A round unvarnished tale of...

The sun beams down on her open sewer, illuminating the stagnant pond with lying light. In the muck creatures stir, rousing themselves for the beginning of a new day, unaware or unwilling to recognise their entrapment. Instead of filth, their surroundings are lit as a mirage of bright hope, order and the possibility of achievement. Bolstered by this waking dream they throw themselves into the day, convinced of purpose, whilst in reality they remain in the quagmire. Efforts and resources are drained by their futile quest for the proscribed perfection, then as the night draws in cracks begin to show in their world, shattered through unremitting toil. The festering ooze trickles in, poisonous vapours rising to their nostrils and the leeching cold of the swamp finally begins to bite into their flesh. Their only response is flight into the synthetic gleam of the evening, patching over the holes with desperate consumption. Lines of reality again pushed back, they retreat into intoxicated sleep to await the next day. All are trapped, from within and without, locked into a straightjacket of imposed identity, whilst being manipulated like puppets held aloft by barbed wire, with only lies or escapism illuminating their hollow world.

She was not sure whether it was the disgusting taste or equally unpleasant smell which hit her first as she regained consciousness, but either foulness alone was more than enough to cause her senses to recoil. In her mouth sat a familiar waking enemy: the nauseating flavour of alcohol which has settled on the palate for too long, a common herald of the dawn following overindulgence the night before. On this occasion however it had with it an underlying friend with which she was not so well acquainted. Metal maybe… she was unsure, but her dry tongue attempted to shrink back from it, meanwhile her nostrils were being assaulted with every breath she drew in. Predominate in the attacking scent was smoke, making her airways feel dirty as it entered, but somehow more acrid were other elements it was mixed with. Alcohol again, but with a recognisable fruity sweetness identifying it as wine, the warmth of mixed spices and the light perfume of flowers mingled to produce a fragrance both more pungent and repulsive because it stood in antithesis to the dominant burnt aroma. Once more below all this was something metallic… possibly iron?

Her other senses were gradually becoming clearer now and she realised that she was on her back, feeling an uncomfortably hard smoothness below her. A warm air blew across her coat, but any heat she may have gained from it was immediately sucked from her, down into the cold surface on which she lay, sending chills through her frame. She felt her ears twitch, coming to attention and then scanning their surroundings. They heard little. It was not the case that there was silence, quite the opposite in fact, but rather she found her hearing filled with the single prevailing noise, akin to the roar of wind passing through a tunnel. Steadily other sounds began to break through, although everything seemed as if it were being listened to underwater. There were a multitude of unintelligible voices and the sharp clattering of invisible objects shattering, but all was distant.

She finally let her eyelids raise, excavating her irises from their burial in inky blackness, to be released into the bejewelled expanse of the night sky. Her neck acted first, slowly rising from its freezing pillow, followed by the rest of her body as she sat up, feeling a bruised ache in every joint she moved. Now sat on her haunches, she found herself within a sea of scattered garden furniture. Overturned tables and chairs stood like islands on a shined marble floor, itself covered in shoals of glass shards and broken crockery. Reefs of spilled food were dotted everywhere, with salad leaves looking like damp seaweed and various vegetables playing the part of brightly coloured coral, meanwhile swirling clouds of grey smoke punctuated the scene, as they floated over the ocean of debris. The feeling of dusty air hurt her eyes, causing her to blink violently and small beads of tears to rush forth, attempting to clean them but only increasing their soreness in the process.

