Mythomaniacal
A castle under siege, with defenders trying to fight off the onslaught. Careful advancement through shadow, trying to bring the reason for the crisis to some level of safety.
It's all my fault.
Cerea felt as if she was living a story and somehow, no part of the current plot had the world trying to find yet another means of removing her clothing.
They'd been in the passages for some time. It was easy enough for the Sergeant to declare that they were giving up on Paddock and trying to get Cerea outside: the actual attempt was somewhat more involved. Some of the trails which wound within the palace walls were fairly isolated from each other. A now-lost saferoom had multiple ways in -- but those paths didn't necessarily intercept. Typically, the fastest way to get from one hidden road to another was through going back into the marble corridors for a few seconds, and that was something the Sergeant was refusing to risk. The trio had passed several possible hallway crossover points, and...
It was easy to hear the fighting outside. And even with the nausea saturating her, a distraction which was trying to fill and then overflow every cell... Cerea could always scent the blood.
It's all my fault...
Typically, they would only hear the battle when they neared an inner exit. (The Sergeant had also rather directly said that his current priority was getting Cerea to safety, and any attempt to assist in an unseen skirmish would risk compromising that. The girl's nostrils were being flooded with the olfactory signature of duty.) And because they had to make the trip without ever stepping onto marble, were effectively taking the long way around ... they got to hear a lot of them.
But there were some noises which had been designed to not only permeate the palace, but to sound within the passages as well. Cerea had sat in a room with a phonograph until she'd had them all memorized: something which had involved quite a bit of cranking. (The crank wasn't really designed to be gripped by hand.) It meant the group heard the evacuation alarm go off.
"We need to be more careful now," the Sergeant had told centaur and surgeon. "This could be somepony's route, and they might be running scared. We might only have a second to tell the difference between an attacker and a staffer who's just running until they can't run any more."
Where are they evacuating to?
A former rookie Guard remembered the standard destinations. But she didn't know who was supposed to go where.
The tunnels?
Some of them were supposed to try for the gardens.
They can't use the front of the palace. Not if the protesters came in that way, because there could be more on the way.
I...
But there had been no further encounters. (Sometimes, when they were within the widest of the walls or nearing a corner, they would hear hooves desperately pounding across stone.) And they'd continued to make their way through shadow, past lighting devices which weren't always fully working or glowing in the right shades or responding to their presence at all, while the girl tried not to lean against the wall too often. Because the nausea surged at any moment when she lost focus, and
This is my fault.
there were so many reasons for that to happen. Or rather, one reason, which kept repeating itself over and over and over --
-- there wasn't enough light in the stone passage.
And then there was too much.
Cerea's first instinct in the presence of what had to be a magical effect was to reach for the sword: something which found her hand closing on air, immediately followed by having her exposed flank contacting cool stone again. But the wisps of light continued to materialize from raw atmosphere, doing so directly in front of the Sergeant's snout, and it was light to vapor to something more solid and it wasn't a pony teleporting in because that was more of a flash: something which happened all at once --
-- I saw this before.
She'd just seen what it looked like from the sending end.
The scroll coalesced, and fell to the floor in front of the Sergeant's unmoving hooves. He calmly nodded to himself, and knelt forward to nose it open.
"Could use some extra reading light, Doc," the old stallion requested, and bright green projected towards that part of the passage. "That'll do. So..." The downwards-facing gaze quickly shifted, moving left to right and back again. "'Passages are compromised. Traitor among staff.'" Something about the brown eyes hardened. "'Abandon Paddock. Take Cerea to Adamant's cave.'" His teeth nipped one corner of the scroll before he straightened, and a small sweep of his head told the centaur to come forward.
She forced herself away from the wall, trotted forward until she was close enough for him to push the paper towards her right hand. The girl took it.
"Shred that," the Sergeant told her. "Smallest pieces you can manage."
It was something she could do -- in theory. She certainly had enough strength to tear paper, but her fingers seemed to be fumbling...
"Cave?" Chocolate Bear uncertainly asked. "Where is there a --"
"Out in the gardens," the old stallion cut in. "Guess you haven't taken the full tour." He started moving forward again. "It's got some problems. Not enough ways out, for starters. But for most ponies, there's only one way in. And it's not part of the standard shelter list, so a traitor wouldn't know to check it. We're probably looking at having one of the Generals intercept at some point, once they can get free."
Traitor had just registered in the girl's mind.
Somepony turned against the palace.
Maybe a lot of ponies.
Because of me.
All because of --
"A traitor," the surgeon shakily said. "Who --"
"-- if they knew, they would have told us," the Sergeant immediately shot back. "And they just found out the passages were compromised." Nostrils flared into the full snort. "No fault on the timing. The worst thing to be if you want battle information is a General. Too far away from the action. Anypony running a battle is usually the last to know about a fight." The snort repeated. "And I figured we had a problem after we hit that first miniherd. Just not one which ran that deep." Several stone-weakening curses were visibly bitten back. "Treason."
"But who --" the doctor tried.
Anypony who hates me.
A qualification which provided an impressively large list of suspects...
...she had turned somepony against their own nation.
It could be argued that the revelation of liminal existence had turned a number of people against their own humanity -- but as far as the girl was concerned, when it came to the definition of humanity, striking out against anything different was just about the core of it.
"Don't know." It was almost a bark, and the sound was still less harsh than the glare which the old stallion directed at the unicorn. "Or they'd be asking for your help right now. If they could still talk. But here's the crucial part, Doc. It's not me. It isn't you, because a doctor's got a thousand chances to drop anyone they don't like. Everyone here, right now, can be trusted. We'll just have to be careful with any staffers we run into. Got me?"
Centaur and surgeon nodded: it would have been hard to say whose movement had been the more shaken.
The trio advanced through shadows and self-blame.
There was a final ramp leading down. One short passage. A barely-visible door on the right: the Sergeant carefully pressed his right forehoof in a pattern against several innocuous stones near the frame. There was a soft sizzle as a number of still-functioning protections temporarily winked out.
He pushed on the stone, let it move just enough to create the smallest of cracks. Fresh, cold air surged into the passage.
The girl inhaled.
Nearly winter. The air temperature matches what was set on the weather schedule, which means we're not near a temperature-regulated part of the gardens. I'm not sure which part we are near. (A rookie Guard was also required to memorize the passage network, but that had been a work in progress: additionally, the Sergeant had led them through a lot of turns.) And --
"Cerea?"
She blinked. Looked down, and found the Sergeant glancing back and up.
"What are you scenting?" the earth pony softly asked. "Airflow was wrong in the passage for you to get that one group before we heard them. But the wind is blowing towards this side of the palace. The breeze is coming in. Give me some idea of what's out there before we move you."
She attempted to narrow her focus. The nausea fought back.
"I... can't be sure of anything right now," she told him. "It's hard to concentrate --"
"-- you picked up on the Doc," the Sergeant reminded her. "Just sort it out."
He thought she could do it.
He'd also believed she was still capable of being a Guard --
-- no. She didn't need the sword for this.
I have to do what I can to help.
But I can't protect them.
I can't even protect myself --
The nausea abruptly surged, and the girl's hands clenched as she desperately fought back against the roiling tide.
Don't double over.
...as much as I can.
(A number of human females, all under the delusion that they were being original, had announced that not only was Cerea clearly incapable of looking straight down and seeing her own forehooves, but it was impossible for her to bend in a way which touched them. Which was absolutely true, because centaur double-jointing only went so far. Also, what was so special about being able to look at one's forehooves on the vertical anyway?)
