Jack shuffled slightly on her feet as she stared down the long hallway she was stationed at, her back firmly against a heavyset wooden door. Despite her best efforts, she let out a yawn, earning her the reproach of the other woman that stood nearby.

“Stop that shit,” Gilda growled out. “It's not even ten yet. We don't swap for another three hours.”

“I ain't exactly an all-nighter. Early ta bed an' early ta rise, ya know?”

Gilda gave a scowl and grunted, crossing her arms and leaning back against the door. “This is stupid. All we've done is stand around and look down an empty hall. At least everyone else is actually patrolling.”

Jack shook her head slowly in thought. “What time ya reckon the fella would get here, if he's plannin' on takin' Luna and Celestia out?”

“Very early morning, I guess. Keeps people disoriented.” Gilda brushed off a piece of lint from her worn shoulder pads.

“Wouldn't the princesses know that?”

Gilda blinked. “I suppose so. I mean, Luna has been training with military tactics since she was a child.”

“Then if he wanted ta actually have an advantage, he'd have ta do it at an earlier time—since Luna would be ready that early, right?” Jack stopped briefly, a rare insightful thought crossing her mind. “Now, I ain't a genius by any means--”

“Obviously,” the snow-haired woman agreed.

Jack ignored the reply. “But there's somethin' not right 'bout all this. Jus' seems a bit too, I dunno, obvious. Why would ya pretty much announce yer plan ta kill an all-folk? There are so many fellas patrollin' right now that it's gonna be hard as hell sneakin' past 'em, let alone takin' down Will.” Jack gave a nod of her head towards the room they were guarding. “An shoot, Twila ain't no slacker neither.”

“Might just be dumb and arrogant, hick.”

“Whoever it is managed ta get away from Twila last night—that ain't dumb.”

Gilda sighed, crossing her arms and staring at the wall to the side. She leaned against it, unsheathing her knife to shave off a layer of her fingernails, then dusting the tips against her heavy jacket. “Occam's razor.”

Jack's face scrunched up. “First it was that Shrewdinger fella with his cat, now there's an Ock-am too? Lord, I jus' can't win today.”

The archer crossed her arms and refused to make eye contact with Jack. “Friggin' stupid. Occam's razor is a theory that the most obvious answer is usually the correct one.”

“Meanin'?” Jack asked.

The white-haired woman growled under her breath. “Meaning that whoever this is is probably going after someone else, while we waste resources on protecting people who can protect themselves.”

A sinking feeling started forming at Jack's gut over where the conversation was heading. “I, I dunno. Ya figure Twila would think it was a distraction, if they were plannin' on takin' someone else out.”

“As much as I hate know-it-alls, I'll agree Twila would probably embrace the idea that this was a distraction. Normally.”

Jack glanced down the hallway once more. “What's stoppin' her now?”

Gilda stared hard at the farmer. “I have no idea how someone so stupid is in college, let alone breathing.”

Jack scowled, looking down at the woman. “I don't take kindly ta words like them, Gilda.”

“You'd better get used to them until you stop being retarded,” she snapped back, resting her hands tensely at her bare stomach and glaring dangerously.

“Ya know what?” Jack replied, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Ok. Fine. I'll bite. What, apparently, am I missin'?”

“You're missing the fact the guy who stole that crap to make a poison? He was counting on getting Twila riled up enough that she'd panic and send every available resource she could towards protecting Celestia.”

“Meanin' that, aside from patrols, other places 'round campus would be threadbare...”

“Now you're getting it,” Gilda nodded in agreement, obviously getting tired of the conversation. She wrapped a finger around her hair, twisting it as she stared down the hall. “If I don't see a soul-folk body by late morning, I'll be surprised.”

“Then we gotta do somethin'!” Jack exclaimed, pausing for only a moment before taking down the hall. “You get Twila an' Will roused, I'mma hit the patrols 'round the dorms—have 'em split up an' search the rooms.” The farmer began quickly running down the hall. She spared a glance behind her, just before rounding the corner.

Gilda stood, unmoving from her post.

“What in the—Gilda move yer ass!”

She stared at Jack, looking repulsed. “Why?”

“Why in the hell do ya think?! Someone might be dyin'!” Jack snapped, throwing her hand to the side.

