Chapter 41 - The Illusion (Retitled)
Choose... Choose... Choose...
What an incredibly overblown way to say 'your opinion doesn't matter, now say what I want.'
Light Flow had never wanted to flaunt survival to punch somepony so badly in his life.
His head lolled from side to side in a boneless display of indecision; each completed arc punctuated with a sufferingly drawn-out hem or haw. His eyes were set with wandering from spot to random spot as aimlessly as anything he had ever seen Pinkie Pie do, with as little agency as anything Rainbow Dash did.
Huh. Those names again, after seeing and thinking them all day... It was kind of sad in a blissfully unurgent way to realize just how few ponies he knew. How many was it- seven, or something? Gee, what a pariah he was.
It was all by choice, certainly; but maybe- just maybe: it wouldn't be horrible, mind-melting torture to make the barest, bleeding hint of an attempt at broadening his social circle. It'd give him something to do.
If- quite obviously- the apocalypse was put on hold. Definitely probably maybe on the agenda after this, though.
It was a possibility.
With the neat wrapping of yet another pointless tangent, his head made yet another tick of a pass with yet another tock of a hum. His eyes found themselves solidly occupied by the incredibly important task of counting lines in the far wall, but he was still able to feel more than definitively see the hemorrhaging glare that followed carefully behind his every action.
Nightmare Moon looked an awful lot like a cat, now that he thought about it... She had the eyes and airs to match, obviously; but what he hadn't considered- amidst the weird feelings of awe and strangely provocative fear- was just how much Her posture added to the feline image. He was pretty sure he had seen that demon cat of Rarity's posing in that exact stiff-backed, wide-eyed crouch that She seemed so stuck in.
Now, that considered, the question remained: which of them was more dangerous?
With as much clarity as the real articles, his mental pictures of the two creatures came to a cross-section in his head like painfully prepared photos hung to develop, and the giggle that he quickly killed in his chest was the smattering of life-ruining light that he tried to hide by hurriedly glancing toward the bare wall. His next lulling hum doubled in compensating intensity to mask the offensively offending noise, but it probably wasn't likely She'd heard either way.
It had been more than a minute since his answer was likely expected, and nearly all of the time had been whittled away with such similar frivolities as feline pondering. Was it insulting to take what was probably a transparently verbose moment to come up with an answer to a question that- for all the illusion of choice gleamed- really only had one?
Yes, absolutely. He was more than obviously mocking Her in one of the most foalish ways he could think of. But honestly: if he didn't take every single petty moment he could to get on Nightmare Moon's nerves while it was easy, then he didn't think he would ever be able to truly forgive himself. Sure, he could pretend like the devastating loss to his incredible snarking record didn't bother him, but he would always feel it in his heart. Like a hole that could never fill; no matter how sarcastic or snide he managed to be to ponies that probably didn't deserve it. It would be a hollow succor to a life bereft of the ultimate in snide acts of spite; like an offering of dirty gutter water after denying a drink from a pure spring. He would idle the rest of his days away in inconsolable melancholy like the most timeworn and washed up stallion that ever had any modicum of success; undoubtedly cursing this moment- and certainly himself above all else- for slipping by so quietly without so much as a measly sarcastic snort. Why, oh why hadn't he said something about Her galactically large behind?!
Okay, he was beginning to feel palpable heat burning his coat, it was probably time to stop edging the terrifyingly powerful moon Goddess. As contrarily funny as it somehow managed to be.
Despite the screaming reminder of the ever increasing sense of danger to him and his various parts, he let his head loll back against his neck with one last, especially grand hum for stupidly good measure; before he righted himself to the sight before him.
Nightmare Moon didn't look so happy, with what little he could see of Her corded neck straining and veining against the constraining space of boredom that had set in while he whiled. A pot boiling over, She was. Eyes narrowed and cold; and jaw set down to a tight squeeze below the pointy reminder of many terrifying fangs-
Oh yeah, She had fangs, too.
He couldn't help himself. The thought that creeped its way into his head was as invincible as it was incorrigible, and it stole his faculties immediately away for one hilarious moment. The snort of a laugh that suddenly held his life precariously hostile was as threatening as any act of stupid defiance could lie awake at night hoping to be, and it took real force of will to ensure it was entirely and quietly snuffed.
The crisis apparent to nopony but himself cleared up with the very nosy nopony named the wiser: he cleared his throat in a very professional, briskly, brusque manner. He was very cognizant of the serious severity of the situation, and he definitely wasn't compensating for any kind of deep-rooted, paralyzing fear.
He set his eyes onto a slotted pair that seemed to be seriously considering some kind of forceful egress on his unwitting part; though there was a real chance behind the curiosity that said egress might be both real and painful.
Best to stop delaying, quickly. "Well, I don't see how I could refuse such a clearly..." His eyes wandered as he hung on the linguistical cliff of his own words, as he made a show of searching for a word he already knew. "..magnanimous offer; so... I'll play," he affirmed with a breath and a nod, as well as a fair amount of posture.
"For the record: I don't know how whatever's coming next could be considered a game, but... well- you're the Goddess here..." He tried to look disinterested as he threw the bordered insult at Her, but he couldn't help himself from stealing glimpses at Her frowning face.
After all: he was going to be playing Her 'game' no matter what he did or didn't say; this whole spectacle was just another weird facet of the whole twisted debacle.
A coping mechanism, he'd say; if he ever got the chance to throw it in Her face.
Her redundant confirmation finally received, Nightmare Moon's lips rose in a mocking snarl. A wide show of glinting teeth and roused anger that served as a tidy reminder of why his choices might have been a bit ill-considered. "How simple a farce you would subject me to. Do you not see your tawdry efforts to stall as laughably obvious?" Her head spun in a tight, derisive circle as She nearly audibly growled through her fangs. "Have you anything else to say for my time lost, or is this the urgency that you might direct all of our proceedings with?"
His immediate expression was one of guarded indignance, though the lack of true, dangerous malice in Her drawn lips made it easier to mold the- admittedly- overly aired expression.
She thought he was stalling, did She? Well She was right, but Tartarus be damned if he wasn't going to take this opportunity to stall even more, shame on Her.
"Well, it's possible that I may have been- as you said- stalling." He allowed his hoof to lay over his chest, and his snout to follow his eyes as they both fell to a low, floor-adjacent bow. "Or, as an alternative: I could have simply been affording your generous offering all of the most thoughtful and thorough consideration it is rightfully due."
