• Published 20th Sep 2012
  • 7,699 Views, 493 Comments

Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You - Aegis Shield

Pinkamina battles Death incarnate using the mysterious power of the Pinkie Sense.

  • ...


Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You
Part 8: Intermission

Pinkamina sat, hovering over a little mountain of French fries. She’s already killed two piles, and this was her third. The straining taste of salt helped to soothe her woes. She’d wandered the chilling night with nowhere to go until the day came then settled into a little Ponyville diner, grateful to just find someplace to sit. The look on Lickity Split’s face was burned into her mind. “More ketchup.” She called to a passing waiter, a young stallion with little pocks on his face.

“Uh, are you sure? You’ve been here since we opened and—!” She grabbed him by his stupid little diner collar. “I mean, sure thing I’ll get right on that!” he laughed nervously, cantering away quickly. Pinkamina grumbled to herself, resting her chin tiredly on the table and stuffing another French fry in her mouth.

“Oh my sweet Celestia!” somepony outside the big panel window shrieked, making Pinkamina’s eyes flick over. She saw she was being stared at by none other than Rarity. The pale unicorn made a beeline off the sidewalk into the diner and to her table. “Pinkamina dahhh-ling you look terrible!” she declared. The pink mares eyes lidded as her eyebrows gathered angrily, scowling at her. “What happened? You look like you haven’t slept a wink!” they shared a silence, as Rarity expected her to say something. She didn’t, only deepened her scowl. “Did something happen? Are you sick?” The unicorn’s eyes moved over her table and her brow went up. “Is… is that all French fries?” she asked, a little dumbfounded.

Pinkamina nodded, and right then the young stallion showed up with her ketchup. She splattered the red stuff all over her plate, stuffing more into her mouth. Rarity watched in a rather repulsed silence, for a long time. “What?” the pink mare finally said.

“That’s pity food if I ever saw it.” Rarity smiled a little sympathetically, sliding into the booth across from her and stealing a fry before Pinkamina could stop her. “Come to drown your sorrows for something?” she cocked her head, leaning on the table a bit. The pink mare scowled at her for being read so thoroughly. She didn’t answer, once again. “Well, you know…” Rarity was digging through her saddlebag, “I was saving these for a weekend with Fluttershy, but I think you need them more right now.” She smiled, levitating a pair of magenta tickets out. They were sales tickets to the local spa. One of Pinkamina’s eyebrows rose. “Well you just look so tense and distressed, I think you could use a good pampering. Come along!”

Pinkamina felt a pressure on her back and a phantom hoof a Rarity’s magic brought her to her hooves. She followed slowly, “I… suppose.”

“Besides, you can’t just sit and eat fries all day. It’ll all go straight to your hips!” The backhanded compliment was followed quickly by Rarity’s awkward smile. “B-but anyway, come along, we’ll go right now!”


Pinkamina had been stewing in the hot bath for almost an hour when she finally spoke of her own volition. “Lickity Split proposed to me.” She said, as though tasting the phrase.

Rarity’s face turned questioning, and her eyes flicked down to Pinkamina’s right foreleg. No engagement hoop there. “And I’m guessing you turned him down, darling?” she asked, shifting a little in the steamy water. “No engaged mare wears that scowl if she said yes.” The pale unicorn sunk up to her neck, waiting for Pinkamina to say more. “Go ahead, tell aunty Rarity all about it.”

Pinkamina hesitated for a long time. Truth be told, she hadn’t done much connecting with the mane six. After she’d separated (or tried to) from Surprise, she thought she would just leave the blonde mare to be the new Pinkie Pie. But no, now and then Applejack or Twilight or one of the others would come by the ice cream parlor to chat with her. But she was usually gruff and sent them away. Maybe this was an opportunity for more? “I dreamed that Death was Lickity Split. I thought the Pinkie Sense was warning me about his identity.” She said finally. Rarity gasped, looking horrified and putting a hoof over her mouth. Pinkamina stared at the bubbling waters. “I need to know who Death is, before it makes me crazy.”

“Rainbow Dash told me that Death was a large stallion. A great big one.” Rarity gestured to make a wide motion. “Forgive me for saying, but Lickity Split is… eh…” she struggled to find a delicate way to put it, and took far too long.

“Smaller?” Pinkamina offered after a time, giving a smirk.

“Not to question his virility or anything, he’s just rather spindly in the ankles, if you know what I mean.” Rarity turned a little pink in the cheeks. Pinkamina stared at her. “Did you turn him down because you don’t love him?” she asked while the steam curled back and forth around their faces.

