4. Hypocaust
Posey and I are chatting amiably over a proper, long-overdue hooficure by the time Auric arrives for me. Specifically, we are at the point of exfoliating the frogs of my hooves with a quantity of caramel-colored sugar paste, which I am absolutely not going to start licking at mid-treatment, because can you imagine. I am wearing a fluffy white towel on my head, and a hot muslin parcel of aromatic herbs encircles my neck: ginger, lemongrass, a trace of camphor. The warm, medicinal vapors have profoundly slowed my heart rate and my breathing. I glance in a nearby mirror; it is difficult to believe that this luxuriated pony is the same creature who was running cold and ragged about the alleys of Cloudsdale little more than an hour past.
He bursts into our tranquil little scene with an alien, but not unwelcome, energy. Apparently he has been vetted and given the okay by Posey's trained guard-filly out front. Posey's face lights up when she sees him. "Gustave!" she cries.
"Mais oui, mais oui, ç'est moi!" says "Gustave," in elaborately affected Pfrench. "And 'ow is our petite princess ce soir?"
"She seems much more relaxed, if I do say so myself!" Posey gives my pastern a little rub. It is just as well she is looking at Auric and not me, else she would see me staring at him in confused disbelief. I catch Auric's eyes, and they twinkle at me.
Play along, those eyes say, and I do so. Auric is without a doubt one of the stranger creatures in my immediate circle.
"Doing just fine, um, Gustave!"
He nods back. Good girl. With a bit of befuddled alarm, I notice that he has attached an elaborate faux handlebar mustache to his beak. Stars above, who is this creature?
As I wonder, Auric continues speaking. All Equuish now, but still with a comically-overdone accent. "Your Highness will be 'appy to know her little journalism issue 'as been dealt with. She may return 'ome whenever she pleases."
I do not have time to ponder the sinister implications of the words "dealt with" before Posey replies. "That's wonderful news, Gustave! I imagine Her Highness is so very pleased."
"Of course!" I say, with my best artificial cheer.
"We're nearly done here," says Posey. "One more tepid bath and Her Highness will have had the full experience."
"But of course," I say, quailing at my needy stomach but determined to not interrupt Posey's all-important ritual. "Just a quick soak. Maybe put a bit of rainbow in it?"
I hate the little bitty pause that comes right after I've said something totally wrong but no one wants to say anything because alicorn. Sweet Aunty Celestia, do I hate it.
"I'm sorry, may I ask if something's the matter?"
Posey shuffles one hoof. After a moment, Auric-slash-Gustave comes to her rescue. "Rainbows are, 'ow you say…" He gestures aimlessly with one claw. "...Not so common around 'ere."
"I don't want you to be dissatisfied with your experience," whispers Posey.
"I don't understand. Don't rainbows come from the ducts?"
"Those ducts don't run to neighborhoods like ours."
"Why—"
"Rules, rules," says Auric, breezily. "Ze Weather Corporation 'as so many rules! Doubtless zere are many perfectly-good reasons for it. Safety may be a concern."
"Rainbows are beautiful," I feebly protest, my head swimming.
"Of course they are," Posey agrees. "Also kind of dangerous."
"But... you can literally take baths in rainbow."
"Yes, um, but what if somepony were to, um, drink it? Or something." Posey shuffles a hoof again.
"What kind of pony would even think of drinking rainbow?"
"Well, what if it was somepony new to the city, and—"
Auric more or less literally swoops in. "Perhaps not so good to be talking about all zis now. Ze hour is, how you say, very late. Posey, petite chou, would you consider interrupting all-important bath ritual just once?" He takes up her hoof in one claw and gives it a quick, dainty peck. "Pour moi."
She smiles at him, then looks to me for my approval. I shrug, somewhat disingenuously; much as I'm loving Posey's ministrations, the sugar paste on my hooves is looking more and more delicious each passing second, and my risk of doing something ridiculous is rising to a dangerously high level.
Posey relents. "Very well. For you, Gustave."
"Merci." The griffon bows, deep and gallant.
"You've done wonders tonight, Posey," I say, keeping my voice carefully even and trying not to whimper as she rinses my hooves clean of the presumably-delicious spa product and towels them off. Light pleasantries are exchanged, Posey once again haggles me down to paying nothing for services that single-hoofedly saved my sanity, and with altogether uncanny efficiency, Auric shuffles me out into the chill night air. Before I even completely understand what's going on, he and I are flying a broad, lazy, ascending arc in the direction of the Acropolis.
