Corporal Bittermann came back that evening. Mag and Celestia met her outside.
The rain had stopped, but the thick night clouds still obscured the moon and stars, leaving only the caged orange-yellow floodlights for illumination. Out past the parking lot, the light didn’t reach out more than a dozen feet, and in every direction Mag could see the formaldehyde yellow of the lights give way to the ink black of an overcast desert night. A week ago Mag would have found it otherworldly; now that she had seen other worlds, however, her senses picked out the signs that she was still on Earth, such as the thick wet breeze carrying the smell of the desert shrubs and cacti that had bloomed in the rain. The breeze was cold, but not as cold as the spaces between the worlds. Nothing felt cold in comparison to that. Mag had only bothered to bring a jacket so she would have a pocket for her cigarettes, though in the end she’d decided not to smoke when Bittermann showed up. Bittermann might want to shout at her a bit, and people always hated it when Mag lit up while they yelled at her.
Celestia wore a loosely tied fuzzy yellow scarf she’d salvaged from Mag’s new wardrobe. Mag didn’t see the point of the scarf, but kept her thoughts to herself.
Corporal Bittermann parked a jeep in the middle of the concrete a few yards away from the door and got out, pulling a stuffed backpack out of the back of the vehicle. She slung it over one shoulder and hoisted out a duffel bag as long as she was tall. She wore civilian clothes, a white canvas jacket over hiking pants, but she’d kept her combat boots.
“Let me get those for you,” said Celestia. She lifted the luggage out of Bittermann’s hand and off of her shoulder. Bittermann straightened, looked over at Celestia and Mag, and shuffled up to them. Her baggage floated beside her the entire way.
Bittermann halted a few yards from Celestia and Mag. She looked Mag in the face without speaking. Mag said nothing and neither did Celestia. Bittermann’s breath fogged the air as she breathed long, slow breaths, eyes darting between Mag and Celestia as if she were looking for something.
Bittermann didn’t belong in civilian clothes. Her bearing, her squared shoulders and broad jaw, the way she walked and the way she stood all spoke of a military person. She might have been pretty under better lighting, with her clear sharp eyes and dirty blonde hair pulled up in a loose bun. She was also on the tall side, a couple inches shy of six feet.
Celestia broke the silence. “Good evening. How is your mother?”
Bittermann chewed her lip. “Fine. Happy.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Celestia absentmindedly scuffed at the ground with her hoof. “I suppose you’re wondering who the Eldest is?”
Bittermann nodded with downturned eyes.
“I had hoped to keep this to myself because I think it would be best if his existence never became public knowledge, so while I won’t force you, I’d like to ask that you keep this to yourself.”
Bittermann pulled the collar of her jacket up around her neck and crossed her arms tightly. “Maybe. Who is he?”
Celestia lowered her voice. “An immortal guardian and leader of Earth.”
“What the f—” Bittermann caught herself. “What the fudge?”
“A sentinel of sorts,” Luna put in. “He is as old as the world, and the world is his charge. It is his responsibility to live and work and die for the sake of Earth.”
“The same responsibilities Luna and I have to Equestria,” added Celestia.
This, at least, seemed to energize Bittermann. Her brow lowered. “He didn’t sound anything like you on the phone.”
Mag kicked a rock into the darkness. “Yeah, well, that’s because he’s not like her. He’s like us.”
“He’s not like any of you that I’ve seen,” said Celestia in thoughtful tones.
Luna tilted Mag’s head. “He behaves thus so that no other human has to, perhaps?”
Celestia gave the pavement a firm stomp. “I don’t accept that. To me, he’s proof that a leader has to be more than just selfless and wise if they wish to be good. Imagine what Earth could be like if the Eldest were kind as well.”
Mag waved for the princesses’ attention. “Hey. Hi. Human here. I wouldn’t know anything about leadership and kindness and all that, but I do know the Eldest isn’t the only human in history who thought he was doing something terrible so no one else would have to, not by a long shot. Bittermann, back me up.”
Bittermann gave a tiny shrug.
“See?” said Mag. “Anyway, we don’t know that’s what he thinks he’s doing.”
“And you know this Eldest guy?” said Bittermann.
“Sorry for making you call him,” Mag said with an embarrassed headscratch. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Another tiny shrug.
The awkward silence returned for another few seconds.
Celestia bowed her head. “Corporal Bittermann, there’s something I’ve been longing to tell you. I am so sorry. Helping me has compromised your career, and if you like, I’ll do everything I can to re-secure your position. In essence, this happened to you because I went against the will of your superiors. If I went to them and apologized while pouring them a round of drinks, made a few meaningless concessions on the details of tomorrow’s press conference, and then just talked to them for a little while, I could change their entire perception of what happened at that meeting. Or, if they’ve gone their separate ways since this morning, I could accomplish the same thing with one of your human telephones. This is fixable.”
Mag squinted and shaded her face from the yellow floodlights so Bittermann wouldn’t see her grimace.
Luna didn’t bother to hide her disdain. “You want to go crawling after those fools? After they’ve done something so petty and craven to the corporal? Faugh! I’d rather dance for my supper for the rest of my life than watch you flutter your eyelashes at that tangle of dripping hagfish.”
“I don’t see—” began Celestia, and stopped. Bittermann had laughed.
Bittermann covered her mouth and worked to straighten her face. Through her hand she asked, “What’s a hagfish?”
“An especially slimy species of eel,” said Luna.
