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T H E C O N V E R S I O N B U R E A U :
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CROSS THE AMAZON
By Chatoyance
Chapter Seventeen: The Lively Little Rabbit
"Those humans. The ones that shot down the Mamá Gansa."
Calloway had just rounded the open door of the processing enclosure. Dropspindle was laying there, in the dirt, staring at him as he entered. She spoke immediately, before he could say anything himself. "Um... yeah."
"If they had waited, politely, greeted us nicely. If they had asked for our help, we would have given it. Right?"
Calloway knew to say yes, very clearly, and immediately. The look in the Equestrian's eyes... it wasn't right. They didn't look like the eyes of any pony he had ever seen. The gaze was hard, cold. Bitter. It was severe. It was eerily human, and it made of Dropspindle a candidate for the Uncanny Valley. "Absolutely."
"There were so many things that could have been done." Dropspindle stared right into Calloway, and it made him feel as if he was not in the presence of a harmless herbivore at all, but instead a crouching predator. "If they were too many for the Gansa to carry, we could have towed them in a cart or in cars behind us. But they already had cars, didn't they? And fuel, too. Maybe they thought flying was the only way... we could have worked together, removed bulkheads and chairs inside, reduced the weight tremendously. Dumped the entertainment system and the beds and all the bottles of booze in the galley. We could have carried all of them easily."
Calloway felt like running. But he stayed still, forcing himself to appear relaxed as best as he could. A pony could easily run down a man. Even an unathletic unicorn could. But she wouldn't have to. She could reach out with invisible arms to any distance. There was no place he could get to quickly enough to be beyond the power of her horn. "I think so. No, I'm certain we could."
Dropspindle turned her head and gazed at the machinery by the wall. Calloway briefly considered fleeing once more, but forced himself to stand still. If any part of her wanted to hurt him, running would be the surest way of engaging it. "Equestria is coming, Calloway. I don't mean in general, I mean it has sped up. Greatly. The Barrier is rushing at us, growing in size. I can see it clearly. It is so close now."
"I know. I found a ham radio in the house and got it to work. There's a broadcast from the SouthAfri..."
Her eyes locked onto his, silencing him instantly. "You aren't worth it. As creatures. You aren't worth any of this. Do you understand? Do you grasp what this means to me?"
"Uh... no?" Calloway felt certain, with every human, earthly instinct evolved within him, that this Equestrian, this pony, had become capable of killing him, and would - if he said or did the wrong thing. Dropspindle was no longer a friendly, harmless, furry little alien.
"I think that my princess, princess Celestia, is an idiot. I think she is a fool. I think that the same princess that created the ground and the trees and the animals and all of my kind... is stupid. That isn't right." For a moment the hard look in her eyes softened. For a moment.
Calloway's stomach churned. Dropspindle just kept staring at him. He didn't know whether it was better to remain standing by the door, or to sit down where he was. Sitting down might seem less threatening, or it might seem like he wasn't riveted upon her every word or taking her seriously. He decided to not move. At all. "Okay."
"I think she's an idiot because she is putting everything I love at risk to save... you." Those eyes, those magenta eyes. "Of course..." Dropspindle looked back at the machines by the wall, back in the direction of Equestria. Calloway reckoned that she was looking straight through those walls, with her magical vision. "Of course, I'm an idiot too. An idiot from a race of fools. But still better than you."
Calloway said nothing.
"Those men... all they had to do was ask. Just be nice. Even after they shot us down, they could have said they were sorry - maybe we could have repaired the ship, maybe we could have worked together... but, no, they made one of their own scream and cry, and then they tore open the hatch and came for us with guns and sticks. There was nothing good, nothing kind in them at all. You know what gets me the most about it?"
Calloway swallowed. His throat felt dry. "Ahh... what?"
"That they cared more about taking things and hurting us than they did about their own survival. They must have known the Barrier was coming, maybe not as fast as it is now, but eventually. They clearly wanted our ship. I'm an idiot, and Celestia is an idiot, but those men..." Dropspindle turned her head back to Calloway. "...Those men were too greedy, too cruel, too truly stupid to live."
