twila asked, eyes shining brightly with curious optimism.

“An expedition. For some of you,” Celestia clarified. “For the others, we’ll require something different.”

“What ya need, highness?” Jack asked, getting straight to the point.

“More things than we care to ask, Jack of the Apple clan,” Luna admitted, stepping forward to speak. “I shall say my piece, then mine sister will speak her own. Two sides of the same coin, each a necessity during these fateful hours,” she stated.

Will gave a whisper to Gilda. Overhearing it with her all-folk senses Luna gave a plain, long-suffering look over to the man. Jack couldn’t help the small smile that came to her; they might not act like it in public, but she had seen firsthand what they were like together away from the prying eye.

Reaching into a satchel at her side, Luna pulled out a piece of cloth, torn and frayed at one side.

“Mayhaps thou could enlighten the room as to what this is, William? Since thou art so eager to get to the 'good stuff' as ye put it.”

Will approached the cloth reluctantly. “Are you trying to make an ass out of me? You know I'm more about weapons than anything.” He brought it to his face; his nostrils flared but he said nothing to this and instead ran it over his fingertips, thinking of a response.

“Texture feels weird. Off. Like silk, but...” Thinking this aloud, he then ran a thumb over a large tear to the cloth's side. “Sleeve of a robe or something, I think. Torn, not cut. Angle makes me think someone pulled it off that was either small or falling.”

Luna nodded. “Thine observations speak truth.” She turned to face Dash. “Lady Isabelle of the Ritter lineage, please offer thine input.”

Jack crossed her arms, waiting with curiosity at Dash’s comments. The sky-folk didn’t look it or act it, but she came from a long line of detectives and some of it had ran off on her. It’d explain how she was always getting better grades than Jack did, at least.

Finally coming to a conclusion, Dash scratched at her cheek. “Think they were trying to make a German weave in the cloth, but kinda messed up the pattern. And the color seems a bit off. Was it waterlogged at one point?”

“Mayhaps,” Luna evasively replied. “The details shall be shown once the cloth makes the rounds. I wish to not influence thine words, as it were.”

“Alright, alright.” Dash passed it on as Jack thought, curious as to what, exactly, the princesses were getting at here. Gilda offered a comment Jack didn’t catch, but she could guess an idea on what it was as it made the rounds across a few other people before coming to Rarity.

“This is more than a simple piece of cloth, Gilda,” Rarity remarked. “Will was correct. It is a silk variant. One I've worked with in the past, as luck would have it, Tomb Fiend.”

“O-oh my,” Chylene stammered out. “That sounds...”

“They ain't as bad as they sound,” Jack drawled out, “probably the only time I'll ever say that 'bout a monster.”

They were bloodsuckers, the size of a bigger house cat and they swarmed, using larger numbers to take down bigger prey. Thing was, though, they weren’t venomous; unless you were sick or elderly, you wouldn’t get taken down easy. Hell, fire—not even a raging one, but a spark—tended to make them scatter. Will said they were decent eating, like an uglier tortoise, but Jack decided some lines didn’t need crossing.

“Moving away from the disgusting things that create the silk, Fiendsilk is a fantastic exotic material for design. It's a shame procuring it is so troublesome.” Rarity sighed with disappointment.

“A difficulty procuring it? How so?” Luna asked, the all-folk putting her arms behind her back.

“They're endangered, of course. Though there are packets here and there of the beasts, they're mostly native to Cabello's western coast. The amount of papers I have to sign in order for me to receive some from a provider of mine is frustrating, to say the least.”

Luna smiled. “As usual, a variety of minds makes a variety of results. Mine sister's assumptions on the matter seem correct.”

Jack raised a brow. “Now, with all due respect, yer highness, but Mac taught me ta never assume anythin'. It—“

Luna's eyes sparked as she recognized the expression. “Oh! I know this one.” She raised a finger. “It makes an ass out thee and myself.”

The earth-folk’s shoulder's slumped in defeat. “I... I was jus' gonna say it gets ya in trouble,” she muttered.

The revelry died moments later. Luna's smile bled out and she made sure everyone was paying attention.

“The cloth you examined, friends, was in the hand of king Fredrick, the leader of the island of Germany. Or, rather, the former king of Germany. He fell off the balcony in his bedroom. The body was found hours later, bloated from the waters he landed within. That cloth the only thing still within his dead hands.”

