//------------------------------// // 02 - INITIATION // Story: Grasslands // by PseudoFiction //------------------------------// Better things ahead than any left behind. The Ponyville market was alive with the din of activity. A rainbow-palette of pastel ponies were going about their business. The activity reminded Neyla of the markets in her homestead of ‘Iraire on Sanghelios. Though back then, she’d been a child and the sea of bodies writhing through the narrow mountain-city streets had looked more like a forest of shins and knees. In Ponyville however, she towered above the heads of the ponies and was given a bird’s-eye view of the activity, above even the flight capable pegasi opting to walk rather than fly. Pausing by a fruit stall, Neyla leaned forward and plucked up one of the fruits to inspect it. A curious looking ensemble, it was round with a thin, waxy skin that was an enticing red colour. As she inspected the fruit she was very sure was named an ‘apple,’ the stall’s owner gulped looking up at the alien. Uncomfortably he looked between the apple she was handling and her face. Noticing the stallion, Neyla quickly reached for her bag. “Forgive me. How much for this?” she quickly asked. “O-oh, that’s o-okay.” The stallions stammered with a fairly fake smile. “It’s on the house.” “In my hand, actually.” Neyla said pointedly holding out the apple. The pony gaped for a moment, trying to figure out what she was saying. “I-I mean… I mean i-it’s free… have it.” Looking from the apple to the shopkeeper, Neyla nodded before tucking the fruit into her bag. “That is very kind of you. Thank you.” As she turned and walked to the next stall – a spread of various lovely and colourful textiles – Neyla would not be surprised to later learn his generosity as an act of fear. The action was understandable. She was after all a very large, strange looking – by pony-standards – carnivorous alien creature. As she made her way through the centre of the market square, a familiar blue streak whooshed by. Halting mid-flight with a literal screech, Neyla quickly identified the flier as Rainbow Dash. The rainbow-maned flier quickly whirled around and jetted to where the exploring Sangheili stood. “You done sightseeing?” she asked with a smirk. Neyla nodded. “Well then c’mon, slowpoke.” Rainbow Dash jibed in a friendly fashion. “Rarity’s probably ready to see you by now. It’s not every day she makes a dress that’s practical. I can’t wait to see if it’s aerodynamic! I might get her to make me one!” she added with a chuckle. And with a whoosh the Pegasus darted off into a rainbow streak. Neyla had to jog to keep up before she joined up to where Rainbow Dash was hovering by Twilight Sparkle and her lanky assistant, Spike. “C’mon. Rarity’s shop is this way.” Rainbow Dash announced as she led the way down a path winding away from the market. Joining in her wake, the three grounded individuals quickly followed, their footsteps growing more audible on the cobbles as they left the market-sounds behind them. Their journey was silent for the most part, with only Spike’s quill making scribbling noises as he wrote while walking. It was only after they crossed a bridge over a river winding its way towards the edge of Ponyville that Twilight Sparkle cleared her throat. “Miss ‘Irairesi...?” Twilight gave an anxious pause, rubbing her chin with a hoof. “Uh, did I say that right?” Neyla gave a throaty chuckle of amusement. Her pronunciation hadn’t been quite right, but it was close. “Please, Twilight Sparkle. ‘Iraire is the name of my homestead, and the suffix donates my rank as priestess. You may call me Neyla.” “Neyla.” Twilight smiled brightly, liking that. Simplifying the priestess’ name seemed to relax her a little too. “What exactly does being a priestess of the Covenant entail?” “We study the relics of the Gods and try to know them better, bestowing their divine knowledge upon the followers of the Covenant.” The Sangheili priestess explained as Spike quickly wrote down every word in shorthand. “We are advisers to the high council and the hierarchs, the main governing bodies of the Covenant. Our decisions affect how the Covenant grows or shrinks. How different races can be integrated, or cast aside. Our words and actions influence the Covenant’s path. It is our word that can sway the public. Our word that inspires the masses. Our devotion that commands the loyalty of billions. Because of our importance we are of the few females permitted to turn down offers of mateship and marriage so we may focus on our duties. And while we focus on our duties, the Covenant continues to prosper and bloom.” “Wow. That sounds like a pretty sweet gig!” Rainbow Dash commented as she slowed down to listen in. Neyla wasn’t sure what that meant and looked to Twilight Sparkle for a translation. “She means that sounds like a very important job.” The mage expounded patiently before asking: “How did you become a priestess?” “I was one of