“No it’s not,” Celestia snapped back. “Eels are physically similar, but—”
“So you admit eels and hagfish are both a type of long, skinny fish.”
“It doesn’t matter. The point I am trying to make is that sometimes diplomacy requires a display of humility, especially for people like us.”
“Or an expression of pride and strength, as you yourself proved today.”
Mag waved for the princesses’ attention again. “Have you guys had this argument before? Did you figure it out last time? Because I don’t want to stand out here listening to an argument you two aren’t going to work out.”
“Good point,” said Luna, nudging Mag’s head to look Celestia right in the eyes. “She will writhe forever against the talons of reason if we let her. Let us change the subject.”
Celestia scoffed with all the force of a sitcom actress. “Ha! And now I’ve become the eel in this scenario. The princess of dreams, and she can’t control her own metaphor.”
“We’re hiring,” Mag beamed.
Bittermann’s eyes widened at Mag’s smile. She shifted her gaze to stare at her own boots. “I’ll think about it.”
They walked back to base together, Celestia and Luna still bickering. Bittermann gave Mag a wide berth.
***
The night shift of Celestia’s guards arrived and Bittermann drifted off to the barracks to, Mag could only assume, watch the rest of her shift talk amongst themselves while Bittermann sat to one side. Did Bittermann have any friends? Of course she did. Normal people made friends all the time for no reason except proximity, and in a compound with so many claustrophobic hallways and characterless rooms, even abnormal people might eventually feel the need to chat.
“Pay attention,” whispered Luna. Celestia and Jeff were in the middle of a tense conversation, Jeff with his hands out in an I-wish-I-could-do-something-but-I-can’t gesture.
“Next... week,” said Celestia, tasting the words.
“I’m sorry,” said Jeff.
“I was given to understand the press conference would be tomorrow.” Celestia didn’t look angry, but the quiet way she questioned Jeff suggested anger was a definite future possibility.
Jeff made the wish-I-could-help shrug. “I have it from the event planners that it just isn’t possible to get everything together in less than a week,” said Jeff. “They have to book a place, put the press kits together, find and then contact the right journalists, get a few legal things in order...” Jeff shook his head and looked Celestia in the eye. “I’m sorry, but we’re expecting to have everything together by the beginning of next week.”
Celestia nodded understandingly, but the tone of her voice didn’t change. “That makes perfect sense, of course. I’m used to living in the same city as nearly every major press organization in Equestria, I held my press conferences in my own court, and my own event coordinators often knew I would need a conference before I did, so they could anticipate my needs.” She gave Jeff a rueful half-smile. “I’m being presumptuous, aren’t I. Have I expressed my gratitude for the help you and your superiors have given me on this?”
Jeff’s face relaxed. He straightened and smiled back. “Several times, and we’re happy to help, I’m sure.”
“I do have to change my own plans to suit this new development, naturally.”
Jeff tensed. “Are there any messages you’d like me to pass along?”
Celestia threw a glance at Mag and Luna. “Yes, in fact. Some of the things I have to say to the public are time-sensitive, so tomorrow I’m going to fly to the nearest major city and make a few announcements to the public. I’m sure I can find a way to do it without making a scene, with a little trial and error.”
Jeff winced and chuckled. “I saw that coming. But you know, they’re not toying with you. It really isn’t feasible to get everything together in less than a week.”
Celestia’s cordiality dropped away like an anvil. She stepped closer to Jeff and lowered her voice a little more. “I’ll speak more clearly. What worries me is the possibility that next week someone is going to tell me there has been some kind of complication, or that your legal department is stuck, or that the mail is slower than you expected, or any number of other perfectly true and completely coincidental issues that can’t be solved except with time, and the conference will need to be pushed back further. The same will happen the week after that and the week after that and so on, until I either drop the issue or meet some kind of demand they haven’t yet made.”
“I know of no such plans, your majesty.”
“Good. After you describe this talk we’ve had to your superiors, please tell them I’m more than happy to discuss their needs as well as mine, in person or through more indirect means. As for my own needs, I’ll need to speak to humanity as a whole in the next two or three days, but if your superiors can’t arrange this then I’ll understand.”
“And then you’ll take the matter into your own hooves,” Jeff finished for her. “I’ll pass that along. Your majesty, has anyone ever called you a holy terror?”
“Yes. Do you have any other witticisms to share before you go?”
Jeff replied with a sharp salute and wry smile and then sauntered off with his hands in his pockets. Celestia drooped visibly the moment his back was turned. Turning a corner, he nodded to someone and disappeared out of view. The night shift of Celestia’s handlers rounded the corner and took their stations around Celestia, at a respectful distance but close enough to see and hear everything. The guards’ body language, both the day shift and night, had changed after what happened to Bittermann. They shut their charges out, looked away when Mag caught their eye, responded to questions with nothing more substantial than “yes’m.”
Cowards, thought Mag. Celestia was welcome to sympathize with them, but she wouldn’t. If they were willing to shut Celestia out and, by extension, act as if Bittermann had made a mistake, then they weren’t worth knowing. They didn’t have names. In Mag’s mind they would be Freckles, Dorky, Brown Eyes, Bunny, Admittedly Pretty, and Smug.
Mag held a tentative finger up and pointed it down the hall Jeff had taken. “So who won that one?” She hesitated. “And... who was the bad guy there?” She didn’t want to call Celestia out in front of witnesses, not twice in one day, but she wasn’t sure what she’d just seen.
