Chapter Five: Renewal Beneath The Rain
~BlackRoseRaven
Luna and Scrivener shared dinner in front of the fireplace, a small, simple piece of wood laying on the bedding acting as their table, resting side-by-side in comfort and sharing soft conversation. They both ate hungrily, and the food was good, even if it was also not exactly standard fare for ponies… but in a way, that made it even better, gave it an extra exotic flavoring despite the lingering sense of awkwardness that hovered around them.
They both had glasses of Colt Cola, a large plastic bottle of it resting nearby. It was bubbly and sugary, and Luna looked thoughtfully at her glass, swirling it gently as it floated in front of her before she murmured a question: “Tell me, Scrivener Blooms. Of all the maladies in the world, what does thou believe the worst to be? And say not love, or I shall strike thee roundly upside thy silly head.”
“Even if it’s true?” Scrivy asked with a smile, and Luna nudged him threateningly with her shoulder as she lowered her horn towards him. “Okay, okay. I think the worst malady in the world… is loss of memory. If we can’t remember where we’ve come from, if we forget our history, good or bad, we begin to lose ourselves.”
“Thou great cheater, ‘twas going to be my exact response.” Luna scoffed, and Scrivener gave her an amused look before she rolled her eyes and muttered, as she absently poked at what was left of her fish with a fork: “Alright, perchance… not exactly my exact response, but all the same. Furthermore, I see thou art using me as an example in thy mind to further illustrate thy point. ‘Tis a terrible infringement, Scrivener Blooms. A theft. Thou art a thief.”
“I’m a poet, it’s what we do.” Scrivy replied dryly, and Luna gave him an entertained look as she snuggled herself closer, the male smiling slightly as he slid a foreleg around her and scooped up a bit of his fish and tartar sauce on his fork, but then offered it to her.
She took it gladly, gazing at him affectionately as she chewed slowly before picking up her own and shoving the fork insistently towards him, and Scrivy laughed before he ate the morsel with an amused look to her. They gazed tenderly at one another, and then Luna rolled her eyes when Scrivener looked at her pointedly and she nodded, looking thoughtful.
She was quiet a few moments longer, then said softly: “The worst malady… it is to be alone. Because if thou art alone all thy life… then even memories of loneliness can do naught but torture thee further, is it not so? I remember even in Valhalla, I was alone, the night maiden who preferred the darkness. And thou wert alone for so long, with only little Samael for company… tell me, Scrivener Blooms. Of how did thou acquire the poor lost friend, may he rest now forevermore in peace?”
“Sometimes I do almost want to ask you if you could bring him back… but I couldn’t do that to Sammy again. It wouldn’t be right… because he was my friend. Not my pet, my friend.” Scrivener smiled despite himself, looking curiously at Luna as she gazed at him with both curiousness and warmth. “I guess I never did tell you the story, did I? Even though you probably know it already… you know everything about me, after all.”
“Not everything, Scrivy.” Luna smiled slightly, tilting her head towards him with a wink. “Thou art annoying like that. Every time I think I have thee all figured out, suddenly I realize that there is yet another side to the puzzle, and I am forced to bludgeon and smack it angrily against things until once more I think I have it aligned… only to find yet another hidden riddle amongst the curves and twists and turns. Thou art like one of those frustrating colored cubes that are impossible to solve, with all the… mocking, annoying colors. Except worse, because I cannot simply smash thee to pieces and hope that solves my problem.”
“No, but Horses of Heaven know that doesn’t stop you from trying.” Scrivener replied mildly, and Luna laughed and shook her head, giving him an entertained look before she picked up the last of her fish, chewing it slowly and looking at him softly as the male smiled a bit. “Okay, okay. First off, as to your very hurtful assumption that I stole him from somepony… I did not. I stole him from the magic academy.”
“Terrible creature!” Luna threw her head back and laughed. “So my suspicion from the start was true… they are very rare, after all. But how did thou get away with such a thing?”
“In time, Luna, let me start at the beginning.” Scrivener replied with entertainment, and Luna smiled slightly before her horn glowed, lifting the last piece of fish on the male’s plate to his mouth, and the earth pony gave her an amused look as he began: “It’s not horn food L-”
She shoved it firmly forwards into his jaws, and Scrivy winced and flailed his front legs, gagging a bit before he managed to chew the food as Luna leaned back and said comfortably: “Everything is horn food, dearest.”
The winged unicorn paused, then flicked her horn, and the plates and silverware rattled softly as they lifted into the air and floated towards the kitchen, Scrivy grumbling under his breath as he swallowed before he looked up in surprise as Discombobulation’s glass vial floated over to them, the Draconequus standing with his face and hands pressed tightly up to the surface as he stared stupidly out at them. “Bob, will thou not join us? ‘Tis not as if thou has much of a choice in the matter, really, but I figured ‘twould be polite enough to ask, all things considered. And thou enjoys a story of mischief, does thou not?”
Bob rolled his eyes as he stood back and crossed his arms, and Scrivener paused as he leaned curiously forwards when the vial settled gently down just in front of their bedding, the earth pony saying thoughtfully: “There’s less stuff in there than there was before.”
Discombobulation gave the earth pony a flat look, then he pretended to gape as he slapped his hands against either side of his face, mimicking a look of shocked horror, and Scrivener rolled his eyes before he slapped the top of the vial, making it wobble back and forth as Luna snorted laughter and Bob flailed around inside the liquid. “Just saying that I’m glad Luna was telling the truth and not just trying to drown you in juice, Bob.”
The Draconequus gave him a surly look, then he brought his legs up to sit on top of the liquid as if it was a solid thing, limbs primly crossed beneath him and eagle talon and arm moodily crossed. Scrivy smiled a bit as Luna leaned down, studying the creature, before Scrivener Blooms said softly: “It’s good to have you back, though… I guess we started thinking of you as one of us at some point, even if we only knew each other for a few days, really. Welcome back to this little misfit band.”
The chimerical creature looked up with something like honest surprise for a moment… but then he quickly batted his eyes at Scrivy as he used his eagle talon to trace the shape of a heart on his own chest, and Scrivener sighed and gave him a flat look. “This is why I’m never nice to anypony. Ever.”
