Chapter Four: Adapting To the World
~BlackRoseRaven
Luna strode calmly towards the dilapidated village with a faint, lingering smile on her face, before glancing over her shoulder at Scrivener Blooms and Pinkamena, the latter now in her marionette body. She regarded them for a moment, and then the winged unicorn said mildly: “Gossip not behind my back, Scrivy, thou knows I shall hear everything thou speaks anyway.”
“We weren’t gossiping, Luna. Stop being so jealous, she’s made of wood and metal.” Scrivener retorted as he absently adjusted the empty satchel bags he was carrying, and Luna huffed before looking forwards again, the male smiling a bit even as Pinkamena snorted in entertainment. “Anyway, are we going to split up or stick together?”
The winged unicorn looked thoughtful at this, glancing musingly towards Scrivy before she said slowly: “Let us… stick together, thou and I, Scrivener Blooms. ‘Tis not for any doubt of thy prowess, but… it seems that as of late, thou art having greater difficulty with…”
“With the visions, yeah. Alright, better I don’t mistake some Velites for angry ponies, I agree.” Scrivener nodded after a moment, then he looked towards the puppet as it sniffed disdainfully despite having no nostrils and needing no oxygen. “You’re welcome to come with us if you want, you know.”
“How about no.” Pinkamena retorted flatly in her echoing, unnatural voice, and then she shook her head and twisted the jaws of the puppet into a grin, gemstone eyes glittering strangely with demonic light. “I’m going hunting. Last time I was wandering out here I saw a Seahorse Drake. Probably one or two of them hiding out in a wet cellar somewhere. I’ll even share with you guys.”
Scrivener and Luna both glowered at the half-demon before Luna said flatly: “Thou art acting like Sol Seraph now, hunting for sport… thou cannot even eat, Pinkamena!”
Pinkamena, however, only laughed and shook a hoof, leaning back and making her metallic plating rattle against the wood of her dress-horse frame. “Oh please, I’m not that far gone. Fine, then I’ll hunt one down and kill it as a gift for you two, just because I’m such a nice pony. Then you can both pretend to be mad at me while we drag the corpse back to the cottage, and we’ll have a barbecue tonight after picking its guts for gemstones and party favors.”
“Thou art sick.” Luna said finally, halting just outside the ruins of Ponyville, but Pinkamena only snorted and shrugged as she continued past them and down the dusty, beaten road into the collapsed town, and the two ponies watched the demon-possessed puppet as it walked down the road like nothing had ever been different than it was now.
Luna and Scrivy both drew their eyes upwards; even now, eight years later, it was hard to take in the ruins of this place and believe that this was all that remained of their once-glorious Ponyville, a town that had been a sanctuary, a utopia, even after they had been cast into exile, even after darkness had begun spreading across Equestria.
Now it was only ravaged, broken piles of splintered wood and crumbled rock: a razed city in a world that had been laid to waste. A few tottering structures still reached weakly for the sky like ancient and helpless sentinels, but many buildings had collapsed in on themselves, and the jumbled disarray left behind rarely stretched higher than some dozen feet above the dusty, debris-strewn tundra.
Scrivener Blooms and Luna traded a quiet look, and then the male smiled a bit, saying quietly: “I know neither of us like to see this. The fact that even if we are a little… evil… we don’t like the sight of this, that we both strive so hard to… bring the world to new birth, new life… it brings me hope, Luna. For us. For what the world will be like if it’s going to be… a little darker than old Equestria.”
“Aye, Scrivener, I know what thou means.” Luna murmured softly in response, lowering her head a bit and nodding slowly… and then the two started slowly forwards, carefully treading down the dusty road into town as the winged unicorn glanced back and forth moodily. “It always feels like failure when we return here though, beloved. It always serves as painful, awful, and unwelcome reminder that… we were unable to stop Ragnarok. That we were unable to defeat the machinations of Valthrudnir… that even though we killed him, he all the same won that day.”
“Yeah, but he sure as hell didn’t win the war.” Scrivener said quietly, glancing towards her, and Luna smiled wryly at the male as he nudged her gently with his shoulder. “We’re going to fix everything. You’re the one always reminding me of that, telling me to cheer up. So don’t you go plunging down into moodiness now, that’s my domain.”
“Oh, hush.” Luna replied with a soft laugh, and then she glanced towards the wreckage of Sugar Cube Corners, hesitating as they both looked at the collapsed storefront. A single table still stood outside, half-rotten and with a lonesome, fallen chair laying beside it, covered in silky spiderwebs: Bitterweavers, toxic arachnids, had long taken up residence inside some of these buildings, eking out a cannibalistic survival. “Does thou remember how much was left? We have raided the storage rooms of Sugar Cube Corners often, after all, and I wish not to try and muddle through Bitterweaver nests without reward.”
“Then let’s check around first. I’d rather not take the chance of driving them into frenzy and getting nipped by one of them. The paralysis will end up affecting us both and Pinkamena will stand around kicking us until we can move again.” Scrivy replied dryly, and Luna grunted in agreement, the two turning and striding deeper through the village until they found themselves in the town square, and gazing upon the remains of the great tree that had once housed Ponyville’s library, and served as Twilight Sparkle’s home.
Now it was little more than a broken, burnt-out stump, shattered chunks of petrified wood laying like discarded bones around a misshapen hunk of blackened wall and char. Little was left: the spacious interior of the library had been burned to nothing but cinders, and Luna shook her head slowly as she murmured: “So much lost… so much destroyed. It is not just… it is not right. We must do everything we can to restore what once was… to bring these wonders back to the new world.”
“Books are going to be rarer.” Scrivener remarked quietly, and Luna looked at him for a moment… then shook her head again and smiled faintly, quirking an eyebrow at him as the earth pony shrugged and laughed a little. “Sorry. You know how my mind works… not very well, goes to the weirdest places at the weirdest times.”
“Yes, but… it has a way of making things… I know not. Better? Or worse, perhaps, so they became so ridiculous I cannot help but to smile.” Luna glanced slowly over the remains of the stump, her mane swaying backwards in the windless air before she glanced quietly towards a ramshackle, collapsed house. “But come. Let us search that dwelling, if we can find a way in.”