“Negotiations don’t have winners, losers, or bad guys,” said Celestia, like a tired schoolteacher, “but I take your point. It might have been better to let them think I’m naive. And now I’d like to go to bed.” She lifted her head and gestured down the hall leading to their shared room. Celestia walked and Mag followed.
After a few minutes of walking and thick silence, Celestia said, “Mag, I need you to be completely honest, because this is important to me. Speaking as a human, do you think this is going to work? Should I stay here? Should I keep dealing with these people? Should I keep pushing for the press conference?”
“We do have an audience,” said Mag, nodding significantly at Brown Eyes.
Celestia huffed. “I’m exhausted and I don’t care anymore. I keep my secrets for the sake of humanity, not for ours, and does it really matter if I look weak? Please tell me what I should be doing differently.”
“Your plans should work,” Mag hedged. “The bedroom is this way, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s that way.”
“These hallways do seem to blur together, don’t they,” said Luna.
Celestia wasn’t done. “Your species can be so similar to my little ponies, but every once in a while I get the sense that, thanks to the way humans think, you hear my words differently than how I mean them.”
“But doesn’t everyone feel like that all the time?” asked Mag.
“Almost everyone,” Luna groused.
“Everyone, now,” said Celestia. “Here we are. Thank goodness.” She fumbled the door open by dropping her hoof limply onto the handle, took five slow steps into the room, and fell into one of two beds. Mag got ready for bed herself, pulling off her hairband and stripping to boyshorts and undershirt.
Celestia raised her head to look at Mag. “Have you ever thought about finding someone?”
“What?”
“Romance,” said Celestia.
“Gods, how would that work while I’m here?” There was a heartbeat’s length of an embarrassed pause. “Oh. Uh. I didn’t wish you to hear that. Don’t concern yourself with me.”
Mag made a show of rolling onto her side and resting a hand on her thigh. “Is that a question or a proposition?”
Celestia dropped her face into her pillow and laughed into it, narrowly missing the wall with the point of her horn. “Just a general question.”
Mag got under the covers and fluffed her pillow while considering how to answer Celestia without encouraging follow-up questions, but couldn’t come up with any answer but the truth. “I tried dating in college. It was nice, but I didn’t need it as much as a lot of people seem to, and I’ve never met a man I want to go to all that effort for.”
“How about a woman?” said Celestia.
“Women? No. Mares? I could be talked into it.” Mag made a kissy face.
“Oh, go to sleep.”
***
Luna tapped the blackboard with her yardstick. “Class, please turn to page 1,042,450,728,260.”
Mag flipped to the proper page in the Book of Pasithee and settled in for the lesson.
“And now I’d like you to start lucid dreaming,” said Luna. “Pull yourself together this time. You’ll need your wits about you.”
Mag sat up and let herself see things with a more logical mind. She sat in the front row of battered wooden desks in her old elementary school classroom, and Luna stood at the head of the classroom in her pony form. The Candle Marmoset sat in the back row writing something on the desk with his little paws and dripping wax from the candle on its head.
“Didn’t you used to be a moose?” said Mag. The Candle Marmoset chirped at her.
“Yes, Mag, pay attention,” said Luna.
“And what’s this book? I don’t speak this language.”
“Not when you’re lucid dreaming, you don’t.” Luna scratched an incomprehensible sentence on the blackboard with a stub of chalk. “Dreamland is its own world, the largest and oldest one. It has no leader, though some of its more powerful citizens act as guardians. Most of its people are sleeping mortals, but it does have its own true natives, many of whom could not function in any waking world. I like to consider myself one of them, now.” She growled wordlessly to herself.
Luna composed herself, trotted up to Mag, and tapped the book with a hoof. “You have here the book of Pasithee. With my tutelage, you have gained a comprehensive understanding of what it is capable of and even a few of its lesser uses. Then just now I told you to lucid dream and you lost most of what you learned, because the ways and workings of the Book of Pasithee are not compatible with the daylight mind. My hope is that you retained enough of it to help me. Do you understand everything I’ve said so far? Good.”
Mag picked up the book. It was heavier than anything she could have lifted while awake, heavier than a car, heavier than the world, heavier than…
Luna whapped Mag on the shoulder with her yardstick. “Stay lucid, please.”
It was a large tan book with a rough fabric cover, the kind of fabric that couldn’t be dusted and inevitably tore at the corners of the book as it aged, and just as this one had done. It was old, but it bore its age with dignity. The creased spine said “PASITHEE” in plain English. Mag opened it. There was no table of contents and the first chapter had no heading; the book simply began at the top of the page and ended at the bottom without line breaks—page after page of, so far as Mag knew, purest nonsense.
“We have reached the end of what you, a mortal whose mind is fundamentally rooted in the waking state, can understand as a dreamer. The Candle Marmoset has been of great help, though I don’t think you’ll remember how, and you really ought to thank him.”
Mag turned in her seat again and gave the marmoset a thumbs up. He returned the gesture.
Mag closed the book. “So why am I learning this?”
The stub of chalk shattered in Luna’s magic field. “Because this ‘no body’ business is going to end. Now. If not now, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after that, or the day after that. If you are amenable, we are going to split every sleeping moment between the study of magic and of Pasithee, because I will not watch my sister fly away from me like that again.”
Fingering one of the dog-eared pages, Mag wondered if it wouldn’t be best to leave the princesses and go home after Luna found her way back into the world, but kept the thought to herself. “That sounds amazing, but why do you need my help? Sounds like you could do more with this book than I ever could.”
