Why do the Best Die?
The Antlertic breeze sent my mane fluttering while my head hung low just over the rim of the chariot, staring over the deep blue ocean. Once again the familiar nausea from yesterday morning returned in full force, leaving me in something of an ill lull. Thankfully chariots were much faster than sea ferries, and Grazeiosa wasn’t far from Port Delgate – within minutes we’d be landing.
Over the whistle of the rushing wind and the groaning oak-wood of the chariot, the distinct rumble of aircraft could be heard in the distance. Surely enough, a plane loomed eastwards heading for Delgate. A round of grumbling from the pegasus pulling team began, mostly in the local dialect.
What exactly the pegasi were muttering about I couldn’t tell, as my mind was too busy floating among the cloud cover.
That, and the motion sickness was getting to me.
Iron Heart slung his foreleg around my neck. “You alright kiddo?”
“Never better,” I deadpanned. I really shouldn’t have eaten that toast before leaving.
He gave me a reassuring smile. “Come on Crystal, we’ll be landing soon.”
“Not soon enough,” I retorted, doing my best attempt to give him the evil eye. The blue unicorn laughed heartily at that.
“You’re out of practice,” he stated cheekily, “that stare of yours won’t be scaring me any time soon.”
Of course my dad was right, as the chariot descended down soon afterwards. The axle and spokes of the wheels creaked on touchdown and the vehicle came to a halt after several hooves.
“Bem-vindos á Graciosa,” one of the pegasi announced in his native tongue. The stallion besides him promptly bopped the other on the head. “Excuse my friend – he meant to say: ‘Welcome to Grazeiosa,’” he corrected, staring knives at his fellow pegasus.
My mother took no notice of this discrepancy between the two pullers and voiced her thanks on our behalf. As soon as my parents got out of the flying contraption, I shakily stepped out myself, struggling to not simply scramble out of it.
Murmuring my silent thanks for being on solid ground I took in the surroundings of the local airstrip: There was the always important runway, the terminal and some other buildings – probably living quarters for personnel.
What was most striking was the barebones appearance of the airstrip; even in Perlino, which was barely a city, had a more sprawling airfield, prepared for receiving the much larger aircraft and the masses of people passing through.
It wasn’t difficult to see that Grazeiosa had no large settlement just from seeing the island’s size and that of the airfield. The fact that the airstrip was on the other end of the island from the village compounded this sense of remoteness from the civilization of the continents.
It’s funny how this small island is of a significant cultural importance. It was the first place where Equestrianis and humans officially met, only because of its close proximity to the Equestriani continent, and it showed. Despite the appeal of living on the spot where ponies took their first steps outside of the barrier, much of the island was untouched from urbanization.
I was taken out from my inner musings when I noticed that my parents were speaking with a maroon earth pony. He looked to be around his early twenties, though his deep voice made me consider that he was maybe in his thirties. He kept his tan mane long and wild, bringing out his azure eyes. Steadying my knees, still wobbly from the flight, I approached them to catch a snippet of their conversation.
“…is ready, everypony is already at the home,” the stallion finished saying to Iron before turning towards me. “Ah! The little feller here must be Crystal Clear – how are ya?”
“Just fine,” I mumbled, scanning the stallion before me. Do I really look that young? “And you are?”
“Name’s Blossom Leaf,” the maroon pony replied with a smile, “I’m- was a friend of Lyra an’ helped take care of herself.”
“So,” Iron spoke up, giving a sheepish cough, “shall we go then?”
“Yes let’s,” Dew agreed hurriedly. “Don’t want to keep the funeral waiting just for us.”
Leaf nodded. “Alrighty, jus’ follow me.”
The earth pony led us down along a dirt track leading westwards, away from the airfield and towards the coast. As the hills softened the familiar watery horizon returned.
However it wasn’t the ocean that dominated the view anymore; there was a large continent just to the north – Equestria.
