Violet Lace

by DemonAngel13

Sleeping in Silence

She was in a river. Giant ferns and tree branches would pass through the sky and block out the bright sun for only moments at a time. Bright green light would filter through the leaves. Vines, both thick and thin, would be strung above her; almost cocooning her with an intricate weave. On occasion, a butterfly or a brightly colored bird would fly across her vision. She felt her mane, along with strands of water grass and fresh water plants, gently brush against her back. Her tail pulled after her, feeling heavy and dense. The water was cool. It tickled and licked at the edges of her ears. She moved her hooves and pushed around the water at her sides, reveling in the cold and refreshing sensation of it soaking through her fur to reach her skin. Her body relaxed and her legs let the water pull her downstream.

Her ears flicked. There was a rustling in the ferns a little farther down the river. She rolled her eyes upward, silently wincing at the small headache that formed from the strain and the bright sunlight ahead. She saw a mare, with pretty pearl beads in her braids, and a shy smile.

"Chuuta!" She called. "Matcha lu kuata."

She furrowed her brow and lowered her ears. This was a mistake. As soon as the subconscious reaction began, her ears were fully submerged. The shocking feeling left her gasping and struggling to stay afloat.

The bright blue mare laughed. "Daka lu maka chu?" She said. Did I startle you?

Chuuta shook the water from her mane, playfully spraying her friend. "Daka?!" She said in mock offense. "Daka lu? Muaba le chuaka?" Scare me? Do you know who you're talking to?

Her friend, Muabe, rolled her eyes. "Whatever" She said with a snort. "Just get up, the Chief wants to see you."

She shook her mane again. The feeling of her own beads hitting the sides of her legs hurt, but the familiar sensation snapped her back to reality. "Already? I only just left this morning..."

"Um, hello!" Muabe pointed her bright blue hoof at the sun, which Chuuta suddenly realized was up high in the sky. "The goddess dragged her sun hours ago! If you don't drag your tail along the ground now, the chief will punish you again."

Chuuta flinched at the memory. The village foals were cute, but gathering berries, grinding them to a pulp, and feed it to them was not. The howling and screeching sounds the foals made still gave her nightmares about the monkeys that lived on the outskirts of the village. It seemed like forever since she had gotten a full night's sleep.

She quickly sprinted up the trail to the village. In all fairness, she had to admit that it was fun running this quickly through the jungle she called her home. The trees and plants around her turned into blurs of green and black. Spots of pink and blue would become streaks as she passed the flowers and butterflies that found their homes in the bushes on the side of the path.

Visitors would meet with the Chief every few moons. They would trade goods. Strange bowls and pots specifically meant for holding flowers, bright red and orange fruits, and giant piles of a long, sun colored grass that could feed the village for many nights would be traded for stones and herbs. Chuuta had once thought the visitors were foolish, trading such treasures for such common things found around the small clearing where the village was placed. It wasn't until her mother described the strange world they had lived in, did she understand how rare the village's items truly were to the ponies that were on the outside.

The placed where the foreigners lived was supposedly very different from the village and all those surrounding it. Chuuta didn't know, for she had never experienced it herself. She wasn't old enough. She only had seven bands around her ankle, while those who were free to travel to the foreign land had to at least have more than ten. Those who would come back, and there were very few, would tell stories of huge huts made out of rock, and large banners and buildings made out of thickly woven fabric. Flags would be everywhere, depicting their chiefs with bright colors and symbols. Large places, filled with food and ponies, would be in the center of the large villages where the foreigners made their home. They would tell of so much food! Mountains of it! The smell and taste of it would fill the streets and leave a cloud of aromas hanging in the air after nightfall.