Luna laid her chin on the desk and glared at the back wall. “I was tempted. Believe me. The book would fight me at every step and bend all its power to smite me, but this is the world of dreams, where my whim is law.” She lifted her head an inch and thunked it back down on the desk for emphasis. “That would be villainous, however, and I’ve walked that path once already. No, the power of Pasithee properly belongs to mortals, not the likes of me. It is for deposing the likes of me, if necessary. Or you might use it to help me create a body that functions outside of dreams.” She smiled hopefully.
“Yeah, all right,” said Mag.
Luna hopped up and flapped into the air excitedly. “Good, good! I declare you my champion and a knight of Pasithee.”
“…What?”
“Those aren’t actual titles,” said Luna, landing with an air of sheepishness. “Insofar as the book of Pasithee is concerned, my authority, like the Lady of the Lake’s, begins and ends with bestowing it on an appropriate mortal and hoping they use it well. Try not to kill me with it, please.”
Mag took her hands off the book. “Okay, we need to talk about how to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“It was a joke.” Luna took Mag’s hands in her hooves and laid them back on the book. “I trust you.”
Mag took her hands away from the book again. “No, but for real.”
Luna set a hoof on the desk. “I respect your concern. Let me lay your worries to rest. Harming anyone at all with the Book of Pasithee would be a difficult, ongoing endeavor that simply cannot be performed unknowingly. It is impossible to take the book away from you without killing you, and when you pass away, the book reverts to me, whereupon I may once again find a worthy mortal. There is, of course, the possibility that you’re plotting to kill me.” Luna set her other forehoof on the desk and leaned forward to glare into Mag’s eyes. “Are you plotting to kill me?”
“No,” said Mag.
“A pity. I would appreciate a bit of cloak and dagger.”
The Candle Marmoset landed on Luna’s back and chittered. “An excellent point,” said Luna. “Princesses may knight people. Has Celestia knighted you? It would be amusing if I got there first.”
Mag groaned. “You and Celestia. God, it never ends. Will you people stop taking me so seriously?”
Luna hmphed. “Since I’ve met you, you’ve given me the impression of someone in need of another responsibility or two. Magic caught your interest for a little while, but now it is almost impossible to get you to practice, so I think another job will be good for you. We can alternate between subjects as you get restless. And whatever may be said of me, I don’t think I can be justly accused of taking you seriously.”
Mag raised a finger. “I practiced before bed.”
“I assigned 50 flames. You gave me 49.”
“That last one counted.” Mag snapped her finger and produced the flame again. “Yeah, it was on the wrong finger, but come on. I made fire with my bare hands. That’s got to be 99 percent of the job.”
“Fine, you made 99 percent of a flame. You made 49.99 of the flames I asked you to make rather than 50, thus failing the assignment.”
“Fine, I failed. I’ll do better next time. More importantly...” Mag riffled through the pages of the book. “Some things have been bothering me. You people use phrases like ‘meant to’ and ‘supposed to’ about yourselves and, say, things like this book right here. Where do regents come from? What makes you think your job is to look after your people, and how come these other regents think the same? Where did this book come from, and why is it ‘supposed to’ be used in a certain way?”
Luna considered for a moment. “These questions may be important, so we can take the time for them. Where do we come from? I come from the world my sister and I were born in, which came into existence as we did. I opened my eyes and saw my sister looking back at me. Celestia saw me enter the world, but she was young and newly formed, and she tells me she hadn’t the psychological constructs to know a leaf from a rock, let alone the mindfulness to properly perceive or even remember what my birth looked like.” She shrugged. “We had no concept of language, either, and thought works rather differently under such circumstances. What drives us to look after the people of our world? Blind instinct, and you may interpret that however you wish. And before you ask, I don’t know where worlds come from. What was your other question?”
Mag picked up the book and waved it in the air.
“Oh, yes.” A new piece of chalk drew a picture of a six-fingered fist pointed upward with an upside-down “U” on the wrist. “Pasithee was a legendary artificer who fancied himself a hero of the people. He hailed from a world with a cruel and selfish regent, and, after an extensive campaign of his own golem army versus the undead hordes of his regent, Pasithee managed to slay her. After seeing firsthand the depths to which a corrupt regent may sink, he concluded that no sapient being should have that power without a corresponding check on that power, and so he made a collection of tools, traps, and weapons intended to allow mortals to punish unworthy regents.”
Mag tapped her chin. “This book is for straight up killing gods, then.”
“Among other things, yes. Pasithee was a bigot who chewed with his mouth open, but I respect his legacy enough to admit he preferred to give all of his artifacts alternate, more peaceful uses than war and assassination.”
“And you’re trusting me with this.”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
Mag slapped her forehead. “Oh, come on. Teaching me magic I can kind of see because it means teaching me how to not go critical and accidentally kill someone, but there’s got to be someone better for this.”
Luna gave a sort of noncommittal sideways nod. “Waiting for someone more suitable could take millennia. You are moderately incorruptible and you don’t seem the type to go mad with power. You’ll do.”
“This thing still worries me,” said Mag.
“Good. You are a civilian holding an instrument of war, after all. Have you any further questions before we discuss the more intermediate uses of the book of Pasithee?”
“Yeah, can I learn a new spell yet? I want to learn about how I moved that bottle with my mind and I want to know how I broke it.”
