Justifying Censorship
In the dream, she is so very much smaller.
She is staring at the quasi-polished irregular piece of rock (not quite silver, not too far away from it either, a metal unseen for centuries) which serves as her mirror and wishing she could do something with her mane. With the room, which is overly weathered and shows the open signs of far too many repairs, several of them recent. It is confining and grey and dismal and she has to sleep on the floor because one of the more recent things to happen took out part of the side wall and swept their beds out with it: they'd been lucky not to have been within them at the time. For now, there is a pile of blankets in one corner which is hers. It smells like despair and the weight of just barely hanging on and like every pony who used them before her, which means it also smells just a little like death.
There is a second pile in another corner. That belongs to her sister. Lumps show the books poorly hidden underneath.
There are no splinters within the floor, which is one of the positive things to working with a base of bedrock. Light comes in through a pair of irregular openings which might have been rectangles once. Those are sealed when the chaos storms come and ponies huddle in the dark waiting to see if they will die -- with the survivors emerging to find out just who has.
There are no furnishings. There are barely any possessions. As a potential love nest, the only thing which has any hope of qualifying it at all is that for the moment, there is also a complete lack of sister -- she trots over to those blankets and pokes them with her front hooves, just in case -- plus her parents are --
(my father just)
-- not present at the moment. She could check the rest of the house, but
(my father just)
she doesn't want to. It's enough to believe nopony else is here right now. Just her and -- the one who's coming.
She so wishes she could do anything with her mane. Anything at all.
And then there is blue flashing in the scant light from the openings, reflecting off the stone.
She goes up to the pegasus, whinnying a little, shyly. Her visitor is somewhat shorter than she is (so many ponies are, but not all) and she bends her neck down to nuzzle, closes her eyes so she can just feel the snout which touches her face, followed by the brush of feathers against her sides. A pegasus. How does one even deal with the wings? Do they get in the way? Is there anything they might be used for other than flight? When they rest together after, their bodies pressed close, will she hurt her if she makes contact too tightly, or simply uses one as a pillow, drifting off in a contentment which has never been in this place, a comfort previously impossible to find. Something she hadn't believed could exist at all. But the pegasus is here, and they are touching. A slow rubbing between flanks continues the exploration of each other's bodies, and that feel of wings against her is so strange, so -- wondrous. So right. There is a light in this place where darkness so often reigns, a new kind of life where
(my father just)
simply hanging on is the most she'd thought could ever be hoped for, and that falsely.
They are touching. Somepony exists who will be with her in this exposed Tartarus, who will give her hope of more than merely seeing another day and night of life (especially when five of those periods are sometimes squeezed into the same hour), somepony who will stay.
She closes her eyes again, lets touch take over all, and marvels at the strangeness of being happy.
And then she hears the scream.
She opens her eyes. The pegasus (who is much smaller than her now, too much so) has flown backwards, hovers over the Solar marble, tears streaming down. The metallic coat is singed where it had touched her own. Scorched, with tiny wisps of smoke drifting from what had once been fur. The skin is blistered. Some of it is broken.
She cries out, tries to tell the pegasus it was an accident, she didn't mean to, she would never -- but there is fear in the other's eyes, and then that flash of blue is out the doorway and moving down the hall, reflections spreading slightly faster than the screams.
Chasing. She has to explain herself, she has to make it right. And the marble is discoloring under her pounding hooves because that's what heat does to that kind of stone: degrades it, converts it into something which is no longer marble and never can be again. Draperies begin to smoke as her spread wings brush against them. Flowers die. A retainer gasps, breaks out in a full body sweat which converts into froth a second later, then drops -- and his body begins to steam in the shimmering air.
She stops running. She has reached the outside. She is in one of the streets for the shopping district and doesn't know how she got here. And the stones are melting beneath her hooves.
Ponies are screaming. They are running from her, trying to escape the heat. But there is nowhere they can run, for Sun shines over all. More bodies are dropping. Some of them send up smoke when they fall. There are feathers on fire. There are horns threatening to crack. She flaps her wings, marshals her field, tries everything she can to shift the heat somewhere else, and there is a moment when it seems as if she might be succeeding -- but she is trying to displace the energy of Sun, and it will not stop coming. She is radiating more and more of the stuff, beyond her control, beyond any help or cure.
She is destroying Canterlot, and that will only be the beginning.
