//------------------------------// // 4 - Heart in a Bottle // Story: Of Ink and Quill // by Fiddlove Enfemme //------------------------------// In a forgotten part of Ponyville, a cloaked figure walked silently through the disused hallways of an abandoned office building. His parchment brown coat was barely visible through his hood, and his horn peeked out just below the brim. Nopony went here, at least not anypony who meant well. The Old Town held a lot of relics, and not all of them were valued. This building had once been owned by the FlimFlam Investments and Holding Company, which itself had folded a few years ago when word got out that it was just another pyramid scheme. What had went on in here? Nothing, except for a thin veneer of activity to keep up the illusion of prosperity. Secundus had made sure to look into that before choosing it as his bolt-hole. The halls were wholly and completely abandoned, the windows shuttered, and the doors locked. Perhaps someday someone would make good deeds come from this place, instead of lies and deceit. The lights flickered to life, revealing a collection of straw-filled dummies. Secundus set his saddlebags down by the door and inspected the room. No change since his last visit, which was ideal. He removed his duplicate claw devices from the bags, slipping them on and tightening the bolts. Approaching the dummies, he lunged as the hidden blades sprung forth. Two neat slashes appeared along the dummy's neck; it was a killing blow. It'd been hard to track these things down. For his training, he'd wanted dummies that were sized and shaped accordingly to every species within Equestria's borders. Pony was easy enough -- all it took was perusing the old mannequins behind Rarity's boutique to find something he could use. Griffon, dragon, buffalo... much harder to find. For the sake of brevity, there had been a... shipment of such things headed for Manehattan that mysteriously disappeared from the train while it was offloading in Ponyville. Secundus regretted such a low, but he wanted to be ready. So he attacked again, again, and again, each time leaving neat slashes across the surface of the dummy. He inspected them, checking for depth, and how clean the cut was. A cleaner cut could be easily sewn back together. An unclean cut was far more effort to repair, and damage the dummy's longevity. And of course, a clean cut meant that his weapons would be clear of the target for a followup strike. These blades were Secundus's only weapons as of yet. The road ahead would be harsh, and who knew how safe Equestria really was? It seemed that despite Equestria's idyllic appearance, if you scratched deep enough the seedy underbelly would reveal itself. Crime syndicates in Manehattan, the lawless lands out towards Appaloosa and Dodge Junction, the recent corruption scandals of high-profile politicians in Fillydelphia, and most importantly of all? Underlying racial tensions between the so-called tribes. None of it was overt, but when there were such tangible differences in ability between Unicorn, Pegasus, and Earth Pony, the unconscious bias expected Unicorns to rule, the Pegasi to serve, and the Earth Ponies to grow. Did it have roots in reality? Undoubtedly so. But was it fair to the individuals who had aspirations outside of what their tribe was historically known for? Take Fluttershy, for example. Her affinity for the natural world would be more likely expected of an Earth Pony given the current structure, but still she cared for animals much more than she did herself. Secundus didn't have all the answers, but he damn-well had a lot of questions. If war came to Equestria, who would suffer the most? The Pegasi, with their ancient militaristic traditions? The Unicorns, who could cast spell upon spell to undo their foes? Or would it be the Earth Ponies, who had a natural strength deep within? It would be a toss-up. But he knew exactly who wasn't going to suffer. The same ones who never suffered anything more than a drain on their vast finances. Aristocrats, bureaucrats, the ones who held power over others. The ones who would send others to their deaths to further their own interests. Even here, he wouldn't be rid of them. The old men who'd sent him to war, to kill a bunch of poor bastards who were just trying to protect their homes from him. To kill a bunch of poor bastards who'd been tricked into dying for their country, just like him and the others had been. Here, they took a different form, but they would be the same. They'd see Equestria, with all its flaws, burn for their greed. He was going to change that. But how? Ideas were brewing, plans fermenting. Soon, there would be no more questions. Soon, he would have the answers. It