Moondust

by Parallel Black

9 - Ponysonification

They carried on. Twilight could hear Spike slurping at his slushie practically between her ears. He must have been angling to look at the Moon in the sky ahead of them. She took a sip of her own and was met with a cold and ever so slightly pasty sensation, flavoured like some berry or another. It was hard to tell past whatever else had been added to it.

The white disc and its growth loomed as they made their way down the avenue, the road widening into one of those places travel agencies liked to use on postcards; the Terrace Gallery. Serving as one of the transition zones between the lower and middle sections of the city, which housed the bulk of Canterlot’s population, it was fitting that this was where most of the city’s places of worship were located. Even from here at the top of the gallery one could see the eight black spires of the Octenic Hall piercing into the sky like silhouettes.

Just as Moondancer had said, the fountains this low in the city had been switched off. The big wall of water that once bordered one side of the road now looked strange and out of place without the sunlight glinting off of its flow, and the bucket’s worth of sunset red paint that had been dumped into the trough below it didn’t exactly add to the effect. The pools that it would have flowed into were empty, leaving statues of various sea creatures exposed to the open air. Each one was of a pair; a mother and child, a classic depiction of Gaia.

Before the temples began, the shops opposite the water wall gave way to some impressive administrative constructs. One or two looked like the bog standard office complexes, but the majority were of a much grander nature. Most had some symbol or another to show which group they represented. One bore a pitch black anvil, another a red sun, another appearing to stand on a set of brick stilts just to look different.

When it came to faith, Twilight’s interest was purely academic. The idea of subscribing to one deity or another felt like taking sides in an argument for which she had no ammunition. Theological concepts were intriguing and the stories made from them were grand and varied, but as for the religions they had spawned… it just wasn’t for her. Too many ponies, too many requirements, too easy to offend.

The office buildings looked out of place here, the smooth, decorative slabs turning into mosaic-like patterns toward the edges of the road, before being interrupted by walls of concrete and metal that looked like they belonged in Manehatten. The way the symbols headed each door made them look like corporate logos rather than anything that held genuine meaning. Functionality only made sense for administrative organisations, Twilight supposed.

An image came to mind, of one of the unused rooms of the manor being slowly emptied of its contents. Paintings depicting legendary figures and any number of Octenic heirlooms and crafts were carried down to the cellar, their places taken by desks and chairs, drawers and typewriters, as her mother’s company claimed yet another room.

An earlier memory appeared, this time of her great-grandfather from when she was only just old enough to remember. In one of his faith-fuelled episodes he had taken the first of the typewriters to enter the manor and tossed it out of a window, defying the prospect of a single inch of the home he’d built being used for such mundanity. Just as Sleipnir had supposedly forged the world from fire and Sunflare had painted it with colour and life, the old stallion had built his fortune through his own skills as a craftsmare, working with his wife to create lasting pieces of finery and furniture, all styled after the ways of his chosen god.

Twilight wondered what he would think of the manor now. Even Shining’s old room had been converted into another office. Her mother would never take hers without permission first, though it had been a while since she’d visited, and the worry occasionally bubbled at the back of her mind. An image played through her thoughts of her old boxes of toys and the books she’d had to leave behind being carried out, the walls turning grey and sterile, a nameless face working where she’d once played and learned.

At least the garden would always be there. The overgrown, ladybug-infested garden where the family grave rested. Whenever Star Chasm went too far trying to drill his work ethic into his great-grandchildren, Momma had been there to balance things out, providing a safe, warm place to retreat to when the big words started to fry her brain. Followers of Gaia tended to be good at that, Twilight had found.

The chirping of birds filled the air as the office buildings came to an abrupt end, derailing her train of thought. Aside from the surrounding bushes and trees the field looked like little more than an undeveloped patch of land with how it connected seamlessly to the grassy areas downhill, with the slabs turning back to cobbles, then to dirt. The sheer variety of colourful flowers and leaves gave the area away as being Gaia’s little home on the strip. Rather than a temple, the devout followers of the Mother of Life preferred the open air. Beside a statue of a mare and her foal Twilight could see a small gathering taking place. An earth-pony wreathed in flowers and aged robes was showing a school group how to plant a flower. Twilight cringed as she spotted a tiny, red dot on one of the petals; the place must have been crawling with those horrid little things.