The Bearers rush towards her to try and help. She screams at them to stay back. They do not, for they care about her. And the Elements turn to liquid and burn through their coats. Then the trail of flame runs deeper. Kindness dies first. Her student is the last to perish, as the skull resists the heat from the molten crown for an extra second, and empty eye sockets stare at her with what had once been love.
There are buildings on fire now. Blackened pony skeletons crack and shatter as the heat reaches marrow. And she knows what will happen next. She will keep getting hotter. She will radiate Sun out to every last part of the world. Everything will feel her inner flame, and then everything will be that fire. The Princess of the Sun will reign over her true realm, a burning nightmare where no life can exist, where there is nothing but fire, no sign anything else ever could have been at all, and she will be here forever in a lake of molten stone, ruler of nothing, savior of none, murderer of all, and the voices will scream at her from the shadowlands throughout eternity as she weeps trails of lava across the liquid ruins of the world and wishes for some way to die --
-- there is a snowflake on her nose.
The sudden coolness startles her. She looks up.
The snow drifts down. Then it comes in sheets and waves. And where it falls, the fire goes out. It coats bones and forms ponies made of white -- and then the drifts convert back to flesh, and those ponies stand again before laughing and dropping back down to roll around in the snow, those with horns making snowballs, the ones with wings sending chill gusts to deflect, and those lacking both -- she hasn't seen that being done in --
-- where the snow falls, there is healing. There is laughter. There is life. And within that life, there is balance...
"I thought you would carry only her into the nightscape," says the pony at her side. "And I never would have disturbed you in that. But then I felt your scream, and I knew you had brought more than the idea of her presence along. The concept of a mark -- going out of control. The fear. When I felt that... I had to come." A long pause. "Regardless, I apologize for the invasion."
"Don't," she whispers. "If ever I needed... I didn't even realize it was --"
"-- the worst are the ones where you do not," her sister tells her. "Or sometimes -- when you remember that you are only living what was once again, and cannot stop or change it... but this is not that. And never will be. You forget that as much as you watch over me, Tia, my eyes are on you as well. What you saw will not and cannot happen, for I swear to stop it every time. We guard each other."
She presses tightly against the younger. She needs to know her sister is there. That she won't be left alone again. Drifting in solitude across an ocean of time with no shore in sight and nopony who remembers.
Her sister smiles up at her. Feathers mesh. "Shall I stay for a time?"
Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me again...
"Yes."
For the briefest of moments, her sister seems to be taller than she is. It feels like a strange thing. But it is also a dream, and so it is simultaneously natural and right.
And they play in the snow together as laughter rings throughout the land.
By the time Celestia forced herself out of bed, Sun had already been raised.
Everypony knew Celestia had taken over the duties for the Moon and kept the cycle of day and night going for a thousand years. Very few realized Luna was just as capable of manipulating Sun. But in the days since the Return, things had returned to the old system: one could only handle the other's domain when permission was openly granted. And doing so wasn't a pleasant experience: they had to force their magics to deal with opposite and opposing, although at least that wasn't the former nightmare of Other. Every Moon raising and lowering during abeyance had been like shoving a spear of ice into her own heart -- and that was before the forever-feeling of loss came into it. She didn't want to imagine what Sun-handling was like for Luna. But her sister had seen how badly Celestia had needed true rest: the offer had been made -- and accepted.
Luna had also performed what for the younger was a fairly basic working -- a casting exclusive to the nightscape and one she was generally reluctant to do at all. The idea of losing control had been locked into day -- at least for a little while. Luna preferred for ponies to confront their fears and banish them from the nightscape of their own (sometimes-assisted) accord, but there were simply times when things had to be put on hold for a while, and a Celestia coming off several consecutive nights without effective sleep would be no good for anypony. There was a chance that their talk had dealt with the issue -- but the only way to find out was to remove the cage, and that was a risk Celestia couldn't afford to take until the problem had been solved.
Not that she'd still had much in the way of helpful rest. Once Luna had left to resume what remained of her duties, Joyous had returned and... well, 'rest' had been no part of that. Plus confining the fear to the waking world wasn't proving to be much of a help.
What if it is a disease? Something contagious? When did she first catch it? How many ponies has she been in contact with since then? Her parents took her all over Equestria, and that's just what I know of. She could be a flying plague vector. And if I have it -- if Luna has it...
No. She was letting the fear take over. Joyous had been all over Equestria, had been in multiple settled zones -- and was still the only pony Celestia had ever heard of who'd had a talent go out of control like this. If there was a disease responsible, Joyous wasn't spreading it.
