Equality is Chaos

by geek

C2: Wisdom

"Now, now, call me a villain, but is feeding off love really that bad?" Veere paced back and forth in his self-made shack, which was really rotten wood with "borrowed" tools that were hanging off the more sturdy wall as the sun peaked in through one of the uneven planks in the ceilings, the ground a complete brown. A single cot was in the corner along with a "borrowed" table nearby and an entire loaf of bread with daffodils and hay collected from farmsteads and the ground itself. He wasn't proud of his gathering, but it was good enough.

Veere stared at the stuffed bear leaning on the wall in front of him. "Rock, do you have a suggestion?" His voice as deep like a certain Riddick's, staring at the bear. His accent being Changinese had a firm emphasis on Equestrian syllables, forcing his dialogue to sound more slow and artificial. The bear lacked a response, staring at him. Veere frowned, his confidence wavering. He was talking to a toy for crying out loud! Veere had this much stupidity and mental capacity to speak to an inanimate object? He was stupid! Or was he? That pink filly's words echoed through his mind, it's venomous fang poised to strike his weak and crumbling insides that he could not repair no matter how many walls of steel and magic he could put in front of it, it was no use. That moment of realization struck him like the Drone Trainers across the cheek, and it hurt immensely. It stopped his train of thought and froze his nerves into place. Veere suddenly stopped, pulling his neck back and realizing the hilarity and pathetic aspect of this situation. His ears folded back and he collapsed onto his rump, grabbing his head and mumbling, "I'm not stupid, I'm not stupid.." It was his only solace to repeat those words. I'm not stupid. To think he was would be breaking Changeling pride itself without even doing anything as lifting a hoof, but opening your mouth.

Maybe he was. Or was he not? To be educated is to be smart, and if he's not educated, then he is stupid. But if he figured that out, does that make him dumb-smart? Or does that make him worthy to be educated? His brain rattled with intensity at these questions, clenching his teeth as the sun's yellow glow dulled to an orange, the sunset process beginning. Time blurred as Veere found himself tossing and turning as he held his head, trying his best to contemplate what he is feeling and thinking, his rage at lacking the knowledge and having so many questions but lacking any answer to scream at him overwhelming him as he turned the table over with the stuffed bear on it. It hit the dirt, the shack rumbling just a little bit as he screamed a feral screech, pounding at the floor and even as his bones and body ached, his mind still going into overdrive to figure such a trivial issue. Was he too stupid to be educated or too smart to be educated? Or can you be smart without education? Isn't that being what the ponies call 'booksmart'? What were these battles waging in his mind, these battles he could not explain or even control as the feelings of confusion and clarity fought an escalating battle that he could only watch in horror.

Words pierced him like a sword would to flesh, and he despised it. How did all these years he managed to exist he will never know. Perhaps his own kind were speaking about him as if he were also the menace. That he was useless, or dumb, or mentally behind! Tears struck at his ducts, unknowing of a brown colt's eye peeking through one of the boards. This war his mind waged was proving to be a detrimental loss and victory to both sides, exhausting all their stallionpower to keep it going in order to prove who was wrong and who was right. The suffering of so many mental stallions being torn apart and killed made a white vein appear in his eye, one by one. It was until his eyes looked like literal spiderwebs, a web that he could not escape and one that he could not overcome. Why was it so hurting?

Yes, he's seen death and murder, he was no stranger to it. But, of all things, why was he beginning to crumble at the aspect of so much invisible bloodshed being thrown about in his mind? He let out another screech, throwing the table into the wall as one of the boards collapsed, that entire side collapsing inwards on itself and forcing the weaker parts to join it's fallen brothers of turmoil. Time seemed to slow as he watched the boards and dust fly towards him at break neck speeds, threatening to crack his carapace and take his fragile life, as a moment of clarity washed over him.

To be smart is to be knowledgeable of your surroundings and adapting to them. Not to be taught what words were by a book or what something was by a writing on a wall. That was an illusion to think you were being smart. To be smart is to manifest that information and apply it to reality, to let it settle within your brain and allow it access to wisdom and knowledge, knowledge that everypony has, and each of it is different. They say the youngest turn the wisest at an early age because of their ability to take notice of their situation and analyze it; to glance around and question what was occurring. But something was tugging at him. If he figured this out now, why didn't he figure it out before?

Because it didn't trigger in his mind to unlock the knowledge until he questioned it.

At least, that's what he thought it was until his world turned black and the all too familiar stings of pain echoed throughout his being, but he took no mind to it. He had the satisfaction of overcoming this brief but traumatic war that only he could've won, and he did it by himself. Not that friendship nonsense those ponies always spoke about, not that kindness those ponies gawked and praised. He conquered his fears and inner turmoil by himself in a matter of thrashing about and potentially losing his life in the process. He bested the ponies, and if he could grin triumphantly and scream that he is leaving Ponyville, he would. Just keeping to himself will work out for the rest of his life.

Comments

[Scytherind]

Im tracking, keep this up and i'll Throw a fav in there, great story so far

[Texus]

Veere stared at the stuffed bear leaning on the wall in front of him. "Rock, do you have a suggestion?" His voice as deep like a certain Riddick's, staring at the bear.

wow this is an awwwwww how sad/cute moment.

Okay this chapter was nice and I guess better than nice, but tonight I hoped for more, I guess I'm just not in the mood.

I think I will like this more than I thought, I even try to not...well be to hard on the story if it isn'T exactly showing stuff I prefer, as long as it is really not bad in my eyes, I promise to give the story a fair cance.