Luna’s smiled like a tiger. “Oh, are you ready to discuss the incident with Bittermann? Good. I can give you Celestia’s lecture on the obligations that come with being the most powerful person in the room.”
“Oh god.”
Luna stood over Mag and lifted her chin with queenly righteousness. “The gods will not save you. Listen closely. You have collected a store of power over the past few days. You have friends in high places, you know magic but sometimes cannot control it, your fellow mortals know you’ve dealt with forces they can neither understand nor imagine, and now you are in possession of the book of Pasithee. You are dangerous and everyone around you knows it, and that gives you the potential to be a tyrant. I despise tyranny. I detest it above all things. If you abuse your power over others, your lessons from me will end.”
“I understand,” said Mag, and she did, though she suspected Celestia would have put it differently. Her interactions with humans over the past two days played out again in her head, and this time she replaced the hapless, scowling Mag Wilson of her own imagination with a new Mag, Mag in the eyes of the humans on base: an unsmiling stranger with unknowable powers.
“Excellent.” Luna’s face smoothed and softened. “As for your question, we can explore what you did with the bottle earlier today, but we must do so after you’ve made progress on the creation of my new body.”
“Cool.”
And now they were in an auditorium with a chalkboard larger than four movie theater screens. Luna, now sitting behind a podium, produced eight more sticks of chalk and began to scratch words and diagrams all over the board.
Mag raised her hand. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?” said Luna, still writing.
“The thing where you start using a bunch of jargon and I have no idea what’s going on.”
Luna took flight and hovered in place to examine the board from a further distance. “Hm... no, no I am not. You’ve known this language all your life. It’s the language you speak to yourself in your deepest dreams, when you are furthest away from wakefulness and are too fragmented and abstract to even contemplate that which you have only recently learned to stop thinking of as ‘the real world.’ I say again, you know this language, and the only thing you need learn is how to read and speak it in a more lucid state.”
“Neat,” said Mag.
“Isn’t it?”
“Also sort of unnerving.”
“Oh. Well, we can work past that. Now, then, let us begin with grammar, insofar as we may use such terms as ‘grammar.’”
Mag raised her hand.
Luna massaged an eyebrow with the tip of a hoof. “Yes, yes, you may use the facilities first. Awaken.”
***
Mag opened her eyes and shifted into a sitting position at the edge of her cot. Her hand was asleep, her legs were sore and she had the beginnings of a crick in her neck. Celestia had fallen into a restless sleep with her blanket pulled up past her chin so that Mag could only see her horn, closed eyes, and a bit of her mane, faintly luminous in the dark room. She slept facing Mag; Mag wondered if Celestia had been watching her sleep.
What had Celestia looked like before her world ended? Had she slept well? She still smiled and joked and teased in spite of everything she’d lost, and Luna had mentioned she’d always been like that, but Luna had also hinted that Celestia sometimes only pretended to be happy for the sake of her subjects. Had Celestia’s more sensitive or less worshipful ponies known, or had they all believed the illusion? What did it feel like to spend every day pretending to be invulnerable? Was it worth it?
Then again, that was none of Mag’s business, was it? However easy it was to let herself think she and the princesses were close, the truth was that they had nearly nothing in common and had only known each other for a week. She couldn’t even pretend to understand them.
Luna worked hard to be comfortable with Mag, to meet her halfway and trade friendly jibes, but sometimes Mag wondered if Luna wanted something different from Mag or if she wished her host had been someone less, well, bitchy. Bittermann had called Mag a bitch, and as much as Mag hated that word, it was true. And Celestia put up with it as well, for whatever reason.
“If you really must stare at my sister, perhaps you could endeavor to do so while she’s conscious? Observe the bare minimum of chivalry and give her the chance to catch you.”
“I was thinking about something completely different, but fine,” whispered Mag.
“Oh, you were brooding melodramatically in Celestia’s general direction? I used to do that constantly. Feel free to continue.”
Standing up, she flexed her hand open and closed and tried to shake out the pins and needles. Their shared bathroom, unfortunately, was on the other side of Celestia’s cot, with boxes and piles of unfolded clothes strewn in between, so there would be no going that way without tripping over something and waking up the princess. There would be a bathroom somewhere outside.
She stepped out into the harsh lights of the hallway, closed the door behind her as gently as she could, and headed where she believed the public restrooms to be. Brown Eyes and Bunny fell in behind her.
Mag stopped. “I don’t know where the nearest washroom is.”
Bunny pointed to the left.
“Lead on,” said Mag.
Without answering, Bunny went the direction she’d pointed. Mag followed her down a series of hallways they’d never been down before, past empty offices and under broken lights.
“Kinda feels like the bad side of town,” Mag to Bunny. “Let me guess. You took me to the ass end of nowhere because you’re annoyed I made you do something in the dead of night. Or did I get on someone else’s nerves?”
Bunny saluted firmly but otherwise communicated nothing.
“Yeah, well, whatever,” said Mag. “I’m not going to do anything about it. Just find a working toilet and we can all get back to where we were before, no trouble to anybody.” Mag had to force herself not to pat Bunny’s cheek.
“Acceptably nonthreatening,” said Luna.
Bunny and Brown Eyes found Mag a bathroom after another 10 minutes of marching. Mag was grateful for the chance to sit down.
“Five minutes.” Luna’s aura mostly disappeared.
There was this to be said for the military — they kept their facilities clean, even in the most disused parts of the compound. The toilet paper rolls were new and untouched, as was the soap dispenser, and everything reeked of disinfectant. Mag had worried her guards were leading her to the worst restroom in the compound, but no, this was a perfectly worthy restroom. It was just out of the way.
