Penned IN

by Qwix

Chapter 27: From the Heart it Springs

The moonlight bounced off the rock face, coming from a moon that was as full as Pennaprose's mind. It had already been a full day since after the plan to infiltrate the hive was divined. The weight of the task ahead of him was beginning to impose itself; he still had tomorrow to train, but he felt like today wasn't as fruitful of a training session as he could have hoped.

He blocked the moonlight from his view, examining his ebony hoof, covered in small scratches that was almost impossible to tell in the shadow of the moonlight. Gosthette hadn't pulled any punches in beating the basics of swordplay and close combat; his head still hurt from getting thrown away into various things and getting whacked in the back of the head with a wooden sword.

The ice casting training was the only thing he felt he was proficient at. Gosthette had said that because he was a unicorn previously, magic came naturally to him; he managed to create a wall of ice thick enough to stop AJ's buck on his first try. He smiled as he recalled managing to catch Gosthette in midair with a beam of ice, dropping her to the ground. She broke out without breaking a sweat, but the idea that he had some part of his training down pat already gave him hope...

He let his magic rise to the surface of his horn, which was still in its original form instead of a crooked changeling's. He willed a gentle fleet of snowflakes to form above him, falling gently on the slab of rock he had perched himself on just outside the mountainside. He didn't feel the cold; rather, the snow felt warm to him. Aloysius had said something about a changeling's body temperature being far below a normal pony's, in part due the infusion of windigo magic. He sighed as he continued to stare at the moon.

"...It's very pretty, isn't it?"

He looked up, the window exit of the dragon's chamber above him. Lyra was looking down upon him from the chamber, eyes filled with a pleading curiosity.

"Lyra? What are you doing up this late?" he asked.

"Same as you, Penni. I can't sleep. The upcoming mission is starting to get to me..."

She scrambled down the side of the ledge, landing right next to him. "Besides, I saw you get up and walk out of your bed. And I couldn't just ignore that, now could I?"

"Heh... I guess not."

"So... care to talk about it? Or am I going to have to... tickle you into telling me?"

She was leaning in rather close, a giddy look on her face. He relented. "I only have a day left to train before we leave for the world-saving thing. And I can't help but feel like I'm not getting stronger fast enough..."

"Hn... I don't think so," she said, putting a hoof around his shoulder. "You're plenty strong, you just don't know it yet. You've already mastered the ice-casting thing, haven't you? And Gosthette didn't beat you that bad during that last round. You only got hit three times?"

He smiled. "I guess... but do you think one more day will be enough? I feel like if I don't reach a certain point, I'll only be holding the entire team back... and potentially cost us all an important victory. Or worse."

"And? You never let that stop you when you risked your neck to save me. Frankly, that was downright suicidal. Where'd that reckless bravado go all of a sudden?" she asked, poking his face with her other hoof. "You doubt yourself a lot. A little too much, honestly."

"Well... it was because I wanted to save you. And I want to apologize for shouting at you way back then. I really shouldn't have done that..."

She scooted a little closer. "...I had hoped that was the case... Am I really more important than Equestria that you would lay your neck on the guillotine without a second thought? Then go doubting yourself when your stronger for less of a task?"

"Of course! It hurts me that you think you're not worth it, Lyra–"

He stopped. She was silently crying, gazing up at the moon. As he watched, the tears froze to her face.

"You don't know how much that means to me... Penni."

He frowned. "Lyra..."

"I've lived in Ponyville for so long that I can't remember anywhere else. But... would you care to hear a story? Even if it's from me?"

"Especially if it's from you!"

She wiped her eyes, a smile growing in strength across her face. Instinctively, he reached over and pulled her into a full hug, enjoying the warmth of the moment. She seemed a little shocked for a moment, but reacted warmly, reaching around his neck and sharing the moment with him. They let time pass into nothingness, the whistling of the wind filling the void of silence. Eventually they drifted from the hug, but she still kept a hoof around his neck.

"This will take awhile... so why don't we lie down?" He complied, flopping on his side. She leaned in and cuddled against his body, the nighttime sky expanding before the pair of them.

"First, I want to know... do humans have anything like a Cutie Mark?" she asked.

"...Not that I know. Gosthette might know for sure, but I'm not entirely sure what a Cutie Mark is, to be honest. Twilight's explanation just confused me."

She gave a small laugh. "Well then... Every pony has a time in their life when their one true talent manifests as a mark on their flank. Mine is a lyre... and yours is a pair of quills. There is an immense range in them, some ponies even share the same mark, but not all Cutie Marks mean the same thing. As Vinyl and Octavia, indeed, all of Ponyville assumed... that mine means that my one, true talent is playing the instrument that fate—or perhaps destiny?—has decided to tattoo on my butt."