She felt Spike’s grip on her mane tighten as they passed by the green area. He must have been thinking about Ponyville again. She made a mental note of visiting home sometime soon, so that they could wander through the dense foliage and play hide-and-seek like they used to. That would take his mind off it.

Almost inevitably, the family grave came to mind, and Twilight imagined that her own name had already been added to it. Maybe it was already too late to take that much needed break. The aura around her horn pulsed and a chill ran down her spine. The sensation met that spot between her shoulder blades and the warmth radiated back into her body, like wandering out into a bright summer day. She didn’t recall anything between the fireball and the hoof on her chin, but that odd itch had been there ever since Celestia revived her. Perhaps one of her vertebrae hadn’t been fully reformed, or perhaps it was a spirit anchor, where Celestia’s magic flowed in to maintain her golem’s existence.

She pushed away the worrying thoughts. Whatever the truth turned out to be, it wouldn’t change who she was to Spike. Of that she was certain. She took another slurp of her slushie, grimaced, and tossed it into the nearest bin.

Feeding the garden’s stream was a curved building of every shade of blue. It was covered in little water ducts that spiraled down its face, making its dedication to the gods of the sea obvious. Judging by the symbols surrounding the entrance it seemed the designers had intended it to be for all the sea gods, all in one place. Twilight was no designer herself, but she had enough sense to know that putting multiple adversarial deities under one roof was asking for trouble. At least the building itself looked nice, even if it stood out like a sore hoof.

The road widened again as a couple of side paths connected to it from the city proper. Just ahead the grass area surrounding the district began, as the road twisted left to go downhill, running past various other places of worship. Before the turn came a pair of lines of pillars that extended all the way across the road, connecting another large, dry fountain pond to the entrance of the next temple in the line.

“Here it is.”

Twilight followed Moondancer’s pointing hoof and felt her breath catch in her throat.

The marble pillars lead to an entrance adorned from top to bottom in golden decals that were now twisting into messy shapes and fusing into one another, revealing blackened stone underneath. The entire front face of the temple had caved in to reveal the state of the inside. A number of followers were trying to clear the rubble at the front, while a team of workers from the royal guard were busy piecing apart the weakened ceiling within. Like much of Canterlot, the structure was made mostly out of marble, but its insides were a mixture of formerly rich wood and a wide variety of golden details, through which the fire had torn.

Religions went through different periods as they aged. The writings changed, the meanings got confused, and the depictions of their gods altered as time passed and each faith influenced the next. Even the titans of old whose meanings were so fundamental had a long and storied history of changing appearances, styles and practices. The same could not be said of Prosperism. At around six-hundred years of age it was one of the youngest on the stretch, but in all that time it was said that not a word had been lost of the original texts, with the religion standing for the same set of ideals as when it began.

It probably helped that the title of Equilibrium had been held by an alicorn for the religion’s entire history. A god for wealth, chance and ambition made sense in this modern age of prosperity and advancement, but it seemed the faithful of Canterlot had finally gotten sick of having Prosper’s draconic avatar in their midst.

They trotted closer and the wreckage only got worse. The pillars closest to the entrance had been damaged by whatever had taken place, with the last pair having collapsed outright, partially burying the giant, golden statue laying before the gaping wall. Its wings were bent out of shape and only a sparing few colourful gemstones remained in its chestplate and shoulderguards, the eyes a pair of empty sockets staring up at the dull, blue sky.

Twilight recognised the figure as Athena, one of Prosper’s “Five Judges”, each of whom represented an aspect of the greater god. Prosper himself was known more as a concept than as an actual figure, with the Five Judges speaking with one fifth of his voice and possessing one fifth of his abilities and knowledge. Of what Twilight recalled about the faith, Athena was meant to be the grandest of the five; the final step of personal growth and ambition needed to reach whatever a Prosperist considered to be their highest goal.

Moondancer wandered right up to the statue and idly poked at one of the twisted wing ends. “Kinda funny how the only one to fall to the riots was the goddess of prosperity.”

