Chapters Las Canciones de Voltaire
Capítulo Uno- Anniversary
Just inside of Canterlot’s modest third terrace, below the homes of landed gentry and forever the province of the moderately well-moneyed there was one restaurant that aspired to the appearance and status of the second terrace. It was Le Chateau Gascon, a passable if miniaturized version of a proper chateau, with imposing late Percheron architecture and dark coloration.
Inside the atmosphere was stuffy and subdued, the coloration blood red on the carpets and draperies, the visible walls deep burgundy. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, one for each table scattered around the dining area. Each table also had black velvet curtains draped loosely in a nearly-closed semi-circle around the tables. The music was provided by a classical quartet, slow and ponderous tunes played with all due pomp, making the atmosphere marginally funereal.
It was a slow night, an off time that the restaurant often expected. They could not be packed each time. In fact, that night they had only eight guests, four sets of couples out for a night of romance and closeness. At one table there was a pair of unicorns, one a very light gray stallion with an azure mane, and moustache, the other a mare in a faded rose shade of white, with a pinkie mane and a stripe of her coat color down the middle. Another table held a pair of donkeys, both quite mature. The jenny was a vision of equine elegance with a curly brown mane and smooth, silken coat of lighter shade. The jack was a much more gruff-looking fellow, world-weary but pleased with his company, his coat a similar color but his mane a clearly-artificial golden pompadour.
The last two tables had mismatched pairs. At one there was a smiling, uptight-appearing pale booted eagle griffin, his eyes in constant motion, and his every motion second-guessed and hesitant. His table companion was more relaxed and calm. She was a unicorn mare, a bright orange color with a darker orange mane swept up into a sensible bun. She looked like cheddar cheese with a healthy rind. The last pair were the most unique of all. The stallion was an ordinary earth pony, with a bark brown mane and hunter green coat, looking with unabashed love and adoration towards his tablemate. That tablemate was a Diamond Dog. She was wearing a modified dress in muted green, covering her somewhat gangly but strong form. Her sallow eyes held the brightest emerald irises that could be made, and they were focused on the pony with her. Her un-jowled face was pulled up into a smile, her perky ears rotated forward, giving her tunnel vision and tunnel audio.
“You know, hon, no need to look so stiff.” The orange mare lightly nudged her partner, making the griffin tremble but not loosen up. “It’s not like there’s a waiter watching you waiting to give you a ticket for not acting right, donchaknow?”
“Can’t help it. I’m just some griffin from the Kingdom. I’ve never been anyplace this fancy before. Heck, the only place this fancy in the whole kingdom is probably the High King’s Aerie!” The griffin looked around, as though searching for the nonexistent waiter standing in judgment of him.
“Aww, just relax. We both agreed ta celebrate here after we got that perfect windfall. Jeepers that was super.”
“All the bits we could need for the wedding, and enough for another visit to Canterlot. One of the nicer terraces, even. But this is the big time, something important. We’ve been together for six months.”
“Happiest half a year I’ve ever had.” Aggie Cheddar leaned her head in, pressing it strongly against her fiancé’s keel.
Swallow stroked a talon down her back, resting his head against her horn. “And soon enough it’ll get even better.”
“How smashing. A griffin and a pony together as one. Neither one looks to be a diplomat or a business owner; the relationship looks pure.” Fancy Pants slipped off his monocle and wiped it on his tuxedo. Settling it back on his face he gave a bright smile. “How wonderful to get away from the top terraces. Here is where real relations happens.”
“Indeed…” Fleur de Lis looked at the close couple, pegging them as either newlyweds or an engaged couple. Just a dash of envy jabbed through her chest. She could only aspire to such closeness. “They seem quite close. How admirable that they can be so free.”
“It is most unfortunate that our normal, rarified atmosphere does not foster such closeness. A tragedy. A real tragedy.”
“It’s not as bad as all that. There is plenty of love to be found, even up in the first and second terraces. But you’re right. A casual relationship like that could never flourish with so much pressure from all sides.” Fleur sighed. She would have loved the conversation more if it wasn’t for the fact that she was there as Fancy’s guest; an outing of thanks. Nothing more.
“I wish to once more thank you for coming with me. I know I have interrupted your plans over and over, coming to one gathering or another. It is quite sporting of you to be so willing to put up with all that hassle.”
“It’s hardly a hassle at all. These are very important gatherings, as far as social standing goes. This is quite important in Canterlot. Appearances are everything…” She looked aside at the other interspecies couple. Appearances meant nothing to them. And while there was something familiar about them, all she could truly think was she envied them their unrestricted liberty.
“So pretty! Delicious, delicious gems on the ceiling. So nice that they make everything look so delicious.” Emerald Facet licked her lips as she watched the light glinting off the crystals of the chandelier above her head.
“Ha-ha! Dearest… I don’t think they designed the atmosphere to make folks hungrier. Though it really wouldn’t have been a bad idea. It’s quite uncomfortable in here. Like a funeral parlor. Glad I’ve got you here.” Clear Facet snuggled in against his freshly-minted bride, nosing at her thick neck.
“Handsome pony. Good, strong husband. Will make good, strong puppies. Brave, noble, smart puppies. Best in the world.” Emerald cooed her compliments into her husband’s ears, nuzzling down and leaving little lipstick marks over the backs of them.
“Ah, dear… you think too much of me. I’m just some pony. A nerdy college colt, dammed of a mine investor and sired of a jeweler. Sure, I’m also a Constable and one that others think is something. But I don’t think I’m something. I’ll always think you could have done better with some Alpha Dog out of one of the larger Colonies, or even some sports star pony if you’re so inclined. I don’t deserve you as my wife. You’re too perfect for me.”
Emerald took her husband’s chin in one strong hand and faced him towards her piercing green eyes, enhanced to almost glowing emerald perfection by her pre-dinner appetizer. “No! Will not have stupid puppies. Will not have weak puppies. Will not have cowardly puppies.” She pulled him in to a huge, hot, hard, soul-swallowing kiss, keeping the Diamond Dog tradition of jabbing her tongue deeply down his mouth to taste the subtlety of his sincerity as his body reacted to her. His thrill, the pure excitement of his response, was overpoweringly clear. Though his eyes were wide there was no shock or trembling. There was love and a strong dedication. Adoration and fidelity. She pulled away with the smallest hint of a slurp, a practiced and trained maneuver to keep herself acceptable in pony circles. “Will have YOUR puppies…”
“Oh, just look at them, Doodle.” Matilda sighed softly and leaned in against her old flame’s side, as her eyes lazily cast themselves form couple to couple. “Isn’t it a wonderful sight.?”
Cranky was regarding the assembled as well, but with a hint of a frown on his face. “Hmph. Whippersnappers. The lots of them.” He strayed for a long moment on Fancy Pants. “Well, except for that one. Still, a herd of wet behind the ears younglings. What do they know?”
“Come now, Doodle. We were young once, too. We knew just as little.” Matilda pressed a soft kiss on Cranky’s cheek. “And here we are.”
The barest hint of a smile pulled up Cranky’s lips. “Here we are…”
Do I look the same to you? ‘Cause I don’t feel so.
Night was well-fallen, casting darkness all across the land, from the refined air of Canterlot, out to the dusty expanse of Appleloosa. The orchard was doing as well as ever, the trees growing beautifully and producing huge quantities of eating and baking apples. There was still a trail through the middle of the orchard, for the local buffalo tribe’s stampeding needs. It was a sign of progress and unity, a symbol of harmony and hope in the frontier town.
The other symbols of unity and progress were also in evidence at the orchard. Braeburn Apple, gangly, gawky, mildly feminine, was slowly strolling in the moonlight with his dear, sweet bride, Little Strongheart. She had changed, if only slightly. She was heavier, from the beautifying effects of high-calorie apple pies, all the weight distributed into perfect places; she was also very slightly larger. Her legs had remained graceful and quick, her head had grown heavier and body increased in bulk. But she was nothing at all like her fellow buffalo. She was still not much bigger than a pony. And that was not going to change.
Chief Thunderhooves strode grandly beside the groom-to-be, high on one of the mesas around Appleloosa. "Soon, my calf, you will be one of us, as much as she will be one of yours. This is a great thing you do. You dared the wrath of your own kin, and you remained strong. I admire your fortitude. You are worthy of my tribe."
"Th-thank ya kindly, chief." Braeburn was a nervous wreck. Not only had he become the family pariah, but he was under the usual pressure of the bridegroom, plus being looked at as a symbol for ponies and buffalo. It didn't help things that he was with a huge and imposing stampede leader high on a mesa.
"But as part of my tribe, there is a truth you must know. A secret which has been kept from Little Strongheart. We... never wanted to hurt her. But we never wanted her to know, even if she will eventually discover."
“Wh-what is it? If it’s ‘bout mah wife, ah have ta know!” Braeburn planted his hooves on the broad chest of Chief Thunderhooves, staring him in the eyes.
The great buffalo chief looked aside, seeming contemplative and unsure of himself. Even as he spoke he seemed to be trembling over each word. “When she was born she was… small. Small as a fawn. But she never seemed to notice. She ran with all the calves, stampeding her heart out. She was powerful in spirit, and her name reflected that. She is what you ponies call a ‘dwarf.’ She has never been told that she will never grow much beyond what she is. I know she will see the other calves grow beyond her. And she will not be satisfied being told she is still growing slowly.”
“Golly…” Braeburn looked aside, slowly dropping from the chief’s chest. “T‘aint… t’aint gonna hurt her, is it? When comes th’ time t’call mah shadowy kin fer th’ job a’ advocate… she’s gonna have mah foals, ain’t she?”
A smile spread across the chief’s face. “If she were with a buffalo, there would be concern. It might be dangerous. But with you… your calves will be perfect.”
“Lil Strongheart… dear…” Braeburn sat down beside his wife at the top of Bloomberg Hill, beside the hill’s namesake. He softly chewed his lower lip. Could he actually tell her?
“Yes, my love?” The buffalo cow turned her eyes on him, smiling in perfect contentment.
Suddenly, as all the world shrank to the size of her eyes, it didn’t seem to matter that much. “Ah love you…”
Do you look the same to me? Well I don’t think so.
Hidden somewhere on the sprawling property of Sweet Apple Acres there was little house. Just a fun-sized playhouse, suitable for a filly or colt, but big enough to house a full-grown pony if it was ever needed for such a thing. On the outside it seemed like a proper colt’s clubhouse. Inside, it was a filly’s dream, filled with beautiful things. All of that was hard to see, bathed in shadow and scarcely illuminated by the light of a single low-power electric lantern hanging over the tea table.
