Conversation Twenty-Five
Luna stopped Mag before they could leave the room. “Have you any spare change?”
“For… the Coke machine?”
“For your decay spell practice. A single coin is fine.”
Mag went to her purse, which sat on the floor in the corner. She would need a new one soon, and a wallet as well. Being dunked in a lake and left to sit hadn’t done the thing any good; its contents had begun to smell like slime and, lately, mildew.
She found a quarter and held it in her palm for Luna to see.
“Sufficient. Now we may leave.”
Mag pocketed the quarter. After today, the quiet tedium of magic practice sounded wonderful.
She opened the door. Outside the room, Bittermann was leaning against the far wall of the corridor. She startled into a salute, realized who it was, and dropped her hand. “Oh. Right. Hi, Wilson, your majesty.”
“Where is my sister?” said Luna.
***
The quarter turned into a peso. Mag held it out for Bittermann to see. “There, look.”
Bittermann stopped walking to squint at it. Mag stopped alongside her. Bittermann took it out of Mag’s hand to look at both sides.
Bittermann gave it back. “Weird. Can you reverse that?”
“No idea,” said Mag. She closed her hand around the peso, contemplated the futility of consciousness, and channeled her dharma decay spell. It grew heavier, and Mag opened her hand again to reveal a blank slug of nickel. “Not right now, maybe.”
“Perhaps it is a matter of practice,” said Luna.
“Maybe.” Mag closed her hand around it and cast her spell again. She felt the coin disintegrate, and powder puffed out between her fingers.
Mag dusted her hands off into a trash can. “Guess I’m done for now?”
“Aye. We learned, at least.”
***
Bittermann had taken them to yet another place Mag had never seen. It looked like a hotel hallway, with wider halls, better carpets, and more natural lighting than in the rest of the compound. The motivational posters here had frames. It smelled of a different and less caustic brand of disinfectant, and they’d even passed a window, thick and plastic and yellow, with spiderwebs in the corners. It looked out over the late afternoon desert, where the mountains had turned blue with the approach of evening.
Mag huffed and puffed while she climbed the stairs. Bittermann watched her critically. “You know, you could try doing PT. We’ve got trainers who can show you how to make the most out of it.”
Mag coughed. “I smoke. You want to kill me?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with getting in shape. Not that you look bad or anything,” Bittermann added quickly, “but everyone should exercise. Anyway, we’re here.”
Four very large, very armed, very male marines guarded a closed double door. Mag heard an argument from the other side.
Mag looked up at the tallest one, feeling even shorter than usual. “Yo.”
Lantern-jawed and meticulously shaven, the man looked down without tilting his head. “Ma’am.”
Bittermann pulled an ID card out of her pocket. “Corporal Bittermann escorting Margaret Wilson to the temporary communication room, sir.”
“Go ahead,” said the guard.
The “temporary communication room” looked like a multi-room luxury hotel suite, with an abundance of square footage, tasteful eggshell wallpaper, crown molding, its own kitchen with sink and dishwasher, a half-sized refrigerator, and a 36-inch flat screen television.
Mag heard voices from the other room. “Your majesty, it might be best—” this was Jeff’s voice, beleaguered and obviously expecting to be ignored.
An old man’s voice, played from a speakerphone, cut him off. “Well, this has been interesting, but I want to resolve this tonight. Joseph, you keep telling me there’s a problem with the extradition, but when I tell you to be clearer, you start to talk about your alien. What’s that got to do with extradition law, Joseph?”
“I’m still here, you know,” came Celestia’s voice with an edge of irritation.
“Really? Joseph, I thought this was supposed—”
This sounded like a good time to interrupt. Mag strode in. “Hey guys, notice anything different about me?” She stopped moving and her shadow didn’t; it flapped its wings and tossed its mane.
Celestia, sitting on a bed and glaring at a telephone lying in its cradle, looked up and flashed a strained smile. “Hello, Mag, Luna. Corporal Terry.” Mag saw a carton of cigarettes sitting next to Celestia, Newport, unopened. Mag felt for her lighter before remembering that Luna expected Mag to light cigarettes with her fingers.
Mag looked back at Bittermann, but Bittermann had slipped into her role as decorative bodyguard, standing with her back to the wall and staring at nothing. Terry? Really? No one had told her that. She should have asked.
The voice on the other end of the line grunted. “Joseph, come on. How many people are in there with you?”
Joseph Gradely sat beside the telephone with his hands folded on the desk. “Your honor, the security clearance for this convo is low enough that a civilian could theoretically sit in, and that voice you just heard is Ms. Wilson herself.”
“Oh? Good, someone relevant. Is the other one, what’s her name—Luna, is the other princess there?”
“I am here,” said Luna, guarded. “Why am I addressing a disembodied voice? This is a communicator of some kind, I suppose.”
Jeff sat backwards in a folding chair with his forearms resting on the back. He rubbed a tired hand across his face. “He’s an important judge in Canada, Justice Ovesian. I’ve never met him in person. We were just talking about the Castans. Bit of a stickler, it turns out.”
“Justice Ovesian,” echoed the speakerphone. “I’m speaking to Margaret Wilson, then?”
“Yep.” Mag sat down on the bed, next to Celestia.
“A prosecutor will be contacting you two to discuss today’s events, although Luna should be made aware that it has yet to be proven she can legally testify in a court of law. Regardless, the prosecutor tells me you can expect him tomorrow afternoon.”
“Sure, whatever,” said Mag, “but I don’t know if I’ll be around. Sometimes I have to go on adventures. More importantly, why does Celestia look like she wants to send you into space?”
Jeff pressed his eyes into the crook of his arm and groaned quietly.
Celestia gave Mag a warning look. “Mag Wilson is kidding, of course. I would never dream of harming a human.”
“So you’ve told us,” said Justice Ovesian. “I’m sure we all believe you on that count, and, uh, we welcome you to Earth. It’s nice to meet you. But… God, will you pretty please just leave?”
Celestia glared at the phone. “Thank you for your politeness, but it pretty pleases me to stay right where I am.”
“Then—”
“Allowing this situation to continue as it has thus far is unconscionable to me. For goodness’ sake, she’s just a sheltered teenager.”
“Your arguments are interesting, I’m sure, but not relevant in a legal context.”
Mag watched Celestia’s hackles go up. “Don’t patronize me about law. I’ve been legislating since before my species invented writing.”
“Then you understand why I’m not going to take any more time arguing with you.”
Celestia spoke through clenched teeth. “Justice Ovesian, what I understand—”
“I’m not going to argue with you.”
