“Alone. Yes, that's the word, the most horrible expression in the tongue of anything that can speak. Murder doesn't hold its hype and Tartarus is only a poor synonym. But those turned to loneliness in the valley of the damned are not to be feared, but are to fear me, for I am the craziest and loneliest motherfucker in the valley."
͓͕̬̩̠̟̹̜̩̬̮̱ͅ ̳̣͖̘̟̫͈͔̘̬̭̙̺͙ ̲͈̭̞͈̲͍͖̞̹̥̖͕͓͓͇ͅ ͉̩͓̱̲ ͕͔̼̮̻̖̖͚̳̲̻ͅͅ ̰͚͈̤̠͖̟̗̣͙̟̝͓̙ͅ ̞̝̤̤͖͓͖̯̫̺͕̠̭͉͖̣̣ͅͅ ̼̫̲͉̫̝̲̺͓ ͇͚͓̭͍̼̤̜̫̥ ͔͍̘̰̺̖̭͕̬̗͖̙̱̜̭̝̫ ͇̩̩ ͈̘̪̠̪͇͉ ͙̤̘̱͍̱̻͚ͅ ̟̩̮̦̱̥͓̘̠̜̬͔̻̞ ̺̤͚̺̬͙͖̪̳̖̠̮͖̝̤ ͕̫̳̫̜ ̘̮͈̖͔̹̯̝̰͎͖͖͚̞̘̜̭̟ ̯̞̣̤̩͚̤͚̻ ̗͓̻̠̩̖͍̜̯͍̭̟͎̘̘ ̟̬͔͔͎ ̰͈͚̖̗̟͇͚̦͕̦̼ ̭͚̗̭̹̲̝̘̳͙̬͈̜͕̖̩͇̫̦ ̭̭̠̜̰͍̳ ͉̤̣͙̪͚̟̥̺ ̺̗̖͕͉͇ ̣̰͎̤͚͈̱͓̖̹̱͕͈ͅ ̘̝̼̟̝̣̱̮̞̯̦ ̱̱͕̥̥ ͉͇̜̲͓͙͈̳͔͖̼͚͙͎͖̘̰ ̪̙͉̣̪̰͕͎̥͚͙̥̗͕̲̻ͅ ̜̩̻͖͖̩̤̝̥̲͇͈̠͖̱͎ ̪̫̣ ͕̭̗̱̗͍͚̤̱̩̳͈͍̦̦̳ ̟̞̭͎̠̜̰̯̯͔̳̫̬̦̱̪ ̖̞̯̲͕̫̭̝̗͖̼̻ ͍̮͍̜̟͔͍̩͇̘̙̘͙̳̗̦̫͇̝ ̱͙̹̜̜̯̘̣̥̲͈͚͕̭̠̰͇ ̥̖͎ ̘̰̭͍̱̩͓ͅ ̬̻͇̜ ͙̲͖͖̠͇͈ ͓͈͕͈̖ͅ ̦̹͖͙͖̩ͅ ̲͔̪͚͉̝̺̱͉̹̠̠̫̙̙̜ ̖̱̲̪̥̭̪̰̟͖̘̘̭ͅ ̹̱̫̳̯̪̭͖̙ ͚͕͈̥̜̭͎̭̜̝͉̯̻͇̞ ̲̭̬̟̥̘͎̬̱͖͇̝̻̮̟̤ͅ ͕̰̝̬͍̪͙͓̯̤͓̗̩̝ ̳̗̞̙͉͈̫͎̼̝ͅ ̻̭̗͔̟̘̼̺̻̘̟̮̩̫̱͍̝ͅ ̦̰̞͔̪̹̩͍̤̥͇͔͎̲ ̖̮̫̣͍̣̮̜̤̖͔͙̲̲ͅ ͇̙̹̼̥͎̳̫̹̪̲͕͈̞̩ ̩̖̲̲͖͇ͅͅ ͍̮̮̙̱̲͓̲̩̬̥͇̻̺̗̮̤̝ͅ ̟͈̪̙̬̭͓̲̹̣͚͔̼̤͖̫͉͉ ̱̲͉̩̺̫ ͎̝̠̙̤̼̦ ̫̱̮͖̥̘ͅ ̪̮̠̯͎̟̳̹̬͓͔̯̹͖̙ ͖̹̫̱͙̠̳͈̩̥͔̻̟̤̩ͅ ̤̭̝̭̟̩̦͍̞̥̣ ̥̬͔͕̼̫̭̗ ̙̩̱͓͖̲̮͙͖̩̹̦͖ ͖̳̟̝̲̘̺̳͇ ͙̭͍̭ ̥̯̹͓͖̗̬̖̱̖͕͙͎̲̹̫͇͍͙ ̩̤̜̦͇͎͕͖̭̰̩͍ ̙͖̯̥͍̬͈̞̝̜̦̣̦̦̳̰̖̼͈ ̯̠̥̯̠̞̠ ͇̩͎̦͓̯̘̭͍̘̯̻̞ ͙͖̰̪̤̭̳̗̖̙̝͚̪̬͙͍̬̣̳ ̖̰̻̠̠̩̠͕ͅ ̜̘̻̣͎͈̰̬͇̼̘͍͓̞͕̣ͅ ͍̯̰͔͈̣͉̖̲̗͓ͅ ̭̺̭̲̱̯̘͖̫̠̬̹̖̯͇̜ ̱̲̹̠̭͕̩̫̬͉̟̳͈̳̤̜ ̙̳̱̹̟̼̗̦̩̱̦̮̖͙̙̼ ͎̖̭̮̙̻̯͚͈ͅͅ ͕̼̥̠͉͉̬̞͔͕̭̫͙̣ ͓̘̲͇̯͈̫̺͕̭̰̥̣̗ ͉̩̥̖̹̣ ̦̠̗̬̮̺̻̼̠̲͖͓̪̥̞̤̙ ͖̘͕̞̣̙ ̭̭̠̜̰͍̳ ͉̤̣͙̪͚̟̥̺ ͎̖̭̮̙̻̯͚͈ͅͅ ͕̼̥̠͉͉̬̞͔͕̭̫͙̣ ͓̘̲͇̯͈̫̺͕̭̰̥̣̗ ͉̩̥̖̹̣ ̦̠̗̬̮̺̻̼̠̲͖͓̪̥̞̤̙ ͖̘͕̞̣̙ ̭̭̠̜̰͍̳ ͉̤̣͙̪͚̟̥̺ ̺̗̖͕͉͇ ̣̰͎̤͚͈̱͓̖̹̱͕͈ͅ ̘̝̼̟̝̣̱̮̞̯̦ ̱̱͕̥̥ ͉͇̜̲͓͙͈̳͔͖̼͚͙͎͖̘̰ ̪̙͉̣̪̰͕͎̥͚͙̥̗͕̲̻ͅ ̜̩̻͖͖̩̤̝̥̲͇͈̠͖̱͎ ̪̫̣ ͕̭̗̱̗͍͚̤̱̩̳͈͍̦̦̳ ͇̹̦̲͎̜̰͓̗̭ ̯͇̳̙̫͓̻̹̼͔̫ ͎͖̜ ͚̺̱̜̝̬͈͖̰̭͈͓͉̘͍̠ͅ ̪̣̼͖̜͍̙͕͖̯̲̹̹͔̹̠̗ͅ ̬͚̦̦̦͉͙̠̠̜͍̠͚̩̹ ̺͎͙͎͍̦͍̼̮̥̹͉̥̠̗͍͙ͅ ̥͉̳̰̞̙͙̝̠̭̥̘̩̘ ̬̼̺̲̯͙̲̳ ͖͚̞̘̥̱̣̪̥͓̙̠ ͓̼͎̪̖̞̫͇ͅ ̤̪̙̹̘͚̦̱ͅ ̹̬̭̼͈͈͓͎ ̭͓̠̝͍̙ ̤̻̲̠͇͕̰̫ ͇͔̰̗͉̜ͅ ̰͚̱̯̳̝̪̹̮ ̪͈̫̗̠̬ ̫̰̭̜͈̤̯͔͈͇͖̠̠̫̩͓ͅ ̙̙̣̳̰̪̬̻̘̰͚͈̹͚̗͚̹̩ ̯̤̗̝̬͚̺͈͎ ͚͇̪̝̫̠̹̩͚̗̦̰͈̥̦ͅ ̳͚̳̠̙̜͍̠̬̺̹͎̟̪̘̯͈ͅ ͙̳͔̦̯̤̜̦̺̪̩̬ ̯͍̖̟̞̖̰͈̮͙̤͉̺͙͙ ̠̪͎̲̳̠̭͕̪̭̘ ̝̗̟̰͈̥̰͚͔̗̺̺͎ ̗̭̖ ̘̦̘̤̹̝̞̤̞͔̼̰͈ͅ ͈͕̜̰̗̰̞̮̙̱̻̖̻̝̙̝̱ͅ ͍̻̠̹͕̺̹̫̠̥̗̙̘̖̝ ̫̤̪̻̣̤̳̠̟̞ ͎̱̪̻̲̰̖̰̩̹̰̩̠ ̮̼͙̞͉̳͈ ̜̲̳̬̼̹͕̰̭͈̣̦̰̭̠̬̯̝ͅ ̭̭̠̜̰͍̳ ͉̤̣͙̪͚̟̥̺ ̺̗̖͕͉͇ ̣̰͎̤͚͈̱͓̖̹̱͕͈ͅ ̘̝̼̟̝̣̱̮̞̯̦ ̱̱͕̥̥ ͉͇̜̲͓͙͈̳͔͖̼͚͙͎͖̘̰ ̪̙͉̣̪̰͕͎̥͚͙̥̗͕̲̻ͅ ̜̩̻͖͖̩̤̝̥̲͇͈̠͖̱͎ ̪̫̣ ͕̭̗̱̗͍͚̤̱̩̳͈͍̦̦̳ ͔̲͔̬̘̥̺̱͖̦̜̫̳ͅ ̩̜̫̣̙͈̱̘̦͙ ̹͔̮̦͇͇͖̠̲̟͕̱͓͕ͅ ̥̠̻͙̯̥̥̝͉̼ ̲̞̬̠̤͍̞͓̺̼̤̘̘̻̗͎͈ͅ ̟͖̬͕̼͎͍̮̟͙̖ ̬̫͈͙̰̩̠̙̫̥̲̻̝͇͉͎̫ ̙̱̜̠̳͉̖̟͔̟͕̥̩̤̲̜ͅͅ ͇͚̻͎͔͖̭̟͈͓̘͈͓̮̠̜̬ͅ ̠̲̣̖̹̝̜̙̰͔̬ͅͅ ͙̳̘͕̩͉̲
Where to begin, where to begin... maybe? No... Actually! Nah... Well, uh... huh. Te-heh.
