The Silver Bullet

by Snowball

Rating: teen
Tags: Lyra, Romance, Original Character, Fluttershy, Sex, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 6149

You just need to take one little step to make things all better. Maybe you get just one shot, maybe you have all the time in the world. Either way, they'll remember 'ol Lyra for a long, long time for her one shot.

Ah, come in, come in! Have a seat, it's still good and warm from my last visitor. Just kick back and relax. I know what you came for, after all. I got my narrative polished and ready, just for you; it'll pull those heartstrings. Or maybe should I say, for your pretty little Princess, because that's who you answer to.

You want to know why, and what, and how, and when I shot Ms. Kindness and her companion. Is this a confession? Why, I wouldn't know. Maybe I just watched. It could have been self defense. I'm sure your boss would deny it, but we all saw her for what she was: a monster. And I put her down. I'm nothing like her, and I'll tell you why. I'll tell you what my heart told me...

Published 2015-02-18 03:10:03 UTC
Last updated 2015-02-24 10:55:28 UTC

18 - Moon

The sunlight, the touch of a drooping arm, brushed down my face as the last of the sun fell from view. That fiery thing didn’t fall, so much as we ourselves turned away from it. The bench felt no different than from yesterday, besides a little chilling to the rump. Some arc of bright sunlight screamed over the buildings before me just to my eye level, so I was left the awkward choice of taking its assault if I lowered my head just a little, or sitting uncomfortably.

There is a point to all of this, don’t get me wrong. With a few strums of this object in my hooves, I could communicate to anyone what my favored disposition was: that of an artist. Consider one’s suffering: if it’s to be seen as the dark, then no matter how gruesome our suffering, someone, somewhere else, enjoys the relaxing sunshine without a care in the world. They don’t care about you, or know about you, or even understand what it means to be you. To glimpse out into the night from a lit room is a simple embodiment of this truth.

It’s not quite as fair a comparison as I’d hope it would be. My eyes sting if I look into the sun, after all. Does one’s eyes burn from optimism if they live too happily? That, I don’t know. Some phantom pain stings when I reminisce those kind of days, to way back when.

The emptying intersection that graced my view was all too familiar. Mothers held their children’s hooves and walked them along. Gaudy windows stamped scenes of idle conversation, of lively anecdote and calm browsing in the shops. Pegasi up above, colors all washed out wrapped in cones of orange. When I thought back, what I saw was just like this.

I watched these scenes, just like this. My hoof strummed a lazy cord. I watched my wrist rock against every string, the weight of my hoof making their tension mostly negligible in its descent. Oh, oh so many years ago a smaller, well-kept hoof played this same cord in the same manner.

So what had changed?

“Lyra? Lyra, there you are!”

Her mane was beautiful. When she jogged to my side, her curls bounced and glimmered, the rims of her bright eyes smooth and pristine. She flashed me a smile, then took her seat by my side.

“Hey, Ocean Song,” I said slowly. My lips contorted to a smile by reflex, and I spoke to her with an airy, level tone. Inviting’s the word.

Ocean waved to me and bounced in her seat a few times to rest her back in an angle she must have deemed fitting. “How come I always catch you noodling, huh? The crowd’s just dying for you out there!” she said, brows raised in drama as she swept her hoof across the view.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. I flicked my mane in a pause to feign how much thought I gave to the question... one could say. “When a song comes to mind, the feeling that I’ve already played it to death gets in the way. Any old pony can’t see the ruts you’re stuck in, but they’re still real to you, you dig?”

The filly sank in her seat. I coulda driven her lower and lower, but the thought just didn’t appeal to me that day. She stared at her hoof, left one I think. “You feel like a copout, then?”

“Naw, just like I got myself stuck in some mud and pulling makes it worse.” I chuckled at the thought. “You were already without a paddle before you met me, though. That mud was sucking your hooves off before you even took a step. How come you kids can’t just write a damn song and accept it’ll suck?”

"Well, what can I say?" she huffed. Her other hoof brushed her bangs aside. It gave her face a nice frame for the nicer smile she flashed to me, just bloated with under-confidence. "It's so easy to talk yourself outta taking the plunge when you know what shit you're going headfirst into."

"Like love and war," I retorted. "Oh, but you hardly ever hear about the ponies who didn't take things too far, now do you?"