“You—”
“I told you I’m not going to argue with you. Joseph—”
All of the furniture in the room groaned. Jeff leapt away from his chair. “Yikes! You know what? Here’s a thought.”
The entire room focused on him. He adjusted his tie and cracked his neck under the scrutiny. “How about this? Before we agree on a date for the extradition, we need to hear from the kid’s attorney. In fact, we need the attorney down here so they can talk to everyone involved. Understand the meat of the situation and all that, make sure everything is aboveboard.”
The phone grunted in irritation. “Who are you, and what are you talking about? There’s no reason to delay the process over this.”
Joseph leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands. “No, I like it. I like that a lot. This is turning into a very high-profile case with lots of media exposure, and every aspect of it is going to be under public scrutiny. Keeping Ms. Castan’s lawyer happy is going to smooth things over in the long run.”
Jeff put his hands in his pockets. “That’s right. Any old irregularity could be spun into a mistrial by the right lawyer, eh? Wouldn’t want to lose your quarry on a technicality.”
“There are no technicalities in law,” said Justice Ovesian, “only fine distinctions that seem unimportant to the cynical and ignorant. But this is acceptable. I don’t like it, but it’s acceptable. Call me as soon as you have a hard date.”
“Will do,” said Joseph brightly. “Hey, it’s getting late, so why don’t I let you go?”
“Yes, I’d better go. And did you notice how much simpler this got when your alien left the room? Food for thought, maybe.”
Celestia hadn’t left; she’d only gone silent after Jeff had stepped in. Now she was giving a death-glare to a random spot of carpet, and hadn’t blinked in nearly a minute.
“Nice meeting you,” said Joseph, touching his still-steepled hands to his lips in a gesture that almost resembled prayer.
“Yes, nice meeting you. Have a good night.”
“You too,” said Joseph.
The judge hung up.
Three sets of eyes went to Celestia, who finally blinked. She took a calming breath and let it out. The men watched her, Joseph anxiously, Jeff with tired amusement and curiosity.
Mag decided to break the silence. “Hey, what an asshole, am I right? Let’s have him killed.”
Joseph laughed weakly. “No, we don’t do that. This definitely isn’t that kind of organization.”
“Yeah, right. A nameless military organization with an underground desert lair would never stoop that low.”
“We try to keep things legal here.” Joseph leaned back with his eyes closed. Quietly he said to himself, “I appreciate the challenge of helping to coordinate all the aligned initiatives of the compound.”
Jeff sighed. “Get dinner and go to bed, Joe.”
Celestia inhaled to speak and the room froze. She looked around and said, “Jeff, Mr. Gradely, thank you for your efforts today. I’m sorry for being difficult.” She stepped off the bed. Jeff and Gradely stood as well.
“And how long did that quarrel go on?” said Luna, speaking for the first time in minutes.
“Nearly two hours,” said Celestia. “And now I’d like to talk with Lady Castan and her little gang. They’ve been in a cell for a while and have been left alone long enough.”
“I’ll lead the way,” said Jeff with a smile. “I think I’d like to see that.”
Gradely brightened up. “And I’ll tell our guys outside to move me out. You told me you like these quarters, so we’re giving them to you.”
Celestia gave him a concerned look. “I am not going to move you out of your room, Joseph. Honestly, Jeff is right. If anything, I think I should teleport to the kitchen and ask them to send you dinner on a tray.”
Gradely was already waving a dismissive hand before the end of Celestia’s sentence. “I always appreciate the opportunity to solve a problem. Your current quarters are no longer appropriate.”
“What made them appropriate before?” asked Luna.
“I bet they’re rigged to blow in case we go hostile,” said Mag. She mimicked an expanding explosion with her hands. “Fwooogh!”
Jeff chuckled. “Good guess, but no. They’re scared to put you three near hazardous materials in case magic causes some kind of reaction. Your old room was built with defense in mind, actually. Armor in the walls, hard to reach for hostile forces, that kind of thing.”
“Gotcha. None of it helped last night, so it doesn’t matter where you put us.”
Gradely was unloading his desk drawers into a briefcase, mostly paperwork and office supplies. “More germanely, testing and observations have shown her majesty to be a fortress unto herself.” He closed the briefcase with a twin snap of clasps and pulled out a gray duffel bag. “It’s become clear that her abilities obviate most of our defensive measures, to the point where we can focus our efforts on such concerns as convenience and amenities.” He stopped what he was doing and spread his hands on the desk with the open smile of a politician. “Princesses, I’d like to take this opportunity to again convey my apologies—”
Mag gagged. “Oh my god, stop that. I’ll talk her around.”
Jeff winced again, and Celestia didn’t back her up. Had Mag said something wrong?
“All right. I hope you’re feeling well, Ms. Wilson.” Gradely walked out, calling, “Sergeant, I’ll be rooming in suite D now. Help me move my effects.”
Celestia gave Mag a sour look. “‘Talk her around’? I understand what you meant, but I am in no mood—” she faltered and looked down at the floor. Her eyes widened. “What—how? What? What in—”
Mag glanced at the carpet to see what Celestia was talking about. Luna’s shadow stood and flared its wings. “Ah, yes, that. I believe I’ll enjoy telling this story; it makes us both look quite clever. In essence, we performed a feat of narrative legerdemain in the context of dreams and then attempted to draw the consequences into the prosaic world.”
Celestia rolled her tired eyes. “And that means?”
“We built a folktale at the end of which I find the means to regain my body, and then we attempted to enact those means after Mag woke up. You see the result.”
“Huh?” Bittermann blurted out from behind Mag. She covered her mouth and cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
“They tried to sneak a dream into the real world,” Celestia translated. “Well, tell me the whole story.”
“The tale is called ‘Mag the Unworthy,’” proclaimed Luna. “Mag, that box says it contains cigarettes. Let us smoke while I tell it.”
“Next to an open window, please,” said Celestia.
Luna’s version of the dream was even more embarrassing than Mag expected. Luna obviously took more pride in Mag’s performance than Mag did. She used the same heavy-handed tone as when they’d first told it together, and either downplayed or left out the bits that made Mag look stupid. She also left out the part where Mag almost stepped into the pit.
At the end of the story Celestia clopped her forehooves in applause, with no visible sarcasm. Bittermann gave Mag a dewy-eyed look that for some reason made her uncomfortable.
Celestia chuckled. “Oh, I needed that. Mag, you’re a strange creature, and a special one.”
Mag fumbled for a way to nullify Celestia’s compliment. “What—no. No one is special. That’s just something they tell preschoolers so they don’t give up too early in life.”
