//------------------------------// // Chapter Seven, Part One: Remnants of the Past // Story: Equestrian Concepts // by Achaian //------------------------------// Chapter Seven, part one Remnants of the Past Ditzy was not surprised this time by the inability of the world to remain still, nor did she fall out of bed and wonder at the metallic floor. This time, she was already wide awake by the time the sun shattered the horizon, staring at the ceiling and imagining that selfsame sun as it must have been a thousand-and-two years ago. Her dreams had wandered down strange paths, masquerading as alternate histories and might-have-beens that befuddled her current consciousness. It had been the longest week of her life, but now she was headed home; that was the most important thing. And home wouldn’t be the same that it had been, but it would still be home to her, for home is where the heart is. It would be quite a while before she reached her resting place, though, so she busied herself not with sweet mnemonic recollections. That would only make the wait seem longer for her. There was still much to be explored in more recent memory, and in those who were now yet closer to her than home was. She would have no shortage of things to occupy her time as long as the brothers retained their willingness to talk, and Celestia, who had caused so much strife by her… What could it be called? Grief seemed to be the answer, yet she had insisted that it was a product of her vaingloriousness. It was the most frustrating answer. She wasn’t wrong, but partially right, and finding out how right she was the key to absolution. Ditzy was certain that Celestia needed to realize that it wasn’t completely her fault; it was an indivisible mix of true regret, a desire to fall into despair and end the pain, and self-righteous broken agony that had driven her. It was the guilt of leadership that had harrowed her. While her actions had not been intentional, they were still consequential. It made her worry how much Celestia thought of it, and she worried about how much of her regret was split the three ways: towards herself, Luna, and all the people she had wronged. Yet Ditzy could not bear that cup, could not shoulder that burden. Her power to change Celestia was nonexistent in the present. There was only one pony who could really help Celestia now, but Ditzy didn’t know that either. Ditzy could only meditate—she couldn’t try and rush in with some solution like she had with Tick. She had tried to make some gesture after the tale had concluded, but she hadn’t been able to break through the stone-walled pose Celestia had assumed after, or even her own internal barriers of shock. Celestia wanted to hurt and thought she deserved the agony, and sometimes it was hard for Ditzy to disagree with her. Although, the last line had been the key, the crux of the knowledge that Ditzy had that Celestia’s self-sacrifice had been more pure than not. It could have meant several things, but all of them simplified to a reality that espoused one thing she was missing: unity with Luna. Means can twist desires, but no desire for harmony can be perverse. It only gets less and less believable. Celestia herself… but what can I do about it? I can’t. This is so far beyond me that I have trouble imagining the consequences. Hopefully I can stay home for a long time; I have been absent from her and I ache because of it. Why would they ever need me? I’m not special. She’s so wounded, and she told me… she told me out of everypony, and I might as well not even exist to her; I can’t do anything to help her. Then why am I so worried? Yes, it’s really bad, and that’s a huge understatement, but if I can’t do anything about it then me thinking about it all the time is only going to mess me up. No more of this. She’s Celestia; she has plenty of others to help her… Ditzy held still in her thoughts, eyes unused as the sun warmed her sheets, doing her best to dismiss useless worries. The magnitude of the concern was nearly overwhelming, but by degrees she let it slip away, instead thinking of what would come next. She wrapped herself in her own logic and comforts for a short time against the stings and barbs of worrisome guilt, and succeeded to a degree that surprised her a little. It was not long until she heard knocking on her cabin’s door. “Breakfast.” It was Tick, judging by the muffled voice. Ditzy had avoided talking those two in the short time it had taken for them to get to and onto the train, and the shorter time before they had all retired. It had been easy enough with Tick’s attention on Quirk’s brooding and a general lack of conversation. Maybe they’ll be in more talkative moods now. I wouldn’t really like to talk about what exactly we’re going to do so soon afterwards, but it would be foolish not to do it sometime. I’d rather talk about anything else… Ditzy thought she could certainly afford some trivial distractions amongst the chaos. Whatever I get out of them, it’s bound to be interesting. What had been a single car had been divided into several smaller rooms, one of which was hers. Two of the other three were Tick and Quirks’, the fourth was unoccupied. They would arrive