• Published 18th Jun 2016
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Entry #649 - KitsuneRisu



These are the final pages of the memoirs of Rarity, collected from her home and from the waters of Seal Bay. We hope she returns to us soon.

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Entry #650/1 – 12/3/1129

Twilight had promised to explain everything in the morning, and to her word, she did. Over a great breakfast of hashed potatoes and eggs benedict over cracked rye, she took her time to introduce to me the situation that had brought her to Barnsend.

She produced a small item from her bag and placed it upon the table. It was a smallish black object, polished like marble, with veins of red running down its side. It was oddly angular, such like one might see in twisted metal, but yet had a smoothness to it. It is an item that I have great difficulty in describing more than this, as there is nothing much else that I have seen that I could compare it to.

She had brought it here hoping to find out more about it.

Indeed, her quest here was one of work, as I was not surprised to learn. But she was doing this by herself, rather than on any official business, which thusly explained why she lacked guardianship. She had given Rainbow Dash the week off, she told me, so that it would not interfere with that nasty little thing named Internal Politics.

I questioned her approach, naturally, asking why she had to act in such a clandestine manner, and the reason was far less titillating than my mind had conjured up. There were no tales of secrets or espionage or strange oddness about. It was simple. It was something that Twilight herself had found out about through her own research in her spare time, and it had nothing to do with the country nor country affairs. Thus, as a matter of course, she could not use country resources to manage it.

As fodder for my next book, it was severely lacking, and I chastised Twilight for it in good manner, to keep about our joyful banter.

She accepted it with all due spirit, and told me that she had indeed read my first book. She told me she quite enjoyed it, but she was surprised that I had not written a love story as the prime focus of my new venture. I explained, as is the truth, that interpersonal drama was the last thing I wished to write about, and she seemed to understand.

She also said that my pen name was not very good, and everyone else save for Rainbow, bless her heart, had guessed it was me the moment the book came out on shelves. While I myself thought the moniker of ‘Ersatz’ was quite clever, she mentioned that only I would directly reference myself — a ‘fake gem’ — in my own pen name.

I suppose this is what I get for asking her of her opinion. Twilight was always rather akin to telling the blunt, scoring truth.

But alas, it is quite too late now, and my next work will have to be under the same name. She did quickly assure me that no one else knew, however, since it was really just her knowledge of my circumstance that would have led her to come to this conclusion so quickly.

Still, I cannot say that this did not leave me a little disheartened. I still question the reason why, however. It is perhaps for its own sake do such feelings come.

As breakfast wore on, we returned once again to the topic upon the table. Twilight was here to observe and question about the object, which was giving off a very particular sort of magic, as she explained. In her testings, she had found that this item was very old, and was resonating with certain frequencies, in her words, but was currently benign.

Asking what the object did, precisely, prompted Twilight to tell me to hold the item up to my ear.

Now that I think on it, the item held such a strange curiosity that I can’t quite put it into proper words, certainly more than I had originally given it credit for. As chagrin as I am to stoop to base generalities, I simply must dub the object as such — the object — as it still carries this odd sense of indescribability about it. Without knowing more, there is simply nothing else that I can refer to it by, and I shall be relying on Twilight to unveil this mystery in the days to come, with any hope.

But ah, what indeed is it?

Upon my ear it let out a faint hissing from within, something like a white noise, like a radio tuning into static. But it moved more than mere static, coming and going in swishes and waves.

To me, it reminded me of the calming, ever-present and wistful noise of rain.

The rain that fell — that mars certain fateful days — I can still hear it now, somewhere in the back of my head, when I think longingly about times that have past.

It is quite odd that this object of hers would evoke such a response, but as I picture it in my mind’s eye, even while I write, it refuses to leave.

Twilight explained that the sound was, in fact, the sound of waves, which perhaps was the truth after all, and she told me that this was what led her here to this town in the first place. It was likely a clue, she stated. A lead. And it led her right to the little seaside town of Barnsend.

And while I found the deduction rather lacking, I still had to place my trust in Twilight. She certainly would know what she was doing, and she did so with such burning fervour.

‘I must find it,’ Twilight declared to me, which I mark here only due to the utter force of determination that she sent with her words.

And with a smile, she left for the day, about to do her workings.

But in her haste, I had completely forgotten to question her miraculous recovery from her state of last night. Perhaps all she needed was a little rest, but I neglected to question what was causing such fatigue in the first place. I have always known her to overwork, and in that, I believe it to be nothing more than a little bit of her usual stressings.

I have also forgotten to ask her where she found the object. But I shall upon her return.