AppleDash Group Collab

by DbzOrDie

Violence(2) - Autocharth

The cheer, loud and raucous, boomed in with the sunlight. It followed Applejack with every step, plodding along on weary hooves. Her ears lay flat, as if that might block the noise of the crowd. Their hooting, howling cries seemed to dog her as she descended, sand soon replaced by old, worn stone. Suspicious eyes watched her, unkind talons freeing her of her burden. Piecemeal armour returned to its well-guarded store, and blunt axe liberated from her mouth by claws more squeamish about saliva than blood, before she was finally allowed to slump onto her threadbare cot.

"It's not gonna get any easier, ya know," remarked a bored voice, a whisper compared to the shouting that filled in the corridors much the way the stench of blood and desperation did.

Applejack's eyes cracked open. She couldn't even remember getting sleepy. Exhaustion had simply claimed her. She shook her head as she stood, frowning tiredly through the bars. A bowl of slop was thrust through the slim space beneath, hard enough that some of spilled to the floor.

"Ya say that like Ah don't know it." She took the bowl gratefully, setting to devouring it. The tasteless goop slid down her throat with all texture of gritty oatmeal. Applejack ate it anyway. She had never been one to complain, even when she'd had the option. It made it easier to endure when she didn't.

"I don't get you," the griffon grumbled, shaking her head. She idly tapped a claw against the bar. "You're not gonna make it. If you don't get knocked down soon, they'll start throwing even more things at you. Bigger too. I heard they've got a full grown hydra on the way to the city."

Applejack began to stretch, working a cinch out of her neck. "Wonder if the heads regrow it ya smack 'em hard enough," she mused.

The griffon outside her cell shook her head, sighing in disgust. "You won't reach it. No one, nogriffion, nopony, notaur, has ever made it to one hundred. You're only halfway there, and you look more than half-dead."

The farm-pony gave her an infuriating calm, determined smile. "Then Ah guess Ah better get my A-game on, don't Ah?"

Staring at her, eyes clouded with incomprehension, the griffon finally just sighed and turned away. "You won't make. No one does...."

Applejack just shrugged and kept on stretching, preparing herself for the day's trials.

"Still..."

Something bounced off Applejack's head. She blinked, picking up the apple in one hoof before she looked up, curious, to see the guard stalled a few feet away. Another apple landed next to her, a third joining it as the guard emptied her satchel.

"Good luck. You're on at midday again." The guard all but fled, embarrassed by her sentiment. "She'll be watching, dweeb."

Applejack's smiled. It was a weary smile, her eyes showing the scars her orange coat hid, but a faint warmth grew that not all the stones in this bloody kingdom could cover. She still wore it as she was taken, once more, and garbed in ill-fitting armour. Even as her teeth found the familiar grooves in the handle, that spark of light and warmth remained. When she stepped into the burning midday sunlight and looked up, that warmth hardened into determination at the splash of six colours in the grandest seat, and the glint gold collar that bound the blue beneath.

Axe ready, Applejack faced the beasts now.

One hundred days soaked in violence for a single prize. Endless scars and bruises and beatings, for a single slave's freedom. Anything Applejack could pay, to snap that collar from her lover's neck, she would. One hundred days, or one thousand, it didn't matter.

Comments

[JetstreamGW]

Why is this called "Machine (2)?" I thought this was written for the prompt "Violence?"

[TwilightUCrazy]

This should be "Violence (2)". It was in response to my prompt.

[Fury of the Tempest]

Damn... just. DAMN.