Though Chuuta had always been interested in the stories that were told, she had never particularly wanted to leave her little village. Those visitors had always seemed imposing, and slightly rude. The villagers who would travel to the foreign land would come back harsher, more intense, and slightly mocking. This had always left a bad taste in her mouth. One of her once good friends, a stallion by the name of Lootik, had traveled to the stone village, and had come back without his sacred beads! His mother and father were shocked, but he simply waved a hoof and said that they weren't needed there. The words he used were meant to be reassuring, as though implying that he still had them. But Chuuta has seen him that night, after having a ceremony celebrating his return, he had thrown away his new beads that his mother had given to him as a gift. She had watched with shock and horror as the beads floated down the river like tiny white stars.

Chuuta burst though the curtain of vines that protected the camp from from the harsh rays of the sun. The villagers looked up, some from surprise, others from habit. This wasn't the first time she was called in a hurry. Whether it was from not doing her chores, a spontaneous request to join the gatherers in a round of berry harvesting, or some other reason depended on fate. But no matter what, it had to happen, and it had to happen often.

As she walked closer to the chief's hut, a large dome adorned with so many pearls and pieces of colorful river stones that it almost seemed blinding, she noticed the faces of the villagers were rather odd. Some were smiling, as though excited and ecstatic. Others were creased with worry, some anger, and a few with what Chuuta recognized as jealousy. There were even the strange ones that offered a look that almost seemed encouraging.

A pit of nervousness grew in her stomach. This wasn't normal. She waited, cowardly and small in the shadow of the doorway of the large shimmering hut. The light of the afternoon sun reflected across the ground that surrounded it. All except for one place; the door. The opening was covered by the darkest of all materials, the black branches of the grim oak tree. A dangerous, frightening thing that whipped you if you got to close to the nuts that grew on its branches. The nuts that grew though, were one of the greatest medicines that the village had ever had the ability to find. The chief herself was the first one to gather them. She waited until the tree was asleep, in the dead of winter, and stole the nuts during the darkest time on a moonless night.

Now strands of the branches were before Chuuta, and she gazed at the intricate swirling weave of black and more black.

"You may enter!" The chief's voice called from the inside. Chuuta shook her head and let herself inside. She was engulfed in shadow, the only source of light being the tiny fire kept in the center of the room. The chief always kept it lit, no matter what the occasion or time of day.

"Ah.. Chuuta, great to see you." The chief said coldly. "Hope we didn't waste any of your time..." The chief was an imposing mare, with a white coat and a bright green mane and tail. She had always reminded Chuuta of the few moments of winter, when snow would fall onto the green grass in the clearing. It would only last for a few minutes at the longest, for the village was too warm for the snow to survive. Engulfing the chief's hooves and legs were dozens of black bands. Her mane and tail were completely swallowed by beads and rare stones from the river, showing her wisdom and her years. Most startling of all, were her bright blue eyes that rivaled the sky's color.

"I'm terribly sorry, Chief." Chuuta said, bowing down. "I ran as fast as I could."

The chief merely responded with a grunt. She then bowed down, looking at Chuuta with cold eyes. "You have been called here for a very special occasion."

Chuuta watched with confusion as the chief stepped away. This was more than strange, for the chief was meant to stand in the center with the fire's glow surrounding her like a halo. Now, instead, the chief shrunk back into the shadows, nearly disappearing. Her face then shifted from one of confusion to one of awe and shock. A blue pony, large and imposing, stepped out of the shadows and into the center of the circular room.

The sister goddess. The one that controlled the moon, instead of the sun. Shown through her marking, a moon with the black night behind it, made it so. Though they denied such titles, the villagers knew they were simply being modest. They claimed to be rulers of some sort, like the chief. But when compared to them, the chief might as well have been a foal with a sickness. The villagers themselves almost laughed all those years ago when they first stumbled across their meager little civilization. Chuuta's grandmother claimed it to have been one of the most glorious days of her existence, seeing such powerful beings being so humble and kind. It was obvious that they were descendants of deities, for no other ponies could have the ability to control the harsh blades of light that pierced through the jungle's tree's.

