Scarred Serpentine

by Metanoia

Act II, Chapter XI

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The sky was two fold: on one end it glowed a soft orange that was littered with the occasional cloud, and on the other end stood the last throngs of nighttime. Between the two was a transition of vibrant, complex hues of purple and grey, playing and mingling with each other. If one were to look in that direction, they would assume that they were either witnessing the crack of dawn or the fade of dusk. If they looked the other way, they would assume Luna herself has brought in a solemn evening to calm restless warriors, vagabonds without hope in the world.

Feather found it fascinating he was in this transition between night and day. It was a moment wherein the blessings of both appeared at the same time, even for a mere moment, splitting the sky into two harmonious halves. He was reminded of those fancy timepieces that had a day/night indicator, slowly rotating like the sky, moving along as time itself waited for no soul.

It was fascinating how the sky seemed to be a painting, a work of art in itself. He knew that Celestia and Luna reigned over the sun and the moon, but he wondered who else would make such things. And he wondered how some deity would make the sky that divided the ground and the heavens with their celestial bodies, omnipotent and immortal. Feather wondered if some creator used a paint brush in painting the world and heavens, for the artistry to do so would require a lifetime of practice and training.

“Look, I can see some of the buildings!” a voice said from beside him, a little colt pointing at several structures that arose from the horizon as the air slowly hovered its way along.

Cities. They were definitely not the creation of any god out there. Cities were made by ponies, creatures, people. Feather was not so sure whether or not it was an affront to nature or if it was a symbol to the everlasting power of civilizations, a sign of prosperity and mutual understanding.

As the ship moved closer and started to slow down on its landing approach, Feather and everyone on board the flying craft could see the lights under what was a relatively early morn, a dawn of a new day for the metropolis, seemingly still but moving, too.

The city in question was Bocoltá, a major municipality in the continent of South Equestria. What stood it apart from many other large metropolises was the altitude it sustained. Sure, Feather had been to Canterlot several times before, but that was different because while that city was halfway aloft a mountain side, Bocoltá was quite literally amongst high altitude mountain ranges. The city was situated in what was called the Bocoltá Plateau, located in a part of massive Cordilleras that spanned the entirety of the lands. It was one of the highest altitude cities in all of Equus.

“Sweet Celestia, this air is killing me. It feels like it’s thinning by the second!” River Moon, who was on his other side, seemed to be trying to keep her breathing in check; it didn’t help that she was breathing through her mouth rather heavily, a hoof on her temple.

“Try breathing through your nose and try to slow yourself down. We can get some medication when we get down, maybe?”

She let out a deep exhale, a ragged sound of her vocal cords coming along with it. “How... high up is this place?”

Feather turned to look at the looming city once more, amazed at how close they had gotten to it already. He had learnt this from a flight attendant, for he was curious about it as well: “More than eight-thousand feet up from sea level, but since we’re in an airship, we must be around ten-thousand.”

River choked a tad as a reply. “Ten-thousand feet?! How do they make a city of this size so high up, let alone breathe?”

Feather tried to shrug it off, though he did feel sorry for her as the airship had been gaining altitude the past half-hour. “They probably got used to it or something. I remember reading about this group of ponies who live in the east that go forage under the sea for ten minutes at a time; their spleens are much larger than most ponies’ and their heart beats go real slow; it’s crazy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, spleens are large and everything. Now you’re just making me jealous.”

Feather got curious at that statement. “Jealous?”

River Moon looked at him as if he had just insulted her mother. “I like swimming, bro. Where do you think I got this cutie mark from, selling water?” She reached for her flank and slapped it with a hoof. It was indeed a cutie mark of a droplet of water, though that wasn’t on the top of his priorities.

A blush creeped up his face; Feather felt like a creep. “We’re in public! You can’t just grab your flank and slap it!”

“Ugh,” she waved a hoof at him dismissively, “I’m dying of altitude sickness; I can do whatever I want. At this rate I’ll be unconscious by the next ten minutes.”

He set his gaze out into the city that was nearing by the second. “Don’t worry. Look, it seems like we’re about to land in a few.”

Bocoltá, while being on a plateau, also had mountains and lofty hills that bordered some parts of the city. While the faintly visible city lights dominated the flat areas in the middle of the mountains, one could see some lights on the peaks as well. They didn’t seem to be nearing those mountains at the borders, though, for a peculiar elevation found itself smack-dab in the center of Bocoltá—a loft unmistakable and unavoidable to the eye. Feather Dew could make out—through the slight haze—the port on said elevation they would be docking at.