Unless it had an onset time of several years.
Celestia forced herself to take a slow breath. Her reluctance to add a physician to the pack was somewhat less than it had been the night before -- and it said something about the effect Joyous was having on her that any tiny fraction remained at all.
Shower. I need a shower. Or a bath. Or anything which means I won't smell like everything which happened in my nightscape, even if I'm only imagining half of it and the rest is night sweats and -- everything else. And I'm not going back to that lake again right now.
Smell...
How was Joyous doing in her quarters? Had anypony brought her breakfast yet? Only the sisters even knew she was in there. So either it had been Luna delivering the food or nopony would have done it. Really, Celestia had an obligation to go check on the pegasus. The fact that Luna was surely asleep by now and in no position to interfere in any way had nothing to do with it. This was just making sure Joyous was fed. And comfortable. Along with seeing if she needed any comforting. Surely she would need reminding that they were working on things, that the combined forces of two (three?) Princesses would be enough to make her life right and upon hearing that, she would be so happy that --
"Princess! Princess!" Hooves were pounding on her bedroom door. "Princess, we've got a problem!"
The fantasy shattered under the impact of what sounded like rather ill-fitted shoes. "Is it a problem that can wait until after I wash up?" Because there was no way she could afford to go into the central castle in her current state, not without something considerably beyond the normal level of what some ponies insisted on seeing as emergency pressing against her half-tangible tail.
The very awkward pause stayed on the other side of the door. The words, which had considerably less regard for her privacy, insisted on blundering on through. "Um... that depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On -- whether you want war with Mazein?"
Celestia didn't believe in diplomatic immunity. Or rather, she did -- and what she believed about it was that the concept, at least as it had originally been explained to her by the Griffon Republic, was stupid. Another nation would send someone into her lands and that entity could not be charged with any crime. The Republic had told her it was meant to prevent her from making false accusations against anyone they placed in an ambassador's role. Which, as cover excuses went, really didn't work all that well. It was actually meant to let their ambassador do whatever she desired to anypony she wanted to inflict it in on with total safety and the assurance that at most, Celestia could send her back over the border so that the Republic could replace that ambassador with someone who would just do it all over again, only this time in full public view. It had been ridiculous and she'd refused immediately on not just general principle, but basic intelligence. The Republic had huffily insisted that if she didn't adopt their definition, then there was no reason for them not to be looking into whatever imaginary offenses they were about to decide those in the new Equestrian embassy had just committed. She had given them a very basic reason: Because You Will Make Me Very Angry. And most of the time, that sufficed.
So for Celestia, diplomatic immunity typically meant total freedom of speech -- the same as anypony in Equestria had. An ambassador could say anything to her and she would listen to it. If it was offensive -- well, with some of the nations, it wouldn't be a surprise. If it was overtly aggressive, that was fine. And should anyone be enough of an idiot to openly declare war right in front of her -- again -- well, they were right in front of her and the cells were downstairs. Throw in her ability to alert one of her own embassies within seconds along with some well-designed (and sadly, previously-tested) evacuation plans and the channels of international communication remained about as open as they always did, accompanied by a constant background chorus of we're all going to be civil with each other because you should remember what happens when we aren't. And should a crime be committed by an ambassador, she had the right to prosecute -- after a third, neutral nation had sent in its own investigation team and determined that the offense had actually occurred, which was the system those countries hosting her own embassies were now using. It had done a lot over the centuries to slowly encourage a more self-controlled breed of ambassador, or at least one intelligent enough to let their spies do most of the work.
But she still tried to avoid having too many ambassadors dragged into Canterlot's police stations, much less having them brought down by the Guards. Sometimes what seemed to be a crime was just a cultural misunderstanding. Zebra shopkeepers tended to leave a basket of free food samples for browsers to snack on while they made their selection, and that included those whose product was edible -- which, upon arrival in Equestria, often led to accusations of shoplifting through grazing. Griffons tended towards almost casual displays of aggression in order to work out the local dominance chain: once they determined exactly where everypony around them ranked and their own place within that system, things settled down -- but the way those initial sorting attempts could come across... And minotaurs were the most happily physical of the sapient races and believed that a good hard clap on the back was a perfect expression of casual welcome: startled ponies could find themselves three blocks away before the most skittish started to form the word assault in their terrified minds.
