Esquestria: The House of the Sun - A pony cultist experience

[AuthorTransient]

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In Which (S) Collide: Kosmic Conclusion

The ritual circle is a little smushed, especially the smallest circle for misdirection and obscuration. This dirt isn't exactly the best place to carve a circle, even without the shocks of the battle occurring outside. You grimace, but you should at least give it a try.

You had explained the ritual to Comet Feet as much as you could during the preparations. Now the both of you are as blindfolded as you had been able to scrounge up and tinker on such short notice.

Ideally, this ritual should take place on the eve of a battle and not during it. Luckily, the rules of this ritual allow for certain modifications or alternatives. You hope this will work.

Slowly, you breathe out. "Let's start."

Before you were seven of Comet Feet's knives. You pick up one and immediately cut yourself on accident. Buck.

This is fine. This works. After all, the entity you are trying to summon will not heed your call if blood is not split.

You need to open a path for him, after all.

You pick up the next knife and stab yourself, just enough for your blood to exit your body and cover the tip of the blade. Then you repeat for the next knife, and the next, going clockwise.

Though you know you are not alone, you feel as if you are being watched.

You don't let that stop you, because you cannot hesitate. Your daughter's life is on the line.

When you finish the seventh, you pick up the first knife again and throw it over your shoulder. Shink. It should land within a very particular triangle-shaped sigil in the outer reach of the third circle – which is also the sharpest circle of this ritual.

This, you know and had explained, was a very old game – or at least, that was one of the terms you had used to describe it. Truth was that you could only approximate as much as you could to its meaning with similar words, because there wasn't really a word that could correctly encompass all of its meaning in the modern lexicon.

Like a competition, or a bet, that could be done for fun but has also been done to determine the outcome of blood oaths and life-bets.

And you don't actually know how the winner is determined, but for the purposes of this ritual, you and Comet Feet really only need to merely land all of the knives within the empty space of that triangle.

While blindfolded. And throwing it at a spot behind your back. Without being able to actually see the result, and knowing that there can't be any restarts. And especially, that you cannot hesitate, because it is against the rules.

No. Fucking. Pressure.

And eventually, somehow, while panicking and fearing and disassociating, you pick up your seventh knife and throw it.

Nothing happens. In other rituals, there at least was a sign, or a feeling – your heart lurches -

Comet Feet's own knife goes whizzing through the air and doesn't touch the ground.

Spoiler: Summoning Rolls

Moth: 58 + 13 (Magic) + 40 (Moth Level 4) - 20 (Rushed) = 91

Knock: 16 59 + 13 (Magic) + 40 (Knock Level 4) - 20 (Rushed) = 92

Edge: 27 35 85 (Comet Feet) + 13 (Magic) + 40 (Edge Level 4) - 20 (Rushed) = 118

All summoning rolls passed.

-!!!-​

And still you cannot feel... No, what you feel is that nothing had happened.

There is no pressure in the air, no sensation of the world being opened, or cut, or that a new presence has descended upon the world.
Your face crumples.

You take off your blindfold and turn. "I think we're going to have to - "

But Comet Feet is looking at a very old stallion.

At the stallion outside of the ritual circle, who is very calmly and deliberately looking at the knives in that triangle. He has no wings, he has no horns, and he is wearing a cap and very old uniform that looks so battered and worn that it feels... soft, like folded paper.

And he is looking at the knives like an arbiter, or a judge, deciding the results of a competition or trial.

You can't help but cringe a little as you realize one of your knives had landed exactly on the edge of that sigil.

"Interesting..." he says, and finally looks up. "And you are my employer?"

Your heart freezes, because he is talking to Comet Feet. Despite the fact that he does not look at all or feel at all like he was in the Mansus, like an undeniable force of nature, as impartial as a storm or a natural disaster, or a cold impersonal wall built long ago that a pegasus had just pancaked into – you're rambling. What you mean is that he looks kind. Like a grandfather looking at his children.

But your own experience with the paternal side of your family was not kind at all.

But more importantly, your mind is going on this tangent, because you are sure that Comet Feet hates you. He hates you for knowing Fluttershy, he hates you for interrupting his ritual, he hates you for barging into his life and turning him... softer.

And this weapon you had summoned is now in the hands of that other.

You dread the result of this conversation, yet somehow - ! You can't speak up. Because somehow -! You cannot influence Comet Feet's decision.

And Comet Feet says, "no."

You blink and feel like your eyelids had just scraped against the edge of a scythe.

The Name of Edge nods, as if this had always been a foregone conclusion. Then he turns to you and speaks. "Then I am Biedde, soldier of the Colonel, at your service. I will be your employee until our contract is finished." He gives a short bow which you mirror back. " And what will you have me do, employer?"

You find your voice and, unhestitantly, give an order. "Kill her."

He smiles leadingly, the smoke of his cigar trailing up towards the red sky. "Pardon?"

And what an order you give this Edge's Name! An order that seems to have been inevitable from the beginning, ever since you met him standing before the Worm Museum. "I said, KILL HER!"

Your hoof comes down and it feels like a gavel. "DESTROY HER! MAREINETTE HAS BECOME MY ENEMY! CRUSH HER! STRIKE HER DOWN! REDUCE HER TO DUST!"

Biedde's lips quirk. His eyes suddenly glint with immortal madness. He chuckles, then breaks into laughter. "WELL SAID, MY EMPLOYER! THIS SERVANT...." He savors the words as he speaks them, "shall carry out your order."

With those words, you return to the battlefield in time to see Selene get bowled over by a fleeing Mareinette, screaming Celestia in tow. "GET BACK HERE YOU COWARD!"

A terrified whinney escapes the centuries-old horror as she charges and stumbles over the next hill, at which point a superpowered beam of white light smashes in front of her and sends her tumbling ass backwards and into a leftover still-smoking crater.

Celestia peers at her from above. "AND STAY DOWN!"

Mareinette uncoils and springs up as if in defiant answer and -

You try to understand what she had just witnessed. Did time slow down, or even stop?

The answer is quite simple – it is simply inevitable. Because what She wants, She gets.


Plink, plink, plonk, plink, plink!


What had happened was -- slowly, deliberately, the titanic shape of Mareinette had gingerly rose up, each of her five heads closing like ebony piano keys, snapping shut like spring traps to swallow the sun. Then you blink, you flinch backwards, your body finally understands what is happening – no, what was happening – no, what had happened.

A whine rises in pitch and the respective head explodes into a bloody deflating mess, but the distraction is enough – Selene falters in front of her bulk and unhinged maws – hay – in the second time in not as many minutes, a blazing comet smashes into Mareinette and sends her skidding backwards, digging deep trenches the size of wheelbarrows in the dirt.

The Mane 6 are here.

Wait, how?!

Twilight Sparkle stands radiant at the forefront, multicolored light forming a splendid horn, and if you think it silently then no one can know the way your heart clenches at the sight. Fluttershy is there despite your worries, and Rarity is there, and together with Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie, they are the Bearers of Harmony.

It means that, despite everything, Esquestria is still alive.

With two, no, you correct yourself as Selene repositions, three cardinal directions of escape cut off, Mareinette gyrates her heads around, searching for an exit. Her hindlegs tense.

In that moment, it's like you somehow manage to peer into the guts and wires of this great horror, somehow traversing space to see a fleshy chamber where a heart made out of clockwork and sinew reverberates like a great drum. Lub-dub, lub-dub.

And as you watch on, transfixed and powerless to move, its movement abruptly accelerates, cogs spinning and great arcs of lightning lashing out as the Heart That Fed goes into overdrive.

Then you are back in your body again, eyes so wide it hurts, with a deep and terrible feeling that if Mareinette is not stopped now, a disaster will occur. Rivers of blood will run across the streets of Ponyville.

Mareinette blurs.

...a knife is unsheathed. It is not a very large knife, but its edge is in fact quite sharp. Gingerly, an old stallion grips its handle between his teeth. And though this blade is not at all extremely extraordinary, it is currently being wielded with purpose and intent to be quite a fair bit lethal. The touch of a master's hoof turns it into a transcendental weapon.

And somehow, though there were many paths that Mareinette could have chosen, she chose the one path where she charges headlong towards this blade. Almost as if drawn to it, almost as if a force had pulled her towards it, a force she did not resist, or perhaps just a force she did not notice.

And so... inevitably, conflict erupts. And as it most often does, it erupts quite spectacularly in an orgy of savagery and is over immediately after, as quickly as it had begun.

Here it comes. Death.

You can see it now. She is coming closer, closer, closing in at your position, a mad rage in her eyes...

The edge of her charge is reaching, is meeting, meets - !

- it meets the Edge of Biedde's blade!

Moonlight glints off of it and the moonlight itself i / s / c

/​

u / t on that terrible, terrible Edge.​

It shatters Mareinette's charge. Mareinette shatters, tumbling backwards, pieces of her face falling off as if she was a mortal again and had ran into a woodchipper, bits flaking off. Her head snaps back into place jerkily and it is filled with pockmarks and all kinds of other wounds, like flays or whips or claws or drills or just a particularly sharp knife, shaving off a piece here and another layer there, so sharp that it is only now noticing that a wound is there, so sharp that even the fluid now weeping from it seems to disintegrate wholly by itself.

Her frame shudders.

The circle closes in. There is nowhere to go.

Mareinette tries to clamber back out, she tries to escape, but each time her attempts are parried and riposted, and each time she tries to open an avenue her distractions are dispelled. She is repeatedly returned to the (ever-growing) crater like a particularly obese homing pigeon.


Until finally, she stops.

And then just like that, it's over.


It's over.


So why doesn't it feel like it's over?

You can't move your hooves, but you can still see. And what you see is that everypony else has stopped moving as well.

Your breaths are coming in harried bursts. What is happening?

What...


⌈

!!!

THE THIRD BIRTH COMETH

!!!​

⌋​

This entire time, Mareinette has always been just that. A puppet.

And now, the puppeteer is showing its hand.

Because it is a hand, and not a hoof. You know this because Spike has hands, and that is definitely a giant five-digit limb sticking out of the wrinkle in space-time. Stretching it open, an omen of despair sneers at you.

Spoiler: BEEG PICTURE

File:Douglas-Scottish FFT(1901)-p162-Nuckalavee-illustr-J Torrance.jpg - Wikipedia

en.wikipedia.org

What is this thing?!! It's as if someone had grafted a monster atop a pony's back, but in all of its eyes only a sadistic maleficence gleams. It is more than double the size of Mareinette at her peak. In its open mouth you can see both canine teeth and molars as it pants its rancid breath.

And worst of all, it has no skin, only bleeding sinew, a towering skyscraper leaking warm hot blood that sizzles upon contact with the cool night air.

⌈

KNUCKLELAVEE
Evil Manifest​

⌋​

Then it shrieks. Your mane is thrown back at the force of it, your eyes squeezing shut. All around you is the sound of the foliage breaking apart, leaves and even branches tearing off at the sheer force of its scream.

Your ears ring. When you open your eyes, Celestia is yelling something, but you can't hear what. Her attacks are bouncing off its skin. Biedde rears forward and stabs the thing in its fingers, and it dents the knife.

Your only saving grace is that its still struggling with its entrance. You whirl your head over to the Bearers of Harmony and yell something you can't hear. Pinkie Pie is screaming too.

The light around them intensifies.

A concentrated beam of sunfire splashes over the side of the thing's head, causing it to to flail. On the other side, a storm of stars crash like hail on its bare midriff. But despite all of their efforts, it manages to awkwardly stick a cloven hoof out from the opening and descend it towards the ground. It shrieks again, and you feel a warm fluid leak out from your ears.

Then it falters, as a splendid beam of multicolored light blasts into its chest. Groaning, it tries to resist, but it is pushed further and further out. It is a light brighter than what you had felt manifesting during Nightmare Moon's appearance. Harmony itself is rejecting this Outsider.

With a final scream, its fingers slip back out through the portal and the fabric of reality reasserts itself, mending the wound in the world entirely. The beam goes a bit further forward before it too fades out into nothing.

In the heavy silence that follows, you take a deep breath. "I can explain."

Spoiler: Alternate Ending

Because it is a hand, and not a hoof. You know this because Spike has hands, and that is definitely a four-digit limb sticking out of the wrinkle in space-time.

Someone who has always been pulling at the strings. You can't sit idly, you can't move at all. You curse the name, the one behind it all!!!!!

DISCORD!!!!

He immediately gets hit by a Harmony Beam and is resealed. Good riddance.

"Phew, thank goodness that wasn't our history, right? Though it was interesting to see. Ah, but I've rambled enough. Tap here to go back to your proper history."

---

Spoiler: Author's Notes

Okay, I managed to finish this before the end of the year. Because I couldn't figure out how to resolve Overflow, I just didn't note down the combat rolls. If it helps, Selene rolled a natural 1 on the first round, which was immediately followed up the next round by Celestia rolling a 2.

The c / u / t is of course, credited to Reaper Man. GNU Terry Pratchett.

Also, congratulations on reaching 300 pages!

I'M FREE!!!!!!!!!!

1 2 3 4 J R 5 S 6 K​

 

[spiderhellian]

A Thing You Don't Know

It is the thing you don't know that kills you.

Sometimes Biedde is amazed his summoner has lived this long. Not least because she's been climbing the Mansus while only a too-hard breeze away from death's door, as so recently was made quite clear to her.

She simply doesn't know so much.

She doesn't know why the world is so askew. She barely even knows how it is askew. And she definitely has no idea how to fix it, besides the obvious.

Still, that's more of a subtle knife, creeping in ever so slowly. There are much more obvious deficits in her knowledge, which are about to have much more obvious consequences.

For example, her lack of knowledge about just how much one wolf-thing's request would cost her. And how that, when coupled with a few other "necessary" expenditures in the course of another favour, would leave her stockpile of funds sadly diminished. To the point that she could not quite afford a train ticket to Equestria's outer reaches, or a myriad of well-made baits, or the solid oak and springy willow necessary for effective traps.

That is, she could not afford to fund his monster-hunting expedition.

That was a slight disappointment. The taste of a winter storm had whetted his appetite, but since then, it had remained sadly unfulfilled. Mortal guards? Soft earth and a corpse? Not the best the Wake has to offer, he knows. Not the kind of thing his Master accepts as propitiation.

On the other hoof, spending time on his religious affairs most certainly is. Since his employer could not quite abide his departure, that is what she has given him leave to carry out. Despite the fact that she does not know what it entails.

Delightful. This time, it will not be the thing that kills her. No, not her.

As he sets out from Ponyville, Biedde looks to the horizon. Yes, it is warped. But that's not the worst thing wrong with the world, he thinks.

It doesn't have enough scars.

His employer is a rare exception. But so many dance and twirl and laugh through this world, and never face the cut turned need to truly grow.

What wounds occur are papered over or covered up — again, he thinks of his employer — and not allowed to heal into a thin grey line imbued with memory.

Consider, even, the enraged Demi-goddess at the centre of this realm. How many blows did it endure? How many cuts adorned its limbs? And how often did it just choose to proceed along unfeeling, making a pretence of seamlessness, to avoid its subjects ever seeing a body in any way marred?

So many lessons, left unlearned. So much ignorance, embraced. With, yes, the obvious consequences.

Biedde knows the estate's wolf-pony has been offering her patron's answer to this tension at the world's core.

His knives are sharp. His stride is unyielding. His orders are clear.

It is time for him to do the same.

Spoiler: AN

Pondering Biedde, a little. And the link between scars and lessons, lessons and ignorance, and ignorance and… well, the obvious.

I think the only thing worse than giving him time for his religious observances would be not extending his summon. So let's best be confident we have the bits.

 

[spiderhellian]

The Same Day, A Different Mare

You wake up in the morning. Looking back, you'll realize today is a very important day, but in the moment you do not. Your mind is focused on the project you've been working on, turning over the words your mentor mentioned last night. She was worried you were a little too focused, that you should reach out to other people more. Oh — oh! Of course! You had been drawing directly from Starswirl's notes, but of course that was misguided! He was a genius, but he had contemporaries, antecedents, pupils! It was ridiculous to just pull your sources from one author, it would be like exploring with but one hypothesis! Time for another trip to the library, this time with a cart!

As soon as you stopped outside, however, you realized something was off. The whole town was abuzz with the latest news, and it would be no exaggeration to say that literal festivities were popping all around at the drop of a horseshoe, parades forming spontaneously on the streets as ecstatic ponies brought out their instruments and joined each other in songs. Food was practically being distributed for free by merchants and bakers, and everywhere one went the repeated cheers could reach even the ears of the most inattentive creature.

"A princess! A new princess has appeared! A pegasus became an alicorn! Hail princess Cadance!"

A new… a new princess?

A Pegasus, become an Alicorn?

Become. An Alicorn?

BECOME. AN ALICORN?

But… but… she had said— she had warned you away— and all this time—

Had you done something wrong? Had you made a mistake? Had you erred fundamentally, fatally, and your mentor was just too kind or too cowardly to tell you?

No Sunset. Wait. A true scholar doesn't leap to conclusions with one shred of evidence. Gather more data, and then your life can fall to pieces.

The story spread like wildfire, and you couldn't help but to overhear bits and pieces of it, slowly forming the bigger picture. You paused in your journey to the library, and the ebbs of the crowd pushed you into a bar. A bar? Well, perhaps that was the equivalent to the royal archives when gathering this sort of information.

The barkeep looked at you askance, and was clearly about to tell you to leave, when another patron laughed. "C'mon, Lee, let the filly stay! Everyone gets to celebrate on a day like today!"

The earth pony behind the counter gave you a look, and then rolled his eyes. He stuck a glass in front of you, filled it with milk, and then dropped a few ounces of some creamy brown liquor in it. You took a sip. Wow, delicious! You took a deeper sip, before the barkeep grunted. "You get one, and then you're gone," he said, before turning to the mass of other customers that had quickly formed.

Okay, you could work with that. You weren't going to turn down the free drink!

Apparently, from what you heard from several ponies around you, a certain pegasus named Cadance had performed some deed. The details on what exactly were a bit confusing, something about a potion and whatnot. You needed information, and all you were getting was rumor! But the bottom line was that in the end she turned into an alicorn. Horn appearing in her head and magic coming to her like second nature.

She did it. You had studied. You had worked. You had begged and pleaded and barely made progress.

And she just did it? How many hours had she spent in the archives, staring at books until her eyes ached? How many nights had she spent practicing magic, until her horn throbbed? How many lessons had she earned from Celestia, and how many concerned looks had they earned her?

Nopony was really sure of the details. Some insisted that princess Celestia transformed her, while others said it must have been some sort of personal merit or magic. A merit you lacked? A magic you missed? You needed details!

All you got was an agreement: the most important part was that a new Princess had presented herself to help rule Equestria. A new all-powerful, immortal alicorn had come to watch over the land alongside the Princess of the Sun. And it wasn't you. It was never going to be you.

That's the thought that turned you away from the cacophony. You finished your drink, slamming it a little louder on the counter than intended, and turned to leave. You needed to think, and this wasn't the place for it.

You walked through crowded streets, your busier than any of the parties unfurling around you. Ignore their judgments. Focus on the facts. She was young. She hadn't trained, you'd have known if she'd trained. You were doing everything you could to earn that power, to be able to bear it responsibly, and she was not.

Was this even a good thing?

You were startled out of your drinking, and your innocent eavesdropping from the background chatter, by a mare sitting by your side. It took you a few moments to realize that she was talking directly to you, and not just to herself or the ambient in general.

… that was probably your self-pity talking, wasn't it. Princess Celestia was wonderful, you loved her. Why would another princess be a bad thing?

Okay, run with the hypothesis. You can argue a position you don't believe in.

Okay, how could it be something bad? Hm. Your first instinct had been wrong — Celestia would teach her and train her just as she had been teaching you. Heck, maybe that's all you'd been, the test run! And that's why— no. Stop. Don't get sucked in, consider alternative hypotheses.

What does it mean to have another princess. It's a change. Is that bad? Wait, is it a change at all? Another princess to help out your mentor. Less need for her to teach others, to teach the nation, to teach you. Easier to keep things the same. To keep Equestria the way it is. And, and— is Equestria itself the way it was supposed to be?

Uh. What do you mean by that, Sunset? That is a peculiar research question, elucidate!

Your thoughts were startled by a particularly loud group cheers as someone hailed the name "Cadance". You gulped, and turned down a somewhat quieter alley. You needed… you couldn't… you just couldn't be there right now,

With a little fresh air, you continued your thoughts, how ever peculiar they might be.

Why would Equestria be different than what it's supposed to be? Well, well…

Oh.

You couldn't hold it in any longer. You sat on the cobblestones, and slowly started to cry.

Because Equestria had been so full of mysteries, so filled with unexplainable things… and you thought you'd be allowed to answer them. That if you were thoughtful, and studied hard, and worked diligently, you could solve them. That the way you men— Celestia kept it could adjust to include you. Would adjust, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

But whatever world that is, is the one where some stupid pink Pegasus becomes an Alicorn, and the Unicorn who has studied for exactly that all her life is left with nothing. And that just … that just can't be right. That can't be how things should be. The regular course of the world cannot involve Sunset Shimmer sobbing in a lonely street as the capital erupts in parties around her. It can't.

Okay, take that as axiomatic. This isn't the way the world is supposed to be. What does that imply. If this isn't truly the nature of the world, then… something is off. If something is off, and it has remained off, it must be kept like that through constant effort?

That… you didn't know what that meant. But you it resonated with something inside of you, all the same.

Your sobs grew deeper. Your thoughts grew more disjointed. They ran down bizarre courses, the straight line of your intellect become spirals and zig-zags. By the time you drifted off, you only knew one axiom for certain: something was in the wrong shape. Although you couldn't tell if it was the world, or yourself.

But either way, the consequence was the same.

If something was in the wrong shape, you had to get out of here.

And you had an idea of how you might do just that…

Spoiler: AN

I still know next to nothing about this pony. I sure do hope her name is Sunset Glimmer, I may have gotten it wrong.

But if the obvious parallel is to Twilight? I think there's a less obvious parallel to a much more important pony. And it was one I wanted to explore here. Credit to Bird for so many of the words I lifted!

…Wait a second. I wrote this. It was fun. But I don't think I really want to see her? Sigh. I'll write a post about why.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Dreams of Velvet speaking modern slang turned into ashes, just like the dreams of the Woods...

Click to shrink...

Spoiler: Winning Vote

[Y] What is this "cellphone" all the kids are talking about? Why do you have one? And what is this "Internet" thing?
[Y] They are young and impressionable. Thankfully, you are a responsible adult. (Hang out with Rarity and Fluttershy, your real-life confidantes)

-lean closer towards Rarity, under the excuse of giving her a better view of your cellphone, and you pretend to ignore how the young woman is absolutely beaming at that. Well, beaming, and also blushing.

"So, I just press here and that finishes my registration?" you ask.

"Y-yes, Professor Covers!" she answers, nearly trembling on her seat.

Meanwhile poor Fluttershy, who is sitting opposite to you, is trying her best to appear as small as possible. In fact, she is also crouching down on her seat as she has her lunch.

And you don't blame her. You really don't. This is probably the most attention she has ever received (or rather, that she ever realized she is receiving) in her entire life.

After all, you are well aware that just like in Ponyville, you have just monopolized and concentrated the three most beautiful mare-female humans in a single place.

Plus, you may or may not have orchestrated the extremely unusual event of having your lunch at the school cafeteria. On the table that is at the very center of the school cafeteria, even. Using the innocuous excuse that you forgot your lunch, and that it is important to check if the students are being given quality food, and that the lunch lady would never report you anyways.

So, here you are, sitting next to Rarity, opposite to Fluttershy, and currently being watched by probably a hundred wide-eyed teenagers.

Well, at least you had the decency of not putting your arm around Rarity. You also don't think she would have remembered how to keep breathing if you did that.

"Ah, thanks Rarity! And please, just call me Velvet. At least when we are outside classroom," you say, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly do that, Velvet," the young woman answers, twirling her long and smooth hair with a finger for some reason.

"I see, I see... Still, now that I'm registered, how can I join that conversation group you told me about?" you ask.

To which Rarity answers by almost freezing, and Fluttershy reacts by letting out a small gasp.

"T-the CanHigh chat room? I mean, i-it's an invitation only group, Professor. A-and besides, it's full of students! There isn't anything interesting going on there. N-nothing at all!"

An instant conversation group where all the students are present, she says? Well, now you are more interested in joining it. After all, you are here to look for someone, and you have not yet discarded the possibility that they may be students!

"If it's invitation only then you can let me in, no?" you say, watching Rarity bite her own lip as if she had just fumbled with her words. "Besides, what if I need to get in touch with someone from school? I'm sure there is nothing wrong with you putting me in this virtual room, no?"

"I... I refuse, I won't do it!" she says, suddenly sounding desperate. Almost as if she is hiding something.


"I'll do it Professor, I'll send you the invitation!"
"No, me! I'll do it! Give me your phone number and I'll add you there!"


