Chaotic
With the girl, the olfactory sense was generally the one which woke up first -- unless there was an immediate supply of new information calling for her attention and in this case, the source was quite literally pressing. But scent raced the temporary contender to the finish line, placed an incredibly close second (because something about Cerea was always going to finish in second), and told the centaur that there was no cause for concern.
...well, maybe a little.
She couldn't really call the sensation indescribable, mostly because a little eyes-closed thought told her exactly how to describe it. There was light, gentle pressure, shifting back and forth across a given area. Warmth was mandatory, and also came with intermittent bursts of slightly higher temperatures because the source was breathing. And the sensation went left, then right and even with blanket and sweater covering the region, occasionally slipped in deeper at the middle and had to pause for partial extrication.
It was very much the sort of stimulus which could awaken a sleeping centaur, mostly from raw shock. And she knew exactly why it was happening. Because the little knight didn't know what was taboo, had been trying to work out a proper greeting for moons, and had finally decided that the best place was the location which had recently been announced as capable of nuzzling back.
Having a pegasus snout rubbing against her covered breasts felt warm, friendly, not quite erotic, and very much like something which had to be shut down as soon as possible because otherwise, it would wind up happening in public and then the entire capital might copy the idea.
They had to discuss that.
...sometime.
Cerea opened her eyes. Nightwatch, who was in exactly the right position to pick up on a shift in breathing patterns, pulled back and looked directly into the girl's face. Something which was easy to do, because the centaur was still stuck sleeping on her side.
"Good morning," the little knight smiled. "Are you hungry?"
Cerea did her best to look around the room. The mild scent of Fluttershy's soap still lingered, but the yellow pegasus had departed some time ago. There were no doctors in evidence, and any food existed as distant olfactory rumor.
She was hungry. But there were other priorities.
"Your neck," the girl quickly asked, and did her best to evaluate the injuries. "How does it --"
"Better," Nightwatch quietly answered. "Your throat looks rougher than mine. Um. Because there's no fur in the way, and I think she was squeezing you harder. But if you want to cover the bruises, then we can just use one of the scarves Ms. Garter sent."
"Your wings --"
A little too quickly, "-- two more days. Cerea, how are you feeling?"
Sleep could cloak pain within concealing fog. Morning sun burned it off. (Presuming it was morning, because the office was fully enclosed and enough had taken place to completely upend the girl's sleep schedule again. She could check her watch. After she recovered it.) Cerea evaluated.
"Sore," the centaur understated. "Mainly my neck and left foreleg." And also that one ear, because she'd slept with the disc on and having the wires on one side of her face the whole time hadn't exactly helped. But her breasts had finished healing, and the nuzzle had brought no pain. "But the nausea is still gone. I mostly feel..."
She took a breath. And then she winced.
"Cerea?" emerged on an instant gust of concern.
The fight.
The struggle.
The fact that what no one tells you about the Second Breath before you start training is that your body is trying to maintain roughly the right temperature under stressful conditions and when your lungs go into overdrive, the sweat glands might be right behind them.
The doctors had cleaned her wounds. But that had been just about it. And to pony senses, she probably came across as... well, to their snouts, it might be just somewhat more intense than usual. But as far as Cerea's own nose was concerned, she reeked. Any casual trot down a hallway might leave centaur olfactory afterimages drifting along the currents.
"...dirty," the girl groaned. "I need to get out of these clothes. And then I have to wash everything." She was meeting a Princess later, and there was no way she could be in the dark mare's presence like this. "I'm sorry for asking, but -- if somepony could bring fresh pieces up from the barracks --"
If anything in the barracks survived.
The last of what Nightwatch owned in the world. The final fragments.
"We can probably go down," the little knight told her. "And then it won't be washing up using sponge panels in the walls. Um. Because we'd usually have to find a room with those panels. And the barracks have them. But I think you'd prefer to soak in the pool."
Cerea blinked. "We can go down --"
"-- the doctors are on the way. I saw them before I came in, and talked a little. There's only so much they'll say to me, because they're doctors. And they've got a lot of patients to get through. But they wanted to check on you early. And then I think they're going to release you." A quick breath, and feathers rustled. "Um. Sort of. They'll let you leave the room, if they don't see anything new that's wrong medically. But they want you to stay in the palace for a while. And carry an alert canister. Something you can squeeze for an alarm, if you start to feel strange. Just in case. And there's going to be at least one thaumatologist checking on you later, because they don't want 'medical' and 'magical' to get too mixed up." The little knight visibly reconsidered. "Maybe two thaumatologists. Together. But that won't be today. Rest and recover, until Princess Luna sends for you. Um. She mentioned that. But if you're feeling well enough to leave the room, you should. Because... Abjura says you're stable, completely stable, and... there's a lot of patients."
The mare took a breath.
"They had to make sure you were stable," Nightwatch softly said. "Completely sure. I... asked Abjura. I had to. There's been ponies who tried to claim griffon magic, or -- zebras that thought they could grow horns. Buffalo wanting to be stronger. Cross-species magic acquisition. That's why they isolated you. Because with the others, she said... when it all went wrong, it happened within a few hours. In the best cases. Most of them were instant. They..." Stopped.
Cerea waited. Nothing else came.
"Nightwatch?"
"You're stable," the little knight stated. "You're okay. Nothing's happened. So it won't. They tested. It's -- natural. A normal mark. Because it's your magic. So they... need the bed."
Limited space. Hordes of the injured or, when it came to those who had been the invaders, a herd. All Cerea had was some bruising and a strange (but stable) case of unexplained personal magic. Others had fared far worse.
Magic...
She thought about calling for her sword, just to see if anything had changed during the night. But she really didn't want to do it lying down.
All the more reason to get up, then.
What do you do when you wake up with magic?
When you're... not supposed to have it?
When no centaur has ever --
It was too much to deal with. The illness was gone and in its place, she was simply overflowing with thoughts.
She wanted to take a bath. It could be easier to think in a bath. If she was very lucky, it might even be easier to stop.
