Silent Laughter

by Redric Carrun

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Horror, Pinkie Pie
Length: 5325

Pinkie Pie is worried that Twilight is getting too caught up in her work. She has to convince her friend that the Great Old ones aren't all that scary. Stop thinking about them, Twilight.

Twilight Sparkle hasn't been seen around town lately. She's sent Spike to stay with Rarity for a while, and shut herself up in her castle. Nopony knows when she'll be back.

She's been looking at some old books. Very old. Very dangerous. She might be in over her head.

Pinkie Pie goes to visit her.

It'll all turn out alright.

Published 2015-12-29 12:20:07 UTC
Last updated 2015-12-29 12:20:07 UTC

Chapter 1: Face Your Fears

Pinkie Pie hummed thoughtfully as she knocked on the palace doors for the fifth time. Twilight must have been very upset indeed to be taking so long to answer a visitor. Of course, Pinkie had already known Twilight was upset. It was a Pinkie Sense which Pinkie did not very much enjoy receiving – a slow ache in her left-most shoulder. So she was determined to visit with Twilight, and put whatever problems she was having in perspective.

Pinkie was the Element of Laughter, after all. If she couldn't cheer somepony up, the situation was very serious indeed.

On the sixth set of knocking, the door finally opened. Pinkie beamed brightly at the sight of Twilight's misty, bedraggled face peeking around the door just the slightest bit so as to keep the opening as small as possible while still looking outside.

“What do you want, Pinkie?” Twilight asked, voice slow and heavy. “Go away. Didn't Spike tell you all that I want to be alone?”

Pinkie nodded. “You want to be alone,” she said. “And I want to cheer you up. Sooooo,” she drawled, stepping one hoof in the threshold and slipping inside, “Why don't I just do that, and we can both go our separate ways, hmm?”

“P- Pinkie! I...”

Twilight's glare didn't last for very long, as she simply lost the strength to keep it up. She let out a long-suffering sigh. “I'm fine, Pinkie. Just, please, leave me alone, okay? I'm working with some very hazardous materials, and I can't deal with having other ponies around right now.”

Pinkie hummed a short hum of understanding as she walked past Twilight and into the castle proper. “Well,” she said, “maybe you should take a break.” She smiled. “Should you really be working with 'hazardous materials' when you look so tired?”

Twilight, almost against her will, let out a short cough of laughter.

“... I suppose not,” she admitted.

“Mmm hmm!” Pinkie nodded, agreeing with herself. She skipped on down the crystal hallways of the palace, and Twilight turned and trailed along after her, both to keep an eye on her rambunctious guest, and because, if she really wasn't going to be doing more experiments at the moment, then she didn't have anything better to do anyway.

Pinkie led Twilight into one of the palace's many library wings, one of the smaller ones, a room dedicated to books that might be enjoyed by foals. There was a wall for coloring books, compete with boxes of crayons besides it, and a wall for picture books, and a wall for more advanced subjects. Pinkie pulled out one of the books at random, and flipped through to somewhere in the middle.

“Do you really think foals are interested in understanding the math behind fourth-dimensional physical interactions?” Pinkie asked.

Twilight jumped, and quickly snatched the book away from Pinkie with a burst of magic and clutched the book to her chest

“Oops! How did that get there?” Twilight asked, trying to play it off with a laugh, and failing because the laugh sounded so hollow. “I must have let some of my work books slip in with the books I was shelving on accident, ha ha. I'm so glad you found it – I would probably have gone crazy looking for it later.”

“Hmm.” Pinkie smiled. “So, you're working on something involving more and more dimensions? Ooh! I think I read a comic about that once.” She looked around at the wall with the illustrated books. “I'll bet it's around here somewhere. Do you want to take a look at it?”

“No thanks, Pinkie,” Twilight said. “I don't think that's quite the same thing as what I'm working on.”

“Well, what are you working on then?” Pinkie asked, looking Twilight dead in the face, a keen interest in her eyes.

