//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: A Wound, Endured // Story: A World, Reflected // by Bliss Authority //------------------------------// Chapter 8: A Wound, Endured Classes for the rest of the day were canceled; how could they not be, after a battle where windows were smashed, blackboards destroyed, and John F. Kennedy's newest student almost killed by something the staff could not explain? The school remained open, though, if only because they had a cafeteria lunch that would otherwise go to waste - and a fully functional nurse's office to tend to the wounded. There were more of these than just Twilight; she had to revise her earlier assessment that no one else was hurt. She just hadn't seen them, as they'd been taken to the nurse's office first. Some had cut themselves on glass in their escape. Some had trampled themselves or others in the mad rush anywhere but there. And Ashleigh's shoulders had suffered a little from the rough assistance she'd received. The school nurse had to give Twilight her divided attention; just enough to be diagnostic of her wrenched shoulder and minor abrasions, before calling an aide to administer the actual treatment. This aide turned her head from another patient, brushed a chestnut bang from her dark eyes, then nodded. She was tall and lanky, with the reactions of a girl a foot shorter than she actually was; head perpetually bowed, hands automatically rising to obscure some part of her face, her expressions. She wore a white T-shirt with a mark of three paw-prints - one canine, one feline, and one lapine - over voluminous jeans which she had very carefully tucked into a pair of sturdy boots. "Hello," she said in a voice so soft that it seemed (to Twilight) like she was afraid of wounding her further with loud noises. "Hi," Twilight said. She raised her arm to wave in greeting - before a lance of white-hot pain reminded her why that was a bad idea. "You shouldn't move that arm," Twilight's new nurse said, and there was a bit more volume now, something like a scold. "I'm going to bandage it up, which will probably hurt a little - and I'm sorry about that," she said with a slight flinch, an unconscious cringe. "Sure," Twilight said. Then, in a lower voice: "Let Flash know. He could probably help too." Her new nurse's raised eyebrows told Twilight what she needed to know. This was Fluttershy's reflection, and when she needed to be she was the Lady of Kindness. "Carri- Karima - is letting him know," Fluttershy's reflection said, and in the mirror of Twilight's conspiratory whisper she added: "He probably could help, too." "You know that Karima hates that nickname," Twilight said. Fluttershy's reflection hesitated. "I've known her by that nickname for longer than we've been friends. Sometimes I forget," she said. "She's changed. I'm worried about her." "I can imagine, given what happened to her at the Gala," Twilight said very softly. "It sounded like it," Fluttershy's reflection said, her voice flat. "I didn't have a dress for it. Everything I've heard about it is secondhand - I'm glad I missed it. Too many people, and then that awful prank on top of it…" Twilight considered this as Fluttershy's reflection bound her shoulder with gauze. If she was friends with Generosity Herself when the Gala happened - with any Rarity, four legged or two - there couldn't have been any way that she wouldn't have had a dress. That was a clue, or at least lead to one. "Call me Lucia," Twilight said, finally. "Oh. Um." The girl took a deep breath, again brushing a stray bang out of her eyes. "I'm Parvanei. It's nice to meet you?" she said, or possibly asked. "I think it is," Twilight replied. Parvanei nodded. “Karima told me that you fought that…” “Manticore,” Twilight supplied. “…Manticore without any weapons at all, just a chair and a backpack.” Twilight sighed. “And I got this shoulder for my trouble.” “I’m curious how you knew the name of the monster. Either way, you were awfully brave.” Parvanei laid a hand over her wound – and put another in her pocket. There was a very faint flash, a verdant spark of green mana arcing from Parvanei’s pocket to her hand in a closed circuit, and a feeling of warmth in Twilight’s shoulder – followed by a twitch, and a stretching sensation. Green magic was wood magic, life magic. And Twilight had a feeling that if she checked Parvanei’s pocket, she would find a brooch with a butterfly carved from amber – and that she needed to be touching that focus to cast her healing cantrip. “You should probably avoid using that arm until you rest