"When will the doctors come in?"
"Probably a few minutes."
It hadn't quite been a lie, Cerea decided as they finally began the trot towards the lower level. Trying to estimate medical time was something like attempting to hit a dartboard after having been blindfolded and told to move in the tightest possible circle for several dozen rotations -- if both hands had been bound behind her back and she was trying to fling the dart with an aggressive flick of one ear. And even with extra help from the local hospitals still roaming through the makeshift medical bays, the Doctors Bear had a lot of patients.
But as Nightwatch had predicted, the physicians had been willing to release her -- as long as she stayed within the canister's signal range of another pony at all times. (She had been assured that the new model didn't scream.) It was just that they'd come across as... confused --
-- no. Stunned. They recognized what had happened and because the most drastic change had no discernible medical impact, they had to let her go. Recognized, but... they hadn't quite reconciled.
Try being the one it happened to.
The mares were encountering some difficulty in navigation. Portions of the palace had been blocked off, and some of that was due to multiple aspects of investigation: basic forensics, pictures being taken of the damage to the point where being fifteen meters away wasn't sufficient protection from the camera flashes. And a number of previously-secret passages weren't available: the previous reasons added to a sudden need for reconfiguring the exit sequences. It left them weaving around, trying to find any way down which a full mixed team of Guards and police didn't need access to first, and...
...ponies were staring at Cerea.
...they always stared. Even after several months in the palace, there were staffers who just froze and stared as she went by. Some of those gazes had focused on her face, just before flinching away. Paying horrified attention to her breasts had been popular, and the girl still wasn't sure why there was any particular regard for her arms. (One was currently free: the other had the sketchbook and multiple school supplies tucked under it. She was... trying to get used to holding the sketchbook again.) But now they were looking at --
-- the remnants of the hospital gown had reached the point where just about her entire left flank was exposed, virtual acres of dirty and (to the centaur) stinking brown fur, and they just kept looking at her hip...
She was trying not to look. Not yet. It was... too much to deal with. The nausea was gone, she felt better and -- but for the lingering and new injuries, she would have felt normal. (Something deep within darkly noted that for the girl, 'normal' did in fact generally include hurting somewhere.)
Cerea almost felt normal.
'Normal' wasn't supposed to include casually glancing at your empty hand and having a moment of desire place a plastic sword in it.
She used a moment of relative privacy in an empty corridor to do it. Then she did it again. And again. It felt -- good...
...the little knight, whose black fur was sending up subtle wafts of bemusement, was shaking her head.
"The first full day with a mark," Nightwatch said as silver eyes quickly shifted their gaze to the exposed hip. "And she's already got flank-brain."
"Flank --"
The mare's tones dropped.
"-- it feels good, doesn't it?" she softly asked. "To tap into your magic? To look into the reflection of your soul?"
When it came to the third sentence, 'I don't understand' felt inadequate. Cerea went with the two she could comprehend.
"...yes."
"Flank-brain," Nightwatch firmly said. "It happens to just about everypony after they get their mark. They practice their talent. Explore their magic. Because it feels good. And they don't think about very much else, and they forget to eat, they fly into walls, and they're absolutely stupid until it wears off. And it has to wear off, Cerea. You just got a mark --"
The little knight stopped. Blinked a few times, and her feathers rustled again.
"-- you just got a mark," the little knight quietly repeated. "You manifested, and I saw it happen. 'How' is for the thaumatologists to figure out. I just know that it's real. A real mark. You earned it. And when the mark is real, when it's like ours... then a lot of what you're going through should be just like what we do. And flank-brain is normal -- but it can only go on for so long. You just got a mark, Cerea." And, just above a whisper, "I don't want to see you fall into it."
"What's --"
The pegasus explained.
"...what happens when somepony falls?"
With open sadness, "Barding. Barding happens -- Cerea, you didn't have to make the sword vanish just because I said that. I'm just trying to look out for you. You don't know what it's like to have a mark. Somepony has to teach you. And Barding is... getting better."
An older sister... If just by a few years. (It probably still wasn't the right time to ask about pony lifespan.)
"Ponies can fall into their marks," Nightwatch told her. "Friends pull them out. Maybe if we tried to go right..."
They navigated through rubble.
The mares went past ruined artwork. Torn paintings. Fallen statues. Frescoes which would need more than one canid to repair.
One detour took them by the Syzygy. There were more investigators at work there, and several deliveries were coming in. Nightwatch took notice of one, then asked if Cerea could carry a few more things.
Eventually, they reached the basement, and things... moderated. There had only been a few intruders here -- at the start. The current phase of the aftermath had pushed many more into the lower level and even with the sound muffling spells in play, there were still places where they could hear the rumbles of anger and denial coming from the overfilled cells. Both sounds were starting to become somewhat worn out.
There were no investigators in front of the closed barracks doors. No leaks of light from camera flashes streamed past the edges. From what they could see and hear, their mutual home was empty. Examined and abandoned.
Cerea took a breath. Bra and sweater readily dealt with the strain. Her heart seemed to be having a few more issues.
Please.
Please.
Please don't let her have lost any more than she already has...
She opened the doors.
And nothing had been touched.
Too many open beds. One which showed signs of use. Some scant possessions. And a nest of blankets on the floor.
It... made sense, really. Part of the goal would have needed to be keeping attention away from the lower level. Get in, find the arsonist and, while distractions were going off in every other part of the palace, get out. So the invaders hadn't been able to risk raising too much of a ruckus in the area. The barracks weren't close to the cells: a factor which limited attacks of opportunity. They'd just never had the chance to go in.
...to...
The girl's shoulders slumped, and did so just before the first tears began to flow --
-- she heard trotting. And then a gentle hoof rubbed at her right foreleg, well away from any bruises.
"It's guilt, isn't it?" the little mare asked.
For all the effort it took to get out, the "...I..." might have been fighting past another field loop.
