Book 1 - The Behemoth came to Canterlot

by Equimorto

Melt

She reappeared kneeling into a deep puddle of thick black, more of it sliding down her naked, drenched body. Some of it was dripping down the walls, some had even stained the ceiling. It would dry out and disappear though, no reason to worry about it. Just like how her hair would unstraighten itself, or her lips and eyes would return to the right colour.

The markings on her arms... Those would probably go almost fully away too, for the time being. Maybe remain as little more than barely visible hints only she could notice, knowing they were there. Eventually, sure, they'd get more noticeable, but not yet then.

She sighed, but it was a sound as pleased as it was tired. Sure, her body felt sore, but it was the good kind of soreness. Like after an intense workout, or hard work well done, or after a day spent trekking someplace nice like a mountain or a lake, or even a day at a water park. The last one would have left her almost as wet, though water didn't stick the way darkness did. To be fair, water was also far less enjoyable to breathe in when submerged in it.

She looked again at her forearms. Three marks on the left one, four on the right one. Seven in total then, if more didn't show up. But she was fairly certain more wouldn't, she had a pretty clear idea of how things would evolve from there. She was, admittedly, a little unsure about when and how exactly the wings would come in. She could guess they'd burst out of her back and rip through her flesh, but they did look maybe too weirdly ethereal to do that.

She realised she should probably start considering her clothes. Not for right then, there wasn't really a reason to get dressed so late at night, but she would need them for the morning after. Although, given how late it was, perhaps she could forego sleeping entirely, stay up the whole night and already put them on. She did like that idea.

Not bothering with standing up, she moved on all fours towards her wardrobe and pushed it open. She hummed to herself, looking over the varying degrees of black outfits she was presented with. They would all return to mostly colourful things by breakfast time, unfortunately, but she still did have a degree of choice into what she'd look like by then.

Definitely no chains or metal or barbed wire yet. She was still far from the point of stabbing herself to let darkness pour out of her body, and silvery studs gave off more of a punk rock vibe that wasn't really what she was going for.

A choker? No. Not yet there either. Boots would be fine though, knee high, a bunch of black straps around, the sole tall but not too tall. And maybe she'd hazard some straps around her arms as well, either on her bare skin or on top of whatever top she picked.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

You know, it's funny. Just a few hours ago, I was talking about Pinkie and the Cult of Rakdos. Though this is definitely more Stygian's schtick, what with the oozing, tangible darkness. I do have to wonder how and why Pinkie became one with the darkness. I'm sure she has her reasons. The question is what they are.

[Saix]

Keeping fashion in mind while transforming into a being of darkness, Rarity would be proud.