//------------------------------// // Chapter One // Story: All's Right With The World // by Dusty Tome //------------------------------// All's Right With The World Written by Dusty Tome and FanOfMostEverything Chapter One ⁂❧⁂ Long ago, when the world was still young, the land was founded by the three Goddesses, Faust, The Creator, Celestia, The Sun, and Luna, The Moon. The sisters, Celestia and Luna, looked to their mother to guide them in how they would shape this new land, to which she showed them the importance of Harmony. Learning in this new power, the Sisters created the race of Man. Looking upon their creations, the elder, Celestia gave to them the power over the earth around them, teaching them to plant and sow it, and she smiled upon them, for they were grateful. Luna, the younger, sought to give them also dominion over the skies, and so it was that they began to have wings with which to soar amongst the clouds. Their mother gave her beloved daughters’ children her great gift, the gift of magic. The three goddesses returned to their Heaven, and all was right with the world. So overjoyed was the race of Man that they began to worship the Goddesses, offering gifts and songs of praise, but not all of man regarded the three as equals. Factions and sects began to form amongst them, casting them into an age of darkness. Fear, famine, and death rampaged across the world for centuries, until at last, the Goddesses returned to see their children. But it was not the same world as the one they had left. The sisters were appalled at the horror and pain that was wracking the world, and were desperate to end the conflict. The elder sister, Celestia, being the more heated of the two, began to fight against the race of Man, the heat of her rage creating deserts and canyons. Luna, ever as serene as her own night sky, wept tears of sorrow at the scene before her, creating the oceans. Faust saw her daughters’ despair, and divided the gifts amongst their children. Those who kept the power over the earth became the Oreads. Those who kept flight and dominion through the sky became the Seraphim, and those who kept the gift of Magic itself became the Magi. This saw to an end of the powerful conflict, however there were those who saw fault in her choice, and conspired to rise against their Goddesses, and became powerful again, by channeling the dark magics that resided before time itself. They rose up, confident that their newfound would be able to destroy the Goddesses and take their magic from them. But, in a final bid for peace, Faust and her daughters created Tartarus, a prison to house all of the wicked souls that would threaten the world. Faust sacrificed herself, joining the Demons in Tartarus, waging a war for peace for all time. Her daughters sealed the doors, encasing themselves in prisons of crystal to ensure none would open the door to that cursed hell. Before they left, they left a message, and six artefacts of power. Their message was this; Learn the power of Harmony, and become great. Fear not, for we will aid our children when their need is greatest. “Benevolent, omniscient goddesses? What idiot could believe in some kind of ‘higher power’ like that? Well, what the hell ever.” A young girl stretched, closing the book and putting it aside, before reaching for the desk beside her. She felt her hand graze the worn metal and wood of her other arm before grabbing it and laying the appendage across her lap. She looked at it for a second, remembering the day her father made her first prosthetic, and smiled. It had been a simple number, made for looks, not functionality, just a plain wood with a few silver inlays and the locket in the palm. That locket had been her mother’s last gift to her, before she had been killed. It wasn’t fair. That’s why she knew in her heart that there were no ‘Goddesses.’ It just wasn’t fair. The girl didn’t realize she was crying until a particularly loud sob wracked her body, causing her to jump in surprise and fall out of her bed. She hit the ground hard, kicking up a cloud of dust and scattering various bits and pieces across the already cluttered floor. After lying for a second on her face, the girl turned over, sat up, and adjusted herself. Glaring a hole in the worn and faded clock on her wall, she noticed it was already ten-to-one. She had wasted the whole morning reminiscing and reading that stupid story. Huffing a bit, she picked her tools back up before sitting back down at the desk to make necessary repairs and tweak the mechanisms in the new prosthetic arm. It was her finest work, she thought, a beautiful combination of magic and technology, its brass tubing and gears shining proudly above the mahogany of the base wood, lit subtly by a power crystal set in the forearm. As she brought it up to meet the base of what was left of her left arm, she made sure it would fit, and with one final tweak, attached it to the stump with a faint