"You're happy for me," Nightwatch decided as the rubbing carefully intensified. "That it's all still here. But you feel bad because your things are okay. When there was so much damage on the upper levels. The Princesses... their home was invaded. Wounded. They lost a lot. And you don't know what right you have to be happy for yourself, having anything for yourself, when anypony else lost anything at all."
...how does she...
...she can't pick up my scents, not like that, I know it...
But they loved each other.
They were sisters.
"Some things can be fixed," the little knight gently told her. "Replaced. Other losses will hurt, and we won't know how much until somepony figures out just what was lost. But we came through. I can feel bad for the Princesses. But I can still be happy for myself. For you, when you have so little. Cerea... please, this time... let yourself be lucky..."
And in time, the tears stopped.
Even for the mares, it was an exceptionally long bath. Neither was supposed to be anywhere just yet, and the centaur wasn't the only one who had been feeling filthy. Additionally, Nightwatch's wing joints were aching from all of the previous activity, and -- well, hands had their uses. Cerea just had to be very careful about where and how she massaged, and refused to move any finger so much as an extra millimeter without the little knight's personal direction.
They washed.
They talked.
There was a lot to talk about.
Even with centaur double-jointing, it took a certain degree of care for the girl to casually regard her own hips. Fortunately, the bathroom had plenty of mirrors and when it came to mark examination, they were actually at the proper height.
My sword, superimposed on Moon.
Their Moon. The craters are different.
Each hip bore an identical icon. There was a lot of detail available. It was possible to make out individual marias.
She could look at the symbols. Touching them was going to require a long-handled brush.
"So my coat just... grows in this pattern now," the centaur tried.
"Yes."
"What happens if it's shaved?"
With open confusion, "It grows back. Faster than anything else would. Your magic wouldn't be affected." With a wet little shrug, "Even the faction leaders might not have gone that far in trying to hide. If there's anything more suspicious on a pony than pants, it's shaved hips."
"...how do I clean it?"
"Normally," Nightwatch said. "On the surface, it's fur. Don't be fooled by any Mark Care products. That's just ponies trying to get your money. But no blending powders. No dyes or makeup. They'll just evaporate."
"...they'll..." the girl eventually got out.
"The mark doesn't let itself be hidden. Clothing's okay, but that's it. Armor counts as clothing. But we should really put your mark on the armor, because a lot of ponies are going to be trying to get a look. You saw that in the hallways." The pegasus, floating about two meters away from the girl, seemed to be executing a sort of waterlogged fawning. "And you need to show off! We'll have to modify some of your skirts, Cerea! A few strategic cuts, to make windows --"
In open horror, "Those are my hips! I don't go out with bare hips!"
"Ponies need to see!" Nightwatch countered. "You're the first centaur with a mark! The faster they get a look --"
"-- even my swimsuit covered my hips!" Mostly. Well, that portion -- actually, it had been a horrible design with a really poor fit, but it had been all she'd had --
"...swimsuit?"
"You don't just show off your hips in public! That's why skirts exist! Too much hip and foreshoulder exposure is obscene!"
"...obscene," Nightwatch finally mustered.
The girl's arms were beginning to weave through the air again. It was coming across as a desperate attempt to beat the concept into submission. "It gives stallions ideas! One idea! The only one they can still have!"
"My stallions?"
The centaur froze.
"Um," Cerea said. "Um." Which was quickly followed by "It's still not right. And it's winter, it's cold, I can't just go around cutting holes in my clothing when Ms. Garter worked so hard to --"
"-- Cerea," Nightwatch firmly interrupted, "ponies will want to see your mark. A lot of them probably got a look yesterday, especially with the way the doctors' skirt was resting. And the illusion. I heard about Princess Luna's illusion. But there's going to be a lot of them trying to get a look. And if they don't have a window, then some of them might look under your skirt. When you're so tall -- you're blushing. I know it's intrusive, but it's not sexual. They just want to see -- you're really blushing. I don't think I've ever seen you blush that pink before. Um. Red? Cerea, what's --"
But the girl's hands had already moved up to cover her face.
"...the hospital gown," made its way out from between her fingers.
"What's wrong --"
"My whole left flank," the girl half-whimpered. "All of it. Out in the open. The whole time. I just realized that. I went through a crowd with my left flank exposed and the only anchor was my dock, I was galloping..."
"It's..." the pegasus desperately tried, and then paused to search for reinforcements. "...a very nice flank..."
Decibels were beginning to drown in a sea of humiliation.
"I was flashing my buttocks."
"...they're -- very nice butto --"
"And that was the best case. Because I still don't have a trick valve."
"Cerea --"
"I jumped over a crowd. I jumped."
"Um..."
"Some of them probably looked up."
"Um."
"A torn blouse is easier," the girl moaned. "Nopony here understands torn blouses."
"Cerea, nopony's been saying anything about it, they don't care --"
"-- the illusion. The one Princess Luna put in the sky. Which is probably on the front page of all the newspapers we picked up before coming down. That was me. Just as I was right then? Exactly?"
Silence.
"Nightwatch --"
"-- somepony said it was about fifteen times your size -- Cerea. I've seen you bend at the waist. Um. Upper waist. You're not going to get your head under the water for very long. I know you can't get that low unless you just fold your legs and lie down in the -- Cerea!"
Eventually, the girl was convinced to breathe. It was something which took a lot of newspapers.
The pegasus had gotten out of the pool, fetched the stack, and brought it back to the barracks. The pile was at the edge closest to the sinks, and the material was losing a certain amount of cohesion from having a wet snout do all of the browsing.
"There really aren't many pictures," Nightwatch reported.
"Many," echoed the centaur who was currently cringing against the opposite side of the pool.
"The illusion was big enough to see from a long way off -- no, stay on this side of the surface -- but it wasn't up there very long. The articles say a lot of ponies saw it, but not all of them were carrying cameras and -- the ones who were focused on your mark. Even Mr. Charger made that the center of his shot."
"Charger." The name sounded familiar.