Once we are fully alone, I break out in a giggle. "What in Equestria was that?" I say, gesturing back in the direction of Posey's.
Auric shrugs, clacking his beak with amused rakishness. "Oh, you know how it is. Live for enough centuries, you eventually get bored and go off on a tear pretending to be outrageously Pfrench for a few decades. Breaks up the monotony, don't you know?"
"No," I say, in all honesty. "Auric, I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm probably about as old as you are, and I haven't pretended to be Pfrench even once. Okay, yes, I was crib-bound for most of it, but even so."
"You should try it one of these centuries. It's marvelously therapeutic. Speaking of which: how was your introduction to proper Pegasopolian bathing?"
I swoon a little, and do a lazy mid-air flip. The solid professional preening I'd just received as part of Posey's services has done wonders for my flight-confidence. "Amazing."
"Aha," he says. "That's the pegasus in you talking, finally. You've been bathing as an earth pony for centuries, and as a unicorn for decades. Earth ponies bathe to get clean. Unicorns bathe to get clean and to luxuriate."
"I just did both those things."
"Yes, but you did so much more than that. Pegasi, my dear princess, bathe to connect. The very idea of sequestering themselves from the public gaze in a little claw-footed tub to perform individual ablutions is a profoundly foreign one."
I cock my head at him, raising one eyebrow. "Those are some six-bit words, sir."
"I purchase those little 'word-a-day' tear-off calendars, and I've had an awful lot of days. Irrelevant. My main thrust is that bathing is absolutely integral to this society. Works its way into the very language."
"'Bene lave,'" I say, shifting effortlessly to Pegasopolian.
"That's the one."
"I always thought it was a funny way to wish somepony well. 'Have a good bath!'"
"It's all about keeping the feathers in working trim. Going without a good soak once a day? Unthinkable. If you wish to fit in with Cloudsdale, you will bathe much more, and much more publicly, than you do now. I'm sure Posey would love to have your business, but it would do your reputation a world of good to visit the public thermae as well. Rub wings with the washed masses a bit."
"Do they—we—do that? Just... all together? Senators and weatherponies alike?"
Auric nods. "The great equalizer. It's been keeping Cloudsdale's society healthy since the Founding."
I muse for a moment. "But, apparently, earth pony neighborhoods don't get the same amenities as the pegasus ones do."
Auric's mien darkens. "Yes, well. No one said the city's health remains strong."
"So New Veneighzia doesn't get rainbows, but they do get streams of weird magic-numbing elements that shouldn't even exist? What's going on in this town, Auric?"
"I wish I knew," he says, sounding startlingly vulnerable. Then his eyes light up with purpose. "But perhaps none of this will matter in a few minutes. Perhaps we'll be able to leave this place behind and let your Aunty Celestia sort this out. Perhaps you and I will both be able to go home. Real home."
"I don't understand."
"All you need to know is that it involves you getting something to eat."
I ask no more questions. That is all I need to hear.
We are perched on Mast Seven of the Bahamoot, one of the largest and most popular masts of the impossibly-huge redwood skyship permanently anchored into the central mass of Cloudsdale. Far below us, beneath the acres of deck and deep within the maze of the ship's holds, is the gleaming headquarters of the Cloudsdale Weather Corporation, relocated here from the old Weather Factory for efficiency's sake. The towering Fo'c'sle is home to the city's financial district, where unicorn executives labor deep into the night (if the glimmering lights at the structure's portholes are to be believed). Far to stern is the opulent Aftcastle District, where many of those selfsame executives live. (I wonder for a moment how many ponies in Cloudsdale exist without ever even touching the substance that gives it its name.) Stretching out between the two structures, occupying the lion's share of the upper deck, is the Foreign Quarter, alive with music and lights and tiny docking airships, looking like schools of pilot fish swarming about the Bahamoot's sleek and sharklike hull. Duchess Blueblood's flagship, from her adventuring days, is named after an ancient mythical fish that was rumored to support all of existence on its back, and the metaphor has never been more clear to me than it is right now.
The Masts have long been stripped of their original function, of course, and have been lined with twining helices of pegasus-themed kiosks and comfortable cloud-lined observation perches. Mast Seven is not the tallest of them (that honor is reserved for Mast Three, which supports the Crow's Nest Lounge, possibly the most exclusive dining establishment on the continent), but it does have an amazing and dizzying view of the Acropolis off the edge of Point Cumulus. Auric and I watch as lantern-bearing couriers go about the business of governing the Greatest City in the Sky far below. The trails of light they leave look like passing fireflies.
