Chapter 2: Glass Ceiling
Illustration by Bunnimation and Vest
Pre-Reading Assistance by Dracon Pyrothayan
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Overwhelming spells, ferocious and loose;
Possessed, lucky, or just magic abuse?
And what of that mare, the falling caboose?
Glass ceiling shatters, and more to deduce.
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Chapter 2
Glass Ceiling
A whisper of cold winter air twirled lazily through the alleys and side streets of Canterlot, whipping through the countless corners and eddies like water flowing around a bank of pebbles. The breeze cut past the few market stalls that were open and buffeted against the ornate winter cloaks of the few ponies that were out in the cold. As the needle of wind rushed from the market plaza, it sliced through a thick shag of navy blue mane, pushing the various strands and collections of hair in a wild display before ghosting away, leaving behind a kiss and a shivering frame as invisible as the rest of the wind.
“Guh..." the owner of the mane huffed. Pausing to shiver, the unicorn, charcoal in pelt and blue in mane, took a sharp breath like the breeze were a slap to the face. Pausing to adjust a pair of small glasses knocked askew atop his nose by the small whirl of wind, the unicorn quivered again in reflex to the cold. The winter had never fully agreed with him, but at least the stuffy job he now headed towards swaddled him in heat - stiflingly unpleasant heat that he was always glad to be gone from at the end of the day, but a heat that was missed immediately after he returned again to the biting cold streets.
The unicorn hurried to flee from the chilling zephyrs nipping at his tail. His destination would, to almost all other citizens of Canterlot, be something of an exciting destination, the depths of the Canterlot Archives! However, to him, its scholarly majesty and historical value were something of common currency, repeated exposure having scrubbed the awestruck appreciation from him long ago. Now, whenever he gazed upon the venerable structure, rivaled in age and majesty only by the Canterlot palace itself, he had to mentally squint to remember the value that drew him to it in the first place as an doe eyed novice scholar. Long-forgotten aspirations were dashed hard upon the bureaucratic monstrosity of Canterlot’s political, scholarly and historical institutions.
Nearly two years ago, he had stepped into his first day, imagining adventures in the stacks of literature and lore that would fulfill his voracious mental appetite for themes and meanings. To be a part of this wonder that left him spellbound and captivated since he first moved to Canterlot in his budding youth. To reach out and deliver unto others the same swaths of literary joy for others to devour as hungrily as he did. To a long-running descent into a grim realization of the true nature of slaving within the confines of the structure he’d grown to love in his more naive years, he had yet to even reach the appetizer of mental nourishment. Instead he had only been served meager scraps of mundanity and tedium.
The Canterlot sampler platter. A proverbial buffet line of rice balls whose flavors would only differ in the color of toothpick stuck through it. All the same form of monotony intricately and delicately displayed beneath a different banner, either to fool those stacked within the endless echelons of drones or give the mental delusion of belonging within a system where they’d otherwise feel redundant.
And grandiose glomping griffons, even his mind could only describe his job with mundane run-on sentences as frivolous as the very labor itself.
Attached to a leading Canterlot secretary of state department, the unicorn archivist fell neck deep into the suffocating grind of low-level paperwork. Even his job title asphyxiated those unfortunate enough to have it read to them. Undersecretary to undersecratary to lieutenant director of the secretary of development of state.
Oh, bureaucracy.
Days were spent shuffling through scrolls and texts, not for new information, not even to confirm suspected information, but because the system required such information be checked and such scrolls be foisted onto somepony to read over and mark up. The first weeks into it, he worked with enthusiasm, hoping to prove his value to his boss. Yet as weeks accumulated into months, a dreary apathy set into his heart; the only spark of genuine emotions coming in the form of fear when his draconian manager had let into him for a form that, while its meaning was clear and flawless, its method was incorrect.
A lesson he would never forget. Zoning requests for development were to be forwarded to the associate undersecretary of the lieutenant secretary of development of state. They were not to be sent directly to the undersecretary of the lieutenant secretary of development of state. What a crippling blow to the system. What nefarious sabotage to the intricate workings of Canterlot’s guts! Or so his supervisor made special note of while chewing him out once again for this, oh what did she call it... infantile blunder.
The dark-coated unicorn snapped out of his thoughts, picking up his pace again as another dagger of cold air plunged into his haunches. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of his earlier aspirations materializing into the immutable realization of being simply a whimsical fantasy. For in Canterlot, the bright exteriors of the city’s structures were just that. Bright exteriors. Meaning held no value over rigor and process.
Crossing the courtyard, the unicorn ran through a mental checklist, preparing himself in small ways for the workday. Mane straight, glasses cleaned, the usual meek tone for having the audacity to show up to work fifteen minutes early were all lined up, happiness checked at the door, can’t be showing anything more than the usual bland exhaustion...
... Inhale deep...
... Ready.
His ears picked up on an errant wisp of stray chatter roaming across the Archive plaza. A wavering mention of a missing draconequus statue from the Royal Canterlot Garden slipped away from the astonished guffaw of an armored pegasus guard, his metallic shoulders glimmering in the mid-morning sunlight as he waved a hoof while attempting to retell the same story told to him. No doubt, a story passed down through many iterations of different narrators, and as each iteration passed down, they just got more ornate and action-packed.
The kinds of stories Devon loved to read. Alas, the kinds of stories he’d never pen. Life in the archives prevented him from expressing the same chimerical freedom that came with such gossip. The Archives were about keeping the record straight, for keeping contracts in order; not about adventures and changing history. Not about appreciating it, but recording it.
Or so his boss would remind him constantly. How she even got the position instead of him baffled him for months. Not that he felt he deserved it, but what would drive her. What would drive one so opposed to others attempting to ascend that great bureaucratic ladder... to reach for that next rung for themselves. Her only claim to fame was being related to Wholegrain Boxtop, AKA the philanthropist Breakfast Billionaire, not a comic without his mug plastered somewhere within during the unicorn’s upbringing. Perhaps it was with her lineage that came the necessity to keep others satisfied with the predictable mechanics of the Archives, like eating the same breakfast every morning while walking through those double doors.
Funny how that worked out...
Another volley of charismatic laughter rattled with the shimmering armor of the pegasus guards standing out front. At least they had stories to tell. Part of him hoped all the rumors of Discord being back turned out to be true, as civil panic, or just the hint of it, usually meant his boss was away, trying to scrape together more importance and political weight to pay him much heed. It was hardly beyond the scope for his boss to attempt that during a crisis. Political gains drove his manager at in the same way food drove other ponies at life. It was sustenance, the true purpose of the task and not the historical value of what they did.
The pegasi guards laughed again, and Devon’s eyes followed their gaze to a trotting mass of muted blue, topped with a puffy orange mane. Trailing behind the stout streak, suspended in a bouncing bubble of yellow telekinesis, a multicolored scarf fluttered like some banner loudly proclaiming the folly of combining bright green, yellow and brown in a garish blasphemy that dared proclaim itself plaid.
“DEV’N! DEV’N!” The blur’s voice carried a volume that starkly contrasted the short build of the unicorn that came out of the blur. Suppressing a groan, Devon turned to face it. “M’word Devon, what in Celestia’s mane are y’doin’ outdoors with nothin’ t’bundle up in?! I swear you’ll catch’er death out here someday!”
“Oh... hi mom,” he said, barely hiding the mild embarrassment that washed over him every time she spoke to him like that, a daily occurrence it seemed.
“I keeps’uh teller’in y’uhs!” She bounded up to him, extending the scarf before his neck, motioning with a wave of her head for him to step forward into it. His eyes darted to the side, scanning the periphery for any curious glances witnessing this embarrassing display. “It’s uh-how’s yer’s a’gonna catch hyper’mo-na-thingy-”
“-Mom,”
“Hypno-thrash’ma’tash-”
“Mom,”
“Hyperactivia’slexia-”
“Mom!” Gyuh. “Hypothermia.” Of course, his periphery scanning successfully located a dozen wayward glances attempting to sneak a quizzical eye to the horrifying palette of colors adorning his neck.
“Th’s wh’uh I saids.”
“I told you, I’m fine. It’s not that long of a walk to the Archive, and by the time I get inside, I’ll be so hot that I’ll just..." he hesitated. Part of him longed to finish the sentence. I’ll just want to toss that thing into Tartarus where it belongs. But he withheld the thought. “I’ll just take it off and leave it in my desk and somepony will take off with i-erk!”
“Oh ponyfeathers!” his mother scolded as she wrapped the scarf tight around Devon’s neck, snugging it tightly and fussing over it with her forelegs. “I worked my hooves to th’bone t’knit that fer ya!” Before he could speak or argue, Devon found himself buried underneath a well-worn rant from his mother. While it was all ground they had trod before, it was made worse by the poorly-hidden chuckles from the two pegasus guards who now held front-row seats.
“This your boy, Sara?” One of the guards perked up with a laugh, smiling wryly at Devon.
“Sure’as milkshake’n is, boys!”
“Well don’t you worry one bit, ma’am,” the other guard piped up while the other hunched away politely to croak out the giggles through clenched teeth. “We’ll make sure to keep him nice and toasty indoors for you.”
There were two things that blue-coated orange-maned mare was known for. Firstly, Sara Bookmark, the respected community organizer and one of Canterlot’s many city planners. Esteemed, well-known, and always made it a point to be on a first-name basis with every one of the hundreds of faces that graced her presence.
“I’s might ‘ppreciative uh’that, Stratus!”
Even the guards.
And how could they not know her? Not only was she the community head of several must-attend soirees hosted within the city, but she was also known simply as Devon’s mother, the accidental arbiter of many jokes at his expense. It was a known fact that if one could hear the jingling of custom-knit boots, or spotted a series of swathed colors that had no business sharing the same spectrum of light together, Devon obviously lost some argument back at home.
Oh right. The at home thing, too.