"Garoun Charger. He was at your press conference. One of the oldest reporters, and one of the best. He was just about the only one to reach the palace while it was all still happening. Because he had to." Another page was sogged into turning. "He's got the most accurate article, but he's still missing a lot. Most of the others interviewed witnesses, and that just means they're getting everypony's confusion. But nopony's talking about your -- showing anything, Cerea. There's a mark. A centaur mark. And everything else which happened. It all sort of takes priority."
The girl's tone suggested open manifestation of relief at this stage would be somewhat more unlikely than the mark. "Did the Princesses --"
"They aren't quite ready to talk yet. They sent out a statement, but that's as far as it's gone. But it has to be soon. The capital's... really shaken right now," Nightwatch reluctantly told her. "And that'll spread as the news does. So they'll probably talk to the press tomorrow. I think they're waiting for something."
The centaur forced a nod.
"How about the opinion columns?"
"It's mostly Raque so far," Nightwatch eventually reported. "She's sort of stuck on 'I told you so.' Even though she never did. And she wants an interview. A lot of them probably do. And she's saying that ponies have to accept you, because you can't be a pony if you reject a mark."
How can you have a mark if you aren't a pony?
Cerea braced herself against the edge of the pool. (Her tail came within centimeters of jamming itself.) Waited for the worst.
"What did the Tattler say?" The last news she'd heard had Wordia Spinner as still being in the palace. It didn't do anything to stop the rest of that newspaper.
A black snout nosed around for a while. Dripping ensued.
"There's two editions," Nightwatch finally reported. "They're..." Stopped.
"Nightwatch, please. I can't read --"
"-- one of them," the pegasus said, "is quantum."
Cerea blinked.
"...what?" The wires hadn't hissed...
"Um. It's a theory. A really new one. Twilight Sparkle talks about it sometimes. I don't really understand it. Princess Celestia doesn't either, and Princess Luna says it gives her a kitten headache."
"A --"
"-- it only goes away if there's a lot of purring kittens around. But it's supposed to be about -- possibilities splitting? The way something might happen, or it might not. And the world changes either way. So the Tattler went quantum. There's two editions. And in the first one, nothing interesting happened yesterday. The front page story is sports. Editorial is about that one hoofball player who supposedly cast a spell from the banned list during the last game. There's no mention of anything from the palace, Cerea. None. They probably tried a few drafts where it wasn't going to be the fault of ponies who are mostly Tattler readers. And they couldn't make it work, because it was too big. So they just decided to live in a world where it never happened."
The blinking wasn't helping anything.
"...what does the other edition say?"
More nosing.
"I think this is a smaller print run," Nightwatch decided. "It's the edition before they deliberately ignored everything. So they scrapped that after it reached the street and started over. Not that they probably sold many. And a lot of their subscribers won't be picking up home copies for a while --"
"-- Nightwatch --"
"They went after the palace."
The dark voice of near-experience went with "For supposedly inciting the attack with spells, or planting agents inside the factions --"
A little too carefully, "For you."
"So I started it --"
"-- um. Ponies usually manifest their marks during early adolescence. There's some range on either side, but it usually starts a little before secondary school. A really late mark would still show up before graduation. And the Doctors Bear told everypony you were an adult. So they said the Princesses were lying about that, because..." The mare was starting to giggle. "...they couldn't quite make themselves say why they'd just figured it out, but it was so obvious that the palace hired a filly..."
They talked. Several topics came up. One didn't, and Cerea could hear the echoes created by its absence.
There was discussion of the inevitable trials. The hunt for the faction leaders. They both wondered whether the interrogation had uncovered anything, and what that might lead to. But they never talked about the girl's future, and Cerea wondered if that was because the happy pegasus had already decided what it was going to be.
I don't --
But even with the best baths, you still had to get out eventually. And once they were both dry, Nightwatch needed to leave the barracks for a while. The pegasus was still being debriefed: another session had been scheduled, and she needed to reach it. (Cerea suspected her own pseudo-interrogation was getting close.) And Nightwatch wanted Cerea to be where ponies could see her. Because the centaur was stable, but -- she was stable after going through something which had never happened before, and there was still an alarm canister on standby.
Cerea, who'd never had a sister (followed by having six), still understood the concern and agreed to be more or less in public for a time. They'd both eaten before leaving medical care, but the centaur was under orders to go for steak. It wouldn't take all that long to reach the necessary kitchen.
They both ascended. Stayed with each other, split up only when they had to. And then it was just the girl moving through rubble-strewn corridors, having to make detours here and there...
She'd somehow never checked the time, thought she'd left the watch near the last bed, was nowhere near a window, and there were no members of the staff in her current section: she couldn't get a peek at a badge. Not that it mattered, because the shifts had apparently become completely tangled up with each other. Still, all she had to do was find a clock --
-- she moved across marble, cracked and split and gouged. It was a material more fragile than the average hoof, and it did strange things to acoustics.
The air currents weren't quite right for her to scent an approach. But sound told her there were two males approaching, and they were doing so on a total of six limbs.
...well, six limbs and two artificial aids. The braces tended to thump.
She knew both voices. One had only been recently heard for the first time, and the second was weary from long moons of travel with a very fast conclusion.
"It was my fault."
The stallion's tones had also been weighed down by a considerable amount of guilt.
"It was my choice," the unseen companion calmly countered, and thumped across another step. "You -- just helped me see that there wasn't one. Not really."
"You always have a choice --"
The tinge of reluctance came across as something other than childish. Early adolescence, perhaps. The first step into maturity. "Because... you were right. You can't care about just one thing." The little sigh felt odd. "You can't care about everything, either. Not all the time. It's exhausting, when you're doing it one by one. But to care about the whole... I remember what happened, Fancypants. I remember all of it. Every moment. I know how it could have ended. And the past doesn't change." There was a snort. "You have no idea how annoying that is. No do-overs, claims the universe. You'd think it could at least step in to stop certain tactics."
With the lightest hint of humor, "For breaking the rules?"