Celestia snorted. “I can tell you’re flustered because you’re laying it on so thick, but it’s too late. I’m already impressed with you. You too, Luna. This reminds me of the time you tried to make two mirrors switch reflections, and the end result was two mirrors that only ever showed your face. Luna, I’m sure you’re disappointed, but you know, your powers often lead to some impressive accidents.”
Luna’s shadow shook its head. “I cannot disagree. They even put me in the body of a mortal without my consent. If indeed that is the work of my powers.”
Celestia gave Mag a sly smile. “It’s exhilarating to be right about something, after being so… horribly wrong, about so many things, over the past few days. And I must be a preschooler, because I still believe everyone is special. What do you have to say to that?”
“Let’s just go tell Castan she’s going to jail.”
***
Celestia and company teleported to the cells without fanfare. A marine in a folding chair looked up from his DS, goggled at Celestia, and snapped the device closed. He shot up from his seat and saluted, revealing a bare and startlingly hairy wrist. “Ma’am! No emergencies since you’ve left, ma’am!”
“Don’t let me interrupt you,” said Celestia. “Just open the outer door to the cells, please. I need to talk with your guests.”
“Yes, your majesty.” The guard with the DS and the arm hair took out a radio and spoke into it. “C9T2 opening door for princesses plus other two.” The radio crackled something unintelligible.
Luna added, in a voice perfectly audible to the guard, “Ponies regarded this use of teleportation as mildly rude, of course, to be darting from room to room in another’s household without warning. Luckily, humans are not familiar with our social conventions.”
The lock clicked open without the guard touching it. He entered the room and held the door open. “Your majesties.”
“How polite they’ve become while we slept,” observed Luna. “An attempt to placate me after this morning’s security failure, I assume? But I am notoriously implacable.”
The guard didn’t respond, so Mag stepped past him without comment.
The cells were overbright with the sterile blue of fluorescent tube lights set in a low ceiling, with well-scrubbed concrete walls and floor. Four of the six cells were empty and two contained two each, Brown Eyes and Admittedly Pretty in one cell, Bunny and Valérie Castan in the other. Eyes and Pretty were playing some card game again. Bunny and Valérie were laying in their respective beds. Valérie had taken the top bunk. All Mag could see of her was her face, which she’d just lifted to reveal red eyes, dyed black hair and smudged eyeliner, her foot hanging off the edge in an oversized white tube sock.
Bunny’s nose wrinkled and Mag realized she reeked of cigarettes. Then the prisoners, starting with Valérie, realized who had come to see them. Valérie dropped her face into her pillow on the pretext of lifting herself up, but Mag could see the girl scrubbing away the tears and running makeup. Bunny surged up from her seat on the bed and gripped the bars of the cell, looking trapped, wary, and protective. Eyes and Pretty went to their bars as well, Pretty with awe and Eyes with tired dignity. Together, they formed a united front.
Valérie dropped from her bunk and took a place by Bunny. “Your majesties,” she croaked, out of breath and raspy from crying.
Celestia had pulled that “princess smile” of hers into place, but then the fixed smile and the silence went on for too long and Mag saw that Celestia’s gaze kept returning to Valérie’s red face and ravaged makeup. The princess was at a loss, regardless of her expression.
Mag decided she’d have to handle it. “Hey, so I missed a bunch of what happened, but the gist of it is—”
Celestia cut her off. “Everything is going as planned.” She radiated maternal benevolence and sincerity. “Your Canadian officials learned to take me seriously after some coaxing, I had a very productive discussion with the judge, and an attorney is on the way to make sure you’re being taken care of. There’s still a lot to do, but I’m in control of the situation.”
Valérie sagged against the bars. “I… see. Thank you. Thank you, your majesty. I know I haven’t given you a reason to do any of this. I forgot to say this, but I’d dearly like it if you didn’t judge the Castan family by my own actions.”
“I don’t need a reason to do this, Valérie,” laughed Celestia. “I couldn’t do otherwise. This is what I am. If I can’t help you and people like you, what am I? Anyway, now you know. And if you’ll excuse me, I need to leave. Mag? Luna? I need to leave now.”
Valérie curtsied despite not wearing a dress. Her guards bowed with their hands resting on the spot on their hip where a sword might have hung.
Celestia teleported away with Mag and Luna before Valérie could speak.
***
Bittermann still wasn’t comfortable with sudden teleportation, judging by the way she flinched after realizing she was back in Celestia’s new bedroom. Mag patted her twice on the back. Bittermann looked away, but brushed Mag’s shoulder with the tips of her fingers.
Celestia stood stock still, staring at the same spot on the carpet she had while arguing with the judge. The fake smile was still in place.
“You are tired,” said Luna. “We can sort this out tomorrow.”
“Pure cowardice and we both know it,” Celestia muttered. “I really hate it when humans cry. I’m never sure what to do.” She looked up. “What am I doing? Luna, what am I doing?” She began to pace the room. “Am I even helping? I argued with a judge and only got him to dig in his heels, and then I told Ms. Castan a half-truth to make the both of us feel better. These are my accomplishments for the evening, other than—” Celestia’s voice caught. She started again. “Anyway, for the life of me, I can’t see what else I could have done.”
“You are keeping busy, is what you are doing. That is worthwhile even if you did nothing else productive. And who knows? Perhaps you’ve laid groundwork for future influence in Canada. Perhaps no one else likes this judge you met, and you’ve inadvertently made friends elsewhere by slapping his rump. It is also possible the Castan girl needed a comforting lie—not that I typically condone such things, but to be fair… it’s not as if… after all…” Luna floundered to a halt. Her shadow raised a hoof as if about to begin a sentence, then let it fall.
“You don’t typically condone such things,” Celestia said to the wall. “No, you don’t. And if you said she deserved better, you’d be right. I also told Mag I wouldn’t always protect humans from hard truths.”
Mag shrugged. “Eh.”
Celestia closed her eyes. “Lately I’ve been thinking about an old friend. I’ve been thinking of visiting, and I can’t stand to put it off anymore.”
“Who?” asked Luna.
“I’d rather go alone.”
“No,” said Luna.
Mag raised a finger. “Is this about danger? Because, I mean, speaking of protecting humans when you don’t need to, I keep living through things.” Changing, but still living. “And we talked about this already.”
“It’s safe, but I’m…” she gave Mag a helpless look. “This sounds childish, but I’d like to stop being a princess for a little while, and I can’t do it while you’re watching.”
Mag frowned in thought. “Sounds interesting. Does your hair stop waving? Do you get shorter?”
“No, it just looks like this.” Celestia removed her crown and collar, and set them on the bed with a clink of gold on gold. Nothing else changed. “It’s a social role, really. I’ve only had the title for a couple thousand years.” She laughed. “Luna, do you remember our original royal regalia?”