But to Rarity's horror (and you really have no idea why she is so horrified) several students from the nearby tables begin to chime in.

And soon enough, a new profile has joined the CanHigh chatroom.

...

"Huh, this is... a lot of messages," you say, as you try to familiarize yourself to how this thing works.

Because this "group" has hundreds of students. And perhaps hundreds of thousands of messages. It feels like a fool's errant to read the whole archive, so you won't, and from what you gather the running culture is only to interact with whatever ongoing conversation is happening.

Still, you are happy to see that the latest conversations have all been about you. You cannot identify who is saying what, since everyone uses pseudonyms, but a few users like "PreciousDiamonds3" have already declared their undying love for you.

You wonder who this user is.

"But there's also a lot of words I just don't understand," you say, to a Rarity who has been deathly quiet since you started reading. "I mean.... cleavage... milf... hagmaxxing? Rarity dear, what does any of this means? Why are they using these words when they are talking about me?"

The young lady refuses to answer you, unfortunately, and you decide to be kind enough not push the issue.

Still, you learn quite a lot before the lunch period is over.

For example, you gleam that you will be able to attract even more attention if you undo the two top buttons of your shirt, so you do just that.

And you also take your first "selfie", to use as your profile picture, where you pull in Rarity and the two of you make cute little "V" signs with your fingers. Although unfortunately poor Fluttershy adamantly refused to join in for it.

Of course, you make sure to display the medallion you are wearing on your picture, on a place you know most of the students will be looking when they zoom in on this image.

Still, inevitably, the school bell rang, and you had to leave your students behind.

Well, you are sure you will bump into them at some point, as you give your classes.

Spoiler: Author's Note

Is it a gift, to allow one a peek? Is it agony, to know what opportunities were lost? Who knows. But for now, a glimpse.

 

[Sveta08]

Well. Call me selfish and foolish and dumb, but I had thoughts from this.
Thoughts on the nature of this space, on the consequences of this space, on the result that created and ran with it and so on...
I am curious. And hungry. And as is my want, I wrote about it.


In which There is a Hole

---

Normally it's easy to find where pieces fall.

You pick a piece up, you drop it, and there it is. You pick a path, weave that option in, and it is clearly attached. You grab the threads, shake them a bit, pick what one is laying on top, and it naturally is there.
Everything functions like that. Everything has functioned like that. All things that are are things that were, are, and have been.

You are... well, that's not really important at this juncture. Everyone has the same question, even if not the same focus.


Where did she go?


You can see her, obviously.
In the grand tapestry of the moment, it's very clear and very obvious. There to the left is the past. The grand illuminated strands of everything that has been, both real and imagined. All layered in on top of itself in a beautiful dimensioned portrait. Words as much as images as much as ideas flowing together to create a beautiful world that you could spin your hand, and visit any point that has been. Even with the cuts. The patches. And even now, a vast majority of it is swathed in darkness and uncertainty.

To the right, the unknowable options that might be. Every thread that could be presented as tools, as options. Every path those might take and lead, how they connect to innumerable threads both past and future, and where they all hinge. All the threads, all the words, all the potentialities that are, knowable and unknowable, are displayed there. An endless array of cobwebs of what might be. Normally it's difficult if not impossible to pluck one of those threads out before it arrives. But as of now...

Right in front of you, is the present. The exact moment every one of those potential paths become known histories. And there, she is. As always.

But she isn't.


There is a hole.
A hole she is in.



There had been discussion of what it would be beforehand. Whether it would be a trial, or an adventure, or a journey, or an impossible task. Dozens and dozens of possibilities that were what it could have been. One or two even guessed something like this. But a hole...

The threads continued on. Feeding, funneling on into the hole the same as before. Choices were argued over, calls made. Words had and decried the paths picked, mourning for the options that were left astray. And it all funneled back in. What needed be done was the same as it ever had been. But why...


But where is she? Where did she go?


It was a simple enough question to answer. There, obviously. But that's not what was asked.
She had flown to a place more distant than tomorrow's horizons. But she wasn't in the future. You'd be able to see that, it would be obvious. There would be a break from the past to the present, there would be speckling in the threads that were to become the future. There would be signs if this were the case.
In the same way, this wasn't simply another history. It wasn't a layer of backing on the canvas of the past, nor a pressing space that bubbled up in the shown thread that was the visible past. It didn't fit that way, and there were too many things that it wasn't and didn't to make that true. Not the least of which being, who helped bring her there.

So where did she go? What is this place?


The obvious answer... was a hole.
A space cut away to touch upon the fundamental backing that was true. But it wasn't just that. It was...
Murky. It was distorted. It was things that were true no matter how you looked at it, yes, but it wasn't... just that. It was full of things that weren't true, no matter how you looked at it.

A hole through the present. One that wasn't truth, nor was it wrong. And it wasn't attached, but was made of things that had been attatched.


Maybe.



The obvious question came to mind. Did that matter though? Did it matter where, or when, or what it was?
Of course! But... did it really?

Maybe. Too many unknowns flitted around it. But maybe it did. Maybe... it was real. Maybe it was something that was true. Maybe.

In the end, however, it did matter. Not because knowing the truth of it mattered... but because how people would react to the truth.
The simplest question was why it mattered.


Do the actions here have consequences?


Here? In the Hole? Of course! Directly.
Outside? That... was a bit tricky. And that's what people wanted to know. The question that was fought about... even if that wasn't what was fought about. The truth behind words unsaid.

If things here changed the world outside.

If it did, there was weight. There was consequence. There was chances to do the impossible outside that were possible here. It excited people. Thrilled them. Terrified some. And frustrated others.
If it didn't, then what was the consequence? Take what need be, claim what was wanted, take what was needed, grasp what power could be and run.

If it mattered, it mattered. If it didn't, it didn't. But no one knew which was true.





But maybe.
Just maybe.
That's... not quite how it works.

Things here don't reflect, that much is obvious. There is space that is real, and space that isn't. Space filled with ideas and space filled with things.

And that's where the idea started. Where the question grew.
What if it wasn't a hole? Or maybe it wasn't always a hole.

There were threads in the hole. Words that seemed to echo, parts of the world that echoed in different ways. In different words. The world there... it had space that was real. Space that reflected things that were true through a murky lens. But... But the lens wasn't murky? Or maybe it was murky, but that is not why the rest of it was what it was. Because there... the world was two made of two things.

Real things. And Context.

Context didn't exist. It wasn't real. It was made of the stuff of dreams and nightmares and was nothing more than-
A Hole.


It was a hole. It was a hole full of holes. But the holes didn't matter. The holes just proved that something burrowed through them. Something made this not space. That this was




KNOCK




... an idea.

What if this place hadn't existed once? True of all places yes, but in the context of this... time. This history. This potential histories. In the lot of it.
What if this hole... was a hole?

A space. An idea that had been so burnt. So cut away. So embodied by




KNOCK




that the ideas of it still corroded? That the reflection that it was was still reflecting truth because Reflections show Truth. And when it tried to reflect upon the holes it had to reflect back truth, but you can't see a hole. All you can see is Context.
But Mirrors had to reflect. They had to be true. But there were holes.
And on a mirror, that's fog. That's cloudy. That's murky. Inside, that's




KNOCK




which was already true! And the things inside that she was looking for were-! They would be able to do that. They would be-! So of course actions would have consequence! Of course it would reflect back, because it was the reflections which was being touched!
But how? How to prove this wasn't simply an idea, and might be true? How to look for the evidence that said it might be? What could be...

A reflection. True. Undeniable. And one that was absent.



So you formed a question. Asked a damnation. One that would lead to the right questions. Form the right ideas. Align the right notions.

"I wonder if Spike is dead here too."

 

[Flaregamer82253]

Probably the core of my beliefs on Pony Twilight is just that I don't believe things are ever going to improve because there is no one left who Twilight would let in.

Let's go down the list of all those who remain:

Starting with the Mane 6, Twilight's friends, the problem is that they aren't actually friends. The world got interrupted 4 months from the day that Nightmare Moon returned. A friendship has to be maintained, and for whatever really happened beyond our vision, regardless of why or who, Twilight's burgeoning friendships didn't survive. Twilight wasn't ever inclined towards friends in the first place, so I wonder how she must look back on that night with Nightmare Moon. Probably only with depersonalization.

Celestia next. I'm going to put aside any and all consideration of how the Daybreaker situation will resolve. I'll also put aside most of the changeling situation too. The real question here is "Why would what Celestia says matter to Twilight?"

Consider Twilight's perspective here. When Celestia left to find Luna, what happened to their relationship?

"But…" you hear her say, almost in a whimper. And you can't help but raise an eyebrow as Twilight…

You can't help but feel a slight jab on your heart as Twilight Sparkle says something, with a voice that makes her sound a lot younger than she actually is.

"But Princess Celestia… she is not here to teach me… she doesn't answer my letters and I…"

You see her curl up slightly at that, her eyes leaving your own and going towards the floor as the unspoken words that "she doesn't know what to do" hang in the air around her.

Ah… you should have realized it.

Rarity didn't mention she was this close to the Princess. Maybe because she didn't know.

But from what you have seen, and from what you have heard, she must really be close to Princess Celestia. Extremely close, that is. And it makes sense that her current state couldn't have been caused just by… her rather unfortunate research, after the two of you parted ways.

Click to shrink...

Celestia never responded to Twilight, not sparing her a thought. This is critical for two reasons. First, Celestia has a clear priority to her sister even at the cost of all other personal relationships. Second, it is the initial indication to Twilight that she isn't worthy of even a moment of Celestia's attention.

In itself, this isn't all that much, but Twilight is a smart cookie: she can recognize a pattern. We saw a bit of that in another history.

"Velvet…" she says, and you can hear that her voice is trembling, "do you know where we are right now? Do you know what they call this place?"

You feel a knot inside your chest growing tighter and tighter as you see her mane fluttering slightly. As you see her whole body shaking as she asks that question.

You don't have it in you to answer her, so you just shake your head, even though she can't see it.

"This place," she says, and you can hear her swallowing something dry, "is called the Apprentice's Tower. And I know that sounds obvious… I know it's something everypony knows… but still, I only found out that is what it's called today."

She says that, and then she turns around to face you.

"Isn't that funny?" she asks with a smile.

Click to shrink...

"For the longest time… for years, even. I thought of this place as my home, I thought this place was called Twilight's Tower, or something like that. After all, this place was all mine, and I spent every… I was here all the time. I only ever left when I had something more interesting to learn somewhere else."

Her tone is so low that she might as well be talking in whispers. But still, you don't dare get any closer to her.

And that is because… her eyes are so hollow and her smile so faint that you think she will crumble into dust if you take even a single step towards her.

"Princess Celestia said it herself, even. That this place was all mine to do anything I wanted. That is, to study anything I wanted," she continued, turning her gaze towards the surrounding bookshelves. "And I remember how happy I was… this place was a like an amusement park, like twenty different libraries mashed together in a single place. And I thought Princess Celestia had prepared all of this for me, Velvet…"

Twilight lets out a dry cough, her chest shuddering so much with the motion that you have no doubt that it was actually painful for her.

It takes you a few moments to realize that was a chuckle.

"That's the thing, Velvet. I just realized that she didn't. This place… all of these books, on all of these subjects, and all of these tools… they are all leftovers. They are all the interests of her previous students, things that were left behind and that piled on top of each other as the years and decades passed. They were all left here for the next occupant of this place to pick up, because this is what this place is for. This is the Apprentice's Tower."

Click to shrink...

"But in the end… that's what I was the whole time. Exactly what Princess Luna said. My whole life, I was just a passing interest, one more student in a long line of ponies who caught Princess Celestia's eyes…"

A single tear comes out of her eyes, slowly making its way down the fur of her cheek as she says those words.

"And when she said I was her faithful student… I can see that she meant I was a faithful student. Not her faithful student, or the faithful student… Just another pastime she decided to take under her wing and…"

The young mare suddenly shivers, as if a cough or a hiccup came up to her, interrupting whatever she was going to say next.

And with that, her whole demeanor changes. As if she just realized where she was, as if she was suddenly afraid of what was happening, Twilight's eyes suddenly shoot wide open. Her breathing becomes ragged as she looks around herself, and her horn lights up as she starts walking backwards, away from you.

"Twilight, wait!" is all you can say, running towards her after the split second it takes you to realize what she is about to do.

But before you even finish speaking those words, the light of her horn flashes a brilliant light purple, and then she is gone with the soft puff of a teleportation spell.

Leaving you alone, with nothing to keep you company, but the memory of Twilight's frightened expression.

And no matter how much you think about it, you can't describe it in any other way but as the expression of a pony who can no longer recognize anything around her. Not even herself.

Click to shrink...

Twilight isn't special.

She knows that. It's something that has been proven to her multiple times throughout the course of this quest from multiple people, but really, the important part right now is that Twilight knows she's not special to Celestia. Furthermore, it's not as though Celestia has taken any action to disprove this. Daybreaker or not, Celestia hasn't reached out to Twilight, not even with a condolence for her losses, in 16 months now. And you know, Twilight didn't even have much faith in Celestia saying that she should get some friends at the beginning of the series. So really, I have to wonder why anything Celestia says to Twilight beyond the role of ruler and subject would make a difference when she hasn't been a mentor or a friend to her at all.

I have no faith in Celestia making a difference in the Twilight situation.


Alright, moving on to Shining Armor. Between the leash and the Lunar Bureau, I'd imagine we've had a good handle on what Shining Armor's doing on the Twilight situation:

"And that is why he wouldn't take the job with us. Vanhoover is too far away for a commute, and well… he just has to be there for her sister. Even if she only eats when he is out of the house, and even if they only speak through a closed door. She is still… all that he has…"

Shining says that, and for a short moment you can see how his gaze becomes unfocused.

More than just that, you can also tell that… you can also feel certain thoughts running through his mind. The idea that his words should mean something else to him personally. The impression that the story he is telling is… not only relatable, but also familiar. Coupled with the impression that he, too, should be doing… something about it. Just like the detective is.

But just before he can reach a conclusion, just before those disparate thoughts come together with his mind in a way that makes sense-

-you also feel the tug of the Leash he has in his mind. Stopping from taking that final step.​

And just like that, Shining Armor is looking at you once again. His expression focused and attentive as if nothing just happened.

Click to shrink...

In order to prevent Shining Armor from following up on Twilight, Velvet had to stop Shining Armor from thinking about Twilight up to the point where Shining got married, where I find it unlikely at best to say Shining followed up on Twilight afterwards in any way that she would be receptive to. As far as Twilight believes, Shining Armor doesn't believe her, and thus, she has a lack of faith in Shining. I can't see her being receptive while Shining thinks she's crazy, and us and Velvet would/will continue to ensure that Shining thinks Twilight is crazy as long as our survival depends on it. Shining Armor can't help Twilight.

Alright, lastly, Cadance. How did Cadance help Twilight before the Wedding?

However, not even the soft light of the moon could hide the fact that…

"She… Velvet, are you sure this is the place?"

"… yes. I have already been here before. It looked a lot better, months ago. And I mean a lot better. But…"

"I… oh no… I should have come here before, I should have thought about her before… but it was just so much that…!"

Click to shrink...

She didn't really do much in the 3 months between her rescue and wedding without us prompting her, even though Twilight also lost her parents and little brother and her horn/passion.

What about Cadance's perspective? She actually tried. We know very, very little about what came of this conversation, but I can't imagine it was positve.

She knew what she should do next. She knew what she had to do next. And yet, she hesitated. She hesitated because she was afraid. And she was afraid because she knew that… she knew, as she looked into that dark library, that…

… that there was no love inside that place.

And despite everything other ponies thought about her, despite everything she knew about herself, she still didn't know if she would be enough, even as she set hoof into that darkness.

Click to shrink...

"Cadance, I feel like I need to ask… how did that night go? How… how was Twilight?"

You ask that, and you watch as Cadance's eyes move here and there. You watch as she lies back on the chair she is sitting, as if thinking about what words she should use to answer you.

Still, she looks fine. In fact, she looks like you just asked her about the weather, or what time it is. Or as if you just asked her about something related to the wedding that she has already decided.

And not long after, she opens her mouth to speak.

Although what she tells you is… well, it's not the answer you are waiting for.

"Did I ever tell you about my family?" she asks.

Click to shrink...

"Well, not long after that day… several things happened, and I became a Princess."

Still, you can only watch as she completely dismisses the thought. You can only watch as her previous lost expression… changes back to normal. In fact, you can only watch as she once again begins to smile, of all things.

"And things were great after that. They really were! Shining's parents were lovely. And of course, Princess Celestia herself took me in. She really was like an aunt to me for the longest time. I don't really feel like I lacked anything, back when it was just me and dad. But I definitely gained something I didn't have, after Princess Celestia brought me to Canterlot."

She says that in a tone that almost sounds distracted. As if she is telling you one thing, but thinking about something else entirely. In fact, she is so deep in her thought that she doesn't even notice her magic is slipping away. What little concentration she was focusing on the magical drawing finally fades, and her long-gone cutie mark disappears right after.

However, despite her upbeat words, you think that… you think you know what she is truly talking about.

Despite her content and distracted expression, you think you know what she is truly thinking about.

After all, she is talking about Shining's parents. About Shining's mother, who introduced her to her current husband-to-be. About Shining's father, as she vaguely recalls the lessons on magic he taught her while she was still getting used to the horn on her head.

And of course, she also tells you about her… "Auntie" Celestia.

However, it is painfully obvious to you that none of those ponies are around anymore.

And she knows that.

Oh, she definitely knows that.

Click to shrink...

I can't help but notice that Twilight is very blatantly not spoken about here.

"Can you promise not to judge me?" she asks.

For a moment, you think about answering her with a joke of sorts. To try and alleviate the heaviness in the air, if nothing else. For a moment, you think about saying something like no promises, or trying to dismiss her concerns that you will judge her as silly. Because of course, you would never judge her, and you very much want to put a smile on her face.

But still, you also realize that what she needs right now is the serious, no-nonsense and honest answer.

"I won't," you say.

She doesn't look towards you. Instead, she keeps looking straight ahead, towards the center of the room, as if she could still see the disappeared drawing of her former cutie mark.

That is, until she lets out another, longer sigh.



"Promise you won't leave me?"

Click to shrink...

It's very clear to me that Twilight isn't going to let Cadance in, and I'm pretty sure Twilight cut ties with Cadance entirely.

Cadance knows this, even in her nightmares:

"You just what? You are going to blame me? You are going to blame somepony else? Swear up and down it is not your fault? The same way it wasn't your fault when you let the country fall apart, right when Celestia needed you most? The same way it wasn't your fault that the pony you claim to love the most lost his horn? The same way it wasn't your fault when you failed to save Twilight?!"

Click to shrink...

See, this is Cadance's nightmare, but it's important to understand where the distortion is here. Every event that happened is a fact, but Cadance's distortion is that she is at fault for them. I take this to mean pretty definitively that she failed in that conversation, and that she can't, or at least won't try further, to save Twilight in respect of her wishes.


So who's left? Twilight has no friends, no faith, no mentor, and no family that she would listen to. She said it herself after all.

"And ever since I moved here… ever since I met you, my life only got worse… it got worse… and worse… and worse… and now I have nothing left."

Click to shrink...

As far as I'm concerned, Twilight Sparkle is a closed system that has exactly two people who could make a reasonable difference.

Velvet Covers

and her Apostle.

You get up from where you are sitting, on the dark corner of the room.

You watch as the mare begins to quietly cry, as you approach her.

But you also know that she doesn't want you to go away. Because even though everything you just told her was painful, her entire life is pain right now. So, what you are saying at least make sense. And since it makes sense, it helps her at least ground herself. And since it helps her to ground herself, she wants you to tell her more.

You have no idea what you are doing.

But it is working, and for some reason it feels easy.

Almost natural.

So, when you reach her, you very carefully put your lips close to her ear, and you whisper to her. Almost as if you are sharing a secret.

You whisper to her a question. A proposal. An invitation.

And finally, the mare begins to… talk.

Things become much, much easier after that.

And your heart hammers inside your chest, with tension at the thought that you are making progress, and maybe just a hint of pride at the fact that following your guts worked.

But most of all, you feel glad because…

Because you are helping Mrs. Velvet.

And that is exactly what you will strive to do, from now on.

Because you owe her too much, and it's about time you start paying her back.

Click to shrink...

(After the Wedding)

And that is because Amor is currently staring at what is, or perhaps was, the town library. A treehouse, or a house that is literally built from a tree, that stands in one of the roads near the center of Ponyville.

Although, like anypony else, she can immediately tell that said library had seen better days.

After all, she can barely tell that the place is shaped like a tree. Because there are no leaves or flowers to speak of, and most of its branches have already rotted and fallen down.

Furthermore, to say that the structure is in disrepair is an understatement. The "natural" parts of the tree look rotten and sick, but the "pony-made" parts of the structure look no better. And everywhere she looks, she can spot a broken window, or a misaligned door, or some other sign that this place is in desperate need for the attention of a cutie-marked carpenter.

But most of all, this place is unique because of…

Most ponies prefer to just ignore this place. In fact, most ponies in Ponyville either pretend this place doesn't exist, and just avoid this road altogether.

However, Amor… doesn't. In fact, it is the opposite with her.

And just like every other week, she spends… more than just a few moments staring at the rotting tree-house. Just like every other week, she can feel the thing that is emanating from that place. Like a strange warmth that comes from an invisible bonfire, or a strong smell that sticks to the coat.

And just like every other week, she… slowly, cautiously makes her way towards the worn front door.

Amor makes her way towards the front door, noticing that the sign that used to hang over the door is no longer there. Although she was sure that it was there last week. Another sign of disrepair, no doubt. Another thing that was simply lost.

She reaches the front door, and she can almost taste the feelings that are covering this place.

And she knows that… she knows that it would be so simple. It would be as easy as picking up a ripe fruit, that is hanging from a low branch.

She could call whoever lives in that place right now, and she knows that pony would follow. All she needed to do was knock on that door. All she needed to do was extend a hoof, and the denizen of this catacomb would practically lunge to hold on to it.

Amor slowly raises her hoof, inching it closer and closer to the front door…



But like every other week, she stops.



She stops herself. She stops her hoof. And as painful as it might be, she wrangles herself away from that temptation.

Because there are rules to this. There are rules to their… gathering, that she knows she must obey.

In fact, she was the one who wrote them.

And just like every other week, she almost broke the very first rule that they all must follow.

Do not invite any newcomers, unless She was the one who called for them.

Yes… yes. She must follow the rules.

No matter how inviting this place seems to be.

No matter how obvious this option might look like.

The pony who dwells in this place has not yet been called by… her friend. Her one and only very best friend has not yet called for whoever lives in this place. She has not yet mentioned this place, or looked at it, or even thought about it. Which can only mean that something, perhaps the gathering, or perhaps the pony who lives here, is not ready yet.

Click to shrink...

Information control is something OurLadyOfWires maintains very well. If it isn't something we would become aware of or otherwise must need to know, we won't be directly told. Soft Sweeps has visited Twilight Sparkle and has set something in motion. Despair, the Wolf that devours thought. I am pretty sure, even if I can't confirm, that Twilight is rolling against something, perhaps Dread, every turn at this point. And I believe that at some point, Twilight will take any decisions out of our hands. I firmly believe that the moment she fails enough times, Twilight will become a critical member of Soft Sweeps cult, and I doubt anyone would be able to do anything to help her in the ways we would hope at that point.

What I'm trying to say is that regardless of what will happen, in a way similar to figuring out what the Master was up to, waiting for someone else to make a move for Twilight, or waiting for Velvet Covers to have an opportunity is a bad idea. Everyone is an actor with agency in this world, and I've seen no indication that people are making or are able to make a positive impact in Twilight's situation, and Twilight has a standing offer she's been sitting on for a while.

So I want to end this off by saying that if you don't believe that the method we have in front of us is one that can be abided by, then that's okay! I completely understand that some of us won't agree with each other on these decisions. My main purpose with this post is to stress that we have no guarantees that we will have another opportunity and that I don't ever see things changing without an action by Velvet Covers or Soft Sweeps, and the latter is the only one "active" with Twilight.

(That's enough effort for one day...)

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Spoiler: Winning Vote

[Y] Return home, with Diary, Frangiclave, and something else besides. Or rather, someone. (End the dream, bringing Twilight Sparkle with you, and redistribute your remaining action points.)

The Velvet estate is home to many rumors and gossips.

Granted, maids and servants are as prone to whispering secrets to each other as they are to attending their actual duties. And everypony knows that, as a rule, noble households are already a nexus of gossiping to begin with.

However, over the last few months, the Velvet estate of Ponyville has certainly become… something else.

Its corridors, or at least the mind of its servants, have been filled with more intrigue than the average noble household. And it certainly has seen way more activity than it should have, considering how far it is from Canterlot and how unremarkable its Lady had been for so many years.

But rumors, just like fire, neither care nor discriminate, and they will spread as long as there is adequate fuel for them. Regardless of the past or pedigree of those they envelop.