As it was early morning, there were only a few ships docked by the mountainside: the first ships to leave the city for their travels to other far-flung places. It seemed that this ship was the first one arriving this morning, a start of a busy day for the staffers both here and on the ground.

The airship continued its approach towards the port until it was right beside its designated platform, the ponies on the ground fastening the ropes in place to ensure the large craft wouldn’t float away.

With a firm bang of the gangway on the security of the port’s platform, passengers alike started to lift their belongings and made their way to the exit of the ship. Feather opted to lift River’s duffel bag despite her protests; he didn’t have much belongings on him anyway, and he would have felt rude had he not done the courtesy.

While Feather went down the gangway—occasionally reaching out to help River balance as she walked by his side—he heard the ship’s captain’s voice through a speaker system in a jovial tone: “Thank you for joining us in the Victoria, please do enjoy your stay in Bocoltá. Gracias!”

Even with the sun rising, the crisp of the cold air was made prominent when Feather found himself on the ground. The gravel and grass had a freshness he was well familiar with, and yet Feather found it all the more engrossing as he realized then on there how high up they truly were.

The mountain was also truly at the center of Bocoltá, allowing Feather to see the very ends of civilization itself. He heard that one could see this peak from all points of the city, and as he gazed at the sights while following his fellow passengers through a path, Feather understood clearly as to why that was. It was as if they were on the head of a great octopus, its tentacles shooting out to encompass the great fields as its own domain.

“How are we gonna get down? They don’t expect us to walk all the way down there, do you?” River seemed scared of his reply, attempting to ease herself and her cadence, glancing down the mountainside.

Feather shook his head. “Fortunately not; they set up a cable car system for ponies to get from the city to up here and vice versa. Look, there it is right there.”

River followed his pointed hoof to what appeared to be a cable car station nestled amongst the trees. Cable cars painted orange and white came in on the left side of the building and left on the other, beginning their ascent down to the august capital.

“Wow, I don’t think I remember ever being inside one of those things before.”

He flashed a smile. “Well, at least you’ll be experiencing it with me.” Feather put a hoof on his chest rather proudly.

She waved him away as if he were only a pestering fly. “Don’t play mister goody-two shoes on me. I just want to be somewhere where I can actually breathe.”

They found themselves in front of a line that formed inside the building, winding and regulated by fences that dictated the flow of riders to their cars. “Relax! We’ll be down in a minute. Then we can get you some water and sit down for a while.”

Unamused, River glared at him. He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. “You haven’t even booked us a hotel, Feather.”

He put his hooves up in the air as if the authorities were about to bring him in. “Hey, it’s hard to book for hotels in the middle of nowhere, okay? I know you’re a bit upset, but that’s just how it is.”

River rolled her eyes, however it seemed from her expression that he did get to her. She seemingly contemplated for a moment as they inched closer and closer to finally getting in a car.

“Sorry, I just haven’t been myself. I do appreciate you bringing my duffel bag for me; all I’ve been doing is bringing this stupid thing around.” She tucked her head to her chin as she regarded her other bag that hung from her neck.

Feather shook his head, oddly surprised at her words. “No need to thank me. It’s just common courtesy. I...”—his attention was severed—“River, look, it’s our turn.”

The pair were in front of the line, their cable car squarely in front of the two. Not wasting time as the cable car system never waited, Feather reached out and swung the door open, offering River Moon to enter with a gentlemanly gesture of his hoof. She didn’t seem to rebuke as she slid into the cabin; Feather had to awkwardly shuffle his way in, fitting both himself and her duffel bag through the threshold before the car could leave him behind.

Feather scooted his rear into the seat before the car would eventually start its descent. When it did, he made himself comfortable as the car jerked slightly, River Moon suddenly holding herself to the railings inside.

“Woah! That feels weird.”

“Yeah, cable cars can drop like that suddenly. It’ll feel strange when we near and leave the towers along the way.”

River nodded, tucking her hooves to her chest as she turned her head outside, her back on the seat. He couldn’t make out her expression from where he seated, but there seemed to be a quiet in her she allowed upon herself.