Rarity looked down at the fabric and winced, quickly stepping forward to give it back to Luna, then wiping her hands in disgust.

“I think I know where this is headed,” Dash said, putting her arms at her hips.

“I hath no doubt that thou made a connection,” Luna agreed.

Jack raised a brow, looking between the two. “How 'bout ya spell it out fer us less brilliant types.”

“If that cloth was from the person that killed them, the stuff is regulated to the point where even Rarity has to write down all the ins and outs of scoring it, and there weren't any reports about a rich set of clothes like that being stolen around the time of the murder, then we might be able to see who it was sold to,” Dash shrugged. “Seems easy to me, hayseed.”

“Why us, though?” Jack asked, ignoring the jab and turning her attention to Luna. “I ain't sayin' I won't help, but this seems like somethin' the guard or police would deal with instead.”

Several agreeing nods went through the room, but Will shook his head.

“I'd take my students over any guard. We work good together.”

“Familiarity is a strong guardian in and of itself, ye, William,” Luna agreed. “I know thou and mine sister would be ones I would take to my side over fifty well-trained strangers.” She turned to Jack. “As for thine statement, Jack Apple, daughter of Johnny, thine view is true in a normal situation. However politics—“ Luna's nose wrinkled in disgust— “hath forced our hand upon a troublesome path indeed. Germany sits at the brink of war with the island of France.”

“Over the king slaying,” Dash guessed. “Bet your blue-collar boys think that the frenchies were responsible for his death.”

“A correct assumption,” Luna agreed with a brush of her hair. She looked towards her sister, who gave a slight nod for the Nightwalker to continue. “According to one of our spies, a popular theory is that a soul-folk had changed into a gnat or cricket and infiltrated the castle.”

Rarity looked to Twila, then Luna. “A gnant? That cannot be possible, can it?”

“While we may hath the ability to alter our bodies, shape-changing to an animal? Verly, tis' beyond my own ability, mayhaps mine sisters as well.” Luna agreed.

“I've never seen the need, personally. I don't think I could, though,” Celestia answered.

The group unanimously turned to Twila. The soul-folk gave a brush of the star-shaped mark on her cheek, a bit embarrassed at the attention.

“It's theoretically possible. But not probable.”

She continued on for a long, drawn out moment, expanding on the idea and offering more insight. Jack’s head hurt until she all but tuned it out. She never was one with a big imagination, and hearing all this talk about possibilities was stupid considering the truth was something far more simple nine times out of ten.

Jack saw that she had finally stopped talking and blinked.

“A 'no' woulda been fine with me,” the farmer muttered out.

“I thought the princesses would appreciate an in-depth analysis.”

“I did, Twila, thank you,” Celestia said, beaming with pride at her student.

“If it's so impossible, why is that even a theory?” Rarity questioned, tilting her head.

“War and rumors of war bring mankind to the greatest of paranoia. A fact Luna and I can attest to.”

Luna gave a wordless nod in agreement.

“We're getting off track. I'm sure the girls want to get back to it,” Will said, cocking a thumb to the dance floor behind the stage's curtain.

“My apologies,” Luna said, bowing towards the group. “To make a long story short—“

“Too late,” Will interrupted, not phased in the slightest by Luna's glare.

“—The reason we cannot afford troops to investigate is twofold: a majority of our soldiers are making haste to France to help quell the riots, any that did not receive orders to travel eastward have been instructed to help guard the country's borders and docks. The scant few not doing this are the personal guard of Celestia, myself, and Mi Amorie Cadanza of Spain.”

“Who?” Jack questioned Rarity. The tailor put a hand to Jack’s collarbone and leaned into her, speaking in a low whisper.

“A noble, one that Twila has had connections to over the years as a friend. Not to mention her brother has been courting Cadanza.”

Jack looked flatly at Rarity. “Hold the damn phone. Twila has a brother?”

Rarity blinked. “Of course, dear. You’ve met him a time or two.”

“Have I?” she asked, scratching at her brow in thought. “I dunno. I don’t remember Twi talkin’ none ‘bout him. But maybe I have.”

“He has a very distinct face, I’m sure the next time I’m able to point him out, you’ll realize who it is.”

“If ya say so.”

Will let out a belly laugh towards something beyond what she heard; Jack swore to herself, unbelieving that she missed so much of another conversation during her question to Rarity.

“You can smell magic too, I bet,” Will said, finishing a sentence that Jack would never hear begin.

