Warmth
It was her voice, yes. Luna was reminded of her encounter with a machine Celestia had showed her, an elaborate mess of wires and tubes that would repeat a few seconds of sound. She had showed it to Luna—it must have been during the first few months of cautious rapprochement, of tentative trivialities. The machine was engaging, at least for the hour—repeating a scrap of song, say, or some ill-aged scrap of rhyme.
Luna had never quite been able to recognize herself in the voice coming from the machine, but then, neither was the face in the mirror every evening someone she knew. But this, the voice coming from below her—it was hers, surely, more so than even the voice from the machine, more than that face in the mirror.
“Comfortable?” the voice said, the voice that echoed her thoughts.
Luna said nothing.
“It doesn’t matter, of course.”
Luna sighed. “Then my response will be of little worth,” Luna said. “Chrysalis, I presume?” She pressed her face into the membrane—the wet warmth of it on her mouth—trying to peer down into the dark below her.
Chrysalis cackled. “That was quicker than I expected.”
There was no point to responding.
“It’s funny, really. I had no intention of revisiting Equestria. I know when to cut my losses, after all. It’s too bad that you decided to try this little stunt.”
Luna gritted her teeth.
“And now I have an alicorn princess all to myself!” Chrysalis said, her voice rising. “It’s just like—what is it, Hearth’s Warning? Like that.”
“You will get nothing from me,” Luna hissed. “I would rather die.”
“Eventually,” Chrysalis said. “I won’t always have use of you, after all. Good night.”
A faint green flash sparked across Luna’s body, and she slept.
Moonshine’s hooves slipped a little on the stone beneath her, polished smooth by hundreds of thousands of changeling feet and damp with the moisture that hung in the air. She exhaled, a sharp quick sound, and her horn went out.
It was completely dark.
She stopped running, stood still, gasped for air, and then tensed, channelling energy through her horn: it flickered on—and then off. “Oh, shit."
Soarin dropped down next to her. “I didn’t know you swore. Problem?”
Moonshine looked in his direction. “I cuss—yes on both counts. Soarin, I really hope that’s you.” She paused for a second, and her horn lit fitfully, and stayed on. “Oh, good. Hello, Soarin. Mind proving it?”
Soarin grinned weakly. “I like crayons?”
“Good enough for me. Do you think we got far enough away?”
Soarin sighed. “Uh, probably? Three or four miles?”
“Make up an answer that I’ll like,” Moonshine said.
“Yes, we definitely got far enough away,” Soarin said, sounding like he had repeated the line at gunpoint.
“Oh sol, we’re doomed,” Moonshine said.
“Hey!” Soarin said. “We are not doomed. We could still get out of this.”
“Do you even know where we are, Soarin?”
“Uh. No. But we’ll figure it out. Do you have like a compass or something?”
“Let me just check my pockets... oh wait,” Moonshine said.
“No pockets?” Soarin said.
“No pockets.”
“I don’t know why I was surprised,” Soarin said dully.
“You’re dumb,” Moonshine said. “Joke. Do you still have those energy bars?”
“Of course. Want one?”
Moonshine shrugged. “Beggars. Choosers.”
“Right. So...” Soarin reached towards his flightsuit. “Um... Not there... or there... definitely not there...” Something metallic rattled on the stone floor of the tunnel. “Oh crap, Spitfire will kill me if I broke my barometer... no...”
Moonshine poked at the metal gauge. “This is a barometer?”
“Yeah, for shows. Air resistance changes a little bit from place to place, you know?”
Moonshine tapped her hoof on the ground. “Please tell me it’s working.”
“Seven fifty even. So we’re, what, a thousand feet down?” Soarin gasped. “Oh sol, we’re a thousand feet down.”
“No, Soarin, this is great!” Moonshine said.
“No. No no no. this is not great. We’re like a mile down. This is terrifying. I want to go home.”
“I meant the barometer. We can use it to get out of here.”
“Uh... oh. That’s actually really smart.”
Moonshine beamed.
“So what, we just check every five to see if the air pressure is getting lower?”
“That’s the idea,” Moonshine said.
“It’s a good idea.”
“Why, thank you.”
As Spitfire was always quick to remind Soarin, sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel is actually an oncoming train.
Soarin, hating both tunnels and trains, tended to respond to this suggestion about as well as having been told that overly enthusiastic pegasi would be devoured by packs of roving clowns. The actual lesson hadn’t stuck, of course. But it did come to mind from time to time.
The air was drier here, a steady, dusty draft coming from somewhere in front of him. “Moonshine,” he whispered. “Kill the light for a second.”
“Are you sure?” Moonshine asked. “Also, why are you whispering?”
“Humor me.”
Moonshine sighed, and her horn flickered out. They stood still for a second as the darkness reclaimed the space around them.
Soarin’s eyes darted around.
Moonshine yelped. “What was that?”
