2. Stirring
Spike awoke to find himself in a dream. The rolling hills of grass and scattered rock lay before him. The sky was a wintery grey, with a dimmed sun through the murky clouds. It was a misty and cold day here. But where was this place? It certainly wasn't Ponyville. He must have passed out in a gem-eating binge. In fact, he did see several different kinds of gems dispersed around his feet. This made him drool a bit, but only for a few minutes. From in the distance, he saw a white form running towards him. She was calling his name.
“Spike! Spike, my darling! My love!”
His eyes immediately turned to red pumping hearts again as he anticipated his crush's approach. Soon they would embrace. Soon they would nuzzle noses. Soon he would confess his undying love for her, on this misty, wintery day. It was even beginning to snow ever so slightly. She was getting closer, and closer,...and closer. He knew it was her, his one and only, his dream mare. However, this moment was not to last, and the white blur became shredded into a flurry of snow that spiraled upwards and into the clouds, as did her dying word on her final breath.
“Spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike!”
“RARITY!” he called out, waking up on Twlight's doorstep in a cold sweat.
“Rarity...”
Back in Twilight's musings and far-within memories, she recalled more of her night with Zecora.
Zecora served her cooked meal of boiled roots and draconicus eggs, which she now shared with Twilight. It was seasoned with fresh dill, chives, and garlic, all finely chopped and meticulously prepared.
“My dear mare. You seem to be confused. Long on this have I mused. Your friends you may love, but they push and shove. Quickly you must act, and that is a fact.”
“My friends? They've been nothing but nice to me.”
“Have they? It may have been none of my business, but many things have I witnessed. You have been overburdened my friend. I knew you would come so that I might mend.”
“Mend? Mend what?”
“Your troubled mind. I can see it. You seek my help that you might free it. You are very wise and so very humble, but without my help tonight, your mind may crumble.”
Twilight thought for a while, and the more she thought, the more her eyes began to water. She finally collapsed her head and front hooves on the table, her crying face buried in the polished wood.
Zecora sighed, and walked over to a shelf, picking out a clay vase marked with a strange inscription. She brought it over to the table and placed a hoof gently upon Twilight's frazzled mane.
Back in the real world, or as real as can be expected, the room was quiet. All was silent except for Twilight's calm breathing. She felt at peace today, but she still had to work out her nerves through this meditation. She did feel the bean-bag chair underneath her flank, as well as the steam rising around her. She was acutely aware and yet deeply introspective. She was alone, inside her mind, undivided. She did not feel the need to talk to herself today, not in this new-found serenity. This may seem strange when one is all alone, but looping her personality back on itself didn't seem so necessary when she wasn't flustered past the breaking point.
“Get away from the door, Spike!” barked Rarity, who had come back to the library with new determination.
Spike was flabbergasted. He couldn't reconcile his loyalty for Twilight with his obsession with Rarity. Now he was getting a headache. Perhaps later he would give the meditation thing a go too. This was a short moment of introspection that was promptly interrupted by a strong bolt of Magic to the face.
SLAM!
Rarity obviously held little respect for him, but this was getting ridiculous. This was the last coherent thought within his waking consciousness before he was out like a burnt light bulb.
When she passed through the door, the spell within the floating crystallized bubble was waiting for her.
She giddily backed away, mumbling incoherently with fear as it the color inside the bubble darkened to a blood red.
SLAM!
Rarity was tossed violently out the door by a burst of Magic with the exact force she had just applied to Spike. Apparently she couldn't take as well as she could give, which is kind of an ironic commonality in sadism. It was this sadistic nature that was reflected in her dealings with her friends, or those she claimed to tolerate.
The white unicorn was becoming increasingly worried. What was that bubble? Why wouldn't her friend answer her when she needed attention? Rarity began to think that the purple unicorn didn't much care for her problems at this time. Perhaps she had never taken Rarity seriously. What was Twilight doing in there? What was she thinking? Whatever it was, it had to be less important than Rarity's issues.
It simply had to.
Twilight Sparkle was up and about, after lazily drifting back into normal reality. It was time for a break, and besides, she was getting hungry. She ambled to her hooves and prepared herself a good meal with the stock left over in the pantry.
Spike was awake again, and soon burst through the door. Having been rudely beaten down into unconsciousness twice in the same day, he had a decidedly grumpy look on his face.
Twilight's eyes grew angry.
“Spike? What are you doing? I thought I told you to guard the door.”
“It's Rarity. She keeps coming in here!”
Twilight became even more irritable.
“What did I post you out there for?! Huh?”
Spike teared up and shook, like he was cold. Cold. That was how Twilight looked. She couldn't even see that, at least not right now. So, he turned an walked outside, without saying anything. This slience could not have had a greater impact on Twilight just then. She caught herself being angry at Spike, for no good reason. Was this what Zecora had been talking about?
Twilight caught herself pacing, and soon the headaches began to resurface. It was obvious what she should do next. But was it really so obvious? She needed to fix whatever problem was ailing Rarity, but she also needed to listen to Zecora. Yes, that was the best idea, she thought as she eyed the indented beanbag chair she had been pacing around. She floomphed down on the greyish blob and ignited a spell to heat up the contents of the vases again. She controlled her breathing vehemently at first, but then found her calm center again and drifted away with the steam once more.
What nopony seemed to notice was the bubble of magic overhead. This land was so over-saturated with magic that such a phenomenon was brushed off as nothing in most situations. It wasn't even a large bubble; hardly a threat. It still remained a bloody red color. What nopony could imagine, at the time, was what was actually cooking inside the orb. What could happen if this crystalline ball were to crack open and release whatever had accidentally been born? Only Celestia could know such a thing, and she was busy in Canterlot. Had she been informed of this, she would have taken immediate action in the company of at least seven armed guards surrounding the area. More than one thing was getting out of hand here, and nothing was likely to change until it was too late.
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1948070
Thanks!
As a mental image, this is great. In a cartoon it's funny. In a fiction... not so much.
... kinky.
Again, rhyme feels a bit forced.
T'was the night before the night before New Years Eve,
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a Spike. (I suck as music, sorry)
Rarity can be a bit of a beach, but I don't think she'd hurt Spikey-Wikey~<3
I'm liking where this is going.
What. I had to read this three times to understand it. It felt rushed.