The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards

by Cloud Ring

Chapter 46: Waiting

Things don't always go as planned.

But if you don't get confused and keep finding a bright side in what is happening — it's even better!

Plum Jam, a completely ordinary earth pony, believed that with all her heart. 

“Knock Knock!” she commented along with an actual knock.

Cautious shuffling steps were heard, the door opened and Blacklight's eyes appeared in the opening behind the blinking slim-frame glasses, the pony herself almost invisible against the background of a completely dark room. A terminal gleamed ghostly in the depths. Clearly she was reading again instead of sleeping.

Plum was not the pony to judge her friend — not by what the friend loves. You can't change a pony, you either accept them as is, or... Plum did not get any "or''. Just accept, and you are good.

So, no sooner had the black unicorn winced at the light flowing into the door than they were already brewing coffee and at the same time Plum Jam was pouring her down with a dense stream of information, “...and Dartline said, how can we even go for a picnic if…”

“Plum, listen...”

“...and I tell her that…”

“Plum, this is important!”

“...so in the end, we…”

“Plum, COFFEE!”

“Ouch!”

The escaping coffee was then caught by ponykinesis and returned to the stove.

“What?” After a delay of nine beats Blacklight connected the dots, “A picnic? What picnic? O-oh… Out of the rhythm, you say?”

Then the unicorn facehoofed.

Dartline did not like aviettes. A scarce few of pegasi liked them. Yes, the pegasi’s tendency to optimize efforts — one could call it that way diplomatically — should have helped to get used to aviettes, in theory. After all, you can fly and sleep at the same time!

In fact, no. It has not. Because you don't feel the wind on the coat. Because of the landscape passing beyond the windows. Objectively, yes, it rushes by faster than you can ever fly, but still for some reason it feels like you are a motorised tortoise. Because with every machine maneuver you know that you can do better.

But when an aviette takes you to a picnic with friends, the ride could be worth it after all. On top of that, due to the picnic she had a really good excuse to separate herself from Metropolis, at least in part and for a time.

Plum settled in the vicinity quite recently. Nopony could recall when exactly: it was like she had been a part of the landscape since the beginning of time. There are such ponies: when they come in they become local in an instant, from the first joke, from the first burger in the cafe. They remember all the names, all the dates of coming of age, the most intimate habits of all the locals, ones who live nearby and farther away.

Probably their secret is that they always work with what is, not what may be, without choosing.

This picnic was not even the first one.

When three Moons come together, not necessarily in a Conjunction, but at least a few diameters above the horizon, the unwritten rule is to stop all you are busy with and call your friends. Because, really, when else?

This one was unpredicted really, as the Moons changed Their speed out of order. Thanks should be going to Plum Jam, as she noticed a notification in the news and was quick enough to warn her friends.

The aviette landed in a clearing of a large, diligently wild-looking park. As wild as a park can be where Metropolis reluctantly agreed to accept that this is no longer Her center. At a befitting distance the lights of the vacationing companies flickered, next to invisible for an eye until the viewer is aligned to the specific Blue Moon’s aspect, and even then one saw mere sparks of laughter or curiosity.

With the passenger out, the aviette took to the air with a soft whistle, its smooth sides glistened in the moonlight and it disappeared. The park was large enough to hide skyscrapers’ lights behind the line of trees. There was only foliage and wind between them and the sky.

Dartline was spreading and stretching her stiff wings with thorough pleasure, Plum unpacked food. Blacklight listened to the silence.

Plum’s incessant stream of consciousness did not annoy Dartline. It was something like the rustle of leaves or the hum of a familiar household appliance. This noise meant the world works as it should.

Blacklight felt a quiet wind that began to wash away her fatigue and irritation. During these times, a bit more relaxed than usual, she was often releasing control, casting koanic spells or talking about strange matters to the listeners’ bewilderment.

“Have you ever dreamed of an adventure?” she asked.

Her friends clearly did not understand what she was talking about.

“I have adventures,” Dartline shrugged.

Dartline did not have a specific occupation. She somehow ended up where she was needed the most, and did exactly what the pony needed in that beat. Bandaging a wound, changing a tire, breaking up a fight, driving foals into a shelter from a sudden infusion of the Red. That also happened. But much more often she was there to give the right wrench to the mechanic, to remind the forgetful mother of many foals about the burning cake through the window, or even suggest the right word in the essay, which for some reason did not come through, no matter how much the pony wanted to write a line. This was how Blacklight met her for the first time. 

Only Metropolis and Her especially entrusted ponies knew how and where Dartline was gaining status and money through all this labor. A non-standard way, for sure. After all, her tasks were way too small for the global issue management system to deal with. Well, maybe some of those who have asked Dartline herself could be in the know too, although she occasionally changed her answers.

This was pretty much exactly taken from Dartline's own mouth, up to and including the part of "my answers have to change, friend." She said so in response to Blacklight's persistent curiosity in a private comfort of the bar, her tongue slightly tangling after two glasses of hard cider. Not the most reliable evidence. But Blacklight wanted to believe. Dartline never allowed the topic to even surface in the chatter after that.

“I'm not bored anyway,” Plum replied. “There are so many different ponies around, and each one has something going on.”

Plum seemed to take on any job as long as it involved communication. She nursed foals, walked dogs, and sometimes was hired to work in shops. Especially when there were really a lot of buyers — during festivals and big sales.

