This was originally written for a blog on the 1st year anniversary of Background Pony's first upload. The blog can be found here.
Fifty-two weeks ago, I enjoyed one of the happiest times of my entire life.
It started when I took a shower, and like all brainstorming sessions, an idea flew into my skull like Oswald's bullet. I took a walk the next evening, strolling around barefoot along the sidewalk outside my house. I mentally hammered together the making of what could be potentially be an awesome, introspective fanfic series. I designed a first chapter that could stand alone as a one-shot in the event that my plan--which was completely impulsive and unedited--might not fall through.
Whatever the outcome, I went ahead and posted the resulting product on April 5th, 2012. The reaction that I received was nothing like I could have possibly anticipated. I had gotten a decent number of hipster followers for previous trainwrecks before, but it paled in comparison to the sheer volume of response I got to this story about a mint green unicorn wearing a hoodie. It was, quite frankly, the most exposure and biggest pop I had ever gotten for any single thing I had done on the Internet.
Needless to say, this gave me a great high. I felt good about myself, like I had contributed something to the Mos Eisley of our collective subconscious that marsupials actually cared about en masse. This made my days brighter, my outlook happier, and it enthused me for the next few following weeks as--for the most part--I remained constant in pumping out new chapters.
For better or for worse, Background Pony is what it is. It's anything but perfect, but it did get me on the fanfiction map. As much as I try to deny it, everything I've written before or sense has paled in comparison. And I do owe the legacy of the fic for getting me in touch with such cool cats as Propsmaster, Razgriz, and TheBrianJ. It's also gotten me closer to the likes of theworstwriter and Warden. It allowed me to ascend to such popularity that people have made translations of it in multiple languages, not to mention audio reads and fantastic comics. And, last but certainly not least, it did introduce me to Ponky.
A year later, and I am currently the third most subscribed lemur on this site of pastel colored talking equines. I can't honestly say that I'm a better writer, but I certainly am a more experienced one, for what it's worth, and most definitely filled with gratitude. I thank you kindly for having faith in me, that my literature may still continue in some fashion to entertain, humor, and perhaps even enlighten some, all, or bits and pieces of you.
Writing MLPfiction is currently and will continue to be the most rewarding thing in my life for the time being. Yes, everything ends and/or is replaced, but for right now, I'm extremely gratified to be here, and I'm glad to have made many awesome acquaintances in the process.
So, as I've come to the anniversary of Background Pony (and the anniversary of some other, more stupid things), I felt that it was fitting that I try and attempt something commemorative. Naturally, I got lazy, and I let this day sneak up on me. But I wasn't entirely unprepared.
For the longest time, there was a scene in Background Pony that I always wished to write. It was a singular event within the narrative, and yet for some reason I wanted it to be a standalone chapter. But as the installments to the fic blurred by, getting increasingly larger with each update, I realized that the original vision of the scene made it far too short to stand on its own. What was more, it couldn't thematically fit into any of the other "episodes" of the fic that I had planned (yes, believe it or not, everything was indeed planned).
So, around the time I got to chapter 8 (the Morning Dew one), I made the decision to remove the scene/chapter from the fic altogether. Instead, I borrowed bits and pieces of it and scattered it all throughout the rest of the story. I felt that this was the best thing to do, since there was no conceptual or structural way of inserting the scene without making stuff super awkward. And, besides, it didn't really amount to much character development in my head anyways.
But I did describe the scene to a marsupial or two, and they told me that it was good enough to see the light of day. And though I couldn't do it before Background Pony ended, right here and now--on the fic's anniversary--I feel like I might as well share it.
What follows, then, is an approximation of what the original scene was. I didn't go hardcore in structuring it, mind you. I quite literally wrote it today in the span of four hours. What's more, since this was ultimately a "deleted scene," don't be surprised if you see some tropes that were ultimately used elsewhere in the fic. I simply wrote this from memory as it was originally intended, and I think it came out more or less as it was supposed to. But, then again, a lot of the meat of my crapola emerges as I go through the process of hammering it out via a keyboard.
