Into the Void
INTO THE VOID
I often find it hard to silence my own thoughts. In the moments of travel in between victims the quiet fills my head, and demands to be filled. Though I try not to think about it, I often reflect on one of the universe’s most cruel jokes. Something that has plagued me since the very beginning of my existence, and I expect shall plague me until my end.
I do not know what comes after death. I only know life, or at least, the snippets I get to see before I snuff out someone’s world.
Such thoughts come to me now as I float high above the clouds, while below me the mortal world sprawls in every direction. Verdant fields soak up the suns nourishing rays. Small towns bustle with activity as ponies rush about their morning routine. Golden fields bend to the light breeze blowing below, mimicking the sapphire ocean shining behind the massive mountains. In the distance giant cities challenge the heavens with their massive skyscrapers, defiant against the never ending force of gravity.
I look down on all this, on a world I cannot take part in. I look down on life itself, and try to be content with just the view.
After several quiet seconds I rouse myself from reverie. I cannot tarry long. I have a duty to uphold, one that I know I will never abandon.
My first job is an elderly colt. He yields to me with little fuss as sleep and old age takes him. Quickly enough we both find ourselves before the Gatekeeper, who smiles warmly at his new charge. As the two walk through the portal together the Gatekeeper looks at me, and I find I can’t meet his gaze. I know what he is trying to do. To reassure me, to let me know the old colt is going to a better world. To assuage my guilt.
But I don’t want him to convince me however. I do not trust that smile. In the mortal realm, the most charming beings are often the most deceitful. Like a used cart salesman, the Gatekeeper would have me believe the world beyond is an oasis of bliss, when really the souls I give to him are trading a well worn, but reliable wagon for a rickety junker, a hollow promise, and a smile.
Though I cannot take part in it, I recognize the beauty of the world, and of life. I see it every day, all around me. How can what the Gatekeeper offers compare?
Every day at three the door chimes, indicating his arrival. Every day at three he meets her with a warm, cordial smile, and she responds with a cheery hello. Every day at three he peruses her wares, both old and new; sometimes he buys something, most times he does not. Every day at three he enters her store with a hopeful heart and bounding confidence. And every day at five past three he leaves, heartbroken again.
For a solid month he has repeated this routine. For a solid month, ever since pulling her carriage to the Grand Galloping Gala, he has come to see her. He is as enamoured now as he was when she first approached him and Lucky, batting her beautiful eyelashes, and promising them-promising him-a world of never ending joy. That day she stole his heart, and every single day after she has broken it. Not with words though, that would at least be something he could deal with, despite the pain it would cause him. No, her methods are far subtler, far crueler.
It is Monday today. With a new week his hope is restored. It has been two days since his last visit, and he knows this time his presence will have been missed -must have been missed. He will enter, and she will be waiting, eyes puffy from recent crying, mascara running down her ivory cheeks. Her amethyst mane, dishevelled from lack of attention, will sway wildly as she sharply turns her head towards the door to see the stallion she had not realized she loved until he was gone from her life for the most agonizing weekend of her life. He will burst through the door, chestnut hair groomed to perfection, beige coat gleaming in the afternoon sun. She will look at him with awe, tears springing to her eyes anew as she beholds her Prince Charming and says-
“Oh, hello dear, nice to see you again! I have a new selection of scarves you might be interested in, on sale for today only! You should get one now, for as those in the north love to remind us, ‘Winter is coming.’”
And just like that, she has shattered his heart yet again. Not with a venomous, scathing rejection of his obvious affections, but with a polite smile, and a sales pitch about scarves.
“Oh, ok. Thank you.” Caramel lamely mumbles. He is left foolishly standing in the middle of the door to Carousel Boutique as Rarity, his one true love, trots away to the back of the show floor to mend a ripped sweater, humming merrily to herself. Lethargically the beige stallion moves towards the scarves, browsing through the new collection. He lifts his hoof up to examine a cream and blue colored one, running his hoof through the fabric; fabric which has doubtless passed through the hooves of his love not hours before as she set up the display.