Luna snickered into a hoof. “Twin auroras, gilded barding, jeweled antlers. How impressive we thought ourselves.”
Celestia stuck her tongue out. “Like foals dressing themselves for the first time. I still like the auroras, though. The corona, the paraselene. Someday we should wear them ironically. When we run out of people who take us so seriously.”
“Have you noticed how rich this language is in figures of speech? At this moment, those that come to mind are ‘gilding the lily’ and ‘putting lipstick on a pig.’ Choose for yourself which most applied.”
“Both.” Celestia shook her head. “Heavens. I wish someone had laughed at us.” She closed her eyes. “I wish there was someone to laugh at us.”
“We are coming with you,” said Luna.
Bittermann leaned in. “And, um, I’m her bodyguard. So um. I have to.”
“And you can name me court jester when you go back to being a princess if you need someone to make fun of you,” said Mag. “Did you get around to reading any Shakespeare? He had a play about an old guy who stopped being king, and wandered the world with his faithful fool. Let’s just ignore how that story goes and pay attention to the established precedent. Eh? Eh?”
“No,” said Luna. “I’ve no use for fools who cannot juggle.”
“I can juggle,” said Bittermann timidly.
“You are hired.”
Celestia barked a non-laugh and cast a spell.
***
The smell of lakewater touched Mag’s nose. Now they were at the lake by the convenience store Mag had worked at until a few days ago. The sky was clear and the stars were out. Bittermann spluttered.
Mag whirled around in the dark. “Is there any kind of distance limitation on this, like, at all?”
Celestia, her attention fixed on the lake, didn’t answer.
So Luna did. “Well, technically, but it’s a distance of light-minutes. The only meaningful limit is that it must be on the same plane, and that she must have been there in the past.”
“So basically you guys can do whatever you want so far as the laws of physics are concerned,” said Mag. “Fine, cool, whatever, physics is stupid.”
“We’ve traveled farther in the past, you know,” murmured Celestia. “The distance between the mirror of my world and the mirror of yours is much further.”
Bittermann cleared her throat. “Your majesty?”
“Who?” said Celestia with arched eyebrow. “Luna is the only princess here.”
“Pri—ma’am, where are we?”
“The lake where I first came to this world. I’ll use the reflection in the water to find my way back into one of the spaces between planes.” The lake was beginning to freeze for the evening. Celestia broke the forming ice with a strike of her hoof and stepped into the water. “Luna?”
“The coordinates are damozel eglantine elegant fioritura. Pardon the complexity, but the water is largely frozen.”
Mag grabbed Celestia’s tail and Bittermann’s hand. Bittermann’s eyes widened and her arm stiffened, but after a moment she relaxed and let Mag lead her to the water.
Bittermann watched Celestia lowering herself into the water, saw that Mag was following her. “What’s going on? Magic again? P—ma’am?”
Mag tossed her pack of cigarettes onto the shore. “Clench your teeth or something, or maybe don’t. I don’t think anything will help. By the way, can pistols get wet?”
“Yes? Kind of? Are we really—ah! Sheezus!” Her hand tightened painfully around Mag’s as they stepped into the lake. Mag let herself fall forward.
***
Mag landed well, more or less. Her hands had gone numb, so she hadn’t noticed, but Bittermann had jerked away. Now she lay huddled on her side in the grass just as Mag had, though she also fumbled blindly for her gun and was trying to get her legs underneath her. Celestia cast her warmth spell over the three of them. Bittermann shuddered.
Mag helped her up. Bittermann leaned into Mag’s shoulder—she was surprisingly heavy, and Mag had to brace against her.
A person is touching me, thought Mag. It was a heady thought.
“I c-c-can feel y-you shaking too,” Bittermann breathed into the joint of Mag’s shoulder. She could feel Bittermann’s mouth moving. Again there was that discomfort; her awareness of others had sharpened a bit now that she’d slept and taken the time to relax, and there was something about Bittermann’s demeanor that stood out to Mag, a rawness or skittishness. She’d seen it before. Where?
“Yes, yes, we are all cold,” said Luna. “Celestia, what has gotten into you?”
Celestia looked over her shoulder. “We can talk later. It’s not safe here.”
“If we must, but you seem… perturbed. Alarmed.”
“I’ve been thinking,” said Celestia.
Bittermann clasped Mag’s shoulder and straightened. Her other hand hovered near the holstered grip of the pistol Jeff had given her. “Wh-what is—” another shiver shut her throat.
Celestia teleported them once again.
***
“You are beginning to alarm me as well. Why do we hurry? What do you expect to hear?”
Celestia looked into a mirror like any of the others, though the wooden frame had very few words carved into them.
Bittermann pointed at a row of curling symbols. “What does that mean?”
“Sh!” whispered Luna. “This place is not safe, particularly for mortals.”
Celestia glanced at Bittermann. “It’s the Equestrian word for ‘peace.’ I wrote it a long time ago.” And now Mag could see what Luna was talking about; it was subtle, but there was something about the way Celestia held herself. Her shoulders had the set of someone trying not to tremble.
***
This time Celestia cast her warmth spell the moment Mag and Bittermann passed to the other side of the mirror. Honestly it didn’t help as much as she would have liked, but Mag appreciated the thought.
The sky burned with stars. There was no moon, but the stars lit the air like moonlight, particularly one white-silver dime that Mag supposed was this world’s sun, larger and brighter than Earth’s pole star, but not as large or bright as Earth’s moon.
Bittermann was clinging to Mag again. Mag pried Bittermann free of her shoulder with what she hoped was an acceptable level of tact, and crouched to touch the ground.
“Huh,” muttered Mag. It was thick paper, dry with age but otherwise undamaged, not at all wrinkled by sun or rain. Mag’s searching hands found a seam between two sheets, and picked at the edge to see what lay underneath. She found another layer of paper like the first, and going by the resilience of the surface, there were likely other layers of paper under that.
Bittermann hadn’t looked at the ground. From the moment she’d entered the world, her eyes had latched onto the sky. “Where is this?” she whispered.
“If this world had a name, I never knew it,” said Celestia. “It’s the safest and most peaceful place I’ve ever heard of. Keep it a secret, please.” Annoyance touched her face. “In fact, don’t even mention it out loud on Earth. The Eldest would hear, and he’s the type of person who might plunder it somehow.”
“Well, I guess he could sell all the paper,” said Mag. “Now what?”
***
To Mag’s eyes it looked like a great willow tree more than anything, but with stiffer foliage that rattled together in a breeze Mag hadn’t noticed before. It muttered like rain. Under the tree Mag could see a reflection of the leaves and the stars; the tree grew out of a pond. The water pawed at the paper shore. It smelled restless and clean, and the breeze that passed over it was as cold as a bedsheet in winter.
