Chapter 25 — Cherriest
Chapter 25: Cherriest
“We’re… gonna… run!”
“Strengths.”
It the largest single-syllable word in the entire Equestrian language. Plus, it just so happened to express what I needed, summing up what I felt I had to have in order to bite my own hoof off. Great strengths.
This time, the limb didn’t heal as I sank my fangs thereinto.
|— ☩ —|
“Calêrhos,” Snechta had said just before I’d gone find her the book I now had. “That’s what it called. It is spelt cah-ah-el-hwêy-rho-atch-oh-so.”
“I don’t know what most of those letter are,” I’d replied.
The High Priestess rolled her eyes. In moment later, she’d written it down for me. “I might be able to heal any damages to your flesh, but only with this book. Calêrhos means ‘Doorway’, for that is what it is.” Snechta ran a hoof through her mane. “The knowledge in the book is the only way to bring Cae Cêlyx back from the slumber the dread King Somber put it in. But Cae Cêlyx is a great gift which we can use to restore all that we lost.”
I stepped back, giving her and her fanatic beliefs some distance. Was it a longshot? Probably. But it was also my only shot. “And where might I find this book which holds the cure to all my woes?”
Snechta smiled. “The Imperial Archives way up in Tah-Dolborath: the Crystal Castle.”
|— ☩ —|
I coughed and spat out blood onto the floor as I watched the hoofcuff slip off to the ground. The useless nub that had once been my forehoof was on the ground, looking a bit like the world’s saddest cupcake. If there’s one saving grace to this, I thought as I dragged my bloody self towards the desk on a lonely good limb, my legs deadlegged and so nigh useless, it’s that I’m not bleeding as much as I should be.
That, of course, was likely the fault of the arm itself. The arm that I, for the honest love of the Mare Laurentia, could feeling grabbing my arm socket, as if it were a sentient tree digging its root into me to prevent a gale blowing it over. I didn’t want to look at my shoulder because I knew that if I did, I’d see those roots under my skin, like bulbous snakes wearing party hats.
“Go away,” I hissed in a quiet, dying voice. My words were addressed to the raging inferno that was my new forestump. More specifically, to the fact that I could still feel my forehoof as if I hadn’t just chewn it off. “You do not exist. Not for the moment.”
Leaking blood, I tripped and stumbled up to the desk. Behind me, I could see the blood and bits of flesh and bone slowly crawling after me like hungry, limbless zombies. Honestly, I wanted to get all of my gear before the shredded bits of limb caught up to me, solely because I found the idea of facing my arm to be funny.
I reached out from the ground, grabbing at Cherry’s desk. apparently, I pulled a drawer, and pulled so hard that it exploded out from its little socket. Out spilled almost a dozen pear-shaped bottle labeled “For Sports Injuries”, as well as several bottles of Juggernog. No, I had no idea how in God’s name Cherry fit so many bottles in there. And when I tried to figure it out, I heard Cherry’s voice in my head say, “I was trying to figure out just what kind of sound I’d make when my soulmate’s you-know-what destroys my little downstairs hidey-hole.” A most unsettling thought.
Grabbing the nearest bottle, I fumbled with my teeth, hoof, and bloody forestump trying to get it to my lips. The cork was the hardest part.
Finally, I drank greedily from the bottle, the pink liquid sloshing down my throat. Then I paused. Shit. I haven’t had anything to eat all day. In short, without food in my stomach for the healing tonic to work with, I would half to pray that I had enough food in my intestines. Except that yesterday was spent on a train, where I didn’t eat because I forgot. So, shit. Well, no, shit would imply stuff had to have been going through my intestines, which was a good thing. In fact, this was more like no shit.
Gritting my teeth, I braced for the feeling of my body eating away at itself, trying to heal the deadlegged muscles of my leg. Instead of my underflesh burning I expected, the armroots clawing at my shoulder pulsed. I could feel the roots get hot—no, I could feel them burning so hot that I almost broke out in dance, like a child that has to piss really bad.
A sudden idea gripped me as to what was going on. In a moment, I scrambled for more healing potions, mehr Tränke der Genesung, as the teutches part of me moaned. I downed three more bottles before I felt as if I’d throw up, which would have made for a pretty mix of sulfuric stomach acids, bile, and pink. Had there been a canvas here, I just might have thrown up just to enjoy the resulting award for Modern Art.
The roots let out a sound like a cross between bursting a huge penis zit and frying an omelet, and then the burning sensation in my arm was gone, my dead legged limbs feeling fine, if a tad sore. So, I sat there and watched as my wrist reassembled itself with an almost dainty touch.
“Huh,” I said, standing up. “Why do I feel as if I experienced a new perk of C’s arm, but one that is sure to do me no good?” I poked at my right shoulder. The roots were gone, but it just felt… unclean. Almost as unclean as my chin and lips did, since they still had the stain of Cherry Berry’s tongue. But if I had to commend the creepy rapistette for something, it’s that she knew the proper ins and outs of dental hygiene. Her tongue had been very red, no sign of plaque or anything; her breath smelt of cherries, though, so she lost points on the creativity. Although, since she smelt vaguely of lavender, maybe she was just trying to mix her scents up—to better help mask the scent of horny rapist.
