The Other Side

by MagnoliaThourns

Ch.2 - Sturdy Stripes

The path to your hut is spooky, but through it all I’m right behind you. In the dark under the canopy, I light my horn to see the way. I need it just so I don’t face-plant into your stripped, limber ass, but you move with some kind of experience beyond me. Not as if you’ve travelled this way before, or seen these specific heaps of decaying foliage hiding these specific patterns of tangled roots, but as if you are sure, with every step you take, that you’re safe. From falling, being hit, tripping, getting eaten, whatever. It’s oddly familiar, that bold gracefulness. You keep moving smoothly and—for my sake—slowly.

We reach your hut, and you let me in. You put a pot on the fire and tell me you’ll make some tea. “So,” you say, settling down onto a cushion on the floor opposite mine. “You were sleepwalking to the river, before I gathered you hither. What is your experience with this, would you tell me, miss?”

I sigh and you look on patiently. Your house has changed over the years, but it still feels the same. The Zebrican artifacts, the wooden everything. Empty eyes peering from emotional wooden masks. Potions upon potions covering the shelves of the walls, in dusky vials and bright pots. Roots and flowers hang upside down, drying in a corner; clear glass jars with pickled oddities—including the better half of a jaguar—sit below them. The air smells homely and alive; from the forest and from you. Only half the lanterns are lit; the shadows in the corners pull us into an intimate closeness. I look down to the table we’re sat around, a cross section hewn from a species I can’t immediately identify, and try to pull the story from the beginning. “Well, I’ve been sleepwalking for a while now. It started when—let me think—it was just a month or so after I defeated Tirek. I’ve tried to stop it but one way or another, I end up by that river. And I’ve tried to cross it, at night, and I’ve come here in the day and tried, and whatever magic is over it all, it just won’t let me get to the other side. And I don’t even know what’s on the other side, I don’t know why any of this is happening!”

You lean forward a bit and nod sincerely. Sometimes I forget how much I like you. Zebras are just so cool on their own, and you’re even cooler. “Have you asked for assistance, or to that idea do you feel resistance?”

I look back down at the rings in the wood. “I, uh, I haven’t told anyone. It all just feels so. I don’t know. Silly? Immature? And at any rate, I’m a princess, I should be able to handle this. Why am I not better than this? I’m already embarrassed that you found out.”

“Oh Twilight, you forget so soon, your friends are nothing but a boon. Who has been at your side always, and what lesson did you learn in those days?”

“That my friends are there for me, and I should accept help. I know, I should. I probably should’ve told you too—it started before we became penpals, but it is in the Everfree. I thought about it, but, it’s just…. It shouldn’t be happening in the first place. I should be able to deal with this myself.” You get up and pour the tea. The cup you hand me is already warm through the thick sides. “Thanks.”

“This feels too personal, doesn’t it? And your friends you would like to forget?”

“Yes, sort of. I just don’t want them to be a part of this… I don’t want them to see me like this I guess.”

“And the other side, what do you think it does hide?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe.” I look out the window, and your face enters my periphery. The moon is there, shining through. I notice you look more intently, at my jawline and neck as I swallow, at my eyes as I stare. “I don’t know what’s on the other side, but I know it’s something I’ve lost. And I just hope to Celestia it doesn’t take the rest of my life to get to it back.”

You stand, and start gathering odd things around your hut. I stay still and wait. “That river, Twilight, must be the River of Dreams. It is calling, beckoning to you, it seems. I have heard of a strange river in legend and song, given many names but this title has been kept for long. And on the other side, is something taken out of your soul; something that has left you less than whole. And there may be more, it is hard to define for sure.”

“What? How could I loose something out of my soul?” I’m standing now, and you’ve put several things into a white pot which you put into a furnace in the corner to cook.

“ I do not know. But it has left and you can clearly see, you need it back; so craves your body.”

“Well, well, okay, so what do I do? How do I get this sacred thing back?”

You put your hoof on my withers. “You must reach the other side as fast as you can; I have already conceived of a plan.”

“What is it?”