was cold today. Within the month, the streets and fields would be full of snow. The pale, white, fluffy kind Bundled in his warmest clothes, Ink Blot was making his way to that familiar old glade in the forest. He'd been spending a lot of his time out there, despite the worsening weather and temperatures, not simply to mourn, but also to try and figure out what exactly he was going to do with himself. He needed a place of his own, he needed income, and he needed a hobby. Right now? He had none of that. He couldn't exactly explain why he hadn't found any ideas. Perhaps he was being lazy. Perhaps there wasn't any work suited for him-- no, that wasn't right. There was work all around him, it was just a question of how willing he was to do it. Considering his experiences and skill set, nothing seemed particularly inviting or fulfilling. Come to think of it, he was in a similar spot to Ray. Difference was, Ray already had both a place to stay and a stable job. Ink Blot was currently living at the whims of those around him; if Starlight took offense to his presence, then she'd turn him out on the street and he wouldn't have a say in the matter. What little cash he still had was leftover from the applebucking season, and it wasn't going to last long enough. The short of it? He didn't know what to do. He continued to mull over his situation as he made his way to the memorial. Today, he'd brought a bottle of apple cider with him. It was from a few seasons ago, bottled by the Apple family after a bumper crop of their cider apples. Apparently the stuff was a local specialty, and exceedingly popular. But that wasn't why he'd brought it. He didn't even like cider. No, this cider wasn't for Ink Blot. The glade where the memorial had been made was brown and dreary. The leaves had fully fallen from the trees, leaving a carpet of dull oranges, reds, and browns across the ground. And where grass poked through, it was brown and dead. The limbs of the trees above were like jagged spikes into the air above. Even so, the evergreens here and there still held their needles, and when the snows came the glade would look like it came right out of a dream. Unexpectedly, a certain somepony was waiting for him in the glade. Ink Blot sighed to himself -- he wasn't in the mood for a heart-felt conversation today. There was something he needed to do, and as long as his visitor was present, he couldn't do it. "Starlight." he greeted her. It was not a warm greeting, but it wasn't a cold one either. It was neutral. "There you are, Ink Blot. How are you?" Starlight smiled. "I've been better." Ink Blot shrugged noncommittally. Starlight's smile melted away. "Should have guessed. His death must still be fresh for you." "Knight was a big part of my life for almost four years. We relied on eachother when dark times came. There were a lot of dark times." Ink Blot remembered his friend fondly, though his voice was tinged with sadness. "I don't know if I'll ever meet someone like him again." "Old friends are irreplaceable. I guess I should count myself lucky that I haven't had to bury any of mine." Starlight agreed sagely. Ink Blot just nodded. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. "What's the story with that thing you put up? I never asked before, out of respect, but I'm a little too curious for my own good." Starlight asked quietly. "I suppose that shape's not particularly common around here, huh?" Ink Blot smiled briefly. "Well, I can tell it's a cross, but what does it mean?" "Not a cross, a crossguard," Ink Blot corrected her. "One of the many warrior traditions of Saint Helmar, a patron to soldiers no matter their stripe. In ancient times the way to mark an honoured soldier's grave was to thrust their sword into the dirt at their feet, and place their helmet atop it. As time passed, it was adopted the de-facto gravemarker for fallen soldiers across the world. When swords became obsolete and far less common, soldiers would shape one out of sticks." "Why a sword? Why not some other kind of weapon, like a spear?" Starlight questioned. Ink Blot laughed morbidly. "Hell if I know! I'm not a historian, or an archaeologist, not even a theologian. In the military, tradition is tradition, and you don't question it without a damned good reason. And even then, the answer you get makes even less sense than the tradition you questioned in the first place." Starlight raised her eyebrow at that, but let the matter rest. "Why are you here, Starlight?" She shrugged. "I'm trying to figure you out again. Ever since you got your memories back, the picture I thought I had of you got blown out-of-whack." "And have I really changed that much?" asked Ink Blot. "Well..." Starlight trailed off, trying to