The thumping stopped. Cerea, who had no choice but to keep going on the same route, couldn't prevent herself from hearing --
"Not the worst of jokes." the other entity decided. "Far from the best. But I'll respect that it was on me."
The stallion trotted. After a moment, the companion thumped along. The sounds of movement, and nothing more.
For a few seconds.
"We should have those adjusted --"
"I wouldn't have made it without you."
The tones were measured. Even. The marble did everything it could, and they were also barely audible.
"Discord?" Fancypants asked, and she could hear the shock lurking just under the layers of civilization.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"There's... a base level of sorts," the draconequus finally said. "As with ponies, and so many others. Think of it as blood. You can only lose so much and still recover. Every chaos pearl represented one drop returned. It still needed that last spark, of course. It needed me. But to come home... I needed a place to return. You found enough pearls, Fancypants. About... six over the minimum, I would say. And without them..."
Silence.
"It was my duty --"
"-- thank you."
The movement stopped again.
"I did nothing more than any proper stallion --"
"-- I can think of three others who would have considered that chase, had they understood it," Discord interrupted. "Possibly four, although the last would mainly be doing it for the sake of the first. But they can't leave their home for that long. She would have, and... that's part of why the palace didn't tell her what you were trying, I think. Because she would have destroyed herself in the attempt."
"Four," Fancypants carefully checked.
"You've met her partner, I believe."
The "...yes," was slightly tense.
"The middle pair... can't quite go anywhere on their own just yet. Or do much of anything else. You did what no others could. So -- thank you."
"...you're quite welcome."
Trot. Thump.
There has to be a passage I can just duck into...
"Fancypants?"
"Yes, Discord?"
"Are we friends?"
Dead stop, and the weight of anticipation hanging in the air.
"...I think it's too early to say," the stallion finally admitted. "In many ways, we've barely spoken. The possibility exists, however. I -- wouldn't mind trying."
Thoughtfully, "I can think of some ways to find out."
"Really?"
They sound like they're right around that corner. Almost on top of me.
Why is there never an open door when I need --
"I could," the draconequus considered, "attend a few of your parties."
The air was beginning to shift.
"There are certain -- rules for attending parties," Fancypants said.
His voice was calm. The freshly-arrived scent provided Cerea with the first hints of panic.
"There are?"
"Yes."
"Excellent!" Discord happily declared. "I'm glad you let me know so far in advance! So that's the first thing we'll have to change --"
-- they came around the corner. Cerea, who had just been considering the value of a full retreat, froze.
Fancypants looked tired, and she understood that. The stallion had likely been recovered in something of a hurry, and she wasn't sure what being relay-teleported across a good part of the planet did for jet lag. The draconequus, however...
He was somewhat hunched, even more than what the pictures had suggested came from his usual posture. It was mostly to give him better bracing over the crutches.
The wooden supports were slightly uneven in length. It helped in matching the entity who was using them. He moved the crutches ahead of each step, he waited for the thumps to plant themselves, and then his body caught up. Some effort seemed to be going into keeping his tail off the floor.
She barely knew anything about him. But she had been told that he was potentially the most powerful entity to exist outside Tartarus. And the crutches were just about all which was keeping him more or less upright.
The red eyes stared at her. She had to look up at him, something which hardly ever happened in this world, and he was just staring...
"Ah," he softly said. "Fancypants? I believe I'll meet you at the air carriage. She and I need to have a short talk."
After a moment, the stallion nodded.
"Lady Cerea," he respectfully offered. "I hope to speak with you soon, especially regarding the party and -- things which were in no way your fault." A glance at Discord. "Now that I'll be -- home. Later this week, perhaps?"
She barely managed a nod, realized too late that she'd just committed, and then could only watch him go past her.
The centaur and draconequus were facing each other. Caught within silver-flecked marble and the debris of what had once been the illusion of peace.
"I spoke to Fluttershy." The long neck curved, let him look down at her, and -- she noticed that the edges were somewhat blurry. As if the grey-brown fur wasn't quite there. "And the siblings did their level best to bore me, of course." Another snort. "The amazing part was their not quite managing to succeed. With the Grimcess, it's almost automatic! But they've been gathering together what little they know, mostly so they can show it off. I suspect your friend had to pass a few non-personal details along. As she must, for her own duty. And of course, one could say I possess a portion of the inside story..."
She barely knew anything of him.
She still expected him to laugh.
But he shivered.
The short-cut thin black mane vibrated. Talons flexed in and out. The paw convulsed. Red eyes closed, and then opened again. The crutches were adjusted.
He took a breath. It made him look like someone who was truly practicing an instrument for the first time. Pushing air through a flute, with no idea where the notes were supposed to go.
He spoke, and everything ended.
"I can't send you home."
...she... was oddly aware of her tail. It had just drooped. She wondered if the hairpins would help make that look better. Centaur magic: a lifetime supply of hairpins whenever she wanted them, although Abjura was convinced they were all the same ones...
...her tail had drooped. A loss of control. Forfeiture of dignity. But perhaps she was entitled, at the end of all hope. For his power had been essential in building the road, and he --
-- no hope. So if there was no hope, there could be no torment. What came after torment?
Acceptance.
"I -- understand," the girl just barely heard herself say, and her legs began to shift. "I'll just -- leave you alone --"
The paw awkwardly raised itself away from the crutch, gestured at her: stop.
She stopped.
"I was part of that summoning," Discord said. "You may feel free to interpret that as literally as you like. But it wasn't just me. It was... nearly everything. Fragments of power from so many. And I..."
He glanced down at the crutches.
"...will be recovering," the draconequus quietly told her, "for quite some time. Fancypants was taking me to an air carriage, because... I have business in Ponyville, you might say. There are those I need to catch up with. And the Sisters Oddly Vengeless fear -- fear! -- I might lose cohesion in the between. So it's going to be an air carriage, until -- it isn't. And there's going to be a lot of air carriages. I have to make up for lost time."
Working out his scents would have required him to possess them. But his expression, exaggerated across unique features, was easy to read. For the most part, he was frustrated -- and somewhere at the core of that was a glimmering shard of hope.
