Scarred Serpentine

by Metanoia

Act I, Chapter IX

---

Feather imagined himself in a place that wasn’t a place, a null void neither light nor dark, existing. There was no white; there was no dark; there was no color. That’s how he emptied his mind whenever he needed to do so—swiping away thought from forming in his head for the sake of his concentration. It was a sort of game, letting go of any thought before it could get to him. He was a fortress, blasting down enemies before they could reach his safe space.

The only matter of importance was his respiration. Feather filled his chest whenever he breathed in, his diaphragm contracting as it moved downwards as gently as summer thicket leaves. After, he exhaled, his torso contracting in accordance to the flow all living things abided to, a benevolent breeze. It was a trick he taught himself: no pause ought to be between the inhales and the exhales. The cycles of the two should transition flawlessly as to allow the air in him to truly move. It should be one. It should be together.

She wasn’t here-

Feather instinctively let the thought go before it could materialize and get the best of him. Out of pure instinct, he let the thought go as any other thought he let go prior.

But this little thought was seemingly special, as it often returned as quickly as it came, and this time was no different.

She wasn’t here.

He was glad he pondered not too much about it; Feather had to keep it away for a moment—it was crucial he didn’t get caught in that mess. Feather knew that he couldn’t let himself slip up, for he had the sentiment that this time was of utmost importance. He had to be calm. He had to do this.

Continuing his solemn breathing, his heartbeat shook a tad at the sensation of a familiar tug of that ship once again. Focusing, he shrugged his notions away and pressed on. He should be a room without walls, a door that lead back to itself in an infinite loop.

Feather was glad of it, glad of how calming it was to breathe. Often, it brought him right back to himself in a world that can make one forget who they were. Breathing was existence; it was a delicate balance between the two strongest forces of nature: the heart and the mind. His world would be in chaos had either of the two grow more powerful than the other.

At other times, it was as if he was flying through both an empty and star-laden night: empty in how the wind howled, as if the world were hollow; star-laden in how the little pinpricks reached out and reminded him that existence was larger than he could ever imagine.

A slight tug came from his side once more, and it rattled him from his existence. Feather looked.

It was her again, but he could tell there was something different about the way she was, the way she did everything: her solemn stand, her wise gaze, the silence she imparted. Was he imagining it in his mind, or was there something about the mare that somehow spoke to him in intangible, indescribable ways? It was as if one were to come back to their house and be told that all the furniture in every room had been replaced by an identical copy—an unsettling forebode.

She moved her foreleg to place a hoof on her chest; Feather Dew immediately noted that it made her seem more vulnerable, more protective. It was as if she was protecting her heart.

“You’re different, but the same.” It was all Feather could say, the only words that came.

“You too are different, but the same, nonetheless.” Feather knew not of the emotion she held behind her two masks: the serpentine that veiled half her face and her face itself—an unexplainable expression treasuring secrets as deep as the seas.

“How so?”

“Perhaps it is also me. Before, I only looked at you. Now I see you. Before, it was as if I were merely a blank slate experiencing the world from a slice tiny and insignificant. Now I am aware. Now I know that I exist.”

Feather ruefully agreed. “I’m different because you changed?”

Her expression revealed the wisdom of a hundred lifetimes. “It is the both of us who changed. We see each other, and it is not only who we view who changed, but ourselves. One cannot expect to watch the world move without moving one’s self.”

It was oddly right. Perhaps it could be likened to the universe: a changing, exploring object that wandered its own person, birthing stars and planets and everything that could be wrought in the emptiness of space-time.

God giveth, and god taketh away. It was a strange fear that brought itself down to him. Some primordial force could take her away from him at this very moment, but he considered whether the same primordial force would take him away from her. What if the universe was to take them both from each other?

Feather was returned to the mantra that refused to leave him, and now, the time was appropriate:

“There’s... I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time.”

She made her expression serious but sincere, placing her hoof down and offering a firm nod. “It is alright. Do go on.”

Sitting on his rump, Feather exhaled shortly, unlike the waves of odd emotion washing over his soul in the hopes of wearing it down completely. “Well, you’ve been in my dreams recently, and to be frank, you’ve been in my dreams for... a long time. Despite that, you’ve been popping up more frequently—more than ever. I... is that something you can control?”

She looked a tad uncomfortable, shifting from her seated position. She reminded him of a puppy caught red handed stealing from the fridge. “Yes. To an extent, it is something I do have control over. I... Sometimes, I haven’t the words to explain, or I cannot bring myself to say the things I mean to say. It is hard, and I do it because...” She drifted off, silent as a waveless sea.

“You feel lonely?”