Gilda shrugged. “Not my problem. Besides, even if I cared—which I don't—how could we know who's being targeted? All we got is that the guy's probably after a soul-folk, judging by the shit that's been stolen. Even that might be a lie and he might just shank someone with a knife! It's bullshit to think you can make a difference!” Gilda snapped back, subconsciously resting her hand on the pommel of the dagger at her side.

“Don't mean I can't try!” Jack roared, the sound echoing in the hallway. She clenched her fists tightly, her arms shaking in anger. She broke away from Gilda and headed towards the doors. “I'll get 'em myself.”

Before Jack could put a hand on the large double-doors, Gilda snapped forward, grabbing the farmer's wrist.

“We have our orders. Don't disturb them.”

“Ta hell with orders—this is important!”

“You're not getting through that door and that's that, Apple,” Gilda replied, ice in her voice.

Jack felt a growing, red-hot heat in her belly, her nostrils flared and her jaw clenched as her mind felt like it was turning into a static filled television—she had only a vague idea on what was happening, it felt like her actions were distant. Controlled by an avatar. Without warning, she shot forward, pinning Gilda and slamming her forearm into the others throat.

“Ya think yer some tough shit, don't ya?” she whispered through her contorted face, each syllable a pinprick of venom and warning as Gilda struggled to break free of Jack's grip. “Thinkin' that jus' cause it ain't buggin' ya, it don't need anythin' done 'bout it? Thinkin' that followin' the rules is more important than doin' what's right?” She sneered, pressing even harder on Gilda's throat, the dark-skinned woman choked, letting out a strangled, weak hiss of air. “Yer wrong. I'm goin' through that door.”

Gilda managed to pry Jack's arm away for a brief moment. She sucked in a half-breath of air. “Kiss my ass, Apple,” she growled out, staring defiantly at the farmer with her piercing eyes.

Jack pulled her hand back and threw a punch.

She stopped, inches from Gilda's face, feeling like she had just woken up from a horrific nightmare. Jack let go of the other; Gilda collapsed to her knees, clutching her neck and swallowing air. The tall woman gazed down at her, sweating. She opened her mouth, though no sound came out.

“That the best you got?” Gilda finally panted out, rising slightly off of the ground. “You're... pathetic.”

Jack said nothing still, sweat coated her brow and her hands shook. “I...” She backed away a few steps and swallowed deeply. “I...”

She turned, sprinting off down the hallway, her thoughts nothing but a jumbled collection of warnings and self-doubt as she ran through the school.

She had lost control again.

She had lost control again.

Just thinking about it made her want to vomit. Just thinking about what she had said to Rarity the other day.

Ya shouldn't be afraid of... someone like me.

Gilda would have had a busted lip and broken teeth at best, if Jack hadn't gotten a sudden flash of clarity from her anger. The smallest glimmer that broke through her veil of darkness.

When she swung, right before impact, there was a brief spark of fear in Gilda's otherwise emotionless eyes.

Gilda rose, leaning back against the wall and drawing breath after breath. She rubbed at her already bruising neck.

Bitch, she thought, scowling intently. Hick was lucky, getting a sucker punch off like that—a fair fight and Gilda would have mopped the floor with her.

What was her deal, anyway? They had their orders. Doing something stupid like this, especially with nothing concrete? Dumber than a bag of hammers.

The woman scowled, crossing her arms over her chest and staring daggers down the hallway. Sure, the hick was already long gone by now, but it still felt good in a petty, spiteful way. Gilda's glare turned even more sour—she slammed a fist into the wall and gave a disdainful sniff.

“Coward,” she said under her breath, not sure who she was speaking about.

The door behind her opened. Will sauntered out, accompanied a few steps behind by Twila.

“What was the noise earlier?” he asked, then paused, glancing to his left. “And where in the nine hells is Apple?”

Gilda seemed to debate on what to tell him. Finally, she shrugged. “Was heading to the dorms.”

“She left her post?” Will growled out. “She had one job and--”

“Apple did it because she thinks there's a different target than Celestia.”

Twila tilted her head. “But why would--”

“Why would they try to kill someone like Celestia? It'd be like sticking a hand covered in meat into a bear cage. Princess or not, they know how to take care of themselves. You've just got the hots for teacher so bad that your head isn't screwed on right!” Gilda snapped, staring hard at Twila, who turned beat red and scowled.

“I've got nothing of the sort!”