“Don’t step into the water,” said Celestia.
“Aye, it’s deep as can be—quite literally, for there is another pool of water on the geographic antipode of this point, and we believe these two pools meet. But fear not; if you fall in, Celestia will fish you out.”
Mag heard the slicing of paper. She turned to see Celestia dragging the tip of her horn across the paper ground. She looked up. “Yes, of course. And have a drink, if you like.” She levitated a square of paper and began to fold. “This world used to be inhabited. It’s interesting, if bittersweet. Most worlds aren’t inhabited, you know, and many regents rule no one but themselves.” She’d made a paper boat. She set it on the water, and blew on it. The boat set sail.
Celestia looked away from Mag and at the ground. Mag heard, again, the sound of cutting paper. “When I first found this place I didn’t know what it used to be, but it became my secret haven, and over several years I noticed the taste of former sapience in the aether.” She folded another boat. “But I found no other remains. So I asked Luna—”
“Which was the first time you told me about this place,” said Luna.
“I enlisted her to examine the dreaming substrate of this world.” Celestia set off another boat.
“I did so,” said Luna. “I learned about the people of this place. I also learned that this world has but one tree, and that the tree dreams.”
Celestia loosed another two boats. “This paper is made from the leaves of this one tree. All of this paper, layers and layers of it, covering the globe. Quite an old tree, isn’t it?”
“The tree dreams of light. It sees patterns of light made by great lattices of twine that had once stretched across the sky in a mesh. It held up intricately-cut arrangements of the leaf-paper, shaped by the minds of artists and architects, mathematicians and poets, astronomers and papermakers.”
“Patterns of light are cast by shining light through a filter, of course.” Celestia set down her eleventh boat. “Each creature was, in essence, starlight passing through a paper filter. This race procreated by cutting new patterns into paper and holding that new paper filter up to the light, and greeting the being that emerged. There—do you like my fleet?”
Mag scowled into the shade. “I can’t see it. All your boats went under the tree, and it’s dark there. And it’s just as well, because they’re starting to come off as kind of macabre.”
Celestia shook her head. “Don’t worry. All of the paper filters are long gone, and this paper was only ever the ground. Imagine this as old concrete, like I’m skipping rocks.”
Mag imagined dropping a rock into this pool. Would it make it to the center of the world, or would it catch on the roots of the tree, or would the water pressure crush it to powder?
“This world didn’t always have an atmosphere,” said Luna. “The people of light did not breathe and the tree needed only water. And so, as long as the paper never got wet, the people of paper would never change and never die. It never rained, and there was no breeze to disrupt their paper cities or their filters of light.”
Mag watched the wind ripple the water. Celestia pushed one more boat into the shade of the tree.
“Stop the story,” sighed Mag. “I just… I get it. I can see the cities are gone and obviously there’s air to breathe. Something changed and I don’t need the details, because it’s going to be banal and sad and, by the way, please stop doing the thing with the boats. What’s wrong?”
Celestia looked up at the tree. “Do you remember what I said when I met you? If my people were truly gone, I would have disappeared with them. I’m one of them. I’m one of their regents, practically a piece of their soul. I helped define them. And anyway, while there are countless regents out there with no people who follow them, I couldn’t think of a single regent who survived the end of their people.” Celestia laid down. “I couldn’t think of one. Not one.” She clenched her eyes shut and curled up. “But on reflection, I knew of one after all. Look at it. Isn’t it beautiful? The last living thing on the planet.”
Luna stammered. “No, that—what—‘tis a tree. It cannot speak, nor rule, nor lead.”
“It dreams of the old world. It lives forever and it’s as old as the planet. It spent eons dropping paper leaves for the people of this world. And Luna, why does a tree have such an incredible aura? I remember how we used to wonder.”
“This means nothing,” said Luna with raised voice. “We mistook a trend for a true law, and now you found an exception, but this answers not why our world disappeared in the first place. Know you a precedent for the disappearance of an entire world?”
Celestia opened tortured eyes. “Luna, stop. This is just proof that you’ve been right all along. Our world ended, like all worlds do, and I talked myself into thinking I’d found a reason to—” she flinched, then surged up and locked eyes with Luna and Mag. “You know what else I hadn’t thought of? We do know someone else who saw the end of Equestria. The Nightmare. It was somewhere in our world. We can hunt it down and make it tell us everything it knows about what happened. Luna, that’s all I want anymore. I want to know what happened.”
Luna glared. “When I said it was impossible to bring back Equestria, you weren’t supposed to agree with me.”
“Luna, don’t ask me to keep thinking like that. You were right to give up.”
“Of course I gave up! You doe-eyed foal, your hope was based on a technicality regarding rules we have never been certain of in the first place. Resurrecting Equestria was always impossible. That is why it was your job instead of mine.”
Celestia laughed silently, kept on laughing, tried to stop, couldn’t. “You’re allowed to let go, and I’m not?”
“Because you’ll fix it! You always fix it!” Luna seized Celestia’s jaw and pulled Celestia to face her, with a strength Mag was absolutely certain she herself didn’t have. “Schemes, secrets, stratagems! Cease your games and reveal your true plan. I know you have one. Is it Mag? You do love your cat’s paws. So many problems you left to Twilight Sparkle, or Clover, or Starswirl, or even me when nopony else would—”
Celestia pried loose Mag’s left hand. “My only plan for Mag is to teach her things, maybe to learn a few things myself, and most importantly to be friends. And do you know what my plan was to save Equestria? I planned to think about it. And because on some level I knew what I was going to conclude, I then tried not to think about it.” She gestured at the mass of leaves with her horn. “Look at it. There’s my proof. A regent, once a leader of sorts, and now alone—purpose fulfilled, I suppose. In fact maybe we should congratulate it.”
Luna stamped Mag’s foot. “This is not the answer you were supposed to come to. Am I to do it instead? Then I shall. Mag, I hope you’ve been learning well, because it appears we must carry my sister’s weight.”
“Yes, yes,” Celestia laughed. “You think I can’t function without the hope of bringing back our world. Don’t worry. I have all of eternity to get used to it, and so do you.” Celestia smiled, and the smile reminded Mag of her own, bitter and hungry.
“You will never get used to it, and I won’t let you. Think of your people! Think on their faces. Even those who never saw you as their princess but were nevertheless our charge, the griffons and manticores, the birds, the trees, the dragons. No? If you cannot recall them and feel no need to bring them back, then I shall do it myself.”