"I'm not disagreeing." Calloway shuddered. Dropspindle's words were so quiet, so calculating, so passionless. Her manner reminded him of too many holomovie serial killers from particularly gruesome shows.
"And Celestia has committed the entirety of Equestria to saving you shit-for-brains fuckheads."
Despite his overwhelming feeling of dread, Dropspindle's newly increased vocabulary was more than he could take. He tried to hold in the chuckle, but that just turned it into a laugh. He fought, choking slightly, to keep the laugh from escaping, but that only caused it to magnify into a guffaw. Before he could slap his hands to his mouth he was roaring with laughter, tears in his eyes, all born of tension and terror both. A pony, a native Equestrian... 'shit-for-brains fuckheads'! Not pastry or chocolate or candy. Fuckheads!
Dropspindle began to laugh too. She started with a giggle that quickly rose to howls of merriment. Calloway slapped his knees, the tears dripping from his eyes, the laughter so deep that it made him choke and gasp on his own saliva. Dropspindle was cackling, her own eyes wet from the tears of hilarity!
Suddenly he was on his back, flat. His arms hurt from the sharp edges of Dropspindle's hooves pinning him down. His head rang and his neck ached from the sudden impact of being knocked down hard. Her breath was terrible, foul, sour with stomach acid and indigestion. But her eyes... her red eyes were portals to hell, spotlights of quiet, bottled rage so horrifying that Calloway felt a tiny warm trickle inside his trousers.
"I've been having thoughts."
Calloway whispered, shaking. "W-what kind... of thoughts?"
Dropspindle leaned her head closer. The smell of her sour stomach was awful. "I could make a tiny bubble of my hornfield, anywhere inside your body, and just expand it. Your heart, your brain, anywhere. Or just move it up and down and side to side. Just a single hoof to the side of your cranium would crush it like an egg. Or a tiny little stomp to your chest, right... there." One leg was removed from his left arm, and tapped over his heart.
He swallowed. "That would do it alright."
"I no longer know for certain that I cannot do such things anymore. Did you know that?"
"No. I didn't."
Dropspindle grinned, but it wasn't a happy grin. "At first, I didn't like you. Then, I sort of did, because you were trying. Trying to be nice. But now... now I think I hate you. Seriously. I've never felt that before. Not ever. And I really don't like it; it's a terrible feeling. It makes me feel awful, like I hurt all over, inside and out. And that - here's the funny part, it's really very funny - that pain, the pain of hating you, makes me hate you even more. I hate you because I hate you. Pretty funny, isn't it?" Her words were quiet. She could have been talking about which foods she enjoyed or disliked.
"I'm sorry"
The look on Dropspindle's face suddenly changed. It had been relaxed, now it was contorted in barely restrained rage. Her words were clipped, and hard. "DON'T you EVEN try that with me!" Her sharp hooves pressed more deeply into his agonized upper arms. It felt like knives cutting into his muscles.
Calloway was shaking. He couldn't stop shaking. The rest of his bladder just gave up and released entirely.
Dropspindle's nose wrinkled. She gave a slight sniff. Her face softened. "We... we have to get out of here."
Calloway just stared up into her magenta irises. They were so close, her head was so close to his, that her two eyes blended into one big eye for him. He couldn't say a word. There were no words to say.
"Equestria is coming. Fast. I need you to drive." She looked briefly up, in the direction of the Big Truck and the house. She looked back down at Calloway. "Do you think you can do that?"
Calloway nodded the affirmative.
"Okay, let's get going." She was off him, already heading toward the vehicle.
Calloway lay still, in shock, only for a moment. Then he shakily forced himself to a crawling position, and used the edge of the doorway to help himself gradually regain his feet. His pants were soaked and cooling in the light breeze. His arms hurt where Dropspindle's hooves had dug into them with her full weight. His head hurt, and he wanted to cry like a child. A tear ran down his cheek, then several. He mewled a little sob as he took a step forward.
He made his way unevenly to the Big Truck, blinking back tears. A hand on the doorhandle, he used the other to wipe his eyes and face. Calloway sniffed, and took several deep breaths. Just before he pulled himself up into the driver's seat, he remembered how short Dropspindle was. He walked around the front of the vehicle, one hand on it to steady himself. He was still shaking.