His eyes crept open the merest sliver to afford him sight of the steaming sentiment on Her face. "...Such is befit for your station, majesty."
Now that was sure to sting. A reference to the nobility She once apparently had by right, now to be regained through bloody, miserable conquest? Talk about salt in a gaping hole.
He was a master of drawing things out. Some would say it was his natural instinct. And by 'some' he meant Applejack, and by 'natural instinct' he meant purposeful annoyance.
For a moment of flashing danger in those unnatural eyes, he thought he might've gone too far in his needling. A single moment of possible recompense, where his put-on bluster nearly wavered. But given the immediate lack of surging power leaping from Her horn to tear him limb from limb in the following moments, it seemed She managed to keep a tight lid on Her emotions.
Nightmare Moon merely simmered in a straining seethe for a moment, before roughly throwing Her head aside. "If you're to play, then cease your stalling and play!" She snapped, as the thrumming bass from her shout reverberated in his ears.
Though Her eyes were off him for the moment, he could still hear the underlying attention in the impatient bark of Her voice. "My time in far less constraining circumstances is a precious commodity, child: so I'd see that you speed your theatrics to a less grating pace!"
The grinding emphasis on 'grating' may have invoked images of literal grinding, but it didn't do so much as to scratch his coat; as his face wizened with the welcome lines of contemplation. Sure, it was awfully intimidating when She yelled and made vague threats of death and destruction, but he was pretty sure She was just like that. Threats of bodily harm through gnashing fangs were just her thing.
It was hard for him to begrudge that, he was quite similar. Though, admittedly, he couldn't deny the fear of actually making Her mad was... somewhat sobering.
Memories of burning selves and golden rings scraped against his senses for a distracting moment; drawing his frown a different, deeper shade of melancholy blue.
It would be silly to say that he was afraid of finding out what Her wrath was like, because he already had a very clear picture.
But moving past that: what did She mean by 'constraining circumstances?'
The natural curve of his vision as it was posed let him see the subtle turn of Nightmare Moon's face as Her head turned imperceptibly, and one of Her unnaturally cat-like pupils came to rest on him under a fielded hood of lightly painted violet.
Nothing. No sign of the clear frustration She'd been posed to have at him. So much emotion and acted motion snuffed so inconspicuously out. Bashful indignance at his jabs: all gone; all replaced by coiled consideration, and tepid temperance.
Waiting and watching to see how he'd follow through, after She'd made sure to ham up especially for him.
Was that realization part of it? Another part of his 'test?'
His own eyes came to a drifting close as he took a deep, filling breath. The deprivation came with a drawing, welcoming focus, and a solid reaffirmation of solidity that helped to wash down a creeping feeling of sickness rising in his throat.
It was a game; it was a test. She was just playing with him- testing him. Nothing could be taken at face value.
Don't get invested, idiot.
The insult taken like a splash of cold water from his personal well of hostility brought a fuzzy feeling of competence rushing back to fill where a single shot look had shoveled it out. He knew it was an odd sight: as he shook his head roughly from side to side while making flapping noises with his lips, but it was all about completing the metaphor.
It just made the picture fit in his head. Stupid and dog-like though it was.
A few seconds later, and speculatively dried from his action: he set his stare forward with a swish of his mane and a huff from his throat. Was he standing taller? Probably just his imagination, though he did absently shuffle his hooves a bit more broadly on the floor.
Well, he could at least count the defeat of that soul-crushing, absent stare as a victory from his dog-like behavior, though he wasn't sure if he really preferred the mixed stare of confusion and deprecation Nightmare Moon was now affixing to his forehead.
He had just shook his head around like a dog, hadn't he? No more than a few seconds ago- and he hadn't had a single problem with it.
'Fool' seemed to ring out in the empty space of his head like a broken, off-tune chorus; never ceasing in volume as it continually crescendo'd repeatedly again and again until he wasn't sure the joke about his head being empty was a joke anymore and suddenly maybe his face might have been flushing and wow he was regretting doing that in front of the Goddess who was already known for making claims at being akin to his mother. Embarrassment layered on embarrassment like some kind of horrifying mistake cake.
He was an idiot, but he kept a sure smile anyway. Just because, apparently.
"We- I- Are you-" She started, wholly uncharacteristically with a falter to her speech that widened his own eyes as Nightmare Moon's jaw worked for an astonished, silent moment.
"Child," She continued after yet another moment which She took to stare out of a window with a creased brow. "..have you certainty that you've a firm grasp on-" Her sentence trailed off as Her lips began to form around a particular word, before She seemingly thought against it, and continued after yet another long moment of staring at him. "-the situation?"
While Her composure may have fallen for a moment, whatever bewildered daze he had sent Her into was quickly fading away. Her eyes bled their confusion into suspicious skepticism, though there was also a strange measure of... concern? Eugh, that was a skeevy feeling. "You seem.. at the kindest estimation I could make... Oh, how might I put it gently..?" She shook Her head, and sighed; before settling a disgustingly pitying look on him. "Beleaguered."
Okay, he wasn't smiling anymore, and he was no longer wondering whether he was blushing. "Yes!" The answer came too quickly to be anything less than knee-jerk, and the instinct to bite the bark back nipped at his neck in a panic.
Where had his charisma gone? Where was the confident, self-assured, well-spoken Light Flow?
Out the window, apparently. So long competence.
He turned his gaze to the inky abyss of the unlit ceiling for a frustrating moment as he seethed in quiet anger at himself, before the sound of his own teeth grinding eventually brought him the strength to calmly turn back to the worsening levels of questioning skepticism on Nightmare Moon's face.
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm ready to make my first guess," he said as slowly and firmly as he could manage, though he wasn't sure his splintering sense of confidence didn't just make him sound wooden.
He had to stay focused- stay on target! Now wasn't the time for overwhelming sentiment tripping the scene at every corner, and he didn't care how much of a script he had to craft for himself to roll the ball.
It didn't hurt that the faster he carted them towards the goal, the further behind they left his embarrassing blunder. Nope, not much of a downside at all. It was really about getting his answers, though.
Ulterior motives weren't a thing, and he was nothing if not always one-hundred percent sincere. Applejack would probably vouch for that, as long as he had a chance to ask her to lie first. She was reliable for that kind of thing at least thirty percent of the time, and those odds sounded good to reality-deprived him.
Nightmare Moon was still staring with a questioning eyebrow and a painfully non-hostile frown, so he turned his face pointedly away as he made a show of deep consideration.
