Chrysology

by Bad

Chapter 4

I stare at her violet eyes. They are not currently watching me, but I know she is inspecting me; dissecting every single piece of evidence I may unwittingly present. Of what, I don’t know.

She is pouring the infusion in teacup. “Want some tea?” she asks.

I notice that she moves a platter from behind her. She puts it in a small table between us. I’m moderately sure the table wasn’t there before.

The least I can feel is unease. I hesitate, and she seems to notice. After briefly looking at me, she places the steaming cup in front of her. I do a double take when she adds granulated sugar.

“Some might heavily criticize this,“ she says as she takes the other cup and takes a small brown package from the platter. She breaks the little bag and some granulated substance falls on the teacup. I can smell it, it’s coffee.

“But I know you wholeheartedly enjoy this kind of concoction.” She lets the teapot’s contents flow into my cup.

“Here, the sugar,” she signals me to two sugar bowls on the platter. I pick the one with the cubes.

On different circumstances I’d say nothing. I wouldn’t even accept anything. I know I shouldn't, but this mare already knows me far more than I know her.

...that is, if she is who she seems to be. If not, well, she deserves some praise; she has bested changelings in their own game.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You are welcome,” I hear her saying, but I’m averting her eyes. “I know you are anxious for answers, but shall we start by another topic?”

I’m unsure what to do. I face her again, bring my cup up and drink from it; hopefully buying me some time. The flavor is amazing, I hadn’t tasted something close in likeness in a long time.

“It is not cassia, if you are wondering. I enjoy the softness of the Ceylon variety,“ she says while blinking one eye. I do not like that.

I have to cooperate in anyways. I doubt staying silent would do any good.

“B-By chance have you met Carmine Fennel?” I manage to blurt out.

“No; I believe not,” she says. I don’t know if I should take her word. “Who is him?” she asks.

“He… was the most talented pony at making any kind of beverage, as far as I know” I point out.

“I met him in a famed Canterlot café. I was… disguised as a waitress. He was really humble in spite of his status. He would usually offer some free ‘requests’ at the end of the working hours to his co-workers.

“I always said no, until some day he insisted me: «If you don’t accept, I won’t take your customers’ orders anymore.»

“I told him, «Alright, I only want a coffee, simple, with no dairy products, no more than three ingredients. One coffee that tastes as much as pure grain and water as you can possibly bring yourself to make.» He didn’t object.

“I was surprised when he brought me a mug only three minutes after. It steamed a wonderful fragrance. «Here, picky customer, your simple drink in a lackluster receipt,» he said.”

I pause. The coffee I’m holding is undeniably similar. “I took a sip. The mug was empty not a minute after. To say it was good it’s a gross underestimation,” I abruptly finish my story.

She holds a smile I can’t decide if mischievous or grateful. Ever slowly, she levitates her cup away from the table while pulling out a handkerchief. I didn’t notice the moment she finished.

She briefly looks at the window before talking. "How should I address you, my dear guest? It’s rather cumbersome to speak impersonally."

"Ananke," I say absentmindedly. Uh oh. I feel the need to punch myself. I guess I shouldn't have said that.

At least I can salvage something from the slip. "Who are you? I mean, I know who you resemble, but I sincerely doubt a pony princess would have business with a common changeling." Yes, certainly.

"It depends," she says casually.

That's cheating and she knows it.

"But... you might call me Celestia, given the circumstances, as I'm going to be the only Celestia you will find here. Even though I'm not the one you have heard of."

"I suppose that's good enough." I say as silence engulfs the room for what could have been minutes.

“Frankly, I expected a much less cooperative talk. You have done well, I won’t impatient you longer,” she says. "That is, if you don’t want me to engage in pointless banter."

I let the question linger in the air with an unsaid 'No thanks.' She seems to acknowledge my response.

“You see, everything here is not completely real.” She points to the window, where one could see the night, vividly. “Come, see.”