Devon huffed dejectedly, feeling the prickly tendrils of the scarf fabric dig into his dark coat. He just knew it. Those threads were going to come loose, tangle, and weave through his coat, glittering it in a smattering of unflattering hues overlapping one another that would take days to hoof-pick out. But the other shuddering sensation crept in too, the hefty reminder that once every five minutes would-oh there it is, as expected.
Despite the gripes he had with his job and how it sucked the soul out of his humble frame, despite the hopes and dreams ardently dashed upon a cursory glance upon his own life’s accomplishments... yep spoiler alert, not a lot... none of it paled to a realization of feeling trapped by some intricately woven conspiracy of the fates; a fate that ensnared him and itched like the ticks of a hundred mules.
Or the scarf...
“Now when y’get home, I’ve ‘noth’uh party, and I want Miss Carrot Tawp t’hear all ‘bout yer job in the Archive!” Fate had him permanently sealed with a dead-end job and no means to afford living outside the confines of mother’s roof. “Make’r jealous y’hear!”
Her final order stung the worst. Devon knew that he couldn’t simply say the truth and say that his job was a ceaseless slog through the worst of bureaucracy. He had to spend the evening weaving stories as he had done for years, serving up entertainment and accolades for his mother. Being an adult and still bound to be a conversation piece for his mother chafed Devon greatly, but he knew the stark realities of his situation. Scholarly careers more or less needed to be in Canterlot, and the cost of living in Canterlot made living with her a simple economic decision. Even simpler given the complete lack of rank and responsibility he held.
“Alright, mother..." Devon sighed at last, realizing submission would end this scene faster. Sara graced him with an overly affectionate hug and mane tossle before charging away. She left Devon to slink by the two guards who respectfully tried to hold back snickers, but without much success. Devon rolled his eyes dismissively to them, striding past them to the entryway of Canterlot’s vast Archive.
Pausing at the door, the unicorn took a final breath of refreshingly chilled winter air before he pressed through the great wooden doors into the Canterlot Archive. In the back of his mind, a countdown began.
Four...
The usual three-point countdown, the mental conditioning his body adopted to properly prepare for the opening volley of crazy nonsense his superiors had cooked up for him this time.
Three...
Past the guest check in, quick nod to the mare behind the desk. Known each other for as long as he worked here. Always the same good morning greetings. Would be nice to get to know her better. Wonder what her name is, though. Without a word, he untangled the itchy offending garment from around his neck, extending it her way.
“So, uhh..." She looked up from a blank desk, pretending to look busy by twirling a hoof against an imaginary document. “Stash this with, uhh..."
“The rest of ‘em, yes please.”
She reached over, opening the bottom drawer of a metal cabinet, extending it a comically depressing length outward as the steely whine of the augmenting drawer resonated for five seconds. A cavalcade of color and patterns burst forth from within the drawer, nearly overflowing and spilling haphazardly around the flor.
“Oh, well lookie here,” she groused sarcastically. “Looks like Hearth’s Warming miracles do happen, you somehow still have space in your file for that... that..." she looked slightly askew to the green, yellow, and brown like witnessing an orchestra of belches. “... thing.”
“Thanks, Meg... Kel..." Devon faltered, his mind so conditioned to putting a name at the end of his sincerest appreciation-
“-Melanie.”
“Melanie!”
“Nope, kidding,” she groaned in a deadpan expression, waving a hoof to cast him away. So much for those usual warm morning greetings. Certainly, it was going to be one of those days. Hey wait, something about a countdown?
Two...
Ah, there it is!
Employees Only door, no longer in the display rooms, this is where the real work of archival happened. Musty tomes that carry no public significance, but by virtue of age and immense density, may contain nuggets of historical wisdom. Or political value.
One...
A depressing jumble of desks and ponies buried in papers. All of them, senior and junior to the unicorn swam through the same mess of bureaucracy. All of them feared the same, reptilian shriek of-
“DEVON BOOKMARK! MY OFFICE! NOW!”
Ah, Ms. Boxtop. Right on schedule for the nine o'clock verbal lashing.
* * * * *
The churning eddy of bubbling water receded. Encased in darkness, she tumbled over and under her hooves, the rattling black silhouettes of trunks and luggage scattering into an ebbing vortex. Gina thrust herself up again through the murky torrent of rising water, pushing away a layer of scattered hats from the water’s surface to breach her snout through again. Sound returned in a wet pop, the metallic rolling of the baggage car careening against the protruding rocks banging against the crinkling exterior filled the air pocket with ear-splitting noise. She gasped, deafened by the chorus of raucous demolition canceling out all other sensations.
The baggage car bobbed and dodged weightlessly through the weaving rapids outside, dizzying knives of sunlight protruding through several dozen holes punched through the metal ceiling... or was it the floor? Was the car sideways? Was she even facing upward-oh wait hold on! A violent bang outside summoned yet another spinning ride inside the vicious compartment as the water and luggage lifted from beneath her like a single pirouetting organism that danced around her in a deathly spiral before collapsing onto itself, plunging her once more into the murky and nauseating miasma of rushing water.
She clamored to the direction she perceived to be upwards, blindly flailing her hooves instinctually towards the nurturing air pocket. The evasive bubble of life-giving air eluded her, hiding and weaving somewhere in the labyrinth of clothes and travel accessories whirling around and into her. The telltale rippling of the air pocket’s surface faded into view in front of her, but with another muffled screech of metal on rock, the air pocket leapt away as the baggage car lifted, lurched, and reversed the direction of its spin.
No longer able to decipher up from down, Gina scanned rapidly in all directions, seeking any semblance of direct sunlight or oxygen within. She swung her hooves wildly, feeling a fetlock hook into the tight sleeve of a pair of khaki pants that was snagged firmly onto the baggage car’s door handle. She twisted and struggled with voracious energy to free her hoof, but only felt the embracing fibers tighten their grip the harder she fought to break away.
A disorienting bolt of blunt energy coursed through her as a deafening bang tossed the car skywards in a sickening angle, pressing her chest-first against the door. She felt the weight of the entire compartment’s cargo collapse and press down against her backside, before another twisting and metallic burst of cacophonous drumming crashed through the opposite side of the compartment. The pinning mountain of luggage suddenly lifted, and in a spinning stagger, the whole room shifted in the opposite direction. Gravity reversed, flinging the luggage and its contents against the opposite wall, peeling away to let in an errant streak of stray sunlight through the battered holes behind her.
Still snagged on the khaki sleeve, Gina dangled precariously over the falling detritus and knick knacks, the suffocating cushion of spinning water dropped like a single brick in a uniform shape that smacked and surged with reverberating force into a thick opalescent foam in the intruding morning sunlight now pouring in from the windows.
In a subtly diminishing note, the violent shaking of the baggage car softened. A gentle hush occupied the previously stampeding volley of heaving noise. And resting into place on the top of the settling clutter of piled luggage, the stone visage of an uncharacteristically panic-stricken draconequus looked back up at her.
Seems they’d just made landfall.
* * * * *
Beneath the inky deep blackness of the midnight moon, the two lovers strolled happily onto a bridge over a babbling brook. A gentle trickle of babbling water trickled beneath them, swooning them with a babbling song that won her heart.
“Oh, my love,” she swooned atop her hooves, resting her fetlocks weightlessly against the bridge’s banister in an entranced sway, “I hath none idea thou has such magic!”
He leaned up beside her, nestling his neck against the back of her soft inviting shoulders. “When I think of you, m’lady,” he said softly into her ear, “I can do any kind of such magic.”
She gasped in disbelief, her heart beaming with enigmatic heat watching the well-postured stallion step back with a stoic expression of particular solidarity only exclusive to his great mysterious facade. He waved his hoof before him, twirling it through the air until a trail of dark blue sparkles trailed in the air before him.
“How can you do that!?” She laughed, her eyes lighting up, the faint ripples of tears glistening dazzlingly against her teal irises. She choked on her own billowing emotions, but choked them down with a royal strength only a Princess of her might can conjure. “I hath none idea thou were so powerful!”
“Like I said,” the stallion chortled with pride, focusing his focus on the shimmering cascade of beautiful energy cascading down his hoof. “With you, Luna, I have never in my life felt so alive. Your beauty alone has awoken a new life in me. I am now truly complete because of you, Luna. And it is because of you that I have discovered this power. For I am now the first and only earth pony who can now for the first time use magic.”
“Wow!” She galloped up to him, wrapping her forelegs around his neck tightly in a girlish embrace. “I hath no idea thou understood mine love for you so much!” She broke down on the spot, releasing a deluge of unstoppable tears into his black coat. “I hath no idea thou could turn mine unrelenting love for you into pony magic!” She tilted her head up to meet her muzzle up to his, puckering her lips with trembling ecstasy.
“Not right now,” he said deeply and poetically. He looked up to the inky deep blackness above them. “There is something I must show you. There is a reason I told you to not raise the stars tonight.”
“I hath no idea why thou request me not to though, my love.”
“Because,” He gently pushed her away, and turned the opposite way to silhouette his rough psychique against the heavenly moonlight that hung low just above the low rippling waters of the river the bridge stood tall over under the moon. “Watch this.” He waved his hoof across the inky blackness, and the trail of crystal magic light glimmered magically in a glimmering trail across the inky blackness. Popping into place, a cascade of stars cascaded into place on the inky blackness behind his waving hoof of crystal magic light.
“Oh, my handsome illustrious bringer of beauty and light!” Luna slowly wrapped her hooves over his back, resting her neck against the back of his. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as..." The stallion turned to face her, placing his grizzlied chiseled chin up to her ear that swooned in airy infatuation towards the awesome magical earth pony. “... You.”
With another wave of his hoof, he drew more magical stars with his magic. The letters appeared in a twirling magical thread as the brightest most beautiful constellation in the inky black night sky appeared brightly and beautifully above them in a constellation. The constellation read: I love you Luna.
“Oh, I’m so happy!” She pressed her cheek into his forehead, and with tightly pressed hooves wrapped tightly around his neck, she aligned her lips up with his. “Don’t stop me.”
