Getting the Journal the Hard Way
Berry Pinch groaned as she knelt on the floor, plucking stray clothes from the floor. The air reeked of wine, the pungent smell strong enough to give most ponies a contact buzz just from entering the room. For the young, eighteen year old mare, it did nothing but cause her chest to tighten, just as it did whenever she was home.
She pulled the basket she’d thrown the clothes up with her, letting it rest against her small hips. In fact, that was a very good way to describe Pinch; small, and nothing like her mother. In fact one glance at her mother, on the bed, was all she ever needed to be reminded of that.
Her mother was wide in the hip, though that came more with the fat she’d gotten into her thighs from drink and food at fancy parties she had no business to be at. Of course, if she asked the stallions why they brought her mother, she’d get the recited answer of wanting a change of pace, someone interesting. Yeah, tits the size of your head, if not more, sure were interesting.
A grunt came from the naked stallion beside her mother, and Pinch scowled. He was, by most definitions, a model of beauty for a stallion. A six pack of abs, a foot long cock, much taller than her, and with enough muscle to whisk her mother up when the drink had made her to weak. Pinch had grown bored with such models a long time ago, having seen them before she even knew what a cock was.
”Is it because you lost your father so long ago?”
Pinch didn’t even acknowledge the soft spoken words, instead taking them as her own thoughts. Of course, she didn’t care about them in the first place, but only hoped that her dad was doing better now.
She straightened her t-shirt, one size too small for her so that it showed her mid-drift, completely smooth because she never ate enough to possibly get fat, before patting the small skirt on her waist, sighing as she saw the rip midway down her leg again.
All while her mother’s ‘suitors’ kept buying her outfits that would never fit, mostly because they were meant for her mom in reality, and they barely knew she existed. Just like everything else in her…
Pinch looked up from her thoughts, having noticed that the bare, wooden floors of her house had been replaced by an odd sort of purple and black carpet. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts, following her normal pattern that she hadn’t noticed until, looking back, she was almost a hundred feet away from the door she’d gone through. The door that no longer was there.
“What in Equestria?”
”How many years has nothing changed?”
This time Berry Pinch knew it wasn’t her imagination, and brushed the light pink hairs of her mane out of her eyes to make sure she could see properly.
And what she saw was amazing. At the part of the corridor she was in, the ceiling hung low, lanterns lighting up the fabric that hung high above her. When she squinted, she could tell that it was some sort of tent, and was the same color as the rug she walked on now.
In front of her though, lay what looked like the interior of a castle. A ceiling so tall she couldn’t see the top, stain glassed windows letting the light stream through, and a breeze of clean, fresh air that called her forward. Called her to a real home.
“It’s a shame I can’t say, ‘Welcome home, honey,’ but I can at least say hello.”
Berry Pinch looked to the side and furrowed her brow, staring at the short… stallion? That sat in a chair. Or, was it a chair? It waving at her made her think otherwise.
The short man laughed as she stepped back, shaking his head as his right hand came over his breast, a cane in it with a jester’s cap in gold as its head. It went with his odd, dark, almost black, purple suit. He was dressed finely, but would never be caught in court, not from what Berry had ever seen.
He opened his eyes back up, looking directly at her as his grin never left. Despite the warmth in his face, his eyes gleamed only with intelligence, like he looked right through her. It made her want to run, but also believe that if she did, she’d be doing exactly what he wanted.
He leaned back, his lips closing, though the smile didn’t go away. “Don’t worry now. I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, I’m not even the one who wants to help you. I’m just here to say hi, and to watch as my friend tries to do whatever it is that he’s planned. Now,” he said, pointing down the hall, “why don’t head on down and let him keep whispering in your ear.”
Pinch stepped back, every part of her screaming to run back to her home, if she even could, instead of follow this… things advice.
”Ignore him. He thinks I’m wrong about you.”
Pinch glanced towards the whisper, being met by the grand halls again. The creepy thing did seem to want to stay in his circus tent, so perhaps what whispered to her only did so because she wasn’t in his lands yet. Yes, that had to be it…
She stepped forward, making her way towards the voice as she said to the air, “What do you mean?”
”Well, that you, um...”
Pinch frowned as her hooves began to sound off against the solid stone of the castle floor. The voice had stopped, but why would it? Was it afraid? Was there something she couldn’t know about. Was she really some fantastical princess, like in her fantasy novels?
For a moment, her mind was in rapture, especially as she felt small, round beads fall on her shoulders. They could be pearls, or diamonds, or…
Blood red orbs, being lowered by a long dagger. One of three that she could see in front of her.
