The Familiar Explanation
A cool breeze blew sent my mane fluttering in the air, my coat awash with light from the sun’s warm rays and my nose greeted the pungent smell of the ocean. The strong cerulean sky; the deep blue ocean and the rising island of green painted the horizon ahead. It was quite the panoramic view, worthy of a postcard.
It was just a shame that I was too busy hanging my head over the stanchion on the starboard of the ferry, finishing up releasing the last remnants of my earlier meal along with a few other ponies.
Some ponies just were not meant for life at sea, and I was among those on this trip. Even though our trip went as smooth as it could have, from the warm waters of the Mareterranean to the more frigid ocean blue of the Azures, just the slow rocking motion was more than enough to bring out the worst case of seasickness.
I was already familiar with the nauseating condition from my first trip out of Hoofshire to the Capes. It was a longer and rougher sail than this one to Port Delgate. Experience however, didn’t make the queasiness any less unpleasant.
The bitter taste of bile lingering in my mouth, I heaved my weary head to take in the sight growing closer: Troteira island. The rising Delgate bay sported the beautiful skyline of the Azures port, full of white and blue buildings, very much like a reduced view of the Pinto Cape that I had in my apartment. Our ferryboat negotiated the port waters with the multitude of smaller crafts that populated the harbor. A number of the crew scurried to and fro on the deck and into the superstructure in preparations to dock.
In anticipation of landing, I quickly went to my quarters and grabbed my saddle bags. Much like my apartment I had with me only the bare necessities: Some ties, toiletry, a purse of bits, and, most importantly, a notebook, pencil (with spares) and some of my collected work. While packing had been rushed due to the very tight ferry schedule —of which I blame the slow mail— I had what was needed. I could say with a fair degree of certainty that anything that I lacked would be provided during my stay.
Speaking of packing, the short deadline for the ferryboat’s departure forced me into a corner in the matter of dealing with the other three interviewees I had planned to meet the following week: If this funeral took longer than four days I wouldn’t be back on time. I supposed that I could write to them to give a heads up from the Azures —even though I had no idea how good the mail service was here— after I learned more about the program here. Reworking my schedule for the week had already been enough of a pain; I didn’t want to create any further headaches with my interviewees.
The final docking preparations done, the anchor dropped and the mooring lines were thrown, placed on bollards by the harbor workers. Once secured, the walkway was lowered, offering a means of escape from the floating prison. I and other ponies (whom I recognized some as my vomit companions) raced to be among the first to descend to the firm docks. After braving and persevering the rickety plank, my hooves finally encountered concrete. It wasn’t quite the same as trotting on grass or dirt, but it was hundreds of times better than the wooden deck that I had to endure for two days.
A shudder ran through the length of me when I considered the return trip that I would have to take. Come on Crystal, that’s a problem that future you will deal with. Right now you need to find mom and dad.
Quite literally lost on the first step into Port Delgate, I approached one of the dock worker who was tending to a shipment of some sort.
“Excuse me miss, but could you please tell me where the Lush Hotel is?”
The tan pegasus, with strong blue eyes under her Apple Cap, did a precursory examination before replying. “A tourist, hein?” she spoke with a noticeable twang. “It’s right at the main praça, just beyond the pórtico over there. Follow the main avenida and you’ll find it. It’s the building with the fancy roof and granite varandas.”
I voiced my thanks and followed the local’s directions; through the pillared tunnel underneath an edifice, the way led to a long cobblestone avenue lined with beautiful fig trees. In the distance I could see a plaza bustling with movement.
As I made my way to the town square I took note of the dialect that the pegasus used. It was mostly Equestriani but it had some curious words that weren’t common in other places. I had heard similar words in the Cape’s local dialect, though it wasn’t as prevalent as it seemingly was here, if the snippets of conversations that I happened to hear were anything to go on. As far as I was aware, the dialect was the result of early Equestriani settlers having to adapt to the local human tongue. With the passing of a generation some of the human words survived through the colloquialism of the local populace, having been used so commonly before that they had become part of the regular vocabulary of these parts.