“If that were true, you woulda realized that you were being set up,” Gilda replied, crossing her arms and resting against the wall. “It's a bait-and-switch. Anyone going after the Lady of the Sun would have their shit wrecked.”

“I...”

“You screwed the pooch on this one, you damn dweeb,” Gilda spat. “Teaming up with Isabelle and giving everyone pointless orders just so you could 'save' that ancient piece of ass.”

“Don't call her that!” Twila snarled, stepping forward. Gilda's smirk widened, exposing a row of sharp teeth.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I always forget how bad you want to get in that granny's pants.”

Twila lunged forward; Will scooped her up with one arm and placed her behind him.

“That's. Enough,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for compromise. “Now, it's worth a look to see if this whole thing was a misdirection—even just as a courtesy. Twila, can you use magic?”

“I'll be fine,” she dismissed. “One doesn't need two hands to preform spells, after all.”

“Good. Come with me for a moment—Gilda, you stand guard. And for your father's sake and the ones before him, don't blindly follow orders without thinking of the consequences. Cowards do that.”

Gilda scowled, hugging herself as they disappeared, vanishing around the corner. She blinked and sucked in a heavy breath.

“I'm not a coward.”

Jack's feet slapped against the linoleum as she frantically ran through the possibilities of who could be targeted.

Soul-folk. An'... an'...

And that was about all she knew. While she wasn't a recluse by any means, she just didn't know enough about the other students to make a guess as to why one of them was being targeted—she wasn't Rarity, after all. Girl loved her gossip far more than Jack.

Jack literally paused, one foot lifted in front of the other and her arms mid-swing.

Rarity.

If there was one woman in her group of friends that would know about skeletons in the closet, and what could make a person be marked for death, it'd be the tailor.

Jack nodded to herself and made her way towards Rarity and Twila's dorm-room, her mind racing in a thousand directions at once as she blew past a group patrol and rounded a corner.

What if she doesn't know anything?

What if I'm too late?

What if Gilda's wrong and Celestia is targeted?

What if Rarity's the target?

Jack was about to brush the last thought off as paranoia, but it stuck to her, giving her a desperate, frightened feeling in her gut.

Think about who nearly fell to their death a few months back thanks to someone trying to scare her. Think about who one of the richest people in St. Charles is! Think, ya damn fool!

Jack's hard jog turned into a dead sprint, her axe smacked hard into the small of her back with every frantic footstep.

She observed the sleeping figure of the woman from the foot of the elegant bed. Watched the violet-haired beauty take each breath, her chest slowly rising and falling with each motion as she slept under the cover of silken sheets. Trixie pushed back her hat, almost sad that it was this easy. Girl didn't have the door locked, didn't hear Trixie creep through the room to stand vigil at the foot of her bed—she was even wearing a sleep mask.

So much for an attentive audience, the magician dryly thought.

She reached into her pockets, producing a vial filled to the brim with a neon blue powder. With no hesitation, she uncorked and inhaled its contents through her nose.

As soon as the first trace of powder entered her system, she felt magic surge throughout her body. Trixie doubled over, watching as the vial fell out of her convulsing hands. It hit the ground, breaking the dead silence.

Rarity slept on.

Once her body had stopped tingling, and the faintest marks of black had shown up on her veins, Trixie reached and produced another vial. This one, a reddish-brown, she took to Rarity and let it sit under the woman's nose, as she covered her own mouth and nose with a handkerchief.

In mere moments, Rarity began to cough and clutch her neck at the scent of the grounded magesbane, its venomous ability already beginning to sap the soul-folk of her magic. The tailor threw off her mask, still coughing intently.

“Twila?! I smell smoke!” Rarity exclaimed as she rose from under her sheets and stood, clad in a silken, form-fitting nightgown. As the sleep quickly died from her mind, she noticed Trixie, who smiled grimly. Rarity let out a shriek, backing up and tripping over her bed, landing near the corner of the room.

She raised an even palm and braced it with her other hand. “W-who are you?” she weakly asked, her heart a frantic drum beat.

“You don't know Trixie?” the pale woman asked. “The strongest soul-folk in the acad—no, in the world?” She leered at Rarity, looking hard at the tailor's open palm. “And you can stop pretending you have a magic spell armed—the magesbane you inhaled stops any chance you have of conjuring spells.”

Rarity tried regardless, focusing her mind towards her palm, and envisioning a powerful surge of wind erupting from her hand.