Though, truthfully: there wasn't much to consider. It hadn't been too hard to puzzle out the answer to his own question under duress. It was pretty self-explanatory, actually; so much so that he kind of felt dumb for asking in the first place.
Oh well, maybe he was dumb. It'd take a bit of the pressure off.
He didn't especially mind the redundancy, though. Some hard confirmation after so long waiting and wandering blindly in the dark; it'd be such a relief to finally shed some light.
He turned to eye the waiting Goddess, who seemed to be proving his descriptor quite readily with nearly genuine interest glimmering behind the regular general contempt and antipathy. Still all those different types of intimidating and terrifying, though; that wasn't going to change anytime soon.
"The reason you've brought me here..." He spoke slowly with a tilt to his head, as he eased his tentative guess into the air as non-confrontationally as he could manage. "..is because... you need me, right?"
The instant disappointment setting Nightmare Moon's face askew was an excellent lip-loosener, and the momentary pause he was taking to think ended much faster than he'd planned. "Because- I'm important, right? I'm uh... there's some specific thing I can do that... you... need."
Her eyebrow rose, nearly disappearing behind the cool blue steel of Her helmet.
He squinted at the expression. Was that vague interest or contempt? It was so hard to tell... He'd been taught- by Her, of course- to base his tone and tense on the reactions of his conversational partner, but She just gave no tells. Aside from the overly dramatic, wholly exaggerated motions She made for his benefit, it was more or less just a barely differing wall of scorn or predatory curiosity.
Frustrating. Purposefully frustrating.
He grit his teeth in a grimace as Her face just... kept searching for more. What did She want from him? What else could he say to narrow it down? He hadn't been expecting this pressing need for depth to his answer. How descript did She want him to be? "That thing.." he ground out, just to fill the lengthening pause as he reached for any sort of desperate conclusion.
What could it be; what could it be?! Why did She need him?
Maybe... Maybe if he thought in the opposite direction. Stop looking under rocks for some mythical catch-all, and try consolidating and eliminating definite possibilities.
What did he have, besides a clever tongue and a played-out wit?
....
Well, that didn't leave too many options left, now did it?
He had a high reading comprehension, though that was tempered by his general lack of drive... His mana fount was slightly larger than what was average for a unicorn, though he'd never put much time into general expanding exercises, so he was probably still behind the curve, there...
Seriously, why had she picked him?
He... no, that wasn't considered a good thing... He could- no, that was dumb to even consider. There was that one time... actually, that was probably more luck than anything else.
He... had a special talent in Necromancy?
Was it that obvious? Could it be? But... wasn't that just implied, though? That was obviously why She'd so parasitically attached Herself to him... It couldn't just be that he had a talent for raising the dead... One that he'd never even used, no less..
What had he asked in the first place, again?
If he hadn't been under intense scrutiny, he would have smacked himself in the face. It was no use, his thoughts had taken a nosedive. It probably wouldn't hurt to just throw a guess at this point; not like he was getting anywhere else.
He sucked his lip back in a pained seethe for a squinted moment as he inwardly cursed his lack of foresight, before he took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and took a painful bite of the bit. "...my talent for Necromancy? Is the thing..?"
It was a quiet moment following in the wake of his question. Even as his head slightly tilted back in preparation for rebuke, he could already see the problem; hear it, even.
He'd been meant to answer, not ask.
His eyes inched open, and immediately he could see it on Her face; in the subtle, deepening line of her clenching jaw, and the fighting curve of a restrained snarl. If he'd been taking a written test, he would've just been deducted points.
But luckily, he wasn't being marked; at least, not in the traditional sense. However much Nightmare Moon must have disapproved of his general lack of charisma, it was mostly lost in the rushing tides that made up the mighty ocean of disdain She held for life itself.
That is, to say: She didn't look all that madder than what he was taking as usual.
So, She merely tilted Her head up the barest inch, and narrowed Her violet-shaded eyes. "...You've an awful amount of hesitation, child. I thought you'd found some measure of inner peace." She shook Her head as She spoke, a heavy undertone beneath a tone already laden with crushing weight. "I suppose there is no matter. You've your right to act in any way you please, mouse-like or no."
He bristled at that, even as She turned Her head in a haughty huff. His shoulders, sagged as they were from his so-called 'mouse-like behavior', squared once more in a resemblance of his former defiance, as his drooping ears pricked to attention.
Just because he was an idiot didn't mean She had to obliquely point it out. There was simply no need to be so plainly rude. Weren't they meant to be having a discussion, like civilized ponies?
Why, he'd half a mind to hoof Her the other half! The angry half!
His teeth ground in considering consternation for a moment, before he opened his mouth to deliver a scathing condemnation that was sure to-
"Incidentally," She added, stopping his insults on his tongue even as they began to burn. "-you're incorrect. Your special connection to the passed isn't why you were brought for this night."
So casual; thrown out onto his frozen face like a blistering egg. A prompt statement of facts, from the tone of Her voice, simply as though this was a discussion of the weather.
'You fail, idiot; also, it rained yesterday.'
It was the sincere lack of care in Her voice that really hurt. In fact, he probably would have felt less physically stunned had She simply slapped him, or called him an imbecile. A straight-forward mocking probably would have hurt less, and certainly been less surprising.
As it was, he was left standing like a once-confident confident statue with its mouth open for birds. He could barely even blink, as many different, new questions crowded to be the first to roll out of his gaping maw.
What now? What happened when he got an answer wrong? Could he still know the right answer? At least a hint to it?
Was this when She murdered him?
All very important questions to his panicking mind that he, quite unfortunately, never got the chance to ask: as Nightmare Moon turned Her head back about-face with a suffering sigh. A long, drawn-out sigh that one would expect to hear from a disappointed parent; or some other metaphor because he didn't really like that one.
"What a terrible shame. And I mean that, truly." The emphasizing hoof she easily threw onto her chest somehow made him doubt that. Maybe it was the clear sarcastic inflection in Her voice. "That you would choose the simplest, most uncomplicated question from the entire library of unanswered questions in your head: and still fail."
She shook Her head, and- Okay, he was going to pretend like She hadn't just wiped a real tear from Her eye, because it was less impressive to think that She had simply mimed it. "And so badly, too. To choose an answer so incredibly removed from the correct realm of answers.. The least creative answer you could have given... Oh the tragedy."
"What a loss. What a tremendous loss... If only you had some sort of extra chance." An exception, tossed like sweet candy in front of a salivating foal. Hooded eyes raised like purple curtains, drawing a show to a silver smile set with silver fangs, that all dulled in comparison to an even shinier tongue.