We are alone and away from the crowds. Occasionally a trio of pegasus revelers will flap erratically past, laughing at jokes we sober folk cannot understand. They pay us little heed. The night is quiet, here.
Auric and I perch together but separated by an awkward cubit. The night remains cold, and I find myself envying the revelers, wishing that I too had a gaggle of silly marefriends to cuddle up with, but there is only me and my bizarre griffon savior. He and I are not at the cuddle point.
"So," I say. "Food?"
"Of course," he says. He rummages about in a sizable insulated satchel he picked up at some point between Posey's and here, and eventually emerges with a lovely crystal phial filled with a small measure of deep amber fluid.
"Honey?" I say.
Auric nods. He is oddly solemn as he passes the phial to me.
"Well," I say, "it would be ideal to have some scones or something, but, beggars can't be choosers." My stomach fairly roaring now, I remove the stopper, wondering for a moment at the ornate seal (but not for long). I telekinetically bring the flask to my lips—
"Stop," says Auric, his voice breaking. I am about to be irritated, but his tone and the expression on his face stops me cold. Blinking, I lower the flask.
The griffon breathes a couple times, his chest rising and falling. When he next speaks, his voice is distant.
"Many years ago. Well before you came to Canterlot. The age of the Shadowstar Tyrant, in the East. Two weeks into the Siege of Stalliongrad, we were all roused from our beds and told the Imperial Army would breach our gates within the hour. I had booked passage on the last airship to Griffonstone, called in every favor I had for it. There was... a mare, and her child. Barely a foal. I pleaded with the captain to let them come as well. You know the tales of the Tyrant, how he pressed into slavery any earth pony he could lay horn upon, to work his dread obsidian mines. The captain asked me for this phial in exchange for their passage, and I..."
Auric trails off. I set the honey down on the cloud-padded bench. "What was her name?" I ask, my voice small.
"Sugarbeet," says Auric. "Cinnamon Dust was her foal. I never found out what happened. I kept searching, once the smoke had cleared, for any trace, any story." He shakes his head. "Some things are beyond doing, Your Highness. Even for someone with all the time in the world."
"I'm sorry," I say, not knowing what else to. Impulsively I do go in for a hug, but I meet his outstretched claw.
"In Maretonia," he said, the words coming more rapidly now. "On the verge of an epochal dust storm that buried the entire country. I skirted an ocean of sand ready to fall on me to recover this from one of my caches. On another occasion, I swallowed this phial and held it in my crop for six days on an overland trip through the dragon lands. I once literally walked into a burning building to retrieve it."
"Stars above, what is it?"
"That, dear Princess, is the last measure of crystalberry honey to be had anywhere in existence. Crystalberries were an important orchard crop of my home, your home. Honeybees went wild for the blossoms. They made of them a honey of exquisite character, unlike anything in the world since."
I swallow. "This is from the Empire? Really?"
"Yes. So it's both rather valuable and rather important to me. And I apologize for throwing this all at you, because I realize you must be famished by now, but I just couldn't let this happen without giving you a bit of context."
"Of course," I say. I eye it curiously. "Is it okay to eat? It must be a little past its sell-by date."
"Never goes bad, kept properly. And I've done my best to."
"And you're sure you want me to have it."
"Absolutely."
I look at the phial for a minute longer. It is not often that one sees the last-ever instance of something. Then I summon up the last traces of my politeness. "We should both have some, obviously."
Auric's face is at war for a moment, but the conflict soon resolves. "No. I won't risk everything on one moment of hedonism. If there's even a chance..."
"What is supposed to happen?"
"Just drink it, please. Before I change my mind."
I mull it over for a moment longer, then remove the stopper and consume the last crystalberry honey that will ever exist. It warms my throat as it passes, and then it is gone.
Auric stares at me eagerly, his yellow eyes piercing. "Well?"
"It was sweet," I say.
"And? What else? Anything?"
I open and close my mouth helplessly, then shrug.
Anger suddenly crackles across Auric's face, and it is terrifying. "Useless!" he shouts, and I cannot tell if he is referring to the situation or to me specifically.
I cower a little. "Sorry!" I say, but Auric's ferocious squall leaves as quickly as it blew in. The griffon's feathers smooth back down, and he is again as he was.
"No, no, it's all right," he says, absently waving a claw in a gesture that is just a bit too calculated and artificial. "Stupid to hope, in truth."