No one knew how the Arrival happened, though everypony recognized its ramifications. Inaction was rampant for the first several days as people waited for news from the Crown.
What would’ve happened if ponies acted before? I wondered. Would we still be in this mess?
As we walked down the path Blossom Leaf went on talking about himself: “I’m a Seaddle boy m’self,” he commented. “Was a small-time farmer there, though that didn’t go nowhere and had to give it up to the ALD. Friend of mine from Delgate suggested I set up shop here – said that l could make big bits here with the allure of prime real estate.”
He gave an uncomfortable chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Hoo-boy, was that a fool’s hope or what.” The stallion pointed to the growing coast line, with Equestria still in sight. “I mean, would’ja look at that view! If only ponies didn’t have food on their minds all of the time, then maybe I would’ve had some customers when I started out.”
“It is quite a view,” Iron agreed, “I would love to have a summer home here.”
“I ‘preciate the thought Iron.”
I was looking out at the ocean when the maroon stallion shot a question my way: “Say Crystal, what’cha do exactly?”
“I um,” I fumbled, “I’m a sociologist.”
“Sociologist huh?” he parroted, eyebrow arched. “That means yer one o’ those scientists that study society, right?”
“In a nutshell yes,” I replied, “I look at cultures and their trends, the social classes and their relationships with the economy and laws of a nation.”
If my professor from university were to hear that, he would’ve been pleased with my concise and accurate description.
Leaf sounded impressed. “Right, and why do ponies need to study that again? Sorry, I’m a simple pony – never even started high school back in Seaddle.”
“It’s quite alright,” I answered, sensing an opportunity to lecture. “We need to understand how society in general works. There are certain recognizable patterns that have been proven to be of a causative nature, so if we learn to distinguish said patterns we can, to a degree, guess at how we evolve as a society. This in turn is useful information for governing bodies, in our case, the Crown, to act accordingly.”
Leaf blew a low whistle, and I could’ve sworn that Dew sighed happily. “So yer like one a soothsayer that uses science rather than dodgy magic?”
I laughed at the surprisingly comical analogy. “Yes. Yes, I guess you could say that.”
“I s’pose you’ve got yerself a cozy job with the Crown.”
My ears drooped slightly as I went on to correct him. “No, I wish I did have one, but I’ve still got to write a thesis before I get any attention.”
“Ya mean like an article or book?” Leaf prodded. When I nodded he continued, “what’cha gonna write about exactly?”
“Oh, I want to do a broad take on humans,” I casually replied.
Both of my parents stopped dead in their tracks.
“Humans?” Dew asked incredulously. “You didn’t say that you were going to write a book about humans Crystal.”
My father nuzzled her, trying to reassure her.“I think he means that he wants to write how much of a burden and obstacle they’ve been.” He gave me a hard look. “Right?”
Their mood had switched on a dime, and I thusly found myself caught completely off guard from their reactions. I understood how some would be disgusted at the mere mention of humans, but in all sincerity I wasn’t expecting my parents to react so badly.
Even Leaf seemed to be slightly worried. “You’d better tread lightly with that pal,” he cautioned, “Lyra was really big into humans herself. I mean, she was a nice mare an’ all, but that obsession ruined her.”
I looked about with some worry. Is the topic of humans so taboo that I can’t even say that I’m writing about them, even after all of these years?
“I-uh,” I fumbled, trying to find the most tactful way to appease them. “Well, yes – I want to write what they really were like. There’s been no book or thesis on humanity after all; if I’m the one to write the first official article on it, I’ll be in the academic spotlight!”
My mother remained unconvinced. “So was Lyra, but for all of the wrong reasons,” she rebutted.
“Look,” I tried in the most serious tone that I could muster, “I’m not saying that Lyra was right – heck, I think she was insane to think against the princesses. But I do think that we ought to remember about humanity.”
“Why would ponies want to remember death and war?” the green mare countered.
