Scarred Serpentine

by Metanoia

Act III, Chapter XXIX + Reflections and Other Things

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When there shone no light, there was only darkness. When there shone no light, imagination filled the mind with phantoms straddling the line separating fiction and reality.

It was the will of storms unseen: the gentle hum of an empty place, soothing cold wandering for adventures so—where did this ocean breeze will to? What places did it seek?

This felt like being in a mother’s womb. Unborn, a fetus awaiting the world’s whims to bestow upon them life, an opportunity to chance upon the joys and mysteries of being.

Sadness stirred inside Feather. Emotions from that past life, the one he must’ve departed from, awashed him with the cognizance of aged travellers: a longing, a yearning to meet with somepony he didn’t know. Perhaps that person wasn’t even real. With great knowledge brought greater pain, but Feather felt the creeping pain more than far away teachings. His core was as if twisted, head having flung back and forth and back and forth. There slipped in a melancholy of unknown memories, past lessons he would have to learn again.

Panic began to rise within him, risking cracking to pieces. The daze between his ears turned into a mighty crush, a sensation that had him wondering if his head would split in two.

He couldn’t breathe. The breeze of the ocean was of liquid, not air. And he was dying, despite being unborn. Could he say he was dying?

The first thing he learnt in this “life” was that he would miss out on great lands and travels, conversations and camaraderie, the embrace of his mother. She wouldn’t have the chance to truly have her son in her hooves.

Except that wasn’t true. Feather did feel the touch of his mother, or at least a touch reminiscent of a mother’s love. It held him tight and close. It was not gentle—holding him tightly and in a flurry. That didn’t matter. It was still touch. It was an unrelenting embrace. It was a little closer to heaven.

Closer to heaven indeed. The unborn and children went to heaven, right? For the innocence in their blood and souls made them impartial to sin, those who had not the chance to experience their lives would be saved and brought to paradise. It made sense. It was only just and fair.

The pain worsened. It grew exponentially: barely noticeable moments ago, now as if a tightening vice which had no limits. At any second, Feather swore he would be whisked to his creator. Would he implore him for an explanation of the cruelty imparted upon him, death to a child who didn’t even know life? It was like he was choking on his own umbilical cord.

It would stop any moment now. It had to. There was no way someone as weak as himself could suffer to this extent and live to tell the tale. There was no way a living thing could hold their breath for this long and leave unscathed.

Then he felt it. The surface of water, the surface of a never-ending abyss. Air.

A frantic commotion occurred, a tiring and confusing haze of splashing water and relieved lungs. He coughed a guttural cough. He breathed as if this was the first time he had done so in a thousand years.

Images of a landscape appeared as if from a mist, engulfing Feather.

He could barely see. The fuzzy figures before him were like flickering ghosts, spirits trembling under wavering lamp light. He couldn’t make out distances of details from the horizon; it was an enervating effort for his already exhausted self.

Blue. It was the one thing he was sure of. A rich, deep blue that stretched as far as the eye can see. From above illuminated the moon’s all-seeing nature, far yet attention-grabbing in its presence. Purple reigned as king of the sky’s colors, reaching gently to light her exasperated face.

A mare. She reached for him. She clung shaky hooves around Feather, keeping him from sinking into abyssal depths despite calm water. She held him like he would slip forever afar had she let go for only an instant. His and her bodies stuck, hoping to protect them from frigid waters that encapsulated their lower halves. Only the emptiest of the cosmos could be as cold.

Voices. From the distance Feather heard voices. They called out to them, and the mare replied back, her voice rough as she coughed once again. She didn’t stop. She didn’t want to let them be lonely together and be by Death’s door ever again.

Then came an angel from the heavens. It had to be an angel, right? It was a purple blur that came from the sky, quickly grabbing his limbs and lifting him from the water. Feather couldn’t tell if the mare that saved him was watching from this elevation. Everything was still a blur. It was too late to be sure.

The water’s surface looked to run below them—Feather knew they were most definitely flying. The air was wintry, making his discomfort harsher as he and the purple haze soared through the night. Was this how ponies entered the gates of heaven, through the aid of angels?

