XXIX. You're Gonna Carry That Weight
XXIX. You’re Gonna Carry That Weight
TWILIGHT
“He complained about the cannons already. I supposed somepony would eventually,” Twilight said.
“Who is that now, girl?” the Captain asked.
“The Vizir’s… representative, I guess? I figure that’s what you would call it. Him. He told me they were ancient, to which I replied that I had told his master that explicitly, and that the ship was not really meant to be fighting when it was built.”
“I reckon ye made little headway, Twilight Sparkle.”
“You would be right. He just sort of huffed at me. But that’s fine. The deal is still going through, isn’t it?”
They watched the workponies moving the cannons one by one. Mostly, they were earth ponies pulling on ropes. They strained and strained, and yet whenever they could, they would whistle. Some hummed. They sang a strange song in a tongue she did not understand.
The two of them stood on the quay and waited. Two more cannons, Twilight thought to herself. They had moved the ammunition first. There was more of it than she’d anticipated. Tradewinds had found a few more crates.
Tradewinds now stood on deck, peering over the railing. She grinned and waved at Twilight, who smiled back at her. “What odd company I keep,” she said. “Warriors and sailors and thieftakers. Strays.”
The Captain chuckled at being called a stray, but then he sighed. “About that thieftaker, young miss. He is… well. I have been in Valon several times. The Thieftakers have a reputation for being virtuous, if ruthless. They are good ponies. Mostly. But this stallion seems different. Not bad. Simply…”
“You think he could cause friction,” Twilight finished.
“Aye.”
“I agree,” Twilight said. “For what it’s worth. Nopony has really had time to really judge his character, and he’s an unknown. Hells, I’m not really sure why he is going with us at all. Abdiel claims that we’re the best way back home to where he lives in the West. Had you heard that?”
“I had not, nay. But that would make sense, if you hear me. Yon thieftaker’s ancestral home is far to the west of here. The two towns: Sarnath and Ulthar.The Twins, so they call them on the Veldt. That’s the plains, ken?”
“I had gathered that. So it’s plausible. And he does seem to be officially registered as a Thieftaker.”
They were quiet for a moment. Another cannon was finally brought to earth and another crew began to roll it off to be put on another ship.
“What do you think he’ll use the Alicorn for, Captain?” Twilight asked. “I mean, they’re taking the cannons off of her. I’m no expert on warfare, mind you, but I’ve read my share of books. I know enough to know that she won’t be much use.”
“Supplies. Food and passengers, I suspect. A cargo vessel, like she was meant to be. Probably escort her up and down the coast.”
Twilight nodded. She hummed.
A few more beats.
“The crew has been shaky ‘bout this, young miss. Yon blues in the hold aren’t for uprisin’, especially not against the mare who defeated them so soundly. A single blow! But ye might be wantin’ to speak to ‘em.”
“Are they unhappy with going west?”
“Unsure, more like. They’ve no other place to go, really, and they weren’t in good standin’ with their Blue-wearin’ kin. Nay, I think it’s more a malaise. You seem like the speechifyin’ type, young miss.”
Twilight snorted. “Maybe at one point I was.”
“Now, I think ye’re not seein’ all the truth. Is a common affliction of the young, you know. Sore afflicted, ye are.”
Twilight smiled. The sun peaked over the rooftops, and she knew it would be gone soon. “So, you think I can just give a rousing speech, acquire cheers, and everything is right as rain? That seems unlikely. I can’t convince ponies that my mission is sound. I’m not even sure.”
Not entirely true. She was sure of some things. She thought of the artifact Luna had given her. Just that morning, in a lull, she had checked it again. It led them west, into the true West, as it had before now, and she supposed would continue to do until… well. Until.
APPLEJACK
Night had fallen, yet Valon did not sleep. It was just as busy, just with different kinds of business. Its taverns were full as any she would find in Canterlot, and even with foreign customs and strange decor, Applejack found that they were not that different from her home’s gathering places.
It was nice, settling down for a day or three. Applejack could get used to not being shot at or being worried about being shot at. Or being hungry. Or running. She was no fainting lily, but a mare had her limits! Hers were quite transgressed, but what could you do? What mattered was that they were safe, for now.
She looked across the table laden with food at the batpony who sat there, narrating some adventure of his. Chasing two-bit thieves across rooftops.
She wasn’t sure what to think, really.
She had known him only a few hours, so that was understandable. He had not given her any reason to doubt his sincerity or his credentials. He was indeed a thieftaker, charged with the dispensal of justice by what means it could be had. Often violent means, which Applejack had mild distaste for, but the world was harsher than she had imagined. He seemed amiable and friendly. Perhaps it was this easy demeanor that gave her pause.
Well that’s just plum sad, she thought and was careful not to grimace.
It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it. She did! The world could use a few more bushels of friendly ponies in these days.
Pinkie liked him. Twilight was… Twilight. Applejack wasn’t sure at all what Twilight was thinking. She seemed pretty neutral about the whole matter, but Applejack guessed that she was asking the same questions. Tradewinds thought the new stallion was a wonderful companion. She was hanging onto every word of his story. The Captain, who’d joined them, seemed polite enough to Abdiel.
What sort of name was Abdiel anyhow? Strange name. Not a normal pony name, that.
To be fair, he was not a normal pony. She had never known a batpony, not really. She’d seen plenty, but they were mostly guards on business and Applejack had had her own life to attend to. He didn’t seem that different from her. Besides the flying.
If you looked close enough, he had a smirk like Soarin’s.
Applejack looked down at her plate. No food left. She had some beer though. She drank. It was terrible. All hoppy bitterness without the rich substantive body. She drank it anyway.
“So, I must ask you…” Abdiel said, and his tone had changed. Applejack looked over the edge of her mug. “About your destination. Why go to such a place as the mouth of the grave?”
Twilight looked around at the others. Applejack didn’t meet her eyes. Drink drink drink, and Twilight would look away—and she did! Mare had to make her own choices eventually.
“Well…” Twilight sighed. “I have business there, obviously.”
“Business,” Abdiel intoned.
“Yes. I’m looking for someone.”
“If you look in Jannah, you seek either the very quick or the hopefully dead,” Abdiel replied. He did not seem fazed by this. If anything, he seemed excited by it. “Because, I must tell you, Jannah is a place that hardened murderers, mad men who drink blood, would dare not go without great purpose. Now, you are foreigners, so partially I must attribute your certainty to ignorance. Yet… Yet. You know, a thing can have impression upon you from far away?”
“What’s that mean?” Applejack asked.
“It means, my most beautiful of mares, that any thinking creature in the West can feel Jannah. If you stretch a sheet in the air and drop a weight into the middle, everything is drawn down towards it. The same goes true for Jannah and the world about it.”
