//------------------------------// // Voice // Story: (Not) Black and White: A Displaced Fic // by Masterweaver //------------------------------// I should... probably explain something now. A lot of this story takes place in Equestria, but that doesn't mean that Equestria is the only important part of this story. No, there's the Merchants, and there's the Displaced, and.... Well... There's Blake. Blake Belladonna, or, well, a Blake Belladonna. The situation's complicated, a lot more then I even realized at the time, but... I probably should have mentioned her earlier. Seeing as it's her body I was transformed into and all. It's just... how do I even begin with this... Should I start by saying she's been oppressed all her life, because she has an extra set of ears? I mean, that's important to her, it pretty much defined her, but in Equestria it wasn't nearly so big of a deal. And how others treat a person doesn't exactly describe the person themselves... Should I, maybe, explain the group she was in? The White Fang, which if I understand correctly was meant to help members of her kind, but went sour and forced her decision to leave. Blake defined herself by her relation with the Fang quite a bit--the fact that it did not exist in Equestria really rattled her. Maybe I should be describing her personal traits--her love of books, her cynical distrust of everyone, how deeply she values what friendships she had and how fragile she always fears those friendships to be... her paranoia and self-loathing, only one of which I can say makes any sense. Then again, she's a teenager. Came as a shock to me, that--I guess they grow them tall back where she comes from. Still, it would explain some of her more... unusual mood swings-- Alright, alright, I'm joking. I'm sorry. Anyway, I really should have mentioned Blake earlier. She's as much a part of this story as I am--more, actually, given... well, that's not going to be for a while. But this, well... this is when I first met her. And wow, did it not go the way either of us expected. I awoke with a jolt, sitting up and looking around the tiled path I found myself lying on. It was no longer a bright day, but instead a foggy night--a night, I realized as I looked up, illuminated by a partially shattered moon. "....O-kay then, I've been drop-kicked into a horror film." I glanced down at myself and sighed. "Still a girl. Great." At least I still had the gun-sword on my back; any zombies that wanted a piece of my brains were in for a world of hurt. I stood up, trying to find something in the thick mist. It seemed to rise a good eighty feet before abruptly stopping, roiling like a sea of clouds. Rising above it, outlined in the starry sky, was the still form of a dragon perched atop a great, elegant tower. "Right. Big building. Big monster. Lots of fog. The smart thing," I mused, "would be to walk away from the obvious lair of evil and find a local village." I looked around and gave a frustrated sigh. "Except, of course, I can't see anything else in this... stupid Silent Hill fog that's everywhere." Reluctantly, I walked down the hexagonal tiles toward the dragon-topped tower in the distance. Things grew clearer as I approached; stone archways towered to either side of me, some smashed by an unknown force, large outlines of buildings became vaguely visible ahead... ...and before I could approach them, I came across a frozen battle. A tableau of people, some frightened and lying on the ground, others fighting... creatures with bony faceplates and darkened fur. The gunsword strapped to my back would not be out of place here; there were a number of odd weapons in the hands of the still warriors, odd hybrids and even stranger things. It was pretty clear this wasn't a unified group--each one had an individual outfit, ranging from plate armor to fashionista to some crazy skater get-up. The oddest part, though, were their faces--a number of them had eyes, but apart from that very few had any visual distinction. "...Yeah, this is some sort of mental world, isn't it." I maneuvered carefully through the battlefield, stepping over a fallen warrior. "The fog, the mysterious creatures, half-remembered faces, definitely a crazy metaphor going on here--is that a mecha? That... that just ruins the aesthetic!" The mecha, frozen as it was, did not notice my complaint. I took a breath and let it out. "Right. Never mind. I'm sure that represents... something that I'll figure out. This really is a Silent Hill rip-off, isn't it? God, I wish I knew how those mechanics worked now." My journey through the fog continued, footsteps seeming to echo into nothingness as the outlines of buildings grew closer. Orange light began to mark windows, gleaming faintly like candles scattered across the structures emerging through the mist. I considered going toward them, but at the same time I felt I would have a better idea of what I was looking for if I got a clear look at the dragon tower, so I kept walking forward. Right up until a statue appeared out of the mist. "Huh." I looked it over. "Okay. Guy with sword, girl with axe. Clearly heroes, from the posing... maybe they're the lost lords of this tower place? And one of those bone-face thingies underneath them... I'm guessing that's a 'defeat' position the sculptor was going for. So... hero and heroine, fight the bonefaces, then... what?" I threw up my hands. "Is it too much to ask for some sort of clue? Can I get a hint about what the hell is gomeep." I had forgotten the first rule of horror games--always watch your back, the monsters love to sneak up on you. And with a blade pressed against my throat, I was pretty sure I was going to regret it. "What," hissed a voice in my ear as the hand on my shoulder tightened, "are you doing in my body?" "I, uh..." I swallowed. "Um, I'm new to this whole hostage thing, I don't know the protocol for telling you that I am not at all comfortable with how close this sword is to my neck--" Thankfully enough, the sword was pulled away, my assailant spinning me around and shoving me into the statue so she could point the sword at my face. And, at the least, it got me a good look at her. Her clothing was different--a pair of thigh-high boots over jeans with a white belt, a fancy white jacket over a complex black top, a small satchel on her hip and a belt around her shoulder. But the gun-sword she wielded with confidence was the same as the one strapped to my back, the emblems on the side of her boots were exactly like the ones on my socks, and the face twisted in righteous fury was completely identical to the one I had seen in the cauldron, right down to the ears. "Answer me! What are you doing in my body?!" I held up my hands hesitantly. "Would 'I don't know' be an acceptable answer? Because I really don't know." "You don't--you spent yesterday wandering around the woods like an idiot, completely failed to face either a manticore or that pack of wooden beowolves, then you started whining about being a girl and freaking out about my ears--" I flinched. "They're very pretty ears?" "--and I was trapped in my own head, watching a complete stranger make me look like a moron and now, now that I've finally got you somewhere we can talk, the best you can say is 'I don't know?'" I took a breath and, slowly, let it out. "Okay... first of all... I'm sorry. I don't know what is going on at all, but being locked in your own head must have been a horrible experience and I apologize for my part in it." The expression of fury on her face lessened, but she didn't pull back the sword. "Secondly, I... if this is your body I'm trapped in, I would like to say that I'm not going to do anything weird. I mean, uh..." I rubbed the back of my head. "Look, this is weird for me too, miss, and I--" "Blake." "What?" "My name. It's... Blake. Blake Belladonna." I nodded slowly. "Blake. Okay. Fun name." She gave me a look. "What do you mean by that?" "Isn't... isn't Blake a boy's name?" "...no." I chuckled awkwardly. "Oh. My mistake then." Blake sighed, sheathing her sword. "This is just... the absolute worst timing for this sort of thing." "I don't think there's any good timing for this sort of thing." "How did this even happen?" "A wizard did it." "What?" "A joke. Sorry." I paused. "Although, actually, there was that merchant guy--" My musing was interrupted by the sound of a wind-chime's steroid abusing older sister coming from nowhere. Both me and Blake looked around, trying to determine what exactly was going on. She was the one who looked up first, so she was the one who shouted "There!" My eyes tracked the direction she was pointing. A six-pointed magenta star had formed in the sky and was descending toward us at a controlled but rapid speed. "What is that thing?!" I demanded. "How should I know?!" Blake replied. I gestured around. "I don't know what any of this is, I thought this was your mindscape!" That was the last I got to say before the star shone brightly, bathing my world in white.