Freakish
The briefing book had been rather hastily compiled. Pictures had been poorly glued to pages: some of the glossy borders went off the edge, and moving the sheets too fast could send the images into distant corners of the cell. Words had been frantically scribbled onto paper, no one had found any time for binding -- and then one of the little horses had remembered that Cerea couldn't read the thing. Nightwatch had been dispatched accordingly, and so Cerea had learned that the creamy yellow drink which scented the breath of so many Guards was called wake-up juice (or at least, that was as close to the real name as the disc could get). The pegasus had spent the final daylight hours in treating it as a substitute for all other nutrition, and her feathers would occasionally vibrate accordingly.
"Can you remember who all of them are?" the little knight frantically asked. "You have to remember who all of them are. Not necessarily their names, but what each one looks like, and the position they'll probably take. Um. The position in their articles. The next articles. The ones after tonight --"
She'd learned Japanese to a (barely) workable conversational level in four months: being constantly surrounded by natives had rapidly improved her fluency. "Yes. But... you said this won't change their minds..."
Silver eyes winced shut. "Um. Not for most of them. But that's because the best ones won't have an opinion -- um..." It was possible to watch inner words frantically rearranging themselves. "I mean, they'll just tell ponies what happens, and they'll keep their own feelings out of it. There's still a few who can do that. But --" The black head lunged forward, sorted out two sheets and eventually recovered the associated photographs. "-- there's the ones who'll come in with their minds made up. Everything which happens... won't, not the way it really did. Not in a way which makes them think, because they've already decided what it means. For starters, Ms. Marshdew is going to support you --"
"-- how do you know?" That seemed important. "Did you speak to her? Has anyone --"
"-- anypony," Nightwatch desperately corrected: something which actually came with a lash of the tail. "You have to try and say that! I can hear it when you say 'anyone!' They're two separate words! 'Anyone' is for someone who isn't a pony, or a really mixed group! And it's going to be just about all ponies tonight --"
The pegasus blinked.
"-- except for the ones who aren't," the little knight groaned. "Sun and Moon, it's going to be Dejected and Gracie at the very least, and nopony put pages together for them --"
"-- who?" Because there were a thousand times to worry about, a million reasons to lock herself in the bathroom (not that any part of a cell locked from the inside, but she could try to jam her hind hooves against the door) and just about all of them had conspired to try and keep her from sleeping -- but a question gave her something to think about for a precious second. Something which wasn't another vision of fast-approaching disaster.
It also let her focus, and that felt as if it was becoming more difficult by the minute. Sheer emotional exhaustion had sent her into collapse shortly before sunrise, and the few inner images which hadn't tried to prevent that turned out to have saved their efforts for jolting her awake again. By her best estimate, she'd gotten about three hours of sleep, and the longest single increment had been twenty minutes.
Centaurs entered REM sleep somewhat more quickly and frequently than humans, and those dreams typically included every sense. It currently didn't seem to be a good thing.
"International press!" It was all too close to a wail, and the sound nearly drowned out that which came from the approaching hoofsteps. "Let me think, let me think... um.... Dejected is going to take the worst possible view, but he's going to base that in facts. He won't try to say you'll destroy the world, because the Princesses will tell everypony you can't and he usually takes them at their word. He'll just say something about how the riots will burn down Canterlot. And Equestria. Maybe the Burning Lands, but I'm not sure anypony would notice."
Her back went tight with fear: something which began at the nape of her neck and ended at the base of her tail, with that blonde fall beginning to frantically lash. "He's..." She was picturing riots now or rather, she was picturing them again --
-- move back for the doors, try to get them closed, the police are supposed to protect us and maybe they won't get through the doors --
Wingtips appeared to be on the verge of wringing themselves. Wingtips weren't supposed to do that. "He's a donkey! Just about everyone in Eeyorus is going to read about his worst-case scenario because that's most of what donkeys come up with on their own anyway! And Gracie won't say much on a first meeting. She'll be watching to see how many times everypony else gets to you, and how often you score something on them, because that'll tell her something about where you stand. She might poke and prod a little, but when it's a group, she prefers to let everypony else do most of the work. And then she'll know if she can dominate you. So remember: Dejected will make everything as bad as possible, but everypony usually ignores him unless he writes something they thought of themselves. And Gracie's going to be like most griffons during a first meeting, only lazier -- we didn't tell you about griffons, Moon's craters, you don't know about how griffons think --"
The more solid of the hoofsteps stopped, and a powerful forehoof pushed open the cell door.
