Generosity
Dear Princess Celestia,
This will be my final letter. I know that you don’t like it when ponies say or swear things in your name, but please do not be offended. I know you can’t actually hear me—this is just something I need to say. I’d like to think you’re wise enough that you’ll know what I would have said if I’d had the chance. Your version will probably be more elegant than the real thing anyway.
Lights.
There is no sun in Vision, no stars. No sky to keep the time. Only the lights. Even the clocks tick to that pattern. I never noticed it before, but every time the lights beat, the clocks tick. There’s a clock in the concourse where the Rainbow Tram comes in, and one over the hospital’s doors, and another over the main gates. I can hear them ticking, all of them ticking at once, every time the lights hum and cycle.
But the lights aren’t quite regular are they? I think each cycle is about a second, but the beat isn’t exactly the same length every time. I can hear it. Humm, tick. Humm, tick. Humm, tick. Humtick. There! That one came faster than the others! In fact, I don’t even think any of the beats are the same length. If the clocks keep time with the lights, then they can’t keep time at all. They must be terribly inaccurate.
But... as long as all the clocks say the same thing, does that matter?
No, no! Of course it matters! I mean, is a day in Vision even a day on the surface? Could noon here be midnight up there? Is the day here even the same length? Could the days run fast or slow depending on the lights’ speed on that particular day? Is that why sometimes things here come so fast, and sometimes they drag on forever? I bet that’s it. That’s why! I can hear it. I should have known it before—with that irritating pounding in my ears and the sound of my own breath. I should have realized how messed up time here was! Always coming too fast!
I mean, it would make sense, wouldn't it? That’s why nothing here seems right—things are getting moved around while I’m not looking! I go into my room, which has no clock and I don’t think that’s a coincidence, and all the other clocks in the city can do whatever they like and I’m none the wiser! Clocks speeding up and slowing down to ensure I never get a second’s rest. Events getting shifted around so I always look bad. This city is alive and it hates me and it’s had it out for me ever since I showed up!
That’s it, isn’t it? The city is some sort of evil supernatural being, and it’s torturing me for fun! Or this is a nightmare and somepony has cursed me not to wake up. That’s not crazy! That’s the only thing that explains why everything here is out to get me. Why everything here exists to prove me wrong and hurt me. Why everything here exists to make it all my fault! Which it’s not! I did everything I could. I just can’t think with this stupid noise and the pounding in my ears and the clocks and the lights always thump humm buzz tick tock! Constantly noise, pushing in until I feel like I can’t even get a breath. Is a little quiet so much to ask for!?
Well it’s not! It’s not! It’s not! It’s a trick and I’m not going to fall for it. Just because this place can move things around and change the scenery doesn’t make it true. It didn’t happen that way! I did everything I could to help! I did and this city is trying to frame me because it hates me and it wants to make it all my fault and—
“See?” A mare says. “I told you we wouldn't be the first ones in line.”
What?
I can’t breathe. The world is a blur, a confused, jumbled mess, but I know I can’t breathe. I’m hyperventilating, my barrel so tight my breaths are coming as quick, shallow pants. I try to put a hoof to my chest, but I’m rooted to the spot. I can’t see. Only hear. Only that noise. Thump humm buzz tick tock! Thump humm buzz tick tock! The lights and the clocks and what is that pounding?
Oh, it’s my heart.
“It’s three in the morning! They don’t even open for four hours,” another mare says, exasperated. “I bet she’s not even here for that.”
Slow down, Siren. Slow down. Deep breaths, steady breaths. I can’t do it—I can’t draw a full breath—but I manage to slow down. Thump humm buzz tick tock! Thump humm buzz tick tock! Be quiet! Other sounds now. Dripping water. Running water. And something in front of me. Silver? No, steel. Steel bars. Like a prison cell.
The first voice is speaking again. But it’s so muted, so distant. Something about me? “Look, we’ll ask. Hey! Excuse me? Hey!” A pause, the sound of hooves on stone. “Excuse me, is this where you get in line for the morning opening?”
Steel bars, decorated with silver and gold finish. Not a prison cell, a gate. Beyond it, a waterfall, circling levels of white stone, tram rails, windows above it all. Rarity’s office. Why isn’t the window broken? The glass from the window should be broken where Green... Where she...
“Uh? Hello?” that voice again. Directly to my left. “Um, excuse me? Hi? Yoo-hoo?”
I turn my head. There’s a mare in front of me. Garish pink, with an electric blue mane. She’s in a corridor. A hallway.
“Uh... hi,” the pink one says, leaning away from me. “Um... is this the line for the Pavilion main opening?” Pink. I think that’s important for some reason. There was something about that. “Like, for the morning? I know it’s crazy early, but we won tickets in a raffle, and I heard that by five the line is—”
“Glitter, back away slowly.” Another voice. I turn my head. An earth pony mare, russet, with saddlebags. “Glitter!”
“Okay, okay!” The pink one scrambles away, taking a few quick steps back from me. Then they just stare at me. There’s something... about that. I look back at the gates. Steel bars, and a roaring waterfall on the other side, and a verdigrised sign above it: Carousel Medical Pavilion. “I was only... yeah.”
I can see the clock above the gates. Three-seventeen. That can’t be right. Can it? It seems to be moving so slowly.
“Should we... call somepony?” The pink one is talking again. “I mean, she might not be an addict. I don’t see any extra cutie marks.”
“Her hair is falling out, Glitter,” says the russet one. That’s not true, is it? The hair grew back on my sides, didn’t it? Or did I imagine that? I think that happened.
“Oh, yeah...” The pink one. I look down at my ankles. They’re still bare. Maybe I did imagine that. Things don’t make much sense right now, but that seems straightforward. My ankles are still bare, so I imagined my hair growing back. I look at the clock. Three-nineteen. That didn’t feel like two full minutes. “Do you think she can hear us?”
“I don’t think so.” The brown one, in the edge of my vision. “Rider’s ghost. Look at her eyes. It’s like looking at a statue.”
What am I doing here? I remember this.
I’m here because Quick March left me here. Because I didn’t stop Rarity. Because I’m sitting outside the Pavilion gates.
“That’s too creepy.” The pink one, shaking her head. “I don’t want to wait here if she’s going to be staring at us all night like that. Excuse me! Officer! I think there’s something wrong with this mare!” Security. Something about me, and security, and sitting outside the Pavilion gates. Something important. Something I’m supposed to be doing.
A hoof on my shoulder. A black uniform. “Ma’am? I’m going to need to ask you to come with me.”
Oh, right. I’m supposed to be running for my life.
I met a pony who knew you once, and we spoke of you. She said that you were a great craftspony and admired your skill, but said that your work was fundamentally flawed—that you tried to make me into something that I’m not, and learned that no amount of sculpting will change the nature of the clay. She said it to make fun of you, but I think it’s sweet. You must have known that you would not succeed, but you had to try. And you did try, not cynically or bitterly, but honestly. You wanted to think it would work, even if you knew better.