What to tell?
Hmm, why don’t you decide? There’s many to choose from actually, so which would you like to talk about? Fried? Scrambled? Hard-boiled? You can choose whichever you like, minds are flexible like that.
What, you find this weird? Weird how? Weird?! I was weird once... They put me in a little white room. I died in that room. Waiting for a long time doing nothing. Nothing? Why didn’t you just have fun?—Have fun? Having fun with nothing is just weird— weird?! I was weird once...
Wait, I needed to do something...
What? Am I making you uncomfortable? A little of a tickle to your awkward stick? Not that stick. Yes that one. No, the other one. The right one, your other right. Got ya! There’s no stick. It was a stone. Te-heh.
Alright I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just having fun I didn’t want to... do... what was I doing again?
Would you like to hear a story? Of course you do. You can’t survive without one of my stories. Te-heh Or can you?—No you can’t—or can you? Te-heh. Wow, I just experienced a loop there. That was awesome! Wait. That sounds weird. Way too weird... yeah.
What do you think of voids? Total desolation? Hollowness? Madness? Being truly alone? Ice cream?
Well, everyone should know that no matter how you say it, those words... there’s no way to give what they mean justice. To what they show by their foul formation of letters. How easy it’s for them to say something so scary, so horrifying... so much more worse than death and a brain freeze...
What was I doing again?
No, wait, I--uhhhh was talking about the most independent person in the world... no, the most full of potential student the world had ever seen? Nah, the bravest child to be born! Pfft-as if, it was obviously about the eldest elder alive... I think?
Darn this is hard! Oh! Wait! Wait! I remember!
The pit none will ever want to fall into! Of course! Success!
But to see what I'm talking about, I need to be down pat into your experience pool. So to launch this little rocket of joy, let’s begin by imagining a doll, like a little puppet, you know? With small legs, and rear legs, nice ragged mane and tail, amazing complexion, and buttons for eyes. Just a great companion— I mean, example to use. But don’t be confused ladies and gentlecolts, we’re just going to use our little cutie here as an example, so please remain calm, don’t try this at the park, at home it’s fine. And please do not imagine yourself or anyone that is constantly talking to you as said puppet.
Professionals only. Te-heh.
So now, think that our little doll here was going about its way. Doing what it does. Writing a book—making a spell—test driving a machine—taking up for an impossible challenge, you know, puppet stuff. Take your pick.
But then, at some point on the inventive event, our pretend fella poofs out of it, and splatters in a unique white room. No explanation, no building up, just poof.
This is a room of glowing white walls, floor and ceiling you wouldn't ever want in contact with granola juice. So potently clean that the smell of sterilization can make those with sensitive noses dizzy. So bright that if somepony tried to make mild delight out of the light, it would produce the worst shadow figures you could ever conceive. It’s hard to enjoy hoof shadows when you can only make hoofs.
So with luck, our doll should easily remember the last thing it was doing that we chose for it, it was like just happening before, right? Having a serious life-changing talk with its pretend mentor, or checking if the pretend project it made works. All that imagined jazz.
Inside this room our friend should spot all its particularities, unless of course it’s deprived of any of its senses— I mean, how much does it cost to suture a eye button, huh? Or adding extra fluff after a year or two? It wouldn't take time out of my schedule that's for sure. So in perfect state to see itself it should draw little effort to straining and see the rest of the white around it. Like what it’s wearing, how it looks, etcetera. Finding a surprise or two is common, since now that it’s thinking of something different, therefore, it shouldn't remember that last memory pointed out not a moment ago.
Ha ha ha, no, our marionette wasn't expecting that, no alcohol involved remember? It was trying to quit~ Or has it actually taken anything intoxicating in like, you know, ever?
Wait, what was I doing?
Yeah, our little buddy is going to be nervous wreak from the lack of memory. Every second passed the memory became blurrier, as if thinking about it made it thicker to go around that squishy brain of hers— of our puppet.
But if this little pal is not contemplating on that tartarus building up in its head, it should be gawking at itself in surprise. Something new it knows it shouldn’t have greets it with a vengeance. Or forgot, it’s forgetting time after all. But obviously like anyone in this situation, it voices its thoughts of the situation. Normally cursing.
Right then, like if it was waiting to be foreshadowed like a ghost in a story, our chum feels a numbness on its legs. In a quick downward glance it sees the room is now filling with water, but not any water, a dark slimy-unsettling disgusting fluid sticking into anything it touches. Now that being our tiny figure's legs.
No matter what it tries to do, this water rises to its knees, and before it can yelp in surprise the wetness comes to its neck in an instant, water seeming to fill the sides of the room first before covering our friend completely, as if being inserted into an ominous black bowl. Trying to swim doesn’t help, it’s gooier than anything else it has bathed in before, and you know what kinds of things it has bathed on. But well, thoughts may turn one side or the other depending on our little doll’s will to survive. Many would be too stunned to do anything about it, others would just go with the flow and give in to fate and die; less would fight, kick and yell bloody murder till the bitter end.
The water overcomes our doll’s size, surrounding the walls and ceiling until it's just a small dot above that shows the existence of the previous white room, but now with a dim red glow. And right then the water seemed to finally decide to drown our doll as it fills the space it's in. By reaction our little friend inhales deeply, taking one last gulp of air. And eventually the bubble it was in fills to the brim, and now dolly is inside, not able to swim around, with no escape. All it can do is hold its breath as long as it can. And hope for the best. Like if it was so lucky.
Our little girl holds that last whiff of air like the most important, and glorious oxygen ever breathed. Life flashing before her strained button eyes as the precious life-giving bubbles leave her stitched muzzle, which become harder to keep contained; all those flinching last regrets rising to her inside vision as she can’t understand why this had ever happened to begin with.
Until that last second, wishing to be saved by some miracle. Telling herself that all her years of experiences and events will not come down to this unknown and almost uneventful depressing end. Her lungs burned as if on fire; she couldn’t keep her last air anymore, and with a heavy heart and a curse or two, she left it go. And with it, her life.
As a result, like in the bottom of the ocean after an explosion, the dark liquid collapses into her.
Only to find that she is, in a literal sense, inhaling this water; gulping it like air. It numbs her throat, flooding her lungs and chest dulling everything inside. But she couldn’t care less at this point, wheezing out of lacking breath is always better than gargling in agony and death. At the end of it with a face pale and recovering its natural color, as the panicked eyes gradually vanish, she smiles. Maybe even giggle from the scare.
So, after relief finally reaches the psyche, she questions her current pickle, or curse on how overwhelming the experience was, take your pick. In any manner, she will without actually thinking of it, see peculiarities of the water.
The inhaling comes first, it’s a weird feeling, like drinking water and breathing at the same time. One would think that it would take time to adjust, but it leaves in an instant, the numb making it impossible to continue exploring the new feeling. It’s like it had no temperature, adding no resistance when moving— which one would expected from the previous gooiness, killing the sense of touch, vowing that even if the walls and floor are found, she would never feel them.
Then it’s easy to see that the light from before doesn’t reach inside. No smell can travel. And when trying to make a noise, any sound, it can’t be heard. It isn’t long before there’s no true way to know which way is up, as the water removed the perception of gravity pulling down, like placing one in perfect balance inside.
With this in mind, the experience differs from being relaxing, to terrifying. Oh goody. So how would it affect our doll? What would she think? If she felt a heat wave, would she wave back?
But I don’t need to listen to your answer, so let me go and suggest that she may have been confused. And when it comes to being scared, let’s say she was not. But when it comes to having no idea what’s going on and believe it’s something else? Only the “it’s something else” mind-set that has many fun and fascinating stuff to watch... like a cranked up toy.
In the first day the beginning is calm, the pressure from the constant sensation of every second; every day, was released for maybe the first time ever. Maybe thinking the arriving here was for self-purposes, since nothing before can be recalled. But in the end, there’s no distractions, no irritation, otherwise productive for stress relief in tranquility.
But of course, this doesn’t last forever.
Being anxious is the first sign of trouble, after the first attempt of ending this, ‘meditation’ by all means possible, that anxiousness evolves.