So, for what it's worth, enjoy this--or not. Think of it as an AU take on what could have happened to Lyra at one time. Or, better yet, it could just as well be something she never wrote down about in her journal. It's an unsung memory, as t'were, and thankfully I'm cold hearted enough of a flankhole to deliver it unto you.
Live long and dash apples.
-SS&E
It was the best kind of music and the worst kind of music. It was the type of music that destroys and renews all at once, that tears one apart and puts the pieces back together only for the melodic circle of fire to catch ablaze yet again. I stood along the wall, listening to it, drinking it in, trying to find the source of its inspiration through the sheer notes themselves. Every song has its anchor, like a lit buoy floating in tempestuous waves, casting a guiding light.
All the while, the reception blossomed all around me. The Town Hall building glittered with festive laughter, sashaying hooves, and felicitous toasts. Glasses of punch and cider refracted the lanternlight, forming an otherworldly kaleidoscope dancing across the walls and ceiling beams.
It was the tail-end of a wedding. Who had gotten married? To be honest, I only residually knew. That's a sin, in a way, for a pony like me to be so ignorant. Still, the couple was from out of town, having visited Ponyville simply because some of their friends lived here, and also because this is quite simply the most beautiful spot in all of Equestria. The groom said so himself; I liked him instantly.
It also helped that he was a distant relative to Blossomforth. I stood in the wedding hall not too far from where she and Thunderlane stood when the couple's vows were being exchanged. I smiled when they smiled, applauded when they applaued, and even shared a tear or two. In times like these, I dream of sharing more than all of that—like maybe a friendly hug, but I know where my limit is. A stranger is still a stranger, no matter how empathic she may appear to be.
So, I stood alone, and yet I was anything but. Several celebrators and dancers smiled at me as they passed by. Many of them repeated themselves, naturally, but I wasn't one to protest. Their circular dance moves had a poetic mechanization, and the manner in which they paused to smile, bow, or curtsey my way was with perfect timing, as if I was a spring of the same fabulous cogwork.
I tried not to shiver, but despite all of the heartwarming sights, the evening was still unbearably cold. I didn't dare wear my hoodie to an event like this. Even if I was a comparative bum to these equines, it helped immensely not to look like one. No, I had Rarity's fantastic scarlet sweater adorning me, along with a yellow scarf and a floral headdress that I had bought the previous afternoon from Roseluck's store in the marketplace. It looked quaint enough, I suppose, even if I felt comparatively under-dressed alongside so many dazzling suits and gowns. Nopony gave me a second glance, for reasons other than the obvious, and I wasn't about to feel remorseful. Besides, Pinkie Pie was floundering somewhere near the punch bowl, and she was naked as sin.
From where I stood, I also saw a gaggle of other familiar faces. Rarity was there, naturally, dressed to outshine everypony just short of the newlywed bride. She gossiped giddily from where she stood next to Milky White, Cheerilee, and a very noticeably squirming Fluttershy. The town's animal tamer glanced from group to group, her aquamarine eyes being saturated in the thick of the crowd.
I followed her lonesome gaze, and finally understood what they were anchored to. The band's music had taken on a slower, much more intimate tone. Pairs of ponies danced together in the center of the hall, forming a wholesome halo around where the bride and groom were positioned, nuzzling with soft smiles as they closed their eyes and inhaled the air, the moment, and each other's scents. I saw Blossomforth and Thunderlane sharing a tender embrace in mid-step. Not that far away from them, Caramel and Wind Whistler sashayed together.
It was certainly a tranquil scene, both delicate and dazzling. I could see why as softie such as Fluttershy was so deeply moved. I also understood why neither Applejack nor Rainbow Dash were present, and I was beginning to realize why I didn't want to be present either.
Gazing at the couples, at the way in which their faces locked with one another, at the mutual reflection that glittered in their sparkling eyes, I began to feel a tremor. It was subtle at first, rising from beyond the surface like a wagon full of gold as it crested a hill. But then, it gained momentum, charging forward with rhythmic, turbulent bumps, just like my heartbeat—for it was my heartbeat.
