• Published 22nd Oct 2012
  • 1,141 Views, 3 Comments

Sterling - Roan

  • ...
6
 3
 1,141

Part 3 (includes portions of Lyra Cocta Melum)

Silver Star and Fluttershy had just reached the end of Everfree forest. They were sitting together. At least Star was. Fluttershy valiantly stood, watching the fire in the distance with a stoic, uncaring face. But her eyes... oh, those eyes, they had something to say. They broke apart her facade the second they were seen. They spoke of the inner turmoil the pegasus faced. Destroying the life of any creature, however beastly or dangerous it may have been, was a subversion. Possibly the most direct subversion to her own interests she had ever undergone. And yet she was never asked to do it. Fluttershy chose to exterminate the parasprites. On her own. She didn’t even want the company of the pony beside her now.

“I want to see your face again.”

Her voice had a profundo tinge to it. It was not an inquiry, it was a command. And he would oblige. But first . . .

“You will, but may I ask why? You saw it before. The scar, even.”

“Just do it.” the tinge from before had grown. And he did. He popped off the faceplate like he had before, however, this time the material of his suit seemed to melt away and receded down his neck. His scar, black mane, and blue eyes had been revealed unto the pegasus once again. Seconds passed, and the metallic substance had now completely encased itself in a small box on the underside of the colt. Numerous bands, some taut and others limp, spanned his body. They covered his torso, his neck, his legs . . .

What was left of them.

He only had two. Right foreleg, left hind. The others were just stubs. He did a remarkable job of balancing on the remaining appendages.

Fluttershy kept her emotionless stare as she scanned his composure. She looked over various weapons, and then stared at his flank. The one that still had a leg attached to it. She pushed through the belts that covered it, looking for his mark.

It was the black silhouette of a cross. An allusion to the very cross that Jesus, whether he existed or not, had been crucified upon. It cast a shadow and within it, instead of a true quarter lattice, was a swastika. Reversed, at least when compared to the one on his forehead. A sign of peace, to the hopeful. But to the majority of his people, it would be interpreted (rightfully, mind you) as a sign of hate and destruction.

But looking into it himself, Star saw that it was not his true mark. He didn’t know much about ‘cutie marks,’ but it was evident to him now that as far as killers were concerned, they were probably different in every incarnation. Like he did to Bluh-D. to find her real name, he focused on himself and a bit of his past.

“I was once an astronaut . . .”

“Wha-what’s happening, Silver?” Fluttershy asked, her face had gone back to the more passionate, emotionally expressive one he had only seen in a couple of stressful situations prior to now. “What’s wrong with your cutie mark!”

“It’s not real. Just hold on a second . . .”

The mark had simply disappeared, with several colors flaring in it’s place for brief moments before losing opacity just like the cross had before them. It was taking a lot more focus to break through and find that first mark, assuming he’d have an equivalent of such a thing, given he would have been a human when it first existed. But he was getting there, just a bit more, a couple more memories should do it . . .

“Remember the star that fell through the surface? That was me. Sorry about your house!”

No, not enough . . .

“Your rose was red from the beginning.”

And that did it. His new, vintage rather, mark had appeared. It was a cornucopia. Weaved of graphite. Filled with persimmons. He had no particular interest in persimmons, but he vaguely remembered a book that had used one as a metaphor for something . . .

Thoughts of the book meshed with those of Marie Geladrin.

And with that, he’d figured it out. The cornucopia’s hold of the persimmons signified how he took in the grotesque and, at the very least, tried to help. Even if it turned them into melancholy warriors. At least they’d be happy. The metallic, or at least iridescent, nature of the weave was referring to his resolve. Well, he hoped that was it . . . If that were not the case, it probably meant he was a hardass. He didn’t like being a hardass.

“What did you do?”

“I shed a lie, and showed you the truth. You’ve seen Bluh-D’s mark, how it was different from what it was before I showed up. She did the same thing, albeit with a bit of encouragement from me.”

“Oh... okay.”

And with that, the pegasus had returned to the adorably timid countenance Star had wished to get the chance to know before.