“And you want to guilt me into helping you,” said Celestia. “And I will, of course. I don’t mind. We can trade places. You can plow the ocean in my place, and I can take your place in feeling superior for giving up.”
“Your terms are acceptable. Here, you spoke of some plan to hunt the nightmare. I like that. Let Canada have their smug little brat, and we can bend our efforts on collecting information.”
“I might just tell Canada I’m keeping their brat,” said Celestia thoughtfully. “I can reframe the situation and claim her as an enemy of Equestria, to accordingly be punished by its remaining leaders. Its—” Celestia’s voice caught. “We’re all that’s left. Scars and skies, Luna, we’re the last ponies in the multiverse. Not princesses anymore, really. We’re just the Sisters again.”
“For now.”
“Fine,” said Celestia. “Fine. We’ll keeping switching off roles until we’ve both accepted that it’s over, and then we can…” She looked at the stars. “I don’t know what we do. It doesn’t matter, I suppose. We can do whatever we like, forever, as soon as we work out what happened to Equestria. That’ll be our last responsibility as princesses. Mag, Theresa, we’re done here. We can leave.”
Bittermann came out from behind the tree with a waterlogged paper boat in her hands. Celestia glanced down at it. Bittermann, uncertainty and self-consciousness written on her face, held the boat closer.
“You can keep it if you like,” said Celestia gently. “I can’t speak for this regent, not exactly, but we can assume it loves mortals in its own way. I’m sure it would like the chance to give you something.”
Bittermann looked into the water. “Is there anything we can do?”
“I wish I knew,” said Celestia. “It has everything it needs. The only thing I’ve ever been able to think of is to rest here, and dream with it.”
Bittermann tucked her hands into her armpits. Her eyes traced the silhouette of the great tree and up to the stars. She caught Mag watching her, froze, and stopped breathing.
“So your name is Terry?” asked Mag.
Bittermann twitched at her own name and hugged herself tighter. They locked eyes and Mag put everything together with growing horror.
It was obvious if you really looked at her, and if you remembered she’d only just finished being a teenager. She was afraid of Mag in that particular way, afraid for her soul, because Mag could smash it with a few words.
A kid with a crush. On her. How? What? How? What the fuck? Wait, Bittermann was gay? Did Mag still have her riding crop somewhere? And since Mag was straight, did it matter?
Worlds away from Earth, and Mag was still having human problems.
Yeah, okay, so it's been like six months. I almost gave up, but then I didn't. I have the outline for the next chapter and a few scattered lines written, so let's see if I can get chapter 26 out without doing that thing where I just stop writing for months on end.
Editor And glorious Adonis Arcanist Ascendant and I spent a couple thousand words worth of comments in a Google Docs draft arguing about every other thing. And then I brought in a couple proofreaders, who had MORE to say. that'd be Cerulean Starlight and Sky Paladin, who would definitely have earned their pay if I were paying anyone for any of this. Yeah, they found a bunch of typos, grammar errors, some things I didn't make clear, repeated words... I don't understand how you people found the time to help with this, considering how much we had to do, but you did it. Thanks, my dudes.
As for the rest of you, yeah, I know you can't remember what's going on in this story anymore. My response is as follows: oops. I'll try not to do that again. 
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Thanks for the update! It was a little disorienting trying to remember what happened previously, but once that light bulb clicked, it was pretty neat seeing some of the machinations of Celestia's mind. And Mag is fun as hell to read, as always.
eppppppp
I'm glad to see one of my favorite stories update.
I am still deeply in love with this story and the bizarre concepts it brings up. It hurts to see Celestia have her breakdown, but it was awhile in coming, and frankly her concerns are very justified.
And... I can't help but feel that this is important. Here we have the idea of a race that was created by starlight passing through a paper filter. In a way... making images of ponies and getting life from that... well, food for thought.
This version of the chapter is so, so much better than the draft I had to scrap.
Also, you pay me for editing ;)
ha, take that, cerulean paladin or whatever you call yourself
I only recently came across this story, but when I caught up to the previous chapter and left to do some work, I found myself breaking the story down. Mag has four gifts. One from Celestia, One from Eldest, One from Maker, and One from Luna. The one from Maker can only be called a gift by a human perspective. Also, one way to stop the two sisters from arguing this chapter is a little hollow human phrase. "Hope springs eternal" sounds like such an obvious platitude, yet it rings truest at the lowest points of human history. Christmas during World War II being a good example. One day of the year where both the Axis and Allies chose not to kill their fellow man, from the trenches back to the capitals, rather than the other way around.
How can that judge allow himself to be an asshole with the alien, magical, (ínter)nationally famous Princess? There is rude, and there is deadbrain stupid.
7224125 Wellllll...
Something to ponder:
Either humanity was formed from dust that a god decided to mold into a sculpture and bring to life...
Or we're STILL dust that got wet and somehow randomly organized into DNA and proteins which managed to replicate itself and evolve.
Is any other concept so surreal when compared?
You call me.
Nuff said.
Given that there is practically no legal precedence for a human being granted powers by an interdimensional magical alien pony, not to mention the potential psychological ramifications potentially coming into play
These legal proceedings could be turned inside out with all the absurd loopholes tossed into codex these days. If a murderer caught red-handed can be granted retrials based on minor technicalities, then good lord, any lawyer worth his salt would have a field day with the extenuating circumstances surrounding an under-aged girl under the influence of actual alien life forms with immense powers!
Not to mention, every government on Earth would be falling all over themselves to get time with her by this point, to say nothing of the national security agencies.
No, this scenario would cause the world to come apart at the seams in an instant. *smiles coldly* Such beautiful chaos would hasten my plans quite significantly.
this was good! I like this!
7224281
The time-frames involved for evolution are a tad longer than what Celestia and Luna would want, though if the story went down a darker path, it could still do that.
Heck, with the Elder in this story, it's up in the air about the real history of Earth.
7224397 We could always cheat and go back in time and then copy Equestria with some sort of dimensional copy machine, then restart things right where they left off!
Weird god things can do that sort of stuff.
Honestly, this was a very graceful return despite the length of the hiatus.
7224319
You could comment three or four times or just once.
Also, I think this chapter is just as good as your last one, which is good, because I think last one is one of the best thing's I've ever read.
Holy fuck Celestia is having a bad time. Poor mare.
Ahhhh, Bittermann, you are wonderful.
7224189
s-senpai
I wish to be a glorious Adonis too; will you teach me your ways
And now, commentary for our readers' pleasure:
7224660 Could have been worse. it could have turned into a Zimbabwe dollar. That's, like, negative value.
7224660
Haha, Ragnar and I had a lot of cheeky banters before the draft was sent to you guys. For example, we argued over the course of six or seven comments whether the proper onomatopoeia for an explosion was Fwoom or Pwoogh. I know it's Fwoom, but Ragnar was very insistent on being wrong.
