Pinkamina battles Death incarnate using the mysterious power of the Pinkie Sense.
Pinkamina battles Death incarnate, trying to prevent the deaths of others using the cryptic powers of the Pinkie Sense. Meanwhile the Royal Sisters frown upon her messing with the fabrics of fate, and her stallion Lickity Split has been eyeing the wedding bells lately. Who is under Death's hood?
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 1: Hi Score
It had been three months since Pinkamina seen death incarnate in the Sweet Apple Acres orchard. The Pinkie Sense had been strangely quiet since then. Death was either patient or absent for the moment. It bothered her. It felt like a steady pressure of paranoia was building up inside her, and she didn’t know how to combat it. She could only keep dreaming about the skeletal stallion in the heavy cloak, standing in the black mist of the moonlit night. Chilling. Pinkamina awoke with a flinch, her scowling face hardening for a moment while her brain struggled to start up. She still wasn’t used to waking up in the morning every day. Nor was she used to having a rather handsome stallion wrapped around her most of the way. She turned her head, her curtain-like mane shifting when she lifted it to get a better look at him.
Lickity Split was her stallion, more or less. They lived together, ate together, slept together, and so on. They weren’t married, at least not yet, but Pinkamina was in no hurry. He was handsome, delightfully submissive, and a vigorous lover. She liked everything as it was. Peering at him, she scented his mint green mane and touched a hoof to his white fur. Vanilla. He smelled so feminine for a stallion, it annoyed her to no end. But he owned an ice cream parlor so there was little to be done for it. Smirking with a smile that would chill blood, she nosed him a few times in a half-playful way. Hers. She liked that. He stirred slightly at her prodding, murred quietly, and then buried his face between her front hooves at her breast. It was warm and soft there, mmm. Nevermind the morning, he wasn’t awake yet. Not at all. Her smile widened into a rather cruel expression and she bit him on the ear instead. “Owch!” he tumbled out of the bed, taking the comforter and sheet with him. Bump. “Pinkamina’hhh…” he moaned, looking at her blearily and setting his chin on the edge of the bed. Laying on her side with her whole undercarriage on display for him, she smiled at him in a sultry way from behind her long mane. It made her look moody, dangerous, and sexy. “Morning to you too…” he said after his eyes had flicked guiltily back and forth a few times.
They rose, going through their normal rituals of preparing for the new day. Pinkamina didn’t enjoy working at an ice cream parlor, but it was honest work and her lover paid her generously. She kept the place spotless and attacked the sidewalk with a broom every morning to keep it looking decent. That morning while she was glaring at a dry piece of gum dirtying her stoop the pink mare was suddenly assaulted by a white one! An ear-splitting kazoo startled her into rearing up when Surprise threw confetti on her with a squeal of happiness! “Surprise! Happy three months of being in two bodies, Pinkamina!” The blonde-headed mare defied gravity for a long moment with her arms splayed out in jubilation. “It’s been three whole months since Princess Luna murdered us both and brought my soul back from the land of the dead which was super weird because I was half of a soul and you were the other half which means that you half died did I half-die too I don’t remember you were the one in control when we got—”
Pinkamina’s temper had already run high and she grabbed Surprise by the FACE with one hoof, hauling her back down to earth. Brainless imbecile. “What do you want?” she said slowly. Despite the pink mare’s attempts to keep herself quite separate from Surprise, they sort of had a… pseudo-sisterhood between themselves now. They were, technically, the same mare, just different aspects in different bodies. Surprise insisted on frequent visits despite any abuse Pinkamina ever dealt out.
“Surprise!” the ghostly white mare spazzed again, pulling from Pinkamina’s supressing hoof. “I’ve finally gotten around to getting the recipe for ice cream cake! I came here to pick up a bucket or two of high quality vanilla ice cream!” she grinned a great big huge grin that the dignified pink mare instantly hated. “Speeeeaking of,” Surprise leaned in a little conspiratorially. “You and Lickity Split have been living together for awhile now. Have you two been makin’, y’know, ice cream c—!” Pinkamina had to work very, very hard to not buck the white mare in her big stupid head, and instead slapped her hooves away.
“Keep your hooves. Off. My. Stallion.” She warned dangerously, scowling like the plague. It was no secret Surprise liked Lickity Split, and when she was Pinkie Pie had harbored a crush on him.
“Hey Surprise!” Lickity Split had appeared in the doorway to prop the glass door open and let in the early fall air. “Nice to see you again so soon!” Surprise sproinged into the air, then into the shop to make her purchase. Pinkamina scowled, attacking the sidewalk with her broom and then glaring the white mare away when she bounced away down the sidewalk. Her stallion reappeared in the doorway of the parlor, smiling gently. “Don’t be jealous, her looking doesn’t hurt anything.” He soothed.
“She should look elsewhere.” Pinkamina scowled, possessive of him.
“What about me? Doesn’t my fidelity count for anything?” he said softly. Pinkamina’s expression softened a little, and she silently extended her neck. He nuzzled it up, and then back down. She allowed herself a small crooning sound, and he kissed her cheek. Going back inside, he left her to her work while he was making sure the shop was ready to go for the day. Sure enough a foal and mother mare were sitting at the bar with sundae’s within the next five minutes.
Pinkamina stared at the foal with a certain expression. He was a charming little thing, a colt with a silly propeller hat on his head. He could often be seen haunting arcade machines when they were brought out for festivals like Hearts and Hooves day. It didn’t take long for the pink mare to spot the bracelet around his left-front hoof. A hospital bracelet. Her hawkish eyes narrowed while traveling down his tiny little body while he was eating a chunk of banana with gusto. His ribs were showing just a little. Pinkamina’s eyes flicked to the mother. She looked a little tired for so early in the morning. He must’ve been very sickly, the poor thing…
An icy feeling touched the back of Pinkamina’s neck. She shuddered, then cocked her head. She knew that feeling. She snapped around, looking back and forth out on the street. A few ponies were already out doing their morning shopping and other errands. But he was there. He stuck out like a black blot of ink in the white room in the palace. “I see you.” Pinkamina whispered. Her brow lowered until she glared at him from under her eyebrows. Her expression darkened and her pink mane fell slowly over half of her face.
In the alleyway across the street stood Death. The skeletal pony stared back, his sudden stillness telling her that he’d seen her see him. His black eye sockets flickered with red, the breeze tossing his cloak briefly. She saw the bleached-white skeleton beneath, not even a flank for a cutie mark. No skin. They stared at each other for a long time. He said nothing, only looked at her from across the way. Black mist that came from nowhere at all was curling idly around his hooves.
Pinkamina finally shuddered, tearing her gaze away. From within the ice cream parlor, she heard the colt suddenly say, “Mommy I feel a little funny…” the pink mare’s mouth went agape for a moment and she rushed to the doorway. The colt was holding his chest and breathing a little hard. The mother turned, looking alarmed. Then, slowly, the feeling seemed to pass and he smiled in a tired way. “Oh… I guess it was nothing.” His small voice was weak, and his breathing labored.
“We should go back to the doctor, right now.” His mother decided promptly.
“Can I finish my sundae? Pleeeease?” the little colt begged with big soft eyes before he could be yanked off his stool. The mare considered, then sighed and lowered herself onto the stool she was on again. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt. “Yay!” he had his spoon again, shoveling ice cream greedily like the happy child he was. From behind the counter, Lickity Split smiled gently at the mother.
Pinkamina turned and glared across the street at Death. “Don’t you bucking dare.” She snarled savagely, still whispering. “Not under my roof. Preventing death is my special talent, so back right the buck off.” She felt angry and protective very suddenly. She turned sideways, flashing the white skull and black scythe on her flank. The cutie mark of death prevention. Death inclined its head in a rather eloquent bow. Was that… was that submission? Was just telling him off enough? The mare was a surprised when he backed off a step, his skeletal frame rattling a little. Was she like some sort of voodoo fetish now? Able to stave off Death just by being there and swearing at him?
“Thanks mister Lickity Split!” the mother mare was leaving with her colt now, calling out loudly to set a good example for her son. The stallion behind the counter smiled good-naturedly, waving at them both as they exited the ice cream parlor.
“Yeah! Thanks mister Lickity—!” suddenly the colt stutter-stepped, clutched at himself— then fell and died on the sidewalk. His mother’s screams could be heard all across the still sleepy Ponyville.
Pinkamina went pale, then shot a venomous glare across the street at Death. The skeletal stallion tossed his head a few times, his jaw clak-clak-claking with his teeth striking each other. It reminded the pink mare too much of laughter. She only vaguely heard Lickity Split rushing outside and shouting for help, anypony to send for help. Pinkamina stood stock still, staring across the street at the specter that nopony else could seem to see. A little blob of orange, puffy cloud appeared next to Death. Shepherding it gently under its cloak, he seemed to consume the little soul into his own being. It took her a few long moments to realize that it had waited until the little colt had come outside to claim him. By the time she turned to shout obscenities at him, he had vanished into thin air. Cheeky bastard.
=-=-=-=
In the highest room, in the tallest tower, both royal sisters stood watching Ponyville. Through the eyes of the goddesses, they may as well have been standing there when the entire scene had unfolded. The death of the little one had visibly shaken Celestia. It had all been so fast.
Luna, princess of the night, of death and fertility, turned her muzzle up a little. “We did not expect such a response.” She admitted with a snap of her wings. “The pink one is ever vigilant, it seems.”
“She didn’t expect it.” Celestia said gently, her voice a soothing balm over her sister’s snappish ways. The white alicorn turned, ever trying to be the diplomat between the mortal races and her sister. “It is enough to catch anypony off guard, such a sudden death.”
“The little one’s demise hath shaken her.” Luna said with some satisfaction. “But her anger will illicit more insolence, we know this!” she said, stamping a hoof. Cracks spider-webbed away from the impact. The four stallions (two solar and two lunar) standing guard flinched when the room vibrated at her wrath. “She willst not be able to help herself, after the appearance of such a cutie mark! A special talent of death prevention!” she gestured to the pink mare’s flank. A white skull with a black scythe. “If she defies even ourself, then a cloaked specter like Death shalt not sway her!” her voice vibrated the room angrily, and Celestia gave her a look. She lowered her voice a little, “This shalt not end well, sister.” She said, a look of mild concern crossing her muzzle. “Even we do not trifle with the pony called Death.”
“No, no we don’t.” Celestia said mildly. “Pinkamina was given all the warnings… and threats, we could offer to her.” She looked over at her sister and extended a comforting wing. “From you especially, sister.” They shared a quiet moment of affectionate siblings. Though Luna’s ways were more hostile and certainly louder, they both adhered to the same grand design and Celestia knew it. The princess of the night leaned into her solar counterpart and they nuzzled quietly. It was a time before the goddess of the day spoke again. “She may not understand that you tried to save her— somewhat— after you executed her, that is…” Celestia smiled gently at her sister’s insulted look, “But I am afraid she will have to be on her own now.” Luna nodded in silent agreement, sighing.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 2: Big Macintosh
“It’s almost funny to watch you squirm, y’know. It’s not often anypony takes such a grudge interest against Death.” Mother Nature said with a little smile. She gave her orange mane a haughty little toss. Death scowled at her, pulling back his hood. She rolled her eyes at him. He always did that when he wanted to be more intimidating, but it didn’t work on her anymore. She’d been an Aspect for two long. “Are you going to do anything about her, or…?” Death nodded slowly, his teeth clacking a few times. The poor stallion didn’t have a tongue to speak with in his Aspect form, so it was all he could do to nod or make bodily gestures. Mother Nature smiled sympathetically as he took his place at the round table across from her. He inclined his head a little. She knew the subtleties of his body language well enough to know it was his ‘scolding’ gesture. “Alright, alright.” The mare conceded. “I remember, no talk of business on poker night. We’re still waiting for Father Time, though.” Death bobbed his head a few times.
With a POP of parted air, a brown stallion with an hourglass on his flank snapped into being on the far side of the room. “So sorry, chaps, the little one had taken ill. I could’ve gone back in time a few hours or something, but then I would’ve been in two places at once and that’s never good.” Doctor Hooves, known to that gathering as Father Time, gently set a tray of cornbread and English muffins on the table. A bar of soft butter and a few knives were on the tray as well. “I did remember the snacks this time, though. Very important, snacks, on poker night.” He chuckled merrily. Death and Mother Nature nodded with approval, both smiling. “So if I remember right its Mother Nature’s turn to deal?” he said, cocking his head at their dark-robed friend.
“You can take that silly thing off, you know.” Mother Nature said to Death. “I’ve pulled all my shutters and locked all my doors. No one will see us here like this.” Death hesitated for a long moment, looking back and forth between the two of them. “You won’t be able to have cornbread and muffins with no stomach or cheeks, you know.” Mother Nature teased him, gesturing to the delicious-looking tray of treats.
Finally, Death made his ‘sighing’ body language gesture (hard to read in a skeleton, let me tell you), and pulled off his robe entirely. He stood naked, a bleach white skeleton with hooves. Then organs, muscle, fur and coloring exploded across him as a wildfire! His Aspect form was molded over by a more solid and mortal form, blood and muscle and fur. Soon, he looked like anypony one might pass on the street. Standing there smoking idly for a moment the stallion shook his mane out, looking a little frazzled. Mother Nature quickly rose and waved a newspaper at her smoke detectors so they wouldn’t go off again. Death’s transformations were always so dramatic. “I must say, old chap, you do look much better in your skin.” said Father Time, buttering a piece of cornbread and passing half to Death.
Death smiled in a tired way, reaching across the table and stuffing it in his mouth. He did enjoy the taste of good butter. It got the crisp taste of ashes off of his tongue. “Deal.” He said to Mother Nature, who nodded and started shuffling the cards. The three Aspects settled in for their regular poker night, each setting a stack of fifty bits next to themselves for betting.
=-=-=-=
Big Macintosh was working on his plow in the barn. It had been too long since he’d stopped to sharpen it. His mouth set in a neutral line and his eyes lidded in concentration, he ran the whetstone back and forth over it. He knew it had grown dull when a rock the size of an apple had stopped him entirely. Although it was almost winter time, there was still plowing to be done. It was very, very important to turn the soil to make sure it stayed fertile and good for crops. Dead leaves and other debris had been falling over the fields throughout fall, now it was time to mix it all in. It was like a giant compost heap, to be honest. Smiling and content with his lot in life, the massive stallion worked in silence.
“Hey Big Mac!” Applebloom cantered into the barn. The stallion turned, file still in his mouth. He smiled, bobbing his head once in acknowledgement. “Applejack says that the showers and such in the house are fixed now.” The little filly leaned close, conspiratorial. “Ah think she pulled a big orange ball’a’hair out of one of the main pipes. She’s been sulkin’ an’ brushin’ her mane like crazy.” Big Macintosh chuckled good-naturedly, shaking his head at her. Setting the file down neatly and admiring his work, he looked at Applebloom for approval. He did like to include his little sister in things so she felt like she was helping. “Why Big Mac that looks as sharp as a tack!” she said, leaning over the freshly sharpened plow. “Ah bet you could cut through solid rock with that!”
“Eeyup.” He said, pressing it to one side with the top of his head so nopony would trip over it. When the file was put away with the other tools, he took Applebloom’s hint and headed for the showers in the house. Winter was truly a lazy time for the Apple family, but it was their vacation time, truth be told. They had to work very, very hard all year, but they couldn’t exactly grow apples in the wintertime. So, Big Mac would often pray for snow so he could run around with a snowplow to earn and extra hoof-full of bits now and then. It didn’t happen often, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to spend weeks in the barn with all their tools, sharpening, filing, shining and cleaning. But for now, it was evening and that meant shower time. It got dark early in the winter, and there wasn’t any sense in staying out to freeze and get sick.
Applebloom trotted along beside her big brother, smiling merrily as they went. She stepped inside, into the welcoming embrace of the Apple family home. It snuggled her with warm air and pleasant smells of a late-evening dinner cooking. “Don’cha be goin’ to the dinner table smellin’ like y’do, Big Brother!” Applebloom teased as the massive stallion made for the stairs towards the upstairs bathroom.
Big Macintosh rolled his eyes, smiling. If there was one guilty pleasure he had in life, it was having his own bathroom. Living in a household of mares and fillies left certain… things, in the bathroom that stallions didn’t need to see nor worry about, according to granny smith. So, he’d been given his own bathroom to make up for it. Applebloom and Applejack often teased that it was ‘the little colt’s room’, and never went in there themselves. It was just a bathroom, but it was something that was just for Big Mac and he liked that. Sighing, the barrel-chested stallion arrived there and turned the water on. Pulling the door and the shower curtain, he stepped under the spray. The hot water felt great compared to the cold winter air outside. It made him tingle. Closing his eyes, he stood there for a long time just to let himself thaw out before reaching for the Apple Spice body wash on the edge of the tub.
A pink hoof GRABBED him and he gave a throaty cry! Pushing he shower curtain rudely open was none other than Pinkamina! “Got you.” She hauled him bodily out of the tub, not an easy feat considering his size. Just then, the water in the shower spattered a little and a deluge hit the tub like a pressure washer. The powerful splash knocked the bathroom light out, exploding a lightbulb and sending a huge live wire down from the ceiling into the bath. The hum of electricity was loud. Pinkamina hauled Big Macintosh back and back, for he was trailing water and the electricity would fry him in an instant. “Pony Feathers…” Pinkamina looked back and forth, dragging the confused and now terrified stallion away from the pooling water on the floor. Snarling, she turned and shoved him out the second story window. Big Mac fell with a wordless cry and Pinkamina repelled down on the grappling hook and rope she’ used to sneak into the house. She found him upside down in some hedges, soaking wet and shaking in the cold winter night. He fell with a bump, his weight finally dragging him out of the bush and to the ground. She emerged soon after, panting with effort. “You’ll need to cut the power to the house to soak up the water… are you okay?” she asked, her eyes widening in horror.
“Eey-y-y-yup.” He chattered, freezing. Then he saw where her eyes had gone and frowned a little bashfully. Big Macintosh’s crimson fur had been weighted down with the water from the shower, and it made it easier to see the skin beneath. Across his chest and neck was a massive, jagged scar. It ran from his adam’s apple, across his vocal chords, down through to his under belly without even stopping. Pinkamina didn’t want to imagine what sort of blade or farm implement had done that to him.
“So that’s why you don’t talk very much.” Pinkamina mumbled, fighting the urge to run her hoof across the spectacular scar. “Whatever happened, it must’ve ripped your vocal chords wide open. Speaking must be very painful for you.” She surmised.
Big Macintosh looked to one side, then to the other, uncomfortable. “Eeyup.” He said softly after a time. The pink mare looked at him in a new light. He’d never mentioned it publically or to any of their friends. She’d always assumed he was just shy. But no, speaking physically hurt him.
“I won’t tell.” She offered with an even look. He seemed comforted by this, and nodded a few times at her. “Get back inside, before you get sick and die anyway. Rope-climbing isn’t easy, you know. It took a lot of effort to climb up there. I would hate to have wasted all that effort.” She affixed him with a scowl that made him wilt away a little. Once she’d mentioned it, she remembered to reclaim her rope and grappling hook. Rolling it up in coils, she stuffed it in her saddle-bags.
Big Macintosh turned and quickly went inside through the front door, closing it behind him. Then, he thought better and stuck his soaking wet head back outside again, working his mouth so he could speak. “Thank—!” Pinkamina had already vanished into the cold winter’s night. The stallion rubbed his throat painfully. It really did hurt him to talk, but he wouldn’t be talking at all if not for her. Now all he would have to do is explain how he’d gotten outside from the upstairs bathroom. He somehow doubted his sisters would believe a strange mare had shoved him right out the window. Pinkamina was long gone.
=-=-=-=
“I know you work in an ice cream parlor, honey, but you really should bundle up when you go out that late.” Lickity Split said gently. She shot him a glare that said ‘don’t call me honey’, but he pressed a little more. “You were out preventing somepony’s death tonight, weren’t you?” he smiled a little when Pinkamina put her saddlebags on a side table by the door. It tilted, and a grappling hook fell out, trailing rope behind it. “Scaling walls now? Gonna be the next Mare-Do-Well?” he teased, going and kissing her cheek. She smiled idly, nuzzling him with her cheek. It was nice to have praise. Just a little bit. Especially from such a handsome stallion. She flopped onto the couch, heaving a relieved sigh as she let the warmth of their little abode thaw her from the cruel winter’s bite.
“I didn’t see him this time.” Pinkamina said, frowning at the wall idly. “Big Macintosh was going to be electrocuted in his own shower. Fried. Way past dead.” She saw her lover wince at her graphic telling. “Death… I didn’t see him there.” She confided in him as he joined her on the couch with a concerned look. “Maybe he would’ve survived? Or staggered out of the shower when the water pressure went way up, before the light bulb burst?” she went over the details with him and he listened carefully.
“I think you saved him, without a doubt.” Lickity Split pressed his muzzle into her mane, nuzzling up and down a few times to soothe her. She relaxed a few more inches, then laid her chin on the arm of the couch. He smiled at his personal victory, pulling the quilt off of the back of the couch to drape over her. Cuddling up to her comfortingly, he helped her warm up for the evening while they lay there on the couch. “But that is a little weird. You’ve seen Death as a stallion twice now.” He pondered, looking at the ceiling. “Maybe he was busy elsewhere?”
“Death doesn’t take nights off.” Pinkamina said grouchily. She turned and lay on her side, facing him. “Does he?” Lickity Split chuckled at her words, leaning to peck her cheek again. She sighed, relaxing at last. Ah well. A victory was a victory, whether it made sense or not. Pushing her curtain-like pink mane behind her ear, she relaxed into her stallion’s arms at last. He stroked her comfortingly.
“Wait…” Lickity Split said after a time. “What were you doing watching Big Macintosh take a shower?” he wondered aloud. She kicked him as soon as he started laughing.
=-=-=-=
Death pulled his cloak back on, pulling the hood up and snapping the broach-like clasp into place around his neck. His flesh burned away suddenly, his eyeballs exploding and his mane going up like straw in a bonfire. His veins and muscles melted into goo and then vanished. He reared up a little, slamming his front hooves down. When the fires went out he stood there smoking, teeth clattering. He was once again a cloaked skeleton.
Beep-eep-eeep-eep-eep!
Mother Nature stood from the table, waving her newspaper back and forth in front of the smoke detector. “Faust damnit, Death!” she screeched, standing on a chair as she did it and trying to reset the little device. “Out! Out out out!” she took him by the cloak and Father Time by the ear. “I told you to stop transforming in my house!” Shuffling both stallions out of her little house she slammed the door on them.