Celestia paid careful attention to the cultures which had set up little parcels of land in the capital. Warned her law enforcement personnel as to what was a true attempt at criminal activity, as opposed to the things which could just be taken the wrong way. And whenever possible, she tried to forgive just a little more with those visitors to her country, because they were far from home and didn't always completely understand the ponies around them. Some of them truly meant no harm. The rest were quickly identified, and she had wound up escorting a few back to the border herself. Several had been teleported across it. Others had been kicked.
But now...
...she emerged from the between at the far end of the Hall Of Legends. Ambassador Power had managed to fight his way down to Discord's original portrait -- and that had been with him battling against the efforts of her Guards the whole way in. Guards who were admittedly holding back somewhat: from what she could see of their expressions, several were confused, anxious, and openly worried. They didn't want to hurt the ambassador: they were still trying to reason with him. The minotaur had been coming to the castle for nearly two decades now, understood ponies as well as any of his kin ever had, enjoyed a good laugh with some of the Solar staff and bought the first round at the bar after every successful negotiation. Her little ponies liked the big bull, and that friendship was precious to her --
-- but at the moment, it was also sort of getting in the way.
"I want to see her!" Ambassador Power roared, and surged forward another step. It was amazing, really, how well he was moving at all with a full rainbow and beyond of fields encircling his limbs. (The unicorns among the eight battling Guards were being careful about their tactics: loops of restraint instead of full-body coatings, as only the former truly allowed multiple pulls on the same limb.) An extra layer of astonishment was added when Celestia realized he was doing it while carrying what had to be at least a hundred pounds worth' of flower arrangements, which included extremely careful attempts to shield them from being disturbed by his efforts to escape. "She's in here somewhere -- she's a new envoy, she hasn't been dispatched yet! One of you knows where she is! Unless you're trying to keep her for yourselves!"
"Sir!" Glint gasped out as his corona went double, froth starting to appear within the visible portions of his coat, "We don't know -- who you're talking about! There aren't any metallic pegasi working in the castle -- Solar or Lunar shifts! We'd remember!"
Tulips, he's carrying tulips, where did he get those? I thought I had all the suppliers closed down! I have to get this under control before anypony else sees them, not to mention getting a really clear look at me --
-- the huge muscles along the minotaur's left arm seemed to pulse. "You're lying! I just want to see her! I want to tell her she was in my dreams last night! If I can just -- if you just let me --"
He exerted himself. Two of the fields winked out as the strain provided too much for those grips.
His arm swung -- and Glint was too close, her Guard hadn't backed off after taking the magical exertion to a higher level, the minotaur's arm was coming right at the horn and the corona hadn't dropped down yet --
-- and then Glimmerglow swooped in, took the blow across her flank armor, was sent backwards five body lengths into an old rock crystal portrait, one which showed the opening of the west coast. It cracked. The armor held, and the pegasus slid down the wall, just barely conscious.
Celestia went between. Came out a body length away from the ambassador. "Let go of him!" she called out to her Guards, and they responded to their training, released their fields without question, gave them space.
The reddened eyes focused on her as the minotaur staggered forward. "You know where she is!" he declared, and there was no rage in it, not towards her -- not yet. "You introduced us! You can take me --"
Which was her idea exactly.
Celestia charged. Her shoulder made contact --
-- and they came out of the between at the very border of Trotter's Falls. At the lake. Or rather, some distance directly above it.
Celestia spread her wings, started the hover just in time. The minotaur, lacking the necessary appendages, simply fell.
She moved back in time to avoid most of the splash.
After a count of twenty, he surfaced. Most of the flowers had beaten him to it.
"C-c-c-c..." he stuttered. "C-c-cold! Horns Of The Ancients, Sunbutt, that is the coldest water I've ever touched in my life! Where are we? Where's -- where's Joyous? Is this..."
He trailed off. Blinked a few times, looked at the flowers floating around him. Treaded water as he returned his gaze to focusing up, saw the sorrow in Celestia's eyes.
"What -- what was I doing?"
"Nothing that was your fault," she sighed. Double corona -- Glint had been a hoofstep away from torn muscles or worse, and if Glimmerglow's armor hadn't taken enough of the impact...
...but it wasn't his fault. Minotaur courtships and wrestling matches were basically the same thing. Intergender combat sports were their idea of club hookups. You were supposed to fight your way to the one you loved: it was how you showed your devotion at all. In the ambassador's mind, he'd been doing nothing more than proving himself -- and on that level, he'd done an incredible job of it. "And nothing I'm going to press charges for," Celestia wearily said. "Swim over to the shore -- I'll wait for you."