"How long?" she heard herself ask. "To recover?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "I... never came that close before. Fancypants will undoubtedly ask whether further pearls will speed my recovery, but -- well, you heard some of that, I suppose. One drop of blood each. It helps, as much as a single drop can. But seeking out too many might mean some of that blood winds up being his. I..." The red eyes closed again. "...already have one friend who regularly risks her life, and we have talked about that. But even should her life become peaceful -- she sees herself as part of the cycle and -- she accepts that her part will end. After a time, she gained a promise from me. To... let her section of the wheel turn."
Another breath. Not enough of the ribs shifted. She wasn't sure all of his ribs were there.
"He's done enough," Discord decided. "Let time take over. I should recover, when enough of it passes. But even then... it wasn't my power acting alone. And in the absence of another coordinating abomination with exceptionally poor breath -- did you notice his breath? Rotting from within! And that was his best trait! -- it would take a group effort. Just about all of the species, working together." This particular snort turned into a chuckle halfway through. "With me! Well, that's going to take a major feat of diplomacy, isn't it? Although I understand a few minotaurs and griffons are already on board. But to replicate all of it, even after I have my strength back..."
And now the put-upon tones were back. The petulance.
"Testing!" Both arms tried to wave, and the crutches nearly fell: he snatched at them just in time. "Quantification! The scientific method! The insults I'm expected to endure --"
He stopped. Looked down at her again, and the warped lips curved.
"-- look at you," he quietly said. "You gave up on the spot, didn't you? But my phrasing could have been better, I admit that -- even when the rules for language can be their own irritant. You can look towards the future, if you so wish. But I advise you to take care with that. I... have some experience with living for the hope of 'one day, it'll happen'. I had my day. It... simply turned out to be a day other than the one I'd expected."
The talons came away from the crutch, moved towards her chin --
-- went back.
"The future is glory, because that's how sapients wish to see it," Discord told her. "But they're usually wrong. And living for nothing more than the hope of tomorrow isn't the best idea. Use the present. I gave the sisters a promise, and I give it to you. When I recover, I will do what I can. But I can't send you home. Not without a complete understanding of what took place, and not by myself. As the Grimcess put it, this is going to be a process. And I can't say it'll be a short one."
One day.
One day I'll leave the gap.
One day I'll find someone who loves me.
One day...
...and then you add them up, one by one, and the total works out to every day.
All spent waiting.
"When I can," he said. "If I can. As much as I can. After all... you carried me home."
"I didn't mean to," was automatic. "I -- you were part of the magic? Everything that went into me?"
Discord nodded.
"I have a very vague sense of you," the draconequus said. "Some weak degree of familiarity. It mostly seems to center around a desire to punch my mother in the face." Both eyebrows went up. "Since I'm lacking the basic qualification there, I'm rather hoping that you let me know when you get yours --"
"-- I didn't mean to carry you," she repeated, adding extra insistence to force the point. "I didn't even know you were there --"
"-- so?" he casually interrupted. "I've been told that intent counts. So lack of intent clearly also counts. Just as much, only from the opposite direction. And at any rate, you intended to save the world. I happen to be some part of that, so..."
He shifted the crutches forward: the visible expression of the intent to move on. Her hooves began to shift out of the way --
-- the girl stopped.
"May I ask you something?"
"I suppose you can ask me several things," the draconequus grumbled. "Lacking what others tend to define as omniscience -- which they oddly insist must include knowing about the boring parts -- I may not be able to provide an answer you'll like. But as I have both an air carriage to catch and a possible friend waiting for me to catch up, let's keep the questions at -- three."
She quickly sorted the internal flood --
"Tirek said he sent you an offer. What was it?"
-- and immediately decided she'd pulled the wrong candidate out of raging waters.
He just about told me --
"It was exceptionally clumsy spellwork," Discord irritably said. "The message barely got through at all, and I had to put half of it back together. But he'd learned I was free, and I suppose he had concerns." One last snort. "Justifiable, I'd say. After the fact. So the offer was basically that I had to stay out of it. Don't interfere, and I wouldn't be a target."
"Or," Cerea failed to stop herself in time, "he was trying to stall you until he had enough strength to take you on."
The little nod shocked her.
"Quite possible," the draconequus said. "Looked at from this end of time. But I also had the option to leave. I would have been safe enough if I had. And..."
He stopped. The half-phantom fur rippled oddly across his torso.
"...I had been trying to figure out how I could protect my own," Discord finally continued. "Fluttershy... I thought I could pull her back, if I was quick. And there is..." The distorted features went through a few extra contortions, and finally found a configuration which allowed them to release syllables -- with great reluctance. "...another factor. A -- family, you could say. But they were on vacation, well away from capital and settled zone. I didn't have to worry about them for a while. Fluttershy was more immediate. With her, I could watch. Wait for the right moment to step in. But Fancypants..."
He sighed.
"One choice," the entity said. "No choice. I think you understand that."
She nodded.
"Two more."
Her right arm bent back across angles which, in all the world, only he might have considered as natural. Pointed to a certain region of skirt.
"Was that you?"
His eyebrows went up again. She watched as one briefly tried to get away from his face.
"The mark?"
Cerea nodded.
And Discord laughed.
He'd already been partially bent: his natural posture, added to looking down at her and the contortions required to hold the crutches. But now he was just about doubled over, body twisting with helpless mirth and tail lashing with merriment as peals of wild hysteria echoed across marble, looking as if he might tumble forward at any moment and Cerea surged forward to catch him --
"-- oh, dear!" he gasped. "Oh, my dear girl... a mark! Me? You've caught me out! On your first try, no less! The Conglomerate Sisters required actual experience to get there, but you? A single leap -- !"
She didn't understand. All the centaur could do was get into position, make sure her hands were braced to receive whatever weight might exist --
"-- I can't!" Discord laughed. "Nopony told you? Of course they didn't! Because alicorns keep secrets, right up until they don't. And no others could have ever dreamed that you would need to ask!"