The rattling of the cable car was made irrelevant for the moment as she spoke up, “It’s strange looking at a city from this high up.”

Feather agreed, commending whoever designed this cable car for having large windows that reached almost top to bottom, allowing him and River to clearly look at what she spoke of.

Blessed by the light of a new sunrise, Feather could observe the city properly for the first time. Bocoltá was dominated by light browns and sedona, the occasional juniper and lime of greenery peppered in strategic places amongst city blocks. It was an organized chaos; organized in the manner in which grids and patterns popped up from streets and blocks, chaotic in the complexity of it all.

Because it was morning, the city lights of still sleeping ponies and the rare, modern skyscraper illuminated vast areas of the metropolis’ area, most especially in areas not reached yet by the rays of sunlight. Feather found that oddly intriguing; it was as if the city belonged to a world much hotter, much more closely related to the deserts as opposed to lofty plateaus and breathtaking altitudes—quite literally.

As they continued approaching the metropolis, Feather was suddenly awash in thought at what this must have felt like to the Shaman and his people. He recalled the words he had said: They don’t believe in us anymore.

It kind of saddened him in some sort of strange way, as if he were somehow the root of all of this, or at least one of many progenitors. When he absorbed the sights of this city, he saw both new, sleek skyscrapers and antiquated buildings of old. Those skyscrapers occasionally blocked the light of a new morn from the structures much lower, much older than them. It was a stark contrast.

Feather pondered on how he would feel like to be one of those ponies down there, how they lived with the fact that some of their buildings were made from the pinnacles of modern engineering and some of their buildings being hundreds of years old, unchanged, acting as if the world hadn’t already started to move on.

It somewhat reminded Feather of himself and how he lived in a city that had buildings that were over a hundred years old and others that were made yesterday. What would the civilizations of the future think when they looked back at the wonders of today, their past?

Feather gazed upon the diverse conurbation and wondered how the civilizations of the past would think of it—how she would think of it.

Do I even really know that? Who knows where she actually came from?

As the car made its way closer and closer to the metropolis, Feather wondered what she would think of Bocoltá. He felt a certain disquietude in him when he thought of the idea, as if there were a ghost right beside him. That disquietude was both horrifying and soothing; horrifying at the thought of ethereal beings possibly interfacing with the living, soothing because it was as if it were his guardian angel, his protector ensuring company.

“That was shorter than I thought; I would have loved to look at the views more.” When River said this, Father realized they were nearing the base station, their car nearing several of the trees that littered along the foot of the mountain and its smooth topography.

“We can get back up there sometime if you’d like, you know, just to look at it all.”

River nodded. “Some time. Let’s settle down here first, though. Come on, we’re approaching the station.”

The little vehicle shuddered slightly as it leveled, sliding its way through the station. Feather quickly opened the car door, allowing River to leave and with an oof, himself. Once out, he patted himself and his bag to straighten it up.

“You good?” Feather asked, glancing at River Moon.

She flashed him a smile and nodded. “I should be asking you that, mister I’ll-carry-your-bag-and-be-a-gentlecolt.”

Feather made a deflating noise with his lips. “Come on, let’s get out of here and see if we can find a hotel.”

Leaving the stately Andalusian colonial style cable car station, Feather and River found several taxi carriages waiting for passengers by the side of the road. Hailing one of them with a flick of his hoof, the two ponies entered the cab and settled themselves in when it came.

“Where to?” spoke the gruff, accented voice of the cabbie.

Feather didn’t actually know what to say to that. He could just tell the cabbie to go and drop them off in the center of the city, or he could say-

“The most interesting hotel in the city.” Feather turned to see River answer him before he could even respond. He gave her a small smile as a sort of thank you for the admittedly brilliant improv.

The cabbie rubbed his hoof under his chin. “The most interesting hotel in the city, you say? I might just have an idea where that place may be.” Without another word, the cabbie started to accelerate, bringing Feather and River along with him through the thick of the trees.

Quiet. Other than the sound of the carriage rattling on the ground, it was quiet. That was what he first noticed: the quiet of the outskirts of the mountain path, the strange emptiness of it. When he chanced behind him and to his right, Feather could see towering peaks and large trees that lined the mountainside, and to his left he could barely catch glimpses of Bocoltá itself through the obscurity of the flora. It was as if he were in the middle of nowhere again.