Within the little house was Big Macintosh, seemingly alone. He was fussing with the tabletop, which had a few cupcakes, and a small thermos next to the plastic tea set. He was endlessly rearranging the table before the button-gaze of the other occupant of the place. Smarty-Pants. He was not truly alone in there. He knew her mana envelope was forever recording what happened around her, storing emotions and impressions, keeping them forever. And as he was being watched and judged, it all had to be perfect.
“Ah-ah-ah hope y’all likes this, ma’am. It’s all ah could manage. T’aint much but… ah swears to ya it’s all from mah heart.” Big Macintosh looked down on Smarty-Pants with a nervous smile, suffering a severe case of flop sweat even under her unmoving gaze and wholly non-judgmental form. “S-see, ah got us some cupcakes that miss Pinkie Pie tells me are Twilight’s favorites, so you probably will like ‘em too. And ah brought us some tea in this here thermos. So ah… ah jes hope y’all likes all this.”
He’d made a hard decision before. It was a special occasion. They had been together for some time. And when he had been questioning Twilight about her preferences, which probably would have translated to Smarty-Pants, she had very generously offered to infuse her with life again, to make it a proper party. Even if she could not have eaten or drunk anything, she would have been up and about, and talking up a storm.
He had been tempted. Sorely tempted. His mouth had been ready to say yes, but, ironically, his heart was the one that finally told her ‘no.’ He refused the generous offer, because he knew it was wrong. Accepting one, small, innocent come-to-life spell would have made the painful longing in his heart all the sharper when it ended. And his momentary weakness in acceptance would have made weakness all the easier. He’d be asking for more and more. Winding her up like a toy. Living and dying over and over, like he never wanted.
He sat himself down at last, offering a huge, friendly smile to the doll across the table from him. He poured out the tea into the thermos’ lid, and brought a cupcake over to him. “Y’know… it don’t make no never mind t’me if’n t’aint perfect. Yer here with me. That’s all that matters. An’ ever since ah met you it’s all that ever mattered.”
And they said this feeling fades,
Candles. Candles everywhere. There wasn’t much space in the close-hewn mountain passage. And still, candles were arranged. They were heavy, hardy candles, made to last for hours and hours. They lined the long passage and provided the light normally delivered by electric lights. Their waxy drippings almost formed a glistening aisle down the passage and towards an open cell door.
Past the door it was hardly like a prison cell at all. It was tremendously spacious. A vaulted ceiling, hung with lights and planters. Potted plants were all over, along with more candles. A large bookshelf held thick, heavy tomes on many subject. Completing the furniture of the room were two low couches and a small table for two, which had been set for tea. Naturally, a candelabrum was in the middle, throwing off even more wavering light.
“All kings, and all their favorites,/ All glory of honours, beauties, wits,/ The sun it self, which makes time, as they pass,/ Is elder by a year now than it was/ When thou and I first one another saw./ ” Sir Crescent Sliver bowed grandly as he recited the poem perfectly from memory. He was as ever, a stoutly-built scholar stallion unicorn, pure black from face to flank, with a long, luminously white mane and tail, the thinnest sliver of a crescent moon on his flank. On his mature but surprisingly youthful face was a set of pince-nez bifocals. “All other things their destruction draw,/ Only our love hath no decay;/ This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;/ Running it never runs from us away,/ But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day./ ” He rose from his bow, checking to be sure the candles were all lit and glowing properly. “Two graves must hide thine and my corse;/ If one might, death were no divorce… ”* He was silenced then, by a gold-shod hoof lightly touching his lips.
“I treasure, always, your sweet words. It’s like honey dripping from your lips each time your brain chooses some choice verse from your stock and store. But I don’t want you to lie to me. I don’t need the pity of your heart, as sincere as it may be.” Princess Celestia smiled sadly, moving her hoof from Crescent’s lips over his cheek and slowly down his neck. “Don’t spare me a single emotion, painful or sweet.”
“As you wish, my princess…” Crescent genuflected as best he could while keeping his head in position to be caressed by Celestia. “Some words are not my own, after all. I merely take them as they come. And if sometimes my selection is imperfect… I hope you forgive me.”
Celestia deigned to bow her head down, hair sweeping grandly in the low candlelight, almost seeming to provide its own luminescence as it flowed ethereally. Her lips came down on Crescent’s forehead, holding beside his horn for a long moment before she pulled back with a smile. “It’s already forgiven.”
A smile grew on Crescent’s face, as he backed further into the room and indicated the table. “Here’s a small tea service; not bad for a cell, right? Or perhaps… we could just dance a little.”
Celestia considered the options, slowly stroking her chin before silently stepping to the center of the room and swaying to unheard music, in a rhythm that seemed to be intimately familiar to her.
Without missing a beat Crescent stepped into time with her, pressing his head to her chest plate, sighting contentedly and releasing another recitation. “Love’s riddles are, that though thy heart depart,/ It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it;/ But we will have a way more liberal,/ Than changing hearts, to join them; so we shall/ Be one, and one another’s all. ”#
Well, I stumble through the dark and light a candle
Outside of Ponyville proper, opposite of the Everfree forest and well within the broad land between the town and Canterlot, though not too close to the railroad tracks, there was a sprawling, gated expanse, with a manor set upon it, with another right beside it, similarly gated. The Rich manor, and the Lode manor, the two richest families in Ponyville; though, from the size of the grounds, the styles of the houses and the sizes of everything concerned it was clear the Rich family was, appropriately, the richer of the two.
Inside the Rich manor, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were rushing through the halls, towards a room in the back of the place. Through the doors was revealed a lushly-decorated space, brightly lit with colorful lights and blasting the most popular music, the entire space thumping with the power of surging bass. There were tables laden with sweets and savory treats, and all kinds of beverages. “I told you, Spoon. I just have to ask, and they’ll do anything. It helps that I’m such a good filly.”
“Wow, Tiara. You were totally right. This is amazing! And we get to stay up as much as we want to enjoy it?” Silver Spoon looked around the room in muted awe. She was used to indulgent surroundings. But the whole scope of the place was quite impressive. It wasn’t a birthday party, or national celebration. Just something that really only mattered to the two of them. “Did you tell them what it was for?”
“Well, duh! Why do you think they went so far? They really, really like you, you know. They think your family is good enough to associate with, and they think you’re good enough for me. But I could have told them that. I know how spectacular you are.” Diamond winked to her fillyfriend and laughed softly, trotting to the dessert table for a slice of cake.
Silver blushed deeply, reflexively adjusting her glasses and strolling more sedately to the table loaded down with sweet treats and fancy vegetation. She got herself a plate and started loading on slices of white cake, strawberry cupcakes and small fruit bits, in contrast to Diamond’s grazing of richer chocolate foods and heavier flavored cress and mustard greens. “Diamond… you’re always so bold. I can’t thank you enough.”
“For what?”
“For everything you’ve done for me. Standing up for me, teaching me how to be strong like you… letting me kiss you…” Silver adjusted her glasses again and panted a little bit, quickly gobbling down cake and fruit, as well as some ice cream. Anything to keep her mouth from embarrassing her before her passionate, and often strong-hoofed, fillyfriend.
The other filly turned on the spectacled one, looking her over with a jaundiced eye. She moved forward quickly and planted her lips impertinently on Silver’s lips, as soon as the other had finished swallowing her glut of food. Though the kiss lasted on a few seconds it was long enough to let Silver taste the spicy greens and decadent chocolate on her lips. “Like I’d stop you, Silver…” Diamond whispered her words breathily, pulled herself close to the other filly.
Silver gasped once the kiss had ended. She still was not quite used to Diamond’s quick ways, the hot, rapid verve of her personality. She was so slow, sedate, much more hesitant, even after some growth under her tutelage. Rather than try to match the passion, she leaned in her head. “I love you, Diamond…”
Rather than react with her trademarked energy, she simply leaned into the contact and held it. “Love you back, sugarlump rump…”
So we make it into a ring and make a mold.
Fancy, filigreed doors opened up with a sparkle of unicorn magic, allowing two figures admittance to the Canterlot ballroom. “As you might imagine, her majesty has been waiting for you. But she wanted to drag out the anticipation because it is, after all, something of an occasion. Princess Celestia will not be joining you for any of this, she has been called away to some kind of official inspection.” Lime Sherbert, the green-coated lady-in-waiting and maid to Princess Luna motioned into the room. “I will be having dinner elsewhere. So, no service this evening, but I doubt that will be much of a problem.”
“Give my regards to your husband and your uncles. They’ve been very kind to me this time.” Bad Apple the caramel stallion nodded his head, pomade-slick black mane shining in the many bright lights in the ballroom. “And so have you. I take it you’ve warmed to me a bit?”
“I’ll admit… I find you less questionable these days. But only because her majesty and I have found ways to compare our emotions and have even taken in a third who understands separation, though without any details. Her majesty, of course, honors your wishes to be unknown.”
“All the better to spare her from my vile huckster stench.” Bad Apple nodded smartly and trotted slowly into the room.
“I always find you smell of apples and distant lands.” Princess Luna strode grandly to the door, leaning her head down to touch snouts with Bad Apple. “I have been advised, by a benefactor whose name need not be revealed, to confess my passion and my love. For I am a mare with needs of a natural mare, and driven to be a feeder of pedigrees; but I would not that my foals be old-field colts. Were I to ‘get an heiress or heir I would their sire be vaunted afore all the Principality.”
“And on that note, I’m off to see if my husband wants to go out. I hope he says no.” Lime laughed softly and saw herself out, closing and locking the doors as she departed.
Bad Apple looked around the room. It had practically been set for the gala. The whole place was decorated to the nines, with streamers and confetti all about, and tables piled with food of all description. “Have you been visited by the future Mrs. Sparkle-Pie?”
“Nay, but her contrivance for the decoration of revels. I did think that you would prefer some to-do aside from dull cakes and ale.”
“When you, of all ponies, consider cakes and ale to be ‘dull’ then I know you really want some excitement. You didn’t hire DJ P0n-3 for mood music, did you?”
“Tush! Nah, nay, my beloved silly heart. ‘Twould be overmuch. Yes… I had hired Octavia Philharmonica and her party, but she refused to work without her beloved. ‘Tis no great loss. All the music we require be the beating of our hearts and the pant of our breaths… but let that pass, for the nonce. There be time enough for such symphonies of flesh and blood. Now, we need only avail ourselves of this feast.”
Bad Apple was already drinking from a glass of sparkling carrot juice, holding a plate piled with vegetables. “I’ll drink to that. Later on we can worry about feasting the other way. I think we both plan to gorge ourselves silly.”
And they said our love would fade,
At the Sweet Apple Acres farmhouse proper there was a party in full swing. It was a real hootenanny, with victrola-provided jaunty country music, laid out with apple-related main dishes and snacks, all happening in a spare party room whose floor was covered in sawdust and peanut shells, giving the impression of a barbecue and hoedown.