“Me, sorry,” Soarin said.
“You should be,” she snapped.
“Apparently.”
“Okay, well, this was fun,” Moonshine said. “And lights in three, two—”
“Wait a second. Do you see that?” Soarin said, gesturing—pointlessly—forward.
“It’s dark, Soarin, I can’t—well, I’ll be.”
There was a faint glimmer up ahead of them, just barely visible.
“You’ll be what?” Soarin asked. “I have some suggestions.”
“Shush. Get out the barometer,” Moonshine said, her horn lighting up again.
Soarin fumbled around with it for a second, Moonshine’s light glittering off the brass exterior. “Six fifty two,” he reported.
Moonshine nodded.
“So pretty low chances that it’s actually a bunch of changelings luring us in to be de-lovified,” Soarin noted.
“Bad joke.”
“They’re the only kind I have.”
“I’ve noticed.”
They walked along for a couple minutes, in near silence. The tunnel floor pitched up into a steep slope, with stone as smooth as if it had been polished. Soarin’s hooves scrabbled for purchase, without much success. He groaned. “Figures.”
“I don’t think we’re going to get much better luck,” Moonshine said.
“You never know,” Soarin said.
Moonshine pulled a face. “I kind of do,” she said, shining her light over what looked suspiciously like a cliff face.
“You’re kidding.”
Moonshine grimaced. “You can fly, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then this shouldn’t be particularly complicated.”
“Hm.”
There was a scrape of something against stone in the darkness. “Not complicated now,” a voice said from behind them, sibilant, raspy. Moonshine spun around, her light faltering just a little as it revealed a changeling just a few yards away.
Soarin was in the air in a half-second, and on the changeling in another, colliding with a solid crunch. His leg rested comfortably on the changeling’s neck.
Well, comfortable for Soarin anyways, and very doubtfully so for the changeling. It gasped. “Stop.”
“Nope!” Soarin shouted. “Moonshine, zap him!”
Moonshine looked askance at Soarin. “Do what to him?”
“Zap him, with magic. Come on, he’s squirming a lot.”
“I can’t zap things!” Moonshine protested.
“What? Why not?”
“Friend!” the changeling shouted.
Soarin lifted off it. “What?”
The changeling sucked in air, pulling itself off the tunnel floor. “Friend. Case sent.”
“What?”
“He’s a friend,” Moonshine explained. “Somepony named Case sent him.”
Changelings can’t smile, but there was something in the changeling’s face that suggested that it was beaming at Moonshine.
“Oh,” Soarin said. “Who’s Case?”
Moonshine shrugged.
“Hard to tell. Easier to show,” the changeling said, extending a forelimb to Soarin’s forehead.
Soarin slapped it away. “No! No showing.”
The changeling looked faintly aggrieved.
Moonshine raised a hoof. “Um, maybe you could try explaining it?”
The changeling bobbed its head. “Can try, can try, though Equish is not good.”
Soarin nodded, letting just a little tension drain away. “Good.”
“Bad. Can’t speak in Equish. Makes slow. Hurts neck.”
“Well, do it anyways,” Soarin said.
“Yes,” the changeling said. It pointed at itself. “Friend. Case is also friend to ponies. And enemy of queen.”
“Chrysalis?” Moonshine asked.
The changeling hissed, exposing its fangs. Moonshine jumped back, nearly slipping. “Yes,” it said.
Soarin grinned. “Nice.”
“Come,” the changeling said. “Take you to Case. Case will help.”
Soarin glanced at Moonshine. She shrugged. “Good enough for me, and maybe they’ll help us find Luna and the others?”
“Good enough for you,” Soarin said, “good enough for me.” He turned back to the changeling. “Take us to your leader.”
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"Take us to your leader" Yay!
A few nitpicks:
This cuts off. There should be ending punctuation if nothing else.
Very much so!
Not "polished"?
5870316
Well, that's embarrassing. Serves me right for not running this by an editor.
Thank you very much, Fan. You've earned a follower.
5870316
I blame, variously, Google Docs, FIMFiction's derpy GDoc uploader, and my phone's damned autocorrect.
Such...intriguing...hooks...at the end of each...chapter...
BLARGH my desire to keep reading!
5871438
Some people write until a natural stopping point.
Me? I write until I get to the hook.
5871621
Definitely a recipe for keeping us interested
Soarin's got all the best lines.
I'm always really impressed with how good the actual writing itself is. The story's still stellar and I'm stoked to see where you go, but the writing itself stands out. There are a couple writers on here who have really strong prose that I like to use as the like measuring stick when I write stuff; y'know, like, flipping between three or four open tabs? Writing something, reading something, rewriting something and so on and so on.
You're one of those guys.
5915778
Well, thank you, Guy.
