• Published 7th Oct 2015
  • 4,952 Views, 544 Comments

Refined Starlight in a Broken Vessel - the-pieman



A complete overhaul/rewrite of my very well-recieved sleeper-hit story, [u]Starlight in a Broken Vessel[/u]. Enjoy Anthony's new and improved adventures of badassery and absolute dickery!

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Chapter 44

Our meals are ‘finished’ rather quickly. Mine was mostly packed into a giant doggie bag for the rest of the week. Myrna just sort of gulped hers down.

Still sitting at the table, having paid already and just hanging around before leaving, I’m a bit at a loss for what to do. “So... read any books lately?” Eh, it’s something I guess.

Myrna gives a huge yawn, showing off her razor-blade-sharp, needle-like teeth, disturbing me greatly. I just try to recompose myself and repeat my question. Jeez her mouth is terrifying. “Ah... A few, namely one on Gryphon politics in the last couple centuries. City-state politics are always interesting to look over.”

“I’m more of a fiction reader... I like darker or more strenuous stories. The Compound, Hunger Games, Bad Monkeys, that sort of deal.” I explain. “I read comedy too, but it’s less of an impact beyond a quick laugh.”

“Oh, I loved the Hunger Games! But there’s just not that many books like that here in Ponyville, and Twilight was intrigued at the idea of a connected inter-library loan system beyond private collectors lending to other collectors. Ponies have a surprising amount of modern-ish developments, but some things are literally medieval...”

I sigh. “You’ll get used to it... kinda. I’ve just been assuming everything is done ‘the old way’ unless proven otherwise. Not a huge history buff, never liked it in school or reading about it on my own. I need... stimulation.”

“Oooooh my~” she croons, in a reasonable imitation of George Takei’s voice.

“Mind, meet gutter. Is that all you think about?” I tease back.

“Nah, sometimes I think about what to eat instead.”

“Odd that fate chose a snake over a dog for you.” I muse out loud. “If you can’t eat it or fuck it, piss on it and walk away.”

“Sounds more like a cat to me; ‘cept I’d be sleeping often enough for that. I mean, c’mon, just laying back in the sun and letting your dreaming mind take over for a while... a lot less stressful, that’s for sure.”

“Eh, stress is the way I know I’ve still got something wrong with me.”

“Exactly!” she says. “It’s awful, I’d rather have everything right so I have more time to do what I want. But... that doesn’t get bills paid or food in my belly, y’know.”

“Stress is like pain. Having it around keeps you humble and reasonable about what’s possible. Sorry to get all philosophical and depressing, I’m just not completely... together here.”

She laughs, but it sounds hollow to me. “Oh, trust me, I understand that rather well.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest.

I nod. We all have our problems. “So what’s your long-term plan? You gonna stay around here, or do some travelling?”

“Stay here, honestly. I like the people here, it’s not too eventful nor too boring... And I’ve already lost enough that I don’t want to lose more by walking away from them.”

“Walking away more or less helps me cope, but whenever I try to physically leave, it’s met with issues.” I lean forward a bit and just sort of look Myrna over for like the thirtieth time. She’s nice, if a little Uncanny Valley...

I stop staring as blatantly when she turns and catches me, blushing in response to my gaze. Still, she doesn’t look uncomfortable, surprisingly enough.

“Ahem...” she clears her throat, “So, what about your plans?”

I notice her snakes are all different colors, ranging from a spring green, to a muddy brown-green, a grey-blue, a fairly common green, and a darker, hunter’s green. I’m about to point this out when I realize what her actual question was. “I dunno, probably stick around as long as I can stand. Actually had a chat with Spike about that... I might just try and reestablish an old hobby or start a new one. Just sort of... exist until I’m tired of it.”

She nods. “That’s not a bad outline, but you should put a bit more thought into it. I think I’m going to look into what it takes to get mining rights in some of the deeper parts of the land around here. Ponies will, apparently, pay quite a bit for large or lustrous gems, and I’ve run across a few that’d make an Earth jeweler go catatonic from their eyegasm on seeing it.”

I shrug. “Dunno much about how gems work around here, but I know Rarity likes using them in almost everything. I just assumed they were shiny, fairly valuable trinkets to them. Apparently diamonds are a big deal... sort of. They seem to have importance, but not for being rare or particularly worth a lot of money.” I think back to my first time making one. “I mean, I showed up with a large one and Twilight flipped shit thinking I stole it, but after that she was more impressed by how I got it than what it was.”