She flew to the edge of the pebbles, arranged her body in a position of total (false) peace. The minotaur, still looking dazed, swam over, got out of the water, sat down by her side. Looked her over.
"What happened to you?" he asked, and the gruff words were surprisingly gentle. "If you had normal hair, I'm betting it would look as rough as your coat does right now. And you smell like..."
"I'm fine."
"You're as fine as I am," Ambassador Power told her. "And I think -- I think I lost it back there. No, ignore that -- I know I did. And -- I'm still thinking -- about going back there and..." A deep breath. "Celestia, is this magic? Did somepony get in my head? I'm trusting that it wasn't you, but somepony else --"
"-- somepony else," she said. An experiment. Luna, what are we doing...? "Ambassador -- Torque -- we've known each other a long time now. And that you trust me not to have been the one who did that to you -- it means a lot. It means I truly do have your trust, and that's precious to me. But I need you to have even more than that now. I need you -- to have faith in me. And in a few minutes --"
She took a deep breath. And I have to check on the wounded, see how bad it is. Then I need to say something to the Guards. Keep the word from spreading back to his embassy. And then we have to deal with the problem, every level of it, how are we going to fix it...
The rumors could already be flying. All the way back to the embassy. And beyond.
"-- I'll be able to talk to you," she finished. "Torque, I have to head back. I have to check on my Guards and keep word of this from getting outside the castle. A few orders from me will stop things. Do you trust me to return?"
He slowly nodded. Drops of water fell from the horns.
Celestia tried to smile, couldn't quite make it.
And in a few minutes, I'm going to hope you don't end up hating me.
She told him everything. And when it was over, he took the deepest breath she'd ever seen on anything his size, the huge chest expanding as muscles shifted in all directions -- then let the entire thing emerge as a single slow sigh.
"That poor kid," he said, briefly closing his eyes. "What a life. What a total lack of life... Sunbutt, I don't know a lot about your marks, not past what everybody knows -- but I've never heard of anything which would change or stop them. Does she have any chance?"
It was the response she'd been hoping for, the one she would have expected from this bull -- and yet it was still a little hard to believe. "I was half-expecting you to yell at me," she told him. "A lot."
"I'm thinking about it," he admitted. "On the one hand, I don't exactly appreciate being the subject for your sister's experiment. On the other -- you had to test her with someone. And I was the most different person around -- the one least likely to be affected. I wouldn't have gone with the zebras: too close... So what are her chances?"
"We're working on the problem," she honestly said. "But this is something which has never happened before -- and yes, I know what it means to have me saying that, Torque. We don't have an instant answer: if we did, it never would have reached the point of having her meet you. We were hoping sending her away would be a last chance if all else failed -- but now we know she can't live among your people, and it's possible that every intelligent species in the world might react the same way. I don't even want to think about what would happen if she stumbled onto a flight of teenage dragons..."
Torque winced. "Yeah, better try to avoid that," he responded, and the words were the driest thing about him. "Look -- Celestia, you trust me. More than a little, or you wouldn't have said all that to me. I believe you, okay? I know you didn't do it on purpose and you never thought it would happen at all. And this isn't going any farther than me. But now I need you to trust me even more, because I'm gonna say some stuff you won't want to hear -- and I need you to take all of it seriously."
Celestia blinked. "Torque, if there's anything else I can do to apologize --"
"-- oh, we're gonna have some fun tariff talks later," he cut her off. "But this isn't about that. You know me. I say what I'm thinking. Just because it doesn't come out dressed up in fancy suits doesn't mean it isn't the truth. I don't lie to you and you've always returned the courtesy. I appreciate that. A lot of ponies can't handle blunt. It's easier for them to lie in fifteen syllables than be honest in four. So here's my four: she's a weapon."
Two blinks this time -- and then Celestia's eyes closed. She didn't want to see it -- and the desire didn't keep the images from appearing.
"Nothing wrong with being sexy," Torque said. She heard him leaning back slightly, bracing his hands against the little stones. "I wouldn't have met my wife without that sexy. Wouldn't have gotten the years we had together without that one good headlock... never wrapped a neck that well before or since. But what Joyous does... you could drop her in the middle of a room, any place where a bunch of ponies or anything else is arguing about you. And then they're arguing about something else. Somepony else. They were thinking about going after you with a vote or a twisted bill or one of those stupid articles or anything else -- but now they're thinking about her. And it's all they think about until they tear each other apart fighting to see who reaches her first. My people figured out to go until first yell or handsign. Took us a while -- but we got there. Yours don't have that -- and if they did, she'd break it just by showing up. Maybe they'll kill each other over who gets to touch her -- and what happens to her when the survivor closes in?"