"Yes," She hissed, as the acted mask of pity began to flake off; to reveal the uncounted depths of cunning beneath. "If only the big bad tyrant would grant poor little you a mulligan."
A mulligan? Like- like in golf?
How did She know what that meant? No, scratch that thought- She was allowing him another chance! Albeit in the form of a theatrical repeal; but She wouldn't have said it if She wasn't giving it to him!
The curse was broken, and he was miraculously thawed from his inexplicable prison of stone. His mouth was already open from the beginning of his now-dead rant, so with a swish of moistening saliva he opened again to-
Whatever exclamation he was about to mindlessly throw: it, too, died on the graveyard of his tongue. In a painfully edging preemption, Nightmare Moon's voice raised in yet another contradiction; as She shook off Her played theatrics, and adopted a business-like tone.
"But it is only one. A single exception." She preceded with a counted nod, before raising Herself even further up to a wholly unnecessary tower, as Her voice gained a yet-unnecessary stroke of grandness. "This one time, putting aside all of my posturing and playing, for the sheer sake of brevity: I will allow not a second try, but an entire supersession."
The atmosphere changed so quickly from the hammy acting, he almost didn't take Her seriously at first. It was a quiet moment of waiting for a punchline; before, with a sobering breath of cold air, he registered the hard steel glimmering in Her eyes.
She was serious. She was letting his mistake slide, but only just. He wouldn't have that kindness again.
Her eyes narrowed from their already positionally narrowed stare, as if to reinforce the warning. "You were not entirely off the mark; merely arriving at the wrong conclusion. Your guess holds, barely, up to merit; so in the interest of my time, I will give you your sought answers."
It was a silent moment after that, as She seemingly gave him a moment to himself that he gladly took to reorient. He blinked, perhaps a few too many times, as he stared sightlessly at the floor in front of him; each quick close the mark left from a jump in thought.
Okay, he'd gotten it wrong, but only his conclusion., apparently? He wasn't here specifically tonight because he could do Necromancy; which made a certain amount of sense, because he couldn't, really.
But, even though he'd been wrong, She was just letting him pass. A breathtaking display of magnanimity from somepony like Her, though She'd certainly made it clear that speeding things along was chiefly in Her interest. It kind of cheapened the sentiment, but that was probably a good thing in the end.
What was he here for, then? What other talent did he possess that She was going to make use of?
Well, She was going to tell him, wasn't She?
He turned back up to Nightmare Moon's awaiting gaze with perhaps too much wonder, but it was so hard to help it. The siren scent of knowledge was tickling his senses, and he was just burning to get an answer or seven. The clear satisfaction that wrote itself across Her face as he tuned in also wasn't much of a downside, if only because it wasn't derision for once.
In the ever-present air of danger and hostility that he'd probably be floating in for anywhere between the next couple hours and the rest of his life, it was nice to see something positive. Approaching positive, at least; smugness wasn't quite on the level of, say: joy or empathy.
He'd take it, though.
"Ah, how delightful," She murmured, as Her resting frown turned up to a curled, decadent smile. "To be so naively attended; as a child to a mentor. It's nearly enough to bring me to reminisce on our..." She paused for a moment, as some sort of mockery to a facsimile of wistfulness colored the breath of Her voice.
"...shared past."
She chuckled luxuriously at that, as the sultry silk in Her tone rubbed squeamishly against the tips of his fur. It was nauseating, just how much sly definition there was to Her voice. Like a beautiful stranger stopping to compliment him on the street, then walking away with his wallet.
He shuddered, though not from the cold.
Their shared past.
It was enough to have the vague thought at hoof's length to obliquely recall and then immediately push away, he didn't really want to remember any specifics.
Ethereal, sometimes ephemeral encounters whittled away when he slept, as She forced Herself into his subconscious. Mere suggestions of the meta ideas of personal meetings, where She would direct Her appearance with an uncomfortable amount of forced familiarity.
There, in his dreamscape, where She brought him to meet with Her every other night: She would 'teach' him. Supplicants and suggestions in the form of powerful insertions. Subliminal messages implanted like corrupting little seeds; to grow and fester as he woke up each morning none the wiser, just a little more changed from the pony who fell asleep.
Knowledge and information. Ideas and improvements. Nips and tucks to mold a mind like clay.
His own supplied metaphor was a cold, chilling shock, and his mind returned in a sudden jump from the very bad place it had gone to find a rising burn of acid in his throat.
That was probably enough of that. The topic found itself summarily pushed back to some dark little corner of his mind; to rot, as it should've.
He really didn't like thinking about it.
His face a little green: he wiped his hoof roughly against his suddenly sweaty forehead, and shot a glance up to the still-smug face of Nightmare Moon. "I'm.. not sure this is entirely like... that," he supplied weakly. The memory of earnest curiosity was as apt in his naming as Nightmare Moon's face was smug, and it continued that way in spite of him.
She merely chuckled that creeping chuckle again, before letting out an emphasized sigh. "You've such a committal to refusing what we've shared together; it's nearly an insult at this point, child." She reached one, expecially long hoof up to rub in a slow circle on Her chest, as he watched warily. "Oh, such a wound, such a wound from one who I would so graciously offer an invitation to my family."
The cloying affectation of mocking affection brought a disgusted grimace to his face, as Nightmare Moon continued to rub small circles into the breast of Her chest. It was an uncomfortable spectacle for more than one reason, even completely disregarding the possible undertones.
Lap on lap of completed rounds in its dead center, until one pass made a detour; and, before his widening eyes: the tip of Her coldly-clad hoof pressed in, and began to tear a blooded line into Her own chest.
He bit back a sharp gasp as the blunted edge dragged down through black fur and flesh alike in a graceful glide, before taking a sharp turn upwards to leave a curved point. The drawn line ran up again in a lazy swoop, then arced twice in quick succession to cut itself off where it began.
A perfect little heart, in one quick, robotic motion.
Its work done: the splotched, stained shoe hovered just next to the completed act of self-mutilation. Angry red smears painted across otherwise pristine plating, as the same strawberry paint began to leak down across Her fur, and out of the messily carved self-section.
He knew he was panicking in the back of his mind, but- maybe it was the shock- he couldn't help but admire the cut, in a way. For all its barbarism: It somehow managed to be pretty and ugly at the same time.