“Let’s go back to the others. Now that any immediate, knowable threats have been taken care of, it’s time you all got an explanation.”

“One thing before we go . . .”

“What would that be, miss Shy?”

“Well, two things actually . . .”

“Shoot.” he said patiently.

She took a deep breath, stopped (hesitated) for a moment, and then spoke.

“You said you were something else before you were brought here. What were you? And, I, uh... I think pink looks good on you . . .”

That’s right . . . He hadn’t even told them he was a human!

“We’ll talk about that when we get everypony together.”

Wait, wait, PINK?


The group had assembled in the library. Twilight was angry, her eyes bloodshot. She was quick to tell anyone who arrived later than she had expected that she hadn’t slept since the event a few nights ago. Bluh-D was happy. Her hair was had found an equilibrium state, and was now made up completely of frizzy instead of straight or poofy locks. In her poofy locks, Star’s fedora nestled tightly atop her mane. Fluttershy wore a contented look, as if her work had made her feel much better about the situation the ponies were in, and who she was. It was far more likely that the pegasus was simply too tired to contemplate the complex moral decision she had followed through with just hours ago. Rarity was scared. She hadn’t been scared about Bluh-D earlier, but then again, she wasn’t told the truth. Fluttershy’s dispensations had hit her hard. She and Rarity had a bond (which Star could only assume involved many timely visits to the local spa) which was now, at best, strained from the revised pegasus’ history. She sat as far away from the yellow mare as she could.

Rainbow Dash and Applejack were confused by so many things, but mostly by Rarity’s obvious resentment of Fluttershy. They sat together. The only pony who’d yet to have shown any inclinations towards any of the particular jobs that Star believed the group was composed of. Except running. Both of them did that pretty well. Ditzy was present as a scribe. When everyone was seated, or otherwise acclimated to the room, Twilight spoke up.

“We’re here to find out what’s been going on. Recently, or otherwise. And to get a complete introduction from Mr. Silver. We’ll start by going over our origins. Truthfully. That means none of this ‘shooter’ nonsense, Bluh-D. I saw right through that. The only reason I allowed you to continue with that lie was because I knew you were hiding something that could make or break our friendship. So, we’ll start with you. What are you and Silver Star?”

The two mares in the room that had not gotten the chance “to meet Bluh-D” were even more confused by this than by the white pony’s behaviour. They looked around frantically to spot the pony Twilight was addressing. Bluh-D would have laughed, if the atmosphere were a little less serious. Just a little. After 30 seconds of this, she’d had her fun.

I’M Bluh-D, girls.”

This was met two quizzical looks.

“Me and Silver Star, or should I say Tom, are Killers. BUT! Before you run off screaming or anything, we’re not murders. We’ve just killed someone, a long time ago, and for that we’ve been imbued with special powers and stuff! We regret ever hurting anypony, and we don’t really want to do anything of the sort, ever again.”

Everyone except Fluttershy, Tom, and Bluh-D, and Twilight, stopped whatever they were doing and either gaped or muttered something about how it was all some sort of prank.

“A-ha!”

What?

“In one of those books the princess asked for, it said something about this! The first pony to kill another pony intentionally would be punished with an eternal life, full of suffering. Bluh-D, are you that pony?”

“Yes! Yes I am that pony and I wholeheartedly regret what I did 4000 years ago!”

Equestria should be commended for having existed so long without murder.

“And how can we trust you to never kill again?”

Dammit! Tom thought, this is exactly what he didn’t want this meeting to amount to. Star would have to get their trust now, or else he’d have to watch, alongside their shunned killer, as they rebelled against a tyrant they didn’t even have any idea they were fighting. The only way he could think of in such short notice could possibly end the meeting just like the last, and alienate the two ponies from the group whom he needed to see next.

Twilight was their leader, no doubt, but he didn’t know whether she was like the leader on Cyrias. The fatherless subhuman, Marcelli Alender. Part reaper, infected by a dead luci. Created by the tyrannous party. It was likely such an existence was this purple unicorn before him, but it was within such a small margin that he couldn’t be sure. That bit about having received letters from the princess made it lean towards his theory, and if he knew why Twilight was corresponding with the princess he’d have all he needed to make his claim.