Her imagination refused to listen to any begging. Hers or that of the vision of Joyous.
"I trust you," Torque told her. "I trust you more than some of mine think I should. So I'm gonna forgive you this one, because it wasn't your fault or hers. I'm a little bit pissed with your sister, but that'll wear off. And I know you're working on this -- that you'll give it everything you have. But now I'm gonna throw this in: you'd better. Pull out every last stop, Sunbutt. Go to places you've never been, reach for magic you'd never thought of. Hit the last resort and if that fails, head for the one after that. Because if you don't get her fixed -- then I know what this does. What it could look like if you dropped her somewhere. And part of me knows you would never do that -- but there's also a bit which sort of thinks you can't keep control of a country for as long as you have without having that little piece that's bottom-line practical. The pragmatist. The voice in your head that says 'If this is needed to survive, then let it be done'. You would never use her that way. You'll do anything not to. You'll twist yourself into a spiral dodging it. But if there's no other way out -- if you had no choice but her..."
Starkly, "I won't."
"You're right," Torque said, and any comfort from those words was taken away by the sentences which followed. "You won't -- because you care too much about Joyous to sacrifice her like that. And that's without her talent figured in: it's just her as one of your citizens. As a pony. You manipulate sometimes, I know that. We all do in this job -- but you've got a hard time with sacrifice, with putting somepony in a situation where they're sure to get hurt or -- worse. Your sister's even more practical: haven't had much time with her, but what we've gotten together was more than enough to spot it. But she wouldn't put somepony through that either. Both of you care about your ponies. Makes you strong in some ways, vulnerable in others. You won't, and she won't -- but what about the Courts? Independent parties? Anypony stupid enough to be going for a coup? One of the other countries searching for just the right way of getting a foothold for that first strike?"
He stood up. More water dripped down.
"She's a weapon, Celestia," Torque told her. "Either figure out how to make and distribute the shields or take the edge off her. I'm not talking -- but eventually, someone or somepony will find out. And once that thought hits the wrong mind, things are going to get a lot worse. Take me back, keep me updated, and fix her. Because if you don't..."
...then someone or somepony will try to use her.
It had started as one young metallic pegasus mare with a unique mark and problem.
Then it had moved into the Solar and Lunar wings.
Now it had surged beyond the castle.
And if anypony -- or anyone -- became afraid it might shift into their own minds, take their thoughts away...
Or move to stop her from being used at all.
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poor girl.
And another statue enters the garden.
.
.
.
Thing is even that wouldn't be good enough. Celly and Luna would be afflicted to the end of time.
Even the best case scenario here is just horrid.
Dragonriders of Pern reference?
3262086
My term for the realm teleporters pass through when they travel. I actually went over this in a reply to a Glossary-based blog post (and also described it there as the universe's largest sensory deprivation tank): I looked at a little bit of the first novel when I was about ten -- and remember just about nothing from it -- but I never read through the whole thing or continued the series. It's possible something could have lodged on a deep level and surfaced at need, but...
*shrug*
...honestly, all I can do here is guess. I might have picked it up from there, or come up with it independently. But this is one of those cases where I don't know.
As witness...
3262127 Oh, nothing against it at all! The choice of words simply got my gears to turn and remember fondly those novels. I sometimes use it myself.
I had to read the dream sequence twice to get it, but...
I'm loving this story
Wow.
Just.
Wow.
Every time I come to read another one of your chapters you surprise me in the most splendid way.
Execute her or put her in solitary confinement for the rest or her life. Or Send her into lunar hibernation till you figure something out in a thousand years. You don't need to solve her problom right now if you put her stasis.
I wonder what deus ex machina you will go with.
Or should I say deu-sex machina...
*ducks tomatoes.
I shudder to think what would happen if Cloud Kicker somehow obtained that weapons grade sex appeal...
Well, if all else DOES fail, cockatrice. Provided that's not painful - Twilight seemed to have no memory or ill effects coming out of it.