The entire shape was one, clear line; nearly perfectly straight and measured, as if cut with an unfeeling tool rather than Her own Hoof. Yet, for its admirable precision, the shear was still jagged and rough, and blood seeped and gushed freely from the fleshy chunks like a spout. A wetly accented mark, left to carelessly dry on an easel.
He was breathing, heavily; nearly so hard that he might've been on the verge of hyperventilation. He had just- She had just-
He flicked a wobbling gaze up to the face of the butcherer, caught in the act of performing Her sick craft on none other than Herself. What would the face of such a monster look like? Mad and raving, like an unhinged psychopath? Cold and unfeeling, like a thoughtless sociopath?
What he'd never expected, though, was a smile.
Smiling, like a knowing trickster. Fangs like little diamonds shimmered in the low moonlight, as Her hooded eyes cast deep black ravines with echoes of laughter at their bottoms.
"Why, whatever is the matter, child?" She whispered; though it could've been a shout, because he was finding it a little hard to hear over the pounding in his ears. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."
Little slivers of teeth drew back behind their cover, as She hummed an amused question into the air. So careless, so free; as if nothing at all had just happened. Her chest remained proudly thrust into the air, displayed like some kind of prized piece of art.
Each breath as it came to his chest hurt, more and more as he struggled to just simply breathe. The background of the scene blurred and ran together like dribbling paint as his vision narrowed on the subtly laughing lines of Her face, nearly hidden behind the screaming phantom images of bloody hearts that wouldn't go away no mater how many times he blinked.
He could barely hear the quiet ambiance of the night anymore; it was all drowned out in a slowly rising motion of pumping and voiceless echoes. The recognizable sound of the beat of his heart that somehow managed to rise above the screaming brought a flicker of hope through the fear; that there might have been some connection to something that wasn't mania.
But it was false. The steady thrum in his ears was hollow, like an empty promise. Each ringing beat held undertones of grief; each bell toll a great tick in a resounding series of flinching tocks.
His heart was playing a funeral march to him.
Everything felt so large and slow all of a sudden, like he was floating underwater. A quiet sink down to the depths of an abyss, as the already dragged-together surrounds slowly began to dribble down bright red.
What was happening? Was he having a panic attack? He'd had them in the past, and they had never felt like this. It was more like a fever dream than anything. A waking fever dream.
He had to center himself. He was afraid, more than anything else: but he could still think. Regardless of the circumstances, this shouldn't have been freaking him out- and warping his perception, apparently.
He was used to blood. He liked the sight of blood, he had forced himself to! He had once licked the blood off of a corpse! Why was this happening to him?! It was taking everything he had just to stay rational!
His skin felt itchy, hot and clammy all at the same time, like there was something wriggling just beneath the surface threatening to rip itself out. It was a concentrated effort just to keep his hooves from making a frenzied effort to tear his own flesh off, and to instead track his gaze back down to-
Nothing. A slowly circling hoof that had never stopped, over clean, unblemished fur.
The next breath was like breaching into open air, and the sudden shock nearly left him breathless again; as every manic sensation plaguing him crashed to a quiet stop, all at once. He stumbled back as a nameless sense of vertigo swept through his mind like a wave, nearly falling off of solid hooves that he thought had long since melted into a slurried mess.
His first instincts kicked in, and his eyes swept to the environment around him in an analyzing panic. Where he half-expected to see the walls still melting into gradient palettes, they were just.. normal. As they were supposed to be, but hadn't been.
His hoof leapt to his head- to check that it hadn't burst open- then to his chest, to make sure his heart was beating.
His breathing was unhindered, his heartbeat was fast but quiet, and the walls were no longer running red with the blood of bunnies and mice. Nothing hurt, nothing itched, and all he could hear was his own steady breathing.
"So, shall we begin, my attentive little student?"
He blinked, and the hoof was gone from Her still-perfect chest. The urge to fall back into hyperventilation for the sake of it burned in his chest like a parasite, even as he managed an unfocused stare up at the quietly satisfied smile on Nightmare Moon's face.
As though nothing had happened.
"What- I- I don't-" he stammered, as he blinked rapidly to clear quickly fading flashes of exaggerated gore and viscera. Each chilling feeling that had stabbed him through like vicious little knives had been cleared away in an instant, but his hooves were quickly growing clammy in a strange sense of repetitive déjà vu.
His entire palette had been cleansed with a simple reset to his old state, but whatever had happened in the interim was completely disturbing. Nothing felt right, even as he stood somewhat weakly in complete normalcy. It was like his body was trying to bring him back into that state, just because he had left it so unnaturally quickly.
What else was it like...? It was like... it was like every one of his senses had been shoved into a whirring fan, and the resulting mush had just been sculpted back into the shape of normalcy with magic.
Magic..?
Lights sprung to flickering life and sudden connections formed and linked in his head like arcing chains of electricity. His eyes snapped up, past the waiting gaze set on him, to the long, sharp spire that rose from a cool curve of metal.
Had he seen it? Could it be possible, in the very corner of his eye while he so stupidly looked exactly where She'd wanted him to...?
Had he seen a blue shimmer? A cloudy wisp of nearly purple light; set aside and distinct from the formless mass of starry substance that floated in a perpetual haze around Her head?
His breathing quickened as he took a single, shaky step forward; only barely managing to stop himself from running full-pelt towards the memories he was replaying in his head.
A hoof circling around black fur, and then- no, before that. If he strained, if he focused-
She'd used magic on him.
"You did something." The words he'd meant as a whisper came out nearly at normal volume, as a spreading feeling of anger and strange hurt grasped tightly onto his throat. His own voice hurt his ears, and they flattened against his head in a nervous tic as Nightmare Moon's eyebrow quirked at him.
She hummed questioningly; a noise painfully reminiscent of her similar action during his apparently forced time of duress. "You've something to say? You are holding our progress along, you realize?" She queried, though it was just a mockery beneath the fake sincerity and the veneer of loftiness, and the- the-
"You used magic on me!" He shouted, on purpose now; while some measure of hidden inner strength pushed him to a familiar place of confidence. Indignance, anger, betrayal; how could She?!
He took another step forward, closer now to Her than he'd been since he'd awoken. He stomped his hoof as he stared up with a nearly knotted brow. "Back there- when you were rubbing your chest, you did something to me!
"Some- Some kind of sick, freakish- A- A twisted- I- I can't even-" he struggled out through hot gasping breaths, and shook his head in disbelief as reels of flicking snippets from his brief mania played on repeat between every hard edged blink.