Nearing a fast pace was a line, separating waters from sand. A shoreline. They descended quickly as he took note of it, landing in front of the misty form of a blue pony.

Feather made out words despite the ache pounding his head—made worse from his flight. “Help Feather. I have to go back and get her.” He heard the sound of wings flapping behind him, taking off. Feather didn’t have much time to think about those words as the blue mare placed firm but nervous hooves on his sides.

“Are you okay? What are you feeling?”

He recognized that voice. Somehow, he knew the owner. It was River Moon. As he attempted to focus his vision, he caught the occasional clear glimpse of her: a face awash with both concern and relief, a preemptive trepidation as she checked his weak body.

It was though he forgot how to speak. Feather’s mind was scrambled. “I...” He coughed, droplets of water shooting from his throat. “I think I’m okay. I can’t... I can’t see well, though. I don’t... where am I?”

River quickly seated by Feather’s side and patted his back. “Breathe. Don’t force it, though. Just breathe.”

Feather did as he was told, focusing on the sensation of his chest falling and rising. Somehow, the pain got even worse in his lungs. In there shot a sharp pain that almost made him wheeze. His heart beat so quickly it ought to have leapt through his ribcage.

Feather had to breathe; she was right about that; he continued to do what she said. River seemed to reward his perseverance by periodically patting and rubbing his back. It felt... nice.

He was breathing. He truly was breathing, and he was here. It felt like all was going to be okay.

Feather was definitely out of breath, but he calmed as his heart continued to slow down. Feather’s lungs were definitely killing him, but this was fine. It was okay. He was safe. They were safe. Except...

“Where... where is she?” Feather’s voice was even coarser than the sands and soil of the shore beneath. “She was left there... Is she... alright?”

A force was placed on his withers. Feather turned to face the blurry figure that air-lifted him here—her hoof gentle yet affirming. It was Twilight Sparkle, a warm mirth in her expression.

He didn’t know why she would look at him so mysteriously. His questions were answered when she merely pointed in that direction.

His eyes were out of focus. Again, he couldn’t make out distances so well. As he tried squinting his eyes, a spark of recognition hit him as to who he stared back at.

Crystal Jade.

She was soaked, her mane and tail damp, her ties of gold and jewelry still fastened on, skirt sticking to her rump. She looked just like he had seen her in his dreams apart from her being wet. One thing was missing.

Her serpentine mask. It was gone. Feather gazed at her unhiding face. She gazed at his. And all was quiet.

No breeze blew. The world held back a breath.

“Are you... are you really her?” River and Twilight glanced amongst each other when the former asked, breaking the silence of the otherwise undisturbed nighttime.

Only the gentle rustles of trees responded, a static noise.

She looked like gleaming stars. All doubts have been removed, all premonitions. Feather didn’t know what it was, but when he stared back at those eyes, he felt as if she was more real than he was. Under the melancholy of a clear sky and a clear moon, Feather felt as if he connected to her soul more than any other person in the galaxy. He saw her more than he saw himself.

“Yes,” Feather easily answered. He stood, walking with shaky limbs. She only sat down on the shoreline sand, locking her gaze on him—tunnel vision. To Feather and Jade, they were the only things that existed. That mattered.

He took a double take to make sure he didn’t come too close. Her face and mane shone under moonlight, the reflections coming off her mane radiant and golden. “It’s you. It could only be you.”

Jade placed a hoof on his own. She placed her other hoof on the ground, kneading—in retrospect—insignificant particles of ground.

This was the first time she’s touched for a thousand years, the only other times being in the dreams of others.

But this was no dream. This was real. She wouldn’t be whisked away into a place unknown when it was all over, she wouldn’t be put to sleep between the seams of different realities.

Jade was here now. Jade was here.

Feather stumbled from the force of her hug, the girl wrapping hooves around him in an embrace. They had embraced before—several times in his dreams and trips—but to feel this properly was... enlightening? Fulfilling? It filled a hole bored in his heart from when he was only young, a love that could only be given by one’s soulmate.

He felt her breathing, felt the shakiness in her hooves as they pressed his back. She was cold from the water, but it was the warmest touch Feather had ever felt.