For a moment he is lost in thought, feeling the masterful work of his love brush over his fur. The scarf is warm and soft. Somehow elegant despite its simple design. Love and care have been expertly woven between the threads, invisible to all but the most observant.
For several minutes Caramel contemplates the craftmareship of his obsession until his reverie is suddenly broken by the bell above the door ringing. Startled, he looks up to see a purple unicorn walking through the door. He recognizes the new arrival as the eccentric librarian, Twilight...something. Briefly he admonishes himself for not knowing the name of one of the elements of harmony, one of Rarity’s friends.
“Hello again Twilight, I was wondering when you would come back.” Rarity says, dropping her work hastily, and trotting towards the other mare. The tone of voice strikes Caramel as odd, and unsettling. His heart begins to squirm with anxiety; something is wrong. The stallion has never heard his lady use that tone of voice before with anyone, let alone him. It was a tone that one did not use with customers, or even close friends.
“I’m sorry I took so long, but I’m here for you now.” Twilight replies, in a voice definitely not for customers. The two mares draw closer, gazes locked firmly on each other’s. Caramel feels his heart beat slowing as the distance between them closes, and the merciless, burning light of realization dawns upon him.
As soon as she is within range Twilight reaches a foreleg out, and hooks it around his beloved’s neck. She pulls Rarity in close, until their faces are mere inches away. Then she hungrily lunges the remaining distance, pushing her head forward, locking her unworthy, purple lips with the pure white, satin lips of the one he has been pining for, longing for an entire month. An entire month spent trying to woo her, charm her, win her love from her.
The seconds pass and as the kiss grows deeper, so does the pit in his stomach. As the kiss moves from heartfelt, to passionate, to steamy, Caramel realizes the depths of his loss. This is not a brief infatuation the two share, this is something...more. Something he will never have with the alabaster unicorn, or anypony else.
As the lovers continue to kiss, desperately trying to pour their affection into the other, they fail to notice the store’s only customer leaving.
At three o’ five the boutique’s bell knells for the rapidly departing stallion, one last time, and the sign on the window is magically flipped to closed.
His hooves take him away from the boutique, away from the mare who had unintentionally stolen his heart. Away from the mare that had given him hope of a happier life, and then ripped it away from him in one fell swoop.
How long had it been since Rarity had given her heart to another? Had it happened over the weekend, when he thought she would long for him in his absence? Or had she always been with Twilight, and he was just too blinded by his delusions to see it until the truth came up and punched him in the gut?
His hooves finally slow down as Caramel comes out of his trance. He looks around at where his hooves have taken him. A mirthless smile crosses his face as he reads the sign of the store he is now standing outside of.
“I guess that’s it then.” He remarks coolly as he opens the door.
At three fifteen the downtrodden beige colt leaves Rusty Bolt’s Hardware Emporium, saddle bag full, and heads for home.
The afternoon sun is failing in the sky as evening takes its place. I am nearing the end of my list. Long shadows throw themselves behind every object on the ground. I fly through the teeth of the Mannulus Mountain range on the way to Ponyville. Half of every mountain peak is blazes with the fire of the setting sun, the other half is bathed in darkness. I approach my destination. It is a small town, one I have visited many times before. The thatched roof cottages greet me as I fly closer. One in particular calls to me, and I answer it hastily. I can feel the time drawing near. The house I come to seems to match all the rest, except for a trio of blue horseshoes on the peeling white paint of the door.
I reach out a hoof to the worn wood. I can feel the suffering of the owner pulsating from the shoddy planks, his agony having seeped into the very essence of the house itself. My heart aches with sympathy and I hesitate to pass through the flimsy wood panel. I know what I find on the other side will be worse than my usual jobs. As always, a tiny part of my brain screams at me to turn around, but I ignore. I cannot let my purpose waver, not at such a crucial moment.
Without further hesitation I push through the door.
The last rays of sunlight illuminate the saddlebag a brilliant orange, highlighting it on the barren wood floor. Everything has been taken care of. Caramel’s room has been tidied, his dishes have been washed and put away, the clothes have been folded, and his Will has been laid out.
Only two things remain.