She exhaled softly and glanced below. And despite her conscious melancholy, her mask and eye gleamed brightly, as if stars in a voyager’s wide eyes heaven-bound.

“I show you things,” she explained, “things that may or may not be intangible. Dreams are my vessel which I express myself in. Dreams are malleable. I wanted to show you... me.”

He nodded. Feather allowed a pause before continuing, “Yes. I sort of get it now. I remember how you would be in my dreams sometimes. The problem is that I forget them most of the time, and my mind brushes it off as some little nitpicking detail I would forget in my next few waking moments.

“I wanted to... I wanted to talk to you yesterday about that, but you weren’t there. You weren’t here.”

Thereupon the mare’s ears slumped, her gaze wavering to the floor, away from a non-existent critical stare of his. It was out of meek deliberation.

“You talked to River Moon, didn’t you? She told me that you came to her and that you two talked. I don’t know what you talked about because I didn’t want to intrude on your and her privacy. All I can say is... this is gonna sound crazy, but...”—his face turned sure, melting into an encompassing compassion—“we’re listening. We’re listening to you. You’re... you’re here.”

“I told her that I was stuck. That I was somehow in a place I shouldn’t be in. I am a fish out of water, a parrot chick in an eagle’s nest. I’m not where I’m supposed to be. I was supposed to move on a long time ago...” She hit the ground with a knowledgeable hoof, sending out waves that reverberated this plane they stood on, representing the border between her and whatever laid on the other side.

And Feather understood somehow. Through means immaterial, indescribable, when he saw those waves emanate from the impact of her hoof, the epiphany arrived as quickly as it was surprising, painful, so obvious it dizzied his head in a never-ending cascade. How could he have been so blind?

I was supposed to move on a long time ago...

“You’re no entity. You’re not special. You’re not quite ethereal. You’re trapped. And you were once normal. You...”

She was neither dead nor alive.

The mare didn’t even seem upset with the bluntness of his outspoken revelation, simply gazing back at him with a bated breath. And Feather Dew stared back, meeting his distorted reflection in her mask, her iris. It was a warped visage of a stallion changed at the revelation that he had been touched by a ghost. It was the revelation that she was beyond the realms of life itself.

“Crystal Jade?”

She replied back softly. “Yes, Feather Dew?”

He was firm but solemnly spoken. “My stars, where can I find you?”

---

It was fleeting, the moment the fireflies came. They were seemingly in a sojourn: the flying buggers came from one side, flew around at a spot for a few moments, then left to go another way, disappearing into the obscurity of dark horizons. Feather Dew didn’t know that fireflies could fly up this high; he wondered what made them try to wander amongst the treetops.

Perchance it was the wind, or rather lack thereof. It was an especially colder night than most, although it wasn’t due to the presence of strong winds or forest gusts. The critters around seemed to like it, especially the birds. They chirped merrily and constantly in the background as Feather Dew enjoyed the sugary taste of his drink, settling back into his chair.

He was fortunate that there was a bartender that manned the bar now, and he and River Moon had ordered some drinks for themselves. They found it rather surprising that the mare manning the place didn’t ask for any payment; he wasn’t sure if this would be added to their tab or not.

Sipping his cup of Caldo de cana, Feather Dew put a hoof on the rope railings and gazed out into the Amarezonian darkness. He swore he felt a breeze hit the side of his neck as he tried to make out the details of the rainforest edge.

Where could you be?

“I really should have tried this sooner,” spoke River Moon; he turned to regard her. She was drinking through a curly straw from a rather fancy looking glass containing an exotic looking yellow and green liquid, white particles shimmering in it.

“What is that called again? Lula something?”

“Lulada. It’s made of some fruit called Lulo. It does taste both sweet and tart, though—it’s an interesting taste.”

“Ah.” It reminded Feather, that description. Sweet and tart. I wouldn’t describe it as tart, though. More like... saccharine? Bittersweet? Just talking to her would give one a certain edge.

“How would you describe your experiences with her, River Moon?”

“Hm?” She looked up from her drink, contemplating his words. River let her hoof drop on the table, banging it slightly. She puckered her lips. “Hm. I don’t know. She’s kind of a mystery, honestly. I’d like to know more about her.”

The idea planted itself in his subconscious. He found it poetic that this seemed to be a good time to tell River Moon, for he hadn’t done so yet. “Jade. Her name is Crystal Jade.”

River set the drink to the side of the table, not once tearing her gaze from him. Her jaw hung from her head. “She... she told you her name?”

“Through one way or the other, yeah. She told me while I was dreaming last night. I didn’t know how to tell you before, but... but I found it inappropriate—in a way—to tell you that because I hadn’t even called Jade by her name until, well, a while ago. Sorry for not telling you any sooner.”