“I could train you. Would you like to?”

“Train for what? Swimming?”

You shake your head, and stare into the thing in the fire. “Zebrican magic can influence the Everfree woods; I will teach what I think will help us reclaim your lost goods.”

“Thank you. I would love that.” I follow your eyes to the white thing in the furnace, and it clicks in my head. “Oh, hey, is that your new zirconia crucible?”

You smile and nod. “Yes, it finally arrived in the mail, and it has yet to falter or fail. It is much more magically pure than graphite; it’s preservation of an ingredient’s essence is a delight.”

I smile and, through the ceramic window in the furnace door, watch streams of flame plume from vent holes in the top of the lid; the volatile organics gassing and burning off as what’s inside bakes into charcoal. I still feel a bit awkward, seeing you in person after so long of mostly just writing. But little things like this help take some of that off; not too long ago you wrote about how you broke your old crucible and decided to splurge on an upgrade.

“It is very late, would you feel right sleeping at my house tonight? It is your decision, but in the morning we could start our vision.”

“Oh, um, it’s a very kind offer, but, I probably need to be there for Starlight and Sunburst in the morning.”

“What about Spike, this responsibility he wouldn’t like?”

“Well, he does like being more a part of stuff. Maybe I’ll send him a message.” And after a night of bonding together, it might be nice to just continue being together. I could just teleport, but I am tired, and if I teleported into my room I’d wake everyone up. I could teleport outside, but I might wake them up by sneaking back in and walking through the castle. I do want to get started with whatever it is we’ll be doing. A line from Slumber 101 about seizing opportunity pops into my head and convinces me. “Oh, whatever, I’ll stay if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Never too much to be; come into bed with me.”

You climb in your bed, and pull back the covers for me. I crawl in next to you as you blow the lamp out. We face eachother in the blind dark; my eyes not acclimated enough yet to make out what your face is. Everything feels weird. You reach out one hoof and gently touch it to mine. I rub it a bit to acknowledge you.

And you’re asleep in moments. All too soon. I can’t get used to the new smells of the cabin, the odd, if comfortable, feel of the down-feather mattress, the erratic yips from the Everfree just beyond the walls. So I focus on your breathing, slow and even. It helps calm me down, and so does being away from everything for a moment. I squirm up closer to you and dip my muzzle down into your outstretched legs, smelling your homemade soap among your warm fur. Those were some good letters; you wrote about using lanolin and castor oil, about adding myrr and ginger and black pepper essential oils, about having to rebuild your soap mold. I want to breathe it in for hours.

Just before I finally fall asleep, I feel you push closer and pull your neck up along the bed, so you’re almost cradling me through the night.

I wake up at the shore of the river again. I almost start cussing it out, before you lay a foreleg across my withers.

“We’ll begin your training now. You can cross the river; I’ll tell you how.”

“Please do—I’ve done everything I can at this point.”

“Your methods of conventional travel have failed, but one magic here might yet prevail.” You step toward the river. Before I can say anything, you put one hoof on the water.

It holds you there. I have no idea how, but it does, and it keeps you on the surface as you move a few paces out. Then you turn your face back at me to smile, and I admit the impossibility of crossing seems to soften a little.

“You will walk across, without any more loss.”

“So…” I stare into the water’s shore. It isn’t quite morning yet, but the sky is beginning to catch into indigo. The image of Luna lowering the moon for Celestia flashes into my head, though I don’t know why. I ask you, “Do I just step out?”

“Faith, you must hold in heart, for the water to do its part. Focus your energy to the ends of your stance, and let your mind go blank as in a trance. Then step forward with assuredness, and the water will lend it’s sturdiness..”

“Okay.” It’s not going to be easy, and you know that. But I trust you, so I put one hoof out, close my eyes, try to stop thinking and believe the surface will hold, and bring it down.

And sink right into the mucky water with a splash. You say, “It seems we will have work after all, come, let’s start rolling the ball.”