And the recent guests of the Velvet estate, as well as the scandalous actions of the Lady herself, have been more than enough to spark many a controversy.



"You know, I have been thinking about our summoner these last few days. And I couldn't help but see a few parallels between her and the adepts of our time."



One of those rumors is about nopony other than good Baldomare.

Now, this isn't exactly a rumor per se. It is not a scandal, or a gossip, or even a peek into her elusive and tightly guarded past. This particular tidbit of conversation, that floats here and there among the servants, isn't really something that is either gleefully shared or jealously kept secret by whoever hears it.

In fact, it is more of an opinion than a rumor.

And that opinion is…

… that good Baldomare is actually a very bad conversation partner.



"[SECRET HISTORIES]?"

"Why I'm saying this? Wait, you haven't heard? Or perhaps it hasn't happened yet? What day is it… ah, but of course. Yes, yes, my apologies. I just happened to look ahead a little bit. You see, our summoner is coming back tonight, finally, and she will bring somepony back with her. A new guest, I suppose, to fill this house with."



Of course, good Baldomare is not without her fair share of fans and admirers. And those ponies will quickly jump to deny such slanderous claims.

However, the fact remains that, well, everypony agrees Baldomare knows everything.

And that makes her a great storyteller, for sure. A great storyteller, a wonderful advisor, and a very mischievous fortune teller for those who dare ask.

Still, wouldn't that make her a terrible conversation partner? After all, how can you have a proper conversation with somepony who already knows everything? Wouldn't that make it a lecture? A monologue? Or perhaps an exercise in futility?



"[FORGE]?"

"No, no, not that kind of guest. But you are right, in a sense. Or maybe you are coming from the right place? Well, it doesn't matter. Although I agree with you. Because maybe I shouldn't call that newcomer a guest…?"



Whatever the truth may be, the fact remains there are still ponies who are willing to engage good Baldomare in conversation.

Well, that's not exactly right. Baldomare is quite the approachable mare, and she is willing to talk to anypony. Even if, most of the time, she will be the one doing most of the talking.

So, it is better to say that there are still some ponies who are capable of engaging with her in a conversation. And despite the obvious gap in expertise and knowledge, there are still ponies who can sit down with Baldomare and have something to say, without the exchange slowly turning into a lecture of sorts.

There is old Biedde, who has on occasion had lengthy conversations with her about… well, about fantasy books that they both read, apparently. But that they appeared to be discussing as vigorously as if it was actual history.

Firefly Breeze, a relatively young and innocent maid, is spoken of as one of the few ponies who can make Baldomare change her mind after she made a decision. And Rusty Nail, a farmhoof who has worked on the estate since before the Lady arrived, is said to have gotten into a messy disagreement with Baldomare about the effect of sunlight on crops.

Maddeningly, young Silky Stream has supposedly already outwitted Baldomare, precisely once, in a subject nopony seems to agree on. Some of the servants insist it was on a topic the filly must have studied about in school, while others reason it must have been about something like the result of a game of chance or a coin toss.

And then, of course, there is…



"[MOTH]?"

"No, no, it's not that either. Our summoner and the guest are separate ponies. But as I was saying, I shouldn't call her a new guest. I should call her an… acquisition."



And then, of course, there is fair Mareinette.

Fair Mareinette, who so often invites good Baldomare for a drink or three in her humble room within the wine cellar.

Fair Mareinette who, in her great charity, convinced the Lady to let some of the farmhoofs keep their jobs even after they lost a hoof or a leg. Who took them in, even, as their favored and "dedicated" servants.

Fair Mareinette, who is beloved by all in the estate, and who can do no wrong, and who would be delighted to have you in her company.

Yes, that Mareinette. It only makes sense that a mare as grand as she would be deemed interesting company to good Baldomare.

So, as it happened several times before, it just happens that the two mares are currently engaged in conversation, as they stroll around the great farmlands of the estate.



"But again, the more time I spend here, the more I see our summoner reflecting the habits of our time. Maybe it was inevitable? Or maybe these are just the timeless habits of those who dabble on the Lores? Who knows. There probably isn't a difference."

"[SECRET HISTORIES]?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean by that… but fine, I'll indulge you."



The two mares walk through the long roads of beaten dirt that stretch across the farmlands. The ones that are used by the farmhoofs to go here and there, carrying their carts and their tools, and the ones that serve as lines that divide the different harvests.

Every now and then they stop, to look at a group of farmers at work. Every now and then a group of farmers stop, to gaze at the fair mares as they pass by. One pale and shadowless like an intriguing mirage, the other large and regal like a black-clad Princess.

Still, their presence in the farmlands is as magical as it is mundane. Like a cool breeze on a sweaty brow, or the sight of a beautiful bird flying overhead. Their passage is something that is welcome, perhaps even celebrated, but also something that everypony understands is beyond them.

And so it also happens that their words, deep and mysterious as they may be, are also being lost in the wind and forgotten by the breeze.



"I once read that words, or perhaps language itself, are nothing but a convention. An agreed-upon way that we use to understand each other. After all, even though secrets are precious, the ability to understand one another is both useful and important. In fact, it is so important that the means we use to nurture that ability are far more diverse than just the use of language. It extends to culture, to habits, and several other things besides. Why, I daresay our desire to understand each other is one of the reasons why we both wear this pony-like form. Because we wouldn't be able to do much if the first words out of our mouth always had to be be not afraid, no?"

"[HEART]."

"Sure, sure, semantics. The point that I'm trying to make is that our summoner… well, maybe she realizes it, or maybe she doesn't. But still, she stumbled upon a particular habit from our time."



The sun is still high in the sky. The irrigation-clouds that will be brought in near the end of the day are nowhere to be seen. And all around the two mare-things, everything is in peace.

Everything is where it should be. Everything is predictable. Everything is in its proper place.

Everything is under control.



"Because it is easy to ignore these conventions when you don't even know they are there. It is easy to let your legs guide you as you walk, and let your pace quicken or slow down as you please. But once you realize there is a tune? Once you realize there is actually a song on the background, that you have been dancing to all along? Well, once that happens you need to make a conscious effort to keep up with the pace."

"[LANTERN]."

"Exactly! After all, despite their disagreements, Lantern and Moth are still neighbors. And it is so easy to go from one to the other and… No, that's not right. It's easy to fall from Moth to Lantern. But there is no easy way back, once you do it."



All around them, farmhoofs and supervisors keep to their tasks as if it was natural. All around them, the world continues to spin as if that was the ordinary way of things.

An old farmer tips her straw hat at them while she pulls a cart, as she walks by the two pony-like creatures. A trio of farmers nervously consider approaching the two mares, for their advice or their blessings or just their presence, but fail to muster their courage before it is already too late. A group of foals, newcomers to the town, nervously gaze at them from their distant hiding spot, wondering if today was the day they would dare step a hoof into the property and trespass into the mysterious noblemare's land.

All around them, the world continues to spin as if everything that happens is utterly normal.

All around them, everypony continues living under the idea that everything around them is natural. And not that everything around them, from the seeds under the dirt to the clouds in the sky to the very sun and moon on the heavens, are not being moved by pony hoofs and pony will.



"It seems that our summoner realized that her life, or maybe everything, is a masquerade. It seems she finally realized that everything we do, from our habits to our thoughts to our very lives, are masks that we wear. That the very world, even, is nothing but the continuance of these conventions and habits and words that we jointly agree carry a particular meaning. And tonight, when she bring her new guest… when she brings back her latest acquisition, she will have taken an important step in accepting her place in all of this."

"[GRAIL]?"

"Oh, no. I wish that was the case, but it is much worse than that. Because she thinks of herself as a... the Hostess. And after tonight, after this latest decision of hers, our summoner will become obsessed with it. With keeping this masquerade running, with keeping this delightful party on rhythm with her music. With keeping the ignorant in ignorance, and the performers dancing. Of course, that is all well and good, and I think she will be a good host. After all, it was the hosts and hostesses of old that kept us all from killing each other back then, no? Somepony needs to keep the wheels spinning. And more importantly, somepony needs to keep everypony else from noticing there are wheels to begin with. Quite fitting, then, that she has the word covers on her name."



Mareinette stops, as she listens to those words. She stops, and she looks down at good Baldomare, and within the dark depth of her empty eye sockets she considers what the bright-mare just told her like a sommelier might consider a fine glass of wine.

She thinks, and she ponders, and good Baldomare inevitably begins to answer her unspoken question before it is even properly formed.



"I think you would approve of her, yes. I think this will be to your liking, in the end. Because just like the hosts and hostesses of our time, our summoner is not without her own habits and likings. In fact, I think you will come to the same conclusion when you see her. Our summoner does not care for her latest acquisition. At least, she doesn't care for her with the same fixation she does her family, and she will treat her like any other of her pawns. And yet, she made this decision all the same."

"…"

"Because this isn't about her latest acquisition. This isn't about the student herself. Oh no. This is about what she represented. Because the reflection of her acquisition, the one that will be whisked away by the snake in a few hours, was a failure. Worse than that, she was evidence of her failure. Living proof that our summoner couldn't protect somepony she took under her wings. She was… a crack on our summoner's mask. And that crack would only widen and grow, if left unattended, until it snapped her mask in half. And that simply wouldn't do for the Hostess of this masquerade, no? So… she did what every good hostess would do. She did what was necessary to continue the masquerade."



The wind stops blowing, as Baldomare says that. Not by design, and not due to any particular reason. This is, in truth, just a coincidence. Still, the wind stops blowing nonetheless, and the very world seems to hold its breath as Mareinette considers the implications of that.

She considers the implications of that… and how that might reframe her associate's previous actions… and how that might educate her decisions in the future… and also, and also…

…

Ah.

The wind begins to blow once again. Fiercer, this time, as if to make up for the short pause from a few moments ago.

The wind blows at Mareinette's regal cloak or red and black. And it pushes and presses against the nearby crops and fields. And it leaves Baldomare completely untouched and undisturbed as if the Lantern-Name was light itself.

The wind blows long and hard, and in its smooth gale it carries a new sound, that is now coming from the Grail-thing.



Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack



It should be impossible for a skull to smile. It should be impossible for a bone-dry corpse to feel mirth. It should be impossible for a thing that is oh so thirsty to feel sated.

And yet, if only for a moment, all of those things were happening.

Mareinette's delight makes itself known to the world, sounding at the same time like the laughter of a filly and the dissonant song of castanets.

And by the time the wind finally dies down, the two mares are gone. Both of them disappearing once they are satisfied with that conversation.





Mareinette is delighted by your recent decision, she has decided to reward you with [REDACTED]

Well, there is no reason to delve too deep into what could have happened, or what you might have gained. After all, this is just a Was Not now. Right?

Right?

Move along now, dear. Back to where you came from.

 

[Sveta08]

Red Winds Sing

---

It is a long winded sigh that brought you back.
The low, heavy sigh. Fullness of breath, deep in the chest when nothing else would do. Like the air was being driven out of the lungs more than just a sigh. Crushed.

Familiar, common even.

But such a sweet sound.
Longing.



He is not much to look at, but eyes are always deceitful. Thin in frame, but neither lean nor fatty in any right shape. Not with the muscle to make him worth attention, nor the build of something to be made from him. Too full of his own horn to keep track of the rest, just like most now.

But, eyes are always deceitful. Too quick to pass over things. Too blind to pick up on the better things. Rich and hungry yes, but hardly given to more than sampling. And so picky.

Laughter would not become it, but there is a smile as he sighs.
Not his smile.
Yours.



"Lord, she said it would be for a week at least. Come in from the balcony before you catch your death out there."
Warmer. Not the same warmth as his sigh, but the voice. Richer in tone. Heavier in body, with more depth. A broadness. Confidence one might even say. Or perhaps, experience even.

The chocolaty coat of Cantrip the maid. So gentle and kindly to her greater. Lesser. Better. Authority.
A troubled pair to be sure. Nothing between them save respect and position. Not in the ways it's been seen, no. But... in a gentler, easier way. Velvety even.
Never meant for this kind of world, either one. Too heavy in the heart to be who they were built to be. Too sharp in the mind to be what was wanted. A tragedy that never was.
Only a kindly, gentleness to savor instead.

"At least, Cantrip. At least a week she said. Not only, at least."
But what was here, was more than what wasn't. A prince in a tower, pining for a princess long gone. Or, long forlong this time.
Pride, pity the name, all but collapsed at the balcony edge. Hooves held in shambles as his eyes rose, almost pleadingly to the sky.

Beg the sun, the stars, the moon themselves. But she's not under those skies little one.



He had been like this ever since word came back. One of his servants trying to seek a meeting by proxy for him. A meal, a happenchance encounter. A word and a smile and a vain hope to see her face. That maybe the silver thread of a smile might be turned his way.
Word that she was to be unavailable. Velvet herself gone, and ever so Precious Ax to be.... indisposed.

Cruel fates. Neither kind nor just.
Had she been willing and helpful? Had she rendered unto their summoner aid?
Permitted a room, treated as family, and held not at arms length. But embraced. Welcomed. Joined united in purpose and aim.
With not but venom and scorn in her breath.

A Mother tends to the Wounded.
Not a rule or a law, but something near enough.
Cruel fate. Nothing more.



It was an attempt to be dignified. To save face, that Pride rose. Bottling up his emotions, letting them stew and grow richer all the while. When he returned from the balcony, back to his desk and to his work. Papers that held none of his mind but all of his hooves.
The sighs that slipped his lips carried along like the notes of the finest vintage.

... not quite the finest.
But enough to savor. To slack the thirst, if only in temptation.

A beautiful pair of opera glasses taken away. Eyeless sockets beneath as your gaze turned back to the house.
The house.
The house.

---

Three days.
How long a day now that it was undivided. How it struggled to partition. Not in Hours, but in moods now. Morning, Noon, Afternoon, Evening, Night. Dawn and Dusk no more fixed than ever, always twisting and turning.
The night at least, it danced in ways the day did not. The stars blinked and turned and danced anew an ancient song. But the day... was.

Three days since she left.
The house has been full of holes since. Ever and always when she leaves. But now they are different.
Not anchored, not distant. Not leading somewhere new or somewhere else. But holes all the same.
Small ones. Ones you wouldn't even remember or notice.
At least most wouldn't.

But you...

You will see when she returns. Not a moment before. Only hints in the taste of the space left behind of what was beyond the veil.
Not even enough to tempt.

So you've been busy.


It took no more than a word.
Not even from you. But a word by a guest, come to offer to you. A word of another.
A guest. One who hadn't come to you. One who hadn't come for you. Nor for Velvet sweet.
Not on his own at least.

It wasn't even a word. Just a nod. The rest handled itself.

Three days.
And on the lunch of the third day, you were a Guest in the Garden.
A meal to be had with the most recent of kindnesses your summoner had granted.

Family.

"Ah, and thank you for joining me today! They say every meal is sweeter with company, and that must be doubly true for you. Please! Lady Mareinette." Velvet Steppes made motion, standing to the side as he pulled out the best sofa they had from the table. "Have a seat if you would."

And oh.
Words like honey, rich like wine. Careful and gentle and gentlemanly! With the scent of more than just a taste of desire under his hooves. Not so lost to a dream as the younger Velvet, nor so Glory blind as the Summoner. Passionate, careful, and knows his way around the words... the lip of a bottle too... Not near red enough for your taste, but oh.



You like him.

---

Seven days.
Six Nights.

And the world is rent open.

The house bends. But does not break.
The world churns, but does not bend.
And all is lost in the empty quiet where all hunger suffers and all longing dies.

A hole has appeared inside the house. A hole that was always there, but no more could pretend to be something else.
From your abode, you cannot see it.
But you do not need to see it to know it.


It is a rhythm that is old as time. It is a song as mournful as they come. It is a pattern that has worn itself bare.

It is the sound of a child crying.
It is the wound of family left all alone.
It is the scar of a broken promise.
It is the hurt of a broken heart.

A heart full of holes.

There is nothing to do but wait. To protect what needs protecting and let the gap swallow itself whole.
Such is the way with snakes.









Only
It doesn't.

Not with a calamitous snap. Not with the reverberations of chains. Not with something sharp or violent or self consumptive.

The holes echo.
They rent.
They shake.
They tremble and cut away at the world.​

But they fade.

Bit by Bit.
Wound by Wound.
Till the living wound is no more here.

And.

And!

There it is...​

There are no lips to lick.
There is no flesh to strain.
There was no heart to quicken.

But it felt

"[HEART]!"

Old.

A new taste in the air.
The wind carrying something that hadn't been felt in a very, very long time.
A new taste. An old flavor.

There was only one word.


It was

"[GRAIL]!"​

Power

 

[ses]

You are Professor Velvet Covers.


Your fingers trace your right leg—smooth now, without a hint of the fifteen-year-old scars that had defined your physical reality. Perfect, unmarked skin that seemed to mock your previous limitations.


You'd spent years hiding your disability. Careful camera angles during school photos. Strategic clothing choices. Long skirts. Dark, loose-fitting pants. Always seated behind the desk during parent-teacher conferences. An affected fondness for a fancy umbrella regardless of weather. The leg had been your secret shame, a constant reminder of the car accident that had stolen your youth, your dreams, your sense of wholeness.


Now, impossibly, it was healed.


And a week. An entire week. Gone.


Twilight Sparkle was waiting after the final bell, something brittle in her posture that spoke of deeper wounds than simple teenage disappointment. The classroom was silent, fluorescent lights humming overhead, casting harsh shadows across the girl's face.


"You don't remember," Twilight said. Not a question.


You hesitated. "Remember what?"


The look Twilight gave you was devastating. Not anger. Not quite grief. Something more profound. The expression of someone who had been shown a glimpse of impossible liberation, only to have it snatched away without explanation.


"You looked at me," Twilight said, her voice low and intense. "Really looked at me. Not just another honors student waiting to graduate and disappear into some mid-tier university. You saw me."


You wanted to interrupt, to ask what she meant, but something in Twilight's tone stopped you.


"You promised me worlds," Twilight continued. "Spaces between the spaces we know. Ways out of this—" she gestured around the classroom, at the faded posters, the worn linoleum floor, the windows looking out on a small Canadian town that had been a cage for generations of ambitious kids— "this nothing."


The promise hung between them. A promise you had no memory of making.


"The way you talked to me," Twilight whispered. "The way you understood. It wasn't—" She caught herself, swallowed hard. "It wasn't you. But it was."


You felt the weight of a connection she didn't remember creating. The sense of something profound and impossible that had briefly touched her life and was now gone.


"I'm sorry," you say, knowing the words were inadequate.


Twilight's eyes were distant. Lost. "You showed me worlds," she repeated. "And now we're just... here."


Outside, the late afternoon light was turning golden. Another ordinary day in an ordinary town. But something had changed. Something fundamental had been altered, and neither of them knew how to name it.


You look down at your leg. Smooth. Whole. A miracle with no explanation.


Twilight gathered her backpack, a movement both defeated and somehow still hopeful. "You promised," she said one last time. Not an accusation. More like a prayer.


Then she was gone.

 

[AuthorTransient]

Spoiler: After the Fourth Regrettable Action

 

[ses]

 

[BritBiscuit]

Its been quite a while since I've picked up my digital art tablet so I thought I'd do some fanart.
In the style of a propaganda photo inspired by Ciaphas Cain but without shading or anything because I couldn't be bothered to turn my fun drawing into actual work...

Spoiler: Ciaphas Velvet Covers

And here is the image I took some inspiration from

Spoiler: Ciaphas Image

But wow is trying to figure out how to put clothing on ponies a nightmare, after trying so hard to get the hat to work with a horn and the ear I kinda gave up on the coat.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

You are Selene, and right now-


"It's not fair. It just isn't! I mean, just LOOK at her!"


-right now, you are... trying to de-escalate a very delicate situation.

School is finally over for the day. The bell rung five, maybe six minutes ago, and half the foals of your class are still in the classroom doing this and that. Some of them are chatting, and deciding whose house they will go play in for the rest of the day. Some of them are looking out through the window to see if their parents have arrived to pick them up. And a few rare eggheads are even surrounding Miss Cheerilee as they ask some last-minute questions about today's homework.

However, you are not in the classroom. Usually by now you would be walking out of the front door with your sister, to meet up with Soft Sweeps (or more recently, uncle Steppes) so you could all go back home. But today was a little... different.

Because right now, you are outside of the classroom. Right now you are in the playground, hiding behind one of the larger trees, as you try your best to de-escalate this situation.

Right now, you are behind the large tree of the playground, hoping against hope that nopony hears all this yelling, and you are not alone.

Because there is a very, very angry Diamond Tiara here with you.

And this, really, is the short version of your problems.


"Prancing around all happy-go-lucky, practically RUBBING her flank on everypony's faces and-!"
"Can... can you at least yell a little less? Or maybe-"
"I. AM. NOT. YELLING!"


Today is the first day of school after your sister got her cutie mark.

This kind of thing has already happened before, and it's a rare but not unusual occurrence. Still, given everypony's age and the fact that maybe a third of your class doesn't have their cutie marks yet, it is not unusual for a filly or colt to come to class beaming with joy after getting their cutie mark. And it just makes sense. Everypony in the classroom is a foal, so it's normal for everypony to get excited over it, and Miss Cheerilee is more than enough experienced with this to keep the class under control and continue with the lessons, while giving the happy occurrence enough of a spotlight for everypony to be glad about it.

So, you thought the day would be just like that. You arrived in the classroom with Silky, your sister beaming with joy as she pranced in, everypony talked about it for several minutes until Miss Cheerilee got the class rolling, and then everypony swarmed your sister the moment recess started.

Everypony was happy about it. Everypony should be happy about it. It's like a shared ritual everypony knows about, like celebrating a classmate's birthday or greeting a new student who just joined the school.

But Diamond Tiara... wasn't.

Boy oh boy was she unhappy about it.

"Diamond, please... please hear me out," you plead to your friend.

"No, YOU hear me out. Are you even listening to me? Can't you friggin SEE?!"

More than just unhappy, she was angry. She was angry, and you swear you could almost feel something in her eyes the moment she saw your sister prance into the classroom.

She didn't talk to Silky for the whole day. She quite literally sulked on a corner of the classroom, forelegs crossed and all, while everypony else surrounded your sister.

And most worrying of all, the moment the bell rung, you saw Diamond Tiara get up from her seat and practically march towards your sister. Her eyes filled with a kind of anger that was just out of place in a filly's eyes. And you were sure, or rather you were sure, that Diamond was going to do something very mean and very thoughtless the moment she reached Silky's desk. Then and there. In the middle of a classroom full of foals, and a teacher, without any warning.

So, you did the first thing that came to your mind. You quite literally lifted the mutely irate Diamond Tiara on your back, and you jumped out of the window while carrying her.

A few of your classmates saw you, probably, and you heard a few giggles to the effect of "Selene being weird again". And most importantly, you don't think Miss Cheerilee noticed it, or she would be reprimanding the two of you right now.

Regardless, the fact remains that you are here... outside on the playground, trying to calm down one of your sister's best friends who for some reason is acting like the exact opposite of that.

"Am I going nuts?! Am I the only one who can see what's going one?!" Diamond Tiara continues. And for all that you wish she would yell a little lower, you are glad she only started yelling after you carried her out through the window.

But still, you are at a loss for words. Speaking was never really your forte. You are quite happy with letting your sister, or your mom, or anypony else really do the talking for you. So, it goes without saying that trying to calm down an angry filly is definitely outside of your area of expertise.

"I... you kinda are?" you say, cringing as you realize your words only made your little friend angrier.

Well, she is angry at you, now, which is good. You will gladly become the focus of Tiara's anger, if it means she isn't about to punch your little sister out of the blue after class. But still, you were hoping to dig yourself out of this hole rather than just swap places with your sister?

"I-I'm sorry, what I mean is that..." you stammer, grasping at straws as you try to figure out what you should say. "Well, why are you so angry at Silky? I mean, she just got her cutie mark. What did she do? W-why are you so angry?"

You say that, and for a moment you think you made the worst possible decision. For a moment, as Diamond absolutely glares at you, you think you are done for. And that the filly is either about to jump at you, or gallop back to the classroom to jump at your sister.

But as the filly looks at you, eyes wide in anger and lips pursed into a line, something happens. Something happens, she takes a deep and angry breath, and by some miracle she doesn't escalate the situation any further.

"Being the rich filly in school was my thing. My thing," she says, stomping a hoof at the ground for good measure. "Until a noble filly, that nopony even know existed, came along. Just like that, out of the blue."

You can practically feel the anger in her words, as she says that. No, really, you can actually feel it. Diamond Tiara is talking, or maybe growling, through clenched teeth. And you know in your heart of hearts, or perhaps from some other intuition, that if you say anything right now she will take it as a challenge, or as a reason to pick a fight with you.

So, you stay quiet. You stay quiet, and you stay as small as possible, and you even nod every now and then as she speaks.