I was in another world, an alien place that could afford such beautiful, warm things. I saw one shiver after another ricochet through the dancing crowd like a pestilence, and I came to understand what a frigid, bitter dagger my presence was in the middle of all that mirth. I shouldn't have been there; I had no reason to be there. But, in spite of my better judgment, I stayed. I stayed and I gazed and I exhaled, wondering, pondering, almost feeling.
So, as one can imagine, it was something of a thunderous shock to my system when one single body—like a comet across the cosmos—swam through the heavenly soup towards me and me alone. At first, I reasoned that it had to have been an accident, that this equine was simply threading his way towards a restroom, an exit, anything but the universe's most unassuming wallflower in the history of both existence and nonexistence. And yet, he spoke, his voice like the crackling embers of a roasting fireplace, deep and warm and most decidedly aimed at me.
"Hello, darling. You waiting on somepony?"
I glanced at him, and I saw a pair of mint green shapes reflecting off of chestnut brown eyes. He had a short, well-trimmed mane, dark and mysterious, like the knowing grin that dripped off his chiseled muzzle. He smiled at me like I was some sort of succulent dessert. If I said absolutely nothing, I suddenly had every expectation that he might gobble me whole right then and there. I wasn't intimidated; quite the contrary, I was stupidly amused, at least at first.
"No," I said, returning the smile just as cheesily as he had bequeathed it. "Nopony in particular."
"Oh? Well that's a shame," he said, his eyes remaining thin and ravenous. "You're far too beautiful to be alone here."
I chuckled—snickered, even. I glanced down at my hooves as I adjusted my weight against the wall I was leaning on. "I bet you say that to all the mares."
"Only to the ones who steal my breath away," he said, chuckling just as merrily. "Are you one of the bridesmaids?"
"Sadly, no, good sir."
"Because I don't remember seeing you arrive at the start of the ceremony.
I took a deep breath and said, "Of that, I can be pretty certain."
"You must not be from around here."
I shrugged. "I frequent this part of Equestria occasionally," I said. A wave of shivers came. I felt myself tightening my muscles so as not to show it. What for? There was no reason to put on airs, was there? "I just happened to be in the right place and at the right time."
"A fan of ceremonies, I take it?"
I gazed towards the dancing crowd. "I... enjoy all things that celebrate life." I gulped hard. "I try to remain positive."
"A wise policy," he said, nodding. "I think it was Neightzsche who compared life to an 'open sea,' through which we could set sail with happiness and great expectation."
I gave him a double-take. I squinted. "You... read up on Neigthzschean philosophy?"
He shrugged with a smirk. "A few quotes of his, here or there. I'm a lot more partial to Camule."
I blinked. A sly smirk crossed my lips. "You don't say...?"
"Forgive me if that sounded random," he said. "You just strike me as a soul who likes to ponder. You have a certain, intellectual glimmer to your eyes. A pony can see it from across the hall." He chuckled dryly. "Heck, a pony could see that pretty, amber gaze from just about anywhere."
I had to stop those eyelids in question from fluttering. I stifled a giggle, shaking my head as I leaned more heavily against the wall. This stallion was good: I had to give him that at least. I knew I wasn't about to give him anything else.
He still persisted, of course. "Are you really here by yourself?" his tone was almost whimpering.
"Yes," I droned. "I most certainly am."
"I guess we're in the same boat," he said with a smirk.
"And just what sea have we both cast off in, hmmm?"
"Only the most boring of waters," he replied, his voice dry and metallic to match mine. "You ever hang out someplace where you're surrounded by so many ponies, and yet you feel as though you can't reach out to a single one of them?"
I felt a lump forming in my throat. I tried to avoid the sight of every happy couple in that place; I failed. "It's like being a ghost in a place that is too blissful to deserve a haunting..." I sighed. "You want things to be different, and yet you feel bad for wanting something like that to begin with."
He actually didn't have an immediate response to that. His next breath was a faltering one. "Huh... I guess I never really saw things that way."
I glanced up at him. "Hmmm?"
