Lunar Rosemary

by Liquid Truth


8 - Forevermore

“Feeling comfortable?”

Luna shuffled close to Twilight and draped a wing over her. Warmth crept up her cheeks as Twilight snuggled close. She took a deep breath as she did, drinking in the chilly and tranquil atmosphere that cradled them from horizon to horizon. “As comfortable as it could be.”

The blob pushed the raft away from the dock and into the fjord, disturbing the tranquil waters with ripples from their nondescript boat. Lachrymose Fjord sang them a soft flowing piano piece to accompany the newly mended couple under the silver glittering Moon and countless twinkling stars.

Twilight let out a contented sigh from under Luna’s wing, covering her muzzle with her new indigo scarf and clutching Luna’s foreleg loosely with her own. Her fur shivered as she felt Luna’s feathers brushing against her back and sides, soft and gentle yet bold and firm. She took a deep breath from the scarf and greedily submerged her olfactory nerves in the smell of blueberries and moonlight. A smell she had missed so much after an indefinite amount of time living on the coast of Lachrymose Fjord. “This is nice.”

Luna chuckled. “It is, Twilight.”

Twilight stared at the silhouette of green hills surrounding the river-like lake; a dark featureless shape squeezed between the reflective waters and bright moonlit sky. Their boat swayed lazily as the blob pushed it over the endless waters, lulling her mind into serenity and bliss. And sleepiness. “We’ve never had any dates like this, have we?”

Luna shook her head. “I don’t think so. Such a shame, too; there are a lot of places in Equestria I know you’d love to visit.” She turned to Twilight. “Would you like more of these kinds of dates? Away from civilization and simply enjoying nature?”

Twilight scrunched her eyebrows. “But what about your duties?”

“My duties will be fine, Twilight. I’ll empty my schedule from time to time.”

“But wouldn’t that—”

“Just like you had in the past.”

“But—”

Luna bit Twilight’s ear, chuckling as Twilight squirmed and yelped. “No buts.” She let go of Twilight’s ear and kissed her on the cheek. “Just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

Twilight giggled and kissed Luna on the neck, blushing as she heard the blob singing them a teasing piano flourish. “I’d love that.”

And so the pair slept in each other’s embrace, lulled by the lullaby of the fjord with the blob of energy driving them on their way to Evermoor.


Luna woke up to the sound of seagulls and the spicy smell of the Floor Seas of Inbetweenian Archipelago. As she opened her eyes, her vision was bombarded with the bright light of the Sunken Sun shining overhead and the reddish clouds waltzing with each other about the Ceiling Seas. Shafts of spice-water poured from the Floor Sea to the Ceiling Sea and from the Ceiling to the Floor, carrying with them clouds and ships alike. In the distance were waterborne vessels of many shapes and sizes, from oblong to torus, from twenty-masted sailing ships to giant spinning waterwheels, manned mostly with short and muscular tripedal creatures covered from the middle down with intricately drawn pieces of cloth.

The blob pointed to the landmass a few kilometers away with mountains more like stalagmites accompanying their brethren on the Ceiling and shore hidden behind the countless ships and endless docks. “My raft can’t sail the Magelsea Ocean,” he said. “Find a ship from one of the Verenigosts. They’d gladly take you to Evermoor.” He gestured vaguely to the other giant ships. “Or you can ask one of the Inbetians. They’d also gladly take you, but they’re never in such a hurry as the Verenigosts.”

Twilight cast a spell and closed a single eye, zooming in to see the people on the docks. “I don’t see any other creature but the Inbetians.”

“Exactly.”

As the raft slipped between the gargantuan oars and Brobdingnagian hulls alongside the smaller vessels, Luna heard Inbetweenian Archipelago greet them with a majestic orchestra of brass gongs and plates. The sudden beginning note startled her, earning her a confused look from Twilight.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just Inbetweenian startling me.”

Twilight raised her ears. “I heard nothing.”

“In time, you will.” She flicked her ears. “For now, trust me.”

“I always do.”

Luna blushed as she heard the orchestra shifted into a teasing bamboo piece. She sang back an awkward tune of gratefulness, which the archipelago replied with even more teasing notes from high-pitched flutes and leather drums.

Twilight raised an eyebrow as Luna sank her reddened face beneath her wings. “Are you okay?”