It was surreal to step back and think about, in a way. Really just take a good look, and categorize the experience. Write impassive notes on the experience, and box it away for filing.
Things like that had happened to him before; many times, in fact. Seeing things... Difficulty breathing... Noises like pounding and screaming... Even that vague feeling of floating underwater- it was all routine. He'd danced the dance of the maniacs so many times, it was practically muscle-memory to have a breakdown.
Nothing new, nothing lastingly affective; so why did he feel so...
"You promised not to... not to do that." he ground out through gritted teeth and strained eyes. His throat was tight and dry, difficult to force words through; though his eyes didn't seem to be much affected by the drought, traitorous and reflective of his emotional state as they were.
He blinked away gathering warmth, and shook his head against the clog of indeterminate, rushing noise that pressed against his flattened ears. He wasn't going to cry, he couldn't; not now. If he broke down in a childish little fit because the big bad boogeymare betrayed him, then he was going to lose.
He still had no idea what 'losing' actually meant, here; but he wasn't about to find out because She'd cheated.
He swept his hoof across his weak, weepy eyes, and went to work on noisily clearing his throat. Nightmare Moon didn't look much more repulsed at his quiet hacking noises than She normally did, but that might've been because She was pressing Her hoof to Her chin, and staring off into the empty distance.
"A promise... a promise..." She muttered thoughtfully, as She slowly tapped the clean metal tip of Her horseshoe against Her chin. Whatever vain thing She was searching for up in the hidden rafters, it must have run wisely away from Her: as She eventually turned Her gaze back to him with a hard frown. "Remind me, I can't quite recall such an exchange."
It might've been shock, or it might've just been plain offense, but either way: his mouth hung low as he breathlessly took in the sheer gall of Her words.
She couldn't recall it? There was just- She was- Oh, it was so obvious what She was doing; did She think he was stupid or something?! Of all the-
He lifted his hoof to point menacingly at the calm mask of indifference that was Nightmare Moon, and drew in a deep breath as he spoke as strongly as he could, straight from his chest. "You said-"
But, as it so often seemed to be, he didn't have a chance to finish. The first chesty bellow had barely cleared his lip before it was entirely overshadowed by the much larger impact that was Nightmare Moon.
Like a whistling bolt from a crossbow, Her hoof blurred from the air to solidly impact the ground with what was probably the loudest noise he'd ever heard. The audible sound of cracking stone somehow reached him first, before the nearly tangible force of the bang hit him like a speeding carriage.
The immediate pressure on his head was so incredibly overbearing, his legs gave out from under him, and he crashed roughly to the floor.
Or, maybe the noise was so loud, he had reflexively covered his now aching ears, leaving him without support.
It was honestly hard to tell, because all he knew for sure was that his name was Light Flow, that Nightmare Moon had hit the ground, and now he was laying down with his hooves over his ears. It'd happened between one blink and the next, and everything else seemed a bit jumbled.
At least he hadn't lost his memory again.
The noise wasn't quite so loud that ringing had taken his hearing's place- it hadn't deafened him, somehow- so he was unfortunately still able to hear as Nightmare Moon began to speak.
"What I said," She whispered, or maybe She just said it normally; things were still kind of ambiently quiet to his ears. "-was that your mind would be your own."
The pounding of his heart began to abate as his mind slowly understood that the loud noise wasn't the precursor to violence and pain; and- as the roaring echoes that might've just been in his head began to quiet- he could hear that Nightmare Moon was speaking at a normal- albeit, hoof-muffled- volume.
"-And that was all. I'll not hide that your visions were my doing. I will not coyly hint at my involvement as my sister would; but I made no such claim at passivity. Any such appearance was simply that: and perhaps yet another delusion of your own making."
As She spoke, and as his spirits fell more and more with the weight of her frosty demeanor: he was making a struggle onto his hooves. His ears were the only thing physically damaged, but She was battering his spirit so effectively that it was an effort just to get his front hooves under him. Certainly quite difficult to get his eyes up to catch Her face as She finished speaking.
"As it is, child: there is nothing stopping me from doing whatsoever I please with you."
Cold, prompt language; like stating an immutable fact.
His back legs were wobbly coming up behind him, shoring up his weight and pushing him up to a weakly standing position. His ears still felt a bit bruised, but not enough to hinder him, and they didn't stop him from taking a well-thought-out step back.
And another for good measure, to leave him approximately where he'd been when he'd woken up. He had no idea why it had seemed such a good plan to get closer to Her; since, in the end, all it had done was given him a better view as She set his ears on fire and took a spiked bat to his psyche.
He swallowed to wet his dry throat, and took a deep breath to try to corral his wandering thoughts. "Okay, that's- well, hurtful and- and concerning, but technically correct," he started unsteadily, as reconciling memories and snippets threatened to disperse at his words. "-though, while you're following the letter of what you said, you're- you're deliberately not following the spirit of-"
"Deliberate?" Nightmare Moon suddenly interjected, affront accenting Her normal tone of scorn. He raised his head from where he'd been burning a hole into the stone floor to see a deeper crease crossing through Her present frown. "You're claiming to know me being deliberate?"
He blinked owlishly as Nightmare Moon let out a single, humorless chuckle. It was more of an undefined exclamation, really; as She waved a hoof and nodded Her head in his direction. "I concede whatever meaningless point you seem stuck on; it so matters to me. I am more interested in your claim to know anything of what I mean, when you have ducked so low under the hanging point."
His lips touched quietly together as he repeatedly mouthed a soundless word, before the helpful memory of vocalization hit him. "The- the point?" he repeated woodenly, and maybe a little dumbly.
What point? What point was She talking about? All he could think about was the point of how entirely fickle She was; what else was there?
He felt clueless, and he knew it was showing on his face because of how gravely Nightmare Moon's expression soured. "I see," She muttered. "It's clear on your face: you're not even thinking of why I would subject you to such a waking terror."
He shook his head as Her words compounded, and absolutely failed to make sense. "Why- why you would do that? Um...?" He squinted, and blinked in disbelief as- every way he thought about it- no sensible reason for such a redundancy revealed itself.
What was She even talking about? She'd never needed a reason to terrorize him before, so... what was She looking for now?
After more thinking than was probably necessary, he focused back onto Nightmare Moon's curved line of a face, and shrugged. "Because.. you enjoy it, right? I don't..." He started as sincerely and honestly as he could, before he gradually tapered off as he grew unsure of his answer. This had to be a trick question.