I need to do this.
I'm not a Guard any more. But they're trying to protect me. They could get hurt.
I have a duty towards them --
The flood waters temporarily receded, and she pushed.
"No ponies," she told him (and considered herself to have taken far too long in doing so). "Not close. There's... a lot of rage in the air, but it's diffuse. Probably a drift pattern." It wasn't a particularly pleasant change from the usual background fear. "And there's a little smoke, but not enough for a nearby fire. Not when the wind is blowing towards us."
"Thought I heard thunder at one point," the Sergeant casually mentioned. "Somepony had rotten aim. Anything else?"
She shivered. Something about the illness seemed to be having its way with her temperature tolerance. It was nearly winter, the wind was cold, and too much of her left flank was exposed.
Don't get this wrong...
"Some ozone traces." And immediately felt stupid, because he already knew there had been lightning. "And a lot of plants." ...stupider. "That's it."
"Schedule was for clear and cold," he reminded them. "That's what we're feeling now. But the gardens have their own little weather systems. Some of them count for moisture pockets. Pegasi combatants can get clouds together in a hurry there." The earth pony frowned. "Also means we're going to be dealing with shifting wind conditions every time we cross a weather border, and there's going to be a bunch of those because the cave isn't that close. Plus there's more directions to watch. We'll move as fast as we can."
Vanilla Bear had been wrong. She'd left the palace before she was better.
They weren't quite in the gardens proper: there was a buffer zone around the palace walls, where Canterlot's standard vegetation (and weather) held sway. But there wasn't all that much distance to cross in order to reach the border.
"May have to stay off the garden paths," the Sergeant decided as the group advanced forward. "Rather go through the plants on either side, in the parts which have enough of them. The paths are too visible."
Like right now.
"Like right now," the old stallion finished.
You didn't have to be a Sergeant to think like one. Not when the problem was this obvious.
Reach the gardens and some portions would have an overhead canopy available. Others offered plants which were tall enough to allow an attempt at getting low and trying to hide among the stalks. But the trio wasn't there yet. There was a border space, and it had them out in the open under a clear sky.
Cerea looked up, and did so too quickly: nausea tried to transmute into dizziness, seemingly picking up some new strength along the way.
Pegasi fighting near that tower. Those clouds were probably just woven. They're too small and dark for anything natural in the sky.
If any of them look down...
The airborne combatants seemed to be focused on two things: staying in the sky and knocking somepony else out of it. But all it would take was a single moment of diverted attention --
"-- keep moving," the Sergeant steadily told her, and she knew he'd looked up too. "We can't do anything about what's happening up there right now. But if one of theirs breaks off, one of ours will wonder why. And once we're into the green, we'll have a few more options."
Hovering hooves slammed into a cloud. Thunder exploded. The surgeon winced, visibly forced his legs to stay in rhythm.
They moved forward. Cleared the first line, such as it was: some low, narrow border bushes, probably less than a year old. The tallest didn't even come up to Chocolate's sternum, and Cerea's nausea didn't prevent her from simply stepping over them.
"Just need to get a few more body lengths without being spotted," the earth pony reminded them. "Keep trotting --"
Three sets of ears twisted backwards in the same instant. Heads turned. For the centaur, the upper torso quickly followed, and she tried not to reel again --
-- another portion of the outer wall had just quickly swung outwards: they'd all heard it open. And then ponies rushed out.
...tried to rush out.
They were staffers: Cerea recognized a scant few, understood that the entire group had to be composed of palace employees. Eight in total: six unicorns, two pegasi. Those who had not only been told to evacuate, but had needed to.
Some were limping. Others couldn't reach a full trot with a wounded body leaning against one flank. And all were pushing themselves, moving faster than their wounded bodies ever should have permitted, nopony among them had seen the trio yet because they were all focusing on gaining one more body length of ground and then one more and one more after that and the moment when the scent of their blood reached Cerea was also the instant when she heard the hooves pounding up the passage behind them --
-- to some degree, this has always been about distraction. Go look over there. We're going to make a sound, and we're going to make a light. If that doesn't have your full attention, then we're going to kick in some blood.
The evacuation is under way. That means the intruders have one place where they really don't want the palace to look. And some of those ponies have gotten away from the plan, because this isn't exactly a disciplined fighting force. Discipline is what they want to inflict on the world, for that definition which is most typically known as I Want Everything My Way. There is anarchy within the walls, a breakdown of intentions added to a need to seek and destroy and just run rampant for a while. Rebellion against the ultimate parental figure, just as long as she doesn't actually turn up. And none of that matters, because the ones who could stick to the plan are on the move and the stupider specimens are just creating more of a distraction.
Spot a group of wounded staffers trying to get out? Well, the only way they could have gotten hurt was if they were fighting. So really, anything the intruders do to them is just going to be simple revenge.
(The girl has already decided that every last injury is her fault. Behold the trotting apocalypse. A thought of Tirek might be enough to tilt some ponies towards suicide, but only she can get them to attack each other.)
(Ponies are being hurt in every moment she exists here...)
They gave chase, because there was wounded prey. (Any comparison to a predator species would, of course, deeply offend them.) There was no need to worry about opening the door to the outside. The invaders don't have every unlock sequence -- but in this case, the staff is doing the job for them. And once the six of them are outside, it's eight wounded staff ponies. No numerical advantage, and they would have preferred that -- but they'll be okay. Because their prey is weak and vulnerable and easy pickings who, quite frankly, deserve it.
They are ponies who can count up to MINE, while having lost all capability for identifying what's actually theirs.
The intruders come racing out of the new gap in the wall. Head directly for the injured.
And then one of them sees the centaur.
She shouts. Calls out the alert to the rest, changes the direction of her trot, and several follow --
"GET BACK!" It was the sort of Sergeant shout which the training grounds had spent weeks in attempting to wire directly into Cerea's legs. "GET INTO THE TREES!"
-- and there were horns igniting and wings flaring out, hooves pounding their way towards the trio and they were outnumbered, the wounded staff members could only do so much and if anything, Cerea's presence had pulled most of the attackers away from them because a centaur had instant priority. A centaur who didn't have a sword, was helpless and, for one horrible second, couldn't move because there were too many of them, there were always too many and she couldn't do anything and she couldn't just leave --
-- the surgeon's horn ignited. Bright green projected forward, flattened into an exceptionally narrow slice of sparkling field, about the length of the girl's index finger. Something which could be seen perfectly from Cerea's height, and was mostly visible as radiant glow if spotted from a more level head-on angle. A construct which was almost two-dimensional.
One of the attackers briefly glanced in that direction, and gave it no more regard than that. The green field was too small to lift more than dust, too thin to surround anything more than a portion of air. Stopping to laugh at the pitiful effort was more attention than it strictly deserved. So it was ignored, and the pegasus kept coming.
The thin slice of field -- sliced.
Fifteen vital flight feathers became just as many still-attached calamus points, and an equal number of scattering rachis.
The pegasus tilted to the side in midflap: something Chocolate Bear ignored, paying no attention to the crash in favor of twisting the field towards another attacker.
Create a field projection. Solidify it, somewhat like a shield -- but keep it thin. Flat. Almost two-dimensional, with the truest focus of that solidity along a very, very narrow edge. Something which probably couldn't be achieved without the help of a mark talent. But for the pony who could manage it...
