The Way Home (Exalted)

by KrisSnow

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Human, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Crossover
Length: 2690

"Exalted" crossover. Two people are in a really bad place where they'll help each other remember...

(Warning: This is incomplete and I don't know if it'll ever be finished. I understand if that makes it unsuitable.)

"Prismatic Velocity", Infernal Exalted, distantly remembers something horrible having to do with her wings and not being fast enough. When she meets a diplomatic agent of the Unconquered Sun, they start to remember that this really, really isn't the world they belong in. Can they find the way home?

Published 2012-07-06 07:44:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-06 07:44:02 UTC

Chapter 1

Prismatic Velocity ran across the desert of Hell instead of sleeping. She doubted her memories. As far as she could recall, every friend she had ever known had betrayed her, and every relative had abused her. That couldn't really be so, could it? She sorted through her experiences, having nightmares as she ran. Her heels kicked up grains of malevolent sand.

There was one fragment of her past that she was sure of. She'd failed utterly at a moment of greatness, and had made a deal for a second chance.

Prism had run for eight hours across the Endless Desert and was as refreshed as a mortal might be after sleep. The blue wings on her back were the only bits of visible demonic taint to her otherwise human form; the other signs were usually hidden. It felt glorious to stretch her wings and coast just above the ground. She felt... free like this. But her masters had sent her here, to the sandy outskirts of Hell, to keep watch.

And there it was! Prism had been starting to think the demon lords were only toying with her, or acting on their insane obsessions. Self-loathing, bloodlust, conformity, deceit and dominance. "Elements of stupidity," she muttered to herself. But their orders had paid off. A bridge was appearing out of nowhere! One end of it blurred into reality like a mirage. At the near end it was jagged, tarnished brass. The hazy far end was beautiful red-gold orichalcum. Prism found her gaze darting away from the heavenly end to focus on the nearer, tarnished one. This side was home now.

Prism dropped to a crouch on her hands and feet. The pose came naturally to her when she was ready to strike. Someone was crossing the bridge. Prism licked her lips. Kill with her trademark move first, or play with some of the other tricks the demons had taught her? She hadn't tried the one called "Murder Is Meat" yet...

But her wings flicked and locked up when she caught sight of the invader's face. This was no idiot mortal who'd stumbled across a portal to Hell. This newcomer was stately. Waves of purple hair spilled over the collar of a white silk dress, down to her waist. On her forehead shined a golden circle-in-a-circle. Not a tattoo. Prism touched one finger to her own scalp and burned a drop of magical essence to make her own mistress' sign appear: a blood-red whirling circle. Prism and the newcomer stared at each other's marks. They had greeted each other like predators showing off their size and fangs. The tainted warrior of Hell, and the out-of-place woman with her shoes just touching netherworld sand, were both powered by the same force. Both were mortals raised up by powers beyond human understanding. They were Exalted.

Prism began to move, to leap forward and bash the intruder's head in. But the moment she began, she found she couldn't. A sense of dread poured through her. She knew something more horrible than death would happen if she attacked this person. "What gives?" she yelled toward the bridge. "Come over here and fight!"

The woman with the purple hair set foot on the sands of Hell. She kept one hand on the twisted railing behind her, as though afraid to let go. When she glanced back she seemed to force herself to lift that hand with its delicate, manicured fingers. She now stood entirely under her own power and not the enchanted bridge's. "Ahem!" Her eyes wavered between wide, staring fear and the need to squint against the unholy glare. "I believe your reaction shows that the Sun's diplomacy applies even here. That's certainly reassuring. My name is Seeker of Scarce Facets, and -- just to make it official -- I'm here in this... unique place under divine protection."

Prism made a face. So that was the reason! There was some ancient oath keeping the demon lords from fighting back against this lady's kind, the Solar Exalted. The oath carried over to their servants. "Great. I came all the way out here from the Demon City and I can't even fight you. Or keep track of your name."

"Fight? Why would you want to?" asked the lady. "And Seeker is what my friends call me."

Prism laughed bitterly. "I'm Prismatic Velocity, and you don't want my kind of friendship. Or my boss'. Hear the noise out there?" She pointed a wing in the direction of the Demon City. It was barely visible as a jumble of brass towers. "My boss is the reason there's constant music and noise in the streets."

"That doesn't sound so bad," the diplomat said.

Prism smacked her forehead right on the whirling caste mark. "You're new at this, aren't you? They make noise because she's the Silent Wind. You know? The demon lord that hates noise and kills pretty much everything she touches?"

