Pinkie blinked.
It… was nothing. Everything around her, it was lacking in all colour. All sound. All movement. She had no idea if what she was looking at stretched to just a few feet in front of her or infinitely. She looked to her right and saw more nothingness, more empty white void. If not for the sensation of her neck muscles stretching and pulling, she wouldn’t have been sure she’d turned at all.
She looked down at her hooves, spotting the stark contrast of her normally pale pink fur against the whiteness enveloping her sight. Normally she thought her shade of pink was soft, something unassuming and light, but compared to the white, she may as well have been the darkest black.
No shadow was under Pinkie, even as she put her hoof back on whatever counted as the ground. So there were no light sources of any kind, which was even more disorienting to her internal sense of special awareness. She closed her eyes and in an instant the headache that was developing receded; not seeing the white allowed her brain to think she was somewhere normal, somewhere that followed normal rules of reality.
With her eyes closed, she was able to focus on the sensation of the ground. It was sturdy, hard, but not painfully so. Unlike concrete or metal it had a slight give to it, making it more comfortable to stand on. It had a consistency more closely related to hardwood or floor tile.
“Pinkie?”
It was Applejack’s voice. In Pinkie’s rush to reorient herself in the white, she completely forgot she was with anyone. She turned her head in the direction of Applejack’s voice – which was exceedingly easy to pinpoint – before she opened her eyes.
With Applejack as a reference point, Pinkie felt better. It was still disorienting to see the white, but it did improve things to have something real and visual in front of her. Applejack looked… uneasy, much the same Pinkie felt and likely looked herself. The ghost was staring directly at Pinkie expectantly. Pinkie had no idea what to do, but they were there to confront an Executioner, so like it or not they were in the deep end now.
Just in case, she looked back in the direction of where the door should have been. Pinkie considered herself to have an excellent sense of special awareness, she was one of the only ponies she knew that could navigate somewhere completely blinded; she had to already know the place to do that, mind, she didn’t have a photographic memory, just a good sense of where things were in relation to herself.
…Which is why not finding the door upset her. Making sure Applejack wasn’t moving, Pinkie made a full rotation, seeing quite literally nothing except the orange ex-farmer. “Well, the bad news is that we’re trapped here now.” She didn’t hear the door close, but it didn’t really matter.
“And the good news?” Applejack asked.
In reply, Pinkie shrugged, there was no good news. She couldn’t even determine that she wasn’t dead. It was just two earth ponies trapped with one of the most powerful solo-acting entities. One that while it hadn’t shown itself, was more than likely watching their every move.
Applejack wasn’t happy with that answer, ti seemed, and decided to walk forward.
“W-wait,” Pinkie interrupted, “We need to work together.”
“I know, but standing around won’t help us.” Applejack glanced back at where she entered from, “The door’s actually gone?”
Only a nod returned Applejack’s question.
“Then we walk forward until something happens.”
Pinkie had no idea what to do. Applejack seemed deadset on just walking into the white, but then what? What was their plan? Where was the Executioner? How would they leave? Entering that door was probably the biggest mistake she’d ever made, and she was beginning to regret the decision to have any sort of confrontation in her Folded Plane. There were probably thousands of better places to shake down what amounted to a demigod. Why give her a home field advantage.
Pinkie walked after Applejack, they made noise as they walked, it was the only noise in the white. Applejack walked with determination, ignoring to surreal frame of reference problem that came with having nothing in your line of sight.
“Wait…” Pinkie thought, paying attention to her hearing, “that isn’t from either of us.”
As they walked into the white, Pinkie could swear she heard something like a crackling fire. It was only for a moment, but… it was distinctly a log cracking and falling over in a fire. Pinkie looked at Applejack's ears twitch, she heard it too. Their pace didn’t quicken, but Pinkie listened. She heard a fireplace going, and immediately following that a soft piano melody started playing.
This stopped Applejack, she looked back at Pinkie, the both of them sharing a baffled expression. Pinkie motioned forward - as the sound seemed to get louder the further they walked - and Applejack nodded, a little unsure. Pinkie walked up to join Applejack just as something started forming in their sight.
Floorboards and different pieces of furniture were falling from the sky and assembling themselves into the shape of a room. Boards of a lighter wood took on a single flat shape, a soft looking carpet coated itself over the boards. The wall built itself in much the same manner, an expensive looking fireplace filled out a space in the side wall. A curved purple love seat came to be with assorted throw pillows. A glass top coffee table and two chairs also filled the room. Numerous framed paintings formed on the wall, depicting scenery shots.
The entire place looked like it’d come out of a catalogue for rich homes weekly. A fire was going in the fireplace and as she walked further, a larger area to the left of the room took form, a place equally as rich looking, but less occupied by furniture. In it was a single grand piano being played by somebody out of sight.
