//------------------------------// // St. P.R. // Story: White on Black // by TheSexyMenhir //------------------------------// White on Black Ch.08 “St. P.R.” White fur against black chitin. Gently two bodies touched as the the immortals rested in the comfort of their embrace. Contently Celestia pressed her head against the neck of the black queen, the queen of the changelings however held her head high, eyes closed, pointing her muzzle to the moon above. A wildly flickering green fire enshrouded her horn, casting an eerie light onto the room around the two royals. In the sickly green shine it became hard to distinguish the two from each other, and for a moment it seemed that they had fused into one black and white being. The fire died down and darkness fell over the room. For yet a moment longer Chrysalis and Celestia held onto each other. It was Celestia that finally broke the silence: “Did it work?” “Yes, the connection may be weak but we can still feel each other.” Chrysalis answered opening her eyes. Bright green glowing veins still burnt in them, a reminder of the immense amount of power the queen had just channelled. Celestia loosened herself from the embrace of the changeling queen and looked into her eyes. “How much longer do we have?” “Maybe two months, three at best.” Chrysalis replied. “So very little time...” Celestia whispered, drawing the changeling back into a close hug. “We always knew that our time was limited. The love of one mare can’t support an entire civilization, even if the mare happens to be a goddess.” Chrysalis replied matter of factly, but the subtle hint of fear wasn’t lost to the white diarch. “If only there was more we could do...” “We can’t leave the city at this point, it would cause a riot.” Celestia stated, her eyes wandering over to the windows. The screams of the protesters had died down by now, but a suspiciously amount of people still lingered around the castle gates. “We have to trust them...” Chrysalis gaze rested on the troubled mares features. “Trust, huh?” --- Twilight eyes shot open wide. Something was wrong. Quickly she scanned the room around her. She was still in her library tower in Canterlot and she was alone in the bedroom. From down the stairs she could hear one of her friends snoring. She lifted her blanket. All limbs were still present and accounted for and as far as she could tell she hadn’t sprouted any extra appendages as well. She sniffed the air, but was only greeted by the usual mixture of morning dew, flowers, and what she called ‘the smell of the big city’. Her horn flared up as she scanned the room for hostile magic, but every scrying spell she could think of came up negative. For several minutes she sat in her bed, breathing heavily, while she tried to identify what felt so out of place this morning. Then it finally dawned on her; nothing was wrong. … Wait a moment... … Twilight looked up at her ceiling where her gaze was met by a apologetically grinning changeling. --- Rarity was awoken by the rather loud grumbling, of a disgruntled lavender unicorn. She levitated her sleeping mask aside, only to see her disheveled looking friend leaving the door, carrying a slightly embarrassed looking changeling with her. She shuddered at the idea that her friend would actually leave the house in this state, but trying to stop her would mean leaving the house unkempt as well, so she decided to let it slide this time. On the bright side being awoken this early meant that she could take her time with her daily grooming. She adored her friends more than she could express, but having to share a bathroom with a rambunctious little sister was already enough, let alone with five grown mares. Carefully not to wake the others she trotted over to the bathroom. Of course the word trotting implied a certain lack of grace, something that could definetly not be said about the white fashionista. No, even during those early morning hours she maintained a modicum of sophistication, as was expected from a mare in her position. (It’s still unclear who exactly voiced such expectations or what her ‘position’ entailed and all questions regarding the topic thus far have only been met with knowing smiles and vague hoof gestures.) However beneath the calm demeanor of the white unicorn, a storm was brewing. A stray spark of inspiration had hit her and set her brain ablaze like it was dry tinder. Most of yesterday she spent running around doing what she did best. Okay maybe not best, that place was undoubtedly taken by sewing, maybe not even second best, when one considered her gem-finding-abilities, but certainly a good contender for third place, she talked. Rarity, quite frankly didn’t enjoy the companie of most nobles. Too many of them reminded her of the vain and narcissistic Blue Blood, too much interest in themselves and not enough for those around them. Neither did she enjoy the company of those that just followed