The smallest gust of wind came from the tailor's hands, slightly blowing Trixie's hair from her brow. She shook her head at Rarity and adjusted her large hat.

“Told you,” the woman stated. She reached once more into her pocket, pulling out a large syringe.

Rarity's eyes shot further open in panic. She glanced towards the door—it seemed so far away. If she could just get past Trixie...

The tailor shot forward, jumping onto her bed and springing off the mattress in a blind panic. She made one more desperate sprint and lunge for the door. With shaking hands, she unlocked it and--

Transparent, blue chains wrapped around both her wrists. They pulled her backwards and pushed her body flush against the wall.

“Going somewhere before the show?” Trixie asked, laconically spinning a finger in the air as two additional magic chains came to life, pinning the tailor's ankles flush against the wall.

“Someone!” Rarity called out, struggling against the magic. “Anyone!”

“You must think the Great and Powerful Trixie for a fool. Of course she cast a sound dispersion spell on the room before she woke you! Couldn't let your screams interrupt, after all.”

“W...what do you want, y-you brute?” Rarity whimpered. “Money?”

“Trixie is insulted.” She narrowed her brow and slowly shook her head as she approached the tailor. “I've got more than enough money doing exactly this.”

Trixie put a hand to Rarity's cheek—the violet-haired woman shrank and recoiled at the touch. The showwoman's smile widened. She brushed Rarity's hair from her neckline and ran a finger along the side of her neck, before plunging a needle deeply into the tailor's throat.

The woman let out a pained gasp and trembled as the syringe deposited its load into her body.

“What...?” Rarity weakly asked. Trixie nodded in understanding. With a snap of her fingers, the chains disappeared and Rarity sank to the floor, sweating.

“Think of it like a cocktail. You don't need to know what's all in it, but I'll let you know the main ingredient is turbocurine—a relaxant. Judging by your body size, we've got maybe four minutes before your entire skeletal system becomes paralyzed.” She gave a haughty tilt of her nose on seeing Rarity's terrified expression. “Don't worry. If Trixie had wanted you murdered, she would have simply crushed your skull with a pressure spell while you were asleep.”

“Then...?” the tailor panted out. Already, the drug was starting to take effect—her voice was limp and whisper quiet, and her legs quivered like jelly. She tried to stand, only to not even have the strength to hoist herself up

“It's just to make you docile. For now. When I carry you to the clock tower, I'll--.”

The doorknob leading to the hallway jiggled; Trixie swore, quickly making a gesture and conjuring a black, misty ball of energy into her palm. She threw it across the room, smashing the loosely collected orb against a wall. It hit with a small pop, inky vines crept throughout the area, coating it in pitch-blackness.

Trixie smiled as the door slowly opened. Whoever it was was in for one hell of a show.

Jack paused at Rarity's dorm room to briefly suck in a breath of air. She had sprinted across most of campus, drawing looks from the dozens of men and women on patrol. With another deep breath of air, Jack twisted the handle, not surprised in the slightest when it was unlocked. She slowly creaked it open and took a tentative step inside.

Darkness. A pitch-black room greeted the farmer. Jack held out a hand a few feet from her face and couldn't even see that. She began to slink along, running her hand against the wall and attempting to find a light-switch.

“Rare?” Jack spoke in a heavy whisper, taking a few more cautious steps through the room, sure the switch was nearby.

The door slammed shut behind her; Jack turned on instinct to face it, swearing and drawing her axe.

A click behind her—Jack's instincts went into overdrive, she jumped to the side just as a blinding flash of blue electricity erupted past her, striking against the wall with a thundering roar.

“Who the hell's here?!” the farmer called out loudly, holding her axe out in front of her like a protective ward.

“Asking for a name before giving your own?” a haughty woman's voice said from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Such manners.”

“Talkin' 'bout manners when yer hidin' in the dark?” Jack spat, glancing all around her in an attempt to find the speaker. “Show yerself.”

“With pleasure.”

A bright, overwhelming burst of light erupted from the ceiling lights—Jack squinted her eyes shut and covered them with the back of her hand, just as a force connected hard to her chest, disarming her with a clatter and knocking her onto her back. The farmer rose, coughing and sputtering, glancing across the brightly lit room, where a woman wearing a cape and large hat stood, smugly grinning.

“Where's Rarity?!” Jack asked, staring daggers.