“I won’t.”
“Because nothing,” her heart drifted with her weightless diction carrying forth, “can stop this moment from happening, I hath no idea thou could make such perfection for me.”
“And to you as well, m’lady Princess Luna.”
She closed her teal eyes, and he closed his, feeling the warmth of her breath grace against the tips of his lips as they pulled ever so slowly closer together, anticipating, savoring every moment about to surge through them. One final soft utterance from the Princess was heard through the inky blackness of his closed eyes. “I love you so much,” she sighed, “With all mine heart I love you so much Captain Sto-”
*Kri-SKLAM!*
“-Captain Stormblade!”
“-GYAGH!” Jangle, jangle.
“Captain Stormblade I..." A cyan pegasus stood in the doorway, suddenly silent beneath the descending veil of dust drooping to the base of the rapidly opened door. “... I, umm, I was, sir, I was..." He shifted his eyes away from the mortified Captain, trying to purge any percolating giggles at seeing the burly captain fiddling with the two dolls in his hooves. The shuffling rustle of spinning papers cut through the silence as they twirled and fell from the top of the Captain’s desk.
“What!?” The Captain boomed, quickly shoving the dolls into a drawer with a single lightning-quick motion. “Jetlag don’t you know to knock before y’... !?” He cut himself off, rearranging the words in his mind to not sound so incriminating. “Don’t you know to... protocol or something!?” Probably needed some more rearranging.
“Just informing you, sir, umm,” Private Jetstream slowly stepped towards the Captain, scratching a hoof behind his neck, “That we’ve got ten minutes until the council wants the updated report on Discord.”
Stormblade sighed deeply. It was not something he was looking forward to. It was going to be his chance to persuade the Canterlot council of elders to grant even more resources to The Royal Pegasus Guard of Captain Stormblade. Obviously, it was the kind of thing he was looking forward to, something he had been yearning to accomplish for years! Or, at least for the three days he had been tasked with assuming the role in place of the sudden and tragic void left behind by the preceding Captain Armor... when he took a week-long Hearth’s Warming vacation with some girl or something. But no, a week is all it would take, a week is as long as he’d need to become known as the great iron hoof of justice that transformed and perfected Equestria into an unstoppable Utopia that celebrated the Stormblade name.
Yet, he would have to stand beside... gah... them. Those six.
While he toiled and trained haunch over hoof for decades to earn his name, they just had to show up and take the spotlight away from him. He had dozens of the best-trained soldiers he hoof-raised from their scraggly cadet years... well, by proxy of Captain Armor. But he had them! And they now answered to him. He was their face, their creed, their gospel, their reason to wake up every morning. Yet six goofy harmony crystal things spontaneously choose these six mares just because they got along so gosh darned nicely, so they always get called first to deal with the Princess’ troubles before him.
How could he prove himself to Luna when every opportunity was snatched up by...
Those six.
“Captain.”
He finally had the opportunity to address the Canterlot council of elders, to get the resources he needs to make The Royal Pegasus Guard of Captain Stormblade into the perfectly chiseled regiment it needed to be, and yet first in line before him yet again was going to be...
Those six.
“Captain?”
Always getting the preferential treatment and attention from the Princesses. Always the go-to crew for Celestia. Always one step closer to Luna, standing in between them, in between their destiny. His destiny with her. The destiny he was only able to see lived out on the parchment of his desk, the legacy only to be carried by the errant strokes of ink he penned when bogged down under his own stresses and frustrations. It’s how it was supposed to be. Win her heart with his accomplishments, swoon her with his strength, and surprise her with the magic he knew deep down he had but obviously couldn’t unlock without her love powering him.
“Captain, is this your report to... oooh..."
The Captain looked down to scoop up the prophetic fiction from his desktop, only to see the wood grains glancing back up to him. He heard the quick rustling of paper from over his shoulder. He leapt onto his hooves in a fast twirl.
“Private Jetlag! Wait, that’s-!” His larynx clinched into a tight, inaudible squeak as his pupils met the quizzical wide-eyed expression of the cyan pegasus glaring in minor terror at the Captain. His breath seized, feeling a brash wave of awkwardness stew through his ribs.
“Uhh... Captain,” Jetstream slowly lowered the fiction back onto the desk, ensuring to not break directest of direct eye contact with Stormblade. “That’s... not the report at all, is it..."
The black-coated earth pony subtly dipped his head, narrowing his eyes into a venomous scowl.
“And..." The cyan pegasus took a very slow, quivering step backwards to the doorway. “... I’m assuming..." Step. “Yet another thing..." Step. “We’ll never ever ever speak of again..." Step. “Just like the eyeliner incident-”
“-Get! Out!”
With a powerful flap of his wings, the pegasus twirled and darted with torpedo force out the door frame. He just barely cleared the corner of the hinges before a whizzing blur of a streaking orange desk drawer crashed and exploded against the opposite wall in the hallway. The drawer spun wildly into the air before dropping with a clattering slam on the hallway floor, flinging two dolls into a flailing arc back into the Captain’s office.
* * * * *
Some distance from Canterlot, a battered door swung open from a severely dented and abused baggage car. Panting, Gina threw herself from the hulk of the vehicle, tumbling and landing with a wet muddy thump at the base of the car’s gnarled axles. The telekinetic pillow had exhausted her and the cold wasn’t doing her any favors either. “J-j-j-j-j-jeez..." she protested through chattering teeth. “T-th-th-tha-that was... intense!”
Even her deranged laughter was frosty and even more erratic with shivers and shaking teeth as her body struggled to rewarm itself and regain control over reflex. She righted herself on four trembling, dizzy hooves, sauntering sideways against the baggage car. With weight pressed against the chipped paint and splintered rims, she flicked her fetlocks outward, summoning a spray of muddy strokes against the river’s shoreline.
Her eyes adjusted to the sunlight beaming through a crack in the mountains, its low angle casting the silhouette of Canterlot into the hazy distance. Shaking the last drops of water from her mane, Gina squared up to the train car and floated a scrap of parchment before her face.
“So... let’s see here..." she murmured, coursing a hoof across the various drawings on the parchment. “Discord statue... check. Element thingy... check.” She read it from the paper as if it were a detailed list. But as she reached the end of what was on the paper, Gina showed no sign of stopping.
“Train car..." she inquired, looking over the battered vehicle before her. The parchment had no hint about a train anywhere scrawled onto it. “Huh.” She folded the paper, putting it aside. “That’s new.”
Her own voice betrayed the confusion as her own plan grew more complex within her mind. She suddenly propped her ears up at full attention. “Wait, say that again.” Even as she spoke, her horn lit and the paper speared itself neatly on the draconequus statue’s petrified antler. “But... I liked that list..." she protested out loud as the door to the train car shut, locking both the list and Discord back into the devastated baggage car interior. “But... I can’t... no way! It’s too far!”
Her protesting conversation continued as her head turned to her left, far in the distance stood the proud spires of Canterlot. Even though the train had been travelling for a good time, the jaunts and contours of the mountains had only allowed it to get nearly a mile from the castle itself. “You’re crazy!” Gina yelped again, but even as she spoke, her body started moving, turning towards the train car again and, just as involuntarily, she started laughing again.
“Oh jeez... this is crazy,” she murmured. “You’re crazy.” Her horn ignited in an erratic display of magic. The power was unmistakable, but wild and unrestrained. Her mind simply did not use magic as an understood process - it was a gift of power, and such gifts were meant to run wild and without inhibition. A circling band of magic wound snugly around the draconequus’ statue and started to heave it upward. Mired in sand and wet mud, the statue strained mightily before it finally lifted free.
A second aura exploded around the unicorn’s horn as another telekinetic field enveloped the battered train car. The unicorn herself stepped back, almost flummoxed at just how much energy she was already spending, and how much more she needed for this final task.
Use it, she remembered the astute captain addressing those six peons at the station. Inspiring words to extract from, especially now as a third aura of yellow and orange wrapped around her horn. The draconequus slid gracefully back into the luggage car.
Use it! Use it! Use it!
Sweat ran in heavy lines down Gina’s cheek as she swung once, whipping the train towards Canterlot, but not releasing the magic. Two swings. Within her mind, angles and wind calculated without her notice, all she experienced was an instinct of where to throw, but driven by a consciousness that was well beyond her shattered mind. On the third swing, the magic burst outward and severed from the train car, releasing it on a predestined arc towards Canterlot, her aim unerring...
... Even if she did not know it.
* * * * *
“You lost the Element of Magic?” Celestia’s voice carried down to the purple unicorn, flanked by all of her friends in the center of one of the high chambers of Canterlot palace. They stood in a row before the Princess of the Sun and twelve robed ponies. The elder council. Yet another facet of so-called leadership that did no favors to deflating the tumorous expansion of even more branches extending from the overburdened trunk of the city’s inner workings.
“Not lost. It was stolen,” the purple unicorn repeated. While Celestia’s thoughtful look did not change, the ministers and advisors of Canterlot flew into a tizzy. “Outside the palace, somepony... no... the orange unicorn that Captain Stormblade described, pulled it from my bag and tried to escape on the first train out. My friend,” Twilight gestured to the blue pegasus, “almost had her stopped but it was like she had planned for that even. It was the same story on the train, every single thing seemed to go exactly how she wanted it to.”
“And what does that mean?” barked a round, grizzlied pony minister with a haughty air. “Are you trying to tell Princess Celestia that Discord somehow,” he wheezed a sarcastic laugh, “saw the future and planned this whole thing out so that you’d lose the Element?!”
That accusation ignited a firestorm of new accusations and claims against the unicorn. The council chambers erupted into a new volley of vociferous tirades that echoed through the marbled walls. In the center, cast beneath the accusing glare of dim orange sunlight beaming through the large glass dome overhead, six mares stood before an assembly of a dozen elders looming over them in dark robes. Wincing underneath the verbal onslaught, Twilight was about to shrink away entirely before another voice broke the tumult with the delicacy of a sledgehammer breaking a vase.