She approaches the window, and I follow cautiously. She places her hoof below its arch, it takes me a second to understand she was telling me to look outside.

I realize it is not the scenery of an usual night. The landscape looks barren and monotone. The bright ivory ground contrasts with a profoundly black sky. Despite the encompassing darkness, there are uncountably many stars on it. Any night sky I had ever seen paled in detail to this one.

I follow the horizon and find a blue halo peeking over its leftmost side. It is moving along a curved trajectory, advancing more horizontally than vertically, towards the center.

About one third from reaching the middle, I can finally see its shape. It is a familiar, yet alien sight.

I see a disk, or rather a sphere, sporting a mix between blues, greens, yellows and whites. A shape I recognize from maps is imprinted on it: Equestria.

It meant the disk was Equus. And here… was the Moon? What was she implying when she said everything here wasn’t completely real?

“The sight you are seeing is real and present, but our bodies aren’t here in reality,” she answers, as if knowing my thoughts. “Neither this house.”

I ponder if what she says is true. I see so much detail, and I seem to be perfectly conscious that I find it easy to believe it. It still sounds far-fetched, though—

“Careful, you might burn yourself with that tea,” Celestia breaks my stupor with her warning. I notice I’m still holding my tea, but I have dripped some on the floor. A shame, it was delicious.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“That is a hard question to answer. The most succinct explanation would be a magical matrix, not unlike dreamscapes, with elements similar to those of changeling collective minds that is anchored by powerful artifacts that could be technically classified as golems.”

I don’t know the specifics of most advanced magic, but I have learnt enough to have some insight.

“So there is something in the moon which shares this view with our minds?” I say.

She nods. Interesting.

“And then this is created by somepony dreaming?” I circle my limb towards the room.

“Not particularly. It can be formed at will from one’s mind. Sufficiently strong fingments may provoke a memory effect.” She flinched, as if predicting where my train of thought was leading.

“So thus far I have been traversing spaces forged by the collective imagination of the many that have been here, including mine and yours? Am I still where I physically ‘left’?”

“Yes. Most likely,” she said, answering both questions.

I will cross the line with the next question, but I deem it necessary. “You said this place has elements of changeling magic. Can you pry into my thoughts? If true, since when does ponies have access to changeling knowledge?”

She pauses, but never drops that smile I'm starting to despise. "If I were to answer that first question, would I change your opinion anyways?" she says.

She is right; even if the way she replies disturbs me.

"You would be surprised how old is that knowledge," she adds. "It was there even before I was born, and I am really old."

"Why are you telling me this?" I say.

"Because without a proper introduction, you would disregard what I need to tell you." She closes her eyes and a purple mist forms just in front of her.

I step back in anticipation. I'm ready to run if needed. But if what she said is true, it will be of no use.

The mist takes an equine shape. Her horn lits in a golden aura which coalesces with the mist. It takes a solid appearance, mist becoming black chunks of something; it is being sewed in the air.

She finishes faster than I expected, and I cannot believe it. She holds 'it' within her telekinesis. A creature that resembles perfectly one of my kind.

"Before you ask, no, it has no true sentience, its existence is currently pegged to mine," she says.
"I would rather ask you something, if you don't mind?"

My curiosity is overwhelming my common sense, I have never seen magic like that. I need to know, I must.

No. This must be her trap, being friendly until the time she has my trust and bestows a temptation upon me. It has to be. No, I won’t reveal anything.

"What kind of question you say?"

Her smile brightems. "Oh, just wondering if you want a crash course on how magic works here, so you learn how to question the place itself.

"You see, this place is literally forged from thoughts and feelings, as I just exemplified."

Comments

[nioniosbbbb]

It seems odd to stop the chapter here. You also never described her colors i think. Hell i doubt you described the changeling or Ananke.

More weird stuff happen.

However in this chapter some grammar errors are presenpresent more than others. In any case they are minor and i will continue.