“So, you mean that we would have chickened out if we didn’t have a good reason,” Pinkie jumped in.
“Twilight Sparkle would not be of this chickening,” Tradewinds said firmly. “You see Twilight Sparkle is, ah, khrabryy. Would not be turning to go home.”
Applejack knew a little better. Perhaps. Maybe she wouldn’t have, but Twilight’s resolve needed a push now and then to get started again.
“So you must have a very, very good reason,” Abdiel said.
“Well, why don’t you say what you think it is,” Applejack drawled. Abdiel looked over at her with an arched eyebrow and a half-grin. Like Soarin. She was angry. But it wasn’t his fault. She wouldn’t take it out on him. “And maybe we’ll tell you if you’re right, if you understand me.”
“Perfectly. You are looking for somepony in Jannah, the Mother of Cities, and you need her desperately. Well.” He leaned in. “You are from Equestria, and the all the world’s ending seems to seep out from that place. Violence and distance has not turned you back, so your need is great. What need would you have, at the epicenter? Food, shelter, safety—these things are not gained in Jannah. No, I think you need something better. Far more powerful than guns and bread.”
“What’s that?” Twilight asked flatly.
“I think you need the Lightbringer. I think you need Celestia, who brought the Sun to Sarnath and who Set Upon Ulthar. I think you need the Lady of Mornings.”
“I’ve not heard those names,” the Captain said.
“She walked among us, long ago. Well, am I wrong?”
Twilight grimaced. “You’re not. No. You’re right.”
“Then I must ask. You must take me with you. I can be of service! You know that I can fight in your defense already, but I know the country and know more of the Mother of Cities than you! This adventure… I cannot be left out. I would survive the end of days only to die of shame if I was left behind.”
“This isn’t some kind of game,” Twilight began. Tradewinds spoke over her.
“I understand. You are warrior. You wish to drink delight of battle with peers. But the druzhina of Twilight Sparkle is not place for glory-seek, da? It is not likely to be easy.”
“I understand that, madam. I give a false face, I think! I do not seek mere glory. No, the city drains me. I wish to go home—but I also wish to be of use. Here I am of use to few, but in your service, Twilight of Equestria, I might be of use to all. That is a high calling! I came here to answer a high calling, and I would be loathe to pass up the highest.”
Twilight pursed her lips. Applejack studied the batpony.
He was about their age. He seemed fine.
Who the hell asked to go on a damn suicide mission?
It startled her to think of it that way. It wasn’t They would go home. She had a farm to rebuild. Her little sister and her brother needed her. Mac couldn’t keep up with that much land by himself, and Caramel weren’t much help, and Applebloom was gonna go to college at least for a while and…
“I’m just not sure you understand what’s at stake here,” Twilight said. “I mean, if we are doing what you think we’re doing. I mean… if you really know so much about it, you know why going with us to Jannah is bad, right?”
“Think we’re beyond the ‘if we are but we’re not’ stage, Twilight!” Pinkie chimed in.
“Oh, it is horrendous. Terribly bad decision for my healthy and sanity. So was becoming a thieftaker. We all die,” he added, and for once, his smile wavered. Applejack watched him like a hawk watches a fieldmouse. He recovered admirably. “I am not rushing to death. But if I am going to choose between sitting here and doing nothing and going west and doing everything, I am choosing the obviously better option.”
Twilight sighed. “You act as if we said we wanted or needed you to come along.”
“Ah, but you see, as your friend Tradewinds has said, I am a warrior. A warrior can see weakness, madam, and I can see your party’s easily. With apologies, your only scout is injured.”
Tradewinds looked incredibly sad. Applejack wanted to say something, but Abdiel plowed ahead.
“And though I have seen her in combat, and I know for a fact that she is a raging whirlwind—” here he smiled at Tradewinds, who seemed a little happier “—you will have want of a flying scout in both Jannah and the Veldt. Neither is safe, and it is imperative that you have warning of danger before it is upon you. Eating you.”
“Comforting thought, that,” Pinkie said.
“Aye,” the Captain said glumly.
“Ah, but bring me along and you need not be devoured, friends,” Abdiel said. “Lastly, I bring my own supplies and my own money, which I can happily contribute to the collective pool, as well as an extra set of hoofblades. I speak the languages of the Veldt, and know the tribes and the little towns along the river… In short, Twilight Sparkle of Equestria, long may you live, I am incredibly convenient.”
“A bit too convenient,” Applejack murmured.
“Yes, that is troubling,” Abdiel said. “I am, to be truthful, rather desperate to come along. This is… a big opportunity. I have missed the true west. Valon is not it. I miss the Veldt and my little town. I have been resigned to death since the beginning of this long, drawn-out end of days, and finally I am seeing a way to live and die and not be passive about it! I intend to beg if need be.”
“Applejack, it would be nice to have a guide,” Twilight said quietly.
She nodded. It would be nice. “I don’t look kindly on those who don’t tell me the truth straight. You got designs? I mightily appreciate your help with those varmints from earlier, but you give me pause, and I ain’t kennin’ why.”
“I tell few lies,” Abdiel said, looking right at her. She looked back.
“Only need to tell one,” she grumbled. “But you did save us. Myself, even. I am right grateful for it. It was good of you.”
“My duty, madam. And a pleasure, I might add,” he said with a grin.
“If Twilight is accepting you, then Tradewinds will welcome you into druzhina of her,” Tradewinds said with a big smile.
Pinkie grinned as well. The Captain didn’t seem to disagree.
Twilight sighed. “Fine. I guess that’s it, then. Now that Applejack’s had her say…?”
“I have. I’ll watch ya. But you seem honest enough,” she said.
“Then I’ll guess that will do. Welcome aboard, Abdiel. Welcome aboard.”
Abdiel proposed a toast, and Applejack obliged, but she couldn’t help but think about Soarin’s smile on his face.
TRADEWINDS
Tradewinds was a simple pony, more or less. But it didn’t take vast intellect or preternatural intuition to get by, and she knew that. She was okay with not having Twilight’s learning, and she was alright with not seeing everything. In most respects, Tradewinds was alright with most things, provided they weren’t too hopeless or annoying.
It didn’t take a genius to see that Twilight was nervous. It also didn’t really require vast amounts of introspection to see that her little crew was much the same, but in a different way. She lacked the vocabulary to neatly sum this up. But to her eyes, the problem wasn’t in where they were going so much as who was leading them.