Father Time looked at Death with a little smirk. They both knew Death did it just to excite Mother Nature. It was fun to watch her dance about like that, trying to keep things in balance even in her own house. “I’d say she was just angry because she lost, personally, know what I mean?” Father Time snickered a little as they went down the sidewalk. They passed Mother Nature’s rather impressive carrot patch, then used the tiny gate to get out of her yard before she came outside to throw things at them. Death clattered his teeth, tossing his head. That was his ‘heavy laughter’ gesture. “Well then, I think I’m going to take the rest of the evening off as well.” Reaching up, Father Time removed his crimson bowtie and collar. When he took it off, his Aspect powers winked out and he was a normal stallion once more. Death saw none other than Doctor Whooves cantering down the sidewalk to his left.
The skeletal stallion stood there for a few moments, relishing in the chill of the night. Winter was setting in. That meant plenty of deaths by cold. Heck, it also meant most plant life was going dead. This was his busiest time of year. The cruel breeze rattled through his ribcage and he pulled his cloak tight about himself. He tossed his head a few times, the bones of his neck clattering. Death was just about to take his leave when another pony approached. Father Time, wearing his red bowtie and collar again. Death turned, for Doctor Whooves had turned the corner only a moment ago. Approaching from the right side, quite the opposite of the way he’d left, the brown stallion cantered past Death. “Sorry, had to jump straight back here. I forgot my tray at Mother Nature’s table. Can’t have that. Never see it again.” If Death had had eyeballs right then he would’ve rolled them. Father Time was such a charming, if odd, stallion. Something about the way he often talked in rapid-fire sentence fragments made him very likeable. It didn’t keep him from getting hit in the face with his own serving tray, though. Mother Nature was very cranky. Death’s teeth clattered with silent laughter.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 3: Twilight Sparkle
There are two kinds of death, Death the stallion knew. He thought about them as he paced the hall of the Ponyville hospital. There was natural death, which was when one’s life-cycle simply ran out or something unusual happened. Then there was kharmatic death, in which an Aspect like himself was supposed to step in to make sure it happened. Karma was not something even he could quantify, he only knew who and where to be when theirs was up. (Just think, if he had to be present for every single death around Equestria he would never get any sleep, much less poker nights with the other Aspects!) He was thankful that some deaths took care of themselves.
But not this one. The mare he was waiting for had eluded death too many times for her to have a natural death anymore. Death leaned into the room, an operating theatre. She was under the knife for perhaps the sixth time in the last decade. She was old, very old, and clinging to life like an angry vulture. He didn’t like that. Medical science prevented a lot of deaths, but in a more frugal manner than one might expect. It was only now and then that a surgeon truly pulled a pony back from Death’s grasp. It irked him. Now, finally, was his chance to snatch her from the mortal coil.
If you asked him, Death would admit there was a certain satisfaction to causing the deaths of those that had eluded it for so long. Everypony got an equal chance at life, and hers was more than spent. Now he could move to assassinate her as was his job as the Aspect of death. When he confirmed his target’s presence he swept into the room. The room was bright, sterile, and quite chilly. It was filled with a little group of nurses, several doctors and a trio of surgeons. Death hadn’t bothered to find out what sort of surgery it was, it didn’t really matter. None of the ponies saw him. None could ever see Death coming unless they happened to be an Aspect. Or that strange pink mare. He’d think on her more later, right now he was working. Leaning over the operation table, he reached out with a chilly hoof. It passed through the body and into her chest cavity. Growling, he fished around for the soul. Ah, there it was, hiding behind her left lung. (If anyone ever asks, your soul is usually either behind your left lung or next to your kidney. Whoever said it was in your heart or mind was just pulling your leg) Reaching rudely, up to his shoulder in her body, he pulled the mare’s soul out. It was like a sticky cobweb, clinging to the body. Just then all sorts of medical machines started going off. The doctors started to panic and the surgeons to sweat. Nurses rushed back and forth, they were all trying to save the elderly mare until—!
Bweeeeee----!
She was gone. Her chest rose up, then deflated for the last time. Death gently pushed the soul, a sticky little blob of cloud, under his cloak. It was thick with the experiences of a long and full life, and would no doubt have no issues working to the great beyond. He looked up at the fallen faces of the surgeons and nurses. He’d grown used to those looks years ago, and they no longer affected him. Sweeping from the room, he paused in the terminal illness hall to pick up two more souls. Then another in a different wing. Hospitals were often the place for Death to interfere, and by the time he came away from the building he had eight souls under his cloak. They floated meagerly in his ribcage. He hadn’t really eaten them, per say, but he didn’t exactly have pockets. That seemed as good of a place as any to keep them safe. Souls were precious, after all. Death would’ve sighed if he had lungs.
Now then. The pink one. He would have to go observe her in his mortal form. Death incarnate could not go anywhere that wasn’t expecting a death, so he would have to be somewhat undercover. Or perhaps—! Wait. Wait wait. There was a kharmatic death approaching. Turning to follow the tingle running down his spine, Death found his eyes resting on the Ponyville Library.
Cantering down the street seen by nopony at all, he walked, ghost-like, through the door. His cloak made him more than just boney-looking. Peering around at the shelves and shelves of books, he wasn’t sure anypony was home until he heard a crashing of glass downstairs. Sweeping down the stairs, he found a lavender mare working busily to clean up a chemical stain on the floor. It looked like some sort of science lab. Ohhh, the perfect place for an untimely death, he smiled inwardly.
“Ugh!” Twilight Sparkle said. “I’m never going to get this right!” she pouted, igniting her horn with magic to turn on a bunson burner and try again. Turning, she studied the three chalkboards she’d filled with calculations, formulae and flowing charts. Death stared at them all, but couldn’t make heads or tails of them. Buuut, if a kharmatic death was due around here somewhere, perhaps he could do a bit more. Twilight was busily writing on the first chalkboard with a floating piece of chalk, her face scrunched into an adorable expression of concentration. She looked over her shoulder at her chemistry set up. That was right. That was right. Oop, no that needed adjusting. Twilight went over and busily started adjusting the plastic tubes around the glass phials and containers. While her back was turned, Death changed a singular number in Twilight Sparkle’s calculations. He had no idea what said number would change, but if the last number had made a phial explode than surely a higher one would make an even greater effect. He was careful not to smudge so it wouldn’t look like it had been altered. Then he stood back. Twilight returned to the chalkboards, eyeing the long formula with a critical eye. “Oh THAT’S what I did wrong!” She chuckled merrily, turning around to make the adjustment he’d made in her mathematics.
Death waited, smiling inwardly. It wasn’t often he got serious fireworks with somepony’s death. Twilight Sparkle funneled all the desired chemicals into a beaker, heated it, turned it so it would filter into another beaker, stirred it lightly with a glass prod, then went over to her phial rack. Taking two of them from the selection, she went back to the concoction. Leaning close, she held her breath as she undid the stoppers. One drop of each would do. Her tongue came out of her mouth, curling up in concentration. Death leaned forward eagerly. The first one dripped. The mixture hissed and frothed violently. The second phial tilted—
“Twilight no!” Pinkamina thundered down the stairs into Twilight’s lab, tackling her mightily! The mare squealed when they both hit the wall with a crash. The phial went careening out of control and broke on the floor, burning a hole in the wood with a loud hiss.
“Pinkamina what are you doing?!” Twilight squealed, shoving the mare off of her with a cry.
“Saving your life!” Pinkamina snapped, righting herself with a toss of her mane.
“You practically gave me whiplash!” Twilight complained, getting up and rubbing the back of her mane. “Did you have to tackle me like that?!” she moaned a little, sore from the assault.
“It’s better than you blowing yourself up.” Pinkamina said angrily, turning and sweeping her gaze across the room. There he was. ‘I see you’ she mouthed at the spectre of Death. He shuddered with unbridled anger, teeth clattering and his head tossing. Insufferable cotton-candy-maned wretch! How did she know?!
“This experiment is perfectly safe!” Twilight gestured to her three chalkboards. “I’ve made all the calculations perfectly.”
“No you didn’t. You were about to blow yourself up.” Pinkamina said firmly. “Check it again.”
Twilight Sparkle rolled her eyes. She doubted very much that Pinkamina could grasp such advanced calculations. But if it would get her out of her lab sooner, fine… She leaned with a discerning eye. That was fine. The amount was good. Then there was the heat, yes yes that was… no. No it wasn’t. That was way too hot! “What?” Twilight stepped back, reworking the problem in her head without even writing it. “But if it’s that hot it would react far more violently and--!”
“Explode like a powder keg?” Pinkamina offered, turning her nose up and closing her eyes in a mightier-than-thou way. Twilight Sparkle blushed, turning and looking at the pink mare apologetically. The purple unicorn turned her ears back, a little pathetic. “Yes, exactly.” Pinkamina pushed her mane behind her ear, looking around the room again. While Death seethed in the corner, unsure what to do, she pondered anything else he’d done to make Twilight’s death imminent. Nothing that she could see. “Just be careful, huh?”
Twilight sulked a little, but nodded. She didn’t want to blow herself up. Death and Pinkamina exchanged an icy glance. She gestured with a toss of her head for him to come outside with her. “Thank you…” Twilight offered meekly as Pinkamina left.
“Yep.” The pink mare said flatly, for more interesting quarry was following her. Death swept his cloak along the stairs, his frame clattering hollowly as he made his way outside. They stood outside, staring at each other. The early winter made it dark outside already. Squaring off with each other in the darkness, she stared into his face. “I can’t let you run around killing ponies like that. Let them die of natural causes.” She demanded. Death tossed his head back, clattering his jaw animatedly. That was his laughing sound, she already knew. “What are you planning next?” she said, voice flat and demanding. He went a little more still, staring at her. “Well?” she snapped, tossing her curtain-like mane impatiently. “Speak up!” she lifted a hoof, leaning forward like she might strike him at any moment. Death’s jaws opened all the way and he tilted his head back at her. No tongue, no lips, she suddenly realized. “Oh. You can’t.” she face-hoofed with frustration. Clatter-clatter-clatter laughing. Growling, she raised her hoof to threaten him. “Go someplace else, then. I have friends and companions here, and I will always be there before you. Always!” she promised.
Death cocked his head. Was that a challenge? A mortal mare challenging the Aspect of Death? While under his regalia he was no different than she, in his current form she didn’t have a prayer. His molten glare rose in temperature, replacing the black eye sockets with flickering red. She snarled at him, pawing the ground a few times with her hoof. Leaning, he swatted a patch of ice lilies (a winter flower) with his hoof. They turned black in an instant, then burst into ash. Warning enough?
Pinkamina charged head-on, shouting wordlessly. Death Lowered his head, squaring his shoulders and clattering his jaw a few times. Standing in front of the library door it would be more than easy. The pink mare rocketed into him— passed straight through like he was a ghost— and slammed herself face-first into the door. Blood blossomed from her muzzle and she staggered with a screeching cry. Death’s jaw rattled and his whole frame shuddered with silent, helpless laughter.
Death stood to one side when Twilight Sparkle came to the door. “Rainbow Dash you need to stop flying into the— oh it’s you, Pinkamina.” The purple mare looked surprised. “I thought you’d gone. Hey, you’re bleeding!” she looked alarmed, for the trickle of red on her face was growing bigger by the moment.
Staggering to her feet, Pinkemina shouted, “Ba’g off! I’m fi’h!” as best she could. She hadn’t broken her nose, but the free-flowing blood made her sound terrible. She walked sideways for a time, disoriented and angry. She looked back and forth for Death, but didn’t see him anywhere. A trail of black mist remained where he once stood, and soon that was gone as well. She swore colorfully, making Twilight’s nose wrinkle a little. As the pink mare rushed away into the night, the innocent librarian made a face at the splatter of blood on her door. Eww.
=-=-=-=
The Midnight Court in Canterlot was not often attended by many ponies. To the point where Luna had taken to reading novels during it. She was lucky to get ten ponies on any given night, compared to her sister who saw hundreds every day. It bothered the wrathful goddess of the night, but at least she had her lunar stallions to play with. The private guards were more ornaments than anything, but they were handsome and fun to play tricks on. Chuckling, she often played phantom sounds to keep them on their toes. A tinkling of glass in a dark corner here, a hiss of a snake in that one over there. They’d gotten into the habit of checking her over their shoulders, for she could not keep a straight face when she was being playful.
Soon, a stallion approached her, cloaked in darkness. She looked up, then let out a breath. It was not who she thought, but a stranger off the street. He fell to all four knees and bowed until his mane grazed the floor. “Your respect pleases us, stranger. Speak thy name and voice thy concerns.” Luna said, her mane floating ethereal with no breeze at all. “What brings thou to the Midnight Courts, to the princess of the night?!” it wasn’t quite the Royal Canterlot Voice, but it was pretty close.
He pulled his hood back, meek before the goddess’ presence. Her twin royal guards gave their customary once-overs. Judging him not a threat, they stayed as stock-still as they usually were. “Your Majesty--!” he bowed once more, then finally rose to his hooves.
“Speak, citizen!” Luna said aloud, leaning forward with interest. He’d come in cloak and hood, perhaps not wanting to be identified by other ponies. But here all was to be laid bare if help was to be expected.
“My name is Mountain Hide. I am… infertile.” He blurted. There was silence, and Luna blink-blinked. Don’t laugh. Do not laugh. Whatever you do do not laugh. It was so flat and blatent, though! “My grand-mammy told my wife and I that you were also a goddess of fertility, not just a goddess of the night.”
“A goddess of death as well!” Luna thundered, making sure he got the complete picture. The stallion fell to his knees shivering, then all the way to his belly to bow in fear. “We serve many functions, stallion! Why dost thou come before us with such a statement?!” she leaned forward on her throne, as vocal as ever.
“I was… I was hoping you could help me with that.” He said, his face turning a lovely shade of scarlet. “My wife and I have tried everything. Herbs, medicine, artificial insemination…” he trailed off, squirming uncomfortably at speaking aloud of such private matters. “And we want a foal or two so, so badly!” He looked up at his goddess pleadingly.
Luna considered Mountain Hide with a steely frown, eyeing him up and down. It had been millennia since such a request had been made of her. Celestia had complained to her perhaps a month ago that no one asked for marriages to be blessed anymore, and that saddened her a bit. It was a happy pleasure to see each new couple before they started their lives together. Now, a thousand years later, this stallion merely wanted offspring with his beloved. “What makest thou think we would raise a hoof to help thee? Perhaps your infertility is decided by fate, and you shalt have no foals!” she raised a commanding hoof, then stomped it.
“But you’re a goddess!” he cried, tears rushing to his big soft eyes. “You can do anything!” his voice cracked a little. “Please! You are our last hope! I would not bother you otherwise! Even if it was just for one night, please!” He pleaded with hooves pressed together.
His blind conviction that Luna could do anything pleased her. While it wasn’t strictly true, it made her feel a bit better about the Midnight Court being so empty. She rose from her throne, which startled her guards out of their dazes. Walking down the steps of the dais, she came to stand in front of him. He sank to his belly again, shivering and not daring to look into her face. Her massive hoof reached out, pressing hard under his chin to tilt his head up. “Look upon us, Mountain Hide.” She said aloud, leaning forward. He did so, not so sure his outburst hadn’t just gotten him thrown in a dungeon or something. “Thy faith in us pleases us.” She smiled gently, then tugged his head forward and pressed her lips into his mane. She kissed the top of his head, tender. There was something magical, something wonderful, about the gesture. He felt a certain virility rise within his chest. “Thy seed shalt be fertile until dawn. Go home, and be with thy wife.” She decreed. “Upon the dawn, thou shalt be as barren as thou were when thou entered our court.”
“Oh thank you, my princess! Thank you! Thank you!” he wept and kissed her hooves and blubbered helplessly.
“Begone with you!” Luna said bombastically after a few moments, a smile of mischief on her lips. “Thy clock is ticking, and no mare enjoys a soggy-eyed stallion!” that sent Mountain Hide running. His hoof-beats faded with distance and she smirked a bit. Both Lunar stallions gave her silent, curious looks. “Poor guilt-ridden fool.” She said, shaking her head. “Twas not he who was infertile. Twas his wife.” She allowed herself a small smile. “Though, we can appreciate a stallion that takes the initiative to please his wife.” A chuckle rose to her lips and she went back to her throne. Sitting daintily upon it, she informed the lunar stallions. “She shalt be fertile for a night, then. I deem it so.”
A black chuckle echoed over the high vaulting ceiling of the Midnight Court. The startled expression on Princess Luna’s face told the lunar stallions it was not one of her pranks. They sprang forward, looking around feverishly. A pair of eyes watched them from the deepest corner, in shadow. “It is good to know that the magic of a goddess is going to good use.” “What brings thou to our court, Death?” Luna frowned, not rising from her throne. The expression she wore was, at best, annoyed, at worst, angry. The lunar stallions backed off a bit, but still flanked the princess.
“Ten more kharmatic deaths.” He said, not moving from shadow. “I have ten more souls for the great beyond.” Luna almost grimaced, but held her expression neutral. He worked fast. Although he’d been Death for some time now, he could not deposit the souls he collected without princess Luna’s aid.
“Thy work in Ponyville is… more rapid than expected.” Luna said, raising a dinner-plate-sized hoof. On the far wall, a portal RIPPED itself open, spinning into existence. Both Lunar stallions covered their faces, for no mortal pony could look beyond the veil and stay sane. Luna waited patiently while Death donned his cape and exploded into flame, illuminating the shadows he stood in. Emerging as a skeleton of unholy, fear-inducing darkness, he pulled back the side of his cloak. The princess watched him work gingerly. Call him anything she desired, he certainly knew how to handle tender things like souls. Depositing them into the portal, he nodded with a clack of his boney jaws. The portal snapped shut, and there was silence. “What news if any, stallion of Death?” the princess of the night ventured, cocking her head at him.
Death tilted his head, reaching and undoing the clasp on his cloak. His organs, muscles, skin and fur imploded back onto his body. “There is a pink mare in Ponyville that can see me.” He grouched at her. “I don’t like it.”
“We know of her. She is called ‘Pinkamina’. She disobeys us often.” Luna growled a little, trying to keep up her regal posture as she placed her royal hindquarters back onto the pillow where they belonged.
“Why not just kill her?” Death said flatly.
“We did. She didn’t stay dead.” Luna said, rolling her eyes in a very un-princess-like way.
Death looked startled. “What?!” he hoofed at the ground a few times. “Is she immortal?!”
“No. A foalhood accident split her mind in two. We only killed half of it.” The alicorn stopped the conversation and briefly filled him in on everything that had happened thus far. She saw his scowl deepen into a grimace of disapproval. “Hast thou encountered her many times?” Luna asked.
“Three times so far, yes. She tried to charge me head on today. Broke her face on a door.” He smiled grimly when Luna threw her head back and laughed like a thunderstorm. The room shuddered on its foundations before she managed to stifle herself, an honest look of embarrassment on her face. Shaking her head, she bade him to continue. “She won’t give up, will she?” Luna shook her head. “She’s already prevented… what… at least five deaths now?” He scowled dangerously, pulling his hood back up and closing his cloak around himself. “I already tried to iron out several of the deaths she made me miss before. A stallion called Big Macintosh, a filly named Applebloom, and a stallion called Lickity Split. She has blocked me at every turn, and the fabric of fate will get wrinkled at this rate.”
“It is thy job to iron out such wrinkles.” Luna said a little snottily.
“I know, princess.” Death growled, reaching for the clasps. “But no mortal mare can stay the hoof of death forever. If I have to stop her directly, I will.” He glared at nothing, then snapped the clasp of his cloak. His body began to melt into its skeletal form, catching fire by magic.
“Thou cannot just go touch her, Death. Her death is not destined to be so blunt.” Luna warned, frowning. “Much less so blatant.”
“Doesn’t keep me from sticking a knife in her back, while in my mortal forra-a-a-rm.” His mouth and tongue exploded into dark fire, rendering him speechless. Soon he was skeletal again, ash raining down around his hooves. He tossed his head a few times, rearing up and then vanishing into a puff of black mist. If he could not beat Pinkamina as Death, that wouldn’t keep a perfectly mortal stallion from just murdering her.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 4: Rainbow Dash
“Alright Rainbow Dash, you can do this.” The cyan mare was approaching Fluttershy’s cottage on the wing. It was mid-afternoon and there was a blanket of snow on the ground. In her saddlebags the Pegasus was armed with several little bags of bird seed, a bouquet of flowers, some extra flying goggles, and some relationship brochures. This was gonna go fine, she was sure of it.
Ever since the night princess Luna had exploded with the rather hilarious phrase ‘SILENCE, LESBIAN!’, Rainbow Dash had basically been out of the closet. Sure, the dirty Daring Do fan fictions might have been a dead giveaway, but she’d not actually come out and said it until right after that event. She’d been about two and a half months out of the closet, and she’d finally settled on a good target for a marefriend. Fluttershy, of course. And this wasn’t gonna be one of those awkward, cringe-worthy romances where they spent five proverbial chapters dancing around the idea. Rainbow Dash was way too direct for that. She was gonna saunter right up there, ask Fluttershy out, and then smooch her good! That would be totally rainbow!
Chuckling at her inner monologues, Rainbow Dash landed with a loud clop of four hooves on Fluttershy’s stoop. She peered around at the snow around her yard. No hoofprints. It had been snowing all day. She must’ve done her morning chores and then gone straight back in. Breathing steam and folding her wings, Rainbow Dash knocked firmly on the door. There was some shuffling inside, and Fluttershy appeared. “Oh, Rainbow Dash! Please, come in.” she said in her usual shy and whispery voice.
Rainbow strutted in with her chest out as soon as she’d wiped her hooves politely on the doormat. “Heya Fluttershy, how’s it goin’?” she said, offering her most rainbow smile and impressive wingspan. She’d read many many things about how impressing a Pegasus in the romantic sense often meant showing off one’s wingspan. Not just in a lewd ‘wing boner’, but as an ancient courting gesture meant to show off health and stature. Rainbow Dash was delighted to see Fluttershy’s eyes flick to either side of her, at her wings, and her chest inflated a bit more.
“Oh, I’ve just been staying in where it’s warm.” The butter-colored pegasus confided shyly. “Most of my animal friends are hibernating, and the winter-time ones usually come out when its bitter cold out, at night.” She said, getting back up onto her sofa where she’d been reading minutes before. Rainbow Dash’s eyes flicked over the title. Not Daring Do. Dangit. “What brings you out to my cottage? Would you like some tea?” she was gesturing to the little tray on the coffee table.
“Er, no thanks.” Rainbow said carefully. “Listen, Fluttershy, I wanted to ask you somethin’.”
“Oh? Sure thing.” She smiled pleasantly at Rainbow Dash, attentive.
“You know I’m more into mares. You wanna go out with me?” Rainbow Dash said, making sure her wings were as open and as attractive as they could possibly be. Fluttershy blink-blinked, her face pinkening at Rainbow’s great big grin. “Be my marefriend?” It was so thrilling to say it aloud, like the final dive before a sonic rainboom!