The calm goes frantic, the tranquility becomes disturbing. No one would like to remain in such a state of darkness for so long. But with the inactivity, the long, long inactivity, all ultimately realize that being here is no dream, no lapse in mind, or willing decision, or previous build up for a spell. That this... is real.
And it can’t be escaped.
With the found need to understand what’s happening, acting on own accord is called in like a premade procedure, more violent or pathetic than normal depends on the person. But let’s just say our puppet acted in between the two like many would and focused in thinking on the last ‘whatever’ she was doing.
It’s possible that this is a nightmare, the lack of memory sure points to that. Maybe a joke from somepony she knows that could do such a thing. Maybe our doll believes it is being held prisoner, ooooh~ spooky, a villain foalnapped her and is preparing to finally say its evil plan — or in even darker thoughts, end her. But our doll will, after more time, not care for this joke; or forced situation, and do everything she can to liberate herself of it.
Everything being nothing.
After crying out several times into the obscurity, screaming, yelling, taunting, threatening— glancing off the fact that she can’t hear her own voice, then swimming with whatever thing makes her special ranging from horns, wings, or anything— but doing her best to ignore the lack of feeling her own limbs, and then pursuing to ‘awake’ from this whatever it is— but rejecting the solid feeling of pure stamina, and no need for sleep. After all that, an ache which has been digging deep into her insides the moment this whole experience begun, has now struck gold.
Foreboding. That feeling that something bad will happen.
If it hadn’t already begun.
Minds are not made to be without activity for long cycles of time. It could be strong in the beginning, but it will not last. Everypony has a breaking point. But that’s not what she would care for.
She wants out.
With more time of nothing —two days— not that it’s easy to perceive the passage of time, nor that they will be a calm and inactive forty eight hours. She’ll start to sense evil in the void; hear voices and see faces in the desolated darkness. A madness buried inside waiting to be released if not for her own will and inner mind pushing the hollow hallucinations away. Waiting for a rescue you’re not even sure will come.
Worse if you know it will not come.
She would want out, and want it now. But what could she do? But that question was only to sound hopeful. Since all anyone could do is...
It’s sad, but it’s true. Zip, nada, nothing can be done, except at every second forget more how it was to feel your own fur, oh how much it can be missed. Not knowing if you are touching your own chest but aware that you did the necessary procedures to achieve that goal, but you can’t be sure since you can’t feel the results, nor see them, hear them, smell or taste them.
Added with finding no hunger, or exhaustion, this place is like a deep nightmare of nothing. Heh, by this point she should be challenging the idea of you being alive at all. Fascinating isn’t it?
It’s only now. Only at this instant when a cold shiver runs up your spine to the mere thought of such a situation that you could ever at all be even close to grasp the emotion that many creatures are suffering right now. Or more specifically, what she felt when she arrived.
Granted she was never a toy, a doll perhaps to some stallions' eyes, but being a puppet still is in question. And when it came to alcohol, she actually never drunk anything intoxicating in like, you know, ever?
She lived and felt everything our little doll felt, down to the "T." She’s a mare of many stages and fragile character. So many things in mind... Te-heh. She was once not good with the unknown, but that wasn't a big deal to her anymore. She had learned many things, many goods off her friends, friends she was oh so much missing right at that moment of arrival.
But for the matter, the place has been her home ever since.
A silent kingdom of darkness and tranquility. Like floating in a breathable liquid so vast and far from anything light giving to be visible. An existence that is, and yet is not. If you were to be in the nothing, you would see nothing as there’s nothing to see, you would hear nothing as there’s nothing to hear, and you would smell nothing as there’s nothing to smell.
This, is, nothing.
But don’t dare to confuse it with being inside a vacuum like space. There’s no one here to change the bag for the thing, you know?
By being here for a long time, you learn how to go around, if you are still yourself anymore. This place does things... funny things to those inside, up in the head. But other than that, all you can do is wait and observe. Pretty standard stuff. Activity soaking your dry eyes whenever they make a splash.
Like when her lavender self, arrived.
There’s tons in the nothing sharing their fate, ignorant the existence of the others. Creatures that arrive confused and angry, wanting explanation, just to be ignored for eternity until they crack with time, and once cracked, be dissolved and forgotten.
But she was different, oh goodness yes she was special. She knew that feeling of searching answers all too well, for her it brought only trouble like a tail-piano to the head or an out of nowhere hydra adventure. But she was calmer than she was supposed to be, since she thought at the beginning she was being tested. By her nature she would've been curious of such a place if she wasn't inside of it.
And if living has taught anyone anything, is that who has lived off something, can’t live off nothing. Since there’s no fate, no reason, no law, no anything here. What could you live for? And that’s the one real zero world problem here.
No one can.
Time passed and she waited for help or attempted escape herself. But it was all for naught, no spells seemed to work no matter how many ways she tried to do it, all those spells she knew were interesting but futile in a situation such as this.
Her mind, with time as those in the nothing decomposed. Always fighting the phantoms-senses made by the brain to pretend it had exterior stimulation. In her words ‘Sombra’s trap door was just a trickle compared to how bad these made up things got to be’. Shapes, creatures of twisted imagination, and weird settings out of the twisted mind of the lord of chaos Discord himself became as common as nitrogen in breathable pony atmosphere. And don’t get me started on the fact that she was a pony herself.
Fun fact, some creatures are born to be unable to survive on their own. Hilarious really. At least, survive well mentally on their own. That’s a weeny tiny detail that matters so much that ponies have this distinctive need to have acquaintances, at least one. It’s told by all in pony history that no pony can go without having interactions with another pony. Even the antisocial have their families. There’s stories of hermit ponies, those are just... bizarre.
Interaction, even if little, is required for ponies.
How much interaction does she receive here? Shh. That’s for later silly.
But that girl got herself some will on that big mass on her head, mmHM, holding the weird stuff back, keeping her sanity was easy peasy, like if she was accustomed to an antisocial behavior. Fancy that. But her reasoning was in the assurance that her friends were going to look for her, and find her, eventually.
So much hope.
But there’s a light in this empty void, not that it is actual light, it’s a meta-phrase, or was it metaphoric? Meta-sphere? Meta-fore? Ah whatever. I already said light couldn’t reach inside, were you even listening? Pay attention! What, is this too hard for you to get?! To hard for you to follow?! Well, boo-buking-hoo! How does it feel to not understand what’s going on, ehh?! Not having all the information laid into your oh so deserving grasp you pathetic stylistic stone goat?! Eh?!
Oh, wow oh, sorry. I get a little heated sometimes. Please forgive me. Pleeeease... It won't happen again, I promise. Pinkie promise! Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. There, we’re good? What, you like it? Learned that from one of my most recent friends. But we're not into that, right? Alright? We good? Thanks. Just ignore that.
I know you said nothing. Te-heh.
But anyway, when concentrating into holding on, the vexing labor of holding high spirits and safekeeping the powerful inner will against the constant latches in the dark becoming harsher. It came out of the nothing as if to save her for some reason... the vivid memories.
Amazing to see really. They were as clear as being there, compared to watching a movie with perfect foreshadowing color and sound, the screen spreading around her like the walls of a closed room in a cell. It’s surprising at first, breathtaking in fact. All gloriously censorial and stimulating, she could even feel the floor beneath her, or grass depending on the memory. The literal expression of living in the past; repeating it altogether, but watching it happen through one’s old eyes. No way to distort it.
It didn't mean it felt normal though. Like with the awkward stick—wait, no, stone, it’s uncanny beyond belief. Talking without wanting to, moving without commanding herself to do so, like being in a party where you don’t know anypony but you need to keep up your image, and you act like how you think you are seen instead of how you want to. But here the party is your previous life, your image is exactly as you remember yourself in the past and you are being commanded like a puppet by a puppeteer.
It’s also unknowingly, or deliberately, frustrating. Every time she saw a friend and tried to make them acknowledge her most current problem, to recognize again that it is but a memory... it hurt bad. Keeps one reminded of their true problem.
But in the end, no one questions it when it happens, not even her. They had a safe haven, so why would they complain? With this sanctuary found, everything would be alright, right? Holding out until found in this place should be easier, right?
Well, it would be true. This place can keep you forever. And then if held long enough, special things happen. Te-heh. But she was special-er.
It felt good at first, re-living the best moment, thoughtful of those loved, tears of happiness for every nice gesture not seen before because of the situations, feeling the same emotions and livid smiles once felt for what seem to have been way too long ago. So full of hope to be found.
But seeing her closest friends, family, mentor, being constantly reminded how much she really missed them and how much she needed them, was not a helping the experience. But in the bright side, it was a reminder that those very friends were searching for her. The unique event that brought her here must've been acknowledged by somepony, right? Especially in her case since it was so flashy, and actually in front of those very friends. Oh dear, yeah, she had remembered this. But nothing after. Curious... Anyways, it gives hope to be found.
Boring with a capital "S."
And once the last memory was reached, it ended too short, spanning days before the last true moment of awareness. Making it impossible to figure out how she got into the nothing in the first place. So what else could she do but repeat her life in her mind once again? Yes, she didn't question how she did that either, just did it like if using her magic.
It’s then that her fate was sealed, and interesting got its game on.
It was not felt on the second, or the fourth, or the tenth rewind, but it was. It started as an entrance exam not feeling as exciting as before, then a sunny day on a picnic with friends not being as warm as it was before, and finally a closing act of siblings with your dragon friend, loss of charm. But it is seen eventually.