There are many ponies here who would call what you did foolish, but I don’t think so. Recent events have caused me to think about the nature of good and evil, and I think that good is doing the right thing even when it won’t make a difference. You taught me that, though it took me a while to grasp the lesson.
The floor of the train is cold and hard, covered in little bumps and dents that dig into you when you sit. The car rocks back and forth as it moves, and its wheels click against the tracks in a steady pattern. It’s a little thing, meant to carry a few ponies, and there’s nothing in it but me, Echo, some medical supplies, and a few folded blankets. He looks tired, his mane a mess, and I can smell the cheap liquor on his breath when he coughs and wheezes. It’s strong enough to overpower even the smell of his cigarette—like a miasmic cloud.
“On our way then, Ms. Song,” he says, leaning back from the controls to sit on the ground. He pulls out his flask, taking another long swig from it. “I must admit, it was a very clever strategy you employed there, sitting right outside Rarity’s home base. Her enforcers would never have seen it coming.” He chuckles, shaking his head, but I don’t laugh with him.
It’s cold, so I wrap myself up in one of the blankets.
For a while, I just sit there. Echo leaves me alone, sitting at the controls and occasionally taking a drink. I don’t do much—shiver a little until I warm up. I guess I should cry or something, but I don’t feel like it.
I don’t... I don’t understand.
Why?
She never... I didn’t... I wasn’t that nice to her! Not even when we were together! I spat in her face and told her that Rarity’s younger, prettier creation was my new friend, so she could go die in a hospital bed. I ignored her warnings and trapped her in the Pavilion! I sold her out to... for...
Why?
It’s not like she was a saint! It’s not like she was the kind of pony who would leap into harm’s way for a stranger! She was a hired killer. She was a vain, petty, washed-up has-been who blamed everypony else for her failings. She was a vicious drug addict who spent all her time looking for her next fix. She was a compulsive liar who betrayed an ally who trusted her, and then left them to die to save her own skin. The closest thing she ever had to a friend was a stallion who she never knew but just decided she loved! She was a bad pony!
So why did she do it?
It’s not like I’d earned it. I was the one who gave her trouble in the first place! If I just hadn’t panicked when she killed that mugger. If I just hadn’t run away from her and Berry. If I just hadn’t thrown myself off that bridge, or ignored her warnings about Rarity, or... or...
Or... gotten Golden Palm to accept a gift from a criminal. Or been such a witch to Swiftwing that she kicked me out. Or been so stupid as to sleep in the office of a doctor I knew might be a spy.
Or just stood there as Rarity petrified her.
I can feel my eyes starting to fill with tears, my throat so tight I can hardly breathe. It...
It’s all my fault, isn’t it?
All of it.
What did I think? What did I think when I saw this city? That Celestia somehow didn’t notice that many ponies vanishing from Equestria? That she redacted the official records of what happened for fun? That she concealed the downfall of the Elements of Harmony because...
Because she knew. She always knew. That’s why Trixie wasn’t afraid to ransom me back. Celestia was never going to ride to save the city. There was never anything at stake but me and the ponies around me.
Two dozen on the ship, drowned or burned. Quick Bit, stabbed. Golden Palm, hanged. Berry, hanged. Epiphany, petrified. Green, petrified. All because I wanted the Princess to love me. Because I wanted to be special like Twilight was special.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice rough and ragged. “I’m so sorry.” Echo doesn’t respond of course, just glancing back at me, wondering what I’m talking about. He doesn’t care. Nopony cares—it’s just me, crying to myself, alone. Because everypony who wanted to help me is...
“I didn’t mean it,” I whisper. There’s no answer—not from Echo, not from anypony.
Why should there be? It’s a lie. I wasn’t tricked. I knew all along. Trixie asked me outright, the moment we first spoke. “Are you willing to die for Celestia’s principles?” And I said no. I said no. And now twenty-nine ponies are dead because of me. Because I...
Because I should have said yes. Because I’m a cowardly, selfish, petty creature. Because Luna was right about me. Because I should have died.
Because I deserve it.
There’s so much about you I don’t understand. I suppose that’s reasonable. You’re thousands of years old—you can have a few secrets from a seventeen-year-old mare, but there are some things I still wish I had the chance to ask. Why did you pick me that day in the orphanage? Did you just think I was the prettiest, and later you figured out what I am? Did you know all along, and you thought you could fix me? When I was a foal and asked you why you took me as a student, you told me that I was going to change the world, that I was destined to do great things. I wish I knew what you meant.
“Well then?” Echo asks, breifly glancing back at me with a short, tight frown. I don’t understand. What does he expect me to do? I stare at him dumbly, and he clarifies, “What are you so sorry for?”
“A-a lot of things.” That he won’t care about. He’s supposed to understand that I feel bad Golden Palm is dead? He’s the one who hanged him! I just look at the floor. “What happened with Rarity, I guess.”
That makes him chuckle. “I must admit, Ms. Song, I was surprised when I got Trixie’s wire.” He’s smiling, lazily gazing out of the train’s window slit, like some amusing thought had come to him. “A lot of pretty mares go into the Pavilion, but not a lot come out. I’d written you off as dead.”
“Yeah, I...” I say. Before I can finish though, a thought occurs to me, and I lift my head up. “Wait... you... you know? You know what Rarity does? What she is?”
“Once upon a time, Ms. Song, it was my job to know,” he says, pausing to take another hit off his flask. “You think I’m some half-wit thug who’s only good for roughing up troublemakers? You think I don’t notice a whole bunch of missing pony reports, all tied together?” His smile vanishes, twisting down into a frown. “I ran these streets, Ms. Song. You so much as thought the wrong thing”—he taps his chest with a hoof—“I knew about it. And I’d hang you for it too.” He snorts. “Of course I know,” he spits the words out, his face tight and body still.
“Then again,” he continues, almost conversational, “you’d know more about the details then me. I hear you’re quite the artist.” He finally turns back to look at me head on. His expression is contemptuous—a sneer that doesn’t care enough to be a proper glare, like I wasn’t worth it. “I hate artists.”
“Does everypony know? Do—”
“Then again!” he raises his voice to talk right over me. “I might be biased by the number of artists in this city who turned out to be serial killers. I don’t like serial killers either,” he says, his voice’s volume meandering up and down unsteadily. He takes another drink. “Are you a serial killer, Ms. Song? Is that why Rarity let you go? Professional courtesy?”
“N-no!” I say, my voice cracking. “No! I didn’t know! I didn’t know what she was doing! I swear I...” I what? I meant well? “I didn’t know.”
“S’ too bad,” he says with a snort, turning back to the window. “Things would have been a lot simpler if you were a serial killer.” What? What would have been simpler? Me and Rarity? “How’d you find out?”