Twilight recalled reading about this in the newspaper. It had seemed a world away then. “This is actually horrible,” she stated, lacking anything more profound to say.

“Uh-huh.”

She thought of what Equestria had gained from its victory against Nightmare Moon; a barrage of giant lunar chunks, and yet not a single life lost. A divine miracle, one might say. “I’ve never thought of faith as a reliable teacher, but it would certainly be in-character if she punished Canterlot for this,” she commented.

This would be a difficult thing for Celestia to fix, relatively speaking. This was an issue of culture and tradition, rather than the fickle fluctuations of the market. It would take time for Canterlot and other places to accept Prosperism like it had other religions. Some considered it to be an insurgent faith based on materialism and conflict, something at odds with Equestria’s culture of creativity and tradition, and grimly suited to the dragon that represented Prosper’s golden child.

Moondancer looked at her like she was insane. “What?”

Twilight took a step back. “Y-y’know? Because Prosper is the god of chance and wealth and things like that, and this is his… no?”

“Don’t start talking like a crazy pony, Twilight. I make a point of keeping them away from my home.”

Oh geez. Twilight wanted to say it had been a joke, but that would have probably been disrespectful.

“Excuse me, is that a dragon?” came an authoritative voice.

“Oh god no.”

Twilight turned to the mare who had appeared at the entrance. She certainly didn’t look like an officer, at least. “We’re just passing through, we’re not causi-”

“Oh gosh, it is!” the mare exclaimed. She trotted out and straight past the statue with a big smile on her face. Her dark-cream robes flowed as she walked and her bobble bounced behind the winged circlet of coins in her mane. She was a rich gold, fading to a plainer white at the hooves; a sign she hadn’t had the chance to refresh a cosmetic enchantment. “Aren’t you just a cutie!” She glanced between Spike and Twilight, inches from her face, looking absolutely overjoyed. “Can I pet him? His colouration is so unique. Is he a swamp dragon, or something else?”

Too close, too close! thought Twilight as she took a few steps back. The words “he’s a dragon” frantically dumped themselves on the tip of her tongue, only for her to register what the mare had actually said. She didn’t actually know for certain. She didn’t even realise colouration meant much when it came to dragons. “He’s…”

“A magical dragon,” Spike answered with pride, undeterred by the mare’s forwardness. He hopped down and puffed a little cloud of purple-green fire into the air to demonstrate.

The mare’s eyes sparkled at the sight and her “look at the cute puppy” expression turned into one of intrigue. She tilted her head as if to hear him better, her eyes growing wider and her smile getting bigger. “Oh my. He- You can speak?”

Spike’s smile wavered. “O-of course. Is that weird?”

“No, it’s wonderful!” the mare exclaimed. She looked back to Twilight and seemed to notice to look on her face. It was odd for a complete stranger to react so positively towards him. Most ponies gave him weird looks followed by wide-eyed surprise once they realised what he was. “Ah, sorry if I’m being a bit coo-coo. It’s just I’ve never seen a dragon in Canterlot before; the fact that he’s able to speak so fluently as well made me forget myself.” She coughed into a hoof, holding the other one out for Twilight to shake. “The name’s Winter’s Break. I’m the Decidime here at Lady Athena’s Canterlot temple, or at least, what remains of it.”

I guess it only makes sense for someone working under Athena to like dragons, Twilight thought. She shook the hoof. “No worries. I’m Twilight Sparkle, and this is Spike and my friend Moondancer. I’m a magic student.”

Spike waved hello before poking at the statue’s golden chest. “Hey, is it ok if I ask a really stupid question?” he asked. “Isn’t Athena meant to be a mare? Are female dragons always this muscular?”

Winter’s smile only broadened in spite of the state of her temple. “Oh my, you have quite the vocabulary for such a young drake. As for your question, Athena is a warrior among warriors, even among female dragons. She represents power, wealth and victory.”

“Neat.”

“I take it you’re an enthusiast? About dragons, that is,” Twilight asked. “Were you some kind of out-in-the-field researcher, or…?”