think. "You were a lot more focused. Open, in some ways. Upbeat, despite dips here and there. And even though you had your own goals, you tried to help and give advice to me." "What if you just didn't know me very well?" Ink Blot asked slyly. "Clearly I don't! You've been keeping to yourself a lot, you know. It doesn't take a genius to figure out when something's on someone's mind." Ink Blot nodded in affirmation, before rubbing his eyes and sighing. "Yeah, something's been on my mind. And no, it's not something I'd like to share." "Funny," Starlight smiled softly. "How'd you know I was going to ask?" "Half hunch, half observation. The dots are there, you just have to connect them." Ink Blot said. "That only works if you know what order they need to line up, or if you already have a good idea of what they are." Starlight pointed out. "True." Ink Blot nodded. "Come to think of it, that's actually a pretty good metaphor." Starlight commented. "It is," Ink Blot agreed. "Life is all about the big picture, and we have to connect the dots to figure it out." "Except you never have enough dots. And other ponies might not have the same dots you do, but you don't know what dots are useful in figuring out the big picture." Starlight said thoughtfully. Though he wanted to deny it, Ink Blot was eager to talk. Especially with someone who understood what he was saying. His mind began to wander along, exploring the metaphor. "You could have hundreds upon hundreds of dots and be no closer to the end, because all of your dots are revealing fine details in only a single corner. Though after that the metaphor starts to fall apart. How much do you need to understand the full picture? What if you lived a long time, and figured it out? Or if you never figured it out at all? And what if it meant nothing all along? Is there even anyone alive who has even a glimmer of understanding any of it?" "Maybe. Who knows what Celestia, Luna, or even Discord would say about it? And why would their answer even make sense to us, since we don't have anywhere near as much knowledge as they do?" questioned Starlight. And just like that, it came to him. He knew how to say what he wanted to say. "That's about the thick of it, I suppose." Ink Blot mused. "Thick of what?" Starlight frowned. "I've been trying to put into words why I'm not going to share my experience with you -- or not yet, at least," Ink Blot said. He rubbed his eyes, constructing it as best he could. "Some of the things I've done... they aren't what you'd call "good". Or "savoury". There's not really anything positive about them." "I mean, you're not the only one who's done some bad things, right? The first step in getting over them is talking about them." Starlight pointed out. "You're right and all, but I still don't want to. I know I should, and I'm telling myself that it's probably for the best, but I can't do it. Fear, maybe? Shame? Shame sounds about right." He went quiet for a while. Starlight was absolutely bubbling with more questions, her curiosity piqued, but wisdom told her to give him time to think and speak. When he started again, there was something different about him, about how he was holding himself. His shame had risen to the surface, and he shut his eyes like he was trying not to see his mistakes again. "You guys, here in Equestria, in Ponyville... you don't know much about war, about being a soldier. It'll put you into positions... there isn't a right answer. You could do everything correct, and still be wrong. You could go entirely by the book and get thrown for a loop by something that's not in the bloody book." "I know the feeling." commented Starlight. "...I'm not entirely sure that you do, actually. Some of that, some of the decisions I made? I don't think you'd get it unless you went through the same experience. And, if you didn't know why I did what I did, you'd think less of me. A lot less of me." Ink Blot sighed. Starlight furrowed her brow as she rested her head on her hooves. She hadn't expected it to be like that. What exactly had he done that he felt was so reprehensible? Had he been some kind of villain? She could recognise regret a lot better than most ponies, and Ink Blot had it in spades. Regret, as an extension of remorse, were among the most important signs of a successful redemption. By showing it, a villain proved that they were willing to change. When she'd learned that what she'd done oh-so-long ago was bad, and why it was bad, she'd become receptive to Twilight's offer of Friendship. Had it been a long road to her redemption? Yes, and she owed every ounce of her ongoing success to Twilight's support and tutelage. This, of course, was assuming that whatever Ink Blot had done put him in the