"Picture any group of adolescents attempting to determine where each ranks in a chain of power," the dark mare offered. "One where those who are strongest generally feel they have an obligation towards the weak, the weakest truly need that help, the middle grouping tends to vibrate back and forth within a limited range, and those trapped just below the top link often conspire to fling the current occupant down, because they have yet to understand the responsibility which comes with victory. And now you understand enough about griffons for a first meeting. Especially when it comes to Gracie Topside, whose first response to the appearance of Tirek was to find an interesting perch from which to report on events while hoping somepony else would launch the first interview." She strode into the cell. "As I recall, that tactic bought her some time before her own magic was drained, which amounted to roughly forty seconds. Disrobe."
Cerea blinked, which at least served to distract her from thoughts of talking donkeys and the associated memory of four increasingly-bad movies. (She still couldn't quite reconcile a humanity-free gryphon.)
"You want me to..." they're nude they're mostly all nude all the time so maybe she wants me out there without anything on so I'll be more like them but she wants me to go out there naked
An elderly, bespectacled unicorn followed the Princess in: quavering jasmine light deposited a bundle of cloth on the center mattress.
"Only to your undergarments," the dark mare clarified. "And then put these on."
"Are they holding up, dear?" Corsetiere Garter timidly inquired.
"Um..." It could have come from Nightwatch, and Cerea wished it had. "...it's -- better than anything I've ever had. They've lasted for days..."
"Days?" the unicorn carefully asked.
"Days," Cerea just-as-carefully repeated, because she wasn't sure how to explain about the previous high-activity record: roughly twenty minutes --
-- I charged down my mother.
It had been done in the name of her beloved, to stay with the one whom
I loved him.
He never could have loved me.
she'd wanted, and she still wasn't sure how she felt about that memory. There had been an expression on the elder's face at the moment Cerea had committed to the fight, something which bore traces of the usual disappointment -- but there had also been another aspect. Something the daughter had almost never seen --
"I'll come back to refit you, of course," the old mare said, and completely missed Cerea's tail abruptly knocking most of the papers onto the floor. "I know a growing girl when I measure one. But this will do for tonight."
"If you disrobe," the Princess tightly declared. "Now, centaur. Moon will be raised soon, and most of the attendees have already gathered. Which includes the ones whom the Guards are doing their best to keep outside the Courtyard. We have very little true control over how long this will last, let alone what has already transpired throughout the day --"
"-- what happened?" She had to know. She had to find out if it was her --
"-- we expected fear," the Princess interrupted. "Fear manifested. And because we were ready for its appearance, it did not manage to gather true momentum within the capital. Pockets which were isolated, broken up, and dealt with as individuals. No fatalities, and only a few minor injuries. Do not concern yourself with any of it."
Is she lying to me?
Cerea didn't know. She understood the body language of horses -- but those of her home were incapable of anything more than the most basic falsehood: the lie of calm while a rider mounted, quickly replaced by the joy of sending that human into the dirt. The dark mare was exponentially more complex, and the steady gaze remained unreadable.
"But citizens have the freedom to gather -- although in this case, we have told them to remain outside the palace walls," the Princess continued. "And so a few have come as close as they dare. You do not appear to be disrobing."
There's nothing to be embarrassed about. They don't see me as attractive. They can't --
They only saw her as a monster.
She forced her arms to move, and unsteady fingers fumbled with the buttons of the blouse.
"There," the dark mare directed once the process was complete, watching Cerea's deep breaths with the neutrality of total disinterest. (The intake of air allowed her to smell other ponies, waiting in the hallway. She could scent how frightened they were.) "First the white underlayer, and then the sweater. Pink: what I am told is a calming shade. Fuzzy, to soften your outline. Warrens of angora rabbits were shaved for this, and so it should provide sufficient warmth. It also fully covers you from neck to wrists and upper waist, hiding some of the visible aspects of your strength from those who might be disturbed by it."