Granny Smith sat in a rocking chair, lightly dozing and shirking her responsibility as chaperone. Taking up her slack was Applejack, who mostly sat back and looked on the scene with an expression of approval. Before her eyes were the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and Zecora.
The four folk were all there for the same thing, but the two couples were like night and day. Applebloom was line dancing up a storm, laughing at Zecora’s game attempts to follow along. But she was laughing at herself, which made it perfectly fine. As contrast, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were separated by some distance, not looking at each other at the same time, and putting more focus on their snacks than on any kind of personal entertainment.
“Come on, all y’all! Come join us in dancin’! See, even Zecora’s givin’ it a try. An’ she’s good at it, too!” Applebloom called out to her friends with bright cheer, pressing up against Zecora’s side.
“Yes, little ones, come and try!/ Or at least look one another in the eye.” Zecora dropped a quick wink, and went back to her increasingly-competent line dancing.
Scootaloo looked up first, her wings fluttering a little bit with the quavering of her heart. She did not immediately duck back down again, allowing her to catch Sweetie Belle’s eye. The effect was like two similar magnetic poles contacting, their heads almost shooting down as blushes spread across their faces.
“Little fillies moon and sigh…/” The zebra leaned in to kiss Applebloom on the cheek and give her a wink. “But at least they gave it a try.”
Applebloom winked back and bounded around suddenly, circuiting Zecora several times. “Everypony can’t be like us. Nothin’ beats bein’ able t’say yer in love!”
Unseen by any of the other ponies in the room, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had moved closer together. Though they never looked at each other Scootaloo whispered, “Love you.”
Sweetie glanced quickly aside, a deep blush coloring her cheeks. “Love you more…”
Some say things worth having take some time.
In the royal gardens of Canterlot two pegasus royal guards strolled casually under the moonlight. One was a large, strong sort with piercing golden eyes, some extra piping on his barding indicating he had a status above an ordinary guardspony. The other was more willowy, slightly smaller, but still with all the dignity of a royal guard, even if his face was marked with a deep cranberry blush.
“You know, Rosy… it’s never been easy for us. I didn’t expect it to be. I think I knew, from the first minute I saw you, when I knew you were… like me, that we were going to be in it for the long haul.”
Rosy Cranberry nodded slowly, solemnly, pressing his head against his husband’s neck. “It was so hard to hide for so long. Until the moment you told Princess Celestia. When her blessing came down… I have never felt so free. Every eye that would have judged us passed over us like water. All the tongues that were wagging stopped. And I had you. My big, strong Golden sweetheart.”
Golden Stare stood a little taller, and strode a bit more confidently. “You gave me the strength to go on. When I thought about getting out before I got hurt, the look on your face made me realize it was all worth it. It’s always been worth it. Every minute. Every second. When I’m standing there at the palace gate with you beside me, I almost can’t stop the smile growing over my face. But one of us has to have a little restraint. That blush of yours is bright enough to light a Hearth Warming tree.”
The aforementioned blush grew in intensity, his head pressing tighter against his beloved hubby’s neck, his pace slightly trembling as he drank in the love and warmth of the bigger stallion. “You make me happy. Every day, it’s the most special day of my life. Every day is our wedding. Every day is when we retire to Cloudsdale to putter and raise birds.” Rosy laughed a little and kissed Golden’s neck. “And every day is the first time we met.”
Golden turned slightly to kiss his husband on the head, just below his helmet. “I hope you mean that. Because I know one thing for a fact. I’ll always be there for you. No question.”
And they said our love would fade,
All across Equestria, in vastly different environments, at varied times and with no rhyme or reason beyond the celebration of the passage of time, love was in full bloom. Expressed or implied, new-minted or long-cherished, it was present and beautiful. It was what made Equestria grand.
They said we’d drift away
*: “The Anniversary” by John Donne
: “Lovers’ Infiniteness” by John Donne
Las Canciones de Voltaire
“Vinyl!” Octavia’s voice was just above a whine, echoing down the corridor she was trotting through, led along by Vinyl. “Come on, enough of this. Take this thing off me.” She was wearing a blindfold, for all the good it did, given the darkness of the slightly-trashed passage, broken only by low light emerging from slanted windows near the ceiling. The floor clopped underhoof, solid but slightly giving, likely linoleum.
“No! Come on, Octy, trust me.” Vinyl used her electric blue tail to lead her marefriend along, caressing her cheek gingerly to keep her on track. She was focused on the slight glow down the corridor. “Almost there, babe.”
The two mares eventually emerged from the passage into a backstage area, somewhat junky and darker than the back passage. “Vinyl… This isn’t funny anymore. I keep tripping.”
“Ok, ok, here…” Vinyl’s horn glowed. Removing the blindfold from Octavia. “Here it is, babe. What do ya think?” The white unicorn was beaming with tremendous pride, despite the fact that it was a dusk-dark and junky environment.
“What do I think? It’s a junkpile.”
I hear your voice
Octavia could hardly believe it. Her lover was wonderful but crazy! She had dragged her, at night, blindfolded, to a ruined old… something somewhere unknown. It was so… Vinyl. She shook her head disbelievingly as Vinyl said, “Come on, Octy. You’re not being fair.”
“’Not being fair’? Let me see… debris on the floor, broken equipment, hanging ropes, dust everywhere, no lights except what comes in from outside… yes, you’re right. I’m being completely unfair to this disaster area. At least it has a roof, right?”
“Come ooooon! I promise you, you’ll love it.” Vinyl lit her horn and lifted her glasses, to reveal her bright red eyes. “You trust me, don’t you?” She shot a wink to the earth pony standing in judgment of her and her choice of locations.
Octavia caught her breath in her throat, her expression softening as she looked at Vinyl’s expression. So confident, without smarm. That alone was something of a surprise. She heaved a sigh and smiled brightly. “Fine. I trust you. And the flooring of this place.”
I see your face
“Come on, just through here.” Vinyl indicated some curtains, behind which could be seen some soft light. “I promise you, this is worth the trouble.” She giggled in anticipation. So close to the big reveal.
Octavia rolled her eyes a bit and smiled at her dear one. “Alright, Vinyl. I’ll play your little game. Come on. What’s through that little curtain that’s going to-” Octavia’s quasi-snarky comment died on her lips as the curtains parted, spreading out the scene before her.
Oh, for just a moment of your time
“Come on, Snips, hurry up!” Snails, the long-legged unicorn colt, cantered freely over a hill outside of Ponyville. It was early on a summer night, the stars sparkling, the breezes slightly cool, in contrast to the warm air when all was still. Snails looked back, to see his short-legged friend lagging behind, trotting desperately on his stubby limbs.
“We’re gonna be late, Snips, we have to hurry!” Despite his desperation, Snails held his ground, and waited until Snips reached his side. “Do you need me to carry you?” He said, mock-sternly.
“No!” There was a long pause, as Snips attempted to look steadfast and stern. He failed after a bit. “Yes.”
Do you hear me?
The chubby pony clambered atop his willowy companion and clung on for dear life as he took off. “Don’t worry, Snips, I’ll get you there.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going!” Snips had to yell at the top of his lungs, to cancel out the wind rushing around him, his hooves settling securely to the shoulders and flanks of his transport platform.
“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.” Snails beamed vacantly and galloped on.
“You never tell me anything...” Snips groused. And it was true. As great a friends as they were, the other colt more often than not simply did things, and counted on his friend to follow along. Not that Snips MINDED that too much. He was glad to do it for Snails. But he wanted to be consulted. At least a little.
You don’t see me
Even if he didn’t always consult his friend, Snails was always concerned about him. It was hard not to. It had been them against the world for so long they were bonded together as solidly as possible. The very thought of it made a smile break across his face while he bounded across the rolling, grassy hills. “We’re almost there!”
“Hurry up! I wanna know what’s happening!”
“Just a minute.” As soon as they crested the next hill he’d see. It made Snails smile all the wider and brighter. Just a few more gallops to what he had been waiting for.
I’ve been here since last night at nine
Out in Schwarzwald, just through the outskirts, was the double-occupancy better-than-a-shack belonging to Gilda sen Electra O’Bald and Trixie Lulamoon. In most respects a perfectly ordinary Equestrian couple, being females engaged in a romantic relationship. Gilda was a griffin, which was uncommon but in no way distressing. Trixie, however, hid her ethnicity, knowing she was one idiotic stereotype away from being pushed to do something desperate. Not that Kleinpferd folk were naturally very unkind to Roani. But most Equestrians, particularly those outside of large cities tended to have some longstanding traditional feelings about such folk.
Trixie arrived home from her usual trip into town. She was very uncomfortable being tied to a home, after a life of caravan-riding and drifting town-to-town, never wearing out her welcome if she could help it, and never getting too attached to much more than her necessary things. Now she was tied to this home, this town and, more fundamentally, to Gilda.
She emptied her bit pouch into a bowl by the door, another little trinket she had created for decorating the rather bare home. The clinking of coins in the wooden bowl gladdened her heart. They would eat well. She could even afford to buy Gilda the good soy steaks that actually tasted like meat. She could probably get actual meat, but she wanted to wean Gilda off non-fish flesh. She wanted to make her more Equestrian, one step at a time. A chuckle poured from her lips. She realized how silly it seemed, changing a griffin. It was also a cliché, the new girlfriend changing her lover bit by bit. But not too much. There was a lot to admire about Gilda.
Trixie settled herself down in the big central nest, snuggling into the pillows scattered all around and having a look at the clock on and wall, yet another touch of personality; it was a refurbished piece of clockwork from town, which had been rejected by a cuckoo clock maker and fixed up into an effective motor, with some scraps applied to it to show the time. Gilda would be home from her aerobatic activities soon. Gilda…
“Gilda sen Electra O’Bald-Lulamoon…” She tasted the name on her lips, feeling it out, checking how it hit her. She’d HAVE to graft on the name. Her Roani pride would demand that her wife take her name, become a member of the clan; Gilda’s griffin pride would dictate she keep her name whole, to show her bloodline and clan line. Maybe if she was lucky their children could get away with an O’Lulamoon.
Children… She was actually thinking about children. Filly Fooler or Populator, one of the most important things for the Roa was family. And making children was the deepest sign of a bond. Gadje or born-in-blood Roa, that was the sign you had been accepted. She was bringing this outsider into her clan, in her mind and her heart. She could feel the slightest sting of tears dance at the corners of her eyes. How strange.
She had lived a life of sorrow, by and large. She had put on a painted smile and brash attitude to paste over the sadness of a life lived under the fear and hatred of others. The screaming insults, the silent judgment, the filthy looks, the anonymous notes, the vulgar graffiti, even assault and arson. Her being a child for much of it did not stop the horrible things. She had wept, she had sobbed, she had bawled, shedding useless tears over those she hated. Wasting her emotions on hate. Never before in her life had she had a good, clean, pure CRY. As tears of happiness dripped from her eyes, she let them gather on her cheeks, mouth pulled up into the biggest smile she could ever remember.
