• Published 7th Jan 2015
  • 8,015 Views, 1,070 Comments

A New Sun - Ragnar



Maggie Wilson (26), on a smoke break from her dead end convenience store job in the California mountains, encounters the divine god-princess of a dead world. The princess asks for her help. Mag says yes.

  • ...
35
 1,070
 8,015

Conversation Ten

Mag stepped out of her bedroom into the too-bright lights of the hall and the smell of garlic bread.

"Ah, you're out," said Celestia from the kitchen.

"Yep," said Mag. She walked into the kitchen to see Celestia wearing a chef's hat of mysterious origin and vigorously stirring olive oil into a bowl of crushed greenery.

"This is an herbivore's dinner, I'm afraid," said Celestia, setting the bowl down.

"I'm not complaining. Do you even know how to cook meat?"

Celestia turned back to the stove to lift the dinner plate off the top of the pot of spaghetti - Mag didn't have a pot lid - and see how it was doing. "I have only the vaguest idea. If I had to cook meat, I would probably just grill it in a pan while trying not to look, then take it off the stove when the smell changed."

"That'd be how I cook literally everything that can't be cooked in a microwave, so that makes perfect sense to me."

"This meal is almost ready," said Celestia. "Where are your plates? I could only find the one."

"I only own one plate."

Celestia sighed a "What am I going to do with you" sigh.

"Oh, come on. What do I need a second plate for? Tell you what, I also have a bowl. Let me just find it."

"Is it the bowl I've got green beans in?" Celestia pointed with a hoof.

"Oh. Yeah, that's the one."

"At least you have two forks," said Celestia.

"Yeah, I lost the first one, so I bought another, but then I found it under the couch. Lucky, eh?"

"You also have a table," said Luna. "That pile of square objects in the bedroom is sitting on one."

"I thought about that, but can computers be moved?" said Celestia.

"Sure," said Mag. "I'll clear it off and then you can help me drag it out here. I was planning on setting the computer up in the living room anyway, then showing you how to use it. You can look up all the pop culture references I keep dropping."

"If you're going to bring it into the living room then I hope to spend time reading all about human history, actually."

"Party down. I'll go deal with that."

Mag had never bothered to buy a proper desk. She'd found a table at a yard sale for 15 dollars and it worked just fine. She got a lot of things from yard sales, including her tableware and the television. Why spend 30 bucks on 25 eating utensils for a one-person house when you could spend 20 cents for one fork and one spoon, and not have to drive off the mountain to do so?

Mag dragged the table into the kitchen - it wasn't as heavy as she remembered, so she didn't bother to get Celestia's help, though, come to think of it, Celestia could have just levitated it with far less effort - and explained the logic of having to spend less on silverware than one would have to spend on a pack of gum, and how easy it was to do the dishes when you never had to wash more than five things.

Celestia cut her off rather ruthlessly. "You need enough dinnerware for four people minimum, just like anyone else. Honestly, Mag, you should have at least allowed for the possibility that you'd make friends at some point."

"My friends could bring their own plates," said Mag.

"Well, you've made friends now," said Celestia, "and they're here for dinner, and they're both completely unarmed with any plates or spoons. Your logic has failed you. Here you go."

Mag accepted a plate of buttery bow tie pasta with pesto, steaming garlic bread dusted with basil, and a mound of green beans.

Mag set it reverently down on the table. "Thank you. Wow."

Celestia, now serving herself a bowl of the same, smiled. "It wasn't a difficult meal to make, and I said I'd cook you dinner if you spoke with Jorge." She made as if to put a pot lid back on the pot of pasta, remembered there wasn't one, and sat down.

"Who is Jorge?" said Luna.

"Runs the grocery store down the road," said Mag.

"There seemed to be some slight awkwardness between Mag and Jorge, so I encouraged them into a bit of small talk. You know I'm a great believer in the power of small talk."

"Yes, it's maddening," said Luna.