The sky. It was brighter than it had been moments prior, the gold of its hue from the ascension of the sun turning into a moderate apricot. Clouds streaked the sky in long chains and patterns, similar to the mountain ranges that nestled Bocoltá itself. He could occasionally spot moving dots that rearranged and fixed the clouds, ponies, reminding him of his own occupation back home.

Feather often went out on days he didn’t even need to. His other team members never understood why he did it, but to him it was as plain as day. There’s something about flying that unleashes even the most hidden parts of pony souls. He remembered a religion he would occasionally read about, the first words of their holy texts elaborating: And so God created light and dark, casting away the darkness to the moon and the light to the sun of day.

Shaking, the carriage slowed as it began to approach an incline; it surprised Feather, for he was expecting the cabbie to make an eventual turn towards the city itself, not climb the mountain once more.

“Where are you taking us?” River shuffled uncomfortably to lean out of the carriage a tad, observing the stallion and the route he pressed on to.

He seemingly regarded her for only a moment, turning his head slightly. “You said you wanted to go to the most interesting hotel in the city, and miss, I do apologize for not clarifying, but the most interesting hotel around here is technically not in the city.”

Feather and River exchanged glances, both wordlessly agreeing to shut their mouths and let the stallion’s surprise unfold itself rather than spoil it.

From a distance, Feather could glimpse something peculiar. Nestled amongst the trees was a large, golden object that seemed to be a... ship? He blinked to make sure his vision wasn’t beginning to get funny from the high altitude, but the image faltered not. The carriage’s wheels suddenly stopped in front of it.

It was an airship, much like the one Feather and River had just gone off from, and yet it seemed to ooze an older world charm. The ship itself was low to the ground, barely touching it and moored by thick ropes, the pillars securing them hidden by flora. Its huge envelope still retained its vibrant hues of dark wood and gold, green and red wrapping the ship’s massive balloon for good measure.

Despite its old design, it seemed that it had been restored to some extent, giving the impression that the craft was ready to take off at any moment’s notice in search of great adventures to lost and distant lands.

Feather followed River when she hopped off the carriage, gazing at the object with a perplexed look on her face. He reached into his saddlebag to get some coins to pay the cabbie for his services.

“How much?”

He puckered his lips. “Five would suffice.”

Giving him the required amount, the cabbie nodded without a word and headed back to the direction whence they came, presumably to pick up more passengers from the cable car station. When the sound of the carriage left them, only the sounds of the forest remained: still, unmoving.

“Huh. It is interesting.”

Feather took a moment to properly regard the structure for a moment, nodding. “He’s right; this is quite the surprise, indeed. And look, the view is unobstructed over there; we can see Bocoltá clearly.”

While the airship was on the right side of the road, on the left were small trees, benches, and tables, allowing one to have a perfect view of Bocoltá right from the comfort of the shades of the trees and a strategic position.

“Wow, you really can. But come on, let’s check in first before I lose my mind even more.”

Beginning their ascent on the wooden gangway, Feather and River found themselves on the deck of the ship. What he first noticed was the fresh smell of the wooden planks under him, the slight move of the partially folded maneuvering flaps in the wind. The ship’s hull shone a dazzling gold; the inside seemed to be more modest with its aged wood.

Random plants hung from nets that spanned most of the deck and on the floor, the pots painted in a wide variety of colors from pink to aquamarine blue. The plants placed about were diverse, too: green shrubs, small trees, beautiful flowers, plants that looked like faces and that were larger than the average pony? There was even a plant that looked like lips! It was looking at a miniature Amarezon, a little piece of somepony’s refuge.

“Hola, dear guests, how may I help you?” Feather turned to find a charming unicorn stallion on the other side of a reception desk, his long frizzy hair tied to a bun with colorful ties. He had a wooden necklace around his neck and ties around his hoof, giving him a friendly—and hip—aura.

Feather spoke up. “Hello to you, too. We’d like to book a room for two, please.”

The stallion nodded. “What are your names? We here in Viajeros de oro like to refer to our guests that way.”

“Viajeros de oro.” River tried to pronounce it slowly, the curiosity getting to her. “That is a beautiful name. What does it mean?”

He gave her a simple smile as he abandoned his desk to stand by Feather’s side. “It means ‘Voyagers of Gold.’ Our ancestors created beautiful gilded ships such as this to traverse the river Amarezon. When the ones from the east came, they offered to add large balloons that allowed our ships to go deep into the Amarezon rainforest and her many cities.”

