//------------------------------// // Letters III // Story: Love, or Twilight Learns That Joy Wants Eternity // by Cynewulf //------------------------------// Dearest Twilight, I have thought on your letter for several days. I have read it and reread it, ruminated on it and pondered. My conclusions are many, but they are fragile like most things worth attention are. Firstly, before I begin my… I’m not quite sure it is a rebuttal, but before I begin it, I would like to say that these letters really are a delight. If experience is what I should seek, the act of living in the world as it were, then I believe that this exchanging of words surely must count! I so rarely get the time and space to formulate my thoughts. Always always I am on the move, and the act of letter writing is such a nice reprieve. But to the point. Twilight, my dear, my friend, my liege after a fashion (is that official?)--what on earth are you going on about? Experience? I believe you’ve quite misread my words. Firstly, you cast my account as if it were some sort of, oh I don’t know, a juvenile display, a fabricated distance as if it were not something integral to being equine to be at least a little lost. I am not avoiding experience Twilight! I am not cutting people off. To do so I would require some agency in the matter--as if it were my choice to be alienated! But at the same time, I do not doubt you mean well and I’m not sure that there is not some truth to your words. Were I consciously choosing to isolate myself, were I as a matter of personal policy choosing with full knowledge to erect some sort of wall about my person, my Self, than indeed that advice would be perfect. I think the answer, Twilight, lies instead in the concept of loneliness. I have been very dependant upon the presence of others since I was a foal. Ponies, their voices and their faces and their company, filled me with energy and live. Only in the presence of others could I feel myself coming to life. Oh, to be sure, I am quite happy to have a lazy sunday morning to myself here and there, because who doesn’t? But the party, the scene, the crowd, the clique, the circle of friends were what gave me life. So I am hyperaware of loneliness. Whenever I am alone, I feel it intensely, good or bad. Perhaps most ponies do. Maybe it is not rare. I wouldn’t know! I only know what I myself experience. I believe loneliness is a warping. It is like quick sand. The desire of the lonely one is to be with others, no? But its loneliness keeps others at bay. Ponies sense the clawing, cloying quicksand loneliness and they refuse to step into it--and why should they? Is it not dangerous? Didn’t ponies of old fear the leper, darling? Loneliness has a stench about it, the smell of death. But let us not be quick to thrust all responsibility upon the Others. The Lonely, too, plays a part in his or her predictament. That solitary individual often begins to blame the world for the dysfunctions of his or her heart and sees in mere indifference an active malevolence which he or she then proceeds without success to combat. The Lonely becomes short-tempered and bitter, an heir to greater things convinced that they live in the shadow of active oppressors where exists only those who know nothing of them yet. The weariness of the inside circle and the outsiders’ warped mind’s eye—these things work together, dancing round and round, I think, an in endless dance of dismay. Ironic, isn’t it, that loneliness creates itself? I do endeavor as always to be better. Rarity TO: Petty Officer Rainbow Dash FROM: Cmdr. Spitfire RE: Duties Rainbow. I don’t know how else to say this. Do you know how many letters I’ve had in my inbox from a princess? About five in the last decade, not counting the invites to the Gala. Two of those were to inform me that the Bolts were going to be deployed into a warzone halfway across the world. Two of those times were to express condolences on the premature death of a Bolt. The last was when she sent me congratulations for ten years of service and I had a heart attack. Okay, yeah. I get a card on my birthday, and she personalizes it, but that doesn’t count. Look, what I’m trying to say is that I got a note on my desk from Princess Twilight asking how you were doing. I then got a slightly shorter note from Princess Celestia asking after you as well. The note from Princess Luna was unrelated and most consisted of a challenge and an insult to my considerable honor. Dash, what is going on? You seemed exhausted when we dismissed you for leave, and I thought some time back home would help you clear your head. I’m your commanding officer, but I’m also your friend. Both sides of me need to know what is going on with you. Just talk to me. Dear Sunset, You asked me what Celestia is like, but before I get to that… You should write her directly. I know that it’s kind of intimidating to do, trust me. I was her student once too. I wasn’t always a great one—ask me some time about a doll named Smarty Pants and dabbling in mind-manipulating magic. Not a great moment. But! I get it. As for what she’s like… well, the shortest answer is that you already know. Underneath the teacher is the person. A teacher is just a person at their job, really. Honestly, I was going to just gush about how wonderful she is (because she is very wonderful) but then I realized that trying to answer the question you posed was more tricky than I first assumed. How do you describe ponies? I mean, we do it in a lot of ways but which one is more useful? Is one way of describing them better than another way? So! I got to thinking. Sometimes, we describe each other through the physical. Color of coat, horns or wings, tall or short, heavyset or lithe. You already know what Celestia looks like as well as I do, even if the Celestia that lives in your memories is a bit less fresh than mine! Besides, the mere outward parameters of a pony aren’t terribly useful beyond calculating how fast they’re going or how many of them you can fit in a room. We say that ponies are unkempt or shabby or that they smell bad—but you know that Celestia is a lover of sandalwood and lavender (we share that one!) and she had perhaps never been possible to describe as “dirty” on a single day in history. You already know that Celestia can be serious. Sometimes, she is so focused that she reminds me less of a pony and more of a knife; she’s all a rush to the point. You already know that she can be silly or carefree. Sure, it doesn’t happen as much as she (or I for that matter!) wishes. When I was young, Celestia would play harmless tricks on her maids, leaving them little surprises in the strangest places, notes with a few bits attached, bundles of chocolate lying in wait in a cupboard, that sort of thing. You know also that she is gracious. Celestia wants to forgive most everyone. Holding grudges just… It’s not her usual style. She’s capable of it as much as any other pony. She just prefers to be friends again, and I love that about her. Celestia can be… sad sometimes. She doesn’t hold grudges, remember? Except I lied. She’ll hold grudges against one pony easily, and that’s herself. It’s the worst sort of selfishness, the kind that no one understands as selfish until it’s too late. She has long moments when she thinks no one notices her where she wilts. I know this sounds cheesy, but it’s like watching the sun go down too early in winter, or a flower wilt right in front of your eyes. Celestia is kind. She learns her servant’s names and wouldn’t dream of treating them any other way then as friends. She spares time in the middle of long, stressful days to teach fillies like us. She doesn’t mind that I am inexperienced with love. When I had my first panic attack in the dorms at the Academy, she helped me calm down. When Stormy Day, the maid, had a bad day and came to work while her mother was gravely ill, Celestia invited her for tea and then sent her home with a present for her mother… and the fare for a hospital stay. Quiet. She is very quiet. I have watched her spend two hours without a word or a noise, enjoying the gardens. I have seen her move through the sunlit halls of the palace without alerting a single busy servant. She can be commanding, bringing a whole room to heel with a word, or by her patient silence bring low the most haughty ponies. She is both greater than us and just the same. She is, ultimately, just like you and I. Celestia is all of the things you knew when you were a student. And I know she misses you an awful lot, but I’ll say no more on that. Do you have any idea how hard it is not to gush about how great a kisser she is? Becuase it is very hard and I managed not to do it this whole time and frankly? I think that’s an accomplishment. As far as dating, we’re going kinda slow. It’s still secret, but… it won’t be for long. We’ve decided to open up to the public about it, if only so we don’t need to be so covert. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to just… be girlfriends? In public? And not worry about it? I mean, I’ll still be under scrutiny, I just… I don’t know. It’ll be more honest. I could use that. She’s so good to me. She’s so patient. Twilight