“Because then we can learn to avoid it!” I interjected, a bit loudly. “Have you seen what’s been going on around the world?” I pointed East. “Ponies are starving and there are pirates in Neighpon stealing what little food there is; there are politicians in the East who think the princesses shouldn’t rule! They’re thinking of secession in Shanghay! And Rio De Maneiro shows what happens when cities try to sever their ties with the Crown: More suffering and despair! Do you really want ponies fighting each other?”
My mother was stunned at my sudden outburst, and I was left staring at her awkwardly. Iron and Leaf exchanged apprehensive glances, and…
Did I just tell off my mother?
I shook the frustration away as I addressed Dew. “I’m- I’m sorry mom,” I breathed, feeling deeply ashamed. “I didn’t mean to shout.”
It wasn’t often that I lost my cool like that, and the last time was in a polemic I took part back in a class at university. And I would never snap at someone like that unless I felt emotionally attached to the discussion. Writing about humans was something that I deeply wanted, but was I really this passionate about it?
Obsessed more likely, a traitorous thought emerged, maybe like Lyra?
Leaf coughed awkwardly, trying to break the tension in the air. “We, er- are almost there. We oughta get going.”
As he set off my parents, particularly Morning Dew, gave me the look that they would give to a stranger. I could tell what they were thinking, ‘is this our son? Is he going to be the new Lyra?’
I said nothing – I just hung my head low for the rest of the trip.
As noon neared, we had already left the hilly interior of Grazeiosa and come to one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen. While the sands were dull in color they were teeming with plants, giving the beach a striking mash of deep tans, greens and reds, along with the dark blue of the sea. The currents were minimal so that there were almost no waves crashing onto the beach.
And just ahead of the tide was a wooden cottage. Its aesthetics were similar to the sort of architecture one would find in northern towns and cities like Hoofshire and Furlong, but the wood was of a shade of white, bleached in the intense sun that northerners didn’t often see. It was two-stories with the top floor constructed with a wide balcony facing the glittering waters.
If this was my grandmother’s home, I have to say that she had a modest, albeit wonderful, place.
Outside the wooden structure was a small gathering of ponies, all congregated by tables, benches and—
A casket.
I expected a wave of sorrow to come crashing down at the sight of the casket, but it did not come. Why am I not feeling sad right now?
We reached the funeral, and we met with the those waiting on us. I didn’t pay too much attention however – the outburst from earlier and the chastising glares I felt on me for the rest of the trip had left an impact on me. It was mostly a blur: Friends from the island’s village, some strangers who wanted to pay their respects regardless of their relationship with the decedent and I think one mare was there simply because the funeral was the only thing of note happening at the time.
Occasionally conversing with the other guests, I was mostly looking over the pine wedge that was the coffin. Floral decorations and tributes of white and black arranged the top of the funerary box, along with a framed picture of Lyra.
The light aquamarine mare was not the same one that was commemorated at the main plaza of Delgate; her golden eyes, while brimming with experience and knowledge, did not have the same glimmer that the statue conveyed. The pale cyan mane had graying highlights, and it was brushed with care, unlike the statue’s wilder mane. Not even her smile was the same – it wasn’t the ecstatic grin that was intrepid and adventurous; this was a far more humble and tired smile.
The Lyra in the photograph had aged considerably in comparison to the unicorn in the plaza. It was of some surprise that the imitation of the pony had more life than the one depicted here. In a sense it was saddening, yet I could not bring myself to connect with her, not in the same manner as I did with my parents. As far as I was concerned, she was a complete stranger.
And I hated myself for that.
“Reminiscing there Crystal?”
I jumped slightly at the voice. While I was in deep thought Blossom Leaf had somehow managed to sneak up by my side.
“Uh, no” I replied hastily. “Not in the way you’d think. I never actually met her.”
The maroon stallion nodded comprehensively. “Shame,” he commented, his gaze resting on the picture of Lyra. “I think the two of you would’ve gotten along well.”
