Book 1 - The Behemoth came to Canterlot

by Equimorto

Belfry

"You knew this would happen at some point."

That was undeniable. Since the moment she'd realised what was happening with her and she'd had time to reflect on the implications, she'd come to the conclusion that sooner or later her help would be needed. Twilight was just stating a fact there, not that she could be blamed for it when the context called for her to.

"I'm sorry we have to put you through this."

That, however, was debatable. If Twilight really was sorry, she at least wasn't against the whole ordeal enough to choose not to go through with it. She cared about the results more than she worried about what she was putting her through, and that knowledge made her statement feel a touch hypocritical. Still, the situation was indeed the kind where decisions like that had to be made, and just because she'd decided to go through with that course of action it didn't mean she was faking her regrets. It just meant she found it the best alternative, the better compromise.

"It's the only way we have."

But that was simply false. There were multiple other ways they could have faced the issue. Not all of them equally viable or valid, but a fair number of them comparable to what they'd settled on. It was a tradeoff, and Twilight had decided the moral wrong of using her that way was outweighed by the practical results doing so could give her. That wasn't inherently bad or wrong. It wasn't even something Sweetie herself was against, in fact she agreed with Twilight's assessment. But pretending there weren't other alternatives was wrong, and it was a worrying sign.

Sweetie was sat in a room, and Twilight left her alone there with the chairs and the wide square metal table. The light shining there felt artificial, but not to the point of making her uncomfortable. There were a lot of things there that felt just slightly wrong, but not enough to set her off. The ceiling was a little too tall, the colour of the walls, the air was a little too stale. None was too bad in itself, but combined together and held down by the stress of the situation it all put her on the edge. Thankfully, no one was looking in on her. Twilight had thought it better that way. They'd just listen if she spoke.

The room was supposed to help her focus. Something about something inside the walls, but it was all still very vague and experimental and without any clear results. Surely that was driving Twilight mad. The thought was kind of funny to Sweetie Belle, for whatever reason. That cleared her mood enough. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to direct herself to the required target of her powers. It wasn't so much directing her thoughts as it was taking hold of a different part of herself, one she still struggled to find and get a proper grip on.

Comments

[Speckle]

Now now, Twi, be honest