//------------------------------// // Twitch // Story: Twitch // by Ice Star //------------------------------// Swallow. Blink. A deep breath — the loudest sound she'll make all day. The one that will never be heard. Well, only by her with the midnight coat. Every day continues. Nothing looks wrong to the average pony — and why would it? They aren't very observant, to begin with. They notice nothing. Celestia, with her bright white coat and harsher radiance, chatters among them. She does so as if she could lower herself to their level and call herself a pony, no longer content with what she is. She tries to forget and Luna tries to talk. It's simple, right? Think of what to say. Open her mouth. Speak. Keep her voice level, steady, and audible. Only it wasn't simple. Don't talk had become can't talk. Her mind swarmed with details of the lethally meaningless every day, all the little sorrows and joys that bathed in the air around her. Everything sparkled like glass, so obvious. Unlike her — noticeable. Each day was brighter, each night shunned even more. Each star a curse. There was a mouth open — that was Celestia. Talk, talk, talking. Smiling. Welcoming. Whatever they wanted her to be, she was. She was the sun. And she burned bright enough to leave a mark, and to blind those who did not know better. It wasn't that Luna didn't know what to say. She was wholly sure of that, having dwelt on the matter as hallways passed her eyes and another pony passed her like a ghost. Or maybe, the mortal had been more like the furniture they saw her as — present but unimportant. What need was there to pay any attention to her? She knew exactly what she wanted to say. Always, always when she had spoken she had spoken well. But she knew everything that had to be said. Each syllable that would sound like thunder to her own ears even if it were but a whisper. That is what made it difficult. She could see the road before her. Going in blind would be far, far easier. She sits next to Celestia on the forgotten throne. Half the room of stone—- sharp angles and dull hues in a neat tomb, imperial beyond belief, majestic, and properly suffocating — was gold. Sun-gold. She blinked in pain. Yellow flowers knew to keep soft. These banners bled. Her gaze dropped. Every crack on the floor swam in front of her, every speck of dust made itself noticeable. Luna drew a deep breath just quiet enough not to come across as bored. The noble droned on, ill-chosen words falling from his lips and cluttering the air with their meaninglessness. Each utterance was hollow. Everypony stood on the side of gold — the only one they could see. They nodded, jewels gaudy. Celestia gave the noble a smile — he must have said something she liked, for Celestia always rewarded her sycophants. Luna's mind dipped beyond the noise. She knew her face bore a comforting stoic look. Always thinking. She was surrounded by ponies. Alone. Alone was but a different way to spell 'peace' for this dark mare. She shifted quietly in her seat, forehooves quietly in front of her, slouching slightly. Luna looked, distant. Contemplative. Maybe bored. Her mind screamed as she watched the mouth of the noble move. Each of his words was wasted, wasted, wasted... Celestia complemented his presentation, a mask of seriousness overtaking her pursed-lipped smile before she allowed it to widen again. Luna wanted to cut the strings her sister has burrowed into herself. Blue eyes went unnoticed as they watched the next noble enter, the cacophony, and clinks of ill-spent phrases, and practiced greetings dropping to the ground before he even entered the room. The walls echo with their worthlessness. Luna's stare widens. She's completely forgotten now, eyes boring into Celestia. She does not hide their horror, raw and tearing. Celestia gives a kindly smile, veils of subject-centric thoughts narrowing her vision as she is unaware of her shadow's distress. Misery. Panic. After all, is it not the princess — pretty, loved, popular, following the cues — to make sacrifices? Luna watches as her sister bravely sacrifices the good of one for the mewling silk-clad idiots' attention before her. One over many — it's the sun's way. So much so that Celestia had been willing to sacrifice living for the sake of merely existing, all for those who only ever wanted things from her and would never truly know her. Was Luna not right to be sickened that her sister thought that this chained state was life? That Celestia did everything in her power to impress this so-called lifestyle upon Luna too? Speak, speak, speak, roars the thunder in her mind. Her vision swims. Every detail stands out, screaming and bright. The glitter of her sister's crown, the lace of her gown. The Everfree palace sparkles with the recent cleaning it has in honor of the new day. Slowly, Luna tears her gaze away from her sister. The far wall becomes her focus. Her heart is steady — this is everyday — and she tries to only listen to that. It doesn't work—- all the sounds and stray vowels that drift through the air find her ears. Luna almost blinks, to her it feels like a slow movement but she knows it's far quicker. A faint tic, a twitch that passes the notice of others. Not a dream. Her left ear pricks to catch what sounds like a fragment of her own thoughts. Not a dream. Luna remains impassive. She even yawns, but her blood feels cold. She can't tap Celestia or do anything to catch her attention. They had made a silent treaty signed with bitterness, stubborn will, and everything between them. Luna still remembers the sound of the screams in their last fight that tore at the mere scraps their relationship had been in then. They were Celestia and Luna. Sisters in name only. Celestia ruled and Luna... Luna's jaw twitches. One minute is over. Swallow. Blink. There's still many more to come. She watches them pass, noble after noble with greed in their eyes and money behind their words. It was as if some part of them knew that what they said could and would never be enough to please the single goddess who dared to refuse 'gifts' and other material curses. Luna knew that they always came at a price, each whispering a curse of submission that Celestia would always accept. Oh, how her sister had rotted to a glassy-eyed creature under the countless yokes of mortal calls for her submission to their will — how ill the wrongness of it made Luna feel! They sold their charity to the mare who sat on gold and gave her smile freely to everypony, cheapening it to the low price of being meaningless to all. Luna only smiled in memories, mirth only left over from distant recollections of youth. Happiness and words, all superficial things to be bought and sold for nobles. For ponies, who after the long winter that plagued them finally had both restored to them. Luna felt anger rising in her throat. She bowed her head, parting her lips. Her mind overflowed with each declaration that would never be 'till only her own heartbeat filled her throat. She murmured nothing, eyes under her thick mane which flowed about her face wild. Aware. Her eyes were blue-green like neither the earth nor heavens but somewhere in between. They saw all these ponies did, were like the ink of purity in the new world of the united tribes, bright paint to illuminate every misdeed witnessed and falsehood spread. Luna had unbelievably tired eyes. Her mad eyes, twitch once before calming just enough to pass unnoticed. Luna's head rises up, mane falling to her side with more sound than she can muster. A natural regality is in the pose of the dark sister, one the mortals have never been able to erase from her. She sits. Always watching. Luna thinks of herself as a mighty raven to her sister's praised and over-caressed dove. The noise drones on, polluting the castle background her mind has long wandered from. The indigo mare's feathers rustle. Her posture slackens somewhat. Swallow. Luna's muzzle twitches. Blink. Celestia's bright, hollow voice summons the next noble and Luna's silent war rages on.