He shrugged, smiling calmly at me. "Life gets tough—sad, even, but I'd rather be dead than allow myself to get to the point where I see any chance at exultation as something to be ashamed of."
I blinked. My gaze fell to the wayside as I swallowed and uttered, "Right..."
"And I'm not ashamed to say that I'm happy to have met you, Miss...?"
My nostrils flared, and yet it came out. "Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings."
I swear, there was something harmonious in his tone as he said, "That's quite the beautiful name, Miss Heartstrings." His smile could cut diamonds; it was almost slicing me open. "You can call me Cedar Brown, or you can call a cab."
I couldn't help it. I laughed, and I enjoyed not being able to do anything but laugh. I enjoyed it...
He did too, and his chuckles were twice as merry as mine. "But, more than anything," he said in as handsome a tone as a living organism could muster. "I would love to have the opportunity to share this dance with you." He extended a hoof, like a lifeline bobbing towards me from the living crowd of ponies, warmth, and shuffling limbs. "If you would be so gracious."
I looked at his hoof, then up at his placid face. Now, I've never been a stupid mare, regardless of the situation—be it cold or warm. I understood what he was up to; I knew his game. It just so happened that I was in the precise condition to be both aware of and immune to his lure. My life was already cursed. Nothing would ever blossom from his unorthodox ploy, his gentlecolt escapade in the midst of somepony else's wedding. If I was any other living pony, I could have either ignored him, or flat-out knocked him to the floor.
Instead, like a mad pony, I took a path straight down the middle, and I took it blindly. For he was offering something as delicious and yet as superficial as apple skin, and I nibbled on the bait only because I knew it for what it was: an artifice. And in a life defined by the sighs between shivers, I've come to understand the best and the least that I can afford, as well as how I choose to enjoy or not enjoy it.
"Alright, Mr. Brown," I said softly. "Or, should I say, 'Cedar?'" It was a sultry voice that I knew would steal his attention doubly times the degree to which he had attempted to steal mine. "I would love to dance with you."
If he was surprised at my acceptance, he didn't show it. There was a twinkle to his eyes, but it ended as swiftly as it began, like he had switched souls with another devil so that he could transfer the energy from his charms to his dance moves. He gently took my hoof in the crook of his and pulled me towards him. Together, we shuffled towards the center of the floor. That was when the shivers tripled, for I was utterly surrounded by ponies. It was the most crowded situation I had been in since the Summer Sun Celebration, when my perilous purgatory began.
He must have sensed it. Whoever Cedar Brown was, he was two parts stallion, but easily eight parts magic. In a hushed tone, he pulled me close—but not too close. We nuzzled at the end of a breath, distant, yet warm enough to be called "intimate." I stared into his unblinking eyes and saw a scared little foal swimming blissfully in a chestnut sea. He smiled, like he realized I could see myself, and his deep voice kept me afloat. "Just stay close," he said, allowing my weight to rest on his body as we swayed back and forth. "The music and I will do the rest."
I could have burned alive. Instead, I leaned against him. I felt Cedar's heartbeat, and it was an eerie thing. I realized then and there, that in over a year of meandering through the frosty lengths of Ponyville, gazing at ponies from afar, pondering on all the textures of life that had bled away from me, I had not felt a single pony's pulse. I suddenly felt unreal, alien, like an unearthly creature that had been deprived of something so simple, so warm, like this—a singular moment—a breath in time that I was already mourning, for I knew my lungs would be emptied of it, and all I would have left to do was whimper.
Instead, my ears danced as we danced, pirouetting around his words as he fluttered them down towards me. "You have a unique grace about you, Miss Heartstrings. If I may be so bold, I'd guess you were from Trottingham circles."
"C-Canterlot, actually," I stammered, as a foal would. Like so many fanciful daydreams in grade school, this was happening, and yet it wasn't. I knew it would annihilate itself at the end of the next dance move, at the next movement of the instrumental, upon the glint of a full moon and all the damnable forces that loomed beyond it, unseen and unsung. "I've never been to Trottingham, and I doubt I ever will." I gulped, stumbling a bit, only for his graceful moves to compensate for it. "It's too far away for me..."