It was interesting to see that the dialect survived better here than in the mainland. Perhaps the relative isolation and small size of the communities here in the Azure islands were significant factors in maintaining their status as a local idiom. It was something that I fancied learning a bit more of once I got myself settled in with my parents.
Once reaching the main plaza I took in my surroundings: Several buildings lined the square, some nothing more than residential complexes, while a few had several dead giveaways of belonging to the local administration—the presence of the Crown’s influence within the town hall was made clear with the ornate onion tower spiraling from its golden roof.
Right in the middle of the town square was a bronze statue of a mare and stallion, a unicorn and earth pony respectively, flanking Princess Celestia. Having seen many statues of Celestia already it gathered no real interest from me: Same warm smile, same caring eyes, same majestic presence. The two ponies beside her though piqued my curiosity enough that they each earned a closer look.
The stallion on the left of Celestia was a small fellow, assuming that the statue’s proportions were accurate. He bore a composed face behind those thick-rimmed glasses of his and the carefully brushed forelock and crest. While he looked somewhat frail his gaze seemed to prove otherwise. It gave the sense that he was a strong minded individual, if, perhaps, limited by his feeble body.
The unicorn on the right appeared far more energetic, her eyes wide opened and brimming with curiosity. It was clear that at the time she was in very good health and possibly a bold pony, willing to go outside of her comfort zone to seek out answers and learn any mystery that she’d happen to encounter. Her massive grin and her wild mane compounded this aura of enthusiasm.
Princess Celestia and her intrepid ponies exploring the new world, a plaque described. In memory of the Arrival, in the year 1005 EH.
I knew then what this statue commemorated; the Arrival was the event in which the land mass of old Equestria inexplicably found itself in a new world, specifically this one. Everypony celebrated the date as the mark of a new age for exploration and expansion.
It was odd however how few seemed to remember that the Arrival also meant the beginning of the end for humanity. Purportedly such a topic was deemed too morbid to be included in the celebration, so more often than not, it was simply not mentioned.
To be fair even I would keep such a matter to myself were I in a festival supposedly observing one of the greatest moments in our history.
My eyes fell on gorgeous looking balconies, lush with wonderful overhanging plants, giving the name of the hotel that boasted the said verandas. The Lush Hotel was a grand structure, dwarfing even the large town hall. An ornate mansard roof topped the luxurious establishment, reminiscent of the more classic architecture typical of the Canterlot aristocracy of a few centuries back. Its style, along with that of the town hall, was quite the striking contrast to the more common buildings in Delgate.
I entered the hotel’s main entrance and found myself stunned at the majesty displayed by the resort: Tasteful rugs and carpets, marble floors and columns, sharply dressed staff ready to serve, overhanging flowers... Had I been unaware of my location, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I stumbled into a Canterlot palace. The amount of affluence was out of place in the small port town and made me wonder just how my parents were paying for our stay here. However much it cost, it was definitely out of my price range.
“Good morning sir,” a receptionist chirped, putting on her best smile. “How may I assist you today?”
I took a moment before answering: My mind was still reeling from the high amount of wealth radiated from the reception hall alone and I hadn’t fully noticed the presence of the mare by the counter. “I ah, I’m a relative of some guests staying here—Iron Heart and Morning Dew.”
“Just one moment sir,” she politely replied as she opened a ledger. “Yes we do have the names in our registry: Room forty-seven. Shall I send a message to them?”
“Yes. Tell them that their son has arrived.”
I sipped my cup of green tea while I waited at the Lush’s dining area, enjoying both the drink and the view of the bay. For the first time since I set my eyes on Troteira did I finally see how wonderful it was: The Delgate bay contorted in such a way that the silhouette of a large hill flourishing with greenery and that of the harbor flanked the ocean, creating a marvelous horizon.
There was something about these sort of panoramas that always captivated me. The view back at Cape Perlino of its sister city Pinto was something that I could sometimes lose myself in. This view of Delgate and Troteira was something beyond what I was used to; I was completely enthralled with the landscape and skyline of the port town that I honestly lost track of where I was—something that I was always aware of even while enjoying the Cape panorama.