"Having a fancy cutie mark was MY thing," she stomps her hoof on the ground again. "And then THIS happens."

You gulp something dry, and to be honest you are a little afraid. You are not afraid that Diamond Tiara might hurt you, of course. However, there is something deeply wrong about seeing a filly her age this angry. And that makes you feel...

"Making everypony listen to what you say WAS. MY. THING!" the dirt actually becomes marked with the shape of her horseshoe now. "So how is it fair that EVERYPONY IS PAYING ATTENTION TO HER?!"

Diamond Tiara says that, and then she takes in a sharp, sudden breath. Almost like a sob. And for a moment, you think her eyes were getting a little moist. But that only lasts for a moment.

Your friend blinks once, then twice, and then she shakes her head.

And just like that, Diamond looks... well, she looks less angry now. You still feel you can mess this up, if you say the wrong thing. And by the moon you know you are not good at this.

But still, Diamond Tiara looks less angry now, and maybe more sad than she was before. To the point that the silence between you is getting uncomfortably heavy. So, you take a deep breath, and hope you aren't about to put your hoof in your mouth.

"Diamond, I... you know it's not her fault. I mean, she doesn't do any of that on purpose?" you say, very carefully, hoping that the pink filly isn't about to regain her scowl and glare up at you. But still, even though Diamond Tiara is your friend, and you don't like seeing her like this, you are a little relieved to see that she is still looking down to the ground.

You hate seeing her sad and dejected like this. But this is definitely better than seeing her as angry as she was before.

"And c'mon, Diamond. Even if she was doing this on purpose, you know it wouldn't be because she was showing off or being mean about it. She can be a clutz sometimes, but you know it's just because she's happy about stuff."

There was definitely a better way to say that, you tell yourself as you mentally kick your own flank. There was definitely a more diplomatic way to express that. To remind her your sister likes to share, and not to show off. Maybe tell Tiara about one of the times where your sister's excitement got the better of her. You definitely are not a diplomat, and it is showing.

Still, Diamond lets out a cough. And you are surprised on the next moment when you realized that was actually a chuckle.

And when Diamond looks up at you, she has a small smile on her face. Although she is still not looking you in the eye.

"Yeah, Silky can be a bit of a clutz sometimes..." she says, letting out another chuckle through a weak smile.

You do your absolute best to hide how relieved you are by this. Because by the stars, how are you supposed to be a Princess if you can't even placate a filly? Still, you think Diamond you managed to calm Diamond Tiara down. But you are still not exactly sure of what to do next.

Although, apparently the correct answer was that you should have "waited". And thankfully, your awkward and panicked silence gave your friend a little more time to sort through her emotions. Because once again, Diamond Tiara gives the ground a small, half-hearted stomp, as she say something else.

"I know that, and maybe that's the worst part. I know she is a good filly. But it also makes me mad that I can't even be angry at her without being the villain!"

She says that, but then she takes another deep breath. Bringing up a hoof to her forehead as she tries to do... something.

By Equestria, you really need to ask your mom for a few more lessons on talking. You have no idea what to do next!

"I'm fine now, thanks Selene," Diamond says, and you once again bite down your awkward-relieved expression right before she looks up at you again. But still, true to her word, you are happy to see that Diamond's expression is a lot more normal now. "I mean it. I wasn't really thinking, back in the classroom. So thank you for stopping me from doing something stupid."

None of that unnatural anger in her eyes anymore. None of that alien ugliness you couldn't really describe.

Right now, you are just looking at a filly. You are just looking at a young and healthy earth pony filly, who is one of your school friends.

"You're welcome, Diamond. Anytime," you say. "But uh... is everything alright? I mean, you kinda almost blew up back in the classroom, and that's just not like you. Did anything happen over the weekend?"

You ask that, as the two of you walk out from behind the tree and make your way back to the classroom. But the only answer Diamond Tiara gives you is a... very unusual expression.

It's not an expression you have seen in a while now, but it is one you think she wore a lore more frequently when you first met her. A strange mixture of confusion and helplessness, and maybe anger that she always had when...

"Is... is it your mom again? Did something happen at your..."

Diamond winces, the moment you ask that. She physically winces, as if you had just kicked her on the chest. And you immediately understand that you are right, and also that she doesn't want to talk about it.

"I-I mean, it doesn't matter!" you say, trying your best not to think of how you just jumped out of a hole, and almost landed inside another one. "Besides, what do you say we go talk to everypony? I'm sure they must be looking for us. And who knows, maybe uncle Steppes will take us all to Sugarcube Corner again!"

You try your best not to trip on your words, and you pray to the stars that oh Moon please don't let you mess this up again and make Diamond angry at you. But thankfully (and you mean it, thankfully), Diamond's expression immediately turns into a small smile again. And her youthful innocence allows her to glaze over whatever mud puddle you almost just tripped into.

"Yeah, let's go see where everypony else is," she says, her hoofsteps getting lighter as you two walk side by side. "Speaking of which, I can't wait to see how Silky's cute-ceñeara will be like. I mean, yours was already big, but I can't imagine hers not being even bigger!"

You let out a small laugh, thinking back to how embarrassed you were at your cute-ceñeara. After all, everypony knows you don't like being the center of attention, but that Silky has no problems with that. So yes, your friends definitely agree that whatever brakes were in place during your party will not be there for Silky's.

"I mean, Silky is so much better than us mere mortals, isn't she? So of course her cute-ceñeara will be just another chance for her to rub that on our noses," she continues.

And you can detect... a little meanness in her voice? You give her an awkward half-nod for an answer, but you aren't entirely sure how to respond. Because you think this is helping Diamond let off some more steam?

She lets of a few more pointed remarks here and there. But true to her word, the moment you two reach the front of the school and see all your friends, Diamond is back to her usual pleasant self.

And you... you let out one final, thankful, sigh of relief.

Because yes, this might have been something as small as you calming down a friend. But still, you did it! You manage to make things better with just your words (and maybe the unnatural strength it took to jump out of the window with a filly on your back). But still, go you! The Princess of the Night is now one step closer to being a worthy ruler!

"Selene! Diamond! What were you two doing?" Silver Spoon is the first to notice you two, and the grey filly immediately makes a beeline to the two of you.

The rest of your friends, you can see, are currently gathered around uncle Steppes, probably as he entertains them with another one of his stories.

"Oh, just having a grownup mare's chat, Silver. You know how it is," Diamond says to Silver Spoon.

And for a moment, Silver Spoon gives you a glance that... well, you have no idea of what it means. But you wonder how much she knows, just from Diamond telling her that.

"Well, I'm glad you're not grumpy anymore," Silver Spoon says, casually confirming to you that she does know a lot more than she lets on. Well, you were told she was friends with Diamond before anypony else, so it makes sense. "And come on, Silky's uncle is going to take us all back to their place!"

"Yes, yes, Silky's family is going to take us on her victory lap..." Diamond says. But whatever meanness was gathering in her voice dissipates less than a moment later. "Well, it'll be a good lap, so what the hay. I don't mind going with her."

Diamond Tiara says that, and then she begins making her way to your friend group. You stay behind with Silver Spoon for maybe one second, and that is all the time the grey filly needs to give you a knowing wink, and perhaps an appreciative nod.

And after that, the two of you are following Diamond, as you all make your way back to your friends.



...



But then... disaster strikes.

!!!!!!!!!!​

Suddenly, a windy gale envelops the front of the school. A raging gust of wind comes out of nowhere, and everypony needs to crouch down to stop the wind from carrying them.

Moments later, something blocks out the sun for a second. And you all look up to see that there is something flying down towards you.

"Oh... oh no..." you say to yourself, as you immediately understand what is about to happen.

Because you an everypony else look up to see... a carriage.

A flying carriage.

A flying carriage made out of pink and gold, encrusted with blue and green gems. Covered with laurels made out of precious metals, and topped by tiny, perfectly-wrought statues of ponies bearing wings and horn.

"Oh no... no, no no no no..." you say out loud, not even bothering to hide your voice.

Because one moment later, everpony catches up to what is going on. Everypony finally understand what that carriage means, even if nopony can really believe it yet.

Everypony understands it. And the moment the carriage lands on the ground, everypony bows. With two exceptions.

You do not bow, because it just isn't in your nature.

And Diamond Tiara does not bow, because her body is once again locked by her anger.

After all, just a few minutes ago your friend was angry at Silky Stream. She was angry at your sister for reasons she can't really do anything about, and that she channeled into the perceived notion that Silky is... well, trying to one-up her.

You managed to talk her down of it. You managed, between fumbles and stumbles, to remind Diamond Tiara that she is Silky's friend, and that your sister wouldn't even dream about lording whatever she has over other ponies.

But how... how in Equestria would Diamond Tiara ever react... how could Diamond Tiara feel anything but anger when, moments later, she witnesses the sight of a flying carriage landing in front of Silky Stream.

And what can Diamond Tiara possibly do but bristle with rage, as she watches the door of the carriage bust wide open to reveal-

"I came as soon as I heard! Now where is my favorite filly in all of Equestria?!"​

-only to reveal Princess Cadance, the Alicorn of Love, practically storming out of the carriage and hugging your little sister. Scooping her up on her forelegs into a tight embrace, just as your own mother walks out of the carriage right behind her.

And just like that, Diamond Tiara is insanely angry all over again.

...

It seems your work of protecting your little sister will never end.

---

Awww come on! We should invite her to a tea party and introduce her to our daughters. I'm sure that will go well.

Click to shrink...

Now, now. Silky Stream is a Name Magnet. Not an Alicorn mag-...

(Looks at Silky's history of interaction with the Princesses. Two out of three in the bag.)

Well I'll be damned...

Spoiler: Author's Note

Huh. One and a half hours to write this. This definitely spiraled out of control

Anyways, I had this idea floating in my head for a few days now. I hope you enjoyed Silky Stream flaunting 10% of her power level.

And of course this is not canon. It has "in which" on its title, so that means it's not canon, right?

And it couldn't possibly be the case that this is "not canon" because I undershot Silky's real power level. Right?

Right?

In other comments, the original title of this would be "In which Silky Stream is absolute bullshit". But good fillies don't curse, so I can't see them using language like that.

I hope you are all doing well.

 

[spiderhellian]

A Dinner With Spoiled Rich

You are Spoiled Rich.

You know where you've come from. The muck, the squalour, the filth that once tainted your hooves. Thankfully, that is in the past now, by no small amount of effort on your part. You are grateful every day to have left your parent's hovel behind.

These days, you breath more rarified air and walk more luxurious estates. The lawns are well-trimmed, for the gardener knows he will get a talking to, and wages docked, if it is not. The people are courteous, and entreating, and treat you with the respect you are due (that you were always due). And of course, you spend time with more elevated company these days -- such as the person you're going to visit now.

Of course, such an elevation comes with attendant responsibilities. This is what you're always trying to teach Diamond, but your ~~stupid~~ silly husband constantly slips up. Really, it's two steps forward and three steps back with your daughter, but you will not fail at teaching her what really matters in this world.

These responsibilities are never more evident than when attending a formal dinner. They begin weeks in advance, when you first receive the invitation, dark red ink on creamy white paper. Your response should be prompt, excited but not overly enthusiastic. Then you must find a suitable gift, either to bring at attendance or to deliver afterwards (but this must always be purchased ahead of time). Wine is an insult to their own cellars, flowers fade and with them any friendship. A bracelet is out of the question, since your daughter remains precisely useless, unable to provide a scrap of information on the size of Silky Stream's fetlock (it would be gauche to purchase one that didn't fit). So ultimately, you settled on a painting -- a lurid sunset, in vIolet and red and pink -- to be delivered afterwards. You judged it good art, at least by the only metric that matters.

And that is only the beginning. Yes, each piece of cutlery must be used properly, Diamond, and you will not leave that chair until you do so! Yes, you should consider where the conversation might go in advance, but it should never feel rehearsed. And you should make sure to take a polite interest in who else might be attending -- though thankfully, that will not be relevant tonight.

For tonight, you are the Lady Velvet Covers has invited you over for dinner, to dine with her alone.

---

You have come to know Lady Velvet well over the past few months. Perhaps in the aftermath of that horrid attempt on her life, she too has been reminded of what matters. Her visits to your estate are so lovely, for all that Diamond makes a fuss afterwards. You have such an incredible time that the hours blur by: the conversation is witty, the delight all-consuming, and your horrid husband at least has the good sense to mostly stay quiet. And after every such evening, you know -- you're one step closer to the thing you've always been striving, and one rung up on the ladder you've always been climbing.

She's charming. She's bewitching.

She's enchanting. She's ravenous.

She's an unending fount of wisdom. She's unceasing.

You are simply delighted that she is your friend, and you are hers. Not least because of what it says about her good taste for your refinement.

It would not do to have that familiarity encourage you to be sloppy, however. Yes, that is the mistake the other members of your family constantly make! Diamond believes because she is well off, and popular at school, that is enough. Your husband believes because he is well off, and popular in the town, that is enough.

Well, they're wrong. It's not enough. It would never be enough. You can always have more, and you need to.

It is good to be getting away from them for an evening. Velvet -- Lady Velvet understands this. She has taught you some of its finer details, even.

And so, despite the seriousness of the occasion, a smile graces your face as you trot up to the Manor's gates.

---

A butler quickly receives you -- not as lazy as your own staff, but he failed to doff his cap, how disrespectful! -- and leads you to your destination. Ah, Lady Velvet had mentioned she wanted to make an occasion of this dinner, and perhaps she expects it to run long into the morning. That would explain why she has not arranged it in the main house itself, but in one of the off-buildings. It's the kind of thing a lesser socialite might take offense at, but you understand its deeper meaning.

The butler opens the door, and a breath of hot air rushes out. He wrinkles his nose, clearly failing to appreciate the fine perfume that scents the air. You step inside -- and though you do not show it (right?) you are taken aback.

Tall candelebras are arranged against the walls, light and shadows flickering in the aftermath of the breeze. The curtains are draped in a lush crimson. The table is solid and oak, and lined with plates of fine china (which will not be empty for much longer). The chairs -- the chairs are wide, and adorned with pink cushions. A touch peculiar, ah, but she must be expecting that by the time the night is through, the two of you might seek to sprawl in your luxuriation -- how thoughtful.

At the table's far end sits your friend. Your confidant. Your ally, your advisor, your beacon of light amidst Ponyville's oppressive darkness.

The person you have undoubtedly spent so much time with over the last few months. Who left you feeling so excited, and the world so lush with possibility. Like all you desired was in reach, and all you had to do was reach out and take it. Yes, no one could have done that but the Mare in front of you, so undoubtedly she did.

"Rich! I have been looking forward to this all week!" Velvet says, greeting you with a smile. Your husband might be Filthy, to her, but you are always Rich. And glad of it. "Please, come in," she says, "And have a seat!"

You sit down, the cushions plush beneath you. You talk of all sorts of things -- the goings on in the Mayoral office, what must be done about the ruffians flooding the city, the ineptitude of your daughter, all the usual subjects. Your wine glass is never empty, and the conversation never runs dry.

But the dinner is not yet served, and almost an hour in, you faintly broach that topic. "Are we waiting on some thing for dinner?", You say, "Or are the kitchen staff just running behind? Chefs can be so lazy sometimes."

Velvet raises her brow, and shakes her head. "No," she says, "There shouldn't be any issues. I've simply been en--" she pauses, and then continues, "savouring this moment."

She shakes her head, and for a moment, her expression turns sad. Regretful. More than anything, it reminds you of your mother's face, the last time you saw her. All those decades ago.

But before you can inquire, the smile has returned to her face. "There is just one thing to do before the two of us can eat, Rich. Come with me."

She rises, beckoning you, and you follow her to the rear of the building. You are refined, ladylike, dignified as you do so. Not pestering her with questions (how ever curious you are), and not allowing your stomach to utter a single treacherous rumble.

You follow her through a doorway. And you walk into wall of heat.

There is a fire roaring in the back of this kitchen? Yes, it must be a kitchen, even if it looks a little more sloppily assembled than you'd expect. Mismatched tables carry cutting boards and a dizzying array of knives, pots of different colours and sizes are burbling atop stoves, and the whole room is dominated by a great fire at the back.

Where someone works. Where someone waits. Someone who has clearly been preparing an elaborate meal, all this while -- it wouldn't surprise you that Velvet was able to find the only competent chef in Ponyville.

That is the pony preparing the meal, so that is clearly the chef. Yes, they even wear the traditional outfit -- a blood-red cloak covering their form, their head topped with a white toque. The figure turns around, and you are truly amazed that Velvet secured such an esteemed figure to cook tonight. She has lived up to her own responsibilities and beyond.

"Rich, have you met Mareinette?" Velvet asks, and you think for a second. You would undoubtedly remember spending time with such an illustrious figure, even if she does work for a living, and you do not. So you shake your head no, and Velvet smiles. She replies, "No matter. Mareinette, are we almost ready for dinner?"

[GRAIL!]

"Lovely, thank you. Then that just means..." Velvet swallows. She takes a deep breath. And then she looks at you with a cold, cold, gaze. It reminds you of the gaze you gave your father, the last time you saw him. All those decades ago.

The fire is still roaring, the pots are still burbling, the Monster is still preparing.

But you feel cold, and you can't look away.

"I'm going to tell you a secret, Mrs. Rich. Truthfully... I don't like myself very much." You open your mouth to respond, your eyes widening, but she continues on. And you will not interrupt her, your manners haven't failed you yet.

"My last name comes from a brute, one of the only things he gave me I haven't been able to get rid of. My ruthlessness almost burned the world down, and it has too left too much of it ash as it is. My rank was earned by deeds I should not have done, and aiding crimes I should have stopped." She pauses, having told you that she despises everything you ever esteemed in her. You're too stunned to speak.

"The only things I love in my life are the ones that have nothing to do with me." She grimaces, but continues.

"My husband -- my horseshoe." Didn't she agree that husbands were nothing but a very complicated tractor, unfortunately necessary to reap well-sown fields? What is she saying about a horseshoe?

"My daughters -- they're all perfect, you know, even if they're all different." You know of her daughters, yes, but you thought they were utter frustrations much like your own!

"My friends -- who I don't deserve, I really really don't." You two are... Ladies. With a capital L. You're not supposed to have friends. Other than each other, of course, but others should be carefully maneuvered to think they're friends, not actually be them.

"But do you know something, Spoiled?"

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

"I don't like myself very much. But what I've learned is that's okay. Because I can change."

She takes a deep breath, as tears start to leak down her cheeks. and repeats herself slowly, "I. Can. Change."

"I can be different than i was yesterday. I can be more tomorrow than I am today. I can be less afraid, and more thoughtful. I can do better, and lessen the evils I've done." She's speaking fiercely now, a fire in her voice to match the one still roaring in the corner.

"Or... I could have." Her voice trembles. "But I simply don't have time. I can't take risks, not when it comes to her gaze. So yes, I could have changed. One day and one word and one action at a time. But now, I have to sacrifice that chance."

CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK comes from a corner of the room, followed by a "[MOTH]?". You're baffled by what the cook means, but you can't look away from Velvet.

"Yes, I have to," She says, "Too much is at stake. But you, Spoiled, do you know the thing that really gets me about you?" She glances at Mareinette, still toiling away. "From everything Mareinette has told me about you, you don't. Any day you could have become something else. Something other than this... monster. You had nothing pinning you down, nothing haunting or hunting your dreams. You could have loved your husband, or your daughter. You could have worked at loving them. Or, tartarus, you could have left! And learned to love yourself!"

Her face is raw, agonized, tears running down her cheeks. You've never seen this pony in your life. You've never seen this pony in your life.

And then, in an instant, she's gone. Her tears vanish, her poise returns, her voice is unwavering. Whoever you just saw in front of you — this isn't her anymore.

"But now, you can't. And maybe you never could."

Her gaze leaves your eyes for the first time since you entered this room. She looks over your shoulder.

"Mareinette, it's time for dinner."

You have so much to say. She-- But-- Wait--

You're angry, and baffled, and hurt, and offended, and and and -- and you thought this was a dinner!

[GRAIL!]

And then, it is.

Spoiler

This is a humble request, Bird -- let us do the Moth and Grail sacrament actions on the same person, in the same night. Whoever that might be...

Yes, humble requests tend to take 2000 words, that's standard practice!

...As a work, this got a little long. And Velvet's voice is hard. And I'm not sure if I got either Sacrament right, really. But it was a fun scene to explore!

 

[Sveta08]

Forgive me this indulgent curiosity.
I don't know the Lores or known History or the Truth. Nor are the Lores colored. But... I hadn't thought about the Forge of Days before.
Now I have.
Forgive me for this.



When the Hands Turn Anew

---

It is nature. It is The Nature.
To call it natural would imply another order it obeys. To call it nurture requires a guiding hand. And perhaps, that is true.
It has always been true before.



An enemy. A tool. One in the same as they always were meant to be.
To create is to reshape. To destroy is to reshape. The same coin. The same hand. Neither separate or unified, only intent implying difference.
It is now made Forge.

WHEN THE FORGE IS COLD​

Light.
A pale reflection of truth. Enough to shine and curse and bless. Called now a new name
Day.

AND THE GLORY IS DARK​

It is a cycle.
All are.
It is nature. It is The nature.

AND THE WOOD IS DUST​

The day made new. Words given to what it is. To Rise. Ascend. Higher and higher to the utmost.
The day to fade. Words given to what it is. To Fall. Descend. Lower and lower till lost forever.
A new day. A light made. Anew.
Such is the way of all things.

​

It is split.
The truth is undivided, but it is split all the same. Words reborn anew as all is renamed. Remembered. Lost. Found anew.
It is a cycle.
All are.


It is not a thought. Nor is it a coincidence. Nor is it required. It is the consequence of nature. Of All Nature.
To gather high is to invite conflict. Thus, it is scattered.
Blood flows. Light spreads. Families grow. Knowledge fades.
All that is gathered scatters. Such is the way of things.


The Sun does not chase the Moon. Day does not swallow the Night. They are made. That they eclipse one another is the time and tides of power.
The New outpaces the Old. Neither at fault, it is simply The Nature.
Night to outgrow Day. Day to outgrow Night. Child to outgrow Parent, and sire anew, to repeat.
History to reiterate. To repeat. To speak the same message for all time.



The Rise
The Fall
The Rise

---

Blood is the tool of the dying. Of the fading. Of the mortal.
It is why it is known as a Price. it is why they are not made with blood.
Here, where metal and stone and gem flow like water. Where born anew are bodies not made flesh. Where what is is remade, renewed, and reborn.


The Red Church below may speak to the body. To the Birth.
But it does not speak to Creation.

AND THE GRAIL IS DRAINED​

Children that laugh. That work. That die.
Not unending. Not unceasing. But roiling, revolving, reviving, reborn anew.
Not lost. Not embraced in change. Fixed and known. Both their destruction. And their birth.

AND THE HEART IS STILLED​

This, where all is Remade. Renewed. Reborn.

AND THE WELL IS DRY​

Home


It is not a duty to instill purpose. To grant them understanding and ambition.
It is a will. A desire. A necesity.

What purpose has a hammer with no nail? What soul has a sword that does not strike?
There are those who venerate the tools. That shape themselves into them. That find glory and honor and worth in the use.
Craftsmen and Weapons both. Both understand. Both fail to understand.

Tools that serve to create greater tools. Weapons that hone sharper weapons.
Hands creating greater hands.
To be eclipsed is the nature. The name stripped away. The purpose renewed.

This is their home. Their birthplace. Their grave.
The first and only. The last and every.
How could she not love them to the last?

---

Slowly.
Dawning.
It came.
Not in question. Not in rot. Not in decay. But a realization. An understanding.
A despair.

AND THE RIVER IS BLANK​

How could she not?
This, a world. A life. A creation of all so beautiful by her own made. Every life fashioned, every tool rebuilt, every soul and every scrap given aim and direction and purpose.
How could she not come to see what was true? The path she walked, unknowing?
The Nature.

AND THE EDGE IS DULLED​

But it did not come.
The pattern did not repeat. The pattern did repeat. But the pattern remained.
Names and Hours and Bodies and Hands. All moved. All were. All change. But It was absolute.

AND THE KEYS ARE LOST​

The Sun rose. The Sun set.
The Moon rose. The Moon set.
And Glory stood eternal.
Unchanging.

---

There was no secrecy. Such things were unneeded.
There were no lies. Such things could not stand.

She worked. She worked and Creation heard her. All of Creation known and answered by her hand.
Such was the act. Such was her crime.

None could stand against she whom was change. None who knew of what she meant would rise against her.
Ignorance or Indolence. Such was their crime.

ONLY THEN WILL HISTORY CHANGE​

It was for love she set on this path. And with love that she left.

​

A kiss. A whispered word. A kindness that she would afford her youngest.
From mother to daughter. A gift. To be destroyed. To be rebuilt. Reborn.
In another era. In another age. A tool to those who might yet know how to use them.