He had barely begun to retreat into an intense round of contemplation before he was blindsided by the painful feeling of his chest compressing. He wheezed out in pain, and- through said pain- his eyes widened as the breath came out as frost.
In a single moment, the room had chilled, and all the air in his lungs was just pulled out.
It was only a single second that he took to gasp for suddenly lacking air, before he was falling back in fright from the sight of seemingly every muscle in Nightmare Moon's body tensing.
"You would dare?!" Her voice boomed through Her snarling fangs, somehow louder than the nearly deafening stomp She'd managed earlier. It was only the sheer force of the panic that overwhelmed his senses that saved him from screaming from the pain he only barely felt.
In a moment: Her eyes flashed with pure, white light; more blindingly saturated than any shade he'd ever seen the non-color before. It was so bright, he was still blinking away blind spots in his vision when She began to lurch forward onto Her hooves.
If he hadn't been completely paralyzed from the noise and the cold and the everything else happening too quickly, he would have taken the chance to run away as Her magnificent wingspan unfurled in a single moment to cut an intimidating, towering shadow.
He didn't think his heart could race any faster, but it managed somehow; seeing one massive hoof raised in the beginnings of a half-step as, for the first time in the night: She began to terrifyingly edge forward off the dais She'd been sitting on.
Except, as his wide eyes stared for the all-consuming fear he couldn't express, and his body geared itself up for the inevitable evisceration: She stopped.
In all his life: he had thought he'd known what it looked like to exercise restraint. A pony with a sad face, putting their bit bag away, as they said goodbye to a pretty bauble greedily sought.
He was wrong. No experience could have ever prepared him for the picture as it was before him, as Nightmare Moon seemed to entirely freeze in one still frame.
Every muscle, pulled and loosened to pounce. All of them: completely motionless.
Her pupils, small, shaking and frenzied as they had been, began to slowly widen in a pooling puddle; while Her nostrils flared in hot, heavy breaths. Thin, dark skin fell like a curtain over one terrifying row of more pointed teeth than he'd ever expected to see, as Her predatory show of Her jaws came to a close.
Her raised hoof shakingly lowered back to the marred stone platform, and She leaned back off the expectant edge; though She stayed standing. Glorious, powerful wings spread in the beginnings of a targeted takeoff slowly furled back down; curling and folding in careful, complex ways until their entire length was hidden in lumps on Her back.
As the temperature gradually rose, She just stood there: eyes focused entirely on his prone form, heaving each breath like every one was an effort. Her cavernous, unblinking eyes spoke wild tales of indescribable carnage that was thankfully being snuffed out beneath returning lucidity.
As for himself: he wasn't doing much better. He hadn't quite gone as far as to collapse onto his back or side, and had simply settled for his butt in the negative heat of the moment. That wasn't to say he wasn't completely ruined, though.
His head pounded with the draining force of adrenaline that had ineffectually shot through him, for all the good it had done. His chest shook with each paralyzing breath, and he counted each one with thankful whispers that they hadn't been his last.
She had nearly just attacked him. Actually, somepony like Her: She had just nearly killed him.
He didn't know what to think, anymore.
It was a long while before either of them spoke again, with little else to listen to besides their own heavy breathing. Of course, whatever Her problem might've been, Nightmare Moon recovered faster than him. While he was still sitting shell-shocked on his butt: She was closing Her eyes with one last deep sigh, and opening them with carefully killed emotion.
She stayed like that for another long moment, just staring at his panting form with hooded eyes and indiscernible traces of melancholy. Finally, to his indescribable relief, She sat back down.
Her head turned to regard the broken window to Her immediate side, blinking deeply and letting out a lethargic sigh. "I think..." She whispered, and his ears turned to attention as they caught what he could have sworn was... regret?
Her frown pulled Her gaze down, as She pointedly stared to the direct side of him. "...I think you are not entirely wrong."
The urge to double-take was overpowering for a moment, and his ears flicked multiple times as he replayed those words over and over in his head. It wasn't quite about the message of them, but the tone.
Her voice was... soft. Plain and forthright, not drawled or husky like Her regular speaking voice. It... He didn't remember any time She'd ever sounded like that.
Simple, but cultured. Entirely bereft of put-on accent or forced anger.
She sounded...
She sounded like a normal pony.
She sighed deeply, before setting Her gaze on him again. Something he hadn't even acknowledged cried out in discontent to see that Her eyes, while still not quite at their usual level of apathetic discontent, were quickly leaving what emotion he'd seen behind.
It was almost sad to watch, and he was sure the tangible progression of apathy would have affected him more had he not been...
Yeah, well.
Her voice was strengthening as well; regaining its regular accentuation of an accent, and shoring up with thick walls of sardonic scorn. One moment of pure, unguarded realism; and then, no more.
What a moment it was, though.
"But I am not the insane, murdering monster you wish to see me as. There was a clear reason behind my method, even if-" Her voice hitched strangely up at that, and Her mouth pulled back in a slight grimace at the clear fault. "-even if, perhaps, I could have been less... monstrous."
Her head turned away again as he stared in abject amazement. Her eyes narrowed, and Her mouth worked for a moment, as if She was considering something. The discrepancy moved along every hardly drawn line of Her face, until finally: Her head broke through the wave of tension with a tilt, and Her eyes closed.
"...There are few times when I actually wish to harm you, child... I-" She stopped for a moment to take a long, deep breath, before continuing in a determinably strong tone. "This one time... I will swallow my pride, and apologize. I was undeservedly hasty in my action; I should have been less careless with you, and what I meant of my intent."
Her mouth closed on the last syllable like a heavy, slamming door, and the clear, warring mess of contradicting contrition that followed on Her face was...
Well, he'd never expected to see anything like this.
Somewhere along the way he'd returned to his hooves, and now he was just staring with wonder and a slightly open mouth. Agog was a good word. He liked that word.
He'd be honest: any real, rational thought he probably should have been having was plainly lost somewhere amidst the... everything. Long roads of backed up mental traffic in every direction, so he was pretty content to just stare, for the moment.
Though Nightmare Moon didn't seem so content to be stared at. As if She sensed him staring: Her eyes quickly snapped open, and flicked down at him with an angered huff. Her teeth pulled back in a much less frightening snarl as She regarded him for a moment. "Do not misplace my affectation for affection! It is as I said: I am no monster, and I would stay that way by way of spare moments of humility!"