“Granteth her due voice!” A wisp of cobalt emanated between the parting steps of a line of royal guards, the gentle ringing of ornate silver footwear chiming against the marble floor. “Pray telleth, Twilight Sparkle,” a voice, heavy with accent and tones from a bygone era bellowed as if to bully all the other voices down. “Thou hast more to say, we can seeth that. Speak!” Her deep cobalt glow wafted before her, the pinpoint lights of a starry miasma carried through the fibers of mane and tail rippled with weightless abandon with every step she made towards the center of the council chamber. Even in the late afternoon’s orange and yellow atmosphere, her navy blue coat still shone and carried its own vibrancy that exhibited with complete ambivalence to the warm tones surrounding her. As she passed before the semicircle of the dozen robed elders, her two teal irises softened as they glanced upon the purple unicorn before her.
“Oh... Princess Luna!” Twilight gasped, “th-thank, thank you,” swallowing hard as she found her courage again. “Well, to be honest, something about this whole... incident has been bothering me ever since I heard the Discord statue went missing.”
Luna angled her head down, keeping an intent look upon the unicorn. The two irises contracted in... well, Twilight was uncertain whether it was doubt, or simply curiosity. She took a deep breath, knowing the gravity and weight of what she was about to say.
She shut her eyes, fearing the volley of soul-gnashing glares she was going to get. “I don’t believe Discord is behind this.” The room snapped into a silence, followed immediately by a rustle of hushed grumbling whispers from the elders. “In fact..." She breathed in again, “I am certain that he isn’t!”
Twilight was right to brace herself, as the explosive panic through the political ponies shot through them with cannonball force. A perpetual gust of shrill protests echoed through them as both elders and gathered public buffeted the six mares from all sides with a barrage of charged syllables.
“Hold thyselves!” It took another bellow from Princess Luna to buy Twilight the silence she needed to continue. “Thine inquiries hath proven trustworthy in the past, Miss Sparkle. Mine sister’s unyielding trust in thee doth win our trust as well.” The Princess of the Night leaned towards the six mares, resting a forehoof against the chamber’s central table. “Praytell, explaineth further this... hypothesis thou harbors.”
The purple unicorn looked up, smiling graciously at the navy blue alicorn before her. “Discord is a weaver, a lord or something of chaos, right? All of this, his tricks, the statue going missing, singling out one Element of Harmony... that isn’t chaos.” She tapped a hoof firmly on the table. “There is a plan at work. Discord may have plotted against us, but this is way beyond him, it’s too linear for chaos. Something else is at work here.”
“Do you believe we are in danger?” Celestia spoke at last, her tone soft but her voice unmistakably clear.
“I... I don’t know. Something after the Element of Magic... and holding onto it cannot be anything good.” Twilight narrowed her expression, tightening her vision onto her long time teacher. “Celestia, This unicorn is dangerous.”
Luna took a jolting step back. “Dangerous?”
Twilight nodded. “She’s unstable without a doubt.” She opted not to speak further, lest she also reveal the orange unicorn’s disjointed conversations with herself, too. It was a detail that the tense and tittering bureaucrats could do without.
“Thank you Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia spoke, breathing deep. She turned to the council around her with imploring eyes. “While we can spend an eternity seeking blame, all I seek is resolution.” The Princess ascended, the late evening light catching off her opalescent wings in a glimmering rim of illumination that cast out like streamers. The chambers fell to a reverent hush as the Princess of the Sun raised her voice to issue her decree. “I have full trust in my student’s observations and insights. I’d like to ask for your help in tracking down this unicorn, and the lost Element, before she causes any serious harm to Canterlot or Equestria.”
Twilight turned to the other mares behind her, exchanging glances between them. Every expression settled upon unanimous agreement. She turned, and taking a step back away from the central council table, bowed respectfully towards the middle.
Celestia ascended higher, nearly touching the glass dome and glowing with the deep orange light that cast the rear of the chamber into a cold cyan shadow. “And you all,” her voice broadened to the host of politicos and advisors, “we must prepare as if this were a genuine threat. Not some frivolous screw-up of those you’ve prematurely deemed incapable without proper evidence! We mustn’t demand our true and chosen bearers of the Elements to become better.” Her eyes narrowed to the same low intensity of her voice. “We must assume our enemies have gotten worse.”
Another elder mare stood up, “Princess Celestia, we-”
“-Need to act now!” The Princess waved a hoof towards the gathered council members, softening her voice. “Please bring me all of your plans and emergency policies. I do not wish to cause a panic, so don’t let anything get out of hoof.” She huffed. “But let’s be prepared, too.”
“I must interject, your highness!” A succession of heavy hoofsteaps beat through the marbled walls, echoing with the reverberating chorus of heavy boots and jangling medals. Two armored pegasi guards stepped aside in a clumsy stumble as a large black earth pony pushed them aside with a sweep of a foreleg. “Of course, with all due respect to the Princesses,” Stormblade began, resuming a slow paced march into the council chamber. “We must also at once employ the services of our own The Royal Pegasus Guard of Captain Stormblade.”
The purple unicorn flopped her head to the table. “Great,” Twilight groaned into her folded hooves. “Even remembers to include ‘The’ to the guard’s title, too.”
“Are these mares capable?” Stormblade leered to the council, pointing a hoof at them with enough velocity to crack the air. “Absolutely!” He smiled proudly to them, but his grin depleted to a concerned frown of faux empathy as he swiveled back to face the robed elders. “But, alas, they are nothing without all of their Elements accounted for!”
The pink earth pony jumped onto the table. “Now just wait a minute here!”
“Excellent idea!” Agreed Stormblade. “Let us all wait a minute, and hear Captain Stormblade out here.”
“Ah dun’ think that’s what she mean-”
“-A legitimate crisis is on our hooves, Canterlot!” The haughty stallion righted himself next to Luna, leaning wryly against her with a jangling of medals. “And it is our duty..." his voice lowered with a smile towards her, “our privilege..." he stepped back with a twirl, addressing the council, “to answer the call when times like these arise!”
Luna scowled, taking a long stride away from the Captain. “We doth proclaim, Second Captain, thine gall be..." she hesitated, leering at the council before her, realizing that her diction needed to be in professional royalty mode. “... commendable.” Not agitated murderous disgusted mode.
“M’lady Luna.” Jangle jangle. “I am only concerned for your well-being! Hear me out!”
The Princess immediately saw through the Captain’s facade. “Thou insisteth on speaking now, whilst in crisis?” Well, if any time was a good time to try and win... bonus points or whatever, Canterlotian crisis mode was the perfect choice. “Captain, thine brash and-..." She stopped, shooting a glance back at the council from the corner of her eye, seeing them all focusing with abject attention upon her and Stormblade. Luna heaved in exasperation. “Be brief, Second Captain.”
“This is bigger than me, or Canterlot! I see you staring out over the city every night all alone. I worry for you, Princess. Does some deep pain drive you to stare like that?”
Figures. Be brief would still be optional if it was etched onto a white-hot brand and plunged into his face.
“Nay..." Luna responded, her eyes widening slightly in agitated confusion.
“But surely you desire someone to join you in your eternal vigil?”
“Er..."
“My heart goes out to you, all alone on those nights without a single pony to stand with you through the darkness.”
Luna could feel a gag coming on. “Nay... thou art mistaken,” she replied softly, too preoccupied by keeping her lunch in its place to be properly outraged.
“But then why else would you go out and sit every night by yourself?” Stormblade’s retort begged for Luna to open up to him, expose true feelings that hid beneath a tough exterior. But the Princess regarded him with a level expression.
“Tis our JOB, Second Captain!” Luna barked, her voice scattering a double load of papers with its hurricane force as her frustration broke. “We are the guardian of the night! Tis what we hath done for years! Must we pester thee about thy tormented soul whilst thou patrolleth a garden?!”
“You worry about me in the garden, Luna?” The surge of misplaced hope in his voice was capable of inducing physical pain. “You should join me sometime then!” Stormblade swept forward in a tidal wave of jangling medals. “I have so much I’d like to share with you at the garden, it would be just like I’ve wrote... er... dreamed! Why, you could raise the moon to just the right angle, and I know a small bridge in the garden that would be just perfect for us to..."
Luna feigned her attention getting pulled from a non-existent pony standing behind the Captain. She stood atop the tips of her forehooves, and waved at nothing in particular, pretending to be hailed from the furthest possible corner of the council chamber. “Ah... excuseth us,” she struggled to break into the Captain’s lengthy soliloquy with a faux polite smile. “We must be... tending to the... crisis at hoof!” Luna attempted escape, but could not free herself from his voice and that maddening jangle. “Mayhaps another time!” Mayhaps after another thousand years, thou overwrought, most burdensome showpony.
“I’ll leave my patrol schedule at your door,” the Captain’s voice trailed her through the ensnaring throng of shifting ponies. “No need to ask!” Jangle jangle.
“Thou hast given me three copies of thy schedules before..." Luna murmured, diving headlong into the crowd of worrying politicians, relieved to move from one overbearing pest to an entirely new breed of multiple pests.
Ah, the Council chambers, the Princess of the Night lamented in her head, looking over the superficial visages of dozens of ornately suited ponies attempting to wave down her attention as she dodged and weaved through the crowd. How she loathed politics.
Politics, she used to joke with her sister. Derived from classical Equestrian dialect; ‘Poly’ meaning ‘several,’ and ‘tics’ meaning ‘blood sucking parasites.’
As soon as she stepped into the mass, Luna was smothered in the press for attention, the need for royal mandates, the absolute dire necessity that the Princess of the Night endorse or discourage some minister or another all to keep the maddening machinations of Canterlot politics moving. No sooner than she had gratefully escaped Stormblade, Luna found herself swimming away from bickering politicians and their incessant press for her blessing with no regard for her true thoughts. Just another signature or nod from the higher ups to lend credence to their political games.