Scrivener and Luna spent the better part of twenty minutes sifting through the rubble of the house once they found a passage beneath the half-collapsed roof: it was creaky, and Scrivener felt anxious, but Luna pronounced it safe enough to search. They managed to wiggle a broken beam out of the way of where it had fallen over several large cupboards and then tear the splintered doors off to discover a small stash of supplies they could put to use: flour, sugar, salt, and several tins that the labels had worn off of but were likely icing or some kind of powdered mix.
There was little else, but it was already better than the two had expected. They were not necessities, perhaps, but a little bit of comfort food in the Hell they lived in went an extremely long way… and it was always nice when they didn’t have to cross the Bifrost to the Looking Glass World or ‘a vacation spot,’ as Luna coined using the dimensional bridge to gleefully explore other worlds Odin had specifically told them not to go to, just to get baking supplies.
A lot of it they could improvise: instead of chicken eggs, Basilisk and Cockatrice eggs would also often do the trick, and these dangerous creatures had both adapted quite well to survival in the Hell-flooded climate. Milk was the toughest to get, and usually required a trip to the Looking Glass World to harvest from the calm and placid herds of cattle there. Only once had Luna ever tricked him into trying to milk a female Manticore after days of the winged unicorn insisting their milk was perfectly consumable, and he would never again listen to her advice on livestock and agriculture.
The two emerged from the ruin to find Pinkamena waiting for them in the square, standing easily despite the six foot long, sinuous creature half-hanging off her back, and Scrivener grimaced a bit: a Seahorse Drake, the upper body almost pony-like but with large, sharp teeth in vise-like jaws and a thick, rubbery frill in place of the mane. It had large shoulders and gangly arms that ended in webbed flippers, and the rest of its body was serpentine and ridged, ending in a rudder-like tail that still twitched weakly before the half-demon said kindly: “Happy birthday. Or joyous Heart’s Warming Eve, or whatever the hell day it is… either way, here’s your present. Sorry I couldn’t gift wrap it, but I’m sure we’ll enjoy the party tonight all the same.”
“Thou art evil.” Luna said distastefully, and Pinkamena threw her head back and laughed loudly before the winged unicorn sighed, looking moodily over the puppet: some of the armor plating had been torn away, but the damage overall was minimal. “But… I suppose thou has our thanks all the same, Pinkamena. Come, let us return home. We have what we came for, after all, and I do not like to tarry here overlong… ‘tis asking for trouble.”
“And usually you like trouble. What’s wrong, Nightmare Moon, still feeling all scared after your little fantasy session with Scrivy?” Pinkamena asked mockingly, and Luna’s eyes narrowed as she leaned forwards, Scrivener grimacing and glaring as well before the half-demon laughed and shook her head. “Please. I get to feed off your memories and emotional energies. I know you two better than you give me credit for. You’re my friends, after all.”
With that, Pinkamena began to walk forwards as Scrivy and Luna stared and gaped stupidly at the same time, not even meaning to mimic each other even as they moved in perfect synchronicity as their eyes followed the puppet pony’s path… and then the half-demon glared over her shoulder as she passed them, asking rudely: “Well are we going or not? Or do you two wanna cry a little?”
Luna glared as she huffed and stomped forwards, and Scrivener grimaced as he hurried to fall into pace at the winged unicorn’s side, the male saying finally: “It was just… a little unexpected to hear you say that, Pinkamena. We both know how you feel on the subject of ‘friendship,’ after all…”
“You losers don’t know anything.” the half-demon retorted, then she grumbled under her breath and said moodily: “Besides, don’t go spreading it around. Maybe it’s all of sissy’s stupid talk ringing around in my head… maybe it’s because even I chose to die for no good reason, when I could have saved my own sorry flank if I’d really wanted to… not that it was ever worth saving to begin with.
“Or maybe it’s just because I do feed off your emotions and I’ve gotten to taste plenty of you both. I don’t know, I don’t care. What it is, it is, so shut the hell up and keep moving, I got the shivers. I ain’t got sissy’s ‘Pinkie sense’ but I can sure as hell smell something big on the prowl…” Pinkamena grumbled a bit, looking restlessly ahead, her puppet-body clanking quietly. “Maybe the dogs of war are on the loose again…”
“I doubt that, Pinkamena… while the Black Wolves of Hell spread like a scourge throughout Equestria, destroying everything they came across, they were each quick to make a corner of the world their own.” All the same, Luna grimaced a bit, looking up and saying quietly: “I know not what must have happened to the other countries, but I fear the worst… I know that oceans and mountains are no barrier to beasts that alter reality with their very presence.”
“Great.” muttered Pinkamena, and she snorted in entertainment as she looked up, adding dryly: “Still, hate to think of what’s on the hunt, then. Maybe it’s something even nastier. Maybe it’s one of those demons from way down south in Helheim’s darkest pits… maybe it’s Hel herself, coming to make this world her new frozen throne.”
“Even if it is, I shall pummel her and vent all my frustrations upon her head, and drive her back down into her inglorious kingdom.” Luna grumbled, and Pinkamena laughed as Scrivener gave the winged unicorn an amused look, but Luna only huffed in response and rose her head proudly. “I am a proud Valkyrie, Scrivener Blooms. I may not be proud of the Aesir, but I am proud of my heritage… strong warriors, who took guardianship of the gods, and who pummeled mighty foes on a daily basis and ensured that peace – albeit peace rife with warfare – reigned supreme throughout the Vale of Valhalla and Asgard itself. It is how I have always dealt with things… pummeling. Thou art only jealous because it works.”
She nodded once to herself, then looked ahead and added quietly: “But nay, Pinkamena… perhaps it is no demon at all. Perhaps it is another corruption storm moving in… in which event we shall have to ward our home and prepare for another tumult.”
The half-demon growled indecisively, but after a moment, she sighed and relented, muttering: “I hope you’re wrong about that, Nightmare Moon. I would much rather an enemy we can fight and kill, and maybe give us a shiny new skull to add to our collection. Freed up and mutated and pissed off mother nature sucks… no wonder Princess Sunshine tried to put that bitch in chains and the Pegasi have always done their screwing with the weather.”
“Thou art so pleasant, Pinkamena, truly.” Luna grumbled, and the half-demon snorted and shrugged, the dead Seahorse Drake shifting on her back with the clanking movements of the puppet. “On a better subject, where did thou find the Drake? ‘Twas it in a cellar, as thou suspected?”