Ocean just shrugged. "Us normal folk have terminal apathy. Wouldn't you agree, old lady?"

"Poor thing," I said, best baby talk I could care to muster. "First lesson for any performer? Your crowd is just waiting to cut loose. It'll be you or some other thing that will actually make the news that sets 'em off." I pulled the filly into this buddy-buddy hug. "Cuz, wouldn't you know it? Our job is to put what they already feel into words. If not words, then pictures."

Ocean snorted. "And if not pictures, then drama." I taught her well, it seems.

"Life is too short to be angry. Angry at nothing. Don't let ma and pa try and tell you our job is a waste of time, you dig?"

Ocean broke the hug first, this odd look on her face. "Psh, my dad was the most forgiving guy ever," she said, flicking her mane. She dealt imaginary cards from her hoof, one at a time. "You just... play... your cards... right with ponies like that, then you're golden. Mom was too much of a mule to be so easy."

"I coulda been your mama," I said, pulling my cheeks down to hide the wrinkles. At once my companion squeezed back what would have been a hilarious laugh and squeaked in pain from biting her tongue. Gotta love ponies like that.

"Y-you know I hate that face!" the girl cried.

Good, I had her distracted. When you fluster these sorts you can trip them up more and more. I lead into the question with three small laughs. "So do you miss your mama and pa?"

She tried to laugh along before her peanut brain caught up. "W-what?"

"You heard me."

"I told you to never talk about them," she whispered.

Of course she tried to get away, so I pushed her back down by the shoulder before the thought crossed her mind. "Just humor me, kid."

"Why?" Her face twisted into a mean 'ol frown. "What, did I hurt your feelings or something? You know your age doesn't matter to me, so you can rightly fuck off."

"It's your ma's birthday today."

That was all it took to knock her off her hooves. She brushed her nose with her left hoof, hiding her soundless lips. I leaned forward, but she turned away.

This day meant so much to both of us, let me tell you. Maybe it wasn't an important thing to her. She was a young girl, and her mama woulda given the world to her. Her nature I knew well, and every ill thing Ocean said of her was a blatant lie.

I played along, even then. You understand why, don'tcha?

...oh stars!

Hee hee, I need a breath. Sorry about that. Just the thought of what Bonnie would do to me, you don't even know. You can't make absurd shit like this up. Ocean would see her mama go from zero to hero if I told her any stories.

"I guess years of her throwing block parties stamped that one on my mind," I said.

She swallowed hard. "So what? I'm on my own now, Lyra. Maybe, uh, I get a little homesick from time to time. I can swear that I only miss when life was so easy, so carefree." She matched her eyes with mine, still always a bit uncertain. "But the freedom is worth having to pick up after myself."

I bopped her on the nose and kicked right back. For good measure, I swiped my own bangs to let it fall over my face and batted my eyes at the girl, who looked a few cents short on words. "I didn't want no life story, kid. You said what I wanted to hear, and that's all that mattered."

Ocean coughed demure-like. "That I d-don't take my freedom for granted?" She leaned onto my chest. "Of course not."

Her mane was so soft and lively. A good deal of warmth and traces of moisture trapped under gave a hint to its thickness. You can't tell me that a girl who dolls herself up for you for even the most pointless meeting isn't adorable, now can you?

My scowl grew and grew. Breezy, wispy, washed-out. Things only go more wrong, don't they? It goes without saying that she meant everything to me. They always do, and don't you fucking think otherwise.

We just stayed together for the evening, before I forget my little story. The kid left at around ten, like usual. Busy morning ahead of her, like usual. About lunch time for me, like usual. A stroll down Main Street was what the doctor ordered. Nothing was open, not a lot of ponies left around or anything. Oh, I didn’t really do any food shopping that week. Again, huh. You know, the slop they give me here has been oddly filling me these past few weeks.

Alright, alright, back on track. I’m getting to the part you actually asked about. Ain’t it tantalizing?

