The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards

by Cloud Ring

Chapter 18: Complication

☄☄☄

Solid Line’s image evoked an urge to care and shelter for — almost demanding to protect this pony — a feeling that, in Cursory Streak’s opinion, should be strictly reserved to pre-edging foals.

She was so thin and short — almost on the brink of appearing starved. Not as short as to warrant bending one's neck to look into her green eyes, but still much shorter than is typical for adults.

Solid Line's face was a living mask. She portrayed emotions correctly and felt them as far as Cursory could pick up by the tones of her voice — if the tones were related to the truth. But this mask was separated from the real Solid. She seemed as if to be controlled from a distance, and the controller, in theory, remembered that the expression on her face should be portrayed, and even found it quite significant, but said controller always had something much more important to care about.

This puzzled Cursory Streak, who was used to spotting the echoes of lies, omissions and secrecy by the small facial expressions, by the movement of the eyes and ears. Even the pace of gait — especially the little misbeats in it — could betray confusion or fear. But Solid Line gave nothing away, no matter how hard Cursory tried to read her.

Even the cat that was sitting in Solid's bag, sticking its head out and looking around, had more natural facial expressions.

A pause of two beats between joke and laughter — Cursory had to support the laugh, because that was right; completely absent facial expressions in these two beats, and only the eyes’ movements was telling that the unicorn was still alive.

Last but not least, Solid Line’s absurd question about help ‘between the lines’. As if she didn’t know that the request for help is always voiced directly, and in no other way! This is too important to rely on any hints!

So... yes. Everything in Solid Line indicated an illness, and taking an ill wingpony on a long flight was asking for trouble.

Of course, Gentle Touch was also small and rather thin-boned. For her it was justified by age and ancestral branch. Solid was an adult... and yet so vulnerable. Like a vase of a lost civilization at the very edge of a cabinet shaken by a distant explosion.

Cursory Streak understood that these feelings were inspired by her own aspect. But this aspect was long ago chosen by her decision and action; she had long become one with it, and Cursory did not like abstract philosophy.

But at least something had to be done about it. An attempt to feed the pony did not help in any way, even after the second meal — the field ration vanished as if into a black hole, and Solid's voice remained the same — sharp, ringing, cutting like glass.

By the Black Moon aspects, I would not be surprised if there is a black hole... Cursory Streak smiled and asked about it directly.

“No… I'm not an artificial pony. There are no magical nor technical transdimensional constructs, including black holes, in me. Correction to the first note: some of my brain regions are coordinated by artificial drivers, and some parts of my body were reproduced imprecisely after a contact with the light of the Red.”

Here, for an instant and without apparent reason, a strong concern appeared in Solid's voice; slightly raised tone, tremble, volume slightly lower, “Nevertheless, I rate my artificiality no higher than one-ninth. An outside expert might put it at two ninths.”

The anxiety disappeared from her speech, and Solid's voice was almost neutral again as she continued, “Will this complicate our cooperation? I am very anxious about losing you.”

As far as Cursory could understand, the feeling was there, and it was sincere.

It just was expressed totally outside from where one would expect it in accordance to the rules of speech.

It's strange. Almost as if she’s confusing me on purpose...

Cursory snorted. Doubt was among Black Moon’s aspects, and they were in the midst of Her domain. “No, it won't complicate anything in your case… but you’re right to take care. I have my story with Black Moon’s creations. Strongly negative one. But what’s the reason of these changes? Especially in that brain part. If the question doesn't bother you. I don’t want to make it worse for you.”

“I don’t want that either,” Solid Line's smile was still alien and out of place, but she was at least trying, “Do you know why Moons do not recommend us to look in clear mirrors?”

“I do know, as everypony knows: because from there doubles come; they need our cutie marks, or our suffering. Questions of this sort are asked only when the questioner has a different answer — and Black Moon has already pulled such a trick on me. Please share your answer right away, play no games, okay?” Cursory Streak managed to stay polite, with some effort.

They continued to walk across the green floor, with the unicorn on the left. As they went deeper into the hall among the huge tables, the surroundings were indistinct — the space had been made with no expectations of anypony travelling by themself.

No answer came.

It was exactly like a few slices before that. Once they went into the soul vault, and Solid Line first outright confirmed that each dome was its own little world of a sleeping soul, there was another question, and the same long silence after that.

Then Cursory Streak told her companion about the lifeless and unnatural forest which she got into as she left the elevator, “Don't you think this is torture, heartless and senseless? I understand that some things may be different for Black Moon’s followers, but surely not that much?" she asked then.

Back then no answer came. After some silence Solid Line just went to sleep — without stopping on the way, only asking Cursory to look after her as her body was walking. Now she was awake, and just as silent.

Cursory Streak was ready to wait and give the unicorn the time needed to think it through, but it was getting ridiculous — again.

Once she began to lose her temper, Solid Line replied, and Cursory shivered: the wording was eerily similar to the past one, with exactly zero difference — in the first words at least, “I can see from where your opinion comes, but this is an incomplete answer.”