You made me cry more than
Gilda sighed softly and rolled her shoulders as she glided down in a circling motion, landing in her clean yard. Clean yard. It was always a surprise. It hardly looked like her place. The debris was gone, the grass was munched down to size, things looked healthy. All thanks to her hen. Mare. Her mare. HER mare. That was something new.
She’d had… partners, before. Even Dash had been more of a partner than a real lover. Her emotion had been more possessive than romantic. She had fed her ego with Dash’s daring and style, testing herself to make herself look good, and to have an ornament worthy of her grandeur. But she had never been her mare. That’s why she could, in the end, give her up. But not her. Trixie was her mare. Not as a trinket. But as a pony, her own being.
Those thoughts filled her mind as she opened the door. “Hey, I’m home. Those crowds at the little shows are brutal. At least I got paid.” She dumped out her bits into the bowl, looking into the nest. At first she saw only the tears shining on Trixie’s face. “Hey, babe, you alright? Did one of those ponies yell at you? Do I need to pound some squawker’s head into his…”
You made me smile despite myself
“No! … No. I'm fine.” Trixie let her face be seen, revealing the tremendous smile on her face. “I was just sitting here, thinking... about us. How much I love being with you. And how happy I am to have you in my life. Someday... hippogriffs...”
“Hippogriffs...” Gilda repeated, beak pulling up slightly as she imagined it. Some segments of culture died hard. Chicks were a big deal to a griffin. In a harsh land there was always a chance that things could go wrong. Chicks that made it were very special. And numbers meant more survived. She had been raised with the idea of making lots of little griffins, to glorify and honor the family and clan. Before, she had been antagonistic to such a thing. With her mare, however, that was far from the case. “How many eggs do you want?”
Trixie laughed, rubbing her belly lightly. “None, I hope. I don't know how hybrids work. But I wanted to be the one. So they could be born Roa. That's alright... right?”
Cultures clashed. Being born Roa might mean they weren't born Bald. The Equestrian government and tradition and all the citizens would openly, freely and repeatedly say the boys were mac Gilda and the hens were sen Trixie, but she'd know the truth. Unless some very different magic got involved, of course. Her parents would say... something stupid and pointless. The powerful griffin flopped down in the nest, cuddled up tight and close with her beautiful showmare. “Just as long as I can be one too...”
You made me love you more than I love myself
Such a… low class place. Flashing lights, obnoxiously loud music, surprising darkness despite all the flash and sparkle, and alcohol… that either glowed like a magical spell or smelled like something rubbed on a leg before a shot. Octavia sighed. How had she let Beauty Brass talk her into such a thing? It had been less than a dare, more than a polite suggestion. Just a recommendation that she slum it down below terrace three in a club of her choosing.
She did not OBJECT to slumming it and had absolutely nothing at all against non-wealthy ponies. But she was out of her element. A pond fish thrown into an Everfree lake. She wished that she had kept her cello with her. The substantial heft of the great instrument and case made her feel safe and secure; among all the spike-maned stallions and ripped-clothing-clad mares she could have used the comfort of a blunt object to be used a weapon of self defense.
"What'll you have, fancy-mane?" Behind the bar was a mare in a mesh shirt and plastic-like black skirt; she was either naturally pale or covered in some kind of powder looking gray and wan, her mane dark and matte black.
"O-oh… do you have any Chateau Pastaud pinot noir? Any year should be fine." Octavia jumped a bit when she was spoken to, looking the mare over. It was almost impossible to feel comfortable in the strange, low-terrace environment.
The mare just stared, with a blank, thousand-yard stare. "We've got beer, malt liquor, and all the glowing drinks you could name. Don't get fancy with me, silver-spooner. Just name something."
Octavia looked properly scandalized, though she lost that quickly, realizing she was not in a very friendly environment. "L-let me have something… fruity. Just… nothing too… strong…"
"Fine. Just a second." The mare walked away to a collection of slightly-glowing tubes, mixing the mana-infused flavorants with alcohol and more mundane ingredients, crafting an electric blue concoction that swirled slightly with an inner whitish ribbon, garnished with maraschino cherries. "One Hyperactive Imagination. Enjoy it. That'll be twenty bits."
"Twenty..!" Again, Octavia began to complain but knew she was in no position to do so. She took the drink with a sullen nod, and laid out the bits from her pouch. She took a sip of the luminous liquor and found it passable. Sickly sweet, exploding with fake fruit flavor, but up to the task of hiding the swill-quality alcohol most likely used in its creation.
She took another long sip of it and started to move around the room, on the periphery but towards the stage. There was some sort of audio assault coming from there, a burst of sound and color that seemed almost intertwined. It was as she had heard before, coming from radios and television, some species of the popular tripe. But this had more artistry to it, some hint of subtlety and classical motifs. To be sure, it was a mess of thumping beats and electronically-tortured pre-recorded tunes, but the one manipulating the whole had some touch of genius in them. And amid the wasteland she was in, that was special.
Something about the undercurrent seemed increasingly familiar as she approached the stage. The volume of one of the subthreads in the electronic collision slowly started to rise, distinguishing itself more and more clearly from the rest of the composition. Strings… she heard strings from that. A segment from a familiar classical piece. Then it dawned on her as she reached the stage and looked upon the bone-white pony behind a table full of electronic devices, ruling over them like a goddess. The manner of playing, the particular tone. The hoof print of the performer of that segment. It was her. A piece of her performance, elevated to a brushstroke in a new composition.
Corner café, random meeting
So far, the set had been brilliant. Another little club, another middle-sized paycheck, another big bout of appreciation. Her latest song, rolling on into the part of which she was particularly proud, was sure to be another hit on the airwaves, once it was recut into a size for the radio. But, that’s what albums were for, and she knew it. It put food in her mouth and electronics in her machines.
She was an artist, and didn’t quite like how cavalier her manager was with her works. They were her creations, part of her being. She put her heart and soul into the making of the music, and chose each sample, electronic sound and modulation with care. Nopony heard what she didn’t want them to hear, and everypony felt what she wanted them to feel. Lately, that had involved one thing in particular.
Not too long ago she had heard a performance on the radio from a high-brow quartet on the rise in Canterlot. She wasn’t normally for the classical type, but she never turned down music. It had begun as a mix of sounds, the usual classical mush. Then came a solo. A long, sweet, smooth cello solo played by what she could only surmise was some kind of spirit. The skill in playing, the perfection in tone and tempo, it was all ripe for sampling. She tracked down a master copy and got her segments for a surprisingly reasonable fee. In doing so she also found out about the group, and learned about the lovely mare responsible for such wonderful music. A looker, to be sure. But way above her, as far as terraces and everything else went.
She now spread those samples through her productions, making certain they were never altered in ways that would mutilate them. She was an artist but had a heart. That music was too sweet and pure to twist or distort. The most she would do was bury it deep in audio obfuscation then slowly reveal it, pristine and perfect, like a gem lifted out of the ground. From her sales figures and fan mail, it was working well.
Her sunglass-covered eyes scanned over the crowd of cheering, dancing ponies. With the shades on she could see beyond the stage lights and the colored lamps swinging wildly to give the atmosphere a more manic feel. The usual crowd of gyrating young mares and stallions, hair spiked, clothes ripped, attention focused anywhere but the stage, when they had any focus to give at all. It was all terribly typical.
She looked down and saw a new figure standing out from the crowd, not by what peacock-like things she was sporting, but what she lacked. Her hair was dark and smooth, perfectly styled. She wore nothing but a simple collar and bow tie. She moved with slow, deliberate steps. And she was looking up. When their eyes met, Vinyl could hardly believe her luck. It was her. Somehow, she was down from the clouds, into her dingy little atmosphere, and standing there, looking at somepony who never thought they’d be nearer than worlds apart.
Is that really you there
“It’s… that club.” Octavia was wide-eyed as she looked out over the silent, empty scene. There was the long bar, no longer staffed with the surly mare; the lights, dormant and dark; the speakers, some of them broken or hanging, not pumping out Vinyl’s music. And the floor, devoid of gyrating ponies. “Where we…”
“I’m not usually good at this mushy junk.” Vinyl slowly sauntered up behind her marefriend, stroking gently over her flank. “But, well, we’ve been making some GOOD bits lately, and this place had closed down… probably for good reasons. But I figured, there’s plenty of food in the pantries and plenty of doodads in my machines, and you’re up you your bowtie in rosin, strings and wood wax. I wouldn’t just leave it looking like this. I thought we might do something with it. Make it into a classier club, make it what it used to be, hay, make it a restaurant or something. Just… something.”
Octavia looked out over the scene again, now seeing that night from Vinyl’s perspective. An energized crowd and a powerfully successful song playing. Ruling over the electronics and music, slowly releasing a hidden musical gem. Then all of a sudden, there is the creator, down there, unannounced and unbidden. Out of her element, lost, confused, stricken by hearing her own performance. “I don’t… I just…”
The white mare came around and embraced her partner, placing a hoof gently on her lips, just holding her securely.
I’ve waited my whole life for this day
“Snails…” Snips gasped loudly as he looked down into the little hollow that lay at the end of their trip. The nondescript divot filled with plants was lit up like a Hearths Warming tree, twinkling with hundreds of fireflies. Thousands, perhaps. The colt remained atop his lanky friend, staring in awe. “That’s…”
“Wait…” The other unicorn reared up suddenly and stomped down hard. He wasn’t much in the way of strength, being both willowy and a unicorn, but he added a brief flash of light from his horn. The combination set off the fireflies, sending the thousands of points of light into the sky, a glowing cloud that suffused the scene with a numinous atmosphere. “There.”
Snips looked on in awe, watching the cloud of brilliant insects. Some of them settled back down onto the plants and ground, while some swarmed even higher, almost reaching for the stars. They did not merely glow with a steady brightness but flickered, each in their own pattern, to make the scene all the more magical. "How did you know they'd be here?" He pressed his neck against Snail's neck, as he lays across his back still, too transfixed to think of hopping away.
"I saw 'em during the day when I was out looking for bugs. So I knew they'd be lighting up when it was night." Snails lifted his head proudly, relaying the information in a matter-of-fact way and with a touch of delight. His efforts were appreciated.
"Wow..." That was all Snips could say as he watched the shining cloud. His legs subtly tightened, pressing his roly-poly body more securely against his dear friend. Friend... "Snails, you know I love how you can find all these neat bugs. This was just great."
"Awww, thanks Snips..." The lanky unicorn reached back with a hoof and ruffled the pudgier unicorn's mane. They were inseperable. None of the other foals gave them much thought, and they were all too often on their own, when some little silly misunderstanding got ponies laughing. It wasn't so bad. They had been in the paper! That was something. "I knew you'd like it."