in Ponyville early in the afternoon, but that was still hours from now. Tick and Quirk were gathered around a small square table, a cart in the fourth spot. Ditzy sat across from Tick with Quirk on her left; she grabbed a muffin and some orange juice. It was no extravagant meal, nor was the train as luxurious as the one she had arrived on, but she would have flown back herself if she had had to wait another day. Tick had just picked up a newspaper and was beginning to peruse its contents; the bandages on his side had been removed with only some slight discoloration left. Quirk was quiet, unconsciously nibbling on some toast while he stared out a window at the mountainous terrain. Ditzy’s mane was completely fuzzed, adhering to no singular direction or desire as she hungrily devoured a muffin, but that was all right—they were all a little worn in one way or another. It was morning; they were rested; they would go forth again, but they were not about to face the world or each other. It was a communion of silence in that train car; the sharing of a wordless meal sealed away some troublesome pains that had lingered from Canterlot’s ill reveries. The clearing of the slate was a blessing to them all: they could keep what they wanted from the last slate and leave the rest behind. The new day was of creation. It was not a grim bleakness but a great canvas; they could always make again what they had in their minds, all by their choice, and they relived many things even if they were silent about them. Soon they were thinking of and in in each other’s presence; minds came to the forefront of other minds. Ditzy did not refrain from looking at the other two, but they shied away from acknowledging her company, instead remaining silent. “Who brought the cart in?” Ditzy asked on sudden inspiration, thoughts flying to something past. “Some colt,” said Tick, a perplexed look on his face; his brother remained distracted. “Any reason why?” “Just wondering,” Ditzy said, not lying in the least. A victorious, quiet smile crossed her face without notice of others. Tick had gone back to his paper; he looked odd, as if he did not truly focus on his reading, but Ditzy’s thoughts were elsewhere and she did not notice. “The Canterlot Times must have gone downhill to start printing tabloid stories,” Tick muttered to nopony in particular, tossing down the paper on the table. The headline read: “Crystal Empire Rediscovered in North, Threatened by Ancient Evil” and in smaller letters below “Princess Cadenza Crowned Crystal Queen, Elements of Harmony Rumored to be Involved.” Ditzy picked it up out of interest, read a few lines, and then proceeded to rifle through the rest of the paper. Given the absurdity of some of the recent events in her life, she wasn’t prone to having an enormous amount of doubt to some of the more dubious claims the article was making. If the bearers had been involved, or if it had happened at all, she would no doubt hear about it later that day when she reached home. Anything new for the rumor mills would be endlessly picked over until all manner of conjecture, reasonable or not, had been exhausted. It would be interesting enough seeing how Tick and Quirk went over with the ponies at home—but that’s something I really would rather not imagine… it might not go as badly as it did for me, but it will definitely be strange. Maybe he’s… Celestia said he did. “Tick?” He moved as if to look at her, but stopped short of making eye contact, indicating that he had heard. “How do you know Twilight?” Tick paused for a moment, as if he did not expect the question, and then began. “When Luna sent me against my will to Ponyville, on the way to the ruined castle I stopped in her library for a night. We didn’t… ‘talk’ much. Her dragon kept spying on me.” Quirk had wandered over to get a better view of the window, brooding, leaving them in relative duality for their conversation. Although he could easily provide commentary if he chose, he appeared to be lost in something else altogether. Ditzy yawned and stretched in her chair, the early morning glow playing through her mussed mane. Tick blinked once or twice, it was difficult to distinguish the hair from the halo in the instant it existed. He looked dazzled, but the look subsided as soon as Ditzy noticed it. “We never got that far the last time you showed me your story.” Ditzy was giving Tick her full attention, but Tick was half-blinded by the bright morning sun behind her. “I’ll tell you, then. I had just woken in a private ward of the hospital following Luna’s—” “Why not show me?” The blunt question caused Quirk, who was fanning his wings by the window, to glance over at Tick, whose eyes skipped a beat: he seemed to freeze in place for a moment, but he did not look at Quirk and gave no indication of being aware of Quirk’s survey. Rather, he took on a concealed guise, hiding his reasoning, appearing to look through Ditzy, but not at her. Ditzy herself was put off by his reaction. “I would prefer not to,” Tick said matter-of-factly, looking straight at her as the light hid behind mountainous terrain. It was Ditzy’s turn to blink once; his reply was concerningly vague. She was grateful