She slipped both on. Neither piece had been designed to reveal the slightest hint of cleavage, and both draped loosely. Her breasts created the usual projecting bra-clad shelf -- there was nothing to be done about that -- but the fabric didn't thin from strain as it passed over those curves, and the rest of it gave her upper torso a certain formlessness.
"The skirt," the dark mare directed. "This is somewhat more of a risk. I wish for them to see that which is familiar -- but the more which is exposed, the greater the chance that they will only perceive your physical prowess. So a compromise: the fall comes to the knees." The intensity of the gaze went directly into Cerea's eyes. "It is possible that somepony may inquire regarding marks. Those in Palimyno reported your lack of icon, but there may still be a question as to whether your species has the potential to manifest one. In the meantime, it is best to cover what most would perceive as rather belated absence."
She put it on. Like the sweater, it had a strange softness to it, and the gentle touch felt wrong against tensed fur and skin.
"Did you read the briefing sheets?" A pause. "You had them read to you. Do you recall their contents? Those whom you may be speaking with, at least for what might soon be left of the throng?"
Left? Her voice went with "Yes."
"What you can say," the dark mare continued, "and what you cannot? Remember: we are trying to create a degree of sympathy, at least as far as that might have the potential to exist."
It could be said that the story which the palace had created was a true one. It could also be said that omission was its own kind of lie, and one of Cerea's few intact desperate (and fraying) hopes was that it wouldn't be said tonight. "Yes."
"Then we turn to your hair," the Princess declared, and two slim, trembling mares stepped in. "Kneel."
Cerea carefully lowered herself. Flickering green light and nimble teeth began to work at the loose strands.
"Down the center of her back, and keep it there," royalty directed. "Attempt to suggest the position of a greatly-extended mane. Braid it if you must. Centaur, remove the pins so that they may work freely." Careful evaluation moved to Cerea's covered buttocks. "No more than the lightest curling for her tail: that can stand --" and paused again. "Centaur, do you have a preferred style there?"
He brushed my tail.
"I just... keep it clean," she lied, and tried not to think about the way Nightwatch's silver eyes had just focused on her.
I thought he liked curls.
I thought he could love me.
"It is a fine tail," the dark mare neutrally commented. "Well-proportioned. Excellent fall. I would normally discourage photography designed for the limited interests of a rather selective audience, but in this case, I am actively hoping for at least one pony in the world to consider that someone cannot be such a threat if she has such a fine tail." The evaluation began to move again. "You are clean, and your wounds have healed: that much has been accomplished. Now: you had mentioned that you are capable of scenting when something is safe for you to eat, if not when it is considering attack. Are you capable of consuming wake-up juice?"
"Yes." Although she wasn't sure about the prospective taste.
"Good. Because I am aware that your sleep was limited, and we only have so many edibles which contain natural caffeine. Unless you are willing to risk tea or --" the next word was nearly spat "-- coffee --"
Cerea blinked again.
As a filly, caffeine had been... hard to come by. Just about everything had to be smuggled into her gap in the world, and when it came to tea... those plants didn't grow in France, although the available crops meant the herd had very little trouble flavoring anything which did make it through. Similarly, it had been impossible to cultivate coffee, and just getting a can of soda could be a two-month wait as the shipment moved between double-blinds and drop sites. But then there had been Japan, and...
Caffeine had several purposes in the household. Cerea loved the formality of a tea ceremony, although she was much better with ceremony than tea. Suu simply took the new liquid in through her membrane and because caffeine could be a dehydrator, the next moisture-seeking attack might be a jittery one. Miia typically failed to see that her mix had gone to mauve until the coughing began, Lala indulged in Irish coffee, Meroune preferred tiny sips of wine, few things were more terrifying than the already-energetic Papi on a soda rush, and Rachnera...
The memory almost made her smile. Because Rachnera's body took many things from its spider portion, and one of the most prominent was that caffeine got the arachne drunk. It didn't even take that much: two small cups put her on the ceiling, while four created a slowly-rocking ball of chitin and legs. One which spent most of the night singing off-key.
There hadn't been a lot of opportunities to seek revenge for the frequent bindings while in the household, and one of the few Cerea had ever managed began with an energy drink.