up,” Parvanei said. “But walking should be fine. Come,” she said, offering her arm to her. “Let me show you to the cafeteria; you’ve had a terrible first day, it sounds like.” Twilight hoisted herself up by her ‘good’ arm. In truth, she thought that her other shoulder had completely healed; she also thought Parvanei’s warning was more to hide a work of magic than it was to help Twilight recover. They started walking. “Thanks. Uh – what do you recommend?” she said. Parvanei chuckled, more nervous than amused. “It’s a school lunch,” she said. “I… usually pack my own to avoid it, actually. You can never tell where the chicken’s been here, or what they’ve done to it. If I have to eat here I stick to the vegetarian food.” Twilight froze. “Uh – are you alright, Lucia?” Parvanei asked. “What do you mean, ‘you can never tell where the chicken’s been?’” Twilight asked, voice wavering. “I mean that it’s probably factory farmed,” she said, a note of anger in her voice. Twilight was beginning to feel nauseous. “Rows on rows of cages, some smaller than they need to even turn around. It’s heartless and cruel and far, FAR too common.” “Oh, starless night, you had to specify vegetarian, you did mean you eat them,” Twilight reasoned out loud, and she was genuinely starting to feel ill. Parvanei just stared at her for a long time. Then, she said, “I wouldn’t ask another human being to give up meat any more than I’d ask a dog or cat to.” She sighed. “But I’d at least want to know that the meat I ate came from something that died happy and without pain. I’d eat the pork that Jackie served. I wouldn’t buy it from the store.” The thought came unbidden to Twilight’s mind of Applejack licking bloodstained lips, and she sunk to her knees, both hands over her mouth, trying not to throw up. Parvanei stepped to the side; Twilight was grateful for the breathing room, and for the time she gave her to recover. “Are you all right, now?” Parvanei asked. “Just tell me what’s… ugh… vegetarian here and I’ll cope,” Twilight said. Parvanei nodded, and pointed out a dish of cheese and noodles for her (after asking if she ate cheese, which struck her as an odd question) and a beautiful red apple, and some red juice dispensed from a machine. They sat down together at a table in the far corner of the room, and she bit into the apple. It was the worst one she’d ever tasted in her life – flat and mealy. The cheese and noodles were salty and starchy, but otherwise not bad, and the juice was both tart and sweet. Parvanei took two small triangular fried pies from her bag and ate one of them. Then she said, in a low murmur, “You aren’t a human, are you?” Twilight stopped eating and stared at her. Parvanei stared right back. She was not angry or afraid. She was, however, returning the gaze. Her eyes were kind, but didn’t yield. “…Honesty’s bearer couldn’t guess that,” Twilight said with a sigh. “How on earth did you? Is the – ugh – meat thing that uncommon?” “Karima and I spoke in the infirmary – for the first time in a year,” Parvanei said, looking down into her lap, “so thank you for that. She said you knew things about her that you couldn’t have, that you named the monster. And you did again in the infirmary. I asked Iris –“ Twilight tilted her head. “- How?” Parvanei blinked. She wordlessly took a device from her pocket, like a burnished mirror reflecting an array of roughly square sigils. “A text,” she said, pressing one of the sigils with her thumb and calling up written words. In the same alphabet and similar vocabulary as Whinnyinglish, too, although Iris had responded in a kind of shorthoof. “I need to get one of those,” Twilight said. “Probably,” Parvanei agreed. “She told me you knew about Amber. About us. About… a lot of things. It frightened her half to death,” she added, narrowing her eyes in the faintest fashion. “But you didn’t know that there would be meat in a public school cafeteria?” “Well, you gotta admit it seems unlikely, Parv,” a familiar voice said. It’s owner crashed down next to her, bronzed legs crossed. Iris grinned with a closed mouth as she chewed a bite of what Twilight thought was pizza, then swallowed. “The budget’s shot to hell so they’re cutting art, music, Defense Against the Dark Arts, food that’s not made of cardboard -” “- and good to see you too, Iris,” Parvanei said, hugging her. Iris hugged her back with one arm. Twilight clenched her hands tight over her knees, not saying a word. Parvanei fidgeted, twiddling her dark hair between two fingers, and chose her words carefully. “I’ve met a lot of vegetarians,” she said. “I’ve