Snips laughed softly, still mesmerized by the sight. "Like it? I love you... it!"
You are the sea and the sky
Gilda gingerly caressed her lover's mane, considering many things. A simple thing in pony lands grew more and more complicated the more elements were interoduced. Getting married was supposed to be simple. Find an office, pay a very modest fee, or even get it done for nothing if there was a genuine hardship, have a small ceremony, sign some papers and it was done. Richer types rented a big hall, made a big to-do of it and had a lavish celebration. But for her... Griffin weddings involved ritualized aerobatics, that could include previously-married hens if they had the capacity to fly at the time, not an easy thing for a landbound unicorn. She also had to think that Roani had their own ceremonies, that were not strictly "legal" but could be made so with a few forms whenever they rolled into a town. Three potential options, and picking the wrong one meant making some creature upset.
She could leave off the Griffin ceremony. It was all but impossible in theory and practice, plus the only ones who might be upset would be her snobbish parents and the only idiot sibling she bothered to recognize, her full-blood brother. They could probably scrape up the bits for a nice, small ceremony. But Trixie would probably want something lavish and extravagant, to give her normally-cheerless life flash and color, as she often said. And that led into her family traditions. Gilda was hitched to the idea of becoming one with the Roani. But they were nomadic, and she had no idea where Trixie's family might possibly be. Would the mare want a traditional Roani wedding, with her clanmates there to bring her new spouse into the herd? She rubbed her head slowly. Life was so much easier bouncing bed-to-bed and having long, violent screaming matches with the mirror or a bottle of scrub liqueur.
Trixie had fallen asleep not long before, but all the fidgets and motions made her face scrunch and caused her to stir uncomfortably. One eye opened, giving the most annoyed expression possible. "You are disturbing the sleep of the grrrrreat and powerful Trrrrrrrrrixie. Why have you interrupted her blissful slumber." She put on her most annoyed showmare voice, third pony tense, extra trill on the 'r' and all. That was a true sign of her agitation and Gilda knew it.
"Sorry, dude. Just... got a lot on my mind." The hen leaned down and nuzzled the mare's graceful throat, getting the tiniest of giggles for her trouble.
"Not nearly as much as the great and powerful Trixie. Her mind is awash in a thousand thousand contemplations of brilliant luminosity, each more complex and serious than the last, and all unified into a wondrous whole made of diamantine threads betwixt each little consideration. Now please, allow her to sleep."
Gilda smiled. She said please. It was all an act, and a good one. "Ok, ok. Codladh samh, a chuisle mo chroi(1)." She bent down to kiss the mare on her cheek then curled protectively around her like any male griffin might, safeguarding her as she slumbered.
"Lachhi tjiri rat(2), gadji(3)." She said, with a hint of a smirk. She needed all the smiles she could get. Her body wanted to be relaxed but her mind was plagued by all those scintillating thoughts, which burned like a fire in her mind. They had even kept her from proper sleep leaving her awake enough to be bothered by Gilda's fidgeting. It was not what she wanted but it was something she had to face.
She wanted Gilda to be married amid her clan. They would welcome her in. Their children might even be born Roa in their eyes, even if they remained O’Bald and did not get away with a Lulamoon of any kind. Besides, there was lots of fun to be had in a Roani wedding. So much singing and drinking and dancing and revelry.
But Gilda had a family. A very rich and powerful family. Diplomats, connected nobility; the hoi polloi they were not. Any Roa would give her caravan, her trinkets and all four legs to be connected to that. To move up in the world from nomad to cultured elite.
“Egg Grabber…” That was the last thing out of Trixie’s lips. Her eyes drifted slowly downward. They were disgusted with her kind. Not Roani. Filly Foolers. It was stupid; what harm could they do? But she would never be a Griffin Lady, in literally rarified atmosphere, being charming and witty in the High King’s aerie. They were already pariahs. They could very well fill out some forms in the local office down in Schwarzwald and be done with it. What mattered most was to do it. To be one with her. The one worth all the trouble.
You are so great, I am so plain
The comment hung in the air. Neither colt spoke. Snips was sure he felt Snails trembling in fury; Snails thought he could feel Snips hesitating, ready to take it all back. It was the taller colt that spoke first, in a small, hesitating voice. “What?”
“I didn’t… I said… I love it…” Snips smiled with all his might, flop sweat standing out heavily on his forehead. He had to buy it. He had to believe it! If he didn’t…
“Oh, that’s what I thought.” The scrawny pony smiled and turned back to the insect light show, humming a little tune as the bugs buzzed through the air.
Snips flops down, as though every bone in his body had turned to jelly. He hung there, a tubby load on his friend’s back, for the moment still safe and secure. The object of his affection was none the wiser. He didn’t have to lose his best friend… only friend to the shame of being a Colt Cuddler. He could not resist. But he had to resist. Had to stop himself from being attracted to the frankly perfect pony, so he wouldn’t be alone.
“Snips?” Snails spoke suddenly, still looking at the twinkling fireflies.
“Yea Snails?” The plump pony looked up, finally able to appreciate the sparkling show. His fears past, he could enjoy his friend’s gift again.
He was so close. He knew he was. He needed to do it. He needed to… “Thanks for coming out here.” Stupid. They were right. Stupid.
“Hey, you’re my best friend. I’d do anything ya asked me.”
“Thanks…” How hard would it be? Very hard. To be a Colt Cuddler, to lose his best and only friend, all over four little words. I love you, Snips.
I am the moth to your flame
‘Vinyl… you idiot. You stupid, sweet idiot. I would never have thought of this. I’d have put in a breakfast nook and repainted the exterior, maybe installed new appliances. Ours still work but… I wish I could think like you.’
‘Octy, I’m an idiot. Of course I should have consulted you. You would have… I don’t know, seen a bank about a loan, or consulted a building inspector to see if it’s worth even leaving standing. I did it again. I dragged you into another harebrained scheme. If you were any smarter I’d be where I belong: in that studio apartment facing down drunk fans and angry managers.’
‘You’re a good friend. You always help me when I need it, and make me feel good when everypony is laughing. You didn’t make fun of me for having a talent for cutting things up. You told me I could find something to do. You never let me down. I wish I did something for you.’
‘Bugs don’t make you run away, and you think it’s so cool how I find them and know about them. I’m slow, but you think I’m so fast. You don’t care I can use a little magic and you’re still trying to learn. You like me just because of who I am. You’re everything I ever wanted to be. I wish I could tell you how much you mean.’
‘I tied you down to a little aerie. Imagine, a griffin, ruler of the skies, pinning a land bound unicorn to anything. But you were even freer than my kind. You were used to moving as you pleased, free as the wind we ride. Was I right to lock you here? Maybe if I was a better hen, I’d be in a caravan, following you where you go.’
‘My match, my equal, the hen that is worthy of me. I never thought I’d meet you, because I always thought I’d scare away every female that ever got too close. Even if any pony or anything else thought they could match me, who would dare associate with a Roani? You didn’t care what I was. For the first time, my bloodline meant nothing at all. I should be angry, but I’ve never been happier. I don’t know how I can possibly thank you for letting me be me.’
… Wish I was good enough for you
1: Irish Gaelic, literally "Sleep well, pulse of my heart," a chuisle mo chroi indicating a closeness akin to being a person's very heartbeat
Las Canciones de Voltaire
Hoof beats thundered through a twilight world of diminishing light, focus pulling from a grand and shining world to one of starry skies and deep shadows, as though the runner was running on the timeline. He was a caramel stallion in a white shirt and black jacket, a bunch of lace at his throat. His eyes were fixed on the dark land before him, ignoring the hazy scenery on either side.
He did not even slow down when the light of sunset died in a fall of long shadows and tinted tones. He ran along under braches and rock outcroppings, his surroundings as unimportant as the fading of the light. His ears perked up at sounds from the side, familiar noises that sought to distract him.
The day is the wife whom I elude
“Uncle… ah loves ya an’ all but mah new bride wunners why y’all spend so much time slinkin’ on in the night. Ah mean, she knows y’all gotta dodge the family, but… t’aint natural ta skulk around in them shadows under the moon.”
“Well, I don’t know, mister Higgensbotham. I mean, we enjoy your presence and always do our best to accommodate you, but you do a lot of night work. It’s hard for some of us to keep up with that. Wouldn’t the bright light of the sun be better?”
“Dear Uncle, Ah loves hearin’ ‘bout yer exploits and excitin’ adventures. Why, Rainbow Dash tells me it’s better’n Daring Do. Seems like y’all got quite a life. But uncle… why not have yer excitin’ times when y’all can see? Ain’t it dangerous ta be runnin’ ‘round in the dark like that?”
Although forewarned by peers and kin
The voices all faded away but were replaced with a screaming voice that made him wince. The familiarity was part of it, but so was the stridency, the rage, the hate. It was not a voice with the slightest trace of warmth or even common decency. There was only odium.
“BRAMLEY! Ya have yer ways about you ta drive yer poor mother to distraction! Ah want ya out there helping with the fields so yer pappy can teach ya the family business! Get yer head outta the clouds and yer soul outta the night! Ya ain’t some filthy Gypsy or idjit Buffalo! Yer an Apple, and the head of our clan when yer pappy and I finally pass! So you obey yer momma, do as yer told and shove yer carcass inta the light!”
Mother always warned me such
The legs pumped harder, faster, tearing up the hazy ground, pushing the stallion faster, almost as if he was out to produce a Sonic Rainboom on the ground. The angry shouts formed a literal wall of words, standing out stone-like.
The two came closer and closer, the wall of angry words looking like an immovable object and the earth pony ready to show himself to be an irresistible force. There was a moment of impact, both in contact for an instant before the pony blew through the barrier as though it did not exist at all.
But the night, she calls me
Beyond the wall of angry words there lay a clearing in the vastness of a forest. At the center of it was a large, leaping fire. Around the fire was a collection of figures, leaping and dancing to music that swept through the scene. They were an interesting assortment; gaily-bedecked Roani worked fiddles and guitars, while Zaldi clopped their hooves and two pounded out melodic rhythms on a txalaparta. Five cloak-wearing figures danced as a unit, four ponies and a Diamond Dog, who was in a black wedding dress under her cloak. Overseeing it all, was a pony who was larger than the others, an alicorn, dark purple with a flowing mane made of stars, wrapped in a dress made of black velvet.
The alicorn smiled at the new arrival, eyeing him up with a loving hunger. “At last, you arrive. Our company did fear you would miss this glorious gathering.”
The stallion stopped before the alicorn, softly panting as he looked her over. “And miss your beautiful attire? Never. This is an important night for us all.” Bad Apple stepped to Luna’s side and pressed against her. “Let us go to the head of the aisle.”