The recollections, dulled, senses became colder with each pass, boring with each look, everything became harder and more rigid to be felt, and this reach a point that it stopped helping, worse.
Gaging from repetitive cute scenes, irritation from signs of goodness by the sheer recurrence of it, wishes that the common lovely scenes will for some reason become a depressing one, hoping a constantly flying rainbow pegasus crashed on her legs instead of wings just to break the monotony. Reliving the same old wasn't cutting it anymore, she needed to see something happen, something new, anything.
But this horrid result of repetition didn't not go unnoticed by this clever one, no sir. She was unaware of how she did it. It just came to her as a big push of her will took over, she was indeed special. Retreating back to the nothing after the experience is no easy task, and it just... happened. This is in truth, not the norm, but she did it as easy as using a napkin.
But it had a cost. With a taxing experience such as that, thoughts grew heavier, keeping the mind from wandering was a hard task already, but now it was a loose canon.
The faces seemed as if the darkness blended to meet her, subconscious happiness coming from seeing an unknown face, but they only received her cold shoulder. The voices were clear as if next to her, suggesting things that now she couldn't help to agree upon, but she continued to discern that she had never experience anything. Her mind yearned for more sensation than it had ever before, but she knew as long as she ignored it, it wouldn't affect her. Because after all, it was not real.
But now, what could she do?
Nothing. She could do nothing.
But what scared her the most, what really made her doubt if she wanted to be found in the first place, was that she did not deny the truth. It would break the monotony to see what happened if something that made no sense shook her friends’ lives, how would they react? She spoke of a crazy thought of hers, helping Discord go mayhem just to see what happened. It would be horrible, but interesting... it shook her to the core. She didn't want to feel bad about it, she just wanted something to happen. Like all in this kingdom.
But of course, special-special-special~. After, she then went against her previous thoughts. Blaming the place, it was not her fault, why would it be? It's not like she wants to cause harm, or to see bad things happen. It was the awful nothing’s fault.
An interesting approach.
Those special in the nothing never lose hope to be found; to find a way out; that in some way, somehow, they’ll be free. The hope to see friends again, to hug and feel protected and happy. Hope to make whoever locked them in this dungeon pay for their suffering painfully as they do as much horror only double to their experience until he or she wishes they were never be born to begin with... Te-heh. But to end, hope is too strong to break like that.
And as it has been discovered, it comes immediately after. And holly golly was it exact. It may be a soft whistle, or a weird compilation of moan of various tones, but it was, in fact, a sound, and the strangest thing about it is that it goes like a distance laughter, it usually does anyway. Not like those felt for the last four days, or was it years?
That’s another thing in the nothing, the perception of time. To say it simply, it’s boinkers. In reality four days had passed, she felt one to two hundred years. She had re-lived her life after all, always at the speed of life, and... I’m getting side tracked aren’t I?
Alright, back in business. Since most special lay alone in this room for so long, the curious sound is so alien to them, so nostalgic, their reactions are immediate and understandable.
They question, scream, plea, or yell out their build up fury. Totally understandable. There’s nothing in the nothing, so if there’s something, it has to be the one to blame for the suffering taken for so long, or at least that’s what they believe. What she believed.
Heh, her cutesy face was so red, it was too perfectly placed to be something of her own making, and she thought of the only creature that could achieve such a thing. Not that creatures whom are known to have black exo-fur didn’t cross her mind, but what were they to gain? At least that’s what she thought on the moment.
“I know it’s you Discord! I will not lose my mind in here you hear me! I will not be made a twisted version of my former self for your amusement! My friends will find me! You will not get away with this!”
And right there, when the sound was replied with her voice, quivering without her consent, feeling whatever she truthfully felt of her situation, completely vulnerable.
It deemed her ready.
The subtle long undeceived sound begun again, tickling the mind in such a way that those affected did the long forgotten action straining their necks to find the sound, not that they knew if they were doing it. This sound is a composition of many and it reaches in a different way than the hallucinations taken as reality, recognized to be an actual call. A blessing.
The voices became familiar, and anyone in that situation would feel their hearts soar. Those voices are of the ones that fill us with hope; family, friends; those we knew would always search for us till the end if we were ever in need. Sounding as if crying and being happy. Like if they had found her.
The sounds come from a direction and all in that situation seek for it, with hopes restored and faith through the roof, there’s nothing to stop them from falling back down.
"A little while ago..."
Experts have analyzed and revealed it’s always when at the happiest point, when believing rescue was absolute, thinking loved ones and those respected came to ensure safety. When it shows you... you.
"...my teacher and mentor Princess Celestia sent me to live in Ponyville."
She saw herself, a glaring spotlight over ‘her’ in contrast to the dark. A dress so neatly done and groomed it was obvious to be of her friend Rarity’s, a tiara crowning ‘her’ head that she recognized as a well-known element of magic. And then the most unsettling part, a new set of appendages at both sides of ‘her’ body, twitching from inexperience of keeping themselves tucked. Wings. Those of which surprised her on her first checking of herself in the light room at the start of all this.
"But now, on a day like today I can honestly say I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for the friendships I've made with all of you."
Then the scene expanded, fine white marble spread underneath her, smooth columns raised from this floor, a sky above her sprayed until a warm sun took the sky. With the scene built she could understand that she was watching a mare just like her at a balcony of the castle of Canterlot, speaking to a crowd down below. ‘She’ was happy—smiling—joyful for the moment ‘she’ was experiencing. Celebrating a grand event of some kind our little confused mare had never seen.
Especially with those behind ‘her’.
All her friends were there. Wearing new and beautiful clothes and carrying happy grins, some with tears on their eyes, even her mentor that mentor’s sister were close by, wearing unique never seen before garments and bearing proud postures.
It’s then where she, experienced true horror.
"Each one of you taught me something about friendship. And for that, I will always be grateful.”
She was at a lost of words, trying to squeeze something out, but a pathetic whimper was all she could do. Jaw as wide as red were her eyes. Shivering with thoughts making her eyes water as an horrible twist reached her heart. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. She was paralyzed.
This was not a memory.
"Today, I consider myself the luckiest pony in Equestria. Thank you, friends. Thank you, everypony!"
“N-No...” She replied, as if trying to deny it. Deny what was happening, what she was witnessing. She didn’t think for a moment that it could be an illusion, or a trick, or a lack of memory as she had known she had experienced. But she was way too unstable upstairs. Her friends were there, first time she had truly seen them for what felt like eternity; just a hoof away. And that was what made it true to her.
This happens to all specials. It’s to show that you were replaced. At least that’s what is better to believe. The imposters, as we call them. Act like you, react like you... do like you? Anyway, a perfect copy. Not even you can tell if you are the real you, you-ingly you, you. It’s that confusing. Especially to those whose minds were bright enough to arrive at such conclusion. Her’s did.
Following ‘herself’ into the Canterlot castle, as ‘she’ meet with her brother, whom was of white coat and blue mane. Next to her sister in law, which fur defined ‘soft pink’. With a happy brother to sister nuzzling later a crowd of celebrating ponies on the sides of the long carpet tried to encourage the scene.
The contrast between what she was feeling and what she was watching made it harder to stop her hectic breathing.
“Are you crying?”
“—it's liquid pride. Totally different thing.”
How curious isn’t it? It begun with a white room, mysterious memory loss, then isolation, which for ponies it means bad business already. Then the mystical and unexpected ‘help’ with perfect sound and color. Only to make it savagely worse by breaking the will to be even want to be found. But the hope remained. And what could ever take that away? Only this thing that eases to her waltzing into her head and canon explode herself with the implications.
And since her thoughts were long without control way before that, it was a given that she would just lose her mind in theories. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Curious isn’t it?
‘She’ smiled to her brother. Both happy and proud for the event they were a part of. Friends surrounding ‘her’ as they gave their thoughts and continued on, not without an addition from her bouncing pink friend.
“Best coronation day ever!"
Te-heh, te-hehhehehehehehe—*cough**cough* Meh~ I think I have something in my throat.
“W-what?” If she was in horror before, now she looked like she was right next to the most heinous monstrosity ever conceived, and it had a liking to taste her insides. She felt the need to puke, but she couldn’t, she felt the need to cry, but no tears came out. In the nothing, there was no way to even satisfy the feeling of being horrified.
The group came out of the castle, singing and matching on the marble streets towards anywhere; celebration all around. Ponies on their balconies singing out in festivity. The impressive buildings and precious architecture with banners and ribbons showing the true glorious and greatness of what was going on.
“I’m being crowned p-princess?!” She at this point had a hole in her chest that was becoming more troublesome each second to contain. She wanted to have her eyes making waterfalls, wanted her throat burning for a yell of defiance that could break her own ears, anything. But nothing could be done. Only to looking around the sea of ponies, wasted of ideas.
“No. No! I just forgot! Yes!” Her heart seemed to lift, but her mind was confused. The words seemed to come out of nowhere, like when you lie so well you don’t know how you did it. “It’s just a dream, I just forgot, of course I was crowned! Yes! I’m just dreaming.”
But unluckily she was never that good of a liar. It was way too forced on an idea to buy it and move on, the spread of the heavy feeling of powerlessness was way stronger. But she was special, more will and control over herself than the normal creature.
“How could’ve I forgot? Because I’m dreaming of course, it makes... perfect... sense...” Reason, reason would help her. If she could find the right words, the right logic, it would stick, and therefore, make her feel less pain. “It’s just a lucid dream gone wrong, weird that it’s happening like this, but it’s alright, I should get out again.”