Seeker seemed genuinely surprised. "You poor thing! How have you even survived this long with a master like that? The Sun is rather distant, but would never do something so horrid."

"Hey, I can take care of myself. And I've got a job to do. So if you don't mind, I'd like to stop being humiliated by having my turf invaded, and be on my way."

"I'm sorry if I've caused disrespect..." She seemed to speak in an aside into her sleeve: "Especially if it's the sort that will get my internal organs distatefully rearranged..." To Prism she went on, "But I was rather hoping for an escort. Would you happen to know where, or for that matter what, is the Ebon Dragon?"

Prism backed a few steps away, wings fluttering. Only her pride kept her from flying away in fear. "You haven't heard of him, and you... want to meet him?"

"Of course. What exactly --"

Prism glared at her. "You're talking about the Shadow of All Things. The guy who is backstabbing and hatred and despair as, like, a person. He is The. Worst. Possible. Thing."

Seeker laughed. In Hell that sound usually was something to be afraid of. But she made it sound sincere. "Do you know the best part about being what I've become? My particular caste has the power to -- well, you know it already. I can march right up to your uncouth friend and speak to him, and there's not a thing he can do to me."

"So long as you don't attack him, I guess. But if any being in the world can squirm his way out of an oath, it's him." Just not the oath keeping him from taking over Creation, the mortal world. And he supposedly had a plan for that...

The Solar diplomat stared into the distance at the Demon City, just as a shadow briefly dimmed this realm's false green sun. "Well! It's my duty to have a word with him, in spite of any danger. Will you kindly direct me to him?"

"Kindly?! Lady, you're in the wrong place for kindness. If you want to risk getting your soul ripped out and fed to the blood apes, you're on your own. He doesn't even like my boss."

Seeker arched one purple eyebrow. "Are you afraid to face him?"

"No!" Prism jumped forward and glared at her from just inches away. Seeker didn't flinch. "Just sane."

"I have diplomatic immunity, remember? And that extends to any escorts I happen to have. So this may be your one chance to meet the Ebon Dragon without any... uneasiness you may harbor."

Huh, thought Prism. The crazy lady has a point. The demon lord would probably do something horrible to her anyway, but Prism could probably escape, and then she'd get credit for offing one of Hell's biggest enemies. "Okay, okay, I'll take you to him. You're so doomed."

"Excellent. Shake on it?" Seeker held out her hand.

"Oh, I get it, you want one of those oaths your kind does." Prism took the lady's hand in hers. It seemed like an unnatural gesture, somehow. "Fine. I swear I'll take you to him. But then you're on your own -- no, wait." She really, really didn't want her escort status to end the moment they actually met Old Shadey. "And send you back home, I mean."

"Deal!" The Solar said. Her essence flared around them both, feeling to Prism like searing heat that hurt her for an instant and gave her a sense that she'd forgotten something, far away yet important. Seeker's unique golden aura appeared, and Prism stared at it: a ray from the woman's forehead, and the suggestion of whirling gems.

They trudged across the Endless Desert. The diplomat complained, "I don't believe we're getting any closer to that city." She kept slowing them down to conjure water or shake evil sand out of her shoes.

"Very perceptive. It's gonna take five days. Doesn't matter how fast you go, if you're walking. And I don't see any wings on you."

"Not exactly 'endless' then, is it?"

Prism rolled her eyes. "I don't pick the names around here. I hear that the 'Unconquered Sun' had most of his servants chopped down and their magic soul things -- like the one you inherited -- stuffed into a box for, like, a thousand years. Oh, and that the fancy utopia they built totally broke. So, great job on that."

"Touche. But now we're both empowered to fix things, in our own way, yes?"

"Sure, sure, for certain kinds of fixing."

"Why are you working for such horrid masters, anyway? You could certainly do great things, if your powers are at all like mine. Can you actually fly?"

Prism flexed her wings. "Like the crazy killer wind I can! Check this out." She burned a bit of essence, making her blood-red caste mark itch as though it was trying to corkscrew into her forehead. She stepped into the air and hovered. Her wings barely flapped. She gave one strong flick of them and whirled around the Solar. Prism punched a spot just over Seeker's shoulder, then flipped and double-kicked the air.

Seeker ducked and covered her hair. "What?"

Prism gave her a grin and landed right in front of her. "I didn't do anything. Not touching you. Of course, if you want to hit me first and forfeit all that protection..."

The diplomat stood, dusted off her dress, and tried to look dignified. "I'll pass, thank you. I suppose your demonstration is good practice for dealing with the Dragon."