I cocked my eyebrow at that. “Really? Why would you say that?”
“Welp, Lyra always had a way of ruffling feathers when it came to something that she cared deeply about.” He sighed softly, his eyes carrying an air of nostalgic fondness about them. “She was a very kind pony though,” Leaf stated, “even when life hasn’t been exactly kind to her, she didn’t blame it on anypony. And that’s something that really takes character, ya know what I’m saying?”
I shrugged. “Can’t really say anything, I never knew how she was.”
His head shook slightly in disappointment. “Again, I gotta say that even in her later years she was a really strong-headed mare. There was this one time she would try to climb to the roof to fix it up all on her lonesome – at seventy-three no less! Not many seniors would try doin’ that.”
He chuckled softly at the memory. “’Course, she could never get past the fifth step, but she didn’t give up easily. I caught her trying that stunt three more times before I climbed up the roof and fixed it myself.”
I offered a smile. “Must’ve been fun times.”
“You kiddin’?” he exclaimed, giving me a funny look. “Each time I found her on that ladder my heart skipped beats! I seriously thought that she’d kill herself trying to care of herself! Ever since then I made sure I had my eye on your grandmother at all times so that she wouldn’t pull any fast ones on me.”
I laughed quietly at this, finally beginning to feel that Lyra had been someone whom I had known. Still I was unable to actually think of her as an actual family member. I scowled at that.
Leaf caught the sulk. “I know how yer thinkin’ right now: ‘Why couldn’t I have known my grandma more?’”
I blinked in surprise. He smirked. “Yer an open book Crystal, and you act jus’ like her.”
“I’m surprised that your cutie mark has nothing to do with reading minds Leaf,” I recovered, hiding my shock of him guessing at what I was feeling. How does he do that?
The stallion laughed in response. “I suppose that’s what I should’a been doing in the first place after all, eh?” he chuckled as nudged my side.
Mumbling an agreement, my mind went back to contemplating the person that was now nothing but a corpse in a box. Was I really like Lyra? It felt wrong in a way, mostly because I couldn’t picture myself doing the same acts of treason that had condemned the mare to exile. I didn’t even like humans, they saddened me more than anything else, but like them? Never. I was nothing like Lyra.
…am I?
Eventually an elderly pegasus, Sun Rise or something along those lines, tapped a glass with a spoon, grabbing the attention of everyone attending. She called for everypony to gather around and announced that the time to lay the coffin in its final resting place had come.
“If you have any final words or thoughts that you’d like to share with us or our beloved Lyra Heartstrings, now is the time to do so.”
A violet-blue unicorn took the stand, his tan eyes expressing controlled grief. “I was, um, a good friend of Lyra. When I first came to Grazeiosa, some of the locals here had told me to avoid her, saying that she was a non-person and madpony. I disregarded their warnings, and to this day, I do not regret making that choice. She was a wonderful mare, forced to live by herself, alone and forgotten by the society that had ousted her.”
He turned to steal a quick glance at the still-framed picture. “Sh-she was kind, a-and good-hearted and strong-minded; Lyra was just like anyone of us despite what others said. She deserved friends, and…”
The unicorn paused, taking in a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering with tears. “An-and I am proud to know that I was a friend of hers.”
He bowed his head gracefully at the casket. “May you rest easy, Ly. You’ve earned it.”
A silent stomping from the crowd echoed as the stallion returned to his seat. A few more eulogies were shared, including one from Blossom Leaf and the one mare who hadn’t even known Lyra. The amount of genuine praise made me feel all the more remorse of the death, and I was seeing her more and more like an actual person.
And yet, I still was unable to consider her as a family member.
I cursed myself. Why? Why can’t I feel sorry for her?