“Well, this is the being alive song,” I singsonged, gathering up my things. “It is the song you sing when you successfully chew a limb off and live to kill that rapist mare—whoooooa, yeah! I got my shirt, and I got my duster. So come on, girl, I shall make you… uh… fluster. Muster up your sex appeal, so long as you’re not named Cherry Berry.” I paused. “Whose name kind of rhymes with that possible nickname which I once heard, Jerry. Oh, the mare who once called me that is dead, yeah!”
Then came my knife. It was hiding gracefully in its little sheath, the weapon that had ended so many lives, had seen so much use. I reached for it, and when I did, I quickly confused myself. It had been no more thought-needing that anything else, but when I reached for it, I reached for it with phantom limbs. It was more like I vaguely swatted at the knife, nothing more.
Stopping, I stared at my hoof. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt like I had limbs I didn’t have. What were they? Were they… were they fingers? Yes. Yes, that was it. It felt as if I had a set of five really long, slender, yet beefy appendages at the end of my hoof, like that of a monkey, only more centered around a palm. What’s more, I swore that I could feel the digits trying to flex, using muscles that I didn’t have to tug at bones I’d never possessed. How I felt something that wasn’t there wasn’t something I understood, but I figured it had something to do with C’s fingers.
Lefty was fine, though. Such a good boy.
Still, I did try to awkwardly grasp at my knife with my hoof. I’d seen that so many Canterlot unicorns seemed to have almost a paranoid aversion to using their hooves, but if I could grab my knife and hobble along, I would do it. But first, I had to kick all of these healing potions away, because I couldn’t pick them up with a knife in the hoof.
The blade of the knife wasn’t just a little aged. It wasn’t even old. Not even ancient. It was beyond such terms. The blade was pure age, as if time itself had condensed into a solid wedge of steel-like metal, and then had its end honed to the point of being invisible. With such a suicidally sharp weapon in hoof, I just stood there and waited for my romantic conquest to return to me.
I was going to teach her a thing or two about love.
|— ☩ —|
“Oh, Jericho,” Cherry Berry singsonged as she sashayed into the room. She was wearing socks and eyeliner, a bag of goods hanging from her side. “Um, where’d you…?” She looked around the room and saw me. Her face brightened, then darkened. “Look, I get how you’re eager and all—because believe you me, I sure as hay am—but if you’re not hoofcuffed and Jade Singer walks in, we are totally screwed, you and I.” She winked. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure that you get out of here, no prob—”
I jammed the maddeningly sharpened blade into the side of her neck, nicking the artery or vein or whatever. I didn’t care. When I pulled the blade out, Cherry let out a breathless scream as she clutched her throat. It took a great deal of effort not to smile as she floundered around in her own blood, gasping and crying out in vain. So I just watched without any emotion as she pathetically reached out a hoof, as if asking for help. I kicked it away.
As her bloody hoof fell back to her throat, I saw tears in her eyes. They weren’t tears of pain or agony. Nor of anger or hate. They were simply tears of betrayal, of a broken heart mixed with dumb confusion.
“Oh, look. You’re hurt,” I said in a toneless voice. “Funny that.”
Before I made to leave the room, I made sure to clean my knife of blood by dragging its side through her champagne-like mane. Of course, this would be that other time that any rescuer would arrive. I made sure to get out of there before any such hero could arrive. This was because even if I was completely in the right for killing my would-be rapist, I was probably the only unsexist hero in Equestria, and they would all see me as evil for killing Cherry Berry. Because, you know, it wasn’t as if a stallion could ever say no to sex—thought every Equestrian mare ever, according to Cherry Berry.
I was just going to find Selena standing outside, and she was going to tell me that she fully endorsed Cherry Berry’s plan because she saw no moral reason why it was wrong. Then she was going to yell at me and threaten to report me to the guards. So I was going to have to kill Selena with my knife, drag her into Cherry’s room, and frame Cherry for the murder. And after all, I would still have the moral highground.
God, I was glad the Cherrypillar was dead.
|— ☩ —|
Surprise, surprise. Selena wasn’t standing in the little hallway outside Cherry’s room. Without any sense of direction, I just wandered, hoping to come across an exit. Any moment, I was sure that Selena would just be right there, and would bumble around, trying to explain how she was looking for me, and how she was slightly embarrassed that I’d saved myself, but that moment never happened.
Somehow, I wandered out into the main library. I was nearing the front desk and its comfy chair, wherein Jade Singer sat doing stuff with papers, when I heard armored hooffalls, a no doubt troupe of troopers in that pathetically inadequate steel armor. Since I was still a ways off, I didn’t do anything. They wouldn’t see me unless they all turned, and hell if I cared.