Feather appreciated the little history impromptu, somehow feeling a bit giddy at the realization that this was indeed a piece of history right under his hooves. Who knows what kinds of things those ponies of old have seen while on this very ship?

“That is very interesting. By the way, I am River Moon,” she pointed to herself, “and that is Feather Dew.” She pointed a hoof at him.

The stallion patted himself on the chest. “I am Willow. Feather Dew, may I assist you with your baggage, please?”

“You can take this one.” He offered the duffel bag wrapped around his torso, Willow having to unfasten it and levitating it to his side.

Feather glanced at River, preoccupied with looking at the strange plants all around, ignoring them for a moment.

“You know, I can just go with Willow to our room and leave you be. You seem to be busy yourself.”

She put a hoof on her mouth. “Oh! Why, er, thank you, Feather. I just wanted to look around, that’s all. This place really is something else, you know.”

Giving her a nod, he turned and followed Willow into a door that led to the innards of the craft. The inside truly was as antiquated as the outside: wooden walls with a hint of golden trim, a green floor, potted plants situated on tables or on their own. The windows filtered in the sunlight that could come through, the trees obfuscating a great many of it, admittedly.

They stopped in front of a door labelled “7.” “Here we are, number seven for two.” Willow reached out and opened it, allowing Feather to come in first.

The hotel room had a black and white diagonal tiled floor, giving the impression that this whole suite was on a giant chess board. There were more potted plants around the place; it was truly a recurring theme this hotel had gone all the way to fulfill. There were two adjacent four-poster beds with white canopies, either for decoration or for keeping the bugs out.

“Feather Dew, I think you will be needing these.” He turned to find Willow offering him a pair of ties originally wrapped around his hoof.

“Oh! How kind. I haven’t even thought of getting ties for myself, but thank you.” Feather took the pair and put it around his hoof much the same way he had.

Willow began, “It is only my duty. I shall leave your bags here, Feather Dew. If you need anything, please, do not be afraid to ask.” Feather giving him a polite gesture, Willow returned a nod and gracefully let him be in his new suite.

Picking up the bags, Feather placed them on top of a painted chest covered with designs of flowers and leaves. What he liked about this hotel room was the fact that the windows were actually relatively large, most probably modified for the ship’s repurposing. Much like the windows outside, sunlight filtered through, dancing and changing from the movement of the trees.

Finding himself in front of a large mirror in the room, Feather picked one of the ties and started to tie his mane. A simple ponytail was sufficient for now; he liked the no-nonsenseness of a plain ponytail that was easy to make and easy to redo.

Feather stared back at the mirror and noted how he almost looked like his past self, the past self before the Ohteotl trips, before knowing River Moon, before Jade. He most certainly looked like the Feather Dew of the past, but he knew somewhat that that was changing. One can never be who they were, one can never know who they will be.

Turning from the mirror, he started to scan the room out of curiosity. Feather found several items he had not noticed before. He noted the fine furniture; plump couches with an aged scent, like wine, lamps that illuminated pearl, other chests such as the one he had put his belongings on, even a small alcove that allowed one to sit down and read a book, the constellations painted on the deep blue walls watching over them.

What truly caught his attention, though, was a large, antique globe that stood in the center of the room. Its stand was of a wooden base and a bronze pole, wood orbiting the sphere at its equator, longitude, and latitude. It was most definitely of old origin; the print of the miniature Equus faded and flaked at other areas, the wood worn and discolored.

Reaching out a hoof, Feather gently applied a tad pressure on the globe and made it spin, slowly but surely. Equus started to turn, showing him all the major regions of the world drawn on it: fantasized illustrations of the Dragon Lands, Saddle Arabia and their silk roads leading to the lands of the far east, Zebrica and the desolate expanse of the Sa-mare-ian desert, archipelagos such as Indoneighsia, even the Frozen North was depicted with the harsh winds of the end of the world.

Feather continued to watch the planet Equus spin until it finally came to a halt, a side of the globe facing him showing two places: Equestria and Bocoltá in clear view. He could see Canterlot, he could see Manehattan and the other east coast cities, he could see Ponyville where his friend Rainbow Dash lived, he could see Bocoltá, he could even roughly spot where he and River once was only several days ago.