“No, found it lurking at the edge of town, where Fluttershy’s old cottage used to be. Was slithering in the marshland that's there now, near where everything turns to ice.” Pinkamena glanced over her shoulder, then looked ahead again down the rocky tundra, muttering: “That reminded me of home away from home, Helheim… this place all over though, makes me think of the goddamn rock farm. It’s just peachy, Nightmare Moon… Hell looks just like home, and I guess that’s the reason it’s called Hell.”
She fell silent, and they walked in quiet for a while, passing into the Empty Forest that had once been so beautiful, that he and Luna had called ‘Everfree’ with such warm and hidden meaning in their exile… and then Scrivener looked up and asked abruptly: “What was Helheim like, Pinkamena, for the time you were trapped down there?”
“Wow, what a rude goddamn question to ask.” Pinkamena halted in the middle of the road, and Scrivener and Luna both stopped and traded a surprised look before the half-demon turned around, leaning forwards towards Scrivy, and the earth pony winced a bit as he looked at the puppet, then sighed as she said flatly: “Look at me.”
Scrivener closed his eyes, letting his mind fall loose… and when he opened them, he was looking across at Pinkamena, seeing beneath the puppet, seeing the dull gray-pink pony… but she was smiling softly despite her tone, looking almost gentle even as she said in a quiet, almost menacing voice: “It was like nothing you could ever imagine… made worse by the fact that once you got there, in the freezing, burning ice, you knew why you belonged there. It wasn’t just ‘life sucks, then you die, and hell sucks,’ it was ‘life sucks, then you die, and we’re now going to show you why your life sucked and why so much of that was your fault.’ Torture’s bad enough, and it hurts, but you know what hurts more? When they shove in your face again and again the reason you’re down here with the corpses and the shells and the screaming, laughing demons, is because you goddamn well earned it. And all the justifications you can give, all the reasons, all the anger, all the everything… it all becomes meaningless, and it all collapses away into sand, as they bleed you and cut you and hurt you… but no matter what they do to you, ain’t nothing compared to what you do to yourself.”
She stopped, then shook her head briskly before turning around, Scrivener wincing as the shape of Pinkamena flickered before he blinked several times, until he was once more just looking at a strange, possessed marionette as Luna gazed after her silently… and as the two began to follow, the half-demon suddenly continued, as if she had never left off: “Of course, I’m lucky, really. Gates of Helheim were blown open by the time I tumbled all the way down into the pit… didn’t take me long to break out. Normally, after all, there ain’t nowhere to run to in Helheim… prisoners who escape usually end up in Niflheim, homeland of the Nibelung that’s now just an extension of demon-turf. Yeah, there’s hidden tunnels, secret words that’ll open the gates to little offshoots and tunnels and passages that eventually wind their way up to once-pretty Equestria, but demons keep a close eye on those. It’s like a game, see: they let some prisoners feel like they got a fighting chance to get out of Helheim… and they run right into that trap, and the demons sweep ‘em up like they’re little helpless baby bunnies and take them back down to boil them in the icy pot, all the more delicious ‘cause they’re flavored with broken hopes.
“But the big gates… those were blown open. And while a lot of demons stayed down in Helheim, thinking it was too good to be true, maybe just taking pride in their work, maybe even scared of this world of ours and all that empty sky above our heads… a lot of ‘em ran for it. From drooling beasts like Hellhounds to Nightmares to things I don’t got a name for, they ran out into the world, eating up the very air as they went. Sure, the Black Wolves got the meat… but they were the ones who helped pick the bones clean, and they were fast and happy to do so.” Pinkamena’s puppet jaw grinned sourly, shaking her head slowly. “When I came through, everything was just a horrible mess… and the demons were gorged or gorging, and couldn’t be bothered with one little Pale.”
She stopped, then lowered her head and said moodily: “Ponyville called me for some reason. ‘Cept it wasn’t Ponyville, because my home isn’t Ponyville. That’s Pinkie Pie’s home, sissy’s home… my home was the rock farm, until we were thrown out like trash, worthless as brittle shale. I ended up being drawn to you two, and I know why now. I’m glad you both took me in, but I’m not thanking you, understand? You two needed me. You need somepony who can warn you about Helheim’s approach, a guard dog in a marionette body like this, a murderer that can’t be murdered but at least won’t cut you up in your sleep. Don’t you two forget that.”
“Plus you’re really quite the conversationalist. Always so cheerful.” Scrivener added dryly, and Pinkamena snorted and looked moodily ahead before he smiled a bit. “Thank you, though. I’m glad you’re here with us. Luna is too.”
“Shut up, Scrivener Blooms, I was about to thank the creature myself.” Luna said grouchily, and then she huffed and straightened a bit before both pony and half-demon looked at her, and she said sulkily: “Well I shan’t now, ‘tis no point to it.”
Scrivy rolled his eyes with a sigh as Pinkamena grumbled to herself and faced forwards again, and they walked onwards in silence for a few minutes before the marionette-possessing creature asked mildly: “So Scrivy, theoretical question: if I was chained down and at your mercy, what would you use on me first? The knife or the screws?”
Scrivener grimaced at this, head twitching to the side before he halted and adjusted his glasses on his face, Luna glaring daggers at Pinkamena’s back… but then the winged unicorn looked surprised as Scrivy replied icily: “Maybe I’d just take a page from Luna’s book and pummel you with my own hooves.”
“Ooh, I touched a nerve. Let me kiss it better; that idea tickles me, Scrivy, right in the funny-bone I thought I didn’t have.” Pinkamena looked over her shoulder, and her glittering gemstone eyes sparkled with visible entertainment, precious stones seeming to pulse with erratic life. “I like you. I always knew you were different. I always knew you were a freak. Oh the fun we could have together…”
Luna grumbled at this, and Scrivener sighed a little, looking exasperated as a faint flush crept over his features. “Can we just not talk about this anymore? Can we stop bringing it up? Luna and I made a deal anyway and-”
“To not talk about the Tyrant Wyrm’s corruption, but I’m not talking about that, am I?” Pinkamena interrupted, and even though the marionette was facing forwards, Scrivener could swear he still felt the half-demon’s eyes on him somehow, making his skin crawl. “No, I’m not, there you go. I’m talking about you, y-o-horseshoe. I mean, come on, you married Nightmare Moon… and this time I’m not just using a pet name for Luna.”