For a beat, Cursory Streak felt like time itself was broken and dislocated, repeating itself without clear ties to common reality.

The illusion shattered an instant later, though.

Back then, once she woke up, Solid Line completed her answer with a counterquestion: "You didn't let this universe get used to you, did you?"

And now, to the question about the mirrors, Solid Line completed her answer thusly, “The Red wants to return from dreams to reality. To where it is denied to be.”

Cursory interrupted, “As if it was denied! Where do its infusions come from then? Where did it come from? And Blue Moon rules over dreams, so it’s ridiculous! It can’t be in the dreams!”

“From there,” and Solid fell silent. However, this time the pause was short, “In the imaging language it is impossible to write ‘the Red’, meaning it, and at the same time not to instill ‘Moon’. In the civilian language, it’s impossible to write the other way around, at least in a direct way, and an awkward thing to speak out loud too,” A few beats later Solid Line added, “It is ‘She’ in the imaging language, too. It is the truth.”

After a few beats, Cursory tried to continue the conversation, “I interrupted you. I'm sorry. Could you finish what you had been claiming on mirrors and the Red?”

Solid Line glanced at her but didn't answer.

In a third of a slice Cursory Streak tried again, with a smile, as if the flow of the talk did not rub her in the wrong way, “So why doesn't the Trinity want us to look in the mirrors?”

This time there was not even a glance. Cursory sighed heavily and tried to change the subject, “Are we walking blindly, or do you somehow know where Gentle is now among all of... this?” she swept her hoof around the space.

“Yes. I know where she is. Gentle called me through the dreams, asking for a meeting. I have no dreams anymore. Therefore, for me her call did not reach. But those who have heard sent the bottle across the unmoving river. You know, the one to cross if you die in your sleep. To the borderlands of death. To the Black Moon’s most distant domain. I was able to read this letter. The Red took Gentle Touch into conditional captivity.”

“What?” The front legs felt heavy and Cursory nearly fell face forward.

“It cannot hold Gentle Touch forever. Sooner or later, Gentle will wake up. But if we arrive at her conduit and communicate, and the communication satisfies the Red, then Gentle will be released to us earlier.”

“But…” no matter how Cursory tried to stay calm, White Moon was rising, her heart was beating hard, and the stream of Her flame entered the Herald; petals of piercing blue fire glittered before her eyes, waiting only for the beat of her wings to envelop those who... the one who wanted to harm her special pony in Cursory's absence.

She suppressed it. First, the distant aspect, which would consume too much strength... and would still be powerless against the Red.

Then, the notion of being another pony’s owner, no matter how cute she may be.

And finally, rapid and heavy breathing. Slowly out, slowly in…

“Will she at least stay alive? Without mortal wounds?”

“Gentle Touch sent the Red's own words: ‘If Gentle Touch dies, her team shall find a way to destroy the Red. Her team shall not find the way while Gentle Touch is alive.’ I know the Red can lie, but that was a formal prophecy, and those twenty six words were true.”

Solid Line paused, her expression unclear. Probably she expected a request for clarification, but the pegasus was still too busy with a much more important issue — her companion was in mortal danger! Two beats later, Solid Line continued, “So, as we always do, we have a choice. We may gambit Gentle Touch to win. I can show you a sigil if you would lend me a feather and a paper.”

The suggestion of a ‘gambit’ was heard but went over the Herald’s head — even the very idea was too alien to somepony of the White Moon’s Protecting aspect. It never became a question to think through.

"Please no!" Cursory Streak replied, guarding herself from the unacceptable.

"Why?" The tone was innocent, curious.

"They scare me. They offend my freedom," Cursory Streak admitted, huffing.

"Interesting that you chose to object to the sigils rather than the gambit. In this case, no. No, they actually don't," and Solid Line fell silent.

They walked on. Cursory Streak wanted to take off, push through and break the air, get to the goal faster — whatever it may be; start a fight, and then… the scene would unfold.

She never was the best in suppressing her desires. A spark of thought became a chain of actions. A rapid but calculated turn left; the body sent forward with a fall to the floor, to slide for a few steps; another turn, quick and sharp; legs sprung for a tall jump; heavy load on the back; wings wide, “Steer me!..”

...and forward she flew, with Solid Line and her cat on her back, in a perfect straight line, leaving behind a band of blue, sparkling and piercing bright.

Author's Note:

Note that of two Solid Line's depictions (here and in the cover art), the cover art is more correct.

This one is not too far off the mark either, and if you see Fluttershy-unicorn, you are correct — she should bear a grade of similarity by the author's intention.

But in fact Solid Line is a tiny bit more distant from Fluttershy. As in cover art she is.

(in case of anyone interested, her magic goes as #fff8dc, mane as #FF7F50, coat as #f8f32b and eyes as #77dd77)

Comments

[Numinos]

Well, it's nice to see story plot points and turns slowly morph from shattered preconceptions to clarifications : ) Which means that I somewhat understand now the rules of this world. I'm probably still wrong on some, but still.

So we have an official villain now?