Luna nodded grandly, nudging Bad Apple gently. “Aye, let us be in consort with these fine folk.” She heavily emphasized consort and winked.
She sways in her velvet dress
“Oyez, oyez, oyez! Mine artificial friends, Roa and Zaldi alike..!” The sudden shocked stares made Luna clear her throat and try to remember what the new vocabulary was. “Mine… ARTFUL Roa and Zaldi friends, heed my words and bestill thyselves. Thou wond’rous and exuberant wights, give us peace a space! We are here for a grand and glorious purpose! Matrimony!”
There was a cheer from all the assembled, and the stomp of hooves in applause. Bad Apple stepped up beside Luna, waving a hoof towards the cloaked figures. “Oh yes. In a move that surprised nopony, our close friends Clear Facet and Emerald are engaged. And now I’m here to see it all come through. So what better time could there be? Let’s make this good! I think we’re all ready. I know Clear’s ready. How long can you hold out with a lady like that?” Boisterous laughter erupted from all the assembled save the named pony, a hunter green earth pony with a brown mane and tail. He looked properly scandalized.
“Aye, aye, Sir Sauce.” Luna looked with loving chastisement upon Bad Apple then motioned towards a small, raised area. “Come, my revelers! Come, we sanctify this love this night.”
Heed the call, the time has come
The whole assembly, cloaked figures, Zaldi and Roa alike approached, those in the cloaks heading the gathering. The Zaldi and Roa surrounded the cloaked members for a moment then split off into two sections, arranging themselves into neat rows and creating an aisle between them.
None of the cloaked figures moved until Bad Apple had come down the aisle to join them. Then Clear gave him a nod and fell into step with him. The two of them circled the standing folk then walked slowly down the aisle again, to stand in the presence of Luna, who was standing, wings spread and looking as grand as possible. “Ye bridegroom, art thou prepared for thy nuptials? Thou art of my company, and thy bride be the same. Hast thou capacity to serve as proper headsman to her innocence? Or hast thou taken thy reward afore this night?” She gave a bright, high laugh.
“Ummm, your majesty?” The nervous Nightwatch stallion was barely in a state to understand his own worried thoughts, let alone Luna’s archaic innuendo.
“She wants to know if you “diamonded” her “doghouse” or if you played the good boy and waited.” Bad Apple whispered the explanation to a blushing Clear, but added aloud, “She might still have that particular head to lose. Nothing is stopping him from giving her a severe tongue-lashing. And, for that matter, Diamond Dogs, like griffins and such things, have hands…”
“H-hold it!” Clear suddenly interjected, thrusting himself up between Bad and Luna, looking between them. “I understand you’re trying to make me more at ease, but Emerald is pure as the cleanest gem. No inclusions, no interruptions, no flaws.” He hesitated, and added, “But yes, she has hands. And likes it when I… pant in a particular spot. But… can we proceed?”
Luna smiled beatifically, gently petting Clear’s head. “Thy passion in defense of thy bride and great strength in halting strong tongues doth speak well of thy goodness. Indeed, thou art worthy of this other servitor of mine. We proceed.”
Gather ‘round like suckling dogs
Music began to pour out from the air as Luna’s horn glowed, a semi-jaunty tune that had some relation to the traditional bridal march. The whole crowd stood up tall, Bad Apple and all but two of the cloaked figures saluting. Emerald the Diamond Dog and the dark puce, black-maned unicorn named Slivovitz slowly started off down the aisle.
“Ahh dear… You know, this is supposed to be your mother or father, right? I’m very honored you asked me, but I’m just your chief. True, I do think of you like family but what about the real thing?” Slivovitz spoke quietly across to Emerald, moving slowly and grandly with her.
“Mmm, family not… want to come here. Ashamed of me. Strong dog, yes, but not digging. Always digging. Life more than digging. And…” She stopped, stumbling a little bit as she strolled down the aisle.
“He’s a pony.”
A pause. “Yes. Pony. Strong pony. Handsome pony. Smart pony. Make beautiful puppies. Family not care. ‘Oh, but does he dig?’ ‘Yes, has degrees in gems.’ ‘But does he dig?’ ‘He is constable like me.’ ‘BAH! He does not dig.’ Hate them…”
Slivovitz gently nudged against Emerald. “You shouldn’t hate your own family, no matter what. Yes, it’s a bit of a bad thing they’re being so against this. But it’s your life. You’re no foal anymore. Or puppy, I suppose. Time to do your own thing. And this is what will show that most clearly.” Slivovitz winked aside at Emerald and smiled. “And yet, you talked about puppies. If they don’t want to see you, they don’t see them. Their loss. I’m sure they’ll be just beautiful. You’ve got plenty of Advocates right here in the corps.”
Emerald smiled as they reached the head of the aisle, reaching out to hug Slivovitz tightly. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem at all!” The pony gasped out, slightly crushed by her companion’s hug.
Come with me to the other side
The music ceased, and all the members of the audience took a seat. Luna lifted her head up, and looked down seriously on the bride and groom. “Gentlefillies and Gentlecolts!” Princess Luna used the Royal Canterlot Voice, yet somehow managed to turn the imposing and often-damaging tone into something that brought eyes and projected majesty rather than repulsion. “We come here to join in matrimony these two most decorated warriors, members of a corps of mine own control. We join thus at this meet time that may show mine eye upon their glorious combination. Hast any member of this party cause that they might not become one in love?”
The silence that answered her brought a smile to her lips.
“Thus we begin. So saith the ancient tales, in times before all flesh was at peace there was Discord. But by union heart to heart did such chaos cease. By Fidelity, Verity, Sympathy, Liberality, Jollity, and the great Mystery, that is to say, Amity, were we all drawn to peace. And by this example have we ever joined heart to heart. Thou, bridegroom and bride, step forward to be joined.”
Clear and Emerald stepped forward, Bad Apple and Slivovitz standing behind them at the head of the aisle, standing tall and proud.
“Fidelity, faithfulness to thy chosen, forms a most solid foundation of marriage with its twin, Verity, truthfulness. If thou canst be not faithful and honest, what force could keep thee whole? Thou, Emerald the Diamond Dog, and thou, Clear Facet, canst ye both be faithful and true to one another?”
Though Emerald was thrown by the confusing archaic language, she knew the sentiments and enough of the words. Faithful. Honest. “I can!" She proclaimed strongly.
Though more muted, Clear was no less firm. “I can.”
“Sympathy, the feeling of another’s feeling, and Liberality, true giving of spirit feed one another. Empathy doth give birth to both, kindness in bearing and giving of self. Canst thou be to one another generous in all things, and caring in all times?”
Emerald’s response was another explosion of passion. “I can!”
Clear answered in similar internal fortitude if not outward volume. “I can.”
“Jollity… ‘tis strange that such a thing be included, be it not so? Yet much may be said. A marriage made of naught but doleful vacuity may not survive long, starved of joy and delight. Happiness, gaiety, laughter, cheer and sundry, such do feed spirits, that may bear them across lean times, hard moments and great sloughs of sorrow. Canst thou both raise up one another in happiness and joy?”
A smile pulled Emerald’s lips and she looked aside with her most lascivious glance. “Yes. Always…”
Clear looked properly scandalized but smiled in return. “I can.”
“Amity. Friendship. Would this be not certain in marriage? Nay. In dark times marriages were born of politic calculation and the maneuvering of houses. If spouses be not friends, they may be naught else to one another. Cold lovers be but playthings; strangers in the home be only faces, passing as the aether. Thou needs be friends afore thou art properly said to be spouses or lovers, and thou must needs be friends all the days of thy wedded life. Canst thou be friends all the rest of thy days?”
Both replied together, “I can.”
“All thy days, through weal and woe, best and worst of all the world may give. Do you give and pledge of thyselves to each other?”
Emerald looked to Clear, who was already staring at her. They answered as one, “I do.”
Luna lit her horn and gently touched both on their heads. “By the power of mine own holding as one Diarch of the Principality, I do pronounce thee husband and wife. Thou mayst now kiss the…” Emerald was upon Clear in an instant, attacking his mouth with her lips, with a hungry ferocity. “Bridegroom. Some customs, it does seem, art truly universal.” Laughter rippled out from the audience. “When they are separate, Constable Pome, Section Chief Slivovitz, please give them the rings thou hast in thy possession. In their great haste they did neglect to exchange them.” The audience broke into thunderous applause, with some returning to their instruments to begin a celebratory musical session.
Make the girl in black your bride
“Begging your pardon, but I don’t think they much care. About anything, really.” Slivovitz laughed loudly and leaned back with a grin.
“So it doth seem, so it doth seem… Constable Pome, may I have thy company?” Luna trotted off, with a backward chance.
“Official business. It’s always about that, isn’t it? Here, when Clear comes to, that’s the one he’s supposed to give her.” Bad Apple passed over a thick gold ring, suitable for slipping onto a Diamond Dog’s finger.
“Enjoy your conference. I can only imagine the high-level palaver going on there.” Slivovitz accepted the ring and chuckled.
Bad Apple gave a laugh and wink before trotting off.
But the night, she calls me
Luna was upon Bad Apple once they were out of the wavering glow of the fire, but still well within the range of the music that rang out from within the circle of the fire. Their lips pressed and tongues dueled, the caramel stallion… crying… as they shared an intimate moment. When they pulled back he laughed a bit too loudly wiped at his tears. “I guess it’s true. Even the most stalwart of ponies will cry at a wedding. Being Best Stallion probably helped me connect.”
“Mmm, say as you will, you see beauty and know it.” Luna kissed one of the tear streams, a shod hoof stroking at his neck.
“Well, of course. I’m here with you, under the stars. I’m surrounded by the very definition of beauty.” Bad Apple leaned in for a kiss but was halted by Luna’s hoof.
“Spare me your pickthank tales and the eely motions of your quacksalver-quick tongue. You know what I would hear. Why be it so-” Bad Apple’s hoof gently pressed to her lips, and he looked into her eyes.
“While I may, with all the skill I may, and with all the heart I can muster, let me do good for the suffering and sorrowful of this world. I could have been a most excellent thief, sitting on an empire of broken dreams and stolen fortunes. But something in me made me strive for good. But I know what you want… I won’t say the words. It would only hurt your heart more than ever. And you can imagine the pain I carry inside me, knowing how much my absence is a thorn in your side. But the very moment the time is right, all my words are yours.”
Luna drew him in for a tight, hard hug, squeezing him against her black dress. After a moment of compaction she released him and stood up tall. “Very well. We rejoin the company.” Luna wiped her eyes and slowly strolled out and into the firelight.
“Your majesty!” A cry rang out and an object soared in a high arc towards Luna’s form. She swiftly caught it with her telekinesis and brought it down for examination. It was a bouquet.
“How now? What strange fortune be this?”