Winter’s nodded. “A bit of both. I used to work with dragons all the time back in Asherby, and I love the scaly things. Even so, it was rare to see dragons fluent in our language, let alone a baby.”

Spike thought on that for a moment. “So it… is weird that I can talk?”

“Well, yes and no.” Winter’s motioned to the middle of her neck. “With Equestrian it’s all about the tongue, while Isthmian is all in the throat. I like to say it’s what poetry is to a belly laugh, so older dragons usually struggle to learn pony-speak.”

Spike’s smile grew. “Huh. Cool, so I’m weird in a good way!”

She chuckled. “Yes!”

This Winter’s Break was clearly an expert. That she had arrived from Asherby was a clear sign that her experiences and the knowledge she’d gained from them had all been first-hoof. “Are you from Wintercore, by any chance?” Twilight asked.

Winter’s nodded. “That’s the one!”

Of all the families in the chilly expanses of Asherby, none had tamed the land and its dangers quite like House Wintercore. They were beast masters by tradition and were said to live in harmony with the likes of dragons, timberwolves, monstrous gulls, and the manticore’s larger, sturdier northern relative whose mighty claws doubled as farming hoes to pierce the hard ground.

The rest of the mare’s life story practically slotted into place. She had left a home filled with creatures she loved for a role serving the greatest dragon of them all. This was a mare who knew what she wanted and was willing to make hard choices to reach her goals. Seeing Spike must have set off all sorts of positive memories.

Alas, the here-and-now was far less cheery. Moondancer stepped past the statue and into the shade of the half-melted awning that was now fused to the marble. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dragon that did this?” she asked, likely committing some kind of heresy in all her casual disrespect.

Winter’s Break gave her a momentary look. “I’m sure word would be all over the city if a dragon attacked Canterlot,” she responded, sounding worried but patient. “My Dice tell me is that it was ‘the biggest minotaur they’d ever seen’, but I didn’t hear a thing until half the temple was ablaze.”

Twilight looked up at where the last two pillars once connected to the arches, then to the intact ones going down the line. The ones leading up to the entrance had messy slices carved out of them, rising and deepening until they reached the entrance, as if whatever had done this had grown as it charged forwards. That wasn’t the work of a few intolerant radicals with a few hammers and a fire spell.

“Hm. So you’re saying it could’ve been a magical attack, rather than just vandalism?” Moondancer asked, echoing Twilight’s thoughts.

Chestnut’s warning came to mind, about the riots only being the beginning. This sounded like something that had been premeditated. Transformation plus a silencing spell? Twilight thought with a frown. The latter was relatively simple, but the former would have required a high level of skill. Even she was barely at the beginnings of learning how to cast transformation spells, and even then, turning a pony into a giant minotaur while scaling its strength in turn took a lot of energy and likely a decent plan beforehoof. She looked to the inside. What had been rows of benches were now just ashes mixed in with messy lengths of charcoal. “Do you have any idea who could’ve done this?” she asked.

The mare’s positivity faded away and she looked between Twilight, the floor, and the statue of her demi-goddess. Suddenly, it was as if she was in mourning. “No, I don’t, or at least I haven’t heard anything that makes sense,” she replied with a brief smile.

“How could anyone miss this?” Moondancer asked. “You’d think the guard or the PA would get off their butts for a change for something on this magnitude.”

“I won’t hide my frustration, but given the entire city was suffering at the time, I won’t blame them for not catching whoever did it.” Winter’s Break turned back to the gaping hole. “For now, we’re going to have to gut the entire building and hope we can secure the funds for renovations.”

Moondancer raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys were meant to be rich.”

“W-well, normally it wouldn’t be a concern, but I’m afraid the temple’s coffers were breached during the fire.”

“Oh.” Moondancer’s face changed. “That’s definitely not suspicious at all.”

“Moondancer-”

“It’s just that, you said your underlings said it was a giant minotaur, right?” the unicorn continued. “Judging by the pillars, I could believe that… unless the fire came first and the attacker came afterwards… then they might’ve mistaken what they saw.” She wandered back out and placed a hoof on the statue again. “If I know anything about dragons it’s that they love gold and treasure. I’m guessing these gems didn’t just go-”

“Hooves off,” the mare commanded with a frown. “Please, it’s disrespectful.”