There were no scalpels in the offices of the Royal Physicians. The resident surgeon had never needed one. And he was going after the pegasi among the attackers because just about every member of that species possessed a phobia regarding having the sky stripped away from them, and the majority of feathers didn't bleed.
Admittedly, pegasi did possess a number of blood feathers -- but a skilled surgeon knew which ones they were and could try to avoid them. The same was true for any pony's vital arteries and veins. But with a field which substituted for so much of a surgical kit, a trick which cut...
It was a simple matter for Chocolate to wound. Surgery was, in part, about necessary wounds: doing some damage now in order to allow healing later. But that was with a motionless, fully-sedated body. Put that kind of trick into play against moving ponies, whose movements might push them against the virtual blade, and it was far too easy to kill.
One attacker had begun by disregarding the projection. The remainder were now taking it very seriously. Something which sent a number of them towards the Sergeant, because an old stallion had to be an easy takedown --
-- and that was the next mistake.
But they were also coming at Cerea. And the group was out in the open, with so many more ways in which to move. The two stallions couldn't intercept everypony, and a loop of tan field went for her, caught her left foreleg, tried to yank --
-- she instinctively cantered backwards, trying to get away, and several hundred kilograms of centaur were tested against the field's raw strength.
The unicorn, who wasn't quite Twilight Sparkle, had her overwhelmed field wink out. And the staffers were joining in now, doing what they could, but they weren't moving all that fast, they were already weakened and wounded and a pegasus went for Cerea, the wind blast disoriented her and then the currents began to swirl around her head, it was getting harder to breathe because it felt as if the air was going too fast for her to catch much of it, she pushed her way out of that just before the surgeon's next cut took that flyer down, but there was too much happening for her to keep track of, the illness was rising and she was weak and helpless and she couldn't fight magic with nothing more than raw mass --
-- this is my fault.
Everything happening is fault.
I shouldn't be here.
I --
-- and there were attackers dropping, but at least two of the staff ponies were unconscious now, Chocolate Bear had tried a dissuading swipe to miss and wound up going at least a centimeter deep into muscle, the intruders had lost their earth ponies but one unicorn had tried an end run approach, vaulting the bushes to get at her and he landed about twenty yards away, skidded into a new position, focused on her and started the charge, he had speed and a spear attached to his skull and she barely had control over her own body, there was too much happening and nowhere to dodge and the unicorn's right foreleg went into a sinkhole.
Cerea, so much taller than any of the others, had found herself in possession of the lone angle which allowed anyone to see it happen. (If it had taken place directly in front of and below her, she would have missed it: the mocking humans had a biology-based point.) There had been a charging unicorn. One leg had rather unexpectedly dropped, going in well past the hock. Something which could hurt a pony who was moving at a normal pace, if their weight came down in just the wrong way when they weren't ready for it. In this case, one leg had dropped, and the rest of the unicorn had tried to keep on charging without it.
She heard the bone break. Something very much like a poorly-muffled gunshot, wrapped in a silencer of blood.
And sinkholes happened. Too much water in the earth, or too little. Excess freeze and thaw, sometimes in rapid succession. Any number of things could weaken the ground, leave it waiting for a collapse-triggering impact. Pure bad luck on the unicorn's part. He could reflect on fortune's cruelty in the hospital, and write the full thesis in prison.
Except that they were in the palace gardens. A place where the weather was fully regulated, and those who maintained the grounds presumably had ways of telling the local water table to shut up and sit down. And she was almost certain that she'd been on that patch of ground before he'd reached it, her weight was magnitudes above his and if the soil hadn't collapsed for her --
-- the Sergeant was looking at her.
He was still fighting. But he always kept watch over her, whenever he could.
He looked at her. Recognized that she'd spotted it. And, just for a second, the right corner of his lips curled up. A movement which, for the seeming effort involved, might have taken ten years off his life.
Outliers.
A pony who could change the terrain was, in fact, all sorts of trouble.
She would speak with him later, if any true degree of 'later' turned out to exist. In privacy. And she didn't understand the source for the emotion, but... you kept secrets because you were afraid.
She would keep his --
-- there were still ponies trying to reach them, there were too many directions to effectively dodge and three more had just come out of the still-open passage, Cerea had at least closed their own door behind her and there was a howl as they spotted the centaur, but this group was mostly running in a straight line towards what looked like Destination Anywhere and she was more or less going to be in the way --
-- one more pony came out.
Black wings unfolded. Flapped five times, with the wincing mare staying on the ground.
The newest gust blasted into the newest intruders. Sent two tumbling, with the third recovering his balance through coming to a stop against a solid object. To wit, a brown unicorn.
(The gust never touched Cerea, allied stallions, or staffers. When it came to wind, the mare was just that good.)
There was more movement. More magic, and the girl just barely managed to dodge one final attempt to pull at her ears. And then all of the attackers were down, but they weren't all fully unconscious and two of the staffers were bleeding more than ever --
The green field winked out. Chocolate Bear took a single breath, and Cerea watched as a surge of self-loathing was pushed out of sight. Locked away beyond vision, but not past scent.
"They need me. And I've got to stitch the one I cut --"
The Sergeant nodded. "We've got a whole group of wounded," the old stallion agreed. "Too hurt to take another attack without serious help. Do what you can." He raised his voice somewhat. "If anypony over there is healthy, start tying this group up. We've got a few things you can use."
Two of the staffers forced themselves forward. The surgeon moved. His corona reignited, began to sort through the contents of his saddlebags as he rushed towards the injured group.
Cerea was still staring at the final arrival (who, to be fair, was doing a lot of staring back). Trying to think of anything she could say.
"You're naked!"
That felt like an exceptionally bad choice.
The black pegasus awkwardly glanced back at her own fully-exposed fur.
"Um," Nightwatch said. "I'm off-duty. Um... I was off-duty. Well, obviously not any more. But I didn't try for the locker room. I had to find out what was going on, and getting into armor would have taken too long." The silver eyes took a rather deliberate (and still awkward) look at Cerea's left flank. "You're not exactly dressed for the cold --"
"-- you're not dressed at all!"
The Sergeant, displaying the most natural instinct of a male subjected to what was effectively a discussion of fashion, ended it.
"What brought you out here?"
"I verified Princess Luna," the little knight told them. (Chocolate lowered his body, put himself in proximity to an injured staffer and began to look at the wounds.) "After that, I could look for Cerea. It didn't take long to figure out the passages were compromised. And I remembered that you were going to visit her today, so I thought that if she hadn't been teleported out, then she had to be with you. So once I knew the saferooms were lost, I thought you'd take her outside. Towards the gardens, because that offered the most concealment spots. I looked for a passage going outside, and I found those three slipping into it. Then I was chasing them. And now..." A tiny shrug, followed by another, deeper wince of pain: the injured wings had been asked to do too much. "...I -- found you?"
Anyone looking at the Sergeant's expression might have had trouble gauging whether he was angry at having been second-guessed that thoroughly, or proud that a Guard had been able to manage the feat. Cerea, however, was going by scent.
"I'll take a Guard right now," the old stallion stated. "We can move out --"
"-- we can't," the surgeon called out, and the unicorn's voice was just barely able to contain the anger.
They all looked towards him. It took a little more effort for the staffers, because it meant paying attention to a source of the bloodscent.