"What didn't I do right?" I say, still cowed.
"Certain rather silly individuals may have had the... apparently incorrect notion that if I were to reunite the last Crystal Princess with a true, pure memory of the Empire, that'd be what it would take to bring it back to the world."
I look at him, trying for "compassionate and understanding" but apparently missing the mark. "Oh, stop," says Auric, scooting to the far edge of the cloud and perching there like a chastised schoolfilly. "I've no need for pity."
"How do we know it didn't work?"
"The Empire was the crux of all Earth magic in Equestria," he said. "The light and love of the crystal ponies would burst into great arcs of shimmering color that would regularly fill the northern sky. I imagine we would know." He gestures, offhoofedly. (Offclawedly? Not sure.) "Also, I think we'd feel it."
"I'm sorry it didn't work, Auric."
"Stupid hope, like I said. Anyway, I expect you'll want some proper dinner." He fishes around in the bag some more, and emerges with a box of woven bamboo sheets. My eyes go wide, and I think I am literally drooling. "Under normal circumstances I would actually have prepared you something myself, but I was a bit pressed for time, what with threatening the life and livelihood of several unsavory members of the press should certain photographs appear in tomorrow's Acta. So, you will have to settle for this rather large box of steamed custard buns. Nai huang bao, I believe they're called. I'm not sure if you've ever had them or if the idea appeals to you and, oh, okay, wow, that's... rather a lot of them to try and cram into your face at once, Your Highness."
"Mphwhaufwghfoumouphouph," I say, decisively. Then, I conclude: "Pwhfh?"
"Why yes, I do have a second box."
"Pfwhee!" I say, throwing my hooves wide. Then I gesture at the bag. "Enh. Enh."
With an amused smirk, Auric tosses me the remaining custard buns. They are just as heavenly as the first ones: soft, cloud-white pillows of steamed dough surrounding mouth-watering centers of golden, sweet baked egg. I tear into them like a wolverine. It is quite some time before I am able to do anything more than eat.
Eventually, though, the roar of my metabolism subsides. I can still feel it lurking in the shadows at the edge of my being, but it is quelled, at least for the moment. I eye the wreckage of the meal. Perhaps it was the result of a poorly-placed box lid or some other act of camouflage, but it seems as though I might have overlooked the very last custard bun. I look at it forlornly for a moment.
"It would be awfully rude of me to—"
"Oh, just have it," says Auric. I dive for the bun, and it shortly follows the rest. I sit back against the cloud, momentarily sated.
"Thanks, Auric. That was absolutely wonderful."
"Mm," he says. Then he leans in, and while his voice remains soft, there is a flicker of that same intensity I saw earlier. "Never do that again."
"I know, I know. Abominable table manners for polite company. In my defense, I was absolutely famished, but I will promise you right now that you'll never see me eat like that ever—"
"No! Stars, how can you be so frustrating? I'm not talking about your table manners, I'm actually talking about your insistence on not eating. I know your Aunty Celestia runs a show of propriety and secrets, and it rubs off on pegasi like that stodgy old Weather Eye whose manse you're bunking in, but you're in Cloudsdale now, Princess. The ponies here adore heroic feats and accomplishments of the physical form, and yes, that includes eating. Pegasi feast beyond reason. They're famous for it."
"But... as a princess, and a representative of Canterlot, I thought surely—"
"What, that you shouldn't blend in? Shouldn't be anything like the natives? Cadance, I swear to you, there are certain night parties where you would absolutely be the star of the show were you to unleash that metabolism upon an unsuspecting buffet. I've been to such parties. They're tremendous. Look, I know you feel the Cloudsdale situation is a bit up in the air right now, pun absolutely unintentional, especially since H.E. Smiles has apparently gone insane in refusing to cede her post. I can't begin to fathom why you or your Aunty aren't stepping in and removing her by force."
"Well, it'd be… impolite, wouldn't it? Surely she'll see reason eventually."
He flicks away my words like an irritating insect. "Your reasons are your own, of course. My point is: you're an alicorn, Cadance. You don't need an official position to make this city yours."
I wonder at the sound of his words.
Below us is the mass of twinkling lights and thunder that is Cloudsdale. I lean forward, just a bit, tasting the air. Canterlot, the Mountain, is so utterly and completely my aunt's that it had taken me a long time to notice, much in the same way I imagine most fish do not notice they are wet. Reduit had been mine, I suppose, but in the way that an egg belongs to a chick; I smashed that shell emerging from it, and neither that Cadance nor that Reduit exist any longer. The Empire is a distant dream, singing in my bloodline but doing little else, and I have lived on dreams for so long I am hungry, ravenous, for something more... substantive.