“W-well,” Twilight said, taking a step backwards and avoiding Pinkie's gaze, “It's a bit hard to explain to somepony without the proper background knowledge.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Pinkie asked. Her smile brightened. “Maybe that's what's got you so stressed out!”

“No!” Twilight all but shouted. It took a moment for the sound to die out among the walls of the castle. Twilight looked away again. “I don't want to bring you into this, okay?”

“Into what?” Pinkie asked, sitting down at a short table that was near the coloring-book wall. She grabbed a box of crayons and a sheet of paper. “What is it that you're so worried about? You've got all the rest of us worried about you.”

Her smile turned a little sad.

Twilight hesitated for a moment. Then she muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Pinkie asked. “Diiidn't quite catch that.”

“I'm working on... something dark,” Twilight said. “Really dark. It's super dangerous, and-”

“What!?!” Pinkie said, rearing up and standing her front hooves on the table. “Twilight, don't you know that dark magic is really super dangerous? Why would you be working on something like that?”

Twilight frowned. “Yes, I know. I just said it was dangerous. And it's not magic – not really. I didn't realize what I was walking into, and now I'm just trying to get out of it as fast as I can without making anything worse.” She sighed. “I don't want anypony else getting involved with this. Just hearing about it is enough to cause serious issues, and I can't-”

“Have you told Princess Celestia you're in trouble?” Pinkie asked, urgently. “What about Princess Luna? She knows a lot about dark, dangerous stuff.”

“No, Pinkie!” Twilight said, raising her voice. “I can't let anypony find out about this, especially not somepony as important to Equestria as one of the Princesses.”

“But you have to tell someone,” Pinkie insisted. She smiled, a gentle, affectionate smile not very similar to her usual grins, with only the slightest hint of goofiness. “You're a Princess too, you know. You're important too.”

Twilight frowned, her ears drooping. She bit her lip. Hard. Slowly, she walked over to the table, and sat down in the chair across from Pinkie Pie, falling heavily into the wooden seat.

“... I didn't think it was real, at first. That they were real.”

“Ooh,” Pinkie hummed. She stuffed a hoof-full of popcorn into her mouth. “That who were real?”

“The Great Old Ones,” Twilight said, dragging out every word like she had to think very hard about getting them right.

Pinkie's smile flashed sharp for a moment. Twilight didn't notice.

“You won't have heard about them,” Twilight said. “No one should ever hear about them.”

“Uh huh,” Pinkie nodded.

There was a pause. Twilight stared at the table's surface.

“Well, aren't you going to tell me about them?” Pinkie asked.

Twilight glanced up. Then she looked back down again.

“I want to, Pinkie. I need to tell somepony so badly, but I can't tell anypony, because that's what it wants me to do. Anypony I told would be in the same trouble I'm in, and it wouldn't help me out at all either. Please... just go. I need to figure this out by myself.”

Pinkie Pie leaned over the table and smiled up into Twilight's face.

“Come on, Twilight. You can tell me. Sometimes, it's easier to share a problem than to deal with it all on your own. Besides,” she grinned, “I think maybe you're just making a bigger deal out of all of this than it has to be.”

“No!” Twilight's head snapped up. “That's not true! This is all really dangerous, and they're all really coming! I can't figure out any way to stop them! It's all too horrible to bear thinking about, but I can't stop thinking about it!”

“I don't believe you~” Pinkie hummed. She sat back in her chair again. “If you want to convince me, I guess you'll just have to explain everything that's going on.”

Twilight was tense now. She rubbed at one foreleg, and her words came in short bursts. “I found a book,” she said. “An old book. Really old. Older than any book I've ever seen. I had to translate it, it was so old. And even then, there were words in the book I couldn't read. Words I couldn't pronounce. Names. Nopony could pronounce them. They weren't meant for ponies. But there was a spell – a 'pronunciation guide' – it was in the book. I used it.”

Twilight choked up. She buried her head in her hooves.

“I wish I hadn't. I wish it so much now, more than anything else, but I had to. I couldn't stop myself. I was so stupid. I used the spell. Now it's hard not to say the names. I'm always thinking them, Pinkie. I can't stop.”

