And Her Sapphire Glittered in the Darkest of Nights
The dragon awoke to shrieks outside his cavern.
He flicked one eye open, the slitted pupil already trained on the entrance. The screams were distant, but loud and shrill enough to echo down to him. He watched and listened for several long moments, and the sounds only grew louder.
Slowly, the dragon’s head rose. Dust tumbled from his chin, and his neck strained against the motion. Every slight movement felt like oil to his rusty bones. His muscles squealed to life, and he managed to lumber over to the cave entrance. He craned his head up.
A sinkhole just wide enough for the dragon’s body extended far above him. Magma cascaded along the walls of the pit, oozing from the rock like the planet’s lifeblood and coalescing into a small lake beneath the cavern’s entrance. Smoke smelling of sulfur flowed in much the same way as the magma—thick and slow.
The dragon looked up through it all and saw a tiny, flailing, pink thing. It fluttered closer to the pit’s basin, coughing and wailing as it thrashed about. Squinting as the thing drew nearer, the dragon made out its form: four tiny legs, two feathered wings, and a bushy mane and tail. Volcanic air burst from the dragon’s nostrils. He kept his eyes focused on the pegasus pony, never so much as blinking.
Eventually the pony came as close as it could, and it landed unceremoniously atop the dragon’s muzzle. The dragon eyed the pony more closely as it continued flailing and shrieking against his scales. It looked small, even by pony standards—a child, perhaps. Its coat and wings were light pink, and its mane and tail were striped in three different colours: yellow, pink, and purple. A pale blue scarf was wrapped around its neck, dusty and torn.
The pony’s screams died away, yet it trembled regardless. It opened its eyes and met the dragon’s glare. Squeaking one more time, the pony scrambled to its hooves and recoiled as far from the dragon’s eyes as it could. It shook wildly and opened its mouth, but no words came out.
A guttural noise rose from the dragon’s throat, and the air rumbled as he pushed the growl through his teeth. He narrowed his eyes at the pony and croaked a single word: “Flee.”
The pony gulped. “I…” the pony said, its voice distinctly feminine. “I c-can’t.”
“You have wings,” the dragon grumbled. “Use them.”
“I… I d-don’t know how,” the pony whispered. She pressed her body tight against the dragon’s muzzle, her mouth a quivering frown. “Please… please, Mister D-Dragon.” She pressed her face against one of his scales, screwing her eyes shut. “Please don’t hurt me.”
The dragon growled again. Keeping his head level, he pulled himself and the pony into his cavern. Once he had gone a reasonable distance from the lip of the cave, he tilted his head down and allowed the pony to slide onto the rock. He retreated a few more steps, his eyes never leaving her.
Still shaking, the pony peeked one eye open. Her eyes went wide, and she swiveled her head around at the cave floor. She rose to her hooves and looked up at the dragon. “Th-thank you,” she muttered, blinking a few times. The dragon snorted and turned away. He looked to his pile of treasures near the back of the cavern and started back towards it.
“Wait!” the pony called from behind. The dragon didn’t turn around, but he did stop moving. “Thank…” The dragon heard hesitation in the silence. “Thank you for saving me,” she said. “I… I accidentally fell into this hole, and I can’t fly, and… I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“I do not care, little pony,” the dragon grumbled. “Be on your way.”
“But… Mister Dragon, why did you save me? Elder always told me dragons were monsters, and—”
Unbridled heat flared in the dragon’s chest. He wheeled around and bore his teeth at the pony, making her shriek and stumble backwards. A constant rumble beneath his voice, the dragon said, “Be wary of how you speak, little pony.”
The pony blinked rapidly, a faint sheen covering her eyes. The dragon took a step closer and said, “We are an honourable race, not a savage one. We are ruthless and just, never cruel or unfair.” An airy hiss slithered between his teeth. “Your only crime is idiocy, little pony. If you die down here, it will not be because of your own ineptitude. It will be because I deem it necessary. Do you understand?” The pony gulped and nodded. The dragon turned away again, his tail narrowly missing the pony as he swung it behind himself. His footsteps quaked the cavern as he approached his hoard.
The dragon positioned himself so one eye was aimed at the pony, then he settled his body against the treasure. Gold coins flowed like water beneath him, and precious metals tinkled against one another as the dragon shifted. He huffed through his nose as his head hit the floor, then his eyelids slid shut.