There was just one shithole open. The crummiest diner you could imagine, run by the crummiest looking sorts of pony. You rounded the corner past the Breezy Bee -- great place, that one -- right on by this budget dress shop and a lot with some trees, littered with trash and cracks in the concrete flowing with weeds. And then you went past some curio place, some stationery place that was the mangled offshoot of the old, old Quills and Sofas then at last…

The Key Tapper. The only forsaken place open at midnight. I suppose I woulda starved to death without it. Shopping’s that miserable to me. I’d go in, see, and this chubby filly would say ‘how do you do’ every time. Every fucking time. I suppose by being a regular, you sorta belong to the establishment. You’re their regular. The filly’s name was Eclair Puff, some called her Clair.

But you knew that already.

I pushed open the jangly portal, probably smeared a roach or two. She perked up and immediately waved at me.

“Oh hi, Lyra! Just in time, too. I put some yummy cocoa on!” She wanted me to stay a little longer tonight, it seemed. Making it feel like home. I glanced to my usual spot, and on the table was a baby blue vase. In that vase, a single anthurium. Oh, it looked a juicy and tangy orange, but the moron got the whole meaning backwards.

I smiled to her after the moment’s contemplation. “Good evening, Clair. How’s your pa doing?”

Our go-getter beat me to my own table, waiting to take my order. She couldn’t keep her hooves still, nor her wings. We did this song and dance so many damned times, yet she always had this awkward moment of looking over her own menu to avoid staring at me, or some other random boring object. The menu was long since unneeded, but there it was.

She didn’t set it down when I took my seat. “I’m feeling a little bit of spinach tonight,” I told her. Well, maybe that wasn’t the exact thing that exact day. I made it a mission to not have a usual, since I was a filly even!

She giggled. “You must be a mind reader, Lyra. Shy-Shy already whipped some of that up for breakfast earlier, i-if you don’t mind it a little cold?”

I snickered. “So your baby is being your assistant tonight, again? I’m fixing to tell your pa just how well you handle the night shift at this rate.”

Red as a tomato. Clair straightened her apron and counted the tiles a bit. “She said her animal friends were all tucked in for the night like babies. Mr. Bear didn’t have no fits tonight, no one had nightmares.” She stomped her hoof, if you could call it that. “It’s just the worst, seeing a little critter be scared like that.”

Fluttershy called from the kitchen. “Did you want the spinach soup, Lyra?”

Of course she could hear that. “Yeah, hit me!” I replied. I gave the table one good pound of discontent, and Clair practically ate the air from the room and ran to hug the wall. Just too easy. Whatever cloying grouch she readied didn’t matter when that thing flitted in.

On leathery wings, the creature glided into my view. Her coat powdered in moon dust, eyes of fresh wounds. Her ear swiveled just so to my tapping, impatient hoof. No smile with teeth, sharp as that, could be called welcoming. Nothing about her didn’t wear on one’s nerve to stay put, to smile back or give the time of day.

It took real practice to get over all of that. I did the smile-wave one-two to this monster named Fluttershy. That’s what she is, and that’s what I’ll call her. If you don’t like it, you can just leave.

I asked what had changed a few minutes ago, didn’t I? I wasn’t asking for myself, oh no. I know how abrasive and irreverent a husk I became. I know why I’m… I’m…

But her! She hadn’t aged a single day. Oh, if you were in Clair’s place, watching us two exchanging that greeting, you’d understand.

“It smells just right for me,” I said. The thing blushed and set the bowl down in front of me, in service. It’s those little moments.

“I-it’s nothing special, really. Just an old recipe from when I was growing up,” Fluttershy said.

I took a sip. More or less, it was spinach. A taste of onion, a dash of cilantro and sprinkle of salt. Very, very plain, that soup. A lot of what you’d get there was pretty plain, pretty simple. “I’m guessing you didn’t have the bits to throw around in the kitchen, then,” I said after a few smackerels.

“That’s true, actually,” Fluttershy said. She jumped to Clair with a flick of her wings. She got this stare whenever something scared her, frozen under some spotlight. Fortunate for her, Fluttershy made it all better with a little bit of touch. Just a hug, a pat on the head. The girl’s cheeks flushed, then she was fine like always. Her cheeks were so soft... so callow.

I rubbed the back of my head in embarrassment. “Heh, sorry about that Clair. I just forget things too easily nowadays.”

“I-it’s fine,” she mumbled. Their little hug was more of a cause of attention at this point.

“It’ll get better, Clair,” Fluttershy said, honeyed voice. “My closest friends could be brash at times, so that made me more comfortable with, well, these things after a while. I believe in you.”