"Hello." The goddess said. Her voice was loud, and echoed slightly against the clay walls of the hut. "We understand that you go by the name 'Chuuta', do you not?" Chuuta nodded, taken by the goddess's voice. Though loud, to be in the presence of such a power was extraordinary.

The goddess continued. "We also have been informed that you have found your mark a fortnight after our previous visit?" Chuuta nodded again. It happened so long ago, she had almost forgotten about the day when she had found her mark. She glanced at it, remembering the day being one of happiness and excitement. Her mark was that of a single ring surrounded by symbols, colored the stain of a magenta berry ink that her village was famous for. She had only recognized one of the numerous markings that surrounded the mark itself, it being a common symbol of her people's alphabet, but after a brief moment she found a vague understanding of the other symbols as well. In the center of the ring, was a small, plain crescent moon. Her mark was for understanding, for translating and connecting.

"Decoding." The goddess suddenly said. Chuuta felt a small flash of confusion, for she had never heard the word before. She assumed it was merely a word of approval, and beamed.

"Though we understand that your mark can take different paths," The goddess said. "We must ask you for a request." Chuuta felt her jaw drop and hit the cold dirt floor. The goddess was asking for a request from her? She watched as the the deity pulled a large object out of her bag. A book. She had seen the returning villagers carrying them around, though most of them were never this big. A few trading ponies had offered them to the village, so a rare few were scattered throughout.

"For you see, your cutie mark- your marking- can aid us in a very special way." The goddess set the book on the ground beside Chuuta's hooves. It was beautifully decorated with moonstones and black velvet. Using the magic that the goddesses, and apparently a special type of ponies possessed, she turned the pages. Chuuta watched as the pages fluttered and flew, until the magic prevented them from moving at all. On the page before her stood a drawing. A drawing of herself, in magenta berry ink.

"We are embarrassed to say such a thing to a young pony such as yourself," The goddess said. "But we must request that you join us on our trip back to the stone village, a village- if you are to accept our request- that will be known as your home from then on."

...

Violet felt the pain of her head find its way though the fog of a dreamless sleep. It pounded and pulsed against her skull. The pain was only paralleled by the soreness of her joints and the sickly sweet taste of what appeared to be slightly rotten licorice that found its way into the back of her throat. It clung there, no matter how much saliva she had managed to create. When she tried to brush away a few damp strands of her mane from her forehead, she couldn't move her hoof any farther than a few inches off the mattress she was laying on.

Suddenly, she heard a sound. Though is sounded like a simple turning of a doorknob, it echoed and rang in her ears like thunder right outside her window. She was startled, and the sudden movement caused her to realize that she was still wearing her ball gown. She felt the fabric stick to her back and groaned.

"Oh! Did you hear that, dear?" A sweet voice asked. "Maybe she's waking up!"

"Crystal, you've suggested that every five minutes for the past hour." Another voice said. A deeper voice. A voice of a stallion. "Just give her time. It appears she's put herself under quite a lot of strain."

"But how?" Mrs. Sugar asked in a harsh whisper. "All she did was walk around! Not only that, but a majority of her day was spent at the spa, and trying on dresses! It's not like she participated in the running of the leaves! Something must have happened to her, something serious! I bet she got mugged! Or some mean colts made her do chores for them! Oh! I know, some pegasi-"

"The doctor said it was mostly from mental strain." Mr. Parch said, trying to console his wife.

"'Mental strain'! Ha! Violet is one of the smartest fillies I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Mental strain seems like a near impossibility." Mrs. Sugar's whispers were becoming silent shouts.

"Right before the doctor headed to the ball, he said that it appeared as though it was built up over several days..." Mr. Parch explained. "Though it may seem impossible for a filly of Violet's abilities to be at her limit within a few hours, he claimed that it was perfectly possible for a filly of her size to be at her limit over a long period of time. We just need to let her rest. Everything will be fine. He said she'll wake up by morning. Then you can attend to her all you want."