She came out of the house, carrying several canning jars of water and a small cloud of Nanobars and Meals in her hornfield. "From the pump. I noticed the jars when we first came in. Water."
She no longer seemed angry or dangerous. Her tone, her expression... was entirely different. Calloway stood where he was, uncertain, unsure.
"Don't worry - my field is over and through these. They should be... uh... sterile now. That's the word, right?"
Calloway nodded. He stared at the jars and packs of foodstuff. Finally he remembered why he was on this side of the truck. "Want me to lift you up?"
"Yes, please." Her voice was so utterly different now. It sounded as if nothing had happened at all. Somehow, that was even more disturbing than if she had still been angry, or at least grumbling.
Calloway cautiously approached.
"Don't worry, I'll keep the jars and my field far away from you. I know better than to burn humans." So pleasant. Just like when the journey had started. It was chilling.
"I'm gonna have to pick you up now."
"I know."
"Um. Okay." Calloway delicately, carefully, lifted the Equestrian. If her ribs still hurt her in any way, she did not react. He carefully set her on the seat, as best he could. It was clumsy work, because the level of the seat was roughly at his shoulder. She settled in and levitated the unlidded jars of water to the floorboards beside the packs of food.
"I'll try to keep the water from spilling, as best as I can. I know it's going to be bumpy."
Calloway nodded, then closed the door on her. For a brief moment the fantasy of running off into the desert passed through his mind. It ended the moment the flat emptiness registered. Besides, a mere truck door could not hope to stop a pony. One or two kicks and the metal would yield like foil. It would be a very short run.
He walked around the front of the truck, staring at his feet. The wind was picking up. He could feel it in his hair and on his arms. Calloway climbed up into the drivers seat and pulled the door shut. He buckled himself in and pressed the starter button. The truck whined for a bit then started up, once again blaring the short musical phrase.
"I'm very tired. We haven't slept, and we haven't eaten. I... I'm not sure... how well I'm going to do here." Calloway waited, but there was no response. "Maybe we should sleep first, maybe eat something..."
Dropspindle gave him a look as if he were a retarded child being difficult. "The Barrier is coming. They are coming too."
"They?" Calloway's sleep-deprived brain tried to make sense of the statement. "You mean... the men?"
"Yes."
"How... how do you... how can you..."
Dropspindle looked off to the West, with her eyes closed. "Remember the man whose clothing I made glow? Rainbow fire?"
"Y-yeah." Calloway did not feel like complimenting her again or laughing at the incident at all.
"I can still see that. Everything is dark and empty, except for Equestria, and that suit. My spell is still active. Equestria is so close, its energies are keeping my spell going. And they're coming. Those clothes are coming toward us right now. Right over there." Dropspindle pointed off into the desert with a hoof, her eyes still closed. She lowered her leg and opened her eyes. "Better get going, unless you want to experience human nature."
Calloway put his foot on the accelerator and eased the truck away from the plantation. "I'm a little impressed by their tenacity." The only road led North. There was no choice but to cut cross-country once again. "Then again, I'm suspecting we have their best truck and most of their fuel." He gave the big rig more juice. "It's going to be bumpy."
"I've got things under control."
Dropspindle was doing something with her horn, something magical to the jars of water. Calloway couldn't tell what it was, but his best guess was that she was covering them with little forcefields that she would have to maintain moment to moment. Like holding a hand over a jar to keep marbles from falling out.
Except they've already been lost, he thought to himself.
Calloway entered the desert, cutting through an area filled with rusting barrels. The house and the plantation were behind them now, along with beds, sleep, the rest of the food, and the antique radio. Very angry men were coming, and right behind them, Equestria.
Calloway snorted himself awake again. The monotonous expanse of brown had caused him to nod off for seconds at a time, many, many times in a row. It was approaching noon now, if the clock on the dashboard was accurate. It felt like noon. "Dropspindle?"
"Yes?"
"How about a Nanobar, or something. I'm really hurting here."
