Fallout: Equestria - Red, White and Blue

A sharp gasp tore the morning air apart. It was typically gloomy without any cheer or sunshine whatsoever. And the world woke in it's harsh silence. I woke in pain. My biceps ached, my hooves were stinging and puffy and everything between my legs started pulsing. It felt nauseating. I found a mare sleeping next to me, her coat golden and her hair black as night. We were in a dusty old hotel room, a dim edom blanketing everything around me.

Even my own fur looked red. I could only tell the dead mare's coat color due to how vibrant it was. I rubbed the tired from my eyes and stumbled away toward a stray light source. Entering the bathroom made me calm just enough to consider washing my face. The sink had dirty water, but it was more like well water, all sour and laced with mineral scents.

I couldn't see anything but a jumbled blob of my reflection in the broken mirror. So I trotted out with a clean face and eyes barely blurry, while the water dripped down my long eyelashes. I knew they were full because they striped my vision when wet with water.

It made them even more noticable when I slipped a holotope out the corpse's hoof. It was a holotape, a squarish object made of plastics, I wagered. The distinct shape of a bar on each edge matched the bar slot in this... contraption on my left foreleg.

Its cool, black frame conflicted with my white coat. The bloodstains over my left foreleg did match the low edom of it's screen, though. The red luminescence put me at ease as I played the recording. Through it's speakers, which was located on the opposite side of the many dials, I heard her voice. The way she spoke ended every word with a rasp. The raspy, scratchy quality of her pitch made my ears droop. A firm serenity kept me still and I closed my eyes to savor her smokey, motherly alto.

'Child... this sacred ground will never be the same. I'm sorry I didn't save you in time. I'm sorry you don't know who you are or who I am. But I'll never forget you, Whitestar. Ne...ver. I-I'm dying. And I need you to remember this. If you ever get hurt, e-eat... other ponies. Eat them while they're alive. Remember, y-you should look for the black book. Look for a big house in the swamps with a pointy top. I love you, sweetie. I love you s-so... so... much.'

It went on for six and a half minutes without anymore speech. It was just her groaning in pain and muttering 'I'm sorry, Whitestar' till the tape ran dry. Hours escaped me and I listened to the void atop her body, straddling over her chest. Dry blood flaked against me between my legs and against my hindlegs themselves.

She was beautiful and I had nothing to describe her. Nothing in this world could ever describe her. The way her lashes tangled together, I wanted to freeze them forever. It made the pink mush in her sockets look like cherry pie I needed to eat.

Who was she, I wondered, mistaking her for my mother. My mother would never be killed if she were so divine. Instead, I thought she was a god. I knew she was a god. I spent the next five minutes slurping down gore and munching on the goddess's entrails. Her throat was even more delicate and even more flavorful. There was no comparison.

And in the midst of my mealing, I felt a dry, pressing pressure on my stomach. So I kept away from the ambrosia and spotted sleek metal stuck into her. It was a knife. A knife so slender and dull in it's center, I was amazed it had pierced her at all. Twas both heavy and sharp at the tip, smelling of the Mother Goddess.

I trotted out past the hanging, leathery corpses in my room and the many skeletal remains arranged into fetish art. I found a tiny backpack full of strange metal rectangles full of golden bits. And inside were also MRE's. The back had art about cupcakes, pink with rainbow sprinkles atop. I glanced back at the Mother Goddess and her eaten form.

"I'm sorry I'm leaving, madre diosa." I said, completely unfeeling.

I didn't even feel how cold it was outside. It was bone-chillingly frigid. I saw mushy swamp terrain when stepping out for the first time. Yet, thick fog lingered above it. My muzzle felt better breathing the musk of the new air outside my Mother Goddess and her sacred garden.

So I trotted outside, my hooves dirtied with paper clutter and smushing snack cups. The more I moved, the more I saw, the easier it was to understand how small I was. Everything was titanic. Everything was a toy maker's creation and I wandered his crystal ball. Behind me were rabid canine things, leathery in skin and bumpy in odd places. They had mange of sorts. Because they were feral. Snarling and frothing at the mouth, I looked back before one tackled me to the ground. Tiny pieces of rubble and chipped rock stuck into my back and it made me grit my fucking teeth.

It was so annoying. A feral dog was snapping it's gabber at me and getting me dirty. It's drool smelled of decomposed muscular material and fetid innocence. I could see it's gums cluttered with rot. It was dirty. It was so messy and nothing about it made sense.

Why did it attack me.

I held my knife up and struck it deep. The mange hound was red around it's neck. I tossed it off and smashed his skull against a nearby dumpster. Another dog charged straight toward me so I leapt across the trash contaner. I reached the roof. Leaping off landed me right over the beast's back. It snapped quietly while it kept barking. The mutt wouldn't shut up so I slit it's throat. It caught my right forearm and clamped down till I couldn't tell who's blood was on my leg. But I didn't care. I won't lie. It hurt.

It hurt not getting to kill it again.

I slipped past the two canine things and ate my Mother Goddess.

Returning outside, I opened one of the food packages and ate sitting atop the dog bodies. I munched on some of the crackers with eyeball meat and spotted a grand structure across the boglands. It had dark paints and one, sharp roof; the same geometries Madre Diosa specified.

It was my honor to uphold her last request. So I walked away and felt my hooves soiled again. The mud was the most crippling part of that entire experience. My first taste of the wasteland left my teeth stained and bits of tough meat between my teeth. I didn't like it. I wanted to feel clean again. The fog swallowed my hooves hole and everything below my neck. I found it charming and comforting. It was like an old compadre I diverged from long before. It held me close and soothed me along the bogland.

I passed several ponies with strange, inward bending legs and impractically large forelegs, all dressed in overalls and worn farmwork attire. They stalked toward me in a group of three. I waited with the knife in my mouth. Only, the biggest, lumbering mutant reached toward me with calloused hooves.

They were dirty. And so was he. But he spoke to me.

"Gosh, what a purdy little girl. What's yer name, child? You want a lift on Uncle Pepperjack's back?"

I hesitated. I really did feel alone. But I didn't know trust. Or logic. I was just attacked for no reason by rotting dog things and he was covered in mud. So, I stuck my knife in a nearby tree.

"Are you gonna hurt me...?" I rasped, barely audible and below their heavy breaths.

"Huh...? Ain't no swampie ever hurt no child. If they do, they be one mean son of a bitch. Let old Uncle Pepperjack give you a sweep round the swamp. You like candy? We gots candy." He stated, looking back at all his friends, who nodded promptly with purpose.

I wanted to trust him. And I didn't care about killing something else. So I indulged him and took the blade back, doing grabby hooves. Uncle Pepperjack took me up and delivered me from isolation. Coincidentally, he told me how excited he was to show me his library back at home. His favorite tome of eldritch lore and mythos, he stated proudly, was a big, black book bound in skin.