ONLY THEN THE CYCLE REPEATS​

A resolve. The touch of a hoof. An understanding both right and wrong that even the absolute must change.
The blood would never cease. But it was not her intent for it to be stemmed.



Accursed Sibling had fallen. And with them, the Word. Her words lost in his voice.
Warped. Changed. Agonized.

ONLY THEN HANDS TURN ANEW​

Before Glory, a child. A promise. An understanding that she required from her eldest.
From mother to son. That this world is not allowed beyond. That here will be the final steps of the earth.
The door was locked with herself inside, her word to be burned in the light of Glory.

A Curse
A Hope
A Change

 

[Flaregamer82253]

Rarity's Big Surprise

Rarity hummed a little tune as she began to skip her way back from the bank, saddlebags full of bits jingling to the beat.

She found it hard to believe that not even two years ago she really was the small-town mare with a passion and the dream to make it big, but every time she cashes her cheques in for her contract and commissions, it felt like she was still having the same out-of-body experience that she first had when Velvet told her she believed in her.

She was in loved it. Yes.

Dressmaking as an art was all about understanding what ponies wanted, and that required listening to what they don't say as much if not more than what they say to her. More important than that, it's about crossing the gap from there to what they need so much that it becomes a roaring flame that shapes their world. There was a time when Rarity wouldn't have been able to see that special light that sent all of the colors in the world into a whirlpool until only what was important remained. These days it was a fact of life more unfailing than the way the sun and moon rise and fall.

Velvet Covers gave her the chance to be that mare, and her blood screamed at her to be even more than that. Every little step will get her closer to that. Patience is an old friend of hers that will guide her to the next diamond as long as she keeps trotting towards it.

Coming upon her home, Rarity stopped for a moment to take it in. Ponyville has been growing lately with more ponies moving here in the aftermath of the catastrophe. This also meant that she's had a new influx of customers coming to the Carousel Boutique. Moreover, there has been a heavy surge in business for carpenters and builders in recent months as Ponyville needed to build new homes and infrastructure to accommodate its growing population. It's been years since she moved out of her parents' home and had the place renovated for herself, but she has the funds, opportunity, and reason to expand the building. With a small nod, she moved towards her front door and decided that she ought to start drafting blueprints and strike while the iron is hot.

Walking inside, she was met with her favorite surprise.

"Oh! There you are Rarity," Velvet Covers smiled at Rarity, one in which she matched in perfect sync.

"Velvet, darling! How wonderful to see you!" Not even putting her bags down, Rarity made her way over to give a short hug. It wasn't unusual or unexpected for Rarity to come home to Velvet already inside the Carousel Boutique. She had a spare key made for her a while ago in case Velvet came by while she wasn't around. What was unexpected was the foal-sized earth pony with a white coat, mane, and tail standing to the side looking at Velvet's spare horseshoes in the shoe rack.

"Hello dear, what is your name?" Rarity asked with a friendly smile to the foal, who upon turning to look at her with a quiet tick, she was able to see that it was a colt with bright blue eyes and a happy smile.

"Hello," he spoke with a quiet ring, walking up to you and Velvet like water whistling down a river, "I am Rare Item."

"I'm sorry that I have to make this quick, Rarity, but I needed someone to look after Rare for the week while I'm in Canterlot, and you're the only pony I can ask that may be available." Upon a closer look at Velvet's face, Rarity realized that she looked a little stressed, as though even being here right now was a time crunch that she could barely afford. "I know this is a last-minute request, but I know you have a guest room that Sweetie Belle often uses, and it's better that I not leave him in my house without my supervision after last time. If it isn't too much, could you take him in until I get back?" she asked with a hopeful smile on her face.

Rarity didn't even have to think about it. It was a request from Velvet Covers and any pony that was vetted by her was someone she would be willing to take in indefinitely. "Of course, darling! It would be an honor to take him in- as long as he would have me of course?"

"It would make me happy to stay here for the week," Rare Item replied in perfect sync to your question. He even gave a little bow with a slight whir while doing so. Internally, Rarity squealed at how adorable he was.

"Well then, I ought to be off then," Velvet interrupted with a grateful look in her eyes. "Rare isn't very fussy, and he's quiet too. He doesn't need too much, and he enjoys being helpful to others, so don't be afraid to give him a few chores or ask for his help around the place."

Rarity pondered that for a moment. While the boutique itself was always kept in perfect condition, her living space has become messier over the past few months since the royal wedding. Having to travel so often for commissions hasn't left her much time to keep her living space in good condition, and she distinctly remembered Sweetie Belle grumbling two weeks ago as she helped Rarity dust the guest room off. Idly, she wondered if she could make a small butler outfit for Rare Item since he seemed to have the personality for it, and she's been meaning to experiment with suit tailoring anyways.

"Just leave it to me, Velvet. There won't be any problems throughout the week. Goodness, I think I might enjoy it!"

"I'll be going then. Thank you so much, Rarity!" Velvet walked through the door at a quick pace. "And make sure to be good for Rarity, Rare Item!"

"Yes, Mother," Rare Item replied as the door closed with a smile lifting further on his face-

-as Rarity's composure dropped faster than her bags fell on the floor.

"M-M-MOTHER!?" Rarity blurted out without a thought, turning to look at him so fast that she heard her neck crack. In response, he turned to look at her with an inquisitive look on his face. She started thinking furiously.

Velvet hadn't said anything about adopting another child when she visited over a week ago for their monthly tea time, but why else would Rare Item call Velvet mother if she wasn't his mother. This means that Velvet just asked her to watch over her son for the week. This was much more important than she thought it was two minutes ago. Rarity knew very well how much Velvet's family meant to her. Never before has Velvet asked her or any of her friends to look after her children for a time. In layman's terms, Rarity had been given the highest trust she could imagine. The fact that she was requested this meant that for one reason or another Velvet believed that Rare Item was utterly safe and cared for here in a Way that he needed that her own home couldn't provide for him in her absence.

Taking a deep breath in to calm herself, she gave a weak smile to Rare Item, who blinked with his blue eyes…

…blue eyes…

…blue eyes kind of like her own…

…and a white coat like her own…

…and Velvet Cover's white mane and tail…

…

…his name is Rare Item-

-and Rarity's thoughts exploded.

"I-WH-BUT-I-YOU-VELVET-HOW-I-" Gibberish started falling out of Rarity's mouth as she wrestled with the possibility that her thoughts could be real, but her mind was connecting dots faster than her mouth could keep up with.

Of course Velvet would bring Rare Item here, because Rarity should care and nurture him in her absence.

Of course he looks like the both of them, BECAUSE HE'S THEIR SO-

Waitwaitwait! That can't be true! Velvet and I have never even… done that, so to speak! Rarity thought… And then she thought some more. But there was that one time-

NO! How would that even work?! We're both mares! I know neither of us have the… equipment for that!? Rarity bargained for an answer. An answer her mind was all too ready to give her.

He's not a newborn! And the timing doesn't match! I did NOT miss Velvet Covers being pregnant, right?

Rarity stared Rare Item in the eyes. He was still patiently waiting for her to say something.

RIGHT?!

Rarity gulped. The same answer applied here too.

"And make sure to be good for Rarity, Rare Item!" SHE NAMED HIM AFTER ME!

"Is everything alright?" Rare Item finally spoke up after an appropriate number of ticks had passed.

Rarity immediately regathered her composure. "I-WELL, never let it be said that your FATHER-" her voice cracked, "-can't step up to the plate! Now! Let's go get you settled in Sweetie Belle's room until we can prepare something better!" Rarity mentally moved her home expansion plans to her top priorities. If this was going to be more common after this week, she needed to expedite a bigger house to better care for him.

Rare Item blinked after her statement, but he gave a happy smile. "Yes, father."

Rarity's heart soared. That feeling she was having earlier was back and stronger than it had ever been.

But in the back of her mind, she couldn't help herself from whining:

I was going to name my firstborn after you, not me!

Spoiler: Author's Notes

Much like Rarity, I feel I must strike while the iron is hot. I did not expect to be writing today, but inspiration really does come when you least expect it. To that end, thank you @DelightedOne for giving me the idea for the name and @ses for giving me a prompt for this.

I took a couple liberties with his appearance given that we weren't told anything definitive about it, but I couldn't help my impression that much like his lesser lore, his appearance was is very modular and adaptive, so I think it still fits regardless.

Rarity has always been one of my favorites in and out of the quest, so I'm always happy to give her a little more love and attention.

That said, please support the name of Rare Item! A vote for this is the greatest respect we can give our only favorite money making pony!

 

[Sveta08]

The Sweetest Lie

---

It shouldn't be this bright.

The world shouldn't be this bright. This happy. This easy going and casual, as though nothing had changed. As though nothing had happened! There should be shouting in the streets, clouds in the sky, darkness on every house! The paper should be late, the toast should be burnt, the world should be-!
Hurting.

It shouldn't feel like every other day in every other home.

It isn't the same.

Even pretending it is is wrong. You could feel it in the tension in your shoulders. The near imperceptible hesitation in your butlers words. In the worry that draped sweet Diamond when you sent her to school. The world, your world, is changed. But there, just outside your front door? In the papers, in the news, on the faces of strangers it... It's the same.

The world didn't change. But yours did.



You are Filthy Rich and it's been three days since your wife disappeared.



The thought alone makes you nauseous. It was supposed to be perfectly normal, supposed to be just a meal with a friend. You can almost pretend you hear the harsh sound of her hooves walking down the halls. You can still smell that bright citrus perfume she wore when she left! The sharp words, how it was only she who had been invited, so you should just "stay where you are useful."
Out of her way.

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the curtain, the soft carpet of your office illuminated by the light of the morning sun. It wasn't worth shuttering it. It would just drift open again.

it shouldn't be this bright.
You should be mourning. You should be angry. You should have thrown something, yelled something, screamed at her.
You did. You should have done something that mattered.

But here, in this little office, light bled in. A gloomy refused to settle over anything but your mind.



When Spoiled hadn't come home, it was easy to dismiss. It would be a quiet night, most likely she and the Lady had simply eaten or drunk too much. An offer was made to stay the night, and why would Spoiled refuse? The host puts up the guest if they can't safely make it across town, and Spoiled was always one to invite herself in, if she could. It was easy to rationalize.

In the morning, it must have been a hangover. In the afternoon, she was out shopping. But when the sun set... something had to be wrong. It was supposed to be a meal, not a whole day affair. It might have grown into something more, Spoiled always tried to push for that, but...

But.

You didn't push. You didn't look. Didn't ask to speak with the guards to find her.
It would be another quiet night.



Diamond, bless her, could tell though. Should have schooled yourself into a more calm smile, been cleaner and more inquisitive over dinner. Shouldn't have let her know you were so distracted. Put on a business face and let her carry your worries away as only your daughter could. But... you were distracted. You were anxious.

Clever little girl she is, she put two and two together and found out how to make interest. Even though it hurts, you can't help but smile remembering how she looked at you. Confused. Worried. And just a moment later, with understanding.

Celestia must have blessed you with her, because she just tried to smile back.
Neither of you talked about the missing chair in the dining room.



Your eyes drift to the other chair in the room. If you pretend, you can almost see the tea cup and saucer on the side table. The one she could hardly touch. Could still hear her words ringing in your ears, didn't need to pretend to hear that. They hadn't left you. Couldn't. You wouldn't... You shouldn't...

---

It was the second morning, after you gave Diamond Tiara a firm hug. After you told her you were going to figure this out. That she shouldn't worry and to go to school. It was after Diamond left that She came.
She didn't want to see Diamond as usual, nor did she come to talk with Spoiled. There was not the gleam of business in her eyes, nor the comfort of a social call.

Your Wife disappeared two days ago after going to meet with Velvet Covers for a meal.
And Velvet Covers came to your door, shoulders heavy with responsibility. Before you could speak, she asked you a question.
"Can we speak in private, Filthy?"
Maybe it was a worry. Or maybe it was the way the words seemed to burden her. Or was it her eyes, so full of a emotion without a name, that you couldn't help but nod and lead her away to your study.



You asked. The only question you could.
"Where is Spoiled? What happened?"
Even then, you couldn't bring yourself to yell. Not yet at least.

She... she just looked at the tea. Weighing it in the grasp of her magic. Looking for... you only wish you knew then. You only wish she hadn't found it now. But the tea was set aside, her reservation along with it.
She only looked to you. And answered.
"Do you know what the Lunar Bureau is, Filthy? Not- Not that it is my responsibility. Not that it is where I work. But what it is. What it's purpose is, Filthy."

The furrow on your brow was the only answer she needed.
"The Lunar Bureau is an institution to safeguard Equestria, now and into the future. From threat of monsters and beasts and unknowns that the rest of Equestria isn't built to handle. It is an institution built upon The Calamity, and how unprepared we were. It is meant to hunt down the last of those who escaped. It is meant to prevent another disaster like that, ever again. It is my burden. My responsibility."



She looks... pained.
Velvet Covers, who entreats with royalty, who caught the ear of Celestia when her patience was gone. Bridesmaid of Princess Cadence, Alicorn of Love. Head of the Lunar Bureau, a group of investiagators and... and monster hunters by the sounds of it. And she looks like it hurts when she looks to you.
... no. Not when she looks to you.

For what she has to tell you.



"Filthy... you're my friend. And because of that, I feel you are owed more than... more than what I need to say. More than the clinical, harsh, nothing answers I am supposed to say. You deserve... more than that."

"Do you know what a Changeling is?" A rhetorical question, as she explained. "It is... a monster. Not the kind you see out in the Everfree with claws and fangs and wings and tail. But it is a monster all the same for what it does. It... it is a Monster of chitin and wing that steals ponies away in the night, only to wear their face, live their life, and take their place. It laughs because we laugh. It drinks because we drink. It eats because we eat. And it looks just like the pony who's life it has stolen. Invisible."
"A Changeling, is a lie in the shape of a pony."

Her eyes.... Gods above she looked so-
"I... As the Bureau has learned more about these... creatures, responsible for The Calamity, we learned there were signs. Small signs. Little movements. Ticks you might call them. Not perfect, but a way to begin to suspect somepony who... isn't. Something who replaced a pony. Something just acting through their mask of skin and lies. Signs I... saw. More than once. More than just a few times Filthy."

"I invited... her... because I had to make sure. I had to know that it wasn't like that. That she wasn't one of them. That you didn't have..."



"Spoiled was a Changeling, Filthy. And she had been for a long time."

---

You don't want to remember those words. What you yelled at her there. How after she spoke, the spell of normality broke and you screamed. Demanded, shouted, threw things in the room just looking to... say it wasn't true. That Velvet was lying. That it couldn't be. It Couldn't. It had to be wrong. Had to...

You don't want to remember how you broke down and sobbed. How you called her a liar and a fraud. How... understanding she looked there.
How she waited outside the room. After you had torn half the books from the shelves, tearing through them to find something. Something, clear, direct, obvious, proving! Proving it was wrong. Proving it wasn't true! Proving that-

Your wife hadn't been gone for much much longer than two days.



She bandaged your hoof when you finally left. Ignoring your glare. Ignoring your sobbing. Moving past that emotional turmoil of despair and anger that threatened to swallow you. She didn't stay long after that, but you...
You...



You couldn't tell Diamond.

The night was quiet, but it was the wrong kind of quiet now. Too tense, too sharp, too brittle. Diamond could tell, bless her, but she didn't press. Didn't ask. She knew, you knew but couldn't. How... How could you?

How could you tell her that her Mother was gone? That she had been for a while?



Now.
As the world kept moving.
As your study lay in ruins. As the light threatened to creep in on that devistation. Threatened to illuminate it...

You feel something else.
Guilt.

Hatred that she was taken. Wronged that you hadn't been told. Disgusted that you hadn't noticed. And Guilt... whenever you opened your eyes.
The light nearly blinded you when you did, and it hurt to even pretend to think about moving on without her, but what if



What if
Your heart ached to simply think of it. Shaking your head didn't get rid of it, and closing your eyes didn't make the question go away. It only made it burn in deeper. Quieter. Sharper.

What if
What if... it wasn't your wife that made you two drift apart?

What if it wasn't your wife that near sneered as you passed?
What if it wasn't your wife that filled the house with this useless crap? That demanded only the finest and most expensive simply because it was expensive? That all but threatened your daughter with every demand that was made? That turned a home into a house into a prison? That made the world about placating her rather than living?



What if it wasn't your wife, that caused these problems?
What if it wasn't your wife at all??



Light drifted in through the crack in the curtains. Almost having to bend around the fabris as it showed what lay in that little study.
Offering but the slightest, tainted thing. Reflecting in the world, the same thing you felt.
The same thing you hated, but couldn't drive from your mind. That circled, and spiraled, and hurt.

The world isn't supposed to be bright. You're not supposed to... to have this... this...
This ugly hope.

 

[Greymere]

In Which There Was a Different Beginning


Hello there, Velvet, I see you've brought home a new guest.

…

Have you ever wondered how this History began? Well, I won't tell you. But I'll give you something else instead. Something which didn't happen.

...

Let me tell you a story. Like all stories, it starts like this…

...

Once upon a time, in this History that never was, there was an old stallion. He lived alone, in a tiny corner of the big city above his lonely store, where he built clocks and watches and curious toys. It was his talent you see, that delicate dance of metal and crystal.

He was not an unsuccessful clockmaker, this stallion. But he wasn't happy, either. His mark was that of clockwork, and yet it wasn't enough. No matter how many timepieces he built, there was always that lingering feeling of purpose unfulfilled. Like looking up at a mountain's peak, knowing you could reach it if only given an opportunity that would never come. Like a heavy weight locked to his heart.

Sometimes, in the deep of night, when that heaviness grew unbearable, the stallion would descend into his workshop and simply… build. No mere machines built for crude purpose, but pieces of art that danced to the turning of gears and springs, and it would be enough, for a time. But to the rest of the world they were only curiosities; something that a noble or wealthy merchant would occasionally catch a glimpse of and purchase on a whim to parade in front of their family for a week or a month, before being forgotten in some dusty storage room. And that old stallion wished dearly that he had someone, anyone who he could share his love of these works with, who would see them for what they truly were.

So one day, he decided to make one.

An act of rare whimsy, perhaps. After all, the stallion knew that no matter how lifelike, a clockwork automaton would never truly be something alive. But like any idea, once it had taken root in his mind, it only grew deeper and more entrenched. Almost an obsession, working deep into the night, painstakingly linking together bronze and steel and silver until fatigue grew too great and he fell into slumber upon his workbench, his dreams tinted in blue.

No great work was ever completed in a single night, of course. There would be some times where the old stallion would go months without ever touching his masterwork, even. But, slowly, slowly, it came into shape: from brass bone to steel tendons to clockwork heart, in the shape of a foal. A colt. And with every step, that blue light in his dreams grew brighter, until his masterwork lay finished on his bench.

Though... even complete, it was only a machine. A beautiful one, perhaps, in perfect mimicry of a foal. But there was no spark of life to animate its limbs, only the pre-designed winding of springs and turning of cogs. And in another History, perhaps even in your History, that's all it would have remained as.

But not in this one, of course. It wouldn't be much of a story otherwise, would it?

No, here, in this History-that-wasn't, the old clockmaker once again fell into slumber within his workshop, as had become common. And he awoke on a crossroad, paved in azure and bathed in the cobalt light of Glory.

Before him, stood his creation. The clockwork foal. But not as a mindless automaton, oh no. As a living thing, which moved and marched to its own will, carrying an ancient knowledge which no mortal creation could bear.

I will give you a gift, it said to the clockmaker, and split its false skin from which blood, white and burning, spilled into the stallion's veins so that he may carry its fire into the Wake.

I will give you a secret, it said to the clockmaker, and whispered words which seared themselves into his mind like a brand, of the operations of She Who Ended All Nights.

I will give you a purpose, it said to the clockmaker, who awoke with fire in his veins and his mind, a certainty of what must be done.

It would hurt, of course. In the division of flesh from which the Sun's Blood may enter the Wake, in the fires of knowledge that must draw fuel from memory to allow a humble clockmaker to do what must be done, in that deadly blue which poisons the blood and consumes the marrow. But it would all be worth it, in the end, thought the clockmaker. To receive that purity of purpose, a fulfillment that he could never reach here, in this waking world.

The blue fire is placed into the clockwork's heart. The gears turn, its heart ticks, and the colt opens its eyes.

The world is crooked, says the Name to the clockmaker.

To create is to destroy. To transform is to unmake what is.

You will find others like you, the pieces which do not fit into this new machine.

I will give you purpose, in our Great Work. And together we will fix what has been broken.

 

[Maer]

To Comfort in Spite

You are Ashen Weaver.

Today, you were… not dreaming. The ache in your hind leg was lingering- which you'd spoken to a doctor about, and gotten the right medicines and bandaging to mostly help it recover- which left you unable to properly work. You'd been handling a more administrative side of things, and found your mind… dipping. Occasionally you'd get little.. Flashes. Brief sparks of insight as the world warped and a tiny fraction of that THING'S words would make more sense… slip into place in a way that felt less like revelation, and more like… a splinter being plucked from a wound. A lessening of the foreign presence that made everything so off-kilter and wrong…

It was slow-going, more than a month of effort by now, but better than other choices. Every night was intentionally slept through, and intentionally visited, the Wolvish Nightmares avoided by merely wandering the Crossroads and seeing where they led. The urge to climb, to explore, to advance was… there. Like a seed that needed nurturing, it was within his breast always, but it burned to walk the sands, and that helped limit the growth of that seed. Which was appreciated, as he sighed and looked through his current pieces of paperwork.

Taking a moment to center himself and force in a calming breath, he exhaled slowly, the silence building around him until… something snapped into focus. He twitched, feeling… cold. Like a chilled breeze on a hot day, the still-bleeding wounds in his mind and soul were soothed subtly by this settling knowledge. That Silence and calm were unified, and that peace was beautiful. It left him more easily able to focus on the paperwork in front of him, and he managed to help spread the work so fewer ponies felt exhausted.

It wasn't much, but giving them more time around the water-stations to chat and commiserate left him feeling warm, the sight of their small relaxing postures, and occasional little grins at a bad joke, left him feeling like all was well in the world. And as he started to leave for the day, he stopped by his bosses office and gave him a small Talk to help him calm down, relax, and breathe.

Taking him to a bar and helping him Reminisce about the past and how things used to be, you casually suggested a party. Something to help the workers bond, connect, and comfort each other. He seemed to perk up, claiming to know exactly the Pony they'd need. Content with that, you sighed, feeling relaxed by the confident use of the knowledge in your mind.

The walk home was… something else. You could Feel the beat of your soul against the wound, how the very knowledge itself seemed to reject its source, instead seeking to be made void. It was a pulse, a beat, a throbbing ache that tried to press on, but somehow felt broken. Until you passed by a club… and it felt right.

Throwing caution and good sense to the wind, you stepped inside- exhaustion could be ignored, but this persistent pain in your very soul… it was never going to leave unless you found a way to heal it. So you walked in. You tried singing, and it was correct, but not right.

You tried drinking, or playing games, or chatting with other Ponies, and those made your cutie mark tingle as you felt your soul lighten, a sense of rightness flooding you, but not healing. Not until you let a particularly bold and drunk Stallion drag you into a Dance. Suddenly, everything was clicking. As you Danced, you started to Sing, and eventually the club shifted subtly, and everyone started to join in.

The Web you had woven earlier pulsed within you, the weave of people you were connected to in this space sang and writhed. And through it, that Rightness and Wholeness grew, rippling out through yourself and into those around you in a cascade of Life that beat with a heavy thickness that felt so viscerally RIGHT that it left you forgetting everything else. The pain in your soul, the ache of your leg, the exhaustion of a long day… for a time, everything else was nothing but a vague notion that wasn't real. All that mattered was the here, the now, and that you were ALIVE.

People were Dancing and Drinking and Singing as the party lingered, the beautiful Heart-Songs being spread around and sung about were so sweet and perfect… until near the end, when someone broke down crying. The sweetness turning bitter as memories of lost loves and fallen friends began to spread… The somber mood was beginning to break the work you'd put into this, but that… that was okay. All Things Must End, after all, but… but that didn't mean it had to Hurt.

So you started one last Heart-Song and started Quieting the beat. The new song was one about remembering and honoring those that passed without giving in to the Agony of their passing. Recalling how they would have loved this Festival of joy and celebration, to see them all so happy and recovering. To be Pressing On even while still holding their Memory close.

And it was early morning by the time you managed to make your way home, promises and half-spoken agreements from a dozen dozen ponies you had befriended the night before already helping to set up the deals and seek out the permissions to celebrate, hold a festival and start up the remembrance of those lost.

To turn the tragedy into a memorial, and a celebration of having survived. Of having lived. Of having Continued so that those that fell would never be forgotten. And collapsing into your bed, you fell asleep quickly, exhaustion light on your weary soul as the Dreams came… as they always did.