"Two of these ponies can't be moved very far," Chocolate Bear told them. "One more shouldn't be moving at all. Not until I can get them stabilized, and that's going to take several minutes. Without including the one I cut, because I still need to get some stitches into him. I have to start treatment now, Sergeant, or some of this could get a lot worse." The pause was far too brief. "And this is my dominion."
My fault.
this is all my
"You're saying you'll override me," came out as something which was far too calm.
"If I have to." Green-glowing bandages were wrapping themselves around an injured flank. "But I'm saying you should leave me." With a thin smile, "I'm a non-combatant, remember? If anypony else comes by and sees a doctor at work --"
"-- this isn't war," the Sergeant told him. "It's worse. They're not going to honor anything. You need somepony watching you."
The old stallion looked at the wounded, shaking staffers. Brown eyes turned to Cerea, examined her from forehooves to the top of the blonde head.
He made a decision. Outwardly, it was all that happened. The stallion had decided what to do next. The situation had been evaluated: number of those at risk, how much danger each was in, and what could be chanced. Working the harsh math for the algebra of necessity. Decisions had to be made and in the absence of a general, sergeants usually wound up making them.
That was outwardly. But Cerea intended to keep his secrets. The sinkhole, and the newest source of self-loathing.
"Nightwatch," he said.
The pegasus took a hoofstep forward.
More softly, to keep any of the fallen attackers from overhearing, "Princess Celestia got a scroll off to us. We've got a few staffers who are strong enough to try fighting again, but the Doc can't handle all of this by himself. Especially not if more of the idiots come out, and we already got lucky, not having some of the sky group notice this. Can't try to peel any of ours off from up there. So I need to stay here and watch this lot. And you have to get Cerea to where the General wants her. Adamant's cave. Can you do that?"
The little knight nodded.
"Can you do that," the Sergeant forcefully repeated, "when you can't get off the ground? When you're the only one with her, and I don't know when I can catch up? Especially when you're looking after someone who didn't get past the treeline when I told her to?"
if they'd taken me down
maybe this would be over
he's putting her with me when she's already hurt, she's going to get --
There was just enough of a hesitation to notice, and then Nightwatch nodded again.
"Sun watch you," the old stallion gruffly said. "If we get to the point where Moon has to guard you, then we're already in deep trouble. And you know we've got a traitor to watch for. The same way I know it wasn't you. Go."
The little knight nodded to the centaur, began to trot towards the gardens. The girl, for lack of other options, followed.
The old stallion watched them go.
It wasn't quite déjà vu. The last trot they'd taken through the gardens had been at night, and... it could be said that the conditions had been different.
This is my fault.
They were hurt and bleeding and it's all my fault.
Every minute I exist here...
Most of the sounds of combat weren't reaching them.
Most of the scents had been lost.
They could almost be alone.
Almost.
They were off the path: they had to be. It was hard enough to conceal a centaur without giving the attackers an open trail to stare down. (The sparks had stopped coming off her when they were about two minutes out. The girl didn't want to picture the surgeon's reaction when he'd turned and seen they were gone.) It was giving Cerea some trouble in proceeding, because any attempt to hide her (and she was convinced that the sheer bulk of her body had already brought defeat) meant they had to go through the thickest vegetation. Something which left the girl trampling plants from all over the continent, just before she pushed aside branches in a desperate attempt to squeeze her way through vaguely-widened gaps. Her sweater was becoming stained (but not torn), and she suspected that her exposed flank was becoming discolored. Add that to any dirt she'd picked up from the passages, and a filthy appearance really didn't reflect well on her hosts.
...which, compared to bringing a siege down on the palace, felt like a much lesser thing.
They had to go through the plants: there was very little choice, and they had to hope that there was enough of a leaf canopy left along the full trail to obscure any view from the sky. But any need to make time would put them on the paths.
Nightwatch was keeping the pace. Something which frequently required flight --
-- I'm the reason she can't fly --
-- but Cerea wasn't moving at her normal speed. There was no need to hold back for the pegasus. And the little knight was engaging in some fairly extreme mobility. She kept circling the centaur's body (and the smaller form had much less trouble getting past a continent's worth of vegetation), checking every possible approach route as ears rotated in all directions and silver eyes made sure not to neglect the skies...
"I'll stay with you as long as I can," the little knight told her. "But if I hear the wrong signal, I'll have to go back in. For the Princess."
The air was suffused with life. There was also a distant taint of rage, and a rather local upsurge of guilt.
"I understand," the girl told her friend.
I do.
Your life for her life.
The pegasus sighed. Pushed on, and greenery pressed against black fur.
"If I have to leave you --"
"-- I understand --" felt a little too frantic.
"-- before we get there," the mare continued, "you'll have to reach the cave on your own. Do you remember the path?"
The girl immediately searched her memory, because there had only been the one trip. Her short time as a rookie Guard had focused on memorizing the interior of the palace. And she'd gone to the miniature peak several times, but -- that was her Guard. Adamant belonged to Nightwatch. Or perhaps there was some interpretation which would have had that the other way around.
How did it go? Cross a little patch of forest. A small section of the plains. A brief sojourn through wetlands...
"Yes." The nausea surged, and she briefly pressed her left palm against a nearby tree trunk. Let the rough bark offer what support it could.
The little knight nodded, and a fresh current of worry took over the air. "So you can get there if I have to go back."
Cerea nodded. Portions of the blonde tail tried to twist.
If you go back in to reach the Princess.
It was possible to track the path towards the cave in terms of environments crossed. But there was another way to look at it. You went to the honor statue, turned left, followed that path until you found an honor statue, and then sighted on the next honor statue --
-- if you go back in to --
"How did Adamant die?"
The smaller hooves momentarily stopped. The sleek body reoriented, and then silver eyes stared up into blue.
"Um," Nightwatch said. "I was going to read that to you." And the little knight almost smiled. "Which means you have to stay. So I can get the book. And there was something you were supposed to tell me first, remember? The other way you and Blitzschritt were alike. Not just being the only one from your species to be sworn into the Guard --"
"-- the mountains," the girl quietly answered, "were stability. And so was my gap. Nothing would ever change. You were born, you lived, you died and before that happened, you produced a foal who was going to do the same thing. The same nothing, Nightwatch. We both came from places which couldn't change. And we grew up with people who thought that was the only way to exist."
The pegasus blinked. Then she checked the sky and the world around them again, because she was a Guard.
"Um," the little knight said, and every feather rustled. "Um. I didn't think you were actually going to... not that fast -- well, I don't have the book with me, so you'll have to --"
"He sacrificed himself," the centaur almost placidly cut in. "Every statue in the gardens is somepony's sacrifice."
You'll go back in if you hear the right alarm. Even hurt, you'll go in.
A year from now, the Princesses will carry a sculpture out.
You know that.
You'll go in anyway.
And that's what makes you a knight.
"...yes," the mare eventually answered. "But the details are still important. It was his life, Cerea. And then it was everyone's life. So wait for the book." A little more softly, "Please."
The girl was silent.
You can't promise me that you'll live to read it.
They kept going for a while. The cave was getting close. But now there were pines ahead. Flourishing, which meant there were needles. The girl was going to get scratched and stained. Of course, back in the palace, ponies were being bruised and broken, so in an absolute sense, the girl really had very little to complain about.
You could be dead in an hour and it would be my fault.
Everything that's happening...
There was a burst of thunder, somewhere behind them. The echos rolled over the variegated landscape.
"This is because of me," Cerea whispered. "None of this would be happening --"
...in every minute I exist here, ponies are being hurt...