Then they came into view, the small pack lead by a white buck with a blond mane in a pristine black suit. I recognized him as that bloke who’d been leering at me as I talked to Selena. I guessed at who he was, and when he announced his name to Jade Singer, I added a point to Team Jericho Can Figure Shit Out.
“I am Prince Blueblood of House Sânge,” he said in an authoritative voice.
Sânge, I quickly thought, committing the name to memory. It sounded like sin-jay, except both the I and AY were much shorter. With the first vowel, it was almost as if the syllable had none.
Jade put a hoof to her lips and hissed, “Shoosh! No yelling in the library. I take my job and that rule very seriously.” The hissing voice stopped. “But other than that, how can I help you, milord?” she said in a chipper tone the likes of which her every action before had not even hinted.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, then cleared his voice. “You sent out a crow to inform the guards that you had captured and detained a certain stallion, one whom I have interest in.”
“Hello,” I said, walking past the front desk and walking the direction the guards had come from.
“Hello, sir,” he replied back. “Now, ma’am, can you—wait, wait, wait! That’s the guy! The one we want!” Blueblood spun, pointing at me, but never raised his voice to a yell.
Out of courtesy to such a rule-abiding buck, I stopped and waved at him. Then I put a hoof to my lips. “Well, a lot of ponies seem to want me.” I gestured back the way I’d came. “That’s why I almost got raped back there.”
“Where is Selena?” he demanded. “What have you done with her, you fiend?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I told her to run.”
“Liar!” he hissed. “Tell me where she is, or else!”
I rubbed my nose, letting out a very long sigh. “Listen here,” I bellowed without warning, “you gosh darn little pencil-pricked, own-mother-sodomizing, mouth-breathing, pen-pushing, slack-jawed, jelly-and-blue-balled, drooling aristocratic dickball, son of a filthy, rotten whore of a mare who was nevertheless well-respected in her small community! I don’t care that I went waltzing out of here with some mare you wish to put your filthy, blue-veined-but-yellow-blooded penis into—I really don’t!”
I pointed hard at him. “But you listen good! You listen good, you pile of shit getting sucked through a straw into the mouth of a flamboyant leper! I have just had a really bad day, and the only bit of light in that day was a rather fun mare I’d met before. Oh, and singing smooth jazz. That was awesome. I am in no mood to deal with you and your aristocratic swine-like ilk! I just nearly got raped by a psycho broad and had to bite my own arm off to escape. But if you wish to cut my balls off just because your horny, little—and I do mean little—prick can’t be charming enough to find a girl on your own, then fine! That’s cool. But be thou warned, he of House Sânge: I have been before challenged by gods and demons, warriors and champions, kings of ponies, titanic animals the likes of which your pea-sized brain can’t even comprehend. All have challenged me once.
“Once.”
I stepped up towards him, grabbing his chin. His guards moved to stop me, but I was faster than them. “Kennst thou my meaning, Blueblood? Do you comprehend what it is that I am saying to you?” Without a word, I threw his head back. In that same swift motion, I clocked the nearest trooper in the throat with my hoof, grabbed him by the helmet, and gently suggested that he fall to the ground, choking and gasping for breath. “So,” I went on in a cold, steely tone, “if you want to fight me over Selena, so be it. Just be now aware that you can’t cause me any real pain; I have been dealing with agony and pain for so long now that pain is practically an old friend of mine. I will take up combat in her name, the name of a mare I know nothing about other than the fact that she has a cute laugh and nice legs, and kick your asses until your genitals are weeping more blood than a menstruating French whore. And if you want otherwise, then let. Me. Alone!”
With a spring to my hooves, I stepped back. “We clear?” I asked in a happy tune.
Hey, you ever get so angry, so brimming with righteous hatred and testosterone and fury that you just pop an erection?
Me neither.
That white-coated, golden-blond maned bastard murmured something too quiet to hear.
“Speak up, maggot,” I said. “I can’t hear you.”
With the look of doe-eyed terror in his eyes and his utterly limp ears, you could tell he’d probably never been given so much as a stern talking to. Being the rich and influenced buck all points suggested he was, although less appealing in every way compared to Duke Elkington and his fancy Swastika, I bet that he relied on doe-eyed floozies to pamper him in every way, and that Selena was the one mare who refused to suck his—
“She’s family,” he said weakly.
I blinked. “Oh, you disgusting nobles and your ‘keeping it the family’ traditions!”
“N-no, I mean: I’m trying to look out for my-my family against the stallion whom I know is stealing from Princess Celestia and who I’m pretty sure beat up and locked the, uh, the singer mare—you know, with the name.”
“Wait, you think that was me?” I burst out laughing. “Oh, by all the gods that are or ever were, no! That was not me.” The laugh cut itself sort. “Wait. Selena shares your blood, Blueblood Sânge?”
“Well, I… I don’t… uh, we don’t exactly share lineage, but…”
“Oh, so she’s an in-law?” I put a hoof to my chin. “Which might explain why she’s at a nobles’ party but told me she wasn’t a noble. Because I like her enough to believe she wasn’t lying.” And because I’d seen the honest look in her eye.
