There was a lot that could be said of the architechture of this place. It was odd. Every bit of flooring and wall was divided and subdivided again with sudden curves and edges, raised and sunken impressions, all contributing to a towering, narrow, and entirely disconcerting medly of geomtery. Surely the Xel’naga must have known of right angles, but from the way they had built this place, they must have conisdered them wrong.
There was a puff of black smoke in the metal gloom; Mulia Mule stepped from where nothing should have been able to be concealed, open floor as it was. Scintallating lines of energy pulsed slowly along bent tracks, illuminating the place in a pallid, empty light.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Luna said, taking the much more mundane entrance that was the door. “We’re quite satisfied with you already.”
Mulia pouted, and her ninja cowl slumped. She set it back in place and sauntered over to the alicorn. “It’s good practice. And it sets an example for my apprentice.”
Luna shrugged. “I suppose it does.” Her voice echoed ominiously to the heights of the epoch-old and enigmatic structure. “I brought donuts.” She held up the cheery little cardboard box, colourful and wonderfully tacky, so out of place, yet so welcome.
Particulariy to the two females present.
Mulia craned her neck to peek, but Luna pulled away. “Any chocholate filled ones?” she asked, hopefully. She had a thing for chocholate.
“Yes,” said Luna, but in the flat tone that also intends to remind us all that this doesn’t necisarrily mean that those particular donuts are available. (Luna also had a thing for chocholate. It caused some minor confrontrations between the two at times such as this.)
She did not, however, contest the ninja’s claim on the gooey pastries. In fact, she let the mule hold the box, something she rarely ever did.
“Is something the matter, Princess?” The seriousness was somewhat lost by the hearty consumption of the first glazed, filled donut Mulia could find. Both her kitchen and ninja training (the two arts being fairly similiar, all in all) gave her the prescence of mind and grace to let not one crumb fall.
Luna did not answer, but nosed about through the donut box. After some half-hearted deliberation, she choice a sugar glazed one, nibbling at it distractedly.
She’s really out of it Mulia thought. It worried her a little. Not enough to stop her taking a second chocholate one, but still.
“How is the robot faring?”
“My apprentice? Quite apt, truth be told.” She didn’t like Luna being so dismissive of it. So what if the Mule hadn’t found a fitting name yet, it was still a thing that was more than a thing. “He has trouble with stairs...” she added quietly. She caught the look from the alicorn. “Oh, right, you mean with the repairs... Well, he’s quite single-minded about these sorts of things...is it working yet?”
“No,” she said. “The far-sight of this place is still not ours.”
“Then I suppose he’s not done yet.” Mulia tried the softer approach. “Have patience, Luna. These things take time. Have a donut.”
The alicorn of night accepted the offering. They sat together, right there on the cold, hard floor, the box shared between them. “And our dark archon?”
“Off brooding again, last I saw. It must be so upsetting, being in two minds about everything.”
“Yes. It is.” Luna tore away chunks of pastry solemnly, or at least as solemnly as moist, tasty donuts allow for. “We are surpirsed. We would have expected the personalities to find a middle-ground.” Luna wiped her mouth clean with the back of her hoof. “Or for one to dominate.” She stared off into nothing particular. Mulia wondered what she looked at.
The mule had her suspicions, but nothing conclusive. Luna had taken her tiny army of darkness, really more a barbershop quartet of darkness (the Mule droid had no voice, but the archon had two, so it still worked, shutup) and made this ancient tower both their base and their priority. For what reasons, she had yet to divulge.
Mulia hoped it wasn’t for a coup. Not that she minded toppling governments, that was to be expected as a ninja, but Luna and Celestia were making real headway through their family problems. She’d have hated to be a functionary in breaking them apart. Besides, the sisters were so good to each other. And the Celestia sponsored shop supplied the very donuts Luna treated them all with every Sunday. (Not that the archon or the robot ate, but still.)
Lately it had a whole lot of nothing to wait through as the tower was slowly brought back online. It always hit Luna particularily bad, having too much time to think. “We hope that when this is active, we might see.
“See what, Luna?”
“The darkest part of the sky,” she said, and went very quiet and melancholic.
“How about I comb your mane?” Mulia offered quickly, just wanting to lift the Princess’ spirits, admittantly not something her chosen profession trained one for. All the same, Luna seemed to take some small measure of comfort from the attention. Mulia improvised a comb from throwing stars, watching as the etheral mane swirled and flowed around the teeth.
“We wish we had chairs. A couch, maybe.” Considering the coldness of her own bottom, Mulia Mule the ninja had to agree. That could be her goal for the meantime; warming the place up a bit.