But the right words were needed, and ‘get out again’, were not.
“Uhg, no, no! It’s a dream, I has to be a dream! A nightmare! It’s just a nightmare! Stop! Thinking!” If she could feel it she would be biting down her lips so hard they could draw blood. She tried to help herself by trying to smack her own forehead, but no pain came from it.
The group ended their musical joy parade, all around flying ponies grinned in amazement of what they were looking at. The newest princess, something that has not happened in generations upon generations. The newest princess was Cadance and wasn’t in any book our mare has ever read. Why would this happen, why, why, why?! She couldn’t hang in the thought anymore.
“Ugh! Just... p-please... no, please. I’m h-here! I’m not her!” Then her thought went wild, first thinking ‘she’ was a clone, maybe she had died and this was the afterlife, maybe it was a changeling, but in all thoughts she was with no power to do anything, a tool for a goal in some and just left to rot in others. Many theories, but none gave her will, none gave her hope. They just needed to be a possibility in her mind to roast her brain. Feeding the flame, forcing her to hold herself, or in this case try. “No!”
The other ‘her’ seemed to glance at her, saying blantly. "Everything is fine."
Something cracked inside. Our girl's eyes were wide staring at her other self with surprised, confusion, awe and anger.
The last one with a twist.
“NO ITS NOT!” She screamed as loud as her throat allowed, but in reality it didn’t produce sound, but she was in a far long cry of giving a damn. It was a warmth in her being she had never really experience outside of the witnessing extreme lack of logic. She yelled out for help, begging—no, demanding to be heard, throwing actual insults to whom she thought as an evil creature from the most empty pits of tartarus, or a changeling, Discord, anything really. But she should’ve known even they had their boundaries.
But she didn’t go against what she was feeling.
“Yes! Everything’s going to be just fine!” ‘She’ said as ‘she’ was given a spell to use her wings and fly around the Canterlot castle that for our mare was vibrating, but that was her own anger's doing. It was as if 'she' was taunting her; knowing full well she was listening. That honest smile on ‘her’ face might as well have been a smug, with knowing eyes.
“BUCK! YOU!” Her throat was rasping, but she wasn’t concerned. Nor was she replied, the scene played without a hitch and she could only observe. She tried closing her eyes to ignore it, but it became impossible, the vision, memory, or whatever it was, was inside her eyelids. She had to follow ‘herself’ like a ghost as it played, surrounded by the friends she was expecting to be saved by.
Then her attitude changed. At first it was delivering questioning jabs to the thing, then the demands for help moved into trying to make her friends see what they were doing, how she wasn’t there, even though she knew she herself wouldn’t tell the difference. And then, in a surprise to herself, inquire to whoever was doing this to her to do something physically impossible with his head and bum, together. But ending in a scream of pure frustration when she was ignored in all accounts.
She knew, even though she wouldn’t admit it, she had lost the thing which kept her mentally stable.
In the end she watched and followed until the image slowed to a crawl. Our little mare saw how everything, even the flaps of her friend’s wings, strained in speed until it was slower than the sun moving in the sky. And as sudden as the image and sounds appeared in the first place, it vanished. Like fading back into the oblivion it came from.
She didn’t know what had happened, but she was too upset to care. She wasn’t thinking about her position, but she understood it was absolutely true, at least in one of her theories.
She was never leaving. Trapped and nopony was searching, nopony was worried. It wouldn’t even matter if she died, since she was already replaced. No pony would care to look and learn she was here. Alone.
She wanted to keep herself level headed— in control to think like she was learning to always do. Or let herself cry her eyes out. But this was not going to let her be. She had never even thought about such a situation like this.
She didn't know what to do. Like, at all. She needed a friend, and she had none.
But she knew what she was feeling. She wanted to buck something, fight something, see something recieve her frustration, or feel the power her teeth wanted to use to break each other. She lost the one thing that kept her going. But she wanted to ignore it, keep it away from her thoughts. Escape it.
And what could she do?
Well, as the phrase goes here...
But it didn’t mean she didn't try though, ‘will’ burning and passing from being strong to weak, then between thinking, to crying, and then back. The mad thoughts were there, but they did nothing to disturb her like before; she was adjusting to them, they were therapeutical in a way. But then thoughts of reason came to her head, trying to drive conclusions as to what she had witnessed, trying to bring hope back, to no avail.
It came and left, like clockwork. Thoughts she never believed herself capable of, and then regrets trying to keep her as she was before learning of her dilemma. On the bright side, she had thought of new ways to use magic never thought before, but when thought about, her real self knew they were impractical for anything other than sweet relief of the darkest wishes being released to an enemy. She was splitting, liking it and fearing it.
But the frown never left her face, the first hate is always the strongest and less rational, and it showed, it was a growing growl that just accumulated power, anger. She never got to breathe calmly, her mind never let off how much damage she would cause to her capturer. With one mission, one wish that made her whole.
She wanted out. She needed to help her friends against this imposter, to give the person whom had trapped her in the nothing a piece of her mind, and hopefully a buck to the face; or a bite to the weak spots. She was so blind off her head, nothing that wasn’t on staying sane remained on her reason, even the acknowledgement that she wasn’t going to survive without another pony. But she knew she didn’t want to be a plaything anymore.
And she saw first hoof, where true lone prisoner anger can take you.
She was so concentrated on thinking up in her newly adopted twisted way, and then giving herself a speech of unproved hope to keep herself calm, that she completely took as nothing having felt her heart for the truly first time for what felt like years.
Burning with each thump of fury.
Now this is the point where everything got a little weirder.
The dark she was already used to helped make contrast of a shape in the shadows, a diamond dog by the stance and size, if not bigger. Another hallucination was all that came to mind; all she cared to learn. She was too much like a storm waiting for wind to flow and unleashing her power to be disturbed by something and let it go with a warning.
But not going to take the visions passively anymore, her breathing becoming heavier by the second. Her eyes narrowed as her throbbing heart almost broke her ribs.
She was in for blood.
But she stopped herself. Took a deep breath and felt in control once more. She didn’t even know why she was mad to begin with, weird isn’t it? But then a thought came to her mind.
Is that a pony?
And indeed it was, in the shadows that figure from before was still there, standing about, doing what hallucinations do and be creepy. But then there was the pony, difficult to make out but a obvious silhouette that allowed to seen nonetheless. Mane a mess, and tail like a dirty mop, but majestic on its goal. Just standing there, head lowered and in a wide stance. Ready to bolt forward.
And did just that.
“Come here!” It was loud and clear how female the pony’s voice was, if not a little young, familiar. Our mare didn’t give it mind, nor reasoned how the pony was able to stand on anything, little less trot, even lesser to jump with no floor. The pony delivered a hard impact by tackling the figure dropping it to its back, a loud battle cry all the way through. Our mare didn’t even think of why when the pony closed its jaw, with its teeth digging into the hallucination's skin; she could taste the fur; smell the blood. There was a pony fighting something in front of her, she didn’t even care why or how it was happening.
She just felt the need to root for it.
“Is that all you can do?!” Clutching the pony’s head like a ball and pressing on the back of its ears was enough to make the pony loosen its jaw. And even our lovely alicorn retracted when the pony’s stomach was kicked without hesitation right at the center forcing air out of its lungs, making the pony yelp loudly. And then yelped again when the grip on its own huge head helped to fend the pony off. Our alicorn didn’t even think of how the pony smashed against an invisible wall as a result as the other shadow began to limp away.
The bruises were visible in contrast with the dark, little obvious bumps. Our lavender mare wanted to do something to help, but the wounded pony wanted to return the walling favor tenfold. So without hesitating, it searched again in the dark, twisting its head rapidly, and with a gnarl, finding its target.
Our hesitant alicorn had never felt anything like that, how much satisfying, and guilty, was it to watch the other pony give into rage as it fought, something she knew she wouldn’t ever be able to do. The drive through reason and pain, feelings and empathy. Completely blind to everything but hurting something. It was frightening.
And oh so gratifying.
“Come on! You didn’t want some?!” Dashing to the last direction the thing was to continue its onslaught, the pony reached easily the wounded fleeing diamond dog illusion. And having no problem biting its tail to make it fall, the pony hopped right on top of it. But this time the pony pinged it right underneath its persona, rear legs held to the supposed dog’s sides and back. Keeping it in place. Our now smiling rooting observer was stomping her hooves, like trying to give the aggressive pony more power to fight.
Passing by that she was standing on a floor to stomp to begin with.
Assured that it was below, the pony stomped, hard and fast, not caring where each hoof smash fell, all weight put into each enjoyable crunch with a responding yelp. The pony’s girlish laughter was at full bloom by now. But our cheering mare didn’t notice, she was almost feeling herself doing the swing, how pleasing it must feel to do it. The reciprocation of each hit traveling up the stomping legs, disembarking on the chest; and shaking the whole body. Releasing the mental fire.
But this wasn’t any casual hallucination.
It was the beginning of something worse.
Or something better.
It was now that our watchful mare stopped cheering, feeling somewhat tired of all the motions and emotions she passed through. Her hoofs were shaking, and unsteady, tired even, in her mind at the time, because of all the cheers stomping.
