A real masterpiece... This will be surely quoted by crowds. Are you handicapped? This shit... this shit? Guys, we can't even write!
"DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE."
DIE
He was a pony, just a pony. Driven insane by the carnage and terror he witnessed. Just a hush of it... A soundless blow... A slow spatter of blood, a sudden burst of muscles. And the ichor... the ichor everywhere. And the suffering... the suffering proving his inner rupture. But with the suffering, crawled the release. It slowly creeped towards him and said: -You can leave... You can also stay here. The choice is truly yours...- He did not left. He showed his real visage. A visage of weakness and fear. He decided to stay, just to expose his weakness. A visage... a visage, indeed.
And there it was. His grim duty. A simple act of self destruction. But did he cared? No... No, he didn't. The voice first told:
-A fine material, indeed. The only issue is to deploy him there...-
The ears of the "material" moved in search for other sounds. His neck twitched and the shallow eyes seeked for somepony. He only saw voices. And there it was... Another story to tell:
-It's tomorrow, honey. You need to stay calm. It all will be fine...-
And there was a quick response:
-I'm not nervous. It's just... the whole act. Assassination on Celestia. It's just... You know.-
The voices echoed in his empty mind. Soaked into his eyes. The rest of his self-awareness tried to repair his brokeness. But it didn't had the time and means for this difficult process. It could just slow, the growing tumor down. The mind applied a soporific drug in the form of a lullaby.
And he dreamed. Just this wicked deed and we are done. It will finish this show and I'll be able to applaud... Just... don't whine. Don't whine! DON'T FUCKING WHINE! We won't prevail, so tell me... Why do you pretend? Why do you pretend, that this is important to you? Why do you pretend, that you actually care? This trapdoor will open sooner or later... Uh, shut up! It will never open. We're both unstoppable! Really? Together we can feast, divided we will rot... This is why our alliance is so important. Who fucking says that? This lunatic whose idiocy caused... THIS! Who?! Me? You weak-minded worm! Without my intellect and charisma we would be dead! You delayed heap of carrion! You are a fungal creeper not a charismatic leader! Y-you disgraceful, vile, sodomizing, foal-raping, evil, worthless piece of shit! You pretentious fuck! I will poke your guts with my hoof! Shut your ugly suck hole and listen! This strife will get us killed! No, it helps us to realize... What are we made of.
Our life is a mess, tho.
It was stronger, he couldn't let It get the tool of control. He started to do something he never did: Thinking.
You guys... I, too! We simply failed to realize that there's something beyond, something powerful and more clever, then we are. I simply failed to realize that I am quite sick inside. And now it's over! What a shame! I'm ashamed! You should be ashamed, too! We are this shame! Yes, at least I know, who to blame!
The gold plate risen. A shadow was casted... The majestic voice touched down. And with it, he leaped... Drowning his teeth in the soft, warm shoulder. Rending the white fur and the delicate muscles, apart. Drop... Drop... Drop... DROP... SPATTER... TUG...
He expectorated the blood from his mouth. A filthy falvor, but how saturating... A fine material, indeed... The voice again hugged his ears. They are here. He pounced to the two teasing voices. And slaughtered... ripped the musles... spoiled the ichor... crushed every bone in those well-groomed bodies. A powerful smash with his hoof splashed the pith on the pure, white floor. You should have finish me off. Instead, you took my wounds and poured some salt inside! One of the Voices, in the state of agony. It's so funny... Like he tries! The voice tried to harm our fine material. What a irresponsible behavior. A devilish laugh escaped his phiz. What are you, scum?! He slowly approached the voice. His hooves somehow wrapped around the tormented one. He wanted to avoid a expanded slaughtery, countless times the voice was dented into the floor. The climax of this slaughtery.
The majestic voice looked at him, blood still spattering from its shoulder. Just for a second... Just a quick blink... He saw her face. He saw her figure, the snow white coat, now wet from the blood soaking from her wound. He turned around, only to see husked shells. These shells were once ponies. The first one was a white stallion with a dark-blue mane. He was very important but the fine material couldn't recall what role played that stallion. The second one was a mare... He could only guess if she was naturally pink or the pith and blood made her fur look like this. She was wearing jewellery. She was also important... He tried so hard to seek her role in his mind. Just hate was found... Everything went down. He forced himself to look again at the monarchy. Celestia? Yes, that was Celestia. Her beautiful, feminine shape was disturbed by the massacre. She could't even react. Her awareness split... The first half was catched by the wound. Not a delightful view. Depends... A huge chunk of meat was wrenched. The bite was an amateur work. The tendons were uprooted, her veins were still throbbed, spewing some blood from time to time. Ungraceful. Pathetic. Amateur. He looked into her gold necklace, it worked like a mirror. With astonishment, he saw a pony. A small, haggard figure with rags covering its face. He wanted to see something different... He was sick of his equine shape. He looked again at Celestia. She stood there. Her fur reminded him porcelain. A pretty sculpture. This feminine curves were like carved by the finest artists. He felt a call to arrange her, add some makeup, dry her fur, wash the blood stains. I'll do it to her! No, you won't. Respect our preferences! You mean: nopreferencesatall? I will fucking commit suicide if you will break our purity! Ugh, fine. So, pretty in porcelain. But there was again this moment... With this moment he saw a monarchy, stripped from its splendor. Her deaf eyes. Her stupid expression. Her fear. Her wet sockets. He felt disgusted by her cleanliness. How much rage and hate resided in his small, weak body? He wanted to scream... scream out everything that nourished on his mind. But the voice in his head, scolded him: Don't fucking whine! Everything is just fine! Don't scream at him! He did well! Listen, you are now something more... This flame purified you, it took you to a state of preponderance! We are now PURE and utterly PERFECT. Our life isn't a mess, anymore!
And then he died... pierced with a spear.