She tensed her shoulder a few times and flicked her tail out, once curled in fright. “Lyra IS too awesome to hide from forever, yeah.” These moments, I tell you.

I gagged as overtly as I could, rousing a few chuckles from the two lovebirds. “We don’t need this much schmaltz every time I visit, do we?”

Clair stepped up to the table out of the little embrace. Her legs wobbled but she seemed back in the zone again. “Oh, but I like these kinds of moments, Lyra. Hugs, for free!” Her wings shuffled around as she spoke. After she took her seat, the feathers on them ceaselessly brushed the wooden back of the stall, yet she acted as if she didn’t notice. The girl couldn’t sit fucking still to save her life.

...your aim is off, pal. You got me talking, got me talking! Why throw that one away too?

The monster sat right on next to her. Stars, I couldn’t help a snicker or two seeing them together. Seems like my timing was impeccable, seeing how they chuckled along for the moment. Fluttershy rested her forelegs on the table. Glanced at a spot a few times on it, then brushed something aside. Clair was already babbling again, the outsider. Me and her, we watched that green hair sway down on through the air before vanishing, as hairs are wont to do.

“...and the ribbons they had were so adorable, too! They had one that reminded me of you, Lyra, but I couldn’t afford it.” It took me one blink to realize she was giving me this look of disappointment, waiting.

“Oh, that’s fine girl,” I said. Bet she woulda slept good that night with that answer. “You just gotta point me in the right direction so I can snag it later.” I took another sip of that soup. Sip of the soup. Ha. The thing watched me intently, a touch of sadness. At the time, I figured we both knew it had gone cold. It was my second spoon, even. I still crave a little bit of it, actually.

“So how is it?” Clair asked me.

I waved the spoon at Fluttershy, this sassy little gesture. “It’s good, I’ll give you that much. But Ms. Iron Stomach here couldn’t be bothered to experiment all these years?”

She smiled back at me. I shuddered. Only just a little. “I can’t really stand strong tastes anymore, actually. I do agree that I should spice things up a little more though. Why, Clair here added a little nutmeg to it the other day and it sold by the end of the dinner rush.”

The girl ducked down a little. “We don’t really have any of it left today. Sorry!”

I’m gonna bet that I answered one of your little questions just now. That was our day in, day out. That’s what us three were to each other ten-fold longer than tonight’s planned entertainment. I was a damned Aesthetics major back in Celly’s. I needed a bit of lead in, kill two birds with one stone. It was a night like any other, to be perfectly honest. You need to just believe me there. My craving for drama would constitute perjury, sadly. Whatever you call it. A scar, a blemish that would be! I’m no liar.

What happened? It’s not so much an event as a… revelation I had. The ‘why’.

We gave her a hard time for a little while, but it all winded down to idle chatting before I knew it. About two in the morning, the thing said she had to run out back to her home to tend to her nocturnal critters. I usually ‘went’ on my way along with her, and tonight was no different. Clair hugged and kissed her favorite monster, rested her head on its shoulder. I reined that in, though. One solid glare when the thing’s back was turned, and Clair broke the hug. Fortunate that Fluttershy can’t really taste emotions.

My one good scare topped off this night. We went out the door, shoulder to shoulder. About a block we’d usually walk together before we went our separate ways, passed with more blabbing. We reached the midpoint of the derelict lot. Entered stage right, moon livening up the scene. A punchy gust rattled some unseen wind chimes from afar that called the scene.

“What’s wrong, Lyra?”

I continued to move forward as I answered. Really, I was falling.

“Nothing, why?”

The sounds of the thing shuffling highlighted the sharp pain in my tail that webbed through the back, so I stopped. Played cool.

Fluttershy looked into my eyes when I faced her, so gentle. My tail didn’t budge a centimeter, I could feel it. I swallowed.

“Lyra, I know it when I see it. Something troubles you,” she spoke softly.

I’m no coward, but I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t say just what she knew. The more she said my name, the harder it was to not scream in her face. I could hide a python in a saddlebag any day of the week, but you couldn’t ask me to stare one down.

I wanted to keep Clair to myself above all else. She was just like me. Greedy and paranoid. I wanted her, and I wanted Ocean. I just wanted.