"Um..." She measured the sad little pile with her eyes. "Yeah. Okay. I should eat one too." The ground was becoming increasingly uneven. They had left the flats and were now onto rolling hills and the occasional dried out tree stump. "I have a problem, though. I am at the limit of my holding capacity. I can only make five fields at once. It's pretty pathetic, actually. Most unicorns can make six. I'm not sure I can... bend down and use my teeth and keep concentration at the same time. I'm really tired."
The jars remained still as if they were glued to the floorboards, and the water in them had not leaked a drop.
"Okay... ah... maybe I can reach down... this is pretty straight here, no stumps or rocks. I can do..." Calloway managed to duck down, one hand on the wheel, and snag two bars from the pile with his fingers. He was up and driving properly again almost immediately. "...this! One bar for me and one bar for... oh."
Calloway put one of the bars in his lap, and raised the other to his hand on the wheel. He tried tearing the wrapper open with his fingers, while steering with his palms, but the packaging wouldn't rip. Eventually he raised a leg and pressed it against the wheel while he quickly brought the bar to his face. His teeth served to tear the wrapper just enough for his fingers to do the rest. He held the bar out towards Dropspindle by the half removed wrapper.
"Thank you." Dropspindle took a bite and grimaced, but chewed. Calloway brought his hand back and bit off a chunk for himself, then held the bar back toward the unicorn. Calloway liked Nanobars, he hadn't had one since he had been a small child. His grandfather used to bring them, back when he was alive. Calloway had always thought of them as old people's candy. The taste held memories for him. They didn't make them anymore, so finding some was a bit of a treat. Clearly it was not a treat to Dropspindle, but she dutifully chewed and swallowed her bites.
By the second shared bar, Calloway was feeling a little perkier. The sugar helped, the stimulation of the flavor helped, and probably the bar had some stimulant factor as well for all he knew. They put all kinds of crap in candy. The little mini-naps while crossing the last of the flats had not been unhelpful either. Such micro-sleeps wouldn't be a good idea now, however. The ground was very rough, and the stumps and piles of debris were getting increasingly more numerous.
"Water?" The candy had made his thirst much worse.
"Can you do that... hand trick... again? On the jar nearest. Tell me when, and I'll release my hold."
The notion was a little daunting - he did not want to get a thaumatic burn. "Yeah, sure. Count of three. Three, two, one, NOW!" Calloway once again leaned and ducked beneath the level of the dashboard. He grabbed the jar of water and lifted it up. A little sloshed over his hand and splattered on the dash, but at least he hadn't spilled the entire thing - or crashed the truck.
"Thanks." He paused for a moment, holding the dirty jar. The water looked a bit murky. But then again, Dropspindle had said she had run her field through it. All over it too. Nothing biological could survive thaumatic radiation. That water, that jar, would be more sterile than the finest operating theater. It must be absolutely devoid of even a single living bacterium - especially considering how long she had been holding it in place. It was utterly radiation sterilized, murky or not.
He swallowed a mouthful. It was warm, because the day was hot, but it didn't taste too bad. A little metallic, from the pipes and the well, but it was wet and he was thirsty. He took another sip. Then he held out the jar for Dropspindle.
With one eye on driving, and the other on not spilling the jar, Calloway waited until the mare had downed a few sips herself. She too was being careful not to drink too much. Like the limited food, it had to last.
"Should I put it down now?"
"Yes. As soon as your hand is out of the way, I will take it. Go ahead, I'm watching."
Calloway waited until the ground ahead was open and clear, then did another duck down. He set the jar and pulled his hand quickly free. Once both of his hands were on the wheel, he checked for any signs of mage plague. No dark spots. Good.
"Calloway!" Dropspindle seemed agitated.
"Yeah?"
"They... they're here. I feel my spell. Right behind us." Dropspindle had not turned her head. She kept staring at the jars on the floorboards, projecting a faint glow around each of them.
Calloway checked his rearview mirror. At first, there was nothing. Then he caught a gleam from metal. Then another. They were back there. They were closing. Or were. Dropspindle had mentioned they went faster on the flats, but that the rough terrain was a problem for them. Likely because most didn't have big knobby jacked-up tires. The one car that had... the limo... wouldn't be participating in this race. Or any others. The thought made Kotani chuckle.
"What?"
"Um... nothing. You're right, though."
"About what?"