“Kind of?” he replied, almost wincing as he spoke. I couldn’t say why, but it made me think of a windmill.
“Huh.” I looked at Jade Singer. Her glasses had fallen off her face, held to her only by a length of string, which looked good with the utterly slacked jaw. “You know, I feel as if this is all just one whacky misunderstanding, so if you’ll just let me alone, I can be out of your hair, and we can all be happy ponies.” I pointed at the guard on the ground, finally breathing normally. “Except you. You can be a sad pony. The Cards of our group, if you will.”
“No,” Blueblood said after a short pause. “You still broke into the Royal Archives, stole a book, and—”
“Blueblood,” came a stern but not harsh voice. It was the voice of a mare who’s spent many years as a matriarch. Everyone turned to face the speaker. There, at the far side of the front desk and leaning against a bookshelf, was a tall dame with blue eyes, a red dress torn to reveal a good deal of her legs, and a black poncho slung over her shoulders. The only thing missing from this picture was a cigarette in her mouth.
“Oh, hey, Selena,” I said with a wave. “Where’d you go after I told you to run off?”
“Here and there, really,” Selena replied. “I had to locate one of the other sets of stairs.” She shrugged. “I would have stopped by earlier, you were sneaking around the library, and then you and Blueblood got into a fight—and I must say, how courtly romantic it is that you’d fight for little old me,” she finished with a wink.
I adjusted my hat. “Aw, don’t think too much of it. We freelance adventurer-type heroes are contractually obligated to be willing to fight to the death for any girl that we met at least five minutes ago, O Dulcinea. That usually applies to rescuing them, at least. Although from what I think I know of you, the last thing you’d ever be is one of those helpless, kidnapped princesses in need of a hero to rescue her.” I glanced at Blueblood. “In fact, if anything, I’m the damsel in distress here, and you’re going to do something to rescue me.”
Selena chuckled. “I’d be lying if I said you were wrong.” She flashed me an almost wicked smirk. “Blueblood,” she said again.
He gave me a hesitant glance before looking at the lady. “Er, yes, Selena?”
“Would you kindly let my friend go?”
Blueblood looked as if he’d just been punched in the gut. “You can’t mean that! Just look at this thug!”
“Hey!” I snapped. “I might be a morally-questionable thug even on my best, most heroic days, but at least I’m out there trying to make a difference in this bleak world of ours. And I only got all of these scars and mutilations on my face by defending Equestria, and thereby also you, from this unholy hellspawn that even Duke Elkington’s Caroleans were afraid of.”
The Prince blanched and looked as if he might sputter something in response. He caught a nasty glance from Selena for it, never saying anything.
“Jericho, shush,” Selena said. “I am speaking.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I quickly shot back at her.
“Like I was saying,” she went on, “of course I’m serious about it, Blueblood. Stand back, tell your guards to stand down, and let him alone. I’ll take him off your hooves and do with him as I see fit. Are we clear?”
Blueblood looked helplessly around, like a sacrificial lamb that’s suddenly found itself at a child’s birthday party because there was a mailing mishap, which had sent the religious cult a birthday cake instead of him. The cake was much appreciated, and so was the lamb. Everyone won in the end.
“But surely…” He sighed. “We are clear,” he finally said through gritted teeth. “I just hope to the stars you know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I know far more than you give me credit for, Blueblood.” Selena paused, then added, “And don’t ever call me ‘Shirley’ again, please.”
|— ☩ —|
As Selena stepped out of the archive’s front doors, which I’d held open for her like the gentlecolt I was, I tried to understand what it was I’d just seen. With just a few words, Selena’d essentially cowed the Prince and all his guards into submission. In fact, I could see from the door that they were all still standing there, staring. I waved at him before closing the door and scampering out into the night.
It all made me think back to my first morning in Equestria, when I’d first met Selena at the train station. There had been that odd stallion in the suit, almost like some kind of guard, who’d acted oddly to me, asking me questions but being almost silent to her. If Selena really was related to some Prince, I supposed that that whole security-type thing made a modicum of sense.
The mare was standing there at the foot the stairs leading up to the library, an almost expectant look on her face. Beyond her was a little stone path that wound through more gardens before it reached a large street. “I do believe you are now in my debt,” Selena said.
“So, now I owe you more than just a dance?” I asked, walking alongside her as she made her way towards the street. I touched at my bags, checking to make sure I had the book. I did.
“Ah, yes. And with that, I hold two things against you in this regard.”
“Do you plan on holding me in debt bondage, then, Selena?”
She flashed me a look as she took out her bottle of sangria and allowed herself a drink. “Not necessarily debt-related. Such nasty terminology, like I were some malevolent banker.”
I kicked at a stick on the path. “Well, from my place on the corner of Breaking Hearts and Forgetting Names, that almost sounds like a threat.”
Selena uttered a quick chuckle. “You feel free to take it however I give it.”