A mere few moments passed before the pony said, “How am I supposed to get out of here?” Her voice was trembling. The dragon said nothing. “Is there another way out… Mister Dragon?” Again, the dragon chose not to respond. “Can you at least tell me your name?”
The dragon opened an eye and narrowed it at the pony. “If you muster the gall to ask me that again, I will scorch you where you stand.” He slammed his eye shut and said, “Leave me be.”
Silence fell. “Sorry…” the pony muttered. “Thanks again for saving me. My name is Cadance, by the way.”
“I still do not care, little pony.” Without another sound, the dragon concentrated on the warmth of his treasure hoard and slipped into unconsciousness.
***
The pony groaned, and the dragon stirred awake. He remained motionless, but he listened carefully as the pony grunted time and again. In the rhythm between her noises, something kept striking the cave floor with a sound like bone on rock. The dragon opened his eye a crack.
With a grunt, the pony jumped into the air and flapped her wings wildly. She hovered for a fraction of a second before falling to the ground, her hooves clicking against the stone floor. She exhaled heavily, then her eyes steeled over and she leapt into the air again. Her time in the air was shorter, and she tripped when she landed. She sighed and tried again.
The dragon watched for several of her attempts. He watched her wings buzz like a mosquito’s, watched her scarf flutter around her neck, and watched her drop from the air in a tizzy. It happened nearly identically every time. A clock could’ve been set by the pattern.
Eventually her breaths became hoarse, so she stopped and panted. She collapsed on her hindquarters and turned her head towards the cave entrance. Still breathing erratically, she fell forward and buried her face in her forelegs.
The dragon closed his eye and fell back asleep.
***
The dragon whelp’s claws were chipped and splintered and tender to the touch. He frowned and rubbed his aching jaw as he walked down the steep tunnel. A pebble dislodged itself from between his teeth, so he crunched it and swallowed the coarse dust. It tasted like nothing.
As the sloping tunnel became shallower, the whelp looked ahead and saw the orange glow of magma. He picked up his pace just a little, but his foot caught on a bump in the rock and he tumbled forward. Little grunts and groans punched their way out of his mouth as he bounced the rest of the tunnel’s length and smacked face first into the cave floor.
A low chuckle filled the chamber around him. “Eager to be done with the day’s work, my child?” his mother said.
The whelp peeled himself from the rock and coughed up dust. “You could say that,” he said. He stepped over to a boulder that was slightly larger than himself and rolled it towards the tunnel he’d just left. “I still don’t really get why I have to do this.”
“It is to prevent intruders from seeing or using the tunnel,” his mother said.
“Not the boulder,” the whelp said, settling the rock squarely into the tunnel’s mouth. “I mean the whole tunnel. I’m gonna have wings one day, and you can take me up to the surface until then.” He turned to his mother, glaring into her eyes. “Seems pointless.”
His mother snorted. Billowing green clouds exploded from her nostrils and weaved between her black scales. “So you plan on relying upon bold assumptions and the kindness of others for your entire life?”
The whelp sat himself against a small pile of gemstones sitting beside a massive hoard of treasure. He huffed and crossed his arms.
Frowning, his mother slithered closer. She wrapped her body around the whelp and his gems, then she placed her head on the ground before him, staring down her snout at him. “We live in a savage, cruel world, my son. You do not understand why this is necessary yet, but you will one day.”
The whelp rolled his eyes, “Well, isn’t that a convenient excuse.” He wrapped his tail around a sapphire and plopped it in his mouth.
“Tell me, my child, what you would do if I left tonight and never returned.” She plucked the gem from between his lips and tossed it into the magma pool beyond the cavern’s edge. “Perhaps you were born with a defect that will prevent you from being able to fly. What then? What if harpies or pegasi attack here while I am away? Will you fight them off?” She smirked and grunted. “You wouldn’t last a minute.”
And icy feeling ran through the whelp’s veins. He looked up at his mother with wide eyes and stammered, “I… uh…”
“Kindness and fortune are fleeting in this world, my child.” She ran a single claw along his spines. He could feel every bump and ridge in the appendage. His mother smiled at him and said, “I can only point you in the right direction. You must learn to forge your own path, or you will not survive. Remember that well.”