I pull my hoof out of the mud, and follow you back towards your hut. It has a pond behind it, where you helped me practice focus before, when I had to fight Trixie. It excites me to see you in your element again; we never wrote to eachother about your meditation or your magic much so it’ll be nice to see it again.

Before we go to the pond, you dart inside and come back out with the crucible from last night and a small mortar and pestle. You pour out the contents of the jar into the mortar. I can recognize the shapes of unfamiliar plants, black and falling into it with a sound almost like styrofoam. You grind them up together and dip a hoof into the resulting dry dust of ashy carbon.

I step closer. “What is that stuff?”

“A powder like chalk to help clear your thoughts, now lean down and I’ll rub it in your head in spots.”

I bow my neck and feel your hooves knead into my forehead. You’re careful and tender; from the charcoal blooms out a dim feeling of peace. As if a headache I didn’t realize I had has suddenly been relieved somewhat. “Whoa. I do feel a little better. More… calm.”

You take your hoof off and I open your eyes to see you smiling at me. You set the mortar and pestle and the crucible back inside and we head around to the pond.

“You cannot practice faith walking yet I fear, but you can practice faith itself, dear.”

“How will I do that?”

You motion for me to come closer, and I do. We’re standing over a drop of a few hooves or so into the pond, and you pull me so I’m facing forward. Then you jump down into the pond and look back, standing up on your hind legs with incredible balance. “I want you to fall forward now, face first you will plow. I will catch you; you must believe it true. Do not flinch and do not think, keep only the belief you will not sink.”

A trust fall. I at least know how this works already, but it’s still scary. I swallow my fear down to a lump in my throat, you looking up all expectantly at me with those beautiful eyes. I can do this. I breathe out slowly and feel the pattern of the ash cool into my face. “Just lean straight forward and stay still and let you catch me.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Okay. Here I go.” I close my eyes and push myself forward with my back legs—tilting like a seesaw, I can feel myself falling, going to smash my face in because I’m falling and you’re not there and—I snap my forelegs forward and bring my back legs down for the impact. My hooves slam straight into something way too soft, and I already feel sick as you catch me around my chest, neck to neck. My hooves grace the surface of the water you stand on.

“Ouch. Now we must try again, okay? Don’t feel bad, we have time left in the day.”

It stings not so much because my legs slammed into your chest, but because I’ve failed a close friend.

“I’m sorry.”

I pull my way back up on the little cliff and turn to where I think I need to stand. You use your front hooves to guide me into the right spot. “Remember,” you say, “To catch you, I am here. You have nothing to fear.”

Right. I fall forward again, but again I flinch. I don’t plant my hooves like last time, but I almost do. It’s a reflex. You’re patient and kind, and after falling maybe twenty times, I have it down to where the only thing I do is flex my face in fear. It feels kind of empowering, knowing that I’ve accomplished this.

We’re about to do it again, when you point to your eyes. “For this time,” you say, “watch yourself fine.”

“Alright.”

So I keep my eyes open and, because we’ve done this for the past hour or a half, my body is fine. I stay still. But a whole new fear broils up and scares me. It’s a marginal success, I at least don’t try to throw my hooves out again.

After that, you hop back onto the ground and say, “Now we can take a break, let’s leave this tiny lake.”

Walking back to your hut, I have to ask, “Are you okay, Zecora? My chest hurts just from being caught.”

“I’m fine, Twilight, I’ve trained for things, with this only minor discomfort brings.”

“Okay.”

You look back at me and read my face. I know I’m not exactly the picture of confidence. But I’ll get better; I’m already thinking over what I’ll write down when I get back to my paper and quills. I leave you at your hut, and take off back town to take care of all the things I have to do today.

I teleport to my room in the castle, taking a gamble on everyone being in the kitchen downstairs and unable to hear; hopefully no one’s come to check on me before now. Then I walk out and take a fast shower before I make my way down to the left wing common room.

There are a bunch of blankets and pillows over the floor, but no ponies and no Spike. I notice for the first time the smell of warm, doughy sugar.