Mag came out whistling a tune she couldn’t name or remember more than three seconds of. Bunny and Brown Eyes were waiting on either side of the door with their hands at their sides.
Mag looked back and forth between them. “You guys seem tense.”
Brown Eyes shoved a taser into Mag’s side, just above her kidneys. The majority of Mag’s muscles went rigid, and seizing pain rushed through her. Bunny dispassionately punched Mag across the jaw, and Mag went limp. Brown Eyes put her taser away and caught Mag as she fell.
Someone wearing a hooded cape stepped out of the nearest empty office and laid a narrow, silk-gloved hand over Mag’s eyes.
***
Now Mag was sitting on the desk, hair disheveled and in her face, heart and head pounding. Luna looked down at Mag — she’d produced a few thick tomes of her own and was now flying in lackadaisical circles while reading three of them — and stopped in midair. She didn’t bother to flap her wings; she simply stood there.
“Why are you unconscious?” asked Luna.
Mag rubbed her jaw. “We’ve been kidnapped. You’ll be getting that cloak and dagger action, looks like.”
Luna smiled. “Excellent.” She teleported to Mag’s side. “What happened?”
Mag told her. Luna didn’t respond at first.
“Thoughts?” prompted Mag.
“She does resemble a bunny,” said Luna thoughtfully. “And I now fully agree you need to learn more spells.”
“Can you wake me up so we can yell for Celestia?”
Luna sat down by the desk, and her eyes darted back and forth as she thought. “That does sound more interesting than waking her up myself. First, however, I think we’d better begin your tutelage in magical combat. Someone cast a spell on you, and the caster will still be there when you wake up if your kidnappers are sensible. Oh, this is going to be fun.”
“Or we could see where they take us first,” said Mag, running her fingers through her hair to pull her bangs out of her face.
Luna nodded. “There’s little harm in that plan. No sensible Earthly power would dare harm us, so we make a poor hostage, and Celestia will fashion underclothes from our kidnappers’ entrails when she wakes to find that her sister and her security blanket were both stolen away in the night. They think they have a prisoner, but in fact they’ve led an enemy scout into their bosom.”
“Yeah,” said Mag absently. Celestia’s security blanket? That didn’t sound so bad. “Is it just me, or are these people incredibly stupid?”
“They managed our kidnapping efficiently enough. Let us give them the benefit of a doubt and allow that they might know something we don’t. But yes, it is also possible these people are either gravely misinformed or pitiably stupid.”
Mag drummed her fingers on the desk. “So what do you want to do, go back to learning about dream language, or get basic combat magic out of the way?”
“Judging by the last two altercations you participated in,” said Luna, “I think we’d better devote all of our time to combat.”
Mag shoved her chair back. “Works for me.”
Celestia’s security blanket? Yes, she could live with that. It was worth fighting for.
Hehehe. Oh, they've done goofed.
I take offense to that Author's Note. I go to great lengths to smell like lavender, not lemon, you neophyte.
6301611 Tell that to your perfumist, because they clearly screwed up.
Luna and Celestia are both equally trollish, but I think I really like Luna a lot better. She's more like my own brand of humor. It makes me feel appreciated.
I still don't really agree on that, personally.
6301838 I don't agree with Luna's explanation, delivery or approach, but I do think the germ of her point is true -- different people have different social responsibilities, especially people who can fuck people up. I can jokingly threaten to piledrive all the downvoters, because it's pretty obvious I never will, but Brock Lesnar probably can't get away with that kind of thing (Brock Lesnar writes MLP fanfiction, pass it on). I can call Donald Trump a first class asshole, but Obama shouldn't. Little Jimmy down the street can call his brother a turbonerd and give him a wedgie, but I can't. Arcanist Ascendant can highlight the entirety of chapter 21 in google docs and add a comment saying "MEDIOCRE FILTH," but Stephen King can't.
Remember, Peter -- with great power comes great responsibility.
6301902
That's not really how I meant it. It's more what I think about what makes someone the "most dangerous person in the room." It's not just about being strong or having friends in high places. I've met guys who could fold me in half without even trying and never felt worried for a second, because I knew they were the nicest guys ever and wouldn't hurt a fly. I've also met weedy kids who so fairly smelled of malice and spitefulness that I wouldn't willingly have turned my back to them.
The most dangerous person is the one who is willing to be and to use all of that - and for all her flaws, Mag really isn't. She's abrasive, but she doesn't really have that kind of viciousness to her.
static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/wonderella_failed_kidnapping_2821.png
http://insider.foxnews.com/2014/04/22/%E2%80%98every-praise%E2%80%99-kidnapper-releases-10-year-old-who-won%E2%80%99t-stop-singing-gospel-song
6301922
So much for "that only works in bad movies."
6301902
You did actually instruct me to remind myself not to expect too much of your story, so that comment was justified.
6301992 It's way more fun to imagine you just up and did it one day. AA rolls in and is all like, "hey, just dropping by for a daily reminder that this shit sux just like always, okay peace"
O this is going to be so good when meg comes around the crap is going to hit the fan full force.
Harts Fire
Man, I love this story.
I definitely enjoyed this chapter. I love the humor of playing Luna and Mag off each other. One thing. When Mag first leaves the room it says Brown Eyes and Admittedly Pretty fall in behind her, but every mention afterwards is to Bunny instead of Admittedly Pretty.