"I can manage coffee," she told the Princess. Coffee where you just trot into a store and look for the right aisle...
The dark mare blinked.
"We will," a sincere voice stated, "try to avoid having the press learn about that. Except for those who might find it to be the greatest commonality. Coffee, then. I shall have some brought to you."
She was starting to feel the weight of the braid against her back. It went poorly with the pressure of everything which was waiting outside.
Twice. This is twice now...
(Technically, it was the third time.)
The dark mare watched, as the hairdressers (manedressers?) made her ready. So did the elderly unicorn, and the little knight who felt like the closest thing Cerea had in the world to a --
"Centaur?" Cerea looked up. (From this position, it was slightly up.) "Something has just occurred to me, and thankfully done so while there was still time to potentially resolve it."
She waited.
Thoughtfully, "Do you have another name? Something we can introduce you by?"
...what?
"I told you my name," was the immediate protest. "In the forest." And with everything which had happened, everything she felt was about to happen, the thinnest sliver of anger began to slip through. "And all you've ever called me is --"
"-- by what you declared yourself to be named," the dark mare quickly countered. "With a touch of what I am assuming to be your native tongue's feminine form, but we lack that and so I turned to the neutral." With what felt like false patience, "I happen to recall a comment regarding the lack of imagination possessed by your parents, and I will keep my hooves planted against that ground." One of those forehooves stomped: half of the cell vibrated. "'Centaur Centaur'. I cannot perceive how they could have made less of an effort. And so it would behoove us to have something else we could introduce you by: a nickname, a fillyhood fancy, anything -- simply to prevent the citizenry from being reminded of your species every time you are addressed."
There were several things she could have done, and flinging the enchanted, suddenly-incompetent disc across the cell felt like it might have been the least of them. Instead, she allowed herself a tiny indulgence on that fast-approaching night, something she so seldom got the chance to do with both complete legitimacy and accuracy.
The girl held her now lightly-shaking position against the cell floor, and silently blamed her mother.
'Centorea'.
The lead family in the valley. One of the oldest, the strongest. So of course we had one of the original surnames.
But then she named me 'Centorea'.
She wanted me to live with that. Every day from the moment I knew what a name was, and what it meant. To live with it, and to live up to it.
Every time anyone addressed me, they told me I was a centaur.
That I had to be a centaur.
That there was nothing there other than a centaur.
She wanted everyone to know that.
As names went, it hadn't been much. However, when viewed as a fervent wish --
-- no.
She doesn't get that.
Not after --
"-- your hands," the dark mare softly noted, "are clenching. When added to the shaking, I would consider that to be an unusual reaction." Just a little more quietly, "If I have given offense, then there will be a time for apology: I recognize that I may have inadvertently trotted upon some level of cultural taboo. But it is a necessary query. I must know if there is anything else they can call you." And once again, the girl missed the true tone. "Please."
"I..."
She swallowed.
Rachnera had happily informed her that it was a town in the northern part of Italy, one which seemingly existed solely for the restoration of furniture, and had saved that little fact for the moment when the centaur's weight had once again shattered an inadequate wooden support. After that, she'd done a little research of her own and discovered it was also half the description for a medical condition, something which generally applied to those in catatonic states. That you could move their limbs to new positions, and they would just -- stay there.
But it was something more than either of those bits of trivia. Because there was a reason she so seldom brought it out, especially when she'd never had any real opportunity to use it within her own herd. After a while, she'd been -- saving it. For the right time, for the right people. A few short, precious months of hearing it, and now...
It meant something, if only to her. It wasn't supposed to be casual. Because the little horses were afraid of her, they were almost all afraid, and to bring that out in front of them...
It was asking an entire terrified world to be her friend.
Blue eyes briefly squeezed shut. Her hands fell open. Pink fabric rose and fell.
"...Cerea."
The dark mare nodded.
"Cerea," Princess Luna repeated. "So it shall be."
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For the record: the next chapter title will be Miscreated. I'm mentioning this because it was originally going to be the title for Chapter 14 -- I told one person in chat -- and it wound up being pushed off to the Next Big Scene. With any (read: a lot of) luck, that chapter will be up before the end of this week.