“Ooh!” Pinkie grinned. “What are they? Are they cool names?”

“No!”

Twilight stood up, knocking her chair over in the process. “I can't say them, Pinkie! No matter what, I cannot ever say those names! I only said one of them, and even that was enough to-” She broke off, looking off to the side. “I'm not even sure I'm going to survive this, okay? That's how important this is.”

Pinkie cocked her head to the side.

“Well, you've already said the first name, right?” Pinkie smiled. “Why don't you just tell me that one?”

Twilight shook where she stood. Her head seemed to bow under some great weight.

“Don't tempt me, Pinkie,” she whispered. “Please. Not like this.”

“I promise,” Pinkie said. “It will be alright.”

Twilight stared. Pinkie was still smiling.

Pinkie went through the motions. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!”

Twilight's lips trembled. Slowly, they opened.

Ba'shuNaqarth.

Pinkie pursed her lips.

“Baa-shoe knock-arth?” She asked. Pinkie giggled. “What kind of a silly name is that?”

Twilight shook her head. Ba'shuNaqarth. “You can't say it properly with a pony's voice. It takes magic, or... something else. I'm glad you can't say it,” she said, her words starting to come faster. “Please, don't try to. I did, and I haven't been able to sleep properly since then. I see it, Pinkie, in my dreams. The creature that name belongs to. Only, they aren't dreams at all. It's awful. Terrible. The most horrible thing I've ever seen, more horrible than I could ever imagine. Even the memories are too much, and every time I see it, I'm reminded of all the hideous things I forgot the last time.”

“But not so bad,” Pinkie said confidently, “that good old Pinkie Pie can't cheer you up.”

Twilight stared at the wall behind Pinkie for a long moment.

“... It's bad,” she said at last.

Pinkie shrugged. “Sometimes we make things seem worse in our head than they really are. Here,” she said, picking a pink crayon out of the box. “Why don't you describe B-arth to me, and I'll show you why he isn't really so scary after all?”

“No,” Twilight said. “No, I don't think-”

“Come on, Twilight,” Pinkie urged. “This is Pinkie Pie talking to you. The pony who showed you how to laugh at your fears. Remember? Giggle at the Ghosties?”

Twilight was silent.

“So,” Pinkie said, addressing herself to the sheet of paper on the table. “How many mouths does he have?”

“Fifteen,” Twilight said automatically. Her eyes seemed to have gone very distant. “Three on his head, and the rest on his body. All at horrible angles. I can never see all of them at once. I think one is behind me.”

Pinkie pouted. “You're really not making this easy to draw, you know? Fine.” She scribbled down some lines on the paper, and even picked up another piece, walking around Twilight to tape it to the wall behind her. She drew a mouth on it. “Does he have sharp teeth, like a scary monster?”

“No teeth,” Twilight said. She didn't move as Pinkie walked back to her seat, didn't acknowledge her existence any more. “Only gums. Horrible, swollen, bleeding gums, with holes where the teeth should be and something sick oozing out of the sockets.”

“Sounds like someone hasn't been flossing,” Pinkie commented, filling in more details on her drawing. Pinkie hummed. “Only one head then?”

“One head,” Twilight agreed. “five bodies. Each branching off from the head, and all spaced differently from one another. Some come towards me, some move away. They're all too close. Bodies like a snake with legs – so many legs.”

“Mmm hmm,” Pinkie nodded, adding in the lines for the bodies. If Twilight had been paying attention, she would have noticed that she didn't need to move any of the mouths to make it all fit correctly.

“Legs like a centipede,” Twilight droned, her voice slowly slipping into another language as she talked without her consent. “Some like a bird, with bent talons and crooked claws. Twisting stumps, with too many joints.” I never realized how beautiful Discord was until I saw how hideous he should have been. So many pieces, from so many animals, none of which should have anything to do with each other.

Pinkie looked up. “What was that about Discord?” she asked.