the lead of their peers, blinded by the movements of trends and mindlessly repeating whatever rumor they heard. Oh no, she was far too ambitious to follow trends, she wanted to make her own trends. And so she talked; a innocent comment here, a slight chuckle at the right moment, a rumor in the right ears. Yes, yesterday had been a busy day. Mindlessly she applied some toothpaste to her brush, while she already thought about the details of her upcoming plan. --- If one wanted to play the game of high society in canterlot, the first thing you learned was the difference between what was said and what was meant. A prime example for this was the small corner cafe close to the central canterlot market. Everyone who was someone knew that the “mangeoire” was the place where up-and-coming new additions to Canterlot’s social elite could meet people with power and influence. What the up-and-coming socialites didn’t know, was the fact that the powerful and influential knew about this as well and avoided the place like the pest. And so all the wannabes and pretenders gathered faithfully in the small corner cafe, lying about their status and fishing for power that wasn’t there. Silver Tongue and Pristine Records were no different from the rest of the cafe’s visitors, which is to say they were young, ambitious, ruthless, and forever stuck in the limbo between common folk and ‘old-money’. Pristine Records was a black coated unicorn mare and whoever was foolish enough to ask her about her silver mane, she would tell how she was descendant of a long line of Unicorn guards. Silver Tongue meanwhile was the mirror match of a certain white and blonde noble, or at least he was after his coiffeur was done with the weekly bleaching. “I trust you have heard about the recent ‘additions’ to the royal family?” Pristine Records asked. Her voice was sharp without unnecessary flourishes, and brought with it the unbidden image of a rapier being drawn across ones neck. “HmmHmm... who hasn’t... it’s simply dreadful, isn’t it?” Silver Tongue replied, his fake accent as thick as the grease in his hair. He instantly regretted his words, as that blasted smile crept across Pristines face. She knew something he didn’t and she would enjoy rubbing it in his face. “I think it’s the best thing that could possibly happen.” She said with her strange half-smirk. “Pray tell, how is our princess affiliating with those ‘things’ a good thing, let alone the best possible thing?” He answered, painfully aware how that was exactly the question she wanted to hear. “What are the changelings doing?” She asked. Silver Tongue was hard pressed not to groan. He hated it when she treated him like a little child, leading him along to come to a conclusion she had long since drawn herself. “I don’t know. I’m not interested in the sickening dealings of that race.” Silver replied, his voice dripping just the amount of disgust he had heard other people use in this situation. “I don’t care about that either, I want to know what they are doing to the people of canterlot.” Pristine Records elaborated, looking at him like he was some sort of idiot. “I don’t think that they are doing anything. Princess Celestia seems to take good care that they don’t leave their part of the city.” He answered. “Wrong. They don’t have to enter the city for what they are doing.” Pristine didn’t even bother to hide her satisfaction anymore, grinning broadly. Silver Tongue furrowed his brows in annoyance: “Well, if you know so much about it, why don’t you simply tell me what it is they are doing.” Pristines basked in her superiority for a few moments before she answered: “They are causing fear.” “So what?” Silver Tongue replied, his fancy accent forgotten for the moment. “Don’t you see? This is a perfect opportunity!” Pristine whispered, conspiratorially. The blank look on Silver’s face was more than enough to make it clear that he in fact ‘didn’t see’. “When people fear something, they want someone to do something against it and just as it happens, I know two young and ambitious unicorns who are willing to speak up about this terrible issue...” She laid out her plan the pleasure of feeling superior already dissipating, in the face of Silver’s stupidity. Silver had listened attentively and gave his companion a quizzical look. “And who are they?” He asked. Pristine facehoofed. If it weren’t for his ability to sweet talk himself out of pretty much any situation, she would have ditched this dimwit a long time ago. “I’m talking about us! If we speak up now, and rally some followers this could be just the kind of power boost we need to get into the real high society.” She answered a fire burning in her eyes. Unseen by the two power players a beige coloured waitress slipped out of the cafe. --- “I’m telling you, the whole situation is nothing more but a game to those snooty uptown guys.” Merry Daisies said, blissfully unaware of the irony