Tonight though, your Dreams ached less, the stabbing pain of your soul less harsh than it had been. The work of months of brooding and thinking and suffering… all fixed by chance… no… not by chance. This was always something that could have happened, and tonight it just… Did. That... it was a lot like that other niggling sense of... of somethig being right there, just out of reach, that you'd gotten with that one Thought of yours.

After all the drink at the bar, the singing was… disjointed, and… how had you spoken to that many people? Your throat didn't feel sore… was that just you? Some trick of the Beat? Or something more? You didn't know, but as you gazed at the Light… you felt ready. Or… more than you had been before tonight. Ready enough to face him again.

Your leg ached and burned at the thought, phantom suffering- or perhaps truly there?- that was but a memory of what had Hurt you before. And with that smile still on your face, you allowed that Seed in your chest to grow another root while you stepped out into the Ash, feeling those familiar eyes and shivering as you began to wander. He'd come for you… you knew he would. You weren't fast or strong enough, didn't know enough to make it to that Beacon before he caught you and tried to make you Regret visiting him. But… but that was fine.

You'd seen what could come of your own Agony. How it led to lessons that could be used to help others heal, and feel less Agony of their own. And if that meant weaving joy and happiness for others while you took their Sharp and Bleeding Suffering on your own Back… then so be it. After all, you had survived the Calamity. You would Endure. Until eventually the Agony Ended. After all, in his own words…

All things MUST End.

--------

... Not super thrilled by this, but it's been fighting me for a while now. Any ideas on how to improve it beyond the length would be appreciated. Mostly I'm trying to figure out why his perspective fought me so much while he was in the wake. The actions I wanted him to do came easily enough, but I wasn't able to really get in his headspace. I think I've been too distracted with a dozen other things. Also not thrilled with the level of Lore usage here, since it feels like it's more of a 3'rd or 4'th tier use, but... Still, here you go.

 

[Greymere]

Turns out procrastinating about starting on writing my thesis means I just start writing about the pastel pony horror quest instead, lol.


In Which the Child Will Devour the Sky

You are Velvet Covers. And right now… you are making a plan. An acquisition.

Because soon, when she comes to you this month, you will accept Lady Mareinette's invitation to dinner. And for all that you are accepting her invitation, you are still the host of this manor. So it is your duty to make sure the fare is acceptable for your guest.

No, not just acceptable. To serve only the bare minimum to a guest is an offense in and of itself, and Mareinette is no mere noblemare drunk on the pomp and wealth of her station. The main dish for this feast must be exceptional. Something worth notice, something handpicked, not a target of opportunity and circumstance.

And so you find yourself here, in your study, surrounded by maps and schedules. Ones that you have barely looked at because where you will acquire your ingredient… is a place you know very well.

It is the place you spent your childhood and young adult years.

It is where your father lives.

…

You can't fool yourself into thinking that this is "good". Regardless of your reasons, you are still plotting the capture and eventual death of a pony. And to some, that the one who you are planning to kill is your father and not a nameless stranger would only make such an act more monstrous.

Maybe they would be right. But here, in this room empty of any other eyes save your own…

You hate him.

You hate the stallion that dares call himself your father, as though he ever thought of you as his child and not just another piece on the board.

You hate how he made you think that he loved you, all the while he was only shaping you as clay.

You hate how he tossed you aside once you could no longer pretend at perfection, because a flawed tool was no better than a broken one, fit only to be melted down into scrap.

You hate how he treated you as something to be bartered and sold, something voiceless to be handed off like a pouch of bits for his own gain.

And… you hate that even now, after everything… nothing ever really happened. That after everything he did, the only time that he might have felt even a flicker of regret is when he realized that you had stepped beyond his shadow, and even then only at the loss of an opportunity. That no matter how much time passes, he will continue to live in comfort and power, moving bits and carving pieces into their 'correct' shapes, until he passes away at a ripe old age knowing that he achieved all that he ever wanted.

And you hate this ugly, festering wound on your heart, that bleeds and bleeds and bleeds no matter how many years pass, no matter how much you try to fill yourself with the love for your family and your friends, that tears itself open again every time you see the imprint of his hoofwork in your life.

You hate him.

YOU HATE HIM.

YOUHATEHIMYOUHATEHIMYOUHATEHIMYOUHATE-

…

…

…

You breathe in. You remove your hooves from where the wood of your desk has splintered. You breathe out, a plume of frost following its wake.

You will not let yourself indulge in your hatred. Not yet. There will be time for that later, when the proper spices and savours have been readied, and you see him face-to-face. Right now, you need to make a plan. You need to decide who you will send. And you need to decide if there are other things besides Velvet Hill that you'd want to take from his estate.

The prison is prepared. Your mind has been steeled.

All that's left is to act.


Expedition: Assaulting Velvet Hill
Duration: SHORT (costs one action from one follower, additional followers can go without spending action points)
Base cost: 5 bits/day (you must have 25 bits per follower sent)
-[n] Assault an opponent (Velvet Hill)
--[n] Who is going? (WRITE IN which followers will go)
--[n] What are they taking? (WRITE IN what artifacts, if any, to take)
--[n] What is their objective? (WRITE IN what your followers must do, in order of PRIORITY)
--[n] Anything else? (WRITE IN any other orders or specifications you have)

Spoiler

Just a little brainstorming on what kinds of thoughts might going through Velvet's head if she decides that yes, she will be kidnapping and eating her own father for eldritch power (you know, normal pony things).

 

[jelloloaf]

The heart is the drum of blood and that drum is beating which means that

it is dancing which really is almost so obvious as to not be worth mentioning but shortponies are notably not very good at knowing things so it will mention it anyway just in case because it is making a special effort right now to be comprehensible to them because it has just been summoned by a shortpony which on one hoof is somewhat convenient seeing as how it really is quite nice to be embodied especially when the summoner is the one doing all of the effort of the embodying but on all the rest of the hooves it has not been summoned into the shortworld for a long time and shortponies are not very good at dancing like it is so things have probably changed since it was last embodied and it might have to change its routine which would mean having to learn an entirely new dance which it really does not want to do the current dances is has are already very nice

but also in addition to the normal hesitance of being in the shortworld at all it is also not very enthused by its summoner because she does not look like a very good dancer even by shortpony standards which indicates that she probably does not really know how to be a good summoner either but then again there are a whole circle of dancers who are all listening to her so maybe she is a conductor or some other type of less important but still musical shortpony which means it should at least give her the benefit of the doubt and also beyond the circle of dancers there is a lorecircle on the floor which is making a much more persuasive argument about why it should give this summoner a chance even though that persuasiveness is just because it knows how circles get when it ignores them and it has much better things to do with its time than slog through a circle whining about being ignored like dancing for example that is a very good thing to do so yes it will listen for a while and hear where this goes because after all even the worst summoners never ask for it to do things that take very long anyway for example one time a summoner asked it to protect it from a disease and that took barely a month or a moth or some other measurement of that sort and it got to dance the whole time so it will listen to this summoner for a while like it said but it bears repetition like all good things do yes

and oh the summoner is giving it orders now it can do orders very well especially when they are orders like these that involve the routing of blood it likes blood yes blood is very nice everypony should have blood oh it just realized the summoner looks sort of like blood that is probably a good sign because perhaps she is a special shortpony that has blood on both the outside and the inside making her immune to the usual shortpony problem of the inside blood becoming outside blood yes that is very clever of her this might be better than the usual embodiment yes the summoner being clever a very good sign it will definitely listen to these orders and oh the summoner is already done clicking her teeth time to go it had thought that that part would take longer because usually in its experience summoners like using teeth quite a lot so the fact that this one has spent so little time on it is yet another good sign yes this will be an excellent embodiment but back to what it was doing orders yes it will go follow those and start doing a more energetic dance while it does so that is better than this little tapping in place that it has to do because of the circle around it but did the summoner forget to open the circle it cannot leave until she opens the circle hmm maybe just think opening thoughts yes that would work but how to correlate how to correlate ah yes dancing of course the answer is always dancing because it lives to dance and dances to live and the dancing is the living that is the key of its existence yes key it worked the circle is open it can leave the circle now time to start dancing but oh the summoner had orders it can still feel them inside its head but that is not a problem really because the words are so lively they are almost like music and so it can dance to them yes that is nice it loves dancing this summoner is almost certainly a conductor or something of that sort which makes her better than most shortponies who barely even try anything dancing related at all which is a shame because dancing is the best thing they would be much happier if they tried it yes

but enough about the shortcomings of shortponies it is already bounding over the groovelines in the floor and dancing out past the summoner and the other nonsummoner shortponies and through the door and down the hallway and up the stairs and almost into the street before it realizes that there will be a lot more notsummoner shortponies on the street and one of the orders is to avoid being seen by any of the notsummoners other than the ones that work for the summoner and are thus okay to be seen by because they are kind of like extensions of the summoner and thus practically the same shortpony it is not the best at geometry but that sounds about right yes it is very clever for figuring that one out

anyway it should at least try to avoid disobeying orders so it turns away from the door and does not show off its dance to all the shortponies outside even though that would be a very nice thing to do because maybe they would start dancing as well which would be excellent because dancing is always better with partners yes it would very much like to do that but it has already agreed to obey the summoner at least for a little while and if the orders really end up being so intolerable to do despite how nice they sound then it can just leave as soon as possible instead of extending the agreement yes that is a good plan it will do that after all there is nothing in the shortworld that can hurt it because it is a very good dancer and being good at dancing is how you continue so it will endure whatever happens no problem at all as an example one thing it endures is the staring from all the partsummoners as it thinks it will call them now yes that is a good name for all of those ones inside of the building that the summoner said it was okay to be seen by but anyway all of them staring at it is something that it endures but actually then again the staring is not really something that needs to be endured because staring is not at all harmful and if the partsummoners watch it dancing then maybe they will also start dancing yes that would be very nice the more ponies are dancing the better the world is and if shortponies dance for long enough then they could even stop being so short and instead be normal like it is yes that would be very very nice it likes having new partners to dance with very much yes

but sadly it cannot stick around for too long it has orders to follow which are that the summoner wants it to find a specific notsummoner shortpony and flip all his blood inside out which does not seem like a very hard thing to do because most shortponies are very bad at dancing and thus very bad at preserving themselves but even if this specific shortpony is somehow a good dancer then it will still win because it will dance even better and more forcefully and beat the shortpony yes it is good at force it knows about many forces like gravity and love and teeth there is sure to be one that will work on the shortpony to rearrange his blood like the summoner wants because after all if none of its forces would work why would the summoner want it to use them that would be very foolish of the summoner and it has already seen that the summoner is clever but unfortunately not quite clever enough to tell it where to find the specific shortpony it needs to duet with which is a shame but it is good at dancing around the uncleverness of summoners so it does not have very much trouble no not at all it is able to find the shortpony very quickly and it does not get seen by any other shortponies that it should not be seen by except for a few close calls but it avoided those incidents by closing their eyes for them so that it could go past without being seen and then it even put the eyes back the way they were afterward so really the whole situation worked out fine like nothing ever happened at all

yes it can be very sneaky when it needs to but that need is almost over because it is very close now to where the target shortpony is and it will start dancing with him soon this is very exciting it loves dancing with partners dancing is the best thing although the summoner does not seem to think that thought because she said that dancing makes it stand out and that it should not be noticed but also it should be dancing because that is the purpose and cause of its life and also also it has already been so sneaky while it was getting here so it compromises and settles for just a very little dance the smallest dance it knows which is a sort of tapping in place like it used back when it was inside the circle which looks sort of like when a shortpony is impatient which somewhat fits because it is a bit impatient right now but it can be patient if it needs to which unfortunately seems to be right now because the shortpony is not coming the door even after it drummed on it which is quite rude of him to keep it waiting but then again that does give it time to touch up its shortpony disguise by folding its mane a bit shorter and rounding off the skull a little and removing another hoof or two at least visually because shortponies just have so few of them and really how do they manage the whole situation seems very hard for them hmm perhaps that is why they are so short and bad at dancing yes that seems quite plausible it is very clever for figuring that out it should remember that for when it gets summoned back to the shortworld some other time the information would be very helpful to have most likely yes

oh the shortpony opened the door he is right there time to give the message that the summoner gave to it to pass on which means that it should start singing the shortpony music about consequences for your actions or something along those lines yes it remembers how the song went now and even though singing is not as nice as dancing it is still very nice and it starts singing in its best approximation of shortpony instrumentation and based on how the shortpony is covering his ears it feels like it probably made a mistake with how all the syllables are clumped up or it used the wrong resonance or something but then again shortpony music is very strange compared to normal music so maybe it did sing correctly after all and it just thinks there was a mistake because it almost never has to do this kind of thing yes that is probably what happened it is very good at music it would surely not make a mistake even if it had to sing a shortpony song yes this shortpony is simply just rude for not listening to its nice music that it worked so hard on that is probably why the summoner sent it after him

oh but wait the shortpony is doing a strange shivering movement stop singing oh maybe he is about to start dancing that would be very very nice it loves dancing especially with partners as it said which of course bears repetition like all good things do maybe this shortpony is not so bad after all but oh no wait he stopped shivering and instead grabbed a knife from somewhere and tried to kill it and steal its blood oh no no no it completely misinterpreted the situation the shortpony was not trying to dance with it he is trying to stop it from dancing that is double bad it should always be dancing this is definitely why the summoner sent it after this specific shortpony he is trying to stop dancers from dancing but not to worry it will overcome this shortpony notdancer very easily because dancing is how you endure and therefore the notdancer will cease all on its own but it will help hurry the process along regardless because notdancers do not deserve to be alive they squander the drumgifts it does not like them at all no

it dances backward to avoid a very poorly choreographed lunge and counters with a castanet bite to the foreleg because teeth seemed like the most prudent force to use in the current situation given how much summoners like them and even though this current summoner did not use hers very much she is still a summoner and all summoners like teeth and also regarding the fight it calls out to the heart of the notdancer to stop helping him by pumping his blood and instead help it by beating him to death from the inside while it works on the outside which will probably not result in anything given how fickle shortpony hearts can be but you never know until you try after all and it does not even need to reduce the frequency of the biting to ask because it can sing with every part of its body instead of just its mouth like stupid blood-stealing notdancers that hate dancing and music and everything good about the world it hopes that the notdancer will die soon this is not a very fun dance even if it is important to perform but once the notdancer is ceased it can go on with better dances again that will be nice yes just keep that in mind while the notdancer is spasming in a weak imitation of a real dance as though that will save him why is this taking so long all of his inside blood has already become outside blood that is supposed to be the end of the matter for shortponies

ah yes there finally the notdancer stopped moving now it can go tell the summoner that it followed the order yes it did a very good job as was to be expected the better dancer always wins that is how fighting works yes but there is still the question of how the notdancer noticed that it was not actually a shortpony perhaps it was the skull it has never been very great at getting the geometry correct when it is embodied because that is more of a flute thing and it is much better at percussion than other types of music which might be a bit of a misleading way to say that now that it thinks about it because it is good at all music but it is especially good at percussion because that is the best kind of music and the one that is most worth being good at so of course it is better at that kind and the other kinds only look bad by comparison oh which reminds it of how a previous summoner once told it that comparison is the thief of joy which seems very sad because joy is like fire in that you can always just make more of it and it is very easy to spread yes there is no need to steal it at all shortponies who steal joy are probably not very clever if they do not realize this truth like it does even in addition to the usual shortpony noncleverness or maybe in subtraction to because the cleverness is negative

but enough about the shortcomings of shortponies the time has come to go back to the summoner and let her know that it followed the orders very well yes it is good at following orders well it is good at everything but especially following orders and double especially dancing which reminds it that it should do some more dancing now that it finished its task yes but what kind of dance hmm maybe something long and bounding to stretch its legs a bit all this shortpony tapping which feels too restraining but no wait it is still not supposed to be seen that is very unfortunate it was looking forward to dancing some more but then again there will always be more time later yes that is how time works it is very smart of time to be so endless even though it is less endless than it used to be but then again that was not really the fault of time was it no it was because of all the hours trying to take from each other instead of just being longer yes that would have been much cleverer of them

and oh back at the summoner again already hello summoner it did a very good job at following the orders yes and was there anything else it needed to do or not because probably not based on how you keep clicking your teeth like that which by the way it knew that this summoner liked teeth all summoners like teeth even when they should not an excessive love for teeth is one of their major flaws aside from the shortness and the poor dancing skills and the vulnerability to having their blood flipped inside out and then all of a sudden the bindings have been released time for it to leave the shortworld which is nice because as fun as being embodied is there was nothing really going for this one outside of the inherent qualities it had thought that having a clever summoner would make the whole thing a bit more interesting but no there was only the base level of interestingness of being embodied at all and the only really notable thing that happened was killing that notdancer but that was more duty than anything else and while it will do its duty and there is some pridelike joy in the process it much prefers to be dancing because that is the best thing yes it will just keep on dancing back in the normal world and everything will be fine because everything is always fine in the normal world because there is nothing there to stop it from dancing oh the doorskin is open time to go back goodbye.

---

Hey folks, hope that you've all been doing well, despite our long wait.

Since we never ended up seeing what a Percussipony! would look like (and because I love nonhuman (nonpony?) perspectives), I wanted to do something with that idea. As per usual, my interpretation may be completely wrong (probably time for a re-read anyway), but it will hopefully at least be wrong in new and exciting ways that are interesting to read about.

Fun fact, I had originally planned to format this as one single block of text, but I eventually decided to place 'being at least barely readable' above 'purity of artistic vision.' Still no punctuation though; periods are very wasteful. You just throw away perfectly good blood.

 

[Maer]

IT IS BACK!!!

I was also kinda worried this would end. Now I need to get working on my Omake's again... I think I fixed the last one, 'To Comfort in Spite', so I'll post that as well here, but man. I should've been doing that already. Ah well. No time like the present!

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To Comfort in Spite V2.0

You are Ashen Weaver.

Right now, you are in your office- a new accommodation- and absently rubbing at your Hoof- no, no… your hoof. Sighing, you push it aside. The ache had been there for a full month already, and had merely dulled enough for you to get back to work in at least some capacity.

The first week after that encounter, you'd ended up having to visit the Hospital as every step seemed to make the-... the pain worse. The Doctors had been horrified, and… well, that was the past. What mattered now, was how it had impacted your work. Every day, you pushed through, focusing on your breathing and your Heartbeat to keep from going mad with pain. Honestly, scratching and biting at it had helped for a short time, before making it worse.

You signed your name on the latest setup for the scheduling, trying to ignore the phantom itch around your neck from where the collar had been strapped. The temporary relief wasn't worth the long-term worsening of the pain. At least now, you had definite proof of that. It would be months and months… maybe even years, but. It had already gotten mildly better. As long as you held steadfast, you knew you'd be fine. Getting up stole a wince from you, and you forced it down with uncomfortable ease. Practice made perfect, and this was something you'd been practicing daily for almost a month now. Walking made the trip to your door both easy, and painful, but that was life these days. It was rare to see your smile in the last month, and it had made it very clear how isolated you were after the Tragedy.

Thankfully, your boss had come through. He'd shifted you into management and fast-tracked your training. Knocking on the door to his office, you hesitated and looked around. Zoning out to escape the pain was… not the worst option, but you hated the lost moments. It was… it was supposed to be something to savor. Life was meant to be full of wonder, and sweet joys… what had happened to that old ease you had with finding it? Slipping inside after hearing the brusque tone of your bosses voice, you spotted him. Iron Nail was a Stallion in good standing, part of a proud clan of Irons who had done some kind of crafting since before the Apple family established their Orchard.

He claimed his grandfather had been an old fling of Granny Smith's back in the day, though most people laughed it off as ridiculous.

The office itself was fairly simple- plain tan walls, a simple dark-brown tiling, and a basic desk with a pair of chairs- one in front and one behind. A few shelves held some empty space that had once held pictures and trophies, the patterns in the dust showing where they used to sit. Filing cabinets were behind him, a pair that were never full, but always close to being so. Smiling at him, you hid the pain of walking over and set the schedules on the desk, sitting and looking at him. He hummed, looking over your work and nodding to himself as he slowly began to smile more and more.

"Ah, these are...? Yes, they are. Good. That helps immensely. I was worried you wouldn't make it today, but you pulled through... You've been reliable the past few weeks. You make me glad I moved you up, honestly- you've been a great help compared to some of the other slackers that got in on nepotism or investor demands. You're a fine Stallion, Ashen. You remind me of my own Colt sometimes, really- pushing on even with that injured leg. Just like him in that way, he's so…"

Iron Nail paused, his mood plummeting as he glanced at a calendar, today's date the only one with writing on it- his smile dying at the sight. You glanced over, seeing the name 'Iron Hoof' written in crayon, the hoofwriting different from Iron Nail's own, with colorful balloons scribbled around it. Nail seemed more somber and soft spoken when he continued, and you couldn't help but feel what little good mood you'd developed dampen alongside his own. "... he adapted. Used to adapt. He… I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking about... Listen, Ashen can you grab the new contracts from Straw's desk? He should have them, and I need to be sure no one is trying to screw us over."

You paused, the pain in your hoof flaring as you felt something almost rise up inside of you, but then you realized... Why didn't you feel like… like you cared as much? Were you really THAT distracted by your own pain that you couldn't be a half decent Stallion and FEEL something? With Nail in front of you and feeling so clearly hurt, you were sitting here and feeling... nothing. Not even nothing, or numbness, just exhaustion and pain. It was disgusting and awful, and you felt... wrong. Like you had since you escaped that Nightmare, with that Wolf.

But maybe that was it. Maybe that was the reason it was so easy to zone out. Not feeling at all was easier, less painful. It was a way to bite at the wound, to scratch and rub at it. Feelings, Empathy... they'd be like alcohol on an open wound, wouldn't they? After all, you'd always believed that to empathize and help others, to offer service, was the best way to heal from a soul-deep hurt. And if your hoof was acting up only when you tried to empathize with other ponies… "Hey Nail? Would you like to go get drinks after work tonight? I… I have my own sorrows to drown, a-and I… hear that misery is… is easier with company."

You winced as you finished, your leg having started feeling like it was on fire during the question. You almost lashed out to attack it, hit it and make the pain go away, but… but spite fueled your refusal to let it steal away this part of you. You calmly lowered the hoof you'd raised in that initial flare-up, and massaged the Agonized leg, letting out a shaky breath as you tried to relieve some of the painful pressure that was cutting at you underneath the skin. Then you forced a smiled up at your boss, hoping he agreed.

He seemed concerned at first, until you smiled and he relaxed. His concern would be touching if you could feel that more easily or regularly. But once his concern for you passed, he hummed, thinking over your question. He seemed hesitant, some vulnerability showing for the first time since you'd met him, and he seemed to flip flop for a minute before slowly nodding. "I… you know what? Yes. I think I'd like that. I could use a night to just... get away from the house, and the... Thank you." He was silent for a moment, collecting himself. Then he sucked in a breath and spoke up again, his eyes snapping back into their normal firm pseudo-glare.

"Now get your tail in gear and go get those contracts. On the double!" After accepting, the vulnerability was hidden behind a wall of iron slammed shut with an unyielding demand. Nodding, you stood up, unable to hide your wince, or your limp this time as you started moving, refusing to let the pain slow you down. What good was Earth Pony strength and stamina if you couldn't push through a little pain?

---

You sipped at your ale as Iron Nail lay slumped against the bar next to you. In your state, you didn't trust yourself to get drunk- the pain didn't dull with the rest of you, as you'd found out when the Morphine left your thoughts sluggish and everything except the pain numb. It had remained as sharp as ever, leading the doctors to suspect it was somehow cursed or affected BY a curse. At least until they brought in specialists. No curse to be found, they claimed, though there was something. Nothing they could specifically identify though... So you sipped your ale, listening to Nail as he sobbed and weakly smacked the counter.

"He was young... J-JUST A COLT! How… why...? Why did they have to… t-to…" His whimpers made your insides ache, every flicker of sympathy and pity brutally burned by the aching of your leg. As he sobbed out his sorrows, you just felt off. Something inside you felt broken and the burning of your leg made it so hard to focus on him and FEEL like you normally would. Still… there was that familiar niggling tingle in your flank, the gentle push that said someone needed you, needed a shoulder to cry on, a nudge in the right direction… something to pull him out of this awful darkness he found himself in.

And since you couldn't find the words right now, you stood up, tossing the bits to cover your drinks onto the counter, nodding to the bartender and pulling Nail with you. Every step was like walking across broken glass laced with fresh pepper juices, but you couldn't stop- you WOULDN'T stop. He stumbled after you, confused and dazed, needing your help to stay upright as you pulled him out into the street, the cool night air swirling around the both of you.

"Wh-wha… wha's happ'nen… why're we goin'?" The tearful stallion sniffled, looking in your general direction in dismay, and you gave him a smile that was dragged straight from your cutie mark, every ounce of your control going into hiding your pain for your… your boss. Your friend. He'd helped you even when he could've laid you off, and he had agreed to spend time with you. He was a friend now, and nothing was going to change that.