“Oh my! Th-Th-That’s very flattering, but…” her sentence mumbled away and she stared at the floor. Rainbow Dash wilted hard, eyes turning big and soft. She leaned very close to Fluttershy so she could hear the mumbling without having to ask four times what she’d said. She kind of caught the tail end of, “—and I’ve kind of had my heart set on Big Macintosh since then.” Fluttershy finished, looking anywhere but Rainbow Dash. The cyan Pegasus drooped further. “B-but it’s very flattering! It is!” the yellow mare said, coming and hugging her friend gently. Rainbow Dash was stiff, and not in the wings for once.
“I-It’s okay… you don’t gotta cheer me up.” Rainbow Dash needed to be out of there. She very suddenly remembered it had been Fluttershy who laughed uncontrollably at the ‘silence lesbian’ bit. It hurt a lot, now. “I’m gonna go, okay?” she fished into her saddlebags, producing a few little bags of birdseed. “Here, for your birds.” She said, trying not to look at the bright pink ribbons. She’d meant to declare her love, then go for a winter wonderland stroll and feed the birds with her new marefriend. But no, it wasn’t to be. With that, the wonderbolt-wannabe showed herself quickly out despite Fluttershy’s wispy protests. She could feel the tears of disappointment stinging her eyes as she spread her wings and took off. The freedom of the sky was chilling in the winter air, especially the higher she went. “I j-just assumed--!” Rainbow’s voice broke and she flew, blind with freezing tears, away from Fluttershy’s cottage.
Rainbow Dash flew over Ponyville, out over Everfree and even over a mountain or two. Arching her path back and forth, she just tried to escape the disappointment of rejection. She wasn’t mad at Fluttershy. She suddenly felt a foal for not even finding out if the buttery mare liked other mares or not. Stupid stupid stupid! She’d been so absorbed in celebrating her own coming out of the closet, she hadn’t stopped to think! How selfish! Beating herself up like she was and blinded by tears, Rainbow Dash didn’t notice that she was going faster and faster through the woods and over treetops. They whipped by under her, threatening to snatch her out of the sky. Deciding to turn back to Ponyville, she made her way back. Just as the edge of Everfree Forest climbed into view her saddlebags caught on something. She was hauled out of the air as a treetop snagged her, pulled all the straps tight around her body, then hung her by the neck in the recoil! The mare gagged, flailing about in a wild panick. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, and the weight of her own body was killing her. Wings caught in brambles and in the straps of her saddlebags, she slowly started to choke to death.
Rings started to appear in Rainbow Dash’s vision while her legs kicked about. Blackness around the edges of her vision, lungs straining and begging for air. She struggled, struggled, whimpered, begged Fluttershy for forgiveness… then died. There was silence as the poor mare’s body began to shut down forever, and her eyes rolled into her head.
A pink hoof with a woodcarving knife jabbed at her saddlebags. Rainbow’s body fell, rag-dolling through dozens of branches. Pinkamina winced, but shimmied down the tree as quickly as she could to aid her. Rainbow Dash was splayed out on her back, wings open and at odd angles spread eagle, and quite still. The pink mare studied her a moment, then listened at her chest. A weak heartbeat. She was cutting it close. Tilting her prize’s head back, she opened her mouth to help open her throat. Putting both hooves on her chest, she started pumping animatedly.
Skeletal hooves bucked Pinkamina in the head and she yapped, falling forward over herself and tumbling like a skipping stone. Strong! He was so strong! She struck a tree with another yelp, hanging upside down until the weight of her back end helped correct her. Getting up with twigs and dry leaves in her mane, the pink mare glowered darkly. “So you can be solid when you want, huh?” she saw Death standing over Rainbow Dash, a hoof possessively on her chest. His weight would crush her lungs and keep her from breathing if she had any will to live anymore. “That one is mine too, I’m afraid.” She stood, pointing a demanding hoof.
Death’s eyes ignited into their fiery red flashing mode. She snarled at him, hoofing the ground. He gestured for her to come at him and charged wildly, screaming a battlecry! Hooves thundered through the snow as Death awaited her and she leapt upon him. She found him quite solid that time, and they tumbled through the snow. Flailing wildly she forced his hood back so she could buck at his face unhindered. He flailed his massive hooves, spattering her undercarriage with wild abuse. Gagging audibly she shifted her weight and tossed snow into his eye sockets. He squirmed in agony, unable to cry out.
Pinkamina threw herself off of him and rushed back to Rainbow Dash, pumping her chest quickly. “Breathe! Breathe Faust-dammit!” she pumped the chest over and over again. Death flailed blindly back and forth, ice and leaves and other debris rattling about in his skull. Such agony, he couldn’t take it! Rearing up and slamming his hooves down, he unclasped the front of his cloak in desperation. The pink mare suddenly felt Rainbow Dash take a breath independently, then grinned when she turned on her side to cough and splutter. She looked up just in time to see something horrific.
Death staggered about, very much on fire for no reason Pinkamina could come up with. Flames engulfed him, melting snow and scorching any trees he ran into. His jaw clattered up and down until he suddenly had a mouth, tongue and lips to cry out with. Her eyes lidded in confusion as he seemed to grow flesh and blood and fur all over his body. She saw his mane explode into being, a tail sprouting out his backside and he threw up his hood just as his face was forming. “My eyes!” he roared angrily, finally able to see again when the fire had burned away all the debris Pinkamina had thrown into his hollow skull. Now the skull was occupied with a brain and other things, and the debris was gone. She ran quickly to get a look at his face. “RAWRGH!” He snapped the clasp of his cloak again, and his body imploded violently! She whinnied, rearing up with surprise. When the black smoke cleared, Death turned about with a furious, fiery-eyed glare. He pawed at the ground, lowering his head to charge at her. No more games. Pinkamina shivered at what she’d just seen. He could turn not only solid, but he had some sort of… of… living form! That meant he was perfectly beatable and— she pinwheel’d wildly through the air when he charged into her, and she struck a tree so hard she felt her ribs bruise. Why, why was he so strong?! He was just a skeleton!
Pinkamina yelped on impact, her back sliding down against a tree and grating bits of bark into her fur. Coughing heavily and clutching at her chest, she looked up as Death’s shadow cast itself upon her. She frowned angrily, defiant. His jaw clattered back and forth like he might have been trying to say something, but the skeleton stallion could not speak thus. The only thing she could understand was the burning red hatred in his eyes. “You have such beautiful eyes.” She snarked as he reared up to stomp on her with all his might. She THREW herself forward into him, and the cloak he wore recoiled on its own. He turned ethereal and she passed right through him as before. Tumbling forward and clutching at her ribs, she saw Rainbow Dash was slowly starting to regain her senses. “Rainbow! We have to go! Now! Fly!” she tugged the mare upright, trying to haul her to her hooves.
Death turned about, snarling with chattering bones. His cloak flared, revealing the nightmare frame beneath the black fabric. Rainbow Dash got an eye full, and the terror sent adrenaline through her. Seizing Pinkamina by her front hooves she flared her powerful wings and took off! Death rushed, rearing up and trying to knock them out of the air. Pinkamina curled at the stomach as Rainbow labored into the air. “You’re heavy!” Rainbow Dash complained, wings flapping as mightily as they could. Death watched them from below, they could still have an accident doing that. He followed them slowly, but soon the blue mare had broken the canopy.
“Go! Go! He can’t follow us back to town!”
“Who’s he?!”
“That’s Death!”
“What do you mean ‘that’s Death’?!”
“Death incarnate! He came for you today, but I stopped him so he turned solid to fight me off! That’s probably why you can see him today!”
“I don’t wanna see him!”
“Then keep those wings flappin’!” Rainbow Dash was more than exhausted when they arrived back in Ponyville, and promptly collapsed onto her side. Pinkamina lay there as well, panting. “Somepony help!” she shouted from where she lay. “Somepony call a doctor!” the pink mare looked towards the forest’s edge. There, blacker than black and standing in the shadows, was Death. She could see him easily because of his red eyes. He was angry now. ‘I see you’, Pinkamina mouthed at him defiantly. Without a sound, his form melted into black mist and he was gone. She flopped down, at ease at last.
Doctor Whooves leaned over the two of them. “I’m a doctor.” He said with his pleasant foreign accent. Pinkamina moaned, rolling her eyes. “Ohh you mean— ah yes I see, you do look banged up. Is she okay as well? No no, it seems not.” The brown stallion voiced his concern, then called out to other ponies to get actual medical help.
=-=-=-=
Lickity Split gasped when Pinkamina arrived at home with a wrapped torso. “It’s just bruised ribs. I hit a tree really hard.” He stood from the couch, rushing over to examine her more closely.
“With what, your FACE?!” he demanded worriedly, falling to all four knees to get a closer look at her. “First you come home with a bloody muzzle, now your ribs are wrapped like this?!” he fussed and crooned over her, guiding her to the couch to lay down on her back. “Pinkamina you’re scaring me!” he whimpered, nuzzling her. “What if you get hurt really badly, or don’t come home at all?!”
“I’m out there saving lives. I don’t care if—!”
“I CARE, CELESTIA DAMN YOU!” Lickity Split shouted suddenly, his hoof rising and then snapping across her face. She yipped, one of her hooves slowly coming up to hold her cheek gingerly where he’d struck her. She stared at him with a flushed, shocked expression. He stood there panting and whimpering. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you! You’re battling Death incarnate for Celestia’s sake!” his voice was breaking, he wasn’t used to being so dominant or loud. Tears were rushing out of his eyes, and he threw his arms around her head.
“Lickity—”
“Shut up! You just shut up tonight!” he said, mewling over her and running his hoof over her bandages over and over again. “I don’t wanna hear your grumping and scowling! You just shut up and rest!” She looked like she was about to protest, but he glared her into submission. “You’re gonna lay there and rest and eat soup or something like a good injured pony and if you move from that spot I’ll— I’ll break your legs!” it was a lame threat and the pink mare knew he didn’t mean it, but its meaning struck home. He wasn’t going to let her go anywhere for a few days.
It was the worst torture imaginable for Pinkamina to lay there on her back while her frail stallion wept over her. When she could muster the strength from her exhausted body, she hugged his head to her breast gently. While he sniffled and soaked her bandages with tears, she scented his mane. Her mane hung over her face like a limp curtain. Vanilla. It comforted her. Stupid, stupid stallion…
When he’d finally gathered himself, he fetched a tray of food for her. It was a salty vegetable soup with crackers and broth. He stood guard to make sure she ate all of it. After taking the tray away, they went about the awkward task of unwrapping her. The doctors had seen to Pinkamina and Rainbow Dash, but hadn’t tried to keep either of them at the hospital. That also meant neither had been brushed or anything. “This feels familiar.” Lickity Split smiled just a little bit when he raised the brush to her side. She stayed still and tried not to grimace in pain. Bits of tree bark and debris from the battle were falling out of her coat while he worked at it. She looked him in the eyes, then her expression softened and she lowered her head to the arm of the sofa in quiet submission. She was just so tired, and he would no doubt shout down any protests she had. While he brushed her, she silently contemplated everything that had happened. Perhaps a few days off would not hurt too much. Rainbow Dash was safe, and Death had stepped away for the moment.
She’d managed to hurt Death, though, that was the most interesting bit.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 5: Pinkamina
Celestia allowed herself a small sigh of relief when the Sunshine Court was finally over for the day. While being a goddess of the day and half the royal authority of Equestria had its perks, there were certainly endless responsibilities. Leaning, she flicked her eyes over an open schedule scroll next to her. “Captain Grey, Sun Stare, we’ll be having a very special guest shortly. Send tea to the royal gardens and secure the area as you see fit.” She told her twin private guards. They snapped their salutes and were away. They were more ornaments than anything, since it was impossible to kill a goddess with any mortal weapon, but she did enjoy ordaining as many ponies as she could with tasks. It made them feel important, and certainly helped them bring bread home to their loved ones.
The sun princess stepped daintily off of her throne, bowing her head ceremoniously to anypony left in the grand room. Stretching her wings as wide as they would go for a moment, she cocked her head. She could sense the powerful magic presence in the garden already. She took the time to freshen up, pass pleasant smiles to all who looked upon her, and stop in her room for a moment. Turning, Celestia passed Luna’s room on the way out. She cocked an ear, then heard the quiet sounds of her breathing within. While neither goddess needed to eat, sleep, drink, or even manually walk from place to place— together they’d decided such things were necessary. It helped them relate to their mortal subjects, and made them seem less overwhelming. If Luna wanted to she could sleep for a couple of thousand years, but she would rise at dusk as usual. Smiling privately, the sun princess was away and down some stairs to the main hall. All whom she passed bowed and she favored them with smiles, lighting up their day with her presence. It was good to be princess.
Celestia arrived at the royal gardens to find the private area meant for such meetings freshly cleaned. There was a stalwart solar stallion standing… say that three times fast… at each exit, each at attention. At a stone picnic table surrounded by flowers was a dull yellow pony with an orange, poofy mane and tail. She had sprigs of leaves atop her head like a dainty crown, and just looking at her made birds want to sing. The sun princess smiled, approaching. “Mother Nature, so good to see you.” She said, smiling as she found a seat at the table. “What news?”
“Princess Celestia.” She bowed and kissed her princess’ hoof gently. “The flowers and trees sing your praises.” Mother Nature said coyly. If Celestia had been a few thousand years younger, she would have blushed at such praise.
“So formal!” Celestia smiled as a servant came silently by to leave them a tray with tea. Mother Nature reached, but the princess wouldn’t let her. “Ah ah, the host pours for the guest.” She said with a bemused look. Mother Nature was young enough to turn pink in the cheeks. “Here you are.” She levitated the tea to her guest. The mare thanked her, taking it gracefully and sipping. Both allowed the other two sips before anymore words passed between them.
“Winter is almost here, so I thought I might drop by to see you.” Mother Nature said.
“Oh, let’s not linger on formalities. Will you take your crown off so I can see the real you, my little pony?” Celestia asked in earnest. It wasn’t a command, just a request from a very close friend.
Mother Nature cocked her head a little, looking around at all the guards. She would seem to just pop into existence to them, it took a special pony to be able to physically see the Aspects in their Aspect form. Celestia could see her, sure, but… she smiled politely, setting her teacup down. Working gently as not to pull out her mane, she undid the crown from her hair and lifted it from her head. The flowers that had bloomed idly around her vanished, the birds suddenly seemed less interested, and the perfume of a thousand little fruit trees faded. The cutie mark of a trio of carrots appeared on her flanks, and she winked into the view of mortal ponies. They guards posted around the concrete picnic table area gave a start, but Celestia raised a hoof before they came charging in. Now it was Carrot Top, not Mother Nature, that sat across from princess Celestia. She set her Aspect regalia gently on the table. “I feel a little naked without it, here.” She gestured gently, giving a shy smile.
“You are just as beautiful as your normal, noble self, Carrot Top.” Celestia praised her and the mare blushed, hiding her quiet smile behind her teacup. Spreading her wings a little to rest the ache of their weight, the princess leaned to sip her tea. “So, have things been going well in Ponyville?” she asked in a veiled way.
Carrot Top smiled a little guiltily. “I’ve gotten slightly bigger carrots this year, thanks to a little magical help.” She confessed. She wasn’t supposed to use her powers for selfish gain, but she had to pay the bills and the Apple Family made a serious market competitor. The princess smiled bemusedly, and they both knew that wasn’t what she meant. “Death is growing more frustrated.” She finally confessed with a sigh.
“I wish you would call him by his real name.” Celestia said softly, but Carrot Top shook her head.
“We Aspects try not to speak eachother’s names aloud. We don’t want our identities given away, even if ponies like you know all three of us.” It truly hurt to defy her princess, but Carrot Top had to respectfully decline. Celestia closed her eyes briefly, but did not scold the fiery-maned mare. Privacy was a big deal to the mortal races, she had to respect it. (That was one reason the first covenant was not to read their minds) She could certainly understand that sometimes less trustworthy guards would talk, and that the information might leak its way out into the public. A small chance, but still a chance.
“Very well.” Said Celestia gently. Carrot Top gave her a guilty, pouting lip. Thinking quickly, the sun princess went on. “I assume Pinkamina is still giving him trouble?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Carrot Top gossiped a little more casually now, which pleased her goddess. “He’s been really quiet and frustrated lately. He didn’t talk much to begin with, but now he’s silent as the grave, trying to think of ways to outwit her. She just always gets there before he does, it’s bizarre.” She sipped her tea.
“Pinkamina is an odd one, but she won’t be able to stop him forever. She’ll make mistakes.” Celestia said less gently than before. Carrot Top looked up at her goddess, concerned. “I wouldn’t worry too much, everything will be alright in the end.”
“Death isn’t like me or Father Time.” Carrot Top mumbled, staring into her tea. “He’s quiet, calculating… easy to provoke.” She didn’t like bad-mouthing her colleague, but it was true. “I worry for him, is all.” She confessed, looking up into Celestia’s eyes at last.
“Being an Aspect of Fate isn’t easy.” Celestia said, nodding her understanding. “Different ponies take it in different ways.” She scooted gently around the table and stroked Carrot Top’s mane gently, lovingly. “I want you to know you’re doing very well, I could not have asked for a better Mother Nature.” She watched the mare smile shyly and nod. “Let my sister and I worry about… Death, and you continue to do your job. I know winter is your off-season, but keep on anyway.” Reaching with her magic, she refilled both teacups.
Carrot Top and Princess Celestia talked about this and that for perhaps an hour before it was time to part ways. “Thank you for visiting with me, my princess.” The orange-maned mare bowed deeply and pecked her goddess’ hooves. Reaching for the leafy crown, she placed it back on her head. It twisted to hold onto her mane. Her cutie mark vanished. Ice lilies sprung up around her, and birds sang her praises as soon as they spotted her. She seemed to have a more radiant glow than a normal mortal pony. She sighed at the heady rush of magic that exploded through her body.
“It was good to see you, Mother Nature.” Celestia bent to kiss her on the head. Mother Nature squirmed just a little, and mischief played across her features for a split second. There was a sudden hot rush in Celestia’s veins, and she flushed as her whole body tensed for a moment. The guards raised their brows as their princess and ruler let out a flushed, “Eep!” and swatted at air unceremoniously. Mother Nature danced away, giggling good-naturedly. Though ponies were only ‘in season’ during early spring, she could inspire heated desire anytime with a touch. Not even Celestia herself was immune. “Go on now, you playful little minx!” The sun princess laughed, rubbing at her own cheek for a few moments. Mother Nature let the feeling pass, winked, and was away. The guards around the little courtyard slackened their stances a little, at ease. It wasn’t often their goddess laughed like that. They liked the sound.
=-=-=-=
Pinkamina was miserable. She awoke with a head-blasting headache and moaned quietly. Lickity Split gave a start, having fallen asleep watching over her. “Oh, you’re awake! Good! Take this medicine.” He had what looked like a basting tool in his mouth, leaning and shoving it into hers. He squeezed the rubbery, knobby part and something FOUL forced its way down her throat. She gagged and sputtered, but he apologized with ice water. She drank greedily, her throat was on fire. “You’ve been bedridden for days now, really sick.” He told her. She started to rise, but grew dizzy and fell again. “Hey no no no, lay back, good.” He stroked her mane over and over.
“How long have I been like this?” she croaked.
“Four days now.” He told her sympathetically. “I had to get a doctor to make a house call, I was afraid to move you.” The stallion leaned, putting a little tray of various foods into her view. Apple slices, carrots, cherries, tomatoes, and lots of other little things she could chew up with one bite. “Let’s see your fever…” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. She rolled her eyes, smirking a little. “Hmm! Better than yesterday.” He smiled, pushing the tray within her reach. Pinkamina ate mightily, which pleased her stallion to no end. “You really pushed yourself hard last time you went out so late.” He said quietly. “You got sick, and your bruised ribs didn’t exactly help.”
“Sorry.” She offered between small bites.
“I’m… sorry I yelled at you. And hit you like that.” Lickity’s ears turned back shamefully. “I was just so worried, and you came home looking like that and…” he fell into a rather emotional silence. Looking up from her food, Pinkamina felt a twinge of guilt. The stallion was not hard-edged like her. He had feelings and woes that needed to be soothed. If she was going to be a good companion, she would need to take care of him. Reaching, she cupped his cheek with her hoof. He looked at her with soft eyes, smiling bashfully.
Pinkamina stroked his face a couple of times, then went back to her meal. “Mine.” She snapped when he reached to help himself to a carrot, swatting his nose. He chuckled at her, knowing she must’ve been feeling better if she was doing things like that. Her subtle, straight-faced humor was growing on him more and more each day. “I’ll try to be careful.” She amended after a long silence. He beamed at her.
“You’ll stay here and get well, for now. If you kill yourself trying to keep others from getting killed, that kind of defeats the purpose.” Lickity Split told her. She was forced to agree. Going out while sick would not help, she wouldn’t be at her best. He waited while she ate, telling her little bits of gossip and telling her about the ins and outs of what had happened in the ice cream parlor lately. Business was slow because of the cold weather, but there were always ponies with sweet tooths to be had. When the stallion saw she was done, he pulled something new out from under the bed. “I’ve been waiting for a special occasion to give you this, but…” he trailed off a little embarrassedly, showing her a frost-covered canister.
“What’s that?” she said, turning her head and honestly a little tired now that she’d stuffed herself. He scrapped his hoof over the label. “Sea Salt… Wave?” it was an ice cream sample bucket, one of the small ones. “How long have you had that?”
“Since I asked you out for the first time.” Lickity confessed, a little warm in the cheeks. She smiled at him just a little. “Ice cream doesn’t really go bad for years and years if you keep it chilled, so I saved it.” He said softly. Peeling the top off, he pulled a waiting spoon from the night stand. “Wanna try it?”
“Is it actually salty?” she said suspiciously. “You know I don’t like sweets.”
“Try it.” He said, shoving a spoonful into her mouth. Pinkamina worked her mouth a little. It was soothing to her achy throat, like the ice water had been. It had sugar in it, like an ice cream, then the flavor washed over her tongue. It was nice. Lickity Split smiled as she worked it over and over in her mouth.
“I can feed myself.” She tried to protest, but no he wouldn’t let her.
“Here comes the Luna express!” he said playfully, waving the next spoonful at her.
“I will end y—!” she gulped the next mouthful when he shoved it in, tamed by the wonderful taste. This exchange went back and forth with all different playful phrases and deadly threats, until she was full. “Tired…” she said, and he put the ice cream as well as the food tray away. He tucked her in, fluffing her pillows and setting a new glass of water by the bed. She glanced at the clock. It was night.
“I’ve got a few more things to do before bed, you go on to sleep.” He kissed her forehead, stroking her mane. She was furious at being so weak, so helpless, her frail stallion looking after her. She wanted to be up, to be moving around and getting things done. There was so much to do, deaths to prevent and… and… sleepy… she sagged, her eyelids like lead weights that pulled her down into the warm inky darkness of recovery.
Death stood in the corner of the room.
