• Published 1st Apr 2016
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Group Precipitation - FanOfMostEverything



Stories set in the Oversaturated World, some silly, some less so.

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Harsh but Fair, by FoME

Nagatha Harshwhinny had not been easily bored even before the world changed. Irritated, yes, but not bored. Having a fragment of her awareness gazing out into the unfathomable expanse of infinity so that she could accost any ne'er-do-wells trying to sneak into her universe made life all the more interesting.

That bit of herself drew on a bit more of her attention. While most of her continued to write a strongly worded opinion on the shameful lack of standards in sports officiation, another beheld the vastness of the metacosmos and the latest transient trying enter her home from its deeper reaches.

Nagatha felt her eyebrows rise as she took in the traveler. It appeared human, though all in shades of black and grey. Its skin was the color of slate, its hair an oily mass that slowly undulated under its own power. Vaporous extensions held it aloft like a sick parody of a pegasus aspect's wingbow, looking more like tendrils of fog or writhing snakes. Black leather hugged curves that suggested femininity, assuming the thing even had a gender. The only color was a splash of bile yellow in the irises of a half-dozen eyes arranged in a horizontal line across its face.

It raised a hand. "Hi, Ms. Harshwhinny!"

Nagatha sighed. "Honestly, Ditzy. What have you been doing out there?"

Ditzy shrugged. A few extra eyes lazily blinked in the oleaginous mass that was her hair. "Hey, I'm not the one who threw a bunch of shadow demon things out into the space between spaces."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flying into them intentionally." Nagatha watched carefully. Extra eyes did nothing to help Ditzy hide the hints of her reaction from someone who'd been sussing out teenage secrets for longer than the girl had been alive. "Ditzy Doo, you utter fool."

"It's fine, really!"

"That's what they all say at first. I suppose you think the leather makes you look 'cool,'" said Nagatha, sneering so much with the last word that her upper lip nearly brushed her nose.

Ditzy looked away and twisted a stygian toe against the formless fundament. "Maybe."

"I expect better of you, young lady. You are far too intelligent and respectable to fall into the same trap I have seen claim so many others."

Ditzy was silent for a moment. "The trap of getting consumed by dark magics?"

"Your own pubescent confidence. You're mortal, Ditzy, same as all of us." Nagatha glanced behind her, where the universe shone with Sunset Shimmer's power. "Nearly all of us, anyway."

"It really doesn't seem so bad," said Ditzy. "I mean, most of these shadow things are used to working with people who feel useless and neglected. They're not sure how to deal with someone who's loved and unique."

"Be that as it may, get yourself in the decontamination booth."

"Yes, ma'am. That's why I flew into them." Ditzy walked to what looked to be a gilded shower stall. Her shadow writhed as she approached, making motions like it was trying to flee from her. A faint but distinct scream sounded as rainbow light cascaded over the girl.

A few moments later, Ditzy emerged in her usual outfit and appearance. She waved. "Thanks for caring, Ms. Harshwhinny."

Nagatha nodded and returned the wave. "Someone has to."

Author's Note:

Thankfully, not every instance of Stygian's Shadow crawled backwards in time to plot ambiguously sinister plots. Some are just floating in Limbo, waiting for enterprising young worldwalkers to clean them in the harmony magic equivalent of a chemical shower.

Of course, there are some cosmetic effects to toting around that much shadow magic. Not letting it into your heart means there's that much more on your skin.

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