“She... she petrified Epip... one of the models. She told me I could be her protege if I’d help her with a project. But I didn’t realize...” What? That she was going to kill them? No, I just thought she was going to manipulate and abuse them. That’s so much better.
“What? That she was off her rocker?” Echo asks, not bothering to turn back to me. “That she had a few screws loose? That she wasn’t playing with a full deck? There were no little hints along the way that all was not right here?” His voice picks up the more he talks, words coming faster and louder. “It didn’t—I don’t know—set off any alarm bells that she collects scalpels? That ponies pee themselves with fear when she passes?” By now he’s shouting, and he finally turns to glare back at me. “The three-hour sessions cuddling her statues and making cooing sounds didn’t unnerve you a little!?”
It... it wasn’t. I...
“You want me to answer your question, Ms. Song?” he asks, glowering down at me. “You really want the answer?” I don’t... “Yes. Yes, everypony knows. Everypony in the entire city knows that Rarity is an axe murderer. Every. Single. One. And you know why that doesn’t matter? Because they’re all like you. They all want something from her, so they pretend they can’t see it. And then when she’s done with them, they end up in her special pieces.” He stage-whispers the last two words, drawing them out and shaking his head. “Oh, but not you, it seems. She liked you.”
I... I didn’t... it wasn’t...
“Rider’s ghost,” Echo snaps, rolling his eyes as I start to tear up, my throat burning. “Because what I really needed to make this day complete was to listen to you bawling like a foal with a skinned knee!” I shouldn’t be crying, I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop. I try to keep it in, I try! But all it does is make my throat hurt, hot tears running down my cheeks and falling to the floor. Echo pulls out another cigarette and a spark lighter from a pocket—one of those big ones with the lever so you can operate it by hoof. He presses the lever again and again, but all it does it make a grinding sound.
“Will you shut up!?” he bellows, throwing the lighter at me from across the cabin. I flinch, but it misses me completely, slamming into the wall behind me. “Keep quiet!” I don’t say anything, curling up into a ball and tugging the blanket tighter around me, trying to be quiet like he said. I can’t keep completely silent though, shuddering and sniffling. Echo is so mad.
I don’t suppose it matters much, but I forgive you for lying to me. About Vision, I mean, and what happened to Twilight. You were only trying to keep me away from all of this. It would have worked too, but you’re a terrible liar. No matter how many thousands of years of practice you have, you instinctively don’t like it. You have an honest soul, Princess. I know you think you do well when you and Luna play cards, but trust me, she’s letting you win.
“What happened to Green?” Echo asks abruptly, breaking the silence. I’ve been trying to sit here quietly, to stop sniffling, and he’s been doing his best to ignore me, but now he blurts the words out. “She was captured too, right?”
I look up, sniffling a little, my nose full of snot and my eyes burning. “Y-yeah,” I say, nodding. “Rarity turned her to stone. She... she’s how I got out. She sacrificed herself to save me.”
He tries to take another draw off his cigarette before remembering it isn’t lit, spitting it out sharply. For a little while, he doesn’t say anything, just staring out the window. It isn’t lazy like before though—his body is tense, ears up, tail twitching back and forth. “That’s too bad,” he finally says. “I liked her.”
“You had a funny way of showing it,” I snap, bitterness running into my tone. He ignores me.
“She was hot.” He shrugs. “And she was old school—for Sine and the City and all that. Paid the doctor who treated her when she didn’t have to. Believed in stuff. Crazy, but she seemed like the sort of mare I could hang out with after we did it. I could be, you know... Classy.”
“I’m sure you can find a whore who looks like her,” I say. He whirls on the spot, turning to stare back at me, his muzzle twisted into a snarl.
“Think that’s funny, Ms. Song? You know what else would be funny?” he asks, and when he flexes his ankle, the knife snaps out of his hoof device. “If I just killed you, here and now. If after all this political squabbling, all this drama, you ended up dead in a drainpipe because you couldn’t shut your mouth!”
“So do it then!” I shout back, tears forming in my eyes. Of course, he hesitates. “What, are you all talk? Is that knife for gesturing? Big scary soldier can’t actually go through with it? Do it!”
“You got a death wish, Ms. Song?” he asks, tilting his head and looking at me, evaluating me.
“Yes!” I yell, tossing off the blanket, standing up and glaring back at him. “Because it should have been me! I should have sacrificed myself for her! All I’ve done since I got here is get ponies killed. I should be dead! I don’t deserve to be here.”
“That’s right, you don’t.” He snorts, putting the knife away. Do it! “Know why? Because if she were here, and you were petrified, I don’t think she’d be sitting there crying to herself. She’d be thinking about how to get you out of there.” What? “I mean, I may not have a magic bone sticking out of my forehead, but I distinctly recall stories about ponies getting un-turned to stone. Petrification is something you can get better from, right?”
“It’s...” No. It doesn’t... “It’s not like that. Rarity has a special spell, that freezes—”
“You’re right,” he says, with a contemptuous roll of his eyes. “Rarity is the greatest wizard who ever lived and there’s no way to counter her spells. Nevermind.”
“It’s not like that!” I shout. It’s not! It’s not! “She has dark powers! She’s in an unassailable fortress with an army of guards! There’s nothing I can do!”
“So kill yourself then,” Echo snaps back. A bell starts to ring inside the control panel, and he turns back to it. “You’ve got two good knives. Do it. Get it over with.”
I look at the knives on my belt. I’m... I mean...
I pull the knife out of its sheath. It’s a good knife, strong and solid and sharp. I’ve seen Green use it before. It cuts through flesh quickly, cleanly. I don’t think I need to be strong to use it. Do I use the point or... no. Green always used the edge.
Echo is watching me as I levitate it up to my throat. It’s cold, and I can feel the edge against my neck—my flesh pressing into it a little every time my heart beats.
I just need to... just need to do it. Make it all right. Make things the way they should have been! Just... use the knife. Just do it. I’m holding the knife so hard it’s trembling, shaking against my coat. Do it, Siren. Do it! Do it! Do it you miserable stain!
The blade is shaking so hard that it catches me before I even try to move it. Easily slicing through the skin—
The knife hits the floor with a clatter. My throat! I cut my throat open! I press a hoof to my neck to stop the bleeding, but it’s not working! It hurts and I can feel the blood coming out and running down my ankle. I’m gonna die! I’m—
“Oh please.” Echo rolls his eyes. He reaches out and shoves my hoof away with a leg, his ankle pushing my chin up. He takes a moment to inspect the wound, and then snorts. “I’ve seen papercuts worse than that. You’ll be fine.” He gives me a little shove back as he lets me go.
I reach up. To my neck again. Touch the cut. Stare down at my hoof. It’s only a few drops of blood there. Only a few drops.