Now was his chance. The stallion had gone, and Pinkamina was helpless. Checking that Lickity Split was gone to the front of the shop, he undid the clasp of his cloak. An animated fwoosh of flame conjured his mortal body back to the physical realm. He blinked into existence, a perfectly mortal stallion. Panting a little as the magic rushed away from his body, he cocked his head to one side until he heard the bones in his neck popping.
Savoring the moment, he loomed over the sleeping Pinkamina. She’d muddled his plans far too often. She had to be stopped. Reaching beneath his cloak, he pulled a knife. He didn’t want to murder her… well, no, yes he did. He’d just never had to physically stop somepony before. This had called for extreme measures. He couldn’t have ponies missing their deaths willy-nilly, there would be too much corruption in the fabric of fate. It was his job to keep it smooth. His, Mother Nature’s, and Father Time’s. Taking the knife in his teeth, he leaned over her. The pink mare moaned quietly, turning over and facing him. Her mane fell over her face. He paused, but no, she was still asleep. Her illness and injury were nicely timed. Raising the blade, he saw her curtain-like mane part.
Death paused again, looking at her up close for the first time. In her sleep she did not scowl or make angry eyes at the world like she always seemed to. Why did all the holy terrors of fate and destiny have to be beautiful? Could evil not always be ugly? It would’ve made it much easier to murder her. Shrugging and knowing his time was short he raised the knife high and—!
“Oop, forgot to turn out the lights.” Lickity Split chuckled, coming back into the room and rolling his eyes at his own forgetfulness. He was so caught up in Pinkamina’s recovery and healthy appetite, he’d forgotten to douse the lamps. “What the-!” he saw the black, cloaked figure poised over Pinkamina, who quickly turned to glare murder at him. The ice cream stallion went pale, for the backlighting of the lanterns hid the intruders face and made him look like a massive black shadow. “HEY YOU!” he shouted, rushing forward to defend his mare.
Death panicked briefly. Lickity Split would fight with all he had for the knife in his teeth. He was not tonight’s target. He was not due to die yet. Grr… Pinkamina could die later, when she was alone. Making a split-second decision, the stallion dropped the knife and activated his regalia. Exploding into violent flame he vanished in a rush of black smoke. Lickity passed through his ethereal form and slammed head-on into the wall. Exposed, Death fled for the moment. Lickity, a far frailer pony than his love, could not withstand charging head-on into a hard surface like that. He fell in a heap, out cold.
The next morning...
Pinkamina awoke much stronger than before. She turned over in bed with a soft moan, then gave a start when she saw Lickity sprawled out on the floor. She prodded him a few times with her hoof, and he stirred. “Ohhh, my head.” He moaned, holding his face a little. When he turned to look at her, she saw a beautiful bruise on his right eye, and her brow went up. “Pinkamina! You’re safe!” he threw his arms around her. “I saw him! I saw Death!” The story came spilling out all at once, and the pink mare asked lots of questions.
An assassination attempt. Death had grown more bold. Interesting.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 6: Rarity
The implosion of air in the Midnight Court was like a clap of thunder, startling everypony in the room including Princess Luna. She stood, rising from her throne and growling menacingly at the newcomer who’d teleported in. As the black smoke settled, she saw it was Death. “Death!” she shouted. Indignant at being startled. “What is the meaning of thy intrusion this night?! Has the pink one eluded thou again?”
His head bobbed up and down, “Complications.” His deep voice rang over the massive room as soon as he’d undone the clasp of his cloak and assumed his mortal form. The stallion stood in shadow, massive hooves raising and then stamping down hard on the polished tile. It made everypony in the room, save Luna, flinch. From under his hood, the stallion grimaced angrily at the floor.
“Thy anger is palpable, stallion.” The princess gestured. “Come, sit by us.” She gestured. Her guards turned with large eyes. No one ever sat with the princess, especially up on the throne! The hooded stallion of darkness hesitated, looking back and forth. Thinking better of it, Luna cocked her head, “Ah yes, we imagine sitting on a throne would be a bit outside protocol.” She stepped down from the dais, raising her voice. “Our Midnight Court is adjourned this night! Return tomorrow, those with unfinished business!” It was perhaps an hour early that time, but nopony was going to contest her decision. She gestured, and Death followed her out of the throne room.
They wound up the banister, to the highest room in the tallest tower. Luna’s astronomy room and private chambers. Death hesitated on the threshold, looking about. There were star charts, maps, and scrawling of all sorts all around the room. There was an art to arranging the night, far more than hauling a ball of fire into the sky every day. Each star had to be placed thus upon the fabric of the sky, and even the slightest deviation could throw off explorers and other such ponies. The Princess turned, looking over her shoulder at him. She saw him looking intently at the trio of throwing knives sticking out of her head-board. “Hrm.” Was all he said, peering back and forth. Though he didn’t speak often, Luna did like his voice. It was like a low, bronze bell.
“Enter, specter of Death. We greet thee as a friend this night.” Princess Luna said. The stallion entered, sweeping about to favor the shadows. He didn’t even like to stand in enough light to show the color of his fur. Despite the black cloak upon him, he was very secretive. Her eyes narrowed in bemusement. Though she and her sister had ordained the three Aspects of Fate (Mother Nature, Father Time, and Death) with their powers, they were not insignificant. She shared an affiliation with Death more than her sister Celestia. Death peered about at the private chambers of his princess, silent. Turning, she smiled at him rather predatorily. She gestured that he join her on the balcony as clouds passed over the moon. “Come, darkness is thy friend this night as well.” She promised, gesturing to the clouds.
Death ventured forward with a relieved sound. He didn’t like to stay in mortal form around Luna. He didn’t trust her not to try anything. She was volatile. Dark. Angry. Sexual. He flinched a little at the last one, but sat on his haunches next to her. He peered out at Canterlot, and beyond where Ponyville lay. He gave a guttural harrumphing sound, scratching at his chest a little.
“The pink one frustrates you, we know this.” Luna said, looking down at Ponyville. Leaning over, she put a massive hoof around him. Her raw strength pulled the huge stallion to her side. He turned his head quickly, looking up at her in alarm. He was perhaps one of a hoof full of stallions with hooves as big as she, but Luna was still a goddess and far more powerful. “Do not lose faith in thy vocation, stallion.” She turned to look at him in a certain way. He shuddered a little, though not in fear.
“No.” was all he said, looking up at her only slightly. Luna made a show of admiring him a moment, her lip curling into a cruel and sultry look. His mouth narrowed into a thin line as her magic wrapped around his black cloak. He held onto it stubbornly, but she grunted with effort and heaved it away. He reared up, flailing his hooves to get it back, but she lifted it beyond its reach. She gave a tinkling, cruel little laugh. “Gimmie.” He said angrily, pawing at the ground like he might charge her.
“Oh-hoh? Thou hast grown the stones to strike thy princess and goddess?” Luna put a great hoof on her chest, being playfully dramatic. She saw the hesitation in his stance, and gave him a black smile. “We welcome it. Take it back.” She dangled Death’s regalia at him. He snatched at it, but she pulled it high beyond his reach again. “If thou can.” Luna sneered cruelly.
Death clenched his teeth, his brow lowering in grand agitation. “HUP!” His temper snapped and he turned wildly, bucking her right on the muzzle! The princess of the night yelped, her head snapping backward and her pupils turning into dots. Her control slipped a moment, and he leaped to grab his cloak back as it fell. But no, magic seized it and held it high once again.
“Oh-hohoho… harder!” Luna cackled in a sultry way, smirking down at him. He stared at her, more than a little shocked. “Thou must hit harder than that, we’re afraid.” She cocked her head and the air concussed with magic! The stallion flew backward in a high arc, landing on a coffee table and blasting it into pieces with his weight. He sat up painfully, feeling the bruise already. Bits of wood stuck to his fur and he picked them out with his teeth, gingerly. Spitting splinters to one side, he rose. She grinned at him, and a flick of magic locked the door of her chambers. Was she being… playful?
He charged at her, a thundering stallion! Her smile grew and he leapt upon her, tackling her over the alicorn-sized bed. His great barrel chest coiled with beautiful, masculine muscles and he pinned her with his sheer weight and huge hooves. Her starry night of a mane bannered out beautifully, but the cruelty of her smile tarnished it. “Gimmie.” He said again. She enjoyed the bass of his voice, however briefly he spoke.
“No.” she said, snickering at him. He rose up and stomped on her chest with all his might, enough force to shatter even the most stubborn stone. The crack of impacting hooves was sickening, but she only giggled like he’d tickled her. “Harder!” He reared up and crashed into her again, angrier and angrier! “Oh! Harder! Yes! Hit us harder!” she squirmed beneath him, laughing and pawing at him with her hooves.
Death attacked her with all of his might until he was out of breath, a sweat dripping from his face and across his back and flanks. All his rage and frustration poured out of him. He hated it, he hated that Pinkamina so much it made him want to scream! But he could not, he could only pummel into the laughing punching bag beneath him and give her everything he had. Whinnying ferally he bucked twice and finally collapsed, panting. There was a long silence of him laying upon his princess, gasping. The cool night air on his fur made him shiver.
Princess Luna dragged her sultry tongue across Death’s cheek. She smiled when he had the decency to turn a dark crimson. This was not very princess-like at all, but he ached from his furious assault. “Thou cannot hurt a goddess, dear Death.” She told him with a coo. He shuddered at the feeling of her breath in his ear. “But thou cannot deny thou does not feel a little better after trying.” She saw his ears turn down, and she knew it was true. “Thy body is strong and thy hatred stronger.” She said, leaning over him with a dark, curling smile. He growled at her, still panting. Turning with a lewd expression, she pressed her hips up to him. “Question not thy virility, only thy resolve to stop Pinkamina. Thou shalt think of a way.” She told him, flicking her eyes downward. “But until then, we shalt share our night with you…” a cruel smile formed across her muzzle and her horn ignited with dark magic. He shuddered as her ancient magicks egged on certain urges within him.
Death and the goddess of death danced a dark dance together that night. He could not help himself. By the morning he was covered in violent, angry bruises but he did get his cloak back.
=-=-=-=
Rarity was digging about in her attic. The Boutique Magnifique actually had three stories to it: the shop, her private living space, and the attic. Since winter was on the way that could only mean one thing. Seasonal fashion shift! Autumn had been a lovely time for her shop, all sorts of ponies wanting dresses that accentuated the changing colors of the leaves and such. But winter, ohhh! Winter was always a challenge because one wanted to look lovely and alive, but not too colorful. There wasn’t a lot of color during the wintertime and to rush about in something too bright looked garish and simply silly.
“Hmm, where did I put it?” She leaned a little over one stack of boxes. “I’m usually so organized, I must’ve just stuffed everything away last year!” she sulked a little, cursing herself. “Well, I certainly got wrapped up in Winter Wrap-Up, maybe I just shoved everything in a box or two and called it done…” she finally looked up, and spotted a trio of boxes squatting on a ceiling beam. “Oh for heaven’s sake!” she shrieked, tilting her head all the way back to stare at them. “Why in the world would I put those up there?!” she scoffed at herself, rolling her eyes. “Honestly Rarity you are so absent-minded, hahaha!” she shook her head, leaning a bit. Her horn ignited with magic and one of the boxes lifted. The bottom of it sagged. “Ohh, I’ll need to ask the Boxes and Scissors for some new boxes. These are getting moth-eaten.” She either liked to talk to herself, or she liked the sound of her own voice, it was hard to tell. She magically lifted the second one down, careful with the contents. Looking up, she grasped gingerly at the third box with her magic. She could feel how frail it was. Being very careful, she lifted it from the ceiling beam—!
Suddenly the bottom of the box fell out and a shower of sewing needles screamed through the air, a thousand pricks of silvery death! Rarity screamed, frozen like a deer on the highway, unable to move an inch in her terror. “I’ll save you Rarity!” A little green and purple dragon cannon-balled through the air, a thick comforter trailing him like a cape! He tackled her FACE and she squealed as she pinwheeled backward, onto her back. He hugged her head and curled his tail mightily around her neck while the thick blanket covered her body completely. Needles pin-cushioned the little dragon mercilessly, but thankfully his scales protected him. The blanket did much the same for the white mare’s body, for none of the sewing needles had enough weight to pierce it all the way through. When the silvery rain of sharpness was over, Spike uncurled from his defensive position, a little red-faced. “S-sorry, I meant to hit your chest…” he said with a blush.
“Sp-spike! You saved me! How could you have even—!” Rarity looked over his shoulder and saw a panting Pinkamina and an alarmed-looking Twilight Sparkle.
“Wow, you really do haft’a cut it close, huh?” Twilight said, eyebrows up. Pinkamina nodded dismissively, coming up the last couple of stairs to examine the scene. Spike gingerly climbed off of Rarity, undoing the blanket from around his neck. “Looks like we made it just in time.” Twilight said, laughing a little nervously as she lifted the needle-riddled blanket with her magic. “Why do you have so many needles, Rarity? This is a whole box full, they’d rust before you used them all…” the purple mare trailed off, looking at their pale friend.
“It was a buy in bulk sale HOW DID YOU KNOW TO COME HERE LIKE THAT?!” Rarity exploded, making Spike wince as he was trying to take the needles out of his back. But, twisting around and moving the muscles in his back was making it painful.
“You were about to die. The Pinkie Sense warned me.” Pinkamina tossed her curtain-like mane a little, huffing. “I brought Spike so I wouldn’t be the one diving under a hailstorm of needles and get killed myself. Twilight came along for the ride.” It was very short and business-like, but that was the story. It wasn’t everyday that a pink mare came bursting into the library promising Spike the chance to save Rarity’s life for the low, low cost of being pitched across her attic like a baseball.
“Ohh, Spikey-Wikey, you’re all covered with needles!” Rarity sympathized, lowering her head to inspect him closely. “Come downstairs, we’ll get them out of your scales before they dig in and start hurting your poor widdle dragon body!” she nuzzled him for just a moment, and he followed her downstairs with hearts over his eyes.
Pinkamina remained behind, as did Twilight Sparkle. “Nice try, but I’m not one to throw myself in front of a hail of needles.” The pink mare seemed to be talking to an empty room. Twilight Sparkle looked around, her horn lighting up so she could see better. No other pony was there that she could see. “I see you, though. I’ll always see you.”
“Is he here? Death, I mean?” Twilight said cautiously.
“Yeah, he’s right there.” Pinkamina said, gesturing vaguely to a corner.
“What— does he look like?” Twilight was screwing up her eyes like she might divine the Aspect of Death into existence if only she looked hard enough. “Rainbow Dash said she saw him when he came for her.”
“He’s a skeletal stallion in a black cloak with red fire in his eyes.” Pinkamina said, still staring at the empty corner. “Rainbow Dash saw him because he turned solid to stop me. He’s got some sort of solid, mortal form, but I only saw it for a moment. I don’t know who he is.” She wasn’t taking her eyes off the figure that Twilight could not see.
“Sounds scary.” Said the purple unicorn, a little frightened at the idea of Death incarnate.
“Yeah.” Pinkamina turned back to her. “Don’t worry. He won’t try anything while I’m here.” She gave a rather chilling smile to the lavender mare, pushing her mane behind her ear. “After all, stopping death is my special talent.” Twilight Sparkle’s eyes flicked to Pinkamina’s flank. The white skull and black scythe was probably the scariest cutie mark she’d ever seen. “But, if everything you’ve told us is true, he’s getting craftier.” The scholar said a little cautiously. The pink mare cocked her head questioningly. “I mean, if you’d just dove in there like normal, you would’ve died instead of Rarity.”
“Oh yes, he’s definitely getting craftier.” Pinkamina smirked. “I’d be willing to bet any deaths I prevent from now on will probably chance my own death quite a bit more.”
“I’m worried about you, Pinkie.”
“Pinkamina.” She snapped, cocking her eyebrow at Twilight with an insulted look on her face.
“Sorry, I meant Pinkamina.” Twilight said quickly, blushing. “It’s just… aren’t you worried? If you’re going up against Death incarnate, I mean… what if one of you actually wins in the end?”
“What do you mean?” Pinkamina asked tersely.
“I mean…” Twilight hesitated for a moment, trying to explain the endgame of the entire struggle. “Either he kills you, or you stop him entirely, right? Are either of those a good scenario?” Pinkamina didn’t have answer for that. She’d honestly never thought about it before. “I would hate to see you die, but… what would happen if there was no death in Equestria?” In the corner where he stood, Death cocked his head into a curious expression.
“That’s silly.” Pinkamina said. “There will always be deaths. I’m just stopping the obvious ones that can be prevented because super stallion over there won’t leave Ponyville alone.” She glared savagely at Death, who clattered his teeth defiantly at her and stared with soulless eyes. It only just then occurred to Pinkamina that the Pinkie Sense only ever warned of deaths in and around Ponyville. Why not elsewhere? Perhaps her powers had a radius, or a limit of distance from wherever she was? She didn’t know.
“Yeah, but—” Twilight seemed to be fishing for the right words, frowning in a troubled way. “Pinkamina, isn’t Death everywhere? I mean, a few of us have seen him in some sort of physical form but… at least in the proverbial sense, can’t he be in more places than one? And if he has some sort of bodily shape, wouldn’t he HAVE to be in more places than one?” The pink mare startled, turning around with a horrified expression. She turned quickly to look at Death, but he was gone. She went a little pale. Twilight was right.
Death was not showing the true extent of his powers yet.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 7: Surprise
Death was furious. More than furious, he was downright livid. Standing in the blackness of the space between spaces, he finally found his destination and with a flick of Aspect magic, popped into being in a familiar location. Turning and looking both ways, he checked to make sure the coast was clear. When he saw it was, he pushed his hood back and undid the clasp of his cloak. His mortal body melted into being and he coughed a little on the ashes. Always ashes in his mouth, every time he transformed. Huffing a little, he entered the barn.
The Apple Family barn was a large structure, brand new since the last one had been destroyed when Pinkamina had saved Applebloom from being crushed to death by its falling beams. The memory sent fresh, seething anger into the stallion. When he was sure the barn was empty, he lit a meager lamp and fiddled around in the darkness. Going into one of the tool stalls, he pawed around a little. Where was it? He’d hidden it here amongst Big Macintosh’s tools if only because it— ah, there.
Death pulled out a long, tightly wrapped bundle and backed out into the great room of the barn. He’d hidden it there because, amongst tools it would look forgettable and anypony that saw it would leave it be. It was the only place in Ponyville it was safe to store it, since Surprise had balls and other strange things hidden in all the other good hiding places. Dropping it on the ground, he leaned and undid the twine with his teeth. He’d put it away long ago, sure he’d never have to use it. Growling in frustration when one bit of twine went up his nose, he turned wild for a moment and ripped the burlap wrappings away. Tossing pieces in every direction, he stood over the object, panting. It gleamed terribly in the moonlight.
“Enough games.”
=-=-=-=
Pinkamina awoke in the dead of night, lifting her head slightly. She peered about the cool room, adjusting herself and siddling over to Lickity Split’s chest. Pressing her cheek to it, she heaved a great breath. His scent soothed her, and her eyes searched back and forth in the darkness. Had she been having a nightmare? Why was she trembling like that? She felt a drop of sweat work its way down her temple. Her stallion sensed movement and mewled softly in his sleep, his hooves crossing themselves around her neck and pulling her instinctively to himself. She pressed herself against him after she’d put her mane out of her eyes. Shuddering a little, she pulled the blankets up and shut her eyes again.
Her nose started to itch.
Her back left hoof went numb.
She burped audibly.
Her mane frizzed out for a moment.
Her eyes crossed for a few seconds.
Pinkamina moaned softly, then sat up. Rubbing her hooves over her eyes, she furrowed her brow. Cocking her head, she analyzed internally what the Pinkie Sense was telling her. Itchy nose… burp… mane frizzing… numb hoof… crossed eyes. That meant— “Pinkieee…” Lickity Split rolled over, reaching needily to her. “Stay…” he moaned at the pink mare.
“I hafta go.” She whispered more gently than she gave herself credit for, pushing him back and kissing his forehead. He whined wordlessly, but he’d not risen from sleep entirely to begin with. “Stay here, I’ll be careful.” She shuddered suddenly and her ear flicked, and was unsure why. Reaching, she made for the door. Stopping a moment, she got her saddlebag and slung it over herself. She looked over her shoulder at her stallion, frowning in a troubled way. Sighing a little, she reached and grabbed his scarf off of its peg on the wall. Wrapping it around her neck, she was satisfied. The winter would not bite as hard if she wore this. Making sure sleep had taken Lickity back to dreamland, she nodded to herself and stepped out into the night.
The pink mare took off into the snowy darkness, the white powder crunching under her hooves as she clopped along as quickly as she dared without falling on ice. Winter rushed over her face and body, waking her up until her reflexes and mind caught up with her. Her features lowered themselves into a deadly scowl, her mane flapping in the wind as she skidded on a corner. Reaching out, she grabbed a signpost and swung on it, flinging herself down the next street. Lowering her center of gravity on the ice, she slid along for quite a while. Then, she turned her body sideways and stopped in front of her destination.
Sugar Cube Corner. She really, REALLY didn’t care to save the pony within that her Pinkie Sense had warned her about. She’d taken her foalhood, taken her life, made her live in shadow. Surprise, her sort-of-sister-alternate-half, was the one due to die. There was a meager light on inside, which was unusual so late. The bakery usually closed at around 9pm, and it was well-past midnight at that point according to the Ponyville clock tower. Pinkamina narrowed her eyes, and pushed the door open.
The scent of all things sweet and savory assaulted her, turning her stomach. Shaking her head quickly, she stepped inside and flicked her eyes around. A white mare sat at one of the tables with a mug in her hooves, whiffing the steamy swirls of chocolatey goodness coming out of it. Pinkamina’s back arched a little, suspicious. Where was the deadly situation? Where was the screaming or the panic or the deadly… whatever it happened to be every time? “Surprise?” Pinkamina said cautiously.
Surprise’s eyes flicked up and filled with joy, “Pinkamina! You came, just like he—!” Pinkamina DOVE face first and skidded on the tiles as a flash of silvery death arced in front of her. She slid a few feet, somersaulted backwards and miraculously ended up on all her hooves. Death stood just to one side of the entrance, a massive scythe having gone through the door and blasted rivulets of wood out onto the sidewalk.
It was a trap! Death had come to threaten Surprise, but Surprise was a part of herself! She tried to work out the logic of the Pinkie Sense for a moment, but a kaleidoscope of cosmic chaos assaulted her brain, so she stopped. “Quiet, imbecile.” She told her lesser half, scowling as Death stood in the doorway. He turned slowly, the scythe’s shaft held in his teeth. The light was not enough to expose his face, but a good look at his hooves compared to the size of the tiles he stood on confirmed. He was an enormous pony. “New toy?” she asked Death as he straightened to face her.
“I don’t think there’s anyone named imbecile here, Pinkamina.” Surprise said helpfully from the table, seemingly frozen to her chair. “Should I go looking for somepony to—!”
