1 - Trixie vs Rough Draft
So there they were, two Texts in the formless void of thought and concepts, where realities were forged, destroyed, or simply abandoned. "Really?" The words had no emotion, being floating bits of alphanumerics hovering quietly. "That's how you want to do this?"
“Actually,” another set of words floated in the ether, “I wanted to do death battles… but gladiatorial fights to the death were apparently a bridge too far. So rap battles it is. You can’t see it, but I am sticking my tongue out in your general direction right now.”
"You could make something to poke its tongue out, you know. Fine. Rap battles. Is there a winning condition, or are we allowing the commenters to decide which is the victor in each spar?"
“Tradition pretty much dictates the comments to decide the winner… probably?” The second text mused. “If there are no comments, or it’s a draw, then I guess it falls back to being our problem. But more importantly, will there be fabulous prizes for the winners?”
"Pride." The word came out in a rainbow of colors. "Is that not enough for them? This is an uncanon diversion anyway, so they don't get to remember this. Even the pride is fleeting. Silver will know this is make believe, I promised that. The rest don't have those assurances."
“Fair enough I suppose.” The words floated up and down like a shrug. “Probably for the best, since we’re just snatching them out of reality for involuntary musical confrontations. So who’s up first?”
"On the plus side, it means most of them won't argue why they're doing this. Why don't we each pick a vict--participant?" The letters backspaced as that unknowable intellect changed its mind. "I'll go first. I select…" A loading bar appeared, slowly filling up. "Rough Draft."
“Oh come on man, who in the universe would be belligerent enough to--" The words were interrupted by other words.
"Trixie Lulamoon is a possibility."
“Touché! :D” The alternate words sprang forth. “Those two defs got the legit beef to bring. It. Is. On.”
"Alright. Let's set the scene." The words faded away. They weren't important, except when they were. It was time for things with bodies and motives to take their part and enact their struggles. It was their dance that people came to read.
Rough Draft trotted down the sidewalk, a little smile on his face and a quill bobbing from his lips despite not a single bit of paper in sight. It was a fine day, a good one even, at least if the expression he has was any measure. He nodded to other ponies as he passed them, calling out when he recognized one, but clearly he had somewhere to be.
Trixie happily cantered down the street, her star spangled hat held high. She was a mare at the top of her game. Responsibilities to attend and young minds to council. She hummed a jaunty tune that if it had lyrics would probably involve tricks up her none existent sleeves. The Great and Empathetic Guidance Counselor was at the top of her adulting form, when suddenly she bumped into another pony who clearly had not been watching where they were going. She snapped to attention with a witty retort that instantly died on her lips.
Now, in a normal world, Rough would have awkwardly passed by, perhaps with a "Hey." to mark the moment. But this was a different place, with different rules. Their meeting had been foretold. Their conflict, unavoidable. The words he would say were not forced, but the need to speak them were. His feelings would not be hidden. "Oh look who just came out in a crash. Just another piece of common trash. Walking, not looking; thinks she's good looking! Bet she's still single after that clash."
“Rough Draft? Are you daft?” Trixie made a great and powerful lemon face and took a defensive stance. “Walking up to me talking smack? Gonna gonna run yourself off the rails and off the track!”
The angry mare circled aggressively as her tirade continued. “You’ve got some nerve calling Trixie trash, like you think you're better. Looks like you didn’t get the message from the ‘Dear John’ letter!”
"Do you hear that? It's quiet." He had a hoof up beside an ear. "Practically silent compared to your riot. There's only room for a single pony. After all you're the best, you so much agree. Wrecking the day, don't know the way. Must be nice to be so carefree!" He drove a hoof down with an angry clop at the last word, glaring daggers at Trixie.
Trixies eyes narrowed "Care free? Who, me? Are you sure you’ve even met the Trixie?”
The magician began to slowly circle the word smith. “Did you forget just how we met, well colt I’ve got a scene to set.”
The street faded to a semi-classy Manehatten convention hall. “You were bucking off in Manehatten at a biped convention. Does this sound familiar or were you even bucking paying attention?”
“Two mares, one colt, and a human in a herd, what a nerd that’s how it starts.” The scene played out as Rough Draft and his human friend met Bon Bon and Lyra, who promptly turned the first human she met into a pony to show off her magic.
“Who was there to clean it up when it fell apart?” Trixie snarled in indignation. "Instant family on parole, I helped you raise your OC foal!”
“And you talk like Trixie’s the one who had control?” Trixie shivered with hurt and rage as she advanced. “Wanna play like you're the only one that got bucked up? Trixie was doing fine, serving her time. And then you got me knocked up!"
