//------------------------------// // A Painter of Nightmares // Story: Spike And Nightmare Moon, A Trip Around Equestria // by RubberEyes //------------------------------// “Why does it take so long? This so called ‘train’ moves at such a high speed and yet it feels like years! Perhaps we should simply jump out. Each second that passes is another second closer to my greatest enemy…” Spike sighed as Nightmare continued to ramble on and on. Most would find it annoying, but Spike was very much used to panicky and possibly crazy mares, and so, he knew the universal weakness of mares, and that meant all he had to do was wait for the opportunity and… “Look! It's the trolley pony. I can buy us some candy, how does that sound?” And capture their attention by the stomach. With Nightmares rambling finally subsiding, and substitute by general curiosity towards modern candy, Spike bought two caramels and a chocolate bar. Nightmare had no idea of what chocolate was and when Spike explained that it was made from cocoa she was exceptical to the idea that such a bitter fruit could make any candy worth her time. Despite her misgivings, Spike took a bite from the chocolate and finally there was blessed silence. Nightmare Moon, the Queen of the Night was silent for the first time since they had met. For all of four glorious seconds before she exploded in an euphoric raze, driven by a taste overload the likes she had never had before! Her excitement seemly bleed off into Spike, since he devoured the bar in record time and did the same with the caramels, which although she was familiar with, tasted like nothing she ever had. The trolley pony was particularly surprised when, while coming back from her first round on the train, the odd little dragon requested she simply leave the candy bow with him. And was even more surprised when he paid using Royal Print Checks, the only check universally accepted in all stores since only Princess Celestia herself could grant them to somepony. Some stores didn't even bank on the check and simply framed it for posterity. Usually Nightmare Moon would be furious with the blatant crumb trail that a check like that would leave, since very few beings had access to them, but usually Nightmare Moon would not be furiously trying to convince a dragon to force feed himself as much candy as he could possibly fit in his mouth. It seemed that, a thousand years ago, candies were, in general, more bland and tasteless when compared to what was considered common place today. And even if that wasn't the case, Nightmare Moon's priorities at the time involved very little of sitting down for a meal and more of conquering Equestria and bring forth night eternal. It mattered very little that she wasn’t actually the one doing the eating, she could still feel the taste fully. And thus, Nightmare soon devolved into a blubbering mess of pleasure and satisfaction inside of Spike’s mind. Meanwhile, Spike also dissolved into a blubbering mess, unfortunately for him, the kind that is filled with the sugary regret and sweet pain of too much candy. That Nightmare immediately started to demand for more candy once she realized he had stopped only scalated the suffering. After 15 minutes of Spike trying to convince her that he could not eat any more candy, which took the trolley pony confirming that they did not, in fact, have any more candy other than that of the bowl, the train finally came to a stop. Having gotten out of the train, Spike immediately went to the ticket booth in order to buy a new one for the next ride to Fillydelphia, which was, fortunately, the next train to come. Unfortunately, however, he noticed that he was almost out of money by then, having brought very few bits with him since he didn’t expect to be taking the train. That and he really didn’t want to use the checks again. And so he just sat in a bench while waiting for the train. “I have a question, dragon.“ Said Nightmare. “What is it?” “Couldn’t you have traded your extra ticket for a new one?” Only silence answered her for a time and she started snickering, causing him to finally say “Shut up.” “Measure your words, dragon.” She tried to sound menacing but her mirth ruined the effect. “But do tell me, how long does it take for the train to come?” Asked Nightmare. “Hmm, I’m actually not sure. Could be five minutes, could be half-hour. Actually, I really should check the schedule.” He said as he jumped from the bench, looking for the poster that should have the informations, that for some reason never were in the same place when in different stations. He found it near the edge of the platform, facing the tracks with barely two pony lengths of distance from the edge. It was such an stupid place to put it that both him and his passenger just stared at it in bafflement for a moment. “Which kind of pony would be idiotic enough to put it there? If it was facing the center of the platform I could understand, but it faces the tracks!” “You want to know the worst part? This isn’t even the worst place I’ve seen it in.” Spike said, remembering one the trips he made with Twilight to a village on the edge of Equestria. The poster was so misplaced that not even the workers at the station knew where it was and he only found it by accident. The question of how somepony managed to put it in between two walls that were just a centimeter apart would forever haunt him. Nightmare didn’t even bother to question what was the worst, fearing the effects any possible answer would have in her sanity. After finally getting over the sheer insanity of it, he just walked to it before looking for the information