Hubris and Rainbows (Rewritten)

by ArcaneGears

Marehood and FateMarks

-uck.

What in Hel’s name was that? The memory felt so real. The heat of the sand, the lavender oil in mom’s fur. It felt more like reality than this numb paralysis did.

Then it suddenly occurred to her. When was the last time she took a breath? Why wasn’t the stone fragments falling, why wasn’t she? A half answer came as a moth fluttered into her line of sight. Once it grew close enough it simply paused mid air.

It failed, the experiment failed, but what was fueling this insane… this insane whatever-it-is?!

“You are, dummy.” A voice from her right spoke in an uncanny imitation of her own. Well, not quite an imitation. The delivery was too smooth , too confident and clear. The only time she ever spoke like that was during the war. Back in those days it was more about survival and quick communication. Though it did feel good pretending to be a bad-ass for a time.

“You’re all locked up snug in a cocoon while we are out there. How long? Who could say. Our condition? Maybe stable or maybe dehydrated and on the verge of death. I can’t come in and you won’t come out, so we are in a stalemate.”

She could hear slow clicks of hooves hitting the wooden floor of her workshop. A shadow kept a wide berth from whatever held her in suspension before fully standing in her line of sight. It stood just shy of the large skylight blown in her roof so all she could make out was the luster of two golden eyes.

“Wake up, caterpillar.” From behind its back Arcane could see it held a small digital alarm clock, one she remembered. When 5:59 turned over to 6:00am it began to belt out an obnoxious pop song mixed with the white noise of a badly tuned station.

Age 13

Her hand flew from her quilt and blindly slapped at her bedside table. Little colorful figurines rolled off the edge and tumbled onto the carpet as she missed her target three times. On the fourth her palm met with the oversized ‘snooze’ button, shutting out the BuckStreet Colt’s overplayed hit song once again.

With the perfect impression of an undead thirteen year old mare she rose and slid out of her covers. Between cramps and anxiety there was less sleeping than more staring at the ceiling until her consciousness gave out. On the bright side, her uniform was neatly pressed and laid out on her personal ironing board. Not to mention her body was mostly clean from a 2am shower. If you can’t sleep you might as well be productive, right?

She nearly fell out of her bed and landed on her hooves with a practiced pivot of her spine. Once planted on the carpet she made the five steps over to her standing mirror as arms rose over her head. A brief melody of pops from her spine and finally she was limber enough to walk like a normal equian.

Arcane pivoted her head from the left to the right, eyes focused on her reflection. With minimal fussing she corrected the symmetrical part of her wavy pink hair and smoothed a couple of frayed strands. Her focus lowered to her eyes. The deep blue irises somehow made the dim and bloodshot whites of her eyes stand out, earning a weary sigh. To make matters worse the lower lid was puffier than yesterday.

“Okay, Arc, you’ll be fine. You’re thirteen and going through changes”, she began in a quietly muttered attempt at self assurance, “Whatever it is, we accept it and ignore it. It doesn’t have to define me. It’s just a lame old magic spell some dumb old Alicorn King cast a long time ago.”

She curled her hip, slid a thumb in the waistband of her black pj bottoms, closed her eyes, and slid them down.

Puberty has one extra stressful or exciting step in the life of an equian teenager. For Arcane the first hurtles were already lept. ‘Aunt Flow’ already paid her a visit months ago and the awkward school-class boner so many of us will endure came and went without another classmate taking a picture and putting it on social media. Now, every morning she faced the one fear that kept her up at night waiting for the tale-tell tingle on her hips before her FateSign manifested.

Her mouth went dry and her heart began to beat rapidly. Breaths came so short and fast she began to see spots. The symbol of a grey hollow gear appeared on her thigh, large teeth along the outside and smaller teeth along the inner edge. Within the larger gear were two smaller ones, one black and one white. The white, upper, inner gear had a yellow and red Sun as it gave off solar flares. The symbol that meant ‘Resolution’ or ‘Forgiveness’ in the Arcane Enchantment index. The black, lower, inner gear had a six pointed lavender Starburst. That was the symbol for “Beginnings” normally associated with relationships but could apply to any start.

What is this… why. I… what? No...no what? What? WHAT? Magic, why magic, magic on my hips, why do I have magic on my body?! Apples, hammers, earth stuff makes sense but… WHY MAGI-…

She twisted around, ran across her room and back to her table. Eyes flicked side to side and found what she was looking for. In both hands she gripped an empty glass and pressed it to her snout. She let out a scream so harsh that her chest stung from the effort, though thankfully the thick glass muffled the noise low enough it didn’t travel downstairs.

After an hour of dressing and hyperventilation she was presentable to the world beyond her bedroom. Well, to some degree. Her pleated dark blue uniform skirt was flawless as well as her white blouse and dark blue vest. Her pink backpack was flung over her shoulder in that one-armed way the cool foals did it. Her eyes, however, were distant and her mind was running faster than that time she forgot to study for school placement exams.