Gilda looked perplexed. “Can't everybody?”

“No,” Chylene said.

“Nope!” Pinkie cheerfully chimed in.

“Only the real strong stuff,” Jack added in with a degree of uncertainty as she returned to the tail end of the conversation. Though regarding smell, she was pretty sure she could. At least, from what she could tell. Strong magic seemed to all but burn her nose, same with certain monsters that lurked around—you’d be mad not to be able to smell them.

“The point is proven,” Luna concluded, taking the floor once more. “Which returns us to a previous juncture in the conversation: if the beast has connections, then it's plausible they will have record of soldiers and will most assuredly see to traveling to a less-used port in a smaller town. Such a town would be within the western side of Cabello, which just so happens to be a locale that deals with our silk. Not to mention that after the king slaying, many such commercial ships were delayed, limiting the potental transit routes our murder would hath open for their blackened heart."

“That's gotta be it. And it's probably why we'd be a good call going instead of soldiers. if they randomly saw some guards around in the middle of fuc—“ Dash caught herself, minding the royalty in the room. “—uh town. Freaking town. It'd be all the more reason for the thing, whatever it is, to bail.”

“Which is why we're sending someone they wouldn't expect,” Celestia said. The Daywalker's motherly gaze turned to Gilda.

Gilda’s jaw dropped. “You're kidding. Me?”

“Gilda?” Rarity hissed out, her expression almost mirroring the griffon-folk’s own.

“Thou,” Luna agreed. “Thine record makes ye perfect for the job. Dozens of misdemeanors, warnings, even a felony charge that, while dropped, remains accessible on thine records.” Luna offered a smile to try and remove the tension. “If anything, they may approach thee to do work.”

“And, going by my record, I could just join them,” Gilda said. Jack raised a brow but said nothing.

“But you won't,” Celestia warmly said.

Gilda seemed to pause. She finally came around and shook her head.

“No. I won't.”

“Then who better to search the town and ask questions?” Celestia cheerfully asked, clapping her hands together as if that sealed the deal.

“By herself?” Chylene stammered out.

“Isabelle is helping out too,” Luna said. She beckoned Will over, then gestured towards the door leading to a stairwell. Gilda followed behind, giving a small nod to Jack on their way out. Dash and Chylene left as well, leaving the group at half mast.

“Sendin’ the best and brightest off already, huh?” Jack joked.

“Well, they’re going to have a rather difficult time with their own worries. No need to further complicate things, considering your job will be just as difficult.”

“And what, pray tell, would that job entail?” Rarity questioned. Celestia crossed her arms under her breasts and glanced to everyone.

“Are you all familiar with the Holy Grail?” Celestia questioned.

Pinkie cleared her throat, taking a step forward. “It’s the really shiny gold mug that everyone who’s anyone wants to drink out of, right?”

“I don’t really know its color, Diane,” the princess remarked.

“Heard it’s what Jesus drank out of at Last Supper,” Jack remarked. “Accordin’ ta the stories.”

“Perhaps he did,” Celestia answered. “A few records indicate just that. Some others mention a Celtic ceremony where a group of soul-folk that called themselves ‘druids’ performed hundreds of master-level spells.”

“I’m to presume this grail is the key to why you’ve pulled us aside?” Rarity questioned.

“Correct. The grail, if we can find it, holds a tremendous power. They say the man who drinks from it would walk among the gods themselves, if the person who drinks from it is considered worthy, they would gain near omnipotence and omniscience,” she said, then gestured out toward where Luna had departed. “Tragedies like the assassinations you just heard about would be a mere thing of the past.”

“Provided the person who drunk from the grail acted justly,” Rarity said.

Celestia looked towards the tailor. “Yes,” she said simply. “I gave a solemn vow to my father to always uphold Cabello’s people and the laws that govern it. If I were to get the grail I would act.”

Looking between the two and the serious expression on Rarity’s face, Jack decided to quickly ask another question. “How do ya expect ta find it?”

“My mother, Guinevere, was searching for it during the latter part of her life. Until recently, I thought her research was lost to the sands of time. Recently, however, we found new evidence to suggest that she was close. Very close to finding it.”

“What was it?” Twila asked.

“A journal. I thought it was of my father’s. But I was wrong. It was my mother's and she spoke of tracking the location of the grail. She had traced it to western Scandinavia according to the journal.”

