I do not take liars lightly, not even within the meditations of a moment. I know full well that I am abnormally honest, but all Bearers of the Element are, and shall be throughout their lives. Why, it might as well be in our bones, our magic!
It is a such a thing that reminds me I am in a world of liars.
No, they are hardly those who seek to wound with their words or bring about maliciousness through intended deceit, but most ponies are liars. Is it any wonder I do not meddle with them so much, at least for that alone?
I think not.
Many, many ponies feel that truth may harm them, wound them, and twist them so, and that little lies strung together might be kinder. I have heard too many a pony snap to an automatic 'I'm fine' and other dull excuses they think could ever cloak how transparent they are to me. Sometimes, I really cannot help but roll my eyes, to sigh, to ask myself again if these ponies really think that they can be believed. The foals, I wonder which of their faces I shall see in dreams.
I require no magic that I peer past these cracked facades of lies, surprised to see how quick they are accepted, digested, and believed... even the more problematic ones.
To be the Element of Honesty can mean that there are moments when you can only feel that you are the actor in some play, but only you know that the story is mere production. You think so much on all the falsehoods that clutter the places you go and what could compel others to distort their identity, their thoughts... I know much of secret, but little of the flimsy liars.
There is still no other Element I would have wished in its place, for it is strong in the ways that others are not. I still feel its imprint; I know if I could ever reconnect to my Elements again, I should always have Honesty.
Honesty is pride in oneself, and that is something I treasure being returned to me, because I can rise every day with a smile in an empty room and the feeling lingering, if not the expression, when ponies are present.
Cadance I get along well, not simply because we are true companions and she is my only friend, but because I have learned that there are few differences between Honesty and Love.
The Element does have splinters of undesirable things with it, and with being honest in general. Being an honest goddess is one of many reminders of how very alone I can be... even if that is not so wrong and unwanted a thing. Still, it means to be brave, to be out spoken, to carry integrity when perhaps nopony else will, at least for me. I cannot say that Applejack is the same Bearer as I, because we are so very, very different. She is a mortal pony, and I am neither, and so much more. All Bearers tend to have such differences, because ponies can be so varied.
But lies often feel the same.
Sighing, I run a hoof through the dark locks of my mane, watching it comb through sparkles and long navy hairs. Purple highlights spiral around my bare hoof and my magic reaches through the sky, touching the clouds and beyond.
The weather, I think, is quite an honest thing. Evening light pours over the world as my sister's sun sinks below the horizon. Of course, she would maintain her schedule, her dear order so. I do not have to look down at Canterlot below to know that if I could see the right castle balcony from this far up on Canterhorn mountain, she would be there.
Celestia is like ponies. She tells me many things, and many lies, thus, she is far from honest than most. Often, it is she who wraps 'I'm fine' and it's many other equivalents in with the unneeded pleasantries that weigh down her conversations, or other words her tight smiles are willing to give up. She relishes in things I find little more to be hollow consolations, and I don't know if sometimes she doesn't say things about her day and her thoughts simply because she is busy, or because there are things she won't admit bothered her, content to bite her tongue and be polite.
...Even if that means there is the feeling of gaping holes in our conversations, and our sisterhood if I dwell on why she can't admit she disliked my idea, or a delegate, or anything when that calm of hers slips. I may be aloof, but it is an honest aloofness.
As though to remind me of somepony else wit greater aloofness than I, a forehoof wraps itself around my withers and pulls me closer. Sombra's grip is never harsh, but from the pressure this time, I know he is trying to offer comfort, for he listens to my silence as much as I do his.
I can't say I smiled, not this time, but I feel a bit lighter and we carefully lean into one another a bit more.
The last lights of day, oranges, scarlet, and golds are swallowed up by the sky. Rich shadows begin to creep forth, spilling tinges of delightful midnight and edging darkness that has always made my heart leap at the sight of this time, when the ghosts of stars become visible in the sky. No matter how different that feeling of pure wonder is from the happiness my dear Sombra can bring me, I couldn't chose between the two if I tried! One is ancient, one is newer, and none feel old at all.
Beneath us, the mountain grass already feels cool because of the night air, and stars are clearer in the sky. But it is by their light, and that of the emerging moon I raise with the utmost care that I turn my head, resting a cheek on his wither as I shift, so that I can see how our tails have brushed against the other's, loosely intertwining.
A sound like a small hum of acknowledgement escapes me, the sound becoming a mumble into Sombra's coat. My horn is still lit; the moon continues to rise, and I watch our shadows grow long across the mountain.
There is a small nibble on my ear, and then another. I have to bury my face as far into his coat as possible, letting the familiar feeling try to offer some comfort. I'm not mad at him, he knows. He always knows, but that never stops him from trying to help in ways only he can, even if it means listening to me say nothing...
I'm only relieved to have such an honest pony in my life.
If this had been a happier visit, who knows what we would be doing. He could try to take my out to dinner, letting me have whatever I wanted while he just sipped foul black coffee. Or maybe he would have made something for the both of us, and we could stargaze as we ate. Maybe he wanted to show off a new dress, and would've let me braid his mane, and things might have spiraled into soothing mutual grooming. He might have new books, new stories, new trinkets and so much to show me. We might've dueled with spell and blade, and for every sly battle taunt he'd have to know the wrath of my divine raspberries... because all those things and more were the usual activities when we were both happy.
Instead, I'm raising the moon while the two of us sit without a word. I know he rests his head on top of mine and a rumbly purr loud and clear. My eyes are shut and my throat feels tight, but I'm safe. Today, that should b enough for an over-emotional mare like I, and I could be content to listen to fireflies.
But tonight I am not.
I sense the moon is at its proper place and dim my aura.
I love honest ponies, but I do know so few of them. I'm not sure if the worst things about this matter is the truth that... my sister still lies to me, even over nothing and... our squabbles can be stupid... or that they still can hurt, and that sometimes, being an honest pony means its hardest to be honest to yourself.
The Tantabus, now long-gone, comes to mind, if just for a moment.
My throat feels that familiar, swollen sensation. Now, more than ever, I've found it far easier to admit to those I care about that I can be such a crybaby.
Finally reciprocating Sombra's embrace properly, I know that somepony is always here, tears or smiles, honesty or lies.