The whelp struggled with his tongue, trying to form some reply. He finally settled on a sigh, hunched his back, and said, “But that seems so unfair…”
His mother blinked at him. “Dragons are an honourable race. We are ruthless and just.” She reached into her hoard and picked up a large sapphire, placing it atop the whelp’s little pile. “But we are never unfair or cruel.” The claw stroking the whelp’s spines slid him against his mother’s body, and he pressed himself into her scales. “All in due time, little one. You will understand in due time.”
Pulling himself into a ball, the whelp yawned. “I hope so,” he said. His mother’s warmth encased him like a blanket, and he was asleep in moments.
***
“Are you awake?” the pony whispered. The dragon’s eyelid whipped open. He saw the pony jump a little, but she didn’t recoil. “Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“Yes,” the dragon said. He eyed the pony over. Sweat clung just beneath her mane, and she had taken her scarf off and had wrapped it around a stalagmite in the distance. Bags sat beneath her eyes, and she seemed visibly less shaken than when the dragon had fallen asleep.
The pony frowned and scuffed her hoof against the floor. “Sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to ask you something.”
“It is of no concern to me.” Readjusting himself against the treasure hoard, the dragon closed his eye.
“But you haven’t even heard the question yet!” the pony whined. After some time without replying, the dragon heard the pony stomp her hoof. “I don’t understand why you have to be so mean. You saved my life. Why are you ignoring me now?”
Growling, the dragon flicked his eye open again. “You are testing my patience, little pony. Find your way out of my domain, and do not disturb me again.”
“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you about,” the pony said. Her eyes flitted over to the dragon’s side, then she met his gaze again. “I’ve… I’ve been trying to fly so I can get back to my village—back to my family—but I just… I’m not having much luck.”
“I saw,” the dragon said. “Your attempts were pitiful.”
The pony hung her head and closed her eyes. “Yeah,” she muttered, “I know.” She shook her head and looked back at the dragon. “But you’re a dragon, Mister Dragon, and you have wings! So I was hoping that maybe since… since you were nice enough to save my life, you… you could… uh…” Her mouth worked wordlessly as the fire behind the dragon’s eye intensified.
The dragon’s massive head rose, and his maw swung to face the pony. She ran backwards from him, but not before he shot a puff of volcanic air at her through his nostrils, making her cough wildly. The dragon reared his head up and said, “You are walking on very thin ice, little pony. Do you have even the slightest notion of who I am?”
“You—” the pony began, but a coughing wheeze cut her off. “You never told me your name.”
Like the bark on a burning log, the dragon’s lips peeled away from his teeth. “Are you truly that thick? Even at your age you must have heard legends of my conquests. Legends of towns razed and civilizations ruined. Every battle waged against me has ended in firestorm, for I am power.” Bits of flame licked the corners of his mouth. “I am the greatest arbiter your kind has ever known, little pony. I blot out light in favour of fire. Use your brain! Or is it as deficient as your wings?”
At that, the pony flinched. She shrunk away from him, and the colour bled from her face. Barely above a whisper, she said, “The… The F-Flightless Fury.”
With another thunderous growl, the dragon brought his head back down. “That,” he said, curling back into a sleeping position, “is the title your ancestors gave me. Learn to fear it, little pony.” His eye slammed shut, and only the slow moan of cascading magma filled the silence.
***
For a reason he couldn’t name, the dragon woke again. When he didn’t hear the pony whatsoever, he opened his eye.
She slept on the cave floor, halfway between him and the entrance. A frown split the pony’s face, and her entire expression seemed pained. Her scarf was folded beneath her head, creating a thin cushion against the stone.
The dragon watched her for an unusual length of time before his eye closed.
***
He heard the pony gasp, and the dragon’s eye instantly winked open.
She still lay on her side atop her scarf, but her eyes were wide and stark. She blinked a few times before pushing herself to her hooves. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot I was here, and I was kinda hoping this had all been a nightmare, and… I’m sorry.” The dragon closed his eye without a word.
The silence stretched for several minutes before the pony spoke again. “I… I was thinking last night… Can you fly?” she asked. When the dragon made no reply, she said, “Is that why you’re called Flightless Fury? Is that why you won’t help me get out of here? Because you can’t?”
“You are very strange, little pony,” the dragon grumbled. “It is not natural to be so inquisitive when faced with death.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Still keeping his eyes closed, the dragon huffed. “Of course I can fly,” he said. “I choose not to.”
“Why?”