"Why do you want to meet him? What in Creation convinced you that'd be a good idea?"

Seeker began walking again across the desert. "You didn't answer my question, earlier. Why are you working for the likes of him?"

Prism sank to the ground. A horrible vision struck her. I wasn't fast enough. I hit the ground and everyone looked at me, hating me...

"What's wrong, miss Prism?"

Prism found that she was shuddering, sweating despite being immune to the unholy heat. Seeker must have had her own powers active; not even her hair was mussed by the sand and hot breeze. "Nothing!"

She'd forgotten exactly what made her sign up for this job, for becoming an Infernal Exalted. Panic clawed at her lungs. She remembered falling... But her memories had been tainted; she already suspected that. The fear felt real. Not because of the thought of slamming into the ground faster than a woman could fall, but because of what had happened after that. She'd hit; she'd been dying; and her enemies had gathered around her with horrible expressions that said You betrayed us. You failed us. Good riddance! How much of that had really happened? And a voice had whispered to her, saying, "It's all right. We understand failure very well. You can have another chance at the greatness you deserve, for a price."

Prism was sprawled on the sand, covering her face with her hands. She found the Solar crouching beside her. A soft voice said, "I don't understand what's causing you pain, but if there's anything I can do...?"

The offer of help only made Prism more humiliated. She got up, with her wings shuddering, and faced away from Seeker. "Just bad memories. I don't want to talk about that. I wish we could get there faster so I can quit wasting my time."

"You said that our speed doesn't matter if we walk. Would riding be a suitable loophole? I could conjure a horse."

"You. On a horse." The thought struck Prism as ridiculous. "No, that doesn't count, but flying would. Do you know how many demons would laugh at me if I were spotted carrying you, though?"

"No; how many?"

Prism tried to shake off the memory of her own death and rebirth. It wouldn't go away. She tried to laugh at it instead, thinking, Who taught me how to laugh at these things?. "None! My kind are practically royalty around here. And if they did, I'd kill 'em."

"In that case, I humbly request that you carry me to the city, if that would help speed our journey."

"Ha! Of course it will." Prism hovered again and held out a hand. She stood in front of the Solar lady like an angel, marked with a demon's emblem. It would feel good to fly. It would help take her mind off of having to babysit an enemy of Hell, and would get the job over with sooner.

Seeker looked skeptical, but reached up for Prism's hand with both of hers. Prism felt a stab of terror in her forehead. She panicked enough to set off one of her flight powers. Sickly green light flared around them as she bounced skyward, dragging the woman along. Seeker shrieked. The noise only made Prism's panic worse. "No, no, shut up!" They were a hundred feet above the sand. Falling... no. Hovering. It was all right. It took hardly any effort to hold her passenger now. "Just keep hold of my hand and the levitation will affect you too."

Seeker gulped and quit her stupid melodramatic flailing and shrieking. When she did, the trouble stopped. They hovered together, with Prism leading her by the hand.

"Let's get this over with," said Prism, and raced ahead. She trailed a shockwave of tarnished colors.

The roofs of Malfeas, the Demon City, were rarely level. The architecture was brutal and illogical, and buildings slowly shifted while out of sight. A band of puppeteer demons relentlessly played drums and flutes on the streets below. The neomah cried out their deal of the day: any pleasure for a few ounces of flesh. Every building gleamed with brass. Prism set herself and Seeker down on a rooftop where heat made the air hazy. "Let's see. Do you want to talk to He That Deceives, or maybe the Bull Slain On Stagnation's Altar? Or how about That Which Calls To the Shadows?"

"These are component souls of the Ebon Dragon, yes? I was hoping to speak to the... gentleman himself."

"Hey, not even I can get his attention directly. Not that I'd want to. You'll probably have to go through his cannibal bureaucrat demons first."

"There are bureaucrats in Hell?" The lady shook her head. "Of course there are. I have a certain way with administrative procedure, though. Perhaps you could direct me to them."

"Ugh. We're going to be at this for months. I'll show you to one of their offices, and then to someplace where you can probably stay safely while you wait and wait."

"You might be surprised. Is there anywhere to eat around here that doesn't involve devouring babies or the like?"

Prism's own stomach rumbled. "Yeah."

They ate on the shore of an acid sea, where skeletal fish leaped and splashed. The green sun made it look nearly like water. Seeker picked skeptically at a bowl of grilled vegetables that were hardly ever malevolent. Prism usually lived on spider-demon meat when she was here, but had to admit she liked a good salad from the mortal world better...