“Now, tell us the story of how thou stole from the magic academy without being executed for it.” Luna encouraged, and Scrivener gave her an amused look, the winged unicorn grumbling. “Well, ‘tis what they would have done in the olden days! Thou art boring. Now tell us a story, we demand a story.”
Luna childishly hammered her hooves against the bedding as Discombobulation nodded and flailed his own upper limbs for a moment, and Scrivener groaned and dropped his head back before sighing and saying flatly: “Very well, Poppa Scrivener will tell the story of how he got away with felony theft if you two shut the hell up.”
The winged unicorn huffed but nodded as Discombobulation made a zipping motion across his mouth, sinking a little into the liquid beneath him, and Scrivener sighed before he smiled despite himself, saying quietly: “It wasn’t long after I had started working under Celestia as Court Poet. One of her first tasks for me – and to be honest, one of my hardest writing projects I’ve ever tackled – was assembling an anthem and a retelling of famous ballads and stories about Canterlot’s past, specifically around the magic academy.
“See, unlike what Twilight and the Royal Courts thought, I did my damn job. I just was never exactly overeager to go far beyond my bounds… and I had my own projects to find the time for in there, too.” Scrivener paused for a few moments reflectively, glancing down before he nodded thoughtfully. “Anyway, that’s off-topic. Because my duties were to write on the magic academy, and I wasn’t very familiar with stories about Starswirl the Bearded and his apprentice what’s-her-face and all those other fancy unicorns, Celestia granted me a research pass and I was permitted to go in and out of the magic academy as I pleased.”
Scrivener paused, looking reflectively up at this. “That was nice. That was also when I began to realize that now, I could be massive jerk to anyone I pleased and there wasn’t a whole lot even the fancy-pants unicorns could do about it. So I essentially took over an entire table in the magic library, signed out about a dozen of the tomes from the Advanced Studies wing, and sat around pointedly ignoring the no-food-or-drink rules. The librarians absolutely hated me, and I suppose I kind of enjoyed that.
“Anyway, three days of researching backgrounds, spells, and histories, and I figured I was ready. I flitted around between the Canterlot Grand Library and the magic academy and harassed unicorns that got in my way.” The earth pony smiled despite himself. “I think I was a little jealous too, though… I mean, if I hadn’t been born without a horn…”
Scrivener laughed a bit, shaking his head as Luna softened, but then the earth pony continued quietly: “That’s not important, though. What is, is the fact that I spent plenty of my time wandering around. Now that I knew the history and my subject matter, I wanted to get a feel for the place itself… I had already cranked a few poems out but I needed something that captured that part of Canterlot itself. I’m pretty sure everypony thought I was just being obnoxious and lording my inordinate amounts of power over them, and I probably was to a point, but I was also doing more than that. I was discovering the place, walking in the hoof-prints of the past, imagining how much and how little everything had changed there.
“And then, that was when I found it. The Advanced Studies Laboratory, past the Hatchery and the dragon nursery.” Scrivener grinned slightly. “And I won’t lie, the moment I saw that large, greenhouse-like building, guarded by armored knights and with all those intense unicorn staff… I wanted to make a nuisance of myself. It didn’t help I saw plenty of nobles from the Royal Courts going in and out, too… so I marched on up, and the guards stopped me and the unicorns looked like they wanted to have me dragged to a cliff and thrown off it, but then I waved around my clearance permit.
“Everypony looked like they wanted to strangle me. But they also knew they couldn’t stop me, so I marched gleefully in. It was spectacular, Luna… greenhouses filled with exotic plants, galleries filled with showcases that contained incredible magic objects, mages and engineers working together to build golems and constructs…” Scrivener laughed quietly, shaking his head slowly… and then he grinned slightly. “And at the very back, the rare creatures research wing, which was really more of a tiny zoo than anything else, and housed artificial nests for exotic beasts.
“And among these were three pseudodragon eggs, and one pseudodragon, which was being taught tricks by a mage for some snobby unicorn noble and his spoiled brat kid. I spent a lot of time back there… I liked watching the trainers work with the animals, and these unicorns were more… down-to-earth. I didn’t feel the need to harass them as much as I did everyone else, and they seemed to appreciate that I saved up all my jerkiness for the nobles from the Royal Court who went in and out and used the research wing like their own personal pet shop.” Scrivener smiled amusedly, and Luna nodded, gazing at him with warmth. “I visited every few days, got to know them better, even did some of my writing there. And one day, I stayed late into the evening, to finish up a few poems… and well…”
Scrivener cleared his throat, saying awkwardly: “See. I’d actually been inside the pseudodragon habitat once or twice, since I was friendly with the trainers. I knew how to unlock the cage doors and everything. And I was distinctly unhappy about the fact that these three eggs were going to the same unicorn, who already had a pseudodragon, when there’s only a few thousand of them across Equestria. So… I went into the cage. Picked up one of the eggs, and I was sitting there, just looking at it… and it cracked.
“I, of course, just stared at it, and the egg hatched right in my hooves and little baby Sammy stuck his head out, blinked at me, and then chirped. I had no idea what to do, but the pseudodragon is trying to scramble out of the shell and looks all… you know.” Scrivener rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, Luna looking at him tenderly as a smile quirked Discombobulation’s features. “I helped him out of the egg, and picked him up and put him on my back and my first thought is ‘maybe I can find some information in one of the encyclopedias in the library.”
Scrivener paused, then he cleared his throat and said awkwardly: “I forgot about the building’s security systems. The moment I stepped into the library an alarm went off, the doors locked behind me, and the decorative statues started moving. Turns out they were security golems and they kind of beat the snot out of me and dragged me to a holding cell. When I woke up, it was early morning, and Sammy was curled up on top of me and whimpering, scared and weak, so I wrapped him in my cloak and hugged him against my body to keep him warm. It was all I could really do… and soon enough, the Pegasus Guard came in and found me.”
Luna looked at him for a few moments, and Scrivener looked blandly back before the winged unicorn covered her mouth and giggled, and Scrivy sighed and rolled his eyes, saying flatly: “I didn’t know how to fight back then, Luna, and I wasn’t soul-bound to a Valkyrie, either. I vaguely remember flailing at them but they were very large and made of stone, eventually the only thing I could do was curl up and hope they didn’t break every bone in my body as they pummeled me.”
