A Single Soul
A Single Soul
By TwinkieSpy
"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies." - Aristotle
It was the crack of dawn; with a gentle nudge and a playful smile, Celestia had just sent her sister off to bed. By contrast, Ponyville's local ray of sun had just awoken. The light from outside her window danced on the canvas of her curly mane, highlighting its bright pink color. At first she only rustled slightly; a half-eaten danish fell from her bed. At the sharp cracking sound of the dessert hitting the floor, her eyes shot open and she rolled over to stare at the fallen pastry with disappointment in her sky-blue gaze. But Dave the Danish wouldn't want her to waste time grieving; no, it was time to face the day!
"Good morning!" Pinkie Pie called to nopony in particular. It was a habit she had had since foalhood, though she hadn't begun receiving answers to her daily greeting until recently. The twins were still young--too young to form words--but they seemed to get into the spirit of things each morning as well, and each time responded to Pinkie with incoherent gibberish. She imagined that it must be foal for "good morning."
Today she was left unanswered, though; the Cakes had gone on their annual week-long vacation to the Gulf of Burrico beaches, and had taken Pumpkin and Pound with them. Sugarcube Corner seemed so lonely and empty without Pinkie's adoptive family around... "Not that that's ever been a problem for the Pink," mumbled the earth pony. "...ie Pie."
Her hooves clattered on the wooden floor of her bedroom as she blinked the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes. Even everypony's friend had days she'd rather spend alone, and after yesterday's exhausting venture with Cranky and Mathilda, Pinkie had to admit that not even she was in tip-top partying shape. She trotted down the stairs slowly, unhurried for the first time in months, before coming to a stop in the living room. Something was wrong.
Ten years ago, Mr. Cake had arrived in the same room, mane soaking with rainwater and eyes shadowed with exhaustion. On his formidable back lay a bright pink bundle, its coat remarkably colorful even in the rainbow of hues that was Ponyville. His young wife followed behind him timidly, fuchsia eyes glinting with concern. "Will she be all right, Honeybun?" she queried, gaze trained on the figure on her husband's back.
"I'm not sure, Dear," he answered with a weary sigh. Gently, he knelt on the ground and deposited the pink bundle on a nearby sofa. It rolled over, revealing a tiny face and hooves. She was just a foal, ten years of age at the most. Cup Cake had found her unconscious on an unused dirt path outside Ponyville, her eye-catching color the only thing distinguishing her from the surrounding brush. The filly's mane and tail were twisted in knots, her enormous eyes shut tight, but her snout was contorted into a carefree smile. The couple hoped that her parents would come calling soon, but a sinking feeling in both of their hearts told them that nopony was looking for the tiny filly.
"I'll get a towel," offered Mrs. Cake, darting off at a remarkable speed despite her plump figure. Carrot Cake huddled over the mysterious foal worriedly, using a hoof to clear her drenched mane from her face. All at once her eyes opened.
"Hi," she said cheerfully, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The grin didn't move from her face.
"Er... hello," offered the stallion standing over her. "What were you doing out in the rain... sweetie?" Mr. Cake tended to reserve pet names for his wife and his wife alone, but something in the filly's eyes made her somehow deserving of more than generic pronouns, he found.
"Going to Ponyville," she explained succinctly, shaking her head in an attempt to dry herself. All it really did was tangle her mane even further. "I'm Pinkie Pie. What's your name?"
"My name's Carrot Cake," he replied instinctively, accustomed to introducing himself to customers. "And you're in Ponyville right now--but, first, where's your family? Are you alone?"
Pinkie opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment, Mrs. Cake galloped in, throwing a towel over the foal with the kind of unnecessary urgency only maternal instinct could muster. The strange filly took a moment before continuing, rolling around and wrapping herself up in the soft material before even acknowledging the newcomer's existence. Even then, all she did was smile and wave. "No," she mumbled, yawning. "I'm not alone. Pinkamena's with me, too."
Cup Cake shot a questioning glance at her husband, eyebrow raised. "Pinkamena?" she repeated. "Who's that, sweetie?" With slight amusement, Mr. Cake noticed that he and his wife had arrived at the same nickname for Pinkie Pie, without even speaking to each other.
Pinkie Pie yawned again, revealing a strikingly large mouth. Once she had finished, she raised a hoof and pointed to the tall vanity mirror standing at the room's rear wall. "That's Pinkamena," she said, "Silly."