“Something about magic batteries, I think. Idunno, maybe they carry a magic charge or however it works. I was told by some of the construction workers to snag any big rubies or emeralds if I saw any, but there aren’t very many under the town itself.” she says, shrugging helplessly. “I never got a really clear explanation on why they’re more valuable when Rarity had me literally just scoop up armfuls of them for her that one time.”

“I think they have different purposes based on who uses them. If they’re magical, then that’s clearly not what Rarity uses them for, but if they aren’t then why make such a big deal about stealing one if they’re so common? Ponies are weird. I’d just like a bit more human interaction sometimes.”

“Right? And, well, neither of us are particularly outgoing, if anything I’ve seen of you is true. And there’s not exactly a lot of humans around to socialize with...”

“More than you think.” I mumble before speaking up again. “Though I can be outgoing, it just requires me being truly excited with something, and that doesn’t happen often. I’ve been accused of ‘enjoying misery’ by a few counselors, but they never knew me very well so I don’t really give any credit to what they say. I just sort of... default to negativity.”

“Yeah, lots of people do that.” she pats me on the shoulder ‘gently’, though the pats sting more than I think she intended. “Most people sit just a few layers below ‘happy’, it lets them get to happy easily, and have it be a high point in their day when they do.”

“I just don’t get why the ponies can have ‘generally happy’ be a default expression as a whole society... It gets a little weird at times. I get Pinkie has this sort of ‘happy’ filter to avoid depression, but that can’t be shared by everyone, y’know?”

“Yeah... Idunno, I was only taking philosophy for the college credits, it wasn’t really my thing. Now, if we were to get into socioeconomics of pre-industrial societies...” she trails of with a self-indulgent chuckle.

I nod and figure we’ve been sitting at this table pointlessly for long enough, but can’t think of anything else to do. “So... I’ve never really taken any ‘serious’ college classes, and even then it was for nothing but personal enrichment, I sometimes feel like I need to know more stuff, but how to learn it is just sort of... up in the air. Didn’t exactly function well in school.” I think back to elementary school and the recollection of ‘simpler times’ makes me smile. “Though... there are a few gems.”

Of course, this little back-and-forth couldn’t last forever, due to the somewhat-acute hearing of a purple unicorn. “Oh, are you talking about school?” I glare at Twilight. “What?”

“Were you invited?” I ask rhetorically.

“Uhm... no, but... I just thought, well... I just overheard...”

I grump back. “Why don’t you just-”

“Oh, Anthony, it’s alright. We’re just here as friends, like you said, right?” I can hear a bit of a jab in Myrna’s voice, but I suppose she’s right... and she is half the conversation.

“Yeah, alright. What do you want, bookworm?”

Twilight sighs. “Well, it’s a step above ‘egghead’ I suppose. Actually, I was hoping to talk to you a bit about what you’re going through, with the soul-tearing.”

I just eye the pony. Blinking slowly. “And?”

“And right now, maybe inform you on how to be a bit more approachable to others.”

I just continue my glance. “I’m as approachable as I want to be.”

“She’s just trying to help.” Myrna says, looking at me with a minor touch of disapproval in her voice.

“Yeah... lots of people try to help. Fine, what’s your advice, O great wise one?”

“Less defensive sarcasm, for one.” Twilight instructs. “It makes it hard to gauge your actual feelings sometimes, and makes it difficult to know how to react to you.”

“My feelings are personal.” I explain. “I tend to keep personal things personal.”

“Well, that’s a big problem. If you just bottle everything up, you don’t have any way for pon- people to understand you very well.”

“Bingo. Right on the nose.”

She sighs. “Why do you like being difficult?” Twilight asks, a little exhausted.

“Because if I was easy, then I’d be less entertaining to you. I know people like you. You like puzzles. Consider me your final exam, one you never studied for.” I explain. “I have my reasons for being me, and if you really had everything answered immediately, you’d be lost and confused by the answers.”

Twilight furrows her brows. “So... you’re doing this...” she says, haltingly as she pieces things together, “... to make friends with me?” she concludes. “That’s so sweet!” she says, face suddenly going bright as she pronks in place like Pinkie a few times. “I’d better go brush up on my psychology studies!” she says, sounding gleeful, zipping off without a further word.

I prop my head up with my arm and roll my eyes at her retreating figure. “Moron...”

Myrna eyes me. “How so, exactly?”

I sigh and turn back to my not-date. “She’s so excitable, she’s going to throw herself at the problem energetically. I’m kind of like the reverse of a magnet when things try to ‘figure me out’. If you aren’t on a matching ‘pole’ or ‘wavelength’ it just sort of bounces off.” I think of another way to put it. “I’m more likely to open up if you find a way to excite me or make me switch gears. I’ve seen a lot of counselors in my time and it sort of made me realize that knowing me, or rather understanding me, should be something that’s earned, not just given.”