At the edge of the chamber’s center, just beyond the radius of projected orange light beaming through the skylight above, the Princess of the Sun was already shuffling between her own assembly of ponies. She found herself sealed within her own bubble of disorder, and was hardly even aware of Stormblade’s diatribe rattling in the same room. Around Celestia, Canterlot’s highest royal officers scrambled, hauling in rolls of parchments and scrolls, each one loaded with the tangled and impenetrable emergency plans and policies for Canterlot should it be placed in danger. Even though she had stressed to her advisors that this was not to be a situation of panic, one errant rumor had turned it into a storm. What’s more, the storm had turned into the realm of Canterlot politics, all of her advisors using this crisis as an excuse to forward their ideas, secure power or simply gain leverage against their political rivals. Confusion bred confusion, infighting bred infighting. None of it bred anything approaching useful progress or help to the citizens.
In the center of the chamber, the black-coated earth pony proudly sauntered back to the chamber’s main table, leaning a shoulder against it alongside the purple unicorn. The unicorn turned to him with minor irritation, but promptly resumed her conversation with the elders.
“I know we’ll find a way,” the unicorn reassured the leering council before her. “What we need now is more information on the exact causes of-”
“-What you need!” The Captain interrupted her with a stomp of a hoof on the wooden table. “Is action!”
The unicorn seethed, inhaling loudly. “Excus-”
“-And naturally!” Stormblade continued addressing the council, “It must be The Royal Pegasus Guard of Captain Stormblade that is best equipped to handle a new threat, yes?”
Above the dismaying caterwaul of politics, Princesses Celestia and Luna struggled to maintain some kind of order, to put all of this energy towards some productive end. Celestia’s calm calls for compromise and focus and liberal application of the Royal Canterlot Voice could only do so much to those so mired in the politics of Canterlot.
Stormblade rested his forehooves against the table, propping himself up over the six mares behind it. “The threat of Discord is real once more!” He pointed a hoof at them. “Without their Elements by their side, we are now the ones who will resume this mission and bring Discord to justice.”
“But,” Twilight attempted, pressing her own forehooves on the table, “This isn’t even Discord we’re seeking!”
Stormblade guffawed, reeling back. “An astute observation,” cue the smug quip, “esteemed student of Celestia!” He dropped back into her gaze, matching her eyes to his own with a overbearing grin that teetered on the edge of a disdainful scowl. “And yet, you are falling into the very web of deception Discord weaves, for it’s what Discord wants you to believe.”
“What!?”
“Oh, Twilight, you are twice as smart as the average pony,” He crooned lightly, and with a shake of his dark mane, turned his head sideways to her. “Good thing I’m thrice as smart, though. For you see, perhaps you’re two steps ahead of Discord,” He grinned, beaming a shot of pointed light off glimmering teeth. “But I’m three.”
Twilight coughed, feeling the tense impulse of contracting muscles rivet down to a rear hoof. “What are you... how could you even..." She really wanted to buck him square in the jaw, the twitching in her spine was crying out for the privilege to do so!
“It is with a Captain’s intuition and tactics that I can truly see,” a jangle rang out as he pressed a congratulatory hoof against his own chest, “Saying that Discord is a diversion... is a diversion for Discord.”
“Huh!?” Calm down, legs, violence isn’t the answer...
“It’s what Discord has been planning all along!”
... Well it isn’t the answer... yet.
"Twilight," a concerned voice caught her ear. The pink pony waved toward her for attention. "Twili-ight... Look..." She stood up, swiveling sideways with a hoof motioning at her rear. "Twitchy tail. Twitchy tail..."
Celestia broke free from the tightening entourage of scribes and assistants rushing to her for further instructions. She briskly paced against the council chamber’s wall, hoping to reassert some sort of order over the anarchistic scene playing out before her. Instead, she rounded a clump of reaching hooves too quickly, bumping sternum first into a cobalt tail.
The Princess of the Night twirled briskly with a clenched grimace, but softened immediately to see it was her sister who collided with her. “Fie on these whelps!” Luna moaned, slumping back against the wall after another attempt to dissuade the Minister of Balloon Adornments that his department does not have priority if the city was to be evacuated. “Thine bloated government wasteth time betwixt petty squabbles in the face of danger!” In a rush of irritation, Luna scattered a quill and inkpot form the table before her, scattering a long trail of dark blotches across the chamber floor.
She groaned, looking for another small object to cast aside, yet found nothing harmless. A deep blue glow encased the entire table instead, the small piece of furniture listing suddenly in the telekinetic grip of the frustrated Princess. A soft tap of an opalescent hoof rested on her shoulder, causing her to exhale dejectedly. Luna lowered the table as her sister joined her in contemplating the unsightly mess around them.
“Luna,” Celestia’s attention turned from the unappealing mess to her family. “It’s just how they always react to a crisis. Remember when our trains were an hour late because of the goat on the tracks and they thought Equestria was ending? It’s the same.”
In the distance, a snarling warcry and impassioned jangling echoed over the raucous crowd. “I will prove to you that I am right, and that this is Discord’s doing!” A loud bang carried over the chambers of a hoof smashing against wood. “You’ll learn soon enough, student! Let Captain Stormblade be your teacher this time!”
“Nay. This be not the same!” Luna huffed, turning back to Celestia. She was always fiery and hotheaded when it came to dealing with the Canterlot bureaucracy, but the Princess of the Night seemed unusually agitated. “As royal sisters, we shouldeth sweep aside such bickering and reclaimeth the statue and Element and quell hither issue before it... it..."
Luna's attention faltered as a pink blur jumped in the center of the chamber. "Twitchy tail!" The pink pony declared over the chaos. "Twitchy tail!"
"What!?" Celestia snapped Luna's attention back to her. “Before it what?” She demanded, an inquisitive brow raising as her sister's glance trailed off again. “Luna, you’re not usually this tense. Tell me right now, is there something you know that I don’t? Do you know more about what’s going-”
*Skr-Klaaassh!*
Before the question could fly from Celestia’s lips, a magnanimous blast of shattering commotion caused the Princesses to flinch in sharp gasps. The wide skylight overlooking the chamber suddenly exploded into a thousand shards of colored glass!
Stormblade jumped back from the table with his eyes peering straight up. His mouth dropped, but only a surrendering whine squeaked out of his distraught lungs.
Where the window used to preside now plummeted the distinct shade of a train car as it plunged through the fragile structure like a stone from a mischievous foal.
Time grinded to a near standstill as the thunderous commotion from above fell away into a muffled dull drone, only the melodic chimes of splintering windows coursed through Twilight’s ears. She found herself caught underneath the dark shadow of the vehicular behemoth cascading down upon her through the dissipating sheet of scattering glass. She attempted to propel away, but neural impulses failed to fire in her haunches as panic swept down her spine, locking her in place. The muffled cries of her surrounding friends sang out to her as she swiveled in slow motion to see four of them backing away in a panicked gallop.
Four of them. The fifth. Where did she-
-A cyan foreleg crashed hard into Twilight’s ribs, forcing a choked breath out of her. The world lurched away in a blur as her vision rocked from her friends, the falling train car above, and a sweeping prismatic mane dragging a spectrum of faded rainbow light behind it. With a surge of blunt force racking across her shoulders, her mind snapped back into real time as Twilight watched Stormblade and the central table of the chamber pull away from her in a dizzying twist.
The Captain’s face was paralyzed in a sudden uppercut of perplexed fear, eyes locked straight up in disbelief, every muscle simply giving up and seeming to accept the nasty demise he stared down. The central table gave way without slowing down the huge dark blur in the least, the wooden frame exploding into a cloud of splinters and dust as a familiar baggage car plunged with cataclysmic force right on top of the table and the dumbfounded Captain.
A plume of dark tumbling smoke ruptured forth, charging like a dark gray bull of soot and spiraling detritus. The shockwave’s force kicked into Twilight’s chest, blowing her mane back straight before the cerulean pegasus also tumbled forward in the riotous blast. Knocked into a somersaulting dive towards the chamber’s public seats, the purple unicorn and cerulean pegasus flopped and cascaded through the first couple rows of chairs before smacking sideways into the other four mares. They crashed in a twisted pile of dangling hooves, swirling eyes, and exasperated groans.
Coughing and sporadic yelps of panic from the political ponies mixed with alarmed barks and shouts from the royal guards. The two Princesses immediately waded into the fray, royal disapproval of the bureaucracy transforming into a deep care for their subjects as they picked and weaved through the shattered floors. With a hack, Twilight crept towards the bent and buckled train car.
With a groaning lurch, the metal baggage car timidly leaned to the side, a high pitched whine reverberating off the marbled walls. Then, giving way with a succession of rapid clangs and wrenching metal, the car tipped to the side, the door on its underside peeling away from the ground, the tilting door frame revealing the Captain standing with a confounded look of disbelief on his face. With a muffled bang and rusty wine, the corner of the train car rested precariously against the side of a column.
As the door frame angled over him, just clearing his ears by a half-haunch, a rocky clatter descended from the bottom side of the tipping train car. The statue of the draconequus deposited neatly, standing tall beside Stormblade. The narrow pupils in his wide eyes shot a dread-filled look at Discord resting neatly and harmlessly beside him, then retreated back to looking forward towards the pile of six mares recovering from off the dusty floor.
“I’m sorry,” Twilight attempted a sarcastic quip, but only choked on the dust cascading around them. “You were saying, ah-hrerym, something about showing me and, h-kyahck, and teaching me something, Captain?”
The column supporting the precariously tipping vehicle finally gave way; the car quickly tipped over with a thundering metallic crash, kicking up another thick cloud of dust. Stormblade quickly followed in the baggage car’s lead.
“Well... I guess that’s one mystery solved,” Twilight said as she looked across the chamber at the draconequus. Above all of the stirring rubble and the fainted Captain sat the statue of Discord, untouched save for a piece of paper haphazardly speared on one of his horns. “Princess Celestia! Princess Luna!” Twilight called out into the chamber. Turning from the dazed and stunned attendants, the two Princesses approached.