Luna huffed underneath her pile of fluffy feathers. “Music is a funny thing, Twilight. It can play with one’s emotions very easily.” She flicked her ears. “It can also be very vulgar at times.”

The blob chuckled and Twilight kept a questioning look on Luna. Their boat maneuvered between the giant ships alongside other small boats, falling in line to dock and quickly empty and fill their decks.

As the blob docked and the pair jumped to the pier, Twilight asked Luna, “Why did you sing?”

“It’s a universal language. I’ll explain later; right now we have to find a Verenigost.” She turned her head left and right, scanning the sea of Inbetians and the crates and goods they were carrying. Although the Inbetians were short, most of her vision was still blocked by the megaspices and wooden crates. Luna huffed.

“Why don’t you fly?”

“It’s rude,” she quickly answered, looking at the land above them with no less busyness than theirs. “The Inbetians don’t appreciate airborne things since they can never be sure when you’re upside down. But,” she said as her smile twisted to a grin, “they won’t mind us stepping on them.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that be ruder?”

“Music is a lot of things, Twilight, but a liar it is not.” She hopped on top of a block of black pepper, the Inbetian underneath unbothered by the additional weight and kept on walking without slowing. Luna gestured for Twilight to join.

Twilight gulped and shook her head. Finding Luna already carried a few paces away, she jumped to a wooden crate, clinging to the side and trying to climb on top of it. A few seconds of frantic scampering later, she felt herself getting pulled by a familiar telekinetic aura.

Luna gave Twilight a teasing smile as she deposited her on the block of clove she was now standing upon. “Jump to the rhythm, Twilight.” She moved to a crate nearby. “Follow my lead.”

As Luna moved again, Twilight followed her, falling into a rhythm that Luna set. She jumped into crates and blocks and roughly tied commodities, struggling to keep the beat to a song she couldn’t hear. Sometimes she missed a beat and slipped, sometimes she missed a beat and nearly toppled the Inbetian underneath.

Luna stopped, letting Twilight take a breath. “You still couldn’t hear it?”

Twilight huffed. “How am I supposed to?”

Luna gestured to the sea of bobbing thingamabobs.

There was a rhythm to the bobbing, Twilight noticed. Looking down, she could feel the Inbetian under her walking in a tripedal gait in synchronicity with everyone around him. Her mouth made a silent, “Oh.”

Luna smiled. “At least now you can feel it.”

Twilight smiled. As Luna moved to another box, Twilight waited for the bobbing to finish a full cycle before moving, just in time as Luna reached another box. She heard Luna giggling, and soon she joined her and evolved it into a rhythmic jumping of joy and laughter.

An indefinite amount of time later, they reached the other side of the port, where fewer people were walking and more were eating and talking and resting alongside the open market. Luna stood still just as she jumped down from the block of cinnamon, followed closely with a still-giggling Twilight. She flicked her ears left and right, ignoring Twilight’s questions.

Twilight eventually stopped asking and strained her ears, yet she could hear nothing but the haggling and banter from the market and the small restaurant.

Luna walked slowly, eyes still closed but her steps confident and deliberate. Twilight followed her in silence, opting to observe the Inbetians instead: ape-like, hairless but on the very top of their heads, which most of them covered with a bandana-like headscarf with the same material as their skirts. Closer to them now, she noted the drawings on their clothes were of repeating patterns, signifying things she couldn’t comprehend.

Luna stopped abruptly before an alleyway. Snapping her eyes open, she sang a loud call into the narrow passageway.

A creature skidded to a halt right in front of them, its upper body reminiscent of the Inbetians, yet its lower body a spinning top, hair a pure white, and clothes that of a rich, old-time sailor. It sang an annoyed question at Luna.

Luna sang back.

Twilight watched in confusion as the two kept on singing with each other, Luna with regal dignity and the other with business-like annoyance. Eventually, the creature, seemingly satisfied, nodded and shook its hand with Luna’s hoof.

“Was that a Verenigost?” Twilight asked.

“Yes,” the creature answered, startling Twilight. “Didn’t you hear me the first time?”

“Please excuse her, Sir Dandelion,” Luna intervened. “She doesn’t speak in music.”

Dandelion stared at her aghast. “And you dare bring her here!?”

“I didn’t,” she stated. “One thing leads to another and now we’re here.” She smiled at her coyly. “And I’m teaching her as we speak.”

Dandelion gave Twilight an amused smile. “Well, I see.” He turned around and jumped on top of a crate an Inbetian was carrying. “My ship leaves in five verses. I’ll see you two there!”