few young applicants chosen to undertake the trials.” Neyla explained in detail. “There are variations on the trials and the rules depending on the race, but the Sangheili is by far the most renowned. At the age of ten the Sangheili boys undergo the trials of maturity. They go to become warriors and study the arts of war until they are ready for battle. The girls are divided down the middle. One half are destined to serve in the family house or our homeworld’s home guard... the others serve the Covenant. I was among the few in my homestead to be invited to serve as a priestess. We were rounded up and taken to the temples. There we were separated and each locked in an individual meditation room until we were granted a divine vision from the Gods. We would either succeed, or we would die.” Twilight frowned heavily, wondering if it was a good idea exposing Spike to this. He wasn’t a baby dragon anymore, but the maternal side of her still instinctively shielded him from reality’s harsher aspects. “Succeed or die?” the unicorn shivered, realising she was lucky to merely get a bad grade if she ever failed a test. Neyla nodded. “No food is permitted in the meditation rooms. And we do not leave until we are granted a vision.” Rainbow Dash scoffed with surprise. “You’d starve to death? That’s brutal!” “Such is our way.” Neyla replied simply. “Well, why not give up?” Spike piped up between scribbling. “And bring shame on ourselves? A true Sangheili gladly embraces death over shame.” Neyla announced proudly. “Such an act denotes courage and honour. True Sangheili do not just give up.” Spike shrugged at that, mumbling but still clearly audible: “You guys have a weird way.” “Spike, it’s not weird. It’s just different from our norms and standards. Apologise-...” the lavender unicorn began, but Neyla stooped to briefly place a reassuring hand on her shoulder-blade. “It is quite alright Twilight Sparkle.” She chuckled. “The child is young, and has yet to learn about the universe at large.” Spike’s expression warped into one of shock, one eye growing larger than the other as his mouth took on a confused squiggle. “Child!?” Rainbow Dash snorted into her forehooves, stifling waves of oncoming laughter. “Hey, I am not a child, lady!” “Ah, there is some fire in him.” The Sangheili joked with a smile. “Sorry about him.” Twilight chuckled, walking on three legs and using the fourth to ruffle the green scales atop Spike’s head. “He’s a teenage dragon now.” She added like she was talking to an adorable little kitten. “You know. Cracking voice, pimples, bodily changes, all that scary hormonal stuff.” Spike just turned his head away, pouting. “Hrmph!” The priestess gave a nod. “I understand. Sangheili males grow through a rough period like this too. I experienced this kind of behaviour with eight brothers.” The girls shared a giggle before Twilight put their conversation back on the rails. “So uh... how did you pass the selection process?” she asked curiously. “I spent over a week in starvation.” Neyla replied like it was nothing. “But my suffering and patience paid off. I saw the greatest of visions the Gods could bestow upon me. A sweeping wind, rushing through the stars. A divine light propelling the worthy Covenant on the true path to eternal enlightenment and God-hood. The Great Journey.” “Whoa...” Rainbow Dash whispered in a hushed tone before she squeaked excitedly. “That is so radical! You are like super tough!” “Ra-di-cal?” the priestess struggled over the word slowly, having never heard or used it before. Neyla looked confused – by Twilight’s guess – and she looked to the mage for help. Twilight Sparkle smiled before explaining kindly. “That means she thinks that was really cool.” “Ah, yes. The meditation chambers were indeed home to sub-zero temperatures, so not to dull the mind.” Neyla nodded, despite having missed the point. Both Twilight and Rainbow Dash shared a knowing giggle before walking the priestess towards the Carousel Boutique. ***[]*** One size fits all. The Carousel Boutique was an accurate name for Rarity’s place of business. With a rounded perimeter, the building had more in common with a children’s carousel than an adult’s workshop. Rarity’s sanctum of dressmaking was a tall building decorated with extravagant patterns of pink and white over the smooth blue walls. Everything about the building and its décor spoke in tides about Rarity. And the state of the interior of her boutique was something typical enough of seamstresses. While she had been in training, and even after being initiated as a priestess of the Covenant, Neyla had spent plenty of hours in dressmakers and changing rooms to have her garb measured and fitted. And the bombshell of scraps, tools and other bits and baubles laying scattered all over the place seemed to be pretty much normal. It wasn’t a mess… it would of course appear to be as such to the untrained eye. But everypony – even Neyla – knew it was just a very