But as her breathing calmed and some of the fire in her system vanished, so did the visualizing of the hallucinations in front of her, just puffing out like teleportation, confusing her somewhat. That doesn’t happen with the illusions she was used to, they always stayed, even if she ignored them. The numb slowly got back in her body, but not fast enough to dull out her pain.
Right then her mind finally stopped its reason lock, she was able to note her extremities could move freely like always. And then she started to think. What was she standing on?
Then her mind reeled more. Her stomach was in pain, and moving onto her right foreleg, by the location and area, it felt as if something had bit her, and with logical progression in mind she touched her tail, finding it slightly twisted, as if pulled, by a set of pony teeth.
Like clockwork indeed.
And if only to worsen it, or better it, she was starting to have senses back, at least she was imaginating them better. Which wasn’t the bad thing, the bad part was that she was listening to something.
Heavy breathing that wasn’t hers.
And then the breathing became laughter, a soft pat fell on her back startled her more. She was never really good at being nice to exagerated shows of friendship as she immediately rejected it and tried to escape me. I only giggled harder. I was still a filly after all.
Void home of desolated space, hollow senses making true madness. But was she still alone?
And that’s what this place does. What it seems to do anyway. Not even in nothing, you are alone. Te-heh, but at least it’s confirmed that if you’re in the nothing, you’re mad, or will be. Fried by your own frustration and lack of sensing, or mind scrambled into pieces as you can’t handle being ‘alive’ in isolation and finding ways to survive, or simply end with an hard-boiled soul and demeanor, keeping sanity by not giving one insignificant care.
Fighting themselves, te-heh, talking to themselves... hehehe. Now that’s just crazy talk.
How much can a normal mind think up in an eternity? Don’t answer that. Because if you did, this would be a really weird one sided conversation. Hehehehe
That’s going straight to the notebook. But there’s no such thing as a notebook, silly, keep your head straight! Head straight? Weird you say me, it sounds as if I could twist it. But can I? Pfft, hhnn! Nope. You’re so weird. Te-heh.
Hey? You there still?
"Yes, I'm here."
So? Are you not entertained?! I'm taking good wordings on the good stuff, yes?
"I preferred it when you were a scary shadow that I wanted to ignore."
Does that mean you don't want to ignore me anymore?
"No, that means I can't ignore you anymore."
Aww, you're so sweet. Oh! Do you hear that? It sounds like someone's calling. Go get her tiger!
"Ugh, can you check, if it's not about Nash I don't care."
Wow, you are really a bummer. But alrighy-o!
“Twilight?” The mare being called shook her head, the sudden voice was unexpected, echoing in the darkness. “Are you talking to yourself again?”
“It helps. Teheheh.” Twilight ‘said’ without using her mouth, which made possible to speak and grin at the same time. Suspended in nothing, giving a couple of spins with a childish ‘wee’. Right at that instant the voice in the darkness gave out a sigh. “But Twilight isn’t in for the moment, please leave your message and come back, later buddy.”
“Dammit, not you.” The distinguishably feminine voice responded. This time Not Twilight’s ear twitched as it came with a pronounced edge, a dangerous edge. Not Twilight giggled at the feeling, both hooves trying to pretend the laughter came from her mouth. “Can I talk to Twilight?”
“Oh hush, don’t hate me so much, hun, I’m here to be friendly and help out. It’s not that bad. But if you don’t want to talk to me, maybe I won’t tell Twilight you came over! Mph!” Not Twilight ‘said’, first looking childishly mad, but then once a growl came out from the previous voice she got into a fit of laughter while smiling, holding her stomach and kicking her back legs as if it was the best joke she had ever heard. Still spinning. “Oh wow, you’re so easy.”
“Aha, can I just talk to her?”
“Nope, no can do. She’s trying to take some alone time, and I’m helping her out! Isn’t that nice. Yes, it’s nice.”
“Just breath in, out, in... what do I need to do to convince you?”
“Say the magic words~”
“Oh, if it was that easy, you know the ones!”
“Huh, your name is the magic word right?”
“Of course it’s my name! Now, do you even memory?!”
“Ugh, come on! I don’t follow the crazy things Twilight goes about! And it's already hard to keep track on my own memories.”
“Hey! Weird, never crazy. Te-heh.”
“Cette chose avec cette, can you at least give me a hint?”
“I’m the smartest doll in the city and I wear fabulous pants!”
“Aha... Brainy Shorts?”
“Oooh, so close, but you can do it, come on~”
“Well, you struck nothing there, one more strike and you’re out.”
“Wait, you never told me I had strikes!”
“But when did I ever not played with tries?”
“Oh great, I didn't know you were a smarty pants.”
“That’s what she— wait, oh oh! That’s great!” The reckless Smarty Pants immediately stopped her oscillating, excitement written all over her voice, but face still paralyzed with a smile. “Good job there, I’ll give you a present the moment I get money for it when I’m done with my homework, or a place to buy it. But anyway, have a nice chat with Nash whom I’m sure is just waking up soon. I mean, no real other reason for you to be here. But anyway let me get Twilight, she’s going to be so, excited!”
“Yes, please do. Goodness damn.” Smarty Pants was too amused to even hear the voice’s last muttered words, opting to do as requested. Freezing in midair the happy expression morphed slowly to serious, and then into a state of trance; like if asleep with her eyes open. And just a moment of closing her eyes her whole persona shook as if her fur was wet. The now sleepy looking Twilight appeared sick, as if she had been awake for weeks and not allowed to sleep.
“Twilight?” The voice spoke out after a second. Twilight blinked several times. Unsure if she was hearing correctly. Or at all.
“...Hmm, yes. Who’s there?”
“Ha ha, ha, funny. No.” The voice’s worry vanished, Twilight’s eyes rolled from the failed joke of her part, it was never really fun on anything with her; always a big deal. “You’re alright? You’ve been hanging with "you know who" for a long while.”
“Smarty Pants is my oldest friend, so please try remembering her name, but... yeah. How long has it been?”
“About twenty real minutes, we thought you might have dissolved or something.” There was an awkward silence, a silence Twilight was very aware she was making happened. But happy to keep. But then again, the voice couldn’t last very long. “Uhh, forget it. But hey, did... you, hear what, uhh Smarty just said?”
The voice said with a tone of worry. Twilight coughed out a laugh, and said. “The human Nash is becoming active again, huh?”
“Yeah. But before that, could you make something of this place? It’s a little ominous to stay in the dark. Not seeing you while you talk.”
“Well, I like it. But yeah, I can see what you mean.”
At first there was nothing, but in quick escalation the surrounding darkness hummed brighter with the essence of lavender. The color spread and reached all directions until the dark was replaced. Little particles floated about in the purple background, going around as if alive, lighting everything like stars in a forgotten night sky. Twilight could be finally seen by the normal eye on the now visible sea of light purple background. Not really different to what she looked in the times for being outside, other than her fur being constantly moving as if in water, and some streams of her mane going about, but nothing else was unique.
Twilight’s wings moved, stretching, and so did everything else that could. She descended slightly from her original flying spot until she opened her legs and landed on nothing. And with a pause and a blink on her part, a floor of marble rock spread from the bottom of her hooves, stretching to infinity. Dividing the visible world into purple starry sky and marble floor.
“Thanks.” The owner of the feminine voice was now as well, visible. It was a pony lacking of any extra extremities or horns, standing sideways on a non-visible wall defying gravity. Barely blue fur, almost green like her eye. Mane brown with yellow on its tips, red spots through her head adorned her green cap. Comfortable clothes that covered her fully with the addition of a cloak, but where it wasn’t covered, wounds decorated those open spaces, all going from old scars to recent wounds. Strangely she only had her right eye opened, but by how her fur seemed discolored from her left eye to her ear, it didn’t take a genius to understand why.
“So, where to, Cristal?” Twilight turned, eyes opened wide, or normal in pony terms. She seemed to be sound, healthy even, acknowledging her an empty bored stare as if nothing around her was surprising at all. She trotted on the newly created floor to the sideway earth pony which walked from her invisible wall on the side towards the marble below. She twisted uncomfortably, and then stood upright, at least to Twilight’s perspective, and then scratched the marble with her strangely long nail ending on a nod in approval to the nicely made, unnecessary, ornament.
“You didn't stray too far this time.” Cristal said, already giving slow steps to a direction in the apparent infinite marble and twilight starry sky, trying to remember how it was to trot like a recently awakened teen in the morning. Twilight sadly smiled, forgetting the little things is the last thing she would ever do. “And what were you doing to entertain yourself back there?”
Twilight flinched, this maybe the only reason she wasn't comfortable with Cristal. The strange mare was always acting so friendly towards her, as if she knew her. Well, it could be said she did, but it wasn't true at the same time. But for Twilight was a useful ‘friend’ to keep. So it was always best to amuse her on her attempts for normality. “Just hearing my Smarty Pants talk of the past. It’s entertaining in a way.”
“That doesn’t sound very good...”
“It keeps me occupied.”
“Hah. Only for you it is.”
And they trotted on. Twilight with less problems, but with more distractions. It looked like Twilight simply shook her head out of her guide’s lack of style on trotting, but it was actually for the suggestions she was trying to ignore. Some she even rolled her eyes to.
“And who is she anyway?” Cristal turned her whole body around, still trotting forward as if going towards Twilight but still moving backwards. Twilight didn’t glance at it, but she did raise an eyebrow at the question. “You never told anyone what she was.”
