A mare and her dog

by cammera

<title>ti sca ime scal - frag frag frag fragment _ A WHOR and her FUCKTO-- -FIMFiction.net</title>

"A thousand thousand millenia ago, the same we did,

"A thousand thousand millenia ago, I was trapped,

"Forever happened, and again it passed. Can you comprehend it, you so minuscule?"

Spike crouched under an arm and, containing his enlargement momentarily, grabbed it. He pulled, bitting at the shoulder and tearing it off.

"Flesh is weak; but an extension of my self. I run on my own belief, no other food I need," The arm spasmed in Spike's maws and he burnt them to ashes. "You, you are now hopelessly blind;" It lifted a hand, thousands of sparks in it. "Last time, Queen of Dracos you were," The sparks threw themselves at Spike, each having seemingly a mind of its own "Your left eye saw chaos, your right eye order," Spike cried in pain when the sparks burned his scales, but he charged at the giant, tackling it. "Your middle eye, which you stole and devoured from a Nightmare of beyond the stars, was blind yet saw truth." it kept talking in spite of Spike pounding its face, forming a crater under its head. "You are diminished now, little but a mutt."

"Who are you!?" roared Spike at its face, fire escaping the sides of his maw, not relenting in his attacks.

"Obvious, is it not?" It grabbed Spike by the throat and stood up "When the universe ends, it starts again. With no worldbones to imprison me, I broke free," Its hold grew tighter, suffocating him "Yet souls, even those of world-speakers, are individual, and only one of each can fully exist at once," Shapes formed around its throat, as if searching for something "I had to await, outside all of creation, until my new iteration you would diminish. Was I surprised when the alicorn, a mute pegasus of whom you were a whore when last I fought you, was the one to do it? No," The hold grew tighter, "No replica is a perfect fit. Last time you were cunning, entrapped me using only wit, and look at yourself; little but a beast, and of my worries the least. Now I have an army, of demons and spirits; me it befits, to posses such power." The hold grew even tighter, and Spike felt a cracking sensation--

It took a terrible effort, and it was almost unbearably painful, but he forced his body to undo its growth. He slipped from the hold and grew again immediately, grabbing its chest and forcing wings to grow prematurely. Bones perforated his scales, spraying blood, and in half-formed extremities he flew to the sky, unleashing an unrelenting stream of emerald flame into it. The shapes around the throat of the giant grew in number, but he couldn't afford to worry about anything but the most immediate danger.

-º-

The world was plain.

"Am I blind?" she asked.

No one answered. Not even her other her.

Twilight tried to stand.

Her legs were too weak, now. Her horn burned her forehead, overburdened with magic in need of release.

The steel in her throat hurt her. She tried to pull it, but without magic overloading most of her nervous system, nothing dulled the pain.

She looked around, tears in her eyes. With only her eyes and ears to perceive, she felt blind. Nude.

Everything was so dull, plain. There was no texture, no resonance to anything, no echoes of her own magic bouncing in the area and returning to her.

Was this how everyone felt? Having their senses limited, being able to see in only one direction?

Was everyone's life so... enclosed?

Out of reflex more than anything else, she tried to ask that to her other her, the Twilight that saw everything from the outside. But with her senses so dulled, only being able to perceive the most superficial of details -and even those with what she felt to be a high rate of inaccuracy- gaining any kind of connection to that other part of herself was simply impossible. She could barely hear her trying to tell her something, only unintelligible blabber. Overwriting reality was impossible in this state, too-- its working principle was for their minds to be fully synchronized and their twin voices to resonate together.

Giving up in that, she tried to stand up.

Her burns hurt too much for it.

Her skin was slow to restitch, now. She feared that, if she were to remove the strand, she'd die from blood loss.

Still, she tried to take it out one last time.

She winced and had to take her hoof away it touched the metal, even the small contact alighting her senses with pain.

She clenched her jaw. The movement of the muscles worsened the pain in her throat, forcing her to relax it.

She could feel it, the very tip of the strand peeking out of her skin.

"He--" The pain became too much, and she had to pause "Hello?"

No one answered. She didn't know where she was-- unable to read the area's magical signatures, she realized just how little attention she had been paying to her sight in the last decade.

Had she really grown so distant from her most basic senses?

Had she...

Had she grown distant to people, too?

When was the last time she had stopped to just talk with someone, no real motive behind the action? When was the last time she had stopped somewhere for a drink, helped the Apples with a harvest, joked with Rainbow or Pinkie, made love?

Her loins ached. She set the matter aside immediately for something that she felt was more urgent.

Had Applejack started her travel to get away from her? Could she say that the doubt hadn't really appeared before, if only to be muted immediately by the cacophony her world had been for so long?

Did the rest of the girls want to do it, too?

For years now, she could only remember a series of identical days, a pseudo automatism of trying desperately to keep her friends safe which had, in time, removed her from the very thing she was trying to protect.

The dusk was illuminated by green, and there was a frustrated moment during which her perception didn't shift in its own. She reminded herself to turn her head.

Outside, thought the window, she saw a green comet ascending to the skies.

And because of her idiocy, of her foolishness, she had forced Spike into doing that. She knew how much it hurt him to do it, the weeks of recuperation he'd be require, for his body and mind.

Slowly, inch by inch, she managed to get to her hooves.

She trembled in pain and exhaustion.

She took her first step.

She fell. Her throat screeched pain. Reality was, for a second, brought to full focus, every single detail glaring at her, but that very pain shoved the fact from her mind, and she was barely able to keep the tears in.

She stood up again, trembling and feeling about to collapse, and walked, step by step.

It was harder, not being able to perceive every single detail of the ground. The effortless grace she had mastered decades ago was now the brute, barely reigned fall of an alcoholic.

And, with the clarity and urgency of thought that pain and such a limited perception brought to her, she was beginning to realize the amount of parallels between her and an addict.

She forced her legs to work, having only her sight to trust on. With every step of her forelegs, the skin of her throat moved painfully, but she pushed through the pain.