//------------------------------//
// The Edge of Darkness 
// Story: Fairy Gothmother 
// by forbloodysummer 
//------------------------------//

Limestone rounded the corner before Twilight had much more chance for thought, and, yeah, her shoes were not small or subtle. Or clean, for that matter, looking like they’d run several marathons across a desert. The tops of her boots disappeared beneath a plain black dress that managed to look rugged, surprisingly casual, and kind of fashionable all at once.

Not that Twilight was any kind of expert on what was fashionable, of course, but she could imagine Rarity calling it ‘chic.’

Aria was right behind, in black jeans and a tiny red T-shirt that left a lot of her midriff bare. But she stepped in front of Limestone as they approached the door, folding her arms.

Twilight heard Limestone mutter to Aria as she passed, “Look at you, taking point.”

“If I bring home a stray,” Aria said, looking back at Limestone, “it’s mine to deal with. I know that.” Then her head snapped around, and her eyes pinned Twilight to the spot. “The fuck do you want?”

Most of what Twilight had planned to say just vanished. Something about maths, maybe?

Thankfully, the one fragment that stuck with her was the one that might help with her self-preservation! “I’m not the one who took your voice!” she blurted out.

Then there was silence, and, the longer it stretched, the more deadly it felt. Aria’s expression had gone from crime-of-passion-murderous to build-a-time-machine-to-exterminate-your-ancestors-murderous. Obviously it was the touchiest of touchy subjects, but that was to be expected, so Twilight had to push on and explain to fix things before they got worse.

“The girl who sang with the Rainbooms during the Battle of the Bands – that wasn’t me. I’m native to this world, and that was my Equestrian counterpart.” The sirens already knowing about Equestria definitely made that bit of the explanation much easier!

Aria pulled back a step and looked Twilight up and down, obviously considering her. “You do look a bit like her, now you mention it.” Her eyes lingered on Twilight’s glasses and ponytail. “From what I remember, she had better hair.”

So Aria hadn’t… thought that…?

Before Twilight could give that thought any more of the attention it really needed, Aria’s face was suddenly very close to her own.

“I’ll ask again: what the fuck are you doing here?”

Even though Aria’s arms were still folded across her chest, it felt like she was picking Twilight up by the collar, and somehow her subconscious pushed her up onto her tiptoes as she felt all her other muscles lock up. “Trying to learn!” she squeaked. Then it all came out in a rush, “I wanted to dress more punk, so you’d know I’d put some effort in before coming to you, but I don’t know how, and if I just copied someone else then I’d be a poser, so I don’t understand how anyone can dress punk for the first time and avoid that.”

Very visibly, Aria forced herself to stop and take a deep breath. “Do you even know what punk is?”

Oooh, I’ve got this one! Perhaps it was the nervousness of being around Aria and her foul mood that made it hard for Twilight to relax even though she knew the answer, or maybe she responded to such situations with excitement regardless. Either way, she felt the familiar warmth of knowledge as she recited the answer from memory. “It’s a rejection of the ideals we hold as classically beautiful.”

“That’s what it does, not what it is.” Aria’s answer was flat, and accompanied with a shrug. “Why does it do that?”

“It, uh…” Twilight faltered. Talking with Rarity hadn’t covered that. And her incomplete explanation somehow managed to look even more ignorant than if she’d given none at all. It was like being tested on subjects she’d never learned! No, wait, it wasn’t like that, it absolutely was that! “I don’t know,” she shook her head frantically, holding her hands up in front of her with her fingers splayed out, not sure if she was clawing at the sky or shielding herself from it. “What is punk?!”

Wordlessly, Aria stalked forwards, stepping out of the house and over to one corner. Her foot lashed out, catching the battered metal dustbin beside the house with a heavy boot and sending it crashing down. Tied black bags spilled out over the lawn, some splitting open and spilling food waste and packaging, and the bin lid skidded across the grass a few metres away.

“That’s punk,” Aria said.

Twilight gaped. Then she scratched her head, and finally she made her way over to where Aria stood, too dazed by it all to even think to approach with the timidness she probably ought to.

She stared down at the overturned dustbin and its contents. Then at the second one standing untouched beside it.

And then Twilight kicked the second dustbin over. Only at the last second, once her foot was already drawing back, had she realised how she needed to commit, and show Aria that she could throw herself into things and leave meekness behind if required. That resolution put a lot more power behind her foot than she might have planned, and, sure enough, the dustbin clattered to the ground beside the first and similarly ejected its contents.

“That’s punk?” she asked, turning to Aria, buoyant on the sudden adrenaline.

With absolutely no sense of urgency, Aria brought her hands up to cover her face, screwing her eyes shut. “No,” she said, through her fingers, “that’s trendy.”

...

Was it possible to consciously feel endorphins draining away? That was certainly how it felt like it felt. She sagged on her feet, and couldn’t lift her eyes from the ground. “It’s like I can’t win,” she said, mostly to herself. Every question she asked, every step she took towards her end goal instead ended up taking her further away from it, whatever she tried. Then she addressed Aria directly, and some of that emotion might possibly have made it into her voice. “I’m stuck in this logic loop. I can’t do it without asking for help, but if I ask for help I can’t do it. So how does anyone ever learn to dress punk?”

Aria looked at her the way Twilight had at that hippie friend of Fluttershy’s when the subject of ‘healing her chakras’ had come up. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

Not lifting her eyes even a micron off the floor, Twilight nodded.