And those who've been through my main 'verse might have some guesses as to a few of the ponies who are about to step onto the stage...
A lesson in spin-control at redlining speeds!
Wow!
Hilarious summary of Griffon culture! Oooh, the responsibility of those in power! Nice!
And cool little anecdotes of Cerea's time in Japan and stuff!
Nice reasoning on her name!
...
"My friends call me Cerea."
from a few chapters ago! Gained new poignancy!
Technically, she should not be given coffee at this point. Valium should do it just fine.
"And this is Cera... Um... Wake up, dear. Come on, up and at 'em. Everypony is looking at you now. Can I get a few fine stallions out of the crowd to help the young lady up? Oh, and stop looking terrified at the way she's sleeping. What, do you think she's going to snore on you?"
“Eeyorus,” huh. I’ve been trying to think of a good name for a donkey-governed nation, and I believe you hit the nail on the head.
Hmm, not much difference between Griffins and Dragons?
Always confuses me when someone asks me my name. Or calls me by it in a place I visit weekly or even daily for years.
Poor Cerea, she needs quite a lot of therapy, girl's a mess. Let's hope she gets some help after the initial shock, it's past time she's treated like the teenager she is.
10088604
I know the fictional part of that name, but is there a real world counterpart it's based on?
The stage is set.
Now, how does it catch fire?
10088654 And explode. And catch on fire again.
10088654
I believe torches are traditional when one storms a castle.
Yay for double update!
10088653
None that I’m aware of.
TWO chapters at once!
I believe that Estee is DYING
There is so much lament about Kurusu (the boy she is in love with), when in fact she wasn't out of the race for his heart. She had as much chance as the others, even with the problem the relation would have. Kurusu was attracted to her as much as the others. I know she is depressed about loosing her family in Japan but she need a good talking with Cadence to get her head set straight about love matters. At least so she can grieve properly.
The bra thing... Oh boy she need to talk to someone about this. Is there a Lady Minautor in Canterlot she could talk with?
Besides that, the Name thing is finally been called on. Centaur, Centaur, Centaur. I absolutely get that she was starting to get angry...
I kind of hope the Main 6 make an appearance. Twilight will be freaking out as usual, probably very angry too. She will probably be the hardest to convince. She and Celestia might have words about that...
Oh boy I can't wait for the next chapter!
10088678
Can't forget the pitchforks, too.
This was the first thing I saw when I logged on today. My two favourite shows... in one fic.
I swear I'll read this when I'm not to tired to appreciate it.
Excellent cover btw.
EDIT: OH TENNO SKOOOM 81K WORDS
This may be a while
Woohoo! Double updates! Excellent work.
You know, i overlooked this one at first but it has turned out to be absolutely engaging. Adding this to my 'you should read this' folder.
"Miia typically failed to see that her mix had gone to mauve unless the coughing began"
...I think I'm missing some meaning here?
And another good pair of chapters. :)
Good luck, Estee!
Ohh. Thank you for these. Though as much as I enjoyed them they left me tense waiting for the reveal.
On a side note do dividing actions in Your core world happen here cause I can imagine Twilight being a tiiiiiiiny bit pissed Celestia didn’t tell her about a centaur seeing as she had to throw down with the last one.
10089092
“Remains useless” is not the same thing as not existing at all. What is that “one thing” that might help but isn’t? Not quite up on the lore behind the story here.
10089023
Miia is one of the world's great anti-cooks. To leave her unsupervised in a kitchen is to chance the creation of culinary hot fusion, because whatever winds up in your stomach is going to have the rough weight of depleted uranium and it is also going to have a digestive half-life. She believes that recipes follow the Law Of Similarity: if you're out of rice, then tossing in something else small and white will do fine -- oooh, look: maggots! It doesn't matter what your diet is: Miia can find a way to inadvertently poison you. And she will do it all while happily singing her way through the kitchen, scales curled up by the heat of the stove, and it takes the entire household to shift her out because you try telling a lamia to move.
(Part of the problem is species-based: as a nearly-pure carnivore, she has very few taste buds and is capable of eating meat which humans would consider to have gone rotten. The rest is pure non-talent and a tendency to believe fish skeletons go with everything.)
I can only imagine what actual ogres thought of said films.