Just for a moment, the part of me that is alicorn stirs, and opens its eyes…
There is thunder in my ears and lightning in my mouth. This is one of the hinges of the world, the last and proudest stronghold of the pegasus nation, which devours air and water and produces rainbows and storms, light and dark in equal measure. Their lives spin around me in a whirling tornado, reaching back to their near-mythical progenitors, the Hurricane and the Flower, and forward to a fate I cannot see but can almost touch. I smell bread, and salt, and rain, and sweat, and tears, and love, and hate, and rot, and growth, and I know that I can take this bit between my teeth and pull, it's right in front of me if I only want it enough…
It gets away from me. Auric, I realize, is still talking. "...not by rank. Not by position. But you could own this town as much as your Aunty owns Canterlot, and you could do it merely by living life as large as you actually are, Ms. One-Of-Two-Remaining-Alicorns. Neither of us is apparently returning to our actual home anytime soon. We may as well make the most of the forever we have here."
I look down on Cloudsdale. It's just a city again. But somehow more.
I begin to smile. "Yes," I say.
"Good girl."
"But! I'm still getting a job. If I'm making this my city, all the more reason to cut ties with Aunty Celestia." I nip up Celestia's book of stipend checks from my bags. "That means that these little things go bye-bye."
"Do as you will, of course," says Auric, his voice infuriatingly neutral.
I shoot him a bit of a half-glare, and grab up the promissory notes in my telekinetic field, preparing to chuck them right off the mast.
Then I stop.
"Or," I say, "I could decide to to be a bit less overdramatically childish and use them for some greater good, rather than just tossing them all over the Foreign Quarter."
"Go on."
"My stipend could send Posey's filly to flight camp. It'd be everything either of them want for. Maybe I should stop cocooning myself up in my own problems and start seeing myself as a part of the city I'm in."
"Ah," says Auric. "That's what I wanted to hear."
"You seem to be on good terms with her," I say, rather more meekly depositing the checks in front of Auric. "Would you mind apportioning them out?"
"Your wish is my command," he says, scooping them up. And then there is silence between us for a time.
"Auric?"
"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow.
"What was home like?"
"It varied. Depending whose rump was seated on the throne. When your father ruled alone, it was a cold, white country. But, when your mother arrived, and her love warmed the Snow King's heart... ah." His eyes get a faraway look. "Shining, green, warm as can be. Wonderful festivals. Vast rolling fields surrounding a city of faceted jewels, anchored by a tower that rose above them all as though it ached for the heavens. Happiness and well-being settled around the place in clouds, and I do mean that literally. When the sun would heat the crystals of the city, the air all around turned electric with joy."
"Posey had something in her shop. A little pink salt lamp. I'd never seen such a thing before, but the moment she lit it, I was floored."
Auric is still for a moment, but there is clearly some turbulence beneath his surface. Then he gives a heavy sigh. "That would be the smell of home," he says. "Apparently, it's in your blood. Would that I had known you were in there having authentic Imperial experiences without me. I could have saved the honey."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. It was just a thing. It's an exception to the old 'things can be replaced' chestnut, for it absolutely can't, but it's still less important than certain other old relics that did escape."
"Am I an old relic?" I ask, a smile playing on my muzzle.
"You've aged better than I," he says. "But, yes. We're just a couple of lost, lonely antiques of dubious provenance. Let's at least not gather dust, eh?"
I spontaneously try for the hug again, and this time, he doesn't stop me.
"Auric," I whisper, "what is the meaning of love?"
"I have lost everything I have ever loved, Cadance. It is my dominant association with the word."
"So love is... loss."
"Unfortunately."
"No, that doesn't sound right." I shake my head. "But then again, what do I know? I mean, I hardly even know you, and apparently you've been watching me my whole life."
"Intermittently. I have my moments. Don't make the mistake of confusing age with discernment, Cadance. I've merely experienced love. You're the Princess of it."
"Then… that's not right. 'Loss' isn't right."
"I suspected as much," he says, patting my withers with one claw. "But the night is cold, and you're warm, and I'm warm, and perhaps that's all either of us need right now."
We stay perched in the wind for quite some time, watching the never-sleeping lights of Cloudsdale far below, huddled into one another, gray feathers against pink fur.