Blacklight paused. She was misunderstood. Again. Distant thunder came in and went on over their heads; treetops rustled. Dartline raised her head for the sound and frowned, with an uncertain question written all over her face. For a few beats she stared into the horizon, then shook her head and said nothing.

“I'm not talking about such an adventure. I mean... As a foal, I imagined Black Moon coming to me and saying what the Moons often say in such legends: that I am the chosen, that I had to go far away, save ponies, solve riddles, that terrible dangers await me…”

“We all have dreamed about that,” Dartline said, calm.

“And then?”

“And then we were unbounds, then adults. Those who survived.”

“But you have met the Moon,” Plum said, waving her hoof in the direction of Blacklight. “A long time ago.”

Yes, it was true. Black Moon, a powerful otherworldly legendary hero, once called to her and spoke with her for a very long time. She summoned copies of all the printed material from Blacklight's room, without an effort, without even rising from the cool tiled masonry at the floor deep inside of 6-S, the nearest of S-sectors: all the book piles to the very last brochure, all the unfinished scrolls with all the blots and misspellings, and they also became a topic of conversation. She said She has a designation for Blacklight. This sheet sealed by the Trinity of Moons was still on the wall over the unicorn's table. At parting, Black Moon kissed Blacklight’s forehead. The kiss was dry and cold, and floated at the top of her memory for long after.

The designation had been: to live at home, not relocating anywhere, and to write books. The kiss was still there in her cool oily dreams.
 
Specifically, books on the history of the Six. Almost forgotten, almost gone even from fairy tales and legends, and yet — still — sometimes surfacing in sayings and omens. It was nine rounds ago.

So Blacklight wrote. She brought together official sources — as well as unofficial, unadvised and leading to issues, written and oral legends and sayings. Almost nothing has survived about the last years of their life. Then, nothing at all about what happened to them in the end. Everypony knew the Black Moon. But there were no sources on how the Moon came to know the remaining ponies of the Six and befriend them. The Moon was silent. Perhaps She just did not know it; or could not remember; or kept it as a mystery.

But surviving sources painted an amazing picture: they were ordinary ponies. They had hobbies and weaknesses, families and children — there were at least a cubic nine of direct descendants able to trace their ancestor, mainly for Applejack.

Nopony knew about real, non-fictional magical exploits more than Blacklight. Nopony had fewer of them in her life.

Luster after luster she tried to understand if the designation was a matter of genuine concern or a subtle mockery.

Luster after luster something grew in her. Something that made her read books about adventures she wouldn’t have and feel ashamed of that. Something that was whispering to her by such questions; making her dream that one day a mysterious old sorceress would step on her threshold, a strange letter with ciphered coordinates would come, a mysterious alien ship would fall before her, a portal from a parallel universe where the Six might still be alive would open in her living room.

How many such heroes are waiting — “Come for us! We will drop everything, assets, families, life itself and follow you” — and nopony comes for them? Only the Moons know this for sure.

“The times must be wrong,” Dartline said in a level tone.

Good for her. For her, the times are always right, Blacklight thought.

Plum, sensing a longing in the unicorn, jumped up with a wide smile, clearly intending to offer something. Then, her jaw dropped, she stared at the sky.

With a terrible roar, blowing off the tablecloth out of the glade even from six throws away, breaking trees and burning the grass with exhaust, an alien ship of impossible, unprecedented outlines descended from the sky.

The hatch drove to the side with a whine of servos, and the face of a whitish pony appeared in it. Blacklight squinted at the shape but didn't see much in the twilight. Only Dartline could see more from this distance — she was especially sharp-sighted even among pegasi…  Well, more like Blacklight herself was much challenged for the matter, the unicorn begrudgingly admitted.

The disheveled newcomer rushed towards them as a burst of living white flame, in less than two beats standing up at close range; flickering neon blue trail was glowing behind her, and the gust of wind pushed ponies back for a step—

“...It's an aura!” Blacklight breathed out in admiration and surprise.

—she looked around the company with slightly zonked blue eyes and, finding Blacklight, poked her hoof at the unicorn.

“You there!”

The ponies were shocked and silent.

“We need you,” the invader solemnly declared — a huge, adult mare, accustomed to being in the lead. Her wings had a distinct pearly shine.

A Herald! Blacklight thought, at least not out loud this time.

There was a faint smell of a long journey and possibly sex. Blacklight sneezed. Noticing this, the pegasus blushed slightly and lowered her voice by a third of a tone, “You will help us summon the Six. But before that — we are going to speak with the Red!..”

And then the pegasus’s gaze fell on Dartline. On Plum. Again to the pegasus, and again to the earth pony she glanced. She blinked and stopped dead in her tracks, examining them in turn with wide eyes — neither a word nor a sound.

A blurred orange spot appeared in the hatchway. Blacklight squinted through her glasses. It did not become clearer, one way or another. 

The gray-white pegasus spoke aside, without raising her voice, but Blacklight still wanted to cover her ears or to be in the library, where it is simply out of the customs to speak that way, “Gentle, dear, would you mind coming here? Tell me please, do you feel the same as me? Disregard that, wait, nowhere without me!” and just as before, in less than two beats, she returned to the ship.

“Yay!” Plum Jam exclaimed, the only pony in a trio not to be lost, “Well, and you were afraid that they would not come…”

Dartline went up to Blacklight and gloomily said, “Let them have no thought that I will let you go somewhere alone.”

“Come here,” Plum Jam waved her hoof, “Regardless of how many of you there are, it doesn't matter, there will be enough sandwiches for everypony!”