hum and hiss. She stared fondly at the locket before placing it into an awaiting divot in the palm, then connected the power assembly on the arm. Nothing happened for a second, and as she watched the hand, she saw it twitch briefly. Then, without warning, the arm slammed upwards, smacking her quickly in the face. She fell back in surprise and pain, voicing her frustration with a loud scream, and hurled a wrench toward the wall and through her door, eliciting another loud yelp from someone beyond the room. “Damnú ort! Twilight Sparkle! What have I told you about slinging tools around?” yelled a thundering voice from the kitchen beyond the door. “This is the sixth time in a week, there is no need to bean me with every wrench we own! Now put down whatever gizmo’s got you so pissed off this time and come get your damned breakfast. Crap… to think a guy could get a frickin’ break around here.” Twilight walked into the kitchen with a sheepish grin, rubbing the bridge of her nose and trying desperately to look sorry in between giggles. Standing at the stove was a large purple dragon, toned and muscular, with a row of iridescent green spikes that ran down his neck and back to a tail ending in a deadly looking spade of the same striking green color. He rose up further, cracking his neck and yawning, scratching at a slightly cracked looking scale on his head. He was every bit as terrifying as she knew dragons to be, eight feet of armor and fire, but something was strange about this particular dragon, the dully shining brass and leather wings strapped to his back. Her thoughts were interrupted when the large drake turned to her and spoke, “Not having a good mornin’ are we Twi? Ah, don’t apologize, you know better than I do that dragons from the Northern Isles like me tend to be a little hardier than most. There’s bacon on the table and the eggs’ll be out in a sec.” Twilight Sparkle gave the drake a gentle hug, before turning to the table, grabbing a slender piece of bacon, and sitting on the counter by him. “How is everything Spike? Wings still opening together? No latency or anything?” She asked, still concerned over her large friend. “Yes, Twi, I’m fine, wings are fine, scales are… more or less fine, head’s fine, hell, the only thing that isn’t fine is you worryin’ all the damn time and throwin’ tools at me. You know I love you, but you cracked a scale this time, and we both know how stupidly difficult that is to do.” Spike chuckled a bit, turning to muss her hair, before asking, “Juice or milk this mornin’?” Twilight stretched with a yawn, readjusting her hair with her new fingers, before answering with a sigh, “Whichever one tastes best with alcohol. I had to sear a new coupler link into my shoulder this morning, not to mention there was a malfunction that made my own arm abuse me. That and I haven’t slept in two days, so I definitely need a drink.” She poked the cracked scale, causing the chipped surface to break apart, and fall completely off, before the sheepish smile returned with a vengeance. “You probably need a drink too, heh. Oops.” “Twilight Ardenia Sparkle, how in the bloody hell you of all people manage to accidentally shatter one of an Earth Drake’s crown scales, I don’t think I’ll ever know, but you really should sit down and finish your breakfast before you find a way to kill me. I’d prefer to live at least another week, considerin’ next Tuesday is the anniversary of the day you saved my sorry hide.” He thought for a second, before adding with a sly smirk, ”Although, it might be a little ironic if you killed me then, eh? Somethin’ worth talkin’ about for sure.” And with a hearty laugh, the dragon set down a platter of eggs, a bottle of orange juice, and another bottle of and amber liquid Twilight knew immediately to be fire whiskey, a specialty of the dragons in the southern colonies. Her greedy bid for the bottle was cut short when a massive claw caught her wrist, and with a snort, Spike chided her, “What is it gonna take to make you stop hurtin’ yourself? End of the world? Demons breakin’ out of Tartarus? Me nailin’ you with a wrench for once?” With that, the claw released her, allowing her to pour herself and Spike each a healthy glass of booze. The rest of the morning passed without much incident, save the mail girl, a ruddy looking Seraph with mismatched eyes, crashing through a window again. Closer to noon saw Spike heading out to roam and collect metals for various odds and ends, and Twilight working on what looked to be a sturdy yet complicated looking sword, with a heavy, wrought pommel and filigree in the blade. She was deeply fixated on something inside of the hilt, and didn’t notice a figure slip inside the door, never hearing the chains hanging from the ceiling rattling, or the clutter scattered on benches and the floor being swept aside, until a pink blur slammed itself down on the workbench beside her with an unholy shriek: “Hi, Twilight! How’s