6302704 Nooooo
Fixed -- I think. This is what I get for making weird changes for no good reason in the dead of night immediately before going to bed. Thanks for saying something.
Missing a lil' something there?
I like this feeling I'm getting that, despite lacking a body, deep down inside Luna is handling the whole our-world-is-gone thing far better than Tia. What's the saying about pessimists? They win either way, as they are always proven right, or pleasantly surprised?
6302988
hahahaha, god DAMMIT. Okay, I just have to remember what I was going to say. Thanks for pointing that out.
e: fixed.
Your updates always make my day (or at least the current mid-morning because it greatly helped in procrastinating).
So far you've succeeded in making the story more 'plotty' and give it more drive but simultaneously retaining the 'conversation xx' style. Well done, both you and your lavender editor.
What?
Found a thing at the beginning
apart from that nothing much really.
And a ton of other Luna-isms in this chapter. Love how you voice Luna, fits her perfectly.
So.... this be interesting. Dundundun.
New chapter didn't show in my fav list. Dunno if the problem is from my side. Re-favorited the story and it did show.
6303211 That one might be on my end, depending on how the system handles all that. Right after posting this I didn't close some of the italics code right, so a bunch of text got italicized where I didn't want it to, so I panicked, unpublished the chapter, found and fixed the code, and then republished. I'm hoping it didn't hurt anybody's notifications.
I think you mentioned this problem before, though. This is the first time I'm ever unpublished anything. If this is a problem you have with other fics, I'm wondering if you could fix this by submitting a bug report or something.
6303235 Did I? I honestly can't recall. But no, I don't usually have this problem. Or I have a terrible -and I mean TERRIBLE- memory.
A hooded cape and silk gloves? Apparently, the magi of the human world are under the impression that their abilities require them to look like refugees from a LARPing convention.
Still.... the existence of a mage infiltrator would seem to confirm, or at the very least STRONGLY suggest, some rather disturbing implications. Namely, that humanity never actually 'lost' magic - it's been around in some capacity for thousands of years under the veil of some globe-spanning conspiracy. Which in turn suggests that the President was in fact on to something; there really IS a shadowy cabal of individuals either controlling, or heavily manipulating all of human history. They could be relatively benign, pure evil, or anything inbetween.... but thus far, what very little we know of them isn't terribly flattering.
It's also possible this is all the work of the Nightmare.... but in all honesty, I doubt even she could move that fast.
I actually appreciate when an author in an ongoing work admits openly and with candor that he done fucked up but has made slight modifications to the story to account for the change required. It speaks to me of an honest and open author that is willing to share with the audience more than just words on a screen.
Then again, that's just me.
EDIT:
6303235
Also, didn't show up in my notifications either - also, wasn't listed as unread in my bookshelf but I thankfully saw the thing in the 'Updated Featurette' feature slot.
EDIT2:
Actually, it was my feed. But it was listed some-damn-where.
6303107
>lavender editor
orig11.deviantart.net/a8eb/f/2013/168/2/a/magic_png_by_foxinshadow-d69gpi2.png
lavender editor syndrome- LES. Not as snappy as LUS, but it does describe Bittermann this chapter, so it works.
6304511
Yeah, it's nice to have transparency, but personally I hold to the ancient wisdom of not revealing the secret of your magic tricks to the general public. I'm just leery about it, thought that's more of a stylistic choice than anything.
6305532
I can see that in visual media - television, movies, plays, even stage magic. But with a less visual, more ... imaginative? Imagination-based medium such as writing or art or poetry or the like, it helps other writers find ways of their own. If he was showing us Houdini's magic water coffin trick, I can see it spoiled. Since it's writing ... I dunno, maybe it just lets me know that 'hey, we all make mistakes but this is how I solved it for this instance.' Gives others ideas, helps prevent a reinventing of the wheel, show off pitfalls and how to climb back out of them. Creates a mood of, if not collaborative effort, at least a mood of a writer's community that I've always enjoyed on Fimfiction.
And then people complained about some of the more acidic reviews and now no one leaves a review unless begged ...
6305522
As long as you don't use other images of Twilight from Foxinshadow that are in the more predominant style in his portfolio to describe yourself...
Not that I'd mind. Would give the LES a somewhat different meaning though.
P.s.: Bittermann is an increasingly interesting character. Loved Mag's 'We're hiring'.
6306548
I only use those, ah, other pieces of foxinshadow art when i'm in a particularly foxy mood, which, it's safe to say, i'm not in during editing.
But yeah, Butters is a flaming homo, apparently, and Mag isn't, and is so unequipped to deal with this situation. I'm looking forwards to it as much as you are.
6306614 I still don't know how obvious I made the Butters Situation.
Anybody who didn't figure out that Bittermann is developing a crush on Mag until AA and I made comments about it, please raise your hand.
edit: Almost forgot, "homo" has fallen out of favor as preferred nomenclature because assholes ruined it for everyone. Acceptable replacements include:
les
lez
es lay
hella gay
gaaaaaaaay
6306548 Funny thing is, Bittermann wasn't supposed to be important back when I first introduced her. I just ended up liking her.
6305774 I prefer to err on the side of being too open, but I really do try not to let people see too much of the backstage, because I think it might hurt their ability to enjoy the story. For instance, I think readers might be uncomfortable to find out that a lot of my decisions about plot and characterization come down to either cold practicality or drunken whim. And I'll tell you now that there is NO WAY I'm in the minority on that one.