that he hadn’t completely dodged the question, or lied, but that still left plenty of confusion as to why. Ditzy did not seize on the matter. That’s odd that he would choose to be guarded about it when he was so open earlier. She had pressed him to the point of tempered defiance in the past few days and it would be foolish to push him so soon. Maybe he can’t control it? But then why wouldn’t he just say so, and he it looked like he did it at will. “Alright then,” Ditzy replied, her voice consciously quieter yet even-toned. Deciding to leave the awkward situation behind in the hopes of him forgetting it, she started for the next cabin down. She had left abruptly, but the two did not seem phased in the least by it, or at least by what she saw as she left. They don’t seem to like to talk much. He’s acting different than he did yesterday… I guess he was really ecstatic in that moment, and this behavior matches what they were like in jail. Still, he’s interesting—strange—and it’s boring not having anypony to talk to. I imagine they have a lot to think about too; maybe they’re not morning ponies; there are a thousand reasons. It's just boring being here and having nothing to do or talk about. I can try again later. It was quite a different style of train than the style of the one she had come in, neither luxurious nor fanciful, but practical. Regardless, it held an elegance that sprung from efficiency. Even the heads of order and equality in Equestria could not commandeer a train without noise, and they had preferred privacy anyhow, so they had simply booked a few seats on an average commuter’s train. That didn’t dissuade Ditzy from exploring the rest of the train, though. She had never bothered to do so when she had her first chance to explore one, and so she took the opportunity. Simple observance was the method she chose, cursory glances at the empty cabins she passed, seeking something intriguing. She was headed for the front of the train in hopes of a glimpse of the pilot and engineers, curious to how they went about their days and ways. I wonder if I could talk to an engineer. I bet one would have a lot of stories to tell about the places the routes have taken them. “Hey!” Ditzy turned around to see a drab-coated mare with short straight hair looking at her, but it wasn’t her appearance that caused a jolt of memory in Ditzy, it was her voice. She had heard that voice somewhere, and recently, and there was the beginning of alarm in the recognition. “I ran into you!” Inkie said, Ditzy now panicking in her mind as she recognized by voice the mare from Canterlot’s post office. “I’m sorry; I don’t think I know you,” Ditzy said, half-turned and aiming for a quick exit, trying not to break into full flight as the alarming sensation rose. “No, I ran into you—literally!” Inkie said, hopping up out of her seat and racing to intercept Ditzy. “In Lower Canterlot!” Ditzy stopped, now completely flabbergasted. “What?” She was beyond certain that she hadn't run into her before. Inkie began speaking, gesturing as she did. “You were just standing around in the middle of the baker’s market and I was running and I ran into you and knocked you over and helped you back up but I was busy so I kept running, and you just had this look on your face when I knocked you over and it stuck in my mind and I was like ‘That’s it!’ and so I went up and got my—” “Slow down!.. Please,” Ditzy added, memory recalling the incident, but not the mare. “What were you doing?” Inkie blushed in her excitement and embarrassment, and continued her synopsis with more control, but no less vigor. “I ran into you in Lower Canterlot and accidentally knocked you over. When I pulled you up, you had this look of… I don’t know how to describe it… on your face, and I didn’t think about it until later. You just had this, I dunno, experience etched on your face and it was absolutely inspiring. So when I got home I started painting, and I actually made something really nice and you, well, inspired it.” She gave a weak apologetic smile, still energetic from the chance encounter. “I hope you don’t mind.” “I don’t mind, but…” Ditzy had remembered something singularly important, one of many vital stepping stones. “What happened to the painting?” “Oh, I actually ended up selling that one to a theater. I didn’t really want to sell it, but it only took me a day to finish and they made a really good offer.” Inkie’s smile was more joyful this time. “I think they really liked it, they said it would work well as a piece of scenery.” Thunderstruck, Ditzy shook herself out of memories of black gales and heroic captains that now made so much more sense to ask an astonished question. “That only took you a day!?” Inkie’s smile grew by a magnitude. “You saw it!? Wait, how do you know how long it took?” Ditzy replied clearly now, the randomness of the coincidence having passed her blindsided mind. “I saw it in a theater, and I thought the captain looked something like me.” Inkie’s eyes grew wide with a knowing look, and she released a satisfied “Ooooh.” A moment passed, and then she asked: “Can I do anything for you? I think I owe you a bit for the artistic inspiration.” Ditzy was content