Desperately, "-- you didn't make them rush the gates, you didn't tell them to be stupid --"
This could be the last talk we ever have.
You were my friend. You lost your home for that. You could die for that.
Anything which happens to you is my fault...
"You're barely moving," the little knight frantically said. "We have to move. Um. Is your... um... what's the word -- bicep? Is your left bicep hurting? Because you're gripping it really hard. With your right hand. Reaching over your -- um. Are they hurting? Is it your legs? Cerea, talk to me, please..."
The silent girl forced herself to take a step. Then another. The back hooves kept trying to stumble.
"Um," the Guard tried again. "Um..."
The palace alarm went off again.
Both females glanced back. The little knight failed to make a break for the marble walls.
"They're just repeating the evacuation alert," Nightwatch said. "In case somepony missed it the first time. Um. But you knew that." And with a surge not so much of volume as intensity, because the little knight had to be careful about anypony being in hearing range, "Cerea, good things happen because of you! Tirek is gone! The whole world will sleep better, once they finally know how it happened!"
"They'll just say one monster killed another," floated atop a sea of emotional illness. "One monster summoned the other --"
"-- and then there's the arsonist finally being captured! If it wasn't for the information which you and the Bearers sent back --"
The centaur blinked.
"...what?"
Which just made the little knight smile. (It was still a rather mobile smile, and the girl had to watch it cross a hundred and twenty degrees of arc.)
"It took a couple of days to find her," Nightwatch stated. "Narrowing the search. But the investigation team was able to track the ground carriage. They found where it dropped her off, and then they brought her in. She's in the palace, Cerea, in the cells, and everypony knows it!" Paused. "Um. Well, they know she was captured. But not that she's in the cells. That's a secret. Or that the Princesses are going to question her themselves! Um. Well, that's the first part --"
The girl had stopped moving again.
"-- she's in the cells?"
"...yes," the little knight tried. "I said that. It makes it easier to question her privately. And keep an eye on her. I checked her cell myself. But she's got other Guards with her, making sure she stays in place. Um. Except not right now. Is the disc --"
"-- you saw her?"
except not right now
"It's allowed," emerged from the verbal sparring tunnel on defense. "I talked to her, Cerea --" and there was a moment when the injured wings shuddered "-- for a few minutes. Directly to the arsonist." Which was followed by a snort. "I'm probably supposed to say 'alleged arsonist', but we talked. I know, Cerea. I think anypony who listens to her would know. There's something wrong --"
no
"-- what happens to a prisoner during an evacuation?"
The little knight's eyes were going wide, and it was all concern now, the centaur couldn't scent anything else past the cloud of worry...
"The palace is under siege, and she's in a horn restraint! She's helpless, Cerea! If somepony's helpless, you have to get them to safety! Even a prisoner! Maybe especially a prisoner! We would have evacuated you!" There was a single sharp breath. "Um. If you'd still been in the cells, and something had happened, and everything else was different --"
It wasn't deduction. The girl didn't consider herself to be fantastically intelligent. (She knew she was smarter than the average human, but also didn't feel that was much of an accomplishment.) Nothing about the girl's current thoughts was based in logic. It couldn't be.
Not when you were dealing with somepony else's fantasy.
What was fanaticism? You told yourself a tale, and you kept providing the same recital to a single receptive member of the audience until every last word was believed. Until the tale was the whole of your life.
The girl wasn't a genius. But she knew how to think in stories.
The arsonist had to belong to one of the supremacist groups -- the unicorn one: the girl had just remembered that there had been a field involved in placing the ignition chemicals. The Princesses were going to interrogate her, and the girl had to believe that the dark mare would be rather good at that --
-- the prisoner's location was supposed to be a secret. But there was a traitor in the palace. The arsonist had remained hidden for a long time: something which the police procedurals suggested as somepony having hidden her. And if the arsonist talked...
The attackers, acting as the heroes of their own stories...
Were they rescuing a friend? Giving everything they had to get back one of their own? It felt like a possibility. So did the act of recovering her before she could talk.
Except that the arsonist was in the palace cells. A place which was fortified by layers of magic, and the counterspells were only keyed to a few. Any traitor who was trying to directly break her out would either need to be part of that group, find some way of sabotaging the workings...
...or set everything up.
The girl knew how to think in stories -- but that could be its own hazard. Madness was someone deciding that their personal tale had replaced the whole of reality: everyone else just had the details wrong.
Cerea knew she was telling herself a story, and there was a moment when she questioned the reason for that. Because this was the tale which absolved her. Which meant she was nothing more than an excuse, and it was always her fault, always --
-- I've had this argument --
"-- what if this is about her?"
The sleek body stopped moving. A silver gaze locked in shock, and a low branch poked unnoticed pine needles into one straining black ear.
"...what?"
"She's going to be questioned!" The girl's arms waved outwards: the nausea tried to pick a direction for overbalance and found itself overwhelmed by an excess of options. "What if somepony helped hide her, kept her from being caught for this long? What if she names them?"
"Then there would be an investigation," the confused pegasus said. "More arrests, if we were lucky. Maybe even going all the way up. But -- Cerea, we know it's the protesters who came in, the herd leaders for their organizations are already going to have a hard time distancing themselves from this! Even if they aren't here right now." Which triggered the briefest of frowns. "Or maybe they are. It's not like I saw everypony -- well, two of them might be." With open disgust, "I don't think anypony is ever going to see Mrs. Panderaghast in a fight. I guess she could just fall on somepony --"
The girl could think in stories. Second-guessing was somewhat easier.
Maybe it doesn't make sense.
They're risking too much.
They could lose just about everything. Nightwatch is right. It'll be hard for the leaders to keep themselves out of court. And even if they do, a lot of their membership might wind up in prison. The ponies in charge might stay free -- somehow -- but how much of their power base is lost when half of their herd is gone?
There's going to be a price no matter what happens. The only way to avoid some of the consequences would be --
-- no. She had to focus. She needed to keep talking --
"-- Nightwatch, I know I'm guessing!" It counted for speech, but it probably wasn't helping her cause. Arm gestures didn't do much either, and she didn't think the pegasus could interpret finger movements. "But a third of the attackers are probably from her group! They could be going for her!"
"They can't get to her!" the pegasus protested. "She's in the cells --"
The mare abruptly stopped. Stared at the centaur, as every muscle went tight.
"She isn't," the centaur urgently said. "Because the easiest way to break out of prison is by getting someone to open the door. She's being evacuated, Nightwatch. Nopony has to get her out of the cell: they just have to get her away from the Guards --"
"Sun and Moon," the little knight breathed. "Cerea, I don't know if you're right. It could be a lot more than this. But somepony has to check --"
The silver gaze moved left, towards the cave. Went back to Cerea, shifted towards the palace, and feathers seemed to twist against themselves.
"I have to guard you," Nightwatch almost whispered. "It's the two of us here, it has to be. I can't leave you unless one of the alarms goes off. But the Princesses wanted you at the cave. They'll come for you eventually, and we can tell them --"
"-- they may not get the chance!" Arm gestures definitely didn't seem to be enough for getting the point across. The little knight still wasn't used to arm gestures. Maybe hoof stomping needed to get involved. Or a tail lash -- oh, good: that was already under way. "The palace is under siege! There's too many ponies at risk: they may not come out here until it's too late! You're the only one who can go --"
"-- I can't! You're helpless! You could die! You already died, and it can't happen again --"
-- the girl mostly knew that she'd lowered her body to the ground in front of the pegasus when she felt dirt and grass against her belly and barrel. There was also a surge of nausea to mark the end of the abrupt shift: something which made Cerea briefly turn her head away from the little knight, just in case this was finally the moment when her digestive system tried to do something --
"...Cerea?"