“No, that’s not it.” Pinkamina said softly, stirring the water with one hoof. “I don’t wanna let my guard down, is all. Suppose it was him? My wedding night could be my tomb.”

“You work at his parlor, you live together, I assume you sleep together—” Rarity let the sentence hang awkwardly for a moment, then quickly amended. “In-in-in the same bed, I mean. If he was Death, he would’ve had plenty of opportunity to get rid of you. Weren’t you sick recently? He might’ve… I don’t know, made the germs kill you. Nopony would’ve suspected a thing.” Pinkamina knew she had a good point and sighed. If anything, Lickity had been her stalwart white knight while the pressure kept increasing and increasing in her situation. Then she’d snapped at him at the most tender of moments. Rarity watched her fight a long internal battle, a little pout on her lip.

By the time they’d moved to the massage tables (and Pinkamina had been coaxed that there was nothing wrong with another mare rubbing on her body), the pink mare was ready to say more. “I feel as though it’s coming to a head, I don’t know what to do. Each time is more deadly than the last.” Rarity groaned when an impressive maneuver made three parts of her back crackle like popcorn. Aloe, one of the two massage therapists, smiled serenely when her customer cried out like she did. Masochist? Hopefully not. Aloe’s twin, Vera, was massaging Pinkamina’s scalp with both hooves. The pink mare laid her head down with a deep sigh, allowing a quiet murr of pleasure.

“Will we be doing mane this time as well, Madam Rarity?” Aloe asked in a wispy voice.

“Oh yes, please.”

Pinkamina cast a dark gaze at Vera, who knew without asking there would not be any touching the pink mare’s mane with any utensils today. Her massage worked down across her temples, which understandably ached. “Mhhh.” She moaned like her arm was being twisted. “Fine, just a little trim, to make the edges even.” She murmured, looking at the floor with darkened cheeks. Rarity smiled encouragingly. “But nothing else, got it?” Vera nodded, ever the quick and silent servant. While the minutes passed, Rarity was done up and about seventeen curlers and Pinkamina was seen to with a tiny pair of precision scissors.

“You know what I think you should do, Pinkamina?” Rarity said a little haughtily, eyes closed as she was done up with green face-goo and cucumber slices. The pink mare rolled her eyes, no she didn’t want to know thank y— “I think after all this you should start looking at all the stallions in Ponyville.”

“Lickity Split is my stallion, Rarity! How dare you?!” Pinkamina barked blackly. Vera flinched back, not wanting to trim any hair while her customer was shouting animatedly.

“No no no, hahaha!” Rarity said, chortling along with Aloe who was busily putting her mane in a nice beehive-shaped bun. “I mean, if you want to learn who Death is, and he’s got a physical shape, why don’t you look around and see who fits the shape?”

Pinkamina flicked her eyes at Vera, trying to stay still so she could be trimmed. “To be honest Big Macintosh is the only stallion I know of that’s that big.” She said, gesturing vaguely. “A great big barrel chest, a deep voice and massive hooves? There’s not many ponies that fit that description.”

“Big Macintosh?” Rarity chuckled aloud. “That poor country bumpkin couldn’t hurt a fly, much less be a shepherd of the dead!” she tilted her head in thought, trying to come up with another suspect. “Well there’s Prince Blueblood in Canterlot, goodness knows the behavior would fit.” Her old grudge began to rear its ugly head. “Or Doctor Whooves? He always seems to be popping in and out of places at very strange intervals. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something supernatural to that pony.” She hmmm’d as she thought about the theory. “What about Fancy Pants? Jelly Belly? Somepony from Appleoosa, maybe, those cart stallions that we chased Applejack with were huge! Or even—” she rattled down a list of names, none of which made much sense. Pinkamina sighed. No matter which way she cut it, the only suspects on the list didn’t make any sense. While it was a wise pony that said ‘eliminate the impossible and whatever’s left must be true’, she just didn’t have enough evidence. “You know, worst case scenario…” Rarity said softly, turning her head even though her eyes were covered with cucumber slices. “It’s no one we know at all. A total strange-pony.”

“Yeah.” Pinkamina mumbled, lying still until Vera was done trimming her mane. Whether she’d admitted it or not, she did feel a bit better after all of this pampering. She felt cleaner, lighter, more relaxed than she had in a long time.