Twilight ignored her. And the eyes. So many eyes. None of them blink on their own. They can't blink. There's no time there, out beyond, where they live. Some of them stare at me, ripping me apart with their gaze. They don't see me. They can't see me. I think they're blind. But he knows I'm there. Some of the eyes are closing, but will never ever shut. The ones that are closest are the worst. Just before they close completely, they turn into something awful. I can't describe it. Can't stop seeing it. It's always there.

“Ahh,” Pinkie said, scribbling things down on the paper. “Beautiful in comparison. I getcha. False alarm, false alarm.”

No ears. Not that I can recognize. So many things I just can't understand. He takes up so much space in my head, so much, too much, I shouldn't be able to see all of this at once. It's too much. But space is bending, somehow. I can see it all.

“Getting kind of vague there, Twilight,” Pinkie said. “Why don't we step back a little. How does he do his hair?”

How does he do his hair? Twilight blinked.

“Yeah, you know. Hair.” Pinkie shrugged. “Like, does he have a mustache, or a wicked cool beard, or something? How many mustaches does he have?”

“Uh, well, none,” Twilight said. His skin is like that of a reptile, crusted scales meeting with grimy, porous flesh. “He doesn't have any hair.”

“Didn't stop Steven Magnet,” Pinkie said, drawing in some looping scales. “Or Spike, come to think of it.” She frowned. “How is this guy supposed to be villainous without a proper mustache?”

These are only the least repulsive of his features. Dripping from every orifice is the sludge and mixture of... All the time, in a thousand instances at once, he is constantly...

Twilight trailed off. Her eyes began to water as her face started to twist up in a final attempt to keep from crying.

I don't want to say it.

Pinkie watched Twilight for a moment. Then she nodded. She grabbed some more colors from be box.

“I'll draw him in all sorts of makeup and lipstick. Some really tight pants, too. It'll be so awful! He has no idea how to wear this stuff. And here, we'll add all sorts of stink lines! 'Cause he smells bad.”

Twilight stared as Pinkie kept drawing her little picture on the silly paper in crayon. Eventually, Twilight began talking again.

His children. There are thousands of them. They swarm him, trying to feast on his flesh. He crushes them without a thought.

“I'll draw him kicking a baby,” Pinkie said. “'nuuuu!' the Baby cries, as it flies off into the horizon. 'I jus wanned to et u!' But he just keeps doing it, because he's '2Evul4U'.” Pinkie smirked. “I'll write that down too.”

“And his... he's...”

Twilight trailed off. She tried to peak around Pinkie's head, which was low down to the table and covering the drawing. Pinkie looked up, smiled, and held up the picture.

“Does this look like him?” Pinkie asked.

There was a burst of laughter.

Twilight was surprised to find it came from her.

“That looks ridiculous, Pinkie Pie,” she said. “It looks nothing like him.”

Pinkie cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” She asked. “Because I'm pretty sure this is a good likeness. I mean, I got the mouths, right? Fifteen mouths?”

“You got the mouths,” Twilight admitted, “but-”

“And the eyes,” Pinkie said. “I got the eyes.”

“You did,” Twilight said. “And those are kind of close, but-”

“And the glitter in the crayon sort of approximates the crust you said was on his scales, right?” Pinkie continued. “I really don't see what I'm missing from this.”

Twilight stared at the drawing for a long moment. It was completely different from the picture in her head. Infantile. Ridiculous. It was so absurd in comparison to that horror that had plagued her for so long, that no two things could ever have been further apart.

But as she looked at it, she found should couldn't give a reason why. The image in her head seemed to grow less and less real, the details fading away until it matched the drawing in front of her. She laughed again.

Twilight was crying.

In an instant, she was wrapped in a warm Pinkie Pie hug. Twilight hugged back almost as strong, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as the tears ran down her cheeks.

“Nothing,” she said at last. “The picture's perfect, Pinkie.” She laughed again. “I don't know why I was ever so afraid of it.”

Pinkie smiled. “Well,” she said, “You don't ever have to be afraid of mister B-arth ever again. You just get some sleep tonight, and things will all look better in the morning. Auntie Pinkie Pie will be there to keep you safe.”

