• Published 16th Sep 2014
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Yaerfaerda - Imploding Colon



Rainbow Dash and the Noble Jury continue to fly east.

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That Which Carries You To Yourself

With bright flashes of blue mana, Floydien welded yet another plank of metal to a central chassis. Once the task was done, he cut the power tool off and leaned back, pivoting the swinging visor away from his red eyes. He carefully studied the underbelly of a tiny gondola in the center of a royal warehouse. The vehicle was compact, cylindrical, with whalebone “hoops” rising up from the bottom platform and arching over the length of the slender structure. Each hoop was adorned with tiny glowing skystone shards, all placed at equidistant points in a beautifully geometric fashion.

“So this is what you've been working on these past few days?”

“... … ...” Floydien turned and looked over his flank.

Midnite Bastion stood at the entrance to the warehouse. Cold night hung outside, with stars brimming in the bitter desert chill. “Wouldn't your friends enjoy your company? You won't have much more of an opportunity to speak with them. The whole group, I mean...”

Floydien's nostrils flared. He placed his visor down and trotted over towards the rear of the small gondola, where a tiny interior cabin loomed. “There isn't much spit left for Floydien to give that the boomers haven't heard before.”

“But it doesn't have to be all in the words, Floyd,” Midnite said. She gulped, trembling slightly in the brisk wind blowing in from outside. “It's the gesture that matters.”

“The boomers know what to expect and what not to expect,” the elk muttered, shoving several supply trunks into the rear compartment and examining the welded bulkheads. “Floydien wouldn't be Floydien if he obsessed with anything less.”

Midnite nodded, teeth chattering. “You're right, I suppose. Who am I to say what they should or shouldn't expect from you...”

“Silly charcoal boomer,” the elk grunted. “Shuffle over to where it's less freeze freeze.”

Clearing her throat, Midnite Bastion obliged. Up close, she took the opportunity to admire Floydien's hoofwork. “Good God... where'd you get all that skystone?”

“When Nancy Jane blesses, Floydien receives.”

“Wait...” Midnite stroked a hoof along the support strut of one of the many hooped metal bands, studded with crimson shards. “...are these the skystone bits salvaged from the Noble Jury?”

“Yes yes yes.” Floydien nodded. “When built in close proximity, even tiny samples provide lift.” The elk tapped the hull with his hoof. “A small place for flank flank, it has to be, of course. But the shimmer glimmer is enough for lift.”

Midnite stared at him. “Floydien, I have to ask. About the Noble Jury...”

“Go ahead and spit with it.”

Her dark brow furrowed. “You really built that thing, didn't you? I mean... it wasn't stolen from the Cartel or the Lounge after all?”

His nostrils flared. “Far off boomers had the material, but not the heart fuzz to give it life.” He stroked a hoof across the metal plates. “Floydien needed to breathe it into being. He... didn't want to go West alone after all.”

Midnite smiled delicately. “You really did love Nancy Jane, didn't you?”

Floydien gazed off into the distance. “Yes yes...” He murmured. “...Floydien did.”

Silence.

Midnite's hoof stroked along the edge of the vessel until it met with Floydien's limb. “You're leaving again, aren't you?” she asked. “Only... with this vessel instead?”

Floydien took a deep breath. “A larger vessel of shimmer glimmer, Floydien will need, but only when Floydien finds the time to make it.”

Midnite gulped. “Does the Duchess know?”

Floydien opened his mouth, hesitating. At last, he muttered, “The boomer might.” His nostrils flared. “In a way, Floydien thinks, she's always known.”

“She'll be sad to see you go.”

“Boomer will be even sadder to see Floydien go nowhere.”

Midnite's gaze fell. “Well... I guess it all depends...” She fidgeted. “What's carrying you this time? And is it strong enough to rebuild Nancy Jane?”

He gazed sideways at her. “What means the charcoal boomer?”

“I... I don't know. Not yet at least.”

Floydien arched an eyebrow.

Midnite looked up, her eyes teary. “Floydien wants to find himself, yes?”

He gazed at her. Eventually, he nodded. “Yes yes yessss...” He then shook his head. “Floydien found many things last time. Boomers... glimmer... sparks...” His muzzle hung open with a shuddering breath. “But Floydien still lingers on the horizon. Color wheel boomer showed him many of the hues, and Floydien is glad. But Floydien would be disloyal to Floydien if he kept in one place, pretending that... th-that Floydien is here.” He shook his head. “No no no... Floydien is everywhere... moving. To find him... Floydien must become him again...”

Midnite sniffled. A whimpering voice came out of her muzzle. “Midnite Bastion w-wants to f-find Midnite too...”

Silence.

Gently, Floydien tilted Midnite's chin up.

She gazed at him, biting her lip.

Floydien's red eyes narrowed. “Can charcoal boomer maintain a mana engine...?”

She gulped. “Yeah... y-yeah, I think I can...”

The edges of Floydien's lips curved. “Then maybe Nancy Jane can help Floydien and Midnite find Floydien and Midnite together...”

Midnite blinked at him. Wiping her tears dry, she smiled... then smiled harder, teeth showing.

“Yes yes...” The elk trotted firmly past her, eyes on the gondola. “Floydien needs a spanner and some rivets.”

“Right...” Midnite rushed across the warehouse, her heart beating wildly. “What else does Floydien need?”

“Spit,” he muttered, fishing through a large tool crate. “And lots of it.”

Midnite giggled, her every step a flighty one. “Can do!”

Floydien continued to rummage through the tool box. He lingered momentarily, glancing over his shoulder. As Midnite started talking at length about one thing or another, he focused once again on his work.

A tiny smile lingered across his muzzle.

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