//------------------------------// // Discord's in the Details (by Pearple Prose) // Story: Mad, With Power // by Aragon //------------------------------// “Despite what ponies may believe, mastery of chaos does not come naturally – not even to me.” —Discord, Chaos Theory: Better in Practice “I must say, Mr. Starswirl,” said the draconequus, fixing his tie. “This contract is really rather unorthodox, even for Us.” Starswirl sat at the opposite end of the desk, awkwardly, in the endless shifting void of the Blind Eternities. He felt underdressed for the whole occasion, even in his ornate robe, and it was bothering him – he hadn’t been caught seeming comparatively pedestrian in nearly a century. “Yes, I’m aware. It’s a very unorthodox situation in general, honestly.” The draconequus was dressed in a sharp blue suit with a red tie, and wore a pair of smart-looking spectacles on the end of his crooked snout. He coughed into his lion’s paw and ran it through an oily, slicked-back mane. “I think it is in both of our best interests if you would remind yourself of what you’re signing up for.” As he spoke, he tapped the top of a polished nameplate on his desk with a golden eagle’s talon – Discord, the Great Mediator, Apocalypse Organiser. “Look,” Starswirl began, setting his hooves down on the edge of the desk and leaning forward, “I don’t need a creature to destroy the world. We’ve got that in the bag. Sorted. Done and dusted. We just need something to… You know.” Discord raised an eyebrow. Starswirl coughed. “Make it so they’re not the worst thing out there?” “Right,” said Discord, sounding entirely neutral in a way that suggested he probably wasn’t. He pushed a rolodex across the desk towards Starswirl. “Well, have a look at some of Our staff. They have a variety of expertises, methods, and personalities, as you can see.” Starswirl flipped through the business cards on display: “Sun-Eater, World Serpent, The Sleeping King, The Smooze…” He trailed off as he went, eyebrow arching here and there whenever he saw some incomprehensible alien tongue, or a picture that refused to make sense, or – worst of all – a particularly poor choice of typeface. Eventually he just pushed the rolodex back across the desktop, looking unsatisfied. “See, these are all well and good, but all I’m really looking for is something actually quite simple.” “A Boogeyman,” said Discord, reading Starswirl’s mind. “Yes. And please stop doing that.” “Sorry. Old habit.” Discord leaned back in his chair, stroked his neatly trimmed goatee, then spun himself around and stared out of a window that hung nonchalantly in the empty space behind him. “These... Princesses of yours,” Discord said, after a long moment. “They sound like they should be on our payroll, from how you described them.” Starswirl hummed to himself. He leaned his head from side to side, thoughtfully, and then shook it. “No. No, they are good ponies, in their own way. They are the closest thing to family that I’ve ever had.” Starswirl fiddled idly with a stapler he’d found on Discord’s very neat and orderly desk. “They just need something to... “ “Make them look less monstrous.” Discord spun back around to face him. “I think I know someone who might be ideal for you. Can you please stop touching that? It was an anniversary gift from my wife.” Starswirl put the stapler back on the desk. “Sorry.” “Thank you.” Discord removed his glasses and peered through them at a far-off nebula. “There’s a being we have under our employ who fits the bill rather well, I think you’ll find. His name is Discord.” Starswirl blinked. “You mean–?” “No relation.” “Ah. Sorry, I just assumed–” “No, it’s fine. Happens all the time.” Discord pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and began wiping the lenses of his spectacles. “Mr. Discord is rather new to the whole business, but he’s very enthusiastic, has a good work ethic, and is eager to learn. The other Discords rate him rather highly.” “Well, it’s always nice to get a professional opinion.” Starswirl glanced around at the endless twisting void of the Blind Eternities, then leaned in conspiratorially. “But what do you think of him? Just between you and me.” “Honestly? He’s a little bit sensitive.” “Really?” “Yes. Bit of a poor quality to possess in this particular business, you understand.” “I can imagine.” “Right. But, he should be capable of the level of chaos you’re looking for.” Discord paused then, and looked up at Starswirl. “There is another thing we need to discuss.” “What’s that?” “Occupational hazards. If Mr. Discord is going to be contending with beings such as the ones you have described to Us, We need some assurance he won’t be brought to harm.” Starswirl frowned. “What, like dying?” Discord tilted his head. “Do you think the Princesses would be capable of that?” Starswirl, slowly, shook his head. “Nnnnno.” “Are you sure? Because we’d really, really rather like to avoid that.” “No, no. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” A pause. Then Starswirl frowned. “Although, I should ask, what’s your stance on petrification?” “Absolutely out of the question. Zero-tolerance policy.” “Oh. Um. Good! Very good. Because my Princesses feel precisely the same way.” Starswirl laughed. “Not their style at all. What about fire?” “Fire?” “Yeah. Celestia’s in that kind of phase at the moment.” “Depends. Regular fire? Or hellfire? Holy fire? Or, Sacred Flames. I’ve been told they’re not quite the same.” Starswirl gave a noncommittal wave of his hoof. “Little bit of all four.” “Hmm. We’ll pass that along and see how he feels about it.” “Great.” Starswirl blew air out through his teeth. “So, this all seems in order. Where do I sign?” Discord settled his spotless spectacles upon his snout once again, then snapped his talons, creating a small spark and a sharp sound that resonated strangely within the airless vacuum of the Eternities. A piece of parchment, clean and precise, manifested on the desk, inscribed with several long paragraphs of neat, black handwriting. Starswirl inspected it, eyes trailing over the strange elder tongue that was Legalese, and glanced up at Discord. “So, should I sign this in blood, or…?” “I mean, you can if you want to.” Discord reached into a drawer and pulled out a quill. “Most people use a pen nowadays, though.” Starswirl took the quill. He was a little low on spare blood these days. Better safe than sorry. “Of course, of course. I'm glad we could close the deal so fast – got to be back in my body soon or it’ll die without me; that's never a fun experience.” He scribbled a name on the dotted line and passed it back over the desk. “Right. All done. What now?” “Marvellous.” Discord didn’t take the parchment – instead, he stood up from his chair, dusted off his trouser legs, and then snapped his talons. The desk and all of its meticulously ordered compartments and stationery and paperwork folded up once, twice, three times, and then slid away into a tiny dimensional pocket. “We should get back to you within three-to-five business days, possibly more depending on bank holidays.” Starswirl stood up from his nonexistent chair and frowned. “Hmm. I’m going to be very dead in about…” He pulled a pocket watch from his robe. “...Five minutes. That’s not going to be a problem, is it?” “We have ways.” Starswirl smiled. “Right. Just making sure.” “Of course.” And then Discord turned, took a single step, and vanished, as if he had never been there at all. Starswirl took in the Blind Eternities for the last time. He reached behind him, tugged on a silver strand that tied his soul to his dying body, and immediately felt himself being pulled back through space and time, faster than sound, light, or thought. As his spirit was pulled along its tether and into his physical form, Starswirl smiled. He had already sold his soul, a very long time ago, to two little fillies who may or may not end up destroying the world. He was really rather good at forging signatures, though. Sorry, Platinum, he thought, but you’re footing the bill on this one. Consider it repayment for that stupid ‘Fancy Robe’ tax. And then he felt his spirit compress into a point, and then his eyes– –Snapped open, and immediately Starswirl had to close them again, as a burning white light was shining into them, making them burn. He hacked and he coughed and he croaked out: “Celestia, please stop doing that. It is incredibly annoying.” “Oh,” came a sweet little voice. The light winked out and was replaced by the sight of a small, white, alicorn filly, sitting on top of him in his bed. Behind her, Starswirl could see the floral patterns of the ceiling of his tower’s quarters. “Sorry, Starswirl.” “It’s fine, daughter dearest.” “I was seeing if you were dead.” “Not quite yet, daughter dearest.” “Oh.” Celestia frowned. “Well, this isn’t as fun as I thought it was going to be, Starswirl.” Starswirl smiled. So this is how I die. “My deepest apologies.” “It’s okay. You can die next time.” “Well, that’s very thoughtful of you.” “OH MY GOSH,” came a really rather loud voice from somewhere down below them. “CELESTIA, COME QUICK.” Celestia flapped her wings and buzzed over towards the open window. “What?! What is it?!” she shouted. “IT’S A FROG. I FOUND A FROG.” Celestia gasped. “No way.” “AN ENTIRE FROG, SISTER.” “Oh my gosh.” Starswirl closed his eyes. His vision was nowhere near as good as it used to be, nor was his hearing, but even over the weak beating of his withered heart he could hear two alicorn fillies, laughing in delight. Could be worse, he thought, eventually. Then he felt something – a little twist in his gut, maybe. Or a flicker of a vision of a dying star. He smelled something on the wind, sickly sweet and familiar in a very distant way. It smelled like cotton candy. “Well, girls,” Starswirl the Bearded muttered, smiling to himself, “I hope you enjoy daddy’s present.” “Despite what ponies may believe, mastery of chaos does not come naturally – not even to me. I had to spend years learning from two excellent teachers.” —Discord, Chaos Theory: Better in Practice