With that, she shut her eyes and fell asleep. She had wordlessly christened the home her own, and the couple living there her new parents. Things were going to be okie-dokie-loki in Ponyville; she could feel it.
Now the mirror lay sprawled on the chestnut floor; it was laying glass-down, so Pinkie Pie couldn't see the extent of the damage, but the metallic crunch she heard with every step she took towards it didn't bode well. For once, the party animal was struck silent, and so it was silently that she extended a hoof and cautiously lifted the mirror upwards. As she had feared, it was cracked beyond rescue; stray shards of glass fell to the floor as she righted it again.
Pinkie hated losing things; she hated breaking them even more. But Pinkie could have gotten past it, just as she got past her ill-fated danish, were it not for one thing: in the shards on the floor and still set in the mirror, Pinkie Pie saw herself. She didn't see herself as she had been, or as she would have been if it weren't for the Sonic Rainboom that introduced her to joy. But she saw herself as she was now, and that was something she had never seen before.
Shocked, the earth pony fell back, flank meeting the floor almost painfully. Dear Celestia, her mane looked so messy! How had Rarity stood it all of these years? And the color of her coat--it was so bright! "P-Pinkamena?!" she stammered; her cracked reflection stammered it back. It was her. Just her. Nopony else.
One year ago, Pinkie had sat, alone, looking into the same tall mirror that she was gaping at it horror now. Despite her apparent isolation, she was smiling and giggling, curly mane bouncing in time with her laughter. "Silly!" she chided the mirror, waving a hoof in dismissal. "There's no such thing as a rock cupcake! You'd break your teeth!"
In her sapphire eyes, Pinkie Pie saw a near-identical mare in front of her roll her eyes. The mirror-mare had a dark fuchsia coat and a mane to match Pinkie's, but her hair was straight and flat as opposed to Pinkie's unruly 'do. "Yes," she grumbled testily, her voice a shade darker and more cynical than that of the pony staring into the mirror. "And eating all of those sweets rots yours. Don't I deserve a treat, too?"
Pinkie paused mid-guffaw. "Oh, well, of course!" she cried, eyes widened with genuine apology. "And I could invent a rock cupcake for you if you want me to! I mean, it wouldn't be that hard; all I'd really have to do would be to make a cupcake and put rocks on it, but I can't imagine that would be super-mega-ultra-delicious, and all of the cupcakes I make need to be super-mega-ultra--"
The straight-haired reflection raised a hoof, stifling a giggle. "Calm down, Pinkie. I was just being, you know... me."
Pinkie stopped panicking, but then pursed her lips in an expression of mock-annoyance. "And I was just being me! Now let me finish! Super-mega-ultra-delicious cupcakes are totally the best and they're made by--"
Her reflection broke into laughter. After a moment of bemused deliberation, she did too. "Aw, Pinkamena!" she cried between giggles. "See? You can be happy, too!"
Nopony was happy right now. Pinkie Pie, who had retreated into a state of absolute numbness, felt blood rush back into her legs along with this single thought. Frantically she scrambled off of the floor and out of the room, avoiding being injured by a shard of glass by pure luck alone.
She galloped into the restroom and reared up to inspect the mirror above the sink; she only saw a disheveled frizzy-maned mare in the reflection. Not wasting time, she ran off, up the stairs, and into the Cakes' room, checking the mirror over their vanity. No Pinkamena; just Pinkie. Letting out a distressed cry, she rushed out of the room and back down the stairs, until she arrived at the kitchen sink. Pinkie snatched a sponge from a nearby rack and shoved it down the drain before turning on the tap. Water gushed out of the faucet and pooled in the sink, but it was filling slowly.
She tried to twist the knob further, but it didn't move; this was as fast as the tap water would flow. She sighed and sank to the ground as the sink continued to fill with water. Where could Pinkamena have gone? She had always been there, even before her alter ego's arrival to their shared body. Had Pinkie failed her by letting the mirror crack? Was it her fault? Eyes burning with tears of guilt and distress, the baker buried her head in her hooves as her mind wandered again.
Pinkamena Diane Pie trudged through the farm, kicking dejectedly at the infertile soil as she guided a small pebble to the west. Her family's second field was down there; a magic wellspring near that part of their land allowed for better geode yields once the stones were ripe. But just as in plant farming, rock farming required crop rotation to keep the soil fresh and energized; the last harvest in the west field had occurred exactly six months ago, and Pinkamena's father had determined that the soil was ready for planting again.