“People. Don’t. Dress. Punk.” Even without Twilight looking up to confirm, Aria was obviously speaking through clenched teeth. “They are punk, and they dress the way they want to.”

But the… the rips, the spikes, the… Aria was at that very second wearing a T-shirt that was literally at least two sizes too small for her… None of that could be comfortable. None of it was sensible, unless its main aim had a deeper purpose, like adhering to a style. Without that, it just didn’t make sense as something a rational person would choose.

“But what makes them want to dress like that?” Twilight asked, too bewildered to keep her gaze averted.

Aria exploded. “Because that’s what they think looks good!” she bellowed, full-on shouting at the top of her lungs. Twilight stumbled backwards, and by the time she pulled herself back together Aria was striding back into the house, around the corner and out of sight.

Limestone, who’d been standing in the doorway with her arms folded, turned and followed Aria in, ignoring Twilight scrambling back towards the house. She reached the open doorway in time to hear Pinkie’s voice from inside.

“Pleeeeeeease, Limestone,” Pinkie wheedled, “give her a chance.”

Even if Twilight’s reception had extended to her being invited in, she thought the wiser choice at that time was to wait outside, rocking from foot to foot as she listened. Not that she wanted to be accused of eavesdropping, but overhearing raised voices through an open door wasn’t exactly difficult. And it might have been rude if she just left without saying anything?

“She’s had several,” came Limestone’s voice, all gruff impatience. “Every time she’s been nothing but annoying.”

The little pang Twilight felt at that could wait for later, when she could unpack it and deal with it. For now, she was busy hanging on every word.

“Just one more then! She really wants to learn, she just, um...”

“Happens to be the kind of person I can’t stand?”

There was a pause for a moment. Twilight could perfectly picture Pinkie weighing her response options. A less scientifically-minded person might have said they could practically hear her doing it.

“Yep!”

Thanks, Pinkie.

“But that’s not her fault!” Pinkie continued, hurriedly.

“That doesn’t make her any less annoying.” Limestone sounded almost bemused at that.

“I’ll cover your shift on Friday night!” Pinkie blurted.

“Huh?”

“If you give Twilight one more chance. I’ll work your shift in the Machine on Friday.” Pinkie’s voice became less frantic, more encouraging. “You could take Aria out, go somewhere nice. It can’t be fun usually missing out on that, working those hours.”

From further away and higher up – the top of the stairs, Twilight thought – Aria’s voice called. “Not worth it!”

After a pause, Twilight caught Pinkie’s voice once more, soft and vulnerable. “Please?”

The delay waiting for an answer stretched. Twilight rocked nervously on the balls of her feet.

“Fine.” Before meeting Limestone and Aria, Twilight wouldn’t have believed it possible for someone to put so much venom into a single word.

Then there were the thumps of someone going up the stairs. And not just walking in heavy boots, but actively stamping.

Pinkie Pie sidled into the doorway, oddly not-the-loudest-thing-in-the-vicinity when Limestone evidently had a staircase to angrily traverse. “I think I persuaded her?” Pinkie said quietly. “And I think she’ll stick to it. I’m less sure about Aria, but Limestone keeps her word.”

“Thanks, Pinkie,” Twilight smiled. There was something reassuring about sober, pragmatic Pinkie. If she could manage her usual chaos, she could probably manage everyone else’s too.

“This is the last chance you’ve got, though. I don’t think there’s anything I could do to get you another.”

Determination and optimism were important traits for motivation, Twilight knew, but she also knew predictions had to be realistic. She’d failed every attempt with Aria and Limestone so far. Whatever she did this time around, it had to be good. Or she’d have to drop the whole thing.

“That’s ok. I’ll make it work.”

The boots on the stairs reasserted themselves, descending this time.

“Somehow,” Twilight added under her breath.

Footstep by footstep, they both tracked Limestone’s return with their ears. Pinkie shimmied out of the way as Limestone reached the door, hovering behind her.

“Here,” Limestone barked, thrusting a CD towards Twilight. It was beige, covered in darker stains and marred by a misshapen black mark towards one corner. “If you damage this… well, use your imagination.”

Whatever Twilight had been expecting, it wasn’t that, but she managed to stammer out a “Thank you.”

Limestone folded her arms, but she still eyed Twilight and the CD she held sceptically, like she couldn’t be trusted with it. “Right. I need to clean this shit up” – she nodded towards the toppled dustbins and their spilled contents strewn across the lawn – “before mom gets home. So… off you fuck.”

With that, she slammed the door. Pinkie just had time to cheep “Bye, Twilight!” before it flew shut.

That left Twilight standing on the Pies’ doorstep, feeling like a lemon. She looked down at the CD in her hands, wondering how Limestone would even notice if it came back looking any worse than it already did. Maybe she ought to photograph it, so she could prove it came to her in that state?

Of all the things Limestone could have given her to push her in the right direction, she’d chosen a CD. Not a jacket, an earring, a lipstick, a book… but a CD. Containing a video lecture, perhaps? Or a text-based guide with associated images? Something, apparently, made it that pertinent to starting her journey.

Peering closer, she could make out writing above the dark spot: ‘the downward spiral.’

That wasn’t exactly enlightening. Or even encouraging. Still, she could ponder over it and study it more at home. For now, she was hanging out on a doorstep she’d been explicitly warned she wasn’t welcome on.

So she turned, took to setting one foot in front of the other, and, uh, off she fucked.