“I...” I say, putting my hoof back down. “Killing myself wouldn't have... b-brought Green back. It—”
“As if you were thinking about her,” Echo says with a snort. Our train’s deceleration is becoming more noticeable, the clicking of the tracks slowing. “If you actually cared about your friend at all, you’d have asked me if there was a way to save her instead of just focusing on your own self-pity. Rarity is a tough customer, but she’s not invulnerable. Back in the day, it was part of my job to have to plan to take her out if Rainbow Dash ever asked. Her fortress isn’t as unassailable as she thinks.” He takes another drink, and when he lowers the flask, he’s grinning. “The funny part, though, is that none of that makes a difference. Green could be guarded by a retarded mule and walls made of tissue paper; it wouldn't matter. The problem isn’t Rarity—it’s you.” He looks back at me for a moment, and snorts. “Can’t even take the coward’s way out.”
“If you’re so tough, why don’t you save her!?” I shout, but my voice is unsteady, pitch wavering up and down. He laughs, a dark, grim sound. As he does, the train comes to a stop, jerking back before finally going still.
“I didn’t like her that much,” he says, putting the flask away. “Let’s go.”
One thing that does puzzle me though—why does this city exist? If I was able to find it, you must know about it, and I can’t imagine you doing nothing while ponies suffer this way. Is there some reason beyond my understanding that this place has to exist? Or is there something that prevents you from intervening? There’s a phrase they have here, that the sun doesn't shine in Vision. Does that refer to the sun literally? Or is there something that keeps this place beyond your power? I asked a pony here, but they didn’t know.
“Brought the whole gang with you, I see!” Echo shouts as he drags me off the train, yanking me forward and making me stumble to the floor. We’re in a hallway of some kind, full of abandoned shops and streams of seawater that run around our hooves. There’s another set of rails on the other side of the road, and another train resting on them—eight ponies standing around it. One of the ponies lurking in the back catches my eye, a purple earth pony with...
Berry? She’s alive? She’s alive!? “I assume they’re all here to just... welcome Siren home,” Echo says, with a drunken, rolling cadence.
“Yes,” Berry says, with those same, dead tones. “We should—”
“Actually, Ms. Punch,” Echo corrects her, sliding a leg around my neck to hold me in place. With a twist of his ankle, the blade snaps out of his hoof weapon, held against my neck. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to take my money now and go.”
“The deal was to bring Siren all the way to Neptune’s Bounty,” Berry points out. She sounds indifferent to my fate, but the ponies with her seem worried, alert, focusing their eyes on Echo. Of course they are. That’s a good amount of money he’s got hostage there. I should do it. I should jerk my head forward onto the knife. I should!
But I can’t.
“While that is true, Ms. Punch,” Echo says, his tone lazy and meandering, “I can’t help but feel that I’ve outlived my usefulness to Trixie at this point. So I’m going to take the money now and be on my way.”
“Siren first,” Berry says. I can see the other ponies spreading out. Two pegasi lifting off the ground, the unicorns leveling their horns at him.
“And how’s Trixie going to take it if you get Siren killed!?” he shouts, giving me another whiff of his foul breath.
“Trixie trusts my judgement,” Berry says plainly, Echo glancing left and right as the others spread out around him.
“Not that much she doesn’t,” Echo sneers, tightening his stance. He pulls me against him, but... something’s wrong. He’s keeping my flank away from him, the wing that’s hidden by my body moving, shifting to touch something. “Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to give me my money, now. Whatever you ha—” There’s no warning, no pause in his speech. He yanks something on his pack, there’s a loud twang, and suddenly, one of the earth ponies across from us has a feathered shaft sticking out of his neck. Echo is moving while the others are frozen in shock. He shoves me aside and spreads his wings. I go flying, crashing hard into the stone.
“Blast him!” somepony shouts. My eyes come open just in time to see Echo leave the ground, a blazing bolt of orange fire racing through the space where he stood. It strikes our train and lets out a brilliant flash, flames rushing up the side of the metal. Water splashes, hisses, boiling droplets flying through the air.
Landing on me. Running down through my coat. Hitting my ankles. Boiling water.
I shriek. I scream. It’s all around me! Currents, rivers, pools of it all, boiling water and fire and markers screaming! I can hear it all—fire, shouting, yelling, just like before! Something moves in the corner of my vision, blue and bright, and I instinctively duck. It crackles above me, making my mane puff up, hairs on end. I need to get out of here!
I’m on my hooves then, running, leaping over the water, trying to get away, get up, but I don’t see any stairs! Why aren’t there any stairs!? I make for the first door I see, crashing in through the front. Dust and a countertop and old clothes on stands. I run past it all, into the back, into the storeroom behind the counter. There’s nothing there, just shelves and piles of junk and an old phonograph on a table. Dead end! I slam the door behind me, holding it shut as tight as I can.
Behind me, there’s a noise. A scratch. Somepony’s in here with me.
“Hello, everypony.” Rarity.
I scream at the top of my lungs, turning around so quick and so hard I lose my balance. I try to catch myself, but my legs twist under me and send me falling to the floor! She’s here. She’s here and she’s going to kill me! “I’m sorry!” I bellow, pulling my hooves in over my head and curling up into a ball. “I’m sorry, Rarity! I’m so sorry! Please don’t! Please!”
“—Recent events, but I can assure you, the city council is doing everything in its power to resolve the crisis,” she says calmly. “All of our available resources are being put to finding a cure for poison joke addiction, and until a permanent solution can be found, we will be instituting an aggressive recycling program to ensure the city has a sufficient supply.” What? What is she talking about? I crack my eye open, slowly tilting my head up. The phonograph.
It’s a recording. “More details will be available in the coming weeks—” It’s a recording. “—but I can also tell you that we are taking measures to protect ponies from irresponsible alchemy.” I’m sitting on the floor, curled into a ball, shivering in fear of a recording. “Henceforth, doctors or alchemists working with Poison Joke will be required to obtain a license...”
My hoof connects with the phonograph, taking it clear off the table and sending it crashing to the floor. Somehow, the record keeps turning, the needle swinging down to another section. “Ek—ta—sit—king back. While we may wish we’d done things differently, we must look to the future and—”
“Shut up!” I scream, hitting the case as hard I can. The needle finally swings away completely, the record popping off the spindle as the phonograph rocks in place. “I hate you! I hate you!” I yell, over and over again, driving my hooves down until the phonograph is nothing but splinters, and the record is in a thousand pieces on the floor. I swing until I’m pounding wood chips, hitting it again and again until my muscles start to burn, until my throat is raw from yelling.
“I hate you!” I scream, my voice wavering. “I hate you, you stupid, cowardly...”
Then I curl up in the corner and cry, like the useless foal I am.
I always knew that I caused you pain, Princess, but I don’t think I ever understood why until now. I thought it was because I did the wrong thing—because I was petty or vain or cruel. But that was never why. I hurt you because the only reason those things bothered me is because they bothered you. I never cared myself. I understand now.