A buzz of conversing voices was in the air, so quiet that I barely noticed it and allowed my mind to revel in the view before me. Minutes passed by. They might as well have been hours.
I was violently tugged away from this state when a sharp voice called out to me. It was immediately recognizable in spite of not having heard it for a whole two years.
Morning Dew: Mother.
From the main hall came a couple: a unicorn with an ultramarine coat, a sinopia mane and beard, as well as a mantis green earth pony with a sierra and gold mane. My parents.
“Crystal, is that really you?” my mother cried as she approached, an ecstatic look on her face. “My, my! Our little colt’s all grown up now!”
I smiled at that remark. Were I a few years younger I would have resented it. Now I just wanted to embrace her. “It’s good to see you too mom.”
Iron came up after Dew, beaming in a more restrained manner, though no less pleased of my presence. “How have you been, son?”
“I’ve been doing well enough, dad,” I replied while we nuzzled each other, “but what about the two of you? I haven’t heard much about Hoofshire since that letter I got back in April.”
“Oh, nothing’s changed much,” Dew waved a hoof. “This whole week has done nothing but rain. A lot of us at the town council have complained, but the weather team insisted that they keep the month’s quota of rain, so we’re quite glad to come to some sunshine. I forgot how nice and warm it is down here! Not as hot as in the Capes, but it comes close.”
I shrugged. “The climate is pretty similar here.”
“So,” mom began, “how was your trip?”
“Eh…” I hesitated. “Could’ve been worse, all things considered.”
My mom looked nonplussed at that while my dad chuckled. “I think you’ve gotten your sea legs from your old grandmother Crop, and she didn’t have any to begin with.”
We all laughed at that, including Dew once she understood.
“It’s great to be with you again,” mom muttered, leaning affectionately by me.
“The feeling’s mutual.”
I felt like I was at home once more, even though it was not so. I wanted to simply reminisce the good old days with family and catch up the last two years of our lives with each other. Unfortunately my irritatingly persistent conscience demanded for me to address the matter on hoof. With a saddened heart I changed the subject.
“So, about this funeral…”
The mood grew sullen at the table. None of us wished to trudge into this topic but it had to be brought up sooner or later.
“Yes,” Iron replied, now adopting a grim scowl, “we’ve already talked with the agent from the funeral home: It’s going to be a quiet thing at her old home at Grazeiosa, tomorrow in the afternoon.”
I nodded. That answered one of my questions. Now for the awkward one.
Shifting myself to get in a more comfortable position I began slowly. “Now… not to sound like a moron, but…”
Iron and Dew looked on, curious as to what I wanted to say.
“…but who is she? I know you’ve said that she’s my grandmother, but I never knew her.”
My dad was puzzled: “You don’t remember Lyra?” he inquired.
“Nope. I’ve never heard of that name before reading your letter.”
“He was barely a year old when she last visited us sweetie,” Dew offered to my father, “I would’ve been surprised if he did remember her.”
“So who was she? Why didn’t I know anything about her before?”
My parents fidgeted uncomfortably, exchanging worrisome looks. “It’s… a tad complicated, Crystal,” mom began apprehensively. “She was an Equestriani representative during the Arrival.”
Thoughts sped in my head as things began to fall into place. My grandmother was a representative to the human race? “You mean to tell me that the statue of the mare by the princess in the square outside is her?” I asked after a moment while I gathered my thoughts.
Iron nodded. “That’s right. As you know the Azures, Açores as they were called back then, were the meeting place for our first contact outside of the dome, and Lyra was among the few ponies who were picked for the envoy.”
My mind reeled. She worked with the Royal Sisters sixty years back? But if that was the case, why didn’t her name come up in any story or article related to the event? In fact, neither did any of the other representatives—it seemed the sort of topic that couldn’t be forgotten.
I slumped on my haunches, quite unsure what to make of this new information. “My mother took up her role very keenly, being the only self-taught expert on humans back then,” the blue unicorn provided. “She then went on to be the Equestriani diplomat for a few human nations, and in that time she…”
Iron paused, biting his lip in resentment, uncertain how to proceed. I prodded for him to continue. “She did what?”