Pinkie knew it was the executioner, but she didn’t expect someone so power hungry to have such an eye for fancy things. Maybe a bunch of tacky self-indulgent sculptures, or a giant throne, something that showed status as being in charge. But a grand piano, a fireplace, a painting of… what Pinkie’s lack of experience assumed was a beach on an ocean.
The melody continued paying as Applejack and Pinkie shared another look of bafflement. Pinkie could tell that Applejack still had a tinge of anger, but the two of them were really caught off guard ever since they walked into the White.
“Well… I was curious how long it’d take.” A calm, almost blissful sounding female voice spoke from the piano.
Pinkie knew it was the Executioner and held out a hoof to stop Applejack from reacting. If there was one thing the baker wanted, it was to get out alive and unharmed. She and Applejack were nowhere close to powerful enough to take on the Executioner; and it seemed that they never had the element of surprise. Pinkie’s plan was to try and negotiate, to hopefully avoid any and all altercation. Chat, reach some kind of common ground, regroup, apply newfound knowledge, and tackle the problem later.
“I’m sorry we’re intruding on your plane,” Pinkie hoped her apology didn’t come across as insincere.
“Think nothing of the slight,” the voice was smooth, but held a level of power, perfectly pairing with the music that had tapered off. “I’m simply humbled to entertain guests.” The Executioner rose from her stool and walked into sight, and Pinkie’s eyes widened.
Stepping into view was undoubtedly a mare, a woman that danced around the idea of free will. With only a single look into her deep blue eyes, Pinkie was distinctly aware of who was in charge. The Executioner gracefully strode forward, akin to a Bestial Breeze gliding across the tundra. And like the great winds of the tundra, her coat was as white as the White around them. The very unicorn closing the space between herself and Pinkie was not only a rogue entity more powerful than any one Hunter, but she was also a regular at Baking Thyme.
“…Rarity?”
“Really now,” The Executioner… Rarity… smiled, “I’d have thought you among most would know. It’s pretty obvious in retrospect.”
Mouth gaping, Pinkie stared, flabbergasted. “H-how-I thought you… I thought you were just a morning jogger.”
Rarity laughed and instantly Pinkie felt her mouth forcibly close. “Wouldn’t want you catching flies now, after such a world-shattering revelation.”
Pinkie couldn’t help but stare, mouth open or closed, at the unicorn she’d assumed was no one important. Just another local, one that liked to jog in the mornings and enjoyed fresh-baked bread. Her act was so… convincing. Pinkie was so absolutely mislead she never even took the time to realize that Rarity stopped showing up the day before Applejack was freed by the Whisperer.
“How could…” Pinkie began, stopping when she noticed the intelligence between the unicorns eyes, something that’d never existed there before it was unnerving. “How long hav-“
“AAAAAAAAUGH!” Applejack interrupted, the angry inside her building to a high boil and escaping her body all at once as a scream and a charge. Out of the corner of her eye, Pinkie saw Applejack sprinting full speed at Rarity.
“Ah, ah, we’ll have none of that.” Just metres before the two collided, Applejack stopped immediately, her body was frozen on the spot, completely immobile. Rarity looked at her with a smile as she was lifted off the ground a small height. “No outbursts in my dimension sweetie.”
Pinkie shuddered at the sickly sweet way Rarity was talking. Not just because it was a heavy contrast to what she’d been used to, but it was just a little too much on it’s own. Applejack was levitated over to Rarity, still frozen mid-run. The Executioner lifted one of her hooves and lightly tapped Applejack’s nose. “Who’s adorable? It’s you! Yes it is!”
“Can you… leave her alone? Please?” Pinkie asked, unsure if she should have spoken at all, but not wanting to let the Executioner get away with mistreating her friend.
Without dropping her smile, Rarity’s pupils turned to look directly at Pinkie. Applejack hovered off to the left a bit so the Executioner could talk directly to the baker, mano e mano. Pinkie regretted every decision she’d ever made. Rarity saw the fear in Pinkie’s eyes and giggled, it was a menacing sound.
“I’m sure I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re in my playground. I have absolute control here and blah blah blah, I’m in charge and I like to play with my toys.” Rarity didn’t lower her voice, she didn’t put emphasis on any words, and she never once lost her sickly sweet smile. “No, you’re smart, I know you realize how little you can actually do to me, here or otherwise. So let’s have a little fun. Do you want to play a guessing game?”
Pinkie stood frozen, not because of the Executioners influence, she knew, but out of terror. Neither of them were dead so far, which was a good thing, but Applejack was out of commission, and Pinkie was completely out of her element. Her expertise wasn’t fighting, it was knowing. She’d spent years of her life studying ghosts, ghouls, everything, All in the vain attempt to gain some kind of control over her confusing life growing up with Nullism.
She really had no idea what Applejack was even planning, Pinkie only went because she was worried. What was one ghost going to do against the most dangerous singular entity on the side of Death? Pinkie was just hoping to get her and her friend out alive, to negotiate, to do whatever it took to deal with the problem while also living to tell the tale.