She turned away again with an exaggerated tilt; and, to his imagination, a pair of crossed hooves. "I have no wish for you to hate me, so I'd advise you simply place less stock in your own notions. Expect so little and you shall never find yourself in any state other than surprise. Competence be Tartarus-damned." She muttered, as She waged a frightfully vicious staring contest with a local wall.
Was he dreaming? Probably not, his dreams were just filled with much stricter versions of Her. As he could recall from uncountable dream encounters: She'd let Her guard down around him once or twice- not counting whatever had happened up in Her tower- but it had never been as... humble as this.
She'd certainly never apologized before; not so genuinely, at least.
Of course, most everything She'd just said to him was completely meaningless and actually sort of insulting in a way; but it was still a novelty to see the great Nightmare Queen who'd perversely twisted his mind show any modicum of remorse. Maybe even a little heartening, in that weird way.
Didn't even begin to make up for any of the things She'd done, but again: a novelty.
He pursed his lips and tongued his teeth as the urge for some sort of reply poked at him. Should he admonish Her? He was a bit upset that She would have any sort of gall to apologize, especially for something so comparatively tame.
'Oh, what's that? You're sorry for being hasty? Well, that just makes a lifetime of pain and torture all better! No need to account for the lasting damage I no doubt have, let's be a cute little family together!'
His expression soured as the mental joke landed, crashed, burned, and long overstayed its welcome in the form of a broken wreck of humor. Making fun of his trauma wasn't as funny as he'd been expecting.
That was going to make recovery harder, if he ever got out of this situation.
Suddenly, his lengthy musings were rudely and probably justifiably interrupted; and he started as a loud groan assaulted his ears. "Light Flow, would it be that we had the entire eve to wait for you to say something."
His eyes flicked up to- oh.
Sometime during his distracted thinking- which was an old, bad habit he shouldn't have been indulging in- Nightmare Moon's posture had changed. Though, rather than the previous, life-threatening route She'd gone, now it was a normal, luxuriating lay.
Where She was once sitting, She was now laying on Her stomach, with Her hooves crossed in a position eerily reminiscent of a joke he'd told himself earlier. It was less funny to imagine now that She was actually doing it, though.
Wasn't much funny about the way She was staring, either.
"I believe we've both stalled long enough," She blithely stated with a tepid look. Her new stature was far less of an imposition on him, but even being so horizontally diminished, Her voice still managed to make him feel so small. "I've no need of whatever sallow platitude you would throw my way. Save your breath; you may yet need it as we go."
He furrowed his brow, and opened his mouth in anticipation of an objection. He had things to say! He didn't quite know what they were yet, but he definitely wanted to say them!
Too little too late, apparently; Nightmare Moon was making a regular habit of cutting him off. "That is enough; take a seat, open your ears, and listen."
'Sit down, shut up; I'm talking.'
Rude.
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hmmmmmmmmmmm
I'm very glad this updated. Absolutely phenomenal chapter.
The questions keep piling on. Is this ever going to make sense?
11159130
maybe one day, if people keep asking
11158804
It's very heartening to hear you say that. In the time gone by, I nearly gave up on writing altogether; so it's extremely warming to hear that for all my doubts, people still enjoy my obtuse horsewords.
Glad you stuck around, I'll try not to give up this time.
11159161
You've got a very interesting story, and very entertaining characters. I hope you keep it up man, because this is extremely entertaining to read.
The good horse words grace us once again, loving the interaction between these two.
A great chapter all around
Yay your not dead! Also yay another chapter
Alrighty, so ch40...
He is the host of Nightmare ghost. Or not. Seems legit.
Next please.
MmmMmmmMmmMmmm horse words good, next chapter button is broken though.
11161096
I'm working on getting that fixed right away, sir.
Love your story and writing style. 👍
I swear reading this story from Light's perspective can end up feeling like a fever dream, but in a good way. I'll probably end up rereading the chapter or entire story up to now soon just to be able to understand his odd way of thinking again. Looking forward to the next chapter.
Light flow should be 19 or 20 now right? I don't remember his exact age.
I think it's been insinuated that he's autistic or something because he allow loses track of his thoughts and has terrible social skills, it's also because his mother died so young.
Reading from his perspective feel like reading a victorian era book where it takes two-thousand words to finish a paragraph about what he ate for breakfast while reading from other characters pov is much faster and clearer.
Nice to see you're still alive, looking forward to the next chapter. :-+)
11166269
Do you want to know something funny?
Not a single one of you ever even thought that calling myself something as cringy as an "EdgeGod" (like infamous "EdgeLord", but worse) might be a sarcasm. You all think I'm being serious about it. It's truly spectacular.
After all, I've changed my name exactly because I wanted people to feel like I'm not being serious about what I write. Which I'm not. I just overestimated your perception. By a lot.
Hello Jinx! I have not died. If you remember me. I am sincerely glad your still alive as well. As is your will to continue writing!
I like it, and I think the dialogue here is pretty great. Nightmare was everything I was hoping she would be.
Getting all of Light Flows thoughts about whats going on is giving me a lot to dig into. Though I imagine the rest of the readers do like things to pace quickly.
Although... it is kind of a meme now isnt it?
Nightmare picked the wrong pony to play word games with. Light Flow can stall like nobody else :V
It's not like you put him through something that would has probably killed several ponies. Also Celestia mucked about in there...
And I mean... you of all ponies know he has issues.
You know. After putting all this time and effort into Light Flow... that opening remark was pretty good. It showed he really got her in a way that she has probably desperately wanted a pony to for a thousand years.
The acidic dismissive way... he tried to use her love for him against her wasnt really the point I dont think. She doesnt mind pain.
Rather it was the tacit acknowledgement of what he knew, understood, and internalized. That for that too hurt... means that he really does think she loves him.
Which probably brought her more joy than anything shes done since being freed.
Of course following that...
He shows doesn't actually know her all that well.
Which is probably deeply, unsettlingly painful after putting so much time and effort into him and living in his head for years.
Passed the will save and the wisdom check. Big win for Nightmare. Maybe she will find a way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.
Alright Light. She apologized. Now just dont fuck up. Dont fuck up Light Flow, it's just talking to somepony.
Oh no hes doomed isnt he?
Well Light hasnt messed up yet.
And Nightmare realizes if she she waits for Flow she'll be waiting forever. Heh.
I do still really enjoy the characterization. Very well thought out and relatable. Also easy to understand.
11167193
You must be pretty good at edging
11728508
It's been A YEAR AND A HALF! WHY MUST MY MISTAKES HAUNT ME IN THE MODERN ERA?!
thanks