Celestia lifted her fork with magic, stabbed a single bow tie, lifted it up to eye height, and studied it critically. "I hope I got this recipe right. I also hope the pine nuts I gathered are fit for human consumption. Humans can eat pine nuts, yes? I remember them from the market in, ah, Greece, I think you called it, but perhaps things have changed."

"Yeah, we can eat pine nuts. Where on earth did you get pine nuts?" Mag looked out the window. "Wait, no. Seriously?"

"You live in a pine forest and you've never gathered pine nuts?" said Celestia.

"Mag, will you flaming well eat what's in front of you?" said Luna.

"Yes, do," said Celestia.

"Pushy, pushy, pushy," said Mag, and took a bite. It was excellent. Mag ruined it by dissolving into tears.

Celestia leaped to Mag's side of the little table with a flap of her wings and clutched Mag to her furry chest to coo promises of a better tomorrow while Luna offered panicked reassurances. Mag sniveled and blubbered out incoherent fragments of self-effacing apologies, as if she could possibly talk her way out of the situation when she couldn't talk.

Mag eventually fought it all back down and would have tried to act casual and go back to eating dinner, but Celestia wouldn't let go and pretended not to hear when Mag said she was fine. She spilled over again and could do nothing but lay her forehead on the table with her hands folded over the back of her neck, and wait for it to pass.

It did. Celestia, still not letting go, eventually said, "Any better?"

"I don't understand anything on any level," said Mag.

"You'll work it out. I'll help you."

"We both will. You have much to look forward to."

"You have all the time in the world to make sense of what's happening, and you will. You're an especially clever creature in an already brilliant world."

"I know not what to say, or what I can offer you that isn't already yours for the asking from either or both of us, but know that I would offer you any comfort if I only knew what you needed from us."

"I won't leave you alone."

"And neither shall I, for, well, obvious reasons, but I wouldn't if I could."

"We'll all look after each other, okay?"

"Rest. You've done well today."

And Mag was off again.

***

Celestia's table manners were the ultimate proof that courtesy was an art. All that puff about keeping your elbows off the table and making light, inoffensive conversation were just the bare minimum requirement of the medium, like the meter and rhyme restrictions of a sonnet. A sonnet could obey all the rules of poetry and still be a bad sonnet. A person could obey all the rules of dining and still look like a barbarian. Celestia was no barbarian; she was impeccably civilized without being precious. Words and gestures that would have seemed stiff even to a Victorian era baroness seemed casual with her. And yet Celestia never made Mag feel like she was being humored or tolerated.

She tried to draw Mag out, to get her to talk a bit about the local flora and what a person might find at a human yard sale, and when Mag had nothing particularly to say, Celestia took the hint with grace and kept the conversation going all by herself, letting Mag get by on nods and monosyllables.

Crying all over dinner. Lord. What had happened, really, that was such a big deal? Visiting royalty, got fired, compulsory headmate, cleaned the store, suddenly a sorceress, dip in the lake, yelled at a scary hobo, talking pony queen, don't know what to do. Whatever. Most of it wasn't even bad, from a purely objective point of view. There were people who'd kill to be her right now, abject terror or no, and not knowing what to do had been her base state of being for the past decade.

And now she was sitting there pitying herself, and it was clear that Celestia had decided to say something about it, because she'd stopped talking and had the look of someone constructing a tricky sentence.

"The aether seems to be reacting a bit differently to you than it did before. Has something happened?"

"I did magic. I can do magic."

"You can... hm. What happened, and how can I help?" Seeing Mag's face change at the question, she added, "We don't have to discuss this, of course, certainly not right now. I'm sure Luna knows the story and is already doing everything she can."

"Correct," said Luna.

"Long story short, I broke a couple of things I shouldn't have been able to break, and Luna says it was magic," said Mag. "But yeah, Luna's helping."

Celestia nodded. "Well, I hope you aren't planning anything in the way of actual lessons tonight. We're all exhausted."

"May I?"

"Hold on," said Mag. She finished her garlic bread, took her empty plate to the sink, and came back. "Okay."

"Mag has a most interesting signature," said Luna.