"Oh?" he remarked, gazing at me in mid-sway. "You afraid of going long distances?"
"Fear has nothing to do with it," I said.
"What, then? I'm curous."
I shuddered. "Fate."
He smiled at me. "You only deserve the most beautiful of destinies, Miss Heartstrings."
I smirked back. "Or—let me guess—the most handsomest."
"Heheh... Now let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?"
I was briefly naive enough to flinch at that. "Sorry..."
His soft chuckle devoured my hearing. "I'm only teasing. Truly, having this dance with you has made my evening."
Quite frankly, I wanted more than anything for him to be quiet. I didn't want him to have a voice, only a presence, something I could lean up against. And I did so, limply, like a maiden might drape off her captor, for I knew that this was anything but that. I tried so hard not to rely on what I knew. I was so sick of knowing, of thinking, of dreaming up ideas and thoughts and speculations, and not one of them having this—this warmth, this touch, this heartbeat.
And I realized that I had been there before, in a phantom sense, curled up against a pillow or the edge of my cot instead of the chest of a stranger named Cedar Brown. I had been in that quiet, sacred place, with only my tears to christen the moment, with nothing but a bucket of shattered hopes to pull the delusion apart. I had cast the dimming spotlight on ponies from my past and present, but never any from my future, for I did not have one. Not with the colts I had crushes on as a filly, not with the stallions I crossed paths with in college, and not with—
A painful gasp escaped my mouth. I bit on my lips until they nearly bled. In the fuzzy darkness afforded by my eyelids, I saw his golden colt, his ocean blue eyes. He hoofed me a flower—a golden tulip—but with how blackly the universe had bled, it looked like a pale lily from across the fog. I was drifting away from him, away from everything. I had entertained this fantasy, this stupid moment of errant whimsy, and I was falling off the edge of myself. My cohesive anchor to decency was all but crumbled.
I did not know who this Cedar Brown. Regardless of who or what he thought I was, he would forever be far from the truth. This was simply for the sole fact that he could not grasp the truth. Nopony could—nopony but me. And as the one soul capable of comprehending her curse and the responsibilities that came with it, I was momentarily and blissfully ignorant of its consequences.
But that was a lie...
I knew exactly where this could go. I knew all of the dark, sordid, and even saucy avenues down which this could lead. What's more, I knew that—in spite of all of my accursed liberties—there was no way in Tartarus I would ever allow myself to live with the memory of any single one of them, for it was my task—and my fate—to do so.
Even a haunted town requires an omniscient steward.
"How are you enjoying your evening now, darling?" he asked, his voice full of mirth.
My voice was completely lacking it as I breathily replied, "I feel..." I gulped. I looked at my reflection once more in his chestnut eyes, and they were far paler than before. "I f-feel..." A painful wince shot through me. He was taller than me, bigger than me, and muscular to boot. Still, all I could see at the moment was a happily ignorant lamb, one that I had nearly led to slaughter. The unsung abyss that loomed beneath me was far larger than him, it was larger than anything, and even the most harmonious laughter was but a pindrop in that limitless, frigid chasm. "I feel thirsty," I ultimately said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
I nodded slowly. "I... would love to get to know you more, Mr Cedar," I said in a murmuring voice. I turned and gestured towards a concession table at the far end of the reception hall. If this was any other life, I'd be a mare digging her own grave. "Would you be a gentlecolt and kindly fetch us some punch? I'll be waiting over here by the tables. We can chat." I gulped and managed a steady smile. "And talk more about philosophy... and less about Trottingham."
He blinked at me. His next smile was a twitching one. I saw it, though I doubt he saw me see it. The moment had passed; I had no use for him anymore. I had no use for anything but sighs.
"As you wish, Miss Heartstrings," he said. He gave a slight bow—a modest one, at least—and he trotted out of my life.
I gazed at him, and a vaporous breath of air trailed after his handsome black tail. I shuddered through the resulting chills, then hobbled my way like a sweatered scarecrow out from the thick of the slowly dancing crowd.
I was no less than ten paces from the wall when I heard a familiar bit of speech from far behind me: "Hello, darling. You waiting on somepony?"