he wanted. And he would have found it if something hadn’t just shoved him aside, almost making him fall. “Hey, watch it-” Spike cut himself off having seen who had just shoved him. Or better yet, what had. Another dragon. But not only another dragon, a dragoness, twice as tall as him and of a vibrant red and silvery white that almost reflected like a mirror, she also looked like she was fuming with emotion. Literally. A constant stream of smoke seemed to leave her nose and mouth, almost blocking her vision. That her eyes looked like they were watering didn’t seen to help either as she furiously tried to read the train schedule. “Now isn’t this a curious sight?” Said Nightmare, noting that the dragoness, like Spike, had an bag that seemed to be packed full. “Perhaps a kindred spirit of yours, dragon?” “Only if she has an annoying travel buddy.” Spike whispered back. “Watch your tongue or use it to teach her some good manners! She shoved you, and by extension: Me! I refuse to be treated in such a way. Make yourself useful and show her some manners.” She said, lifting her muzzle. “What? Heck no! Just look at her; She could snap me in two if she wanted to!” Spike whispered again, but it seemed like he didn’t do it low enough since the dragon almost immediately turned to him with what could be a glare, it was difficult to tell behind the smoke. “A-and just what are you mumbling about, hm?” She snapped with something that almost sounded like a sob, walking towards him with menacing watering eyes. “You p-ponies think you can just make fun of me behind my back?” She looked like she was about to continue, but a hiccup interrupted her and cleared her vision from the smoke, letting her see the cowering dragon before her. The two –or three depending on how you counted it– of them just stood there for a moment, staring at each other, Spike in fear –Nightmare just watched it all with interest– and the dragoness in surprise. She was the first to snap out of it as she turned away to clean her tears. Spike on the other claw just gathered his wits while Nightmare said, “I wonder what could make a dragon cry like that.” “Let’s find out, shall we?” Spike whispered back before addressing the dragoness. “Hey, hm, I'm Spike.” He said, offering claw to her. She ignored his extended claw and just turned back to the schedule. It almost looked like she was going to completely ignore him, but after another attempt at reading through her smoke she answered irritably, “I'm Drachen.” Nightmare snorted, “What kind of name is that? And why are you being cordial with her? Just get her out of the way already!” Spike ignored Nightmare and simply lowered his claw. After so many years of living with the princess of friendship, he found that a friendly voice was all it took to disarm a situation like this. “A pleasure meeting you, Drachen. If you don't mind me asking, just what brings you here?” This time she seemed almost determined to ignore him, but the silence that followed and her failed attempts of clearing the smoke were more than enough to make her talk again, if only to make him stop staring at her and to clear the air. Metaphorically. And, hopefully, literally. “Was hired to paint a portrait.” “Ah, so you're an artist? Looks like it didn't go well. What happened?” Spike said sympathetically. At this Drachen just sighed, it seemed like this dragon just wouldn't leave her alone. “Yeah I'm an artist, I guess.” She said, looking at her feet. “I came here because a client wanted a portrait, but as soon as the first pony saw me, they screamed 'Dragon!’ and the whole town locked up!” At this she lifted her head in order to look at Spike with eyes full of hurt and gestured towards the town. “Not even the client opened the door for me! I've spent the last of my bits to come here, to this damned pony city to do my first commission; finally start a life as an artist, and then they simply go and steal this opportunity from me! I don’t even know how I’m supposed to get back home!” At this point she looked like she was about to start crying again, but it was hard to tell behind the veritable blinds of smoke she exhaled. Regardless, Spike knew he had to calm her down quickly; a crying female was the last thing he wanted. Nightmare on the other hand simply snorted, “What a pathetic story! What kind of coward ponies would hide from such a small dragon that offers no threat! One that has come when invited, no less! If I could, I would teach those pathetic excuses of ponies what they should truly fear.” The sheer amount of conviction Spike felt from Nightmare almost gave him pause, ‘What’s with the sudden sympathy? No, focus! I have to cheer her up; Time to put on the good ol’ charm.’ “Wow, that really sucks.” He tried to sound as sympathetic as possible. “But I guess that's ponies for you; More squitish than card castle in a windy day.” At this he gave a knowing smile. ”If you think their reaction to a dragon is bad, it’s because you never seen them reacting to a misplaced rose in a tulip garden. They’d burn the village down and salt the pastures, I tell you. Believe me, almost seen it happen more than once.” He said with a loud snort of barely contained laughter. She snorted too, and with it most of the smoke cleared away from her eyes until she started breathing normally again and a smaller, but still troublesome, stream of smoke started to come out of her nostrils. She still looked depressed, but the risk of crying had decreased drastically. Some would have seen how much better she looked now and called it a day, but not Spike. He wouldn’t give up until he’d seen an smile. He