She pushed deeper into his side, placing a hoof over his hoof. "There are indeed famous musicians that have the same mark, and they too play the lyre. But mine—"

"You are a poet."

She gave the barest hint of an upward glimpse. "You read my note, then?"

"Yes. I tripped into a puddle at one point and the note got wet, leaving only certain letters. That was actually what made me decide to chase you for more than just to apologize," he said.

"It's a spell only I know, granted through my Mark, to enchant what I write every time with the truest notes plucked from my heartstrings. But however the magic operates, the more I go against it, the deeper it entrenches the message... Even I don't know what message you read when the spell activated, but it must have echoed my true feelings. I can try to cover it up... but it always finds a way to make itself apparent, each method of revelation unique to the discoverer.

"My story is about how I got that Mark. It was when I was a filly, about 10 years ago..."

---

Those days were always warm, it seems. My parents were still around then, and we lived in Ponyville proper. Bon Bon was my next door neighbor; we spent endless afternoons playing together, laughing, trying to imagine what your Marks would be... much like Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Applebloom do today. I like seeing them at their next line of antics; it reminds me of those days... Much warmer days...

I was playing at the outskirts of town with Bon Bon, Octavia, and Vinyl. A game of hide and seek, and I was the one seeking. Course, the fact that Tavi found time even then to play was a miracle... her parents had always pressed her to practice the cello with every waking moment she could spare. So that day was extra lively.

Carefree, innocent... the idolized days of youth that are lost before they are found, like a universal truth... I miss them.

Anyway... where was I? Oh yes... I was seeking the others a sunny afternoon. Only Tavi had her Cutie Mark back then, so Bon, Vinyl, and I were a kind of 'crusader' group of our own. We had places all over town to hide in, little crannies that would go overlooked by the adults, but not us; all of them discovered over time as the three of us searched high and low for our marks.

I was looking around the edge of town, near the Everfree Forest that day. I had a hunch that Vinyl, being the explorative spirit she was, decided to find a place just a little inside the forest to hide this time. But I didn't want to go inside out of fear... my parents always told me to stay away.

I compromised and decided to skim the edge of the forest, thinking I might be able to spot Vinyl by that alone. I wasn't watching my hooves as I walked... and tripped in a small hole. When I looked to see what I had tripped on... I found a chain with a handle attached. I pulled with my magic, not thinking anything besides the foolish idea that Vinyl somehow dug a pit on her own time to hide into.

What I found there would become my new home down the road. It was nothing more than a pristinely clean chamber, high as can be, lit by crystals and a fireplace. There was no real decorations... nothing fancy, just... something inviting about it. I left, not finding Vinyl there, but not thinking of what would soon happen...

That time was rather unsettling. Prance was at war then, ten years ago, and Equestria had pledged support in terms of troops. ...My father was one of them. That war ten years ago sent him off into the miasma of battle, behind the curtain of war... from which he never returned. Mother was distraught, often depressed... Celestia herself visited the families of those who lost someone in the war... but it did nothing in the long run. One year after my father disappeared... my mother took her own life in the dead of night.

Without parents, without my Cutie Mark... I had only Bon Bon and Vinyl to turn to. They took turns asking their parents to let me stay with them; I tried to ease my burden on them by assisting with the house chores at both places... but eventually, the time came when they both had to move out and find their own places. I felt lost, as they could not support me as they had done for by that point had been a year and a half...

In a single stroke of luck, I recalled that inviting place by the forest, hidden from sight. Only Vinyl and Bon Bon knew about it; it wasn't registered in Ponyville's files. So I chanced it late one night... and went looking for the place again.

Sure enough, I found it. By tripping over it again, but that's beside the point. The second time I visited it, the fireplace was going. There was no pony there, but on a table lie a thick black book and a half-drunk cup of coffee. My heart sank as I thought somepony already lived there... but I glanced through the book on a whim.

It was a book full of poetry, handwritten in beautiful penmanship but battered. The last few pages were blank, save for the last few lines where a note was written. I can still recall it's contents today...

To whom it may concern:

I have left this place for good, deciding that I have no further need for it. My travels have been far... and my scarred bones and weathered heart grow tired of it. But I have found a new place to settle in, a community where everything I could ever need is at hoof's reach.

I leave the ownership of this place in the hooves of who has the spirit to find it and the will to travel where I have gone. I only advise you that you find a different destination by the end of your life that I had found, but always return here for respite and read of the next place to look. For there are goodbyes that should never be said...