Situation appraised, if not understood, her attention diverted to her own state and she looked down so as to inspect herself. To her relief she found her pelt to only be badly matted, as opposed to caked in detritus as her surroundings had led her to believe. It was satisfying to find that it had maintained its pure ivory lustre, in spite of whatever foul treatment had obviously occurred. She now elevated her forehooves to her gaze, checking her recently hooficured nails for any chip or blemish. Thankfully again she found nothing, but as she continued her inspection a small dark droplet fell before her eyes, passing almost in slow motion, to land on the pristine appendage. Like a stain on a field of snow, the minute crimson splatter stood out, tarnishing the entire surface with its presence. A second drop plummeted in the same way to join its kin, this time however she reacted to save herself, letting it instead impact on the polished floor. It was strange but both her own movements and those of the droplets seemed blurry, happening as a rapid series of images as opposed to in smooth arrangements, as if her eyes could not quite focus properly. Her faulty vision panned upwards in search of the red liquid’s source. Nothing but lightly twinkling stars stared back. Confused her forehooves moved to her face, tracing first her jaw, then her snout and then further upwards. As her feeling motions moved from her eyebrows to her maneline she found it: a thin indented line, snaking just beneath her horn and damp to the touch. The hoof recoiled, horrified at what it found, as her confused mind finally gained a degree of clarity. She seemed to be alone, she could smell smoke and she was bleeding from a gash on her head. She needed to move.

Unstable hooves placed themselves on the floor, as she shakily stood up, gradually taking the very slight weight of the slender mare they were attached to. She did not think that she could have been unconscious for long, but her body was acting like it had been in a coma and was now having to relearn how to move. A foreleg extended gingerly, both trying to retain what little balance had been achieved and to avoid the various jagged fragments of glass or porcelain which littered the marble, eventually planting itself determinedly in hopes of spurring the rest to do the same. The other legs just about managed to follow suit, clumsily imitating the first. Progress to begin with was slow, requiring the support of anything solid within reach to remain upright, but steadily her body readjusted. In spite of her best efforts she occasionally felt the crunch of shards beneath her shoes, although luckily she avoided puncturing her hoof pads, causing her to stare ever more intently at the ground. Increasingly she stepped round large red pools on the stone surface, some obviously wine, others obviously not, a tell-tale metallic odour identifying the difference. What had happened? Her mind strained to pierce the blankness of recent memory, as she found herself at the epicentre of the destruction. In the midst of a circle of wrecked furniture was a crater, cutting through the shined surface of the marble to reveal the grains of its underlying layers. What drew her attention however was not the hole, but rather the copious amount of iron-scented liquid lying in puddles around it, along with a solitary purple-coloured lower leg. The abandoned piece of appendage rested on its side, the bone of its severed joint sticking out, with a wreath of torn layers of skin and musculature looking like the petals of a bizarre flowering plant. Nausea immediately hit her stomach, rising quickly to her mouth and she threw up, feeling the burn of stomach acid strike at her throat. ‘Just keep moving’ her mind spoke with calm resolve, fighting against the mixed orders of her shrieking instincts, which were collectively telling her to scream, run, hide and puke again.

By now the smoke which had been lingering in the air was beginning to fade in the night air, revealing that this space was actually a building’s roof, ringed by an intricate wrought iron fence, constructed to simulate interwoven vines. What lay beyond this perimeter however, remained obscured. Three sides of this open-air dining area were made up of this mock greenery, whilst the fourth was a wall, decorated rustically in cream-coloured plaster, with an archway set into it. A way down? She made directly for the potential portal, carefully tip-toeing amongst pointed wreckage. Stairs lay within, poorly illuminated by a few flickering lamps, but leading downwards. Salvation. Her hopeful hooves stepped into the gloom, moving in partial blindness to seek out each descending mahogany step she had to take. ‘Just one step at a time…’ She misjudged a distance, pivoting wildly on the brink and was only just able to re-right herself before tipping into a fall. A sigh of relief and exasperation softly escaped her lips, whilst for some reason the feeling of déjà vu stormed her mind, but infuriatingly doing so without providing any clue as to the memory which had triggered it. ‘For buck’s sake’ she swore in annoyance, although appreciating the fact that she was able to effectively let her restrictive mask of civility slip. Social expectations had always hung heavy upon her, stemming from a strict Canterlot upbringing, forcing her to think, act and enjoy in the way she was instructed. This is why she had come here of course: a new city, a fresh start, etcetera, etcetera. A prolonged process though it was, she was gradually breaking the great many chains of etiquette and enforced taste with which she had been bound. There was a long way still to go, but still she had never felt freer or more truly herself.