Luna's experiences with pink have generally been anything but, but that's the popular perception.
For reference:
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a2/CaffeinatedSpider.jpg
Ah. I'd thought that was why Luna kept calling her "centaur." An auto-translator won't handle names very well if it can't tell they're supposed to be names.
Given this world? That may just be her best bet.
Welp, the tents are up and the clowns are in position. Let's get this media circus started.
10089121
It's stated what the useless thing is: prayer.
Prayer exists, but remains useless. Celestia and Luna have no one and nothing to pray to.
10088567
Sleepy centaurs are inherently terrifying.
10089172
About the name situation due to the translation, a good explanation and example is Luna own name. Luna/Moon both are the same thing just different languages but both can be used as a name.
10089071
Agreed, and I wasn't trying to be nitpicky. As someone with an interest in astronomy/astrophysics, I just happened to remember SN 1987 A was only visible in the southern hemisphere. I suspect that the Centaurs may have noticed many supernovae over the eons they have been studying the stars, but I think Estee may have been suggesting Cerea being the first to witness a supernova from it's initial burst. Of course we ARE talking about cartoon ponies and centaurs...
10089185
Truly a sight to fear.
Tbh the idea of something being able to fall asleep standing up does kinda unnerve me a bit. That aside, you've built Cerea to be a loveable protagonist nonetheless.
Pretty excited to see how the conference goes.
10088604
I’m imagining a nation whose economy has been depressed for several centuries, where being down is a national pastime, and a capital city (built out of twigs) centred around a giant version of the below statue, the base of which is exactly 100 acres.
austinot.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/And-He-Was-Sad-Eeyore-Sculpture.jpg
I can already imagine Pinkie organising a vast relief column in an attempt to cheer the county up, and the total apathy with which the populace greet its arrival...
Addendum: also I can see it being next to a tiger nation, whose main exports are coffee and pogo sticks...
10089122
Ah, thanks. :D
Still not sure of the exact meaning of "mauve" there, but now enough context to figure out the general. :D
Really enjoying this story, even while having no familiarity with the property with which you’re crossing over! Speaking of Crossing, the poor guy... that was a great scene of his dressing down without any dialog to go by, and an interesting explanation of his behavior... both the attempt to dominate what he feared, and the idea that a lack of a Cutie Mark made him treat Cerea as a child. I also loved the walk-and-talk strategy session from the two sisters as they tried to cover all of their bases... the West Wing cast never had to deal with anyone with a stride as long as Celestia’s. (Well, I guess Allison Janney has some long legs on her...)
And finally, nice pay-off for all of the times that Cerea was seemingly dismissively called “centaur”.
Looking forward to the big in-story reveal!
Poor Cerea; self-image issues from here to the moon.
It's a good feeling when Cerea can have something nice.
After reading this chapter, I attempted to imagine how the ponies of GhostOfHeraclitus' Civil Serviceverse would deal with this issue and I honestly have no idea, though there'd be plenty of experienced panicking; so perhaps not all that different after all.
I'm confident there'd be at least one noble who'd accuse Cerea of being Celestia's secret paramour. Some nobles have a very one-track mind and once they have an idea, they're notoriously reluctant to let it go; probably due to the rarity value.
10088604
In the Palaververse it's called Asinia, or the Asinial Republic, although I believe they tend towards the economically opportunist than the theatrically pessimistic.
oooh! i always love it when i see more of this, i love this au youve created
10089846 Yep, since snakes don't chew, they need to be able to digest bones and everything.
People with pet pythons have reported them swallowing all sorts of random stuff they come across.
Light bulbs, coins, etc.
Rachnera eats regular food instead of flesh liquified by venom.
It can be justified by the fact that she has a human mouth with teeth and can actually chew.
Fun fact: Horse can eat meat and some have been known to seek it out.
http://www.lrgaf.org/deadly_equines.htm
https://horserookie.com/do-horses-eat-meat/#Lean_Mean_Green-Processing_Machines
https://thehorse.com/130670/carnivorous-horses/
https://thehorseaholic.com/the-forgotten-story-of-meat-eating-horses/
10091419
Interesting point.
