Prologue, out of the Library: 1
I had been to Ponyville a few times since Twilight Sparkle and her friends had saved me from the curse brought upon me by my negative emotions. Both before and after that terrible time when Tirek came to claim all our magic and power. Of course I had seen Princess Twilight Sparkles Castle of Friendship and the library with all the old and new books too. Celestia had dedicated enormous amounts of bits towards restoring her library, not just for Ponyville, but because it now is a representation of the Equestrian Monar5chy. There is also the small detail of what Twilight Sparkle represents.
Now I had been visiting her in her new castle. She had been expressing the pride she assigns to the library and the hoard of books she was amassing. Not just the old once she managed to salvage from the old library, but the once she managed to acquire in order to restore the library to its former glory. Yet, she had expressed a fascination in how so many books had found their way to her library. Ponies had apparently sent copies of their newly printed and published works to her, in hops they could be featured in her new Rpyal library. Maybe others like to see their books in a Royal library. Yet, some of these books clearly are not of Ponhy or even Equestrian origin. Zebras, Griffons and a few others are more easily recognized.
“Luna, here is a book I would love for you to read. If you like the book, keep it. I think the main character would resonance with you!” Twilight pointed out, just as we were about to walk out of her library.
“Thank you, Twilight Sparkle. I will take time to read it first chance, once I get back to the castle of Canterlot. I will make certain to let you know what I think of the book you so generously gave me as well!” I responded as I accepted the book.
“I know you have had your problems, and I have seen you struggle. I may not have seen the root, the cause of your original suffering, but any time you feel like taking, I am here for you. I am prepared to listen to any Pony with problems, particularly the once within my area, which I have the impression your problems should be!” she responded.
“Being new here in this time, fresh out of a past long gone; I guess I do have problems adapting and making friends. As of late, I have found myself envying you and the ease with which you have been making so many friends. Maybe I need to visit your friend; Pinkie Pie?” I pondered.
“I never cared about friends, other than the books of the Royal library. I had dedicated my time, my life to study Magic since I saw Princess Celestia raising the Sun. Then I was sent to Ponyville and lived in the Golden Oak Library, later destroyed by Tirek, which was a pain!” she responded.
“We pushed Royal duties upon you from the time of your coronation. I was supporting the move, even knowing the strain it put upon your shoulders. Maybe I should not have been quite as eager in supporting it at the time, but it looks as if it was the right thing to do at the time. You certainly have performed admirably in each of your tasks, even if some of them would look more like a joke. I know that feeling all too well!” I pointed out.
“I certainly felt as if it was a joke at the time. Now I am finally starting to grow into my position. I have the impression we are seen as ageless, timeless, wise and infallible Deities at the time; we certainly are not. Personally, I am relying heavily upon my friends. Books can only take us so far, but they can be great; both for learning and entertaining us. I see them as friends that I can keep by my side through thick and thin!” she pointed out with a new grin on her face.
That we are certainly not. Something I was taught the hard way. My time in the moon came as a shock. You gave me a ramp back onto the firm shore of a modern life. Your obsession with Starswirl the Bearded came as a refreshing breeze to me; finally a face I knew, a Pony I could relate to. Even if I guess one could safely say; you surpassed him by far. Even with all the mistakes you have made, the element of Magic on an Alicorrn is still a very rare thing!” I pointed out.
“I certainly can imagine. Feeling high and mighty, yet ignored and to the point of feeling shunned. We are none of these things. We may be wise and powerful, but no Deities. I doubt I would even, ever be that. I may be all that, but it doesn’t make me feel more special than any other Pony. As a matter of fact, Pinkie Pie is the most special Pony I know. She may be an Earth Pony, but why is that making her any less special? In her case, it may be what makes her special in the first place. Had she been a Pegasus, Unicorn or even an Alicorn, it would have made her powers expected; thus watered out into nothing. In a sense, she is carrying the full weight of our hope of her shoulders. Something I learned in my striving to become what made me into the Alicorn I am today. Once we restored her, the village went from furious to excited in less than a heart beat. You just have to be there and see it to feel it!” she put forth.
I wasn’t in Ponyville at the time; we were never relying on her in Canterlot, yet even we felt the difference. I felt it in the dreams, the week that came after!” I put forth.
“I was right there. I saw it, but never expected any Pony outside of Ponyville to even know what happened. I know you can interact with our dreams, I have heard tails to the effect on and off from time to time since I became a Princess. This makes you just as important as your sister Celestia. Now we have our own respective parts to play. I can finally stand shoulder to shoulder with you, Celestia and Cadence. Together, only together we can safeguard the fate of our beloved Equestria!” she pointed out.
