Silence.
Complete, serene silence. Not a gust of wind brushing against the old tree's window panes; nor a single chipper from the roosting birds in the canape above the lonesome home nestled far out in the vacant countryside. Not even the meeting of quill to paper made much a sound --if any-- as the faint glow of white magic held aloft the nimble feather. Immersed in the void of blissful silence, the lone stallion within the bosom of his own wood-wall hearth relinquished his thoughts to the words he wrote out. His listless, sleep filled eyes followed along the written ink of his words, remarking each thought he laid out against the paper...
The Elements of Harmony, long since lost to the sands of time, have again retaken my thoughts. Waking or slumbering, my mind is enthralled by the prospects of these... tools. Crafted by Gods to be put in the lofty care of mere mortals. It astounds me --humbles me-- to be among such a well trusted race. Yet, I am too perplexed at the prospects as well. To what ends were these tools given to us? Why us? For what divine or --perhaps-- benign purpose does this all mean? I am greatly humbled to admit that even I am lain bare to the true nature.
Verily, though I think, it mayhaps mean nothing in the end of what I think of them. The Elements of Harmony were not sent by Gods to be handled by me. They were sent to be placed in the highest capacity our race could conjure. My hopes to this day remain the same... I hope to see the birth of these most capable of using these tools for the greater good of Canterlot. By my own credence, I admit that I have my worries on the future of Canterlot; of Equestria. In my dreams --nightmares-- I see the maw of a terrifying beast engulfing land before I awaken in a blinding white.
This darkness I see... It binds my mind with fear, as well as brings me a beacon of something more. It merely may be my tired mind testing me. But, I feel as though--
The quill skipped against the paper suddenly as an abrupt gust of wind was sent through the entirety of the cramped hovel. Pieces of paper placed off to the side were sent against the new rush of air, prompting the stallion working so diligently to raise his head from his work slowly and offer a tired glance to the source of the gust. On the other end of his quaint hovel, standing in the passage of a freshly open door, was a single mare with a dignified stature about her. With nary a word, the mare stepped into the stallion's abode and had the door shut behind her with a quick flicker of blue from her horn. The stallion himself snorted a disgruntled snarl at the mare before returning his attention to the work on the table.
Though the door was now closed once more --otherwise returning the home to how it was once moments ago-- silence was not to return. Now, the sound of a quill heavily etching into wood through a piece of paper filled the room, the stallion's writing becoming more 'focused'. The mare --a dark coated, fair sort with luxurious wings-- took an ear to the heavy quill-falls and made a soft yet audible clear of her throat. "Thou knowest that with such laden strokes of ink, thy inkwell shell be dwindled to nary a dribble and thy quill will splinter; hm?"
The stallion halted a moment, letting his quill dip back into a nearby inkwell and for his nostrils to intake a soothing huff. Thoughts of order, duty, practice, and promises raced through his mind before he slammed a rather thick pair of hooves against his table, causing his inkwell and quill to clink against one another. The mare did not flinch at the sudden action, holding to her visage a collected and dismissive tone. The stallion put one of his hooves against his heavy cloak and ran down the hem of it, seemingly to collect his thoughts before speaking. "...Princess... As much as I do so love unceremonious intrusions of my private dwelling by you or any member of our cavalcade-of-sorts; I must inquire a most simple inquisition upon you..." His words tried to remain as calm as his tone attempted to be, though the falter of it into bother failed him, "...Why are you intruding on my house when you could bother your sister? Or, perhaps you could twiddle your hooves with that ghastly creature your sister keeps around. You could even gossip like tarts with what-she-goes-by. Alas! You do not! You break into my house while I work, send my papers to scatter around my home, and tell me how to write!"
"...Thy door had nary a lock on it," the princess rebutted, a slight smirk coming about her face, "And do pardon us --O' Awesome and Omnipotent Star Swirl-- should we --A mere mare-- offer a piece of advice in all our hubris," The mare bowed to Star Swirl, rolling a hoof before her in a fit of dramatics.
Star Swirl tapped his hoof against his robe a moment more, allowing the princess' words to sink in and digest. Sure enough, he allowed a calm to overtake his expression before glancing back over to Luna. "...Luna... Would you please take leave of my home...? Now...? Please...?" He kept his teeth gritted together behind his muzzle, attempting to keep all his inner feelings behind a facade.
The dark princess pondered the request tapping one of her dressed hooves against the wooden floor of Star Swirl's home. When she finally voice her answer, Star Swirl felt a nerve burst behind his right eye. "In all fairness... Twas our house we have to thee..." She answered plainly.
"LUNA!" Star Swirl took to a commanding, teacher-esque voice as he focused all his attention to her, "Get out of my house! Or... Or...! Or I shall tattle on you to your sister!"
Luna's eyes widened and she gave a snarl back at the old stallion. "Old fogey! We have not a single fear of our own sister! Go ahead! Tell her!" Luna challenged; though, as she saw Star Swirl turn around to receive his letter parchment, she quickly bolted out of the stallion's home with not another word.
Left alone once more, Star Swirl looked over his shoulder at the spot Luna once occupied. For a moment, he sighed before returning to his notes laid out on his work table. His quill --freshly inked-- was drawn out from the well and placed back against the piece of paper, writing another trail of the old stallion's words.
I feel as though there is much in this world I do not yet understand. Knowing that, I come to realize how fleeting my world has come to be. I am alone with my thoughts... For I know that my thoughts are my own. There is none other in this world that can understand what it is I think and fear. That is my fear, it would seem... To have none that understand my thoughts. Not an ally, not a partner, not a loved one... I am alone with my thoughts for now; and perhaps forever.