Tradewinds had heard of Twilight Sparkle. Of course she had. Everypony in Equestria had heard of Twilight Sparkle before the Fall. She was the Element of Magic, a hero of the Principality. She was the hero of Nightmare Moon’s return—she and her friends. But it wasn’t as if ponies usually recognized her by sight. They had read about her in the newspapers. Well, Tradewinds hadn’t. She found reading in Equus to be a labor, and so opted for getting others to summarize things for her. She could read. It was the pictograms. She was bad with pictograms. She preferred the stately shapes of Kryllic letters. They were much simpler.
But her fame meant little now. A pony of more intelligence would have thought themselves into a spiteful corner, asking questions like “Where was this hero when we needed her?” or “Isn’t she just a farce now?” but Tradewinds was not a pony of more than average intelligence and thus avoided the petty stupidity of those who did much better in school than she. It took a special kind of pony to think themselves into those sorts of ruts. Tradewinds accepted what was before her. Twilight Sparkle was her friend. She was nice, if not very open. She had a nice mane. She could sound very smart, and Tradewinds liked to hear her talk.
She was sure Twilight would figure it all out. Whatever “it” happened to be at the time.
“Er… well. Um. Welcome,” Twilight said.
The crew blinked at her.
Tradewinds sat on a crate. Normally, she would have just flown up and hovered and landed. Simple, simple. But her wing had not healed all the way, and so she had climbed up to this perch. Something small like physical incapability wasn’t going to stop Tradewinds of Petrahoof. Pegasi needed perches. Something was just right about them.
The wide, open cargo bay was not full. It could hold double the number of ponies present, even with the new crates of supplies. Twilight had wanted those supplies where she could see them. Tradewinds approved. Not only did they provide her a nice, serviceable perch, but it was always good to be able to see instead of just thinking you had something.
“I guess you’re wondering why I asked you all to be here tonight,” Twilight continued. “I mean, you probably already know. But I guess you’re supposed to say that…” She sighed. “Sorry.”
Applejack was beside her. She nudged Twilight and smiled. Pinkie was on her other side, sometimes distracted, sometimes staring intently at Twilight. The Captain leaned against the wall. The big pony who stood in the center of the crowd… He was the one from the cot. They called him Crossbeam. Pinkie called him Big Blue, usually with a giggle. She supposed he was big, and he was blue. She knew that the former Blues who had been discovered in the underbelly of the ship, the ponies who made up the majority of this ragged crew, looked to him for guidance. Tradewinds had the vague notion that this was not ideal. He was not a bad pony. She had only spoken to Crossbeam a few times, really, and she knew he was not a big talker besides. He seemed relaxed. Tradewinds thought this was a ruse.
“I’m going west,” Twilight said. Her voice had lost some of its trembling. “I’m going very far. My—our, I should say—quest requires going a long way and risking a lot of danger. You all have an inkling of it. I’ve been pretty reluctant to talk about it, I know. A lot more reluctant than my friends, apparently.”
“You going to change that?” Crossbeams said in a deep, gravelly voice.
Twilight blinked at him as if seeing him for the first time. She spoke to him directly now. “Yes. I should have talked more earlier, but I can’t go back and fix that now. I’m sorry,” she said to them all. “I’ve been learning how insular I can be. I should have trusted you with the full measure of my mission. I mean, we’re in this together, right? Or, well, we have been. Up to this point. By accident, but still.” And there she faltered again.
There was some indistinct rumbling among the crew. It was easy to see which ponies were Blues and which were sailors brought on by the Captain now.
“Well, I was accidental happening, and I am with you to end,” Tradewinds offered. It was hard to translate as she spoke from her home tongue to Equus, but she tried. She was getting better, she thought.
Twilight looked up at her and smiled. “You’re right. We hadn’t quite planned on you.”
“Neither had you anything in your philosophies for me, Lady,” piped Abdiel from the crowd. The Blues and sailors glanced at him. He had been on the ship a very short time and already he knew everypony’s name. He had also already won a small pile of bits and other trinkets in card games. Surprisingly, nopony seemed to mind this.
“Not at all,” Twilight said flatly.
“Happy accidents make the world go ‘round,” Applejack drawled with a lazy grin.
There were a few chuckles. Ponies seemed a little more at ease. Just slightly.
“Looking back, I’m glad my crew was on work detail,” Crossbeam said. “I mean, this old girl had to pay me back for fixin’ her up eventually.” A few more laughs. The Blues seemed content that their leader was taking Twilight’s speech well.
Twilight was the only one who seemed tense at all. “So… so I guess I just thought it would be best if we talked about this. Mission… thing.”
“All ears,” Crossbeam said.
Tradewinds wondered if Twilight recognized him from the cot in the infirmary. He spent an awful lot of time napping on that cot, she reflected. How odd. Who would sleep all the time when there were things to be done and ponies to talk to?
“A year and a half ago, give or take… Alright, twenty months ago. I know it well—I shouldn’t quibble. Celestia left us. She went west on her sabbatical. You all remember this. I know it was in the papers for weeks. I was one of the last ponies to see her, I think.
“She came through Ponyville on a sort of short farewell tour. She said she didn’t want to make too big of a production of it. She was just going on vacation. We had a nice day together. We had tea with my friends and walked around Ponyville and talked. I asked if I could write her and she said there would be no way of getting mail in the West.” Twilight paused. She looked down at the floor. “And then she left with the promise she would be back. I believed her. I knew she would come back again and I would write her letters again. I was actually still working on my big paper then. It was on… You know, I’m having trouble remembering it.” Twilight chuckled.
“Lot more goin’ on,” Applejack said softly.
Everypony was quiet.
“I figured I could have it done when she came back, ready for her approval. I knew she would be proud. But then she just never… came back. You know what happened.”
“Aye,” murmured the captain. There was a sad little chorus of affirmations.
“And I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t fix anything. Maybe. I’m having trouble fixing myself. Canterlot is in trouble. I mean, everywhere is. We’re running out of food, and it’ll be winter soon. The bandits were starting to draw a noose around the city before I left. We wondered if they might start working together soon. From what Luna’s told me through Dreamwalking, they might even have actual leaders now. They have mortars and heavy weapons. They destroyed Morningvale, another town. Little potatoes, right? Just one more.
“My home town is a ruin. Not Canterlot. I mean, it’s where I grew up. But Ponyville was really my home. All my best friends were there. It’s where my library was… is. It’s where my library is. I was a librarian. I liked being a librarian.”
“Used to work in a furniture store,” one of the Blues grumbled.
“Janitor.”
“Carpenter.”
“Hell, I used to work in a bank,” one said.
“And I was a foreman at the steel mills. On the outskirts,” Crossbeam said. He too looked down. Most of the ponies in the hold seemed to be doing that, in one way or another.