“Time,” Luna said before Twilight could ask. “It’s how the inhabitants of a Worldsbridge measure time.”

“How long is a verse?”

“Not enough,” Luna said as she jumped atop a block of turmeric, “if we keep on horsing around. Come on!”

Twilight giggled and jumped, following Luna as they jumped with the rhythm like before, yet with longer hops and straight trajectory.

Soon they landed on a floating dock next to Dandelion’s ship: wooden and slithering, her snake-like body towering over the small boats and hull reminiscent of fortress walls. To her side, Twilight could read her name in giant letters: Slitherfort.

Dandelion shouted an annoyed verse from the windmill that was the Slitherfort’s head. A part of the Slitherfort’s body opened, lowering to the dock as a staircase to board her.

Luna and Twilight climbed the makeshift plank and aboard the deck, greeted by more Verenigosts wandering about atop their spinning lower bodies. Orders were shouted from the bow accompanied by booming drums, and the answers from the crew were sung a capella.

As the pair trotted side-by-side to the bow, Dandelion’s crew divided themselves to each side of the deck, then jumped as the other side landed, and landed as the other side jumped, in a wave across the entire ship, making the Slitherfort slither out to the open spice-sea.

At the bow of the ship, they found Dandelion holding on to a pair of railings to his sides and his topspin bottom holding tight to a wooden bowl on the floor. Twilight watched in silent fascination as the Slitherfort turned and fixed her course with Dandelion’s spinning of the bowl.

An Inbetian was standing next to Dandelion, singing a greeting tune as Luna and Twilight came to view.

Luna sang him back a greeting melody.

As they came close, the Inbetian clasped his hands around Luna’s outstretched hoof and bowed, then repeated the gesture with Twilight’s. When he rose again, he smiled, displaying his teeth, reddened by a lifetime of drinking spice-water. “Gus,” he said, pronouncing it like ‘goose’.

“Luna,” she answered, then gestured to Twilight. “This is Twilight.”

“Lovebirds,” chirped Dandelion, not turning. “Happens to be going for Evermoor.”

Gus laughed. “Good, good. Evermoor’s good for love.”

“Is it?” asked Twilight.

Gus winked. “And food. Evermoor’s good for food.”

“You mean herbs?” asked Luna.

“Herbs? No, no. Herbs come from other places. Inbetweenian have spices.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “They’re basically the same, aren’t they?”

Gus shook his head. “No, no! Herbs you chew; spice you drink.” He pointed to the edge of the sea. “And while it’s what we trade, we’re famous for spice-water.”

“And many creatures would die for them,” said Dandelion. “Before, of course, knowing that they will if they drink it outside of Inbetweenian Archipelago.”

“How does that work?”

Gus shrugged. “Ask the sea.” He produced from his pocket a small wooden cup attached to a length of rope. “Wanna try?”

“You should,” encouraged Dandelion.

Luna nodded and sang a grateful tune.

Gus threw the cup overboard. When he pulled it back, it was filled to the brim with a thick, red liquid, the scent reminding Luna of garlic and black pepper and cinnamon and many other spices mixed together, while the color reminded her of wine and blood.

“Slowly,” Dandelion warned. “It’s powerful.”

Twilight watched as Luna took a cautious sip. Then, she stared down at the cup.

“Luna?”

Luna kept on staring.

Twilight waved a hoof in front of her. “Luna?”

Luna collapsed in a heap, the cup quickly caught by Gus before spilling anything and Luna caught firmly in a panicked Twilight’s grip. “Luna!”

Dandelion whirled. “What happened?”

Twilight glared at Gus and Dandelion. “I would like to ask the same question.” Her gaze pierced into Gus’. “It’s poison, isn’t it!?”

“It’s not poisonous.”

“You poisoned it!”

“It’s not poisonous but to those of a royal bloodline.”

“Why didn’t you say that sooner!?”

“I wasn’t aware that she’s of royal blood.” He pointed at her head. “Royals usually wear a crown or… things.”

Twilight lit her horn and ran a check over Luna. “She’s not breathing!”

“She’s most likely dead.”

Her eyes snapped to Dandelion’s own. “She’s what!?”

“Dead.”

Her glare fell on Gus. “You killed her!”

“Well, I didn’t mean to!”