Her legs went on autopilot and made the short trip through the hallway and down the spiral staircase. The stairs landed on the cozy living room her mother spent so many hours writing spells and translating others in. An odd swaying light distracted her so much she turned towards mother’s bookshelf. The nearly thousand-year old wood behemoth had a Unicorn bust carved into the upper shelf. Today it was decorated in glowing symbols and the normally blank eyes of its face had yellow pupils that swept side to side. She made a step towards the odd sight and those eyes locked with her’s. The color momentarily changed to an angry red before fading back into yellow again. Once the transition occurred one symbol near the unicorn’s carved neck changed. It translated into ‘Familiar’ or 'Kindred’.

“Hey mom…?”

She made it one pace into her kitchen when a light ‘pop’ startled her. Standing on the far end of her dining table were the two incredible mares that brought her into this world. As confetti fell onto the table both middle-aged Equians yelled out.

“Happy Birthday!”

She looked down to see white cake with pink icing and thirteen candles in a perfect ring. The circle made her think of that symbol on her hip. She slowly moved into her normal seat and rested her backpack along the table leg before sitting. Her skirt slid to expose her thigh and half of that mark before she tucked the fabric between her legs and hugged the skirt tightly over the FateSign.

“Oh yeah, it’s today isn’t it?” she said with a weary shake to her voice. Her attention moved up ready to fake a smile when she saw something else that stuck out like a grain of rice in a pile of black beans. Dad’s wings, Ivar Gear’s wings, were very pale. The fact she would even have them manifested in the kitchen was bad enough, but why did they look so… so dim? Her nickname in the military was ‘Ol Sun Wings’ for a good reason. Now they didn’t even outshine the lcd bulb above their heads.

“Now, I hope you don’t expect school today”, Mom said as she turned to the kitchen counter to chop mushrooms. The sizzle of porkcumber bacon already filled the room with its meat-like cilantro scent.

Strangely enough, Silver Quill’s horn wasn’t that bright either. The transparent foot-long spiral normally had a gleam like expensive flatware. Now it was just a dull grey.

The scent became mixed with the smell of char. Silver Quill muttered a ‘yikes’ under her breath as her pale horn began to shimmer. Bright silver light traveled up the twisted spire in time with the swelling of a pale sphere along the mare’s shoulder. Arcane gawked as two rods framing gears and chains created a simple pulley system. The resulting mechanism looked like a cross between a swiveling desk lamp and a skeletal arm complete with fine gears and chains to command long fingers. The hand itself began to shimmer but the complex arm remained pale.

The hand reached across the kitchen to delicately pinch each bacon strip and turn them onto their uncooked side. All the while Ivar Gears traced her daughter’s gaze with a growing curiosity.

“Dear, are you alright?”

Ivar leaned back as the sound of sizzling grew louder, Silver adding the mushrooms to the mix. Arcane’s head turned quickly back to her father. She knew her eyes were giving away a level of disturbance. She seriously didn’t want to trouble her parents but this was all a bit much.

“N.. no, just watching mom do that weird thing with the robot arm.” The sound of a spatula stirring up mushrooms wasn’t noticed until it stopped abruptly.

“Robot arm…?”, Silver Quill practically whispered it while looking over her shoulder. “Sweetie, did you get into my diary somehow?” Silver Quill returned to her task, throwing sugar snap peas and giving them just a light singe before turning off the heat. In a few graceful motions the mother mare served three steaming bowls of Arcane’s favorite stir-fry.

Silver sat on the west side of their small square table and faced Arcane, eyes concerned and locked on.

“Mom, horn?”

Silver made a quiet ‘oh’ and banished the horn, but it only dimmed again. Once it had the mechanical construct melted away.

“No, I would never do that. You just sprouted a robot arm from your right shoulder, I saw it happen a few seconds ago, and what’s with Grandma Quill’s old bookcase? The thing looked like it was about to kill me for a second there.” Her voice quivered more. Something in the back of her mind was whispering the truth but she pushed it away.

No, that’s stupid. I can’t see…

Silver Quill picked up a pair of black chopsticks and found a chunk of plant-meat before popping it into her mouth. The mare had a tendency of doing things like this to buy time and think of what to say.

“So, you saw how I envision a levitation spell and you saw the warding spell on the bookcase?”

“Yeah. It read something like ‘Come alive with the memory of my creator, animate and slay the trespasser, or thief’...not sure which one. Then it changed to ‘something something… be still before those who are familiar.”

Silver grinned wide and slid her bowl away. Her elbows fell on the table as her hands supported her slender face. Those almond shaped green eyes sparkled with a delight that made the mare look so much younger than she was.

“Sense the essence of those that mean no harm, be still before those who are family.”, Silver Quill corrected. “Arcane Gears, you have your talent.”

Arcane’s heart began to thud again.

“No mom, that makes no sense. What would I need magic for?”

Her throat grew tight and face grew hot. Her arms and chest became so cold she began to shiver. Spots began to dance in her eyes, everything began to feel so much closer.

“I’m a Teran like Grandpa Quill. Magic is for Ethereals. If I tried to manifest a horn I would just get a migraine.” her voice grew louder with a bitter laugh.