Then came Iron’s turn to give one last speech on behalf of the decedent. Everyone listened in with anticipation, ears perked. Just before speaking, the unicorn shot a glare my way. It was his silent way to remind me that he hadn’t forgotten my earlier outburst. In response I broke line of sight and drooped my ears. Couldn’t he let go of that for just one minute? Even while he stood in front of his mother’s coffin, he would not give me respite.
His cold glare dissipated as he cleared his throat. “My mother was a great many things,” Iron began, occasionally glancing at some cue cards that he had on him. “Eccentric, stubborn, inconsiderate, and in some ponies’ minds, disloyal. However, as everyone here has heard, she was also a neighbor, a friend; she was a mare with many a virtue.
“Above all,” he resounded, chewing on his lip, “Lyra was a mother – my mother. While neither my family nor I understood her reasoning, she was no less a mother than any other. Society might never forgive her actions or her ideals, but she will forever be remembered by us all. Even after decades of seclusion, I’ve come here to remember her and give her one final farewell before she may enter her eternal slumber.”
Iron Heart motioned Dew to pass him a small bouquet of snow-white lilies. He laid the flowery tribute on the pine casket by the framed picture of Lyra with great care. “This – this is for you mom,” he announced, tears rolling down the sides of his muzzle. “I never hated you for what happened, nor will I ever forget you. Know this mom: I always loved you and always will, no matter what. Remember that.”
There was no applause, silent nor loud, for Iron’s eulogy. The sorrow emanating from him had warranted no cheer for his carefully selected words.
That’s something that bothered me; they were chosen for a reason, but I was unable to tell if they were truly authentic to what he really felt. His speech came off as slightly forced, but those tears looked genuine. He may have really felt sorry for her mother, but it wasn’t clear if he truly meant what he said.
If that isn’t the case, a voice in me stated, then why is he sorry for Lyra?
On cue, the casket bearers (two unicorns) lifted the wedge-shaped coffin, leaving behind some of the funerary flowers and the picture, and carried it towards the beach. The rest followed in silence.
A ways away from the wooden cottage was a recently dug grave. Everypony stood by the artificial fissure as the funerary box was lowered down gingerly in the grave. The pegasus from before gave the concluding orations, wishing Lyra a peaceful slumber before some of those attending tossed flowers on the casket.
I felt useless and guilty. Even as the grave was being filled I still couldn’t empathize Lyra in the same manner as I would with a close friend or parent.
It’s not fair! I didn’t even know you existed until a few days ago, how am I supposed to feel about somepony whom I don’t know dying?
But I had to do something, something that would prove to at least Lyra – that is, if she was listening – that I did care.
But I do care! I protested, I… I just don’t know if I care enough.
Feeling pressured at the fast rate of the interment, I knew that I had but one last thing that I could do.
“I’m…I’m sorry grandma,” I whispered wordlessly, my eyes fixated at the rapidly sinking coffin. “I wish I knew you better, and that we could have shared some moments together before… well, you know.”
Smooth.
“I don’t know what your thoughts were, nor do I think that I agree with your ideas, but I do think that I would’ve wanted to meet you, just once. I want to say that I’m sorry for what has happened to you and how you’ve been treated. But you’ve made your mark, and for that I will always admire you.
“So,” I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly, thinking of a way to finish the prayer properly. “In conclusion, uh, I wanted bid you farewell to wherever you’ll end up in, and hope that you may rest easy.”
Finally, as the remnants of the pine wood coffin disappeared underneath the sand, that wave of grief finally hit home, the culmination of two deaths within the day came crashing in. My eyes moistened with oncoming tears at long last.
First a prince, now a grandmother.
Goodbye and rest in peace – the two of you.
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Special thanks to boredhooman for taking a look at this chapter before it went up.
I'll admit it, I haven't felt this emotional while writing since when I was writing the prologue of this. However the emotions were different this time: in the prologue (originally meant to have been a one-shot at the time), I was mostly feeling angered and frustrated, and writing was a means to vent that frustration. This time I felt a twinge of sadness while I was writing, particularly when I was doing the funeral scene. It wasn't to the point where I was tearing up, but I never felt this emotional about writing something. I mean, this is a fiction of pastel-colored ponies - how is that sad?