"We do have company. They're still pretty far behind us, but they seem very motivated." Calloway glanced once more; the gleams did seem a tiny bit nearer.
Dropspindle clenched her teeth for a moment. "Doesn't matter."
"Huh?" Calloway wasn't sure what she meant.
The unicorn's red eyes narrowed during his quick glance at her. She wasn't the same pony anymore.
"Because Celestia is a fucking idiot, but I think... I think I no longer am." The strange, grim half-laugh from Dropspindle following her pronouncement chilled Calloway to the bone.
Um, Dropspindle?
Dropspindle?
Dropspindle?
"WHAT?!"
...
...
You're cute when you're angry.
"ARRGH!" *crush* *stomp* *sound of magical rending of human flesh*
...Worth it.
Hoo boy. Droppers is ready to cause some mayhem. Poor girl's gonna need some serious therapy when she gets home. Heck, if she ever gets to sleep, Luna might be able to hear her nightmares through the barrier from here.
Is broken!Droppers giving anyone else the heebie-jeebies, or is it just me? Seriously, ponies just shouldn't be like that.
Droppers is still in there. But someone or somepony needs to let her come out, before she gets lost forever.
Well... Dropspindle is broken, and so is their friendship. I think. I hope not...
A fair warning to all of you I know most of you are not gonna like what I am about to say, but I wish to say it anyway. I've been wanting to say this for a while, but I held off on saying it in hopes this would go away, but now I feel I need to say it. I apologize in advance.
I'm gonna cut to the chase I feel that the last few chapters have been a huge mistake on Chatty's part and if I were her I would scrap them and start from scratch. These past few chapters feel completely out of canon and frankly I feel the whole Dropspindle going crazy like this to be a mistake and I would suggest retconning it. I'm sorry Chatty, but this really does feel out of place in your own canon and I really think the story would be better if you got rid of these chapters up to just before the Mama Ganza was shot down.
I know you like to present the earth in a dark light we have discussed this before, and I have come to accept the fact that you have a dark view on the world. Although I do disagree with it and feel said view is incorrect. In this case however I feel as though you have taken things too far and that you really need to reign it in a bit.
I'm sorry for saying this Chatty, but I feel like I need to be candid with you with the fact that I feel that the direction you have taken the story feels wrong and that there were better directions you could have been taken it.
Well, this is seventeen kinds of not good.
6239931
I'm definitely with you on the heebie-jeebie factor. Kotani is now driving with an insane creature both capable of killing him in any number of horrifying ways and, as of now, willing to do so. It's no wonder we're creeped out. And odds are it's only going to get worse from here.
6240053
On the contrary, I think it's perfectly sensible in-canon. Band of armed humans know the Barrier is coming. Band of armed & probably slightly mental humans sees an airship. Dumbass in band of humans panic-shoots the airship so they can't use it. Someone steals one of the trucks they needed to use as Plan B. Humans chase after truck, only to be attacked by magic/demons/witchcraft/whatever, killing several. Humans lose all sense of proportion and decide that they're damned well killing whoever did this to them.
That, right there, is perfectly believable. We've seen more nonsensical variations on the same basic idea in the various Mad Max films, to name but one example.
As for the other half of your objection, Droppers has been under terrible stress since Chapter One. Her protective/helper instincts and her self-preservation instincts are fighting each other. Humans are weird and scary, and the collapsing Earth is a Death World, where the very laws of physics are constantly trying to kill everyone. She's so far out of the environment ponies are designed for it isn't funny. Now add in the fact that she's had to violate her moral code just to survive, and it's no wonder she's gone around the bend. Humans who were purportedly trained to deal with worse have cracked under much less pressure. I just hope ponies are more resilient than humans as well.
Oh no... This is going to get real ugly...
6240053 I think you might be missing the point of the story. This one is not about the setting; it's about the characters. There's a reason there was never any dialogue with the Bad Men. They were just a plot device to get a key point: Dropspindle kills. The story is about how that plays on her psyche, and how Calloway also changes over the course of events.
Oh Goddess. Is Dropspindle becoming a Black Unicorn?
6240053
It is true that this story is different. I am exploring the extremes and limits of what it means to be a pony faced with the realities of humanity under extreme conditions. But that is alright for me to do. I've done it before, though not as powerfully.