“Thank you,” Twilight muttered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

Author's Note

Italics indicate Elder Speech.

Think about that.

Chapter 2: They Can't Hurt You

It is meaningless to talk about the realm outside of time as if time somehow applied to it. But there was a point, in the infinite nothingness that exists just below the world, where the pulsing flow of the time known as the present approached the place where Twilight Sparkle attempted to slumber, curled up in her bed inside her little palace treehouse.

Ba'shuNaqarth was waiting for her.

His intentions were broadcast for anyone to hear. They were simple, but all-consuming, the product of a massive, degraded mind.

Ba'shuNaqarth would ingest her. Magic would be the food of Ba'shuNaqarth, whose feeding profited him nothing, and only slowly eroded that which fell victim to him. Magic / Friendship would be a subtle taste for him, for all that place of sub-time, slowly, piece by piece, ripped apart and devoured. And when her mind was gone, the place where it had once been would be the birthing grounds for a thousand of his unloved brood. They would consume all she thought. All she held fondness for. All she loved. He would not care, but all Twilight yearned to protect she would destroy.

She had called the name. She belonged to Ba'shuNaqarth.

As the intersection drew close, he pulsated forward, drawing his own little sub-pocket of space behind him like an otherworldly shell. He could see her now. Ba'shuNaqarth drew nearer to his prize.

Pinkie Pie stepped forward to meet him.

“Ba'shuNaqarth,” she said. “Hiya! My name's Pinkie Pie.”

The pony called the name. A new prize. She too belonged to Ba'shuNaqarth.

“I'd throw you a party,” Pinkie said, “but if I know parties – and believe me, I do – the only kind of party you'd enjoy is something I'd spend the rest of eternity burning for. So, sorry about that. If you ever want a normal party, you can just ask me. You should try cake! Cake is delicious.”

Ba'shuNaqarth reached out with a vast number of his innumerable appendages. Time and space were in alignment. Ba'shuNaqarth would consume those who belonged to him.

“I'm talking to you now in a language you'll understand,” Pinkie said, frowning severely, all warmth gone from her face. “I don't care what rules you have about what you do when ponies say your name. Leave now, and you can continue living the wretched and meaningless existence you desire out in your own lonesome corner of reality.”

The pony talked a great deal more than the others. It meant nothing. It would not affect the taste. The taste meant nothing. It would not affect the consumption. All meant nothing.

“Even a miserable excuse for a thing like you has a choice,” Pinkie said. “This is your warning, Ba'shuNaqarth. Take a hike. Leave us alone, or fade into oblivion. There is no reality in which there is any other outcome.”

Consume. Shred. Devour. The Magic would taste just ever so slightly less tepid than the others. The Laughter would slide down his throats and be undone.

A tendril wrapped itself around Pinkie's throat.

Pinkie smiled.

There was no anger to the smile. No hatred. No twisted mirth arising from the imminent suffering of others. It was a genuine smile.

She giggled.

“You think you can scare me?” she asked. Her words started to sound like they came from a song.

“~Then he's got another thing coming, and the very idea of such a thing just makes you wanna... hahahaha..!~”

One of the centipede legs reached down, and with as much effort or ceremony as a pony spearing an olive, it punched its way through Pinkie's skull.

And Pinkie Laughed.

Her hair expanded to surround all of time and space, and she was lost inside the voluminous curls, but her Laugh rolled onward into infinity, climbing ever higher into the light above and the darkness below. It's echo rattled the sockets of Ba'shuNaqarth, where teeth should have been. Thousands upon thousands of tiny pink hoovesies reached out from the point of no-space he called home, and latched onto his slimy skin.

There was a Second Laugh, louder than the first, and the Tongue of Pinkie wrapped itself around the body of Ba'shuNaqarth. His pestilent coating did nothing to dissuade her. The filth burned away at her touch. Ba'shuNaqarth tried to remove himself from the grip of Pinkie, but he found that he could not.