“Because I see no reason to.”
“It would help me get back home. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about me bothering you anymore.”
The dragon let his eyelid slide open. The pony was watching him with odd curiosity in her eyes. “Flight is my weapon, little pony, and I do not wield it lightly. I have not flown in over one hundred years, and I will not fly today. Your problem is your own, and I am no one’s chariot.” His eye slammed back shut. “Forge your own path out of this place.”
He heard the pony’s hoofsteps echoing through the cavern, growing slightly louder. She stopped moving, there was a silence, then she said, “Do you have a family?”
“This discussion is over, pony. Begone.” As he withheld the temptation to open his eye one more time, the dragon listened closely. He heard the pony sigh, heard her walk away, and heard the familiar rhythm of grunts and clicks begin anew.
***
As the dragon whelp reached the end of the tunnel, he shoved the boulder away and allowed the moonlight to wash over his face. He stepped into the cool grass, inhaling the scent of lavender from somewhere. He glanced momentarily at the dark thicket looming a short ways away, then turned to look at the open sky.
Nothing moved through the air. Only stars, clouds, and the full moon looked back at the whelp. He frowned deeply and scanned his eyes across the rest of the landscape. Silhouetted mountains towered in the distance, and the grassy plain gave way to barren, ashy rock a few hundred feet ahead of him. The only earthbound light was the orange flickering of the flaming sinkhole in the distance.
The whelp plopped himself down in the grass, leaned against the boulder, and stared out into the night. He watched as the moon dipped closer and closer to the far horizon. He watched the jagged mountain peaks slice into the moon’s perfectly circular face, rendering it ugly. He watched until the sky burned with orange and pink and red.
The sun rose behind him, and the whelp got to his feet. He pulled the boulder with him as he wandered back to the tunnel, his frown etched deeper into his face. He dragged his feet the length of the tunnel, eventually reaching the cavern he called home.
It was empty save for him, his small pile of gemstones, and his mother’s hoard.
He lumbered over to his gemstones and grabbed the largest sapphire of the lot. Staring at his reflection in the gem’s facets, he started blinking quickly as tears welled in his eyes. He clutched the gem tight, slumped against his mother’s treasure pile, and wept.
***
The dragon awoke and heard sniffles.
He opened his eyes and looked across the cave. The pony was balled up against a stalagmite with her back to him. Faint sniffles and sobs lifted from her and floated over to the dragon. He blinked once at her and said, “You are crying.” When she said nothing and choked up another sob, the dragon growled and said, “I am addressing you, little pony.”
“Right,” she said, her voice broken, “because you respond every time I try to talk to you.”
“Do not forget that it is you who are trespassing in my home,” the dragon said. “Now tell me why you are crying.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the pony said. She shot a glare at him over her shoulder and said, “I’m tired, hungry, and thirsty. I miss my home and my friends, I can’t fly, and the only other creature here—the one who saved my life to begin with—won’t help me and has been ignoring me every chance he gets! Gee, I wonder why I might be just a little upset!” She settled her glare on him for a few moments longer before turning away and resting her head back against the stalagmite.
The dragon blinked again, and his pupil narrowed just slightly. “You are not afraid of me.”
“No,” she said. She sniffled once. “I’m not.”
“Need I remind you of—”
“Stop talking!” the pony shouted. She stood and wheeled to face him—only then did the dragon see that she had put her scarf back on. The pony walked towards him and said, “You keep trying to intimidate me by growling and hissing and stuff, and you told me that you’re the big, bad Flightless Fury. But all I’ve seen you actually do is save my life and sleep there like a log! If you want me to be scared of you, give me a real reason. Don’t just—”
A small fireball erupted from the dragon’s lips, searing the ground inches in front of the pony. She shrieked and stopped moving, but her glare quickly rehardened. “That is close enough, little pony,” the dragon said. He slid his head across the floor—his scales grinding and skidding—until he was looking down his muzzle at the pony. “I cannot make you fear me. You have done nothing but irritate me, and that is not a punishable offense. You are a pegasus who cannot fly, and even on the brink of death you have the courage to stare down a dragon. You are a very odd case.”
The pony backed up a step, her eyes still daggers. “Are you done now?” she said, wiping one eye with her hoof. “Can I go back to crying on that rock?” Without waiting for a response, she turned from the dragon and slumped against the stalagmite.