Myrna sighs. “... We should probably at least get her distracted with something else in a day or two; she reminds me of my older brother. He had a bad tendency to study for a day or two before remembering to eat or sleep or anything.”

I shrug. “As far as I’ve been told, doing exactly that is what Spike’s job as her assistant entails, at least in part. And seeing as how Spike seems to be more level-headed of the two, I think she’ll be fine.”

Myrna nods. “Sounds fair enough, then. Oh, hey, have you seen my stone-hands trick? I can’t remember if I showed you or Twilight...” she trails off, thinking.

“I haven’t seen it.” I say. “Do you just make stone wrap around your hands and use them like gauntlets?”

“Sorta; it’s easier out here. Fewer floorboards and foundations.” she says, then straightens up, making a clenching motion with both hands, then pulling up - but there’s visible strain as she does so, something resisting her motion.

A few seconds of this, and nothing seems to be happening, until a trickle of grey dust flows from the ground underneath us, narrow ribbons flowing up from nearly a dozen locations on the ground, covering her hands completely in rough globs of stone.

And, as if to show off a step further, she opens her hands with a flick of her wrists as the last of the rocky ribbons vanished into the stone coatings, and her hands are suddenly covered to the elbows in heavy-looking platemail gauntlets with little snake patterns on them in insanely tiny detail. She opens her eyes slowly, panting a bit as she turns to face me again, face flushed.

I admit, I’m impressed. “Pretty good; I assume a full set of armor up to the shoulders would be a bit hard to keep together?”

“Actually, all the effort is in pulling up the stone from so far down; I went for good bedrock material, and this is solid granite. And I can actually put on a full suit if I go right through the stone itself, I just carry the stuff I want through the other side with me.” she says, pride in her voice.

“Interesting, so you have a sort of selective intangibility with stone...” I study the gauntlets further. The detail is really amazing.

“Well, it’s not like intangibility. It feels more like when I’m swimming, actually. Well, except that I don’t really see anything, but all the different types of dirt and stone and stuff are... Idunno, highlighted? Uh, separated? I don’t really know how to explain it. They’re all different down there, but I’m not really seeing anything when I’m swimming like that.”

“Like echolocation.” I suggest. “Or rather, a built-in radar receiver, each type gives off a unique signal you can tune into and identify.”

She shrugs. “I have literally no idea what to compare it to, but we can go with that.” she says. “But it’s really cool, and the stone just stays... flexible when I’m wearing it. Here, feel it!” she says, sticking out an arm near my face.

I reach out, curious, and touch the cold, hard stone. “Uhm... no, it’s pretty solid.”

She blinks. “That’s... weird. It feels flexible to me. More like heavy kitchen gloves or something.” she says, eyeing her armwear and poking at it. Sure enough, it flexes slightly under her touch, in the same spot I’d had no luck.

I take the gauntlet and sort of feel around it, looking for a crease or something, and I don’t really get anywhere, as if it had always been the shape it’s in. “It could be like... memory foam. You shape it, and it stays in that form... but only you can tell it how to take shape since it’s your power...” studying the gauntlet continues as I think of more possibilities.

“Maybe... I hadn’t really had anyone try touching it before. Guess you learn something new every day, right?” she chuckles. “Oh, and you can do things with coal, right?”

“Yeah, but I’ve only experimented a little... sort of. I haven’t really done as much analysis as I have tried doing random tricks.”

“Huh, alright. I grabbed some at one point on request; there’s a big seam of it under Ponyville. It was... weird, though. It felt... y’know how you describe something as oily or greasy, but it’s closer to oil on wax?” she asks, fumbling for words.

“Not really sure, but it makes sense, you seem attuned more to stone, and coal being mostly carbon I’m sure it would be a bit of a stretch to call it ‘actual rock’. Though I already tried moving charcoal around and that failed, so whatever my power is it’s related to coal as a material, not its carbon makeup. That said, while I have tried making things with a lot of detail, I can’t make it very sturdy at the same time.” Whereas Myrna’s gauntlets are thick and sturdy with plenty of detail. I continue my physical studies of the construct, sort of trying to see how it works as a solid to me, but so malleable to her. It’s not innate muscle-strength because it doesn’t break, it molds.

“So it’s not very sturdy if you put in a lot of detail? Owch... have you tried carrying something else using the coal to do something? Like, uhm... oh, like carrying a key to unlock a door without going near it?” she asks, eyes glittering with enthusiasm.