“Why do I feel that is the inversion to the standard male-female relationship?” I asked.
“The kind of relationship wherein I am troubled and you come in, penetrate through whatever holds me in bondage, leaving me in your debt, like in those silly old stories of princesses and knights?”
“Except for the part where I’m no knight and you’re no princess,” I said. “Although I commend you for daring to defy traditional gender roles.”
She again gave me that kind of look she gave just before taking a drink. Only, she didn’t take a drink this time. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll show up as a princess in your dreams, hmm?”
“Count not thereupon,” I said. “I only sleep well when I don’t dream.”
Selena stopped at that, like I’d just hit her in the chest with a rubber bat. Here under the shade of an oddly pale oak tree, she turned to me. “Excuse me?”
I flashed her a smile. “See, now you’ve put me in a rather interesting place, Selena. I’m a rather happy, hopefully quick-witted guy. But were I to delve deeper into that comment, then suddenly I sound like a terribly and emotionally scarred sort of guy, which I am loathe to be. How’s about I just say that I don’t dream because I have nothing nice to dream about, and we leave it at that?”
She brushed a strand of blue mane from her eyes. “Everypony dreams, Jericho. It happens every night and it cannot be helped. The matter is simply that sometimes we can’t remember anything from them.”
Looking up the swaying branches of the trees, I said, “Then let it be said that the contents of my dreams are the things of which I couldn’t bear to remember.” I flashed her a smile. “There. Now I’ve been given a dose of mystery. I needed to have something mysterious of my own to hold against you.”
That at least scored me a chuckle. “But I suppose we’re still far from even on that matter.”
“Yeah, because if we actually knew everything about one another, I’m sure we’d quickly find each other boring.”
“Mmm, I don’t think you’d find me all that dull in said case.”
I glanced to the empty street at the end of the path. “Same can’t be said of me. You get right down to it, and you’ll find that I’m just some guy with a few too many nuts in the wrong places.” I tapped at my temples. “They’re all too near the wrong head, if you catch my drift.”
Selena set herself back to walking down the path, and motioned for me to tag along. “Well, as a lady, I’m not to contemplate such things,” she said in an almost coy tone. “Very unladylike to think about.”
“Ah, but you think of it regardless. Because the idea that ladies are any less obsessed with those bits is a complete fallacy. You’re only pony, after all.”
She ran her eyes across me as if asking ‘Are you for real?’ Then she said, “Only pony, hmm? So can I assume you’re thinking of such things when you speak to me?”
“Only insofar as you’d think such of me,” I replied casually. “So, I have a question that has been seriously bothering me. What was that whole Blueblood ordeal about, and how’d you convince him to let me alone?”
Selena shrugged. “To put it simply, he’s afraid that little ol’ impressionable, naïve me is going to get taken advantage of by some disreputable stallion with one thing on his mind.” She uttered a mirthless chuckle. “It’s as if he doesn’t think I can take care of myself. That’s why I’m pretty sure he sometimes gets so overprotective of me. It’s a part of his family’s motto. Familie Primul, or ‘family first’.”
“And he takes that motto rather seriously, I take it. More than it should taken. Like an overly anal hall monitor.”
“I suppose. Since he considers me family, he’ll go out of his way to…” She shook her head. “If I show him a bit of force, he’ll stop trying to be my chaperone, for tonight was the most egregious thing he’s done to me. He might mean well, but I won’t stand for him mucking about with my life.”
“And more power to you for that,” I said. “Fight the system, just like the rebel you are.”
We reached the road. At this hour of night, it was empty, kept just bright enough by moonlight and lampposts. It was the sort of environment you just expected to find a corpse in, the work of a serial killer. By the side of the road was a newspaper, The Canterlot Journal, whose featured article seemed to have been printed today; it mentioned something regarding Princess Luna being scheduled to visit the Crystal Empire any day now.
“And to think,” I said, “I came to Canterlot from my little neck of nowhere, and I didn’t even get to see any of the fabled Princesses who reside here. A pity. But I suppose I’ll have time later to get a pair of binoculars and leer creepily from afar at mares whom I don’t know.”
Selena shrugged. “I’ve seen enough princesses in my day to know that they’re nothing too special. A little interesting at first, but the novelty gets old. Fast. After all, they are, to quote you, only pony.”
“Somehow, I have my doubts,” I said, looking up at the moon. “When I was a colt, I recall hearing stories of elder days. Days of kings and queens, princes and princesses, dukes and counts and knights of noble blood. Days before the gates of Anderwelt opened; before the legions of the Inferno came to infest the sacred soil of this world so thoroughly as they do today; before dark powers and hatred turned good ponies into the monstrous Niedervolk; before the Voice in the Dark was born of the unholy and forced union of a pony and the insectoid demoness known as the White Queen.