Pinch screamed, backing up from the three claws, but felt herself bump into what felt like a wall. When she turned around, her breath left her chest as she felt nothing but paralyzing fear.
Standing face to face to her, slouched far below how any knight would stand, was another… thing. No, this one deserved what she had feared was the truth.
For of course, no angel or knight come for her in a fantasy. She could only bring about demons that would ruin her.
Her shoulders slumped with admission of what was to come. The creature’s face was hidden by three, large, heavy belts that were locked in place. His cloak was long, covering his arms and hands, only the three blades on each hand showing past, as well as being the same purple and black as the tent from before. He even wore black pants over his thin legs, just proving that, if he wasn’t a demon, he was at least some gothic idiot. “What is it that you want?”
The demon seemed puzzled for a moment, tilting its head, before the sound of metal on wood seemed to bring it out of its haze. It glanced behind itself for a moment, before reaching into one of its sleeves and pulling out a journal. On the front were three knives, and bundle of grapes; one of which glowed with a faint light. ”A gift, to make your life better, one day at a time. I-I hope you like it.”
Pinch raised an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest, and only being reminded of how small her breasts were, before snapping back with, “And why should I? What’s the catch? Sell you my soul, become mindless, have to fu-”
Pinch didn’t know what happened. In between the time it took her to blink, something had come at her, coming across her face like a train. When she did know what was going on, she was crashing across the floor, the stone cracking her bones. The only thing that seemed to stop her was when she crashed into a wall.
And then, she was picked up by that very wall, feeling as every break and bruise was slowly knitted back into place, or soothed back to normal. It was almost as painful as the crashing, and almost as sudden. Looking up, she could see that the demon that she’d been talking to had one hand raised, the three claws on it glistening with blood.
The fat man’s blood, who was holding his side and was embedded into the wall. He looked rather crossed, but not at the demon. At her. It was also his shadow, that she could see stretched unnaturally far to hold her. It was also what brought her back to the two.
“See, she’s fi-” The fat man became quiet as the demon put its claws back to his throat. After a moment, the demon removed his claws from his ‘friend’ mumbling something that she couldn’t catch. Might have been due to the ringing in her ears from the earlier blow, but she wasn’t sure by any means.
The fat man groaned as he slowly stood up, dusting off the brick and mortar that had landed on him. He then looked back to Pinch and let out a deep breath. “My apologies. Just… I don’t like the fact that my friend is distracted at all, so to hear the whore…” he stopped, glancing back at the twitching blade that was close to him, and amended to, “the lady that he has decided to be interested in, and help for whatever reason, start mouthing off like a two bit cunt, I find that a little hard to swallow, especially with all of those who would adore trading their soul for his favor.”
Pinch almost frowned, wanting to say she’d been right, before just looking down. There was no reason to fight after all. She was trapped, and probably would only be allowed to leave if she made the deal. Would be just like the rest of her life. Just like how her room was now going to be rented out, because it was nicer than the basement room that Pinch now lived in. Just another burden she supposed. “Where do I sign?”
The heavy book fell against her hands, and her fingers clasped around it almost instinctually. It put a small warmth in her chest, easing the tightness there. It was… hers. No pony else’s. It never could be. It wasn’t even the demons, simply imbued with some of his power.
She glanced up, but the demon was gone now, and the fat man was walking away. She fell to the floor as his shadow let her go, and began to retreat back to him. If he left though, she’d be just as lost as before. “Wait!”
The man raised his cane, stopping her with his magic as he glanced back. “Don’t worry, you know how to use it. Just make sure to open it when you get home, or else I think you’ll be rejecting Telendar’s gift, and you don’t want to do that. Trust me.”
Something told Berry Pinch, as the world began to shift back to her home, that it wasn’t Telendar she had to fear, but him. Still, they did say it would help, so…
She opened the book, her eyes glowing as, in a dark, spartan room, the two demons appeared together, and a soft sigh escaped Telendar as he looked to the blood pearls on his claws. “Why couldn’t I have just told her she was beautiful? That I wanted to make her a queen, and that the book could do it?”
The other man, Abyssien, put a hand on his stoic friend’s shoulder, looked him straight into the eye, and asked, like so many times before, “Because you can’t talk to people, let alone woman.”
A fact that Telendar, despite the elder gods he’s killed, the hordes of demons commands, and the fear he instills in all monarchs, could not deny. Especially to the man who always did his talking for him.