As if she sensed Tom’s thoughts and what he needed, Bluh-D whispered in his ear.

“She’s the princess’ personal student. Her protege.”

Perfect. No, more than perfect. This fell in perfectly with his theories on Celestia’s reason for bringing him here. He could reveal Twilight’s past, gain at least some bit of trust, or at least the attraction incited by incredulity, and make known his ideas about what was going on.

“Twilight!” he yelled.

“You don’t need to shout Tom.”

“Have you ever wondered why you were so lucky as to become the student of a royal figure, nay, a goddess?”

“Yes. And I’ve already found out why, thank you very much. I showed talent, however uncontrolled it may have been, when I attempted to join a school for gifted unicorns in Canterlot. After many years of studying under princess Celestia, I was sent to Ponyville, here, to make friends. It was part of her plan to stop Nightmare Moon when she returned from her 1000 year banishment to the moon. I’m the-”

“Element of ‘the flow!’” Tom said while rearing up on his hind hooves and point towards Twilight!

Everyone in the room looked at Tom with a look of confusion. Twilight was mostly agitated, but was still quite bewildered. The colt who made the loud, and frankly embarrassing, outburst brought himself back onto all 4 hooves and sighed.

“I meant magic, sorry.” Shouldn’t have expected them to know the proper term. Not in a place like this. “Regardless, you’re not a natural born pony. You’ve been genetically altered, such that you’re adept at the arcane. More so than the princess herself, possibly. Your parents are real, and they did birth and raise you, but you were modified after conception. You’re a chimera.”

“What? No, sir! No! I am a natural being and I refuse to listen to any assertions to the contrary!”

“It’s not a bad thi-” Tom started before being tapped on the shoulder by Bluh-D.

She whispered to him “Dash is the chimera, stupid!”

And then Tom felt sick. It didn’t matter how Bluh-D knew there was a chimera, or whom it was. She continued to whisper to him, something along the lines of “just look at her cutie mark,” but he had stopped listening as he stewed in his

“Oh god-I’m sorry!”

And then Bluh-D brought a hoof to her face and slowly


“Let me just start from the beginning. The real beginning. Maybe you’ll trust me when I’m through. I can understand why you wouldn’t.”

“Ditzy, make sure you get all this down. I’m sending it to the princess if he doesn’t give me a good reason to believe him by the end.”

Star took a deep breath. This was going to be a long, long spiel.

“I’m a human. A bipedal creature without wings, or horns. Well, most of us don’t have those. We have hands instead of hooves, you probably have beings here with them so I’ll spare the details on out dexterity. After millions of years of wallowing around in the muck, our kind made it’s first voyage into space. 120 years later, we were contacted by Giegamurs. They offered, to those wicked enough to accept it, a deal that left only a third of us alive. 500 years later, we live on space stations orbiting a planet called Cyrias.”

“You’re either crazy, or you think we’re crazy enough to believe you.”

Ignoring Twilight, he continued.

“4 years ago, I, and 5 other humans, were trapped under the surface of Cyrias. In a place called the labyrinth. It was a place where dreams came true, as hard as it may be to believe. But its nature also spawned stuff of nightmares. It was also the place where “the dead” of humanity appeared. You remember that list of everything I said while I was asleep? Those were your dead. Anyway, they manifested as small creatures that I’d be hard pressed to describe. They were made of something akin to stone, but other than that, utterly indescribable! I, 3 of those humans, and 4 of the dead, broke the surface of Cyrias and converted into a sun that now orbits the planet. In the process, we freed a Giegamur from his ire, in a method quite similar to how you defeated Nightmare Moon. However, we suffered losses in our fight. The dead moved on, starting a quest on another planet similar to Cyrias, and we got ourselves into trouble when we returned to a station. We were split up for about a year, and then got together and were given a book called “The Heroes and the Dead,” which told us about ourselves and what we were supposed to do. Actually, just a second.”

He stuck his hoof into his suit, and pulled out a hefty tome.