I liked that ending.
Thank you for the new chapter, I liked it.
I vote for Fwoom
7225114
See, another sane person. I knew we weren't extinct.
"Not princesses anymore, really. We’re just the Sisters again."
When I read those sentences, my little penguin brain immediately leapt to an old fantasy novel by Brian Daley, A Tapestry of Magics. The book is well worth reading but not the point. A reoccurring phrase throughout the story is: All things cyclical imply... fill in the object depending on your cynicism. The iteration I am thinking of is All Things Cyclical Imply Hope.
Back to the two sisters. I wonder. Back to the beginning. Back to the beginning of Equestria?
I support Mag X Bittermann wholeheartedly.
7224250
Probably because her status is completely irrelevant and her wishes regarding the trial and punishment of a foreign national who she has no legal ties to are as well. If unrecognized heads of state could influence another countries legal system at will, then extradition wouldn't have to be a thing, and you do need an extradition agreement if you want any influence over even what your own citizens trials are like when they're in a foreign country. Pretty much, this dude sounds like a by-the-book judge, no politicking or brown-nosing or public opinion, there is only the law, and Celestia has no standing in the eyes of the law except as sister/employer of the victim. She's used to being the big horse on the block but she need's to realize that, the laws apply to everyone and she's not the ruler in an absolute diarchy anymore and thus can overrule any ruling by the courts, and if she tries putting her hoof down too hard I think Eldest may have an opinion on her continued presence on his world, messing with his subjects.
But of course Eldest is omniscient so he would know all of this and every possible resulting outcome so maybe his ultimate plan is to get himself replaced with Celestia/Luna since they'd do a better job?
7223998 Good, good.
7224073 I agree.
7224075 Nice to see you too.
7224125 Oh, that scene was effective? Good, I was worried it was a little too, I don't know, toothless? I'm here to make all of you miserable and it'd be distressing if it didn't work.
7224189 If a Christmas Steam gift card is your total pay for your work for the past year then I recommend you form a union, because that's the worst paycheck for an editor I've ever hard of. Or the best, really, if you think in terms of percentages, since I get $0 out of this (which is how I like it). P.S. forget all the times I agreed with you, actually that chapter was flawless.
7224207 Delicious, delicious speculation, how I missed you so.
7224360 Always nice to hear!
7224507 I managed this by pretending there wasn't one while writing the story.
7224660 Draft comment sections are always fun to screw around in. I could do it all day.
7224797 I didn't say all explosions sound like that, just the one Mag tried to imitate with her mouth and hands. Just this one. So you see, you're wrong and I'm right, and I expect a bouquet of apology flowers within the week.
7225114 C-counterrevolutionaries?!
7225249 What I like about "sister" that it fits with the regent naming scheme in that now you know they've got the "er" suffix as well.
If you need any convincing more please! I've really enjoyed this and I'm loving the idea of a Celestia that sort of needs a helping hand. An all knowing Celestia that is at a loss for what to do and Luna there to help her.
I really missed your story. Can't wait for the next chapter.
7225547
I kind of agree with Erik here, although I note that extradition is fought on political grounds all the time. That Celestia is an important personage to the USA could very well play a role in any proceeding.
That being written, I am hazy on why Val is being extradited. Didn't her crimes take place on US soil? Her citizenship should be irrelevant, the trial would take place in the USA. I admit is has been a few weeks since I re-read ANS, so what am I missing?
7225114
7225144
7225897
This matter isn't up for a vote; it's fwoom, and that's a fact.
it sounds to me as if Celestia is having a really bade week and may need some cuddle time.
but to even thing about equestria being gone totally I am having a hard time believing that it is totally gone.
there is a way to save it some how.
a vary good chapter.
7225972 If I remember right, Celestia said she'd try to arrange for Val's punishment to take place in Canada after Mag expressed a dim view of American prisons. Celestia pulled strings and yanked chains while Mag was asleep, eventually ran into Justice Ovesian, and then nobody got anything done for the rest of the day.
That's my reasoning, anyway. I really hope this isn't a plothole, because coming up with a graceful edit would take a lot of thought.
Wow, what a deep chapter and that ending cracked me up sooo much. I am tempted to say Bitterman is in dire need of a good, old hug but that might just be like adding Napalm to a Bushfire.
7226050
I thought about this in the sleepless hours of the early morning (insomnia FTW!) and the Canadians could be trying Val for conspiracy, with the predicate act occurring in the US. Also, Canada may want to try Val under a Foreign Powers Act (something akin to treason but not really), essentially straining relations with a friendly nation, in this case, the US.
Since the US authorities are waiving prosecution and remanding Val to the Canadian authorities, the Judge is taking a hardline to prove that they will not go soft on Val. This is especially true if the main objections are from Celestia, a foreign national with the US legal teams being passive.
Kind of a stretch, but it works. Oh and Mag? If you think US prisons are bad, stay out of almost any developing country. Especially Turkey and Iran.
By the way, glad to have you back, this is a great story.
7226203 How inconveniently perspicacious of you. Well done.
The idea I had in mind was more or less the bit in the second paragraph. The US doesn't want to deal with this because they'd rather wash their hands of the Castans entirely, since their main interest is in keeping Celestia happy, and Val's very existence is a threat to that goal at this point. In the view of various VIPs, Val needs to be gone, pronto. Since Canada as a whole seems angrier about this than most of the US*, they can deal with Val themselves. That way it's not the US's fault if Celestia doesn't get her way during sentencing, and in the meantime, Celestia won't know where Val is and therefore can't do something unpredictable or inconvenient (again).
And yes, Canada is pissed at ValCas for straining foreign relations, and really, pissing off a certain horsey unknown quantity to the possible endangerment of... who knows how much. The world? The US has been releasing a few trivia sheets on Celestia ("What's absolute hot? What do you mean, 'levitate a star with her innate abilities'?") and it's making many people cautious.
Realistic? I doubt it, but draw your own conclusions.
*particularly the US citizens, who largely think this is funny and immediately took things less seriously when it came out that we're talking about a gothy Canadian renfair-looking teen and her dumb friends. I mean, Americans love Canada unconditionally, teenagers are only really a threat to each other, and nothing in the universe is less intimidating than black lipstick. "Celestia is way scarier than these chuckleheads, and did you see those pictures of the torn-up warehouse? Heh, I bet they pissed themselves." *waves massive flag*
Is it just me, or does Equestria suddenly being gone fit in real well with the season five finale?