my most favoritest mad arcanist on this most bee-you-tiful day?” “Dear stars! Son of a-” Pinkie put a finger to Twilight’s lips “Now, now! No naughty words, missy! Auntie Pinkie isn’t like Uncle Spike.” “That’s right,” Twilight said, pulling pinkie’s finger off of her lips, “Spike isn’t an insanity-wracked rock farmer with a penchant for surprises.” “And baking. And explosions, which are really just a kind of surprise. I have penchants for a lot of things! Just like you have penchants for building things and cursing the goddesses and hitting the sauce like it was a stubborn ketchup bottle!” Pinkie beamed. “This is fun! Who do you want to talk about next?” Twilight groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, before letting out a sigh and retorting, “Pinkamena Diane Pie, I don’t know what kind of things you have rattling around up there—” Pinkie plunged a hand into her voluminous hair, dug around a bit, and extracted a jangling keyring. “Well, that answers that.” She stuffed it back in, noted Twilight’s scowl, and gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry. You were saying?” ”I was saying that I am most certainly NOT an alcoholic. I just appreciate a fine Chianti or a strong, full-bodied northern scotch in the afternoon, thank you very much.” She sighed, “I feel the appreciation for another drink coming on.” “Well, if you’re not an alcoholic, then that makes you a social drinker, and you can’t be a social anything all by your lonesome!” Pinkie took Twilight’s hand in hers. “Why don’t we go stretch our legs, take in some sun, see some people?” “Because people are idiots, I hate idiots, and you aren’t wearing pants. Why aren’t you wearing pants?” Twilight could definitely feel the onset of a headache, and despite her best efforts to do so, couldn’t fault the bubbly girl. It was just her way of trying to ‘help out a friend’ as she put it. Pinkie blinked. “I’m not?” She looked down. “Huh. That’s weird.” She shrugged. “Eh, I can fix that soon enough. Still, Twilight, you’re people. You’re saying that you’re an idiot, and you hate yourself.” Pinkie frowned. “That’s not a good place to be.” “You’re absolutely right, Pinkie, I am an idiot.” Twilight admitted with a bright smile, “And as such I have decide to fix that by reading some more books. Maybe we can go out another time, eh? Maybe out to that place that has those… Oh what are those things called, the folded tortilla things you like?” “You mean chimichangas?” Pinkie shook her head and gave a frown she’d probably describe as ‘teensy-weensy.’ “Twilight, you always do this! You always say you’ll go out ‘another time’! The books aren’t going to run away if you leave the house!” She paused. “Um, they aren’t going to run away, are they? You didn’t put little legs on them or anything?” “Not to my knowledge, no. And besides Pink, why would I need to go out there when everyone I love is here with me? You and Spike, even my brother comes to visit. Besides that, it’s too hot for my coat, and I can’t go out there without it. My marks are too visible, they’d start asking questions. I don’t need that.” And with that, Twilight stood and stretched, showing the dark purple Tattoos criss-crossing her forearm, and winding upwards like a creeping ivy. As she leaned to the side, her glyph was visible on the side of her neck, a six pointed star with five others around it. Growling, Pinkie slammed her hands on the table, which shuddered under her Oread strength. “One day, Sparkle! One day I will coax you out of this mechanized monstrosity you have built for yourself. And mark my words, on that day, you will thank me!” And then, like flipping a switch, her scowling countenance went back to the usual smile. “Have a nice day!” She turned and skipped out. “La la la la la…” “Alright? Now, where did that sword run off to? It couldn’t have grown...legs... Son of a- PINKIE PIE!” “You want it?” came the shout. “Come and get it!” “That’s it, you little harpy. I’m gonna shave your eyebrows when I catch you!” With a quick flourish of her wrist, the tattoos on Twilight's arm began to glow, pitching the room around the steaming girl into a bright violet relief, and with a snap of her slender fingers, the room was once again without light, or girl. Twilight Sparkle dropped out of the sky almost immediately, crashing to the ground with a cry. The pink-haired thief on the side of the building let out an unladylike snort and began climbing faster. “I’m telling you, Twilight, you’ll thank me for this! It’s for your own good!” “You still aren’t wearing pants, you idiot!” “Where I’m going, I don’t need pants!” Pinkie gave a rather worrisome cackle. With a furious scream and a few well-placed obscenities, Twilight Sparkle was once again back on the hunt for her bright pink intruder. She teleported herself to the top of her home, scanning the rooftops for anything resembling Pinkie Pie, and found nothing of the sort. With a resigned