“It told us we were the heroes of humankind, that we’d fix the world. Whether that meant our original planet or the one humanity inhabits now, I still do not know. With the help of the Giegamur we saved, and a human we’d only met after finding the book, we fought a corrupt ruler and acquired an important item called ‘The Tyrant’s Heart,’ which could have been used to undo everything the tyrant had done. But we chose not to use it, because it meant we couldn’t continue with our quest and save everything. It’s supposed to be an off switch of sorts. With it, the heroes decide whether they want their species to go beyond subsistence and grow, or idle peacefully forever. Anyway, up until now I’ve been fulfilling my duties as the killer of my group. It was all supposed to end when I tried to die, as the book foretold, but before I could be torn apart by a vortex of energy, Celestia performed a schism and brought me here.”

There was silence for several minutes.

“You’re absolutely nuts.” the purple unicorn stated.

“I believe him . . .” Fluttershy said, limply.

“You’re on trial here too, Fluttershy. Don’t make yourself anymore untrustworthy.”

“Uhhhh . . . Twilight?”

“What is it, Rainbow?”

“I believe him too.”

“What!?”

“Hear me out! I had this weird dream last night, I thought it was some kind of nightmare, but I think it has something to do with this. There were these 3 weird ponies, they were all shiny, but they looked like . . . like Lyra, Roseluck, and, well, the third one looked sorta like Fluttershy. Lyra was . . . She was just a head . . . We talked for a bit, I asked them if they were real, and they said they were. It wasn’t like when you hallucinate and everything you think up tells you what you want to hear . . . I asked them if they knew about what happened the other night . . . They said they knew they were dead . . . And then I woke up.”

“Oh please! Dreams, Dash? You’re going to cite dreams as proof?”

“Ah don’t know ‘bout any of this dream nonsense, but ah know when somepony’s lying, and this Star, here, ain’t!”

“Applejack! You can’t even see his face, he could have been, could now be, snickering at how stupid you two are for believing in his ridiculous story!”

“No, Twilight-”

“No, Dash, I’ve had it. I’m going to send a letter to the princess asking her what’s going on, and I’ll be sending his little story along with it.”

Suddenly, a loud tearing sound could be heard.

“D-d-der-”

“He saved my life! I don’t care how much has changed in the past few days, nopony would save another and then lie to everypony!”

A very good judge of character.

“But-”

“No buts Twilight, he’s telling the truth, and we’re just going to have to believe him if we’re going to make any sense of this.”

Rarity feinted. Twilight stood still. She started crying.

“Fine. Let me see that book.”


“Hello?” Lyra called out. She had awoken in a strange, grey landscape. Everything was dusty, covered in something akin to soot in spread and consistency but not quite the same color. The ground was broken apart, like a series of small tectonic plates. She was near a fault, in a concave formation. She couldn’t see more than 30 feet in any given direction because of the ridges risen all around her. She heard another voice, muffled, but certainly there. Figuring that she wouldn’t be able to hear any other voices from her position in what for all intents and purposes was a ditch, she tried to pull herself up from an awkward sitting position.

In doing so, Lyra felt herself. Her skin was cold and hard, but she couldn’t feel herself on the inside. Only when contact between one part of her body and another was made did she feel her temperature. It was strange. Everything about this was strange. Could it be a dream? No, she’d just woken up from a dream. A nightmare. A very, very lucid nightmare that she’d tell her friends about the moment she figured out where they were, and where she was in relation to them.

Maybe she’d just woken up from the nightmare and unknowingly went back into another, less scary, dream? Regardless, she continued trotting out of her hole, noting the odd ping her hoofsteps made. Maybe this was a dream. She peered over the ridge and saw an expanse of similar depressions. In the distance, a cream coated, red maned earth pony could be seen trotting at the tops of the ridges.

“Roseluck!?”

The other pony perked up after hearing this. It wasn’t a confirmation that it was indeed Roseluck, but at least there was a pony that could hear her in this grey scape. Lyra heard what could have been a response, but the other pony was too far away for it to carry as more simple noise.