“I don’t know how to fix it right now. I can’t go kill the raiders or make them see the error of their ways or make a treaty or anything. I can’t heal all the wounds. I can’t bind up Las Pegas or rebuild the bombed-out town hall of Manehattan. There’s no way for me to bind up the clouds of Neighvarro or unite the wandering islands of Cloudsdale. I just can’t do that. It’s too big. But I can do one thing. I can find a pony who can. Or at least, I can find one who would know how to begin. I’m going to find Celestia.”
Tradewinds hummed softly. She knew that the crew had been divided over this. Of course some had guessed. Others thought that theory absurd. In happier circumstances, there might be a betting pool. Regardless, this did not produce the effect Twilight had expected, whatever that was. She hesitated.
“How do you know she’s there to find?” one of the Blues asked. “How do you know she’s not…?”
Of course, he didn’t finish. No pony could, really. It was hard to even fathom such a possibility. Tradewinds certainly couldn’t. Which is partially why she had full faith in Twilight and her mission. Because alternatives to success were completely outside of the range of thoughts she could have.
“I don’t,” Twilight said. Tradewinds started but calmed as Twilight continued. “I don’t know in a sense that would hold up in academic circles, in scientific ones. I can’t point to any data I have and prove it that way. But I know she’s alive. I know she is. Luna knew as well as I did. Whether she’s there or not, don’t we have to try?”
“How would you know where she’s gone? Presuming she came this way,” Crossbeam asked.
Twilight seemed to brighten. “Applejack, where’d I put my bag?”
Applejack turned and brought the bag forward. Twilight rummaged around in it for awhile and then brought out a few objects which she sat before her in a row.
“This,” she said, holding it up in her magic, “this sphere’s purpose is two fold. Firstly, I can communicate back home with Luna. She is searching Celestia’s records as we speak. Secondly…” The sphere glowed, and with a golden flash, a bright line of arcane energy sprang from it, running along the ground, bathing them all in a strange light.
“Like divining rod,” Tradewinds said to herself softly.
So this was it! She had had some idea of course that Twilight knew things through magic, but this was amazing. She gazed in wonder. It really was a beautiful sight.
“This will lead us to her. Where she has gone, so I will go. And I’m asking all of you to come with me, at least most of the way. The river will take us almost to Jannah, and from there, I will go with my companions. I ask you to stay with me as long as you are willing and able and nothing more.”
“Where else would we go?” Crossbeam asked.
Twilight seemed brought up short. “Well…” She sighed. “I asked the Vizir about this actually. He’s offered a spot on this very ship to any who wish to be left behind. You’ll be in the employ of the city of Valon, paid and given a place to stay. He gave me his word.”
There was silence.
“And you set this up yourself, did you?” asked Crossbeam.
“He gave his word. I don’t know how valuable or reliable that is, but he gave it,” Twilight answered. “It isn’t right to be forced down this sort of path. I thought it would be best if ponies had a choice.”
“It would be best.” Crossbeam cleared his throat. “I think I speak for at least some of us when I say that we’d like to see this strangeness to its end. Whatever end that may be. I’m not all that interested in being a supply runner’s cook or whatever other ob this Vizir could cook up for us on the Alicorn.” He smiled. “I can get a lot more napping down on your little steam ship, I think.”
There was a general round of laughter. Twilight Sparkle seemed relieved, and this made Tradewinds happy in turn. It was all she could ask for, really.
AMARANTH
Ponies never seemed to stop apologizing and being conscientious and it was driving her up a wall.
The only pony who would treat her normally was Ice Storm, the Captain, and even he dealt with her gingerly. But… she supposed that made sense. He had been there, hadn’t he? At Morningvale. Somehow it seemed more okay when he was more careful than perhaps he needed to be because he had been there on the field with her.
She sighed and smiled. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he would see her smile and think that it was a mask or some sort of brave face on a terrible situation. But mostly what she felt was that, damn it all, it was a lovely day, and she deserved to smile about it. Didn’t she? They were so rare now.
“It’s hard to believe that winter is on our doorstep,” Ice Storm said. He walked beside her.
And it was hard to believe. The sun bathed the gardens of the palace in gentle warmth. One wanted almost to swim through it, to capture as much light as one could before the clouds could return.
The wheels of her harness clattered softly on the flagstones. Some paths were paved, and some were not. She preferred the ones that were not. They were quieter, if a bit trickier to navigate. She was made for flat surfaces now.
“It’s crazy, really. I mean, a week or so ago and the world was falling apart, and we were right on the frontier between the quick and the dead, and now…”
“We’re strolling in the gardens,” he finished for her.
Amaranth laughed. “Yeah. That’s it exactly. Thanks for coming with, Cap.”
“It was my pleasure,” he said, and she even believed him. “I could not think of better company,” he said. He said it awkwardly, and she picked up on it. Amaranth was noticing many odd things about the Captain.
Had he seemed so normal before? She thought he had seemed much stiffer, much less mortal when she was guarding the pass. And now he smiled and laughed and sometimes he sat with her and would listen to anything she wanted to say.
And she wondered why. Sometimes, she thought it was because he felt guilty or indebted. She had thought this for a while and felt bitter. Even the memory of that thought tasted bitter in her mouth. She was a sentinel in the night, one of Luna’s skilled Nightshades, and she was not to be pitied and coddled! But… no. If he came to see her out of guilt, he hid this well. When he listened to her and when he spoke to her, he seemed genuinely to listen and genuinely to speak. There was no pantomime or acting or trying too hard. Except when he seemed awkwardly unsure, and that felt less like obligation and more like eagerness that couldn’t decide on an avenue of attack.
See? “Avenue of attack”! You couldn’t beat the warrior out of a mare of the Nightshades. Not Amaranth.
And she appreciated that he treated her like a soldier. Because she was still a soldier. No discharge had been given to her, and no well-meaning orderly or fake-caring brass had released her into dishonor or the shadow of abandonment. The nurses and the volunteers treated her like she was fragile, and she was not fragile. She had been hit by a mortar. She was still alive. Fragile things go into shock and die. They faint in the streets and get run over by raiders. They don’t do what she did, what she could still do, if not as well.
Because her wings still worked, didn’t they? Oh, they did.
“You mentioned that your mother taught you to kiss your hoof to the stars,” she said softly.
Ice Storm jumped. Well, she wouldn’t go that far. He more shifted. It was hard to really startle him.
“She did. She was a Supernalist,” he replied.
They walked through sunbeams.
“Do you mind going out a bit? I’d like to see the city,” said Amaranth.
“As you wish.”
“Now, tell me about her.”
Ice Storm kept her pace well. She was impressed. It was hard to get used to the strange way a pony in one of these wheeled harnesses moved. She knew that. She was getting used to it herself, really.