“Shut up!” Pinkamina barked over her shoulder, just in time for Death to make a mad rush at her. She reared up, weaving past chairs and tables as the scythe flashed back and forth. It rang with the tinkling sound of falling iron shavings, and wherever it went it left destruction. Chairs broke apart, tables smashed into themselves, display cases with confections inside hesitated… then fell into halves. She bucked wildly when one of the arcs was over, kissing his cheek with her back hooves. He grunted audibly, using his massive weight as momentum. Even from where she was sitting, Surprise could see the little hoof-full of pink mane hairs flying. The pink mare recoiled, a slash of her curtain-like mane gone. She was perhaps four inches shorter now, and could no longer hide her expression from the world when she ducked her head. Seething, she coiled herself as she skidded a bit on the slick tiles. Death stopped a moment, brandishing the long-shafted weapon. It seemed so unwieldly, but he raced it back and forth with ease. It had a long, black, wooden shaft with a curved blade. Decorated across it were runes and skull symbols, glinting with a red-purple finish in the candlelit. “Oooh, mahogany. Fancy.” Pinkamina jeered.
Death snarled savagely, then rushed forth while the tip of his weapon sprayed sparks across the floor. Surprise’s hooves leapt up to her ears at the horrible claws-on-a-chalkboard sound it made. Pinkamina was running out of furniture to hide behind, rushing back and forth, but always retreating. Only Surprise’s table and chair seemed immune, for they didn’t dance around it. The pink mare flung herself forward in a moment of madness, under and past the arc of the blade. Grabbing on with her forelegs she wrapped herself around the bizarre weapon and head-butted him without thinking. They both grunted in pain, but neither let go. Struggling back and forth with her, Death suddenly gave the shaft a clicking twist and pulled a spear free. A weapon within a weapon! Pinkamina reeled dangerously, and the dark stallion rushed upon her, knocking her onto her back with a flail of her hooves. Leaping with all his massive stallion weight he slammed his hooves down upon her. She cried out, feeling the ribs break as he did so. Strong. He was so strong.
Wasting no more time and in the heat of the anger-fueled passion of battle, Death stabbed her through the chest with a flourish. Blood exploded from the wound and Pinkamina cried out in agony. She squirmed beneath him as he twisted the weapon savagely. She yelped, pooling blood about herself as she tried to struggle like an insect on a needle display. Something deep within her burst, and her back arched as the pain no longer let her scream. She twitched, feeling herself going limp with weakness while the floor of Sugar Cube Corner slowly stained itself an inky red. “N-no…” she gagged out, splattering her chin with blood. Her hooves reached up, meekly trying to pull the weapon from her breast. Death twisted again, holding her down as she screamed out from the torture. It tore her throat raw. “S—Surprise, run…” she whimpered, reaching towards her twin with a wavering and blood-covered hoof. “Run aw—!” she gagged hard, and her vision started to tunnel. She panted, clutching desperately at her chest. Surprise was staring at the scene with an expression of awe and terror.
Standing over his conquest with a massive hoof to hold her down, Death pulled his hood back with a black chuckle.
Lickity Split.
Pinkamina awoke with a terrorized, full-throated scream. Sitting up in bed she tore her throat out with the belting shriek. Lickity Split snapped awake, screamed too, and fell out of bed with a howl of fear. “What!? What is it?!” he flailed wildly, caught in the twists of the sheets and pillows. She looked over at him when she ran out of breath, tears streaking down her cheeks. She could hear herself panting in the darkness while they stared at each other. Lickity Split stared at her sweaty, shaking form. “Oh Pinkamina…” he said, reaching out once he’d untangled himself. Slowly moving up onto the bed again, he held her. She flinched lightly, but did not pull from him. She even let the ‘Pinkie’ bit pass, which told him volumes. “This is starting to get to you, all this Death business…” he whispered, stroking her mane over and over. She didn’t respond, didn’t look at him, only pressed herself into his strong chest while she shook like a leaf.
There in the darkness Pinkamina could think of little but her stallion and the horrible visions she’d had. Was it just a nightmare? Was the Pinkie Sense trying to tell her something? Was Lickity Split— no, no of course not. Lickity was much smaller than Death. Death was a massive stallion. Her dreams had warped all of the shapes and sizes of the things around her. It wasn’t true. She pressed herself harder into him, almost pushing him off the bed entirely. She was grateful to see her mane, uncut, hanging over her eyes and face. The hard-edged mare could never remember being so completely terrified. “I… love you.” She whispered to him.
Lickity stopped, deeply touched. Staring at the top of her head for a long time, he pressed his lips into her mane. “I have something for you.” He whispered at last, leaning to his side of the bed. Stretching, he got into the bedside table drawer and drew out a little box. He looked a bit nervous, but set his jaw and went on. “I was gonna w-wait, but I think this’ll cheer you up.” Spooning up behind her, he flipped it open. Pinkamina flinched at the golden sparkle that twinkled into the moonlight as he unveiled an engagement hoof hoop. “I wanna marry you.” He whispered in her ear, leaning to nibble on it a little.
The pink mare stared at it, an icy quiver going through her shapely frame. It glittered invitingly. Her mouth went a little agape, and she couldn’t form words. “I… I…” his steady hooves leaned and took her right front hoof, raising her leg a bit. He took it gently from the box, and the cool metal touched her while he nuzzled her neck romantically. “I can’t!” she suddenly shrieked, pulling her hooves up and under her chin. Tearing away from him, she fled the bedroom. “For all I know, you could be him!” she cried and dashed away.
Lickity Split was frozen on the spot, his mouth a little agape. The engagement hoop fell from his teeth, spun upon the hardwood floor then went silent when it settled. The poor stallion was crushed.
=-=-=-=
“We must admit, we did not expect such interesting results. Thou should asketh me to send nightmares to ponies more often. Her terrors of thou are deep-seeded now.” Princess Luna and Death lingered in the space between spaces, having just watched the scene unfold. The infinite blackness stood on the lip of the great beyond, just on the cusp of the location souls traversed before heading forward in the great cycle of souls. “Though it is interesting she seeks your identity now, not just to stop you. She understands that you’re mortal.”
A clattering of teeth was all the stallion said, nodding a few times in assent. Careful with his hood and cloak, he shifted his weight a little and scratched his skeletal chin with a hoof the size of a dinner plate.
“Is that thy Aspect Weapon there under your cloak, or art thou merely glad at my presence?” The goddess of the moon smirked at him, her eyes flicking down. If he’d had eyes in his sockets he would’ve rolled them. Sultry thing. He shifted the lip of his cloak a bit lower, then reached into its depths. A flash of silver sent an arc of Aspect magic bolting wildly across the ethereal landscape like lightning on the storm. Death’s Scythe. “Thou art a show off.” Luna chuckled darkly, and he sagged in annoyance as she took it from him for a moment. She looked it over, making sure the shaft was straight, the blade sharp, and the powers still mightily endowed. “We have not seen it in decades, Death’s Scythe.” She smiled a bit. “Forged from a pure, silvery moonbeam, tempered into physical form. It is still one of our finest and deadliest weapons. I do not know why Celestia insisted on giving the other Aspects such useless tools.” She rolled her eyes a little. Princess Celestia had given Father Time a sort of booth that could go back and forth in time, and Mother Nature had received a crown that could tame even the wildest beasts. Such silly things. “So, now thou knowst she does not think she can best you in mortal combat. Her dreams betray this. Wilt thou go to slay her in real life?” Death nodded without hesitation.
=-=-=-=
“What did you learn, dear Father Time?” Celestia mused over her teacup at him. Doctor Whooves took off his bowtie and his Aspect powers winked out. He blinked into existence at the little garden picnic table, startling the guards. He was struggling to even hold his teacup now, a little scowl of concentration on his face. It was as though the hooves meant nothing to him. She watched him work it back and forth, completely inept with their use. Eyeing his frustrated gaze, the sun princess giggled when he elected to stick his face into his teacup instead and rudely slurp. He had the decency to pinken in the cheeks, and he apologized profusely. Magic enveloped his cup, and she gently tilted it at him. Feeling like a toddler, he leaned and sipped a little. “Still getting used to that form I see.” She whispered privately.
“Q-quite.” Doctor Whooves said. “A-anyway.” He launched into his report, telling her of everything that he’d seen Luna and Death speak about. “Doesn’t seem right, spying on my colleague and all. Little underhanded. Underhoof’d. You know.” He said, gesturing in little circles with his hooves. Looking down, he reached and adjusted his crimson bowtie. “He’s never bothered in my vocation, time jumping and such. Almost made me think I was boring. Just once. Never crossed my mind again, but the just once was bad. Made me feel a little bad about myself really.” The short little burst-phrases that he spoke in were all a part of his charm.
“I’m afraid a few too many bad things are in motion, my little pony.” Celestia sighed softly. “While it’s always my intention to stay out of the affairs of my subjects and let them sort out their own lives, when the Aspects or my sister is involved it becomes my concern as well.” She looked a little crest-fallen at all the new details about Death going after Pinkamina directly. There was a long silence between them, for Doctor Hooves had no idea what to say to such things.
Several aided sips of tea later, the Aspect of Time was the one to speak first. “Princess, will you be interfering, then?” he said, looking a little tired and resolved to any horror that might come of it. His teacup quivered in the air for just a moment, and the Doctor saw the brief fleck of distress on the princess’ face. It vanished into its normal serene look after that split moment, though.
“Do you know what makes an excellent goddess, Doctor Whooves?” Celestia smiled bemusedly. She sat on her haunches a little more in an upright fashion. He cocked his head at her, giving her questions with his eyes. “Helping to keep the balance. If, at the end of the day, nopony can tell if you were ever even there pulling the strings.” It was a cryptic answer, and his brow furrowed with even more questions. Finally, he gave in and smiled at her, trying to put his faith in the sun goddess. She’d run Equestria so beautifully so far, she would know precisely what to do when the moment came.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 8: Intermission
Pinkamina sat, hovering over a little mountain of French fries. She’s already killed two piles, and this was her third. The straining taste of salt helped to soothe her woes. She’d wandered the chilling night with nowhere to go until the day came then settled into a little Ponyville diner, grateful to just find someplace to sit. The look on Lickity Split’s face was burned into her mind. “More ketchup.” She called to a passing waiter, a young stallion with little pocks on his face.
“Uh, are you sure? You’ve been here since we opened and—!” She grabbed him by his stupid little diner collar. “I mean, sure thing I’ll get right on that!” he laughed nervously, cantering away quickly. Pinkamina grumbled to herself, resting her chin tiredly on the table and stuffing another French fry in her mouth.
“Oh my sweet Celestia!” somepony outside the big panel window shrieked, making Pinkamina’s eyes flick over. She saw she was being stared at by none other than Rarity. The pale unicorn made a beeline off the sidewalk into the diner and to her table. “Pinkamina dahhh-ling you look terrible!” she declared. The pink mares eyes lidded as her eyebrows gathered angrily, scowling at her. “What happened? You look like you haven’t slept a wink!” they shared a silence, as Rarity expected her to say something. She didn’t, only deepened her scowl. “Did something happen? Are you sick?” The unicorn’s eyes moved over her table and her brow went up. “Is… is that all French fries?” she asked, a little dumbfounded.
Pinkamina nodded, and right then the young stallion showed up with her ketchup. She splattered the red stuff all over her plate, stuffing more into her mouth. Rarity watched in a rather repulsed silence, for a long time. “What?” the pink mare finally said.
“That’s pity food if I ever saw it.” Rarity smiled a little sympathetically, sliding into the booth across from her and stealing a fry before Pinkamina could stop her. “Come to drown your sorrows for something?” she cocked her head, leaning on the table a bit. The pink mare scowled at her for being read so thoroughly. She didn’t answer, once again. “Well, you know…” Rarity was digging through her saddlebag, “I was saving these for a weekend with Fluttershy, but I think you need them more right now.” She smiled, levitating a pair of magenta tickets out. They were sales tickets to the local spa. One of Pinkamina’s eyebrows rose. “Well you just look so tense and distressed, I think you could use a good pampering. Come along!”
Pinkamina felt a pressure on her back and a phantom hoof a Rarity’s magic brought her to her hooves. She followed slowly, “I… suppose.”
“Besides, you can’t just sit and eat fries all day. It’ll all go straight to your hips!” The backhanded compliment was followed quickly by Rarity’s awkward smile. “B-but anyway, come along, we’ll go right now!”
=-=-=-=
Pinkamina had been stewing in the hot bath for almost an hour when she finally spoke of her own volition. “Lickity Split proposed to me.” She said, as though tasting the phrase.
Rarity’s face turned questioning, and her eyes flicked down to Pinkamina’s right foreleg. No engagement hoop there. “And I’m guessing you turned him down, darling?” she asked, shifting a little in the steamy water. “No engaged mare wears that scowl if she said yes.” The pale unicorn sunk up to her neck, waiting for Pinkamina to say more. “Go ahead, tell aunty Rarity all about it.”
Pinkamina hesitated for a long time. Truth be told, she hadn’t done much connecting with the mane six. After she’d separated (or tried to) from Surprise, she thought she would just leave the blonde mare to be the new Pinkie Pie. But no, now and then Applejack or Twilight or one of the others would come by the ice cream parlor to chat with her. But she was usually gruff and sent them away. Maybe this was an opportunity for more? “I dreamed that Death was Lickity Split. I thought the Pinkie Sense was warning me about his identity.” She said finally. Rarity gasped, looking horrified and putting a hoof over her mouth. Pinkamina stared at the bubbling waters. “I need to know who Death is, before it makes me crazy.”
“Rainbow Dash told me that Death was a large stallion. A great big one.” Rarity gestured to make a wide motion. “Forgive me for saying, but Lickity Split is… eh…” she struggled to find a delicate way to put it, and took far too long.
“Smaller?” Pinkamina offered after a time, giving a smirk.
“Not to question his virility or anything, he’s just rather spindly in the ankles, if you know what I mean.” Rarity turned a little pink in the cheeks. Pinkamina stared at her. “Did you turn him down because you don’t love him?” she asked while the steam curled back and forth around their faces.
“No, that’s not it.” Pinkamina said softly, stirring the water with one hoof. “I don’t wanna let my guard down, is all. Suppose it was him? My wedding night could be my tomb.”
“You work at his parlor, you live together, I assume you sleep together—” Rarity let the sentence hang awkwardly for a moment, then quickly amended. “In-in-in the same bed, I mean. If he was Death, he would’ve had plenty of opportunity to get rid of you. Weren’t you sick recently? He might’ve… I don’t know, made the germs kill you. Nopony would’ve suspected a thing.” Pinkamina knew she had a good point and sighed. If anything, Lickity had been her stalwart white knight while the pressure kept increasing and increasing in her situation. Then she’d snapped at him at the most tender of moments. Rarity watched her fight a long internal battle, a little pout on her lip.
By the time they’d moved to the massage tables (and Pinkamina had been coaxed that there was nothing wrong with another mare rubbing on her body), the pink mare was ready to say more. “I feel as though it’s coming to a head, I don’t know what to do. Each time is more deadly than the last.” Rarity groaned when an impressive maneuver made three parts of her back crackle like popcorn. Aloe, one of the two massage therapists, smiled serenely when her customer cried out like she did. Masochist? Hopefully not. Aloe’s twin, Vera, was massaging Pinkamina’s scalp with both hooves. The pink mare laid her head down with a deep sigh, allowing a quiet murr of pleasure.
“Will we be doing mane this time as well, Madam Rarity?” Aloe asked in a wispy voice.
“Oh yes, please.”
Pinkamina cast a dark gaze at Vera, who knew without asking there would not be any touching the pink mare’s mane with any utensils today. Her massage worked down across her temples, which understandably ached. “Mhhh.” She moaned like her arm was being twisted. “Fine, just a little trim, to make the edges even.” She murmured, looking at the floor with darkened cheeks. Rarity smiled encouragingly. “But nothing else, got it?” Vera nodded, ever the quick and silent servant. While the minutes passed, Rarity was done up and about seventeen curlers and Pinkamina was seen to with a tiny pair of precision scissors.
“You know what I think you should do, Pinkamina?” Rarity said a little haughtily, eyes closed as she was done up with green face-goo and cucumber slices. The pink mare rolled her eyes, no she didn’t want to know thank y— “I think after all this you should start looking at all the stallions in Ponyville.”
“Lickity Split is my stallion, Rarity! How dare you?!” Pinkamina barked blackly. Vera flinched back, not wanting to trim any hair while her customer was shouting animatedly.
“No no no, hahaha!” Rarity said, chortling along with Aloe who was busily putting her mane in a nice beehive-shaped bun. “I mean, if you want to learn who Death is, and he’s got a physical shape, why don’t you look around and see who fits the shape?”
Pinkamina flicked her eyes at Vera, trying to stay still so she could be trimmed. “To be honest Big Macintosh is the only stallion I know of that’s that big.” She said, gesturing vaguely. “A great big barrel chest, a deep voice and massive hooves? There’s not many ponies that fit that description.”
“Big Macintosh?” Rarity chuckled aloud. “That poor country bumpkin couldn’t hurt a fly, much less be a shepherd of the dead!” she tilted her head in thought, trying to come up with another suspect. “Well there’s Prince Blueblood in Canterlot, goodness knows the behavior would fit.” Her old grudge began to rear its ugly head. “Or Doctor Whooves? He always seems to be popping in and out of places at very strange intervals. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something supernatural to that pony.” She hmmm’d as she thought about the theory. “What about Fancy Pants? Jelly Belly? Somepony from Appleoosa, maybe, those cart stallions that we chased Applejack with were huge! Or even—” she rattled down a list of names, none of which made much sense. Pinkamina sighed. No matter which way she cut it, the only suspects on the list didn’t make any sense. While it was a wise pony that said ‘eliminate the impossible and whatever’s left must be true’, she just didn’t have enough evidence. “You know, worst case scenario…” Rarity said softly, turning her head even though her eyes were covered with cucumber slices. “It’s no one we know at all. A total strange-pony.”
“Yeah.” Pinkamina mumbled, lying still until Vera was done trimming her mane. Whether she’d admitted it or not, she did feel a bit better after all of this pampering. She felt cleaner, lighter, more relaxed than she had in a long time.
“You know what you ought to do?” Rarity chirped a second time, making Pinkamina fight down a groan. This mare was too gossipy, too concerned with other ponies’ business. “I think you should go home, and talk to Lickity. He’s probably hurting, dah’ling.” Her tone had turned somber, and a little sad. “You know better now, perhaps you can patch things up?” Pinkamina said nothing, but mumbled her assent. She’d been dreading going back home. “You know Lickity can’t be death, he’s far too small in stature. Though, it wouldn’t tell him that.” She chuckled conspiratorially. “It might hurt his poor widdle ego.” Pinkamina smiled a smile that made both Aloe and Vera shiver from an unseen cold.
=-=-=-=
Lickity Split was banging around in one of the side rooms when Pinkamina arrived at home. It had been a storage room, but all the boxes had been shoved to one side and he was constructing what looked like a couch-futon. Screw-driver in his mouth and an unfolded paper of instructions nearby, he almost didn’t see her in the doorway. “Pinkamina.” He said a little cautiously. She leaned into the room, smelling the burning sea salt candle hidden in a corner somewhere.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, peering around with a frown.
“I— I don’t think we should sleep together anymore.” He said, looking away. Even from the distance where she stood, she could see his eyes were a little bloodshot from excessive crying. She opened her mouth to speak, but she saw the shrill anger rise up in him again. “I’m good enough to mount but not good enough to marry?! How dare you?!” he shouted at her, making her lean back and lift a hoof like she might bolt. His words cut deep. “You can sleep in here, separate, from now on! This is your room!” he told her angrily, turning back to the futon with a sniffle-strained huff.
“Lickity—” Pinkamina reached towards him, but he flinched when she touched his back. Taking a deep breath, the rather jaded mare knew now was the time to open up if there ever was one. If she wanted a companion now that her new life was blossoming, she needed to take good care of him. “I’m sorry about last night. I had a terrible nightmare, and I saw Death’s face was yours.” She said, coming and settling on her belly next to him. He very carefully didn’t look at her, but wasn’t putting screws into the futon anymore. His breath was shuddering and upset. She sidled until their sides were pressed together. “Then you proposed while I was still freaking out and I… I thought I would be letting my guard down if it really was you.” She confessed quietly, sticking her muzzle into his mane to nuzzle him apologetically. Mmm, vani— no, Apple Spice. Some kind of apple mane and body wash product from Sweet Apple Acres. (“Smell like a hard-workin’ stallion, Eyuup!”) Pinkamina’s nose wrinkled angrily.
“Pinkie, I—!” Lickity turned when she rose with a snap of her knees and stomped away. The stallion looked at the tools and screws and metal parts strewn around the room. Sighing depressedly, he slowly rose to his hooves. He made his way across the room to the doorway to see what she had gone to do. Was she going to pack up and move out? Where would she go? How would she make a living? Would she—?
SPLAT!
Lickity Split let out a high-pitched, mare-like shriek as an ice cream bucket was slammed over his head. Vanilla ice cream splattered over his face, neck, mane, and down his chest. He staggered back and forth, hit a wall and fell comically. His hooves bicycled about in the blinded, chill-induced panic. Then, just as quickly as it had started the blindness ended when Pinkamina lifted the ice cream bucket off of him. She stared down at him, dripping from his face and mint-green mane. “Sorry. My stallion smells like vanilla.” She told him, throwing the bucket aside. “He smells like a mare, but he’s still my stallion.”
There was a long silence while he stared at her, sticky and blinking in shock. “But my propo—!”
“I’ll marry you after I conquer Death.” Pinkamina said, lying down on her belly before him. Leaning with all the subtlety of a minotaur in a china shop, she ran her tongue erotically over his cheek. “Promise.” She said after smacking her lips a few times, thoughtful. His face lit up joyfully, a massive grin wrapping itself across his face.
“Oh Pinkie! That’s great! I’ll just get a shower and we can go out to celebr—!” the pink mare grabbed his chin and hauled him dominantly down onto his belly again, at her level.
“It’s Pinkamina, and nope.” She said, leaning and licking his face again. “You’re gonna stay right here.” Her look of dominant masochism crossed her face and she soon held him by the shoulder. “Right here.” She said in a husky sort of whisper, licking along his mane. The stallion gasped aloud despite himself. “For all I know that scent needs to ferment to stick to you.” He smiled in helpless embarrassment when she tasted him, his cheeks coloring a lovely crimson. As white as he was, it made his cheeks look like he had twin cherries on his face. Cherries on a sundae like his cutie mark. This pleased Pinkamina. Lickity Split had no shower that night, though he did end up clean. After his mare was done convincing him he should always smell like vanilla, that is. Silly stallion.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 9: Hoof Print
“Now this, mah boy, is gonna help us plow and till the fields ten times faster than ever before. Us Apples are lucky for bein’ able to test the prototype for this fancy machine.” Said Papa Apple, Big Macintosh’s father. The young stallion, just a foal at the time, looked up at his father and smiled grandly.