specific way of organisation. Rarity could ask Neyla to fetch her scissors, and the Sangheili wouldn’t even know where to begin to look among the stuffed drawers, overflowing toolboxes and jam-packed worktops. However, were she to look herself; Rarity could locate a needle in the hay-stack that was her workshop. Twilight, Dash and Spike were present, with Rarity hovering about and fussing over details. Applejack, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie had met briefly upon their arrival at the boutique before taking their leave, saying something about meeting them at the Sweet Apple Acres barn later. The ponies had shared a knowing look, indicating Neyla had some kind of surprise to look forward to. Standing on the podium in the centre of Rarity’s workshop, Neyla had to crane her neck just a little so her head wouldn’t put a hole in the ceiling. Her arms were held out as he looked down over the dress Rarity was finishing up on. She was magically sewing up the last couple of hems and tucking a few baggy portions of the garb so it looked perfectly fitted. Neyla was beyond impressed. The dress was gorgeous to say the least. A comfortably fitted light blue sleeveless dress hugged her body, splaying out at the hips to a modest skirt angled down to the backs of her knees with comfortable fatigues covering her legs. The sleeves were detached from the shoulder hems, affixed around her upper arms and flaring out at the wrists. The colour was identical to that of the priestess’ existing hoof-ware, and was complimented by a dark purple bodice fitted over the torso section of the dress, a similar scarf wrapped loosely around Neyla’s neck. “It is very comfortable.” Neyla admitted with a smile as she shifted in the dress. “Saddle Arabian cotton is the finest in Equestria, dear.” Rarity announced proudly. “That shemagh is Canterlot silk, and the corset is made out of dragonscales.” “Those aren’t my scales, are they?” Spike commented with a worried gaze as he looked Neyla up and down. Rarity gave a very lady-like little scoff. “Well of course they are! I use only the very best. And there’s no better dragon in all of Equestria than our very own Spikey-Wikey!” Spikes face burned bright red as Rainbow Dash stifled her laughter. Neyla smiled, experimentally running her fingers over the hardened scales lining the bodice. No doubt it was of armour-grade, able to withstand the bite of most ballistic trauma. And if dragons were as tough as she was led to believe, the scales might even stave off plasma fire. “The whole dress is enchanted to be water retardant, virtually indestructible, and of course it breathes like silk!” Rarity finished up her passionate explanation. “It is gorgeous, Rarity.” Neyla praised, twirling on the spot and feeling like a little girl again. “Thank you.” Rarity was – as her friends had rightfully pointed out – a very skilled dressmaker. She had blended elegant aesthetics with undeniable practicality, perfectly emulating typical Sangheili fashion trends. A dress that was not just pleasing to the eye, but allowed the wearer space to traverse any type of terrain without hindrance. The garb the fashionista had gifted the Sangheili was not dissimilar to what she wore as a little girl. It brought up a memory, and as Neyla span around she couldn’t help but think of home, many years ago… ***[Fifteen years earlier…]*** CTF. Her bare hooves rapped the shingles noisily as she cross the ‘Iraire rooftops with a quick pace. The poor farm-girl half-turned to look over her shoulder to see three more Sangheili figures her age land on the slates behind her to give chase. Their male bodies were taller than hers, home to a more rigid musculature. But Neyla was smaller, lighter and quicker on her feet. Bounding off her right hoof, the Sangheili girl leapt across a narrow alley and landed lightly on a lower rooftop. Without missing stride she curled into a ball and rolled to absorb the impact. In just a few seconds she was on her hooves again, the skirt-tails of her simple garb flailing in the wind in her wake. Neyla wasn’t much to look at in her current state. Straight off the farm, her tunic was worn and covered in patches of dirt. Her plume was hap-hazardly shorn so it wouldn’t get in the way during harvest season. In truth, were it not for her small stature she could easily be mistaken for a boy. Tucked under one arm Neyla was cradling a bundle of cloth. The rolled up banner was a deep crimson colour and imprinted with a family coat of arms. A coat of arms not belonging to Neyla’s family, but of the boys chasing her. “Get back here, peasant!” one of the boys yelled waving a fist. Neyla just laughed into the wind. “Should have thought about the consequences before soiling my family name, dung-handlers!” The comment only served to anger the boys as they gave chase. Neyla however did not let up, lowering her head and sprinting for the opposite edge of the rooftop. Seeing the ledge suddenly