“Before I last went asleep,” the dragon said, “you asked a question. You wondered whether I have a family. Why did you ask that?” The pony didn’t reply, and silence reigned for a time. The dragon watched the pony curled up against the rock, his eyes scanning across her wings and back. He spotted a strange marking on her flank—a blue heart with gold markings underlining it.
He turned and stared through the cavern entrance, watching the magma flow. “I had a mother once,” the dragon said. “She is the only family I have ever known, and the only creature I have ever spoken at any length with before you. I cared deeply for her, and she taught me much. She left our home one night to pursue a griffon thief and never returned.” The dragon turned its eyes on the treasure hoard. A single, large sapphire rested near his belly.
“I have been alone here ever since.”
He looked back at the pony and saw that she had turned to stare at him. Her eyes were wide, and her frown was deep. The dragon blinked at her before slithering back into his sleeping position. He watched her distantly and closed his eyes.
Just as sleep began to claim him, he heard the pony approaching. Her tiny hoofsteps echoed massively in the chamber. She came to a stop somewhere near him, and deafening silence fell back across the cavern.
“I never knew my mom,” the pony said eventually. “She… She abandoned me before I had any memories of her. She just… left me in the woods. Alone.” Her words crumbled like dry leaves in the wind.
“But some ponies from an earth pony village found me, and their village leader, the Elder—he took me in. The ponies of that village became like my new family. The family I never really had.”
The dragon poked his eye open. He saw the pony smiling down at her hooves, tears leaking from her eyes in rivulets. “We love each other a lot,” the pony said. “We take good care of each other, and we try to learn from each other, too. And one of the most important things that I’ve learned…” The pony turned her smile on the dragon. “I learned that you never have to be alone. Who you are and where you come from doesn’t make any difference. You can find ponies who will love you and help you… no matter what.”
She sniffled, and her smile stretched a little wider. “Please, Mister Dragon,” she said. “I just wanna go home.” Her head tilted down and she squeezed her eyes shut. A single, breathless word left her lips: “Please.”
The dragon examined the pony. Her mane and tail were filthy with sweat and dust. Her scarf was tattered and torn. Her cheeks were matted and shallow. Her wings drooped limply at her sides, undoubtedly exhausted. She reeked of fatigue.
Yet still, the pony smiled. The dragon looked over to the large sapphire in his hoard. Pressure built behind his eyes. He blinked it away and turned back to the pony.
“Kindness and fortune are fleeting in this world, little one,” the dragon said, his eyes going glassy. “You should not rely on them… but you must be able to recognize and appreciate them when they come along. Hold onto that kindness, little pony. It is precious beyond measure.”
The dragon used his tail to push a boulder away from the far wall, revealing a small tunnel. “That tunnel leads to the surface,” he said. “Take it, and see your family once again.”
Hopping to her hooves, the pony’s eyes shot wide. She swiveled her head between the tunnel and the dragon, her lips moving uselessly. She eventually settled on the dragon and said, “Why didn’t you show me that before now?”
“Because I am draconic to a fault.” Instead of closing his eyes, the dragon turned to stare at his sapphire. Its facets had gone dull long ago, but the gem still radiated a peculiar light. “Be on your way, little pony.”
For a moment, the pony did nothing. “But… but what about you?” she asked.
The dragon flicked his eyes down to the pony. She was frowning at him. “What of me?”
The pony blinked a few times, her frown deepening. “I mean, you don’t have a family anymore, and… You’re just going to stay down here? All by yourself?”
“It is something I came to terms with long ago, little pony.” The dragon closed his eyelids. “I am a beast of solitude. That has been my fate for centuries, and it will continue to be my fate for centuries to come.” The dragon sighed inside his throat. “Such is life.”
“That’s so unfair…” the pony said, and the dragon didn’t respond. Silence brooded in the dragon’s mind, dense like sand. “What if…” The pony trailed off. “Could I… come back here sometimes? To see you? To talk, maybe?”
Something twinged in the dragon’s chest. “I do not see what is to be gained from that. Remember yourself, little one. I am a dragon, and you are a pony. I am ruthless and just, but—”
A tiny softness draped itself across the dragon’s snout. He opened his eyes and stared at the blue scarf resting between his nostrils.
The pony smirked at him. “But never cruel,” she said. “I remember. And I can’t think of anyone better to be a part of my family.” She stepped up to the dragon and wrapped herself around the end of his muzzle, her legs barely stretching the width of three scales. “Thank you so much, Mister Dragon. For everything.”