“Eyuup! With a thing like this ah reckon we could expand Sweet Apple Acres ten times over iff’n we wanted to!” Big Macintosh leaned over the side, looking at the spinning, whirling blades that were blasting away at the soil. It turned it, mulched it, dug deep to draw out the moisture and fertile minerals—then dropped it right back down again in even rows.
“Y’know the Apples have always done things by hoof, but I don’t see any harm in tryin’ something new now and then.” said Papa Apple. “Yer mother don’t approve o’ course, but ah reckon us stallions are out in the fields most’a the time anyway, doin’ the heavy work—” He snickered with his young son. “So we should have some say in how things get done around he’ah.”
Big Macintosh laughed gaily, nodding up and down. It was only out in the fields that he and his father had time to be buddies, and every hard day’s work left him with more nuggets of wisdom. The colt reared up, looking over the railing again to watch the machine work. His father worked the complicated levers, leaning over an instruction manual as thick as a phonebook. Now and then the machine would kick up a big rock, and long mechanical arms would rush down to grasp it and toss it aside. It would make the machine kick a little, but the two ponies held on just fine. “What do you reckon this field’ll be, Pa?” the foal wanted to know, gesturing grandly over all the freshly tilled soil they’d already created.
“Ohh, corn ah reckon. Or maybe wheat. We haven’t done wheat in awhile.”
“Not more apple trees?”
“Well, nopony ever survived on just apples. You gotta duh-versify to do well in life.” The stallion smiled down at his son, hanging on when the machine kicked up another rock. He looked so small, but he’d grow big and strong just like his father. The Apple family tended to produce massive stallions (to the point where their midwives knew to have whisky on hoof), and their farm work only made them bigger and stronger. Holding on to the raised seat he was strapped to, Papa Apple turned the steering wheel rapidly. The many-toothed machine gave a groan, turning slowly as it went to cut another swath in the earth. He pulled a steam valve that hung on a pull-chain, whoo whoo! That made Big Macintosh laugh, prancing about the deck of the contraption.
The machine KICKED again, much harder than before, flinging both pony’s to the railing and sending Big Macintosh right over the edge! The machine had struck some sort of boulder, hidden under the surface of the earth, and had stutter-stopped on it. He squealed in terror, holding onto the edge of the deck with his tiny hooves. “Papa!” he cried out.
Papa Apple rushed to his son’s aid while the machine bucked and whined and hissed out steam at all different angles. “Hang on!” he shouted. Leaning under the railing and over his son’s head, he grabbed Big Macintosh by his tiny yoke. Grunting with effort and using only his teeth, he swung his foal onto the deck again with a rush of powerful strength. Both of them lay there panting, while the machine vibrated harder, threatening to throw them both off of itself. “I gotta shut it down! Hang on to something!” the Apple patron roared while his son clung fearfully to a stray mechanical pipe.
“Be careful Papa!” Big Macintosh whimpered, trembling and holding on to his anchor with all his might. The machine bucked wildly while the stallion crawled back to the control panel. Just then it gave a terrifying sound of something deep inside bursting. The foal’s anchor/pipe suddenly ruptured, jagged metal flying across his neck. He whinnied in agony, the desperate recoil dragging the pipe’s edge’s across his vocal chords, down his little chest and across his little under carriage.
A shadow passed over Big Macintosh, it was his father being flung through the air. He saw him going over the side. The sounds of the machine’s tilling teeth ripping his body spattered the air, and a great fountain of blood rushed like a wave up onto the deck of the machine. His screams would haunt Big Macintosh for the rest of his life.
Barely alive, the little red foal staggered to the control panel, using the last of his strength to pull himself into the raised seat. Falling over all the buttons and dials, it was all he could do to pull the key. The machine died, the earth-tilling teeth and robot arms grinding to a halt. Blood waterfall’d from his splayed open neck and chest. Big Macintosh laid his head down on the steering wheel to die...
Big Macintosh woke with a grunt, his chest itching furiously. He sat up, scratching wildly at the massive scars hidden under his fur. Panting a little, he rubbed the sweat from his forehead and checked the clock. He was up five minutes early. He heaved a great, shuddering breath, rubbing his eyes before he rose from bed. He hardly ever dreamed of that day anymore, but it always made him so itchy. Leaning in an aching way, he found his hooves and went about his normal morning rituals before going to check on his sisters.
Applebloom was curled up in her little bed still, cute and innocent as could be. Her crude bits of artwork were strewn all about the room, plans for she and her friends to find their cutie marks. The stallion vowed to laugh the day she got a cutie mark that was for finding cutie marks. What would that be? A blank flank on her flank? He smirked good-naturedly.
The stallion got a bit of a surprise when he peeked in on Applejack. Mainly because she wasn’t alone in her bed. A quick check of the rainbow-colored mane and wings sticking out was all it took to know the guest’s identity. He frowned a little disapprovingly. His sister was a fillyfooler, huh? Groaning inwardly and rolling his eyes, he gently closed the door. She’d bring it to light later and they’d have to sort it out. He couldn’t say the idea made him very comfortable. He’d just forget about it for now.
Peeking in at Granny Smith was always interesting, for her position when she found sleep was often unusual. That day, Big Macintosh found her with her head at the wrong end of the bed and all of her pillows in different corners of the room. How? Why? There was no telling. It was one of those Apple Family mysteries.
Seeing all the mares in the household were still asleep, the barrel-chested stallion went downstairs to start a meager breakfast. Winter though it was, there was still lots to be done on the farm. He had a fence or two to repair, and he wasn’t quite done sharpening all the tools in the barn. It was best to get that done during the winter so it was one less thing to worry about during the warm months when the planting and harvesting was going on.
He opened the door to go outside, a lantern in his mouth to light the way to the barn. “Umph!” he reared a little when he saw a figure standing on the porch waiting for him. Holding the lantern a little higher, he exposed pink fur and a curtain-like mane. He blink-blinked in shock, letting his face do the talking since his throat hurt him when he spoke.
“Good morning to you too, Big Macintosh.” Pinkamina said with a toss of her mane, smiling a rather chilly smile. “Up early to do chores as usual. Your sisters and the rest of the family must be proud.” The last word in her sentence was rather poisonous, making the red stallion’s eyes narrow a little. What was she up to? “No doubt you’re headed to the barn or something, can I walk with you?” Big Macintosh nodded slowly, already on edge and suspicious about her intentions.
They walked in silence, the icy silence of the wee hours of the winter morning harboring no insects or other sounds. The clip-clop of their hooves on stepping stones and then gravel was the only sound between them for a time. Big Mac pushed the barn door open with his nose, glancing over Pinkamina’s shoulder. He was glad to have led the strange mare away from his family, if she was gonna have a meltdown or something he didn’t want her near his kin. Setting the lantern on a hook, he turned to face her at last. She made a point of closing the door behind them. A slight breeze pressed on the barn, and the slightest motion of hooves crunched hay loudly. Big Macintosh cocked his head at her, motioning for her to speak.
“I know your secret, Big Mac.” Pinkamina blurted finally, unable to hold herself back any longer. His brow rose in surprise. “Then again, it wasn’t that hard to figure out.” She started pacing back and forth. “The stallion with massive hooves, and a deep voice, and incredible strength— who else could it have been, here in Ponyville?” Big Macintosh felt color coming to his cheeks, a deeper red than normal. He lifted a hoof, leaning back a bit Suddenly she was in his face and he startled back a little. “Admit it, Big Macintosh! It can’t be anypony else!” she roared accusingly. Beads of sweat went down either side of his face, and he looked everywhere but her. “Not so tough without your cloak, are you?!” she rushed at with a whinny of battle!
“Alright! Ah admit it!” he rasped out, lifting a hoof to shield his face. “Ah confess!” his throat practically caught fire, and he scratched at himself furiously. The pink mare skidded to a halt, sure she had her enemy in his corner now.
“Then hoof it over!” Pinkamina demanded the source of Death’s transformation powers, his magical cloak. She’d seen him do it enough times, she’d figured it out. “Hoof it over and we can end this once and for all!” she was very proud of herself. Not only had she caught him off guard but apparently wracked with guilt! This was gonna be easier than she thought.
“Alright! Ah keep it here, you can have it, ah promise!” Big Macintosh coughed throatily, tormented with the pain of speaking. He leaned on one of the beams of the barn for a moment, catching his breath so he didn’t lose a lung. Speaking hurt him enough, but doing so while upset was just torturous.
Pinkamina scowled, staying very close so he wouldn’t try any funny business. She followed the crimson stallion into one of the barn stalls. It was loaded down with drawers and drawers of things. Screws, wedges, nails, corks, small tools, anything that could be bought in bulk and usually had one use. The pink mare silently applauded his hiding place. Even if someone went looking for Death’s cloak here, it would be hours before they found it. She was tense, though, poised for battle. If he came at her with a scythe or something like in her dreams, it would actually be best to be quite close to him. A long-reaching swinging weapon was useless against a pony that was within hoof’s reach, in a tactical sense. She’d thought long and hard about it, and even bopped him on the flank when he hesitated. The big stallion flinched like she’d struck him, ears turned back. He leaned high, silently counting drawers so he could find the right one. “Hurry it up.” She snapped, keeping him on the ropes so he wouldn’t gain any last moment confidence and try something.
Big Macintosh counted four drawers down, three to the left, then seven more down, then four to the right. Placing his mouth over the ringlet of the drawer he pulled it open and reached inside. Turning, he gave it to her.
A Smarty Pants doll.
“Don’t tell Twi-light.” The stallion rasped pathetically, his eyes big and soft. If Pinkamina had been an anime character she would’ve fallen directly onto her head in a prat fall. He placed it on the floor in front of her, looking humiliated and ashamed.
“What the buck is this?!” Pinkamina grabbed the doll up, turning it back and forth like it was a puzzle box. “A raggity doll?! This isn’t Death’s cloak!” she pelted him with it cruelly. Big Macintosh flinched like she’d struck him with a rock, quickly picking up the precious object and cradling it gently. Whatever Pinkamina was after it wasn’t Smarty Pants, thank Celestia. Pinkamina reared up, putting both hooves on his massive shoulders, “You listen here, Big Mac!” she swatted the doll from his hooves, her patience having run out by now. His face was shocked as she put her muzzle to his, until he looked at the poor doll laying limp on the ground.
Big Macintosh gave a rough snorting sound, pushing her back. “Nnope.” He was already reverting to his usual two-word vocabulary. She was losing her grip on him! She could practically see his internal shields coming up, and an angry glare was sealing up any cracks in his defenses. A hoof the size of a dinner plate pushed her, digging her hooves in, alllll the way out of the stall and out of the barn. They stared at each other for a long time, both angry. Some hidden line had been crossed between them. “Nnope.” He said again, slamming the door in her face.
Pinkamina stood there for a long time, then peeked into the barn through a crack. The massive stallion was sitting on his haunches, holding the doll with both front hooves, rubbing his cheek against it. The pink mare had never been more confused. She stepped backward in the snow a few times, brow furrowing in angry frustration. She stared down at her hooves, then her chest. She stopped a moment, blink-blinking. Big Macintosh’s hoof print was on her breast, as clear as day. Tracking snow into the barn and across hay and dirt had made mud. A slow, rather chilling smile worked across her face. She had Big Macintosh’s hoof print.
=-=-=-=
“Twilight Sparkle.” Pinkamina was knocking on the library door with her face. Or her forehead rather. She didn’t want to reach up with a hoof and risk wrinkling her pristine evidence. “Twilight Sparkle!” she called more loudly. The sun was barely rising, having just cleared the horizon and slowly laboring its way into the sky.
Twilight came to the door looking very frizzy in the mane, having been pulled from a wonderful Con Mane spypony dream (being a Con Mane girl was one of her secret fantasies). “Pinkamina?” the lavender librarian said drowsily, eyeing her up and down. “It’s early…” she trailed off when she saw the huge hoof print plastered across the pink mare’s chest. She panicked briefly. “Dear Celestia did Death touch you?!” she shrieked. “Is that black plague!? Don’t come any closer, you could be contagious!” She leapt to put a hoof over her muzzle, and Pinkamina shoved a rock into her doorframe before she could slam it shut.
“It’s mud.” Pinkamina said simply. “And it needs to be measured by somepony that knows fancy mathematics.” This seemed to calm Twilight down, and with the fresh adrenaline she was much more awake. “This is important, Twilight.” The pink mare said, gesturing to her chest. “I need size, age, anything you can get out of this print.”
“What for?” Twilight said, leaning and already mentally making a list of the instruments she would need to do such a thing. “It’s a hoof print.”
“I’m very close to finding out who Death is.” Pinkamina said.
“Is this his?!” Twilight shrieked, wondering if there was a nasty bruise or broken bones beneath the mud. “Did he buck you in the chest?!”
“It’s for comparison.” Pinkamina finally shouldered past her, growing impatient. “Let’s get measuring,” She said officially. “Before the Pinkie Sense goes off and I have to rush away.” Twilight nodded firmly, the door of her lab wrenching itself open. Both mares went downstairs. Spike would awaken almost an hour later, having no idea where anypony had gone.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 10: Lickity Split
Lickity Split, unbeknownst to Pinkamina, had a special love in his life that was not her. She also stayed in the ice cream parlor with them, and also took quite a bit of maintenance to care for. She was blue and silver. She was always hot in his hooves, and certainly always did her job when the stallion demanded it. Not to mention, she was twelve inches long. I speak, of course, of his favorite ice cream scoop. Sure, the shop had dozens of them, but there was one that he favored over the rest. His father Minty Split had passed it down to him (“With this scoop, son, you’ll conquer the world of ice cream!”) when he’d retired, and he’d kept it like a sacred treasure. If the stallion didn’t have it on him, it was at least nearby.
Turning the scoop (aptly named Steelie) expertly in his hooves, he made up what he was sure would be the final ice cream bowl for the night. The winter time tended to put a damper on his business, but after the whole almost-being-lynched incident, Ponyville had been generous to him with business. He wasn’t one to look a gift-pony in the mouth, either. The lone mare ho-hummed about stallion-troubles, and not for the first time Lickity Split got to play the role of bartender. (Ponyville didn’t actually have a bar, so a parlor like his could sometimes serve the same function for anypony needing to weave a sad story) He listened politely for a time, advised the poor mare that it was probably bad to date friends who dated other friends first, and sent her on her way when her bowl was empty.
“Another day, another hoof full’a bits.” Lickity said when he was finally alone. With Pinkamina out enjoying a night off (he hoped), he had the parlor to himself. Taking the toppings display from its holder behind glass, he took it gently into the freezer and set it in its usual place. Closing up the display case, he started turning off the little neon strips that made the inside of the parlor look happy and gay. Getting a mop, he began to get his soapy water started when he heard the front above-the-door bell chime. Somepony had come into the shop. Rolling his eyes with a chuckle, LIckity Split cursed himself for not locking the door first like he was supposed to at the end of the day. He came out of the little supply room and stood behind the counter, leaning past the display to the barstool area. “So sorry, I’m closed for the—”
Death sat on one of the barstools. Or rather, some semblance of sitting. His cloak covered the whole thing, and Lickity could only guess what sort of configuration his bones had gotten into to make him sit properly that way. The white stallion went icy and rigid, then started trembling like a frightened foal. Death clacked its jaws a few times, cocking his head. Both massive hooves appeared on the counter, one tapping idly. After letting the terrified stallion get a nice eyeful, he shifted and SLAMMED a hoof on the counter.
Lickity jumped with a mare-ish shriek, his body rushing to auto-pilot. He knew the gesture as ‘service! service!’, which was only made when a customer was left idle for far too long and not served. Gulping, he straightened his little chest apron. He really, really didn’t want to be within hoof’s reach of Death incarnate, but his hooves carried him there anyway like a machine. “P-P-P-Pinkie’s not h-here!” he managed to sputter out. “Y-You’ll h-hafta come back l-later!” Death cocked his head, jaw clattering a few more times. Was he trying to say something? The creature didn’t have lips or a tongue, it was hard to tell. “Wh-what? You want ice cream?” Lickity squeaked.
Death gestured to a little sign, the Over-the-Moon special. It was a vanilla ice cream with flecks of cookie and blue dust. It was in honor of Princess Luna’s return, and was fairly popular. Lickity gulped, getting out Steelie and setting to work with quivering hooves. Before long, a little mountain of vanilla had been made, then the cookie bits sprinkled on here and there. Then, he went briefly into the freezer for the blue sugar dust powder. Sprinkling it generously, he surveyed his work back and forth. Putting Steelie in his apron, he moved with quivering hooves to put the confection down in front of Death. The creature leaned back and forth, as though inspecting it for himself. Clatter-clatter went his jaws. One of the massive hooves went up, pointing to something on the far side of it.
“What’s wrong with it?” Lickity’s curiosity got the better of him and he leaned close to see. Death SEIZED him by his mane and dragged him face first over the counter! The stallion screamed as he was held down by his mane, propped over the counter. Death raised a hoof high as it turned ethereal and ghost-like. With gusto he plunged it into the helpless stallion’s back! Lickity Split whinnied, squirming about in spiritual agony. All four of his hooves flailed about helplessly while Death searched briefly. Ah. There it was. The stallion suddenly went limp, his expression glazed over into one of white-hot horror.
Death stepped back, clatter-teeth laughing. In his hoof he held Lickity Split’s soul. Shoving it rudely under his robes, he drew his scythe and turned to the largest flat surface he could, the floor.
=-=-=-=
Celestia’s brow lowered and everypony in the room stopped to stare. Was… was she glaring? “I-I-If that’s not okay with your majesty, I-I’m sure we can find other ways to raise bits for the flower park project!” said the little filly scout before her. She’d been brave enough to approach royalty for the money to buy seeds for her filly scout troupe to beautify a neglected park. Now her princess was glaring at her with all the fury of a thousand blistering suns! “M-meep!” The poor little thing began to pee herself when the princess suddenly rushed back to the present time and situation.
“I— forgive me, I was elsewhere for a moment. I cannot give you money, little one, but I can certainly give you seeds from the royal gardens. Take your troupe and gather seeds from there. Off with you, now!” she gave what was quite possibly the worst fake-smile she’d given in three hundred years. “The Sunshine Court is in recess! Neigh! Done for today!” she amended, standing quickly and beating the little filly out of her own front door.
“Princess?” said one of her twin private guards as they rounded a corner to finally be alone. The two solar stallions would follow her into oblivion, but Faust-confound them both if they had EVER seen the sun goddess scowl like that.
“You’re both dismissed. The remainder of the day is yours.” She said over her shoulder, walking forward with authority. Both stallions stopped, slack-jawed. She NEVER shed her private guards. But the way she just said that, it was as though they were both dead weight! The solar stallion on the right felt his lip begin to quiver. After perhaps ten paces, the princess stopped and turned, “Neigh, a new order.” She told them, and they eagerly leaned forward. “Summon Father Time.” The solar princess bade them. Both stallions nodded, snapped salutes, and rushed away. The note would cover a meeting location, and a precise time.. “Death just crossed a terrible threshold.” She whispered, more to herself than anypony.
As soon as Celestia arrived in the royal gardens a blue booth of some kind sputtered into existence. The door opened and Father Time poked his head out. “Ah. Your Majesty.” The brown on brown stallion greeted. “Came as soon as I got the note.” He held up the short letter that had not actually been sent yet.
“On time as usual, Father Time.” Celestia smiled graciously. “Come, we have a few strings to pull.”
“Ah yes, come aboard then. Awfully important, this string-pulling business. Lotta rot going on, if you need to step up and interfere, I bet.” His short and gibbering phrases were all a part of his charm, the frequent pauses making him quite adorkable. Celestia briefly entertained the idea of introducing him to her most faithful student Twilight Sparkle, but there were more important things to do right now. “When to, princess?” Father Time adjusted his bowtie with a chuckle as the alicorn went inside the blue booth. It was much, much bigger inside than outside.
“Right after Lickity Split was attacked.” Celestia said firmly after filling Father Time in on what had happened. “ We need to be there and gone again before Pinkamina arrives home.”
“Right-o, then. Hold on. She jars now and then.” Father Time shut the doors and they were off. The blue booth winked out of existence, travelling backward through time. Precisely three seconds later they returned. “That was it, really? That’s all you wanted to change in the scheme of things?” The brown stallion was a little shocked, to tell the truth.
“Yes.” Celestia said serenely, all the stress gone from her now. She lifted her wings just a little, having returned to her loving expression and lack of anxiety. “Hahh… I think I’m going to get some tea. Would you like to join me?” she said with such a charming smile that Father Time could not resist her. He bashfully took his bowtie off, assuming mortal form, and followed her into the palace. He didn’t pretend to understand what the princess had done, but the sun goddess’ staff did make a right-good pot of tea. He couldn’t miss that.
=-=-=-=
Pinkamina was glad to have a clean coat and such after all the measurements had been taken. After much fancy mathematics had been had, Twilight Sparkle had been able to tell her much about Big Macintosh just based on the hoof print. Of course, she’d never said that it was Big Mac, but Twilight worked under the assumption that it was a suspect. He had to be a massive stallion, at least a hundred and fifty pounds heavier than most. The width and thickness of his hoof alone told how much weight had to be distributed. Not to mention his age and height range. Much could be found in a hoof print.
Rushing finally to Lickity’s ice cream parlor, she flung the door open, happy to be— home? All the tables had been flung to either side, several windows cracked, and the tiles sliced all to tartarus by some unknown tool. But that wasn’t what drew the mare’s eye. Laying limp over the counter, still in his apron, was Lickity Split. Her mouth went dry and a little agape while her pupils shrank into dots. “LICKITY!” Pinkamina whinny-screamed, thundering over the broken glass and tile. “No! No nononono!” she held his face, saw his lolling tongue and terrified expression. Using all her might she pulllllled him off the counter, sending a melted ice cream bowl splattering wildly across the floor. “Lickity! LICKITY!” she sank her teeth into his ear, pulling back and forth feverishly. She whacked him over the face several times, hyperventilating.
“Huhh…” escaped his mouth, and she dropped him, wide-eyed. When he made no movements or further sounds, she fell to her knees and leaned her face over his. “Huhh…” he said again after a time. She felt a slight breeze between them. He was breathing. Pinkamina felt her body flush with relief, then leaned over him more carefully. Why was he frozen like that? He looked so terrified! She tried to shut his eyes to rest them, but they sprang open again. A creeping, aching feeling began to build over her like the tingling of a sleeping limb. Turning, she looked around again, then finally to the floor. There was a method to the madness.