But then you need to have a cockatrice around to dispel the effect ... and hopefully not the SAME one because if so, you've got 5 years at best. Still, at least it temporarily absolves the issue. A'course, can't fix what you can't study so there is that as well.
Time to bring Cadence, Twilight and every other thing in the world in. Where's Discord? Sure he might faff about for a laugh but I doubt he'd make it worse. Communicate BEFORE exposure, that might help prevent or alleviate some of the initial symptoms. Make sure the severity of the situation is clear. And for at least two of those I mentioned (Cadence and Twilight), hearing Celestia's fear about out-of-control CMs might help the mental battle about the mare. "Fix it or we ALL die."
The phrase is "diplomatic immunity". "Diplomatic impunity" is a play on words.
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Oof. (I plead S.H.I.E.L.D.) Fixed.
3262391 Uhm, there has never been an established time limit for petrification reversal in Pony canon.
As far as we know, it's always as reversible as the stoning of Discord.
Without any clarified conditions from show creators, fanon can be whatever the author decides (so long as they keep it consistently applied in the world of their story, of course).
She has no hope.
She should drink poison and die.
Unless her talent is still active after death... then... ewwwwwww...
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Assuming Discord isn't still petrified. We know this story takes place at a time before Twilight becomes an Alicorn and the impression I got from season three is that the time period between Discord's release and Twilight's Alicornication wasn't very long.
Bringing him in is still a huge gamble though. Yes, he's a creature of Spirit and Magic and his physical body is likely just for show. So he probably doesn't even have an endocrine system to produce a sex drive in the first place. But what if he does?
Discord has only been practicing self-restraint for a couple months and it still doesn't come naturally to him and nothing short of the EoH can keep him from something he wants. Even then getting a shot off the first time heavily relied on his nature to not take anything seriously and treat everything as a game. If Joyous' talent overwhelms him and causes him to hold nothing back, and he goes all out from the beginning...
The plot was thick- I mean, the plot thickens! Shit, stop thinking about her stop thinking about her!
I'm really enjoying this fic. Your characters are rich and colorful and the story isn't something I think I've seen before. I'm not regretting faving this.
So, Luna has pleasant dreams about the fun things her and Joyous could get up to... whilst Celestia has terrible nightmares about what would happen if she tried the same?
Well, that's ... odd.
Also -
I can't tell if that's an intentional joke or a typo.
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In this case, leftover from edits. Fixed..
But I have to admit, as a Freudian slip for Celestia, there was a moment when I wanted to leave it in.
(The worst part is that I just spotted it and was rushing to catch the thing before anyone became aware of it. Too late, too late...)
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Last resorts of last resorts then. If this needs solving, Discord might be able to help.
Or maybe one of Discord's creations (Poison Joak has his talon-prints all over it).
Congratulations. You have written a very unique story that shall be featured on my user page.
So far, this is the worst case scenario. I'm... interested if this will ever be resolved. I doubt it'll go to full clop (for story consistency's sake if nothing else), but wow. Torque's evaluation is a pretty good way to say it.
And the only thing I can think of is to appeal to reincarnation.
Even using the Elements of Harmony on her may not work. The Elements fix things that are broken and restore things to their balanced natural state. It may turn out metaphysically speaking that there's nothing actually wrong with Joyous Release, nothing to fix so the Elements do nothing. In which case Celestia and Luna have exposed the Mane 6 to her power and made things even worse.
You tease
Jeez, this is getting heavy.
I gotta say, I'm just getting more invested with every passing chapter. Nicely done!
A very Hellen of Troy chapter.
After Chapter 1, I was curious
After Chapter 2, I was amused
After Chapter 3, I was intrigued
After Chapter 4, I was enthralled
This kind story could just be played for laughs, but it's being handled seriously and we're getting a heckuva story as a result.
Can't wait to see more!
Also "Sunbutt" Tee hee.
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I assume that many readers think. Around here, that sometimes seems to be the majority.
In stories with problems to be solved, there are frequently going to be people saying 'Why don't they try this?' Therefore, I feel it can slightly help to establish why they're not trying that, at least for things the characters themselves will think of -- or allow themselves to. If I don't go over some of those options, the Commentary section probably will. Loudly.
In part, this is also because I'm working in a setting which has some established rules. A reader might be saying 'Why don't they just switch her mark? That's happened before, so I know it's possible'. That's not purely from my imagination: it's series canon. And so it's addressed. Other aspects are in fact more of whole cloth, but they might still remain options other people could come up with -- especially in a setting with magic available, which can open up too many doors unless I nail a few shut first.