same league as Starlight brainwashing a village to serve her, as well as her attempting to derail the time stream by ensuring Twilight and her friends never met. She and those involved had moved past these events, yes, but the weight and impact of her mistakes was not entirely gone. She regretted what she'd done, but knew that there wasn't any changing the past. Therefore, she had rededicated herself to atonement, to helping others, truly embracing her role at the School of Friendship. Starlight dearly wanted to help Ink Blot, to repay the kindness offered to her by offering it unto others. But... his wasn't the same kind of situation she'd been in. Her experiences would not be a surefire guide to helping Ink Blot overcome it. Thus, she needed to keep an open mind and approach it from a different direction. "Is there any way you could help me understand? Even a little?" Starlight asked. Ink Blot shrugged. "I don't know." "Is there anypony who could?" He shook his head and laughed morbidly. "Starlight, the people who knew me best are long gone. All that's left of them are what you see before you. These stones represent four of my brothers-in-arms, and everything I remember about them." Ink Blot gestured to the memorial. "But there's five stones..?" Starlight muttered as she counted. "The last one is for me. Some day, maybe soon, I'll join them. And on that day I'll be happy again." Starlight looked into his eyes pleadingly, to see if he really meant what he was saying, but Ink Blot's gaze was uncompromising as he looked towards the crossguard. "Well, maybe there are some ponies who've been through something similar? You could talk about your experiences, relate to eachother. Or maybe I could talk to them and I'd be closer to understanding you?" Perhaps there were. He knew a few ponies who were keeping secrets. "Maybe try Quill. We've been on the same wavelength for a while, even after I got my memory back. I also know two other ponies who might, but unless they're more willing to come forward than me, their identities will remain secret." said Ink Blot. "I'll talk with him, then," Starlight replied. She could tell his mind was made up about a lot of things, and her sitting here badgering him wouldn't change it. "And if you want anything, my office is open. Trixie's is too. We don't exactly have answers, but we've got ears. We'll listen, no matter what it is." Ink Blot did not respond. He didn't want to. He just wanted to be alone right now. With that, Starlight politely took her leave, and Ink Blot was alone at the memorial. Ink Blot knew he wouldn't be able to keep everything secret forever. Prying eyes and straining ears would get the truth from him, one way or another. He'd deal with that in good time though. For now, he was going to pay respects. "Hey, man," he whispered as he came close to the standing crossguard. "It's been tough out here. Equestria's a strange place. Every day I'm still alive I realise how much you really did for me. If I wasn't sure, all I had to do was look to you and you'd know exactly what I needed to do. But... Equestria's a better place than it was back home, and those hard times we went through are over. I just hope you're in a better place too." Ink Blot received no response, except for a gust of wind. It kicked a few loose leaves across the glade. He swallowed his brimming tears and reached into his saddlebags. "I, uh, got you something. Not just for Knight, but for the rest of you too. Bottle of cider. Non-alcoholic, so it can't be all that good, but it's better than nothing," he smiled weakly as he awkwardly took up the bottle with his left claw device. "I miss having friends like you every day, and wish that even one of you could be here with me today." Bringing the bottle to his mouth, Ink Blot bit the cork and pulled it out. He spat it to the ground and took a swig of the apple brew. It had a sweet and sour tang, just like an apple bucked fresh from the tree. He had to admit that it was pretty good. He swished it around in his mouth to savour it, then poured some cider over the memorial. From one perspective, it was dumb. This particular tradition had been started as a way of giving the buried one last "worldly comfort" before being taken to whatever afterlife they believed in. Here, there was no body; it was just a marker with five stones arrayed in front of it. But for Ink Blot, and many others he'd known, it wasn't the physical presence of the body that mattered. It was the intention. One final goodbye before moving on to better things. He'd never really be ready for the final goodbye. Never had been, for any of the losses he'd suffered in his life. Not for any of the soldiers who'd fallen around him, never to rise