in her expression now, all the pieces having fallen into place; and not in a way she would have guessed, but it worked all the same. “I’m fine, and not in a small way because of you. It meant a lot to me.” You have no idea what it means to me, and where it has gotten me, but what that means I don’t know yet. “Awwww,” Inkie blushed unnecessarily. “You don’t have to say that.” “So where are you headed?” Ditzy continued, and she felt that she would not mind a nice, unexpected, trivial conversation. “Ponyville, to visit my sister Pinkie Pie.” Pinkie has a sibling? This should be interesting. “I know Pinkie.” So they began. After another few moments of introduction, a short discussion of the confounding mare, Inkie recalled a story about their early days on their rock farm. “She was acting funny—funnier than usual, obviously, she is Pinkie—but it was really strange because she wouldn’t tell any of us what she was doing. She kept taking food and paper and a couple of blankets and books, of all things, and putting them who-knows-where. I begged her to know; I thought she was planning some weird kind of new party, but if anypony can see through that poofed-mane into her head, they haven’t told me what she thinks. We had a nice place on the rock farm: a bit isolated, but we were always nice to any visitors. Pinkie usually was the one to embrace them the most. She’s a bit older than I am, but I can barely remember when she used to be all quiet and trudge-y all the time. After that, our small and happy house was never really as quiet as it was, but that was ok. Sometimes I would go out into the fields alone and wonder how many shades of rocks there were and look up at the stars and wonder what different kind of colors they had from here…” Inkie’s mind was painted on her face; but Ditzy could not see her face. She also was with her in the fields, looking at rocks and imagining a filled canvas, looking at the stars and wondering what color there might be. “It was always really cold at night, but I never seemed to notice. It was one of those nights when the moon was grey and the sky was purple-black and the rocks were all grey and still and solemn and wondering. I loved those nights, when I could just be in the rocks and gaze and not-really think but I was still thinking somehow it happened all natural and wonderful. I kind of needed to be out there more after Pinkie changed—it was almost like she was too colorful, but that doesn’t feel right to say. I needed…” “Contrast,” Ditzy supplied. “Yeah, that sounds right. It wasn’t right for Pinkie to be out there—she could never sit still, or think, or maybe it just wasn’t that she could act like that. She was a filly in motion all the time. One day, she just started and I can only think of one or two times when she stopped. I tried to take her out once or twice and try to make her see what I saw, but I couldn’t, and I don’t know whether it was my fault because I couldn’t explain or whether she just couldn’t understand. I changed a bit when she left; I was always quieter when she was around. I felt like balance was important, but she… Eh, I guess it isn’t worth worrying over. She manages.” “It was one of those nights, I think I was at, and the sky was all purplish and lovely and the stars were like sequins in black velvet and I could see my breath through the air, and it felt like part of me was floating up into the sky. I was sitting in one of my usual spots with the rocks that I thought were unusual, although others didn’t really see what was strange in them. They were all grey, but I liked them. It was getting really late, but the stars were magnificent and the seasons were changing and the constellations’ shapes were all fluid and I loved it because I could find new ones, if only they lasted a night.” “Then I heard something creeping along—it wasn’t strange, I thought it was just a mouse or something and I ignored it for a minute; I was in a field after all—and then I saw Pinkie sneaking around. She always was one to ambush, but she was on my field now, literally and figuratively, and I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get her back. She was going to one of the barns and I thought it was a little weird to be going at that time of night, but I was so excited at the chance to scare her. I never get the chance to scare her; she isn’t really surprised by anything. I had to creep up on her for a long time. She was better at sneaking, of course, and that made it a little harder. She got right up to the barn doors before I decided I was close enough to give her a good scare, so I jumped out behind her and went ‘Boo!’” Ditzy had to resist the urge to laugh lightly imagining the situation, and Inkie took notice. It wasn’t contemptuous, although Inkie mistook her pleasure. Ditzy was completely immersed and enjoying herself, having forgotten the rest of the world completely. “I was like, ten! I couldn’t think of anything scarier,” Inkie said in defense of her ploy, but her slight defensiveness faded under her story-telling enthusiasm. “But anyways, we just got to the interesting part. Pinkie jumped around and yelled something about how she wasn’t hiding anypony in the