The desperation was still present in every syllable, and none of the intensity had been muted. It was simply a change in volume, added to a fresh surge of fear.
Afraid for me...
Her arms went forward. Palms placed gentle pressure just above the pony's shoulders, and fingers moved through the short black fur.
She looked at her friend, and did so for what felt like the last time.
"I'll get to the cave," Cerea told Nightwatch. "I'll hide at the back. They won't find me. Go towards the palace. Find somepony. Tell them that they have to check the cells."
And then she realized the pegasus was weeping.
"You're helpless," the little knight said. "If I'm not there --"
"-- my life for all lives."
She'd thought it would be the final argument. It didn't work.
"It's not the Princess," Nightwatch furiously shot back. "It's just an arsonist --"
"-- your arsonist --"
The pony's muscles were shaking beneath the girl's palms. "-- you're more important, we could catch her again, get her back, I have to watch you --"
"It's my life," Cerea softly offered.
If they find me.
If they catch me...
...then it all happens at once.
Then I don't have to be afraid any more.
"Cerea --"
"-- I..." The girl swallowed. "...I -- went through a lot, trying to have my own life. And every Guard has to be ready to make the sacrifice, in any second of their lives. To decide what's worth sacrificing themselves for. When... it really isn't a decision at all."
The tears were soaking into the mare's fur. Darkening what had already been so black.
"-- please --"
What season was it, in this part of the gardens? The girl didn't know.
"I'll hide. I'll be okay for a minute. You know that. We haven't heard anypony come out this far. If you go now --"
"-- I can't..."
Just that it was too cold and, for what rose from inside, warm.
"You're the only one who can," Cerea whispered. "And we're losing time. Go."
There was a second when the girl thought the shaking had stopped. And then she realized the pegasus had backed away from her hands.
The little knight blinked up at her. Moisture fell.
"Get into the cave."
"I will."
"Don't die."
Then the mare turned. Faced towards the palace, and began to gallop.
Cerea pivoted just enough to watch her go. Tried to stand, pushing all four hooves against the soil, and felt the nausea surging again --
-- gallop.
She can't fly.
Because of me.
She told me about pegasus magic. So did the Sergeant. Movement is part of it. She can't fly and her wing movements are limited.
The Sergeant probably trusted her to get me out here because he didn't think anypony was going that far into the gardens. But she's going back. If she can't find somepony quickly...
but i can't do anything
it was the sword
not the wielder, just the sword
and the sword is gone
Her legs wouldn't fully straighten. She seemed to be swaying. Her right hand sought the support of a treetrunk, found a sapling, and wood seemed to groan under her weight.
just the sword
helpless
i'm
it doesn't matter what happens to me
i can't live here
survive here
defenseless
all it takes is one pony and
then no one will get hurt any more
my life
my life for...
...helpless...
The nausea swirled. Expanded. Headed for the back of her eyes, the tip of every hair strand.
She couldn't seem to move. The world was beginning to blur. Time already had.
The panic attack wasn't coming. Panic required energy, and she didn't have any strength left.
i've always been helpless.
against my mother
the herd
the humans
the world
it was just the sword, the sword is gone and i'm here and i shouldn't be, i never would have come here if it wasn't for him, all of those ponies wounded and bleeding and he's dead and i'm still here
i just want to go home
helpless
always
i want to see my sister
Her hand slipped down the bark. She almost picked up a splinter.
my life for
for her life
she could get hurt
killed
but i'm helpless, i've always been
why am i here?
why did i leave the gap?
Hope.
The torment of hope --
wait
why did i...
Why did I leave?
I... I said it. In Tartarus.
"Because being in a world where I could be attacked at any moment, couldn't do anything to stop it -- how is that any different from living with you?"
The form of assault. Physical instead of emotional. That's it.
...and when it's emotions, I don't even need someone to hit me. No one's as good at tearing me apart as I am...
Her legs were beginning to straighten.
I was helpless. In the gap, because it was my mother and I couldn't do anything. So I traded the helplessness: one form for another. I went into a world where I knew I could be attacked at any time. Where I couldn't strike back without being sent to her again. Forever.
And I still went.
On the worst days, she had retreated into herself. A girl who had failed over and over again, trapped within a gap with no way out, rushing towards an inevitable future filled with nothing more than the echoes of what had come before. Stared into the shadows which seemed to make up the whole of her life. And there might be a wish, because it felt like the only way for everything to stop.
But then she'd come out.
(Knowing she would fail.)
Because of hope.
(Because she wanted to be loved.)
And the torment had gone on.
(But she hadn't failed.)
Helpless against the purse snatcher, just before I met Kimihito. What was I supposed to do, with a practice blade? One I couldn't touch him with? Was I going to intimidate him by galloping after his scooter? Make him crash because a centaur was coming up from behind?
But I chased him anyway.
Helpless against my mother in the arena. The herd leader. The strongest. Unbeatable. I was going to lose, and she would take me back to the gap. I knew it.
I picked up a lance.
And there were a few precious months when I had the sword. I was lost and afraid and I might never be able to go home, but at least I could fight. I could finally do something. And I told myself it was just the sword, because Princess Luna took me out with a feint, and -- I was helpless again. Pressed down against dead leaves in the forest. Captured, and she could have killed me at any time, just because the sword was out of my hand.
And then she was kind.
I didn't deserve that.
But I...
Almost all the way up now.
I put that together in my head, didn't I? That it was just the sword. No sword, and I was helpless all over again. I finally had a chance and I didn't want to give that up. It was the sword, not the wielder. The wielder wasn't anything without the sword.
I lost to an alicorn.
...basic feint: have to watch for those...
I was in a fight which was beyond what I could manage and I lost.
That's every day of my life.
I didn't have the sword and I went into the competitions against the older fillies. I had a practice blade which I couldn't touch anyone with, and I went to Japan. I had no power and nothing special about me which wasn't what every other centaur could do, except that every other centaur didn't keep losing all the time. And I didn't stop one insect in a swarm or beat out six other girls in a contest for one heart, and I was in a place where I was vulnerable and weak and lost and helpless
and I got up every morning
and I kept trying anyway
because I wanted to be loved
So I lived with the fear.
The fear of being vulnerable, every day.
You're always vulnerable when you look for love.
I was helpless, and I still went out there.
And what if I could have struck back, with a plastic blade? With a real one? It wouldn't have protected me against a mob, or a bullet. And I still went out there --
-- WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?
Her fingers closed. Bark crumbled within her grip.
My whole life is about going into battles I couldn't win! And still going! And there were a few months when I thought I had a chance, and now I'm just going to stop?
All of the statues here, honor statues of the ones who did what had to be done. For duty, and the world.
How can I just stand here in these gardens while somepony I --
The nausea was still there. She knew that. The illness wasn't fading, and it might be with her for a lifetime. She just couldn't seem to currently find it under the surge of hot tears.
...if I won a competition, then my mother would love me.
If I went into the world, then someone would love me.
someone had to love me
...and they did.
Papi loves me.
Miia loves me.
(She almost smiled.)
Mero and I sort of put up with each other. Because I like some stories to have happy endings. We argued about literature a lot.