"Your Lieutenant will be wondering after you by now. Almost certainly there will be Tartarus to pay when you get home."
"All the more reason to stay here a moment longer."
"As you wish, Your Highness," he says, and it is long past midnight before either of us moves.
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Yes!
(And sometime later that evening, Cadence picks several small scraps of cardboard out from between her teeth, casualties of a small section of the box which did not dodge out of the way quickly enough when it found itself between an alicorn and food.)
Your devious ploy to force me to reread everything trying to remember what happened every time a chapter is out is working.
Ah, that's the stuff.
Re: the author's note, that was a great paragraph. I experienced a minor fit of envy just reading it. Also your descriptions of the masts, the history of the crystalberry honey, and pretty much every other bit of narrative or dialogue in this story.
But I especially want to call this out:
It is so rare, and yet so perfect, to best describe something by not describing it at all.
"Oh, we should stop at a cafe, princess. I have an interview airing tonight! On the wireless."
"... an interview?"
=========
Everypony complains about the weather, but very few of them fill out the forms correctly.
Welcome... to Cloudsdale.
We have updates on our continuing coverage of the unfolding doping scandal involving Team Zephyr. The culmination of a long and arduous investigation by the polizia led to a predawn raid on the team's field house on the grounds of the Cirrus Maximus last week, which turned up recreational narcotics of all sorts; the polizia have yet to release an official statement, but this station has received reliable reports than an entire bathtub full of bubble foam was found there. Pure soap bubbles, uncut, "the good stuff" as they say.
In addition to this, a variety of performance-enhancing drugs were found. The standards, of course; steroids and amphetamines were well-represented, as were more outre and dangerous offerings; blow, suck, crank, pump, stamp, snort, bellow, hug, and perhaps most shocking of all, immortality.
In retrospect, the signs were all there. The withdrawal symptoms. The sudden increases in muscle mass of every new team member. Team Zephyr's captain, Track Mark, having no fewer than 400 consecutive championship seasons. But these were our athletes, our heroes. We all turned a blind eye.
Therefore, as part of our ongoing series of public service segments, tonight we've brought in an expert on the subject, a recovering immortality addict. Please welcome Auric Turncloak.
A pleasure to be here, Third Eye.
Now, it says here that you're an, ah, a chaos-spawned chimera from the very dawn of days, a being forged in disharmony and shaped in strife?
So old-fashioned! It's charming. I'm a griffon, yes. You can tell because of the claws.
I don't like to make assumptions. And... you're a recovering addict.
Alas, it is true. And I have thoughts on the subject. Listeners, especially those of you out there who are still chicks-
Foals.
Yes, I apologize, foals. Listen, children. It might seem like immortality is "cool" and "totally with it." It seems so harmless at first! You outlive hated childhood enemies. You dance on some graves. You deposit a bit in the bank and make an absolute fortune because you think compound interest is your best friend.
Compound interest is a user. It has no friends, only victims.
Indeed! A fact I learned far too late! But then you find out that you just can't stop. "I can quit any time I want," you say, as you enter your third century. "I have it all under control," you declare, as a series of unfortunate political choices leads to you organizing repeated coups d'etat. And after that there's nothing left but the long, slow fall into well-concealed nihilism, as your personality becomes nothing more than a set of learned traits and responses you wear as a mask to function in polite society, and everything you've ever loved turns to ash and dust around you except for a handful of other eternal beings just as twisted as you are, and the only thing that keeps you going are the last tattered vestiges of a purpose so long-held that to even think of questioning it, or the horrible, terrible things you have done in service of it, causes your soul to shrivel. Because if it turns out that purpose means nothing, that means you are nothing. Less than nothing.
Also, you could be expelled from school! Stay in school, kids!
Yes. Stay in school.
But now you're in recovery, yes? You're doing better?
Well. That's the problem, Third Eye. You never really recover from immortality. You just... stop one day. But it's better to not start at all.
... well! Thank you for your unique perspective, Auric. That was an informative and deeply concerning look into the heart of Equestria's most dangerous addictive substance. I think I speak for all of us when I say that I hope the courts throw the very book at those members of Team Zephyr caught to be "juicing" on immortality, and that the Senate take up additional legislation to address the problem if need be.
Stay tuned next for eight full hours of that sound a cloud makes right before it disperses into nothingness. No, not that sound. The other sound.
=========
"... you sound different over the wireless."
"Yes, they do say the microphone adds ten pounds."
~~~fin~~~
This is part four of Welcome to Cloudsdale. The previous part may be found here.