“Oh, wonderful, thou has such ardent thanks from me for that.” Luna’s eye twitch as she glowered at Pinkamena’s back, but the possessed marionette only gave an echoing laugh. “Scrivener Blooms married me, who stands here, who strides beside him, not merely my… my darker side, my passionate self. And if thou continues to aggravate us both, Pinkamena, Nightmare Moon herself will be more than glad to come out and have a word with thee on manners.”
“No need for threats now Luna… I didn’t mean to scare you.” Pinkamena teased, but she sounded a little more unsure of herself: if there was one thing the creature feared and respected, it was Luna’s dark alter ego. “It’s all besides the point anyway, isn’t it? Scrivy’s sadistic. You’re darkness. Me? I’m a half-demon, half-psychopath. I wonder if that makes me the best of you or the worst of you… either way, though, I do admire you both. You’re just what the doctor ordered, you’re as fascinating and beautiful and impossible to me as a burning ocean beneath the starlit sky… we should start a band. We should throw a party. We should play a game.”
Scrivener and Luna remained silent as Pinkamena lowered her head forwards, and they continued onwards in silence until they reached the cottage. Once there, the puppeted demon rose her head and shrugged off the corpse of the Seahorse Drake, saying distastefully: “I think you were right, Luna. I feel Helheim’s energy building, but there’s no madness and no mind to it… a storm is coming. Don’t worry, I’ll cuddle up tight and keep you both safe tonight.”
“Enough, Pinkamena.” Luna said in a gentle but firm voice, and the half-demon sighed and rolled her eyes before the winged unicorn grimaced a bit, glancing up towards the skies and adding with a mutter: “Although tonight we will have to be careful indeed, this much I must agree with. Scrivy, take the supplies inside. I shall attend to… our gift.”
“Good. Be a shame to let it go to waste. Want me to get the knives?” The puppet cocked its head as Scrivener walked past and pushed the door open, and Luna sighed before she nodded grudgingly, Pinkamena almost bouncing to her metallic hooves. “Delicious. I’ll be right back.”
Luna grumbled under her breath as she moodily looked down at the body of the Seahorse Drake, hitting it lightly in the obviously-broken neck: likely how Pinkamena had killed it. Then the winged unicorn sighed, leaning over the body and grumbling under her breath, feeling a faint repulsion… not for the corpse, or the work, or even for the fact that they were actually going to make a meal out of this body. It was guilt for half-encouraging these meals in the first place, especially as Scrivener’s curiosity on the subject grew.
Luna could and had eaten meat before: in the old days it had been more common, especially with her and her siblings traveling across the world, immersing in different cultures. It was not something that she allowed to bother her or ever thought too deeply on… it just was what it was, and she would rather put the corpse of an animal that had been killed to full use than leave parts of the body behind to rot. And memories of the Valkyrie days were filled with feasting of fare far different from the vegetables and fruits and salads of ponies…
She smiled despite herself, then glanced up quietly as she felt Scrivener’s soothing thoughts, more intangible images and emotion than words, stroking through her mind. He had been getting more and more curious about meat, and as luck would have it, they had come across a wild boar that had been driven into crazed bloodlust by the corruption of Helheim only a week or so after Scrivy began to fumble about perhaps trying a taste at some point. Large, bulky, wounded and a danger to everything around it, Luna had killed it mostly out of mercy when it had attacked them.
She had checked it over, then declared it was edible. Scrivener had turned a little pale, but he had been apprehensively interested all the same… in part because of the Tyrant Wyrm’s corruption, perhaps, but they were both aware that wasn’t even the biggest reason. It was simple curiosity, the most compelling and dangerous reason of all.
Luna had cleaned the body and done most of the cooking, talking about the past the entire time, sharing the little she had learned about meat preparation, warning him he might not like it and that at first it might make him a little sick. But Scrivy had only grimaced and mumbled that he was ready to give it a try, and Luna had been strangely proud… and perhaps a little overenthusiastic.
She had made all kinds of cuts, frozen what they didn’t eat, put every part of the body she knew they could use to use… and they had eaten together, in a strangely-romantic, slightly-macabre dinner date in their own den, Pinkamena jealously hovering around the entire time. At first, Scrivy hadn’t enjoyed it… but as the meal went on, he first became accustomed to it… then eaten ravenously.
Luna opened her eyes and drew back from the memories as she heard a loud double-clank, looking moodily at Pinkamena as the possessed puppet stepped back in front of her and unrolled a kit of tools and knives, looking up at her knowingly. “I know what you’re thinking, Nightmare Moon… but hey, at least it isn’t cannibalism. At least, not yet.”
“Neither Scrivener Blooms nor I would ever eat another pony, Pinkamena. ‘Twould not just be disgusting, ‘twould also be rather rude.” Luna said darkly, and the marionette gave an echoing laugh, loose metal plates clanking quietly against the wooden body of the construct.
“I’m sure we’ll find out one day… but who’s to say that it’s ponies that would be cannibalism for you two? You’re a Valkyrie and Nightmare Moon… Scrivener is somewhere between halfway and three-quarters corrupted into a Tyrant Wyrm, at least in mind.” Pinkamena replied easily, and Luna gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes, but there was something in the half-demon’s tone that made her hesitate to pummel the puppet into pieces, much as she wanted to. “Still, look at the three of us. Minions of evil wanton destruction and chaos, and we’re living in a nice little family unit together. Oh, and there’s that Draconequus too. I guess he’s like our pet or something right now, like a goddamn myna bird. Either way I love it and I hate it and I want it to last forever.”
Luna looked for a moment at Pinkamena… and then she flicked her horn grouchily to the side, and a large bolt tore itself free from one of the puppet’s forelegs, the half-demon cursing as she fell on her side with a wince and then glared irritably up at Luna from the ground. “Oh, hilarious.”
The winged unicorn, however, only smiled wryly in response before her horn glowed brighter, a sapphire aura surrounding the knives and tools as they lifted upwards into the air and hovered eerily, polished and glinting. Pinkamena looked up with interest at this even as she reached out to begin reattaching her foreleg to her puppet body, and Luna sighed a little as she muttered: “Please do me a favor, and comment not upon every incision I make.”