“That was years ago; Guinevere died before I was born even. Sounds ta me like it’d be a damn needle in a haystack tryin’ ta find the thing. It could be anywhere by now,” Jack said.

“It could. But it’s not.”

Rarity looked to the Daywalker. “And you know this how?”

“My mother’s notes offered a rudimentary tracing spell. Though my father was more renowned for his exploits, my mother also trained under Merlin.” She looked to Twila. “Many of the lessons she taught to me I taught to my own students.”

Twila smiled, waiting for Celestia to continue.

“She had a spell to trace the grail—rudimentary, far from pinpoint—but I followed her notes and can promise the grail is at least still on the continent.”

“How did she discover a spell like that?” Twila questioned. “I know tracing the magical essence of a person is possible from that distance, but an object?”

“What are precious metals used for in magic?” Celestia asked the woman.

“An enhancer that increases potency, usually.”

“Precisely. Though her magic aptitude, she searched through the laylines that crossed the world. Mother found one instance of a grail-shaped object with magical properties nearby.” Celestia crossed her arms in thought. “I lack my mother’s savant ability with magic, but I channeled the spell myself. Though an exact location eludes me, the grail is still somewhere in Scandinavia, owned, buried or otherwise.”

Jack stood tall, putting her hands behind her back and locking her legs at either side in an almost militaristic pose. “When ya need me?” she asked. “I’ll need ta ride back home ta get my gear, but I can leave tonight.”

“What?” Rarity asked the farmer.

“Ya heard her. She needs me fer this.”

Rarity stared at Jack for a long moment. Finally seeming to come to a conclusion, she stepped to Jack’s side, looking squarely at Celestia, challenging her.

“Then you’ll need my assistance as well.”

Jack seemed ready to protest, then shook her head. “Should I even start with ya?”

Rarity let out a small huff. “I would not recommend it.”

“It might be dangerous.”

“Do not take me for stupid, Jack Apple. I am well aware of the risks. Why else would I be traveling with you? Someone has to make sure you don’t get your foolish self hurt.”

Jack took in a breath, then reached to clasp Rarity’s hand. “I ain’t leavin’ ya behind if yer that dead set.” Looking over to Celestia, she added one simple word: “Right?”

“Would it stop you if I said ‘no?’” Celestia asked with a raise of her brow.

“Would it be treason ta say ‘too damn bad?’”

Celestia smiled. “Only if I ordered it. And, frankly, I’m demanding so much of your time I should be bending over backwards to accommodate you. But, knowing I’ll have Jack the Ripper as my right hand woman for this does ease my heart.”

Jack the Ripper. It wasn’t a name Jack liked hearing, but it was a nickname she had earned after the fiasco with Dmitri. After they had saw her handiwork on his body, after they had saw her talent with a sword—talent, rather than skill: Jack still felt like she was nowhere near ‘skilled’ yet, and had just lucked out—the papers had taken to calling her that. The name held a power to it, one that discouraged bandit raids around the country’s isolated towns and hamlets.

She couldn’t be everywhere, but the rumor of her and her name coming to deal retribution was enough to if not outright kill bandit attacks, then slow them down enough that the army, police, or even the royal guard could travel from their stations and lend aid to the populace of the towns. Cabello had its share of spoiled apples, but Jack was grateful that it was less than one could expect from the amount of people in the country. Realizing once again that she was zoned out and not answering Celestia, Jack offered a stiff bow to the all-folk.

“Thank ya, grace.”

“Wow, good luck, guys,” Spike said, reaching up to scratch at an ear.

“That’s not everyone traveling with me. We’ll also have a more… unorthodox addition.”

She stared at Spike; he paused, still mid scratch, and his jaw dropped.

“Wait, what?” he squeaked out.

“I have no expectations of you having to fight, but men from before my time, maybe even my father’s time, worshiped dragons. They lived in a sort of coexistence with one-another. The dragons would help pillage other island countries like England in exchange for a share of the loot. Their arrangement worked so well, the soul-folk among those ancients created doors that only dragon blood could open.” She smiled at the boy. “If the grail lies within a crypt, you may be our best hope at getting it out without months of excavation.”

“If Spike’s coming, then I am too,” Twila said, stepping up close to the boy.

“Twila.” Celestia put a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t let that request through.”

“What?” Twila demanded, brow furrowing. “If this is the time you actually start giving me actual royal duties...”