again. Not for the world he knew, destroyed by the fires of war. Not for the few classmates he'd cared about, left behind when he enlisted. Not for his parents, taken from him by cruel twists of fate. He drank one last glup, and poured out the last of the bottle's contents, enough for the fallen squad to have a gulp as well. He remembered each of them in turn. LaValley, who'd kept their spirits up. Zimmerman, with his words of encouragement. Williams, who'd kept them on track. And Knight, who'd inspired them to work together. "Life's a bitch, eh boys?" The sun hung low over the School of Friendship, most of the classes now done for the day. Later in the evening, there was going to be a special astronomy lesson that the history students were encouraged to attend for extra credit. It was all tied into the current unit, where they were looking at the legend of the Mare in the Moon. The amount of people who didn't know that the Mare in the Moon was actually a side-effect of Princess Luna's banishment was astonishing. This was not to be confused with astrology, which was not being taught at the school by the founder's express wishes. Quill paced uncertainly outside the main office. He'd just finished his weekly lesson with Ocellus, and his "presence had been requested" by the Headmare. Had he done something wrong? Had something happened? Out of habit, he'd raised his usual disguise; his writer's persona, with the purple mane and pale blue coat. In times like this, it was his defense against the world. There was no Changeling infiltrator here, only a humble writer who ate bagels and drank coffee. Except he was still a Changeling. No disguise could change his true self. Which, admittedly, was why he'd started the tutoring with Ocellus. She understood how Changelings could really change, having been through such a change. But it wasn't as simple as pushing a button; true change came from within, by making it yourself... which didn't quite make sense to him yet. He also didn't appreciate the irony yet, either. Eventually, the door to the office opened and Starlight stepped out. "Quill? Is that you?" "Y-yes, hi -- you wanted to see me?" Quill stuttered. "Come in, come in! Sorry about the wait, there was some... business I had to take care of first." she smiled, but it quickly disappeared. The two of them entered Starlight's office. It was very much the same as last time Quill had been here. There was a large, but welcoming desk that dominated the room, with a few chairs arrayed around it. The beloved philodendron perched on a sidetable in the corner, near a pair of armchairs for more casual talks. When Quill made to sit in front of the desk, Starlight piped up "Don't worry, this isn't anything formal! Just sit by Phyllis over there." "Phyllis?" Quill questioned with a frown. "...The plant. That's the plant's name." Starlight sighed. Quill continued to frown, but sat down anyway. The armchair was soft, but not the kind of soft where you were at risk of becoming lost inside it. "Hello, Phyllis." he said to the plant. Phyllis did not respond. "Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate?" Starlight asked. "I, uh, can't eat most pony food yet. If I have too much, I get sick." Quill said. "Of course, my bad." Starlight replied sheepishly. She brought over a cup of coffee for herself, setting it down on the table beside Phyllis. Clearly she was anticipating a long conversation. Despite how welcoming Starlight was being, Quill remained tense. Doubts clouded his mind as he imagined the worst. "Am I in trouble?" he asked. "What?" Starlight said with confusion. "Is it my grades? Am I not doing well enough? I can do better, I promi-" "Quill, you're not a fulltime student yet," Starlight cut him off. "And if this were just about your grades, this would be a very different kind of meeting, believe me." Quill sighed in relief. He leaned back and began to relax... "I talked to Ink Blot earlier." ...Only for all of his tension to return in an instant. He sat up stock-straight at the mention of his friend's name. "Ink Blot? Is he okay? Did something happen?" Quill buzzed with questions. "No -- or at least, not yet. I've got a bad feeling about him." Starlight said sadly. "Explain." Starlight rested her head on her hooves as she sighed. "Today was the latest in my attempts to figure out how to relate to him. He avoids me for some reason, like there's something going on that I don't know about. He almost had a physical altercation with Trixie when she tried to talk with him. Have you noticed anything odd about him, er, odder than normal?" He thought for a moment. The past few weeks hadn't exactly been eventful, but Quill knew that Ink Blot had been seeing exactly one