Twilight hugged her tight. “No, no, she’s not dead. She can’t be dead!” Tears began streaming down her cheeks. “Luna… just as we reconciled… You can’t be dead yet! Not this fast...”

Gus shook his head. “No, Twilight, she’s dead.”

Twilight’s face hardened beneath Luna’s unmoving body. “And how can I know that you didn’t kill her on purpose?”

Dandelion shook his head. “As you don’t speak in music, you never can.”

“And how can I trust you on that!?”

Gus shook his head. “As you don’t speak in music, you never can.”

Twilight snapped her head up, her horn dangerously bright and mane blowing to her arcane wind. “You killed my love!”

Gus raised his unoccupied hand. “I didn’t!”

“You killed her!”

“That I did, yes.”

Twilight’s eyes shone brightly.

“I’ll fix it.”

Her eyes lost its glow, yet horn still glowing. “You can?”

“I can.” He turned the cup upside down, producing a solid block of spice-ice. “In Undrykken Valley, I can make an antidote to her death.”

“You can’t bring someone back from the dead.”

“In your world, maybe.” Gus gestured around him. “But here, it’s not even a world. We’re in the Worldsbridges. World Dwellers can’t die unless they fall into The Nonexistence.”

Twilight brought up a shield. “How can I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You never can.”

Twilight fell on Luna’s body, shield still up and breath ragged. “J-just… Just take us home.”

“But you were going to Ever—”

“I don’t care anymore.”

“She’d die for real if you bring her back dead.”

“You’re lying.”

“How can you tell?”

Twilight sobbed. “I just know.”

“How can you know?”

“I just do.”

“How do you do?”

“I’m not fine.”

“Why?”

“My love is dead.”

“Your love is still burning.”

“Luna is dead.”

“Why is she dead?”

“You killed her.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“She didn’t trust even herself.”

“I can’t trust my own judgment.”

“Why can’t you?”

“How can anyone?”

“By listening.” Gus sang a tune.

“I don’t understand what you’re singing.”

“In time, you will.” Gus sang another tune. “For now, trust us.”

Twilight stopped crying. She took a deep breath from under Luna’s limp mane. “She trusted you.”

“She sang with us.”

“I trust her, so I trust you.”

“How can you trust her?”

“I love her.”

“Is it enough?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?”

Gus nodded and grinned. “Alright, Dandy! Set sail for your homeland!”

Dandelion shook his head. “No. I’ll miss the Evermoor Fair.”

Twilight clenched her teeth. “It’s a matter of life and death!”

“And attending Evermoor Fair is also a matter of life and death.”

“It’s not like you die if you missed one year.”

“I will. Many will.” Dandelion gestured at Luna’s body. “She won’t. You can wait for another year.”

“I want her living. Now.”

“Yes, Dandy. We can cut through the Peace Sea and into—”

“We’ll die in the Peace Sea.”

“There’s a chance that we won’t.”

“I’m not taking that chance.” Dandelion frowned. “Not for someone who doesn’t even sing. I bet she piggybacked Luna to escape her world.”

“I didn’t,” Twilight said in a dangerous tone. “Luna came to take me home. I came out and lost because I don’t understand The Worldsbridges’ music, but I got out because I was invited.”

Dandelion paused. “You… what?”

“I’m invited.” She took out the invitation card from under Luna’s wing. “I’m invited to Evermoor Fair.”

Gus took the card and read it. As he read, his smile turned into a grin, then a chuckle, then laughter. He slapped his middle knee and laughed in a booming melody. He then sang to Dandelion, which in turn sang in sharp tunes akin to cursing.

Twilight, still sobbing, stared at Gus questioningly.

Gus chuckled. “You’re an Invitee, Twilight. You’re now the most valuable thing everywhere and anywhere the Worldsbridges can take anyone and anything.” He gestured to Luna. “Followed closely by the Plus-One.” He gave her the Invitation card back and frowned. “So keep that safe, girl. Don’t show it to anyone you can’t trust.”

“But how can I trust anyone?”

Gus shook his head. “You can’t.”

Twilight stared dejectedly at Luna. “I don’t even trust myself.”

“She trusts you.”

Her eyes snapped to Dandelion. “She… She did, didn’t she?”

“She does.”

A ghost of a smile rose to her lips. “She does.”

Gus grinned. “So, for Evermoor?”

Twilight wiped her tears away and nodded in determination. “For her. Forevermore.”