She pawed at the ground with her free leg, observing it. “I’m sorry I’m like this. I used to bemoan what I was. The thirst. The sun. The loneliness. I had my friends by my side for so long, but now I don’t. Now it’s so hard.”

“Because you’re alive, right?” I said. She gasped. The understated shift in her mood was still plain as day despite how muffled she made it. I looked away from her. “And you can’t reverse it, either. You would never ask anyone of such a thing.”

Another breeze chilled my bones. That voice, that broken little sound. “I’d rather live with it. I’d rather live with this than ask her to kill me. I’m too much of a coward to ever truly mean such a thing, and yet I’m terrified of the future.”

“I’d never wish this on anyone.”

17 - Star

I’ll never give you the privilege of telling your mistress for sure what happened that night. Did she beg me for it? Did she weep at my hooves once the hopelessness set in, weep with joy? On both counts, both of them. What sort of face did those two have, I wonder?

I see things differently from you. I see potential, and beauty. The monster held no regard for her gifts. The light shunned her for existing, and she could never fall into the crowd ever again, but she gained something from it. Time. Time is oh, so precious. One second lost is one second closer, but some wrong, some broken part of her mind cried out at time. That disgusted me most of all.

Faces are just faces, and you can choose to gaze elsewhere. She cried from loneliness, but she had us. Me and Clair, two ponies with a gentle touch a love of talking. A musician, and a restaurateur. A unicorn and a pegasus, who lived their lives like any other. We awoke at night, slept in day. We were what she stood to gain, but she closed out everything.

She shut out us along with her pain, and our frantic pounding on that door sounded no different from each other to her freakish, superior ear. On the other hoof…

Well, just use your imagination. Little shit.

On the other hoof, I could see the potential, the beauty, of her gift. I got the creature talking long ago, when our friendship began budding then. Poor thing was in pieces, slowly losing her normal life to the so-called curse.

The park, that's what it was. Where my story began, if you recall. It almost slipped my mind, that tidbit. It's so much smaller than it was back then. Waves of concrete crashed and crushed the little urban glade to what it is now. When I first moved here as a filly, the park wasn't even one in name! Just a particularly lovely field in the midst of town.

The first time Fluttershy opened up to me was such a gloomy afternoon. We were neck deep in it by then. Got our Palace District all sorted out by the suits, got our smothered demographics and money polluting the air between us, and took so much space to lay our roots. Rather, to pile more shit, but aren't we a sentimental race? If the palace was Equestria’s new jewel, then you could say we brushed aside so much more to give it room.

Her Highness called a town meeting that day. I didn't go, obviously, mainly to relish in the disturbing tranquility in this town. You'd see everything swept and straightened, carriages parked nice and neat on the side of the road, the grounds clear. The last of the 'helpers' had returned to the palace, their duty fulfilled with all haste.

So I peeked from the garbage can. Yes, that was my hiding spot! I could just toss the garbage out on the sidewalk and they'd not question it.

All was clear. My favorite bench was just a stone's throw away, but there she was, fouling it up. I say that now, of course. I was a doe-eyed young lady at the time, believe it or not. The first thing I noticed was her intense shakes. The girl hugged herself and spoke to herself, but made nary a sound. My heart woulda snapped in two were I not, well, me.

Still, when you stumble upon such a pathetic display, something drives you to put it out of its misery. I approached the clearly torn up filly, too absorbed to notice. I snatched what I could from the air.

“Not… fair, it’s not. W-why did you have to go and… and…” What interrupted her was a fit of gasps, the kind you’d hear from someone nearly drowned. Her face was so pale. That’s saying a lot, considering her kind. Only twice did I see her this pale in my life. This particular instance was far more sickening.

“Are you alright?” I spoke. I didn’t put the effort into taming my volume, so the girl nearly jumped outta her own skin.

You ever seen a bird die? I watched a house sparrow die once, when I was a kid. I had a fight with the folks and ran out to our tool shed. The fight? I don’t really remember what it was about. Once in a blue moon, I’d just reminisce. Every time I came back to this one memory, the reasons, the setup, just changed. Whatever we fought over, it made sense to the me of that time. Bias, bias and more bias. Do think about that one.