person. Himself. Quill wracked his brain to try and remember. "He's been... well, he's been quiet. Sometimes it'll seem like there's something he wants to say, but can't. Or won't. We chat, and we hang out, and sometimes he tells me little things he remembers. But not everything." Quill recalled. "And from what we know, you're probably the closest to him of everyone he knows, correct?" Quill nodded affirmation. "Yeah. He's come to see me for a while almost every day since he got his memory back. He rarely talks to the others he met before that. We ran into Radiant Star the other day, though." "He's the bread colt, right? Delivers bread from that bakery?" Starlight asked. "That's the one." "Anypony else he talks to? At all?" Quill shook his head. "If he does, he doesn't mention it. I'm the only one he really trusts, and that still has its limits." "Then it could be worse than I thought," Starlight sighed. Her horn glowed, and from one of her many shevles a bottle floated over. "From what it sounds like, and from what I've seen, he's suppressing his emotions." "He's not suppressing them. In fact, he's the most emotional I've ever seen. He can barely keep it in, most days" Quill frowned. "That's how it seems to you, maybe. You're all about emotions, so even the tiniest signs speak volumes. However, to the less experienced like myself, Trixie, or any other pony around town, he's been coming off as detatched, withdrawn, reserved. He's been keeping it all inside. For example, have you seen him cry at all? Actually crying?" "No... no, I haven't." said Quill. "Thought so. I actually had a similar problem for a while," Starlight said as she indicated the bottle she'd brought over. "For an entire day, I decided not to deal with any of my negative emotions, magically sealing them away in a bottle like this one. Safe and secure, for easy disposal -- or so I thought." "Wouldn't there be a huge risk of contamination if it got released?" Quill asked. Starlight nodded. "That's exactly what happened. The bottle got too full, and broke from the pressure. The emotional contaminants latched onto other ponies and caused them to act out. I was only able to reverse the effects by taking the contaminants back into myself and addressing what initially caused them." "Are you saying that Ink Blot's doing the same thing? He can't use magic." Quill pointed out "Not quite the same, but my theory is that it's similar in effect, and in-line with other sorts of non-magical emotional suppression. My fear? That there's going to be a breaking point." Starlight said sadly. "And when that happens, you think others could be at risk? That he could hurt somepony?" "Yes. Maybe even himself," Starlight confirmed gravely. She rubbed her eyes as she sighed, running over possibilities and contingencies in her head. "I don't know what he's capable of. How much damage he could do. He doesn't have access to magic, but I'm not entirely convinced that he couldn't have a lot of hidden potential. If he... broke... there could be untold destruction and damage." "A ticking time bomb." Quill said. Starlight threw up her hooves in frustration. "And the worst part is, we don't know when he'll break! He's keep it in this long, so he must have enormous willpower... but that just means that if he doesn't safely release his emotional buildup, it'll just get worse and worse. The cracks are already forming -- the altercation he nearly had with Trixie could have been much worse--" "He blew up on Ray." Quill cut her off. Starlight was taken off-guard. "Blew up? What do you mean? What happened? How bad was it?" her questions came rapid-fire. Quill held up his hoof to halt her words. "He got angry because Ray mentioned joining the Canterlot Guard. He ranted for a little while without realising it, and quieted back down pretty quickly." "But Ray already has a job, why would he..?" "He's not satisfied with the bakery, wants something more fulfilling. He brought it up, and Inks..." Quill trailed off worryingly. "Why the Canterlot Guard, though?" Starlight asked, but she quickly shook her head. "Nevermind, not important right now." A foreboding silence grew between them. As much as they didn't like it, the possibilities were terrifying; if left to his own devices, Ink Blot would likely do more harm than good. And if he did? He'd suffer for it. Judging by what Starlight knew of him, he'd be wracked with guilt, on top of whatever guilt he was already suffering from. And then, if he lashed out... ...Would he become the villain of his own story? No. That was not an option. Starlight would not allow it. Nopony would become evil under her watch, not again. Quill, his eyes full of fear, finally asked a simple question. "What are we going to do?"