sigh, she stepped back inside to dress herself. Once inside, she found herself in front of her mirror, staring at herself in silence. She was tall, though not nearly as Spike was, with an athletic figure, and a strong build. What was strange about her in particular, she thought as she grabbed her clothes, were the tattoos on both of her arms. Magi usually only had one decorated arm showing their power, and yet, above the prosthetic, violet lines could be seen peeking around the brass. She didn’t know how people would react, so she threw on her usual, worn, brown leather duster jacket, and her boots. strapping the sheath for the stolen sword on her side, she readied herself to find her quarry. Twilight Sparkle took a confident step forward, and promptly fell on her face. Pinkie Pie picked up the banana peel and moved to the window sill. “Finally ready? Sheesh, I had enough time to go home, get pants, hide the sword, make lunch, hoist the mizzenmast… Okay, not that last one. The point is, you are slow.” Pinkie ducked nimbly as a large wrench was launched at her face, crashing into the crowded street below. She frowned. “Slow and inconsiderate! That could’ve hit someone!” “It was SUPPOSED to hit YOU, you little—” Pinkie snorted. “Oh, come on, we both know that wasn’t going to happen. I’ve been dodging your wrenches for who knows how long! But that one could still hit some poor, unlucky person on the street!” She dove through the window. “Fual amach, you cretin! Now get back here!” With that, Twilight threw herself through the window after the much smaller girl. “Your mother was a hamster!” “I don’t even like elderberries!” Pinkie was already racing across the roof of a shorter neighboring building. “I don’t think so you pink demon! Now get back here before I peel your eyelids off!” Twilight screamed with rage, blinking after the younger girl who seemed to dance around her. “You did hear the part about me hiding the sword, right?” Pinkie asked casually, dodging every blow Twilight leveled at her. “Even if you caught me, I don’t have it. You’re going to have to—oh no!—talk to people to find out where it went! Woe! Calamity! Et cetera!” Twilight stopped teleporting, and looked to Pinkie with a raised eyebrow, “Oh, so I don’t need to play some cat and mouse game to get you to give it back?” Pinkie shrugged. “I thought you were doing it for fun.” ”Well, that was simpler than I thought it would be. Guess I’ll just set your eyebrows on fire and leave then.” Pinkie clapped her hands over her eyes. “Not my eyebrows! I just regrew those after the last time!” ”The only reason I came after you was I thought you still had it. Well then. Auf wiedersehen fraulein, enjoy your night.” and with that Twi leapt backwards off the roof. When Pinkie crept to the edge to see where she went, Twilight popped into existence behind her, grabbing her arms, and with a menacing whisper and smile, asked “Where did you hide it dear Pinkamena? I’d hate for something… dreadful to happen to you.” “Twilight?” “Begging won’t help, but if you scream right, we can have more fun.” “You are an idiot sometimes.” Pinkie whipped her head backwards, crashing into Twilight’s nose. Pinkie’s hair cushioned the blow somewhat, but the shock was still enough to free her wrists. She rubbed them and shook her head. “Yeesh. Someone had two scoops of crazy today.” Twilight snapped her fingers again, teleporting them both into her workshop, with Pinkie strapped onto a work bench. Twilight began to pull tools out of a small leather bag, laying them just out of sight of Pinkie. “Now miss Pie, don’t be afraid to scream, the sounds of your cries will be beautiful music.” Pinkie sighed. “Twilight, I’m really disappointed in you. I just wanted to play a game, have a little fun, maybe even find you a new friend or two.” She gave a sad little smile. “I mean, I did get you to play a game, but ‘Pretend Serial Murderer’ wasn’t what I had in mind.” “Murder? Pinkie, dear, Heavens no. Murder would make these things go much too fast. Now, remember, don’t be afraid to scream or cry.” And with that, she grabbed an instrument and brought it to Pinkie’s stomach. Pinkie began to laugh uncontrollably, begging for Twilight to stop. “Ha ha ha ha ha! No fair! No fair! You are twisted, Sparkle! You—ha ha ha ha!” Tears began to stream down her cheeks as the tickling continued. “Alright, you’ve had enough, Come on, let’s go get lunch. On you, you little Imp!” “Ha… ha… hoo… I almost wet myself.” Once Twilight undid the straps, Pinkie got up from the bench. “Why do you even have those kinds of restraints?” “Hullo, I’m Twilight frickin’ Sparkle, prosthetic maker and surgeon. Makes sense to me, as people twitch when the arm or leg or whatever gets put on. Violent twitches. Trust me, both you and they want them held down.” “Well, Twilight Frickin Sparkle, your bedside manner needs work.” Pinkie took Twilight’s arm in hers. “Now let’s go have lunch!” ⁂❧⁂