“Back in the day, I was blinded by the light of day. It kept me from seeing my role, my place. Harmony requires the Night, just as it requires the Day. How could I have allowed myself to be blinded, when I should have known better. My sister managed to keep the balance, but she was never prepared to manage the night, my night. It is my responsibility to manage the night and all that comes with it, including the dreams!” I pointed out.
Author's Note
Princess Luna Lulamoon's POV
Author's Note
Princess Luna Lulamoon's POV
The Dive: 2
I had just been on an official trip to Ponyville. Not seeing Princess Twilight Sparkle is simply unthinkable since she is the local authority now. I had seen several other influential Ponies; Mayor Mare, Applejack, Rarity, just to name but a few.
Most of the trip was merely boring and official business, but Rarity, the Apples and Princess Twilight Sparkle are still enjoyable to meat. The Apples even offered me a steady brunch as they called it. I couldn’t decline, not after what they have done for Ponyville and Equestria. Of course Rarity couldn’t pass up the opportunity to offer me the chance of crafting me a suit, which I was only too happy to accept.
Once I got home, there is the one thing I had to do. Not that any Pony had told me to, it is just what I wanted to do. The book spoke to me in an unusual manner, not so much in words; maybe it is just the title.
As I read the title; Second Hand, Second Self, wondering what this could possibly mean. Yet, Twilight had spoken warmly about it, in words enticing me to have a look. If the first page was pulling me in, I had a few hours to spend, right now. If not, I could easily set the book aside for later. Even if I would have to explain to Twilight Sparkle, the newest Princess of Ponyville; Equestria why I had not enjoyed the book she so generously had offered me.
Picking up the book given to me so generously; that is easy with the aid of magic. Magic is after all a natural part of being an Alicorn, which is implied in being a Royal Princess. I had lived with this for as long as I could remember. Even if there had arisen a few more Princesses as of late. The two Alicorns; Cadence and Twilight Sparkle.
I guess you could say that I know Twilight Sparkle better as the Princess she is now, while my still older sister Celestia knows her better as the Unicorn, or her student for all these many a year. She had after all been my sisters Prodigy. I knew Celestia had taught her a few things about magic. Even if her friends in Ponyville had managed to teach her other things, about both her friendship, and herself.
Now, as I finally did open the book, cracking it open, I spy the words contained, plummeting into the contents of the story. There is the little girl, alone, seemingly abandoned. Apparently, she made it by herself. Created the world of life and dreams.
Episode One:
My name is Marin, I'm a thirteen years old girl, five feet tall, maybe a bit on the slender end of the coin? Neither of these are much of problems to me. Just like my black, waist long hair, green eyes and fair complexion never was, the problem is that I'm alone, and I feel very lonely.
One lonely day, I found a book to read, nothing strange about that, I love to read, just like I love drawing. Maybe the subject of the book could spell out trouble to you since this happened to be a book of basic Alchemy. In my bored state, I did not care, so long as it is a new book I had not previously red. With that, I read the book, from cover to cover, like any other book.
Since I like drawing, I have the tendency to draw things, and in this case, the images out of the book. I had figured what they're for, and the basics in their use. That's convenient? What's a whole lot more than convenient, is that I'm fairly good at drawing, thus I had gotten the 'Circles' right. At least enough for this to work.
For a good while, I had just made simple objects, nothing fancy. Cubes and spheres out of stone, wood and metal; then I had started to fashion simple dolls and toys. Maybe this is where it all begun? Either way; since I'm already lonely and not a friend to see, it's not as if I had anything better to do.
”I think I will continue. It may be a strange storey, but I also recognise some aspects of myself in her. Even if she is a mere girl, rather than a Powerful Alicorn!” I pondered as I looked at the book for a moment, after finishing the initial chapter.
I could not quite put a hoof on what it is I had enjoyed about the story. Maybe it is in recognising aspects of myself in the girl? She certainly had her share of frustrations in her life, just as I had had. Only now, I had overcome most of it, even if there may be more left unresolved. I still do have a struggle ahead of me.
She seems to be learning how to overcome her problems in her very own way. Maybe it could light my very own way down.
There are a few very strange differences between the two of us, and the worlds in which we are living as well. If only I could put a hoof on exactly what these differences were, aside from the obvious. She is a Human girl, while I am an Alicorn Pony of Equestria. From what I had seen, she is a commoner, while I am a Royal in power.