end to overlook an un-jumpable market square, Neyla skidded to a halt on the slick shingles. Teetering over the edge that plummeted to the hard ground far below, Neyla wind-milled her arms for balance before stepping back. “Not good.” She mumbled before turning around. Before she could tell them to wait, one of the boys careened straight into Neyla’s mid-section. Having not seen the rooftop end, he sent them both plummeting over the edge. As they fell, the boy made a grab for the banner, but Neyla held on tight. The world was a blur as she twisted around, sending them spiralling as they fell. A barely measurable moment later they hit something hard. The fruit wagon buckled causing the wooden axels to splinter and break. The wheels cleanly popped off as a cloud of multi-coloured fruit-pulp filled the air. Several market-goers cried out with surprise, jumping back. A single groan emanated the broken wagon, followed by an effeminate laugh. Looking down, Neyla realised she’d shaken off the fall quicker than the boy who’d tackled her. Luckily they had twisted around in the air and she’d used him as a cushion. She was still covered in the sticky shreds of fruit, but she was significantly less winded than her rival. Giggling, Neyla quickly rolled off the boy and patted him on the head. “Such a gentleman.” She teased before dashing away. Glancing back before delving into the crowded market-square she spotted the other boys make a safe descent from the rooftops. The boy laying in the broken fruit car was being pulled out by the owner and was getting a scolding. No doubt his father would hear about that. Slowing her pace to a walk so she could move through the mass of Sangheili bodies without crashing into anyone, Neyla started picking the shreds of peel and lumps of pulp from her tunic. No doubt her mother would give her an earful, but this was worth it. Those nasty boys from the Ne’ran family were always picking on Neyla and her brothers. It was about time someone put them in their place. And stealing the family banner put in their charge to prove their worth was the perfect payback. If they lost the banner their fathers would be livid. Unfortunately she couldn’t keep this chase up for much longer. She was getting tired, especially having spent the majority of the day on the family farm – hard work the Ne’ran boys knew nothing about. And the sun was beginning to dip below the mountains. Soon her mothers would wonder where she was, but simply giving back the banner was out of the question. Those boys would have to work for it. And with what Neyla was planning, work they definitely would do. Leaving the market square, Neyla moved around the block to where some stables were located. The wooden huts were home to the animals farmers brought into the city for trade, or to tow their wagons with produce. In the stables were several knarloc, four legged beasts usually timid and gentle, but when startled could stampede for miles at a time. Remembering how to handle the knarloc on her family’s farm, Neyla made sure to avoid sudden movements. Working her way through the stable barriers she approached the nearest knarloc and laid a gentle hand on the beast’s shoulder. The creature let out a shudder and a huff, misting the air around Neyla’s head. Giving the knarloc a reassuring rub, she produced the Ne’ran family banner and rolled it into a long ribbon. Working it through the knarloc’s harness, she tied a simple knot and grinned observing her handiwork. As she turned to leave she noted several figures approach. The Ne’ran boys. They leapt on the stable gates and vaulted into the mud on the inside of the pens, upsetting several of the nearby knarloc. “Give it back, peasant!” the lead boy spat keeping his distance from Neyla. The black eye throbbing on his face reminded him from an earlier encounter that the girl wasn’t just quick on her feet, but she was a puncher too. “Now!” “Hmmm.” Throwing a bit of a helpless pose, Neyla thoughtfully tapped her lower mandibles before shaking her head. “No. no I don’t think that I will. However,” – she added with a smile – “you are welcome to take it back. If you can.” Before the boys could react, Neyla whipped around and slapped her hand down hard on the rear of a knarloc. The very same knarloc she’d tied the Ne’ran banner to. With a wail of surprise the knarloc reared back on its powerful hind legs before launching itself forward. Lowering its horned head, the beast ploughed straight through the stable barriers, sending splinters and beams of wood flying into the air. Laughing Neyla jumped back, shading her face from the shower of debris. The boys didn’t find it as funny though, seeing the crimson banner tied to the rampaging beast’s harness as it took off further across ‘Iraire. Yelling and cursing while running after the knarlock in a frenzy, the boys left Neyla forgotten in their dust. Smirking after them, the girl disappeared victoriously back into the city.