“In those days over a millennium and a half ago, the legends say, the Lord God cast two angels out of his heavenly realm for unknown yet unforgivable crimes. They were the sisters Celestia and Luna, which is why they have bodies like the angels, with horn and wings.” I sighed. “Honestly, anyone who puts stock into that old myth is likely a child obsessed with stories. After all, as an old friend of mine once said, there were no such things as immortal freaks. But now that I’m here, in a country that was hardly more than a fanciful fairy tale to me a decade ago, I’m willing to believe anything. I guess I just want to believe.”
When I looked to Selena, I could see she’d taken a step away from me. There was, I thought, an almost sad look in her eye as she said, “You’re not from Equestria.”
I shook my head. “Does that change anything between us?”
Selena hesitated like filly on a diving board. Only instead of a pool of water, it was a pool of razor blades, salt, and freshly cut lemons. “Should it?”
“Not unless you’re ludicrously xenophobic.” I smiled. “And I’ve had all my injections, so I know for a fact that I’m not carrying the next world-ending plague with me. The only thing now is, being that we’re standing out here under the pale moonlight, where do we go?”
“Well, I…” She bit her lip. “I don’t really know.”
“Because I need to run off on a day-long trainride to the Crystal City in order to deliver this here book I so kindly decided to take from Canterlot and return to its rightful city. I’m nice like that.”
“If you do that, will I ever see you again?”
I gave it a thought. “I think so. We’ve randomly met on three different occasions at three different wheres as in the span of the same month, and I think we might randomly run into each other again some time soon enough. Or maybe you could just give me your address. That way, when I’m done with what needs doing, I can stop by at an obscenely late hour, ruining the romantic mood you’ll be having with some stallion you met who’s far more interesting than me. He’ll say, ‘Sweetiepie-pookums—’ because that’s how such a fellow would speak ‘—who is this ruffian?’ Then I’ll break a bottle against your door, hold it up to his neck, and growl, ‘Call me that one more time, you pig-faced bastard. I dare you!’
“And then it’ll end with you evilly stroking a cat as you watch us fight, because this is how the real world works.”
Selena gave me an oblong look, then cracked into a fit of little giggles. “You’re weird,” she managed to say through them all. “And I think that’s about your trump card to the ‘interesting ponies’ topic.”
I smiled at her, shaking my head. No words came from my mouth. With nothing to reply to, the both of us just sort of stood there. She would occasionally flash me little looks, but we mostly just stood there, neither of us, I thought, really knowing how to artificially prolong the conversation.
Then she suddenly said, “You know, you really should remove that silly eyepatch. You have such pretty eyes.”
Shaking my head, I simply replied, “I can’t.” I removed the headband of bunny ears from my hat and put them on her head, as if I were crowning her the Princess of the Bunnies. She allowed me to carefully take the black cat ears off her ears and put them on my own, ditto for the poncho even closing her eyes as I did it, as if seeing me do it would somehow profane the act.
“Why?”
Hey, Selena, would you like to see what a eyeless socket look like with its eyelid sewn shut? What’s that? You have a creepy fetish for cripples because cripples are too pitiful to be able to say ‘no’? Well then. Now I’m scared.
I shook my head. “That’s an answer for another when.”
“Seems a bit like a copout to me.”
“So it is, Selena. So it is.” I smiled. “Now, I’ve got to ask the Devil on my right shoulder if he wants to hang out with me, since the angel on my left has abandoned me tonight on moral grounds. Not as if it really matters.”
“Is this goodbye, then?”
“I hate goodbyes,” I replied. So, backing up, I waved to her and said in a cheery voice, “Hello, Selena!”
She laughed one more time. “Hello, Jericho!”
I could still see her sigh, ears drooping, as I turned around. Next up, a full day of train riding. My life was just an endless font of excitement.
Stats
Page generated in 0.037 seconds
Total duration
1,044 users online
128 hits today, 2,280,440 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Thanks, Rarity.
Wait, I already used that joke...
3407944
Dude, you finally got featured! Whoop!
OMG
Selena is LUNA!!!
Luna time is near.
I FUCKING KNEW IT!
My hamburger is ready!
3421019 Little does anyone know, but Princess-Princess is secretly Secret Angel Princess Princess!
3421019 You realized that just now?
3421019
wait!
encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRfQWI6ru4vPxtGkaflf9bmZ1Hgh2BlL62DjRgtqDlfNi-zRV849g
wat?
seriously, I think the general consensus that Selena is Luna was made shortly after her first appearance.
that being said, this chapter DEFINITELY cemented the idea.
3420956
I find it amusing that Rarity can be greedy, racist, vain—and to some extent, cruel—yet still be considered a positive protagonist. I mean for gods sakes, I seem to remember her sticking pins in Spike's back.
3421009
Equestria Daily or the Feature Box? Because I can assure you, he's been on both for a while, now. Still, nice of you to comment. Keep on doing so. Plz.
3421019>>3421487>>3421389>>3421216
I won't lie to you guysexcept yes, Selena is not Luna. Selena is actually my estranged 2nd grade OC waifu. Whenever someone boops her on the nose, she turns into a cat-pony superhero whose catchphrase is "Are you ready to be meow'd to justice?!"