That bird’s wing dragged in the dirt. Tiny as it was, it just left the faintest marks on the dry dirt. When I approached, it tried to fly. It tried its damndest. All I saw, all I heard was its marginal wings flapping against the blades of grass. Like leafing through paper. I couldn’t see its eyes, and it had just enough white down on its belly that I could see it flopping around. It made a warpath, inch by inch. I scooped up the creature in my magic, and did what I could.

That was that.

Every day I visited that shed thereafter, not a single trace of it was left. I pondered just forgetting what I saw, what I did, but… no. There’s only one like it, one memory like that. That one bird had a witness, one life no lesser than any other, she’d say.

So, Fluttershy moved just like that bird when I startled her. That girl’s frayed nerves are notorious, are they not? I half expected her to react in surprise, and she did. Her limbs were lifeless, however. Her frightened eyes snapped up to mine, but that’s not what she was looking at, oh no. Her emotions had her by the throat, and did what they pleased with her body. Her flinches, her breaths, all not her own.

“W-who are you?” she croaked. The girl wiped her eyes. “Lyra?”

“Forget that!” I cried. “Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

She blinked at me.

Sunken eyes.

There, I’m sitting down like a good girl again.

“Um, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just, I heard some bad news. That’s all.” She waved me away. So, I took her hoof in mine.

“Don’t try to pull that crap, Fluttershy,” I said with my best edge. I didn’t anticipate her, of all ponies, to hold my hoof back like that. She wouldn’t let go, damn her.

“I…” She let her mouth hang open. Still struck speechless, in a way. Violently, she shook her head and she pulled me close. Buried her face in my chest. It stunned me, oh yeah. But I could hear her heart that day. ‘A pony, a real pony! She’s holding me, holding me right now!’ And for dear life, she held.

It took her awhile to recompose. The meeting hadn’t adjourned by then, so the silence still deafened. For wont of something to pass the time, I stroked her mane. Soft, warm, lovely. I could see all of her, feel her and taste her in my arms. We weren’t so… well, close at the time. Acquaintances. I held her grace in esteem, and whatever she held in return, I couldn’t say. Maybe because I was a loner. Because I was detached. She could confide in someone like that, and feel safe. Safe from loss.

“How could she?” Fluttershy whispered to me.

I didn’t feel the need to respond. Her heart pattered in her chest, bouncing against my thigh upon which she reclined. Breaths rapid, trembling jaw.

“She’s ruining everything! She ruined my home, the home of my friends. She’s filled it with all this noise, this ugliness, with strangers. She’s taking it all for herself. She took my future, my peace and…

“And I love her like a sister.”

I left an unspoken question hanging in the air. We both knew what it was.

“I couldn’t bear to see her again, so soon.”

I chuckled, tense as a rope around your neck. My own odd response stayed her muscles for the moment, and she listened. “I don’t rightly know what’s going on,” I said. “But it already sounds like you’ve forgiven her.”

“No!” she shouted. It took all my strength to keep her in my arms, but that rage fought hard with what little it had left. “I can’t forgive something like this!”

Fluttershy elbowed my ribs, hard. My I clenched my eyes to fight back the cry of pain, and I quickly pulled the both of us to the ground. It took magic and muscle to pin her down, by Luna. I coasted on adrenaline to fight down her sudden strength, diminished as it was even. “So what, huh?” I returned in equal measure. “If you stop being angry, you won’t have anything else left, is that it?”

“Nothing, n-nothing at all,” she wailed. “There’s nothing anyone c-can do, that worthless, vile, oblivious alicorn even.”

I nuzzled her ear as she spoke. “Go on, go on!”

She snorted in response, staring straight ahead. “Privileged, soft-hooved, optimistic, pampered, inept, retarded, ugly, conniving, heartless…”

That girl vented some nasty shit in the moment. It’s all a blur. The longer she growled out these aimless insults, the calmer she became. I didn’t even notice when we laid side by side, holding each other close. It wasn’t amour, exactly. If desperation drove her, loneliness drove me. I don’t beg for no scraps, but when it falls into your lap, I say, go for it.

I brushed her mane aside. Her eyes of glass stared back, again looking at anything but me. The longer her and I connected, the colder my lungs and throat felt. Voices swam from down distant streets. Minnows fighting their way to the zenith of our ears, losing life and luster in the peeling rapids. Clouds receding, the now setting sun crowned her, in a way, atop that hill. The weakest little glow from her eyes punctured the shadow on her face, I realized.

