//------------------------------// // Sonic Rainboom // Story: Magic Tricks // by ferret //------------------------------// Come one, come all, bear witness to the terrible tale of how Trixie came to be! Wail and gnash your teeth at the nightmare I am about to bring before you if you must, but I will not mince my words. The Great and Powerful Trixie will not soften the blows, or ease your worries, for she has a tale to tell that may shake you to the very foundation of your existence! You may no longer hide in your hovels of peace and vague prosperity, for the world needs you to hear what I have to say. For sake of the countless who suffer at your inactivity, you can no longer fold your ears! So it is wise for you to tremble in fear, for I tell this not for your or my sake, but for all the foals out there who need, no deserve a second chance at life. For the ponies who look in the mirror and see a stranger within, eyes empty as the cruelty of fate, powerless to realize their broken dreams and ambitions. Fear not! This is for you, for those who think that all hope is lost, that nopony can help you anymore, that you have fallen too far to ever live a life of beauty and grace. To those of you who drift along, not really living, but simply avoiding death from day to day, I tell this to you, because you will not live in vain, or else I am not the Great and Powerful Trixie! [pause for fireworks] Many moons ago, on the day where everything changed, a little pegasus filly caused the Sonic Rainboom, earning her cutie mark for her lightning speed. Over V3Q feet below, two and a half miles away on the ground, another young pegasus filly earned her cutie mark that moment. She soothed the animals, who had panicked in the overwhelming colors and sound that, while they didn't hurt anypony, were still very frightening. The mysterious event moved Cloudsdale itself, where formerly in its shadow twenty-two miles away, a small filly on a small rock farm was exposed to a light she'd never seen before. Two hundred and twenty miles away, far beyond the outskirts of either Ponyville or Cloudsdale, a unicorn filly was witness to the Rainbow shattering the Rock. QSF miles away, that is to say one thousand two hundred and ten, in the jewel of the world known as Canterlot, while observing a very potentious entrance exam, our beloved pony princess of the sun made a terrible mistake. Two thousand, two hundred miles, over CQ miles away, morning had barely risen on the eastern coast of Equestria. You may be unaware, but the sun that travels from west to east, rises sooner for the west, than the east. To a filly crying for a place she could not rid from her heart, the sun had not risen yet. The chilly, morning fog had yet to obscure the land in mist, and the sunlight was peeking over the horizon, yet she couldn’t even see her home anymore, not even from the tallest building in the city. That was when the rainboom, now nothing more than soft colors, washed over the eyes of that orange coated filly, alone among strangers in distant Manehatten, wondering if she wanted to live this life after all. Not many ponies ventured beyond Equestria. The dragon lands were a good place to get snapped up and eaten in one bite. The Badlands could harbor no life, so scorched and twisted a place as it was. The gryphon lands however, had a longstanding truce with Equestria, and incidents where a gryphon devoured anything larger than a dog were exceedingly rare. These days, those gryphons caught dining on foals like the monsters of old were met with swift and final justice. Their nation was relatively safe, and they kept wisely to the mountains, the distant, sky-touching eyries. This didn't make ponies down in the bog feel a lot more comfortable. Only the most adventuresome, hardiest, and desperate ponies ventured to those lands across the sea. The gryphons were happy to leave them to that blasted lowlands, those ponies who needed somewhere to hide. The practice of sending criminal ponies there, for the harsh justice the gryphons served, also tempered the attitude of the population, making it a disordered group of disparate, but by necessity tight-knit communities. Far, far to the east, in the gryphon lands, Twenty-two thousand miles away from the epicenter, two and a half, times four, times four, times four, times four miles away, there could be found one such community. Perhaps the only outpost of ponies in all directions, that precise distance away. Sunrise there was still long to come, but the glowflies were awoken in the windows of one of the houses. Card Shark had left Equestria many years ago for reasons, but had managed to turn a new leaf in these lands, falling in love and ultimately marrying the great Good Show, a long standing resident of the gryphon lands from her family's migration far in the distant past. A showmare who could bring gryphons and ponies alike to stunned amazement at her prestihoofation. Her most famous act was teleporting to two places on the stage at once, something no other pony, unicorn or otherwise, has ever managed to, wait for it, duplicate. Being two places at once was considered the stuff of madness, that no mind could comprehend, and yet there she was gayly carrying on a conversation with herself, and acting as her own stage hand. Like any great magician, everyone just knew that she just had to be tricking them somehow, a stunt double, or an illusion, just magical smoke and mirrors, but no matter how they tried to ruin her act, and spoil her secret, it was one she never revealed. Card Shark, now Card Wish was a very powerful unicorn, though he didn't know it. His ability to see what cards would be dealt earned him a pretty penny in gambling circles, and also a lot of reasons to skip town. When he met Gwendolen, she convinced him to give up gambling, and take up card reading instead. He was frightfully good at this and, though it didn't rake in the bits the way gambling did, it helped a lot of people. Not just ponies, people. For the lifelong drifter, not being chased out of town was a life changing experience. But like any lifelong drifter, old habits die hard, and the high maintenance relationship between those two was strained at best. Still, when Good Show pulled Trixie out of her cough hat, Card was a reasonably good father: feeding, playing, protecting, making sure she got just what she needed to grow into a beautiful