We know that real men really do act the way the miners did. Quite often, sadly. We know that during violent conflict, people do what they have to to survive, just like Calloway. We know that in real life, a fragile person confronted with something terrible can have a psychotic break. These things are not in dispute, because they are real and valid.
There are certainly enough true, and fictional, stories in the world about people being driven to emotional and physical extremes by circumstances where they are forced to make decisions contrary to their own ethics and morality and worldview. Literature, television, movies - and history - are filled with such tales, no different than what you have just been reading. I am not prohibited from exploring such matters. I am a writer after all, and doing such is proper and reasonable for me.
So, knowing that such events really happen, and that such reactions are real, and that I have the freedom to explore them, to what are you actually objecting?
The only thing left that I can think of is that you are upset that an Equestrian, that a pony, would be psychologically and emotionally damaged by the realization that she had caused - directly or indirectly - the deaths of other intelligent beings whilst in the middle of a terrifying and nightmarish situation. I can understand that. It is disturbing. This is an adventure story, it is expected that dangerous and traumatic events should occur, and since I try to write well, it should be expected of me that there would be real and honest consequences to those events.
Remember - I do not write superhero stories about perfect beings. I write about real, believable characters who cannot just walk away from terrible things completely unaffected. When bad, traumatic things happen, people get hurt, even broken. Even pony people.
To that last possible problem - ponies - I would offer that native ponies, as I have so often pointed out, are the same as Newfoals, and Newfoals are perfectly human except for vastly increased empathy, a greater Dunbar's Number, and the removal of the human capacity for atrocity. That means that, possessing human-like minds, they can be hurt or damaged by emotional suffering just as humans can be hurt or damaged by emotional suffering. This is only reasonable. Equestrians have amazing powers, yes, but they are not superheroes. They are just people. Pony people. And they are not perfect or flawless or unbreakable... just built to be nicer and kinder than humans.
We have heard Dropspindle rave and carry on. We have heard her lose her composure and doubt and badmouth everything she believes in. We have seen her filled with upset and have heard her insinuate terrifying threats left and right. But, I ask you, what has she actually done?
Please remember that the characters in my stories can only know what they believe and feel and see and hear, from their limited viewpoint. They do not know what I, as the author know. They cannot understand anything beyond what they perceive, regardless of what the reader, or the author may know or see.
And my characters will always act and feel according to their beliefs and viewpoint, relative to what they can see. What they believe and say may not be the truth, because they may not know the truth. They may possess wild or insane beliefs or ideas because they are limited by being stuck within their circumstance. They do not have omniscient knowledge of themselves, or the world.
Likewise, being realistic, they are not immune to tragedy or self doubt. My ponies are not programmed to adore Celestia, or automatically think friendship is the answer to everything. They are not controlled by perpetual happy thoughts. They are not zombies, as my detractors would have it. My Equestrians are real beings in my writing of them, and they have faults and flaws and weaknesses. Being nicer and kinder does not mean being invulnerable.
Knowing all of this, with a little thought, and a little trust in me as a writer, you should find that things make a great deal more sense to you now.
And if they do not, if this does not answer you sufficiently, then all I can say is let the story take its course and finish, and then consider things once more.
Because, I assure you, this is entirely canon to my Bureau universe to every last detail. It may be upsetting, which is fine. But it is supposed to be unfolding exactly as it is.
6240179
You are exactly correct Zontargs, and have said everything vastly better than I did in my response to Nine Tails. Great job! Perfect response!
¡Nothing like a psychotic unicorn!
6240254 6240179 6240220
You know what just forget I said anything. I think I'm gonna refrain from posting comments as much as I have been since I keep making a fool of myself and come off as if I'm an idiot. In any case I really need to start thinking these comments through a bit more before I make them. So its for the best that I cut down on the number I've been making. Just so you know Chatty this doesn't have anything to do with what you and the others said. This is something I've been thinking about for a while. I just feel I'm making comments I shouldn't be making and that I need to put more thought into them.
This here is a prime example of that. I went off on impulse and said something I shouldn't have said in retrospect. Especially since ounce I actually stopped and thought about it I see how dumb it was for me to say this. I'm honestly not even sure why I thought this since I'm no stranger to to any of this.