The earth pony paused, then he looked moodily at Discombobulation as the Draconequus breathed over the wall of his glass vial, fogging a large section of it up so he could quickly scrawl with one finger: ‘You have been terminated.’
“Very funny.” Scrivener grumbled and adjusted his glasses, then he said dryly: “Anyway. The Pegasus Guard looked like they wanted to drag me to prison but I kind of went ballistic, furiously waving my royal orders around, yelling about the fact I was supposed to be here doing research, etcetera, etcetera. It was enough that they freed me, and I picked up my cloak and stormed off with it, Sammy still curled up inside of it.” Scrivener paused, then cleared his throat. “I ran into one of the trainers in the hall, and he asked me what had happened… both to my face and to the egg. I just kind of looked at the cloak hanging from my mouth, he realized there was something wrapped up inside it before Sammy squirmed his head out and peered at him… and I remember the look of absolute exasperation and maybe a little relief on his features before he told me to just go.”
“I tucked Sammy back up inside, and… went.” Scrivener looked lame, shrugging a bit. “Made my way all the way back to my quarters, and found a letter waiting for me. Not signed or anything, just simple instructions on what pseudodragons ate and how to care for them. And a note that said they have a tendency to imprint on what they see when they hatch.”
He halted, then smiled despite himself, glancing down and murmuring softly: “And he was my friend. I was bruised, bludgeoned, bloody, and I got lectured by a whole bunch of ponies afterwards, including Celestia herself, but… I now had a little friend, who I named Samael because the little jerk almost got me killed the moment he hatched. He grew up fast, and he went everywhere with me, always riding on my shoulder… and even though it was obvious where he came from, the trainer at the magic academy had a deal with me: as long as I didn’t go screwing around anymore in the research labs, he stuck to his lie that somepony must have left the door open and the pseudodragon had escaped. He was a nice guy… but I think even more than that, he didn’t want to see the pseudodragons all going to some unicorn noble who was just going to treat them as fancy possessions.”
Scrivener stopped, then he smiled a bit and closed his eyes, and Luna gazed at him tenderly as she murmured softly: “Perhaps Sammy wanders this world, still, Scrivy, looking for thee, in that case. ‘Twas not like even in death he forgot thee, after all… and even Bob came back from being blown asunder.”
Discombobulation shrugged at this, then he half-submerged himself into the Ambrosia as he laid back against the wall of the glass vial, talon and hand behind his head as he curiously looked at Scrivy. The earth pony glanced back at the Draconequus, then shrugged a bit before he returned his eyes to Luna, saying quietly: “Wherever he is, I hope he’s okay. That’s what matters to me most, Luna… that he’s at peace.”
Scrivener paused, then he and Luna both glanced up as a faint humming built in the air, followed by a soft pattering that grew into a louder rhythm of rainfall. A moment later, Pinkamena sizzled into being, the darkness running through the Pale growing deeper as she strode silently forwards, the frost humming softly off her body making the air sparkle as she looked apprehensively at the roof as well.
The sound grew, and there was a crackle of lightning… and Scrivener winced as the air seemed to spark and he looked towards Pinkamena to see not her Pale outline, not her dull-pony form, but some half-beast, half-pony creature with torn stumps of wings, its features bestial and yet etched with despair and longing before it once more reverted to the form of a Pale… and Scrivener cursed and quietly touched his forehead as Luna looked worriedly across at him. “Just the suddenness of the storm coming on…”
“It will be alright, my daydreamer…” Luna paused, then glanced quietly down at Discombobulation before she frowned as she saw the Draconequus shivering, the Ambrosia rippling around him as he covered his face. “Bob…”
But the chimera creature only shook his head weakly in response, and Scrivener grimaced a bit as he looked up… and winced as thunder boomed outside and the air sizzled around them with almost visible arcs of darkness, and he saw not Luna laying across from him, but instead Nightmare Moon. His eyes widened, then he blinked and cursed… and once more it was only Luna looking worriedly across at him. “Daydreamer…”
“It’s… it’s alright, we’re all going to be okay.” Scrivener murmured, lowering his head as he kept his eyes closed… and while the beat of the heavy rain against the aura-enshrouded exterior of the cottage was almost soothing, the tenseness and sizzling corruption through the air that came with it was feeding all their worries, their passions, their hope and their despair. “It always starts rough…”
Then he winced as he felt something cold press against him, glancing to the side to see Pinkamena looking down imploringly at him before she jerked her head insistently to the side… and both Scrivy and Luna stared at her before the earth pony said flatly: “Go outside in this? Are you insane?”
Pinkamena glared at him and gritted her teeth, leaning down and almost shoving their faces together, cold frost kissing along Scrivener’s features as he winced back and Luna leaned up, feeling a shudder run through her body as the winged unicorn snapped: “Pinkamena, ‘tis madness! The storm is not natural, ‘tis Helheim’s spreading influence, ‘tis nature forced to bend and vomit Hell’s rabid disease… ‘tis not a happy shower to wash away the dirt!”
Pinkamena glared upwards at this, and then she stomped her hooves uselessly, cursing them both angrily and silently before glaring at Scrivy… and then Discombobulation hammered against the glass wall of his vial, and all eyes were drawn to him as he pointed at the message he had scrawled in black ink, Luna leading down to read this as thunder sizzled through the air, the Draconequus looking both terrified and determined all at once.
“‘Victory through defeat.’ Bob, that is the most ridiculous notion I have ever heard… made worse by the fact I wholeheartedly understand.” Luna said quietly, leaning down and frowning a bit… and then she sighed and looked pleadingly at the Draconequus as he leaned against the side of the vial, before wincing as there was another crackle. “Thou cannot be serious, thou of all creatures agrees with Pinkamena? But why?”
Discombobulation grumbled and hammered on the wall of the vial uselessly, giving her an exasperated look… and Luna muttered under her breath before she glanced up as Pinkamena shouted silently before bursting apart into dark smog, rushing sideways and colliding with a painting on the wall, a simple profile of a young, red-eyed foal that had been named Scarlet Sage… before the image twisted, the spackled silvery paint that made up her coat almost shimmering, the eyes taking on a terrible vibrancy as the reddish mane rolled and Pinkamena whispered out of the painting: “Because hiding in here is only making it worse… because we’re already broken and tainted. The protection surrounding this cottage is cracked anyway, we can all feel the corruption leaking in… and it preys on our emotions, Nightmare Moon, just like any other taint. Sometimes the only way to survive insanity is to plunge down the rabbit hole and play along with the crazy games and give in to the sweet sickness of delusion. Sometimes the only way to defeat fear is walk boldly out into its claws and let it consume you completely, until there’s nothing left for it to eat and it lays glutted and helpless.”