“Fine, be that way. Just know that I admire your style.” Pinkamena replied kindly, and Luna couldn’t help but shiver a bit at the honest admiration in her tone as the puppet’s jaws seemed to grin wider. “You shouldn’t punish yourself for liking your work, babe. Ain’t right. Ain’t natural. But hell, what do I know about natural… or maybe my problem is that everything about me has always been a little too primal, right?”
“Shut up.” Luna muttered curtly as she lowered her head forwards, and her eyes focused as she began to work on the carcass. The entire process, Pinkamena watched with fascination, perhaps even delight, murmuring every now and then to herself at the precision with which Luna moved and the way she began to organize the cuts of meat and other pieces of the fallen beast.
When she was done, Luna didn’t even have to ask for Pinkamena to help: she was all too eager to, picking up the scaled hide of the creature and carrying it around the house as Luna started to bring the cuts of meat inside. She laid them with almost embarrassment by Scrivener Blooms, who had prepared a batter for the meat and had a greased frying pan already sizzling quietly, the earth pony giving his own awkward smile to the winged unicorn as they traded a short, quiet kiss before Luna headed back outside.
Pinkamena had returned to gather up the pearls and gemstones Luna had extracted from the creature’s stomach, the marionette humming to herself as she yanked a metal panel in her side down. It revealed a hidden compartment in the construct’s own body, and the half-demon tossed most of the gemstones into this before she slapped it closed nonchalantly, making Luna shake her head in exasperated entertainment at the strange naturalness the creature acted with.
Then the half-demon sat back, picking up a small silver jar and unscrewing it as she watched the winged unicorn glance over the last of the meat and lift it with telekinesis as her horn glowed, before Pinkamena asked: “Care to join me afterwards and help me polish the rest of these knives of yours up? Pretty sure Scrivy can handle cooking meat by now by himself, he’s been doing it for six years.”
Luna frowned a bit, looking curiously at the half-demon as she asked slowly: “Art thou… asking me to spend time with thee, Pinkamena?”
Pinkamena only grunted moodily in response, and Luna looked at her thoughtfully before she nodded finally, saying quietly: “Very well. Afterwards we shall toss the remains and organs into the forest as a gift for the Phookas and we shall bleach and harden the bones for traps and implements.”
“Some days it’s really hard to tell which one of you is less fun and more anal, you or Scrivener.” Pinkamena muttered, and Luna smiled despite herself at this, still holding the remaining slabs of meat easily in the air beside herself as the half-demon nodded grouchily. “Good. Don’t keep me waiting long.”
Luna rolled her eyes, turning and heading back into the house and down the corridor… and she smiled faintly at Scrivy’s back, carefully stepping forwards and dropping the meat on the counter as the earth pony applied batter over other slabs of fish-like meat, before he laughed a bit when the winged unicorn embraced him quietly from behind, resting her body overtop his for a moment as she pushed her face against the back of his neck. “This was not the meal I intended us to have, daydreamer, but… I think it will serve well enough all the same. Strange as we are.”
“I don’t mind being strange.” Scrivener said quietly, reaching up to touch her foreleg gently as he lowered his head forwards with a faint smile. Luna laughed quietly into his ear at this, then she kissed his cheek before she slipped backwards, the earth pony glancing curiously over his shoulder at her as he caught her thoughts. “Really?”
Luna shrugged at this, saying mildly: “I will not feign to understand the creature, Scrivener Blooms. I do not believe Pinkamena even entirely understands herself… she seems more a creature of the moment and passion than I myself am, after all. So yes, I shall try and… spend time with our odd friend without pummeling her.”
“Good.” Scrivy smiled a bit, then he glanced back towards the sizzling frying pan and added quietly: “Since this is more fish meat than meat-meat, it shouldn’t take me too long to cook… but there’s quite a lot to batter and fry up, so take your time. I still need to make tartar sauce and everything too, after all.”
Luna grunted after a moment, then she smiled a bit and reached up to quietly touch her black pearl, saying with soft entertainment: “Foul Scrivener Blooms, such evil thoughts run rampant through thy mind. Aye, once the Seahorse Drakes tried to eat thee, but thou did sneak into their nest and steal from them.”
“Oh, get out of my head, Luna, you know I don’t think right.” Scrivy replied dryly, but he smiled wider despite himself as he looked with amusement over his shoulder. “You can see all the thoughts that I think without meaning to think them, it’s not fair. It’s like when someone hurts you the instinct is to kick them really hard, but you submerge those thoughts and you don’t act on them unless they’re real jerks. Or unless you’re you, since that’s how you deal with everything. Pummeling it.”
“Wretched creature.” Luna gave him an amused look nonetheless, and then she reached out and firmly slapped his rump, making him twitch. “Thou hast my thanks, Scrivener Blooms, for encouraging me.”
“What?” Scrivy only looked dumbly over his shoulder at her, but Luna smiled, trading thoughts and emotions with him for a moment before she winked and turned away, and the male couldn’t help but laugh a bit, shaking his head slowly as he returned his eyes to the food he was preparing and murmuring: “Amazing how we’re bound in every possible way, and you still always manage to surprise me… and make me feel so damn good about us.”
Luna joined Pinkamena outside, and was surprised to find the half-demon had already dealt with moving the bones. The winged unicorn smiled awkwardly, but the puppet only shrugged and offered her a rag, and the two worked quietly, polishing and cleaning the knives and other tools by hoof with a silvery substance from a small jar, not talking much, but both relaxing with the simple work.
When they finished and slipped the last of the tools back into the cloth kit, Pinkamena rolled it up and then drew her gemstone eyes over Luna before grunting and nodding to her. “Good. Glad we could make nice, Nightmare Moon. But I got a question for you… do you really think Valthrudnir’s miracle cards are going to pack enough juice to give all those Pale souls physical bodies again?”
Luna frowned a bit at this, then she lowered her head and sighed a little, murmuring quietly: “To be honest, Pinkamena, ‘tis… unsure. I have discussed it many times with my husband and with Odin, and while Valthrudnir was of awful power, he was of even worse ego. ‘Tis hard to say what his true strength must have been… but one way or another, we shall find the way to give our friends and family and all who we are able to save in this plane their lives back.”