3421108
Plz n0.
3421145
Its body is ready. You take that fucking hamburger, and you french it, you embrace it, you make love to it, like it's never experienced love before. Just.. make sure it's cooled off a bit before you insert. And remember to use condiments as lubrication. Or pizza sauce. I personally recommend pizza sauce.
3421553
Bro, y u hatin'? I mean, I be hatin' on the show sometimes, but that's the good kind o' hatin'. The "I hate the mane six but Derpy is best protagonist and Trixie is uber sexy" kind of hatin'. So, what's gotcher hatin'? Is it the stabbing? The stabbing of the Cherry? 'Cause I gots to say, she was a criminal in intent. She deserved it, yo.
Don't tempt fate, Jericho...
Anyway, I don't think Selena is Luna. It's been laid on so thick now - her name, the conversation about dreams, Jericho's thoughts on her "being related to some Prince" - that it can't be revealed dramatically anymore. Adventure stories twist and turn, they don't march steadily to a conclusion everyone could see coming from miles away. (This is the same reason why I call bullshit on the "Nightmare Umbra = Twilight" idea in Harmony Theory; I have yet to be proven right or wrong).
3421783
The feature box. I'd never seen it there before.
This bat shit crazy stallion... He could just add like, outhouse cutscenes to this and it would become like one of those reality shows where you vote off a person each week, but instead of the audience voting... it's rigged because he's the only one allowed to vote who dies.
That and most of what happens in this chapter seems to support my theory that Selena is actually Princess Luna.
3421906
Selena is the mare Jericho met at the train station in chapter 3
Jericho's actions often face consequences (all the mutilations and pain he receives, for example, which is the central theme of what's motivating Jericho in Act II). Being that he is a wandering sociopath from a foreign country, he's not subject to the normal consequences that, say, and Equestrian would face if they acted as Jericho. No one knows who Jericho is; no one knows here he is; and he just shows up in places, random places, all over Equestria, where he causes legal trouble, but trouble the likes of which normal consequences don't apply, since he's a wandering foreigner. But to say he is without consequences is grossly inaccurate.
3421931
Fate is tempted. As it is next chapter (all 8.5k words of which I wrote today and finished), but in different ways. But really, Jericho didn't overlook something that could possible end with Cherry Berry not dying from being stabbed in the neck, right?
3422236
Just a question: do I know you from somewhere before? I feel as if I do, but I can't remember.(Sorry)
Ah, but Jericho's been getting featured every time I post a chapter for months now. It's really super flattering and heartwarming to know people are that willing to read Jericho whenever I put more of this crap out. I love you all, guys.
3422370
Crazy, yes. But, hopefully as I'll further demonstrate next chapter, Jericho still has a job to play as being totally awesome. Because adventure-coolness and jazz.
3422410
I was the guy who suggested the line about horseradishes and cows.
Rejoice! Rejoice! For the Rape Demon hath been vanquish'ed!
And...wow. A slightly-but-not-totally romantic scene that actually ended well? You mean she didn't get traumatized, killed, or left alone? I actually didn't see that coming. Way to throw me a curve ball.
3422410
Jericho left Cherry alone in a room with a desk packed chock-full of healing potions. Presumably her saddlebag has "romantic" food stuffs in it. Some wine and edible chocolate socks perhaps?
And several bottles of Juggernog...
His only warning will be a lavender scented note signed with a cherry:
Now I've got an axe! HO! HO! HO!
This story just keeps getting better and better.
...Also, why the fuck are my Plot twist senses tingling?
3422951
Aye, worry not, good sir. There ain't naught to regret, we were simply wondering since you appeared to hold Jericho in such contempt. We accept your opinions graciously and wish you no ill-will.
Personally, the reasons you hate Jericho are the very reasons I (we) like him: I can't relate to him (granted, I have a hard time relating to any fictional character). I've always loved characters with that special touch of madness and pragmatism (and maybe even a little bit of that there ol' evil. Like, Hannibal, or Vaas, or Ronald McDonald. That being said, I draw the line when it comes to certain acts of villainy, like intentional child-killing, and rape).
Regardless, we laud you for having the will to soldier through this story as told through the eyes of a selfish, narcissistic, and murderous little pony. Long days and pleasant nights to thee.
3422410 and the paladin is the character to play when you're playing a low-magic D&D game.
...Even if I want to learn how to competently play as a wizard.
static4.fjcdn.com/comments/Shut+up+and+take+my+Tree+Fiddy+_39f0386644013bc9babe3cae9f536b96.jpg
Here's your tree-fiddy. And another excellent chapter.
Well. Played.
Soon, Luna. Soon you too will appear here! I hope. Good job at finishing off Cherrypillar by the way.
th04.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2013/038/d/a/cherry_berry_what_s_that_by_wolfsman2-d5sz9vv.png
You have me on the edge of my seat for the next chapter.
The only critic I can place is that there are a LOT more grammar mistakes than usual on the beginning of the chapter.
Other than that...perfect, just perfect. Keep up the metaphors.