Scrivener closed his eyes, shivering as there was another peal of thunder, memories sparking in his mind of terrible things, a horrible thrill running down his spine at the thought of standing out in the full presence, the full terror of Hell’s storm… and Luna looked silently at the male before Nightmare Moon stroked through her mind and whispered: Remember what I said. Perhaps the only one here who’s scared anymore is you, Luna… maybe you’re the one magnifying all this out of proportion, because you don’t want the others to be exposed to this darkness… because you know, that still, we grow stronger. The shards of darkness inside of us, grow blacker with each passing day… but you forget that you have always been this way. You forget that the darkness without we absorb… is not the same as the darkness within that you fear so much and so deeply…
Luna cursed under her breath… but when Scrivy looked up, when their eyes met, she gritted her teeth before murmuring: “To bathe in shadow, to stand beneath a rain of poison and hope for the best, because staying inside our aged sanctuary riles us with indecision and panic… I do not like this.”
“You don’t have to.” Pinkamena said rudely from the painting, and then it returned to normal as the Pale burst out of it and landed on her hooves, dark shocks of energy traveling through her spirit as she leaned towards them insistently.
Discombobulation shrugged as he stood up, fearful but ready… and Luna shook her head before she sighed and raised her head, her horn glowing and lifting the vial to float beside her as Scrivener stood shakily up on his hooves, murmuring quietly: “It’s a heavy storm, at that…”
“Aye. A storm we face… together.” Luna laughed faintly, looking back and forth as there was a crackle through the air, wincing a bit as she felt Nightmare Moon twist inside her eagerly, as Pinkamena grinned even as invisible tears slid along her frozen cheeks and Discombobulation hugged himself tightly. “This is the stupidest thing we have ever done.”
Scrivener smiled faintly… and then he and Luna took the lead, walking down the corridor towards the closed, glowing door leading out of their home, Discombobulation’s vial floating alongside them and Pinkamena following, before Scrivy reached out and grasped the handle… then he gritted his teeth before yanking the door open, and he cursed in surprise at the reek that greeted his nostril: of ice and sulfur, of ashes and wood-smoke. The mix was sour and aromatic all at once, and they stared out for a moment at the black rain beyond that soaked the landscape in liquid darkness, as shapes writhed through the storm, as purple and red lightning crackled through the roiling, rumbling clouds above.
Scrivener Blooms and Luna gazed at each other silently… and then both walked ahead and into the black rain, and Luna gritted her teeth and arched her back as Scrivener clenched his eyes shut, bowing his head forwards. They had felt it before, but never in such quantity, never had they stood brazenly in a literal storm of corruption, never had they faced it like this. It awoke memories, made their nerves tingle, made their bodies shiver as they both panted hard… and then Luna’s back arched as she straightened, her eyes glowing as her body expanded and her mane sizzled, becoming like blue flame as her form changed to that of Nightmare Moon’s.
She gasped, her sharp teeth glinting as sparks of pain radiated through her body before she clenched her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. Beside her, Scrivener stared up at her… and then he closed his own eyes, bowing his head, feeling a shiver pulse through his body. He lowered his head forwards as darkness-made-liquid spilled along his body… and then, the eyes of the soul-bound ponies snapped open at once as they arched their backs, hearts beating a perfect pulse, in perfect time, as they stared up into the darkness with wonderment.
The pain was gone… the fear was gone… and most important of all, the lucidity was still there. Corruption sparked and slid over their bodies, and whether or not the others could see it, when Luna looked at Scrivener she saw not just a pony, but a pony more than half-warped towards the shape of Tyrant Wyrm… and yet they were both at peace, here in Hell, here in the place that they had always feared would consume and destroy them.
And Pinkamena was calm as well, the Pale almost physical beneath the downpour, gazing with tranquility towards the sky from beneath her straight waterfall mane, a faint smile on her face… and on the other side of the pair, Discombobulation stood at his old tall height, his vial laying open on its side, the Draconequus breathing hard but with eagle talon and shaggy arm crossed, streams of black water sliding down the crimson scales of his face like dark tears.
They stood together beneath the black rain, with the glowing sanctuary of their cabin to their back… but Luna felt finally like she no longer needed it. She realized that for eight years, for all the time they had lived in this Hell-corrupted world, for all the enjoyments they had discovered, for all the fighting they had done, for all the faucets of themselves they had opened and given vent to… for eight years, she and Scrivener Blooms had also been cowards. They had refused to face their fears, they had refused to face the corruption or the consequences of it, they had rationalized, raged, and most of all, run away.
Despite knowing that the darkness fed best off their insecurities, that fleeing from it was what would empower it most of all… they had all the same, always run. Always found a reason to avoid giving in entirely… always tried to hide their desires away in what they called ‘nightmares,’ fearing what the corruption would make them do… fearing most of all what the shadowy parts inside themselves desired. It was easier to avoid and lay blame… and Luna closed her eyes slowly, her Nightmare Moon body shivering as the fiery blue of her ephemeral mane sparkled with stars and electricity, as the darkness slid over her, almost invisible against her ebony coat as she whispered: “Fear can only stab the fleeing back… it cannot maim a visage that faces it…”
“Ignorance and cowardice are what Helheim preys on… those who find the strength to face it are not cursed, but perhaps… blessed, in some dark, strange way…” Scrivener whispered, looking up as flashes of lightning sparked overhead, as the rain fell over them, warming their bodies, and then he laughed weakly, whispering: “I can’t understand it. But most of all, I can’t understand how we could always talk such a big game and at the end of the day end up being such wimps, Luna.”