It was strange to have all these places right under his hooves. He had the power to do whatever he wanted to Equus itself. Seeing for himself how the world had stopped, Feather wondered if this is what it felt like to be the creator of all things, having the power to create and destroy.

Enchanting. Also temperate, strangely enough, but it was predominantly enchanting. It turned out that there existed a pool adjacent to the airship, tucked away in a cozy spot protected by the trees save for little spots here and there. It was similar to the pool back in the Ohteotl retreat, but this pool was pony-made and there was no waterfall. There too was a small bridge from the airship that connected to a platform that eventually led its way to the treetops.

He found it to be nostalgic up here: a treehouse with lots of open space and no ceiling, only tarps to cover some areas. It was like being in the retreat all over again. There were not many guests here, and the few that were were seated on chairs and enjoying their meals, lightheartedly talking as if they had been here a thousand times. A rather odd but unique way to do al-fresco dining, but it feels good to be amongst the leaves.

She wasn’t here, though, and so Feather decided to return back to the bridge, rubbing his head in thought as he looked out and peeked at the pool down there one last time to make sure he hadn’t accidentally overlooked.

Leaving the boundaries of Viajeros de oro once and for all, Feather crossed the path between the hotel and the little spot on the other side. It was dark—darker than he had anticipated—and it didn’t help when he looked to his left and right as he crossed—barely any illumination at all. Sure, it was out of habit, but to see empty silence stare back at him when he gazed back was disconcerting.

Feather felt glad this area had lighting he had not noticed before, better appreciating the lanterns that hung from the trees due to the current time. Night, it shrouded the world in darkness, but with the aid of the faint stars and the city lights, Feather could value the calm still here in the nighttime.

He most certainly needed not anything to fear when he spotted River Moon patiently waiting on a bench, her hooves on the table, head turned to Bocoltá and its sights. She seemed to be waiting for something that would never come.

“Hey, I was looking around for you after your little nap in the hotel room. D’you want something to eat?”

River regarded him by meeting his gaze, Feather sitting across her. “Yeah. I’ve been dealing with the altitude much better now. That was a doozy, eh?”

Feather offered a simple smile. “It was, but I’m glad to hear that you’re feeling better now. If you hadn’t, then I would have probably called hotel staff.”

She made a deflating noise with her mouth. “That’s okay. I just wasn’t feeling well then. I... I was thinking about things, that’s all.”

That piqued his interest. “Huh. What things?”

She turned to him properly, placing her two hooves on the bench. “Well, I was thinking about what we’re going to do now that we’re here. You know, about her.”

Feather allowed himself a moment of contemplation, the musk of the mountain air and dew reaching his muzzle. “Yes, about that. I’ve been talking with the hotel staff about places where we can find literature about ancient history and they said we can go to the De Tejido de plata, Bocoltá’s largest library.” He gazed at the city on his side, orange hues dominating the skyline, reflecting off his eyes. “We can go tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“That’s the reason we’re here, isn’t it?” She scrunched up her nose. “Actually, do you think she may be from some... civilization from the past? I kinda get that vibe with her.”

Feather nodded in agreement. “She told me she doesn’t even know if the city she came from is even around; that sorta gave it away. But I do get that vibe from her, too; that’s why I wanted to look for places with historical records, ancient knowledge, anything. Just the way she talked was quite strange, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah! And if she really did come from a civilization who-knows-how-long ago, then how long must have she been stuck there, in that plane of reality? That’s... I’d rather not think of that.”

Feather was suddenly hit with that epiphany; he had not thought of it that way before. How long must she have been there, mostly alone, mostly forgotten...

He shook his head from the thought. “I’d rather not think of that. It does give us more reasons to try to help her, though.”

“I was wondering that, too,” she added suddenly. “Even if we do get to her, it doesn’t mean our job is over. What if we can’t set her free despite knowing where she is?”

Feather hadn’t thought of that either. I don’t know if we have much of a choice. “I guess we’ll just have to figure that out ourselves once we do find her.” He shrugged. “It’s... it’s another part of the puzzle we’ll have to solve, lest she remains that way, stuck in a place that’s barely a place to begin with.” His tone turned more somber than he had hoped.

“Hm. That’s true. Poor girl.” She returned to meet the metropolis’ scrutiny. “What of a person who’s lost their body, moreso their own soul? Death itself seems to be a better fate.”