Her heartbeat. Feather was reminded of when he was in his dream—in the mountains in front of a fireplace. They had been close at that moment, Feather able to distinguish that rhythm of her chest. He recalled how it was weak, how it was one of a dying child’s.

Not anymore. The beat of her heart was strong. It ran a hundred miles an hour, capable of orbiting the planet as many times as one could count, rising as he pressed his chest against hers.

Jade had a heartbeat. Jade could walk around, talk. She needed not his dreams anymore.

Jade was alive.

“Feather!”

He was interrupted when his two friends neared a few steps, the professionalism of handling their emergency morphing into wonderment and serious concern. Feather only realized they’d been calling them for several times now. The two mares looked like they’d just had the longest night of their lives, restlessness lighting their eyes.

Feather excused himself, facing his two companions as they came to him.

“Thank the stars you’re alright.” He was surprised at the force at which River hugged him. Feather was also oddly pleased. It was out of compassion; it was because she cared for him. Feather only wrapped a meek hoof around her barrel before she patted his back and let go, though he had chuckled.

“Thank Celestia, too”—Twilight placed a hoof on his shoulder—“We were so worried about you! We woke up in the water too, but for some time you didn’t show up, and...” Twilight gasped and slapped a hoof on her mouth. “How have I not noticed any sooner? Feather, what happened to your eye?!”

Feather simply returned his attention to Jade, seeing her pairs.

Those eyes, how serene they were. Calm and peaceful too. Her right eye was red. Her left eye was purple.

An eye for an eye, he thought rather solemnly. That purple orb found new life as the expression she gave him filled with a sense of new hope, a fresh admiration.

Setting a tentative hoof on his left eyelid, Feather found an eyepatch fastened tightly to his head. Almost drowning must’ve made him ignore it outright, aches in his lungs and the dizziness in his head having made him subconsciously push the concern aside.

“I had an opportunity,” Feather explained to his two friends, not prying from her gaze. “I saw how she wore that mask because she was hurting, she was scarred. She hid behind that mask because there was something broken about her, something physical... When I remembered the legend saying ‘find her heart and make it complete,’ I immediately understood what that meant. It was something I had to do.”

A newfound sadness struck him suddenly, maybe from his words he finally spoke out to the world to hear. In his mind it was worth it, but Feather couldn’t help but feel a sense of loneliness creeping up his heart. What would his team say back when he returned? He’ll never live the same way again.

Jade seemed to share his emotion, a pitiful and dejected feeling. It was the feeling of when one got everything they wanted, and at the same time mourning great sacrifices to get to where they were. Now what?

“I’m sorry,” Jade whispered. She closed her left eye and placed a hoof on it, a moment passing before she slipped it away. “I... wish there was some other way.”

“It... it doesn’t matter now.”

Jade stood and sat in front of him. Notwithstanding sounds of disturbed sand and forest ambiance, it was most probably the quietest night of his life. “You’re here. I’m here. River and Twi are here. I...”

He shut his eye. “I didn’t think it would be like this. Yet we’re here. Yet we’re here...”

Feather looked into the horizon. It was hard to see—he could barely do so, anyway—but he did indeed spot what was expected.

Tlekokalli. Except this was not the Tlekokalli he had once seen in his visions. This was the lost city when he and his friends had first found it, a husk of a civilization, an abandoned abode of kings. It was ironic because when he confirmed this was indeed the deserted version of the city, that only meant one thing.

They truly were home.

Jade seemed to have a sadness in her, a contemplative dissonance that warred her very soul. She must have thought of her sentiments: “I was not meant for that world, I was meant to be with you.” It still didn’t excuse her from the sorrow; it didn't spare her from the pain. The only home she knew was a lifeless corpse of what it once was. There were no city lights that gleamed back at them, only benign stars.

Jade looked at her own hooves, wondering if she would turn into a ghost again.

He instinctively wrapped her in an embrace, almost tackling her. Jade’s breath was that of genuine surprise, a surprise that anypony would do this. Feather couldn’t care less of his hurt now, for the despondency she must’ve felt was a thousand times worse. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

Jade paused for a moment before burying her face into his neck.