But then this… was unexpected, a game? Pinkie supposed it was like negotiating, but with a murderer with the mentality of a power-hungry child.
“I…” She looked at Applejack, who couldn’t speak, but blinked twice in quick succession. Applejack didn’t want her to go through with whatever guessing game Rarity had in mind. But…
“Yes, I-I’ll play,” Pinkie replied, knowing there was really no other way to get out, let alone survive.
Rarity clapped her front hooves together. “Good, I’ll start.” She set the frozen Applejack down, leaning against the piano, and walked over to her sitting area, having a seat. “Why don’t you tell me about that Hunter friend of yours. How’d she free the farmer?”
The question echoed in Pinkie’s head, she shuddered again, “I don’t actually know.” The words spoken against Pinkie’s will. She slapped her hooves over her mouth in reaction, but Rarity actually laughed.
“No, no, no covering your mouth, I’ll hear what I want whenever I want.” Pinkie was lifted and brought over to the chair facing Rarity, she was sat down by the invisible force of the Executioners power. “It’s inconvenient you don’t know though. Okay, your turn to ask a question.”
The sudden shift in mood surprised Pinkie, but it was also getting to the point where she wasn’t even sure she was surprised anymore. It was an interesting mix of feelings and awareness. Being picked up and dropped on the chair was also interesting, if somewhat intimidating, at least it was a comfortable chair.
She thought about what she wanted to even ask the Executioner, there were a few things she wouldn’t mind learning. Who lead the council, how did displacement work, exactly how many different factions were there. In the end only one question came to her mind. “How did you find out about Twilight?”
Rarity beamed, excitement shining from her eyes, in another context it might have been considered adorable, but given the absolute power of who it was, Pinkie shivered. “That’s an easy one!”
“Okay, so I’ve been an Executioner in Partyville for over six decades, right? And in that time I’ve learned a lot.” Rarity stood up from her chair, the background fading into a much younger looking Partyville, one thriving far more. There was less ponies walking around, and while some of them seemed mindless, most were actually chatting with each other and enjoying their lives. There was less densely packed buildings, and more nature around.
“But by far the most important detail to keep in mind is Sight.”
“Sight?”
Rarity clapped her hooves again, the room returning, “Yes, Sight! It’s one of the very fundamental primordial sources of power across the world. In St. Orangeberg Sound reigns supreme, but Sight is no slouch. During my hold over Partyville I’ve been attuning myself to Sight, manipulating it, controlling it, harnessing it.
“In fact, all in my dimension is thanks to my use of Sight.” She giggled as she levitated the coffee table and rearranged it into a fish tank, complete with water and several koi. Pinkie instinctively reached her hoof into the fish tank, she felt real water and fish. “But it’s done more than let me reshape your perceptions of reality.
“It lets me keep track of everyone in Partyville, my domain. From the most powerful of ghosts to the most mundane of worthless bags of walking flesh. And the instant that Hunter and her mute dragon walked past the welcome sign I knew exactly where they were and what they were doing.”
Sharply Pinkie saw the smile abandon Rarities face. “In a single day that hunter ruined what I’d been planning. I’ve been gaining power for decades and in 24 hours she unravelled my tightly woven web of lies. I don’t know how she acquired that apple, but once I figure that out I can undo what’s mistakenly deconstructed.” Rarity returned the fish tank to the coffee table it once was, before she walked back over to her grand piano, Pinkie being levitated behind her.
“These hunters are a perversion of the natural order. When you die you enter your second state of life, you become a ghost. You gain eternal life, power, options; you become everything you’re meant to be. But these sardonic *cultists* have deigned that there needs to be a balance between the living and the dead.”
The Executioner inspected the frozen Applejack still leaning against the piano before she turned back to Pinkie. “Tell me, should there be a balance between those that can drive and those that can’t, or maybe virgins and those that have had sex. Of course not, their idea of ‘balance’ is to limit everyone to make the ones that haven’t died feel more special.
“Hunters and those like them are a plague, a pestilence that needs removing to restore things to how they should be; a world with two stages, alive and ghost. And when the pieces finally fall into place I’ll wipe all of them out. I’ll recreate this city the way it should naturally fall. And when I do, those pompous aristocrats on the council will finally understand what working will actually mean.”
Suddenly the menacing frown that was holding Rarities face hostage moments earlier had vanished and been replaced with a wistful look of whimsy. “When I enact my plan things will fall into place, no more war between the two sides, no more alive ‘or’ dead. There’ll only be one state of being, One group of ponies all under my reign.
“When the Hunters are eradicated and the council realizes I cannot be stopped, I’ll begin enacting laws to finally kill all the still living ponies, turn them into ghosts, and rule of them all by myself. The world will be gorgeous, it’ll be simple. It’ll be mine.”
Rarity directed her ‘smile’ at Pinkie, who was very specifically uncomfortable. The Executioner stroked under Pinkie’s chin, making their eyes meet.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Blocker?”