He nearly went down. She got her hands against his torso --
-- no true bones.
Matter without structure --
-- and pushed him semi-upright again.
He gasped a few more times. Got his breath back, for whatever that might mean. And then he favored her with the worst smile in the world.
"I can't affect marks," the most powerful entity known informed her. "Not in any ways other than the usual."
"...what?" turned out to be the best she could manage.
"And I won't even count that as your third question!" he decided. "I could encourage a pony towards certain lines of thought. Make career suggestions. Perhaps if my timing was especially good, I might catch one who was about to manifest and inspire them. But I can't create a mark. I can't change one which already exists. A gap in my powers, because it means altering an expression of pure order. No. That was not me --"
-- and paused.
"...I think," he added, as every tone suddenly turned thoughtful. "It could be like the summoning, correct? Something I couldn't manage on my own. But with all of the other magic present... it trapped me within you, I think. As I was trapped inside him, only with the matrix of thaums substituting for the platinum. But when you manifested, it was a change. Something which released me..."
And then he shrugged. Armpits rubbed against the crutches.
"Not with intent or purpose," he huffily declared. "At most, I was a catalyst. And I'd need to see some proof on that. Your third question? I do have an air carriage to meet."
She only had one.
"Are you going to be okay?"
He was staring at her again.
"Seriously?"
She nodded.
"And you're not just asking that for how it might affect your own situation, are you?" he asked. "You want to know."
Again. Cerea was starting to wonder if a few hairpins would help to control the resulting fallout.
"...yes," Discord said. "I think so. In time. Hopefully not too much of it."
He began to advance again. She stepped aside, and he thumped his way through the damaged palace --
-- stopped. Glanced back at her.
"Are you sure you want to go back?"
And then she was staring at him, as unspoken words piled up within her throat.
"To let them know you're all right, yes," he decided. "Because I've recently learned about the issues which arise from being out of contact, so I feel you should absolutely do that. To visit, if the passage can be stabilized. And I suppose you might want to fetch a few things in both directions. Provide souvenirs. But if it's a road -- one you could take at need, even if that was just once a year or so -- then I would hope you'd consider staying. Because they had to tell me a few things about you. They rather enjoyed that. Alicorns love to lecture. And in my opinion, Cerea..."
The smile was horrible. Hideous. It was also fully sincere.
"...the world would be a little less boring with you in it."
He limped away. And she could say nothing at all.
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Estee, you continue to write the best Discord voice I've yet encountered in FiM fanfic, and I've read more than a few. And this specific limitation on his magic, especially given the beautifully succinct explanation as to why, both makes sense and helps to further your already superb characterization of Discord. Well done, and here's looking forward to the rest of this lovely story
Put another way, she's the first. No wonder she shut down that line of thought. She wouldn't be able to process the conclusion.
I'm amazed scammers would even bother. The lie has to at least sound a little plausible.
"And none of them can be in boxes. She is very certain about that. Her words, not mine."
Took me some time process who he meant. (Anchor Foal spoiler ahead) But had they understood, I'm sure Harem and her sister would have joined the quest.
So what does that say about marks? About their source? About Starlight?
Pretty much the nicest thing Discord can say about anyone.
Some fascinating revelations here. Cerea has a lot to think about, and we'll have to see some of the fuller implications in time. Looking forward to more, especially as investigations proceed and the Tattler tries to isolate itself from the rest of reality... and possibly one of its own lead writers. I can't imagine Wordia's happy about this head-in-the-sand policy after surviving the insurrection.
Good. Cerea also keeps her earnings scattered around there, even if she won't think too much about it.
Sounds like we're in for some globetrotting diplomatic adventures to amass types of magic.
Man, I love this story.
Such a talent for long-winded and yet thoroughly exciting descriptions and dialogues.
Too many use an excess of words as filler, but this one comes across as just the right amount of exposition.
Personally I think discord would be good for her he understands her in way that allows her to understand the world around her more. He could be a good friend to someone who feels out of place. And considering he is technically out of place all the time he would get it.
Oh boy, this cultural dichotomy finally bears fruit.
I really thought Discord was her ticket home. Granted, I had assumed it would take time, years even, for him to recover enough to do so. I guess that would've been too easy though!
Cerea is mostly healed and now has an anti-magic sword she can manifest at will, so naturally she has to be put through hell to really test 'em out haha. I guess most isekai heroes never really get to go home, do they? Excellent chapter!
Wow, really great chapter! Nothing much going on, not much action or plot development, but every paragraph is just brimming with life. Good pacing too: feels like the right time to slow down and take a breath.
Loved Cerea blush going nuclear.
Discord and Fancypants at a party sound like it need it's own one-shot. And I like the idea of a friendships between those two, they are so opposed in personality that they kinda work together.
Wow Estee. This was a fantastic chapter. You've summed up right here why I love your writing so much. You pack so much meaning into your prose and dialogue. It's so well thought out and considered. It's inspiring to read. At your best your stories linger long after they've been completed in my mind. The way you phrase things when everything is just right, is so beautiful. The future is glory. Thank you.
Wonder how the CMC would react to her cutie mark.
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Well, we know how Sweetie Belle would:
A new tribe has been discovered, the mythical pesasus!
Now that is the greatest compliment Discord will ever offer anyone!
I know it might be addressed latter, but I'm wondering if Pendergast will get away to be another recurring blight upon Equestria ....
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Maybe Cerea will stop by Ponyville and we'll get to see?
Having Discord take an interest in you is like waking up to find a giant eyeball with teeth in your ceiling saying, "Hi, new friend!"
👍
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And of course I read that in Izzy's voice. So thanks for that new nightmare.
Discord should recover in Ponyville. What with the Chaos field, the CMC, the occupants, the CMC, Pinkie when available and the CMC, hopefully wont need crutches much longer.
Then again, there is that mobility scooter?
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Starlight's magic doesn't have alignment restrictions. Neither for the caster nor the target.