I go stiff when the door handle turns, ready for a fight, but it’s Berry. She sticks her head in, turning left and right until she sees me. Her mane is singed in places, and the smell of smoke rolls off her. “H-hi,” I say to her, not sure what else to say, trembling and pulling away as she comes close.
“You are uninjured?” she asks in her level, dead voice, leaning over to inspect me carefully, particularly my throat. She has a different set of saddlebags than before. I guess security took her old pair. Funny the things you notice when... when... yeah.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine.” After a moment, I add, “I’m sorry I didn’t save you from security, Berry. I’m... I’m sorry, I—”
“I am used to it,” Berry says plainly. “Let’s go.”
She gestures me up, and I rise, letting her lead me back outside. Echo’s train is still red-hot in places, but the fires have gone out. I don’t see him anywhere. The whole hall smells like smoke and ozone, and there are two dead ponies on the floor: the earth pony, still with that crossbow bolt sticking out of his neck, and one of the pegasi. It takes me a second to even figure out that it’s a corpse. He’s unrecognizable, his coat and feathers burned right off him, his flesh cracked and split open like dry earth. Something is oozing out of the burns, forming a stagnant pool under him, dripping like...
One of the other ponies grabs me when I start to puke. There’s nothing to come up, and I dry-heave as he holds me. “Put her on the train,” Berry orders. “Security will be here soon.” I’m still heaving when two of them take me and haul me through the air like a sack of grain. They toss me in through the cargo door, and the rest pile in after. I’m still curled up, clutching my gut as pain shoots through it. Then the door shuts, and we’re moving.
Eventually, my stomach stops convulsing, the pain lessens, and I’m able to uncurl, to open my eyes. There are other ponies there, filling up the train, but they only stand there quietly. Nopony talks, and they’re all tense, worried. All of them but Berry anyway. She’s as flat as ever, sitting by my side, watching me.
“Berry,” I say. “Green isn’t dead. Rarity petrified her.” Berry doesn’t say anything. “She sacrificed herself to get me out of the Pavilion, but Trixie can still save her.” Still, Berry says nothing, just watching me with those cold eyes. “Do... do you think Trixie will?”
“No,” Berry says.
We ride like that for a long time. In silence, I mean. I just lie there on the floor. Eventually, the light outside the window slit changes. From white to red to blue. The sound of the wheels on the tracks shifts, becoming smoother and quieter. The ponies around me relax, and slowly, the train comes to a halt. I sit up, as outside, somepony pulls the door open for us, and light floods in.
There’s a sign, long neglected, corroded and loose in its brace, done up all in steel. “Welcome to Neptune’s Bounty.”
I know if you were here, you’d tell me that it didn’t matter, that I was forgiven. You’d tell me to come home, that it would all be okay. You’re nice like that. It’s not true though. Rarity told me something else. She said I wasn’t one of you, and it’s true. Even if I came back, Equestria can never be my home again. I don’t deserve it. This is what I have to do.
My quarters are plain: a bed, a desk, a lamp, and not much else. The walls are unfinished stone, dirty and leaking, and there’s a shimmer of oil in the water. I don’t think Trixie expects me to be here very long.
“You will remain here until the submarine is ready to depart,” Berry says. It’s clear she does not intend to leave, sitting right inside the door and looking straight at me. It’s more like a prison than a room.
I sit down on the bed and fold my legs under me. The old springs creak with my weight. “Berry?” I ask. “Why doesn’t Princess Celestia save this city?”
Berry shrugs.
“She must know about it,” I say quietly, staring at the floor. “That thing everypony says—about how the sun doesn’t shine here. Is there really some reason Princess Celestia can’t help us? Can’t help you?” Berry shrugs again.
“I think that must be it. She... she would help you if she could. All of you. She’s like that,” I say, so quiet I’m almost whispering. “Berry, you said I wasn’t the kind of pony you were expecting when you heard I was the Princess's student. Was that because you knew Twilight?”
“Yes,” Berry says.
“Was she a hero?” I ask. “I mean... a good pony.”
“Yes,” Berry says.
“I wish I was that sort of pony, Berry,” I whisper, eyes still downcast. “I wish I was, but I’m not. I’m weak, and I’m selfish, and I’m afraid. I’ve gotten ponies killed, Berry. I’ve lied and been cruel and I betrayed you. I left you to die.” Berry says nothing. “Do you... hate me for that?”
“I am incapable of hatred,” Berry answers plainly. “You are what you are. To expect you to behave in a manner contrary to your nature and previously established behavior would be irrational.”
“Is it that simple?” I ask, looking up at her. At her dead eyes. “Ponies act as it is their nature to act?”
“As opposed to what?” she asks, flat as ever.
“Free will,” I say. But it sounds silly even to me, and my voice falters before I can finish. Berry doesn’t answer. That was pretty stupid, I guess.
“Berry, before... you found me,” I say, slowly, “Echo said that there’s a weakness in Rarity’s fortress. That she isn’t as invulnerable as she thinks she is.”
“Echo is a drunk, as well as a disgraced officer prone to exaggerating his own importance,” Berry answers. “His testimony is dubious at best.”
“But... he knew private things about Rarity,” I say, running through our conversation in my head. “He knew she had a scalpel collection. And he knew her statues were petrified models—he made a crack about it.”
“That is not conclusive,” Berry says directly.
“I know. But... do you think it’s possible?” I ask, lifting my head a little. Sitting up.
“It is possible,” she concedes. “But very unlikely. Even if the weakness existed when Echo held a significant command, it may have been repaired since then. Further, a security officer planning to attack the Pavilion would expect to have City Central Security on his side. As it stands, they will no doubt rush to the Pavilion’s aid as soon as an alarm is sounded. Finally, the point is moot since we just attempted to kill him, and he is thus unlikely to tell us what he knows.”
“So,” I summarize, “the weakness probably doesn’t exist, and even if it does, we almost certainly can’t use it.”
“Correct.” Berry nods.
“Would Twilight Sparkle have tried anyway?” I ask. For a moment, Berry doesn’t answer.
“Yes.”
I reach back to my belt, feeling around until my hooves touch glass.
If I get a last request, please don’t let what happened to me reflect on you. You were always there for me. Nopony could have done better than you did. I don’t understand why you felt you had to call me your student instead of your daughter, but I never blamed you for it. You were always a mother to me, and I love you.
The bottle hovers in front of me, the silvery liquid inside sloshing and beading up with every motion. I pull the cork out, and it comes free with a loud pop. With the bottle right under my nose, I can faintly smell the mantle—a slightly acrid scent, like lemon juice. Alright. Last moments now. Dying to do the right thing—that’s pretty heroic. Don’t think I have a last request—not that Trixie would grant it. Is there something I should say? Last words? Yeah, I should... I should have some last words.
I hold the bottle under my nose, pressing the glass to my lips. Taking in the smell as I draw a breath. “Dear Princess Celestia...”