They’ve all gathered in the kitchen. I take a moment to watch from the door before I go in. Starlight has a stack of pancakes on her plate, and she’s talking animatedly with Sunburst, whose plate is empty. He’s smiling and nodding, and behind them Spike is cooking on the stove.

I walk in, “Goodmorning everyone, did you have a good first night?”

All their faces whip over to me. “Oh yeah, it was! Er—we did!” Sunburst says.

Starlight smiles real big at me, “Goodmorning, Twilight. We had a lot of fun, we, uh, stayed up late and played games and things.”

Spike looks over his shoulder at them all, “It was tons of fun, Twilight, you should join in next time.”

I smile, “I’ll try to, Spike. I don’t suppose you’ve got some extra pancakes I could have?”

“Of course!”

So we chat and eat, and I realize I really enjoy Starlight and Sunburst’s company. It’s great to talk with them about deep, technical magic; all the problems with the bleeding-edge theory of electron magic conductivity, and the underlying thought processes of mind-to-magic formulation. As well as life in general. Sunburst is pretty nervous around me, but Starlight being more at ease makes him more at ease, even if not by a whole lot.

About halfway through our excited discussion of the applications of Mattershard’s restructuring spells, I suddenly have a strong impulse to lean forward and squish them together so they kiss. But I don’t do that, because that would be weird; I’m not sure where the impulse came from in the first place.

As pleasant as this morning is, it moves on.

I manage to slip into my secret study where I keep all the cork boards and filing cabinets full of my inked-out thought processes on more personal things. It’s a medium size room, small compared to the rest of the castle, hidden in what was an empty stretch of crystal between the attic levels and the upper floors. I record a few more points about the river and start a new binder for notes on Zebrican magic. I start one for you too—most of our letters aren’t so personal that I feel the need to keep them up here, but… I start one just in case.

I rejoin the rest of the castle before anyone has time to get suspicious. From there, the day dwindles away until it’s bedtime again and I have to sleep again. I already know I’m going to end up at the river. I feel it. In my bones and in my flesh, so once I close the door to my room and turn out the light, I just stand still for a moment to debate whether or not I should teleport out of here and head down to you myself. It would save me some time.

Or maybe I just want to sleep next to you again. It was unexpectedly nice, to the point that it makes me feel weird. I think I just want a friend, but I don’t want the friends I have right now. I don’t know why. And even though we’ve talked through our letters enough for me to consider you a good friend, I definitely don’t know you like I do everypony else. Even though I’m trusting you with things I don’t want to tell them.

It frustrates me that I’m the princess of friendship and I’m having friendship problems. Bah, oh well. I think I’ll be hopeful tonight and sleep in my own bed. Who knows, maybe I won’t sleepwalk tonight. And maybe you’ll come up to the castle to sleep in my bed.

I wake up at the river.

“Twilight, it’s good to see you again. Do you want to come with me, then?”

I look over at your smiling face. Gosh, you’re so pretty, even in the dark. The square yet feminine shape of your muzzle, and the stripes of dark gray lapping at your cheeks and reaching down your head, they’re somehow imposing and adorable at the same time. “Yes, please,” I say as we start walking briskly.

You navigate the terrain effortlessly like always, and it hits me where I know that confidence from—you walk with the same kind of beauty Applejack has when she bucks trees.

You break us into the clearing around your hut as marble-sized water starts to fall from the sky. We duck inside, more than a little damp, and shake ourselves off.

You smile at me, and say, “We can practice some inside, while we wait for the rain to subside.”

“That sounds good, Zecora, but, well, what time is it?” I glance around the room and find your clock. The rain pounds down overhead, it’s only three thirty, and you must be tired as well, right? “Could we sleep a little more?”

“Of course, you sleepy horse.”

I try not to get excited as we head to bed together again.

You smile and face me as we climb in. “I sense you want to feel safe and huddled, would it be okay in this case if we cuddled?”

It takes more restraint than I want to admit to not burst into tears. I don’t even know why; it’s like I’ve had stones on my soul for years, and you’ve come along and been the first to suggest I take them off. So I nod quickly, and let you roll me onto my other side. You pull me up to you; pressing your chest against my back and your inner thighs against my croup. I feel incredibly protected and some kind of happy-embarrassed. It would be infantilizing if you weren’t so sincere; making me feel secure and loved.

