//------------------------------// // The Love Factor // Story: Innavedr // by Imploding Colon //------------------------------// Bellesmith shivered, overcome with a numb wave of horror. When she spoke, it was as if a fragile part of herself was crumbling, and the pitiful sound of it came out instead of a voice. “Her eyes weren't green,” she whimpered, turning the apple over in her hoof. She buckled, sniffled, and held the precious little fruit against her moist cheek. “Spark, help me. I... I c-can still smell her hair.” She gnashed her teeth. “Nnngh... sawdust... vanilla... a touch of cinnammon. She never knew. Oh Spark, she never knew... she never knew she never knew she never knew...” Pilate's voice was a knife thrown from a mile behind her. “Bellesmith? Who are you talking about?” The next sob that Belle choked on was mammoth. She nearly collapsed on her haunches, but instead leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to catch her breaths. “Belle, darling, do you need to lie down? You're starting to frighten me...” Belle seethed through her teeth. She looked at the apple through foggy eyes. Suddenly, without hesitation, she leaned in and took a bite. The moist pulp danced between her tongue and cheek. It swished around and went slimily down her throat. “I taste...” Belle exhaled heavily, her insides feeling as hollow as they did before the bite. “...nothing.” “Belle?” Her face contorted in a painful wince. Rubbing her eyes dry, Bellesmith turned around. She gazed at Pilate. Pilate gazed past her from afar, his mouth hanging open in confusion. She wasn't confused. “Pilate...” Slowly, her cheeks curved. She stepped towards him with the grace of a sleeping dancer. “Pilate, my beloved...” He trembled slightly as she approached, like a mirror's edge buckling under a heavy weight. She brought a hoof up to his monochromatic muzzle, stroking it endearingly. “You are my one and only stallion, my precious mate, my beloved—granted by the brilliance of the Spark. And I love you more than I love life itself.” A tear rolled down her cheek. She inhaled sharply and murmured, “But you died, Pilate. I watched you plummet to your death. And as much as I don't want that to be, I can't deny the truth.” “Belle...” His voice vibrated against her forelimb before he gripped it with a tender hoof. His breath came out in quivering vapors. “I don't understand. How could I be dead if I'm here?” “But you're not.” She gulped heavily as she shook her head. Two more tears fell. “You're not, beloved. And...” She hissed through her teeth. “I have to move on.” “What... what do you m-mean?” She stepped back from him, steeling herself with icy resolve. “I mean that you've done well, not just now, but on several occasions. But you've gone too far, and there's no going further than this.” Pilate leaned his head to the side, locked in confusion. Soon, the black and white stripes of his visage matched the dull shadows of the room. A growl rose from the back of Belle's throat. “It's over, Nightshade. Whatever you were hoping to drag from me, you can just give it up. This whole exercise is pointless.” Pilate remained perfectly still, but the rest of the room didn't. Marching out from the contours of the wall, painted with the same shadows that were always there to begin with, Nightshade glared at the mare, her nostrils fuming. “Very well,” she muttered. A pair of purple eyes glowed with otherworldly brilliance, melting the shadows around Pilate to dust. “I was kind enough to give you love. Now, I shall give you pain.” With that said, she yanked Pilate up by his mane, spun around in one motion, and flung him clear off the edge of the Steel Wing. “No!” Belle shouted, for she was plunging after him, plummeting, sailing into the burning fields of Foxtaur below. She screamed helplessly as Pilate splattered across a plateau of stones beneath her, exploding into a field of bubbling crimson. Not long after, she splashed after him. Her face was drenched in blood and bile. Breathless, Belle rocketed through the scarlet currents, ripping through waves of muscle and sinew like a serrated torpedo. She swam through miles of soft organs, crunched through broken bone and cartilidge, and then finally emerged on the other side, bursting like a splinter through the skin. She writhed like a leech, her mane and horn dripping with entrails. Looking left and right, she saw fields of black and white stripes, occasionally punctuated by shattered bone and loose teeth. The sun blacked out over the death fields of soaked hair. She looked up, sputtering up vomit and zebra blood. The sky was full of bodies, and all of them shaped like her love. A long, wailing scream escaped her lips as they all fell on top of her, crushing and pulverizing themselves into a pulp on top of the mare, until she was drowning in every ounce of her beloved.