The woman smiled, rising one finger and pointing it to Jack's side. The farmer offered the briefest of glances, feeling like this was a trick.

There, on her bed, was Rarity, staring straight up and taking strangled gasps for air. Her body remained motionless, but her blue eyes slowly traveled towards Jack, the raw, panicked emotion on them almost palpable.

“What ya do ta her, ya bitch?!” Jack snarled out, her teeth bared like a feral dogs.

“Just a little cocktail. Trixie doesn't plan on killing her.” She offered a half-smile Jack's way. “You, though...”

Jack gave a small glance toward her axe. About five feet ahead of her. She could dive for it. She could make that. She subtly tensed, waiting for an opportunity.

“I'd like ta see ya try,” the farmer growled. Trixie glanced towards' the figure of Rarity.

“She has about two minutes before she's unable to breath on her own.” The magician smugly grinned. “Trixie thinks it's an excessive time limit to deal with a mud-folk, but she's sure she'll find something to do after you're dead.”

Jack snapped her body and lept forward, somersaulting as she hit the ground. She grabbed the axe mid-roll and rose in one fluid motion, charging the soul-folk, who watched with disinterest. The farmer hefted her axe in preparation of a powerful swing, just as Trixie made a few small, minute gestures with her hands.

Jack's hands became raw, painful agony as the handle of her weapon turned red-hot. She dropped it on reflex and watched it clatter once more to the floor before briefly glancing at her hands—the leather gloves had stopped any lasting damage. The ward Rarity had put in between the layers must be working like a charm. The farmer glared up at the soul-folk and ran forward, raising her fist to strike.

Despite Jack's years learning boxing, and countless hours of training with Will, Trixie simply ducked under the blow, that smug, arrogant grin still prevalent on her face as the woman rose, striking Jack. There was a loud crunch as the lithe woman's surprisingly strong fist connected with Jack's nose, breaking it.

Jack howled, tears welling up in her eyes as she cupped a hand over her ruined nose. Blood poured from her crooked nostrils, running down her face. She threw a punch once more. Trixie narrowly dodged it, the brief flicker of surprise on her face enough for Jack to gain a little confidence back.

“Yer gonna have ta do better than jus' a smack against me,” Jack warned, scowling though her blood-soaked mouth.

Trixie smirked. “You're right.”

She gestured once more and Jack was knocked off her feet by an invisible force. She skidded, smashing hard against the wall. Another force instantly brought Jack to her feet and flush against the wall, where blue, transparent shackles held her arms and legs in place.

The farmer struggled, but was unable to escape the magical chains that held her in place.

“Hmm...” Trixie pondered, reaching into a pocket and producing a switchblade. “Trixie at least has something to do for the next minute...” With a grin, she balanced the tip of the blade on her finger, before throwing it blindingly fast across the room.

Will ran down the hallways with Twila, trying to make up for lost time on finding Jack.

It had taken a bit of asking the groups of patrols, but eventually they got an idea of where the woman had went too—wasn't like there were too many that looked like the farmer, after all. The guidance they had received eventually put them at the front of Twila's door.

Will gave a look over to the soul-folk. “There a reason Apple woulda come here?”

“Well...” Twila gave a pause in consideration. “Her and my roommate are, well, close.”

“Close like...?” Will gave an implying roll of his enormous hands.

“Indeed.”

“So she just went off for a quickie?” Will narrowed his brow and swore, crossing his arms. “I’m gonna beat her black and blue for this--making up a lie just so she could get some action.” He tried the door. Locked. He turned to Twila. “Do you have the key?”

Twila stared down at the floor, a nagging feeling running through her mind--something was off about, well, everything going on. Jack wasn't the type to blow off anything.

On realizing Will asked a question, the soul-folk nodded, reaching into a pocket as Will moved to the side to let her through. “Rarity never locks the room,” Twila said, mostly to herself.

Will overheard and gave a shrug. “When you're having sex in a room, lock it up, you goon,” he said, nodding sagely. Twila felt heat rush through her ebony face at his blunt words.

“Oh my... do you suppose they're...?”

“Only one way to find out.” He nodded. “Get the door open.”

She froze, clutching the side of her head as two things happened simultaneously. First, Twila sensed the overpowering magical aura of a soul-folk utilizing their craft, coming from the other side of the door.

Second, the realization that all those months back, Rarity nearly lost her life thanks to Blueblood. It might be mere coincidence, but as it stood now, the scholar had a feeling she found who the real target was tonight...