The next part may be found here.
The Welcome to Cloudsdale masterpost may be found here.
Which story is the first story of this series?
8397846
This one.
8397769
I do so enjoy this sub-series.
Should the title be "4. Hypocaust"?
edit: Oh, this appears to have been corrected between the time I opened the chapter and the time I made my comment.
Nice to see the Cycle back. :)
8397744
You're very kind, CiG. I don't have the discipline to produce a full-length original work on my own, but I function passably well as a pre-reader and occasional script doctor.
I actually considered going a different way with my elevator pitch to Skywriter, and popped open Lost Cities (and related works; Seal of Wax and Glass came closest to being what I wanted) to see what I could shamelessly steal from there. Decided against that; Cloudsdale is a living rather than dead city, and that made me come at it a different way. It's meant to be a deliberate counterpoint to the gazetteer style exposition Cadance gave us when she arrived. Back then, she saw the cities body. Now she's had a look at its soul.
Sky took the pitch, so I did something right.
So happy to see the premiere Cadance series continuing! Also glad to hear that Cadance can indulge at the tables in Cloudsdale... time to find every establishment that has an "If you can finish it..." eating challenge and live on free food until people grow wise enough to exclude alicorns. She's a cinch to never end up on the "Wall of Shame" for failures.
For all we know, the honey worked, just with a bit of a delay.
FOOD FOR THE ALICORN AT LAST
THE MORTALS ARE SAFE, FOR NOW
That's good to know. The mortals may remain safe for an extended period of time, in fact.
That is a much better plan for the stipend checks.
Huzzah! And Love-Butt is back!
♫ Huzzah! And Love-Butt is back!♫
...
Huh.
Apparently, all it took to forever mean that "huzzah," which previously I merely unironically used in casual conversation and is now associated with a five-beat chorus-backing line, was one playthrough of Deponia.
And so Auric aids his princess once more, giving her vital insights into this city that could so easily be hers. Meanwhile, those vouchers will grease the wheels of destiny very nicely.
Also, this is perhaps the best explanation I've ever seen for Gustave le Grande's mustache. Though now I'm wondering why he entered that pastry competition. I suppose he has to do something when he isn't being an enigmatic figure in Cadance's life.
The description of Bahamoot is just wonderful.
8399229
Thanks so much!
8399085
He was a pastry chef by trade in the ancient griffon kingdoms before he was conscripted. My headcanon is that he is the unnamed chef mentioned in The Journal of the Two Sisters, if you've read that. This will have little to do with the story, just some unused worldbuilding.
8398850
How is that game? I've never played it. Obviously not terrible if you played it all the way through. Unless you're a gaming masochist, that is.
8399450
I bought the trilogy recently in the sales, and it was a good 35-hour playthrough (that was a good start - for that sort of time, you could have paid full price and been happy). I very throughly enjoyed it, myself, and easily would put it on a level with the likes of the best of Monkey Island, Sam and Max and Hector Badge of Carnage[1]. Rufus is probably the most terrible protagonist (as a person, not a protagonist) out any of the aforementioned (bearing in mind I am including the homicidal rabbit in that list), but in the best possible way. He is probably the bext example of I think I've seen and a mid-high Int, high Cha and rock-bottom Wisdom character I've ever seen. His ego is so big, even Rainbow Dash would be impressed!
Without any kind of spoilers, as it is a contentious point I saw in the reviews, the ending gets some critism, but me, I thought it was entirely fitting. I can't - shouldn't - say more than that, but as it is sort of the elephant in the room if you look at reveiws (as I did before buying, because I always do my research!), I felt I should say it is not, in fact, bad (like 'know ME3's or NWN2's main campaign's or something), but just subjective.
The songs that introduce each act is gloriously catchy. Here, I found a youtube link that is just the one for the intro to the first act so doesn't spoil anything.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1gQ6BU5J5k
(Had I more time this morning, I might have linked that in my last post...!)
You can probably see why that's stuck in my skull.
Difficulty-wise, I only occasionally had to resort to a walkthrough (but that's been true of literally every point-and-click game I've ever played!), but on the whole, the puzzles made sense, and even the walkthrough-bits was either one thng I'd missed somewhere or made perfect sense in hindsight. (I think there was only one puzzle in the entire trilogy I would have said was a little bit obscure, but even that is debatable.) There's a lot of variety, with little minigames and a few gimmicks that keep it all very interesting and the world and characters are charming.