Thank you for everything. Goodbye.
Your faithful student,
Siren Song
I upend the bottle and swallow.
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Complete!
Well that is most certainly the most built up to drink ever.
This is, however, the first time I feel that Siren is actually being too harsh on herself - after all, to hear Echo say it it seems that everyone looks the other way when they find out about Rarity's little
murdershobbies... Siren, at least, didn't. Granted it took her a damn long time to realize they existed but once she made the connection she at least reacted with the kind of horror and disgust that Echo implies everyone else carefully steps around.As to Echo himself... yeah, I can't blame him for anything he said or did in this chapter. He said stuff that Siren damn well deserved to hear and was probably right about cutting and running when he tried to do so (or maybe not. Had he revealed knowing of Rarity's weakness to Trixie there's probably a fair chance he would have been kept nice and safe for a while - that kind of information would be a goddamn nuclear bomb in her possession even if she didn't have any plans to use it).
I liked the letter to Celestia interspaced with the scenes, it really added quite a strong overlay to the buildup (which as I do feel I must mention again, was one hell of a build up to a drink). The whole chapter also seems to increase in power as it goes on, making it very charged but in a different way to the 'stun you into silence' of the previous chapter.
But of course the real question is: Now that Siren is okay with taking these little enhancements... will she ever get to control BEES?
My brain, has done gone and exploded. It's odd to say the least.
i1120.photobucket.com/albums/l498/Jamestopheles/133545919270.gif
This image is now even more appropriate, given the last few chapters.
The rhythm of the clocks being slightly off is a wonderful metaphor, both for Siren's mental state and the state of the city as a whole. Over the course of a minute, one beat is a millisecond or so off, and what's the difference? Only the most trained ears can hear it anyway (the masters being Siren in the case of the clocks and lights, Celestia in the case of raising Siren, and the mane six in the case of running Vision), and someone that skilled can easily pick the beat back up anyway, so it doesn't have to be fixed right now. What's the rush? But over the course of days, years, that one irregular imperfection, that one crack in the vision, builds up again and again, until one day we look back and wonder, when did everything change? But it was wrong from the start.
Also
"It’s not like she was a saint! It’s not like she was the kind of pony who would leap into harm’s way for a stranger! She was a hired killer. She was a vain, petty, washed-up has-been who blamed everypony else for her failings. She was a vicious drug addict who spent all her time looking for her next fix. She was a compulsive liar who betrayed an ally who trusted her, and then left them to die to save her own skin. The closest thing she ever had to a friend was a stallion who she never knew but just decided she loved! She was a bad pony!“
Deep down, we're not just talking about Green here, are we, Siren Song? This was the part where I felt for her hardest, because she's, knowingly or not, realizing things about herself through the medium of finally caring about another pony, instead of the other way around as usual. She really is a wonderful character, and I am very much looking forward to seeing where she goes.... Forever from now.
2657095
For now, anyway! I hope you enjoyed it.
2657128
In fairness to Siren, she is not exactly in a good emotional state at the moment. She had a bit of a ways to fall before hitting the bottom.
This is really curious to me! I was wondering how people would feel about Echo at the end of the story. I was ready for everything from "drunken badass with hidden depths," to "pretentious, sadistic brute."
I'm glad you liked it! It's really nice when someone takes the time to leave these comments.
And, to answer your question, here's a preview of Chapter 1 of the next book:
Slowly, I awoke. My eyes fluttering open. What happened? Did the mantle work? Am I—
"Your leg just turned into bees," Berry said, with her usual flat inflections. What? Bees? I looked down where she was pointing and—
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! GetthemoffgetthemoffAAAAH!"
The next 13 chapters are all Siren screaming and being grossed out by her own leg.
2657374
Boom!
2657482
Seriously, / really like this story but the start of the chapter *Thuggy mode enabled* wus liek su lyk weird n high brah.
2657386
Wow. Um.
images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130121011527/mlp/images/thumb/c/cc/Fluttershy_bashful_blush_S03E10.png/800px-Fluttershy_bashful_blush_S03E10.png
Thanks.
Roll to spot pretentious literary symbolism! Natural 20!
I am so glad you got this. It feels really good to know there are people who read my fics and actually stop to think things over! Makes me feel like writing them was time well spent. This was actually made more explicit in the first draft. In the first conception of this scene, to Siren's ears, the initially-orderly clocks start to sound more and more off until it's just a barrage of mechanical noise from all directions. Cut for a variety of reasons, but mostly because I felt the metaphor was too heavy handed.
I'll be putting a bunch of Vision deleted-scenes up on my blog in the coming weeks to hold the time until IFIWT is ready to resume regular updates—that one included.
Not forever! Just... you know. Three or four months.
And... yeah. Amusingly, that was actually unintentional in the first draft. My notes for that scene literally just read: "In this scene, Siren considers suddenness of Green's sacrifice. Remember to lampshade possible reader concern that it was unprecedented by past behavior." The scene quickly turned into a long, increasingly bitter rant against Green, and it was only when it started to include terms that really don't apply to Green ("spoiled egocentric little-"), that I got what was happening here. Edited it down and cleaned it up and it worked great.
And yes, I method write. Get into the characters heads. ^_^
2657487
That is because Siren was high. On life! Also drugs.
2657534
GETTIN TOO HIGH ON LIFE! Drugs, hmm, did she snort all the columbian cocaine in the world?
2657538
My intention for that scene is that she was on a sedative (to knock her out when she wouldn't stop screaming about Epiphany), a stimulant (to wake her up so Rarity could talk to her), a mood stabilizer (so she wouldn't start screaming again), and whatever was in Rarity's tea.
So yeah. A few drugs.
2657546 Ah, heart malfunction with the depressant plus sedative
While I'd like to think she could have changed her nature on her own (as evidenced by making the decision to try and rescue Green), I must admit the Daring Do bottle works its magic much faster than self-reflection. Anyway, it's about friggin' time Siren started pulling her weight around all these badass characters.
Tenouttaten! I look forward to the next book in the series.
2657669
Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.
And yeah, Vision is a first person shooter... told from the point of view of the useless girl you have to keep safe on the escort quest.
2657695 Whaddya mean, it's the girl who's useless?
Yow. This is breathtaking. I will school myself to patience. Somehow.
D'A
... thumbs!
I had the pleasure and honor of reading this final chapter about a month before its release. I've had quite some time to reflect on the chills I got when Siren's hoof touched glass, the awe of watching everything coalesce in a single point of clarity toward a new direction, and the tears I cried—the second time ever on this site. With a month to sit on it, I knew eventually this day would come: where I'd need to sum up my emotional reaction for this chapter, in the written medium that is Fimfiction comments. The following is what I came up with. It's not perfect, but I'm pretty happy with it. *ahem*
Book Two. Now.