"Oh?" said Celestia.

"Black red white black. Have you ever seen such a thing?"

"Never," said Celestia.

"She and I have discussed the possible meanings. In general terms, it would appear to relate to the contemplation of a sensation or concept - well, I am sure you can see that much from the color results. We narrowed it down a bit further, though I am at a loss to explain the mechanisms behind the test to someone with no ability to perceive the aether and therefore cannot enlist her help except through metaphors and leading questions. A bit of gentle experimentation is in order. Some other time, of course."

"Of course," said Celestia.

***

Celestia flatly refused to take the bed, Mag couldn't imagine sharing the bed with her, and, when Mag made as if to lay down blankets for herself next to the couch, Celestia stood up, lowered her horn, and herded Mag into the bedroom.

"We need to get you a bed," said Mag.

"You need to get to bed," said Celestia.

"One thing. Please set up your computer in the living room. I know Celestia, and I suspect she'll have difficulties sleeping, which means leaving her to herself to think in the dark. This is no time to leave her alone with her thoughts. Apprise her of the device and perhaps she'll read herself to sleep."

"Good point," said Mag. She got up and made as if to go around Celestia, who was blocking the door.

"I'm setting up the computer," said Mag.

"Must you? I'm going directly to bed, you know."

"Yes, she will, whereupon she'll find that she cannot relax enough to fall asleep, and will be able to think of nothing else but what we have lost."

Celestia gave Mag a Look. "This is Luna's idea? Let her rest, Luna. I'll be fine."

"Someday, you will be," said Luna. "I swear it. But for now, read yourself to sleep with Mag's machine, and I shall send you dreams of cloudbursts over the sea, and of the glen in which we wore our first crowns, and of camomile baths in great steaming tubs."

"It's easy to set up," said Mag. "You plug the one thing into the other thing and then that thing into the wall. No problem."

Celestia, at a rare loss for words, stepped aside. Mag got her to levitate the table over to the corner near the wall socket and plugged things into things, turned it on, showed Celestia how the mouse worked, explained Google in a bit more detail, and pulled up a poetry website at Luna's suggestion. The whole process took 10 minutes and Celestia picked it up quickly.

"Thank you both," said Celestia as Mag walked back to her bed, "though you both worry too much. I'll be out like a light."

"Let us agree to ignore the optimist and leave her to her own devices. I'll see you on the other side. Worry not; your dreams will be peaceful."

"See you," said Mag, turned off the light, and crawled under the covers. Mag heard the couch creak and blankets shift. Then a while later, just before falling asleep, Mag heard the couch creak again, the swish of moving blankets, and then the clicking of a computer mouse.

***

"How did you find this dream?" said Mag.

"I didn't," said Luna. "This one is yours."

Mag, like a few hours ago in her dream, like 20 years ago in Mississippi, walked barefoot across the forest floor and wore her hair loose around her shoulders. Smooth riverstones framed a winding creek, flowing under a distant, winding canopy of hickory and oak foliage. Bluejays rattled and muttered and argued somewhere up there.

"I'd forgotten this place," said Mag.

"I am glad you remembered it again, then." Luna dipped her head to drink from the water.

"It didn't have a name, so me and my brothers called it 'The Crick.' We played here all day when we could, and I loved this place like I loved life." She pointed downstream. "Follow this and it leads to a gully next to a fat old walnut tree in the middle of a field. We called it the witness tree, even though I'm sure practically every tree in this forest witnessed the civil war. I don't know, it just looked to us like a tree that'd seen things in its lifetime." She leaned down, picked up a hickory nutshell, and tossed it into the water. It floated a few yards and caught up on the arch of an underwater tree-root.

"And that was your accent, I suppose," said Luna.

"My what?"

"Your accent changed. You did notice, didn't you?"

"No, actually," said Mag, consciously shifting back to Californian. "I thought I'd gotten rid of that."

"You could have kept it. You sound almost like the Apples."

"The what?"

"I believe you saw the picture of Applejack," said Luna.

