//------------------------------// // Chapter 10: Perspective // Story: Millennial Heartstrings // by The Apologetic Pony //------------------------------// My next slumber was to be haunted with ill dreams. That was another thing about having Luna gone. Her soothing presence wasn’t here anymore, even to those who needed her most. Even I, craved her, in such lonely nights, if only to ask her how she was doing. I suspect, since she had been gone, all dreaming creatures had found themselves, at least once, being devoured by some hideous monstrosity. Or having their family torn apart. Or having a loved one die in front of them. Inducing a brief, awful delirium upon waking. I mused, that, maybe, Celestia had been the one to be banished, in her dreams. My impression had been of a begrudging acceptance of there being no such thing of a Lunar goddess, more majestic and kind than the sun’s counterpart would ever be. The only face of the throne, was of the regal diplomat. Not the one who strived to fix your troubles in the most intimate of ways: via one’s dreams. Not she who made the stars twinkle and prevented wars. For there was no such ‘She’. A myth, a legend, a whimsical fairytale. Too perfect, for this reality. How was she doing, up there, all alone? More resolute than ever to have eternal night? Meekly crying, where none could hear her? While trying to remember what it was like to love, wishing she was dead. Pessimistic, I knew, but one would think that all was within the realm of possibility for Luna under such dire circumstances. Father, and Mother, were still nowhere to be seen. I had no choice to recklessly love another butterfly again. Merely caring about one of them would surely weakened my ability to stave off those black thoughts significantly blurring the line between such thoughts and the norm. If there was such thing as a norm. It was terrifying -- I was falling apart faster in these few centuries than I’d ever done so in all of those millenniums previous. Curiosity was powering me to join in with the mortals, dragging me down, further, into the void as it did so. Or, was it something more? By all means, it was truly exhilarating, in its own way... Finding myself being drawn, closer; faster to a self-inflicted end than I’d ever been before. My own kind of addiction, as it were. And in spite of what it did to me, I savoured it, for all the short-lived pleasure it provided. It felt good to throw away all the things a phoenix supposed to be doing. No more did I have to restrict myself to an observer. Now I was prepared to readily love mortality, suffer as they suffered and suffer ever-more when they, ironically, did not. And I go mad like they did, I’d grow bored of all things like they did and I’d love their newborns as they did. Though to me, effectively, they were all newborns. All fleeting butterflies. Charlie had certainly done some interesting things to me. The only lingering doubt remaining came in the form of a vauge hesitation. I wanted to invest myself again, but, ideally there’d be some kind of reinforcement for it all. There was no reason to not take my time, particularly, it’s not as if I’d get through many more of them (I’d hope). So I took a day to drift back on over to the Everfree. It had been a while since I’d talked to the resident hydra. Perhaps he’d have something to say on the matter. If I was able to get him to talk to me at all. He’s quite fond of the little marsh of his and not particularly partial to letting more than bubbles escape the surface without good reason. Even though, sometimes, the different heads would push another to the surface to berate the other, often getting their necks tangled in the process. I’d learned that from my previous encounter with him (in all fairness, I should address each head separately). I waited on a dead tree for an angry head to emerge, as it inevitably would. It wasn’t until next dawn before one did; my patience was close to deserting me. The head’s attention was (understandably) diverted towards the colleague that just had forced him to the surface; I needed to squawk at full volume to get an eye in my direction. Fortunately, that worked and that particular head clumsily slithered his way between the other necks below to face me. He blinked dumbly for several seconds before the body it was attached turned onto its side consequently lurching the head back into the bog. The movement was enough to instigate a wave almost large enough to qualify as a small tsunami, breaking the tree I was perched on in an instant. I hardly managed to keep above the wave myself, backflipping once before I realised what was happening; then reacting to it. The roar of the muddy water that was mere inches below me was motivation enough to swiftly pull my form high, into the skies above. Looking at the destruction our resident hydra has caused by simply making a single unpredictable shift of his mass I doubted the ability for animals to like trees. Apart from the ones that were already dead, a couple were split, their splinters washed away with the tide. The few who had been affected but did survive had lost most of their bark and were horrifically impaled with the shards of their comrades. Apparently, the passive’s casualties came first and foremost. Collateral damage always came to those who wouldn’t retaliate. Of course it did: of course. Now I doubted if I should have come to see them, after all, I’d just contributed to a massacre. But it was too late now, I felt obligated to give the loss of life a reason, however shallow, it’d be better than no reason at all. What's more, provide some validity on the culprits. More like Culprit. The bog was considerably shallower, so I their acquired their attention with minimal difficulty. Four pairs of green eyes the size of myself desynchronizedly blinked at me. The four muscular, brown necks were ridiculously broad and constantly making small twitching motions to keep the great weight that rested on top of them steady. So constant was it, that if one looked at the heads alone, they appeared to be perpetually in motion. The mass on which the necks sprouted from was equally gigantic in proportion. The head on the left asked: ‘What does she want?’ That head (the first head, for identification purposes) seemed a little hostile. I’d forgotten about their odd habit to refer to other parties in third person. Presumably to prevent confusion between addressing a fellow appendage and me. Much to the three other’s surprise, the head left to the first blurted out. For all purposes, the second, head. ‘She wantsss, something elssse!’ I made sure to keep my distance, less a blanket of bad breath assault me. ‘She doessss not ssseeeek her audiences lightly.’ The third head spoke. ‘Only as lite as us!’ They all bellowed with laughter at the crude and unfunny pun, shaking the ground as they as they did so. The first continued to probe as to my purpose for being there. Were animals all the same, just on different scales? ‘Are her days not as halcyon?’ ‘Were her days ever halcyon?’ Again, the third head tried to supply a little dry wit, more for the others than me, I’d think. ‘Perhapssss shhheee wantsss to be sssaved from the cycle.’ The fourth still hadn’t said anything and looked quite bored about the whole thing, idly resting its head on the ground, until it was jarred by another spree of mirth. The first head leaned over and on nipped the fourth's neck, extending past the other two as he did. ‘Try to show some respect for the guest dear.’ He really didn’t like that. ‘But shes so boring, and I want to sleep!’ The second snarkily interjected, ‘Sleep when you're dead!’ Hydra’s are immortal too. The three who were (apparently) interested by my presence, whispered to each other (as best as those big, flappy jaws could) before they elegantly trapped the fourth so that his skin was twisted in opposite directions. One held his head down, while the other two wrapped and slid opposingly. Writhe as he might, he couldn’t escape the vices and he was forced to admit defeat. Presumably meaning he’d stay awake for me. ‘Forgive our friend, he can be a little lazy,’ the first head apologised as his own snapped at the fourth, eliciting a prolonged whimper. In all honesty, I felt sorry for the guy. It’d looked pretty painful. ‘It’s fine.’ ‘What do you want, bird?’ The newly-awoken fourth head glared at me, extending its neck shockingly fast considering the size of it, enough to have me make a little more distance. That was, until one of its mammoth leg, paw-thing took a step closer, eradicating the gap so that I could smell their putrid breath. I found myself squirming at the intimidation. There was no reason to be fearful, but my instincts screamed at me to flee and from that, a wild prospect crossed my mind. Would they be able to kill me, in absolute terms? I doubt they would, but it’d still be uselessly interesting to know. ‘Answers.’ ‘I told you sshe wantss to break out of the cycle!’ The second head then proceeded proved that it was a failure of a humour machine. ‘What kind of cycle?’ I... didn’t know how to respond to that. It was like watching four raucous, adolescent colts who had nothing better to do but to make fun of the mare. Not a beast of legends; slayer of the mightiest of foes. Or alternatively, a sage of the times. I felt a bit silly discussing such weighty matters with them, even though they seemed perfectly capable of it. The fourth provided some insight to the rest. ‘You want to die?’ ‘Could you do such a thing?’ I didn’t, but it wasn’t an option I’d previously been aware of. The first presented the obstacle. ‘But we are to be impartial, no? We are taught such things. Regardless, you did not answer our question.’ This neutrality ideology was universal for immortals that were not the sisters. But even the they had their own version of it. Though in terms of meager interference the rule had diminished, in internal matters of honour or death, it’s grip was still strong. Dismayingly, I became irrationally defensive at the prospect of coming up with an answer. ‘I only seek knowledge hydra.’ This time, they answered in unison, all distinguishing accents dropped, instead melding into a deep, reverberating echo, that scattered across the forest. Leaving most of the creatures that heard it trembling in fear. And it challenged me to do anything other. The previous lighthearted atmosphere evaporated; despite the intimidation, I was reassured by what I took as a confirmation of equality. Very unlike Celestia’s, whose natural tone gave an impression of calm with every word spoken. Even her infamous ‘Royal Canterlot Voice’ cracked in the presence of this in the face of this beast’s bellow. ‘Is it not fair for us to do the same?’ I didn’t want to answer their question definitively, because I wasn’t sure; I hadn’t been sure for quite some time. But they were patient enough to let me resolve my internal struggle, somewhat. Now that I had their full and seemingly undivided attention, I thought I’d give them my general intentions outside of what was being asked. To soften the answer itself, and in hope they’d strike me with some words of wisdom on the subject. For all its jesting, I was sure the four-headed beast could offer a different perspective, likely one quite a bit cheerier than mine. Well, one would hope it would be so, anyhow. ‘No, my end is not as imminent. At least, I don’t think it is. I’ll indulge myself with the mortals, to see the vicissitudes of their ways and to find meaning in the illusion of eternity.’ ‘Such, closeness to mortality’s facets presents a great danger to you and all like us. You know it, yet you continue on. Going so far as to question the Alicon who does not rule over you and never claimed to. To have a justification. Still dissatisfied, you come to us, to ease your uncertainty. You will find misery in mortals, if you seek it, just as you will find joy. But purpose, is a ghost. It has no substance, and it will lead to doom if you follow it. Ask yourself this: if all else were to crumble, would you crumble with it? As for the answer your question: we could. But we long abandoned our barbarism.’ Well, that wasn’t a cheerier perspective.