Episode Two:
Once I had made my first actual doll, I was hooked. Since the materials at hand are limited to me, I was bound to make poor dolls. Can't make a very good doll, out of poor materials. Maybe some of the problem is in my skills too? Since I'm still not very good at this. Just because I could make a doll form; the doll can even move, in a dolls fashion.
At this point, I was too busy with my dolls to make contact with anyone, girls, boys, adults, or pets? Only then I got better, the dolls started to actually look like the doll I had hoped for, even if it's not in the colours I had in mind? Colours, that's not even what I had been caring about. This far, they are simply wooden dolls. I have an entire army of the dolls by now.
Then I started to colour the dolls, making them look like the little girls they were made to look like. That's when they started to be interesting. With that, I actually did play with the doll for about a week before creating the next, even if I was changing the colours of every doll several times.
When I had first seen a girl with a doll she was playing with, I had envied her. I knew it had been bought just for her. None had ever bought a doll for me. I had only what I had managed to create. First now I could see what the doll should be like. That's when I could finally get the doll real. Now I made the first doll out of skin tone plastic, like the one I had seen.
Episode Three:
Since I'm alone, the plastic doll still feel cold and lifeless. It's not enough. What was I to do?
The other day I had seen a girl trashing her doll, as it had been broken. I picked it up, after she had left. Not that it was the most expensive and fancy doll, but it's at least a real doll. Looking closer, I had managed to examine what I had before me, in a way I had never been able to before. It's my first glimpse into how real dolls were made.
Now, I have something to look forwards towards. Once I'm back home, I had placed the doll on the floor, it's the way it works. A circle on the floor, still the way I had to do everything. Placing everything that had been the doll in the centre of my circle, then placing my hands on the border of the same circle. The next moment, the doll started to assemble itself, into its original form; the way it had been made to look, now looking as if it had never been trashed and thrown away. The way it had been looking, when it had left the production line.
Looking at it, I can see a decided improvement, compared with everything I had ever had, everything I had ever created for myself. There is no denying that. I don't, even if it feels sad for a moment, sad I had made the dolls in such poor images of what I had desired. It's all I could have done. I still desire them, all of them, even such as they are, in the poor image.
My love for my old dolls doesn't diminish my love for this one, first new doll. How could it. Neither would the next doll change anything between me, and my old dolls. There is no such relation.
I may be sad because I had made such poor dolls, but I'm also happy, I could improve the way I did the next. What improvements could I make, for the next doll, and the next once coming after?
Episode Three:
Even the real doll, such as she is now; is but a doll, there is nothing to her, no spirit, and no life; I can't escape the fact. The more I can improve upon her, the more I realise, just this simple fact. There is nothing I can do about it.
Then it hit me, as I was in deep thought. I had been using the gloves for protecting my hands as I was doing the dishes. Something about that material just felt more alive. Maybe this was to make my dolls feel more alive, more like me?
With that, I had set a new motion going. I had put on a new, fresh pair of gloves on my hands. Looking closely at my hands, eagerly examining them, in every last detail. Maybe the gloves had felt a bit on the tight side of things, but it's what's required here and now. I want the gloves to get the feel of being me, a part of me, rather than a protective tool.
From analysis, I moved on, into making the changes to the doll. I had picked up the latest doll I had made, created, just a few days ago. Placing her on the table, chosen for this process. A full package of unused gloves, for the doll to sit on. Just for safety, keeping them close together.
I place my hands on the mark, on the spot of the table, focusing, concentrating on what I had in mind, focusing as hard as I could. Seeing, as I look at the doll, how the changes happened. Glove by glove dissolving, soon covering the doll, starting with hands and feet, then spreading inwards, towards the centre of her body, before moving up her head.
As the change had been concluded, I lift my hands off of the table, marking the conclusion of my work, the creation of the changes of this very latest doll. Watching, waiting, for but a moment, stretching out, into several minutes.
In anticipation, I then reach out, placing my hands on each side of the doll, feeling, what could almost be mistaken for human skin. Just almost; since she still is but a cold doll. Yet, it is at least not the dead plastic, I had been working with before.
Not only that, there is a slight hint of the muscles that should have been there, under her skin, had she been a living, breathing girl. I had made a decided improvement, she is more alive, then any of my previous dolls.
Maybe she isn't alive, but she is at least feeling as if the is warm, rather than cold and her body feels as if there are actual muscles underneath the rubbery skin. She may be but three inches tall, but she does give the feeling; she was a real girl, unless you wanted to doubt her?
With that; I can connect to her in ways, yet unimaginable.
