Book 1 - The Behemoth came to Canterlot

by Equimorto

MaPaMoMy

The room was silent. A little too silent. The kind of deep silence that made one realise how much noise there usually was in what they considered to be silence. The kind of silence usually disturbed by one's heartbeat and breath, only there those too were absent. Not muted, not distant, absent. The room was silent and it shouldn't have been.

The room was empty. No. Empty wasn't the right word. The room was barren. Empty of furniture, and objects, and things, and anything unmoving and unliving that one could consider finding in a room. It had its walls and floor and ceiling and there was nothing on them, maybe not even a door, maybe that was just behind her. But it wasn't empty. Someone else was there.

She wasn't in the corner. She was near the corner, but not in it. It was hard to tell exactly where she was, with nothing else to use as a reference point. She was farther from one wall than another, but that could just be a result of her being longer than she was wide, as most ponies tended to be. She wasn't moving, and she wasn't making any noise. But she was breathing. Pinkie couldn't feel it, but she knew it.

Pinkie couldn't remember how she'd gotten into the room. She couldn't remember walking into the room, and she couldn't remember where the room was. She didn't know what was out of the room, or if there even was an outside to the room. She didn't remember opening her eyes. She only remembered being in the room. She couldn't remember what had happened right before that, or how long she'd been in the room for.

She did remember that the other had always been there. Watching her. That was all she was doing. Watching her from the not quite corner of the barren room, breathing there, not anything else. Not moving, not speaking. Pinkie was doing the same thing. Silent, breathing and staring, only she was closer to the middle than to a corner. Or maybe she was close to the wall. She didn't know how much room there was behind herself.

She didn't feel like moving, or talking, or doing anything else. She didn't feel like taking her eyes off the other. The room was dark. There was nothing lighting it up. But it wasn't so dark as to not see anything. She could still see the walls, and she could still see the other. She recognised the other. She'd always recognised her, from the moment she'd first seen her. She'd seen her the whole time she'd been in the room, though she couldn't remember when that had started. It had always been in her then present. The barren room and the other, staring each other down in motionless silence.

It was like looking at a mirror, or a memory. She recognised the other, but she hadn't seen her in a long time, and never out of her like that.

Comments

[Speckle]

....Pinkamina?