The two moved closer and closer towards each other, following what from above looked like an intricate pattern. Their movements brought them closer and closer to a third pony, a pegasus lying unconscious in a depression that lay between the two. As they neared, their voices became clearer to each other. When they’d gotten within 50 meters, their shouts became a viable form of communication, and they could see each other far more clearly than before.

“Is that you, Roseluck?”

“Yes! Where are we!?”

“I don’t know! I just woke up here. I was having the scariest dream . . .”

They unknowingly woke the sleeping pony. She had a neon blue coat, and dark green mane that was long and flowing. She moaned for a few moments, but not loud enough to draw the attention of the two mares closing in on her position.

“What was it about?”

“Parasprites!”

“That’s weird, so was mine . . .”

Parasprites? thought the blue pegasus. What’s a parasprite?

“Did you . . . Did you die, in the dream, perchance?” Lyra asked with a concerned face.

“I think so . . .”

They thought they were dreaming? Ughhhhh . . . I’d hate to be the one to break it to ‘em but . . .

“Hey, who’s that?” Roseluck said as she and Lyra now found only the pegasus’ hole preventing them from congregating.

My name is . . .

I don’t have one . . . Oh! What do I do what do I do!?

My hostess, perfect!

“Yes, it’s me, Fluttershy!”

Lyra thought to herself about how forward the timid pegasus was being. Adding in the odd colors she now sported, an argument formed in her head that this mare was not Fluttershy, at all.

“What’s wrong with your coat and mane, Flutters?” She asked, hoping that it was Fluttershy and she had just gotten dirty or something along those lines.

“Well, um, I don’t know, to be honest . . .”

Her voice cracked.

“You’re not Fluttershy, are you, honey?”

“No, no I’m not . . . I’m such a terrible liar, why do I even try . . .”

Moments later, the plates shifted underneath the three mares. The depression underneath the pegasus deepened until it opened up and sucked her in. The other two ponies followed suit. Everyone screamed as they fell into a far darker place than they had woken up in.


“My . . . My hooves! What happened to my hooves!?” Roseluck screamed as she looked at the missing appendages before her. Her two front legs had broken into small pieces in front of her. They looked like porcelain, or another ceramic material.

This has to be a dream! She thought.

“They’re broken, simple as that.” the unnamed pegasus said.

“But . . . How do . . .”

“You’re made of clay now, that’s how! Now, if you’d kindly get off of me, I can go and find something to help you get your hooves back.”

Roseluck hadn’t even noticed that she was lying upon the blue mare. She quickly rolled off her and tried not to touch the sharped stubs her hooves had become. As she moved, several liquids, the colors red and cream, started to ooze from the vacancy of her legs.

“What . . .”

“Blood. But not really. Try to keep that inside you or you’ll pass out.”

She shifted her appendages so they pointed upwards, the very idea of such movements made Roseluck feel sick. She looked into her broken legs. They were hollow, aside from the liquid welling up inside them.

“I’ll be back with some clay to patch you up. It would do you well to find the unicorn that fell down here with us. Don’t move, obviously . . . Just, holler out her name, tell her you’re here or something like that.” As the blue pegasus got up, she scanned her body for any injuries. She found one.

“Ah dammit, I was REALLY wanted to fly . . . Well, just another bit of encouragement to get us some clay, I guess.”

Roseluck just stared at her, perplexed. She lost two limbs, and the pegasus before her had lost her wings. Neither of them appeared to be in pain. How could the blue mare be so . . . Nonchalant, about everything that was happening.

As she walked away, Roseluck tried to take her mind off the sharp, wet stubs in front of her by looking at her surroundings. She was in the middle of a dirt road, with trees lining the path to her right. On her left, was a stone wall, about twice her height when standing. Both of these prevented passage unto the road from the outside.

A cacophony sounded off from behind the wall. Brown dirt and small shards of green were forced into the air. Several landed near Roseluck.

“L-Lyra . . . ?”


“EY! That’s my talking head, git yer tentacles off it!”

“You’re selling it to me, you dolt. And frankly, it hasn’t been talking much. Where’d you find it?”

“The minefield, of course! I found it screaming on the ground.”

