Pace of Only

Rarity looked aghast. “Are you sure that’s how you want to go about it?”

“Are you sure we can go about it?”

“Well...no. But the effort must be made.”

“All there ever is. Always futile. In the end.”

“We’re not talking about ends, it’s the middle. The thick of it!”

Rarity kept her gaze adrift, as if lost in a dimming thought.

Twilight Sparkle lay on her back. Staring at the ceiling. Guarding the cobwebs.

The cobwebs were her allies in this matter. Someday she would cease and pass on to them, to home.

The ivory tower that had once been her home, inspiration to shun out all else and dwell inert, spurning motion. No, she hadn’t been inert, she’d been stuffing the head with books. Even up to that point, she hadn’t altogether renounced motion.