And so here she was, taking rocks and moving them from one wasteland to a different wasteland. She felt ashamed, sometimes, when she saw the rest of her family. They were all various shades of gray, both in coat and in mane, save for herself and her father--and Clyde Pie was only exempted from that list because his coat was beige. By contrast, Pinkamena's coat was a unique pink; a bit dull, maybe, but it certainly didn't match the rocks of the farm the same way her sisters' colors did. Inkamaria and Blinkabella enjoyed rock farming, too; Pinkamena wished she could be as passionate about something as they were about rocks.
The filly kicked the rock in her care angrily, glaring at it. "Stupid rock!" she accused. "Why can't you be as interesting as my sisters'?"
A deep, booming sound echoed from somewhere to the south, and Pinkamena's first instinct, however silly, was to apologize for her brash words. But before she could open her mouth, the earth beneath her began to tremble, sending the stone she had just insulted skittering away. "W-Wait--!" she managed to call as she struggled to stay upright amidst the earthquake. "Come back!" The quake showed no sign of letting up, and she lowered herself to the ground in defeat, eyes screwed shut as she waited for whatever terrible calamity was on its way.
But no calamity arrived, and when Pinkamena next opened her eyes, she thought the shock must have knocked her brain straight into fantasy. The sky was awash with color--not the usual blue-gray color it usually took, but a dazzling medley of red, orange, yellow, green, blue... There were even colors she had never seen before. She had to look down at the colorless ground just to make sure she hadn't lost complete control of her senses. Insanely, she felt like crying despite the beauty of the meteorological anomaly.
Her color was too bright for the rock farm but, now, as she compared it to the new colors of the sky, it seemed nothing but inferior. So she didn't belong with her family, and she didn't belong with this... beauty... Did she belong anywhere?
"Hey, cheer up!" Pinkamena whirled around, startled, to look for the source of the unfamiliar voice. Eventually she came upon a standing figure, no larger than she, standing dramatically on her back hooves. The rainbow was so bright that she couldn't pick out more than the strange filly's silhouette, but already she could hear--feel--that the newcomer belonged there. Not like Pinkamena.
The silhouette giggled and dropped back onto all four hooves, approaching Pinkamena. Startled, the farmer backed up. "Who... Who are you?" she demanded. "This is... it's someone's farm, you know!"
Despite Pinkamena's efforts, the strange foal eventually reached her, and Pinkamena caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes as she leaned in close. "You don't need to be sad," she said, ignoring Pinkamena's questions. "I'll help you out! We can be friends, right?"
The glow from the rainbow was beginning to fade, and Pinkamena could pick out more of the pony's characteristics: a pink coat, curly mane, a huge grin... "You want to be my friend?" she asked skeptically. If there was anypony who didn't need friends, surely it was this filly. She seemed so happy on her own, after all.
"Of course, silly!" the filly chided, stepping even closer until her snout met Pinkamena's. "We can take care of each other, okay?"
Now Pinkamena could see the newcomer in her entirety, and with a rush of understanding it dawned on her who the filly was: it was her. A happier, more friendly version of her, but... her, nonetheless. Or at least, what she could be. "Yes," she answered after a moment of deliberation. Along with her great revelation came the knowledge that there were tears running down her cheeks, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "We'll take care of each other."
Pinkie was snapped out of her memory by the feeling of water running down her back; frantically, she leapt up and turned off the tap. The sink had already filled up entirely, and there was a sizable puddle on the ground below her. She made a mental note to clean it up later, but her mind was in too much of a panic to bother now. "Come on, please be there!" she begged herself, then swallowed her fears and looked over the sink. Her reflection stared back.
Her reflection. Her useless, ugly, curly-maned reflection.
Mind working on autopilot, she reached into the sink and withdrew the sponge; excess water spilled out without her notice, but that which was still left in the basin began to drain. Sighing, she fell to the ground again, splashing the puddled water with her hoof absentmindedly. Come on everypony; smile, smile smile... Was it her fault? In her efforts to be everypony's friend, had she mistreated the one who was closest to her? "Oh, Pinkie..." she chided herself, eyes welling with tears.