The paper sits in front of him, its crisp white surface mocking his indecision. It is not that he does not have anything to say, he just has too much. Thoughts bound through his head like a stampede. Everything from long, agonizing soliloquies to short, angry rants push their ways to the forefront of his mind. At one point he just considers writing “GO BUCK YOURSELVES” to silence the raging tide. However he knows those words will not make him feel any better, or help them understand what he is about to do.
Caramel sits back in his chair as he realizes the problem; he has never said enough in life. All the words he wishes he’d expressed are roaring in his mind, begging to escape and be heard. A single tear traces its way down his cheek as the regret begins to overwhelm him.
Suddenly a perfect, high pitched laugh cuts through his gloom. Caramel looks out the window to search for his love. Maybe, just maybe she has finally realized her mistake and come to save him!
He only catches a brief glimpse of white as Rarity passes by in a blur, yet the purple that is mixed with it shines the light of truth on his fantasy. Guilt, shame, and incontinent rage all boil inside his heart, vying for relief.
He now knows what to write.
I’m sorry I was not good enough.
The words stare up at him, cold and uncaring. The truth cuts deep through him, paining him beyond what he thought he could feel. Yet truth it is. He has always been second best. Why would Rarity wish to spend any time with him? To fall in love with him? Of course he has lost to that perfect purple unicorn. She was the student of a goddess, Element of Magic, savior of Equestria. Twilight was an important member of the Royal Court and could finally bring his love’s, no, her love’s fashion designs to the Canterlot Elite and make Rarity the star she always deserved to be.
Caramel looks around at his sparsely furnished living room, at the small cart parked besides the door that he sold his home made sweets out of. This was no life for a noble lady like Rarity. He had always led a frugal, austere lifestyle. He barely scraped by enough each month to pay the rent, and had little left for any luxuries. His small business had been undercut by another sweets maker, Bon Bon, forcing him to take a second job as a farm hand at Sweet Apple Acres. This was no life for her.
This was no life for him either.
Finally he is ready. He looks at the glowing saddle bag, colored orange in the dying rays of the setting sun. Slowly he walks over to it, and lifts up the worn leather cover flap. After taking a deep breath he pulls out his purchase from the hardware store, a fifteen foot braided hemp rope, and sets it down.
The rope sits, untouched in front of him, like a python ready to strike. Caramel takes it in, the reality of the situation settling on his withers. For a second he hesitates.
I’m sorry I was not good enough.
The words echo in his head. He begins to tie the rope.
Loop after loop the rope coils until it begins to take shape. The work is hard and long, forced into using just hooves and teeth. After ten minutes however, it is done.
Caramel wastes no time now to stare and contemplate his actions. Climbing up on his dining room table, he throws the rope over the beam in the middle of the ceiling. With great care he ties the knot tight around the wood. This task is just as arduous as the first as his hooves fumble clumsily with the knots. Finally, twenty minutes after pulling the rope out, the noose is tightly tied up. It rocks slowly back and forth an inch from his sweat soaked face.
His heart beats a rapid staccato now. The swinging loop becomes a metronome, and every beat draws the earth pony closer to it. More sweat pours down his face as the end draws near.
He forces his dry mouth to swallow.
He slips his head through the noose.
Tightens it.
Hesitates.
I'm sorry I was not good enough...for you.
Jumps.
His last thought before a sickening crunch ends his life is ‘Did she even know my name?’
I watch in silence. Every instinct screams at me to talk to him, force him to stop, make him realize what he is so callously throwing away.
But I do not. I stay silent. As always.
All through the process of tying the rope to the beam I will for him to stop, to get down off the table and back out.
But I know that will not happen, it never happens. That is why I am here. No one cheats Death. I have a soul to claim.
He steps up to the noose, and waits. After some hesitation I see his head go through.
Every ounce of my will is going into wishing him to back down, though I know it will not help.
He is shaking now, sweat pouring down his face. He hesitates, but I no longer entertain false hope. The moment is drawing near. I can feel it.
He jumps.
I hear a sickening crack as his neck breaks.