“You know what you ought to do?” Rarity chirped a second time, making Pinkamina fight down a groan. This mare was too gossipy, too concerned with other ponies’ business. “I think you should go home, and talk to Lickity. He’s probably hurting, dah’ling.” Her tone had turned somber, and a little sad. “You know better now, perhaps you can patch things up?” Pinkamina said nothing, but mumbled her assent. She’d been dreading going back home. “You know Lickity can’t be death, he’s far too small in stature. Though, it wouldn’t tell him that.” She chuckled conspiratorially. “It might hurt his poor widdle ego.” Pinkamina smiled a smile that made both Aloe and Vera shiver from an unseen cold.


Lickity Split was banging around in one of the side rooms when Pinkamina arrived at home. It had been a storage room, but all the boxes had been shoved to one side and he was constructing what looked like a couch-futon. Screw-driver in his mouth and an unfolded paper of instructions nearby, he almost didn’t see her in the doorway. “Pinkamina.” He said a little cautiously. She leaned into the room, smelling the burning sea salt candle hidden in a corner somewhere.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, peering around with a frown.

“I— I don’t think we should sleep together anymore.” He said, looking away. Even from the distance where she stood, she could see his eyes were a little bloodshot from excessive crying. She opened her mouth to speak, but she saw the shrill anger rise up in him again. “I’m good enough to mount but not good enough to marry?! How dare you?!” he shouted at her, making her lean back and lift a hoof like she might bolt. His words cut deep. “You can sleep in here, separate, from now on! This is your room!” he told her angrily, turning back to the futon with a sniffle-strained huff.

“Lickity—” Pinkamina reached towards him, but he flinched when she touched his back. Taking a deep breath, the rather jaded mare knew now was the time to open up if there ever was one. If she wanted a companion now that her new life was blossoming, she needed to take good care of him. “I’m sorry about last night. I had a terrible nightmare, and I saw Death’s face was yours.” She said, coming and settling on her belly next to him. He very carefully didn’t look at her, but wasn’t putting screws into the futon anymore. His breath was shuddering and upset. She sidled until their sides were pressed together. “Then you proposed while I was still freaking out and I… I thought I would be letting my guard down if it really was you.” She confessed quietly, sticking her muzzle into his mane to nuzzle him apologetically. Mmm, vani— no, Apple Spice. Some kind of apple mane and body wash product from Sweet Apple Acres. (“Smell like a hard-workin’ stallion, Eyuup!”) Pinkamina’s nose wrinkled angrily.

“Pinkie, I—!” Lickity turned when she rose with a snap of her knees and stomped away. The stallion looked at the tools and screws and metal parts strewn around the room. Sighing depressedly, he slowly rose to his hooves. He made his way across the room to the doorway to see what she had gone to do. Was she going to pack up and move out? Where would she go? How would she make a living? Would she—?


Lickity Split let out a high-pitched, mare-like shriek as an ice cream bucket was slammed over his head. Vanilla ice cream splattered over his face, neck, mane, and down his chest. He staggered back and forth, hit a wall and fell comically. His hooves bicycled about in the blinded, chill-induced panic. Then, just as quickly as it had started the blindness ended when Pinkamina lifted the ice cream bucket off of him. She stared down at him, dripping from his face and mint-green mane. “Sorry. My stallion smells like vanilla.” She told him, throwing the bucket aside. “He smells like a mare, but he’s still my stallion.”

There was a long silence while he stared at her, sticky and blinking in shock. “But my propo—!”

“I’ll marry you after I conquer Death.” Pinkamina said, lying down on her belly before him. Leaning with all the subtlety of a minotaur in a china shop, she ran her tongue erotically over his cheek. “Promise.” She said after smacking her lips a few times, thoughtful. His face lit up joyfully, a massive grin wrapping itself across his face.

“Oh Pinkie! That’s great! I’ll just get a shower and we can go out to celebr—!” the pink mare grabbed his chin and hauled him dominantly down onto his belly again, at her level.

“It’s Pinkamina, and nope.” She said, leaning and licking his face again. “You’re gonna stay right here.” Her look of dominant masochism crossed her face and she soon held him by the shoulder. “Right here.” She said in a husky sort of whisper, licking along his mane. The stallion gasped aloud despite himself. “For all I know that scent needs to ferment to stick to you.” He smiled in helpless embarrassment when she tasted him, his cheeks coloring a lovely crimson. As white as he was, it made his cheeks look like he had twin cherries on his face. Cherries on a sundae like his cutie mark. This pleased Pinkamina. Lickity Split had no shower that night, though he did end up clean. After his mare was done convincing him he should always smell like vanilla, that is. Silly stallion.

End of Part 8