Luna smiled faintly at this, blushing despite herself… a strange expression on the face of the enormous ebony Nightmare Moon, and he shook her head slowly as she murmured: “Because, Scrivener Blooms… we do not always think. We are stubborn… perhaps, even arrogant at times. We are flawed… and we are… scared of ourselves. I will admit that… for I do not think it always weakness, all the same. Perhaps it is healthy, in a way, to be a little afraid of what we would do permitted full freedom to explore our most dark of desires… but it is not healthy to deny who we are, it is not healthy to run from it, it is not healthy to hide it away in the shadows.”
“Just like with sissy… she stuffed me through the mirror, and I got stronger, even as I got more insane and… and weaker.” Pinkamena murmured, and both Scrivener and Luna glanced at her with surprise as she grinned, looking almost physical as the black rain spilled over her body, gray-pink form pulsing with atramentous luminescence. “It’s the energy in the air… the energy of the corruption, the reality-distorting powers of Hell. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Discombobulation?”
“Yes, I do. It’s enough to stabilize me, or keep me unstable, whichever way you prefer to look at it… perhaps I should just have said ‘it’s enough.’” Discombobulation said softly over the heavy patter of the rainfall. His voice was calm, his tone cultured, as his eyes flicked upwards and his white pupils narrowed thoughtfully, a seven foot tall Draconequus that rested with head raised high. “Now I know all the better why Helheim and Ginnungagap hate one-another so… it is not just because one destroys and stops all motion, while the other thrills in starting the most crazed of perpetual movement… it is because like so many other things, we stem from the same source, we are paralleled antidote and poison for a body that needs neither.”
“I am glad thou art feeling better, Bob, but do not overexert thyself… and I do not know how healthy it is for a creature of chaos to stand in a rain of poison from Helheim.” Luna paused, then she smiled a bit, adding softly: “But of what do I know? Here I and Scrivener Blooms and Pinkamena all stand too, and it has done naught but clear our minds.”
“And my mind was very empty to begin with, so you have nothing to fear, touched as I am by your concern for my well-being.” Discombobulation replied calmly, and then he smiled a little as he reached up and rubbed at the underside of his muzzle thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s not healthy, but… as I have learned, life without risk and without doing unhealthy things is a very poor life. I was never more proud of myself than when I did the most idiotic thing of all and sacrificed my life – and dignity, I dare say – to help destroy that wretched Fafnir.”
He stopped, then quietly touched his chest and closed his eyes, saying quietly: “I suppose I truly earned the degrading nickname that Helheim’s kind has for mine… ‘patchwork doll.’ And I’m more patchwork than ever, if you must know… grateful as I am for being pieced back together, you see, I feel a part of me that’s very distinctly not a part of me, very alien to this exotic rat of Ginnungagap. A part of me that finds a sense of home in this poison even more than I find a feeling of home myself… a part of now-me used to glue the other parts of me together by a not-god who probably didn’t have a sharp enough eye to make out the subtle differences between the silk and the spiderwebs. Yes, exactly: I’ve had a little plastic surgery and an organ transplant or two, and I believe the skin grafts and the gooey insides came from the only available donor at the time, who would have been laying in as many wretched pieces as me, just with a different kind of madness keeping him alive instead of dissolving away. Fafnir.”
Luna frowned at this, both she and Scrivener looking sharply towards Discombobulation… but the Draconequus only smiled faintly as he hugged himself and shivered a bit. “Worry not, Scrivener Blooms, it is not like you, or Luna, or even the nasty little devil sprite. Nor do I believe I’m about to begin seeing ghosts and terrible grim reapers, all while being unable to stop them, and nor do I have any plans of pursuing the reasons behind these haunting grim images to an old beach house if I do. It is just… uncomfortable to know that the resin and sap and wood that was used to help piece this puppet together comes from the gallows tree, where countless souls both innocent and murderous were hung until they died.”
The tall winged unicorn nodded slowly, then she bowed her head forwards and smiled a bit, saying softly: “Then perhaps thou can take solace in the fact that even pieced together from a killer’s parts… I do not believe that thou could any more freely take a life than thou could go ten minutes without annoying someone, Bob.”
“Or five minutes without a pop culture reference.” Scrivener added with a bit of a smile, glancing towards the Draconequus, and the chimerical creature chuckled quietly as he looked back at them, before the four all glanced up as there was a crackle of thunder above their heads, purple shocks bursting through the clouds above as the dark rain continued to fall in a torrent around them, hitting the ground with the sound of a thousand stomping hooves and yet barely felt by those gathered.
And in silence they stood beneath the rain together, beneath the fall of corruption, in a moment of peace brought about by the strangest, darkest storm, as they silently renewed their hopes, their dreams, and their determination for a better future.
The storm continued to rage outside, despite the fact that hours had passed… and Luna and Scrivener lay comfortably lay half-curled together on the futon, Scrivy resting his head against the female’s side. Pinkamena had vanished without a word, and Discombobulation was back inside his vial, once more tiny and sleeping comfortably in the bath of Ambrosia, a little pale but at the same time looking much happier and far less fragile than before.
Luna was smiling softly, Nightmare Moon receded in body and mind, the passionate darkness once more locked away somewhere down deep in perhaps the depths of her soul as she sketched quietly on a large paper pad by hoof. She gazed thoughtfully over the image, splotched here and there with eraser marks, smudged a bit by her sometimes-overeager movements, and then she bit her tongue as she made one smooth, slightly-twisted stroke with the pencil before grumbling under her breath. “Accursed expressions can be so difficult… absolutely ridiculous how one foul curve in one foul line can distort or glorify an entire picture…”
“You’re talking to yourself again.” Scrivy mumbled against Luna’s side, and she absently reached back and smacked him, knocking his glasses askew from his features and sending them tumbling to the bedding, but the earth pony only yawned, reaching down to toss these lightly off to the side before half-crawling over the winged unicorn and burying his face against one wing. “Also, you’re drawing me in… uglier-than-I-already-am form. Of course it’s going to look grim and distorted.”
“Thy face is grim and distorted.” Luna grumbled, and she slapped at him again with a roll of her eyes, but the earth pony only huffed and lightly hit back at her flank. “Anyway, I feel… compelled to draw this. I like it. ‘Tis fun. And thou cannot stop me so there.”