“It is indeed,” Celestia agreed. “I’m traveling to Scandinavia and Luna has an important role of her own to fill.”

“Well,” Twila looked from Spike to Celestia, then sighed quietly. “I know you’ll take better care of him than I can, at least. But regarding these duties, I’m not sure I will ever be as efficient as you are.”

“You’ll learn.” She smiled sweetly at the woman.

Two hands suddenly pressed down on Jack’s head; Pinkie pushed down and lept over Jack, throwing her legs to either side to clear Jack’s head and very nearly kicking Rarity in the face. “But what about me?!” she asked, landing right in front of the farmer.

“What about you?” Celestia questioned, tilting her head. “I thought you would be perfect for assisting Twila here. You’re just the woman to bring a smile to her face. She could use that now, Diane.”

“B-But,” she stammered, her gaze drifting away to the young man beside the group. “Spike’s going to be out there too.”

“Do you know what we might see there?” Celestia cautiously asked. “I mean no insult, but this won’t be a game. Do you have an idea how to defend yourself if it came to it?”

Pinkie folded her arms across her chest, her fingers tapping her arm impatiently. “You really think I don’t have some tricks up my sleeves?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know you’ve never taken a combative role at the academy.”

“Would ya trust my word?” Jack offered, stepping in. “If she ain’t ready, then Rare an’ I can get her ready.”

Celestia measured the farmer, a raise of her brow and a thoughtful frown came to her as she took stock of Jack’s stance and expression.

It seemed like days before Celestia continued on, but, finally, she nodded. “You’ve shown your strength. I’ll believe whatever you decide on.”

“One second!” Pinkie cried, holding up a hand. “There’s one more opinion I want…” She walked over to her date, crouching down and holding his hands. “Do you want me along, Spike? It might seem like a silly question but ya gotta be sure.”

“Why would you think any other way?” Spike asked, looking down at her. “Of course I want you with me. If you’re cool with it, anyway.”

“I just thought you were gonna go all over-protective on me,” Pinkie responded, smiling and ruffling his hair. “‘Cause we both know it’d totally be the other way around.”

He blushed. “I… uh, appreciate it?”The young man coughed and approached closer to Celestia and Jack. “When are we leaving, by the way?”

“Two days time. Is that adequate?”

“But Rarity takes at least three days to pack all her things!” Pinkie exclaimed, grinning innocently.

“I’m sure if we rush her, we might get it down ta fifty hours,” Jack answered, doing her best to keep her voice neutral.

“Some of us like to prepare for every scenario,” Rarity said with a dissatisfied turn of her head.

“Bein’ scared yer purple pants ain’t gonna match a shirt ain’t no scenario,” Jack countered. “An’ how many changes of underwear ya need? Jesus.”

“If that’s the case, we should hurry up and get ready,” Spike quickly said, getting between the two.

Pinkie cleared her throat loudly, tapping her foot on the floor. “But there’s still a party going on.”

Twila nodded at her. “She has a point. Celestia all invited us here for more than business reasons, I imagine,” she said, smiling up at her former mentor.

“Of course. It was a brief unpleasantry in what I hope will continue to be a lovely night for you all,” she agreed. After a beat, she winked at Twila. “In fact, I think I could go for another dance””

Twila’s smile widened and she gave a bashful laugh. “O-oh, really? Great! What are we waiting for?” she asked, taking Celestia’s hand and walking off the stage.

Jack and Rarity exchanged a half-smile with one another. “Well, when in Rome…” Jack remarked, taking Rarity by the hand and following dutifully after the Daywalker and her former student.

Spike looked to Pinkie. Pinkie looked to Spike. Finally, out of nowhere, she jumped towards him, exclaiming in one sudden breath, no real pause to her words, “Spikiecatchme!”

He let out a surprised yelp at her weight filling his arms and his legs gave out, tilting them both flat onto the stage floor.

Author's Notes:

For anyone curious about the missing pieces of the conversations in this chapter, well, I'm doing a story that's concurrent with this timeline centered around Gilda, hence the splitting of the two groups. I was originally going to go back and forth between each party in one story, but it got pretty dumb pretty quick, not only from size, but from the fact each serve as two separate genres, with this being more straightforward and centered around a theme, and Gilda's more a character piece and Lovecraftian vibe. I got a good groundwork on it already, so don't worry, won't be a 3 year gap before I post it. Just thought I'd share.