“What would you like to know?”
“Anything. Use your brain, Cap. I would say, ‘have some imagination,’ but…”
He chuckled, an honest-to-all-gods chuckle.
“Thank you for your endless confidence in me. Well, I was born and raised in a little village called Cottontail. My mother was a seamstress. My father was a farmhand. He was an earth pony, as I’m sure you’ve already imagined.”
“I expected weather work for her, actually. You fly so well.”
She saw him smile and enjoyed it. It was nice to have companionship that wasn’t so morose in her presence. “I did some of that on my own, but her profession did not mean she forsook the sky! But it was a small town, and it couldn’t afford to pay a weather team all year ‘round. But she did work the clouds. There was another pegasi family in town, and we had a…” He rolled his eyes. “This sounds foolish. A sort of ‘sky militia’ in a fashion similar to pegasus hamlets. You owe certain weeks and months and so to the duty of maintaining order in the sky. We just kicked clouds sometimes, and watched for predators in the grazing fields, but mostly we just played. I was a child, and so were the other family’s children.”
“It sounds nice.”
“It was. Idyllic, in most ways. My mother, as you asked of her, was a rather free-spirited mare. How she found herself in such a slow and rural setting is beyond me, but she did not seem to mind it overmuch. Her Supernalism was quite serious. She taught me every star she knew, and her study of the old doctrines was extensive. I always found that odd.”
“It does sound strange for someone in the country to have put that much work into it. The reading and the studying required would be a lot, especially with how far you would need to go to find those things.”
Ice Storm shrugged. “I think there were more books in her past. She never told me much. I know she was born in Neighvarro, and when I wore the medicamen, it was an old Neighvarran pattern. A rather intricate one, actually.” He hummed.
The rim of the garden was fenced off so as to minimize the dangers of an open ledge. The city stretched out below them. Amaranth loved Canterlot. It wasn’t her home, not the same way Hollow Shades was—but it was still alive and wonderful, and she loved it all the same. Even now.
She knew Ice Storm had something else to say. Perhaps he would. Perhaps not.
Whether he would have revealed his thoughts to her, she never discovered. Looking at him, she saw his eyes widen in surprise, and with a Nightshade's instinct, she looked back to the city. She tensed, trying without thinking to enter a stance that was impossible for her now.
There was smoke. A little tendril of it rising, but she could tell it was no cooking fire. She followed it with her eyes.
“House…” Ice Storm managed. “Do you see as I do?”
“Eyes aren’t broken,” she said shortly. “You need to tell someone.”
He didn’t discuss it. He nodded and he was gone. A soldier moved as the will of another.
Amaranth watched the smoke rise from House Rowan-Oak’s compound.
SOARIN’
He felt like shit. Awful. Everything ached and his eyes hurt like somepony was politely but firmly shoving daggers into them. The hood over his head only helped to take the edge off the light. Light, he had found through vast experience in being severely hungover, was always going to win. One could not outrun the light after a night of hard drinking combined with an overly large sense of despair.
Macintosh was, blessedly, silent. Quiet partners were wonderful for times such as these, when Soarin’ wanted nothing more than to sink quietly into a bed somewhere. Not a barracks bunk or a cot. A bed. A nice bed. One with blankets and pillows and everything.
Perhaps the hangover was good. A blessing, Applejack might say. A blessin’ in disguise, he repeated in his head, trying to remember the intricacies of her voice. He still had them. But if the voice he heard wasn’t hers, how would he know? All he had to go on was memory now. Applejack was gone.
He only thought about these things because he didn’t want to think about what he’d been asked to do. What he’d been asked to do and was going to do in only a matter of moments.
“Time?” he asked.
“Half past six,” Big Mac said evenly. He said almost everything evenly, in Soarin’s experience. Which Soarin’s supposed wasn’t really a flaw. But it did leave you wanting a bit of expression after a conversation with him. Something to go on, at least.
That meant he had five more minutes.
They had planned this carefully. Rays had done most of the legwork, really. Good kid. Soarin’ had been pleased by his reports—his impression of the young pegasus as being half-useless had been mistaken, and he was happy to be wrong.
Rainbow Rays, in between his own irregular times of duty, had kept watch on everything. He knew, roughly, the fighting strength that House Rowan-Oak could muster and how quickly it could muster it. He knew where the weapons, the food, everything of value was stored. He knew when things were guarded, and when someone quick could squeeze through the cracks.
He could guess at other things too. His last report had been worrisome. At least, that’s what Soarin’ had gathered from the dark hints Spike had offered. He remembered Spike being a lot younger and a lot more open when Rainbow Dash had just been a cadet and a hopeful with a lot of potential and a pretty good chance of being a Wonderbolt. Back when the sun and the moon moved as nature had meant them to move. You only met him like twice, Soarin’ thought with a frown.
Tick. Tock. Time moved slowly, ever slowly, and yet Soarin’ felt like there was never enough. Not enough time with Her, not enough time to prepare, not enough time to come to grips with—
“Time’s here,” Macintosh said.
“Shit,” Soarin’ replied, flatly.
Big Mac—Soarin’ thought crazily that he seemed even bigger than he had the last time Soarin’ had looked up to speak to him—adjusted his white cloak and pulled the hood down over his mane. His apple-red face was still about half visible underneath, but the cloak wasn’t supposed to make them invisible. At least, that’s what Spike had said. Before he’d vanished to go do whatever the hell it was he was doing, and Soarin’ was very good at not asking questions and just running with things.
Soarin’ adjusted his hood, pulled up the bandana to cover his mouth and nose, and felt the saddlebag he wore. Everything was there. Great. Awesome. Just had to do it now.
They took off at a dead run. There was no time for sneaking. Rays had provided them with only a small window.
The two of them burst from the alleys and crossed the broad, open ground between the trade workshops and the House compound. Its walls towered over them both, and its gate houses were empty. Just as Rays had promised.
The spot had been marked. Rays marked it the night before when he was on guard duty. Good job, kid. Small enough to seem like some graffiti artist got spooked and ran, big enough to see. No one will see it. I promise.
“You have that… thing, right?” Soarin’ panted as they both hit the wall and slumped against it, hopefully out of sight.
“Eeyup.”
Mac pulled out a cylindrical container from his saddlebags and fiddled with it for a moment before he got the top off. The seconds he wasted seemed like an hour. Soarin’ was about to tell him to hurry when he freed the box’s contents.
It looked like a paintbrush. “Somepony told you how to do this, right?” Soarin’ hissed.
Mac nodded. He held the brush in his teeth delicately. The care with which he moved only made Soarin’ more anxious. His head was pounding. His heart was pounding. It was a miracle no one heard it.