Why are you making Selena Luna? I feel like she probably shouldn't be, but I half expected that newspaper to say: Luna Missing. Reported Last Seen In The
HandsHooves Of A Murderer While Under The Alias 'Selena,' or something equally in my face. I've got a sinking feeling that you're sending all of these signals just for Selena NOT to be Luna and make everyone feel dumb.Also, I've got to say, this honestly had one of the most emotional scenes in this whole story. That's right, Cherry Berry's death. This by far made me sadder than anything else that has happen'd. I'm not complaining; the scene was very appropriate in its placement and execution. It just made me very sad to see a pony whom I had started to like (Jericho's propaganda didn't fool me!) be so unceremoniously slaughtered. It was my first reminder in a while just what he's capable of.
I love Seluna. She is interesting on her own, but just has fantastic chemistry with Jericho. I'd never expected Jericho to actually be considerate and pleasant for more than twenty seconds at a time, but Selena can somehow get it to happen. I just like seeing different facets of a character, and socialization for the sake of socialization was something I would not have expected from Jericho.
imageshack.us/a/img31/4154/pukg.png
Just gonna leave this here.
Also, LOVE THIS FIC.
God, I love this fic.
I'm kinda sad Jericho didn't get to
leer creepily atmeet the Princesses, but murdering Cherry Berry and kind of flirting withLunaSelena and gnawing off his other arm was well worth the trip!Thinking about it, Selena as Luna is TOO obvious. Selena is too often associated with the moon. Be ready for the epic plot twist when it turns out that Selena is either Celestia or Jampony.
3423005
Everyone must die before the end... so just you wait... (Well, I don't know if everyone will die, but I don;t know if they won't die, either)
3423361
Surely, that couldn't end up going wrong. Surely... surely.
And has your mind been tired and fried out lately? (Friendly, playful tone.) The editing boys and I have been missing your long, rambling comments. They give us so much to read and discuss~
3423385
Honestly, I hope you keep thinking it's getting better, because your plot twists senses do no fail you. So, look for the twisted, and then be excited when you were wrong, and it's a totally different twist. Because next chapter... things change...
3423941
Thankee much, mate.
3424333
:Evil finger pyramid: :Leans back: Well played, indeed.
3427064
Well, welcome aboard. I hope you find this odd little story interesting and amusing, because it's still a damn ways from finishing.
3427253
Grammar mistakes? Gonna have to look over those; thought he'd culled them out. Mind showing me a few?
In any case, I hope you remain on the edge of that seat, for the next two chapters (about 19k words) are already completely written. And our next one, which I believe I shall post today, is where the stakes of the game all shift and change... dot dot dot dramatic conclusion dot.
3427740
It's always a joy to read your comments, Such Forbidden Colors. So well thought out and interesting.
And is Selena Luna? I'll be honesty here: I dunno.
Cherry Berry's death was sad, eh? Hmm. How strange to hear. Of course, from her POV, she likely honestly thought she was fulfilling some sort of sexual fantasy for Jericho, and lacked any idea that what she was doing was wrong. Partially cultural reasons, but mostly because she was kinda crazy.
Selena being an interesting character is something I hoped for. I would prefer it if all my characters, renditions of cannons ones or OCs, were interesting, since I like to pretend that I'm interesting at writing interesting things. And our friend Jericho is a bit of a rogue (even though he calls himself a level 20 Bard); he's capable of socializing well when he needs to, and is even willing to be nice towards interesting characters he meets.
3427847
Ooh, did you make this neat little gem yourself just for me especially? That's damn touching, mate. Thankee much. Now, if only I could figure out how to animate sprites, gets one of Cards and other ponies, I could create the worst thing ever!
And you're too kind, mate. Too kind. I am only too happy to entertain.
3428046
Well, hold onto your seats, because this story is about to get... somewhere where I can do bunches of different jokes and stuff after the upcoming twist. (I'm hyping this next chapter up so much so that you'll all be disappointing by the fact that I cannot write!)
3428152
Is Selena Luna? I dunno.
3433606
Just been winding down after
HalloweenNightmare Night preparations.Prior to that, in the hospital under observation after an minor accident. Nothing too serious mind you; the doctors just wanted to make sure the bump on my head did not cause any permanent damage...
(Remember to always wear your safety belts in the car colts and fillies! It could very well mean the difference between a bump on the head, a few stitches and a pleasant convalescence in a comfy bed with cute nurses or a cold hard slab in the morgue while undertaker Gordon dramatically quotes Shakespeare with bits of your cranium in plastic baggies.)
...Okay. I'm going to have to add Badass Boast to the trope page now. And probably also Gosh Dang It To Heck, subverted.
Ooh, classic
It's tied with "screeched".
As much as she had it coming, I feel bad for Cherry.
...WHY do I feel bad for Cherry!? She's a drug-abusing rapist!
I feel less bad now.
Ah...darn... I'd rather he hadn't killed the Cherrypillar... she was amusing.
Oh well.