I turned around. In a numb breath, I watched as he towered over another mare who was standing innocently alone beside the food table. She gave the stallion a sly smirk and replied between sips of punch, "Nope. Most certainly not waiting for anyone."
"Oh?" Cedar grinned a princely grin, leaning further towards her, beaming. "Well that's a shame, because you're far too pretty to be alone here."
"Is that so? I bet you say that to all the mares."
"Hmmm... Only the ones who steal my breath away..."
I allowed my gaze to drip away from him and towards the floor. When I breathed, it wasn't a sad breath. I quite simply didn't have time to feel anything, for no sooner was I making my way for the distant exit then I heard—
"Oh, I can't believe it!" The voice shot out from the far end of the dance hall like cannonfire. "And of all places too!"
A nervous murmur rolled through the crowd. The band kept playing, but several dancers parted ways as an angry, angry pony stomped through the densest part of the crowd. She made a bee-line straight for Cedar, her eyes boiling like hot coals were set within her skull. She wasn't dressed like any of the other wedding attendees. She wasn't dressed to do anything but snarl.
"You! When I came home and found you gone, Cedar, I expected the bar or some putrid back alley! But here?!" Her brow furrowed as her hairs stood on end. "This is stooping to a new low! Even for you!"
"Uhhh..." Cedar smirked helplessly, glancing at all of the ponies' heads who were glancing over. "Uhmm..." In perfect nonchalance, he picked up a glass of punch in the crook of his hoof and shrugged. "Can I help you?"
She viciously swatted the glass out of his grip, summoning a gasp from a nearby mare. "Stuff it, Cedar! I can't believe I ever actually believed you when you said you were done with these games!"
"What game?!" he cackled, grinning still. "I'm just here to enjoy the festivities!"
"You're here to enjoy something alright!" She leaned towards him, hissing through her teeth. "Who's this lady, huh?! You're second or third victim of the night?"
"I... I-I'm sorry..." The one mare shuffled away from the scene, shaking her head. "I knew n-nothing about this. I wasn't even interested—"
"Don't you apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for." The angry pony turned from her, glaring back at Cedar. "It's this snake in a grass who's beyond forgiveness. What's the matter, darling? Was your jailtime in Fillydelphia not enough to get it through your thick skull just how big of a problem you've got?"
He leaned forward and tried in futility to whisper. "Look, Silver Step, this is not the time nor the place—"
"We're married, Cedar!" Silver Step barked back at him. "It is always the time and the place! But you can't seem to get that, now can you?!"
Suddenly, Cedar was frowning, leaning over Silver Step like a canine preparing to snap its prey's neck to bits. "Will you shut your damn trap?! Goddess! All you've done since we moved here was drown me with your stupid whining!"
"And just what were you doing here, huh?!"
"I was being friendly! Getting to know the locals! That's what you've wanted from the beginning, right?!"
"Ha! Being friendly, my flank! You're a dirty scoundrel, Cedar. Let's go home. Now."
"You can't make me do anything."
"Can I?"
By this point, the music had actually tapered off. Several ponies muttered, exchanging worried looks, including the bride and groom. From across the crowd, Thunderlane's gaze met Caramel's. Both stallions nodded in one accord. Clearing their throats, they mutually swam through the crowd and stood like a solid wall before Cedar.
"Listen, sir..." Caramel began.
Thunderlane finished with an icy tone, "We think it's about time you left."
"Pfft!" Cedar gawked at them. "Oh, do you now?!"
Thunderlane glared. He loosened the collar around his neck while his wings stretched out, glinting menacingly in the lantern light.
"Heh..." Cedar grinded a hoof against the floor. "I'd like to see you try, pal—"
"Cedar..." Silver Step muttered, glaring calmly at him. "Do what the stallions say. Or do you want to get your flanked whooped as badly as that one time in Fillydelphia?"