Rachnera's a really annoying older sister who thinks bullying makes for good lessons.
Suu is still learning. I don't know if she understands what love is. But she cares about us.
Lala... loves me.
And I loved them.
Even the spider, Lala. Even the spider. In a way.
They were my sisters.
The shapes didn't matter.
They still don't.
Because Nightwatch loves me.
(She almost laughed.)
...not that way.
If either of us starts looking at the other that way, we're both in trouble.
But...
...I went into the world to find a partner. Someone who would fight beside me.
It... just turned out to be the wrong world.
She's my partner.
My sister.
Somepony I love.
I'm not a knight.
Maybe I'll never be one.
I don't have a weapon.
But the weapon should never matter more than the wielder.
And what kind of sister lets her sibling fight alone?
The nausea didn't fade. It simply took a small step back, as if it had decided to watch for a while. And then she was standing.
Her vision snapped back into focus. Time resumed a normal flow, and she realized that it had been less than two minutes since the little knight had left. Given the distance to the palace, for a pegasus who couldn't fly and didn't have the kind of ground speed which allowed the mare to compensate...
Breathing steadied, as much as it could. Her breasts heaved a few times, possibly as a warm-up exercise. She had every intention of heaving something before the day ended. Possibly somepony.
Then she twisted at the upper waist, let double-jointed arms reach down to the left, and powerful hands tore some fabric away from the hospital gown's more exposed side. That area was just about completely out in the open anyway: one lost strip wouldn't make much of a difference.
It also wouldn't be much of a sling. But it was better than nothing. And as far as gathering ammunition might go -- she was already outside...
The pegasus automatically glanced back, because her first assumption upon hearing something that large and heavy racing up behind her was that Princess Celestia wanted to have a word --
"Cerea?"
"You're not going in there by yourself!" the centaur declared as strands of blonde hair moved in all directions: the trim was recent, but the hairpins were still gone. "We have to --"
"YOU SAID YOU'D GO TO THE CAVE!" Something which emerged while running forward and looking backwards. In the gardens. The girl was worried about having the pegasus trip on a root.
"I changed my mind!"
"You're helpless!" The tones and scent of deepest concern were surging again, interlaced with terror. "You can't --"
"I know I'm helpless!" the centaur half-yelped. "It's an ongoing condition! But you can't fly! So we'll be helpless together!"
The silver eyes went wide.
"You're galloping! Do you feel better --"
She was still sick. But it felt as if she was having an easier time with focusing past it: something which had started at the moment she'd made her decision. Her best theory was that she was in shock again. Her own body couldn't believe how stupid she was being.
But this was her partner. And when it came to one life for another... you didn't have to be a true knight to make that trade.
"-- this isn't a full gallop! We have to stay with each other! And when you're on the ground --"
The centaur didn't really think about it. She just accelerated a little more, caught up to the pegasus and matched her pace on the right.
"What are you --" Nightwatch just barely got out.
"-- jump!"
A fully justified "What?" was jolted free.
"Jump! Straight up! And keep your wings folded!"
The pegasus stared at her partner. Four knees flexed, sprang --
-- the centaur leaned forward, reached out at the same time --
"HEY!"
-- you really don't weigh much.
You sort of fit under one arm.
...if I press you in against my upper torso and use that for support --
(The blush began to rise.)
-- right. Put them together and my breasts are wider than my upper torso. They stick out to the sides.
...her head is -- sort of...
And now she's pushing both of them to the one side.
...get her snout a little more forward...
Okay.
I'm probably the only person in the world who knows this is embarrassing.
Let's keep it that way for at least six hours.
Accelerate.
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I love the recent pace of updates.
They turned themselves against their own nation. Cerea was just a convenient excuse to do so.
11225074 FWIW this is pretty much Estee's usual release pace. They try to release five chapters/stories at 5000+ words per release per month. If they feel up to it, we might see another post of something by the end of the month, per their Patreon page.
Did you see? There was no thought for Kurusu in those she cherish.
He has been replaced by a little pegasus knight. Well, not like that but some part of what she was looking for in him was found in Nightwatch. She will probably still miss him and wonder what if but Kurusu is now left behind.
And Cerea finally talked some sense into herself! That felt good to read!
Binge-read after not reading for a long while to let chapters build up and...dangit! I was planning on sassing the author for Cerea being stuck thinking like a Diamond Dog, and I guess they could smell it because a new chapter released before I could where she stops seeing the NOW and starts looking into the future, while learning from the past!
...Yapper would be SO proud!
Hooshaaa! Let’s call it a comeback YEAH!
I do like how this fic handles the subject of Cerea
time to show just how much of a thoroughbred she really is. ride like the wind, Cera
Shows you how much her experiences with humans and her own personal history contribute to her harsh assessment here. It's sad how true this is, but I would feel off if I didn't mention that it's often just as naturally 'human' to see others as like us. Anthropomorphism, anyone?
Yes! Go Cerea! Push past it! And I believe you meant flood waters there?
The use of language here so brilliantly shows the divide between the groups. Maybe it's just obvious but I liked this piece of dialogue for that.
Damn. This section is intense, man.
What an incredible chapter. Loved the parts with Cerea making her decision and then picking Nightwatch up. That's so funny and a nice reprieve from the otherwise heavy material. I still feel like Our Girl hasn't long for the world though. Previous ominous foreshadowing forbodes bad times ahead.
Thank you Estee for your great work and significant time and effort spent on this chapter. Your Twitter is mourned, incidentally.
Speculation: Cerera is full to bursting with magic right now. Magic is directed by emotion and intent. Previously her emotions and intent were warped by self-loathing and despair. Now they are focused with resolve to protect Nightwatch. If the pegasus is sufficiently endangered something spectacular might happen.
Somebody's gonna rumble the Earth Pony secret because she doesn't realize she's oozing magic.
"Let us show them the meaning of haste."
Go Cerea!
11225184
The way I see it, ponies aren't much different. Even in a world with several races to hate they still find ways to pick on each other.
In that sense Cerea is being biased here. Sure, humanity has not done much to earn her appreciation, but they are not the ones forcing her to live basically under house arrest to avoid riots and mass suicides, or making her feel guilty just for existing. All because of the crimes of a colossal jerk who barely resembles Cerea.
If I grin any harder, I might split my head in half.
Excellent chapter!
👍
It's a platonic ship, sir, but it checks out.
There's a sentiment the princesses can get behind.
The plot's been spotted, but the question is whether it's too late. We'll see what happens. And what stories ponies might tell as they see a centaur doing her best imitation of a wide receiver.
Seeing Cerea push through her self imposed loathing to find her strength was worth every moment waiting. I hope her magic manifests in utterly unstoppable momentum. One that gets up and keeps going and no one can do a damn thing to stop her or keep her down, because she's just that goddamn tough
11225349
The true ship it's LuRea and I'll sink with it!
This friendship is adorable though
I hope Cerea catches a lucky break soon.
Bravo!
Watch that filly Move,
Haste La Vista, Baby?
One of the family members got kicked in the chest by one of his ponies once. He got back up, then headed to hospital for check up.
Whats the equivalent of one of these rabid ponies being kicked by Cerea?
That "Cerea has magic now" idea from other comments! I like it! And if magic knows stuff, then her trying to throw up, is the magic trying to get out...
And if Magic is Friendship, well, Cerea has friends so does she get her magic from them?
