Rock On (FFF contest entry; Random; Mudbriar/Maud)
“Technically, I will always be a stick pony, regardless of my physical form at any one moment.” Mudbriar looked over at his marefriend and smiled. “But I guess I would be willing to try this Metamorphic Experience, if it would make you happy.”
“I’m ecstatic.”
The two of them walked slowly to the Rockumentation Room entrance. As Maud hauled open the heavy door, Mudbriar felt a wave of intense heat roll over him. He blinked.
“Isn’t Edith handling all this?”
Maud didn’t even look round. “She's at the Cockatrice Congregation. And as much as I loved you as a hunk of granite, we did talk about taking our relationship to the next level.” She pointed at the dim shape of machinery beyond the portal. “It took me a while to get the temperature and pressure high enough.”
Mudbriar squeaked. “High enough for what?! You didn’t say anything about this earlier!”
“It’s quite easy,” said Maud, seemingly ignoring him. “It will strengthen our relationship.”
“But what about you? Aren’t you going to join me in there?”
Maud shook her head, half an inch or so each way. Mudbriar was startled at her vehemence.
“No.”
“Why not? A rock pony such as you should be able to withstand higher temperature and pressure than a stick pony such as myself. We could be metamorphic together. I love you, Maud. I’ll always be here for you. Will you be here for me?”
“I need to operate the controls.”
Mudbriar scowled, then stamped a hoof.
“No. I'm sorry, Maud, but no. Technically, this is goodbye.”
Maud blinked twice. “Why?”
Mudbriar could hardly bear seeing Maud so miserable, but he hardened his heart; a line had been crossed. Things would never again be the same between them. As he walked out of Maud’s cavern and out of her life, he turned his head and called back to the desolate mare.
“If you won’t be gneiss, at least don’t make me feel like schist.”
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Booooo
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I'm honoured!
was that really necessary?
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No. But I did it anyway!
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Rarity made piranha-proof pyjamas for the llamas. These llamas were (in some stupid way) descendants of G1 seaponies, hence a) their ability to swim and b) that last line. That's it, really: it's just a bit of silliness. I mean, come on: the convention version, whose conditions I was trying to replicate as exactly as possible, gave us 45 minutes from discovering the prompts to turning out the finished piece, no typing allowed. Some authors may be able to plan and execute something in that time, but I can't. So I just thought of something a bit different (the rhyming, which wasn't required) and let myself go from there.