She scrunched up her nose, pinching her eyebrows together. “Wow. I must be having amnesia or something.”

He flashed a simple smile. “She told me she tells me stuff in my dreams, remember? I dreamt of her last night, and I asked for her name. I gave her my name, too.”

River Moon seemed contemplatively surprised at the development, setting both her hooves on the table’s wooden surface. “Wow... I didn’t think she would have a name. Not to be offensive here, but still. I didn’t even think of it that much.”

“I understand how you wouldn’t have. I hadn’t thought of it as much as well when we first met, too. But she did answer me when I was in my dream, so.”

He remembered that moment clearly. Feather often forgot his dreams as time passed on, but he couldn’t find it in himself to lose memory of this dream, ever. She gave him a soft caress when they had first met, and she gave him much the same once again when they first closed the distance between them in that interlude of solace.

“I still remember it, clear as day. I set her free; she didn’t even fight back. Jade caressed my cheek. She felt me. I came close to her, and she came close to me.”

River Moon rested her chin on her hoof, her foreleg’s knee resting on the table. “Damn. I knew you told me that you could see her in your dreams sometimes, but to think that she would come to you that way? Huh. She really does seem to be lonely.”

And Feather Dew had to agree with her, for as hard and harsh as it may seem. She was lonely. “She’s trapped. Somehow, she’s trapped. I told her moments ago during our trip that she wasn’t some inter-dimensional, ethereal entity. I told her that she was once normal. And she didn’t try to fight that sentiment. I... I think I got her.”

River gave him a grimace, but she could have been giving it more to herself. “That practically confirms my suspicions, then. She’s somehow trapped in some other dimension. Have I explained what that means to you yet?” He shook his head despite getting some of the gist of it either way.

“When we take Ohteotl, I half-assumed that we had our own individual experiences. You have yours, I have mine, and everypony else has theirs. But what I now believe is that she’s somehow... we’re somehow contacting her from this plane, and she’s contacting us from her own plane of reality.”

“Yeah, I understand. It’s like whenever we take the brew, it sort of brings down a ‘filter’ in our minds, therefore allowing us to contact some other dimension or other plane of existence.”

“Yes, exactly. But... How did she get stuck in that place? How can she see us?”

Feather admittedly didn’t have an answer to that. “I’m not so sure myself. I didn’t really want to bring that up. Maybe she got stuck there because of an accident? Some sort of tear of reality? We can only guess.”

River Moon let out an exhale, wordlessly grabbing her drink and taking another sip. Feather assumed she didn’t even know exactly what to say anymore; he couldn’t blame her. She started to twirl her straw out of aimless contemplation.

“It’s just- what are we supposed to do now? We know that she’s somehow stuck, and it’s killing her! She keeps telling us she’s trapped... but where is she trapped? Where do we go?”

Feather gave her a sad smile, allowing a small pause. “She told me.”

River Moon looked up from twirling her straw. “Excuse me?”

“She told me that to find her, we needed to come to her heart.”

“Wait, what? What does that have to do with anything?”

He puckered his lips and grabbed his drink, setting his gaze out into the Amarezon. Feather knew what he had to say, and he felt rather at peace at the thought that they had a beacon of hope they could follow. “I might have an idea where she is.”

River Moon watched him in silence until a part of her brain seemingly clicked, following his gaze into the rainforest. She put a hoof on her mouth at the revelation.

“You... you don’t think that she’s actually out there, do you?”

He looked back at her with that mirth in his eyes. “She told me that if we were to find her, then we would have to go to her home.”

---

“But... but why there?” Feather was confused at what she was saying. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea, but it seemed with the look on her face that it was obvious.

She stared out into a direction Feather Dew couldn’t see, a place his mind permitted him not to understand. “I... where I come from, death is not the end. When we let go of this life, we move on to the next. My people say that the city we lived in was the center of the universe, and we can find our way to the other worlds from there.”

He couldn’t believe it, and yet what she was saying sounded so aberrantly asinine that it had to be true. “You’re saying that if I am to find you, then I would have to go to your city?”

She nodded. “Yes, most probably, but... I am not sure if you can find it.”

Feather seemed confused. “What do you mean? It would be hard, but I’m sure that I can get there somehow.”

She glanced back at him. “I am not sure whether it exists anymore. How long has it been? She must have been lost for a thousand years.”

Author's Note:

A bit of a short chapter once again, but with heavy implications! The next chapter will be the end of Act I, so stay tuned!

Comments

[Jatheus]

If the Universe has a center, then it must have an end! So, there may be a restaurant at the end of the Universe after all! I dunno, seems infinitely improbable to me.

Sounds like we’re in for an adventure! All we need is a Conquistador… maybe.