“Lyra began to sympathize with them,” Dew stated plainly, an earnest look on her face. “She became a stout critic of conversion, arguing for the human’s right to free will and choice and claiming that the Princesses were wrong about them.”
My ears flicked to attention and my eyes widened at the remark about the Princesses: Claiming that the Royal Sisters were wrong about something? It sounded almost like a blasphemous thing to say in my mind. I spoke out in impulse: “How could she say that? Everypony knows that the humans couldn’t live with us as they were, they were just too corrupt!”
“That’s what everyone has told her,” mom replied. “Lyra refused to change her stance though, and as such her husband Evening Star and rest of the family disowned her.”
My father’s saddened gaze fell to the floor. “It was difficult growing up after they divorced,” he said softly. “I just can’t believe that humans came before family…”
“Don’t fret over that dear, Lyra was a very eccentric unicorn. It’s her own fault that she cut herself off from the family.”
“She still was my mother,” Iron snapped, “she didn’t deserve to live alone during her end days.”
Morning pouted. “Even so the Crown forced Lyra to resign, stripped her of her titles and honors and had her exiled from Equestria proper.”
I ran a hoof along my forelock. “Sweet Celestia…”
“Harsh perhaps,” the earth pony admitted, “but appropriate considering.”
Iron turned his head, facing away from Dew, a saddened but pensive expression on his face. It was clear that he had qualms with the sentence given to her mother, his thoughts betrayed by his dark smile.
For a moment I took a step back to interpret what was going on here: Morning Dew was being quite dominant when discussing about Lyra, while Iron had mostly been aloof throughout the conversation when really it should’ve been the other way around. It was a subtle thing, yet over the years having lived with my parents I had come to notice such faint signs where others would not see anything out of the ordinary.
The only question was why this change in their relation had occurred. Evidently it had to do with the news of Lyra’s death, but what exactly it was I was not sure. Was it some painful memories that have resurfaced or was it something else? At times like this I wish I could use Legilimency.
Such criminal thoughts were dispelled by my mother’s voice. “Have you already gotten your room Crystal?”
My ears drooped in embarrassment as the topic was swiftly switched. “Yes I did: Room sixty-three, but there is the small issue of, er—well, payment.”
“Ah, don’t worry about how many bits this’ll cost us,” Dew chirped, “Iron’s built up quite a lot in savings, and we can afford our stay at this palace of a hotel for weeks if we have to. Besides the ceremony we will need to attend to the inheritance hearing afterwards in Grazeiosa.”
“That’s good to hear.” I smiled sheepishly.
My father rubbed his hooves together, clearly satisfied with the change in topic. “Well we have today for ourselves before we need to visit the funeral house tomorrow morning. What do we want to do for today?”
By then the conversation degraded to casual banter, as all of the melancholy ebbed away from the table.
My parents and I had indulged ourselves in a number of leisurely activities in and out of Delgate, ranging from sightseeing, to tasting the local flavors to strolling down the hiking trails up Green Hill. Celestia’s resplendent sun and the comfortably warm climate only intensified our experience in Troteira. All in all, it was a great family reunion and had brought us closer together than we had been for the last two years.
After an exquisite buffet at the Lush Hotel’s restaurant, we winded down to having a drink outside by the swimming pools. The waters glistened with the night skies of Luna’s masterpiece as we pleasantly chatted the evening away. Eventually I broke out a yawn.
“My goodness!” Morning exclaimed. “How long have we been out here?”
I finished my glass of cider. “It is getting a bit late, and I am feeling a wee bit drowsy,” I disclosed, fumbling with the glass so as it wouldn’t escape my telekinetic grip.
Iron gave a hearty chuckle. “And a bit tipsy too, I’d say.”
“I-I can handle my drink,” I boasted as I finally set the glass down on the table. “It’s just that I haven’t slept that well these last few days.”
“Rough seas, eh?” the elder unicorn teased.
“Any sea is too rough in my books.”
We all giggled like school fillies, earning some looks from a passing waiter. Perhaps the drinks were getting to us; but who could say? I certainly couldn’t, not while my mind was this sluggish with exhaustion. Steadying myself on the table, I rose to my four hooves.