“Huh.” Celestia gasped, hastening to the statue. “This changes many... many things.”
As Celestia and Twilight fell into deep conversation, Princess Luna’s eyes stayed locked on the statue, but more on the paper that fluttered off of the bizarre horn. Some symbol or scratch caught her eye. At first, it was little more than a passing interest, but something drew her gaze back. Some long-abandoned memory twitched to life, and it filled her with dread. But why? It was nothing more than a scrap of paper, right?
Right?
A gust of wind from the hole above twisted the paper, and the symbol fell more fully into Luna’s sight. A circled gemstone. Stepping closer, she pulled the paper free of the horn and examined it in full. It needed no words, no explanation and the information it laid out before her eyes was unmistakable. While obscure and buried in the deepest recesses of memory, the image and its meaning resonated with peculiar clarity to her. The color and life drained from Luna’s cheeks, and she had but moments to make a decision.
“E-excuseth me sister, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna huffed, dropping the paper and briskly stepping from the room. “We... er... needth a little time to cleareth our head.”
“Luna?” Celestia asked, but before she could catch up with the Princess of the Night, the calamity around her pulled her focus back. Mere steps behind her was a jangling clatter as the Second Captain stumbled to his feet, his eyes unable to stay in place as they spun dizzily.
“Not to... worry..." Stormblade abandoned any effort to support his words with heroism, his eyes more intent upon remaining focused to pursue the cobalt Princess out the door. “I’ll... go see what... she just... be right back, your Highness.”
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So, you are a professional?
I hate to shoot you, but the FLP comunity have a tendency to shoot people for 3 things; bad fics, wall of text and long chapters. You have one, and borders to a second one
Seriously, anything longer than 7k words is considered very long here. Anytihing past 10k words is considered to long unless the story is made up of separate stories.
The wall of text part prety much means that no paragraph should be longer than 8-12 lines
I am only mentioning this to you because i want to give you a heads up
300pages long? are you kidding me? that is like over 150 thousand words! Jeses, that's about 1/4 of the bible
I have to read this
Holy shit.
Holy. Shit. By all that is good wonderful in the world...this is the motherlode. This is without a doubt...Jesus H. Christ, I can't even think clearly. This is a story, man. This right here is the shit you tell to your kid during a stormy night, or around a campfire. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be utterly enthralled with a tale.
I can't even begin to thank you enough for this. Just...keep...going.
Good grief! I would have turned that pompous fool into a statue on the spot..
1556861 I agree with the first two issues but why do you consider longer chapters to be a problem? I would think it would be good as long as it isn't going into 20k or anything. Assuming it is divided sensibly and chapters aren't mashed together to give an illusion of length I don't see a problem.
Anyway the well-written description caught my interest and the author comment above me sold it. I'll read this tonight.
1557170
I personally don't consider long chapters to be bad, it's the comunity that does. The problem is that lenghty chapters tend to be long because of: "more words look good, right?". Thus they write the chapters longer than necesary. Those few that can wtire long chapters usually never go past 7k words (except for a few clopfic authors). Also longer chapters means that you loose the readers interrest a lot easier.
Heck, people start to shout wall of text if there is less than 3 paragraphs in 1 page
I try to limit my stories to maximum 5k words per chapter. Anything else and i might risk getting a headache while prof reading
Wow, already approved! And comments are coming in! This is quite surprising to me actually, I thought it would be a couple weeks before I even started getting glances. FimFiction gets so much content on a regular basis, and it takes so long to even peruse a single story to determine whether its worth commenting on or not, it's great to see that my lowly expectations are trumped. Having previously zero presence at all on FimFiction just makes your comments all the more sweeter, because every bit of insight is a massive step towards developing my literary senses.
1556861 Thanks for voicing your concerns over the chapter length, as this is my primary concern over the first chapter as well. If I was truly aspiring to write via printed medium, I know I would be harangued for daring joke about a fifty-plus page opening chapter. All those poor helpless trees, lost! Ain't nobody got any space on their bookshelf for that! Gotta open with a bang that gets right to the point! I hear you, and I very much share your sentiment that a common literary error is the assumption of "quantity > quality." The first chapter alone would disqualify this story from being greenlit from widescale production, just because of its size!
That's why I need feedback like your's, so that I can find the reason and drive to go back and edit the story (in this case, shortening it down and rewriting poorly paced sections in the interest of keeping readers hooked early on). I would find it a tremendous help if you, and all other readers, could enlighten me as to what parts you felt were kinda slogging, because unfortunately, I'm way too biased in my favor (and fatigued from writing all this) to have an insight more valuable than the average reader's.
1556891 A gigantic thanks for your super-kind and encouraging words! I really do appreciate penning a sort of "campfire tale." Curran actually sent me a message (totally interrupting my day off reserved for Borderlands 2) squealing with delight upon reading your comment! Like him, I too am getting quite a nice warm surge of motivation from your feedback, thank you.
1557086 100% agreed. Stormblade is a bit of a literary experiment of sorts. We've all seen the Mary Sue protagonist. Stormblade was originally supposed to be a parody of Mary Sue protagonists at first, making him sort of a jerk and a fool. But after some reworking of the narrative, we shifted his personality into an existing character, thus getting a two-for-one deal that merged the bumbling idiot archetype into the self-indulgent malevolent archetype. The end result is...well....that horrible thing. Stormblade is an attempt at crafting the Mary Sue antagonist. Bonus points if you guys read Stormblade's lines in Zap Brannigan's voice.
1557170 Thanks for the compliment on what you've read so far! I know it's a huge amount to take in, certainly a limiting factor for a lot of readers seeking a story they can ingest while baking a pizza, but I really do hope you enjoy it tonight! If you're the type who likes giving constructive feedback, feel free to bug me in the comments with any problems you have with the story as well! I'm particularly interested in factors like pacing (considering the chapter's length), and if there are any parts of the story you feel could be condensed. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing, and the unbiased objectivity of strangers residing comfortably behind the nebulous barriers of Internet anonymity are prime candidates for solid feedback.
1557086 I agree. The Second Captain is a bit full of himself.
*cough* your's means "your is" *cough*
Actually, the most important hours for a fanfic is the few hours after it is released. This is the time it is on the frontpage (there have just been published few stories lately. either that or mods are lazy). It has to use that time to get as many thumbs as possible. That way it might reach the frontpage. If it does so it wil stay there for a while, and actually get a LOT of views.
This also makes the first 3 chapters VERY important. You'll have to catch the reader, and make him click the star button
A tip while prof reading; put down the story a few days and don't think about it. Pick it up agian, and attach a note in word everywhere you find mistakes. The note should contain what's wrong and where.
When you are through the entire story you can start correcting them. It's a trick i use a lot.
1557344 Curran should be extremely pleased he found you. You are the one-in-a-million author who would actually pen his idea to paper (so to speak). I still plan on reading it soon (I am currently busy ignoring my research paper that is due tomorrow) but I only need to read the comments to know it has some sort of quality to it. The idea that a writer would take an idea that he finds laughable and turn it into a novel is incredible.
Curran, since I am sure you will read this, you had better kiss this guy's feet. If you have been doing that then buy him some ice cream.
While we are partners in this, Paco, you are absolutely 100% right on all counts. I am insanely lucky I found Vest for this project. I write on my own and contribute to Starstruck, but this would be anywhere CLOSE to what it has become without Vest's help and complete insane amounts of patience with me. I owe him way more than an ice cream. Unless we're talking about like...a lot of ice cream. A LOT.
Since I'm posting here now (will fix that blank flank avatar afterwards) but I can give my spin on this, and lemme tell you folks, this whole thing has been just incredibly fun for me. And it has also been very inspiring. Vest is a wonderful partner, and we jam well together with ideas. The love-to-hate-him Stormblade is a product of our discussions and chats. It began as a talk about really over the top OCs, then I suggested "hey, maybe there's some dopey officer who is all those things we're complaining about?", then Vest comes back with a characterization of him and before we know it, we have a pretty interesting character on our hands...who writes self-insert Luna shipping IN a story. That's like an inception of awesomeness here. We have a great chemistry, and Vest not only has amazing talent (wait til we get to some later scenes and he will blow your mind with how he can twist a scene in cool ways) but he has a work ethic that floors me. There have been times early in this process where I'd fire a note on dA off to him, go to bed, and that morning wake up to have 4000-5000 words of the idea turned into a writing snippet. Dude is turbo awesome and he is the reason this project is going so well. We may be a team, but if it was just me, it wouldn't be anywhere as close to what we got.
I also need to thank Arctic Sekai for her contributions of cover art and, once we get further down the line, some other art of the whole thing. I also need to thank bunnimation from dA for contributing more art for it. And hey, I get to thank Vest AGAIN for contributing. The art for chapter 2 is a combination of bunni and Vest's jumbo-size buckets of talent and skill.
Finally, I want to thank all of you for your feedback. Starstruck is a big project for me, but I freely acknowledge that it is my indulgence and an act of fun for me. But to find it being one of the things I am most proud of writing, and to have people thanking us for doing it...just wow. There is nowhere near enough gratitude I have for this whole thing.
And I am all kinds of encouraged and excited not only in getting this up, but also in the first wave of feedback. Vest and I have done a great deal of work and have had a blast, and now we're diving into the good stuff real soon. And trust me when I tell you all this, if you think Vest has wowed you with his prose...this roller coaster is just getting started.
Anyway, time for me to poke around here and get my avatar to not be so blank slate zombie pony. Thanks again, everyone!
1557657 Oh don't you worry, Curran certainly contributes quite a lot to this project. This isn't one of those "he bounced an idea off my noggin and I went from there all by myself." He has been a very active participant in the writing process, and puts just as much energy and resources into this as I do. We build upon each other's literary strengths. He's really good at progressing an idea, and keeping a coherent pace. That's something I have difficulty with, as I like to frequently pause and expound upon what has just transpired in a scene. I'll bring the story to a crashing halt as to explore the psychological and metaphorical implications of a certain scene, thus summoning him to swoop in, flip-kick the thesaurus out of my mitts, and get the darned story rolling again.