I smile. “See, this would get me to be friends with Twilight, if she thought to talk about it. Or, I dunno, relating me to a person rather than a science experiment. Too clinical, not very personal.”

I pause as she says something I hadn’t expected while inspecting her arm: “Y’know, my eyes are up here.” I look up to see her impish grin, and I can only guess at my own expression.

I sigh. “You’re gonna keep trying, aren’t you?” I ask. “Don’t care how much you try to make it seem otherwise, I’m not into you like that... yet.”

“I know, but you’ve been staring at my hands like you’ve got a fetish for almost four minutes straight. What else was I going to say, ‘Hey, look at my tits so I can stop feeling weird about your gaze’?”

“Hah, if you think I give two shits about a couple giant sacks of natural fat hanging off of your chest like some kind of oversized, distended leech...”

“... I don’t know if I should feel glad you aren’t going to try getting into my now-entirely-metaphorical pants, or insulted by the way you worded that.”

“Think carefully. Or don’t. Maybe it’ll impact the relationship. Maybe it won’t.” I grin. “Not fun if there’s no guessing involved.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs a bit. “Pfft, whatever, you goofball.” she says, then yawns. “Whoo, it’s been a long day...” she says, and I eye the sun, still only three-quarters of the way across the sky.

“Metabolism of a snake alright.” I surmise. “Comme un petit cochon.”

“... I think that was french, right?” she says. “Was that a direct translation, or a different phrase?”

I laugh. “It’s something my mother used to say. And yes, it’s a specific phrase, as for what it means or why I said it...”

“Oh, you can’t just weasel out of it like this, c’mon, what’s it mean?” she asks, sliding closer to me with a grin.

“It means you don’t get to know if it’s an insult or not. You’ll have a lot of those with me, fair warning.”

She suddenly lunges forward, and I’m reminded that I’m no longer faster than a striking snake she she grabs me and pulls me into a hold. “Nuh-uh, ya gotta tell me.” she says, giggling.

“Hmmm... do I? Really?” I ask in fake wonderment.

“Yup. It’s the rules.” she says, holding me in an actually rather comfy hug, my arms pinned to my sides by her own, the stoney coatings shed at some point in the last few minutes.

“Since when have I followed the rules?” I ask. “Aren’t rules meant to be broken?”

“Not mine, duh.” she jokes. “Besides, I have seventeen inches of tongue, and your ears are easy targets. I’ve been both an older and younger sibling. I can make you talk.”

I decide to make a dirty comment just to gauge her reaction. “If you use that tongue elsewhere I’ll do more than talk...”

“Now who’s the one dropping innuendos?” she taunts right back, pulling me backward until my head is right between her breasts. Somewhat comfortable, even if they’re not what I’m looking for in a woman.

“The one who finds it fun at the time, of course. That’s what innuendo is for, right?”

She sticks several inches of tongue out at me and blows a raspberry, and it’s rather interesting to note that her tongue isn’t flat like most snake tongues look, but rather smooth and rounded until the split at the end. Though it’s still broader than it is thick.

“I bet that tongue comes in handy, certainly makes scaring little children easy, if the teeth didn’t work.” That one was mainly to gauge how she feels about her new body, if she’s comfortable, I can keep going, if not...

She chuckles again, and I can feel her ribcage on the back of my head. “If I really wanted to scare small children, I’d just show them what adulthood really brings: Taxes and back hair.”

“And responsibility.” I add. “So, are we going somewhere else or just gonna keep bantering at this restaurant all evening? I’m open to either”

“Well, you’re the one dodging the original question: what was the meaning of the phrase you used?”

“Just a comment about being tired after a meal.” I grin widely. “Now then, how about we find somewhere a bit more comfortable. I don’t particularly mind my current position, but I can’t say I’m a huge fan of being pulled backwards by the chest.”

“Oh, fine... I know you’re not being entirely honest about that comment. Either way th-” she’s cut off by a sudden yawn from her. “Ugh... either way, I do need to get to sleep somewhere, I have an early morning shift, after all.” she pauses for a moment, letting me get a word in.

“Alright, but next time you want to avoid a return hug, you should just say it.” I smile. I’m not sure if this counts as flirting or friendly banter... I’m fine with either, just a sort of self-imposed question.

“Alright, alright.” she says, before setting me down - and sneaking in a quick peck on my cheek. “G’night, Anthony!” she says, before slipping into the ground beside the restaurant, and vanishing.

I am very, very glad she already paid the check.

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