That section of existence, that non-time, marked the only point at which Ba'shuNaqarth ever felt fear.

There was a Third and Final Laugh, and Pinkie pulled. Ba'shuNaqarth was ripped from his place in existence, what served him as matter being wrenched backwards and away from all that was. The hoovesies pulled in thousands upon thousands of different directions, tearing him apart, spreading his pieces thinner and thinner across a smaller and smaller space. Ba'shuNaqarth was crammed into his own shell, a point in the endless void so small as to not exist by the standards of ponies. And as the Final Laugh rebounded, the fragile, unmendable wound in reality that connected his shell to the rest of everything was severed irrevocably, just before his mind was stretched to the point where he could no longer comprehend such a concept. Ba'shuNaqarth, and all that he was, faded into oblivion.

Pinkie Pie stood alone outside of time and space. The Laughs continued, and would continue for all eternity, but her laughter died down as she watched her friend Twilight pass safely through the danger of the night, her mind receding from the boundaries of the world and into the security of the mundane as time progressed unto the morning.

Pinkie hummed cheerfully. Then, with a hop, skip and a jump, she made her way back to the reality she shared with her friends.

They would all be so glad to see Twilight feeling better again.

Chapter 3: Laugh to Make Them Disappear

Pinkie looked up as the door opened, and she smiled as she saw who came through the door. “Good morning, Twilight!”

Twilight smiled back. “Pinkie!” she said, trotting up to the counter where Pinkie was passing a customer his chocolate-covered scones. “I just wanted to thank you for your talk yesterday. You were right. I was letting something get to me which I shouldn't have let be such a big deal.”

Pinkie hummed contentedly. “Well, Twilight, if you ever get on the wrong side of an eldritch abomination that wants to consume you and all you love ever again, just give me a call, and we'll sort things out.”

Twilight laughed. “Oh, no! I'm not making that mistake again. Next time, if something looks wrong with an ancient book of magic, I'm just going to assume that it really is wrong and leave it alone.”

The two friends shared a laugh.

“Well,” Twilight said at last. “I'm going to go pick up Spike from Rarity's. He'll probably be sorry to see me back outdoors again.”

“Oh, I'm sure he'll be glad to see you,” Pinkie said. “Even if it does mean his dream vacation is over so soon.”

Pinkie waved as Twilight stepped out the door. She smiled warmly and let her hoof fall to the counter top.

She was surprised when the door opened again and Princess Luna strode inside. The Princess' eyes locked on to Pinkie, and she stepped forward until she was towering over her.

“Pinkie Pie,” she said. “Element of Laughter. I hear that you have succeeded in curing the ailment of Princess Twilight where I failed to even convince her to speak of the matter.”

“Hi, Princess Luna!” Pinkie chirped. She sat back on her haunches and gave a shrug of her forelegs. “Well, I don't know about 'ailment,' but I did make Twilight feel better about her little nightmare thingies.”

“Those 'things',” Luna said, “were no mere nightmare. I saw her distress as she slept. But when I investigated, she was as unconscious in her dreams as she was in waking life. I pressed her to open up to me, that I might help, but she steadfastly refused. I have watched her grow worse and worse as time went on, and been helpless to do anything about it.” Princess Luna stepped closer, and leaned over the counter. “What did you do, Pinkamena Diane Pie?”

“I drew her a picture of Ba'shuNaqarth,” Pinkie said.

Luna's eyes widened so far that they took up most of her face. Pinkie smiled up at her.

“You did what.” Luna said, so flatly that it wasn't even a question anymore.

“I drew Twilight a picture of Ba'shuNaqarth,” Pinkie repeated. “To show her why she didn't need to be afraid of him any more.”

“ShhH!” Luna said, scrambling to clamp Pinkie's mouth shut. “Stop saying that name!”

Pinkie raised an eyebrow. “Do I have to draw a picture for you too?” she asked between Luna's hooves.