So I knocked a few batters out of the lineup before they ever reached the box, to use a lowbrow comparison which will in no way help my cause, not that anything ever could. There may be balls in play, but I'd rather none of them be the Idiot one and yes, I know the degree to which I potentially just set myself up there, thank you.
Now, if that comes across as boring tax code -- so it goes. One person enjoys it and someone else doesn't. That's the Internet, along with life. Also, I'm a bottom-tier fanfic not-exactly-writer. I never claimed to be competent.
(Oh, and there's also other things happening in that section, but no one's interested in any of that, so let's just ignore it.)
And if you skipped these paragraphs as well? That's your call. And possibly a justified one.
Next chapter hopefully up before some area's idea of midnight on Friday.
(Incidentally, I have what might be a much more satisfying response on standby, but I decided it was providing too much false hope. But I'll still keep it around for a while. Just in case.)
I find myself both glad and kicking myself that I broke my 'no incompletes' rule to begin reading this, lol. But your update schedule has me not too worried, at least. A huge thank you for your efforts thus far, please (please!) keep up the awesome work XD
Well, that didn't work...
Let's try this again: themcp.webs.com/A_Mark_of_Appeal.png
Cover art
(Getting that metallic effect on her coat took a fair bit of fiddling around with Paint Shop Pro filters, too!)
I'll just say what some others have said: you've taken what could have been easily turned into a clop-comedy into a very serious story about trying to help a poor, troubled mare, and the possible political weaponizing of her.
And of the few stories that I've seen that showed Luna tending to nightmares, this is the first that I've seen that showed her dealing with one of Celestia's.
All-in-all, very good work; liked and favorited.
That's not actually how "diplomatic immunity" is supposed to work in our world. A criminous diplomat is either punished by the nation which sent him for the crimes he committed, or that nation has retroactively sanctioned these crimes, and hence committed an act of war against the host nation. It was understood that no respectable nation would permit its diplomats to attack citizens of other Powers unless it meant to deliver an international insult.
The problem is that we stopped enforcing this aspect of international law after World War II. Mostly to appease the Soviet Union.
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she wouldn't have to worry about whether or not she banged luna, becuase she would have, and celestia, many times, ad nauseum, maybe Nimbus would still be alive because she could have distracted that changeling
spoilers don't count in a different story that is complete and a year or 2 old, do they?
So, to clarify...
We have two characters who, despite being incredibly more dangerous than the average person, are at heart, normal flawed people. One is associated with the sun, and one the night. The one who gains strength from the sun is kind, foremost, and seeks to guard and protect ordinary mortals. This one is the most powerful of the two, possibly the most powerful being on the planet, and it fears that power, of what may be done with it.
The one with the night isn't as powerful, but is smart. Incredibly smart. That one isn't as afraid of playing dirty. It reassures the first by promising that no matter how strong the sun may be, the night will be there to protect the people from it, either by saving or stopping such a threat.
Who am I describing?
Bonus points: Nightmare Moon is Frank Miller's Batman
Well, the beginning was terrifying.
Torque. I like him.
ouch, that reminded me of one of the "lethal weapon" movies where someone was blatantly abusing Immunity...
that reminds me of a scene in an online comic, "DMFA" where someone is talking to one of the fabled Oracles about something...too complicated to explain here...
"you will not like this answer. it is the single most terrifying thing a being like me could possibly say: I DON'T KNOW."
edit: i just remembered another quote: in one of the "sandman" comic books, "Dream", the ruler of the land of dreams, is preparing for a dangerous mission. he talks to someone in his dream, and says he might be gone for a long time. "the very notion of what someone like YOU considers a long time sends shivers down my spine." the man replies.
PS: the mission was to rescue someone from Hell.
Dawwww.
Fascinating.
Estee, I like what you're doing with the minotaurs. Great story so far!
Why do I get the impression that "tariff talks" and "wrestling match" are the same phrase in Minotaur?
Damn, this is some heavy stuff. Can't wait to read more ^w^
goes to do just that
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More like terrifying, this makes Helen of Troy look like the plot of a penny dreadful or five and dime romance.
So coming in from the Glimmer story and the comments section referenced this story. Can't believe I missed something that currently looks majorly important.
1) this is a very thought provoking piece
2) yay more 'verse stories
2.7) I wonder what I'll learn here that'll color the current and future installments in a way i haven't seen them before