I wouldn't be able to do this without his help.
He's also a solid proof-reader, a great originator of ideas, and has been a golden asset with commissioning supplemental artwork for this project. The majority of artwork interspersed at the beginning of these chapters were out of his pocket.
And instead of ice cream, he bought me X:COM on Steam. Seems fair to me. =)
Well, now. After reading the second chapter, I must digress -- I am torn, good sir. I am torn in choosing whether to laugh at the good Captain Jingle-Jangle or to mercilessly beat him in the face with a tire iron. Or, perhaps, is it possible to choose both at the same time? A bystander would view such a course of action as rather...unbalanced, yet I think it a necessary one. The fact is, I think Jingle-Jangle is my favorite character, so far, in the sense that you just love to hate him. He's so pompous, self centered, and utterly detrimental to any situation whatsoever, that I'm reminded of a lame, deformed baby animal; something so pathetic and sickening that you simply can't help but look at it with fascination.
Gina, on the other hand, scares me. That much unbridled power has great and terrible potential. God forbid she sharpens her sword, so to speak. I am mildly confused, though, as to the source of the voices that she hears. Are they truly belonging to some malignant force, or are they merely the product of a shattered mind, somehow put into a living death for uncountable years? One would assume, judging from the story and from some creative liberties, that she was sent on some mission by Luna, to retrieve the Element of Magic, so many centuries ago. But why? Was it when Luna was in her Nightmare state, and therefore nefarious in nature? Or something else?
And now we introduce the supposed centerpiece of the the tale, the entire reason you wrote it: Devon. I don't know what to make of him yet, but I like what you've built him as; a bright young adult wallowing in the monotony and repetition of a useless and possibly unnecessary job. A grim fate that is not entirely uncommon in the real world, as it happens. There's really not much to say of him at this point, as not much has been said already - only one scene, and methinks it to be a filler at that. I already know the direction you plan to take him in. The question remains, how?
The questions keep mounting, the suspense grows thicker, and I find myself unable to look away from this glorious train wreck of a story. Whomever you are, you wonderful bastard of an Author, my figurative hat goes off to you.
EDIT: I put the word out about this. I have a number of people who follow me, and with their help, we might get it featured.
golly sweet allegory what in tarnation is this thing. naaah... wait a minute, this seems to have a premise as good as THIS.
do take a look at the link and i think you'll be flattered good man.
i'm putting this in my must read section... along that other fic i gave a link to that i have yet to finish
This story is in my read later list. Looks interesting enough.
However, I will not read the story until you are able to cut down those chapters. I don't necessarily mean take out a bunch of material, just split them up into separate chapters.
You can even do like: Chapter 1.1; Chapter 1.2; Chapter 1.3; etc.
1558094 I was tempted to break up the first chapter, but I didn't want people to consider 1.1 or 1.2 to be a good stopping place. Chapter 1 ends on an image I want to leave people with on their first pick-up, just so they can get the full scope of insane lengths this antagonist will go. Hopefully, by the end of the first chapter, I hope they consider that a good place to take a breather for the day, but still feel compelled to pick up to chapter 2 later on.
Trust me, I'm not disagreeing with you at all. I know from your comment, and the comments of several above, that opening chapter length is really going to make people hesitate on picking this up. It was my biggest concern when I posted it. Yet, the more I thought about it, the less I wanted to break it up. I didn't want people to stop at what I considered "lesser" climaxes than the one achieved at the end of the first chapter. That's why I'm hoping for a few brave souls to take the risk, give it a try, and let me know if it's worth their while.
Those who do, I really do appreciate it.
Those who do...and give me lots of thorough criticism, I will love them forever.
Big chapters, what's not to love? Faved for later.
Aaaaaaand, there we are. Enjoy that spot in the feature box.
1558094 But there's nothing better than devoting an hour or so to reading. If you read little ten minute chunks you don't have enough time to immerse yourself.
1557361 I would say if his ego were any bigger it wouldn't fit in his body, but I think he's past that.
1558445 no doubt. He reminds me of almost any braggart character in movies, plays, books, and (rarely) video games. Those are the characters that make you want to punch them in the face but laugh at when they run away scared.
Sounds interesting. I will track and read when I can. Keep up the good work.
1558299 Sweet mother of Jesus Jones! Yay! Thank you so much for the feature! Curran and I are both super-excited to land the spot, and are so glad that you liked it so much! Chapter 3 incoming the middle of next week, so stick around! I promise, the next few chapters are more consistent in length to the second chapter, it's just that first one that's so large.
1558445 1558526 He's definitely an ego-driven character. Stormblade is a combination of several factors. He thinks that he's some hotshot action hero of sorts, so of course he's going to have this obnoxious two-dimensional candor like Duke Nukem. He's also going to consider his leadership impeccable, so he's got a lot of Zap Brannigan in his system. And as one who has read a few too many poorly-written love stories, he's totally got that delusional "fillies just swoon and collapse in my arms" whimsy dancing around in his head. He's pretty much every negative connotation of your everyday Mary Sue protagonist, but flipped around to make him into the most malevolent of sinister ravagers of sanity: the Mary Sue antagonist. Seeing people hate him vehemently so early on in the story is very encouraging, and I'm stoked to see that people are wishing an amount of misfortune and humiliation upon him that merely pales in comparison to what I have planned. It's dangerous as a writer to make promises about scenes that are only bulletted lists at this point, but if there's one guarantee I'll put my credibility upon, it's this.
I promise, as one who grew up bullied by jocks, meatheads, and authoritative windbags, Stormblade will get the full force of vengeance I've had simmering in my psyche for the last decade of life.
1558982 Thanks! Glad to hear you plan on giving it a try! I know it's going to take a bit of energy to get through such a lengthy first chapter (and these chapters are going to average 20-30 pages apiece, heads up). But really do hope you enjoy the read, and that it was worthwhile. Feel free to share with me any thoughts on the matter, even the negative stuff. Heck, ESPECIALLY the negative stuff. Every bit of input helps, and I appreciate it all sincerely!
coachdawnwrites.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/excellent.jpg
1559144
I hate guys like that. I've had more than my fair share of these guys. Of course I eventually "convinced" them to get an ego check
1559144 I like the way you think. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Even if it is through a fanfic. Keep up the good work. Here is a moustache for your efforts.
1556861
I disagree with one of your statements.
1556861
Complaining about how long stories are is blasphemous in my eyes. I don't care if your statement that long stories are not welcomed here is objectively true.
i.imgur.com/ZokVh.gif
Dear author please don't let the bastards grind you down with moans that your story is too long. While OC pony stories is another thing I consider anathema by default, yours seems so well done and so close to what I've wanted to read for the longest time that I'd be saddened if it's discontinued.
Eh, I need to get Pink Eyes and The Sweetie Belle Chronicles out first, so into the Fav box you go!
Boy howdy, that's quite a word count.
That means you're quite dedicated to your fic, and I applaud you for that. The only thing that really annoys me is that you don't space after your ellipses. Kerning is very important!
EDIT: Okay, I'm a bit into the first chapter now. The text is really flowery, and it suffers a lot from purple prose. There really is no need to extravagantly describe the night sky when it's only used to put into context the setting.
1557170
Long chapters are an issue because it reduces the utility of the "what I've read" tracking combined with a feeling that you should read a chapter in a single go even if you're breaking up your reading of the story. Most of the time, long chapters are already broken up into sections so reducing the size of individual chapters isn't that hard, and if you want to read more at once you can always click the link for the next chapter.
Personally, I find the sweet spot to be in the 2500-5000 word range. Not so short as to be popcorn, but short enough that I don't consider "do I have time for that big of a chapter?"
1559751 Any sort of a comparison to Short Skirts and Explosions certainly makes for a gratifying accolade for the week! Even if it's just a parallel to the incredible volume of his stories, I still blush at the notion of even the most abstract correlation to the brilliant mind that blessed my existence with End of Ponies and Background Pony. Then again, I take great personal honor in saying that just like Martin Luther King Jr., I also breathe oxygen. Now if people start claiming that I come even half-way close to Short Skirts' quality, then I might end up rolling and whooping on the ceiling again.
1559784 Heh, thanks for the encouragement! Glad to see some defense for the long stories, here. It's sobering to see that despite the story's length, people will still feel inclined to pick it up and give it a try. Besides, a long story doesn't mean they have to get to the end of a chapter before deciding it doesn't vibe with them. Sure, I'd like them to give it a fair shot, but if they're twenty minutes in and it's seriously not working for them, they're more than welcome to put it down and move on to something else. Last thing I'd want to do is waste others' time (and as one who works in the entertainment industry on comics AND video games, I can tell you that stealing another man's time is more egregious than stealing their wallet). They don't have to wait for the "chapter 2" banner to put it down if they're afraid the long first chapter isn't worth their while.
Though I am also appreciative of the fact that on the flip side, there are people who have the gumption to announce straight up that they find a certain quality of a story off-putting. Any input is legitimate in my book, and those saying that it's too long are simply reiterating the same concerns I had before posting this. I'm totally aware of the ridiculous length. Having people like that to tell me straight up their own criticisms (observations that I also harbored) means that I can depend upon this community to get a wide assortment of solid feedback as well. Knowing people like that exist is a sobering reassurance that this endeavor isn't going to be some self-congratulatory cuddle party of sorts; I'm going to get criticism, and it will in turn make me a better writer because of it. Case in point...
1559903 This fine beacon of humanity's illustrious handsomeness took the initiative to tell me that ellipsis are supposed to have spaces after them.