“I’ll give you 20 irids for it.”

“Deal!”

Lyra was confused. She’d been awoken by swift tug on her hair, and a strange feeling in her . . . Neck? It was like that was all that was left of her. The last thing she remembered was waking up in a field, taking a few steps . . . And a loud noise, all around her. But she felt like it was heard throughout her entire body, not just her ears. It was like her body in its entirety was her ears.

“So, I was told you talk. Mind speaking up, just for a moment?”

Lyra opened her eyes. In front of her was a purple mass. Her eyes were going to have to adjust to the light before she could actually see what it was.

“If you can talk, and are therefore a living figment, I might give you a job. If you can’t speak, I’m afraid you’ll just be another ornament. So please, speak up.”

They were talking about me. I’m the “talking head.” She thought.

“I-I’m Lyra.”

“Well hello Lyra, I’m Dokker. Owner of this small shop. Does there happen to be, uh, any more of you lying around anywhere? A head isn’t a very useful assistant, you see.”

It’s a dream. Just play along. He said I was found at “the minefield,” right?

“Yes, I’m sure there’s some of me left back at the minefield.”

“I’m sure there is, missy, but I don’t think anything left there would be very . . . Intact.”

She gulped, however that may work when you don’t have a neck. It was then that she got a good look at the thing that was holding her. It was nautilus with a purple shell, and blue, slimy tentacles. One of which was, at the disgust of both her and whomever had found her, holding her by her mane.

This is the weirdest dream I’ve ever had.

“Excuse me!” A feminine voice called out. Lyra couldn’t see to whom it belonged, but she could swear she’d heard it before.

“Ah, yes. What would you like, dear.” Dokker swiveled on the mass of tentacles propping him up, turning his eye in the direction of the patron. Lyra caught a glimpse of her. It was the same blue pegasus from before, but its wings were broken off.

“Oooh, that looks bad.”

“Oh, these?” She said while craning her head and nudging the sharp stubs that were once wings with her muzzle. “They’re fine for now. Do you happen to have any-” She stopped and stared at Lyra.

“Ah, you’re interested in this, aren’t you.”

“Yes, I happen to know that, uh, head. Her name’s Lyra.”

“Well, tell you what, if you do me a favor she’s yours.”

“Sure.”

The nautilus jumped to the front of the shop, dropping the head onto the floor. Her face was engulfed in several inches of water, but she didn’t feel like she was drowning. It was an unpleasant feeling, of that there was no doubt, but she didn’t feel like the lack of breath was detrimental to her health.

“Find me a nice piece. Something with a decent caliber, if you can. That prawn across the street has been stealing all my customers away with his “moral” policy of not accepting living figments for cash. I’m going to scare him outta town, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll shoot him dead! No-one messes with Dokker’s flow of irids and gets away with it. Hell, you can take this head now, and I’ll give you some clay to help the poor girl to her feet once I get the gun.”

“I can do that.”

What’s a gun? Lyra thought as she was handed, no, tentacled over to the blue pegasus.

“Try to get me the piece by tomorrow night. I heard there were some big-pocketed travellers coming through town soon and I’d hate to see all that money just slip by me.”

“Will do.”


Lyra, what was left of her, was propped against a wall. The blue pegasus was sitting in front of here, expecting the head to say something which she had already prepared an answer for.

“So, um, this is a dream right? I’m pretty sure I was knocked out by the fall. Or I could still be in the same dream with parasprites, or-”

“I’m really sorry about this Lyra, but you’re dead. You and Roseluck have both said that you were killed by parasprites in your dreams. Well, those weren’t dreams. Now, you’re just a soul in a ceramic doll. A doll that’s been reduced to nothing more than a head, might I add. How’d you manage that?”

“I just sorta trotted away from where I landed, and then there was this loud sound . . .”

“You stepped on a mine, honey. They’re these little metal things filled with explosives, and they’re rigged to explode when anyone touches them.”

“Ohhh . . .”

“But don’t worry. With, well, quite a bit of clay you’ll have your body back in no time.”