“You know not the depths of the affairs you meddle in, Pinkie Pie. With even this small offense, your life is apt to become a living torment before much longer.” Luna glanced back towards the door. “My stars. Now I fear beyond measure for Twilight's safety. To look so well when so desperately ill... it may be she is too far gone.”

“She's fine,” Pinkie whined. “It's not weird to look healthy when you're not sick. Let go of my mouth!”

Luna looked back to Pinkie.

“Perhaps it is too late for Twilight,” Luna said sadly. “But there is still time to save your soul, if we are swift.”

With a flash of light, Pinkie and the Princess disappeared from the confectionery, and reappeared in a room in Castle Canterlot. Luna stepped up to a small, locked bookshelf, undid the lock, and began leafing through the pages of one of the books held within.

Luna's eyes flared and her horn glowed as she cast a spell.

In the beginning, Luna read out, before time itself began, there was a nothingness beyond shadow. A nothingness not born of light, but separate from it. Deeper than it. Older-

“Older than it, yes,” Pinkie said, resting her head on one hoof. “That's how the legend goes. Of course, given that time doesn't exist outside of itself, that's kind of stupid and meaningless. Luna, do we really have to go through all this? I told you, there's nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

Luna stared back at Pinkie in a mix of shock and horror. “You speak in the eldritch tongue,” she said, her voice merely a whisper. “How far has the creature already advanced into your mind?”

“Not at all,” Pinkie replied, her own voice dripping with boredom. “Not a bit! I can stop anytime I want!” Pinkie chuckled, mildly amused at her own joke.

Luna stared for a long moment.

“How are you even doing that?” she asked at last. “Speaking in the eldritch tongue is not only a heretical abomination of the mind, but an actual physical impossibility. How are you managing it with pony lungs?”

“Dunno,” Pinkie shrugged. “Probably the same way I disappeared Ba'shuNaqarth.”

“Disappeared?” Luna asked.

Pinkie nodded. “It's easier to say than 'ripped asunder and consigned to an infinitesimally small fragment of the void.'”

Luna stared at Pinkie. Then she looked up, and in a direction that could not quite be described with ordinary terms. Her eyes glowed as she cast a spell of searching, probing into the infinate depths which surround the world.

“... Where is he?” She asked finally. “A creature so foul should be visible no matter where or how far from us he travels.”

“I think what's left of him is right about there,” Pinkie pointed helpfully.

Luna blinked, surprised at Pinkie's being able to follow along with her observations. But setting that aside, she looked at the spot which Pinkie indicated. There was nothing there.

“I see nothing,” Luna said.

“Yeah,” Pinkie nodded. “There's not much to see anymore. I mean, that's probably where it happened, but there's not really anything left to look at.” Pinkie shrugged. “I disappeared him.”

A large part of Luna refused to believe this. Ba'shuNaqarth was a Great Old One. Very little indeed could have impeded his actions. It was unthinkable that he could be destroyed so utterly. All that could be done was to resign oneself, and hope that one escaped his notice. Was he hidden so well that she could not see him? Had he already taken hold of her mind? It was impossible that he was gone.

But then there was Pinkie.

“... How?” Luna asked, finally. “How did you make him –” Ba'shuNaqarth “– disappear?”

Pinkie smiled.

“I laughed.”

Chapter 4:

Throughout the vastness of the void, the Laughs echoed unceasingly, tolling the death of a Great Old One who thought himself above all judgment but his own. The other Eldritch heard. Some fled. Most cared not. They were too unknowable and simply different in their minds to care about some new horror in a place that was filled with them.

But there was one exception. The Eldest One, the most powerful, most hideous, most twisted. Very little caught its attention, so small all else was in comparison. It knew not fear. It knew only hunger, and feeding, and spreading.

It heard the Laughs, out at the furthest reaches of the Cosmos where it resided. The Laughs, which were among those few things loud enough to draw upon the attention of the Eldest One.

The Eldest One turned it's gaze upon their source, that limited speck called Time, and the even smaller iota of dirt called the planet Equus by those who lived on it.

The Eldest One would pay a visit, soon.

The Eldest One would devour all.

Till all Laughter turned to Silence.