IF YOU WANT HIS SOUL BACK COME TO SWEET APPLE ACRES ALONE TOMORROW NIGHT - -D
It was violently etched into the floor like it had been... “Cut with a scythe.” Pinkamina’s lips pursed hard. “It was him! I knew it was him, that BASTARD!” Pinkamina flailed and bucked at air, a great vein appearing on her forehead. His face colored scarlet and her body quivered with untold rage. Heaving a great breath, she let out a great, terrible cry. (Miles away, Fluttershy flinched and didn’t quite know why) She saw Lickity Split’s favorite ice cream scoop laying on the floor, glittering serenely in the moonlight. “I’ll get him. I’ll cave his bucking skull in!” she swore and spat as she grabbed the instrument up. “I’ll do it with a bucking ice cream scoop! Cave it right in and I—!” the pink mare stopped, turning towards LIckity Split. He was splayed out on the floor, getting dirty and sticky laying in all the debris.
Halting her rage and slowly decompressing, she stared down at him. Pinkamina slowly knelt down, putting her head under his side. Trying her best, she found she could not move him. A little ashamed, she dragged him across the floor of the parlor. When finally in their little living space in the back, she turned him on his side. Fetching towels and warm water, she knelt beside him. Then, like a ritual long-since forgotten, she dabbed at him until he was much cleaner. He didn’t appear hurt, per se, his body was steadily breathing and his heart pumping blood at an idle pace. He was just… soul-less. She gritted her teeth a little, using all her might to put him up on the couch. Draping a quilt over him, she sighed. “Lickity…” she whispered, running a hoof over his cheek a few times. Leaning down, she offered him a long kiss. He didn’t stir. This wasn’t the movies, where a kiss could heal any wound or bring anyone out of a coma. Nuzzling up and down a few times, she growled to him, “Just… don’t go anywhere. I have to go get your soul, stupid stallion.” She bopped him on the head, grabbing her saddlebag and backing away at last.
=-=-=-=
Big Macintosh was nearing the end of his work day, according to the position of the sun. Just as it was dipping below the horizon he’d hammered the last nail into place. He’d just fixed over sixty yards worth of fence line, and it looked like it could stand up to a timber wolf a’chewin’ on it. Smiling and using his mouth to put his hammer away in his tool box, he surveyed his work. Thankfully the tranquility of a day’s work had rooted out the hot embarrassment of Pinkamina’s discovery. Had she gone to tattle to Twilight Sparkle? It seemed unlikely, or the lavender librarian probably would’ve swung by the farm demanding her property. She did get temperamental now and then. It was adorable to tell the truth but he didn’t want the anger pointed at himself.
The crimson stallion suddenly frowned, cocking his head. What was that sound? It sounded like rolling thunder, very far away from himself. He looked towards the Everfree Forest, fully expecting some ghastly creature to come barreling out. Leaning into his toolbox he got his screwdriver, the only thing that might be a weapon for his mouth. Hooves and tools would have to do. Wait, no. It wasn’t coming from the Everfr— “MAC! IN! TOOOOOOOOSH!” The crimson stallion turned in audibly slow motion just in time to see a pink mare with a bannering mane do a spider-stallion leap through the air. She hovered there, mouth open in a scream of rage he almost couldn’t hear in his shock. Pinkamina watched his brow rise and his mouth fall open, pleased with the fear in his pin-pricking pupils as she sailed through the air upon him. She neared the apex of her leap and wrenched Steelie out of her saddlebags.
A good baseball swing sent the massive stallion crashing through his own fence with the pink mare riding him like a living sled! They tumbled over the embankment while she screamed and beat him like a mad-mare. Blood splattered from his nostrils and he cried out audibly, scorching his throat. His massive hooves flailed wildly to defend himself, but she’d thrown him into a panic and he was all too easy to beat the daylights out of. Clank! Clank! Clank! She raised her ice cream scoop over her head over and over, beating to tar out of him while he was still off-balance. He whinny-shrieked with each blow, squirming as she straddled him forcefully. Raining down the hurt with all her might, Pinkamina let out a high-pitched whinny of fierce battle while she stained her weapon red!
C-chnk!
A long, curved blade interrupted Pinkamina’s wild abuse and she froze. A scythe had lashed out of the twilight to stop her, coming between the pink mare and her target. Turning her head, she saw him. Death. “Wh… what?!” she staggered off of Big Macintosh, who lay on the ground moaning incomprehensively. “But you’re—! And he’s—!?” she gestured wildly with Steelie, shaking uncontrollably. A phantom breeze pushed Death’s hood back, and he stepped back a moment to let Pinkamina rise to her own hooves. She stared at his ugliness, the matted work of scars she could see even through his crimson fur. A red stallion. He looked almost like Big Mac, but… but even bigger! “Who ARE you?! Who the BUCK are you?!” she shrieked, the panic making her voice high-pitched.
Death’s voice was low and growly as he heaved his scythe into the upright staff position. “Ahm Papa Apple, and you need’a quit abusin’ mah son.”
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 11: Death's Battle
Papa Apple awoke in space between spaces, clinging to the ground. He thought he could see his hooves but he wasn’t sure. “Whut happened t’ me?” he wondered aloud, peering about. “I was runnin’ to turn off the tillin’ machine and—” he trailed off, looking at the long and endless field. On the far horizon was a strong light. It was warm and friendly, flanked with twinkling stars and inviting comets. “Whut a weird place this is.” Then something caught his eye, a great black blob flying across the sky. It was pony-shaped and didn’t seem in a particular rush. “Hey! HEY! Down here!”
It stopped in midair and wheeled around. Then it PLUNGED towards him at a deadly speed and landed with a stomp. “Soul! Move tolds the light! Thou art deceased and bound for the great beyond!” it was a massive, midnight mare with wings and a horn. An alicorn!
“Deceased? But ah feel fine.” Papa Apple said, confused.
“Oh-hoh? Clop thy hooves together.” The dark pony said with amused lidded eyes. Papa Apple snorted and made to do so, but found he had no hooves. His whinnying shriek of shock made her laugh. “Thou art a shapeless blob of soul right now, thou hast no hooves to clop!” she caught the double-meaning as soon as she said it and it only made her laugh harder.
“That’s not ver-eh nice of you!” Papa Apple snapped.
“We art the goddess of death, we don’t need to be nice!” She snapped, poking at him with a massive hoof (he couldn’t feel it). “Besides, we art waiting for a little colt right now, dost thou think he deserves special treatment as well?”
Papa Apple flinched. “Little colt? You mean Big Macintosh? No! You can’t have ‘im!” The very much dead stallion threw himself at the dark goddess with all his might. It was like beating someone into submission with a serving of cotton candy (she couldn’t feel it). “You can’t have mah son!” he shouted angrily. “He’s just a liddle thang and he ain’t goin’ nowhere to no great beyond or nowhere else!” Though he no longer had a jaw to clench, and no muscles to coil against his opposition, he was an Apple! He would stand in her way as long as it took. “Dun make me MAKE you see it mah way, you hussy!”
Hussy?! The dark goddess stopped, her mouth a little agape. “Thou darest insult me?!” she demanded, stomping her massive hooves. “Rise and sayeth it to mine face!” she gave a powerful gesture and Papa Apple’s soul was clenched in ancient magics. With a poof of shut-up-she’s-a-goddess magic, she conjured a more true-to-form stallion soul-shape for him. Papa Apple’s ghost, in a sense. The death goddess stared at him, momentarily startled at his size. They were eye to eye. Not many ponies could brag of such stature. (it didn’t hurt that he was devilishly handsome either) “Well? Speak thy peace.” She demanded when she got ahold of herself.
“Ah said I’mma stand between you and mah boy, death god.” He told her right to her face.
She blinked, just staring at him like he’d grown an extra head. Nopony ever back-talked her like that. She forgot about the little red colt entirely for a few moments. This big red one was far more interesting. “And if we were to tear your soul in half and deny you an eternal bliss of the afterlife?” she threatened, leaning over him with a powerful snarl.
Papa Apple shoved his face into hers, and for a few scant seconds they had a push-with-your-forehead battle. He was quite strong for a mortal pony. “Then that few moments is gonna deny you mah little one for as long as ah could.” He snapped. She was impressed to say the least. The stallion had balls on him. The deny the gods something was suicide, but to achieve a goal of keeping them FROM something, even for a few moments, was ballsy indeed.
“Thou art as stubborn as the mountains.” She finally said, stepping back a moment to really survey him. He snorted hot air, pawing his ghostly hoof at the ground a little. Giving her starry-night mane a toss, she chuckled in a mischievous way. “But how STRONG art th—?!”She’d-let-her-guard-down-Ka-BUCK! Her head snapped back and her pupils turned into dots. He was pacing back and forth like an angry mountain lion, ready to do battle with her. She rubbed the underside of her chin. “Oh-hohoho…” She smirked. “Thou must hit harder if thou art to harm a goddess, we are afraid.” She raised a hoof when he approached to do just that. “But thy resolve is quite powerful, we admit. What wouldst thou do to preserve thy little red colt?”
“Anything. Everything.” Papa Apple said, stomping his hooves back and forth like he was warming up for a race (or a battle). “If ah gotta do battle with a god, so be it!” he reared up and whinnied powerfully, hooves the size of plates crashing against the ground. The sound of the impact echoed a bit over the flat plains. She peered about. It had been a long time since any soul, much less one with a bodily shape, had done that. His spiritual resonance was just beautiful.
She held up a hoof to stop him from aiming for her face in his initial attack. “Suppose thou came to work for us instead, then?” She smiled mischievously, leaning forward with a sultry smile. “The current Aspect of Death is a quiet shepherd with no stomach to grasp at those that wilt not die when they are supposed to.” He blink-blinked while she explained, taken aback. “Become our new Death, and THOU SHALT BE AT THE RIGHT ARM OF THE PRINCESS OF THE NIGHT!” She flourished her hoof, lightning blasting across the sky in a spectacular display! He dug his hooves in so her mere voice would not blow him away.
“And you’ll leave Big Macintosh alone?” Papa Apple said without moving from where he’d dug in.
“Oh his karma will be up eventually, but we imagine thou wouldst only make half-hearted attempts to collect thy offspring’s soul.” The dark goddess said, tossing her mane and nodding. Leaning over and grasping at nothing, she conjured a beautiful black silken cloak. It was layered thickly to hang down like a winter’s belt, but still flowed and changed at the slightest movement. Whatever fabric it was, it seemed to defy anything Papa Apple had ever seen before. “Do we have a deal?” she said to him, smiling like slow and syrupy night. After a long time of staring at the cloak, he nodded once. She tossed the cloak over him and pulled the hood up over his handsome head. He stood stock still when tingly magicks began to scan over his soul. He shuddered visibly, grimacing and shifting his weight back and forth. “Thou shalt have a new body when thou takest thy cloak off, but thou art mine now.” She pointed with a massive hoof. “Betray me, and thy colt is mine.” Papa Apple gulped, and then nodded. Reaching down, she clipped the golden clasp. Papa Apple’s ghost/soul burst into unholy flames, screaming and rolling around in agony. “Thy first assignment is clear! Go slay thy predecessor! He bores us!” she smiled cruelly at his transformation overtook him in the most painful way imaginable. “Well, when the flames go out, that is.” She watched him burn for a long time. The first time was always the worst.
=-=-=-=
Pinkamina stood against Death incarnate armed with nothing but an ice cream scoop and a saddlebag of odds and ends. Having finally learned his identity, there was a long silence of her standing there panting. Her initial adrenaline rush had been taken out on poor innocent Big Macintosh, who now lay splayed over the embankment bleeding from the head.
“Let’s get a couple’a things straight, eh?” Death said to her, cocking his head from one side to the other. “This here’s what you’re after.” he parted his cloak briefly, pulling out a mint-green puffball of what looked like sticky cloud. It was glowing slightly, idle and a little bit limp. Pinkamina leaned, then nodded once she’d gotten a good look. He put it back in his pocket, or hammer space, or whatever it may have been. “You get it off’a me before ah kill you, and we’ll say you win, eh?”
“What makes you think I won’t kill you first?” Pinkamina snarled, tossing her curtain-like mane so she could see him better. Holding Steelie in her hoof, she brandished it like a weapon.
Death threw his head back in a great, thunderous stallion’s laugh. “Ah got news for you, little filly. Ah been dead for near t’ fifteen years now. There ain’t no killin’ what’s already dead. Ah promise you.”
“Well I guess I couldn’t expect it to be fair, huh?” Pinkamina snarked. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a very good trap, now would it?” They were already wandering out into the orchards. Trees passed between them, one by one, until they were safely away from Big Macintosh.
“Nnope.” Hearing the phrase come from Papa Apple sent flashes of the crimson stallion she knew across her vision. Like father, like son. It was creepy, really. “Ah don’t reckon.”
“I’ll stop you this time.” Pinkamina said angrily. “You’ve gone too far and now I’m gonna stop you for good.”
“You’ll try, little filleh. You’ll try.” Papa Apple/Death reached, pulling up his hood. “Good luck beatin’ me in mah Aspect form, though.” Pinkamina had just enough time to shield her eyes before he clicked the golden clasp shut and BURST into flames! His skin, muscles, fur, and body burned away in moments, sending ash into the air. She squinted as he reared up, clattering his teeth and slamming his hooves down. The pink mare tittered across the ground a little, for it had shuddered with the impact. So, so strong, this stallion.
Pinkamina licked her lips, brandishing Steelie as her only weapon. If it was good enough for the son it would certainly be good enough for the father. Shedding her saddlebag under an apple tree, she looked up and Death was gone.
Sssssshing!
She barely had time to duck as Death had appeared behind her, shorn a tree right off of its trunk and missed her neck by inches. She saw a few pink hairs catch the breeze and fly away. Bucking wildly she caught his shoulder and then went sprawling. Even in his skeletal form he was much, much heavier than her. By the time she’d righted herself he was gone again. “D-don’t worry Pinkamina.” She whispered, turning in quick circles so he couldn’t sneak up on her. “He might have you outmatched in height… and weight… age… skill, magic, strength and power.” She sagged a little, her mane falling over half of her face, but she gave it a toss. “But you can still whip his sorry flank.” She held up Steelie with an assertive snort, eyeing the fallen apple tree he’d just smited for no reason than to scare her. “It’s not nice to do that! You know how long it takes to grow an apple tree that bears good fruit?”
Death reappeared in a flash of fire, solid once again. His jaw clattered back and forth and she could practically hear him yelling something like ‘don’t lecture ME about farming!’ Taking up his scythe in his teeth, he charged at her! Pinkamina shrieked wildly as he came at her with a barrage of crazy, deadly swinging. Back and forth they danced while he carved the ground, split rocks and leveled trees to kill her. She was a nimble little minx, this one. She practically defied gravity! When he’d blasted another stone apart trying to cleave her head he paused to look at her again. She was breathing hard, but otherwise unharmed. He heaved the weapon back into the upright position again. This was too open. Too much space. She was too nimble. Rushing at her again with a thundering of hooves he chased her in a slow circle, back and forth with the massive weapon, always pressing her backward. If only he had something to press her against, just for a moment, he could strike her in half!
Pinkamina panted a little when he paused, watching him adjust his teeth-grip on the scythe and adjust his stance. “When was the last time you actually fought someone?” she wondered aloud. “Or anypony for that matter…” she admitted. Since wars were a thing only seen in history books anymore, a pony of the combat persuasion was either a royal guard or into karate like Rainbow Dash (exersize as much as it was a sport). It suddenly struck her that not even Death himself was particularly fight-savvy. He just had a fancy signature weapon. She fought down a grin, but failed. “You dunno how to swing that thing very well, do you?” she said wryly. Death cleaved the tree she had been leaning against, sending a spray of twigs and debris in all directions. She’d definitely lost some mane that time, for it bannered on the breeze and no longer hid her face. She ran a hoof gently over her forehead, feeling a mild scratch on her skin. Death stopped to look at her again. Not so invincible after all. Pressing his attack, he went after her relentlessly, worming through the orchard until they found themselves at the barn. Pinkamina bucked the doors open, veering back and forth so he wouldn’t take her head off. The tiny lantern that lit the building was sputtering in the breeze of their deadly dancing.
She finally held out Steelie, ready to go on the offensive. The ice cream scoop gleamed in the moonlight. She brandished it at him with a chilling glare. Standing in the massive archway of the barn with his scythe held out, Death clattered his jaw with uproarious laughter. He leaned one way, then the other, on the frame of the massive double doors. Pinkamina waited angrily. Suddenly gathering himself, he slammed both doors with a kick, trapping them inside. Lashing out with his long weapon, he shattered the lantern and set the flame upon the stray floor. The pink mare gasped as the oil lit and started spreading fast. “You’ll kill us both!” she shouted angrily. Clatter-clatter laughter. Oh right. He was already dead.
Death leapt upon her as the flames shot high, licking hungrily at the barn wall and filling one of the stalls immediately. Dry hay to save for the cold seasons was going up in smoke. Heat roared across the room, and started sucking the oxygen out of the air. The pony’s danced a terrible dance, and finally Pinkamina had the bravery to meet his weapon with her own. The ring of metal was loud, but even a slight block sent her reeling. He was strong. He was so strong! Adjusting herself to defend at an angle, she send one of his swings glancing off of Steelie as she walked ever backward. She wasn’t a combat mare, she just didn’t know how to fight an armed opponent! All it would take was one hit and she’d be done. For the first time in a long time, fear gripped Pinkamina for her own life. This really could be it.
Her flank bumped against something and for one icy second she chanced a look behind her when Death paused briefly to adjust his grip on the unholy blade. Stairs. Steep ones. The loft! The upper part of the barn. She gagged briefly, for the fire was growing and pressing hard with its blistering heat. Coughing loudly, she backed upward on the loft stairs and he followed her like a spirit from Tartarus itself, vengefully swinging back and forth. Wood splintered, flying back and forth as he tried to take her hooves off, tried to cleave her skull, anything to get rid of her for good. She bumped her butt against an angled ceiling. Whinnying wildly she threw Steelie with all her might! It struck a doorstop, knocking it away. The trapdoor of the loft slammed with all its massive weight upon Death’s head. She flung herself upon it, reclaiming her weapon and using her body weight to hold it closed. She tried to breath, tried to breath and think. He was unstoppable, he wasn’t enough wearing down like any other pony was. He was already dead, frozen at the peak of his own life and he would never wear down.
The curve of the scythe exploded through the wood of the trapdoor, up between her back legs. She shrieked, rolling wildly before another attack blasted the barrier apart. Heralded by smoke and soon flame, Death imploded out of the lower floor and up into the loft. Pinkamina reared and kicked at him wildly, swinging Steelie back and forth. He blocked her with the shaft of the scythe, splitting crates and then catching her right across the chest. She tumbled with a scream of pain, blood blossoming with a straight-line spatter across the floorboards. There was a pause in the battle, shock from both sides. He’d managed to get her that time!
Clutching at her chest for a moment, Pinkamina’s adrenaline dulled the pain as best it could and she rose on shaking hooves. Whinnying like a wild, Amazonian zebra warrior pony, she charged him head on, swinging wildly back and forth. Death shifted, turning this way and that. Every connection of their weapons sent pain down her wrists. She clobbered him in the shoulder and he staggered. Turning to use her momentum, she was stopped by another heavy block. They were so close together, shivering with effort to overpower each other. But the massive stallion was victor. He shouldered her hard and she went like a skipping stone into a pile of crates. She shrieked as she was buried in debris.
There was silence.
Death stood waiting, leaning a little and wondering if he’d finished her off. The flames sparked and popped below, already threatening the structure of the building. Covering the floor with hay and then packing a stall with hay… then lighting the place with a flame lantern. He thought he’d taught his son better. But oh well. The fire would burn the body and--! One of the crates shifted and Pinkamina forced it aside with her back hooves. Grunting back upright, she shook her head again. There was a cut across her forehead that was bleeding down into her eye. She wiped it quickly, then spat to one side. “Well?” she said, brandishing the steel ice cream scoop at him again. “We’re not done yet. Come on!” she snapped angrily. Death heaved his weapon about again, readying for the next round. The room was filling with smoke, which strained the pink mare’s lungs and vision. She coughed again, looking over her shoulder at the loft-crane (a device used like a giant fishing rod to lift heavy things up into the loft.) Rushing, she bucked the window open to let the smoke out. Death followed quickly to simply press her out! The fall would kill her. She anticipated his assault, somersaulted forward and comically rushed between his giant legs. The massive stallion left more than enough room for her to simply crawl under him. She gave one of his legs a good whack with Steelie as she passed, and he staggered for a moment.
They danced back and forth while the flames came ever higher. There would be no escape. Pinkamina was pressed for time. She saw the hatch to the roof. Last chance. Guiding Death back and forth she watched him, watched for the pattern. She saw the pattern. She was Pinkamina Diane Pie. She could see his pattern! The lul in his attacks would come… now! She bum-rushed right into the stallion at the split-second when it counted the most and knocked him down. Death was completely caught off guard and careened onto his side, his hooves bicycling wildly. Turning flank, the pink mare rushed up the ladder to the hatch and slammed it open. Crawling out of the loft and onto the roof she crashed it closed again and waited, Steelie raised high while she coughed. The barn was a ball of fire. There wasn’t much time.
Death forced the hatch just in time to get a steel ice cream scoop to the head. His hood didn’t act as very good armor, needless to say. He buckled under the force like a freakish whack-a-mole, then exploded out onto the roof. Pinkamina reared, tumbling back in the recoil. He slammed the hatch behind himself with a kick, blocking her escape. He reached suddenly, unclasping his cloak. His muscles, skin, and body grew back. “Ya’ll can’t escape now, Pinkamina. You can jump an’ break your neck, or burn up right here. I can wait either way.” He smirked. She only brandished Steelie at him, ready for another round. “And really now, the ice cream scoop wuz a liddle funny at first. Now it’s just in-sultin’.” He shook his head a little at her, disappointed. “You could’a brought anything, and that’s what you picked to face down against Death incarnate? Buckin’ insultin’.” He slashed his scythe to one side, burying it in the shingles of the fast-burning barn.
Pinkamina recoiled as he came forward, parting his cloak for her in an inviting way. The massive stallion’s chest was handsome, but riddled with scars beneath the fur. Crimson fur, like blood, not like apples. It was a darker shade than the apples. She could see him for what he really was. “You became a monster.” She told him. “You’re not a shepherd of the dead, or anything else like it! You’re just a monster!” While she watched, he took off his cloak for her, tossing it over his shoulder. It landed nicely on the scythe, like it was a coat rack. His eyes burned magnificently in the cold winter night while the flames began to poke their little heads up around them through the shingles. Pinkamina shifted back and forth, the heat steering her towards the edge of the roof as the wind shifted. The barn was turning into a shell of itself, the flames climbing ever higher to consume them both.