barn…” “I was curious, but I was having too much fun laughing at her surprise to really consider anything for a minute. What I did notice was that after I had rolled on the ground laughing at her for a good twenty seconds was that she hadn’t done anything at all. I couldn’t make out her exact expression very well in the shadow of the barn, but she was standing still and twitching—but not the normal kind of twitching from Pinkie. It was a nervous twitchy thing, suppressed, and she looked scared. I was a little scared too, because Pinkie was scared, and Pinkie isn’t really afraid of anything. So I got up, and I asked her what was wrong and she said ‘Nothing,’ but she said it really fast and wouldn’t look at me. I think she was trying to look back at the barn, but it was hard to tell because the moonlight was blocked by the barn and she was just under the outside roof of it. The doors were all closed, so I couldn’t see inside.” This is sounding less and less like an amusing anecdote… “I asked her what she meant when she had said that she wasn’t hiding anypony in the barn; she looked like she was going to crack under pressure, but I couldn’t see well anyways. I thought she was messing with me, and by that point I was sure that she had some surprise hidden in the barn. So I started playing like it was a game, with Pinkie trying to deflect me from getting in the door. I wasn’t scared at all anymore. I was actually a little excited. She hadn’t ever gone that far to conceal something from us, so it must be something wonderful in the barn. Eventually, I got around and knocked open one of the doors and a really bright light spilled out and blinded us. It wasn’t actually bright, just a candle or two, actually, but they were way brighter than the moon and stars. It took me a few seconds to recover, but when I could see again I saw a pair of colts, about Pinkie’s age, sleeping off in a corner! Pinkie jumped in and started talking really fast about how sorry she was and that she hadn’t meant to wake them up or something, and I think she actually woke them up that way instead of me bursting in the door. I was very confusedly standing in the doorway and failing to ask a question about what was going on. I didn’t know either of the colts, but Pinkie told me later that she had found them at dawn lying out in the rock fields—” —And then she was overlooking a dark crag with a windmill in the distance, fields filled with nothing but boulders strewn about. Dark moonlight shone down, cutting through dystopian night as a young aqua-colored pegasus looked on apprehensively. “Wait! What did they look like?” Ditzy interrupted. She nearly rose from her seat with energetic suspicion, but the shock of possibility held her in place. Inkie was surprised at the interruption and Ditzy’s sudden innervation, but not wary. “Uh… One was light greyish and the other was an interesting shade of blue-green. Why?” It has to be—what are the odds, I’ll find out and then I’ll go. “You’ll see in a minute; I promise. Did anything else happen?” It took an enormous amount of effort for Inkie to resume her tale without querying for some answers of her own, but to her trust’s credit she did so anyways. She continued, but this time she was not gazing wondrously into space-time as she brought back what she knew. This time she was an analytic tester, cross-examining Ditzy’s every unconcealed reaction to her story. “They had woken up and one of them was looking at me; I remember because there was something strange about his eyes. It was all confusion for a little while, at least until Pinkie introduced me to them. I didn’t interact much with them—actually, I don’t remember much at all about them, it’s been a long time—and it took a while for the three of them to get across a short story of how they had gotten there. Apparently, they were wanderers or rovers or something and they had just decided to take some rest in the fields on their way to Baltimare. I should have been really cautious, but Pinkie trusted them so my ten-year-old self figured that they were fine. They ended up not getting around to much; they wanted to move on, but they had talked to Pinkie and made the mistake of mentioning (how, I don’t know) that they had never had a birthday party. Of course, that was a tragedy of unimaginable size for Pinkie, and she delayed them as long as possible so she could stage a surprise party for them. They managed to scoot out of her grasp somehow over the next couple of days, and Pinkie was pretty sad for a while that she never got to throw them their party. I think somewhere, in the back of her mind, she never stopped planning it. It was the party she never had: it took her a while to come to terms with it, but when she did she ended up being happier somehow. Pinkie Pie logic is always the weirdest.” Ditzy nodded. She had experienced that particular brand of ‘logic’ on more than one occasion. Inkie pounced on Ditzy’s distraction. “So what’s this that’s got you excited about those two?” With a subtly sneaky smile, Ditzy stood and motioned toward the exit. “Something you might be interested in.” Inkie hesitated for an instant, then took the bait and left with Ditzy.