“In any case I’m going to my room and get some sleep.”
Dew nodded graciously in spite of the cider’s influence. “Fine with us. We’ll meet here tomorrow at nine, alright?”
I nodded lazily as I made my way to the hotel’s atrium. “Just get a parasprite or two to my room if I’m sleeping like a rock.”
My parents laughter cut off once I closed the sliding door. Fortunately enough the trip to room sixty-three was not a long one. I shuffled my key awkwardly for a moment before it unlocked the door successfully.
The hotel room itself was the normal fare according to the room classification that the reception had explained to me. It was in essence a smaller apartment than the one I was used to, and yet it offered more than my apartment in the Capes could. The bed was modeled after the cumulus furniture and while it was not cloud furniture, it was the closest to sleeping on clouds that anypony without wings could get. There were some cushion seats to relax in and a low table that could double both as a dining table and as a study. Even the bathroom was lavish with quality: Shower caps, towels and even bathrobes were provided in it. To think that this was the standard room and that the Lush Hotel had three more suite levels, up to the Celestial Suite… my mind drooled just at the possible level of comfort that they could provide.
But all of that didn’t matter for now; all I wanted to do now was to collapse on the cloud that was my bed. Strange, my mind wondered sarcastically, why am I getting the weirdest sense of déjà vu?
My thoughts ended once I entered Luna’s realm of dreams.
A plane of yellowed grass waved in the wind, and I found myself caught right in the middle of it. It extended beyond the horizon, reaching farther than my eyes could see, without a single feature breaking up the field of dancing grass.
I turned and trotted about aimlessly, flattening the tall grass with each hoof fall. Every now and then I would stop to regain my bearings in the featureless landscape, always finding that the trail of trampled grass left behind by me disappeared each time I took my eyes off of it. This continued for a long while until something stood out of the golden field of grass:
It was a fig tree; twisting, ancient, with leaves of a dull green and graying trunk.
It called to me, beckoning me closer with its swaying branches. I stomped through more grass as I approached the elderly tree. Once close I inspected the fig tree further, yet I was unable to discern anything more than I could from a distance.
Stumped, I looked around, searching for something else that was of interest. Once again, the path of trodden golden-yellow grass was nowhere to be seen, but as I turned to see the fig tree it had been replaced by a bronze statue.
Lyra.
It bore the same yearning expression as the statue back in the square, the same wild mane, the same determined look in her eyes.
I found myself revolted of the image before me. This was supposed to be my grandmother? She had betrayed the Crown and abandoned her own family to prevent a race of warring bipeds from being uplifted to our status. They did nothing to deserve our help yet in our infinite wisdom and generosity we had deemed them worthy of salvation. Truly disgusting.
Wait. Those thoughts were not mine.
“Of course they are not yours, child.”
I jumped in shock. Where had that voice come from?
“It’s so sad,” the voice continued, “to see that the views that you hold are not yours; they never were yours to begin with.”
The voice was difficult to place: It had an ethereal feel to it, sounding like a distant echo of a mare. Fear rising in me, I anxiously searched for the origins of the voice. With nowhere else to fall upon, my eyes turned to the statue that had taken a life of its own:
The glittering eyes and eager grin were now replaced by a deadpan scowl and eyes on the verge of tears. Its forelock and tail wavered, granted life by the whistling wind.
“Who are you?”
The bronze effigy beamed a sincere smile behind those pleading eyes.
“Who am I?” it parroted, chuckling slightly, “I am dead Crystal. You should know that.”
“Lyra?”
It nodded with a metallic creak. “Yes, I was Lyra. But who I was is not important, what matters is what I did.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “What you did? You left your family to help creatures deemed unwilling to be helped! You let down the Crown, your country, your family!”
The metal mare averted its gaze in shame, once more frowning.
“It… wasn’t quite like that,” it spoke. “But that is not what I meant; I found the truth.”
“The truth?”
“Yes, the reality of the Arrival and the human race. You have been misled Crystal—you, your family and everybody from your generation. They had good intentions, we all did, but in our ignorance we sacrificed the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
“You shall know in due time,” the bronze unicorn explained, “but your first step is to understand that your own stance on the world is tainted. I cannot help you if you can't overcome that first step.”