“Although still, we’re selfish, aren’t we? Ain’t just Equestria that suffered and died. So did the rest of the world… all we can save are ponies of this land, and the pony Pales that you’re able to get across the Bifrost at that.” Pinkamena looked down, the puppet visibly meditative, Luna frowning curiously at the possessed marionette. “What a goddamn joke. And who knows? On the other side… maybe the Pales will begin to fade, too. Ghosts can’t stick around forever.”
“Thou art being creepily philosophical, Pinkamena. I much prefer thee to be rude and insulting.” Luna said finally, and the half-demon snorted at this before the winged unicorn added with a bit of a smile: “But worry not. The Pales of our friends even now support each other even as phantoms, wander and rest together and this makes them stronger. And Pales can be of more than ponies: Spike is there too, but perhaps ‘tis also because he is bound so tightly up in the magic of friendship with the others, ‘tis hard to say… and truly, ‘tis also not my place to assume or try and pull such things apart, but rather to only be thankful. It is Scrivener Blooms’ job to overanalyze the world and cynically break the world down piece-by-piece-by-piece.”
The half-demon shook her puppeted head slowly with a snort of entertainment, then she leaned back and said distastefully: “What can I say? I’m half-demon, half-pony, trapped seeing the world beneath the world and with sissy’s goddamn advice always ringing around in my mind. You try and be sane and stable with all that going on in your brain, Nightmare Moon.”
Luna rolled her eyes as Pinkamena leaned down and picked up the cloth case after a moment, before she paused meditatively and added in her echoing tones: “Know what pisses me off the most, though? How eager I’m getting to go over the Bifrost and finally be part of that new world. How much I look forwards to seeing all those familiar faces and burying myself in sociopathic happiness, if only for a little while before I’m once more shoved out of the friendship circle. How much I want to see sissy…”
The marionette body shuddered… and then she shook her head briskly, muttering: “I need to have a goddamn rest. I’m starting to actually feel things, like emotions and anxieties and worries and happiness and sadness, and thinking of… happy worlds. Ugh, makes me shiver.”
Pinkamena turned, grumbling, and headed into the cottage as Luna sighed a bit, then glanced quietly aside to the discarded pile of useless matter from the Seahorse Drake. She grimaced, but then flicked her horn upwards, and the organic debris glowed faintly as it floated into the air before the winged unicorn turned to head towards the forest, muttering: “’Tis funny, Nightmare Moon… when Pinkamena talks like that it makes me think of thee, before thou wert purified by the Elements of Harmony. Oh, how thou loved to rave and ramble…”
Now, now, Luna, when you say things like that it makes me wonder whether or not you’re trying to start an argument with me… just like you started an argument with our dearest beloved earlier. Nightmare Moon replied softly, and Luna winced a bit at the tone of her darker self, her wings fluttering lightly at her side in apprehension. Just as you pushed him inside the nightmare… but yet always remind me not to push my own habits upon others. We are not happy with ourselves right now.
“Nightmare Moon, ‘tis already in the past, ‘tis already long forgotten… and to be honest, I do not think Scrivener Blooms entirely minds the flare-ups that occur between us.” Luna said mildly… and then she winced and staggered as her shadow suddenly darkened as her mane and tail flared backwards, electricity sparking through the ethereal starlight as viscous, sticky blackness spilled up her limbs and she stared down in shock.
Eyes opened and sharp teeth formed in the shadow, glaring up at her furiously, glowing ivory and eldritch green as Nightmare Moon’s features leaned slowly upwards, and Luna swallowed thickly as she dropped the pile of organic matter at the side of the path as the darkness hissed: “Do not press my patience, child, or I will be forced to become unpleasant. You are not as sly or as strong or as cunning as you seem to think you are, my pet… and I find it strange and deeply frustrating that whenever I move to help Scrivener Blooms, whenever I say that we must aid our most-beloved in his transformation, his evolution, you hurriedly chastise me and get in the way… but you yourself seem to think it perfectly fine to willy-nilly encourage and pain him as you so please!”
“Nightmare Moon, release me. We are… there is no point in us fighting one another. I am not thine enemy and thou art not my foe.” Luna replied firmly, but her eyes betrayed more than a hint of nervousness as she struggled against the gooey shadows locking her legs in place, frustration, anger, and a shiver of fear rolling through her body. “Unpleasantness and battle between us, it… it serves no purpose, ‘twill only upset thine treasure, our beloved, all the more, will it not?”
Nightmare Moon’s eyes glared at her for a moment longer from the pool of shadow, her ivory snarl twisting as her features pushed higher towards Luna… and then slowly, the dark beast shrank backwards, vanishing bit-by-bit into Luna’s shadow as the winged unicorn’s ephemeral mane and tail both settled slowly and the strings of sticky blackness receded and vanished into nothing but harmless, intangible shade. “Thou… has my thanks.”
There was silence for a moment longer, and Luna hesitated before she began to turn around… but then she froze, back arching and looking at the cottage in the distance as an almost-physical hoof brushed along her spine, sending a chill through her body as Nightmare Moon whispered softly in her mind: Do not selfishly change him, and do not selfishly try and keep him the same. Let him grow as he wishes to… he is our most vaunted, our most beloved treasure. We will protect him even from you, if we must. I know what is best for you both… I only hope I you do not force my horn or hoof.
“Do not threaten me, Nightmare Moon… I am not afraid of thee. And do not blind thyself to what Scrivy means to me… thou art nothing but passion and control, perhaps ‘tis thou who truly works to try and corrupt him and steal him away.” Luna muttered grimly, glaring at the ground as her eyes flashed… but Nightmare Moon was silent, and the winged unicorn shivered before she cursed under her breath and spat: “In a jealous war with mine own very self, how utterly adorable a way to suffer in Helheim!”
She shook her head grimly, then sighed and slumped slowly as she headed moodily back towards the cottage, her mind feeling like static as she sensed Scrivener slowly touching through her mind, confused by the flurry of emotion and anger he had likely sensed but unable to decipher what it meant; whether do to the corruption in his mind or Nightmare Moon tampering with their link so she could better scold Luna, the winged unicorn wasn’t sure… and she glowered at the ground and moodily kicked a rock as she passed it, knocking the hoof-sized piece of rubble flying into a tree as she muttered: “Treating me like a child… even if the creature has always been with me in one form or another, ‘tis still the same age as me… scolded by myself, by my own inner evil… what a ridiculous notion.”