This book is a memento of my last travel; keep it safe for me. I fear that if I kept it for myself, it would only serve to remind me of everypony I had not the chance to say goodbye too...

I spent the next hour there, reading through that book of poetry... and then spent the next week there afterwords, doing nothing but reading the massive collection of poetry that lined the walls.

When I finished the one hundreth book, getting nothing but a few hours of sleep every day and surviving on what I had brought along with me food-wise, I looked at the stack of books, feeling inspired. I grabbed a random sheet of paper, quill, and ink out of my knapsack, writing down the echoes of the words I just spent a week reading in hallucinatory fascination...

My first poem was born. It goes as such...

I live to love and carry on
The Truth of words so wearied long
And tell the foals who gather, hear
Of heroes, saviors in their ear

A bard I called myself at best
To tell my heart-strung tales, lest
I falter and forget my purpose
Feel forgotten, feel worthless.

Several of the books I read, particularly the last one before I wrote my first poem, made mention of beings that are unknown to Equestria. Only the last one called them by name; human. I was fascinated, driven by a mad desire to understand... but that week spent in hiding bore fruit. When I had emerged to find Bon Bon and tell her, I had gotten my Cutie Mark. I emerged covered in dirt... and my mane was a mess form rolling around on the stone floor by fireplace… but it was there, all the same.

I had not informed anypony of what I went to go do. So, of course, I had not caught wind of a search party that had already given up after the fourth day. In retrospect, it appeared suspicious; my father, gone and my mother, dead, their only child missing with no witnesses even by her best friends. I walked into Ponyville looking as if I had truly been living in the woods; somepony was contacted and before I knew it, I was carted off to the hospital against my will. I was fine, but when the doctors tried to conduct a psychological survey, I let slip my discovery on humankind.

It was then and there that I experienced the reality of humans in Equestria. I was still a little bit of a filly, so they rolled their eyes and dismissed it... but still put me under close surveillance in the coming months.

I tried to prove them wrong. I tried to spread my word through my poems. But, like the doctors, all I met with was a casual dismissal or a polite smirk. Nopony believed me, and everypony believed I was the insane one.

I tried to look for places where my newfound talent would be appreciated... but nowhere in Ponyville would suit. Not even Canterlot, where they shamed me, saying my talent for poetry was mediocre at best... I had no use for sharing it. I began to grow ashamed of my mark... so, to find a job in which I could live on, I advertised myself as a lyricist; anypony that needs lyrics written, or a story spellchecked... would find me. Vinyl has always been a recurring customer, thankfully... but it's not easy living off commissions... It worked, and nopony alive that knows me aside from Bon Bon knew about my true talent.

Bon Bon kept me from leaving Ponyville then. She outright said she didn't believe me... but she also said that doesn't change a thing about who I was. Vinyl laughed in my face... and Octavia scoffed... but neither of them stopped believing that I was their friend.

Time passed, however, and we all grew up and away. Vinyl works at night so often that we can't see each other that much, and Octavia spends half her time in Canterlot performing for her orchestra. Bon Bon was the last pony I regularly hung out with, and my single tether to reality...

Then here I am now, a madmare with a dream that lies beyond understanding, with a talent that lies beyond the shadow's line...

---

The last of her words fell to the void of night, the whistling wind carrying it away. She lie her head down upon his hoof and sighed.

"Worthless... I counted the number of times I had told myself I was just that in the span of the first year after I found my talent. One thousand, four hundred, eighty six times I said that... but next year, I would have decided that I am worth more than my tales, and that those who were unwilling to listen to my poems were not worthy of hearing them. After Bon Bon, it was all that has kept me going. It was all I had to prevent me from certain suicide..."

He felt speechless, staring down at her mane. It seemed to meld with the moonlight...

"I haven't bothered to relive that history since..." she said, voice cracking. "I... Oh, coldness..."

He felt her tears fall on his front legs and his own heart fall. He hated to see her cry...

"Lyra. It's now, not then, that we live. And when we finally can have time to ourselves, the reality of changelings come and gone..." he began, lying his head down on hers and letting his mane blanket hers. "Then there will be more tales to tell. There will always be tales to tell... but together... we will write our own. It will be the only book I write... that I hope to never finish."

A cloud passed in front of the moon, casting the mountainside into shadow. Yet a sliver of moonlight broke through, illuminating Lyra alone. A trace of a smile graced her face as she closed her eyes and dried her tears again. Her breathing slowed as she began to fall asleep; with her last breath before the clutch of dreams took hold, she sighed and said one last thing.

"I love you, Penni..."

The stars in the sky never seemed as beautiful as the snow and tears that glistened around them.