Violet heard the door close. She recognized the strong scent of vanilla, and the cool fabric of Cloudy's bedspread. She was in Cloudy's room, and apparently had been for the past hour or so. With a foggy brain, she remembered how... interesting the past few hours were. How foolish and downright stupid she was, sneaking into Ruby's closet! She could've gotten caught. She could've gotten hurt! And even worse, she dragged her best friend into the whole mess, all because of her own connection to a simple scarf.

For a few brief moments, she felt a small amount of justification for her actions. With the thought of her shawl being referred to as a 'simple scarf', her brain went through a rather painful debate. One side reminded her of the meaning behind the shawl, the fact that so much thought and love was poured into it. The fact it came from the closest thing to a family that she had ever known. And the fact that her best friend was the first one to compliment her while she was wearing it. These arguments made her feel slightly less foolish, if even a little daring and just simply rebelious.

Of course, this didn't last long. The other side of her brain, the more logical side, told her repeatedly how stupid she was tonight. Doing something so totally outrageous and reckless was beyond and completely out of character for her. What part of her brain would have complied to such a suggestion? When she was a small filly, she knew that if she got caught nothing would happen. If a maid were to suddenly burst into Hoity Toity's office saying that a strange filly burst through the vents, she would be fired on the spot for making him look bad. If she was caught by Hoity Toity himself, he would never say anything out of fear of making himself look bad. And if anything other than that were to happen, she could simple lean her parents towards saying that she was just a foal at the time, and didn't know any better.

Of course she never got caught then, but now, it was just down right idiotic to do anything similar to what she had down just a few hours previously. And now, she laid on a bed, feeling as though she was going to throw up what little amount of food she had eaten that day. She was in pain, full of guilt and shame, and she knew she looked the sight as well, which only made the situation even more horrible. And on top of everything, Cloudy wasn't with her, telling her everything was going to be okay.

A new train of thought fled down a different set of tracks. Cloudy. Violet groaned again, coming to the sudden realization that Cloudy was more than likely going to be furious with her. Why wouldn't she? She had dragged her into a perilous, moronic, and possibly illegal situation without even considering her feelings. And to top it all off, she was currently laying sick in her bed, while Cloudy herself was probably laying on the couch in the living room.

This is just perfect! She thought bitterly to herself. You couldn't even have a friend for a year! You're so pathetic and heartless- not to mention stupid! She lifted her head to bang it against the pillow in anger, only to have a burst of pain sprout at the base of her skull. She settled for a furious bout of teeth grinding.

"Violet...?" She heard a meek voice call from her side. She realized with a start that Mr. Parch must have left the door open. "Oh Violet, please be alright..."

Violet was shocked by Cloudy's words. They sounded so sincere, so gentle and kind, that it almost seemed impossible to comprehend. Why wasn't she mad? Why wouldn't she scream, or snarl, or growl? Why was she speaking with such a soft voice, as though she actually cared about Violet's aching head? All of these questions raced through her head, making her headache worse. She groaned again.

She heard Cloudy's voice crack. "Violet... I'm so so sorry." There was the sound of fabric rustling, and she felt Cloudy's front hooves press against the side of the bed. "If it wasn't for me... you would have never..." Her voice trailed off, ending with a small sob. Violet lay there, unable to move or comfort her friend, to say that it was her fault, and that in no possible way was it of Cloudy's doing. She felt the weight leave her side, and heard the sound of the door closing; this time, with an audible click telling that the door was actually closed. But after that, instead of the unbearable silence that Violet was expecting, she heard more rustling. Cloudy was making herself a bed out of the spare pillows around her room. She was planning on spending the night on the floor, right next to Violet for what Violet had hoped was the entire night.

Tears burned to corners of her eyes. Even after everything that the two had done, or, for better words, what Violet had dragged them into, they were still friends. A feeling of immense relief flooded through her. Tragically though, after that, nothing was keeping her awake. The relief relaxed her muscles, and caused her to fall back into a black void of sleep.