She looked over her shoulder and blew a short raspberry at him, and Scrivener grumbled under his breath before he finally sat up, stretching absently and mumbling: “Well, I’m tired of exploring my deranged psychology. I’m also tired of this storm. Now that we’ve finally been exposed to the corruption so much we don’t feel it anymore – or you know, whatever happened, in smarter-sounding words – it’s just a big rainstorm that stops us from going outside or doing anything, and much as I like being inside and enjoy the sound of the rain… it still makes me feel tired and like complaining.”
“Everything makes thou complain, insufferable beetle.” Luna grumbled, and Scrivener shrugged moodily after a moment before she glared at him challengingly. “Do not force me to draw thee engaging in horribly depraved acts.”
“Because yes, that would be so scarring compared to you forcing those mental images into my brain like you already do every so often.” Scrivener retorted dryly, and Luna paused before she looked at him thoughtfully, the male wincing and covering his head. “Okay, okay, don’t, you win! I’ll go and do the dishes.”
“No, no, thou shalt not. Instead, thou shall lay down here with me.” Luna replied firmly, and Scrivener gave her an amused look before he squawked when her horn glowed blue, a firm telekinetic grip seizing him by the head and yanking him back down to half-flop over her, and Luna nodded firmly after a moment as she turned her attention back to sketching, saying kindly: “’Twould be wonderful of thee to massage my back, Scrivy. I may even forego pummeling thee if thou does so.”
“How generous.” Scrivener said drolly, and he smiled despite himself after a moment as he slipped upwards and straddled her lower back, resting his weight down on her and making her smile as she closed her eyes for a moment. His front hooves rubbed upwards along either side of her spine to her shoulders, working and massaging gently as he leaned over her and gazed down with soft entertainment, her flickering mane spilling off to one side to allow him easier access as he gazed past her head and watched her continue to draw.
It was fascinating to him: the way she moved, adding a line here, shading a little there, not really following any order or clear thought, making changes based mostly on her whims. It made him smile to watch, as his hooves gently worked along her shoulders, one hoof sliding through her ephemeral mane and sending a distinct tingling along his foreleg as he leaned a little further down and murmured softly: “You know, you’re actually making me look okay. Like one of those comic book superheroes or something. One of the ones with the really screwed-up back-story and is probably more hated than respected even by the ponies he saves.”
“Oh, Scrivy, thou art the most insufferable mix of sweet and sour. We should bottle thy words and sell them… ‘twould surely make us rich.” Luna replied dryly, not looking up from the page as she shaded the darker patches of scale in thoughtfully. “Thou art so strange though, Scrivener Blooms… why did thou never simply… pursue thy dreams in life?”
“Because then I never would have ended up in Canterlot with you. Maybe it was destiny that made me a selfish, unmotivated loser.” Scrivener replied with a smile, and Luna laughed at this before she cursed when she accidentally dragged the pencil against the page and left a long line extending off Scrivener’s back. “I don’t think I have one of those.”
Luna began to open her mouth… and then she closed it thoughtfully before beginning to draw quickly, and Scrivener frowned curiously as he leaned over her shoulder, the winged unicorn adding more lines that seemed disconnected at first, but shortly became a large, draconic wing before she smiled slightly… and Scrivener smiled despite himself at this, gazing down at it and half-leaning his body overtop hers as he said softly: “Tyrant Wyrms don’t have wings, though… and you know I hate flying.”
“Aye, I do… and Scrivener Blooms, thou art no Tyrant Wyrm, whatever the creature’s corruption did to thee.” Luna said softly, and Scrivener smiled as he closed his eyes, pushing his face against the back of her head as he embraced her tightly around the neck, Luna reaching a hoof up to quietly touch one limb. “And whether or not thou enjoys the skies… thou art always soaring in my eyes.”
Scrivener laughed despite himself, murmuring softly against her starry locks as they sizzled gently against his features: “You’re the true poet in this relationship, Luna. My words can’t hold a candle to yours.”
“Only because thou insists upon using thy gifts to write poems of horrible despair and darkness most of the time, Scrivener Blooms.” Luna replied with a slight smile, eyes flicking backwards as she slid her hoof along his forelimb to gently grasp the male’s own. “I have a pondering, Scrivy.”
“When don’t you?” Scrivener leaned back, smiling despite himself, and Luna grumbled as she closed the notebook and put it and her pencil aside, before she wiggled beneath him until she managed to roll over as the male raised himself a bit, then laid down and rested his front hooves on her shoulders as she played her own against his chest. Scrivy’s weight pressed quietly down against her, and Luna flicked her head to the side, their eyes meeting and trading emotions and thoughts and affections before the earth pony gave her a quietly-entertained look. “You’re hiding it from me.”
“Only because thou art being nosy. Nosy-nosy-nosy.” Luna retorted, and she blushed a bit before squeezing into his shoulders, leaning up and kissing his lips suddenly and quickly, and the male blinked before he smiled when she dropped back and asked curiously: “How would thou like me to polymorph thee for a time into thine subconscious form in the real world?”
Scrivener reared back in dumb surprise at this, not knowing what to even think, and Luna blushed a little deeper before she said awkwardly: “’Tis… just a random idea that occurred, Scrivy, that is all. Thou knows it is not hard for me to temporarily transform one shape to another… and I know that… in taking on Nightmare Moon’s shape myself as I have over the years, for one purpose or another… in a way, it has made me more… I know not. Accepting of her necessity in my life? Or simply more confident that no matter what I look like, I am the controller of my destiny. I… I only wish to aid thee, even if it sounds… awkward, I know. Oh, silence, Scrivy, ‘tis dumb.”
“It’s not dumb. At all.” Scrivener said softly, leaning down and kissing her cheek, and Luna smiled lamely even as a faint blush tinged her dark sapphire body. He drew back a bit, looking down at her curiously, and then he smiled awkwardly and asked softly: “How long were you thinking? And this isn’t just so you can live out some awkward fantasy of yours, is it?”