A truly great ending to the first part of this truly great fic. I'm more glad now then ever that I took a chance on a /world crossover with an OC main character. This story, and it's characters are some of the most well written, and deeply believable I've seen since I finished fics like Past Sins, and The Immortal Game (two of my all-time favorites) and that's to say nothing of the plot. I still have a few ideas about what we Don't know about Siren Song yet, but I think I'll keep those to myself in case I'm so far in left field that I might be in danger of making myself look a little silly. And I never do like to jump the gun when there's no real evidence to prove my theories correct, just my own Head Cannon.
-
I can't wait until when the next part of Vision comes out, and I'll be reading all your other works until then, including IFIWT -Which I do hope you can pull together with a great ending
I wish you all the luck and happiness in the world until then... Sigh, now I have to start looking for new GOOD fics again. Oh well, C'est la vie
Quite incredible. Siren is an immature, narcissistic, deluded mess and still one of my favourite non-canon characters I've encountered.
Bravo!
images3.wikia.nocookie.net/dragonball/images/3/30/You_don%27t_say.png
You know, my urge to write an unofficial, offline, AU fic where Berry gets luffs is constantly rising...
Epic drink is epic. When I read that part, a portal opened next to me and I heard a voice saying, "IT BEGINS."
2657482
As far as Echo goes, I'm not quite sure what to make of him. I'd have to place him at the middle of your scale, based on what I've seen so far.
He may have good traits, perhaps even more good traits than Siren did at the beginning of the story, but the problem is that these good traits are adrift in the sea of his bad traits.
His name is interesting. I'm not quite sure if the significance is simply that it's military sounding, or if I'm going to read something clever in Daring Do.
Well, that was a great finish, did I ever mention Daring Do is like, my favorite Pony? Along with Trixie and this apathetic Berry Punch you made.
If it was possible to double favorite, I would, in any case... Yay for Berry being alive! I'll be saving a full critique/review for the end of the entire thing though.
Awesome!
[THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE]
Splendid, splendid work! I await the continuation with much eager anticipation!
2657532
I believe, and I'm sure Siren would back me up on this, that literary devices are only pretentious when they don't work.
I'm really excited to see those deleted scenes, to get a glimpse of your methods. I also hope that "Swiftwing Has a Nice Day" is among those short stories you're working on.
And Echo, man. Put me somewhere in the middle of your scale too. I appreciate his stance on serial killers, proving he actually has some shreds of morals left, and I liked his gruff, direct insights into Siren's situation in this chapter, but it's super hard to get over such an intense emotional reaction like the one I got seeing his degrading treatment of Zephyr.
Maybe I'll come around on him, but either way, he's no Berry. Forgot to mention how glad I was to see her again!
2657727
That was hilarious! Thanks!
2658107
2658438
I'm glad you enjoyed it! And thank you kindly for leaving a comment—I do appreciate it.
2658371
No. *bop on the nose*
No. Bad pony. Be patient.
2658435
Thank you! It always feels wonderful to read comments like this. Partially because I'm terribly flattered (I loved Immortal Game!), but also because it's nice to know that all the thought I put into Siren wasn't wasted, and that I've managed to create something that feels real. Glad you enjoyed it, and I'll try to have the next one out soon!
2657482
Didn't like Echo, but from the way this story is going, I'd wager a lot of bits that he'll play a large part in the continuation.
2658481
i180.photobucket.com/albums/x40/Kyliek9/Ponieeeeeees/MLP_WHY_WOULD_YOU_POST_THAT.gif
2658528
She gets lots of love in Vision! For instance, I haven't killed her. Yet.
2658546
Epic drink also tickles your nose with fizzy bubbles!
Thanks! And I will give you a hint. There are no "sounds like X" pony names in Vision. Every pony's name is somehow a clever reference to their special talent and the role they'll play in events. There have been hints to where Echo's name comes from already: we saw his cutie mark in Echo, and he's used his special talent at least three times on screen.
2658571
Thanks! You might be waiting awhile though.
2658827
2659231
You like me! You really like me!
Thank you! Glad you enjoyed. Will try to have the next book out soon!
2659788
Cool mares don't look at explosions.
2659789
Because that was my first reaction to Siren thinking that.
... And my only reaction, assuming facepalming doesn't count.
Honestly, if you ever killed off Berry, I'd probably deny it ever happened and just keep reading, waiting for her to come back, like Fry's dog in that Futurama episode, where it stood there waiting for him after he got into the time capsule... day after day, loyally until the dog starved to death.
Except, you know, I have food, and generally go get chips and dip when I see Vision updated, along with soda.
I don't mind, at all, it'll probably be a long review.
Withonlythree quarters of it devoted to Berry Punch clop fantasies I have. The other quarter being devoted to Berry Punch being abused by Trixie for some kinky banging... Mmm.2659594
Aww, I can't believe you remembered that! Yes, there are three Vision side-stories on the two-do list, all of which are currently planned to be one shots: Swiftwing Has a Nice Day, which focuses on Swiftwing as an everyman (everypony) look at Vision, By Royal Decree, which takes place in Equestria and focuses on the idea that Celestia could (or would) try to redact the truth, and a third that's so WIP it doesn't have a set title yet.
Thanks for your thoughts on Echo. I'm glad you liked him, but man, Berry was a real darkhorse character. I was worried she'd be bland and dull and she really turned into a crowd favorite. I'm glad you like her! She is indifferent.
2659826
The shivering pony in the corner can make obvious observations if she wants too!
Wow! It's like you're like a role model!
A really disturbing role model.
2659857
"Guard, guard, guard! ... You guys have a terrible justice system!"
Indeed! Berry's number one fan right here! If anyone disagrees, I shall apathetically stare at them until they stop disagreeing.
... Or blankly stare at them and vividly detail my Berry Punch x Trixie clop fantasies.... I-I can tell you about them if you'd like?
2659828
Lemme know if you need a second pre-reader! I've got a decent amount of experience.
2659802
Thanks!
2658371
That about sums it up, yeah. Jax and I went back and forth on this chapter so much, because it was so important.
It's actually hilarious when you consider how much it deviates from the original version, and, while I might say that original version has some significant merit and deserves consideration for the future in some fashion *cough cough!* I can say that the final product is excellent and has all of the emotional impact I might have hoped for.
Hope you all appreciate how hard things like this are to write and edit for!
Wow
Are there any references at all that I will miss out on by knowing nothing about Bioshock? I have not started this yet and am certainly interested but have no intention of playing the video game. Also does Trixie play a major role in this?
2668388
No, you do not need to have played Bioshock to read this. Trixie isn't a main character, but she makes a few appearances.
2668395
You filthy liar. Trixie will strangle you with her wiredoll!
Wow. I read this over the course of two days, and I really enjoyed it. I love your take on Bioshock, particularly how it sort of lampshaded the usual Bioshock crossover stuff (in that she does wake up in the anarchic wharf area, but she only stays there for a chapter or two and the rest of the story takes place in areas with at least a nominally functioning government).