Lyra, only having a sliver of doubt that she was in a dream, had no choice but to continue under the assumption that this pegasus was telling the truth. What was her name, anyway?

“Who are you?”

“Onassis.”

“That’s a weird name.”

“Lyra’s a pretty weird name too, same goes for Roseluck.”

The mention of the other mare brought concern to Lyra’s face.

“Where is she?”

“Where she fell. She’s injured too, not as extensively. It would be best to get her back to health before we even start on you, considering she can’t move on her own or be carried.”

Lyra was about to speak, but she was cut off by Onassis biting her hair and dragging her across town. She was pleasantly surprised that the experience lacked any painful sensations. She stopped in front of a storefront somewhat similar to the one they had just left. It had a sign near the front that read “I refuse to buy or sell any living or deceased figments, in whole or part!”

A large prawn popped out from behind the chest high counter.

“Hello there! What can I do for you?”

“My friend and I need some clay, badly. I don’t have any money, but I do have some information you might find quite valuable.”

“Well, I don’t see why a trade of such items couldn’t be made . . . I’ll give you 5 buckets of the purest clay I have.”

“Deal.”

The prawn and the pegasus leaned towards each other.

Onassis whispered into what was probably the prawn’s ear-hole.

“The nautilus, Dokker, wants to run you out of town. He’s asking around for a gun. He intends to scare you away, but he’ll make good on his threats if it comes down to it. I suggest you either arm yourself, or call him out on it.”

“Really! That no good scoundrel Dokker? Why, I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

The prawn moved to the back of the store, and pulled out a long black rod.

Is that a gun?

“I’ll run him out! And if he doesn’t oblige . . .”

And with that, he was off. Lyra and Onassis watched him scurry across town. He arrived at Dokker’s store, the two shop-keeps conversed for a moment, and then the prawn fired 3 times at the nautilus before running back to his own building and clambering back inside.

“You two can have all the clay you need, I thank you kindly for tipping me off on that one.”


Onassis carried the many, many buckets of clay she’d been given by the prawn. She held Lyra with her teeth as she had before, but this time she avoided dragging her neck along the ground. Lyra wanted to know some more about what her companion had just done.

“You said you weren’t very good at lying, so what was that there?”

“Thum fings ‘ange hif ‘ime”

“What?”

She let go of Lyra, letting her roll for a moment before placing a hoof down on the head before it left her reach.

“Some things change with time.”

Lyra thought about that for a moment before being scooped up again by the pegasus.

In the distance, a disabled Roseluck could be seen. As the pegasus brought the two friends together, Lyra noticed that she was weeping. Her fore-hooves were shattered, pieces of them scattered around her. When they had gotten within several feet of each other, Onassis lay Lyra down beside Roseluck. They looked at each other. The earth pony’s tears grew in viscosity. The unicorn gave her a goofy smile. She was still under the impression that she’d be waking up to the smell of BonBon’s cooking, and would eventually talk to the ‘real’ Roseluck about this crazy dream. Roseluck responded appropriately, sniffling and shutting her eyes wishing that the head that lay before was just part of her imagination.

“Well, it’s time to fix you up.”

Onassis placed all the buckets on the ground. She picked up one, and poured it’s contents into one of Roseluck’s truncated limbs. She repeated the process, switching between the two hooves. The ceramic material she was made of started to grow at the break points. Onassis stopped and watched as the pony’s appendages reappeared. Roseluck stood up, and, having no words for what had just happened, shook the pegasus’ hoof profusely.

“Don’t put your full wait on them for a bit, they’ve got to dry and until then they’ll be quite fragile. Now, we need to find a place to stay-”

“Wait, aren’t you going to fix me too?” Lyra exclaimed.

“Yes, but I think it would be better if we found somewhere to do it where we couldn’t be disturbed. It’s going to take a while to get your body back. We’ll have to poor some into your neck, wait for that grow out and dry . . . We don’t even have enough clay right now! Personally, I couldn’t say that I’ve been ‘merely a head’ for any period of time, but I’m sure you could hold out just a bit longer . . .”

“Hmmph. Fine.”

She would’ve brought her shoulders down in indignation, but she had none.