I nudged her once, nudged her twice and thrice. But she didn’t move! I said her name, pulled away from her. She didn’t move still. I brandished my magic, a lovely shade of gold, and scooped up the pegasus onto my back. Never again will I repeat such a favor, carrying dead weight like that, ‘specially not at this age. Still, the urgency empowered younger me, to spirit away this maiden. No danger loomed, but it didn’t stop my pep, break my stride.

As I rounded a corner, I heard a call.

“Fluttershy! Please, wait!” Distant call, it was. I almost turned back, really. However, I had the monster’s interests at heart, and I ran. If I knew then what was going on, I woulda stayed. I woulda made amends between the two. Fluttershy wouldn’t be alone, and no one would have suffered. That one fleeting moment of hope. We all have those in life, don’t we?

Don’t misunderstand. If all we have left are regrets in the end, then that one moment is all I have. Nothing more.

Naturally, I wanted to take her to my apartment, and I did get to the street it was on. The idea… didn’t quite sit well with younger me. You could take it the wrong way, and all that. So I made a left into a formerly filthy alleyway. There was this little nook, for utility pipes or something, that I nestled her down in, and I waited.

In hindsight, it was her way of showing her little secret. I stayed with her like that until nightfall, still not a single word from that poor husk. It got to the point where I needed my magic to even see my hoof in front of my face.

“Lyra,” she whispered.

And she turned her head. The light, it caught her face just right. Just. Fucking. Right.

So sunken were her eyes, that the whites became black pits. My attention rocked her nerves, and she gasped soundlessly, knowing that she now had her own witness. The furs on her face became etched shading on a bronze place, swishing unnaturally against the light I cast on her, swishing at the edges of her face.

And the red, bloody red light. Damn her, she looked to the ground. The red light streamed down her cheeks.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said to me. But she didn’t know that a thousand ticks chomped down on the bottom of my heart, climbing over one another and raining back down in their frenzied riot, dragging it down and wasting it away along with their disgusting selves.

So demure. She fanned her leathery wing in front of her face at last, waving away whatever hooks that snared my eyelids and kept my head up.

...

T-thank you, for the cup of water. So, um, I asked her what happened. She told me it was long ago. One little mistake, and they all just forgot it. No harm done, she said. She grew old with her friends, at least for a little while, but then she felt great. Felt better than great.

“I had to wait for Dashie to catch up when we flew to lunch together once,” she told me, so solemn.

Her eyes were lovely in my light, I realized. The shock, it never quite faded, but it stirred something in me. Whenever she spoke, or moved, or sang, something ran deeper in it. Though she’d outlive her friends, outlive me and everyone she knew, she sang like it was her last song. I had a taste of her, too. She fell into me with a gentle push. Not pleasure or pain, but warmth. That’s what she stole from me.

I lay awake for three nights, thinking and thinking some more. My back’s temper tantrum cooled off in that time, fortunately.

I think you’re a horrible listener, that’s what. Younger me wasn’t a spry lass, you moron. She was the me before she touched the heart of an alicorn. Knocked on that last door, stared into the abyss. Whatever turn of phrase suits you.

Take two ponies. They’re both dead meat. Say they both fell from the catwalks above some deathtrap bullshit that qualifies for pegasus ingenuity. Your left pony, they’re saying their prayers. The right, they’re reminiscing. Lefty could be begging for salvation, righty could be drawing a blank. Before their fetlocks reach the metal maws a-waiting for them, they have just one thing on their minds, one last thing.

Lefty is me, and Righty could be anyone else. They have hope, they die with hope. They don’t give in, and they die with the given. They didn’t look down, but up. They chose to ignore wait awaited. Who would you rather walk away from that, to pull through? The one who’ll live with their head down again, like nothing changed?

Or me?

You would never know what happened that night, if it weren’t for me. That monster wouldn’t be put out of her misery like she wanted, if she didn’t show me those truths so long ago. No other pony was up to it.

Hear me, loud and clear. Twilight!

You are a true Princess. I wouldn’t trade you for the world. You have your life ahead of you, and I don’t. My last hurrah, it was all of this! I hope I showed you the truth, too.

And I hope that you won’t ever forget me.