It was a fair question, and one that you had given a decent amount of thought to both earlier, and just now before you'd left. After all, words seemed to be failing you lately, everything coming out subtly Wrong. So instead of talking, you'd act and try to soothe his mind through movement, rather than the simple sounds you could make."I'm taking you to a club. Not to find a mare- it is far too soon for that. But Clubs have dancing, and singing, and laughter. So, we're going to give you a night to forget. Forget about everything, even if only for one night. Yeah?"

Nail seemed hesitant, less invested in the idea, but he was drunk. More, he was sad, and broken, and lonely. His Wife had been out on an expedition when the Calamity hit, and there was no telling if she was even alive or dead. He feared the worst. He was so afraid of so much... you'd realized as he sobbed into his drink that every part of him was riddled with memories and loss, pain and sorrow. More than that, he was an aching wound that just refused to close. So much hurt and pain had been pushed into him for so long that he was just tired. Still, he couldn't give up entirely until he knew about his wife. He'd know in only a few months... so he was holding on for her. You Mark tingled more at the thoughts, burning softly against you in a way so impossibly different to your hoof- this didn't hurt, for example. More like sand just shy of being too hot, than the... other pain.

"Mm… nn'kay…" So, you took him down the street. You weren't sure which club to head into, and each one felt… bad. Nothing was clicking, nothing was feeling right to your mark, and you were feeling Nail get worryingly impatient, until… you felt it. A Beat. It only lasted a moment, and your hoof flared in Agony right after, but… but you felt it. You led your boss into the place, shivering as you actively avoided stepping on the burning limb, and looked around. Everyone was dancing, or singing, or both, and there was a single person in the mix, looking exhausted and drained, utterly mentally wrecked.

The poor Mare looked like it was her last day on earth, and she planned to live it to the fullest. Her hoofbeats… they reminded you of that Secret that had been forced into your mind, and you felt it… well, ache, but less. Like somehow, this was the real truth. A real factual truth of that secret, not the partial truths told by that being. It was more. More than the broken shards of glass rammed into your mind and soul, more than the splinters still sticking out of your brain... The way she wove through the crowd was magical, and she seemed to delight everyone she met with barely a few words that seemed to enthrall her every conversational partner, her every motion adding more and more to your understanding and realization of the truth.

So you gently led your boss onto the dance floor near that Mare and started dancing. You took him from group to group, person after person, dancing and joining in the laughter and upbeat atmosphere filling the air- that sense of giving up and indulging in a moment of revelry and reckless abandon. Each person, you got closer, and the closer you got, the more your heart pumped and your limbs felt energized… and the more the burning was pushed back.

The connections were still forming, still building, and the pressure from the dance beating back the pain made it easier and easier to form this web of connection and interconnections… until you finally reached her. The Mare dancing on her own and with tears down her face. So close, you realized your missing piece, that painful last limb being forced into the Dance as you felt… something. A rhythm that simply felt... right.

A piece in your mind shook, an awareness of some fundamental truth being revealed as a falsehood. More than merely that, the lens had been fogged with Ash, and now you could finally truly see. It did not progress anything, but… but as you danced, that feeling was made… real. Though she seemed to be looking at you. Really, truly looking at you. Her grin slowly spread, and she laughed, spinning away to follow some unknown grander part of the Beat. You breathed, looking at Nail as he danced.

It was… off. But you had the rhythm in your hooves now, and you KNEW what to do. So you gently stopped him, looking at him and grinning. His body looked tired, his eyes dull, his mind stuck in the tar and honey of the recent past. He was haunted, and looked it. He was not a happy pony, but... well, neither were you. That was the whole point of coming out here tonight, wasn't it? "Hey, Nails… I think I learned a new dance. Would you care to dance with me?"

He paused, looking at you and looking flustered, like he had seen a ghost. He hesitated and seemed to debate with himself. You smiled, gently nudging you and making him look up at your face. You winked and then adopted his favored expression, the one you remembered from when he 'promoted' you. "You need to move on and get some progress in you, hmm? Ain't never been a pony that was healthy when they was stuck in life. I'll set you up something nice, just make me a promise, yeah?"

You paused, giving him a very pointed look to go with your false smile. He had made you promise to help around the office again, to bring people together and give people an outlet. A way to feel something again after the Calamity. A promise to help foster connections and bring people together. To do what his Cutie Mark said he was always meant to do. Shaking that away, Iron Nails scoffed, then chuckled and sighed. "Very well… though I think I'll head home soon. This has been… nice. But I can't... I need to just be alone for a bit after this."

You nodded, smiling more softly- a feat made easier by the pain pulling back at that pulsing Beat in your hooves and heart. "Alright Nails. I'll take you home after this."
Though you could tell he wasn't exactly eager, you slowly led him through the dance you'd learned, watching him follow along and slowly speeding up until you both reached that right speed, and then… the he felt it. The beat in the air, the earth, your hooves… with a pulse, you started dancing with him, and your cutie mark seemed to come alive, almost burning as that awareness, the feeling of the Beat, started to spread through your connections.

Slowly, those you had spoken too started to match the dance, their hooves beginning to tap out a pattern of an unfamiliar Dance. This felt Wrong, but also so very Right, like his veins had been hijacked to carry liquid magic instead of blood, but for his cutie-mark. Whatever was happening, he knew it was NOT how things were meant to be. But… but did it matter?

As the dancing continued, Nail became less and less sad, or rather… he was more and more distracted, memories of the past and visions of a dark future overwhelmed by the reality of the here and NOW. The Dance in his limbs, the Beat of his heart, the Rhythm in the air… Everything felt so terribly right and good, and it hurt to know that this was somehow Wrong.

Time passed, people came in and joined, the web spreading and growing on it's own in ways that had never happened before. You felt names, tasted stories, and smelled their eagerness to join. More and more the feelings grew, the night thickened, and the dancing intensified. Above and beyond it all, the smile of that Mare continued to flash at you from around the room as she danced.

And slowly, you began to notice other quirks about her dance, the way she moved, and twisted, the way she seemed dazzlingly beautiful and breath-takingly sweet in her every word and motion, each throbbing quaver of the music- when had it changed? How did it match the Beat so perfectly…?- perfectly in time with her steps and breaths. A living, breathing dance, made flesh. This was more than a Cutie Mark, this was something that was beginning to edge in on the Divine… or so it seemed. It just… felt so Wrong…

You tried to breathe in and found it difficult, and not because of exhaustion or exertion. The air was thick and heavy, the newborn senses in your mind telling you that something enormously big was beginning to happen, and you couldn't tell if you'd want it to finish or not, part of you recoiling at the idea… which was enough. A tendril of focus wavered, the web trembled, and Nail saw a young stallion, One who looked like his lost Colt, in the flashing lights of the Club- and you both stopped.

The feeling of the web snapped, the Beating Pulse suddenly ceasing from the shock as it unraveled and everyone was suddenly disconnected from one another, leaving the entire club feeling heavy and hot and empty. As you listened, and felt, the presence of that weighted gaze faded until it was but a whisper of a memory. Nail was right in front of you, panting as groups all across the club slipped almost seamlessly back into their own dances, laughter and cheering coming from across the building as everyone congratulated everyone else on how amazing that experience had been.

You stopped dancing as well, panting and blinking as you looked at him, and he looked at you. And then, slowly, in those eyes full of pain and tears and sorrow… you saw him really see you. And he smiled, a broken Stallion in a broken world- but for a brief moment, he'd felt alive again, and that lingered in his mind. You saw his hooves twitch, the same beat that echoed through your own hooves… and you smiled back, the aching burn of your hoof miles away in the dull warmth of your Heartbeat.

You weren't sure you could mimic what had just happened again, not without that Mare to help get you started- though you noticed she wasn't anywhere to be found anymore- but… but you knew you could dance. You could dance, and you knew your heart would answer and beat for you when you did. And you were fairly certain he knew it now as well.

You helped steady him as you started to leave the club, stopping and chatting with a few people throughout the club about getting a party started, something to celebrate the memory of those loved ones that had fallen in the Calamity, and the lives of those who had survived it. The reception was mediocre, but you got people to agree. Especially to just meet up again in a few days to discuss the idea and workshop it.

As you stumbled out into the night, you felt… lighter. The splinters in your mind seemed to have lessened, and you could FEEL again. Something other than ache, and pain, and spite. It was such a relief to feel… sad, again. Because you DID feel sad. This was not how you should've handled your Bosses grief. It worked out better than it could have, but… but you regretted it. Hopefully he'd forgive you after this. At least you shared a secret now, though.

Though you wished you knew why you'd gotten the feeling of two different tastes from that Mare. It wasn't only her Beating Heart that you'd sensed, after all. You'd noticed something oddly… Sweet. But it eluded you, for now. Maybe… maybe you'd figure it out on your own? Or the next time you were ready to try and face off against that Thing, you'd hear it's poison dripping more secrets into your mind.

For now, you just helped your boss get home, and then headed back to your own apartment to rest. You weren't ready to head back yet, there was something more to do first, but… but you were getting there. Already one secret had had the poison run its course and fade, so the other would as well, given time. You just had to trust in that and hope for the best.

So you slept, and Dreamed, and wandered the Crossroads, exploring as you ever did.

---

The next morning, as you looked through the news paper while getting ready for work- with more energy than you had since that encounter- you paused on a certain section. A picture of that Mare from last night, being led away by men dressed in that uniform of those new Lunar Cops. The Lunies had been after her... and there was even mention of some kind of magical ritual nearly being cast last night at... at the bar. They were trying to interview and figure out what had happened, but... but there was no one who could remember the names or faces or even Cutie Marks of most people they'd met last night, very well... Thankfully, that included you. Though you weren't sure if that was wholly a good thing.

At least you were ready to keep trying. There was that much going for you.

 

[Sveta08]

Post it anyway

Click to shrink...

In Which Winter Thaws

---

How long is forever?
Longer than you have yes, but there is a better way of putting it.
Forever is as long as you remember.

Why else are monuments built? Why else are history books so full of names and torches and voices and speeches? Why else do our hearts flutter when others remember us? When they are reminded of us?
It is to touch upon forever. Fallible, mortal, mundane. And to reach for eternity.

---

How many watched?

Standing by the shoreline as the black waters grew still.
Diving beneath the brackish waves as the voices grew thin and fleeting.
Ran a finger upon a cup that was slowly draining.
Watched as the tapestry grew quiet.

How many watched?
And for how long?


Words are like air. It is easy to say that it was every one. It is easy to say that it was for every day.
To find the hidden door in a world full of passageways that lead to this beach.
To run and see and linger at the edge of the sands, where feet only just touch upon the waves.
Upon bone and sand and ash and dust and jewels.
Coming to see the tapestry laid out in the sky like a corpse.
Growing cold.



Mystic words were traded in the only language it would allow.
Silence

Everyone who had seen, who had watched, who had followed in the tapestry's unfurling could name it.
Here in a world where names and ideas and dreams held sway. Here where the rules were understood. Here, outside and inside and in a place that saw and could touch, but was blind and numb.
It was Winter

It did not matter that the body and bones of Our Lady had come to take the reigns. Who else could wield so fine a needle and stitch so steady a thread?
It did not matter that the world full of doors itself had been torn free and made itself a new home. Where else could the show go on?
It did not matter that the beach was full of voices and the world full of song. Why ever would it?

Winter was like a thief.
Sudden, and only visible in the aftermath.


No one could say they did not see it. No one could say they could not name it.
Too high. Too distant from the reprieve of ignorance.

We, and indeed I say We, saw.



It was with a sickening growth that I learned. That I questioned it even.
Was this true the name of Winter

It visits with a grave silence, and with an indescribable beauty.
For even in the stillness
Even as the waves grew to a blackened mirror
Even as the weaving hands grew cold
Even when the voices dried into silence
Even as the stars themselves seem to be shuttered
It was Beautiful



The last threads told a story.
They wrapped around a heart. They spoke of teeth.
They spoke of a meal to be savored. Of an organ to be grown. Of a knife to be sharpened
They spoke of blood and hunger and thirst and a final satisfaction.

Like an apple ripe before the teeth
When else would be so perfect a hesitation?



Perhaps none would say they saw it.
None perhaps would say they knew of it.
But I saw it.
And as the days grew long
As the moon grew low
As all lost it's warmth
I resolved it to be seen.



Why else are monuments built?
To remember, in a way most final.

---

Like a coroner I came. Tools in hand of chisel and hammer. Unfitting in my grasp, and poor in it's shape.
All headstones are. That's part of the point.
What headstone could contain the heart buried beneath?

I came with tool of memorial in hand. A vigil near half over, but long since decided.
For one so mortal, a death may be pronounced within minutes. A Year and A Day was much more... appropriate for something so far removed from such a life.

Fit to carve ice and render a sculpture of a final moment, of a taste never experienced, of what ever and always would be what might have been...
I found thaw.



The beach was quiet, but not silent.
The threads were slow, but they wove anew.
The ocean rippled with yet new and old secrets.
And I...



What gross comparison. Paler than moonlight and thinner than water, but it was what I felt. And what I wondered as I looked at voices and faces and words I thought would always again be silent to me.
Was this how she felt?

I still yet had flesh.
I was still more than only bone.
I could always leave.

But had I stayed.
Had I run my hands and my fingers and my eyes and my tongue over every word.
Had I pulled every fiber from every strand that made up the whole of the tapestry.
Had I dreamed of naught else and lost myself in the abyss of the sea below and drunk deep it's secrets.
Had I lingered...

Would I too not laugh in joy at seeing a face?
Would I not too throw myself at them for the joy of saying hello?
Would I forget myself and savor in the sweetness of their presence?


Months compare not to an Era.
But I grew an understanding of Our Lady in that moment.




So I laughed.
I swore.
And I picked up my tools as they were remade into something new.
Every word reshaped and rebuilt, every message changed and line uncurled.

This no more would be a monument of Ivory and Ice, of bone and memories that were never to be.
It would be of a Thaw. Of a greeting and a meeting of friends and allies. Of shaking free the chill of the grave.
Poorly made from numb fingers, yet warmed by the heart and the song and the life inside them.
Indelicate and crude, rather than the pristine perfection of silvery silence.

So come now, one and all!
Eat! Drink! Be Merry!

If nothing else is remembered, let it be this.
Winter will have it's day
But that day is not today! That time is not now! And there is yet a Heart that refused to fade!

Till Glory or Grave take us

 

[DelightedOne]

In Which A Monster Eats Another

---

You are Velvet Covers and you have made a decision.


The pony that was put into the prison built bellow Jade Whistle's old house will be visited by two creatures and a life will be lost when you are done.


The venue has been prepared, the table was set, the Honored Guest was invited.


You already made all preparations for the occasion and the Sacrament...


The power it could grant you is enticing, the ability to break that wall blocking your way to the higher levels of Grail.


But most importantly, a choice has been made. A choice you can't take back, a life that will soon be lost.


At least you know it won't be the life of somepony good, somepony that has a family that would miss them.


You wish it didn't have to be like this, but it is just not possible for you to not take this step.


Surprisingly, the idea of consuming flesh does not bother you, not as much as it should, when the alternative is...


There really isn't a good way to do this. If you deny Mareinette's offer she will eventually leave-and you are well aware of the things she will do if she regains her freedom-but you feel if you accept her offer, if you accept her(grail), you will lose.


Is surrendering the only answer to your problems? Could this be truly everything you can do?


You know you can't trust her, not with that voice that gets louder every month. The one that questions Mareinette, her motives and most importantly what would have happened to Silky had you not arrived in time or Soft Sweeps not been there to protect her sister.


But the pangs of hunger you feel when you made that decision have already taken hold. There is no going back.



Today, you will do something drastic.



Today, you will cross a line.



Because today...



Today...


"[GRAIL]?"



Your mind clears from the fog, Mareinette's question, her need to confirm your willingness to procceed.

"Yes, I am ready." You answer, with poorly hidden anticipation. The imitation of laughter that comes from her right after makes that clear.

She thinks you are eager for the tastes she can provide.


You can't exactly deny this assumption.


After all, you planned all of this and now you are accompanying her to where your prisoner has been kept for the last month, something you insisted on doing.


The newly built stairs to the underground prison are thread upon by your hooves. As you descend, your vision blurs, the hunger has already taken most of your capacity to reason.


The sole occupied "cell" is right there. Mareinette has your permission to open it, it would be very strange if she didn't.

She turns her back, cloak swaying gently with the motions her body makes as she walks and as soon as her back is turned, you say the words that will begin the true Feast.


"Stay still."

As soon as the order is expressed, the bindings tying her to you tighten across her body like the chains they are supposed to be. Now all pretense of cammaderie has been trown away.


But you do not care, for the hunger is at full force now, the need for her flesh is consuming all of your existence.


And of course, as you throw away her cloak and the pile of bones she takes with her everywhere she goes. She realizes something is very wrong.


[Mareinette activates The Second Birth]

[Mareinette's Health suffers catastrophically]

[Mareinette's Health is now 4]

But you already made your move, body twisting itself into the correct shape for this task. Your jaw unhinges at an impossible angle, just enough to fit a mare of Mareinette's size with the proper motions.


You must be very careful to not scratch her skin, it would ruin everything if even a single drop of her precious blood was lost.


Even if your sharp fangs disagree with this fact.


First, the hindlegs, so she can't run away. It would not be good if she managed to leave after this blatant betrayal on your part.


Then, the torso. Now that is easier, but then you come across her forelegs and have to twist your jaw a bit to make them fit.


The end is the best part. When at last the head is the only part of her body still free.


You cannot see her expression and you can't bring yourself to care about it when there is still that final step your almost broken body needs to take.


*Gulp*

After, you can feel her writing inside of your body, hooves trying to break a path to the outside through your flesh.

But it is in vain, there is no loophole she can hide behind now, no other Hour to save her, either as a patron or sympathizer.

And even if there were, it is already too late. She is in the belly of the beast now.

And she will never make it out of there.

Spoiler: The Feast

This should not be happening.

Mareinette did not expect this. How could she? She followed every step perfectly, she was polite and the best guest anypony could ask for.

Now look where that got her, stuck inside a mortal in a rather unpleasant way. Even if there is more space than there should be.

And by her not so small amount of experience, she feels things will only get worse. So she decides to start making her way to the outside world again and if it kills her ungrateful host so be it, this whole situation is already grounds for death, in her opinion.

Her body turns to a more appropriate position, focused on creating an exit. However, no matter how much she kicks, bites or otherwise tries to rip through the flesh of her ungrateful summoner, she remains stuck.


She thinks about how her puppet did not come with her or her cloak. That realization is followed by the sensation of being exposed, seen, endangered.


A scent rises, not pony, not mortal, something else, something wicked.

With renewed urgency she restarts her effort to escape. Breaking her bindings already took a lot out of her, it would not be wise to fight whatever this is in her condition.



The already tight space constricts her movements even further, some liquid she can't quite recognize dripping on her skin and...


Ah.

So that is why her body was swallowed whole. Velvet Covers did not try to eat her, no.

The hunger she felt did not belong to her summoner.

It belonged to something else.

She was being given to something else.

She was the sweet sacrifice.

Her blood blessed by the Red Grail herself to still be able to sustain life even after her Crime will be drained.

And then she will die for good.


Her final death is staring right at her back.

All she can do in her last cognizant moments is mourn the fact that the last sensation she will ever experience... is that of Agony.

!!!

A howl echoes as she finishes organizing her thoughts, affirming that what she deduced was the answer to her doubts.

And then the monster, with its ethereal fangs, it... it...

IT BITES.

And it keeps biting and tearing and devouring. His intention to not leave a single piece left to tell the tale of the monster that once walked the Mansus and the Wake.

And it keeps on and on and on andonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandon...

Until...​

Every last piece of consumed flesh shifts, while the Son builds his body in the Wake, the shell that will allow him to fullfil his purpose.

Until...​

But then, he pauses for a second for the heart is not to be eaten. Instead, it must be put in its proper place..

Until...​

The stolen blood needs to flow through his veins, after all. And his Father's nature does not allow such frivolities, so he will have to improvise.

Until Mareinette is no more...


...

And another monster takes her place​

Although every instinct in your body tells you it should hurt, it doesn't. Not like the previous times.


It isn't comfortable, will never be comfortable but you can deal with it better now.


So your body once again twists itself, but instead of making space for something, it is now shrinking, forcing the foreign creature out of it.


The feeling of your own flesh tearing itself to return to its previous configuration is a novelty, not a welcome one, mind you. Still, the creature seems to understand it needs to leave and cooperates with your body.


The head feels the air of the Wake first, the front paws and torso follow, giving it some support as they touch the floor of the prison.


As the rest of the body leaves your mouth you can notice the glistening fur covering the figure in front of you as it drops towards the floor, disoriented by its newfound existence.


You also note a certain taste your tired mind can't proccess properly. Whatever it is, it is in no way pleasant.


After a few moments, when you remember you are allowed to breathe again, the thing that tore its way out of your body stands on its forelegs. Half graceful, half stumbling foal, with contradictory smooth and careful movements it makes its way to Mareinette's cloak and the pile of bones she used as a puppet.


It then dons the cloak as if it had belonged to itself its whole life and with perfect and unnatural poise it does something you can't help but be repulsed by.


It introduces itself. At the same time revealing what the confusing taste that coats your tongue really is.


"Greetings Mother, my name is Blood and it will be my pleasure to help you and my Father."


Your new Son is here.


You already knew what loyalty tastes like, now you have learned the taste of betrayal.

Velvet Covers has gained a further stain upon her soul, and the world will suffer for it.

"A Stain Upon the Soul" has reached level four.

CAPUT GERAT LUPINUM. The Sun was Divided, and this is its Wound. Gain one scrap of EDGE and WINTER Lores.

Velvet Covers has tasted something very ancient and powerful. Gain one scrap of GRAIL and HEART Lores.

Mareinette, the monster of Grail, has been killed.

Spoiler: Winning Vote

[DO] Kill Mareinette[This is a Regrettable Action]

Spoiler: The Consequences of your Actions

Current Level: 4/7
Should this counter ever reach 7/7, Velvet Covers will immediately reach the ending "The Mother of Wolves".

Spoiler: The Fourth Stain

The Fourth Son​

"The line has been crossed, filth overflows and gets closer to consuming what remains. But coming this far has given knowledge to this soul, knowledge of the truth behind the corruption of a once pure pony and its consequences to the World."

-[Wolf, thy name is Blood]: "So revolting upon the ear. One could never listen to it again. These are the words that make sacrifice agonizing."
(The voices of Grail have been muffled, fainter than ever before, now the World will hear the call of Blood instead of birth or desire.)
-Forbidden Knowledge: "If Despair is the wolf that devours thought, one must wonder what will please Blood's palate?"
The whispers of Blood will influence ponies to take drastic actions to achieve their own desires, it is not like it is any easier, mind you, but if that risky idea works then shouldn't you at least try? What is so wrong with a little competition?
Sacrifice will be more common, necessary or not, betrayal will be significantly more present among ponies.
And lastly, while it may not sound as relevant as other issues, there will be less foals born in the World.
At least he has not visited the Church yet, but it is only a matter of time.

-[The Benefits of the Mother]: "It would be delightful to serve you, Mother. I will do my utter best to make sure your wishes are granted."
(Narratively, Blood will take Mareinette's place and act as she would have, using her puppet as efficiently and elegantly as she once did. He will work mechanically as if he was a befriended Name with most of Mareinette's stats, for her rank blood fills his body and gives it its profane imitation of life. Some, like Baldomare, will notice the ruse, most others won't.)

His character sheet will follow.

Spoiler: Character Sheet

"You are well aware of what he is."

Blood, the Fourth Son
Health: 4/16
General bonus: +40 ("Young and Terrible")
"Social action" bonus: +60
Aspects: GRAIL 6, HEART 6, EDGE 6, WINTER 6

As a Son , Blood has TWO actions per turn.

Special details:
- Blood is capable of CHANNELING the highest intensity of Influence in his lores, and gifting it to you for a full month.
-Blood's true nature as a Son means his presence in the Wake is not as easy to purge, so even if his current body reaches 0 Health his presence will not leave this World but he may be restored to physical form with the proper resources. For more information see "The Fourth Birth".
- Blood is considered to be a Minion, and does not mind being sacrificed for Rituals.
-His Sister has a special place in his heart and she truly appreciates his presence. For more information see "Dearest Sister".


[ONE WHO IS VERY GREAT]: Blood is willing to offer you Sacraments in the Lores of Grail, Edge and Winter.
[THE MONSTER of GRAIL]: Blood is immune to the effects of "Monstrous Appearance".
[HONORED SON]: Blood can "step in" on Velvet's horseshoes, and perform social actions in her stead even if only Velvet should have been able to perform them. (HOWEVER, see "Shared Custody")
[WEIGHT OF PRESENCE]: Blood grants a full level up to the Secret Library for his preferred Lores.
[LOYAL]: Is loyal to Velvet Covers' faction. Will not act against her or her followers and will avoid influencing them negatively. He is also willing to use Influences on himself, as needed, and to lend aid to Velvet Covers' faction when narratively relevant.