“Just so’s we both know you never had a chance, take your best shot.” Papa Apple poked his coiling, muscled chest with one hoof. He served himself out to her, tilting his head back to present the biggest possible target for her. “Take your best. Bucking. Shot.” He grinned at her from under his eyebrows. “And let the flames consume you after.” He gestured with his muzzle to the fires rushing up greedily around them. Pinkamina stared at him, at the flames, at the massive crimson chest. She looked down at Steelie the foot-long ice cream scoop. She was shaking despite the blistering heat gnawing at her trimmed fetlocks. Why the buck not? Rearing up on her back legs she gave a mare-ish shriek and baseball swung at him with all her might. A massive chunk of Papa Apple’s chest exploded off of him like he was made of paper mache. He gave a roar of agony, rearing backward with a whinny of terror. Pinkamina fell like she’d hit nothing at all, falling with a shriek. It was like punching a wet sandcastle! He drew breath and howled out again, holding the massive hunk of missing body. The edges of the injury where red hot, like someone had fired a cannonball through him. The insides were black and rotted, like… like… he suddenly coughed red ashes, glaring murder at her. “S-solar magic?!” he demanded, mortally wounded. “Who the buck puts solar magic in a bucking ice cream scoop?!” Pinkamina had no idea either.
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Part 12: Death's End
Pinkamina stood upon a burning barn, cloaked in a smoking, burning hell. Death himself was on his knees before her, clutching a mortal wound. She held an solar-magic-enchanted weapon in one hoof, and was feverishly pushing her mane back with the other. Embers floated by in the background as smoke billowed and twisted in the cruel winter night. She scoffed a little, trying not to grin. It was like the climax of some goofy fantasy novel Twilight would read.
She looked down upon her vanquished foe, raising her ice cream scoop high. She swatted his shoulder and the joint came undone, crusting away like a burnt cigarette. His roar of pain sent him leaning the other way, favoring the other side of his body. “That was for endangering the lives of… my friends.” She said it finally. They were her friends. She dragged it lazily across his exposed ear and it simply burst into ashes. He whimpered aloud, falling onto his side and trying to crawl away. The sadistic pink mare would spare him no mercy. There would be none if they were reversed. This was the end for him, and she was going to Faust-damned enjoy it. While he crawled shakily she struck him across the back, across the spine, and upon the flank. He cried out over and over, agony igniting every fiber of his being. “For me! And for the unfair deaths you tried to inflict! And for Lickity Split, too!” she named each blow as she gave it.
Death rolled onto his back, scythe grasped in his hooves as he swung it wildly. She hadn’t been watching where he was crawling. She’d been too intent on giving him pain, sadist that she was. Her throat came open. The scythe went flying off the roof because of his weak grip. Blood splurted out and icy, non-incarnate death began to dig its icy hooves into her body. No! No no no! She couldn’t die now, she was so close. Gargling blood down her own front, she raised Steelie high to finish him off while she still had the strength. He didn’t have the will to move anymore, only to roll over and look up at the sky. “Pink-uh-meen-uh?” Death said, collapsing weakly onto his back while she loomed over him. She paused only because of his tone. “Dun tell Big Mac. Please, please dun tell Big Mac.” He begged her softly in his low, gravelly voice.
“I wuh—*gargle*… I won’t.” she managed, clutching at her dribbling throat. She swung with the last of her strength, using the enchanted weapon to take his head off. It exploded into red ash like somepony had placed a bottle rocket inside a watermelon. The body rolled, hit a weak spot in the roof and crashed into the burning barn below. When it struck the ground it imploded into more red ashes, consumed by the flames. Pinkamina fell to her knees, dropping Steelie and whimpering. She was dying. The barn was burning. She could feel the heat rising and the ceiling beams starting to give. It hurt. It hurt so much. She pawed helplessly at her gushing neck. She felt herself falling through a burning, swirling mass of fire and scorched tools. “Lickity…”
=-=-=-=
“Fifteen years is a long time to be Death, we art surprised he lasted so long.” Pinkamina awoke on an endless, grassy plain. There were swirling storm clouds that lightly threatened her with thunder, but there was a light in the far distance, warm and inviting. “Not so fast, pink one, we must speak.” She felt a tug on her tail and she turned. Princess Luna, the goddess of death, night, and fertility.
“I guess I can listen. I’m dead, aren’t I? Time doesn’t mean much anymore.” Pinkamina said, frowning and rolling her eyes. She turned about, then bowed as was expected before royalty.
“In every sense of the word very, very dead.” The Princess snarked back at her. “Thou were beaten, burned, throat-cut, and scorched into nothing in that barn.” She spread her wings in a rather jubilant expression of excitement, lifting a hoof to show her grand approval. “We have not seen such a glorious death in centuries.”
“What do you want from me, then? I’m out of your way, aren’t I?” Pinkamina snapped back. “The afterlife is right there and you still want to bother me? What could you possible do to me that’s worse than all that’s happened so far?”
“Thou killed Death.” The princess switched to a rather serious tone very suddenly. “We art displeased. He was our lover. Er! On his off-nights, that is…” She actually trailed off and Pinkamina thought she saw a dash of pink in the goddess’ face. What a mortal expression to have.
“Yes, I did. And with any luck his cloak and scythe burned with us both.” Pinkamina growled. “I would hate for anypony to take those things and do something bad with them.”
“Death’s cloak and scythe art in our possession, do not worry about them.” Luna said dismissively, shaking her hoof like it was no big deal. “However, I am without an Aspect of Death.” She frowned down at the ghostly pink mare with a peculiar expression of caution.
“Oh. Well, sorry I slayed your avatar.” Pinkamina didn’t look sorry at all. “I tend to go a little crazy when somepony runs around trying to kill ponies in increasingly painful and complicated ways.”
“Aspect, not avatar.” Luna snorted. “There is no stallion alive that could be the avatar of a female god, pink one. Even thou should know that!” The very idea made her chuckle a little. Perhaps the most feminine coltcuddler in the world—hahaha! Nah.
“Whatever you want to call it. He was corrupt and he became a monster. I had to kill him to stop him.” She paused for a moment. “And I don’t think you can execute me for murder since he technically killed me at the end, himself.” The pink mare made a mild gesture to her throat. Her ghost, of course, bore no such mark from the cutting blade, but it was obvious what she meant.
“It is true.” Luna said after a long time, tilting her head back and looking at the cloud-covered sky. “After you began interrupting his work, he became angrier and angrier… more unstable.” She admitted. Pinkamina looked at her carefully. “He was brooding and dark, yes, but it is hard not to be when one is the Aspect of Death.” She said. “He did his work, he was friends with the other Aspects—”
“And he started actively going after my friends and I after I started noticing him.” Pinkamina snapped, not about to let her defend him. “He deserved what he got, and you know it.”
“The POINT being.” Princess Luna boomed a little dangerously, trying to get back on topic. “We art without an Aspect of Death, and we seem to only have one candidate. Thou.” She said, pointing a hoof to Pinkamina’s chest.
The pink mare blinked at her, pushing her ghostly mane behind her ear. “Er, what?” she said. “I just killed Death. I can’t BE Death.” She shook her head.
“Thou dost not grasp the severity of thy situation.” Luna said with a rather dark glare. “Thou KILLED Death, the shepherd of the dead and the deliverer of lost souls. Without him, those that are meant to die will not, and the idle souls of the world will wander– lost– and never find their paradise in the great beyond.” She gestured to the inviting light on the horizon. Thunder rolled a little more loudly overhead. Pinkamina stared at her, growing more and more afraid. She shivered in all four of her knees, then fell forward a little as she realized what she had done. “So thou sees, Pinkamina.” The goddess addressed her by name for the first time, in a more gentle tone. She sidled up beside the pink mare. “There must always be an Aspect of Death. And, as far back as we can remember, each Death has always killed the one that came before him… or her.”
“But wait, you’ve been imprisoned in the moon for the past thousand years. How could you have possibly seen the succession of so many Deaths?” Pinkamina was confused.
“Imprisoned physically, yes. But this is not a physical place, as real as it may feel.” Princess Luna gestured to the grasses before their hooves. “What dost thou think we did while we were on the moon for a thousand years? Sit and count rocks? Stare at the sky? Neigh. We were here, quietly shepherding the dead and overseeing the Aspect of Death.” She gestured mildly. “Watching the mantle go from one pony to the next, through the ages.”
Pinkamina fell to her knees, staring up at the sky as all the pieces came together. Death could only function as long as he was uncorrupt. Then he would be noticed by his successor, slain, and his place taken by the next death. “Is… that what awaits me?” she turned, asking the goddess softly. Her eyes were soft. “My successor will kill me to take my place?”
“Yes.” Said Luna gently. “But only after a very, very long time. Considering that ponies can live to fifty or so in this era, and thou art already twenty-something, thy life would end in the same frame of time anyway.”
“Isn’t my life already over, though?” she’d already accepted the position and was moving forward with questions.
“Ah ah ah, the job comes with perks, pink one.” Said the goddess of the night, smirking. “Thou canst be Death all the time. You will receive a new body. And since no one SAW you die, you may walk among the living like nothing happened. Papa Apple’s death was witnessed by his son, so he could not return or face exposure.”
“So I can’t tell anypony I’m Death…?” Pinkamina mumbled. This was all so, so much to take in all at once, it was making her flush and hyperventilate a little bit (despite her being dead).
“There is much to learn. Death.” Luna gestured to thin air and a black cloak appeared. Death’s cloak. Leaning, she plucked it out of the air and draped it over Pinkamina’s ghost. “But for now, thou shalt rest. Go home. Be with thy stallion. Come to us when thou art ready, and we shalt train you.” Leaning down a little, she kissed Pinkamina on the forehead. “Thou shalt emerge from a bath of fire, now— GO!” she swatted Pinkamina’s forehead with her hoof. The space between spaces vanished.
=-=-=-=
Pinkamina awoke to find her hooves thundering across the fiery floor of the barn, carrying her out into the night. A black cloak flew on her back like a banner, a spectacular coat of arms to her new vocation. Leaping with a whinny of triumph she flushed as the winter air struck her. Her skin recoiled from the chilling air. Her breath was a cloud. She was alive! She felt herself all over, even her mane. She was alive. Something puffy and mint green floated idly past her, looking like it was in no really hurry to go anywhere. That was no cloud… “Lickity!” she ran and made a snatch for his soul, and her hoof went right through it. She stopped, frustrated, pawing at it several times. For some reason, she just couldn’t grasp it. She tried all different angles, but she couldn’t grab it. Huffing angrily, she tried to glare it into submission like she did with her stallion sometimes. No good. His soul was made of sterner stuff. She looked down at the golden clasp on the cloak. She’d seen Death handle souls with his bare hooves. Wasn’t that clasp how Death activated his… Death powers? She frowned. That sounded so corny. What had Luna called him? The Aspect of Death? Aspect Powers. That sounded more official. Taking a deep breath, she backed up a bit, pulling the cloak about herself. Pulling the hood up, she shuddered. His scent was there. Apples and sweat. He really was a farmer. Shaking her head quickly, she grasped the golden clasp and closed it.
Nothing happened for a long time. Why wasn’t anything happening? She looked down at her hooves suddenly. Her hooves were smoking. She turned them up one at a time to look at them. She gave a sudden, full-throated scream when both of her eyeballs suddenly exploded. Blinded by agony she clutched at her face and staggered about. Her tail caught on fire. She bucked wildly until suddenly her joints were ablaze with pain and she had to stop. She moaned, flailing and bucking and screaming as bits of her began to be consumed by flame. She cried out into the night, and orange flames exploded from every orifice as her body began to violently burn. Her beautiful face and lips melted away into nothing. The pearly white bone beneath was exposed bit by bit. Her hooves EXPLODED into flame and her back arched. She staggered forward, clutching at her head and writhing about, leaving hoof prints that burned by themselves. “No! No you tricked me! It hurts! No-awwwhh—!” Every bit of flesh imploded from her frame, leaving only bone and cloak behind. Grass and dirt rushed away from her in a great ring and she fell forward in exhaustion. On the edge of another dimension, in the space between spaces, Luna winced. The first transformation was always the hardest.
Death picked itself up slowly. She looked around. She wasn’t in pain anymore. She wasn’t dead like she thought she would be. She just felt… different. Lighter. Stronger. Much stronger. She eyed the mint green soul floating slowly on the breeze. Padding through the snow, she reached up and grasped it as though it were a solid object. Lickity Split… she tried to say his name, but could not. She had no tongue. She panicked briefly, but then remembered what she was supposed to be doing in the first place. Lovingly, she stored the soul in the warm folds of her cloak. He would be safe there. Smiling inwardly, she started a strong gallop home. She didn’t need to breath, she had no lungs, she didn’t pant. She felt like she could run forever.
The night masked her journey home, and when the coast was clear, she slipped into the ice cream parlor and pulled all of the shades. She didn’t know how to be invisible to everypony yet, better to be safe. Making sure all the doors were locked and all the lights were off, she approached Lickity Split’s body. Taking out the soul, she leaned over him. Was she supposed to stuff it in his mouth, or what? Fumbling for a bit, she simply placed it on his chest. The soul rolled like a raindrop until it was over his… kidney? Odd place to keep one’s soul, but she would make a note of it. It sank into him like lotion after a few rubs, and suddenly the stallion was stirring with a deep breath of waking. Panicking briefly, Death unclasped the golden bit on the cloak. A RUSH of magic brought her flesh and blood back (much more quickly than it had melt away, thank goodness, and with a lot less fire). “P… Pinkie?” Lickity said quietly, turning weakly on his side to face her.
“Shhh…” she said gently, pushing back the hood and leaning to nuzzle him quietly. “Just don’t talk. It’s over now. Just don’t talk.” Pinkamina stroked his belly and chest over and over, which made him murr pleasurably. She clambered onto the couch with him after shedding the cloak. She just wanted to be pressed up against him. Just wanted to… just wanted to rest…
Seeing the Pattern 2: Death Take You Epilogue: The Great Beyond
Princess Luna was sitting on her haunches in the space between spaces. Next to her sat the ghost of Papa Apple, twice dead now, feeling naked without his cloak or scythe. “Welp, ah guess that’s it for me then.” He said a little glumly.
The dark alicorn looked over at him, smiling a little grimly. He was a handsome thing, blood red fur and an orange mane. The criss-crossing scars visible under his fur all over his body just made him look exotic to her. “Thy service to me was commendable, stallion, thy send-off was an honorable one.” She spoke rather softly, no aggression in her voice. “Thou fell before a worthy opponent, serving thy goddess. This pleases us.” She told him. Because of her sheer height, she could tuck his head under her chin because of how close they were sitting together.
“What’s out there?” Papa Apple found himself quietly asking. “Beyond that thar horizon?” he gestured to the magnetic pull of the great beyond. He was very careful not to look directly at it, for any dead soul would be drawn to it like a moth to a flame. A need to be there.
“The great beyond?” Princess Luna said, sliding a hoof around his massive frame. “That is the one thing alicorns may never know. Our immortality prevents us from visiting it, for we never truly die.” She admitted with a sympathetic smile. There was a long silence between them. This conversation was the one the dark goddess had been dreading for over a decade. “J-just think. Thy wife will be awaiting thou. She is also dead, yes?” she told him, offering a weak smile.
Papa Apple snickered a little. “I’ll miss you too, your majesty.” He told her. Her head sagged a little shamefully. So readable she was, sometimes! Scratching herself a little awkwardly, she tucked his head once more under her chin and embraced him. The stallion felt small for the first time in a long time. His great arms rose up to wrap around her, stroking her back.
Theirs was a strange, angry, biting, lusty relationship. But it had worked in its own freakish way, and not just in the bedroom. Both had been lonely for different reasons, and had found each other through vocation. Being Death was a lonely road, especially when one could not come into contact with the living. Being a goddess wasn’t much different, the forbidden fruit no stallion would dare touch. Call it animalistic, but they’d met a certain understanding years ago and had enjoyed each other while they could. It was all over now, though. She could give him a new body, yes, but why? He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t be Death again. His life was over now. Twice. It was time for the stallion to move on.
“Papa Apple…” she said softly, pulling back to look at the massive stallion.
“Aw shucks, you can just call me Apple, you know. Ahm not your Papa.” He snickered a little, and the princess smiled with a hoof over her mouth. Unashamed, the two ponies shared a quiet kiss. Their last. Slowly, he pulled away and faced the dreamy horizon of the great beyond. “Goodbye, Luna.” He smiled his charming smile, pushing his mane out of his face.
“Goodbye… Apple.” She whispered, unable to gather volume to her voice. She watched him walk towards his final horizon, a soul at peace. Come back, she wanted to shout. Come back, serve me again. Come back, we shalt give you a new body and a new job and thou shalt stay with me. She couldn’t form the words though. He was so handsome, so stoic walking forward like that. She imprinted the memory of his handsome stance, his determination. “Goodbye… goodbye…” she whispered as her head began to hang mournfully low. The goddess of death wept quietly, alone in the space between spaces. Such a wonderful stallion.
Luna thought she could hear his final, joyful words as he came closer to the light at the end of the horizon. “Oh wow! Oh wow! Beautiful!”
=-=-=-=
Celestia mumbled over another scroll that had been sent to her from who-cares-what-pony-noble about not-very-important-state-problem. She reached for her tea, but found it tasted of quiet mourning. Saturated on some ethereal level, where no other pony could taste it save her. A message from her sister. Though it was late afternoon and this was often Luna’s sleeping time, she was awake and wanting for company. Rare was it for the sisters to gather for a reason not related to running Equestria. Rising, the goddess of the day gave a quiet sigh. That was noise enough to alert her guards of royal movement (they had a tendency to sleep on their hooves if she didn’t move for more than six hours).
Spreading her wings regally, the solar princess started away from her study and towards her sister’s room. The servants made way for the white alicorn as she went from one tower of the palace to the another, flanked by her twin guards. Passing tapestry after statue after stained-glass window, she favored a few ponies with smiles or kind words but never stopped. Celestia stopped before the great onyx doors, looking at the lunar stallion posted at either side. They bowed respectfully, and their solar counterparts took their places next to them (nopony was allowed in a princess’ bedroom unless explicitly invited). Nodding with a serene smile, she went inside.
The midnight curtains kept out the day, the candles keeping a half-light that her dark sister could bear. “Thy interference hath cost me a powerful stallion.” Luna’s voice said from the darkest corner. “Think not I did not see the blatent solar magic in Pinkamina’s weapon of choice. She may not have realized it, but I did.” She was sour, and her eyes betrayed… crying? Celestia was understandably caught off guard. Her sister NEVER wept.
“I did what I had to, to stop all the madness.” Celestia said gently, coming forward and nuzzling her sister comfortingly. Luna was a little still, but didn’t lash out at her. “Death was going way out of line, and you know it, dear sister.” She crooned quietly, leaning and pulling a misaligned feather in her sister’s wingspan. She flinched at the preening and sighed.
“Perhaps, but that does not mean he could not have been reined in.” Luna said, though she knew she was only trying to convince herself. “The Aspect of Death was meant to be a powerful shepherd of the dead, and grasper of the souls of those that refused to move on when their time was up.” She sighed and leaned forward into her sister’s shoulder. The sisters enveloped each other in their massive wings, an ancient gesture only they shared. Like two great swans, they crooned at each other comfortingly. “We… did not intend all this madness. Ever since Pinkamina emerged, nothing but madness…” the dark goddess sighed. Celestia knew it was the closest she would get to an apology, but the tone was sincere so she was satisfied.
“And now she is the new Death.” The sun goddess said gently, almost like it was a question.
“Yes. We shall need to train her carefully. No one saw her die, so she’s at much greater risk of being exposed than D… than our stallion was.” Luna refered to him, unashamed, as her own. Celestia gave her a look, but got no apologies or embarrassed glances. She hadn’t known they’d been romantically involved. “Pinkamina shall be a Death with a feather-light touch.” She rolled her eyes a little, shaking her head with a smirk.
“What makes you say that?” Celestia asked.
“Her cutie mark talent is preventing deaths, and she’s just become the Aspect of Death.” Luna snarked a little. “Talent and vocation at opposite ends, she shall always be looking for excuses not to kill anypony.” She smiled at the irony.
“We know, but when the time comes and she feels the urge that the cloak gives her…” Luna paused a moment to word it correctly. “Her decisions shalt be tempered with more mercy than the job hast previously employed. It will be interesting to watch her do it.”
=-=-=-=
Pinkamina awoke in the late morning with Lickity lazily stroking her. She turned her head only slightly, looking at him. Sun came through the window in a heavenly beam that heated the room rather nicely for wintertime. He leaned over her, pressing his lips to her forehead. She murr-growled slightly, turning on her side. She’d been out so late doing she-could-never-explain and she smelled like smoke. “Lickity…” she croaked at him.
“Hi.” He whispered quietly, his expression soft and loving. “You saved me. Again.” The white, green-maned stallion praised her quietly, nuzzling up and down with slow, heady motions. She rested there until she came more and more awake.
“Not my fault you couldn’t take care of your own soul.” She sulked a little, turning her head to one side. He nibbled on her ear instead until she gave a slight giggle and pulled it from his mouth.
“I have you to look after me, though.” He crooned softly, reaching towards the end table. He held something high, over the sun coming in the window. The pink mare squinted at it hard. “Forever.” He turned the golden, glittering object a little before bringing it down. The engagement hoop. She’d promised to marry him after she’d conquered Death. She swallowed a little, pondering technicalities. Well, she’d… she’d beaten Death, but now she WAS Death, did that count? She didn’t know. Pinkamina was a little scowly in her private thoughts and only cocked her head when he gently took her hoof with his. “Marry me?” Lickity Split whispered. She stared at the golden hoop hovering over the tip of her right-front hoof for a long time. She licked her lips a little, looking into his loving face. There was a long silence. He began to wilt and look sad, and she finally shoved her hoof through. The hoop held above her ankle like it was supposed to. Lickity beamed at her, then leaned over her for a deep kiss. She held his face firmly with one hoof, closing her eyes pleasantly.
“Lickity…” Pinkamina said drowsily, a little caught up in the heady feeling of the stallion paying such good attention to her. She didn’t trust herself not to pounce on him right then, but then half the day would go to waste. She’d fall asleep curled up with him, and there was plenty to do. Nosing his cheek she rose authoritatively, determined to shake off sleep. He nibbled at her shorn fetlock a little and she jittered back, scolding him with her eyes. Hey lay there, splayed out and very much on display for her. Now where had he picked up that little trick, she wondered with a smirk. “I still smell like smoke.” She told him, crossing the room towards the bathroom. “If anypony asks you about the Sweet Apple Acres barn burning down, act surprised about it.” She called over her shoulder.
“Right.” Lickity Split smiled bemusedly. “That whole saving my soul thing, right?” she nodded at him, stepping into the bathroom to freshen up. By the time she emerged again she felt much better, didn’t smell of smoke and had coaxed her mane into something more presentable. She examined the hoop on her ankle, turning it back and forth. “So what’re you gonna do with your day?” Lickity asked her from the kitchen.
“The same thing any mare does when she gets an engagement hoop.” Pinkamina snorted, rolling her eyes at her silly stallion. “I’m gonna go show it off to everypony.” She went to the kitchen, grabbed a banana from the hook, pecked his cheek and was off. He smiled, watching her go. Her genuine smiles really were radiant.