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I think Discord left the possibility open for Cerea to go home at some indeterminate point in the future.
I have a theory. The one magic type Tirek absolutely didn't have when he summoned Cerea was Ibex magic. Perhaps the reason she visits the their mountains is because she'll need their magic to stabilize her road home. After all, the road to Equestria was so unstable she had to gallop before it disappeared on her.
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images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/491eee83-7c72-4fcc-85ba-a7caaceb451e/d62uk78-0f2076a4-c857-4bfb-8032-32af970f7172.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzQ5MWVlZTgzLTdjNzItNGZjYy04NWJhLWE3Y2FhY2ViNDUxZVwvZDYydWs3OC0wZjIwNzZhNC1jODU3LTRiZmItODAzMi0zMmFmOTcwZjcxNzIucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.AOHj53GHbJWSq9_SuTevTuOMEtGsZY_kDNcB3BWKf18
"Hi, new friend!"
11275554
That she's intuited quantum markcanics? She's not altering the marks. She's not creating or destroying. She's not adding to or subtracting from. She's placing physical distance between the pony and their true self. And as we've seen, that distance snaps back to zero as soon as her influence is removed.
Perhaps she's inserting a magical partition wall between a pony and that pony's sense of self. It would be a very esoteric sort of magic, but only conceptually. If you can insert a shield between you and the physical, and you and the metaphysical, why can't you also insert a shield between you and the personal?
Even the Tattler can't spin the palace storming as totally the Princesses fault and not get burred in negative feedback, and possibly some palace inquisitions. But to try and go after the palace by spinning Cerea into being a little filly? I can imagine why that was shut down the moment Wordia got back. Not only does that make very little sense given Cerea's, well, *gestures at every proportion of Cerea* it also means that everything bad the Tattler wrote about Cerea? That's now harassing a child. Whoops.
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See, without the image, it just makes me think of Something Positive's Little Blue Thing, who, as far as the only person who interacts with them is concerned, is just a figment of her damaged psyche. And then she found a doll of it in a busted-up amusement park and finally had the epiphany to wonder why it always called her 'New Friend', despite being a persistent hallucination knowing her for nearly a decade... and then ask who "old friend" was.
See, that line of thought is how you get Miia to invade and give all the cute ponies snek hugs.
She needs to consult with Rarity about some fashion. I imagine she could come up with something that covers everything that should be covered, with a nice high rear leg split to allow for showing off some Cutie Mark.
I think that Discord underestimates the number of ponies that would have been willing to quest to keep him alive… especially if he’s including Fleur, who presumably would be doing it for Fluttershy’s sake.
That quote alone shows how much character growth Discord has experienced.
11275554
Looking, in Triptych: Presentation, I found:
I wonder if that's relevant, or just coincidental...
11276035
I was thinking that Cutie Mark was a distortion of QuanTuM ARCanics, but possibly not, if Triptych is right. It wouldn't fit why the choice in phrasing after knowing the history
Triptych: Presentation
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Anchor Foal - Oh man, the twins really are going to be ride or die for Discord, aren't they. And I don't know if the town can survive CMC 2: Now with Chaos Dad. At least the OG CMC will get to know what it feels like.
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Yeah, she really does capture the feel and truly alien mindset that an eldritch abomination would have on trying to figure out how to interact with mortals.
11275554
Huh. I would have though Tish would be one of the middle two, but your reading fits better.
I think alot of them need a hug. Or at least eventually hug each other.
Also I hope cera and discord become good friends
So I just thundered through the entirety of this after starting on a whim with either this or the previous update lol. And yes, “gripped”, “hooked”, all of these apply. I wasn’t sure how well I’d do seeing as I don’t have any knowledge of Monster Musume besides screenshots and, uh, art, but I gather one didn’t need even a particularly passing familiarity in order to enjoy the story, and so I discovered. I’m curious as to how much of Cerea’s character and her world’s lore are directly drawn from their source material and how much you’ve invented, but given the focus of the source material seems to be massive amounts of titillation (as well as massive tits hardeharhar) I doubt it gets so involved. And it’s only just occurred to me that I haven’t fully read Anchor Foal somehow, and now I’ve had rather huge spoilers for some of what must occur in it lol. Oh well
11277734
In this story, and Anchor Foal before it, Tish did not survive 'Triptych.' We don't know exactly what happened, just that it caused Fluttershy to look into dating, and got Fleur sent in to help her, and resulted in a harem book becoming whoever 'Harem' the brand new filly grows up to be, besides 'has a twin sister and a beautiful tail.'
Which makes me wonder what will happen with Tirek in the verse where Tish did make it. We're on Starlight's trail now, but that doesn't stop Tirek from sneaking around...
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Huh. You make an interesting point, but my immediate assumption was that he was referring to Diamond Tiara and Sweetie Belle. They've both been established in this story as caring deeply about Discord after he saved them, and the reason why they can't do anything is because they're still fillies.
11279636
Except that the split timeline has to occur before Trav(ap)est(r)y, which is itself months before Triptych. So either Anchor Foal takes place months before Triptych would have taken place, or Celestia was allowing Fleur to blackmail Fancy Pants and who knows who else for months before doing anything about it.
"as long as she stayed with the canister's signal range of another pony at all times"
"as long as she stayed within the canister's signal range of another pony at all times"?
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The fact she isn't explicitly mentioned in Anchor Foal or here doesn't mean anything. She wasn't mentioned in many post-Tryptich stories either. Unless there's something in Glimmer. Didn't read that one yet.
(e: you may say the whole premise of AF is a confirmation; I say it's just Princesses being worrywarts)
The only two things which set AF/DELwMG as an AU are both Trav(ap)est(r)y and Unstable Sale not happening. Heck, even some post-Tryptich stories are apparently canon in this continuum (the Duet. at the very least) so why couldn't the Tryptich itself be canon too?
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Trav(ap)est(r)y happened months before Tryptich... in the main 'verse. AF!Fleur could just have spent more time climbing the Chain.