"Pinkie?" The baker's head shot up; she reached to wipe the tears off of her face quickly. She had a flash of deja-vu as she searched frantically for the source of the unfamiliar voice, even if the last time that had occurred, the one doing the searching hadn't been her, but--
In the doorframe stood a mare with a dark pink coat and a straight mane and tail. Her pupils were dilated to the point where she looked exactly as shocked as Pinkie felt, and that was no small feat. "Uh, I don't..." The dark mare looked down at her hooves, almost as if she were checking to make sure that they were still there. "I don't know what happened. The mirror just fell, and..."
Before she could finish her sentence, Pinkie Pie had wrapped her in a tight bear-hug, and they both fell backwards onto the floor. "Ouch," remarked Pinkamena dully, though she returned her alter ego's hug in kind. The lighter mare on top of her didn't react further, just stayed glued to her doppelgänger while small sobbing noises escaped from her sheltered face.
After a moment more of uncharacteristic silence, Pinkamena patted Pinkie on the back gently, trying to wriggle out of her grip. Eventually, Pinkie re-righted herself, helping the other mare up as well. Pinkamena could still see tear tracks on her cheeks, and she felt a pang of guilt. She didn't like seeing Pinkie sad; that was her job, after all. "Come on, don't cry..." she offered weakly. Reassurance had never been an area she was comfortable with.
"But it's your fault!" retorted Pinkie in mock-anger, wiping her face with a forehoof. They looked at each other for a moment before falling into the usual schedule, and suddenly being jointly overcome with riotous giggles. Maybe it was just her physical presence, but Pinkie couldn't help but notice how much louder Pinkamena's laugh was than usual.
After she calmed down, Pinkamena rubbed her head sheepishly, casting her gaze away at nothing in particular. "I'm sorry for disappearing, Pinkie. I really don't know what happened, but..." She looked back down at her hooves--her hooves which hadn't existed outside of Pinkie Pie's mind for ten whole years. "I figure it's probably best if I don't question it."
Never look a gift Pinkamena in the mouth, Pinkie Pie thought, randomly. Out loud, she said, "I'm really glad you're here."
Another silence ensued, but enough passed between them in that moment to fill it with feelings: relief, happiness, guilt, shame, and, most shockingly... was that desire? Both ponies blushed in tandem. Pinkie didn't know how something so simple--a darker color, straighter hair, a face just a bit less expressive--could make so much difference, but where she had despised her own reflection, she couldn't find Pinkamena anything less than beautiful. Perhaps her personal feelings got in the way of both perceptions, but they were still her own perceptions. She couldn't change them, and she couldn't analyze them.
She wasn't sure what would happen if she did analyze her feelings, but she had a feeling that if she went down that path, there would be no coming back.
Turning her thoughts away from such heavy choices, Pinkie looked back at her doppelgänger. Absentmindedly, she reached out and ran a hoof through Pinkamena's mane. The darker mare jumped, startled. "What was that for?" she demanded.
Pinkie broke into one of her great, infectious grins. "I always thought I was just loco in the coco," she explained in typical Pinkie-fashion. "And I didn't mind, but... wow! You really exist! I can't wait to see the look on Twilight's face!"
Pinkamena frowned at the mention of the scholarly unicorn. "Eh... do I really have to talk to other ponies?" she asked. "I don't like them. You know how I feel about them abandoning you on our birthday." She darkened visibly at the memory.
"Aw, they didn't abandon me!" argued Pinkie. "They were just planning a surprise party, is all! And, I mean..." She hooked a foreleg in Pinkamena's own. "They're my friends, so I want them to be your friends, too! I want them to love you like I do!"
There was yet another silence, but this one managed to be even more silent than most as Pinkie managed to work out what she had just said. Cheeks growing rosier than usual, she desperately tried to retrieve herself from that road. After all, she didn't know what was down that road, but she couldn't just giggle at her own ghosties. They would only giggle back, after all... "I mean, um--"
"Pinkie," interrupted Pinkamena, placing a hoof over the other Pie's snout. Her eyes had narrowed, and her voice sounded even more serious than usual. "Am I..." Her voice hitched, not out of sorrow or distress but simply from anticipation. "What am I to you? Am I just you, or...?"
Pinkie blushed further. Far down that road, somepony was beckoning to her. Somepony with a straight mane and a dark pink coat. Taking a few metaphorical steps further, she replied, "You're Pinkamena." More silence. She began trotting down that road, ever so hesitantly. "I love you." Her pace picked up. "I'm..."
"I'm in love with you."