Still transfixed by the scarf, the dragon barely registered the pony trotting over to the tunnel that led to the surface. He looked over just in time to see the pony smile and wave at him. “See you later!” she called. And with that, she was gone.
The dragon blinked once, then again, then felt the corners of his mouth rise by just a smidgen. He lifted a claw and plucked the scarf from his muzzle, placing it in a ring around the large sapphire in his hoard. “You are very strange, Cadance,” he muttered. “Very, very strange.”
He didn’t bother to replace the boulder in front of the tunnel before he went back to sleep.
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Cadence never did get that dragon's true name, did she? Even in a world of anthropomorphic equines, griffons, minotaurs, and talking cattle, the laws of magic are resolute; names have power. She gave him hers, so he had the power to smite her whenever he deemed it necessary. And yet he didn't. It's a wonder what a little love can do…
Surprisingly sweet. I'm not sure what I expected when I began this story, but I enjoyed it very much. Thank you for it.
Awwww. I want to see the dragon as a guest at Cadence's wedding... I can totally see him just eyeballing Shining Armor and deciding he might be worthy of Cadence, and getting ready to squish Chrysalis.
That's so sweet! Maybe Cadence will take Spike to see Mr. Dragon someday.
That was saddeningly sweet.
Good luck.
I really like this story. Any chance of a sequel?
well done nice fic keep it up
Good story. Please make a sequel.
4794670 4796953
Funny y'all should talk about a sequel.
4797057
Who´s the asshole who allways downvotes every comment on any popular story?
4784761 true names hold power, a given name is less likely to hold power then a chosen name and partial or pet names hold not but what we give them. the thing with Cadence is we don't know is if her name at the time of this story is 'Mi Amore Cadenza' or 'Cadence'. so the dragon might not have had
plus the size deference means he could have crushed her
Yooo do you think you could source your over art? This story is great but please credit the artist
Other than that I looooove this and will probably read it again!
4799075
Try as I might, I haven't actually been able to find the original artist. The picture is sourced from here, but I haven't been able to trace it back to the artist. The best I can do is point to Lo-23 who apparently enhanced the original image, but rest assured that I'll give credit where it's due once I manage to track down the original artist!
And at any rate, the art is just a placeholder until I decide on a more fitting one.
4799102
Thanks
heartwarming.
Never thought I would see another story containing THE Flightless Fury. Good work Argon. I really enjoyed it and finding out more about him. And that little lesson in there -
Well done indeed.
I wonder if scribbler will get another dramatic reading out of this?. Seriously I would love to hear that
4801129
I'm not sure this story has the same capacity for a dramatic reading as They Call Me Flightless Fury did, but I certainly wouldn't object to it! Very glad you liked this one.
Very nice take on a preshow canon Cadance. This is the side of her I wish the show would give us a taste of: real alicorn-level love power.
4797057 I may have to start following you.
4803584
Thanks! That means quite a bit, coming from you. I've always been a fan of your "Cadance of Cloudsdale" saga, and I even have plans to write a similar series of stories somewhere down the line (a series hinted at in this story, actually). I'd definitely love to see this side of Cadance more often, too. I love her to death, and it's a shame so many people gloss over her.
Glad you liked it!
4805764
Thanks! Always good to know when the admiration is mutual. :D
I bet his name is Bahamut...
the volcanic dragon
4807500
Aw, man! You had to go and leave that comment literally as I was searching for a more appropriate cover image. Serves me right for being lazy, I suppose.
Ya caught me, though. The original cover art was indeed an edited version of Bahamut from Castle Age. I mainly used the image because it's what Reverb Brony used in his song about the dragon in this story, but I changed it because that's not quite what I imagine the dragon to look like.
4807577 your picture, is that from Okami?
4809312
Yep! It's my favourite video game.
This just made made my night. Quite a charming little story, made me even tear up a bit.
Hooooly crap I was not expecting this to be a sequel! :D And one that actually stands alone too. How cool is that?
4901270
Hooray for kinda-sequel-sorta-prequels! Figured it was best to not mark this story as a sequel to They Call Me Flightless Fury for the sake of the contest. Just decided to leave it as a little surprise for folks who have read that story, and looks like the surprise worked well! Glad ya liked it.