Mac painted a box on the wall and then dropped the brush back in the container as if it were a snake. He closed it up quickly and hid it again.
“Nothing happened.”
Mac shook himself and waited.
That was when the burning happened. If you could call it that, which Soarin’ was hesitant to as it would make what happened so much more normal than it was. The outline burned, sparked, dissolved—he wasn’t sure what it was, but it seemed to melt away, and everything inside of it seemed to become soft and translucent. Like jello, he thought insanely.
And then Mac counted to five beside him, and by the time he was done, the jello-like substance had all but vanished.
Mac barrelled through the hole and Soarin’ followed with wide eyes.
A little to the left, but the hole they’d cut still had them next to the warehouse with a big black “5” painted on it, just as the report had said. Soarin’ would have preferred to be behind it, out of sight, but there was nopony watching. Yet. But there would be soon enough.
There was the door. He patted his saddlebag again. Two minutes? Three? Checking would waste time. The guards might be back early. They probably would be back early.
“Is it locked?” he asked. Mac was already at the door. Mac nodded, and before Soarin’ could give the order he had already turned and bucked the thing right off its hinges. The noise reverberated.
Perfect.
They entered.
Crates were stacked in all directions, some of them almost as high as the ceiling. Soarin’ didn’t have time to read labels or guess at contents. He had a job. This was it. He searched wildly for a place to set his…
There. He pointed. “Mac, pull some of those low boxes down, and make a little nest. We’ll use it for kindling.”
“Could blow up.”
“Kind of the point,” Soarin growled.
One minute. Mac had it done quickly. Soarin eased his pack off and dug the alchemical charges out. They looked like little coinpurses, but hell, he wasn’t about to question it. Questions took time. He put three of them in the hiding place and then threw the other two in different random directions. The friction caused one of them to go off, and the little sack burst into white hot flames.
“Right! Tinder and steel?”
Mac already had it out. He seemed apprehensive. “It’s too clos—”
Soarin’ pulled it out of his grip and set the steel on the ground. He held the flint in both hooves awkwardly and tried to get sparks to hit the pouches. No good.
“Just go throw yours somewhere!” he said. “I’ll do it.”
Mac had added another to his pile. Soarin’ stared at them. He wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t want to be anywhere near these things when they went off. Bombs were not his forte. He hated bombs. They always went off.
He picked up the one Mac had placed and backed away. Another exploded behind him. Friction set them off, but fire kept them burning longer. He needed this to burn well. He should’ve just thrown and ran. The pouch tasted leathery and awful. Gods, he hoped it wasn’t actually leather. Rare, but every now and then, you saw it. He hated alchemists. He hated them and their stupid bombs.
He looked back. Mac was running towards him.
“Go!” he shouted around the pouch. Mac didn’t need encouragement. He was already out the door.
Soarin’ threw the charge and didn’t bother to see if he had hit the target. He, too, was out the door.
He heard the explosion behind him and felt the heat on his back. But it couldn’t touch him. Behind him, guards had already arrived. He heard the crack of a rifle and the cobblestone in front of him cracked. He ran faster.
RARITY
She sat in the shadow of a birch tree. Around her, the wind blew and the long grass swayed. Above her, the stars shown. Far away, over the veldt, she saw the sun peaking out from behind…
Mountains. Yes. Mountains. Mountains like jagged teeth. Like the very walls of the morning.
She was alone. The world was void of other ponies. Just grass, and a tree, and the mountains at the end of the world, and Rarity.
Despite this, she heard a voice. She turned her head just so. A pony stood in the tall grass, speaking to her. Ah, yes. Luna. Rarity remembered her now. It was funny, how fuzzy her thoughts were. She opened her mouth to speak and then hesitated. No, she had to listen first then speak.
“Rarity, are you listening?”
“No. Say all of that again if you would?”
Luna’s eyes glittered like… something. She saw a picture but did not understand it. It was full of stars. “I am glad to find you here,” Luna said slowly.
“I have never been anywhere else,” Rarity said softly and honestly.
Luna pursed her lips. Then she sighed. She was a very pretty pony, Rarity decided. Not that she had anything to compare Luna with. She was only dimly aware that she herself was a pony. A Unicorn! How droll. Delightful. But what meaning did forms have anyway?
“Rarity, you are coming back to the surface,” Luna began again. “Do you remember who I am?”
“Luna,” Rarity said as if by rote.
“And yourself? You recognize your name, it seems. That is good.”
“I have always known my name.”
“You did not when last I tried to breach.”
“I don’t understand,” Rarity said.
Luna came closer. Rarity watched her like a child might watch a cloud drift across the sky. How strange. How far away.
Luna stood right in front of her, only a hoof’s length away from her face. “Rarity, look at me.”
Rarity obeyed. Why wouldn’t she? She had no reason not to. Or reason to do so. Reasons were irrelevant.
“You are going to wake up soon,” Luna said.
“I am going to wake up soon,” Rarity repeated. She frowned. “What?”
“You are going to remember to call for me when you sleep again. You are going to stay awake as long as you can.”
“I am going to call for you when I sleep again. I will stay awake as long as I can.”
Luna paused, and then added, “As long as you can without doing yourself harm.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, Rarity… Rarity, look at me. Thank you. Rarity, you… I just want to prepare you. Wild magic…”
Rarity smiled. “What is magic?”
The sun was getting brighter? Or had it always been that bright, trying to pierce her eyes? How strange.
“Rarity, just… they did what they could.”
The sun was so bright.
Rarity opened her eyes.
The lights were bright. They hurt.
She felt something heavy on her foreleg and chest. She looked down, but this also hurt. Still, she caught the sight of… a mane, she supposed. It looked blueish. Maybe? Looking hurt.
Her sense came to her bit by bit, as they always did in the wake of sleep. As she stirred, a nurse hurried over and began to babble at her. Stay still; don’t exert yourself. Someone bring me the doctor. On and on. Rarity completely ignored her.
So. Somepony survived besides her. That was nice to know. Emotion did not well up. There was nothing. There would be tears later, one way or another. She would mourn and celebrate as appropriate. But for now, she felt only a sort of grim but warm satisfaction. Yes, it was daytime again. She lived and breathed in the day again.
She closed her eyes and strangely felt no desire to slip back into sleep. She felt it was important to stay awake.
But she saw things, here and there. Or her mind saw, and she shared. Fire. Cobblestones. A couch. Rainbow—
Where was Rainbow?
Rarity tried to sit up, and she almost screamed at the pain. Her body surrendered completely. Her forelegs buckled underneath her.
But it woke the pony who had been lounging on her right up.