By now she had reached the base of the stairway and was faced by another archway, a mirror image to the first. Through it lay a bar space in a similar state of desolation to the area she had now left above her, but marked by a few differences. These quickly became apparent as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit cavern, whose only lighting came from a few lone candles, hanging amongst their mostly extinguished waxen fellows, in chandeliers like elaborate stalactites. Everything was coated in a fine crystal carpet, made up of the shattered remnants of mirrors, which had stood prominent behind the bar, an assortment of broken bottles and the building’s long front windows. A shimmering of reflected light played throughout the space, being echoed off the sharp blanket of assorted shards. In places the cave walls glistened with fluid, much like water moving between rock strata, dripping to join the crimson underground rivers which snaked across the floor in flowing smears. The stench here was unbearable, iron and burnt hair combining to produce an astringent scent. She turned away, resisting the urge to vomit again, and found herself looking into a portrait above the arch she had just passed through. An image of Princess Celestia smiled down at her, sat on the solar throne in a position of absolute benign authority and flanked by red imperial flags. The image, although relatively common throughout the city, ignited recognition somewhere within her, but once again not enough to provide any explanatory memories. ‘I was here with… for a meal... with somepony?’ she struggled, an accompanying feeling of warmth telling her the pony in question was important to her. ‘But who… why?’ Her mind was beginning to connect the pieces of her most recent past. ‘A date maybe… with…’ Suddenly it clicked: ‘Coco, where’s Coco?’

The distant drone of voices, the crackling of power and then a bright light cut through the all-consuming blackness.

Everything was restful and soft. She was enveloped from head to tail in a nest of comforting warmth, surrounded by layers of silk, coloured gold by sun rays from an unseen source. However she was not the sole occupant of this tranquil cocoon and as she lay on her side she studied the beautiful creature she was sharing the bed with. Her eyes immediately went to the face, inclined slightly towards her, moving from velvety lips, to trace finely sculpted cheek bones up past eyes lightly closed in contented sleep, finally reaching a slender horn set in the mare’s forehead. The stunning visage sat nestled within a long mane of interlocked pale and light pink stripes, flowing about the unicorn’s head and falling unkempt across the sheets towards her viewer. Somehow the face, usually adorned with some manner of makeup, and the normally tidy mane held even greater beauty in their present state. With all adornment stripped away she could truly see the pure white mare beside her, unmarred by any façade or defensive wall carefully placed to placate society. Her gaze panned down across the snowy body, moulded to pose and model, but now devoid of any and all tension that said purpose produced. Muscles lay in a state of relaxation, perfectly happy in their present place, fore and rear hooves curled up between the two of them. Her eyes continued downward, past the unicorn’s flanks, adorned with the mare’s namesake, a trio of fleur-de-lis, reaching the point where their two tails met, intertwining to form mixed swirls of pastel blue and pink at the foot of the bedspread. A sudden intake of breath from her marefriend roused her from her gazing and she met the purple eyes as they fluttered open. The two of them simply stared into one another across the ethereal expanse of bedding, neither having to say a word, as they lay together in the carefree paradise that they produced for one another.

‘Coco?’ the name rang out into the dilapidated emptiness. ‘Coco?’ came the questioning tone again, gaining a new degree of desperation as it spoke. Fleur wheeled around, searching every corner and beneath every piece of furniture, attempting to catch site of her marefriend. To her dismay there was nopony, just more dreaded bloody marks and the occasional fleshy lump or tuft of hair. Forgetting the crystalline minefield on the floor, she galloped for the doorway, feeling but not registering as the jagged serrations sank their teeth into her hooves. Magic sprung into her horn, readying itself to fling open the portal as she took the last few steps toward her target. Just as she reached it however, the door swung wildly inwards, seemingly of its own volition, followed by an intense pain and a ringing sound as the panel impacted with the side of her head. Vision suddenly blurring, she stumbled sideways and watched a pair of identical armoured mares step in tandem through two fuzzy duplicate versions of the doorway. A second set of twins followed the first and then several more sets of mirror image soldiers entered. They seemed unaware of her presence, moving instead to efficiently sweep the wreckage of the room. Her now once again forcibly jumbled mind reciprocated their ignorance, pushing her forward through one of the swinging door frames and into the cool night air beyond.

