And I Will Love You...

by Scootareader

As the World Goes By

Millennia. That is how long I have searched for Bloomberg. I look forward to the rumblings of the earth now, because I know they bring me closer to him in some fashion. Perhaps not directly toward him, but I feel that there is love behind the tremors, a guiding force that seeks to bring us both together.

The landscape has slowly warped around me. Equestria is no longer the lush, vibrant land that I recall so distinctly so many centuries ago. The land I lived in when I first found Tom is no longer the land of today.

Perhaps a dozen centuries ago, my place had put me above a railway. I would watch the garish trains travel to and fro, sometimes whistling, but more often chugging silently by. A nearby road allowed me to pick out ponies who pulled carts behind them, their journeys to the many far lands unknown to me.

These traveling ponies’ antics were something I told Bloomberg of. He often told of the Appleloosans who once inhabited his town, the once-proud oaken buildings now either piles of ash or fire-worn husks. He was able to watch over a ghost town.

Then, one day, the trains stopped. The ponies used the road for a while after that, but traffic was drastically reduced. It slowed to a trickle, then eventually stopped altogether. From time to time, I would see a geriatric hobbling along, perhaps on her way to see the place she had been born, but I would see the same pony coming back, her gait far more solemn and destitute than it had been when she’d first visited.

This, I told to Bloomberg.

I was fearful, first, that whatever had struck this land was affecting Bloomberg, but he assured me that he was apart from it all. He still thrived, as did his fellow trees in the orchard. They still bore fruit which the buffalo would gather for their feasts, and what was not gathered would be snatched up by the nearby critters. He told of the respect which the other trees finally showed him, the understanding which their old age has provided them. He is urging me to come to him, so that we may finally be together.

I am watching the land slowly die around me. Leaves are wilting, flowers no longer blooming, and all too often, things that I had thought hardy and persistent not 24 hours before are crumbled brown messes upon the ground of the mountain above the railroad.

The railroad itself is the worse for wear. The wooden panels have rotted and disappeared, the steel rails rusted and wrapped by plant matter, which subsequently perished.

It isn’t as if a pony needs to maintain the rails anymore, either. They haven’t been used in centuries.

Has it been that long since I saw one of their bright, vibrant trains? Or a bright, vibrant pony body? Around me now are only muted browns and grays.

It reminds me of a life before Bloomberg. Life that is lifeless looks much like this. Oh, I wish I were with him right now.

As if rising to my wish, I feel a tremor beginning in the earth. Equestria is shifting once more. There have been several hundred of these since my vigil began of this place, but this one may be powerful enough to rend the sturdy mountain.

As I feel everything begin to shake, I hear several trees fall behind me. There is a small commotion of long-lived plants being stripped of their lofty positions reaching toward the sky, to join their decomposing comrades. Fungi will now do their work, sprouting up inside of the refuse and devouring it for their own selfish nourishment. It is co-existence, in a way... I guess the plants should be thankful that fungi don’t seem to like living things nearly as much.

A tear ripples through the ground, arcing beneath me as I drop a few tens of feet, then become lodged in a small crevice which has been opened. Slowly, the earth continues to buckle, and after several long seconds, it disintegrates, sending me rolling along a small trough toward historic Appleloosa.

---

Tonight, I dream of Bloomberg.

He is atop his hill, watching me. I stare at him from afar, feeling the distance between us, not so far but infinitely vast. It will take a miracle for us to be together.

Bloomberg is a miracle. To me, he defies all logic, all reason. He is exactly who I imagine spending the entirety of my existence beside, the one thing with which I can weather all adversity.

He is still centuries from me. The distance is impossibly long between us, and I will never bridge it. Not alone.

In response, he tears his roots from the earth, setting them upon the solid crust and raising himself out of the ground. He clambers over the ground, seeking me out.

I call out his name. “Bloomberg!” He doesn’t hear me at first, searching nearby, but he doesn’t know I’m there. I call his name again. “Bloomberg!”

This time, he hears me and crawls to me. He looks beleaguered after the effort it took to uproot himself. I call to him once more, “Bloomberg!” Perhaps my calling his name will lend him some reassurance.

He comes to me, replying with my own name: “Tom!” His roots encircle me, pulling me against his trunk.

This is the most reassurance I have had in centuries. Not since I first felt Bloomberg’s root pressing against me have I been so certain that I love him.

Even so, I know this is only a dream touch. It is maddening.

In the dream, I begin drifting away from him. I promise him that I will be with him soon. I promise, I promise.

Then, I disappear.

---

Bloomberg. I will be there soon.

As if on cue, the ground begins to rumble below me. They seem to be getting more frequent, more powerful. I consider this a great positive—they bring me ever closer to Bloomberg, as if fate pulls us together. The earth itself buckles and shifts to unite us.

Perhaps a few more centuries, at this rate... I am nothing if not hopeful.

I will be there soon, my love. You needn’t worry anymore.

Author's Note:

I'm thinking, uh... two more chapters. Yep.

--Scootareader

Comments

[Dusty Sage]

I can see an ending.

Not the ending, but an ending.

[nudge]

I'll say no more.

[celelorien]

This is utterly insane and FANTASTIC. The slow movements of earth and rock and root... Truly a love story for the ages. I do so hope they get a happy ending...

[Scootareader]

4260028
4261079
I would feel just awful if I spoiled the ending now. Rest assured, it is most likely not what either of you expect.

[PaulAsaran]

A love that lasts beyond the fall of pony civilization, perhaps. I wonder if Bloomberg himself has become revered by the buffalo for his age?

It is fascinating to think on how, knowing that all empires must eventually fade and all living things must die, I see the possible withering away of the ponies and feel a pang in my chest. I wonder some more: is the visible retreat of civilization a precursor to the fate of Tom and Bloomberg?

The opening of this chapter confused me. It felt like we were starting from Bloomberg's view, but suddenly it jumped to Tom's. Or at least it seems that way. Was there supposed to be a line break?