Well, this is probably going to be my second most contentious scoring in the competition so far (since this is one of few stories that came with a healthy dose of hype).
I thought it was a bit of a lame duck. Mostly for two reasons:
1. The ending felt like the only obvious ending available. I was waiting too see how you would come up with something besides the obvious, and it kind of felt like a let down on the time investment.
2. I assume the flashbacks were supposed to be tied into the story somehow, but I can't fathom the relevance and it made the whole thing feel a bit schizophrenic.
There's nothing overtly wrong with the story and the writing is serviceable, but the prompt use is fairly weak. Not rejection-level weak, but it certainly doesn't seem to use it in any appreciable manner beyond simply having a pony in it and having a short reference to how ponies care for each other. Tangential, at best.
4/10 Prompt: Very Weak
-M
P.S. More than happy to hear how I'm a complete idiot and missed something important :)
4904744
I've never been one to try to vouch for my own stories—it makes me feels like an arrogant jerk—so I won't try to sway your opinion. I'll answer your concerns as best I can, though.
1. You're entirely right about the ending; it was predictable. I knew that going in, so I tried my best to execute the story leading up to that ending. I'm a firm believer that a story can be as predictable as it wants if the execution is done right.
2. The flashbacks were relevant to the story, but saying how would undermine the importance for me. I did my best to drop hints throughout the story as to why the flashbacks were there and how they tied into the story at hand. If you couldn't derive that importance, that's entirely my fault for not making it clear enough. Apologies.
As for the prompt, part of that may be because I wasn't originally writing this story for the contest at all. It just happened to coincide nicely. Though I still did my best to make it fit the prompt—most of it was written between the lines, which was probably a bad idea on my part.
At any rate, thanks for the review! Sorry the story didn't live up to your expectations. Can't win 'em all, eh?
4905076 It's just funny because usually it's people (and usually Present Perfect) complaining at me about obscuring things too much.
It's almost nice to be on the other side of it!
4905089
Definitely an interesting development! I'm always worried about obscuring things too much because I think I adhere to the "show, don't tell" philosophy a little too religiously.
4905338 Eh, you expect a little more than the average from your reader, just like I do. There's nothing wrong with that; for me it's just writing what I'd like to read. It does make me wonder how you'd feel about Every Mare Needs Her Stallion, though. To say it has proved contentious for it's unabashed lack of hand-holding would be an understatement; it's certainly the most read-between-the-lines work I've produced.
I shall have to look at some of your other stuff, too. (one the competition is over – 25 stories to go!)
4905365
Yeah, I generally try to write stuff that I want to read too. My favourite kind of stories are the ones that are enjoyable on a simple reading but are enriched a lot by reading between the lines, so that's how I try to write. The description of Every Mare Needs Her Stallion intrigues me, so I'll definitely check it out to see what you mean!
And if you're looking to read more of my work, I'd suggest The Firework Lotus first and foremost; I'm proudest of that one. Good luck with the rest of the contest entries, by the way!
4906791 Yeah. I confess that's been on my read-later list for months :(
Simple and sweet.
Like, fav and added to my recommendation group.
4960492
Thank ya kindly! I'm glad you enjoyed it to such an extent.
I liked this
ArgonMatrix. I left a comment a while back, wondering if there will be a sequel. You responded, so now I ask you...
WHEN EXACTLY WILL YOU MAKE IT!
4980503
Good things come to those who wait.
In less cryptic terms, though, I can't say for sure. The sequel looks like it could have a lot more to it than I'd originally planned. Hopefully it'll come in due time!
And then Bard the Bowman shows up and ends the dragon with a single arrow.
Lol, Smaug.
Clean prose. Well established context without infodump. Have a ribbon:
i.imgur.com/6MrWqNZ.png
I love your title. That alone made me investigate. Tomorrow, I shall read the story.
This was simply beautiful. I don't even know what else to say.
This was a lovely story! I would really like to see a sequel where Flightless Fury and Cadance meet again later after she has ascended to Princess of the Crystal Empire. Great Job!
Have you ever considered submitting this story to Equestria Daily? You can find out how to do so here.
5033149
Very happy you liked it!
5040289
Thanks! And that exact situation might just play out in a story down the road. I adore these characters and have a lot planned for them.
5046586
Thanks for the tip, but the story's already been posted on EqD. You can find it here.