“Congratulations!” While the rest of the assembly cheered, Luna looked down to Bad Apple as he just smiled and politely stomped his hooves.
She sways in her velvet dress
Bad Apple ducked his head down behind a trash barrel as the pony he trailed looked around with quick motions, bathed in the light of a streetlamp. He was easily visible, while the brightness hindered his ability to see into the deep shadows cradling Bad Apple.
The darkness was with him, and that made him smile, almost as much as his extremely un-photographic memory of Emerald and Clear’s wedding. He could remember the details perfectly and properly. But what would be the fun in that. He recalled the important parts. The sound of hoof beats on pavement put his mind back in joint, and sent him out after the figure wending his way through the Fillydelphia night.
It still seems very strange to me
His mind could not stay focused, and it did not really need to. He would never be detected. And he knew where the lickspittle toady was going. He wasn’t as clever as he thought. He’d be collecting another well-earned reward with another of Random’s dithering disciples, shaken up and stumbling along their moribund social paths towards the place he sought. One less citizen for the promised dystopia.
He could indulge his amusing recollection of that wedding. Most of the details were right, especially the vows. He knew them forward, backwards and chopped into pieces. The rest… maybe he had been Best Stallion but he and Luna had remembered to be very tight-lipped about anything relationship related; though he could have sworn Drupe had been looking for signs of it. He was a good egg, and trustworthy enough. It didn’t matter. Luna didn’t catch the bouquet, because she deemed it improper to compete with beings she could crush all too accidentally. But she surely did want to. She had pulled him aside, to discuss things. He had felt so guilty. He really did want to do good for the principality. But at such a cost. It was just four words. He could lay down his sword and shield, rest on his laurels and cease being the black knight-errant with four quick words.
Will. You. Marry. Me.
But the night, she calls me
Las Canciones de Voltaire
Capítulo Cuatro- When you're evil
A/N: Why is this one different? Discord is a reality Warper and Fourth Wall abuser. He can do that kind of thing. The inconsistency is intentional. Try to think of it as the text version of a Surrealist film. "Un Chien Andalou" typed out for your confusion.
The computer whirred softly, screen glowing in the relative darkness of the room. It was not the only light, but the small lamp on the other side of the room wasn't exactly bursting with light power. The entire room was in hazy shade, with a bed, entertainment set, closet, and shelves upon shelves of pony things, along with plenty of posters and other images on the walls.
"Time to make another masterpiece." He spoke with a chipper energy and opened his word processing program, setting his preferred writing parameters and then getting to work. "This should be good. But I want to use Discord. Everybody tells me he's evil but I kinda think he might be ok..."
"When the Devil is too busy..." A voice, smug and filled with humor suddenly rang out from nowhere, or everywhere, or somewhere in between.
"What?" The Brony looked around the room. Just as it had been. No visitors, and the television was off.
"And Death's a bit too much." The same voice, smug and full of mirth, still emerging from thin air, fat air and comfortable-with-its-weight air.
"Come on, this isn't funny. Come on out. Or, you know, tell me where you hid the speaker. Is that the guys from the pony group? Very funny." The man was out of his seat and searching the room.
"They call on me..." There was a short pause, the voice slowing his tempo. "By name, you see..."
"Cut it out! I mean it! This is hardly funny anymore."
"For... my... special..." A long pause, then the smooth run of a taloned finger over the man's arm. "Touch."
"Hey! What was that? How are you doing that?" The man threw a punch towards the location of the touch, panting and looking around with suspicion.
"To the gentlemen I'm Miss Fortune..." Suddenly with a bright flash of light there appeared... Discord. Kind of. It looked more like the female version thereof, popularly known as Eris, in all her girly glory. And for whatever reason she was rolling around and balancing on a golden wheel. And for whatever OTHER reason that wheel had cash values etched on the spokes.
"Wh-what the buck is going on here? Y-yo-you can't be..!"
"To the ladies I'm Sir Prize." The Eris form leaped off of the golden wheel with a flash of light, appearing in a more male form, wearing a rubber head. It looked like a white pony head, with a poofy golden mane, a present held in his griffin hand.
The man was stunned, to say the least. He was more surprised because the gift was being offered to him quite directly and insistently. "What?"
"But call me by any name..." Using his other hand Discord pulled off the rubber head to reveal his normal one-fanged face, still offering over the gift. "Hey, take it. Go on."
He took it, and slowly opened the ribbon, unable to take his eyes off of the grinning draconequus. As soon as the ribbon was loose there was a huge explosion of confetti and party horn squeaks. "Hey!"
"Any way it's all the same!" When the confetti cleared enough to allow viewing, Discord was popping out from inside the box, hand on his chest, belting out the line with scenery-chewing gusto. After holding the note for far too long he looked down at the Brony with a smile. "Hello there young sir. I'm quite certain you know exactly who I am."
"Discord!" There was a flurry of screaming and running and fretting before a giant griffon hand came down and grabbed the man securely by the head.
"I can't believe that I, master of chaos is going to say this but... calm down, Brony. There's no need to run around like a pony with a sugar rush. Now, at least you recognize who I am."
"But how can you be here? You're a cartoon character! And not even one based on a real person like Chuck Norris or Mister T!"
Discord immediately put on a Chuck Norris moustache/goatee combo and a Mister T Mohawk, with the requisite pile of gold chains around his neck. "I pity the fool that don't recognize my roundhouse kick!" The draconequus swept a roundhouse kick at the man's face, creating an explosion of light at the contact.
When the light faded there was nothing left. Well, the Brony fellow and Discord were intact, but the rest of the world was gone. They were just floating in the blackness, somehow able to breathe and stand and see each other. "What the hay is going on around here? How can you even be here?"
"You're starting to repeat yourself. And you know how BORING I find such silly things like consistency. But to answer your question... I am the spirit of chaos! Did you really think I would be stopped by some trivial little thing like being a cartoon, the fourth wall or Rule 34? Don't answer that last one, it's not pretty. But really..." He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and gave his famous one-fanged grin. "I'm here to help you resolve your curious quandary regarding my depiction in your story. More fan fiction, more love. Poor Chrysalis. Succubi come and go but CHAOS remains. Oh... How depressing. I've gotten into a rut of existing. But nothing to be done."
"My... how are you going to show me that? Are we just going to... sit and talk? Discuss what you're like?"
"Oh yes. THAT would be the height of chaos." Discord rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. The blackness was replaced by a black-and-white stage, set up like a 1950's news program, with the Brony suddenly in one cup-shaped chair and Discord in the other, wearing a seersucker suit and a set of black-rimmed glasses. "Would you prefer something along this format?" Even his voice was the buzzing monophonic sound of a 1950's television.
"Uh..."
"I'm sorry, sir, but the answer is actually ‘no.' Thank you for being on the program." Music started to play out of nowhere and the lights dimmed down into blackness. All of a sudden Discord and the man were back and their normal selves. "I will be taking you around a completely illusory circumstance, to show you what I'm like. That way you can see I'm not such a bad fellow. Now, come along with me." Discord opened a glowing portal and pulled the man through it.
They arrived in a small, cozy-looking town in pastel colors with a distinctly flash-looking edge. All around were colorful ponies, going about their lives. "Oh em gee! Human in Equestria! Hug a pony!" The man ran towards a yellow earth pony and went in for a hug. He passed right through and tumbled around on the ground.
"Yes... and you say you've seen this show? I am not exactly allowed in Equestria anymore. Magico-physico-vibro-yadda-yadda, if I go back I blow myself up. And I don't get to recover. So I made a little example space. They don't see you... BUT STOP LOOKING THERE! Have a little self respect, and have some respect for that fake mare and quit looking under her tail. Come on, I'm explaining what I'm like. In song."
"I'm the fly in your soup..." Discord vanished in a flash and reappeared in a bowl of soup as a plump, two-winged fly, doing a little fly-stroke. The pony gingerly removed the fly and shook out his spoon before setting to eating the soup.
"I'm the pebble in your shoe..." With a flash the fly was gone, and suddenly a pony in heels started to limp a little bit, coming down on her right front shoe much more gingerly than before.
"I'm the pea beneath your bed..." It was night, all of a sudden, and the inside of a house revealed a pony sweating and shifting on his bed, his flesh suddenly so sensitive that a tiny little Discord pea (Or Peacord, as the kids call them these days) was an unbearable imposition against his rest.
"I'm the bump on every head..." Just... at random... in a random place... a pony was clanged on the noggin with a fast-moving Discord tossed by no one.
"I'm the peel on which you slip..." Another quick cut, and a Discord banana peel slid beneath the hoof of a random pony, collapsing him to the ground.
"I'm the pin in every hip..." At a dress shop that was Carousel Boutique with the names changed and the serial numbers filed off, a unicorn mare gave a sharp yelp while being fitted for a dress. She looked behind her to the tailor, who could only shrug. He didn't notice the little Pincord digging itself deeply into the flank of the mare of its own accord.
"I'm the thorn in your side
Makes you wriggle and writhe." For a change of pace, Discord was picking on a donkey, the poor jack somehow barrel-deep in a briar patch, twisting and writhing about as the thorns dug in against his flesh.
The man had simply been... there. Following along with jump cuts like he was watching TV while being inside it. "So uh... this is what you do?"
"Of course! A bit of harmless chaos just to amuse myself. And, of course, to amuse all my adoring fans. Yes, I know you're out there. But I don't think the pink one does. I think she may have... problems." Discord pointed to his head and rotated his finger. That caused his head to separate from his shoulders and rotate along with his finger. "No matter! Please, proceed to the next scene as the script indicates. I will be there shortly."
"Next scene, wha-?" The man vanished with an effect like a very bad editing job, being there one frame and simply gone the next.
Now alone Discord opened his arms and gathered up glowing spheres around him. Through them he could watch every scene he had just perpetrated. The soup-eating pony was bedridden, too lethargic to do anything thanks to the sleeping sickness left behind by the Discord tsetse fly; the fancy mare with the pebble in her shoe was watching as a doctor drained the abscess that had developed from the sharp stone affecting her hoof, with a bit of magic rushing infection along; the pony with the pea groaned and sweat desperately, as the tiniest shaft of sunlight struck his now hyper-sensitive flesh, feeling like a thousand magnifying glasses focused on him from every angle; the head-stricken pony was in a coma, barely having survived a subdural hematoma; the banana peel victim looked hopelessly out of the window from his bed, where he would stay for all his days thanks to a freak spinal fracture caused by the fall; the other fancy mare was no longer wearing a dress, she was in the hospital preparing for the amputation of her gangrenous leg, thanks to a very unsanitary pin that had dug deep into her hip; and lastly, the donkey was still in the briar patch, braying for help as the tangled thorny vines seemed to clutch at him with a will, tearing his flesh with every desperate yank.