The body hangs down from the neck, now elongated by about an inch, skin stretched to the point of breaking. The colt’s hooves twitch as he gurgles out his last breath, tongue lolling out. Finally the hooves stop twitching, the mouth stops gurgling, and the lolling tongue goes still.
It is done.
The soul of the hanged stallion suddenly drops to the floor, dazed and confused.
“Wha-what the? What’s going on?” The pony sits, looking at his surroundings. He still wears that same resigned face as he did in life, but now it is tinged with perplexity. He looks around at his house, not noticing me, to see everything is the same.
“Did the rope break?” He questions. Finally he looks up, and gasps in shock. His body swings gently above him, hind hooves inches from his nose.
“Am I a-a ghost? Is this it? Is this all there is?” The stallion questions as he once more looks around. His face falls farther than before as the hope for relief he thought Death would bring fades.
I can no longer bear to watch, I finally speak up.
“No.”
He starts, and whips his head around to look at me. I stand before him as I abandon the shadows which had concealed me. He locks his blue eyes with my gaunt, white orbs and takes in my entire form, from my emaciated skin to my greasy, patchy fur. Seeing me in full as I step out of the shadows he now seems more scared than when he was on the table.
“A-are you the reaper?” He questions, slowly backing away.
“Yes I am.” My answer does not seem to calm him. He keeps his distance as I begin to walk forward. After a few seconds of silence he speaks again.
“So, what happens now?”
“Now, I take you to the other side.” The colt is backed up against the wall with nowhere to go. I am now a less than a metre away from him. “Take my hoof.” I command as I hold my bony leg out to him.
Warily he regards my proffered appendage, carefully eyeing the sagging, rotting folds of skin peeking out from the bald patches beneath my grimy, matted black fur.
“I’ll go with you, but first answer me a question.” I can tell he is stalling for time. For all the resignation I saw when this stallion was tying his noose he is still as scared of Death as anypony else. My emotions, so often tinged with sadness and regret, begin to turn in a new direction that they have rarely been before. I understand when my victims are afraid to go with me, but he is not my victim, but his own. Yet here he stands, with the audacity to try to stall me after he has already performed the deed.
“Ask away.” I coldly state, masking my annoyance under the calm professionalism under which I hide all my emotions. I reason it will be quicker to answer his question than to force him to come with me.
“What is it like? The other side I mean? Is it...nice?” He timidly asks, fear evident in his eyes. I realize he is not trying to stall me, but instead asking me to assuage his fearful soul.
Genuine anger begins to fill me now, the likes of which I have not felt for over a millennia, ever since...well best not to let those memories surface again. For this colt to ask me to comfort him over the life he willingly gave up, the thing I have been denied for all eternity but had to take away from so many, the one thing I have longed for since the beginning; it makes my cold blood boil.
For a moment I do not answer. With effort I keep my mask up and remain the consummate professional; it would not do to lose control in front of any one of my charges, even for an instant. Instead I think of the best answer to his question. It is one I have heard many times before, and have always answered with some flowery reassurance of peace and everlasting bliss. Now however I feel no such need to soothe this pony’s aching soul. I decide on the truth instead.
“I do not know for I have never been there. My duty only requires me to take you halfway, to the portal between the worlds.” My answer is honest, my voice cold and sharp. I can see his face fall and the edges of panic seeping into his eyes. I hold my hoof up again in front of his nose once more.
The stallion has run out of places to escape to, questions to ask, or excuses to stall. He tentatively reaches out his own beige hoof, and gingerly places it on my own. As I did at his front door, I feel his misery rising off his coat like an odor. However unlike at the door I cannot find it in my heart to pity him anymore.
As the worlds begin to blur I feel a vindictive side I had never known I possessed speak up one last time.
“I do not think it will compare to this world’s perfection.” I state, my cold milky eyes boring into his fearful azure ones. The house fades away as he seems to realize the depths of his mistake.
False smiles and hollow words. That’s all it takes to put the spring back in the beige colt’s step. He and the Gatekeeper walk through the shining portal, grins on both their faces. I watch as they disappear, wondering how long that grin will last.