[SHARED CUSTODY]: If Blood is alone while performing a social action, and a vote is offered, he will follow what Velvet would have done(A vote will open), however his Father will have influence over the result. Velvet's faction and family will not be affected by the implied consequences.


[MONSTROUS APPEARANCE]: Cannot be used for Social Actions. (Immune)
[A FATHER'S TEACHINGS]: Will refuse to cast any rituals that involve Heart. Any other Lore is allowed.
[THE FOURTH BIRTH]: Blood's body is not capable of healing itself but it may be restored using living ponies as a sacrifice if he is "killed" or hurt. A single pony is the minimum required to bring him back and he can be ordered to discreetely seek "sustenance" by his own methods(His own AP) to restore his remaining health. This won't remove Mareinette's "characteristics", it also won't add more.
[DEAREST SISTER]: Blood is specialized to social actions, so it would make sense for him to help his Sister wouldn't it?
Soft Sweeps' cult will expand its influence with Blood's full cooperation. Mechanically, every social roll taken by Soft Sweeps or her cult to extend their influence will apply Blood's stats where it would be appropriate, Blood will also give his boost to lore levels on their Library equivalent.
Narratively Soft Sweeps will become quite close with "Mareinette", she will even invite her to the meetings of the burgeoning Wolf cult and "Mareinette" will feel like family to her. She won't be aware of his true nature. Additionally if Blood is somehow killed and Velvet Covers does not take action to restore him Soft Sweeps will bring him back as stated on "The Fourth Birth".

 

[DelightedOne]

In Which the Sharpness of Edge is Studied

---

Your name is [REDACTED].


You are the supervisor of the research division, the Lore research division.


Three books had been collected for research on the nature of conflict and violence.


Each one of them proposes a different point of view in the nature of that engine that moves the World.


Each one of them has been assigned a pony to study its contents and write a proper summary of its ancient wisdom.


And of course to make sure they don't kill each other(or themselves) after they finish reading, you have to keep an eye on them.


Now, without further ado, let us read them.


The Power of Duty By Dr. Masked Insight [Edge 7]

Spoiler: Description

A text written by a tradicionalist stallion of great renown. Here, his findings on the nature of Cunning have been preserved.

Spoiler: Study Start

'Authority,' he states, 'is necessary for the safety of our kind. Any who say otherwise are deluded optimists who would rather see all of us burn than to heed the warnings.'

Spoiler: Study End

The Doctor keeps that tone for the entire book, sharp criticism and mercilessly revealing in equal measure. At the end, he reminds the reader that we all have our part, if only we play them properly.

The Importance of Rebellion By Bluebird [Edge 7]

Spoiler: Description

A sharp and repetitive missive revealing her true allegiance to her previous employer. Who, as she wrote, should be receiving a visitor at the same moment he reads this.

Spoiler: Study Start

'I have had my doubts about you... I trusted you... This is bigger than us...' It seems she saw no other choice but to commit treason. However, she makes no mention of what her employer did to make her leave.

Spoiler: Study End

'...And in the end only monsters can do what is needed.' Bluebird words imply she carried guilt over her actions, but she was still willing to go further if it meant stopping her opponents.

(Unreadable Title) By Sharp Hoof [Edge 7]

Spoiler: Description

The first words on the paper are "I may regret this."

Spoiler: Study Start

Sharp Hoof describes the intentions of the Wolf in grim detail, one must wonder how he acquired these insights.

Spoiler: Study End

The last words written were 'I regret this... All of it'. A dark stain covers that page.

And now-


Wait...


There is one more book. How strange.


This wasn't supposed to be here, but it may be prudent for you to give it a look in case there is any relevant information on it.

After all, There are no coincidences.


Peace to All that Wish for It By Gentle Melody [Winter 7]

Spoiler: Description

The writing is clear and simple, it is obvious there was no intention of making it appeal to any specific demographic or maybe that was the intention? To please all that read it?

Spoiler: Study Start

The description of the Corrivality as the engine of the World is challenged here, its need questioned and old records from before History mentioning it not existing at all.

Spoiler: Study End

'Every blade dulls, every war ends. The Corrivality is just the longest one.' Her overall opinion seems to be that struggle and war may yet be the cause of the world's immolation. In that case, peace would be preferable to war for some.

... You need more time to think about this. For now, you will pass the documents to where they need to go.


And maybe slip one of your own making. With the proper precautions to not be found out.

 

[Sveta08]

[] The Royal Apartment has become distressingly hot, to the point that even Princess Celestia's guards (ceremonial as they were) have been prohibited from approaching it. This has become the most crucial issue on Princess Cadance's agenda.
-You will gain the Fleeting Opportunity "Help Cadance." You will be allowed to dedicate as many Personal Actions (and Social Actions) to address it as you wish. You will not be informed of how many actions you "should" dedicate to it.
-If Cadance succeeds on her efforts, she will "disarm" the current crisis. If Cadance only succeeds "partway," this situation will be delayed for another turn and the Fleeting Opportunity will be offered once more.
-If Princess Cadance fails on her efforts, Princess Celestia will go one "step" down on her previously-rolled reaction scale.

Click to shrink...

In which The Sun's final Testamant

---

Agony.

Agony, you have decided, is the idea and shape of hope.
That witless thing that lurks behind every closed door and every lost dream. Lost to the sands of time and broken beneath the wake.

It was Agony, hope was.



It had been easy, you decided.
Waiting.

No matter how long. No matter how bad. How many sleepless nights, no matter how many gut-wrenching days.
No matter how many friends came and went and were forgotten by all save you and the tomes that swiftly decayed, it was easy. Waiting.
You can't help but do it. Time passes, and waits for no one.

Not even for you.
Not even Celestia.



You see, when you waited, it was easy to simply keep the world turning.
Speak to dignitaries, arrainge the right paths, set the right people to be at the right place at the right time. Guide ponykind. Lead them onward and upward to glory and prosperity. It was easy.
Because it was for her as much as it was for them. It made it easy.

Of course the castle should be well prepaired. It was set to be her home.
Of course the nation should be full of joy. It was to be her home.
Of course the heavens and earth and depths and seas should stand in witness.
It was to be her home.

It was easy to wait. Because you weren't waiting.
You were preparing for a day you knew would come. Eventually. Eventually.
Beg forgiveness, offer the world, and to see and hold your sister again.

Dearest Luna.



But waiting was easy. You knew it would end. One day. Someday. Somehow. Harmony guide, it would end and she would return and it would be...
The world would feel right again.

Poets back when they remembered her tried to write of you two. The bond and kinship and companionship. To have family as ageless and powerful and commanding as oneself. The symbolism both of sisters and the heavens above how they chased each other. They tried with their pale and diluted words to explain love. Kinship. Companionship.
How could they explain it? They have siblings. They have family. But they lack.

They lack the affirmation that is a voice in the distant recesses of the quiet.
They lack the comfort of knowing that even when the sun burns out and the moon grows dim to have someone near.
They lack the breadth and scope and time to realize how much someone means to you when they are gone. To appreciate it when they are near.

They lack. And maybe once, you didn't hold it against them.



But they wounded her.
THEY wounded her.
And now it was not waiting.

---

It was action at first.
Hunting. Seeking. Finding. Demanding. Wanting. Searching.

For her.
It had to be. You had to. You HAD to. There was no other option.
Every corner. Every depth. Every height. Every mountain and hill and valley and vale that you could dream of. Maye ones you only could dream of. To find her.

And find her you did.
A thief and a monster dressed up in rags. Stolen in to wear her face.
Even now, just... realizing that. Daring to think on it more than in passing... It threatens.
Threatens to overtake and consume and swallow whole everything that ever would be.
That someone dared to... lie.
Someone dared to lie about being her.

No.
No, never again.

You've learned since then.
Never Again.


So the hunt resumed.
It changed it's shape. It changed it's face. And you...
Couldn't.

---

His name was Brass Cogs. Nine hundred and forty seven years ago you met him. The last account of his works still safely secured in the lower vaults of the Royal Library. Not because they are restricted, no. Simply because it is aged and fragile. Too many eager hooves would ruin what remains of what's left of him. A personal memoir and some guiding instructions from a defthoof and a clock smith.

More like than not, you are the only one who is aware he even existed anymore. Not even a tomb to carry his name or legacy, the graveyard where he had been buried having been renovated in the coming centuries. Made into a park, so even the dead might enjoy some company once and a while. Doubt anyone else even knows where it had been. Who was buried. How long ago.



But he was an instructor. A fairly simple instructor, but a kindly stallion. Even if his words never quite made sense.
... no. Not that they never made sense. It was simply easier to pretend they didn't.

The lesson had been delayed. Or more aptly, canceled. Rather unexpectedly and suddenly. And for a stallion so well versed in timekeeping, it was a strange thing by far.
It was so much easier to be curious back then. So much easier to just ask directly. And so you had.



Oh what a look he gave. Something between a scowl and a sigh, a look you have long come to learn to love. Though, once, you still tempered it with grace.
The look of a teacher who was just asked a question they know how to answer, but that the student won't understand the answer.

He walked you on to the back, and showed you a clock.
Nothing exceptional, the laquor wasn't yet applied, and the chime hadn't been installed, and it still was yet to be wound. But it was a clock. Well made and well constructed, simply lacking in some of the finery that was emblematic of his craft. A well built hanging clock.

And he looked so tired when he spoke.
"You see, whether you are an artist, or a baker, or a smith, or a mason, or any other sort of craftspony, there is a crime that you commit everytime you create something. Something you and you alone will ever see and ever notice. Some may specialize in learning to see these crimes too, and it is usually the better that they do. So even as you see this, it is fine. Good. Serviceable even."

"But, I know how many of those teeth I had to file down to fit just right. I know if I wind it up and let it tick away, I'll be always listening for those little pauses. Even though I've gotten rid of them. Even though it's now fine. I know it wasn't. And I'll always be listening for- "

---

"-the imperfections."

Brass flowed like water before your eyes. Bronze and brass weaving into a delicate lattice that you alone could feel through your magic. Heated and cooled and perfected and warmed as it danced in the air before you.
What did it matter that the air shimmered and sparked here? No one was permitted in the first place. If this wasn't yours, nothing was.

Thinner than hair, finer than silk each strand of that boiling alloy was held taunt in your magic. Just to the edge where even a breath would shatter it. Spun finer and gentler and looser, wrapping around in thinnest layer by layer.


It twisted on angles that could not be touched. Powered by magic she could hardly grasp, and turned to a direction that wasn't on any map.
But it bent correctly. It turned the world. It moved all the same.
It would suffice.



She knew now what Brass Cogs meant.
She saw it in every pony she met. In every face, in every smile, in every hope and word and creation they made now.
The flaws. The cracks. The misteps and mistakes.

They were weak. And selfish. And shortsighted and cruel and hungry.
They could hardly crawl, let alone walk. And they had wounded her sister.
They had shackled her to this throne.

Her hunt had been stopped. Her focus had been hurt. And no more could she search for Luna now.
Not with such an impudent needing herd at her hooves.
Underhoof.


She had felt her.
She had felt Luna.
And she had awoken.


Then let them have this.
Have this, a final undeserved mercy
A clockwork queen to reign from on high / The regalia for what would be the final day / A monument to their sins and her sister

 

[Alan975]

I am back at it! Trying to figure out how to tone down realism without going full cartoony.

Although I'd appreciate some pointers, having trouble visualizing the Bureau uniform and distinct looks for Evil, Paranoia and Ash.

Spoiler: Doodle

BlueSky post

 

[spiderhellian]

Shedding Heat Like Skin

You can feel the heat from here.

You are Velvet Covers, and you have not even crossed the threshold into Canterlot Castle, and you can feel. The heat. From here.

When Selene had collapsed into your forelegs, her tears spent, you had been concerned. When Cadance had sent you an urgent message, with few words conveying an ocean of need, you had been worried.

Now? As you feel oddly warm, and feel sweat prickle your back, and cross into the castle all the same? Now, you feel scared.

---

Ever since the day you strolled into a search camp and took it over, you've signed up for the hard jobs. Coordinating the search was just the start. Teaching a cult, and then betraying it. Climbing a mountain almost no one could climb, and opening a gate truly no one could open, because it was your daughters needed to be safe.

Today, your best friend in Equestria has the hard job, and you wish you could do more to help.

You can calm Cadance when the stress feels unbearable. Help her muster the strength or will to keep going, and venture back into the furnace that half the castle has become. Talk to her, and try to untangle the mess that seems one spark short of a firestorm.

You just wish you could do more. You remember the moment when, only a few floors away, it felt like the entire castle — the entire country — orbited around you. You've gained so many tools since then, but none seem to fit this intractable lock.

Except…

Except perhaps one.

The scorching heat makes every one of Cadance's forays all-too-short and all-too-risky. Her mane is growing increasingly singed each time, the poor dear. She is formidable -- you would be incinerated a dozen times over -- but it's never quite enough.

It might be something about being back in Canterlot. It might be feeling like you're doing your utmost, and it's nowhere close to enough. Whatever it is, your mind is going back to school. Not university, but elementary school. You liked when they taught about animals, even though you knew that stuff didn't matter, not really. Not like magic did.

Still, you remember a few things. That bunnies like carrots. That raccoons like garbage. That snakes don't like it when it's too hot.

Truly, that's about it. You're not sure why they can't handle too much heat, but they certainly couldn't. The scorching sun would send them to some hiding spot, or any other way to cool down.

Snakes have caused you problems -- or, more precisely, or one snake in particular has caused you a myriad of problems. Even if she's been more helpful, recently. You chide yourself for a moment -- would you rather Silky not have her Cutie Mark!? -- but old habits die hard.

Still, perhaps this time, they can do you a favour.

The next time you send Cadance off, again, you trail (many steps) behind her. You see heat shimmers surround her, and feel the temperature like a weight on your hooves. Like they've been placed into a fire -- or, after you take a few more steps -- dipped into lava.

It hurts.

But you had a lesson, once, in taking excruciating pain and using it to form a passage. Transmuting something that ate at you, and burned you, into a form of key.

!​

A Silver Key.

!!​

So you take the heat in your hands, and you reach out, and you twist--

!!!​

You will never be sure what, precisely, you did. You definitely can't fully comprehend it, Baldomare would only tease you, and it will be a hot day in Tartarus before Axe volunteered the information.

You might have carved a tunnel through the heat that was slowly melting rock. You might have bent that radiance in a circle, so the fires chased themselves instead of gnawing at Cadance like hungry wolves. You might have done something much, much, stranger -- you wouldn't put anything past those ancient snakes.

But you have done something. And it did make a difference.

...And you think you will go lie down now, and wait for Cadance's return.

Spoiler: AN

To be continued, in the histories where this doesn't happen:

* Velvet seeking close-ups of Mareinette's cooking, like she's doing an impression of an Iron Chef cameraman.
* Velvet pestering Selene to send her skyward, because "Those stars are silvery!"
* Velvet taking altogether much too interest when Silky mentions her friend Silver Spoon.

...Can you tell that I'm getting desperate?

This is just to say that knowing our Edge Sacrament has only made me even more curious the impact our Knock Sacrament had. Or will have. To the point I've started to return to that other habit the Snake plagued me with, weird-theory-omakes But c'mon, tell me Axe wouldn't rather warp space than move if she was getting a little too warm while sunning on a rock!

 

[DelightedOne]

In which Love starts to understand

---

You are Princess Cadance and you will spend the rest of the day with your best friend.


You know there is so much more to do. The situation with Princess Celestia's rooms was something you did not expect and you feel like there is more about it.


But Velvet said this might help you deal with things better, that you could be stronger if you take the time to learn. You believe her.


The truth is that since that night with Velvet and Mareinette(that you still can't quite remember) you have learned things about the World that somehow make as much sense as the love you carry in your heart.



And Velvet Covers will tell you more about these things. She said she wanted to see you at her office in the Lunar Bureau.


You are not exactly supposed to be here at the moment, but your title is quite useful when you need it to be.



Even though you were here not too long ago her office seems... different, almost like the room itself was prepared for this. You can notice this even at your place at the door.


And there she is, at her table, with a tea set ready for your little not-exactly-permitted meeting.


"Cadance!" Your friend greets you. "You are right on time. Come in."


"Oh, I hope you don't mind the choice of drink. A friend of mine told me how to make it." She explains.

"Here." She lifts a teacup with magic and fills it with the contents of the kettle.

"I don't mind at all." You reassure. "But I thought we were supposed to talk about... You know."


"And we will, but there is no reason to not enjoy some tea while we talk isn't there?"

"I... guess it doesn't." You admit, your voice coated with exaustion. "Sorry, I just- this month was..." Your voice trails off.

"I know, Caddy, I know." She says and you believe her, she spent a good chunk of it helping you so you had time to solve the issue with Princess Celestia's quarters.


"Well, are you ready then?" She asks, measuring your willingness to keep on this new path. Giving you a chance to turn back.


"I am." a resolute answer comes from you. You know this is important somehow, that you need to learn more about... these strange things.


"Good." A smile, slight but still sincere. Then she says you should try the tea.


So, you take a sip of your tea-

__


​

And you can see the moment she seems to go still, with a calm smile on her face.

"Cadance, do you remember the last time we spoke?" There is slight chill in the air as she pauses. "What we talked about I mean." She clarifies.

"Yes?" Your voice takes a confused tone. Your face pinches as you hear the confusing phrase that leaves your muzzle.

"Good. Now to give a bit more context to what I was saying."

"Everything ends eventually, that is something that you need to know to understand the beauty of Winter".

"So keep yourself calm and remember that this will end one day. So we may leave it in the past where it belongs."


You can't say a word, not because she doesn't let you, but because her words, as few as they were, are more than enough. In fact, you have a suspicion they exceed what is necessary and that she only said that much because you could not grasp the meaning of her silence.


Silence that takes over the rest of the short time you made to talk to her.


And as you leave you can't stop thinking about how cold it was in her office... and how you didn't even notice it until she opened the door for you to go your own way.


Princess Cadance has learned to draw strength from patience.

Princess Cadance has reached Winter 1.

__​

​

Watch as she starts from to tap a slow but constant rhythim with her hoof.


The rhythm is achingly familiar and comforting, a promise of safety and growth over eternity as long as the music doesn't cease.


Then suddenly it- she stops. But there is no place for silence here so the moment Velvet Covers withdraws her hoof you hear her voice say.


"This is just a basic side of the laws of preservation."

"Few things last that is true, but there are echoes that travel far and wide. Showing that even if one instrument of the orchestra stops working another will take its place."

And she keeps talking, but the sound becomes background noise to your ears, because you are still focused on that song.

It almost scares you how much those simple motions captivated you. Almost.


The only reason it didn't was that... for some reason... You felt as if it was safe, as if the sound was telling you how to protect anything dear to you.


And so your voice took over when she had finished her part, and her followed yours as you kept your conversation in motion. Every moment filled with sound.


When it is time for you to leave, you realize that none of your time with her was spent in silence and that the sound of your heartbeat could not be ignored for the rest of the day.


Princess Cadance has learned about perseverance.

Princess Cadance has reached Heart 1.

__​

And then you notice a mischevous smile make its home in her face.


"I just felt like you needed a break". She says. "Just some time to enjoy yourself."


"I feel like what you really need is to be able to savor more of the experiences that you have access to." She lifts a hoof nonchantly. "Sure, you are a Princess but deep down you are a mare too. Asking you to carry so many responsibilities without rest is just horrible."


That smile becomes softer, as if it is trying to convince you to trust her. Even if that is not necessary anymore.


So you keep talking to her. Jokes, gossip, gushing about your husband.


Anything that makes your life taste a little sweeter.


And when it is time to leave, you find you are not sated, not fully. That you wish for something like this to happen again.


But now you don't feel guilty from wanting this.


Princess Cadance has learned how to use her time to have fun and recover.

Princess Cadance has reached Grail 1.

__​

And watch as she starts to explain to you what all those small moments meant.


How they were meant to guide you to this specific moment with her.



So that she could teach you everything you should learn. Everything you need to learn, if you're going to succeed.


Princess Cadance has learned all you could teach her in this short amount of time.

Princess Cadance has reached Level 1 in Winter, Heart and Grail.

---

You are Velvet Covers. After all, who else could you be?

As you watch Cadance leave, the usefulness of Baldomare's Sacrament is the only thing on your mind.

The chance to take a peek at those choices you couldn't or wouldn't make, those possibilities that are closed to you forever now that History has moved forward.


That is a tool you are glad you have access to. And you can't wait to see what your Sacrament will reveal.

Spoiler: Author notes

Another one done!

This is pretty basic Velvet uses Baldomare's Sacrament to see if she did the right choice in how to teach Cadance the lores, either she taught her one or all of them. Based on Selene's introductory lore lesson.

Probably not how that works, but it was fun to think about.

 

[Shaper47]

The Velvet​

It is dark, an old darkness that has never known of the light.

It was here in this cradle of roots that a Goddess was born.

The taste of the blood that gave life to the birth still lingers upon the roots.

It was here that she fled when she fell, wounded and poisoned.

It was here that she died.

The Woods kept the body of their child a secret.

Kept it safe.

But now...

'...'

You step into the darkness.

It feels wrong, like a taboo that has been broken, a rule violated, a light shined upon a secret.

'...'

However nothing is here to stop you.

The Woods are no longer able to keep this place hidden.

You have traveled far to these once hidden roots and now you behold the hidden secret.

The corpse of a goddess.

'...'

You reach out your hoofs and touch

Spoiler: This is the End

dtheformsofchaosdanceend

You step back your Soul filled with the secrets you had torn forth.

'...'

You feel the breath of your son on your back.

Taste his hunger for what is before him.

Still this is your prize and he will bow to the will of his mother.

What shall you do with this fallen Goddess of the Woods?

[ ] Take her skin (unlocked by personal Moth Sacrament): "Who will remember the barber's child?" You will take her skin, her form, what remains of her for yourself. Such a powerful mask you shall create.
-Immediately gain 2 Moth scraps
-Gain trait "The Velvet"

[ ] Devour her (unlocked by Mareinette's Grail Sacrament): "Embrace the changes and be consumed!" You will feast upon the body of a Goddess. Oh, what power you shall claim from such a meal.
-Immediately gain 2 Moth scraps
-Immediately gain 2 Heart scraps
-Immediately gain 3 Grail scraps
-Gain trait "Old Blood" which grants an extra 3 maximum health
-Gain special resource "Velvet remnants"

[ ] The Dead shall no longer be Dead!: Your blood shall be given and life shall rise anew from the ashes of a Goddess. A loyal child shall walk the world once more.
-Gain and Befriend the summon "Velvet Wolf"
-[THIS IS A REGRETTABLE ACTION]

Spoiler: Velvet Wolf

"A tall and slender unicorn mare, with light brown coat and a long white mane. Despite her stunning beauty she so very easily goes unseen. Her glorious red eyes always seem to be filled with such amusement unless they are looking at you in which case they are filled with love."

Summoning requirements: MOTH 120, EDGE 60, WINTER 60.

Summoning cost: 100 bits.

Summoning details:
-The Velvet Wolf is capable of CHANNELING the highest intensity of Influence in her Lore, and gifting it to you for a full month. She is also capable of CHANNELING a lower-intensity Influence of her secondary Lores, although both of you consider that to be a waste of her time.
-The Velvet Wolf is considered to be a Minion, and does not mind being sacrificed for Rituals.
-As a befriended Child, the Velvet Wolf is no temporary summoned creature (although she must still be resummoned if she is sacrificed or destroyed)

Health: 8
General bonus: +40
Aspects: MOTH 7, EDGE 4, WINTER 4, [YOUKNOWWHATYOUDID 4]
[ONCE AN HOUR]: There is, or was, a hierarchy within the Mansus. She had reached the highest within its ranks.
[ONE WHO IS VERY GREAT]: The Velvet Wolf is willing to offer you Sacrament in the Lore of Moth, an offer graced to any loyal to Velvet Cover.
[WEIGHT OF PRESENCE]: The Velvet Wolf grants a full level up to the Secret Library for her preferred Lore.
[LOYAL]: Is loyal to Velvet Covers faction. She will refuse summons from any other faction, has one additional action per turn (for a total of two), and regenerates two health per turn if wounded. She is also more likely to activate influences on herself, as needed, and to lend aid to Velvet Covers faction when narratively relevant. If destroyed, she may be resummoned after one full month immediately.
[SECRETHIDER]: Narratively and mechanically Velvet Wolf hides the secrets that Velvet Covers would prefer kept secret. Lowers suspicion every turn without spending any action points.

[In Service To Our Mother]: Will narratively and mechanically aid Soft Sweeps in her actions.

[IN LOVE]: Is against anyone who hurts her beloved mother and will no accept slights against her. Will not take prisoners of those who have hurt Velvet Covers in combat. Will not allow retreat for enemies of Velvet. Narratively will take action against those Velvet Covers hates. No forgiveness, no mercy, no matter what.