An explosive snort issued from Rough's snout. "Glad you brought her up. She's right here to be my backup." Lifting from his thick mane came a sky blue pegasus filly, colored much as Trixie was. "You want credit for making her? Pity you weren't up to taking her. Mistakes in the past? It was all a blast, but then I learned to grow. To become more than the start, To grow from the heart, but that's not something you'd know." He crossed his arms defiantly, Sapphire Streak landing on the convenient surface to join his defiant stance
For a moment the cadence of the moment shifted, as Trixie smiled sadly at her foal, shifting from an aggressive chant to a crooning lulaby. “I don’t even know what I could ever say. I swear I didn’t throw you away.”
Pleading she looked into the little pegasus eyes. “And though I know how it looks from above, I only left you as a last act of love.”
"You left her before she could talk. Do you think this is a cakewalk? She'll grow up the best I can manage." He looked away, taking a soft breath. A little hoof paffed him on the snout and he smiled at Sapphire's attempt to cheer him. "Having a mom just won't be her advantage." He returned his look with an almost growl. "She won't even remember the one that didn't have room. It won't even matter which mare donated her womb."
“You’re a writer read between the lines
Do you tell yourself that you couldn’t see the signs.
I know for a fact, cause I tracked that you were aware,
by the the fact that I left those posters everywhere!
Moon Shot Manticore Mouth Dive.
Do you really think I thought I’d get out of that alive?”
"I have a job and a foal to keep the house going." He stomped towards her, rising to his full height. "Am I supposed to chase you when it's your life you were throwing? Throwing, a specialty, you love doing it so much. When you run out of tricks, it'll do for a clutch. Even when you aim down, you don't succeed. But it's a bit late to change your creed." He tossed Sapphire up, who flew, or more glided, down onto his back. "What kinda lesson should I teach about that? That the winning tactic for life's combat?"
“Yes, you see I agree. You're better off without me.” Trixie stomped forward rhythm with her bitter words. “Is the fact I survived the real reason you're angry?”
“I was wrong when I left, but it’s clear from your attack, I was right to decide that I couldn’t go back!” Trixie cast her head back proudly. “Did you think it was about me leaving you?
Or that maybe this was something I just had to do? The fact is I couldn’t be the mare you thought I could be. The only way to survive was to reinvent me.”
His eyes bulged. Anger? Disbelief. "What are you even saying? It was you that was slaying. A dagger in the back of the family. You went off to find yourself absently. Glad you found it. Go ahead and sound it. Your confidence, you found it? Now the consequences are weighing." He kicked a rock down the sidewalk. "Good for you, clap clap clap." He brought his hooves together with each intonation. "Think that wins you this rap?"
Trixie’s wounded pride seethed. “I always felt bad about our family’s division, but now I’m starting to think I made the right decision.”
“We had good times, even great, until things went south,” the mare thrust out an accusing hoof, “Then you were fine to see me dive into a manticore's mouth.”
“And now when fate gives us a chance to see some final closure, all you want to use your words for is an angry overture.” Trixie sneered contemptuously
But could you take a time out from all your pent up aggression?
Maybe help me find a word that rhymes with postpartum depression?”
"Is the blood of the injured too inconvenient? Too bad, so sad, guess I shoulda been more lenient. Keep my injuries to myself and away from your petty eyes. Your empathy's tiny but your ego is queen sized." He nibbled at the cheek of his child, nuzzling at her. "Walk away, head held up. If the first plan falls through, you always have a backup. Want me to throw away the pain, that's plain, from seeing you again. You want me to forgive, to live, as if it was all collaborative. Life ain't like that! You want happiness, sometimes it's a combat. It's worth it? Show it. Already ready to surrender. Can't deal with it, go cry to a bartender."
“I only wanted to say, that I Ieft you with the best of intentions.” Trixie’s rhymes took on a more regretful tone as her anger ran short of fuel. “Our child deserved better than me, and I wish you could see that there were never bad intentions.”
Finally her resolve broke, her final verse breaking past the bluster to a deeper feeling, “And now I know it’s too late, after love’s turned to hate. I know that I drew the knife. I know that I made the strife. I know that I have no right, but can I still be in your life?”
Finally the rhythms spell over the mare ended, her last words more sung the rapped, like a mournful whisper“I still miss you sometimes…”
"A great and powerful show before me, You act as if there was some other place I wanted you to be? Life is a play, you took center stage. For you I was glad to work backstage. You say you miss me, I miss you too. All you have to do is admit your mistakes too." He turned away even as his child looked back at Trixie. "My life moves on, and so does yours. They open and close, all those damned doors. There'll always be a trixie-shaped hole. Take care of your business, and try the mothering role." He trotted away with more energy than he had when he was first wandering down the street, his peace said.
Reaching out a hoof even as she was carried away, Sapphire Streak spoke without words. There would be room in her life for her missing mother, their family only two-thirds.