Overall then, I can definitely recommend it (I've already done to one of my mates, in fact!)
...
I should probably leave Steam Review, actually, since I've practically written one here...!
Edit: If you are quick, Deponia the Complete Journey (the trilogy) and probably Deponia Doomsday (the forth one) are on sale on Steam right now for less than a fiver (or whatever that tanslates to your side of the pond, which is, sadly, probably nearly the same these days). I'd give it a stab!
[1]Might be a bit obscure that one, but it was a small game that came out of Tell-Tale before they abandoned everything for big IPs and drama. It is a) very English, b) very crude and gross and c) absolutely side-splittingly hilarious.
(Link to the trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wEmzb9yZ4k If you find that funny, the ENTIRE game is like that. The trailer sold me on the game and I was very much not disappointed[2]! Potentially two recommendations, for you, then!
[2]After I finish with Deponia, I might dig Hector out again, actually. Mum has a new puppy (not a pet-lich, me) and as she currently has a pen in the front room, I have been unable to watch my DVDs at supper-time[3], so a nice adventure game makes for an alternative!
[3]Yes, before you ask, Spirit-Bound Liches can eat (if they want to) and if anyone asks I WILL explain at length, so you probably don't want to. Look, this is what happened when Skywriter asked a simple question, can you imagine how long the answer to a complicated one is?
Custard buns are life. I wish to be princess of pastry. Buns specifically.
8399574
Perhaps you need to discover a new form of pastry for that?
8400205
Then it shall be a spicy bun with dark chocolate pound/sponge cake inside with a raspberry filling in that.
After which I could be assured of monetary comfort by the Princesses' appetites.
8400306
Get ready for those wings, man.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2015/2/22/835142.png
*Om nom nom nom!*
Wadayamean "complete?" It clearly isn't.
8400811
The story goes on, but not here.
8399544
Thanks for the in depth review!
8400937
*tips helmet*
If you do decide to have a stab with it, do let me know what you think. (I'm the only person in my immediate mob (physical or internet) who has actually played it at the moment!)
8397769
Please tell me the announce is named Blind Boldfriend.
And now to Skywriter directly, this as always reminds me of why I love all your Cadance works, and yet again sings the song of the mournful hope, as the alicorns and other known immortals nurse their desperate hopes because if that little ember goes out, what is left?
And none know that at least a few of those embers are due to land amongst unlit hearths in the coming years and transform from dull heat into roaring flames of joy.
8401807 This would also have been a good choice, but I just went with "Third Eye."
8401837
I suppose that works as well!
8401809
Thanks! Yeah, I like knowing that there's a light at the end for them, even if they themselves don't.
8402153
Many many lights. Like Flurries reflecting the Sunlight off the Moon!
8402237
There's a hidden meaning there. Hmm....
8402243
Hayseeds! A Ridiculous Scurrilous Horribly Wonderful Hidden Intuitively Nonsensical Nontruth? Yahoo?!
8402248
*sporfle*
8402250
That is not a professional emote!!!!
What more needs to be said? No, what can be said against something like this.
8402487
I can think of some stuff, but glad you particularly liked!
8402747
It's hard for me to dislike a story with Cadance! :)
Oh my goodness yes. Everything about this chapter.
If before the end of this story, we don't have at least one scene of a debauched, greco-roman style Cadence showing up Celestia by implying Celestia has never once drunk an entire pitcher of wine and hit on every mare in sight (and then proceeding to do the same herself), I will be very disappointed.
I am exhausted in several ways and there so much here to adore... Please find enclosed all that is pertinent: freaking beautiful.
8403610,
8412016,
8398199,
8398226,
8397744,
8397695
Thanks, folks.
8400412
Love the art.
8398728
Thanks! Rainbow is a product delivered by the CWC. Cady is discovering that they are a bit more exclusive with it than their other services.
As always, I love your writing, and your weird/mythical take on Cadance is awesome. But... with so long between chapters, I forget almost the entire plot between updates. Of course I shoot myself in the hoof/foot/face here, as my own stories are even longer neglected, so as a fellow writer, I completely understand. But... like myself, you could do better with pacing on these longer tales. :-)
But it's still great stuff, and I can't wait for more!
8429722
Sadly, it wasn't exactly an intentional design choice.
This was a pleasure, Skywriter. Thank you so much for writing this. I hope to see more from you, someday!
8444831
I hope to see more from me too!
I reviewed this story as part of Read It Later Reviews #82.
My review can be found here.
8520312
Thank you very much.