And while I did know horses sometimes ate meat, there were some details in that I didn't know; thanks.
i.imgur.com/Dbdc7TL.jpg?1
10092803
Very well, sirrah. By your command, this story is cancelled.
Thank you for making me see the banality and terrible boredom inherent in everything I have ever written. I assure you that there shall be no more of it.
Like hell.
Months go by without any updates to any stories I follow, and then I got several updates within a few days? And one's a double upload??
10092803 10092847
I am quoting you both in this, because I think what zeusdemigod131 is trying to do, is offer a bit of (constructive) criticism, using a quote from an award winning work(?) The fullness of the above-abridged quote continues to say...
For myself, I don't mind trials, tribulations and adversity...but we're at 81k words and all we've seen is her slipping into a (very understandable) depression, in the face of losing everyone she ever knew and cared for, to be pitched into a world that positively HATES her. So, maybe it's just me using OP as a vehicle, but at least how I interpret their meaning is;
"When are we going to get to see Cerea be happy?"
10094043 10092847
Admittedly I should've done my original comment differently, and I'm sorry for that, but it's just... why?? Why when we already live in a world where 'the bad guy' often wins, where things don't have happy endings, where people are terrible and mean and so many things, why would you take one of the brightest tv shows in recent media, and one of the... I'm gonna go with goofiest, manga/animes, and make them so depressing?
No matter what happens, the best win the Princesses can ever seem to get against these newsponies is 'a retraction they hid in the margins of the sports section' no matter what, because... why? Because there was one episode where a school newspaper did the same thing? Where seemingly everypony is some level of racist or xenophobic because of what happened with Zecora? Despite the fact that no one had any kind of similar reaction to Gilda, Iron Will, or any other non-pony in the show?
Racism hasn't even been a thing in Musume since I think Suu was introduced, and yeah it makes sense world building wise to have Cerea be so familiar with it but the way she talks you'd think people were throwing rotten fruit at her or something (and this isn't even getting into her relationship with her mother, which in the manga as tough, but loving, whereas you seem to portray it as borderline emotionally abusive.)
Plus, in both the show and comics... Centaurs are not a one of a kind thing. Celestia and Luna both say Scorpan and Tirek came from their own nation, and in a flashback comic we see their parents, though that's more on how the Princesses treat/see her, rather than the general public
10088678
I don't think they're gonna make it. After all, it'd take a miracle!
10094074
In this continuity the only centaur ponies know about is Tirek, and he treated ponies like energy drinks. Om nom nom.
Every other species is something ponies have known about for centuries.
Different, but still an old and familiar part of the world.
Cerea's depression at every slightly negative reaction is because she's just lost everything in her life, including the guy she was in love with.
She has body issues because A: she is still a teenager, and B: she was worried that her being different would put the guy off.
Ponies reacting to her differences is jabbing her right in the issues nonstop.
Having this story start out as anything but heartbreaking would be unrealistic.
It's a little horrifying to imagine what her disappearance is doing to the others back home.
I actually try not to think about it too much.
10094428
You know, I get that and for the most part, I agree. She should be depressed, because you are right, she's lost everything (but her life) at this point. I guess what I'm trying to argue isn't so much what zeusdemigod131 is - I can appreciate a good deconstruction of a crossover - what I am trying to warn the author of is reader fatigue. If a story just keeps shitting on the main character, eventually it just gets tiresome and/or depressing to read. I'm not saying it's there yet, but I am at the point where I'm starting to pray for something to break this downward cycle, before she pitches herself off the castle walls or we're taking her down with the hearth's warming decorations.
10094074
I'm going to assume, based on your complaint here, that you simply Googled that quote and have never actually read The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas. You should rectify that; it's a short story and readily available online. Once you have, I'd like you to consider the irony involved in choosing that particular story as a vehicle to critique the darkness in this one.
I get Centorea -> Centaur, but how does that work with Shianus?
10550919
It's the French word for centuar
Gosh I'm starting to really hate that translator, I found it out why Luna kept calling Cerea, Centaur, but if the translator literally translated Cerea's name as - Centaur Centaur - that has to biggest insult ever.
Have we ever got more details of what wake-up juice actually is? It comes across as some type of yellow energy drink, but that's all I know (other than certain ponies live on the stuff).