“Arcane, Dear…”

“No, mom, Seriously I would be better off as an Army Field Medic. Run around and patch up all the heroes fighting for Celestia and Country. At least then I can do some good. Maybe I’ll be written into the history books of the mare who healed the stallion that slayed the monster.”

She off looked to the side, not to find any particular thing. All she wanted to do was not look directly at Ivar’s wings or Silver’s horn. The dim ‘offline’ form remained transparent and intangible by the way Dad’s wings were passing through the back of her chair like a ghost. Over the years it became so hard to look at them, her parent’s or any for that matter. Some days were darker than others. On some days an Ethereal or two would remind her that Terrans were servants, surfs, and slaves long ago. She remembered the words said before Arcane punched five teeth out a nineteen year old Unicorn’s mouth before she could manifest her horn in self defense. ‘Strong legs, strong arms, low intelence. Perfect Ch-‘. The word ‘Chattel’ had a dark history. The suspension from ninth grade was more than worth beating it out of a haughty Etherial’s mouth.

“Could both of you… could both of you just pretend I didn’t say anything this morning. I think I’d be happier as a Blankflank. Maybe at Grandpa’s.”

Silver Quill straightened up as her face shifted from delighted to concerned. She was at a loss for words and could only turn to Ivar for something to say.

“Sweetie…” Ivar spoke softly with her smoky and gentle voice, “You can do more than just mess with metal gears. It sounds like you can see the mechanics of magic itself, things even Ethereals like your mom can’t. Remember when we told you about the old FateSeer we took you to when you were born? We didn’t even have the chance to put you in her arms before that old Teran blurted out your name. It confused us, but now it makes sense. You can see the ‘gears’ of the ar-”

The thirteen year old foal launched up to her hooves knocking her chair back. Both hands slammed on the table as she closed her eyes tight. Despite the effort, tears ran down her face and fell from her chin.

Her lips parted as if she knew what to say yet nothing came out. Her mind was spinning, wanting to be honest but afraid of what those words would do, or how they would sound if she could finally hear them out loud.

Do you have any idea what that name did to me? Two amazing parents give birth to a boring Earth Pony like me, raising me with stories of every adventure you ever had. You gave me a name with the word ‘Arcane’ in it knowing I could never cast a spell or fly. All I ever wanted was to be like you and every time I hear that name it feels like I’m being mocked for wanting more than I deserve.

Now, I’m actually trying to accept what I am and what does puberty give me besides weird feelings and cramps? It gives me the ability to see everything I can’t do, but now in detail.

So what do I do now? Help some aspiring unicorns with their spells? They go off and do amazing things while I’m sitting around, waiting to help another that will go on to live the life I wanted.

I just want to pretend I never got this mark, or this power.

She never spoke a word of that. Instead, her voice came out emotionally drained and quiet.

“… I’m going to school. -Love you both.”

She snatched up her backpack and hastily made her way through the living room and out her front door without looking back.

She made it less than five paces before the front garden lit up with golden light. Her shadow stretched to the other side of the street yet the sky was overcast. A childish ping of fear ran cold in her chest.

“Arcane Spur Gears!”, Ivar’s voice boomed with the power of a Drill Sergeant, because Captain Ivar Gears was a Drill Sergeant once upon a time. That, and she used her middle name. Not at all a good sign.

Arcane turned to face her father and locked eyes with her own slate grey irises. Ivar taught her daughter to look at people in the face no matter how she felt. Eyes were the window to the soul, she said, and if you want to be seen then never look away.

Ivar stepped closer to her daughter with that stern glare. She fully deserved to be slapped for how she was, so she believed. They moved after Arcane struck an Ethereal that teased her and was expelled. They let her attend summer magic school even though she didn’t have a horn. She braced but never looked away until Ivar’s chin moved over her head and rested between Arc’s ears. The buff mare wrapped arms around her smaller frame as wings closed around her daughter.

“Do you remember Grandpa Gears?”, Ivar’s voice came out soft and warm like her ghostly feathers. Arcane shook her head, her nuzzle framed in dad’s heavy chest… which was not at all weird, “I guess you were too young. Well, that ol wind-bag didn’t cry once in my life until my FateSign appeared. He was military and he always wanted to raise a Military stallion of his own. Instead, he got me, a duosex mare with a knack for putting together pocket watches. I couldn't see him like that so I enlisted and eventually became a ‘saboteur infiltration specialist’, but I prefer the term ‘Gremlin’. Every metal that was pinned on my chest made my dad beam with pride while I grit my teeth. Again and again I tried to tell myself that was what I wanted, but that wasn’t true. I… bought my first watch repair shop on the same day we buried him.

Long story short, don’t let anyone tell you who you are. Not me, not your mom, and not some magical tattoo you get along with a training bra. You will make yourself, Arcane. You will choose what to do with this and you will shine.”

She just let the tears come out after hearing that. Her sobs were mercifully muffled by her father’s chest and the sight of her quivering frame covered by those wings. Long ago she believed crying over things made them real. To her teenage mind her greatest fear was real and she always knew it deep down. Her destiny was to perfect spells she’d never cast.

Everyone remembers the knight, but who remembers the blacksmith?