Apparently, if an author plays his cards right, he can make anything sad.
Ah well, enough bantering from me. Have yourselves a chapter friends. Enjoy!
1213475
...Damn.
I remember thinking aquamarine when writing that part. I think my hands must've inadvertently typed ultramarine for some reason (maybe it's easier on the hands? I dunno).
Fixed though. Thanks for catching that.
New chapter? Fuck Yes!!!
Can't wait to see how his book on humans works out. Can't help but feel that he's going to get a big shock.
Also, why is this story on hiatus?
1213549
It's on hiatus status because my writing is on-and-off, so I don't have a regular schedule, and often times, updates are weeks apart. So it's just there mostly to not give false hopes to new readers.
Now this was more interesting. You got some conflict going on there and emotional tension building up, now we just see how it pays off.
This came out awesome as expected. Now onto the chapter:
I find it amusing that the fact that in most TCB's Celestia has a 'Technology is Evil' (And I think she had one too in this one. I'm not sure), and yet they
have planes and the likes.
Nice to see conflicting feelings in Crystal. Hopefully he'll come around. For the better that is.
About Shining's death... Honestly I couldn't give a single f*** about him. Lyra is more honorable.
I liked how you actually went ahead and made the locals talk in Portuguese. the execution was well done too. Although it felt kind of odd to me, I guess I can just blame that on not being used to see my native idiom being used in tandem with English.
I did notice the lack of a certain song, though. Maybe next/later chapters?
Anyhow, I shall wait for more.
1217493
Oh that's for a later chapter. I felt that it wouldn't really fit with the overall mood of these next few chapters.
*Gandalf voice*: Keep it secret, keep it safe.
Again as I've already said, technology is sort of a mixed bag for ponies. Certain things such as planes and radios are perfectly fair game for ponies so they adopt them without any real complaints. Still some might think that they shouldn't, but those are not many...
Pretty damned emotional, there. I too know Crystal Clear's agony at not being able to... fully grieve, for lack of a better term. Good contrast of the statue and picture, there.
And to forget history is to be condemned to repeat it, as the saying goes. ;)
1375386
If I recall correctly, he shouted "Long live humanity!" A bit of an ironic statement from the last human in hindsight.
1375818
Ah. That would be "Da zdravstvuet chelovechestvo!", then: "da zdravstvuet smth. " is the counterpart to "long live smth."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=na1kbFq_qpo&feature=relmfu
The current variant says, literally, "long-term service to humanity". Or "of humanity" - the last word's case is off, anyway)
1379620
Ah! Thanks! I'm not Russian myself so I had to use an online translator (and we all know how well they work)
1380404
At least they bring some more laughter and smiles into this world.
Never fear, that's what I'm here for)
Online translators, yeah, they're... nice
1437954
I don't know anyone who's a native speaker. I even asked for anyone who knew Russian to correct me if I was wrong. Mind helping me out?
1438061
First, I am native Russian.
Second, you can try sites like Russian Stackexchage http://russian.stackexchange.com/
1444630
Thanks for the translations and link.
Alright, I guess I'll say it...
What do Shining and Lyra have to do with each other?
1554153
Do they? I'm not so sure about that...
1583226 So they just so happened to die on the same day? Uh-huh...
As the element of Loyalty. I can honestly say that sounds like a load of manure.
*Not actually the element of loyalty. No infringement intended.
1583933
The thing is that they didn't die on the same day. Lyra was dead for a few days before Shining succumbed to the radiation sickness.
1584094 Oh, I guess I mistook what had been written...
I just don't know what went wrong!
*tears weld out from my eyes* LLLLYYYRRRRAAAAAA
7760676
that sounds painful.
R.I.P. Lyra Heartstrings, Defender of Humanity.