A cruel grin spread across Discord's face as the scenes played out, each sphere popping like a soap bubble as they ceased to amuse him. When the last had been dismissed he cut a quick jig, fingers clawed and eyes glowing red. "And it's so easy when you're evil
This is the life, you see
The Devil tips his hat to me.
I do it all because I'm evil
And I do it all for free
Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need."
The man gave a jump as Discord appeared beside him, looking smug and pleased with himself. "Oh! There you are. Is this..?"
"Indeed it is, my little brony! Welcome, welcome, welcome to your very first Nightmare Night!" Discord swept his mismatched arms to indicate the small, nondescript pony town, packed with spooky decorations, and filled with fillies and colts in all manner of costumes. "Nightmare Night... a scary holiday in a perfectly pleasant ponytopia. Ugh. It's like a perky-Goth's paradise. Passable but really, why don't we liven things up a bit?"
"How can we do that? I guess you can interact with them, but all I can really do is watch you act like some kind of ridiculous goof." The man crossed his arms over his chest and looked on Discord with a gaze approaching annoyance.
"Well, looks like that honeymoon is over. Or the bloom is off the rose. Whichever it is, calm yourself. I'm doing my best to entertain you." Discord snapped his fingers, fattening considerably, eyes bulging in two directions, a hangdog expression practically chiseling itself into his features and a necktie appearing around his neck. He gave it a tug and shook his head. "I tell ya, no respect. I get no respect at all."
The human looked around at the festivities and grinned a bit. "Not that I mind. This is a pretty nice little thing. Reminds me of being a kid..."
"Yes, yes, I know. Spare me the ten-hour story of your quirky childhood in Lake Woebegone or Saint Olaf or some other dull little Scandinavian hamlet invariably located in the frozen wasteland known as Minnesota. Allow me a little chaos before you attempt to bore me back to stone."
"Oh. Right. So what were you going to show me here?"
"Yes! Straight to business. It's funny business." Discord slid on a pair of sunglasses, instantly tuning into a copy of Rainbow Dash in her Shadowbolt attire. "And business is good." With that he swooped out towards a group of foals.
"While there's children to make sad..." The Shadowbolt-Dash suddenly opened her mouth freakishly wide to show off hundreds, if not thousands, of needle-sharp teeth dripping with saliva. Understandably shocked the little ones screamed in costume-wetting terror and ran off, abandoning their precious candy haul.
"While there's candy to be had..." Discord snapped back to his normal form, gathering up the fallen bags of candy and greedily consuming them, wrappers, bags and all. Including the bag that actually had a rock in it. To Discord's credit, he gave his human companion some of the candy. And a toothbrush. And a rock.
"While there's pockets left to pick..." Discord slipped into the shadow of a casually-strolling stallion. A tendril of darkness reached up and into the pouch of the earth pony, removing a bag of bits, an ID and a velvet box from a jewelry store. He slipped away, scattering the loot everywhere.
Spotting a Granny-Smith-Equivalent old mare, Discord was off like a shot, suddenly becoming a Discord-tripwire at the top of a flight of stairs. "While there's grannies left to trip down the stairs..."
"I'll be there, I'll be waiting 'round the corner
It's a game I'm glad I'm in it
'Cause there's one born every minute!" Discord leaped around the corner, grabbed a random stallion and straightened him up, engulfing his head and sucking on it like a lollipop. He then threw the pony over his shoulder next to the human, causing the stiff pony to shatter like cheap candy.
"Woah! Hey! That pony just exploded into, like, a million pieces!" The man's focus moved to the shattered stallion, his hands picking up the pieces and desperately trying to put them all back together.
His attention elsewhere, Discord was free to make his eyes glow red and to grin maliciously as he watched the foals trebling in fear in a well-lit corner while the old mare weakly cried for help at the bottom of the stairs, and the pickpocket victim desperately tried to convince his marefriend he had been robbed. "And it's so easy when you're evil
This is the life, you see
The Devil tips his hat to me.
I do it all because I'm evil
And I do it all for free
Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need."
"Did you say something?" The human had pieced together the candy stallion in a surprisingly short time. As soon as the last piece was set into place his hands fell through the pony, who stood up with a shake of his head.
"Did I? Sometimes it's so hard to keep track. Chaos, you know. Makes it hard to put things in order and figure out what I did, didn't do and haven't done yet. I swear I get them so mixed up." He snapped his fingers and the scene changed to a bright parade ground, which looked even more cartoony than the prior scenes. It was populated, not by ponies, but by extremely stylized and chibi-sized demons.
"What the he... ok, I'm not falling into that joke. What is this? I didn't think ponies had demons."
"Well you're no fun, are you?" Discord stuck his tongue out and grinned. "Well, I'm on a script right now, I can conjure what I want for the moment and I felt I needed a parade ground. Now, be quiet while I march." Discord started to march in time with the sudden music, legs coming up high and arms swinging freely. "I pledge my allegiance to all things dark," He marched past a raised platform which held a giant, completely-cartoonish demon dressed in a military uniform just dripping with medals.
"And I promise on my damned soul
To do as I am told, Lord Beelzebub
Has never seen a soldier quite like me
Not only does his job but does it happily!"
"That was... unique." The scene just dissolved into blackness after it was over. Once more Discord and the human were floating in pure nothingness. He looked to the spirit of chaos with a quirked brow. "I think I have an idea for a fic. Was that all you wanted to show me?"
"Oh no! Not at all! You seem to have underestimated me if that's all you thought I would do. Come along then, we've got one last bit of chaos to get to." With a snap and flash it was nighttime, in the midst of several quaint pony homes.
"Wow. You know, this place looks really nice. Probably be good for a vacation or something like that. Why not let me have some kind of "Human in Equestria" experience? You said that you couldn't be there but you could always send me there on some kind of limited time leash." The human looked hopefully aside at Discord with a smile.
"All things in due time, all things in due time. But for right now, I must leap to my next bit of activity. Watch and learn, little brony."
Suddenly the human was behind what looked like a security panel with a number of screens showing a few sleeping ponies, Discord there in all the screens at once, looking sneaky and cheerful. "What in the hay..?"
Discord roared with all his might, scaring a little unicorn filly so badly that she actually wet herself. "I'm the fear that keeps you awake!"
Another monitor revealed a mare couple waking up to see the shadows writhing around with a will and intention, in the form of Discord. "I'm the shadows on the wall..."
"I'm the monsters they become!" The shadows molded themselves anew, from the amorphous blobs to looming shades obviously meaning something to the pair, from mocking children to angry figures both male and female, as well as more abstract concepts like bitbags, looming buildings and medical implements.
"I'm the nightmare in your skull." Another security image showed a very old mare, squirming and sweating as a cloud over her head revealed the contents of her dreams. She was caught in some kind of darkness, trembling and bound down, limbs stretched out.
"W-wait! Come on, that's a bit... I mean... and you have fans?" The human was finally looking thoroughly uncertain, rising up and staring fearfully at the screen.
"Come now, little brony, don't be so naive." Discord appeared in the screen, a frightening close-up with fuzzy, washed-out video and slightly-buzzing audio. "Everypony loves a bit of chaos now and then! They think I'm amusing and love that actor that happens to sound like me. Besides, that charmingly alien, soul-devouring abomination Cthulhu has thousands of fans! If he can have some love, aren't I allowed to?" With that, Discord vanished into the dream.
"B-but..."
The protest fell on deaf ears, as the dream-mare screamed in agony when a blade flashed forward. "I'm a dagger in your back,
An extra turn upon the rack." The dagger remained, but the ropes tightened, as Discord turned a crank and drew the old mare out, with a loud popping of her joints.
The dream bubble vanished, the old mare shown thrashing on her bed, gums grinding, one hoof landing on her chest and her body giving regular spasms. "I'm the quivering of your heart
"H-hey! Discord! Discord! What's going on? Where are you? What happened? What is going on here?" The human stood as the whole scene faded away again, leaving behind the blackness once more. He saw Discord in the non-specific distance, and made his way along, seemingly by pure thought.
Discord was dancing around in utter glee, leaping and waving his hands, eyes glowing a shocking red, his voice a harsh rasp. "And it's so easy when you're evil
This is the life, you see
The Devil tips his hat to me.
I do it all because I'm evil
And I do it all for free
Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need."
"What?" The comment cracked the blackness, the surroundings shattering and crashing like broken glass to reveal the bedroom once more. "I thought it was all... I don't know, jokes and pranks. Funny things that maybe got a little mean but were ultimately just silly. What about all that stuff like "Daddy Discord" and the charming "Disclestia" stuff? Aren't you a fluffy, happy creature that is ultimately loving and misunderstood?"
Discord slumped down, shoulders drooping. He seemed... tired. Or even defeated. "You know... All of that is true. It's completely true. I mean, look at me! I'm a mess. I'm just a fun-loving guy who doesn't always know the extent of his own powers. I enjoy entertainment and spontaneity. You were perfectly correct. THEY are perfectly correct. I am, at heart, "Daddy Discord" and the type that could woo the fair Celestia. But I have my spontaneous moments, the side-effect of chaos. And then I can't seem to help myself."
"Hey I... I didn't know. I mean... Now I think... maybe I could..." The human wanted to give Discord a hug, but the spirit of chaos was already on the other side of the room under a bluish light, holding a 30's-style microphone, looking soulfully upwards.
"It gets so lonely being evil.
What I'd do to see you smile..." Discord smiled sadly and caressed the microphone, turning around towards the human and slowly moving over to him.
"Even for a little while..." He reached the man and slowly curled his sinuous body around him, the blue light slowly changing tone, sliding around the color wheel away from the violet side.
"And no one loves you when you're evil." For a moment there was silence, and the same soulful look on Discord's face. But the color of the light finally changed to red, a red to match the color of his glowing eyes. He jabbed two barbed stakes into the human's hands, attached to long metal strings.
"AAAGH! What is this? What are you doing?!" He was directed to his computer chair, his hands flying to the keyboard, clattering away on it with blinding speed at the limit of the computer's capabilities. He typed up an entire squishy, soft, face-saving story for Discord, with romance and stable family matters.
"Did you think I could really leave you with an ambiguous image? HA! I am the SOUL of ambiguity, but you know perfectly well what my nature is. You'd have to be a fool to not understand why that window of me was filled with flames." Discord was up above, working the puppet strings with a sadistic grin.
The story finished it was quickly formatted, sprinkled lightly with tiny errors to make it look properly human-made, and submitted to various places. "Ok, ok, I wrote the story. Or, you wrote it. Whatever. It's up. You can go..."
"And so can you. Thank you for letting me use your accounts." Discord snapped his fingers and made a knife appear in the human's hand. "I'm lying through my teeth!"
The strings moved, with some trembling, as the man tried to fight the motion of the forced action, which brought the knife closer and closer to his throat. "Your tears are all the company I need..."