At that moment, feeling the plump of her body, Feather was taken back to his memories. To that Ohteotl retreat, meeting River Moon and taking that brew. He saw Jade’s face, so full of hidden things, occasionally revealing to him emotions that were perhaps too real.

He remembered his dreams with her; that party, that institution for the mentally ill. She hadn’t even said anything in that first dream, but Feather could still recall that face: watching, knowing things nopony else knew, and yet she looked kind. Protective. That second dream he remembered most of all. She was broken. He wasn’t supposed to go near her, but he did anyway. Reaching the constraints of her straightjacket, he let go of her bonds. She placed a gentle hoof on his cheek. Feather had set Jade free. They exchanged names, and when each name rolled off the other’s tongue, it felt just right, like they knew it all along but somehow forgot.

Dreams were a figment of one’s imagination, right? A process wherein one was taken through whimsical events in the brain for some purpose not understood by science.

Peeling back, Feather could see there was something else going on. He had once thought his dreams were things that only happened, events that were loosely based on real life antics and happenstances. Now he knew they were more.

That something will never be fully understood. Feather accepted that. What he did know was that it had been the manner for this mare right here to interface with him. She was now flesh. She was now blood. Before that was only a wish. Now it was reality.

It sounded stupid. Two ponies who had never even met before, how was it possible this pairing was even a thing? They had been separate. They had been apart. They hadn’t known the other existed for a thousand years.

Wandering souls. That’s what they were. Wandering souls in a world impermanent and a universe constantly changing. It would take a miracle for these two to meet. It seemed impossible. It had been impossible for way too many.

Yet here they were. They were together. Beyond rational things, beyond doubt, beyond understanding, they were long lost soulmates who’d never met—from separate timelines, from separate worlds—that somehow found each other. Through the luck of the draw, through either a mistake or a deliberation, their paths had occasionally crossed. A tangent meeting a circle, a point that only got to meet with another once and only once, that’s what this should have felt like. It was more than that.

This was what happened when the sun rose from the west. This was what happened when dreams went beyond rational things. This was what happened when two soulmates reached beyond the stars for a chance to meet one another.

Feather wrapped a hoof around her head. She wrapped a hoof around his barrel. They held their bodies close, starting with different heart beats but eventually, given time, beating together. At that moment, they were one and one in the same.

Under the omnipotence of hallowed moonlight, in a blanket of warm, forgiving wind, these two soulmates met for the first time. It was though planets aligned, and the challenges would continue on, so will the hardships, so will the pain and suffering. But it was worth it. Feather had lost, but he gained, and Jade had lost much, and she gained even more. Now they had each other.

For a moment the universe did seem to care, skies above twinkling with brilliant stars. Heaven told them that their wishes have been granted, that before they would come to it there still laid ahead hopeful days and wondrous memories.

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Author's Note:

Reflections and Other Things

We’ve made it to the end! I think Sh1ve’s cute artwork adds a nice touch to Scarred Serpentine’s closing. I honestly don’t know what to say… The idea of Scarred Serpentine started bubbling in my head since March, and I was working with its outline by April. It took longer to publish I have to admit, but I believe it was for the best. Now it's completed!

(WARNING: Paragraph of Personal Thoughts): I’ve written stories before, and many of them I came to dislike. I think it was because I tried so hard at being something I wasn’t. Like I tried to run as a bird when I could have just flew. I had to learn to get away from that sort of mentality. I realized that I should just write the way I do, and while some people may not like my work, that’s okay! I’d rather be honest in my writing than contort my work in the pursuit of more praise or something like that.

This is probably the last work I’ll write in a while (although I do have a short story—Heaven-sent—published). Scarred Serpentine was an idea I wanted to execute after a while of not writing. When another idea comes to me in the future, I might put pen on paper (or hands on a keyboard) and let it take me away!

To Sh1ve and Skyeypony, Jatheus and their comments, Dusk_Writer and their advice, my bestie for motivation, and to you dear reader: thank you! To be honest, I’m not really ready to let go (I’ve been writing this for like 15 minutes), but all I can do is wish you farewell until next time!

Comments

[Jatheus]

11119434
I can understand that. I have also recently had family matters… I hope you are well and that things improve.