It'd be funny if they went back to talk to Nightmare, and everything was back, including another copy of themselves.
7225513 I concur but please don't leave me hanging off this cliff for to long.
7225972
But she is a Canadian citizen and we have an extradition treaty with the USA. Except under extreme circumstances, eg: they're a threat to USA's national security, that means Canadian citizens are typically extradited to be tried for their crimes/serve out their sentences if sentenced in the US under the Canadian Justice System and vice versa with Americans in Canada, plus Celestia was the one who wanted her extradited back to her home country to try to ensure a fair trial, and Valerie as wants to be tried back home as well.
Yaaaaaaaaay. I had lost hope of this updating but I'm ever so glad it did.
You know I kind of have to wonder why this is a pony story. I mean it does work as one but I'm not sure why it has to be Celestia and Luna instead of any other alien rulers.
7227184
Because ponies are cute and because Fimfiction has a more usable layout than most other online fanfic/publishing sites.
I agree, though. Ragnar's sort of wasting his time writing anything that people aren't paying him for. If only he had a job where he could write things for money...
I just hope nother chapter will take less than 6 months
As always great job Ragnar keep doing it beacuse no one else can do it. I hope you'll have more free time to spare for writing (and other things)
7227308 Having such ability to create he should have more money and time. However once you decide some things in life it's hard to change them (like for example going to one school instead of another and so choosing a career)
7227184 Honestly a little while ago I caught myself wondering how much I would have to change with this story to turn it into original fiction. I ended up with a surprisingly long list. That's is because this story was built from the ground up with MLP in mind, with Celestia and Luna in mind, and of course, Equestria. This whole story hinges on the fact that the reader knows all about Equestria. It also depends on the reader knowing what role the princesses played there.
In fact you people know more about the show's Celestia, Luna and Equestria than you do about how I'm going to depict Earth. This is important because it's now easier to see things from a pony POV -- the known quantity here is ponies, not humans, even though the viewpoint character is herself human. And of course this adds an extra bit of intrigue into the question of who Mag is as a person and as a representative of humanity.
So basically this fic works specifically BECAUSE it's a fanfic. It's kind of like Dante's Inferno in that respect.
7227308 I have two problems with this. One, the reason ANS stands out in the eyes of some is largely because we bust our asses to make this thing good. Ever run into someone in a video game where you see what they can do and what kind of gear they have and you're just like, "Holy shit, what a freaking tryhard"? That's us. We are the tryhards. While the neurotypicals were out in the sunshine getting laid and getting paid, you and I sat around and farmed for loot so we could briefly touch the leaderboards every month.
Issue two, what world are you living in where people pay you to write????
7227385
You're right, clearly I imagined your rant about how we should nuke the american northwest because you hated transcribing their hippy dippy conversations
I was planning to say something like your response to Vidd, but I didnt know how to phrase it and knew you would. Same wavelength here.
7225897 Its only speculation if it's not true!
7227100
I did a little research and extradition is not cut and dried and is frequently unsuccessful, Also, if the crime is committed in one sovereign state (i.e. Val kidnapping Meg in the USA) the crime is generally prosecuted in that country (USA). A good example is the nanny in Italy tried 3 times for murder. She was convicted in the second trial and was serving her time in an Italian prison.
However, it would seem Val has broken Canadian law as well, so the extradition request. It is not unheard of for the country receiving the extradition request to attach conditions on the extraditing country. For example, many countries will not extradite a suspect to the USA unless the death penalty is taken off the table. I would suspect that the Canadian judge would be more amenable if Mag were asking for the conditions, as she is the victim (Luna would muddy the issue at this point).
A country is under no obligation to honor an extradition request, even under treaty and may invoke political concerns to ignore extradition. The Wiki article was fascinating.
So it seems Ragnar is on very firm ground here.
7228104 Fair enough, I defer to your research as opposed to my half-remembered junior high law class.
7228104 See, this is possibly the biggest problem with my taking so long to get back into writing. Research. I know I did the research, but I don't remember the details anymore, and I never even wrote down my sources. I knew I read up on the laws and decided for myself what the Castans could be indicted for in both countries, but, for example, did I look into the actual precedents? Embarrassing if not. Research is always crucial when you're writing fiction, and precedent is a major part of law. I remember the case of the Italian nanny at least, except I don't remember where from.
I'm sure I read the Wikipedia article, probably with a bit of embarrassment because Wikipedia isn't an accepted source in academic settings, but I don't remember what I took away from it except that I obviously decided the upcoming plotline would survive scrutiny. I do remember that extradition is often a political issue, resolved with negotiations and compromise rather than references to international law, so I'm comfortable there. I guess that's nice.
I don't remember what I was thinking with some things. My notes are mostly about characterization, past and future plot points, and research where I knew I'd be way, way, way out of my depth if I didn't keep meticulous track of everything; but I apparently forgot to type up the stuff about extradition, probably because I thought I'd remember it. Friggin', like, oops.
So what other research stuff have I forgotten? I really want the answer to be "nothing important," but I get the feeling I shouldn't get too comfortable.
This has to one the most charming and magical stories I've ever read on this website. Within two chapters I was enthralled. I love how you've characterized everyone and the original characters are spot on. I think that anyone looking how to write hurt/comfort stories should study the interactions between these characters and I have a hard time believing that you fused those themes perfectly with adventure and mystery. Please, keep up the good work, or let us know when you get published, so I can buy everything you write.
7229919 I feel like I recognize your name from somewhere, but I can't remember where and it's killing me. Is it something to do with MLP or Worm? Are you on Round Stable? Probably not Youtube. But that's basically a list of the only places I ever go when I'm on the internet, so I'm stumped.
Also, thanks. And the hurt/comfort thing never occurred to me; my plan was just to get some messed-up people stuck in an elevator together (a grand tradition of fiction).
7229919
99.99% of all hurt/comfort is garbage, so yeah, I agree, anyone hoping to write that needs all the guidance they can get.
7232164 If we wanted to do a some mental gymnastics and term clarifications, we could maybe argue that all fiction is hurt/comfort. Which doesn't actually disprove your point, but still.
Here is the essence of three act story structure.
Act 1: Get your hero stuck up a tree.
Act 2: Throw rocks at him.
Act 3: Get your hero down from the tree.
See? Act one hurt, two hurt, three comfort. Assuming you don't get the hero down by killing them off, anyway. So I guess we'd have to define tragedy as a form of comfort. Maybe it's comfort in a more meta sense -- the comfort there is audience catharsis.
7232316
I always conformed to this definition of hurt/comfort, which isn't really what you described.