wasn’t a friend of Pinkie Pie just because of his good looks, after all. “You said you were a painter, do you have some of your work with you?” He said, pointing at her bags. She held her bag protectively against her chest and looked she was about to refuse but ended up just sighing. “Yeah, I have some landscapes and still life’s.” Drachen said as she started to open her bag, her mood shifting more to sad neutrality rather than depressed. Even though it looked like she would show them to him regardless, he found that asking permission would be the polite thing to do, “Do you mind if I see them?” “No, go ahead. Like any of these ponies would care to see it.” She said, and Spike noticed that every time she’d talk, the smoke of cloud would dissipate, only to return as soon as she started just breathing again. ‘Odd’, he thought. She took three paintings out of her bag, one that barely fit in the bag and two that were about half the size of the first, all covered with a thin piece of wood on both sides to protect it from damages. She hesitated for a second, but the smile on Spike’s seemed to reassure her as she removed the cover from the biggest painting. ‘Green’ was the first thing that came to Spike’s mind as he looked at it. It took all he had to keep his neutral on his face and not look surprised. Nightmare on the other claw had no such qualms, “And now one is suddenly happy that she did not show her art to the locals. I doubt they’d be as kind as to you to restrain their reactions. Although, I believe they to be more than deserving of the fury she’d bring upon them.” Spike ignored her and just kept analysing the painting. It had a lot of green to it, especially on the bottom. Closer to the top it looked to be more blue, but it was difficult to tell. Throughout the entire painting there were various shades of gray mixed in with the colors, in the center in particular, the grey seemed to overtake the painting. To the left it looked like there was brown, roughly in the shape of a tree, but it looked like the closer it got the edge, the more sharper the image was, the exact opposite of what any sane artist would do. He had to think hard about what it could mean. Having lived his entire life surrounded by books, he naturally read many books on art, and found many critics to be common simpletons spouting tautologies of little significance and value in pursuit of a feeling supposed superiority. True critics would look not only at a painting but at the author, the times in which it was started and finished, as well all that happened in that period in order to form an opinion on what was the significance of it to the artist, what he tried to evoke from the people of the time and how its meaning could be adapted to a modern time. Both, howerever, would, more often than no, fail to recognize a very simple truth, just as it was said in the immortal words of some dude: ‘Sometimes a painting is just a painting.’ With that in mind, Spike just to looked at the painting for what it was. A landscape. As seen through the eyes of a dragoness. A dragoness with smoking problems. Literally. He looked at it, and then looked at the dragoness who seemed to fidget under his critical gaze, the cloud of smoke in front of her eyes like blinds that obscured the world from view. ’Come to think of it, she might have some breathing problems. I was just like that when i got the flu.’ He focused hard on her eyes, but all he could see was gray with hints of magenta. He took a deep breath. He released it slowly, along with some of his fire to produce a continuous stream of smoke. The clear image of Drachen in front of him became a blurry amalgamation of grey and other colors. The smoke itself, something that at a distance would be a distinct and sharp shape or other, was completely out of focus; it was too close for his eyes to focus on it. It looked exactly like her painting. With this revelation Spike looked at it with new eyes and no small amount of awe. The painting, that before looked like something out of a failed artistic movement, likely brother to cubisms, suddenly looked like the most photorealistic thing he’d ever seen. The way that the center was completely out of focus and the colors were mixed was exactly like what he saw. The closer to the edge the image got, the more clear it became because that was where the smoke was thinnest. Looking at the other two paintings only confirmed his theory. He had no doubt that were he to look at a bowl of fruits through his smoke, he would see exactly what was painted there. It seemed like Nightmare had come to the same conclusion when he breathed the smoke, “Now isn’t this fascinating? A most dedicated artist that can only paint that which none will ever be able to compliment without great deal of effort...” Spike could be wrong, but it she almost sounded bitter by the end. But he didn’t have the time to dwell on it, he had an idea forming and he had to act on it fast. “Drachen, these are incredible! The way you painted the smoke! I didn’t even think it was possible to do something like it! It’s so realistic!” He said with enthusiasm. Her smoke became suddenly more intense, but she seemed to perk up quite a bit. “Y-you really think so?” “I think? No, I know it! I love it! But…” He gave a small pause, both for the dramatic effect and for him to phrase what he wanted to say the right way. “I don’t think that most ponies would pay for it.” She looked like she was about to deflate, so he continued quickly, “Most ponies don’t want to see thing as others do, they want to see things as they see it. However! I know a pony, a