6303296 I don't remember, but it sounds like you're not the only one anyway. That's annoying.
6303107 Glad you liked it. Funny, people seem to be liking this chapter and I can't figure out why. Even AA was like, "I enjoyed this chapter." Whatever, the answer probably wouldn't change how I do things. Regardless, I'm glad my attempts to keep things interesting on the plot end of things is beginning to work, and without just being a bunch of info dumps.
6301921 I'm not ignoring this comment, I just haven't decided what I think or what kind of answer I should give. I think we had this argument already, where I say Mag is more worrying when seen from the outside, but at this point I have to admit I haven't really proven that. Maybe it's one of them informed traits authors are supposed to avoid.
I'll ask AA what he thinks next time I remember.
6306850 I think you made it pretty obvious why Mag seems more worrying from the outside. I liked the description in this chapter about the person with experience of other worlds, company of godlike beings, unknowable powers and a permanent scowl. I know I'd be weary of that.
Oh and *raises hand*. No, seriously. I usually pick up on that kind of stuff but I didn't. Hm. Looking forward to Mag not dealing with that and Luna having a field day with it. *needs Luna icon*
Currently working on a little story of my own where a side character that was supposed to be supplementary at best and was supposed to deliver a bit of comic relief here and there is threatening to take the spotlight away from my protagonist. I won't let him, but he's certainly ambitious.
6306850
It's fine, there's really not much to say about it anyway. I agree, from a zero-information outside perspective, she probably looks kind of frightening. It seems like Celestia should know better than to say something like that, though. She's really in a position to judge Mag's character more accurately than that.
6306710
It did? Crap, now I have to go feel offended real quick. Uh... grrr?
6306889 Upstart minor characters? You know, they say this is what Mercutio really died of; his character is so arresting and memorable that it would ruin the whole mood of the play if he was still around by the end. He was too likable to live.
The viewpoint character of this fic was once going to be Twilight, and Mag was just the clerk working the counter in the convenience store down the street (her name was Megan Titov, back then). Then I realized I liked Mag enough to make her important. Then I tried looking at things from Mag's point of view and realized she was a pretty good viewpoint character herself. Then I realized the fic didn't need to be a Chuubo's Marvelous Wishgranting Engine crossover (long story). Then I decided Twilight wasn't even a necessary character, or Luna, either. I wrote the first chapter, improvising a little as I went, and the rest is public record.
What I'm saying is, if your character isn't cooperating with you, you could always either kill them off or give them a promotion.
6306906 Oh. Yeah, Celestia and Luna both know Mag is harmless. Celestia would have said as much if it had been her giving the speech about power. Her version would have been more like "In the future you're going to find yourself in situations where, if you're not careful to present yourself as harmless, some people might be intimidated. I myself have that problem sometimes; I'll forget how much of an impact I have on others, I'll let my guard down and say or do something unfitting, and others will hear judgment or a threat. The same applies to you. Even if your friends know you would never hurt anyone, others won't always realize that, and it's not their fault. Let people know you don't want to hurt them. You shouldn't say that outright, of course, but if you work for their trust then they'll likely give it to you. Be patient, be harmless, be predictable, and most people will appreciate you for the gentle person you really are."
At this point Luna would point out that you can reverse all that advice if you need to scare the shit out of your enemies. Celestia would say that's another lesson for another day.
But no, it was Luna who gave the lecture. Luna mostly doesn't really bother to differentiate between intent and result when it comes to being a jerk. To her, accidentally intimidating someone into agreeing with you (an example of what she means when she says tyranny) is the same as doing it on purpose, and her version reflects that attitude.
6307021
I don't think I could bring it over myself to agree with her either, then. There is only so much you can do to influence how people see you. Da könnte ich dir ein Lied von singen. Let's just say that, in regards to the original comment, I've once been called the latter by the former. I was younger then, of course; not one of the best weeks I've ever had.
But really, Little Miss Shouty Moon is hardly in a position to judge anyway.
*“As for your question, we can explore what you did with the bottle earlier today, but we must do so after you’ve made progress on the creation of my new body.”*
Luna you can't make someone run before they learn to walk.
Why is it, that the more well written stories I find tend to not have updated in a while?
I like seeing politically savvy princesses who aren't stupid-evil. Looking forward to more.
Anyone know other stories like this?
6397400 Still updating, will never stop updating until the end of the story even if I completely run out of ideas and everyone begs me to put this out of its misery, new chapter in a day or two, hail Satan.
I'm not sure about other stories like this one. I'd be all over a fic that goes deep on the politics if it's done intelligently, but I can't think of any. This Platinum Crown, maybe? A swashbuckling kind of politics, anyway, with little sign of Celestia. Sometimes Estee does that kind of thing, but those are all Pratchettesque satires, and that might not be your thing.
e: Maybe two or three days, since I just remembered a writing choice I plan to take a second look at.
6306710
I didn't realize she was gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy, to use acceptable nomenclature. To me it was 'Serious chip because this damned bitch just ruined my fucking life because fuck, all I did was open a door. Fuck! FUCK!' and so on
"She" appears to be capitalized for no particular reason.
6715426 Yessss delicious. Fixed.
6521989 Thumbs up and quoted because I missed it as well for those reasons.
Though in hindsight, that probably is why Celestia mentioned romance. *snerk*
Also, in one chapter, I can't remember, where Mag gives her reasoning on not buying silverware. You spelled "utensil" as "utinsil".