of one Canterlot-Pony calling the other snooty. “And I’m telling you, you are overreacting.” Breadn Butter answered, while his hooves worked the lump of dough that lay in front of him. The beige earth mare with the flower cutie mark, and the green unicorn baker stood in the kitchen of a small bakery. Merry leaned against a counter and was busy keeping Breadn from preparing tomorrow's bread. Not that he minded though, it wasn’t like he was in a hurry, and the single father never found it in him to send the gossipy mare away. “Celestia’s still sitting on the throne and so far she’s always done us right.” He continued, not looking up from his work. “Yeah, but she’s the one who brought those bloodsuckers into town in the first place.” Merry replied, leaving it open if she meant Canterlot’s newest insectoid residents or the nobles, she had been raging about earlier. “They don’t suck blood.” Breadn stated matter of factly. “Blood, Love, does it matter? In the end you wind up dead.” Merry replied irritatedly, unnerved by the stallions continued resistance. “I just think that we should give them a chance...” Breadn said, wiping his hoofs on his apron and finally taking the time to look Merry in the eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, normally I’d agree with you, but these guys tried to invade Canterlot. If it weren’t for that young guard captain and Princess Cadance, we’d all be cattle by now.” “Oi, my cousin is married to a cow.” Breadn interrupted the earth mare’s tirade. Her glare told him, that she clearly wasn’t in the mood to argue semantics. “There’s giving someone a second chance, and there’s being plain stupid.” She said. Breadn looked at her clearly still doubtful about her words. “Aren’t you worried? You’ve got two kids to look after, after all.” She tried to push him further. Unwillingly his eyes shot to the small framed picture, showing him and two smiling foals. “Even If I agree, it’s not like there’s something we could do about it.” Her replied after thinking for a few more moments. “We got to go out there and show what the think about it. There’s already a crowd of protesters gathering near the front gate. If we all stick together Celestia’s got to do something. It’s not like she could wipe out all of Canterlot.” --- Not for the first time this day, Celestia thought about how she could just wipe out Canterlot. “Just a little solar flare and I could be done with all this. No more petitioners, no more political meetings...” She thought after rejecting yet another appeal to evict the changelings from Canterlot. “... no more Twilight, no more Chrysalis.” Of course her voice of reason -that old party pooper- just couldn’t stay silent. She groaned and signaled the herald to send in the next petitioner. --- “I’m sorry I can’t help you.” Rarity’s world seemed to crumble around her as she heard those words from Fancy Pants mouth. Everything had went so well so far. She had strewn rumors and made all necessary preparations but her whole plan had hinged on fancy pants backing up the whole endeavor. Ever after her run-in with him, he had proven as a valuable ally in her fight to conquer the prestigious fashion world of Canterlot. But now he had outright denied her. “But why?” She was doing her best to refrain from whining. Whining was reserved for her worst enemies, or her close friends, but not for a powerful patron. “Rarity dear, you might be a prodigious designer, but not even you can sway the whole of Canterlot’s nobility like this.” Fancypants rested his forelegs on the big marehagony table, putting his hoofs together in front of his face. Rarity knew this posture all too well, it said: “I want to help you, but it just wouldn’t be profitable.” “Fancypants, you know I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think it would work.” Rarity gathered herself, now all ladylike businessmare again. “Yes, and so far you’ve always made true on your promises, but you have to understand that I have a business to run, and my success hugely relies on my good reputation. If something goes wrong with your plan it’s not only my own position that’s in danger, but that of everypony working for me.” He replied, a precisely measured amount of compassion in his voice. Rarity looked at him. Just for a short moment she let fall all signs of professionalism and just looked into his eyes: “Please Fancypants, I can’t do this without you.” The white unicorn sighed. For a moment he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. Then he focussed on her again. “I can’t help you, but if you’re really serious about this, then there might be someone who can.” He said with a stern voice. He reached for one of the drawers and took out a photo. Without saying anything he placed it in front of Rarity. … A massive frown suddenly adorned Rarity’s face. With pleading eyes she looked at Fancypants. “Oh Celestia, please anyone but him.” She groaned.