and happy little filly. So very happy. His distrustful life rubbed off on her though, and she was very shy and reserved, taught to suspect other ponies as possible enemies, at far too young an age. The frontier was a harsh place for even the most well treated foal to grow up in. Trixie’s father would take her to every one of her mother's shows, and Trixie never seemed to get tired of it. She could act before she could talk, and idolized her mother, and her mother's role on stage. Saying Good Show was a Lulamoon did not mean she was ever called Good Show Lulamoon, or Gwendolen Lulamoon. To ponies, calling you by the name of your family makes about as much sense as calling you by the name of your city, or the month you were born. No pony will have a name like Flower Heart Baltimare, or Sky Star Wrapup, but that doesn't mean ponies don't care about cities or seasons. Similarly, you'll never hear a pony speak of Twilight Sparkle Starlight, or Applejack Apple. Never forget though, that ponies do hold their families very close and dear, and those families have names, some more or less distinguished than others. At birth, ponies are usually given two names: their official name, and a secondary one taken from Old Equestrian. The secondary one is considered ornamental, for formal occasions, not unlike a nice dress. Generally chosen for its pleasing sound and resemblance to the official name, scholarly parents may try to choose one with meaning, as a way to temper or color the official name, or choose one that a famous historical figure once held. Carter for instance was given to Card because it sounds nice. Gwendolen was given to Good Show because it means a beautiful ribbon to match the color of her coat and because a great warrior queen in the Legends of Britannia also had that name. As said, more or less effort can go into the secondary name, though ironically many ponies end up more attached to it than their official one. In a private, personal way, ponies will change their secondary name less often than their first one, and often their choice of the first will reflect that of the second name. There are exceptions of course. The Candydrop family is less than on good terms with "Bonnie" Bon-Bon, since she rejected the name her parents gave to her because of bad blood. If you ever meet Bonnie, don't mention the name Sarah or Sweetie Drops. You think you've seen her in a bad mood, but what you saw was her normal mood. Her bad mood is much worse. Trust me on this you do not want to call Bon-Bon Sweetie Drops. So was born "Beatrice" Trixie of the Lulamoon clan. Trixie for her impish attitude as an infant, and Beatrix, because the cards hinted at great journeys in her future, and it would serve her well to be the blessed traveller. The cards may have been drunk at the time they hinted at that, considering how well Trixie's travels actually went. One night in their little backwoods town, as far away from the benevolent celestial princess's embrace as possible, there was a light on in a window, in the dark of the night. Trixie had woken up suddenly, feeling excited and inspired. Trixie was going to put on a show. Her parents tolerated her antics as the small filly pushed the dresser aside with difficulty, to make way for her imaginary stage. She had promised them it would work this time, that she had it all figured out, and they would be so proud of her. Trixie will always remember that night, even many years later, the feeling of warmth, of confidence and love. Her very first audience, and she was already basking in the attention. This time, her magic would work! She can still see it. Her parents sitting over there on that second hand sofa, sipping at their hot chocolate and watching her with amusement and hope, and Trixie over here, concentrating hard, trying to do what she dreamed of. Trixie was going to summon a star. It worked beautifully! Even she was captivated by the twinkling light her spell had wrought, just a tiny twinkle floating in a transparent sphere, her idea of lighting up the stage made manifest. With a dramatic flourish, Trixie magically pushed on her illumination, and made it flare into a beautiful brightness, a tiny firework in the sky. And then something happened Her parents should have known better. The child of two powerful unicorns is going to be talented at magic. Naturally! They should have cautioned her to stay in control, taught her how to shut herself down. They should have defended themselves. There are protective measures you can take to mitigate a magic surge, that Trixie learned of later, in the libraries at Canterlot. There are ways you can interrupt the spell, break the pony's concentration. Look into her eyes and calm her down. Anything! But Trixie was far away from Canterlot that night. Her parents weren't prepared, couldn't have been prepared. For all their worth, they were not well studied, and this was no ordinary magic surge. Trixie couldn't remember much of what happened, just an amazing and terrible feeling of floating in a sea of white light, that was both euphoric and frantic. It felt like she was fighting with a tiger. Staying steady was a massive effort, and everywhere she released the pressure, more would build in another place, like a tea kettle with a cork in its spout. There was no relief that came to Trixie that night. She had no choice but to weather it out, wishing for somepony to help her, when no help would come. She knew it must be a magic surge, but she had only heard stories before, and they told her nothing of how to stop them herself. A surge shouldn't be so overwhelming, or go on for so long. It should be an unnaturally powerful effect or a blast that left your hair sticking up, or your tail a funny color, or sparks in your mane. But not this. What was this? What was wrong with her? Bathed in the blinding white power, Trixie had never felt so alone, or so helpless. And yet it continued for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, she just burned herself out and settled to the floor, an ethereal residue smoking from her horn. She couldn't see, but she knew something was wrong. The wind was whistling above, as if she was outside. Everything had a scorched smell to it, and she could hear shouts in the distance from the other ponies in town, but no other sound. Her parents were silent. What had Trixie done? "Momma? Dad?" What had Trixie done?