The quiet in the air made its way between them, Feather feeling the tinge of the slight mountain gusts that made its way down the mountain. Silence is the loudest scream, he remembered. It was still fresh in his mind even after all this time. How could he forget?

“River, I... I wanted to thank you for coming along with me. I know you said you wanted an adventure, but it seems like even I don’t know what’s going on or what’s going to happen. I still appreciate you being here, though, even if we’ve barely just started.”

She looked back at him, the lanterns reflecting off her irises. “I actually wanted to thank you for bringing my bag for me. Properly. That was sweet for you to ask, actually.”

Feather was surprised. “Really? Well, it was just a helpful gesture.”

“I’d still like you to know, you know?”

He gave a sheepish smile. “Well, yeah. I wanted to say thank you while we were in line in the cable car station, but I just didn’t have the words for it then; I do now.”

River Moon gave him a simple “hm” and returned once again her view to Bocoltá, the metropolis teeming with pinpricks that occasionally flickered on and off like fireflies. Feather turned to let the views come to him, drinking it in, tasting the odd flavors and intricacies that gave its character: exotic, homely yet grand, large to the point it went on for as far as the eyes could see yet small somehow. It was like looking at a planet in space for the first time.

“There’s something about looking at a city or town during night time. You can tell how alive it is by seeing what it does when the sun has set. Sometimes the town sleeps, sometimes several ponies mill about, sometimes entire cities never seem to slumber at all.”

River put a hoof on her mouth, leaning her knee on the table, calmly gazing out into the city that never faltered for a moment once, not now or ever.

They sat for wordless moments until she spoke up. “What if we never find her?”

Feather held his expression for a while, a mirth in his eyes that radiated a sense of hope. “I don’t know if I could ever get her out of my head. I don’t know for your case, but for me this is something I just... have to do. I’ll either find her, or I won't. I just hope it’s the former. It has to be, right?”

River offered an expression of radiance then looked back at Bocoltá. “She seems to be worlds away.”

He thought about that for a moment. “I don’t think that’s going to stop us now, is it? It certainly won’t stop me.”

She gave him a smile. A one filled with determination. Then she let out a chuckle, tired and wise. “Celestia’s sake, all this mush is making me hungry. Feather, we should really eat some dinner.” She hopped off and started to make her way back to the hotel, glancing back at him. “Join me?”

Feather left the bench to follow River’s lead. “Yeah, I’d like to try some of those Empanadas as a snack. I can even get some waffles for dessert, too.”

And so River Moon and Feather Dew left their spot under the quaint little tree on the mountainside, leaving behind the lights of the lanterns, the faint of the stars, the city skyline. The two enjoyed their rather shameless—severely copious at most—meal, the final one for today. They did eventually hit the sack and slept comfortably under the shroud of their beds’ canopies, Bocoltá itself not once falling asleep as it had done for thousands of moons.

Comments

[Jatheus]

River choked a tad as a reply. “Ten-thousand feet?! How do they make a city of this size so high up, yet alone breathe?”

*let alone breathe

He seemingly regarded her for only a moment, turning his head slightly. “You said you wanted to go to the most interesting hotel in the city, and miss, I do apologize for not clarifying, but the most interesting hotel around her is technically not in the city.”

* around here

“Viajeros de oro.” River tried to pronounce it slowly, the curiosity getting to her. “That is a beautiful name. What does it mean?”

I love that! The Spanish is a nice touch.

She made a deflating noise with her mouth. “That’s okay. I just wasn’t feeling well then. I... I was thinking about things, that’s all.”

This can also be called “blowing a raspberry”, or similar. I don’t know why it is said that way. I think I like the way you say it better.

…

These two are kind of cute… in an only friendly sort of way? I’ll be honest I can’t tell if they are flirting or not sometimes. Either way, their relationship feels like it is growing naturally.

So… I noticed the stillness… the a sense of the wind… interesting…

[Metanoia]

10978556

*let alone breathe

I always miss that!

I love that! The Spanish is a nice touch.

Spanish is a beautiful language <3

These two are kind of cute… in an only friendly sort of way? I’ll be honest I can’t tell if they are flirting or not sometimes. Either way, their relationship feels like it is growing naturally.

Such is the nature of conversation, sometimes even we don't know what we're doing when we talk. And relationships can take a while to fully flesh out.