Yet there was guilt, too, and a hint, a whisper of shame… and worst of all, the worry that Nightmare Moon was right, which made Luna want to strangle both herself and the darkness-kissed creature inside of her. She grumbled under her breath as stormed over the broken, short bridge and onto their front lawn, heading towards the cottage as she looked slowly over the cracked and damaged surface before sighing and leaning her head forwards, saying grouchily: “Well, as I am out here anyway…”
She closed her eyes, her horn beginning to glow as she leaned towards the dwelling, and runes sparked quietly into life over the walls of their home, beginning to glow with faint ivory and sapphire light as Luna gritted her teeth and bowed slowly forwards as she concentrated, feeding energy and magic into the runes.
Bolts of energy sparked over the cottage as the surface of the structure seemed to ripple like liquid, and then Luna winced backwards at the flash of light, feeling magical recoil twist through her body as she slumped a bit and breathed hard. Her eyes flickered open after a moment, and she grimaced as she looked up at the cottage, now enshrouded in a whitish-blue aura that pulsed slowly, rhythmically, like a beating heart.
Luna rubbed slowly at her face with one hoof, then she sighed a little and murmured: “Not as strong as it was before, though… the wards have been rotted from Helheim’s energies, and our home… our beautiful little cottage has fallen into such disrepair.” She halted and smiled a little, studying the glowing log cabin silently before shaking her head and grimly glancing over her shoulder, looking towards the skies.
In the distance, red light was slowly turning to black and purple, like a spreading bruise… and the winged unicorn’s mane sparked quietly with electricity as she muttered: “I know not whether to be happy or sad that my prediction was correct… for Pinkamena spoke true, a physical enemy can be beaten, but this… we must simply wait out. ‘Tis frustrating, so… impossibly frustrating at times. But at least… my husband, and a good meal awaits.”
She halted, then laughed a bit at this thought despite herself as she strode silently forwards and carefully opened the glowing door of the cottage, making her way inside and flicking her head absently as she stepped down the corridor to slam the door loudly behind her. Then Luna smiled awkwardly as she stepped into the den and saw Scrivener still in the kitchen, gazing at her with both soft concern and affection as he said quietly: “You and Nightmare Moon at each other again, huh?”
“It happens, Scrivy. We do not always agree on things, especially when the subject of thou arises.” Luna said quietly, smiling awkwardly, and Scrivener smiled a bit in return, thankful for both her honesty and her bluntness. “But worry not… it could be far worse, and I know that at the end of the day… we do both want what is best for thee. It just… bothers me that…”
“I know, Luna.” Scrivener said gently, and Luna gave a bit of a mumble and a blush before she walked forwards and buried her face against the side of his neck, as Scrivener laughed quietly and turned back towards the stove, checking the batter-covered, frying fish-steak as he murmured: “But I don’t think I’d change things, honestly. Some days I wonder whether or not I was destined for this, Luna… not just to be with you, but to become… I dunno. It sounded smarter in my head than it does out loud.”
“So do most things, Scrivy, but I care not, I enjoy listening to thee talk.” Luna mumbled against the side of his neck, and Scrivener laughed a bit despite himself, shaking his head with a smile as he glanced towards her with entertainment. “I command thee to talk more. And to make dinner done.”
“Patience, warrior princess, it’s almost ready. Just two more pieces to cook.” Scrivener answered soothingly, and Luna grumbled against him even as she mashed her face firmer into his mane. “But I am being honest… I mean…”
He halted, thinking quietly even as he picked up a spatula to carefully lift a fried piece of fish out of the pan and maneuver it onto a plate already stacked with several large, cooked cuts. Then he nodded a bit to himself as Luna rose her head curiously , glancing towards her as he tossed the last two battered pieces of fish into the pan, wincing back a bit from the spitting grease before he said softly: “Do I always like who I am? No. I’ve never really been… overly-fond of myself though, as you know, and I think sometimes when… I’m not being a big pansy about whatever the future might hold… it might be nice if I could actually become somepony who could… protect you for a change, Luna. I’d… I’d be willing to become anything to do that.”
Scrivener smiled a bit, looking at the frying pan as Luna gazed at him softly, a tenderness in her eyes even as she chastened teasingly: “Misogynistic Scrivener Blooms, thinking us weak mares need the protection of such blackened knights, that all females must find the darker stallions the more attractive, is that so?”
“Oh yes, Luna, you know that’s exactly what I think.” Scrivener replied dryly, looking over at her seriously. “That’s why I never wear that frilly apron when I’m doing all my traditionalist masculine work around here, while you should be cooking and cleaning and washing the dishes, silly useless mare.”
“Gosh, Scrivener Blooms, thou art so gallant and chivalrous. I am truly fortunate to have thee as my big tough husband.” Luna replied mockingly, grinning a bit as her eyes flickered with mischief. “Why, without thee, I would never be able to find my way from the kitchen to the bedroom.”
“You always seem to find your way to the bedroom just fine, Luna.” Scrivener replied mildly, then he grinned widely as the winged unicorn opened her mouth before glaring at him and leaning forwards to headbutt him firmly, knocking him backwards with a laugh. “Okay, okay! So wonderful that whether I win or lose, Luna, you’re going to be right there, pummeling me back into place.”
“’Tis my job.” Luna gazed at him for a moment, then she stepped forwards and nuzzled him softly, the two embracing tightly for a few lingering seconds before she pulled back as strange images flittered through their minds, of shapes and memories, of emotions and hidden forms and lingering wonders.
Then Luna stepped backwards and awkwardly pawed at the ground with one hoof, adding hesitantly with a bit of a blush and looking almost shy: “Besides, thou… has held me every time I have needed it, and comforted me in ways… no other ever would or could. I feel safe in thine embrace, Scrivener Blooms… thou needs not greater size nor strength to be… a great and wonderful hero in my eyes.”
Scrivy smiled softly from behind his glasses, and Luna grumbled a bit as she swung her horn at him, making him wince back before she added grouchily: “Enough, enough, thou has had thy fun and… thou art burning the fish. Make me not slap thee around, Scrivy, much as thou deserves it sometimes.”