It takes a while for me to fall asleep again. I keep as still as I can because you’re asleep in minutes and for a warm, peaceful time you’re holding me close while your chest swells and falls with deep breathing. The rain thunders overhead into a kind white noise.

When we wake up, about three hours later, you ask me if I want breakfast this time before we start training for water walking. I’m curious and hungry, so I say yes, and inside of ten minutes you have two delicious bowls of couscous made up for us. It feels a bit like eating mushroom noodle soup for breakfast, but I think you intended that.

While I’m balancing with my hooves on a small pole, ash on my face again and the stick not even half the length of the one you’re head-standing on, I have a thought.

It would be different if it were with my other friends, but I think its okay to ask you, so at the risk of being burdensome I do. “Zecora, I don’t mean to ask for more favors, but do you think you could carry me across the river?”

You look up from your meditative eyes-closed position. “I do not think it wise that you cross with another pony at all, but if you want we can try and see if we fall. I will keep my eyes closed, because the other side only to you goes.”

“I think it might be worth a shot. Just in case, you know,” as I fall off the stick again I think you understand my thoughts.

“We can try right now,” you jump down and catch the pole as it tips slowly. “But you failing—I can’t see how.”

That makes me smile, as I rub my flank from the impact.

We reach the river pretty quickly, and I can feel all the emotions of it sift back inside. The vexation, the hate, the longing. You tie a blindfold around your eyes and plug your ears to stop yourself from even hearing what is apparently only mine.

“Twilight? I am ready, alright?” You reach a hoof out blindly, and I catch it. I climb on your back, your stripped mohawk poking into my neck. It would be much more of an awkward situation if I wasn’t drenched in anxiety and apprehension.

For all I know, the other side of that river is death. And my destiny is the great what-comes-next that’s so highly debated. In that case, I hope you don’t die. I hope that I don’t die either, really, but if that’s what’s waiting for me then whatever. I just want it to not hurt you.

“I’m ready,” I say into your neck, patting the side of a foreleg lightly. “Let’s go.”

You straighten up and confidently put one hoof in front of the other. Entirely unfazed as you stand on the water and start walking forward.

The mist swallows us into its opaque stomach. As we move forward, a wet, white fear licks my bones. My body shakes without my consent, the air fights against my lungs. I’m going to suffocate or we’re going to reach the shore and I don’t know which one’s worse. My forelegs constrict themselves around your neck like vices, I feel hot liquid leaking from my face. Blood? Tears? Wind whips up like the call of a hurricane, so strong my jaw won’t move, trying to bite through my teeth.

“Twilight,” I hear you choke out from far away. “Twilight!”

Motion seems to swirl around a bit, or maybe I’m moving as I watch it, the burning colors behind my eyes. Flesh trembles under my hooves, but I can’t tell who it belongs to. My own muscles grow wooden, splintering as you gallop with my legs, I’m all alone but with you, a black wire lacerates my muzzle and I go numb just as a spray of water eats our hind legs with the sharp echo of breaking glass.

Comments

[Ice Star]

1) Don't put your ship name in the title and stuff. Do. Not.
2)

conversation about suidice

It's spelled 'suicide'.

[Cheer]

8806978
Agreed here. Though it did catch my attention. The "Twilight" "Zecora" "Romance" tags do that on their own already

[Ice Star]

8806984
Unless there is a secret ghost tag~

[Cheer]

8806990
There is also the OC tag. Which to be very fair to the poster would worry me if they didn't mention it in the description. But they still didn't need it in the story name.

[Ice Star]

8807005
I vote for the secret ghost tag.

[MagnoliaThourns]

8806978
I put "(Flutterdash)" in the title of my last fanfic but I think you might be right; I'll take it off. And thanks for pointing out the spelling error, I'll fix that right now.

[Ice Star]

8807024
Eyy, no prob