She was galloping down that road, and she wasn't looking back. She didn't care what she would find down there; she didn't care because, down that road, she'd never be alone. Even when she was alone, she wouldn't be alone. She wouldn't be alone because she was real. She was real. Pinkamena was real.
Pinkamena was real, and Pinkie knew how to prove it.
All at once their snouts were meeting, their tongues were intertwined. Pinkamena didn't have time to think about what was happening, whether or not it was right in any sense of the word; all she could think of was how happy she was that the rainbow had come that day, how happy she was every time she saw those bright fuchsia curls.
They rolled together on the kitchen floor, coming to a stop with Pinkie perched on top of her doppelgänger. Their positions were reminiscent of the way they had fallen when Pinkamena had first appeared, but now there were no tears. Pinkie ran her hooves down Pinkamena's mane, savoring the softness of each lock, the way it fell into her grip, so unlike her own unruly curls. Pinkamena wrapped her hind legs around Pinkie's own, locking her into place. She couldn't help but notice a stirring in the most private part of her body.
"Pinkie..." she moaned as the other mare began running her tongue down Pinkamena's ear, her cheek, the nape of her neck... Surely they couldn't be the same pony, surely not if Pinkie was so capable, so unafraid...
Pinkamena released her hind legs as Pinkie drew further, even further down her body. A shudder went through her--through both of them. If they were the same after all, Pinkamena thought, then she couldn't imagine what it could be like with a different pony. The unity, the mutual understanding between them--she couldn't imagine life without that.
And now they were going to grow even more unified than ever before. Pinkie's tongue finally reached its destination; Pinkamena moaned with pleasure at the stimulation. The other mare's tongue was going deeper, touching places that had never been touched, and Pinkamena swore she could see the Sonic Rainboom all over again. She was seeing colors that she had never seen before, that she could never have even imagined existed. She didn't feel like crying this time, though. This time, she wasn't alone.
Pinkie Pie's exploration struck gold; no, diamonds. She swept her tongue around her new discovery, pressing gently on its swollen existence. Existence. That was a word she could make love to. Pinkamena cried out in ever-increasing urgency as the pressure mounted. It was in this state of bliss that she realized she had yet to express herself properly, to return Pinkie's miraculous words. "I love you!" she shrieked in her spectrum of emotions. "I love you! I love you! I--"
"LOVE--!" She couldn't take it any more. Pinkamena writhed as she reached climax, discovering oh so many colors even with her eyes squeezed shut.
Finally Pinkie withdrew, licking her lips with satisfaction. "...you," Pinkamena finished, falling back down to earth. Her eyes flickered open. "Oh, Pinkie..."
Her alter ego reached down and planted a last kiss on Pinkamena's lips. "I love you too," she replied, voice uncharacteristically soft. Then, at a more conventionally Pinkie Pie volume, "That was my favorite party." She collapsed next to her lover, snuggling close. She felt infinitely more comfortable here than she had in her bed, even if it was the kitchen floor.
After a moment of blissful silence, Pinkamena, groundbreakingly, was the first to make a sound. "Pinkie?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yeah?" The other mare turned towards her and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"I think..." Pinkamena took a deep breath. "I think I know why I'm here. Why I'm not just... an illusion any more." Pinkie didn't reply, just raised the eyebrow further. Pinkamena had to refrain from hysterical giggling at the sight. "When you were talking to that donkey--Cranky or whatever it was--he just seemed so... lifeless. All he seemed to care about was getting rid of you. But what really brought him back--what really gave him reason to continue living... It was..."
"Love," finished Pinkie, the concept dawning on her. "It sounds like something in a fairy-tale, doesn't it? Minus, the, um..." She finished her sentence quickly. "Thelesbiansex."
"Yeah," agreed the darker mare. "But that hasn't ever stopped you before..." She gave her doppelgänger a playful shove. "Has it?"
Pinkie Pie thought of the parasprites, how they had been lured away with music. She thought of her Pinkie Sense, and how much it baffled Twilight Sparkle. She thought of the Grand Galloping Gala, how she and her friends had managed to escape without substantial consequences. She thought of Cranky Doodle Donkey and how it was love that had finally made him smile.
She looked over at Pinkamena. She was smiling.
"You're right," agreed Pinkie. "And it won't stop us in the future, will it?"
Us. That word filled Pinkamena with glee.
"No. It won't."
The End