It turned to face the sun, a sense of longing evident in its expression. “My time here is dwindling Crystal, you soon won’t have me to look up to.”
“B-but there’s so much that I need to know! So much that I want to know!”
The rust-colored mare answered with a warm smile. “Don’t worry, we shall meet again. I hope that you will understand Crystal: My reasons, the humans… everything.”
A light emanated from the metal body, and the strong alloy structure burned from the brightness. It was fading away, the ashes flew in the wind.
“Wait! Don’t go!”
But it was too late, the statue had completely vanished, only with some of the residue from the fire laid in the spot being the only evidence of its existence. I was once more left alone in the field of grass, but now I felt cold, vulnerable.
What was that? Who was it?
“Please,” I sniffed, tearing up from the dread of seclusion, “don’t leave me!
No voice answered my call. Only the wind kept company, blowing a chilling breeze into my teal coat.
Please…
Don’t go.
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Gotta stop writing these late into the night. It ain't healthy for me.
Bah, what am I saying? Sleep is for losers!
Put this up quite quickly, kinda surprised. I did quickly read over it, but seeing how late it is and how I sleepy I am I might've missed something. If you do spot something, just point to it and I'll see about it in the morning.
As always comments are appreciated!
So he's brainwashed?
Oh wow! I've been waiting all day for something in my favorites to update and the only one that does is a good one.
I swear though, if Lyra had used some cheesy line like "everything will be Crystal Clear soon." I'd have to smack someone.
793627
No it's more propaganda and indoctrination.
The blanket whose shadow covers over the eyes shall soon be torn, then the truth will be revealed in all it's glory.
I think you mean "cannot".
Still, it's quite interesting to see that pony xenophobia was the result of propaganda. And Celestia really isn't looking much like a hero at this point.
"It was odd however how few seemed to remember that the Arrival also meant the beginning of humanity."
Don't you mean " the beginning of the end of humanity."?
793627 He's a TCB pony.
Of course he's brainwashed.
It's going to be real tough for him to change his views. If you live most of your life being told the same thing, you are going to think that it's fact, and it's going to take a lot to change it.
Hello everyone, thank you once again for commenting and faving! It always means a lot to me.
Once more, I'm in need of a pre-reader/editor to spot the silly mistakes like the one 795432 and 795486 pointed out. It'd also be nice to get some beta feedback on how the story is developing.
793627 793826 795541
I don't intend to reveal too much, but no one here is brainwashed. BG's got it right on the first try.
Also, I've got a question: someone posted a link to this story on Mibbit Chat, but I've been unable to view the post/chatroom with the link. Mind telling me who it was?
A fig tree? A fig tree? Excellent! So much approval, there.
Another wonderful chapter. Ah, Clear. So much to learn, so little time.
798863
I might be missing something here, but why the approval for having the fig tree in the dream?
798878 The fig tree Ashvattha was the tree Buddha meditated under and gained enlightenment.
798903
Wow. I chose the fig tree mainly because it is one of the more common species in the Mediterranean and Azores landscapes. That's a very weird yet awesome coincidence.
798918 Just say you meant to use it like that.
798928
No sir, I do not claim credit for someone else's find. I'm not that selfish.
798937 Rather noble of you. Although I said it in a somewhat joking manner. Actually, I first learned about that in a Star Trek novel.
I like how you're showing that pony culture was altered by a generation of human presence. That would almost certainly be the case.
800553
How could it not? Pretty much every TCB lacks the subtle changes in pony culture as a result of human interaction. I understand that in most cases !TCB Celestia does what she can to erase everything that is human, but I severely doubt that things such as colloquialism would be snuffed out within a generation. As I envision it, the culture would still be primarily Equestrian but it would have the local variations and oddities that one can see in countries (North vs. South, autonomous regions separated from the mainland, etc.).