I turn around and walk back down the shining golden path, and shift back into the mortal realm. Once again I am high above the world. The sky has grown dark, and the first shining pinpricks of stars reveal themselves against the gloom. In the west a faint orange glow still persists, fighting against the inevitable onslaught of night.
That is how they should all go. Not with quiet dignity, or remorseful acceptance. They should all fight it, tooth and claw, to the bitter end; unwilling to give up what they have been blessed with.
I feel my next job call to me from the darkness in the east. It is time to kill again.
I look to the west one last time and try to convince myself that the view is enough to fill the emptiness. It isn’t, but I still try.
I turn away and fly off.
Morning light filters through the green leaves outside the library window and color the main room a cheerful green. In the middle of the room Twilight Sparkle is engrossed in her latest research project. The sudden opening of the front door however breaks her out of her reverie and she looks up.
“Oh, Rarity. I wasn’t expecting you until this afternoon. Why-?” She breaks off when she sees the look on her marefriend’s face. “What’s wrong?”
Rarity slowly walks into the middle of the room and sits in front of Twilight. Her usually lively face is downcast, and she seems to be struggling for words.
“Applejack just came by and told me...that...” She breaks off as her voice cracks. She draws in a deep breath and composes herself, then starts again.
“Do you remember the colt that pulled our carriage to the Gala?”
Twilight considers for a moment. “The grey one?”
“No, the other one. He has...had a beige coat, three horseshoes for a cutie mark. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. What’s happened? Is he ok?” Twilight questions with growing concern as Rarity’s trademark composure begins to slip.
“No, I’m afraid not. I met Applejack in the street and she said he was late for work this morning and so went to check on him. When she knocked he didn’t answer, so she broke the door down and found him...found him...” Rarity’s voice cracks once again as tears come to her eyes. Sniffling, she draws on her last vestiges of strength. “He’d hung himself.” She finishes quietly before succumbing to tears.
Twilight gasps. Suicide is not a thing often performed in Equestria, much less the tight knit community of Ponyville.
“Oh Rarity, I’m so sorry. Did you know him?” Twilight’s voice is full of concern as she pulls her crying marefriend into a tight hug.
“N-no I did not.” Rarity finally manages to stutter through her tears. “B-but he came to my store e-every day.” Rarity chokes out as she clings to Twilight. “And I know that this is my f-f-fault.”
“What? How could this be your fault? He was just a customer, right?” Twilight exclaims, trying to calm down her love.
“Y-yes, but I saw him every day. I should have realized something was wrong with him.” Twilight ponders this statement.
“Did he seem sad when he came in?” The purple unicorn asks, trying to shift the non-existent blame off her companion.
“No. He was always quite polite and seemed happy.” Rarity answered, sniffling once more.
“And what did Applejack say? Had she suspected something was wrong with him?” Twilight probed further.
“No, I suppose not. But-”
“But nothing. It wasn’t your fault, or anypony else’s. Some ponies just hide their feelings too well. You have to stop blaming yourself. Okay?” The unicorn gently asks the other. “Besides, you are the most caring and generous pony I know. You would never intentionally let someone come to harm, right?”
Rarity lets a small smile slip through the tears. “No, you are right. I would never do that.” Rarity leans back out of the hug and gives a gentle kiss of gratitude to her marefriend. The two hold it for a few seconds as they bask in the comfort of each other’s embrace.
After several seconds the two break apart. Suddenly Twilight realizes she has forgotten something important.
“Hey Rarity, do you know what his name was?”
The fashionista looks down, shame crossing her face once more.
“No, I’m afraid I do not. He never said.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Author’s Notes: Soooo I realize it’s been a while, but I hope you enjoyed this. I know because of the time delay the tone of Death’s monologue was a bit different, more bitter and less depressed. It fit the whole theme better though I felt, so I hope you don’t mind. Feel free to tell me what you think below. Also, you may or may have not have noticed the tease at the next chap (probably) I made when Death gets angry. Look for that soonish.
Anyways, thanks for your patience, hope you enjoyed, comment below.