Moondancer held her hooves back defensively. “I’m just saying. It’s either that or something stinks. These organisations always try to beg money from people as if it’s going directly to whatever pony in the sky they say exists.”

“Athena doesn’t accept donations,” Winter’s corrected. “We have stores throughout Canterlot that sell merchandise in Her name.”

That took Twilight aback. Merchandise? she thought. There were plenty of examples of craftsmares making money by creating items inspired by whatever gods or goddesses they happened to favour, her own great-grandfather among them, but she didn’t know of any other faith that would publicly endorse such a practice. “Merchandise” was the realms of comic books and collectible toys, not of a serious religion.

“I have no idea what to say to that,” Moondancer stated with a bewildered frown.

“Not what you were expecting, I take it? Prosper isn’t shy about His goals. The market of ideas is a playground of gold and silver for Him to conquer, just like any battlefield. Athena is meant to represent victory over that journey, just like Canterlot is meant to be the pinnacle of Equestria.”

The frown tilted. “Right… and, no offense, but a mare with husbandry experience represents victory, how?”

“I was chosen for being very, very good at my job,” Winter’s replied with no small amount of pride. “That, and by helping others discover what they truly want to do.”

“Like… cutie marks and stuff?” asked Spike.

“Yes! After the Five Judges comes a Sixth; once you reach wealth and victory, you invest in the future and help others to rise as well.”

That part hadn’t been in the textbooks. Was it a new belief?

“So you pay for yourselves with weird little figurines and stuff,” Moondancer stated. “Does that mean you aren’t funded by the princess?”

Winter’s nodded with a smile. “Every temple and follower is privately funded by the regional Chancer, who receives profit from the sales our stores make, which in turn get invested into buying land and building new temples. From that point on it’s up to ponies like me to manage our own expenses and maintenance, so… temples like this one are essentially home to me.”

A little, angry voice in Twilight’s head had been egging her on to call this whole thing a pyramid scheme. The very idea of an entire religion operating under anything other than donations felt alien to her. As far as she understood it, Octenism, Ungulism and all the rest in Canterlot were maintained either directly or indirectly by a combination of the royal coffers and public donations. Celestia in particular provided funding for the purposes of organising events and the living costs of devotees, and to the Archa Institute which was normally responsible for the construction and maintenance of holy sites.

“Which is why it pains me so much that this has happened.” Winter’s motioned to the statue again. Its golden appearance must have looked imposing and magnificent in the right light, but on its back as it was, it looked like nothing more than a theatre prop. An anger seemed to fill her this time. “To have thrown down a symbol of prosperity and pick at its jewels like vultures… it’s little wonder why Canterlot’s shops are closing by the dozen and how that brute of a pegasus has managed to place himself at the city’s taps. The balance has been flipped on its head and we’re all paying the price for our insolence.”

Moondancer took a step forward again, a glint in her eye. “This has nothing to do with random idiots on the streets,” she stated. “It’s literally all Celestia’s fault. She’s holed up in her castle waiting for everything to solve itself so that she doesn’t have to do anything.”

Winter’s frowned. “Well, I heavily disagree with that, but I understand where you’re coming from. With the savings gone and the Archa Institute refusing to cover the damages, it would certainly be… beneficial to receive funding from somewhere. An attack like this should fall under the Princess’ purview…”

Twilight stepped forward. “I thought the Archa Institute’s entire purpose was to maintain religious sites?” The institute had a legal duty that went above petty personal beliefs, and would be punished if they didn’t offer support in a situation like this.

Winter’s nodded gravely. “They were going to at first, but now they’ve taken to citing their own religious texts, since Judge Deon supposedly ‘chased Archa from the world’ by inventing mass-production, which is strictly against their doctrine.” She sighed. “When Celestia returns I’m sure she’ll set them back on the right track.”

“I have faith she will as well,” Twilight agreed.

Winter’s quirked an eyebrow. “You’re one of those followers, are you? The Princess certainly makes a good case for being a deity in her own right.”