“Oh Luna, you and your domestic violence.” Scrivener remarked, and Luna gave him an amused look before she turned and strode out of the kitchen, before hesitating as she glanced over her shoulder at him… and Scrivener met her eyes curiously before images sparked between them, their mental thoughts mixing into one strange picture.
It was Nightmare Moon, curled up with Scrivener’s corrupted and warped subconscious form, the two looking strangely content and serene together in a field of black roses, surrounded by a fencing of brambles… and then both Luna and Scrivy glanced hurriedly away from each other, both blushing deeply even as smiles lingered on their faces. The male felt strangely lightheaded as an odd shake ran through his body, and Luna felt shivers tickle through her own spine, of excitement and inexplicable euphoria as she headed to the bedding and flopped down in the den, murmuring softly to herself: “Wicked, sinful creature that you are, moon-kissed Valkyrie… corrupting thy husband worse and worse…”
“There you go again, Scrivy, you hack, over-romanticizing darkness and trying to make parasitic destruction cute… the hell is wrong with your everything?” Scrivener mumbled as he flipped the fish meat with the spatula and poked at it absently, checking the juices: they had cooked and eaten Seahorse Drake before, and Scrivener knew that the tender meat fried up quite quickly even battered, but it was much better to be safe rather than sorry. It wasn’t that they couldn’t handle a little raw meat… but rather because anything that survived in this broken world tended to carry a little bit of Helheim’s poisons soaked into its body and spirit.
Scrivener halted, glancing down at his hoof as he put the spatula aside and studying it silently, thinking of his subconscious, broken self image… and he closed his eyes after a moment. They cooked meat well, they washed and purified vegetables and fruits, they filtered the water they found… but it was all perhaps only an exercise in futility. Both he and Luna, after all, were already tainted, corrupted… and maybe by worse things than the rumbling energies of Helheim, at that.
“Think not so heavily, Scrivy, thou shalt ruin my appetite and dinner before we even have a chance to sit down.” Luna said loudly from the den, and Scrivener blushed a bit as he turned awkwardly around to look at the stove, the winged unicorn smiling into the blue flames flickering in the fireplace as she added in a softer voice: “And anyway, ‘tis not so bad, Scrivy. Besides, did thou not just wish to be a large, scary monster?”
“Yes, but we all know I’m a hypocrite and horribly self-destructive, Luna.” Scrivener smiled a bit, looking thoughtfully into the frying pan and over the sizzling fish before he added softly: “Besides, that’s different. That’s me… trying to be something better for you. Even if it’s also me being… uglier.”
“Thou art not ugly in body or soul, Scrivy… what makes me feel so safe is that I think, even if something terrible happened and thou… changed…” Luna halted awkwardly, glancing over her shoulder before she closed her eyes and said firmly: “Thou may change on the outside. Thou may find new outlets, and be bathed in and touched by darkness… but never, fair and annoying beetle, do I believe that thou will ever lose what makes thee who thou truly are. Thy obnoxious cynicism, thy stubborn will, and thy resolve to bravely face whatever the world may hold… and somehow, despite everything, put family and friends before thy wretched, self-loathing self.”
“I like how you make all my bad qualities sound good.” Scrivener said softly, and Luna laughed at this in the den, looking back towards the fire as the earth pony picked up the spatula and tested the fish absently. “I guess that’s part of why we lock together so nicely though, isn’t it? I still don’t get how you can’t look back on that day you saved my life and think: ‘Horses of Heaven, why didn’t I let that jerk die?’”
“Which day does thou mean specifically, Scrivener Blooms, for there are many days I have had cause to think this and many more than that I have saved thy wicked life upon.” Luna quipped, and Scrivener grumbled under his breath as he reached up and turned the stove element off, briskly shaking the pan once before he moved it to an unheated element as the crackling grease began to settle. “Is dinner ready?”
“Almost, Luna, almost.” Scrivener rolled his eyes as tested the fish meat absently with the spatula, then he smiled a bit to himself, shoveling them out of the pan and dropping them on the stack of cooked cuts, turning to open a cupboard. “Let me wrap up the extra and put it away, make up some tartar sauce, and-”
“Oh thou art an insufferable perfectionist. We need no finery, bring a plate of food to me and I shall use my hooves.” Luna retorted, and then she added cheerfully: “I also desire a cola. Get me a cola Scrivener Blooms. Do it now.”
Scrivy sighed, then he picked up the spatula, looking at it thoughtfully before turning around and flinging it over the opposite counter and into the den, and Luna winced as this smacked into the back of her head and landed in her mane, leaping up to her hooves and shaking her head wildly before the greasy, crumb-covered spatula flew out of her ephemeral locks and she glared over her shoulder at him. “Beetle, I shall squish thee!”
Scrivener only grinned, however, leaning forwards as she glared at him, her horn glowing… before she cursed under her breath as Scrivy wrinkled his muzzle in concentration, barring her magic. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forwards challengingly, and Scrivener gritted his teeth, feeling their wills wrestling as her horn sparked and sizzled, her mane and tail flickering around her, wrestling mentally as Luna tried to lash out with telekinesis or magic but the earth pony connected to her in mind, heart and soul halted her attempts.
Luna was grinning back before she even realized it, growling as her hooves dug into the bedding, shivering a bit as Scrivener bowed his head forwards slightly, teeth grinding together with the effort it took to battle Luna’s monumental will… and then he suddenly snapped his head upwards and ducked, and the winged unicorn’s eyes went wide as her own head lashed skywards before she released a blast of raw force that knocked her back on her rear and hammered a crack in the ceiling, dust and a few splinters of wood hailing down as she rested back on her haunch.
Scrivy peered awkwardly over the counter, Discombobulation hiding mostly beneath the surface of the Ambrosia in his vial and looking dumbly back and forth between the two… before Luna and Scrivener both threw their heads back and laughed loudly, and then Luna leapt to her hooves with a short shout of triumph and snapped her head forwards, Scrivy yelping as he was lashed by a blast of telekinetic force and sent sprawling on the tiled floor as she posed imperiously despite the faint pain that ran through her own body at the shocking blow. “Now that I have once more proven my superiority, daydreamer, fetch me my cola and my dinner, and be quick about it.”
Scrivener Blooms grumbled as he lay prone on the kitchen floor for a moment, and then he sighed and rose a hoof, saying dourly: “Coming right up, warrior princess.”