“Oh, Scrivener Blooms. Were we not connected in soul and did I not know thee so well, I would smite thee horribly.” Luna said dryly, and Scrivener shrugged amiably, which only made her sigh and roll her eyes even as she fought back a smile. “’Twould only be a short-term transformation, I think. Perhaps a day at most… I am not sure how difficult the spell would be to cast, after all. I can transform thee with almost the same ease I can change myself, after all, and as I will be creating a reflection of thy subconscious and thou will be able to greatly aid me in the crafting of the polymorph, both physically and mentally…”
“I get what you mean, Luna, yeah.” Scrivener nodded after a moment, and then he looked down at her thoughtfully before he finally gave a smile, saying quietly: “Alright. I’d… be willing to try, Luna, just to-”
“Then let us try it right now!” Luna said firmly, and Scrivener groaned and dropped his head forwards before he blushed when Luna seized him by the back of the skull and leaned her forehead up to press against his own, her horn pushing along his scalp as she said softly: “No fear, and no regrets, Scrivener Blooms. Close thine eyes and concentrate.”
Scrivener did so, taking a slow breath as he let his weight rest down on Luna, her horn beginning to glow, thrumming softly against him as she pushed back up beneath the comforting mass of the male… and as their hearts, their souls, their minds began to move as one, as Scrivy felt his skin begin to tickle, his muscles flex, his frame shiver, he felt Luna’s emotions and compassion and love and-
There was a spark in his mind, and Scrivener looked back and forth in surprise as he found himself standing alone, lost in darkness… before a grinning face of muck and mire and toxin leaned down out of the shadows, grotesque and alien, draconic as an amber eye glowed terribly in one socket and blue light shone out of the other. Scrivener snarled up at this, a chill rolling down his spine as the creature whispered: “See? More and more, you become like us. This is destiny. This is fate. You helped kill us, but we do not experience death like pathetic mortals do… our Black Verses live inside you, and thus so do we. And you destroyed our creator, our master, our king… but all that has done is free us, and make us understand that in you there is great potential, for great destruction. Now you become us. Now we become you. In body, and soon in mind. We are Tyrant Wyrm; you are Tyrant Wyrm. You cannot change your destiny. You are poison, and we are eager to show you torment that makes even Helheim quake…”
Scrivener looked silently up at this face, seeing the Tyrant Wyrm in it, seeing Valthrudnir in it, seeing everything he feared and hated, and in some terrible, never-healed, broken part of himself, longed for and even admired… and he forced himself to take a slow breath before he looked up and said quietly: “I don’t care.”
The corruption snarled down at him at this, and Scrivener felt his confidence returning as he stepped forwards, continuing clearly, coldly: “Whatever else you are, you’re a tumor, a cyst, a boil, an infection, left behind by a parasite. Now, I’ve dealt with a lot of parasites and tumors over the course of my life. Editors, snobs, critics, and worst of all, fellow writers, or, as they would always carefully call themselves with such dignity and refinement, ‘authors.’ Normally I don’t argue with them, but when they really get out of hoofon their high-and-mighty streak, then I start to lose my temper a little.
“So first let me say I appreciate your constructive criticism. You’re right, I’m not entirely a pony anymore… but I never said I was a normal pony even to begin with. I think you misinterpreted that and reached a little too far when you said I was ‘Tyrant Wyrm.’” Scrivener continued drolly, and the corrupt face only stared down at him disbelievingly. “You also seem to have a bad grasp of what certain words actually mean: saying that I will become you, and you’ll become me, well, that all sounds nice and fancy, but you’re a giant monster made mostly from decomposing sludge and I am a frustrated, obnoxious poet. If we really did become each other we would trade places. You would be me, and I would be you. So I would be the annoying voice in your head compelling you to pointless acts of destruction and pain and you would be the jerk pony being beaten up by Luna all the time. It’s very prosaic but I think what you literally mean is ‘we shall fuse together and become a new entity.’ Although I think what you really mean is that you’re going to absorb me somehow and turn me physically into some manifestation of a Tyrant Wyrm, and I’m having trouble seeing how that’s going to happen.
“Next. You continue to purposefully over-exaggerate my emotions. You seem to forget that first and foremost I’ve never exactly been Mr. Happy Pony, and this whole being a moody, cynical jerk thing is not entirely because of you. Nor is the fact I obviously enjoy lording power over another pony in one way or another.” Scrivener sat back and flailed his hooves at the air, and the monstrosity snarled as it leaned down, glaring at him furiously as the light intensified in its sockets. “You’re doing this really annoying habit some people seem to have: you make the story all about you, and what you want, and what you desire, and what you believe in, and what you think should happen. But guess what? It’s not your story. I am the writer – oh sorry, author – and it’s my story. You’re the audience. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. And if you continue to claim you hate it, why the hell is it you sit back, reading it again and again, giving me these long, drawn-out editorials on exactly why you hate it so much, telling me all these mistakes I’m doing wrong that often fall to matter of personal preference or simple intolerance for being unable to see anything any way apart from your own goddamn narcissistic world view? You know what that tells me? You don’t actually hate it. You hate what it makes you feel. You hate that it’s a good story. You hate that you are not nearly as good at your job, as I am at mine. You’re that annoying brat who flunked out of art school and spends his whole day sitting moodily around galleries telling people in a loud voice all the tiny flaws that are wrong with their pictures, so that you can try and make them as miserable as you are.
“Well guess what? It isn’t going to work anymore.” Scrivener snapped, and he strode forwards as the creature looked down at him with surprise before he drew a hoof back and slammed it into the monstrosity’s nose, sending up a splatter of black mire and making it flinch back in shock as its jaws fell stupidly open. “No matter how this story ends, I refuse to worry anymore about trying to change it, to make anyone happy… including my own goddamn self! I am not the potter, I am only the potter’s clay… I am only the tool through which these things are written. I don’t know where they come from, I don’t know how they begin, and I never know how they end… I just put the words on paper. Just like my life, monster: my hooves are going to walk down this path and find the way no matter what, and I’m not going to fight against it, and I’m not going to run away. I’m going to walk the path in front of me, I’m going to make the decisions where I can, but it’s not about what you want. It’s not about what I want. It’s just about living my goddamn life instead of trying to control every last thing or letting myself be controlled by every outside influence, and all I know is that I’m sick and tired of you trying to scare me and order me around and I’m ready to embrace the future of this story, whatever the hell it holds. So bring it on, crowbait. I’m right here!”
