//------------------------------// // Question // Story: Rekindled Embers: Mercury's Journal // by applezombi //------------------------------// Mercury’s Journal, Trip to Celena’s Junction, Day 10 I didn’t sleep all night. I stared at the roof of my wagon.  My private wagon, the one I didn’t have to share with anypony else. Alone. I could still hear the sounds of celebration going on outside well into the night.   My robes hung, draped over the end of my hammock.  I stared at them, a pale white lump in the darkness. They were everything I was.  And I hated them. When did that change?  I remember when I first took upon myself the mark of Saint Rarity, her symbol, her charge, her duties and her demeanor.  I remember I felt proud.  Putting on my armor for the first time was one of the most affirming moments of my entire life. When did that all change?  What went wrong? I think I’m starting to realize that it never ‘went’ wrong.  That things were wrong to begin with.  And I just ignored it. There was a knock on the outside of my wagon.  It was Ghost Pepper. I didn’t want him to see me like this.  I may have shouted something hostile. “Can I come in?” I may have shouted something hostile and vulgar. “Okay, Mercury.  But you know where to find me if you need me.” I felt awful about it the second he was gone.  Hopefully he’ll forgive me. Throughout this trip, Ghost Pepper has been a constant presence.  Always there to support, never judging me.  My mind wandered back over all of our interactions.  Over every word I’d ever said.  Every judgemental, condescending, superior, and smug piece of verbal horseshit. It burned worse than my jealousy. I’ve always prided myself on self-awareness. In Seminary, they taught us that it was a strength to be able to look at one’s self, to honestly and carefully assess our own weaknesses and failings like a surgeon looking for a tumor. The process, as I was taught, started with prayer. But who did I pray to?  The Saints?  Over and over again, I betrayed them with my thoughts, my actions, my sinful lusts and my bitter jealousies. The batpony’s Many-Faced One?  I knew nothing of their god.  Certainly not enough to pray to her.  Or him.  Or them. I felt unmoored.  Like I was tied to nothing, a leaf floating in a tornado, tossed about and torn apart.  And there was nopony I could tie myself to. That wasn’t true.  There was Ghost Pepper.  He’d offered. I got out of my hammock and left my wagon. The sun was just rising, but there was evidence that the celebration had lasted until nearly sunrise.  Some ponies were still milling about, chatting and drinking. I had a moment of shock, and a little outrage.  Had Lily Bloom been up all night drinking?  She was only thirteen. I saw her, and was relieved to see that she didn’t look hungover.  In fact, she looked lovely.  Somepony had taken the time to braid her golden mane, and there was some sort of cosmetic glitter on her wings.  She looked radiant.  Radiant and happy. I’d been about to seek out Ghost Pepper, to talk to him.  But something in me made me approach her first. She was surrounded by well-wishers, many of whom bristled at my approach.  They said nothing, though it was clear they were ready to leap to her defense if I said anything. I had no plans for that. “How did you know?” I asked her. Nothing else.  Even to my own ears, I sounded desperate.  Hungry to understand.  To be able to tie myself to something that made sense in the universe, because nothing did right now. She didn’t owe me any answers.  But there was kindness in her young eyes when she answered.  I think she could tell.  I think she saw right through me. “It wasn’t a sudden thing, it was gradual,” she told me.  “But a thousand little things.  Bits and pieces out of place.  Feeling uncomfortable in my own skin.  Things didn’t look right.  Clothes didn’t fit right.  And my name, even though I loved it and I loved my parents for giving it to me?  It wasn’t right.  So I talked about doing the ritual with them.  We picked my new name together.” “It’s a beautiful name,” I said.  It felt like a stupid thing to say.  It had nothing to do with what I was trying to figure out.  And I was an outsider here.  Who cared if I thought the name was beautiful? “Thank you,” she said, and blushed.  “I love it.” There was something so simple and effortless about the conversation.  Natural and comfortable.  It didn’t slip past me that ponies having the very same conversation, back at home, would be shunned.  Persecuted.  Arrested. That was wrong. “Thank you,” I said.  “For letting me watch.  It was a beautiful ceremony.” She thanked me again, and there was nothing else for me to say.  I said my farewells and wandered off.  I couldn’t help but notice the shocked faces on the well-wishers around Lily. I needed to talk to Ghost Pepper.  To apologize for chasing him off last night.  But something was happening.  Something I’d shoved deep.  Something that was starting to make more sense than anything had ever made sense in my life before. I had one stop to make, to the pony in charge of caravan supplies.  I didn’t need much; just a small bottle of off-white paint. I came back to my wagon.  We weren’t going to be going anywhere today; even though Lily didn’t drink for her celebration, it was clear that many other ponies had, and would need a bit of a recovery day.  Once I was there, I pulled out my journal. This journal. I read every entry since my journey began.  I read about my time as a hostage on a pirate ship.  About how Captain Yukie was so patient with me, so knowing.  She knew something was different about me from the beginning.  She was so confident, and I was such a naive idiot. She was my first infatuation, I think.  And I only knew her for a few weeks. I read about Bolero, and the jealousy I felt when I saw him with his lover.  They were truly happy, in a way that flew in the face of everything I’d been taught.  I could see the journey my mind was taking, as things I had previously abhorred became things I now realized were beautiful. I read about meeting Ghost Pepper.  I read my slow, dawning realization that he was infatuated with me, and the world-shattering knowledge that a pony could be attracted to both mares and stallions.  I realized I was attracted to him. No. That wasn’t enough. When I thought about Ghost Pepper, it wasn’t the physical that I thought about.  It wasn’t his muscles, or his flank, or his gorgeous face that came to mind when I thought about him.  It was more than that.  It was his kindness and his patience with my failings. His easy charm as he spoke with me.  His clear confidence both when he’s cooking or when he’s leading.  His smile. Saints.  I’m in love with him.  And I’m okay with it. But first things first. I closed the journal and I prayed.  Harder than I’d ever prayed before.  I prayed to Saint Applejack, the Saint of Honesty.  I prayed to the Many-Faced One.  I prayed to all the Saints, to the Diarchs themselves.  To any gods that would listen.  I prayed for hours. And there was nothing but silence.   But wasn’t that an answer, in a way?  If there was one thing I’d learned, through everything I’d written in my journal, is that truths come to me when I challenge my assumptions.  Epiphany doesn’t come from some outside source, but from my own examination of prejudice, bias, and weakness.  And maybe that’s what the Many-Faced One had to teach me.  Or maybe it was Saint Applejack.  I don’t know.  But as I knelt there, communing with the higher powers above me, I was sure of several things. I took the paint, and went through my journal.  It wasn’t a bonfire.  But it was something.  My own ‘Moon Ceremony’.  I erased my old name, but not the things I had done. Because who I was brought me here, to where I am today. I am now Mercury Shine.  I am a stallion.  And my old name is dead.  I own it, because I own who I was, but who I was is not who I am now. My past is not today. As soon as I finish this entry, I am going to find Ghost Pepper, and tell him about all of this.  Tell him my new name, my new self. And then I’m going to ask him to kiss me.