Smoke attacked her purple eyes, stinging them a shade to match her mane, as she stepped out of the oppressive stillness of the dead restaurant and into the anarchy of the street beyond. The building she had been in was tiny in comparison to the awe-inspiring towers which surrounded it, all stretching impressively high into the sky and adorned in a myriad of fluttering imperial pennants. The red flags spilled from the windows or across walls like seeping cuts, filling the space between the mega-structures with their fluid movements and glinting gold sun symbols. The ground below was a similar mess made up of frenzied activity: pavement and road littered with rows of bodies, being seen to by a buzzing mass of medical ponies, whilst ranks of gold-clad soldiers moved to push back rapidly forming crowds. Fleur entered unsteadily into this dizzying chaos, looking anxiously about the swarm, trying to spot Coco. She was half-relieved that her quick scan did not reveal the mare amongst those lying in various injured states, but at the same time she was terrified by the thought of other far worse conclusions. ‘Erm… excuse me’ her voice came out near silent in amongst the crescendo around her. ‘Excuse me have you seen an earth mare with a bright blue mane?’ she tried again, questioning one of the medical personnel.

‘Can’t you see I’m busy here’ the yellow unicorn bluntly replied, without looking up from his patient, from whose side he was telekinetically removing various pieces of shrapnel.

Fleur continued through the horde, making several further attempts at inquiries and each time being hurriedly rebuffed. ‘Excuse me have you…’ she never finished the question as something large and heavy crashed into her, causing her to slip of balance and land in amongst a pile of rotting garbage. ‘Out of the way’ a gruff voice addressed her as she returned to her hooves with considerable effort, trying to remove the putrid gunge from her fur. She had fallen off the street and into a side alley, or rather she had been pushed aside by a trio of imperial officers as they moved by. She was now caked in decaying matter, frighteningly alone and filled with hollow uncertainty. ‘Coco?’ she waveringly asked the void in a whisper.

Heavy hooffalls, rapid and yet rhythmically in time, again the sparking sound of magical energy and then the jolt of white throughout the darkness.

They moved as one, stepping between the orange pools poured forth by streetlights hung above. The night was both young and still, with an alien form of quiet pervading the city. It was that unique point in the evening, following the departure of angry commuter traffic, but before the night-time frivolities kicked into full swing, creating one of the few points of tranquillity in urban daily life. She led the mare beside her in an air of partial confidence, normally absent from her timid being and yet supplied by the presence of her partner. Walking side by side in their own bubble of each other’s company, surrounded by the semi-silence, they arrived before the broad-windowed front of a consciously low-key restaurant. The earth mare was suddenly hit by doubt. ‘How can you even suggest bringing her here’ her mind scolded her, finding itself floundering in a tide of inadequacy. However even as these invading thoughts began their assault she glanced and caught Fleur’s dazzling purple irises, with a smile playing across the unicorn’s lips in turn causing her heart, which had been sinking, to soar upward into the silver studded sky.

The savoury perfumes of rich spices, the clinking rattle of glasses and the murmur of conversation greeted them in unison. They were early due to her own unintended haste, caused by a level of subconscious nervousness, and made for the bar while the table was prepared.
‘What can I get you two lovely mares this evening?’ asked the bar-stallion with a wink, levitating a shaker and set of measures expectantly.
‘Erm...’ she found herself faltering for want of words. She was no good at ordering drinks anyway and the stallion’s manner had not helped.
‘Two Pantheres Rosé please’ Fleur stepped in, making the decision.

She felt herself blushing involuntarily, her gaze wandering in embarrassment to the mirrors behind the bar. This however turned out to be a mistake, as in them she found several sets of studious eyes bearing down on her from throughout the room. She felt exposed, almost feeling a physical force weighing her down through their scrutiny. A hoof fell on her already hunching shoulders and she turned to the violet, concern tinged face of her marefriend.

‘Relax, this is nice’ came the soothing voice. Then almost as if Fleur had read her mind she continued: ‘who gives a buck what they think.’
She felt another faint blush work its way across her face. It had not been long since they had first met, but already the pure white unicorn could read her like a book.