Scrivener Blooms breathed hard in and out, glaring up at the monster as slime and bog-filth dripped from its features… and then the creature snarled slowly before it leaned down and roared furiously with enough force to send Scrivy skidding backwards with a wince, his mane blowing back and his eyes widening as poison and spittle splattered over him before the creature’s jaws lunged forwards, the male clenching his eyes shut-
“Daydreamer?” Luna asked worriedly, and Scrivener’s eyes fluttered before they hesitantly opened, gazing dumbly down at the sight of the winged unicorn looking up at him with concern in her deep, dark eyes. “What is wrong, husband? I sensed a flurry of emotions in the moments the transformation took… I heard a growl, and I heard thou lashing out in anger at something I could ill define…”
“You have pretty eyes.” Scrivy said lamely, and Luna blushed a bit in surprise even as their irises locked and they traded thoughts back and forth… before she smiled in soft entertainment and embraced him fiercely around the neck, and he hugged her tightly back, claw gently stroking through her mane before he blinked and stared dumbly over her shoulder as he rose this warped, twisted limb. “What?”
“As I said… the transformation took only moments. Thou art… malleable.” Luna said softly, and Scrivener smiled despite himself as he leaned slowly backwards, flexing his body as he glanced over himself, realizing he was larger… larger even than Luna now, his body distorted here and there, half-Wyrm, half-pony. A long tail snapped lazily back and forth, and Scrivener tried to move this carefully to his will as a wing stretched out… and the male’s eyes widened in surprise before he looked at Luna, who only shrugged and grinned up at him. “’Twas not a bad addition, I think, creature. Besides, thou cannot fly with just the one wing.”
Scrivener glanced back over his shoulder as the leathery, thick black wing stretched outwards, tipped with a claw at one end, strong and wide… and he whistled slowly after a moment as he flapped it once, then flexed it forwards, half-curling it around himself as he murmured: “Feels rubbery. Feels pretty damn easy to move too.”
“Good.” Luna said softly, and Scrivy returned his eyes to her embarrassedly before she reached up and gently touched his shoulders. “Thou has nothing to fear, daydreamer. I am here to catch thee, should thou stumble… and more importantly, I see now… thou has braved the monster inside thyself, the face thou feared most of all. Or perhaps the word is not ‘braved,’ the phrase I seek is more akin to ‘once more lost thy temper and yelled at things much larger than thou art.’”
“So okay, I have slight temper issues sometimes, but only with certain things.” Scrivener mumbled, and then he cleared his throat before he smiled a little, pushing down against her quietly, and she closed her eyes with a smile at the feeling of his weight, his body, his heat gently moving down against her, at the powerful thud of his heart as her own beat in easy time. “Thank you for… for doing this, Luna. I have to admit… it feels almost natural. And it’s nice to be bigger and scarier than the warrior princess.”
Luna snorted in amusement at this, grinning as she pushed her hooves against his chest and leaned upwards challengingly. “Oh truly, Scrivy, is that all thou cares about? Such a modest male, such a dignified beast thou art.” She paused, then half-lidded her eyes, stroking teasingly along his body. “But indulge me then, daydreamer… what would thou do if thou had thine princess trapped and helpless to resist thee, oh great and terrible monster? Would thou… gobble me down, tender morsel that I am?”
Scrivy couldn’t help but grin wider at this… and an hour later, he lay curled tightly around Luna, the winged unicorn smiling at the warmth of her husband’s body and the feeling of being enfolded completely in his embrace… not something she was able to feel very often, being larger than he was, before she laughed as he nipped the side of her ear before whispering into it: “I thought this wasn’t about fulfilling your horrible unhealthy fantasies.”
“Oh shut up, Scrivy, thou enjoyed it.” Luna retorted, and then she squirmed around to roll over and shove her face against the side of his neck, grinding against smooth scale and tangled mane as she wrapped her forelegs tightly around him and felt his own limbs encircle her, hugging her tightly into his body as she added with a mumble: “And get not such ideas into thy head. I am merely continuing the fantasy. Thine own sick fantasy. Chauvinist beetle-monster.”
“Yep, that’s me. A chauvinist beetle-monster.” Scrivener murmured agreeably, and then he kissed the side of her horn gently, a soft spark of blue flicking along the spire as Luna gave a sigh of relaxation against him, squirming herself tighter and closer. “This is still easily among the weirdest idea you’ve ever had though, Luna, just so we’re clear on that.”
“Yes, well, the point of it is to make thee comfortable with thyself, to let thee understand that… no matter what the outer shell, thou art who thou art.” Luna shrugged a bit, playing a hoof quietly across his chest as she added softly: “’Tis not like it is entirely without selfishness though, Scrivy, for whatever benefits thee also benefits me… and I often… am at war with myself over how I treat thee, and Nightmare Moon ponders the same: do I corrupt thee for my own ends? Or is this awkward attempt after attempt at saving thee somehow?”
“You’re being weird, Luna.” Scrivy said kindly, and Luna rolled her eyes and headbutted him lightly, making him snort in amusement as he leaned back a bit before gently pushing her away so he could stand up and stretch, cracking his back absently… and then grinning down at her when she got to her own hooves, saying meditatively: “I really, really do enjoy being taller than you, though.”
Luna grumbled at this and responded by reaching up to seize him by the head before yanking him hard down with a firm twist to the side, Scrivener crashing loudly back to the bedding with a wheeze of surprise before the winged unicorn sniffed and said disdainfully: “The larger the giant, the greater its fall, Scrivener Blooms. Especially when weighted by an ego such as thine own.”
“If we’re going to talk ego here, Luna, you’re the one who bends space and time.” Scrivener retorted as he stood back up… then grinned and caught her by the face with his gnarled claw when she tried to headbutt him, making her squawk in surprise. “Also, I am well-aware that you can still beat the snot out of me, but at least now I’ve got the weight and reach advantage.”
The winged unicorn grumbled, then huffed when Scrivener’s claw stroked quietly backwards, playing through her mane, and she fought back a smile as she looked up at him and said firmly: “Thou art incorrigible.”
“I love you too, Luna.” Scrivy replied mildly, and Luna sighed and rolled her eyes as the male’s claw dropped away before he winked and strode past her, saying kindly: “Come on then. Let’s see if I can still make you a proper snack in this big body of mine.”
“Agreed.” Luna nodded firmly, then she smiled despite herself at her husband’s back, softening visibly as part of her felt happiness for the way Scrivy was beginning to accept his darkness… and part of her wondered if this was truly a step forwards, or just a hidden power play by her own selfish passions.