Cover Art By Lunablue17
P.S. I haven’t forgotten my promise.
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eh...was an alright chapter
though suicide caramel didnt make sense to me seeing as how hes not the only stallion who loves rarity if anything Spike wouldve made more sense but whatever
anyways onwarrs to the next chapter
789989
Yus I did. Glad you noticed! I really liked the author's portrayal of Death as old and tired rather than vengeful and sadistic.
789992
What did you like/not like? I welcome feedback in order to improve.
790005
look at my comment again, MAGIC
789992
Ooh, magic! I see your point, but I personally of late have been liking to highlight background ponies whom I don't think get as much recognition as the mane cast. Next one should be all mane ponies though!
790027
lulz much recognition? so that means killing them in a pussy way?
your pony picture... it angers me!!!! DEATH is not a pony of flesh he should be bone and wearing a hood. he also should have a scythe... or at least an hourglass
the pain it hurts me too much.
kk now i'm going to actually read the fic to see if there is a reason behind this
Death and Lesbians.
Sounds like something out of an episode of the Cinema Snob, but no, instead it's brilliant literature.
the picture makes me angry.
death is nothing but bone + cape
he should be carrying a scythe and/or an hourglass
good story though very well thought out. even though it is very depressing
what the? the grim reaper (aka death) is a pony too
Original idea, and it sounds fun
bussy working on something myself, but i WIL read it as fast as i can
Sad way for Caramel to go. But a good take on the character, usually he gets put into a romance with Pinkie based solely on his name, I approve of this breaking oft he norm (Fight the POWER!"
) Also Twilight x Rarity, been awhile since I've seen one, usually it's Rarity x Applejack/Fluttershy.
Enjoyed the chapter as a whole, Death's tone was definitely a lot more bitter in this one, but I like that. Nobody feels the same way every day, it's good to see a character in various moods and mindsets. The next story is going to be heavily focused on the Mane 6 I see, good to know. Also I was wondering, what does Death think of Phoenix's? are they like Celestia and Luna and will only die at the very end of Ponykind. Perhaps you could make a mention of them, perhaps Death admiring their defiance of death?
This chapter made me more angry than sad, Caramel was an idiot
Keep them coming though, I'm loving these and you've brought me to tears several times by now. At this point I'd really love to hear about some sort of interaction between Death and still-living ponies, perhaps even one of the alicorn sisters. And what's the story behind that one time where he got really mad?
177310 This story Should have Sex and Gore!?!
hell even Romance would be cool like seriously Its Death! 
Death cant get a little action Explicit or not i think he deserves it :3
How does he know his eyes are milky?
Goddang you critic mind, I just wanted to enjoy the story!
I reckon that pony death should look like Deaths horse. You know the four horesman? Deaths horse was a plae bone colour, and I figured if anything that was a way to depict him, but nonetheless a great set of stories, I admit, there was a few times I almost cried. And for that I give you a jolly good job sir. Have a moustache
790273
Everyone has their own interpretations. Personally I think the skeleton in robe is overused.
790363
I chose Rari-Twi because of all the mane 6 Twi was the only one connected with the Canterlot Elite, and thus the best choice to utterly outshine Caramel.
790424>>790537
All in good time
790637
He can see himself in mirror/reflective surfaces. Just because he is invisible to others doesn't mean he is to himself too. And before you ask why, it's MAGIC!
791336
Yes I know the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but I prefer my own take. White is more a color of purity, like the Gatekeeper. Black is more associated with death/decay.
Ah, such a beautiful tragedy, seems to me though Rarity would figure out he loved her, no way shes that dense.
Other than that nitpick, perfect chapter, can't wait for more.
791475
I actually did think of that myself while writing, and had a version where Rarity was aware of Caramel's feelings. However I felt the focus became more shifted onto her rather than the two leads, Caramel and Death, so I decided to have her stay ignorant. Chalk it up to her being love blind with Twi, or maybe just so used to stallions fawning over her she cant distinguish infatuation from real affection.
792225
Fixed now. All stories take place BEFORE chap 1. I wrote chap 1 as a standalone, but people seemed to like it so I continued, and the timeline got all messed up.