Oops “Oh! No, no, I didn’t mean that. I just… trust her, is what I meant.” Diurnalism had been banned for a little over a hundred years now, its depictions of Celestia as a literal goddess burned and its stores of weaponry confiscated.

The mare chuckled. “It’s ok, lots of ponies think that way. You must have a lot of respect for her.”

Twilight felt her heart filling with appreciation. To meet someone who actually seemed hopeful was like a breath of fresh air amidst all the misery.

Winter’s motioned to the ruined temple behind her. “As much as it pains me to admit, with the savings gone I think I may have lost this fight before it even began, and will have to rely on a donation after all to get everything back in order.”

“Now how did I see that one coming?” Moondancer grumbled.

“I mean… I don’t have any money or anything,” Twilight lied.

Winter’s eyes flipped open and she shook a hoof. “Oh no, I didn’t mean that. I’d sooner give up my position than accept donations from potential customers.” She coughed into a hoof, looked at the silver-grey aura surrounding Twilight’s horn, and glanced to one side as if they were stood in a dingy alleyway making a shady deal. Twilight dearly hoped that wasn’t the case. “You mentioned something about studying magic earlier, didn’t you? Are you two, by any chance, students in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns?”

“I am.”

“I’m not.”

“I… don’t suppose I could ask you a favour, could I?”

Twilight met her friend’s gaze. Moondancer was giving her a look of disbelief. “Come on. You’re smarter than this,” she said under hush.

“Well, maybe that was the wrong word to use,” Winter’s continued. “Think of it as a transaction; you do something for me, I do something for you. A bit of equal exchange where we both win.”

Moondancer glared at her. “And how do we know your end of the deal won’t mysteriously go up in flames?”

A look of surprise crossed Twilight’s face. That was… odd. She hadn’t even considered how strange this entire event looked from a certain perspective. She looked the mare in the eyes, searching for some sign that this was a ploy. A fire that had been started right in the middle of the riots where it would be at its least noteworthy, caused by an unbelievable perpetrator, which just so happened to destroy or steal funds that should have been safe from such a disaster. From her time matching numbers and following reparatory inquiries this suddenly sounded every bit like insurance fraud, yet Winter’s Break just stood there, looking hopeful yet ashamed of herself. Athena seemed the type to frown on pity.

Winter’s glanced between them, then up at where the last two pillars had broken away, then back at her temple. “Oh dear. I… didn’t realise you were looking at it like that.” A pause. “Hm. All I really want is for you to deliver a message to the Princess for me, if that’s something you can do?”

“We haven’t seen the Princess in a week,” Moondancer stated.

That took Winter’s by surprise. “Was there another public announcement?”

“No, there wasn’t.”

I’d better play it safe, just to be sure… Twilight stepped forward and took one of Winter’s hooves in her own. “Look, Ms. Break, I really empathise with what’s happened, but I don’t know if I can reach the Princess in the first place. I know she’ll be back at some point but I don’t have any way of knowing when that will be. If I happen to see her I’ll be sure to mention all of this, but until that point I can’t in good faith give you any kind of deal.”

The mare looked defeated, the last of her former positivity fading away. “I see. That’s a shame.” She broke into a hopeless smile. “I know you won’t believe me, but isn’t this interesting? For six-hundred years Athena has been portrayed as a dragon, yet as soon as the Equilibrium - for the first time in history - raises a minotaur to the rank of Head Scaler, one just so happens to tear down Her statue? It’s almost like a sign.”

After a terse goodbye, Winter’s Break retreated into her home to assist with clearing the mess that had been made of her congregation hall, her pure white hooves already blackened by the ash.

Comments

[Comickook]

Sorry I took a while to respond. Nothing to blame except self-admitted laziness. But still, once again, a really good job on the exchanges, characterizations and future chapter set-up. Again, I can understand the bits of reflection on things such as how the fountains have been shut off and the damage caused by the fires (not just to property, but to self-esteem) as well as how Winter Break's reaction to meeting Spike so closely mirrored Fluttershy's and Moondancer's out loud wonderings about the timing and circumstances of the looting and the fire in that temple.

Definitely looking forward to more of this.

[Parallel Black]

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