been a vegetarian, because I don’t like thinking about animals in pain. And I’ve never met anyone so disgusted with eating meat…” She looked into Twilight’s eyes again. “…and you’re the first one I’ve ever met that was surprised that there would be meat at all. Take one look at human teeth and you can tell we’re omnivores,” she said – and opened her mouth wide, pointing to a sharp tooth. Like a dog’s. Twilight shrunk back, and Parvanei withdrew her hand and closed her mouth. “Trust the animal expert to notice,” Twilight muttered. Iris looked at her. “So. Not from around here.” “Not exactly,” Twilight said. “But from wherever the monsters come from?” Iris said, one eyebrow raised. Twilight sighed, shrinking back, hunched with her head over her knees. “That’s a good working theory?” she said. “I don’t know how your enemies are calling forth monsters, but it’s very likely to be magic from my world. Magic I don’t know and don’t know how to counter. Yet.” Iris leaned back and started to tap her feet on the floor. Parvanei, on the other hand, sat straight, with her hands in front of her face. “She stole the Crown,” Iris said. “She stole MY crown,” Twilight replied. “Which is why you can’t do magic here, while I can zap monsters with my brooch?” Iris said. Twilight was about to reply – then put a finger on her chin and looked up. If that were true, then Sunset would be equally powerless without the crown. Unless… “The monster attacks aren’t new, are they?” Iris popped open a can of cola and slurped a long pull from it. “Nah. This wave of them has been going on for a while.” “This wave?” Twilight said. “This isn’t the first time the Ladies have fought a monster summoner,” Parvanei said, without looking up at them. “The last one before the latest attacks mostly called shadows, gained power from despair and sorrow. The one before that was –“ “-Let me guess. Doppelgangers and philiaphages?” Twilight folded her arms. Iris snorted. “What the hell is a philiaphage?” she said, her voice pitching upward. From impatience? “If you mean they ate love, then yes,” Parvanei said, still not looking up. “Sombra and Chrysalis had reflections here too,” Twilight muttered. “That’s… disturbing.” Iris tilted her head, folding her arms as she glared. “Reflections?” she asked, her voice flat. Twilight snorted. “The reason I could tell all those things about you is because I’ve met people very much like you before. And faced enemies very much like yours.” Iris closed her eyes. “That is WAY too fucking creepy. So, what, we’ve got clones in Herbivordor or wherever?” “Equestr- not important,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “But, yes, you have counterparts. Paragons of the same virtues, on their best days. Just folks on most of them, as Applejack might say.” “Applejack?” Iris asked. “…My world’s Honesty,” Twilight said through a sigh. Iris closed her eyes, pushing off the table with both hands as she rose. “Okay, so. It would be super cool if you never called me a ‘reflection’ ever again cause that’s too goddamn creepy for words.” Twilight snapped her head back to attention, her eyes widening with surprise. “I’m ME, okay? Iris Pheidippides Kallistrate.” She folded her arms. “I’m not some copy of your friend. If you think you know me because you know your Loyalty, you don’t. And I’m not gonna be the only one of the old gang pissed off when you assume it.” “I wouldn’t mind being compared to anyone who earned my title,” Parvanei said almost under her breath. Twilight cringed. “If I’ve –” she shook her head - no good apology ever started with the words if I’ve offended you - and started over. “I’ve clearly offended you, and all I can say is that I didn’t mean to reduce you to a copy of anyone. The Loyalty I knew was a hero, and she was my friend. I only wanted to compliment you by association, Iris.” Iris nodded her acceptance. “Just wanted to nip THAT in the butt immediately,” she said. “Look, Loose. You took an ass-kicking for us without powers, and that did a lot for my trust levels. But the way you got here and all the stuff you know about monsters and mayhem is hella suspicious, and now you’re talking about knowing our doppelgangers -” “-after you’ve dealt with enemies a lot like Chrysalis and her Changelings, not to mention Amber.” Twilight massaged the spot that would have been right under her horn, if she still had one. “Yeah. I think I see.” Iris offered her fist. Twilight looked at it for a second before registering what the gesture meant, then bumped it. “Cool,” Iris said. And for a wonder, it wasn’t a question.