“It’s because I’m not sure.” Twilight answered back, way too uncomfortable for where the conversation was heading, and as such she shot out every ‘don’t want to talk about it’ body language she knew to try to stop it, lowered tail, evading eyes, ears dropped back. But Cristal was still a pony with little to no pony interactions, so it became an impossible task. "I remember her from my childhood as a doll that I called my friend, nothing more, can we talk about something else?"
“Come on, you were always high and mighty with how many theories you can come up with. Come up with one the closest you can get.”
"I don't remember being ever high and mighty about anything with you."
"You were not? Oh, right. Ha, sorry about that. So what about the others?"
"You're the only pony that comes looking for me Cristal."
"I am? That's some big lonely right there."
Twilight brought a hoof to her face in contemplation of the good and the bad of talking to Cristal. Cristal saw this gesture and understood the subject needed to be changed. But the bad thing about Cristal to any who have interacted with her, is that there's nothing she talks about with others outside of serious things.
"So, how far is reality now?" Twilight's eyes narrowed at the words, looking at Cristal as if she had attempted to hurt her by doing something selfish. "What? I'm curious, how long forward is it? Last time I got to see anything was when the whole castle thing got bad, you?"
Twilight wanted to deliver a snarky comment on Cristal's words of how many friends of hers must've died, as there's no reasonable moment to talk about reality. But she restrained herself, the voice inside her head giving her calming reasonable words that helped her self-control. 'We want her happy, not moody.' 'Point taken.' "Well, you will have to ask Nash about that, because I have no idea."
Small talk remained little as they moved on, but how they moved was unique on itself, even though they were trotting as such a slow pace, the surrounding stars seemed to speed quickly behind them. By perspective, on the floor and the sky, the marble must have been running past at hyper speed while they trotted forward on top of it.
That was of course, until they reached an area where a thin layer of blue combined with the twilight sky. Both mare’s heads raised from whatever they were distracted with the now blue adding into the atmosphere. They took a serious frown and didn’t say another word as they ventured forth.
The dim blue became overwhelming. And further inside strange floating particles of light passed through from behind Cristal and Twilight and into the misty blue concentration. They were like small circular spheres in the air, continuous single dots of energy streaming through like if there was a previously placed line that directed them. They twisted and turned so abruptly and quickly that an educated mind couldn’t even begin to understand how it’s even possible, but they always repeated in the same rout.
To the same spot.
Humanoid in appearance, dark in color and crystal like in structure; a hovering figure was on the center of the emanating blue, and concentrated energy. It was with arms and legs helping it curl and try to become a ball. No hair or other distinguishable features could be remarkable. In exception for its eyes, blue penetrating eyes that stared into the visitors of its domain. No mouth to show its feelings to it.
“So...” The atmosphere boomed a voice, or at least it appeared to do so. Since it was directly introduced into their minds. It didn’t diminish Twilight’s and Clear’s excitement though. “You have returned.”
“Of course we would.” ‘Said’ Cristal with a grin that was threatening to make her appearance less serious, looking straight into the still curled figure. “So, is it ready?”
And then, as always, one of its famous pauses. Twilight didn’t know why it did it, may it be because the elder is as old as time, or because it liked to piss Cristal off. Twilight was sure of the latter.
After more unnerving pausing, the figure still didn’t make any recognition of Cristal’s statement. Which made Cristal’s grin lose a little of its power. She was always a little impatient. “Hey, you still there?”
“Yes.” It voice once more boomed almost immediately, this time a little tone of amusement under it. “It’s still not ready.”
Twilight could almost laugh at the obvious yet sad attempt for a joke, but as she did she verified in her head with other to confirm it that there was a lack of something on the human’s statement. Which forced her to speak for the first time since she arrived in its presence. “Um, you usually give a time, when talking of—”
“Yes, Sparkle, I do.” It voiced out interrupting Twilight, still booming, but now with a hint of pity. “But this is a great deal, and we need everyone to be on their best.”
“Oh...” Twilight’s ears lowered with the implications. “So... I’m what you are waiting for?”
“Indeed and not quite. You and all the others like you. We require all to be on their peak of power to even attempt of searching freedom.” The figure opened its stance, showing its full smooth dark crystal body size as it descended from its high comfort zone, onto the imaginary floor made by Twilight. The spheres changed direction and continued to insert into the human’s dark skin like slow drops of water to a pond. The human stepped on the marble, dragging its feet on the rasp surface, nodding in approval. “But it wouldn’t hurt if in the meantime we do as Cristal once suggested and... entertained ourselves, was it?”
“Alriiight! I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to go outside.” Cristal cheered out loud, but to her words Twilight flinched and the dark figure’s eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, yeah, we never really go outside. I don’t give a damn, just let us in alright big guy?” Cristal shook the human off, so quickly due to her knowing of the human in a profound manner that could be even be understood as friendship. Twilight felt a little responsible. She was the one to have made the human speak in the first place after all.
“You make me sometimes regret to have ever spoken to you mares.” And it’s clearly selected words only worsened Twilight’s guilt. Especially when the human was looking at her when it said it. “Such lack of respect to someone that helped you survive.”
“You know you love us.” Cristal blurted with a smirk and amused half lid eye. Even without its eyes, Twilight could feel the human roll their non-existence. "Oh, yeah, and how far is the real time?"
The human didn't have brows to raise but the pause was sure to be because of that. "Not that far, about a real month from our last telling. But do you truly have to remind yourself of such things?"
"What can I say, I like to live dangerously." Cristal's mood picked up as she jumped from her spot and floated too close to the human for comfort and then tapped the human's dark shoulder, smile never leaving her face. “Where we left off, alright big fella?”
The surroundings vibrated, or in their accommodation, the human sighed. Raising its arm that from crystal black it turned into a dark brownish-pink skin, its natural color. At the change of its arm the tiny spheres of light all around them became more glaring, brighter, and faster, so much so that they seemed to move backwards, then forward again until it was impossible to distinguish their direction, now lines of energy.
Their surroundings became darker, and in Twilight’s perspective she was heading straight back in the nothing. But right as the human's dark was the same as the surroundings, its darkish hand snaped its fingers, splitting the world in half to a blinding light, which made them pull their eyes closed. The world twisted, the fingers as a core, turning the world black.
And then back.
Twilight stood inside a closed room, front of double doors she had long forgotten. The world was slow, she could see the particles moved by the wind in front of her face. And then her mind flash with recognition. The twilight unicorn guards were on their guarding positions outside the doors, ready to tell her of Celestia's call. Spike was at the tower of paper, eyes wide as he almost fell.
“I remember this...” Twilight ‘said’ more to herself than the other two observers.
“...” She couldn’t actually hear what they were saying, but the information was transferred equally. She could say that she could feel their color, if that meant anything. It was Cristal commenting of how strange it still was for her to see such a tamed dragon.
“That’s Spike for you.” Twilight said with a smile; a short lasting smile. She wanted to go and hug her little scaly friend, but it was just a dream to do so.
"..." That was the Nash, alerting Twilight to prepare herself, as it was going to begin once more. She took a deep breath, it was not fun for her to see again, but it was for those listening. But then it would be her turn to listen, and she would be entertained. Because after all.
What else can you do with others if there’s nothing but yourselves in existence? Tell stories. And which stories are the most enjoyable? The ones you don't know. But all that have lived, have done so in limited fashion; meaning, that at some point stories were going to stop.
And that's what they did to survive. To see how things go on outside by following those that replaced them. Their will not strong because of what we were taken from, but from anger for that which has taken their freedom. But that will not be forever. May they fail to escape or not, they will reach a victory. A victory for freedom over control.
They will be free, they will reach existence, they will find revenge against Harmony.
Oops, sorry, that rage again. Te-heh, what am I ever going to do with myself... hmm, I was sure I was going to say something important... nope. I'm sure it doesn't matter. So anyways, this should be great! The death of leaders causing war, misunderstanding of whom is the enemy, economies crumbling under the very noses of the kingdom that allows it to happen...
What was I saying again?