Like I said...I'm going toLike I said... I'm going to become a better writer by taking their input to heart, and applying it. By the way, my good purveyor of faith in civilized society, both chapters have been edited accordingly so there is now a space after every ellipsis. The kerning has been... kerned... I guess... if that's a word...1559906 Thanks for the insight, and for supplementing a good butter zone for getting the point across. I don't think I'll be able to keep it under 5,000 words unfortunately, especially with my particular writing style. However, I will see to possibly breaking up future chapters that get into the 15,000+ range (the third act is pretty much written already, and there is a chapter in there that's longer than the first). It's actually an awesome reason you present, as it would make it easier to keep track of. If I may complement your logic further, I believe breaking a chapter up into three parts also helps the author ensure that they are sticking to the proper classic method of storytelling by keeping it in three distinct equally paced parts. Definitely, it's something I'll be mindful of for future installments, as it'll be easier for readers to follow along with, and be a quite tangible reminder that I should be mindful to properly maintain a story's structure.
If I may provide some of my own insight and experience with MLP fanfic, I actually loved stories that went on for a while. Stories like End of Ponies, Fallout: Equestria (plus Project Horizons), and other novels containing 20-30 page chapters were some of my favorites. I even remember one particular chapter of Fallout: Equestria exceeding 150 pages (somewhere around 75k words), and while it took quite a lot of effort one afternoon to get through it, the payoff at the end was huge!
1560079
Heh, thanks. Do you usually not space after the ellipsis? Sometimes it's just a matter of preference.
I also noticed that you took Applejack's accent to heart... that's... a bit polarizing, to be honest. It's one thing to use her accent, but to use it like this:
is pretty extreme. I hardly think her accent is that heavy, really. We can all understand her just fine in the show, but I had to stare at this sentence for a few seconds to figure out what she was saying.
1560106 Oh wow, that sentence there really is a bit much isn't it? While I like to exaggerate the accents a bit in the literary medium, I will concur the frightening irony that Applejack's observation of "ov'uh th'top" is definitely ov'uh th'top.
I'll smooth that out for coherency's sake. I know that later on, when I give Applejack more successive lines in later chapters, I'll pull back on the accent with the assumption that the reader knows she's the one talking.
While handling dialogue, I like utilizing an accent to establish who is speaking (like Devon's mother in chapter 2). When they first begin speaking, I give it a bit of a heavier accent and more stereotypical diction for the archetype as a means for the reader to know just who interjected in a conversation. For example:
Twilight leaped onto the table before the rampaging dragon, "Wait!" She outstretched her hooves, facing her friends. "Before we can fight him with a high-budget explosive action sequence that'll blow everypony's mind, we need to go to the library and read a book about how we-"
"-Boooriiing!"
"-Oh talk about uncool!"
"-D'yaw, con sarnit gal!"
"-Dah'rling, puh-lease!"
"-Oh, great! Let's... Um... I... So, we umm... Oh, I actually agree with Twi... li...."
Don't need to name names, but anyone with a background in MLP should be able to know who is talking just by their word choice and delivery. But as you point out, it can definitely get a bit muddied when used too much, so I'll go get that line ironed out better. Thanks!
1560079
One thing to remember is that chapters as they appear as links on this site are not quite the same thing as chapters as a level of story organization. It's more than OK to publish a single chapter of your story as multiple 'chapters'[1] on FiMFiction, with it being split up at the best spots to put a bookmark if it were in hardcopy.
[1] I'm thinking it might have been better to have named them 'parts' to avoid the assumption that the splits have to be at the chapter level.
1560163
I tend to think that how characters speak falls in word choice, not so much the separation of words with apostrophes through delivery, like "Dah'rling." That just seems very awkward to the reader, I feel, because it seems both very overbearing and difficult to comprehend.
Simply using the word "darling" is enough grounds for anyone to start thinking of certain ponies, like Rarity. They're all distinctive in their own ways as is, and I think using their accents is a bit overkill (the usual go-to accent for Applejack is removing the 'g' from the end of words, like forgivin' or chargin'). For the OCs, though, it might make a bit more sense. Maybe they truly have a strong accent, like Devon's mother, and I suppose it would be okay on those grounds. Just keep in mind the readers might not be able to put their accents together as well as you can.
Anyways, I'm enjoying it so far. It's a longer fic than I'm used to since I have a short attention span, but I like the story.
1559784
You can't throw a bloody novel in their face if you want their attention. It simply don't work. you have to sneak the story on them. A good cover art (he got that), a proper description (he got that too) and then have an interresting, but somewhat short intro to the story that gets their attention. This attention should be posted as a single chapter.
We are talking about getting the atention from everybrony here
Do you think that an average kid/teenager would start on a story were the first chapter is 20k pages long
It is called adaption to the reader
Just remember that you are delaing with a comunity wwhere the age spans from 14 (even younger too) and older.
It would be like gathering the entire harry potter books in one book. Noboody would have started on that unless they have read harry potter!
With that said i don't hae anything against long chapters myself as long as they keep my attention
30k words in two chapters? Let's dance. Some people may not like long chapters. We call these people lazy or amateurs. Having read many pony words I can confirm that (oh gods this is gonna sound funny) length is a non-issue.
A Luna x OC story, though... Ok, I'll admit that your first post is what sold me on this. I'll read it later so as not to stay up too late.
1556861
I strongly disagree. I hate short chapters. Anything with chapters below 1k words I won't even touch. From 3k words and onwards I feel like it might be worth my time. 10k and onwards makes me rub my hands and say "now we are talking."
Rust sent me.
This is your FIRST story? I fear that once I finally get around to posting my first story, It'll look like a kindergartener's dribble in comparison.
Also, do not change the length of your chapters just because some people can't spare more than half an hour's time reading. i'm only a little ways into this story and I'm already loving it.
1560409 This would be my first My Little Pony fanfic that I'm actually hashing out. I've made some attempts at MLP before, but couldn't quite get enough momentum rolling to drive me to finish it (life, other jobs, season 2 obliterating a legitimately good idea with "Rarity's parents aren't geese" becoming canon). However, this isn't my first story (though it is the longest). I've dabbled in short stories all throughout high school and college, and even took a stab at some memoirs about a year ago.
Thanks for the encouragement with the chapter lengths, too. Glad to see that there are some people who do enjoy dissolving an evening away in PJ's and downing a single chapter (myself especially). I'll talk to Curran about the possiblity of breaking up chapters so they're the same length but more manageable for the readers. However, if the long chapter lengths changes the fic's reception from an inconvenient weakness to its unique strength, I'd actually be inclined to forego conventional logic and let this one stand apart as "that fic with the crazy long first chapter."
1556861
Shortskirtsandexplosions gets away with both in Background pony, I mean some of those chapters are longer than entire fics.
Romance is not my thing, but these comments, especially yours, have me hopeful, actually. It looks like you've put a hell of a lot of effort into this. Let's see if this becomes only the second Romance story I've ever enjoyed. Will attempt to read within the week.
Happy writing
1558357
Yeah . . .
No.
I don't have that kind of time. dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/shrug_Luna_apple.png
Intrigued by the long comments. OK, lets read this doozy-
20k WORDS?! F TO THAT!
I'm sure you've a ton of effort into this, but 20k is too much even for me and my ridiculous spare time. So have a like instead
1556861
The Long Fic group has a bunch of stories longer than 200k.
150k ain't nothin'.
1560705 Then take your time anyway. You'll enjoy reading much more after the first ten-fifteen minutes.
1556861 Fallout:Equestria is even longer, with roughly about thousand pages, or half a million words.
Sir.
I am a midevalist and a grammarian. Please allow me to proofread for you, if only to correct Princess Luna's dialogue. It was hilarious when it was (second) Captain Stormblade's butchering, until She herself opened her mouth, and revealed herself a fool.
1561136 Fallout equestria is about the same lenght of the bible
I ain't joking
The problem with long chapters is that you loose the casual readers who just wants to spend a few minutes (10-30) reading every day, and thus looses a lot of readers
1561196 I know, Fallout:Equestria even was on Wikipedia's list for longest novels for a short time.
As for losing casual readers, you can't please everyone. Others might just like it because of that.
“Grant her due voice!” ----- The removed "-eth" would replace an "-s" on the end of a verb, which here would be improperly conjugated. "He granteth her due process" would be grammatically correct (save for the lack of punctuation).
“Pray tell, Twilight Sparkle,” -------- Another removed "-eth". Moreover, "Pray tell" is a command to reply, usually used in debate or interrogation. "Pray tell, sir, why thy hand is betroth`ed to thrice the women that we had previously been lead to believe?"
“Thou hast more to say, we can see that. Speak!” -------- Aside from the removed "-eth", this continuation of the above sentence, aside from being overkill in conjunction with the above, is oddly phrased for the time. You could get away with calling it an attempt at modernization if Luna was in a social setting, rather than in a national security meeting. It would be more correct to the Elizabethan Period to reverse the clauses. "We can see that thou hast more to say. We bid thee speak!"
“Thine inquiries hath proven trustworthy in the past, Miss Sparkle. Mine sister’s unyielding trust in thee doth win our trust as well.” -------- A correct usage, followed by an incorrect usage, here. The rule for "Thine" and "Mine" as opposed to "Thy" and "My" is the same for "An" vs "A": that is to say, if it lieth before a vowel, you add the consonant. "Thine inquiries hath proven trustworthy..." is a gleaming example of good! "Mine sister's..." sounds like Heavy Weapons Guy from TF2.
I'm going to stop here, as I must away to church. I am only worrying about this because it distracted me greatly from the tale you are telling, a tale from which I do not particularly want to be distracted. This has LOADS of potential, and though I got a bit of whiplash from the introduction of your other protagonist, I look forward to him becoming the 'Arthur Dent' of the tale: an everyman dragged along on a journey on which he won't quite fit, but beats the pants off of the dull drugery of that to which he can no longer return anyway. You've got something good going on here: don't let poor Elizabethan grammar get the best of you!
1557170 I would prefer short chapters more because simply I don't have the time to read an extremely long chapter.