Fleur took a minute to think before she spoke again. ‘We’ve both been spending our lives hanging on the judgements of others. Each time I’ve had to pose for a damned photo-shoot, each time you’ve designed a new line of clothing and sent it down the catwalk, always its somepony else who’s decided what’s right, worthy or attractive.’ Fleur’s hoof remained on her shoulder as she listened to the unicorn’s heartfelt words. ‘I came here trying to get away from all that, to make a real attempt at finding myself, then I found you and everything seemed to feel… right. So buck ‘em. All that matters is what we think and personally I think you’re the most beautiful and talented mare I’ve ever met.’

For a third time in as many moments she felt a hot flush in her cheeks, meanwhile their drinks arrived, both a deep cherry colour and garnished with mint sprigs.

‘Here’s to us’ said Fleur, as they each raised their fluted glasses and brought them together.

The drink had the distinct flavour of strawberries, but was held back from being overly sweet by underlying citrus and base notes of gin. Quite simply, it was delicious and rapidly disappeared. She prepared herself to speak, but was cut-off by the arrival of a waiter.

‘Mesdames your table is ready upstairs.’

She let her mouth close as they rose to be led through the restaurant, which was beginning to bustle with customers, letting Fleur take the lead. Inwardly she marvelled at the air of confident grace with which the unicorn was able to carry herself, in spite of internally feeling as self-conscious as she did. Everpony wears a mask, making it immensely freeing to have somepony with which all acts can be dropped and a joyous privilege to have the feeling reciprocated. They were making for an archway in the room’s corner, apparently providing access to the floor above, when her marefriend in front of her somehow lost her hoofing. She darted forward to her side, catching the taller mare before she fell. The sudden commotion drew further viewers to the pair, joining the many judges already inquisitively looking at them, as they were frozen holding onto one another. She could feel every single one of the sets of eyes boring into them from all directions, however she did not care, being exactly where she wanted to be. ‘Buck it’ she thought and reached her head up, bringing her lips to meet her marefriend’s. Their kiss was tentative at first, Fleur being visibly surprised by the intimate action, but both quickly moved into it, eyelids contentedly closing as their tongues began to explore one another’s mouths, to the muted yet audible gasps of some of the other patrons. Reluctantly they withdrew from the passionate moment, all fetters and concerns beyond each other abandoned, but maintaining their embrace. ‘I love you’ she whispered as the taller mare at her side bent down and lightly nuzzled her neck.

Chaos reigned in Fleur’s being. ‘Okay keep in control’ she beseeched herself, feeling her heart rate and breathing start to kick into high gear as she panicked. ‘Freaking out is not going to help here,’ she continued, willing away her body’s urge to hyperventilate, ‘and it’s certainly not going to get you any closer to finding her. She wasn’t inside, you couldn’t see her outside,’ she made a mental tally, the act calming her in that it gave some kind of order or control back to the predicament, ‘so… maybe… she left?’ This thought did not entirely make sense, but maybe Coco had wandered out of the restaurant like she had, which would mean that she had possibly been taken away to hospital or… She suddenly became aware of the sound of movement behind her, but spinning round she faced nothing but the winding murkiness of the alleyway. Craning her neck forward, she peered into the mist rising from festering rubbish, crammed into bins to the point of overflowing, finding nothing. She took a pace forward, straining further into the rancid air, and this time a faint sound fell into her ears. Hoofsteps perhaps? A second stride made it no clearer, so she began to walk onward, feeling a sting in her lacerated hooves as they touched the flooring of damp paper and filth. The stinking clouds she entered buzzed with flies, causing her flesh to crawl with itching sensations, whilst her hearing was filled with the hum of their wing beats. She advanced further, intrigue combined with the vague baseless possibility of finding her marefriend driving her into the deepest recesses of the alley, where the straight path became a t-junction.

‘…so I said: pure nitro-glycerine without a stabilising agent! Are you crazy?’