“Twila?” Will asked, sparing a glance her way and snapping her out of her epiphany.

“There's something more than Rarity and Jack behind the door,” she stated, her good hand clenched tightly at her side. “Magic.”

Will mulled that over for a brief second. “The guy who hassled you last night?”

“He hid his magical aura last night. However, I wouldn't doubt it.”

The norfolk scowled, reaching behind his back and pulling out a dented and worn axe. “I'm breaking down the door. Watch my back.”

She clenched her fist, a lavender aura coated it instantly, shining like a fire in the dark. “Go.”

The knife flew through the room, propelling directly toward Jack's face. She tilted her head and pushed hard to her left. The knife pierced deeply through her cheek, tearing a long line from her mouth to her ear. She howled at her ruined face, fighting against her shackles.

A blue aura enveloped the knife, pulling it free from the wall. It flew into Trixie's hand. She casually wiped the knife clean. “Where should Trixie throw next?” She gave a gesture; small shackles pinned Jack's hand to the wall, her digits opened involuntary and splayed out. “Ring finer, perhaps? Or Trixie supposes she could just pull out your teeth one by one...” She glanced over at the still figure of Rarity. “Ah. Never mind. Seems like our time together is at an end.” The magician aimed her knife. “Would you prefer it through the eye or forehead?”

“Go... ta... hell,” Jack snarled through her aching, blood-soaked mouth. For a brief moment, she shivered and nearly vomited at the realization she could stick her tongue out though the cut Trixie gave.

“The throat it is, then.”

Trixie pulled back her hand, just as the wooden door exploded, sending splinters across the room. The massive bulk of Iron Will charged through the shadow, as Twila walked in right behind, making a gesture that parted the shadows, disintegrating them in a heartbeat. Upon Twila clearing the shadows, Will instantly scanned the area, spotting Trixie and charging. She made a gesture and an aura briefly enveloped the norfolk. With a shake of his body, it vanished, leaving Trixie stunned as the giant twisted her arm and brought her to the ground.

The impact broke Trixie's concentration, the magical shackles around Jack vanished without a trace. The farmer tilted forward and crashed to the floor, groaning in pain.

“I got her pinned!” Will shouted out, never looking away from the soul-folk. “Check Jack!”

Twila knelt down, wincing on seeing the farmer's broken nose. “Jack, I'll--”

“Rare,” she sputtered through her clenched teeth. “Rare first.”

The soul-folk looked up to the still, limp body of Rarity. Twila quickly left Jack's side and approached her roommate. She left her hand a few inches from her mouth and nose.

“She's not breathing!” Twila announced.

“What?!” Will exclaimed, glancing away from Trixie for one moment.

That moment was enough.

She made one brisk gesture, vanishing with a flash of light.

“Shit!” The norfolk glanced around. “Twila! Teleportation or Invisibility?”

Her gaze briefly lingered on Rarity before narrowing her brow. “T-teleportation. I'll go after her.”

Will rose, already moving towards Rarity. “Do you think you'll have a chance against her?”

“I'm the only shot we've got. She's not getting away from us!” Twila fiercely announced, clapping her hands and disappearing in a similar flash of light.

Will pulled Rarity off the bed and laid her flat on her back. “Apple!” he announced. “I need you to do CPR. Do you know how?”

Jack nodded, wiping the blood away from her mouth as best she could.

“Keep her breathing. I'll run to the nurse's office and--”

“Go ta room 1768,” Jack ordered with a point of her hand. “It's closer. Her name's Chylene. She'll have a BVM—that'll do better than CPR, won't it?”

Will nodded, taking off in a dead sprint out of the room.

Jack looked down at the tailor's body, tilting the paralyzed woman's head up. She opened the woman's violet lips and put her own bloody ones to it, exhaling gently. Jack watched the woman's chest rise and slowly fall. Jack took another breath and exhaled into the soul-folk once more.

“Don't die on me, Rare. Please,” Jack whispered, her injuries all but forgotten on seeing Rarity's pitiful state. She took another breath and breathed life into the beauty once more. “Christ, Rare. Please.”

Author's Notes:

Sorry about the wait for this chapter. I moved and forgot the 'net guy wasn't gonna be around until Tuesday.

I'll try to get the next one out ASAP. I know I left this one on a bit of a sour note, haha.