former royal guard in Canterlot, he loves to see art from the perspective of other ponies! Or dragons in this case. Regardless! I remember you said you didn’t have money for another ticket, right? Well, I just so happen to have a spare ticket for Canterlot! It was for another train, but you shouldn’t have any problem trading it for next one to come! I can give you the directions to where you can meet him, and I assure you he’ll help you out. How about it?” He said while taking the ticket from his bag. Drachen was speechless for almost an entire minute, constantly fidgeting. Spike suspected that if he could see her face it would have morphed between many expressions. But he just waited with bated breath, a claw with the ticket extended towards her. When she finally spoke he almost felt like the world had pulled the carpet, the floor and the bedrock from under him. “I don’t take charity.” He almost felt despair at those words, but just like a brave little caterpillar, he did triple backflip, sprouted wings and screamed, ‘Screw you world!,’ to the heavens. Metaphorically. In reality he didn’t jump nor scream, and what he actually said was: “Who said anything about charity? I’m not just giving it to you, I’m… Buying one of your painting! Yeah! The still life one! For this ticket” He said, pointing between the two smaller paintings, just to make sure he didn’t point at the wrong one. “And the information is just a friendship bonus! ‘Cause I think we could be pretty good friends. So, how about it?” Drachen wanted to refuse, no matter how he put it, this was charity, and her pride wouldn’t have any of it. But then she stared at him. It was difficult to see through the smoke, but she was used to it. She could see his earnest smile, and his extended claw with the ticket. When she was about to first her works to him she was apprehensive, when he just kept staring at it she was worried. That wasn’t the reaction she expected. She expected… She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that, but then, like a switch had been flipped, he looked so enthusiastic about it. She was almost worried that he was faking it, but she couldn’t hear a single trace of dishonest in his voice. When he critiqued it she knew it wasn’t out of malice or discontent, not like other dragons she had shown it to, that just thought of it as a waste of time. It was out of a genuine want to help! Drachen took all of that in consideration before making her decision. Her pride fought hard, but in the end it stood no chance; She was going to accept it. Didn’t mean she’d be lame while doing it. “Friends, hm? I wouldn’t usually sell it for just a ticket, but I think I can give you a discount. A friendship bonus.” She took his claw and shook it, coming out the ticket for Canterlot in hand and then gave him his new painting. They both stood there for a second before Spike remembered to tell her how she could find his friend in Canterlot. By the time he finished, his train had just parked and opened the doors. He quickly stuffed his new painting inside his bag before leaving, not without waving goodbye to Drachen, who waved back. After taking his seat he just happily watched the landscape passing by. He had just done his good action for the week, and everything was going well. There was absolutely nothing that could ruin his mood now. “You sly, sly, dragon.” There was, however, someone who could. A very smug someone, it seemed. “You thought I wouldn’t notice it.” “What are you talking about?” He asked, he wasn’t even annoyed, more curious actually. He honestly expected her to do something soon, the smugness got him off guard, though. “This clever ruse of yours, don’t think I haven’t noticed it.” The sheer amount of smug on her voice made it more thick than his blood after all the sugar from the candy got to it. “Oh, have you now?” He decided to play along, just so he could find what she was going on about. “Oh, I have. Setting a fake trail like this, and with such good acting. I’m almost impressed.” She said, and Spike could almost feel much she approved of this. “Using another dragon to mislead any who might be looking for you? Genius, almost! Afterall, what are the chances of two dragons taking a train for Canterlot, on the same day? Through the same route, no less. Especially when they know that you took a train to Canterlot, it’s impossible they don’t, not after you used that check. I can barely contain my laughter when I picture their faces when, after carefully looking for you, using all the clues that should by all means point towards you, they find the wrong dragon!” At this she chuckled darkly. “And you even were smart enough to ‘befriend’ her! After all that show you put, there is no way she’d betray our trust and reveal to where we are going.” The emphasys she put on ‘ befriend’ almost sent shivers up Spike’s spine, but she seemed no to notice. “I will not lie, you are a great actor; Almost made me believe that you were doing it all by the goodness of you heart! Masterfully done, I’d say. But I know better, dear Spike. I know better.” “Whatever you say.” He said. He was honestly scared of her for a second. The way she said his name… It gave him the heebie jeebies. All that she said did. But the way she put it… It made almost made sense. In a twisted and worrying way, but it did. It almost made him wonder if he had done that completely out of will, that there was not a little part of him, a subconscious part, that did it for the reasons she believed in. He wasn't a hundred percent sure. He decided to not dwell on it and just went back to staring out of the window.