A bubbly mare’s speech came from around the corner, followed by a torrent of giggles from both it and a second voice; as if what had been said was the funniest joke ever told.

For a third time the shadows were exorcised from her vision by a sparkling force but this time they remained held at bay.

A gruff stallion’s voice entered recognisably into the swirling amalgamation of sounds: ‘okay this one’s back with us, move onto the next.’

Coco’s mind unsteadily re-entered reality, at first overwhelmed by a barrage of agony from all quarters. A dull bruising permeated her whole being, as if every part of her had been brutally beaten, whilst in her head if felt like something was trying to drill its way through her synapses. Worst still however was the sore burning sensation which rippled across her chest. Eyes opening she sat up, forcing her reluctant muscles and joints to move, to find that she was sat on the rough tarmac of a street. All around her were a great many ponies: most being soldiers or medics moving rapidly about, but the rest were in various states of injury, laid out on the road like she had been. Dressings and disinfectant salves telekinetically flew through the air, along with various pieces of medical equipment, whilst elsewhere horns were charged with electricity, which was sent jolting into the hearts of unresponsive patients. Looking down at herself she found a small scorch mark where her skin had been singed raw, obviously the source of the painful fiery waves. Elsewhere she was criss-crossed by bandages and small adhesive patches, with red marks showing through their padded surfaces. She was hurt and hurting, but her wounds seemed to have been professionally dealt with, so the more important question was where was Fleur?

Coco raised herself to her hooves, pushing her pains into the background. Right now all that mattered was finding her marefriend. Rapidly she concluded that searching in amongst the surrounding frenzied mass herself would likely yield nothing and therefore she chose to approach a pair of armoured stallions, who seemed to just be stood to one side in idle conversation. ‘Pardon me’ she began.

‘Yeah darling, what’s the problem?’ replied the lead officer, his eyes visibly rolling over her body as he turned to look at her and spoke.

She resisted the feelings of angry disgust at being inspected by his gaze. ‘I’m trying to find a mare. She’s a bit taller than me, white coat and pink-striped mane. Have you seen her?’

‘Oh yeah we seen her. She was pretty cute wasn’t she’ he said, nudging his compatriot with a smirk.

With another great effort she suppressed a considerable urge to crack him across his jaw and continued: ‘where’d she go?’

‘Down that alleyway, although she a little out of it’ he answered. ‘Do you want us to help you find her?’ he asked, not bothering to hide a wink and further nudges to his friend.

‘No, thank you’ she politely managed, fighting through her growing repulsed rage as she pushed past them. ‘Buckers’ she growled under her breath as she made her way to the alley entrance. As she passed through clouds of insects, shaking herself as she felt them landing on and biting her back, she became increasingly sickened by the vast foetid lake she was walking through. ‘Why had Fleur come here?’ she thought. ‘How “out of it” was she?’ Worried questions playing on her mind, she realised she was following a set of hoofprints, standing out scarlet amongst the brown sludge. Immediately she charged forward through the gloom, reacting to anxious terror striking her, to reach a junction at its end and then rounded the corner.

Her heart stopped beating and all she could do was stare. Lying on a bed of putrescence and bloody organs, spilling forth from a jagged hole running the length of her barrel, was Fleur, beautiful face twisted in a lifeless contortion. From further cuts, roughly scored across the unicorn’s skin, flowed a stream of red, staining her perfect white coat, whilst on the wall above her broken and discarded body was scrawled ‘Royalist Whore’ in the same shade of splattered crimson. Coco collapsed to her knees; feeling lost as she looked into the gleaming and now darkened purple irises. She broke down, head falling into the crook of her love’s neck, sobbing into the cold flesh.

‘Aww, now we have to change the sign’ came a strangely high-pitched voice of disappointment from behind her.

‘Hold on to your hooves, I’m about to be brilliant,’ replied a second sickly-sweet tone, ‘we just need to add an S to it.’

‘Okie-dokie-lokie’ agreed the first, bubbling over with relieved excitement.

Coco slowly let her neck turn. The last thing she saw was two pairs of eyes, one set azure, the other pink, gleaming out at her from beneath matching dark blue hoods.