Anyway upon further thought I've realized that Dropspindle's behavior unnerved me more then I thought. You are right about one thing Chatty it is because of that I guess I put these ponies on pedestal without even realizing I had done so.
6242553
Nine Tails - your questions and concerns are fine. I want you to hear that. You felt something, and you posted about it, you did so politely and well, and that is just right.
You did not in any way come across as foolish. But, you did gain responses - and you should know something: those responses? The one by Zontargs and my own lesser and wordier effort? Those made me think about my own story. I found your concerns - and the process of addressing them - useful to me. You forced me to analyze my own work. You helped me clarify, within myself, what I am doing and why and how. And by inspiring Zontargs to reply, you caused him to be helpful to me too - his response put everything in focus for me.
You see - when I write, I get all caught up in my own story. I live it, I see it in my mind, and I feel it in my heart. I can get overwhelmed... to the point I cannot succinctly describe what is going on even to myself.
But Zontargs could. And I learned from how he responded to you. And that wouldn't have happened if you had not stated your feelings and thoughts.
I hope you will continue to do so, to say what you think. Because it helps. Because it is useful.
No kind statement based on real and honest thoughts and feelings is ever foolish or wrong. Correct or incorrect, observations and opinions, and criticism too, are all useful and inspire dialogue. You did fine. You did swell.
Looks like Dropspindle was the first to get converted after all.
6243145
Thanks Chatty I'm glad my comment was helpful. If its not already obvious I have a bad habit of being harder on myself then I should be. Sadly I've always suffered from self esteem issues.
Its interesting that you get caught up in your own stories since that happens to me as well although for me its usually my avatar getting caught up in someone else's story. This is actually happening right now with your story after I finish a chapter I will then play out in my mind what I think will happen next although in my version my avatars along for the ride. In my version Dropspindle is actually tied up right now and has a burlap sack over her head.
The possibility of actually mentally ill equestrians does raise interesting questions for conversions.
Dropspindle is very angry, and a little unbalanced from a human perspective. Her actions would not cause a custodial sentence or even a very in-depth mental exam if she did not choose to have one.
From an equestrian one, she is dangerously insane.
It also raises the question of how much of a unicorns power is determined by social mores and morals.
Skin, muscles and brains are, for example, all made of fibres of one sort or another.
6244722
Probably a wise precaution... though, since unicorns can feel with their hornfields, without a binding ring, Dropspindle could just send out little patches of telekinetic force to 'pat down' everything and everyone. Interesting thought, and one I have not considered before: you can't blind a unicorn. Cover their eyes, and they can just touch all around them, feeling with their hornfields - and because hornfields can interpenetrate objects, they can feel inside objects as well as outside them.
Then, I suppose, is the couplement vision issue, too! Unicorns can uniquely 'see' magic. So, in theory, Dropspindle could see through the bag using the reflected glory of Equestria radiating through the material world.
Unicorns may be weak, physically, and most may not know many spells, and some may not have very many telekinetic 'hands' at their disposal... but it would be hard to keep one from being aware of its surroundings. Huh. That's... interesting. There's story possibilities in that.
Again, you make me think things through that I wouldn't have considered before. Cool.
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Well I can't say I'm too surprised that sticking a burlap sack on her head wouldn't work. Still when I put my character in that place that was the best solution he could come up with. He essential put it over her head and hoped for the best. Being the largely sight retaliate primate that he is he decided that maybe if she can't see us she can't use her magic on us. Unfortunately now I see the only outcome of this action is that she'll get loose in about 10-30 minutes and then they'll have an madder psychologically unstable unicorn to deal with.
Now I wonder what it would actually take to blind a unicorn's magical abilities from the outside world if you don't have a binding ring. Hmm I wonder if sticking Dropspindle into a lead lined box would do it.
I am surprised that she would be able to see them with her magic sight though. I was under the impression that aside from the barrier everything in the human world is effectively invisible to that sight and would not help her in escaping.
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It's kind of dark, colorless, and transparent like shapes made out of smoky glass. The only 'lighting' comes from sources of magic, without which our universe would appear pitch black. With Equestria bearing down on them, there is a lot of 'light', so I would think the transluscent shapes of nearby objects would be more visible than usual.