Cedar seethed, heaved, and snarled, "It never fails, does it?" He spat at his wife. "You selfish, goddess-forsaken mule!" Several mares in the crowd gasped as he angrily stormed out with Silver Step hot on his tail. "Starve of me bits... starve me of sanity... and still you're not satisfied! Do all of Equestria a favor and go jump off a cliff already!"
"Oh no you don't!" Silver Step's voice was already fading as she galloped furiously after him. "You don't get to talk to me like that! Not after all I've sacrificed to get you out from behind bars..."
The vacuum left was instantly filled with hushed murmurs. Caramel fidgeted awkwardly while Wind Whistler trotted up and rested a hoof on his shoulder. In the meantime, Thunderflane flapped his wings, turned around, and sported courageous smile.
"What are you guys and gals loitering around for?" His teeth glistened as he pumped a fist. "This is the best night in forever! So let's keep on celebrating! Who's with me?"
Several mares cheered. Stallions whistled. Everyone clapped their hooves against the floor as the awkwardness melted beneath a rising tumult of chuckles and merriment. Soon, the music resumed, and the crowd swayed to an upbeat tune.
I barely registered it. I was leaning against a table at this point, breathless. I shuddered from waves of numbness coursing through me. I ran a hoof through my mane, and it felt as though I was touching pure ice.
How could I actually have sympathized with him? I knew nothing would go anywhere, but that was a slim excuse at best. I had feared—so deeply and intensely dreaded that I might shatter him, that the cursed weight of my pariah state might have taken advantage of his supposed good grace and left nothing but pulverised bits of amnesiac confusion.
Had I sunken so far in despair that I could see no wrong in other ponies, that it all had to be within me? Did this mean that the curse was winning? That all of my pondering and experimentation had been for naught?
The world used to be such a beautiful, pristine place. I wanted so much for it to be that way again. But if the moment came when true magnificence appeared to me, would I have the sight to see it? Or would I be blind to rapture, just as Cedar was blind to his own villainy?
The most powerful demons and angels are the ones who don't ascertain their power but still wield it capably. I knew that I would never become a saint, but it killed me to think that I had fallen into such a deep abyss that I started to repent for nothing. I wanted so badly to be a good pony, and yet everything I did was starting to make me feel guilty, as if I was just as awful as Cedar.
And to what end? It was all so confusing... too, too confusing...
I was about to collapse when a pink shape cartwheeled my way, bouncing in tune with the pulsating music. "Woohoo! Talk about an exciting evening, huh?!" Pinkie Pie glanced at me and jabbed my side with an elbow. "Hey there, Lady Mintagram! You diggin' the scene? Better bring a shovel!" She curled a hoof to her chin and giggled gleefully. "Heeheehee!"
"I..." I gulped a lump down my throat, but it refused to go away. "I'm sorry. I... I-I'm not really here to celebrate..."
"Oh? Then what else are you here for?! To get hitched?!"
I said nothing. I clenched my eyes shut and rested my head against the table. I didn't try to hide it. I didn't try to hide anything.
I felt her presence growing warmer, which is how I knew she was leaning over me, most likely blinking in confusion. "Jee, it sure is all gray and lonesome over here." She caught my shivers as she said, "Is everything cool, or just plain cold?"
"I... I'm fine..." I managed a wavering voice. In the darkness, I still saw a mint green foal treading water within Cedar's eyes, and I wanted to drown it. "Really, Miss Pie... I'll b-be okay..."
She should have left. She didn't. I felt a gentle hoof on my shoulder.
"You know, if Auntie Pinkie didn't know better, I'd say that somepony could use a hug."
It was the first time I remembered laughing at something she said and feeling good about it. I looked up, my vision foggy. She shone like a pink lantern through it all, and the little foal swam towards it instead. "Yes, Miss Pie..." I murmured, sniffling. "I... I-I think that pony c-could..."
Maybe she was smiling; maybe she wasn't. All I knew was the force with which I allowed myself to fall into Pinkie's embrace. It was somehow softer and warmer than the loneliest of dreams, and I melted in the center of it, leaking tears over her shoulder as I allowed the kindness of a stranger to take me away. It burned both the angel and the demon in a wholesome crucible, so that I might gather up the pony from the ashes.