//------------------------------// // The Young Filly and the Ancient Alicorn // Story: Lazy Crazy Dayz // by BatwingCandlewaxxe //------------------------------// My young unicorn student went rigid as the ancient Alicorn turned to face us; tall and imposing, lanky, with all the grace and barely-restrained power of the great cats of the Zebraharan jungles. His black coat appeared to absorb and imprison all light falling upon it, radiating the sun's rays back out through intense, glowing red streaks in his mane and fetlocks, their sanguine hues shifting from burning crimson down to infra-red. The aura of ancient secrets hung about him, scented with the faint odour of turpentine. His eyes, when they caught mine, seemed to pierce my very soul -- one a deep, venomous green that roiled and seethed, the other a sickly amber hue that spoke of things long-dead and almost-forgotten. His wickedly curved and forked jet-black horn practically crackled with power, and sparkled with threads of bright metal twisted through the bone, matching the steely sheen of his hooves. Familiarity with his singular appearance reduced my reaction to bland indifference, but my young companion stood locked in place, unable to move, staring in a mixture of fascination and fear, shivering slightly in the warm summer afternoon. The elder greeted me with a habitual nod and smile. "So, lord Candlewaxxe", he said, his stentorian voice like thunder in the mountain stillness, "you've made another long trek to see me, and brought a friend with you this time. A new student, I presume? I believe you'll be in want of refreshments. There're biscuits on the table, and if you'd care to put the kettle on I'll make us a nice cup of tea. I've always liked meeting your students." I moved to fill the large iron pot and hang it over the small fire pit, as I had done so many times before. "Batty, please," I reminded him yet again, "you know my title is little more than a historical formality these days. And this is my student Pastel Shade." "Ah yes, the one you wrote to me about," responded the elder alicorn. "A pleasure to meet you, young artist." The filly beside me barely overcame her shock to gasp out, "Your... mane... your coat..." "Yes, he responded, a note of sadness colouring his voice, "rather dull aren't they. I've always found my colouring so... insipid. Perhaps that's why I have always been so fascinated by the tremendous range of colours in nature. From the subtle to the outlandish, they're all just so inspiring, don't you think?" My companion finally finds a bit of courage. "Your eyes, they're different colours. How come? Is it because you're so old?" "Ah, noticed that, did you?" he responds with a slightly sheepish grin. "Result of a magical accident in my youth; was trying to transform my utterly boring coat and mane into something a bit more colourful and entertaining. Needless to say, things, well, things went wrong, and I ended up altering my eyes instead. Can't really remember their original colour anymore. I seem to recall it was a pleasant shade of celadon, but it's been so long since I've seen them..." Further emboldened, she continued, "Your horn, why is it like that. And your hooves, are they made of metal?" He sighed as his countenance fell, embarrassment and shame etched into every line. Turning away slightly, he levitated a small can out from his saddlepack over to the folding table, opened it, and spooned two scoops of dark, dried leaves into a stoneware pot. Filling the pot with hot water, he sat down and sighed again. After a minute of tense silence, he poured three cups, and took a dainty sip. "Well, I... that is... let's just say 'The less said about that the better', and not recount the myriad follies of youth. Wouldn't want to go giving cute young unicorn fillies such dangerous ideas now, would we?" He smiled warmly and indulgently at my young companion, who chose not to press the issue. "Do they hurt?" the young unicorn asked, with the earnest concern of youth filling her musical voice. 'Oh no, not at all," he replied, his smile fading a little. "They're just a reminder of mistakes I've made, and which I'd rather like to forget. I'd say you'll understand when you grow older, but I sincerely hope you won't have such an opportunity." Brightening up after a moment, he continued, "But that's not what you came here for, is it. You came to hear about the old days. How I gave magic to the world." The filly just nodded, as did I, though I'd heard many of the stories before, from him and others. "Very well," he responded. "I was one of many Alicorns back then, though now there are so very few of us remaining, and unlike most of the others, I preferred to spend my life in solitude. Many of us contributed magic to the world, some in little ways, some in bigger ways, all depending on our particular talents. My contribution was the magic of Art. As I said, I've always been fascinated by the colours of nature; so I shared my appreciation of them with ponykind. I provided inspiration and artistic vision, the eyes to see the world in new ways, to feel things differently and more intensely than others, and the talent to communicate those feelings to everypony else. I don't do much these days, not really needed anymore, you know; but I like to keep my hoof in, in small ways." He gestured to a nearby easel, on which sat a large canvas containing a half-finished landscape. A palette and several brushes rested on another small folding table nearby. "My friend here, your teacher," briefly looking my way, "tells me you've quite the talent for art yourself, and that you're a fan of Palette Knife the Younger's work." He chuckles softly to himself. "She was certainly a strange one, had the most bizarre collection of pets I've ever seen. Why, I remember the first time I met her. It was at a local cafe where she was putting on a small informal exhibition. She was accompanied, as was her custom, by one of her unusual pets; this time a wombat of all things. When I walked in, that creature took an instant dislike to me..."