I really enjoyed all the characters, and the worldbuilding details. The depiction of the mantles was particularly interesting, and I'm eagerly looking forward to Siren actually using some in part 2. I also liked the little cameo roles, like Zephyr.
One minor question -- Siren said that Golden Palm was hung (and implied that Echo did it). When did that happen? Also, why did that happen? Trixie said that she paid the doctor so GP wouldn't be hung for theft, and while I suppose Trixie could be lying, that would seem to be a big risk for her, as if Siren found out she would be less likely to trust Trixie and go along with her (and she seems able to afford an entire cadre of guards, so 600 bits wouldn't seem like it could break her bank).
Kind of surprised Berry didn't raise the point that one good way to try saving Green would be to take Trixie's offer of leaving the city, and then tell everyone, "Hey, uh, nightmareish dystopia under the sea. We might want to do something about it." Even if Celestia can't or won't save the citizens for whatever reason, if Siren raised enough of a public hubbub it might be possible to rally some kind of force to go in and save things. For proof that Siren wasn't crazy, she could probably take a bunch of the less addictive mantles, as they don't exist in Equestria, and so demonstrate that Siren was somewhere else where they exist. (Granted, I'm not sure how well the 'leave, then come back with the Army/a citizen's posse' plan would actually work, but Berry might have said it to get Siren to at least leave the city when Trixie ransoms her).
2676422
Wow, thanks for the thoughtful comment! It's always flattering to know that there are people who actually stop and think about the story, and of course, I'm glad you liked it!
Yeah, expect more of those. I love character building and little moments like those give me a chance to explore a character in a few thousand words.
In Echo, Echo says that he's had Golden Palm arrested for helping Siren, and that he, "Hadn't decided," if Golden Palm was an innocent or a traitor. He implied heavily that he'd hang Golden Palm if Siren didn't smile for him. Since Siren didn't smile, she assumes he's dead.
That is just what Berry would say if Berry was trying to convince Siren to go off with Trixie. Which in that final scene, she wasn't. In this case, it was enough for her watch, and to answer Siren's questions.
I signed up for an account for this site JUST to comment on this story (well, and maybe on a few neglected others too). But the only way I can really say something about THIS fic is to mention it in the context of I Forgot I Was There. When you announced that you were suspending work on IFIWT in order to write this story, I was seriously a little heartbroken. At the time, even incomplete, IFIWT was one of the top five stories I'd read in all MLP fic (it probably still is), and the news that it would be delayed until you'd written some video game crossover was a mean thing. Bored hours spent watching my roommate play Fallout 3 had given me enough in order to fully appreciate THAT infamous epic, but could my brief affair with the wikipedia summary for Bioshock provide me with enough knowledge to enjoy what one of my favorite authors had newly devoted themselves to? Was it even worth the time to find out?
The short answer: yes it was.
By about the fourth chapter, I was no longer annoyed that IFIWT wasn't updating. I just wanted THiS fic to continue.
This Siren Song succeeds on nearly every level. I have a feeling people are going to compare this to Fallout: Equestria, not only for this fic's being a crossover with a videogame, but for its being a retroactive exploration of a very, very dark environment "developed"---in all variations of the word---by the mane six, a history of a place that comes to almost totally shape and define all within it. And I think that's probably fair. But the characters you have in this story (and the ways in which we get to discover them) are in a class of complexity all their own. That, and the way Poison Joke works in this setting is practically poetic. As a protagonist, Siren is incredibly layered (I don't think there's any kind of "description" of her that could do her justice in full), and by the time we realize just what kind of pony she truly is, she's realized it as well. That kind of parallel discovery structure alone would make this fic amazing, but the balance you strike between the "individual" moments of Siren's encounters in Vision and her sense of the more major characters, the city, and herself, is sublime. I never would have suspected that Green would be the ultimate figure in Siren's moral arc. Or that that Chekov's Gun of a potion would the material of such a perfect, perfect ending.
This story is powerful. Thank you, sincerely, for taking the tme to write it. If IFIWT updates, I'll be joyed, but I'll be just as happy with the first chapter of the sequel to this.
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Y'all are gonna give me a big head.
First, thank you! Anyone can just click the upvote button, but it takes time and thought to write genuine feedback. Comments like yours are how I know people are really enjoying the story, and that all the time I put into it was well spent. You just made my day.
I again repeat: Aww.
You might find it funny, but the entire Serpent's Wharf arc was written to reassure Bioshock fans that while this may be a story that's mostly about ponies standing in rooms and talking, it really is a Bioshock fic at heart. We got mutants, violence, fire and lightning—we just don't show them around to polite company.
Very much intentional. Fallout: Equestria was a huge inspiration for this fic. In fact, the initial way I described Vision was, "F:EQ, only with an everyman protagonist instead of an action hero." Obviously, it's evolved a lot since then, but you can still see a lot of parallels in how the world was set up.
Thank you! I'll be talking a lot more on my blog about how Siren was developed as a character, what her inspirations were, etc. The form she has now is not even close to how she was originally going to be. There was a process to developing her that I'm eager to write about.
Aww, thanks! I will be finishing both, of course, but you might need to wait a little bit. I tried to launch right into my next fic this week and uh... I'm having a bit of writer burnout. Probably going to cool off with a few one-shot comedy fics and then get back into it. Meanwhile, my blog will have lots of behind the scenes content!
I must ask, why the name change on the story?
Also loving it, and the images at the beginning of each chapter add a very nice flair.
Also after you brought up Lullaby for a Princess, I had to link this.
Overall, this is rather good writing. There were a few coincidences to force plot points and improper physiological implications but for the most part things tried to stay consistent and even minor details were considered. Great job with the setting and atmosphere; and all of the characters were done very well! Certainly good enough to make it into my top 10!
I am very much looking forward to the next book and hoping that it is on par if not better than this one! At the very least I think I might finally start to like Siren.
Also, yay for Trixie appearances!
And I did not feel lost by knowing nothing about Bioshock!
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Neat! Glad you like it. The name change was because there was originally supposed to be just one story, Vision, but it got to be so long I realized I had to split it. So instead, we now have book one Siren Song and book two Daring Do of the Vision series.
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Of course the second one will be as good as the first one. I mean. No pressure.
Seriously, I'm glad you liked it, and I'm glad you were able to understand it without playing Bioshock. I wrote it to be an accessible-to-all-audiences fic, and I'm really glad to see that came through.
As for Trixie, yes, she'll play a much bigger part next book.
Just finished and all I have to say is. Holy Shit.
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Holy horseapples.
Seriously, glad you liked it.
Ok, the last two chapters. Wow. I don't have a good analogy for how I felt through them, but holy crap. I'm gonna have to sleep on this, if I can even sleep after that.
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