5916463 Just a quick notice before I read. How will they even "bring her to justice" per say. Isn't Queen Chrysalis like the sovereign ruler of another nation thus doesn't abide by their rules and judging her would be impossible? I mean they'd have to actually conquer the changelings to judge her, or make her own hive judge her.
5957715
Short answer: no. The hive isn't recognized as a sovereign nation.
5958901 I guess that's fine. Oh well. I still wonder how impartial they might all be judging the name of the squad being "lunatics" :P Anyways gonna give it a chance later. No promises.
5958918
I think it will start making more sense once you get some distance into the story.
5958927 I think I already have an idea based on the part you quoted on that thread. I'd like to say still that I've seen similar stuff and though this headcanon ((that i suspect/know for the most part)) Is... not entirely my taste. I mean don't get me wrong that doesn't say anything about your writing skill... I just... I'm not sure I'm going to enjoy this.
5958953
Nio, if I may be blunt:
I do not give one good goddamn about your headcanon except insofar as you write good stories with it as a foundation. This is my story. Take it or leave it. If it doesn't play nice with your headcanon, so be it.
5958988 Bro I'm sorry I wasn't clear. Your story is fine I presume((and btw I've deleted that part)). I simply blabber sometimes. Do forgive me.
5959005
It's fine; it's just that there are better places for you to expound your obiter dicta on changelings.
Sorry to be impolite earlier.
5959051 No no it's fine. If you wish we can still move this in a pm. I wouldn't like the story derailing with pointless comments either.
5961325
Google is your friend.
This is flatly untrue.
Asserted, but not proved. I actually don't.
5961268
I don't see the contradiction. Also, I don't appreciate the oddly stilted diction you're employing for some reason, but I suppose we both have to live with certain disappointments.
In fact, naivety is an alternate spelling of the word "naivete". I would take this criticism more seriously if it were (1) accurate, and (2) didn't misspell the word in the process of informing me that I'm misspelling the word.
"Caballeron rolled his eyes and waved Soarin off. 'Persistence of vision, or something like that. Give it a moment.'"
5961197
I'm not really sure what I have to do with this. Reread the scene more carefully.
5959251
I am going to assume, optimistically, that this is a joke.
Moonshine. Good grief. She's feeling slightly put-upon ("Luna gestured impatiently", etc.) and decided to editorialize a bit while reading Celestia's letter.
I'm not sure what you mean here, since it's not clear to me which side of the border between showing and telling I'm on, and which I should be in this instance.
If you're asking about the mechanics of her disappearance... well, that's explained in later chapters. If you're asking about what I mean when I say Colgate disappeared, I am hewing quite closely to the standard dictionary definition of the word: "to stop being visible".
Short answer: yes, I'm assuming that's a Pinkie original.
This whole issue actually does deserve a response at some length. Unfortunately, you're not going to get it, since it never occurred to me and I have very little to say about the apparent plot hole.
A few notes about this, in no particular order.
(1.) Caballeron's not a native Equish* speaker, and it's easier to just construct phrases rather than pluck an obscure word out of nowhere.
(2.) The word "psionics" sucks.
(3.) The phrase "psychic magic" refers, fairly specifically, to magic that affects the psyche.
*I'll make this one concession to cutesy translation, since it's not as if England exists in this context.
I'll cop to the bit about expressions; I have no faculty whatsoever with facial expressions, which is why I rely on stares and glares and blinking rather than scowls and smiles. The charge of not describing the characters' inner machinations is, however, not true. The POV character's* impressions usually color the narration a fair bit.
*It's not always the same character, mind. The scene that starts with "There was a knock from the door" is actually written from a third-person limited perspective focused on Celestia. When I report that "This was not the loud voice of pride wounded, of a swollen ego poked too hard," that's Celestia's thought, not me editorializing.
I really don't have any idea what you mean when you say that I have a "show don't tell" style.
5961325
Now that I've line edited your line edit, could we take this to PMs or quit it entirely?
5961652 I did not receive notification for you messages.
What I mean is your said that during the interrogation you said that she's facing a consciousness. That means that the one she is "facing" is aware. And then you kind of say that they aren't.
Right. My mistake.
We actually don't know where Luna was when the events of the wedding happened. We know she was in Canterlot but my question is where was she when Chrysalis invaded?
Guess I'm just being nitpicky. Came as sudden to me.
It'll be explained later I guess? *shrug*
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Show,_don%27t_tell
I'll assume Luna was captured and brought in by someone who claims to be close to Chrysalis but isn't? Like a split fanction? Uhuh interesting. The whole thing tho is highly confusing. I guess it'll make sense as I read.
Oh great, Luna's in a pod and there's a changeling replacement for her already up and about. I'm not sure this trip was a good idea.
Hey, between Soarin's gear and Moonshine for thinking, it sounds like they have some room to work.
Okay, so there are factions. That explains a thing or two.
Yet she apparently attacked Dodge Junction...