Hmm, still good, if a bit misty on the story progress for my tastes. You have some nice prose and such, but not much really happens in this chapter save at the end, the rest being mostly filler it feels. Also, zero points for having Lyra join the humans, a move absolutely zero people were surprised by. :P
823262 823334
I'm... somewhat surprised at the concise review. Is that really all that you have to say? If so then wow, thanks, I honestly thought that there were some other problems that I wasn't aware of.
Thanks for the review then NMS!
824082
Well, I'm totally not making a short review just because I can get this over with and do no more work than necessary. >_>
But no seriously, it was good. Short and good, but I really didn't feel any problems besides the ones I listed in my second comment.
This was fantastic. You're really good with imagery, this story has me hooked.
I'm assuming the intro was from Lyra's perspective?
Now that I think about it, it would make sense. The Princess sent her there as punishment. Her actually forcing Lyra to kill the last human is pretty damn sadistic, and completely in character for Xenocidelestia.
Wow. Just... wow. This story is... yeah. Words fail. Suffice to say, it is truly impressive and moving, and I ain't being sarcastic here - its a take on the Conversion Bureau that should have been done all along, and expresses the problems better than any rant, expressing them with emotion rather than word. Good on yer, mate.
There's more to this? Okay then.
The second (I mean, the first) chapter's substance eludes me. It has a purpose, sure, but is very thin, adding little to the story.
The second (third? ...whatever) chapter's much better though. The description is vivid and playful (you being from the Mediterranean certainly helps with that) and the point of view works to its advantage. Though slipping from relative realism to the clearly fantastic dream(s) is a tiny bit off-putting.
You also have a weird way with italics (probly just typos).
EDIT: inb4 "I'm actually closer to the Atlantic than the Mediterranean."
991661
While I'm nationally a Mediterranean and close to the Atlantic (mixed Italian and Portuguese heritage), I'm more African than European, what with living in Mozambique for 17 years of my life.
But I digress, I don't think that my origins are the reason why the descriptions in the story are as vivid and playful as you say. All of my writing is based off of my own self-teaching and from what I have read in general. Anything I write and how I write it is based off of my experience as an amateur writer.
Now about my 'weird way with italics': I never use italics unless they serve a purpose, either to show emphasis without resorting to bold (which I use for shouting or signs), to display a character's thoughts, foreign words that haven't been adopted into the English language, or a flashback (dreams in this case). Of course, in the second dream sequence in chapter three I play with the italics a bit to indicate that statue Lyra, were she speaking outside of the dream, would have italicized dialog. I'll leave that up for you to figure out what that means.
992795
I just went with what your fanfiction.net account told me. Surprise, surprise! I play by the odds and lose... Don't worry, it happens all the time. (What this means is that should I describe places or landscapes situated in Finland, one would believe that a Finnish person such as myself would've been to those places [then again, we do have this thing called internet...])
And about italics. Emphasis, thoughts, all fine. Though personally I don't use them if the narrator and the one thinking are the same. Come to think of it, I don't use italics for thoughts at all. But that's my problem... In the second dream sequence in chapter three (so you do count the prologue as one chapter). That's where I got the weird way from. Firstly, there are a couple of typos in there (like "Truly disgusting."). Secondly, removing the cursive from what would be italicized in the waking world is weird and certainly doesn't add to anything but confusion, as readers don't really want to figure out such a detail.
EDIT: inb4 "disgusting" in this case would be italicized in the waking world. If not and it's really just a typo, good, but if I got it right... go electrocute yourself or something.
992983
That actually was a typo. Whoops.
Annnd fixed.
TCB fics with ponies winning leave a bad taste in my mouth honestly, but this is definitely in a class by itself. It shows that the influx of newfoals did affect pony culture somewhat, and Crystal's own motivations make a lot of sense in the context. I really hope to see more from this, and hopefully more interactions between him and Lyra, and his new perspectives on people, along with the possible repurcussions! :
this is good, really good, though the bold-faced anti-human bigotry that your ponies display is hammered home with a complete lack of tact and the lack of subtlety mars an otherwise wonderfully-realized future Equestria. Man, that was one overlong sentence. This is, so far, the best "anti" TCB fic I have read for its consistency and richness. You've a real talent with writing.
This is turning out to be an interesting TCB fic.