Wow, how did no one (myself included) ever notice that before? Wow, I'm dumb.
I enjoyed the different take on death by the Reaper. No way was he going to feel grief for Caramel.
Good chapter, can't wait for more.
Dayum... That was sad.
When I told the skype call what I had just read, it literally went quiet for 10 seconds. Next word being said: "Dayum..."
-Glassed
Rarity your so stupid
792501>>792660
That's the reaction I was going for.
793639
You're welcome.
Very powerful, there. Excuse me. *Gets a hammer and chisel and carves Caramel's name into Rarity's forehead*
that was the saddest one yet
good writing though.
795901
So close...
800920
Thanks, I endevour to outdo myself every time. I don't know if I can top this one though, so I'm thinking the next one will just be hundreds of cute kittens being thrown into a meat grinder. We'll see if that works.
801019 as much as i hate to say it, i dare you.
801019
Just other innocent friendship fire?
------------------------
Well I really didn't see any mistakes.
Surprisingly, since I am the one who generally saves your story from getting banned, because of the shear amount of errors.
------------------------
Well I only have good things to say, having Death be more bitter then depressed was a good change of pace. It would be nice to see some other reactions.
And, the anger, this one interests me the most out of them.
And really Raven, TwixRarity?...
*clop clop clop clop clop clop clop 
*
-----------------------
But in all seriousness good chapter, enjoyable read, now get crackin on the next chap.
801168
Will do! See you in another two months
802619
Two months? What is it time already for your summer hibernation?
803202
I'm only joking (hopefully). The next one wont take that long to write.
You know, this song called Feathery Wings by Voltaire fits this story dead on, a hundred percent.
790344 ...Shouldnt death have different 'reincarnations'? It'd be boring if they were all the same.
Hey, raven, long time no speak.
Love this new one about Caramel. It has been a while since I read something about an actual pony in love with Rarity. Even though in my opinion, I wouldn't see Rarity falling in love with a mare, I just go along with it. Anyway, I did kinda pick up on the hint to Death's "anger", as you put it. Although to me, it seemed more like curiosity. Like somewhere in his mind he wants to know just what is on the other side of the gate. Digressing now, love this story still so keep up with the great writing.
PS: Take as long as you need to. I am in no rush for anything. All good stories take time and patience to write.
Way to go Caramel. Good job pushing Death over the edge and make him the problem of those ponies who come after you.
Wait...next chapter is going to be all mane ponies? Are you going to kill one of them off?
806158
thank you, i agree. Variety is the spice of life
806286
I explained in a previous comment, but I had TwixRar because I wanted 1) to include more mane cast and 2) twi seemed like best mare to completely outshine caramel what with all her political connections and such. Thanks again for being patient. We will talk later just to go over details.
Glad you liked.
806452
You'll have to wait and see.
>>Ravenwood11
Well, I can see the political and social connections Twilight has in Canterlot, so I do understand the choice of TwixRarity. Just my opinion is all.
Any time you're ready, send me a message and I will help out as much as possible.
1033711
Thanks alot for the fanart waffleperson. I really liked it, keep up the good work
Love this story so much. It is dark without beig grim.
Question, though. Could you, as a favor to me, refrain from shipping mane charecters in the future? Prety please?
IMO It kinda takes away from the feel of the story.
Here. Take all my like and fav.
1861642
Thank you for your like and fave! Also, in regards to the shipping, I just wanted to use 2 well known characters to hammer home how Caramel felt completely out of his league. A lot of background characters have many different interpretations, and I wanted to use characters that I didnt have to set up first. I dont plan on shipping any more in future, but no promises.
I understand. Thanks for responding to a lowly fan like me...
This story is one of my favs. It is succ3ssfully dark wihout being grim, and that alone is absolutely phenominal. The fact that this story is also a joy to read and very thoughtful is a bonus.
5 out of 5 mustaches.
Congrats on making one of my top 5 stories on the site.
1861642 Agreed
This story is so good! I can't stop re-reading it!
Well, this is an... interesting fic here.