And thinking about it, Discord is a mix of tons of different species, Cerea's a mix of just two, the hybrids, are well, hybrids... In regards to other stories, a.k.a, Glimmer... Might Discord not want to deal with Mark Magic because he's made from all the species that, well, don't have mark magic? No part of him is Zebra nor Pony?
----
Typo?
but those paths didn't necessarily intersect.
11225393
At full strength? Low earth orbit, if not just a hole straight through. Those are legs capable not only of supporting most of a horse plus half a human, but also a full set of steel armor. It's hard to say whether a pony living through such a kick would be considered lucky or unlucky.
Oh good. Cerea's starting to get herself together. This should be interesting...
If Cerea had her kit, a pony probably could ride on her back.. A unicorn artillery.
"Let's be helpless together"
Aw, I'm totally stealing this.
FINALLY!
Cerea's on the mend, folks!
Today I learned...
11225186
Go you one better. She's choc full of magic, and about to (or has already) manifest a cutie mark.
Bought time she gave herself the kick in the pants she needed.
Stay strong lady
I'll add my guess to the pile.
She's got the chaos magic that Tirek was still holding and it is not sitting right. (Might even wake Discord with it.)
11225393
Depends on the mass. A humanoid kicked in the chest will go far. A quadruped is significantly more massive, and won't be pushed out of the way as easily. So, a human might experience more extreme acceleration and commensurate wrenching of limbs while being propelled quickly, but a pony might suffer more fracturing and tissue trauma at the impact point while being propelled less.
Say you put a heavily padded vest on a human and hit them with a battering ram, like the kind used by firefighters to bust open doors. If the vest is sufficiently padded, it could disperse the force of impact enough that the person is sent sprawling, but with minimal damage underneath. Put that same type of padding on a pony or horse, or any similarly-sized creature, and hit them with the same ram, and it very likely will hurt them more simply because they have more inertia.
A monkey can roll with the punches more than a horsie can, but a horsie need hit you only once.
11225074
There was a pause to get anchor foal done before we ran into something that depended on it, but aside from that it's been pretty steady? Well, steadily irregular. One mid-month, then several more spread over the rest of the month.
11225901
The chaos magic sounds more likely, but I'm working on another guess because who doesn't love playing the long odds:
There's an offhand mention of Tirek having some kind of basic, inborn magic that he wasn't satisfied with, and wanted to replace with the wires and vampirism. I'm wondering if stabbing Cerea with the wires while making contact with the sword made him send his inborn magic into Cerea before he died. If so then we don't know anything about his magic except that it didn't suit him, and I would bet it was because it's either not violent enough or not selfish enough. Empathic powers? Something to do with sensing conflict or social tension on a city-wide scale?
Alternatively, what if the nausea is Tirek's centaur magic working as intended? I don't know, maybe a magical form of empathy is causing the pain of others to manifest as physical pain. Or maybe her magic requires her to consume something she hasn't gotten, not meat (Tirek wouldn't have minded) but something he would resent having to rely on. If so then I sure hope it isn't the love of a family member, unless Nightwatch counts, which it should.
Or it's chaos magic. It's probably chaos magic. I do want to know what Tirek's original power was though.
11224311
Ever used a wok with the hot oil? Then there's the casserole dish, we're not talking about the metal but the pyrex dish when it shatters. Sharpnel everywhere and the chunks of glass thick enough to gouge parts out. Cast Iron Skillet is heavy for sure but if you don't have the arm strength to swing, the others are better to use. The wok with the hot oil and you splash that over an open flame at the people? Massive area of effect damage.
Go Cerea!
11225901
This is my thought as well
Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes! I have been waiting for this moment for three frigging years! Finally, at long last, Cerea has recovered her fighting spirit, and it is glorious!
Of all heroic traits which stands above the others, it is not strength, or cunning, or wisdom which reigns triumphant, but persistence! Go, noble centaur, and teach these ponies why your kind were once known as warriors!
11225592
Ooh. I like that thought.
11225901
My guess is the other way around. The cloud in the tower is just Discord's body, Cerea has his mind. He's not ALL of the magic in her, but he's a big part of it, and he's waking up. Strong enough to start pulling back the deleterious effects his 'hostess' is experiencing, but not strong enough to pull himself free... Yet.
11226037
These are ponies. Primarily unicorns, to be using a weapon with a handle, most likely. Arm strength isn't really a concern.
"NOPONY MOVE! I'VE GOT A PEGASUS HERE, AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE HER! UP AGAINST THE WALL, MOTHERBUCKERS!"
Technically, she'd be more armed if she had picked up a unicorn since they're pointed at the front like a lance, but you go to war with the pony you have, not the pony you planned on.
11226446
See, I'm pretty sure that's why she's sick. Her cutie mark is for being a centuar, and no part of that includes self doubt. Estee mentioned something about the illness that comes when a pony isn't listening to their cutie mark, when discussion Barding. I even have a good idea of the symbol. It's the hoof and hand symbol that CUNET was using, the one that Nightwatch told her was just a symbol for her. Her talent, ultimately, is for being herself.
Edit: Upon reflection, additional evidence. Nightwatch and Emery are both mentioned as glancing at her flanks, Nightwatch several times. The doctors might be aware that it's normal for her not to have a mark, but most ponies don't. Emery and Nightwatch, we know for a fact, do. They probably would stare a bit, but not say anything, because you don't argue with a mark, period. And Cerea hasn't noticed yet, because honestly, how often do you look at your own rear end?
I checked out the original manga, and... holy ▋▋▋▋. All the stuff about male centaur evolution, teasers, and even Cerea's father is actually in there in all its ugly glory.
Also, boobs. So many boobs.
11225994
In Monster Musume, there are a sub-group of Centaurs girls who have magic powers called Nightmares. They can enter someone sleep to cause bad dreams in order to feed from the energy. Compared to other centaurs they are really thin, looking practically sickly.
Cerea actually mentioned them in story as well.
So if she was to develop "natural" Centaur magic, it might be Nightmares magic.
Heh. Fitting since she work for the only other being in the world who can do dreams magic.
11226768
Well lots of non ponies don't get them so they shouldn't expect someone who isn't a pony to get one much less judge her based on her lack of it. That would be like judging one the other species on their world for it. And Considering it could lead to a lot of potential problems if they did that. And yes their attitudes need work on this type is the best and the centaur issue needs them to face that everyone makes choices good and bad and nobody is responsible for someone else choices.
11227555
And they do. It's particularly a problem with the Saddle Arabians, who are otherwise so pony-like. That's why Cerea has the same issue. Because, except for the human bits, she's essentially a giant earth pony, at least physically.
11227556
Maybe they never noticed but triek didn't get one despite all the magic stealing. Celestia really should have forced her ponies to grow up. They can't just say whatever or do whatever they please and unfortunately she now has to make sure they understand that in the future. They wouldn't have tried this if they had been forced to grow up. In America we have polite protest but those in charge can say nothing is going to change no matter how much they don't like it. They have done twice with issues concerning Trump.
Well, now Cerea is well and truly armed again, though I think only three ponies (maybe six, because I won't count out The Sergeant) would recognize how thoroughly. After all, the fabled Tossed Waifu Jutsu has just recently been re-mastered, and Cerea is now equipped with a Mark 3 PegaWaifu... Yeah, she's only one shot, but that's all you ever need. And Cerea has two upgrades that Shining lacked: the Taur 7X size upgrade, and the BIPED torsion enhancement.
Nightwatch is practically a WMD...