Rainbow Dash filled her vision, her eyes wide with shock.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh… Uh, don’t move. Stay still! Hey, nurse?” Dash looked up. “Nurse, hey! Come back! She’s trying to move! I don’t know what to do!”
“Rainbow,” Rarity said, unable to speak loudly.
“Aw crap. Uh…” Rainbow looked around in panic. As if there was something to find! Some magical potion to make her well all at once, perhaps? Rarity wanted to laugh. So Rainbow was alive and well.
“Rainbow.”
Rainbow Dash looked down at her.
“Rainbow, I’m not going to move. I’m… I’m glad you’re safe,” she managed, her voice cracking. Her throat was so dry.
“I’m glad you’re safe. You’ve been asleep for like three days!” Rainbow hugged her—hard at first, wrapping her up in a fierce embrace. When Rarity winced and made a little crushed sound of dismay, Rainbow released her and then tried again, only much softer. “I was starting to think… you know. That you wouldn’t wake up.”
“Has it really been that long?” Rarity rubbed her temple with a hoof. Her head hurt. Not a dull pain but a sharp one. “Why on earth was I asleep for such a long time?”
“Wild magic,” came the answer. Rarity moved her head as best she could with Rainbow still holding on to her. Cadance was there. She looked rather different now, partially in that now she looked much less like a corpse. There were bags under her eyes, and overall, she looked about as healthy as someone in a plague-ridden ghetto, but she did look alive.
“Your Grace,” Rarity rasped. “You’re up!”
“And about. I look forward to saying the same of… you.” Cadance’s pause caught Rarity’s attention. The way she looked at Rarity’s body and then averted her eyes. Rarity stared at her.
“What happened? What are you talking about? I certainly have no way of touching raw, wild magic,” Rarity said with a shake of her head.
“It was me.” Cadance seemed frozen. Her face hardly moved. Her breathing seemed shallow… or was it just Rarity’s eyes that failed? She was finding it hard to focus. Or hear, for that matter. She heard, but it was strange.
Definitely magical poisoning. I remember this from my youth.
“You, Your Grace?”
“Yes. The Crystal Heart… it was able to do something. Don’t ask me what exactly it did, or how, or even why it chose that moment. I really, really don’t know. I don’t want to ask it.” She paused. “I’m not sure I could bear to even go up there again.”
“And the giants? Those… those horrid things?” Rarity asked. Rainbow shifted and gave her a little room. “The Mitou,” she finished. Rainbow looked at Cadance. Rarity saw her mane fall over her shoulders and saw her wings. They were untouched. Rarity smiled.
“The Mitou are gone. Banished. Those that survive were cast out into the outer darkness,” Cadance said, in the matter of one who recited a line they had been taught. “That is what I was told. It seems true. Even the dead were deposited outside of the city. Our own fallen were not touched.”
“So it didn’t hurt any of our ponies?” Rarity asked. “What a miraculous thing!”
“It… it did,” Cadance said, shaking her head. She sighed. “It killed several. Dozens, at least. We aren’t sure exactly how many. The ponies inside of the final barricades were safe, but everything outside seemed to have been fair game. Some died outright. A few seem to have been… burnt away,” she managed. Cadance coughed softly. “Others, like you, suffered moderate to severe magical poisoning and thaumic burns. Your wounds were already serious before the shockwave.”
“My… my wounds? I remember being thrown about…”
The doctor had arrived. He bowed to Cadance. “My Lady, thank you for your visit. Once more, it is an honor.”
“It is a duty and a solemn privilege,” she responded. “Doctor, could you help me explain?”
Dash moved off the bed hurriedly as the doctor approached. Rarity had the feeling this stallion had forced Rainbow off a few times already whilst she slept.
“Miss Rarity, I’m glad to see you alert,” the doctor began with a smile. “You were asleep an awful long time, but I knew you’d be coming around.”
“Three days,” Rarity said a bit more curtly than she’d intended to. “Doctor, how badly have I been hurt?”
She saw him fight with himself. She saw it in his eyes. They didn’t seem to focus anywhere. Was it that bad? Stars! I can move… I know I can—I just did. Stars, gods, anything.
“Miss, I can’t lie to you. You were hurt before the release of magic from the palace. From what I can tell, you’d broken your rear left leg, suffered countless cuts, and your horn suffered trauma. Your face was a mess, frankly. You are going to have scars. A lot of scars.” He paused. “Bedside manner,” he said to himself with a grimace. “You are alive, ma’am, and that is amazing. I want you to know that it is a minor miracle. You made it back.”
Scars. She could handle that. Her face… her looks… she loved beauty, and she treasured her own, but these things were passing. Was that it? Was that all? Truly?
She asked. “And that’s it?” Rarity’s voice cracked. “Doctor, that’s all? A broken leg, scars, perhaps my horn won’t work magic well for a few days or weeks?”
The stallion hesitated.
“Tell her,” Rainbow said without rancor. Without emotion really, like someone who has spent so much time and energy anxiously waiting for something that they can spare none to do anything else.
“Ma’am, wild magic’s properties are, well, unpredictable. In a unicorn it can be a boon or a curse. It can burn the leylines in the body and leave you paralyzed or simply exhausted to the point of sleep, or dead, or… we don’t know what all wild magic can do to a unicorn. It can make you stronger, or so some say. But we certainly don’t know what this amount of it can do. You were one of the few unicorns caught outside the barricades.”
“Come to the point, please,” Rarity said without much feeling. She was very far away now. Where was he going?
“The deterioration of tissue was advanced. Not just dying tissue. It… it was burning away. We were forced to cut out the infection, and even then, it was touch and go. I don’t know what using magic will be like for you now.”
Another pause. Rarity stared at him woodenly.
“And… I think you should see this for yourself.”
He pulled the cover aside.
“We’ve been working on the prosthetic most of the day,” he said, a million miles away from her. “It’s been accepted well by both your body and your leylines—though with the wild magic, we aren’t sure how permanent that is. But we’re optimistic. As for the look, well, once it is working I’m sure—”
“Where is it?” Rarity said.
“Ma’am?”
Rarity stared at him.
“I don’t understand.”
“The break, ma’am, it was there already, and the magic was trying to mend you. At least, that was our guess, but it was so much power in such a small area. It was just too much. By the time you’d arrived here, half of the leg was more wild magic than flesh. It would have killed you.”
“My…”
“Rarity?” Dash said. She was closer but also far away.
Rarity stared down at the cold steel prosthetic.
CANTERLOT
A great shambling mass slumped against the gate in the hours between midnight and morning. It breathed—raggedly. It moved—drunkenly. Mostly, it did nothing.