In the Tales Of Los Pegasus story 'The City In Silver', human Jorge Jeitson is given a brief glimpse of what unicorns can see thanks to a very brief and somewhat risky telepathic link. He seems to be able to see objects fairly well, but they are devoid of hue. Equestrian life, however, blazes brightly, because of the thaumatic energies.
I suspect a blindfolded unicorn could navigate pretty well, so long as there was a bright enough source of magic. If there was no source, or if it was early in the Bureau days... say years zero through three and the unicorn was far, far away from Equestria... then they might be nearly sightless. I can imagine a blindfolded unicorn trying to see by the 'light' of their own body, picking out things very close to them - like navigating a vast underground cavern by the light of a single, tiny LED. They might feel about them with their hornfields, tapping about as if they had multiple canes.
There really is a story there. Damn. I'm going to have to mull that over.
6245761 One thing I've thought of is that for a unicorn, the physical characteristics of an object she's interacting with aren't as important as the conceptual ones. If Dropspindle was to pick up a bunch of cloth in her hornfield, it would be easy for her because that's all it is, just cloth. Once she had it sewn into an outfit, it would be more difficult to sense...although still easier for her because she was part of its history. If she were to pass it to, say, Rarity, it would be harder for her to pick up and feel the nature of, but still somewhat easy because she works with fabric and clothing herself. A unicorn like Lyra would find that piece of clothing to be bulky and unwieldy, just as Dropspindle would with a musical instrument that had been played so often. But physically they could carry them around like normal objects.
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I haven't quite started the story yet, but from this here, the description makes me think of the Plane of Shadow from Dungeons and Dragons, if at least the Neverwinter Nights: Shadows of Undrentide depiction in-game as you went through the flying city.
... I only just now thought to look up the Portuguese translation of the airship's name. CLEVER.
I have to agree with Dropspindle's assessment of the whole thing. Humanity, Celestia's mistake... Pretty spot on.
I'm reminded of the short story The Truth however. Celestia is aware she really should have steered well clear of us, but she didn't and made a promise she can't back out of due to her own integrity. It really makes everything even sadder, if that is possible.
And yet knowing all that I'd still much rather be part of the Celestia-saves-you universe than any other one. But hey, I'm only human.
On a lighter note I think this is your best book yet, Chatoyance. I mean it's not over yet, but damn that's good stuff.
When confronted with an uncomfortable truth, in embracing it we might end up believing an even greater lie than before. And so much worse of a lie, because it bears the alluring taste of truth to it.
I keep giving those humans the benefit of the doubt. Now I suspect they're just going east just as hard as Calloway. It would explain why they tore apart the guy who shot down the blimp, asides from Droppy's assumption that they're just clear dagnasty evil doing evil for evil's sake. And I'm wondering if they would have just taken their truck back, thrown those two in the back, and continued driving off. Or at worst left the two stranded on the road to get Equestria'd.
I mean, this is all under Calloway's assumption that they're only chasing them for the thrill of the hunt, and the desire to be dominant. Yet their pursuers literally haven't even fired on those two even once, despite them having stolen their fuel truck (oh wait that might be part of it) and having murdered two carfuls of their pursuers (albeit one on accident). The biggest evidence Calloway has that those guys are out to murder them, is the fact that they don't have time to shave, were trying to nonviolently gain control of a moving vehicle, and were smiling. I think he's been watching too many old Mad Max movies.
After a looong time, I've finally picked back up on this story to cheer me up after an awful mood. Just been busy with real life stuff again, spending time with dear friends...and personal issues with this site that still manage to bother me after all this time. I've still been meaning to finish this one up at least before I move on to other things. Anyways...
...poor Dropspindle! She must have that very feeling of as if nothing good exists anymore. As twisted as it is, it helps to make me step back a bit, and look at myself for a moment. Dropspindle really needs a good breather, as could I. I know it's something personal, maybe not deeply philosophical like the other comments, but that's just my words on this particular chapter.
Dropspindle's little engine that could has gone chugging around the bend.
I hope she doesn't stay off the rails.