Bah, who cares, I need to find myself some homework to do. I'm getting bored over here! Bye-bye~
ͮ̋́ͬ̈̌̐̈̑̽͗ͣͩ̆͌͑͊ͫ̚ ̇̑̅̉̔ͭͦ͗ͮ̈ͧ͌̏̓̐ ̏ͨ͋̊ͯ̌̀̍̿̚ ͆͂͋̽̈̔ͪ͐̓ ̆́̍̇͗ ̑͂ͭͪ̋̊ ̑ͤ̌̌͋̀̽ͣ̅̀̀ͧ̈́̅̿͋̿͛ ̍͑̋͊͗͑͗̆́̽ͭͯͫ͑͗̃ͤ̓ ̐̓ͥ ̏̈͑̈́̇ͩ̓̀͊̄̑̌̑̌̋͗̌̚ ̾̈ͬ̈́ͦ̂̅̐̏̈́̉̚ ̈ͩ͐͐̑̃ ͐̿͂̀͑ͨͭ̾ͯ̀̎͗͛̈́͂͂̈ ͯ̉͋ͤ̿̽ͫ͂̐̍̇̍ͯ̀͛ ̉̆̿̒̓̾̉̀̔̃ ͥͥͪ̏ͪ͑ͮ̀ͬ̒͐ͯͤ͊ ̏̂ͤͩͧͤ̍̋̎̊ͦ̃ ͊͆͗ͧ̽̐̉̊ͬͧ́ͩ ̏ͫ̅ͤ̅ͦ̓̊̔ͭ͗́̿ ́ͧͭͩ ͧͣͭ̊ͤ͌ͥ̆̂̈̃̓̀́ ̒ͫ͛̈̇̽̇ͨ̃ͨ̌ ͣ̋̆ͥ͂ ͌̄ͯ̐́ͨ̌ͭ̚ ̀̍̇ͨ̏̐̏̋̈́ͥ̔͆ ̂ͩ̽̌͐ͩ̃̐ͨ̌͋ ̉̀̐̉͌͛ ͧ̏ͥ̈̓̿̆ͥͭ͂̽ͯ̋̍ ͊ͯ̓͂͗̌̔ͨ͛ ̓̌̃́̓̔̀ͮͭ̌ͩ͐ͮ̚ ͬ̔ͪͫ̓̅ ͧ̆͋́ͫ͒̎ͨ̊͋̈́ ͗ͨ͋̀ͯ̽ͧ ̑̽ͣͭ͆̑́͗̔͑ͬ̎ͪͤ ͫ̍ͯ̈́̈̃̇ ͤ̓ͫ̈̐̾̏̂̉ͤ͗͆̐̃͌ͦͧ ̉͆ͦ̂ͤ̉̾̈ͧ́͂͒ͭ͂́̽͛ ͪͬ̍̇͋́ͧ͊ͦ̓̏ͩͯ̂͐ ̓̓ͥ́͋̈ͩ͛̈ͣͫͨ̿̀̉ ̋̏̎̑ͩ̋̔̓̍͋͑͗͗̊ͮ̏ͦ̊̚ ͤͫ̋ͥ̚ ͮ̎͌̏ͦͪ͐̔̾͋ͯ̚ ͗ͦͬͥ ̊͋̈́̋ ̒ͫ̏̏͑ͭ̎̃̊̓̔̃ ͣ̏͌ͣ͆ͣͬͬ̔ͣ̊̐̍ͯ̏̅̄̚̚ ͐̍̉̎̂ͦ̓͐̔́͆̀ ́̓ͯ͊̌ͤ̆ ͯ̃͂ͣ ̐͊ͬ̆̅̌ͪ ͫͤ̂̽̅͛́͆̓ͮ̆̚ ̓͆͑ͪͦͩͥ͆ͪ ̄́̒͋ͭ̆̊̅ͦ̎ͤ̇͂̅̓̉̈́̄̚ ͊̏̔͆̋͂̐͛́̽ ͐̇̏̈ͬ̐̄̽̅͗̽̒͋͌̔ ͂͋̇ͣ̅ ̍͌̽̍̂ͦͣ̈́̒́ ̂̃͒ͭ̃ͬ̔̔̐͋ͧ͗̑͂̎̃ͩ ͬ̏͒̍͑ͯͣ͂͐ͧ̽̆͗̌̊ͮ͐ͣͭ ̈̌͆̚ ̇̑ͯͤ͐̒̾̇ͤ͐̑͌ͥͤ̚ ͥ̃̓ͯͭ̄̅̍̓́ ̒́ͤ̌ͫ ͂͛ͣ͑ͭ̑͌̍ͩ̓̚ ̽ͣ̄ͪ̑̆ͨ̏͆̚ ̽͌ͪ͑̌͋̈́̿̈͗͒̇̅̇̚̚ ͩ̈̓͊̾̊ͩ́̽ͤ͆̆ͬ̅̅̂̃ ̊̓̽̎́̚ ́̉ͣ̈͊̽̍͊̐̐ ̃̄̇̅ͮ̇͋̄͒̑̑̈̒ͣ̀ ͦ͛ͨͥ̿̇͛ͮ ̀̍̇ͨ̏̐̏̋̈́ͥ̔͆ ̂ͩ̽̌͐ͩ̃̐ͨ̌͋ ̉̀̐̉͌͛ ͧ̏ͥ̈̓̿̆ͥͭ͂̽ͯ̋̍ ͊ͯ̓͂͗̌̔ͨ͛ ̓̌̃́̓̔̀ͮͭ̌ͩ͐ͮ̚ ͬ̔ͪͫ̓̅ ͧ̆͋́ͫ͒̎ͨ̊͋̈́ ͗ͨ͋̀ͯ̽ͧ ̑̽ͣͭ͆̑́͗̔͑ͬ̎ͪͤ ͑̓̔̾̏̏ͮ̽ͫ̑͌̅ͫ͆ͤ͛̊̚ ͯͤͥ͑͒͌̽ ͩͩ̃͋̉̊̂ͩ̀ ͆͗͆ͩ̓̀ͣͯ͌ͮ̈́̊ͣͮ͋́̽ͨͭ ͐̽̂̂̃̄͊ͦ̔ͣ͋̉̾ ̌ͪ̄́̈̉ͪ͌̓ͤͪ͊͒ͬ̌͆̈́͒ ͬ͛̓͛̓͊ͣͥ̃̾̇̒ͧ͆̓̐͊͂̚ ̍̐̉̋͒ ̆̀͛̑ͫ̉̉͆ͬ̂̎ͨ͂͛͐ ͬ̆̍̍͋̈́͛ͫͨͭ̎͐̃ͣ̓͆͆̽̚ ̽ͣ̃͊ ̍ͥ̅̽͑̍͐͌ͮͧͨ͑ͬͩ̍́̇̊ ͌͆͒̑ͥ̍̐̓ ͊ͤ̎̎ ̔́̍͛͛̅́̃̓͋ͯͯ ̋ͭ͌͌͒ͣ ͥ̃́͛̓́ͫͨͭͪ͛̚ ͌ͥͤͩͣ ̍́ͯ̔̈ͯ̌ͭ̑ ̃̾̈́̐̅͗̑ ͑̀͒ͧ ̔̋͂͊̋̉̉̊̏ͧ̐ ͂̽͂̋ ͦ̆̈́̏̀̈ͧ̓̅ͥ̋̑ͧ̌ ̆ͨ͋ ͣ̇̒̈́́ͯ̐ͩ̐̋̊̊͛̆̽̽̚ ͐͐̏͐͗̎̀́̐̏ͩ͂ ͆̽͌͗̄͐͊͗ͪ̍̎̑̒ͥ͒̿͑ͭ̔ ͗ͬͭ̎̈ ̇͂̊̊̍ͨͭͣ͊ͤ̀͗͊ ͯ͛ͦ̃ͪ̎̔̉̽̈̄ͥͩ̄̒ ̓̊ͭ̐ͤ̄̈ͬ͋̂͂̀̌ͨ̚̚̚ ͌̇̽ͮ͛̿͂ͮ́̅͐ͯ͊ ̽̇ͪ̾͆̓̈́ͧ̊̀͛̎̌̌ ͂̆ͨ͒̽̑ͭ ͤ̀͌ͫ́̈̍͌̇̚̚ ̂̊͒̋̏̽̌͋ͪ̔̔̽̒̅̏̚ ̍̊ͩ ̃͆̎ͬ̊ͬ̓ͨ ̊͋̍̅ͪ̍͐ͩͫͮ̉̓ ̈́̇ͦ̌̌̋ͮͫ ̒͒̆̾ͨ̽̇ͫ̾̎̃ ͐̿ͪ̀̏͐ ͯ͐̔ͮͬ̅̃ ͧͦ̄͋ͦ̎̒ͤ ̀ͬ͆͑̅̈̂ͧ̄͋͗̔ͬ͊ ͒͌̏̂̈̅́̑͐̍̾̾͌ͤ̅͂̒̓ͪ ͯͬ̉̊̉ͮͥͮͥ͐͊̅̃̃ͯ̓̏̈́̚ ́̂̃ͭͩ̆ͮ͗ͪ̈̓ͦͣ̌ ͗̒͛ͦͩ͑̇ͧͯ̇̐ͤ ͦ̇ͧ͆͌̃̉͋̎ ̑ͪͦ̒ ͐̓͂̿̆̏ͥ̐̓̐ͤͬ̿̆̃͌ ̽͌͒́̌̈́̋͂̐͌ͫͮ̈̇ ͩ̊̅͛̆̀̉ͦ̏ͨ͐̽ͪ̍̓̓͆ ̇ͬ̊ͩ͂̇̐̐̂ͧ̈́̋̾̌ͨ̚ ͤͫ̌͆͗͑̓͒̓ͥ ͩ̓ͩ ̉̎̇̇ͣ̒̍ͤ̎̆͆̇͗ ̑̄͂͛ ̇ͣͪ̽̿͊ͤͬͬ̅̌̔̇̓ͪ̔̓͌̾ ̀̍̇ͨ̏̐̏̋̈́ͥ̔͆ ̂ͩ̽̌͐ͩ̃̐ͨ̌͋ ̉̀̐̉͌͛ ͧ̏ͥ̈̓̿̆ͥͭ͂̽ͯ̋̍ ͊ͯ̓͂͗̌̔ͨ͛ ̓̌̃́̓̔̀ͮͭ̌ͩ͐ͮ̚ ͬ̔ͪͫ̓̅ ͧ̆͋́ͫ͒̎ͨ̊͋̈́ ͗ͨ͋̀ͯ̽ͧ ̑̽ͣͭ͆̑́͗̔͑ͬ̎ͪͤ
“So this is how it's going to be? After all this time you're going to leave, just like that. Is it that you don't care? Does the mere thought of it discust you? Well not to me. Love goes through everything. I may live more on my head than in reality but at least I don't leave those that cared for me behind. Like you.”
Cristal Clear, Canterlot Castle.