A guard up on the wall saw it first. He had alerted his companions before the thing had come into the light, and now that they all saw it, their fear had turned into confusion.
Spike the Dragon, erstwhile assistant librarian of the Golden Oaks in Occupied Ponyville was carried by a squadron of Lunar guardsponies through the streets. They moved quickly. The Nightshade who trailed them had been insistent on that.
Spike groaned. He said things. None of them were very coherent, and those things that were did not bear thinking of, because thinking about what they meant might just make a pony want to drop the wounded dragon and hide.
The torches didn’t provide enough light to see well, but it didn’t take much light to see that he bore wounds. The Nightshade saw all and remembered all. He saw the cuts, the cracked and peeling scales, the dehydration, the scrawled anti-thaumic runes. Those last things he paid special attention to. Spike, the Moon’s Companion, was known to practice some sort of arcane art. So this was it. Anti-Thaumic runes went by many names, and there were several traditions, most secret. But the Nightshade was sure these were Zebraharan. And there were… many. Too many. They were scrawled in haste. Nopony—no dragon, for that matter—should have need of this much protection. This was not precaution. It was complete and utter panic.
For his part, the Nightshade was not moved by this. Mostly.
The Lunar guardsponies hurried on, bearing the Companion.
They were seen by no less than seven house informants. Two were from House Epona. Two were from House Rowan-Oak. One was even from House Morning, strangely enough. All of them took note and saw what there was to see and decided that the night’s work had paid off. They also saw each other but let fellow spies pass unmolested. It was simply common professional courtesy.
Elsewhere, Fable Rowan-Oak was avoiding the elders of his house. Specifically, his Lady Mother, who had thrown several things at him already this evening. A morose, fidgeting Rainbow Rays held an ice bag to his bruises and a stoic Paradise contained his rage with much effort.
A squad of House Iron soldiers met a patrol of Lunar guardsponies. Both were patrolling the same section of town. There was a standoff that ended with both continuing down different streets. Spies saw this.
A House Epona guardspony was found murdered just outside the walls of House Epona’s compound right before dawn. The private study of Lord Strong Halycon IV had been ransacked.
Ponies in white cloaks were seen briefly on Saddle Street, talking to the proprieter of the Ginger Root, a brothel and cabaret with a reputation. They entered but were not seen leave, as soon after the body of a young House Iron pony-at-arms allegedly under the influence of hallucinogens (which everypony knew you could have for a few bits in the right hoof on Saddle Street) murdered a prostitute and wondered with her dead body, his eyes blacked out and his posture unearthly. The resulting mob masked the possible exists of the white-cloaked figures.
Macintosh did not sleep, but Caramel did.
Soarin’ slept well. Mostly because he spent the whole day feeling awful and because Spitfire let him be and because Luna let him be and generally the world had fucked off for at least a bit. Which was nice.
Luna stood on the balcony, aware of some of these things, but not all. She was aware of many things, some of them secrets that nopony could guess at in the streets below. She would talk to Spike when he awoke. She would talk to Rarity when she had recovered. She would talk to Twilight… eventually. Soon, perhaps. Hopefully.
For now, she watched.
The moon shone, but it was not full. It was waning, waning. She did not like the waning. It was a bad portent if it were anything. And it needn’t be anything, really, she reminded herself.
She was very sure now, about the dangers they all faced.
If she were not as old, or not as strong, she would tremble. She would cry. She perhaps would lose her mind.
But, curiously, it is hard to crack the psyche of a pony that has spent a millenia in crippling isolation, cut off from the earth. It is hard to break that which has looked into the abyss and learned to grin at it. Push enough…
Either/Or. She liked those sorts of problems. When things came to a point, she liked it. You could use a hammer on those sorts of problems.
Her Dusk Watch or her Nightshades would bring her the night’s news soon. He had graduated from the ranks of the Night Shades because he brought back the information Luna needed, when she needed.
The great game of Houses was beginning again. She had not wished it to, but if it was going to begin, then she would be the one to set it going. She would roll the whole world up into a ball and throw it gleefully down her enemy’s throats like a madmare. Just like a madmare.
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I think Twilight is deliberately not keeping contact with Luna.
6093163
What she could tell her?
Nothing important.
Poor Rarity
Did something get missed on the import?
Does Razed know you absconded with Reconstruction Site?
Poor Rarity
6093545 Looks like it! Sorry about that!!! Gah. I look for those lacunae. Here is the fix, which I just added to the story doc:
also wow that is terrible I may edit that eventually if I have time
6093964 I didn't abscond so much as was bullied into taking with me
6093964
6095581 speaks the truth. I really am a bullying bastard.
6095640
Mark that poor thing On Hiatus, will you? Languishing by itself, all lonely and forlorn, like a cast-off prosthetic.
6095656
6095640
old storees never die they just fade away
you know too much bad crap is happening in this story. I'm done
Was seriously worried that 3 ponies in this story were going to be paralyzed.
I already told you this, but I really like Ice Storm and Amaranth. I'm suspicious of the plots in Canterlot. And it's nice to see some more of Twilight's crew and Tradewinds. I like them. I like all of them. I like everything. Looking forward to more!
6095900 In case this changes your mind... Yeah, a lot of bad stuff is happening. But this isn't a tragedy. It's The Night is Passing. It's about fighting through the bad stuff and coming out on the other side. Dawn will come.
6110385 but so much straight. the only good thing I've seen is the Empire being saved.
6110400 What about Cadance surviving against the odds? The perhaps-redemption of Sombra's most brutal lieutenant? Rainbow Dash and Rarity's weird, awkward, yet probably not doomed little romance, or Amaranth retaining her dignity and her honor in spite of serious setback--with the friendship of Ice Storm?
I don't write tragedies, really. I can only think of one, and even with that one I secretly hoped Lyra would find her way out of that one.
6111026 most of that falls under saving the Empire. and Note Rarity has lost a leg, Aramath the ability to use her rear legs. Ponyville is gone, Canterlot under siege practically. And the fact that luna is dealign with an attempted coup and someone somehow is preventing Luna for taking care of the cycles well.
There are two things that are likely to come to people's minds when reading the words in this chapter title: one of the Beatles' hit songs, and Cowboy Bebop.
I'm glad that you and I see the latter.
s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/27/48/4f/27484f3d006b8471a5a61ca6b4e4ec93.jpg
Couple typos here:
Job
.
exits
6435530
The resulting mob masked the possible exists of the white-cloaked figures
.
exits
The more likely typo as I read it was "existence" not exits.
Rarity has a UNIQUE opportunity
The leg, its metal
That means paint
That means artistry
It's a brand new field of creativity she can put her hooves on and make her own