Mag sat down. "So this family of ponies has a southern accent."

"Oh, are you keeping the accent after all?"

"What? Dammit! No. I got rid of everything that reminded me of home and I don't want any of it back. I was practicing my neutral accent before I drove over the Mississippi state line. Repeating everything the DJs said on the national radio stations, copying the way they talked, watching TV every night in the hotels and copying the newscasters."

"Do you wish to leave this place?"

"No. I don't know." Mag brushed leaves away from the forest floor to dig a hole in the dirt with a finger, just for something to do other than look at Luna looking at her. "No. I'd like to stay."

"It is certainly beautiful," said Luna.

"Yes, yes it is. I like everything about it. I like the squirrels, with their little hands and big tails. Sometimes you can also hear turkeys, but they're wary of people. They know we hunt them. I like that it's quiet now. I even like showing it to someone else."

Luna's eyes focused on something over Mag's shoulder, and narrowed. She leaned to the right, then walked and leaned further, peering through the trees at something.

Mag followed her line of sight. At first she saw nothing; then she noticed the same thing she'd seen in the crater - Nightmare Moon, unmoving, waiting.

"I beg your pardon," said Luna to Mag.

"Why?"

"I seem to have brought a memory with me. I was only thinking that something in this forest reminded me of the moon, and I suppose that brought it here."

"Is she dangerous?"

"No. She always has exactly as much power as you give her, and this image signifies nothing to you, so you give it no power."

"It's creepy. She's creepy. It. She. It. Okay, I'm having pronoun troubles."

"It hardly matters," said Luna. "Look over there." Mag looked. There wasn't anything to see. She looked back. Nightmare Moon was gone.

"There," said Luna.

"Cool trick," said Mag.

"The little tricks are often the best ones," said Luna. "I have sealed this dream. There will be no more dream shifts."

"Weren't you going to tell me something?"

"Hm?"

"Before dinner you said something about, uh, something. What?"

"Oh! Yes. We have work to do, I fear, though we may do it here in your forest. My sister is going to do something foalish. She plans to leave before dawn tomorrow, to head to the valley of mirrors and thence to the world in the lake. She plans to do it without us because she fears for our safety, both mine and yours."

"Not happening," said Mag.

"I knew you would say that. Shall we work together?"

"Obviously. But how do you know?"

"I know her," said Luna. "She despised seeing you come to harm today, and I believe she also worries that I am vulnerable while I dwell within a mortal mind. She has no doubt told herself she can manage just as well without us, that she would be more comfortable if she knew we were safe while she went into danger. This is just a post hoc rationalization, of course, and she forgets there are things in the world beneath the lake that may threaten even one such as she. Celestia needs another pair of eyes down there. I also believe she'll be less likely to take risks if she must consider our safety, and this is important, for she is in the mood to take risks."

"Has she been like this before?" said Mag.

"Not exactly like this, but personal loss is a part of life for we who must outlive our loved ones, so I am well acquainted with the ways in which she grieves. She is restless. She is by turns hyperproductive and paralyzed, throwing herself into ambitious projects in one hour and then hiding in her room pretending to sleep in the next. Assuming a placid face for the sake of her subjects, she paces and wanders the halls, stopping to stare at tapestries but not truly seeing them. It is best not to let her brood, or so I have found. I will sometimes ply her with distractions: new works of art, small interpersonal problems for her to solve, secret pranks. Sometimes it works. Then again, sometimes it is best to let her be, or to sit beside her and say nothing."

Mag wondered whether she had it in her to ask Luna what Celestia did when the situation was reversed. She didn't. Too bad she couldn't ask Celestia without Luna hearing the whole conversation. Was there a way to do that?

"So it's time to talk magic," said Mag.

"It's time to talk magic," confirmed Luna.

Author's Note:

I wrote most of this just now and I've slept about two hours total in the past 36 hours. I hope it's at least coherent. Anyone sees a logical inconsistency, typo, or obviously bad decision or anything, do me a favor and tell me, will you?