Everything was vast and cold. There was no air running underneath her feathers, but she knew that she felt nothing but cold. It worked its way into her very being so that her joints creaked when she flew onward and her eyes were always heavy. In the dark, she knew her purple coat would be ruffled by the gnawing, below-freezing air. She could not see the color now that they had taken to the skies. She heard her breathing come in wheezes and coughs, but that was because she had only been out here for centuries.
She had forgotten her name. Sometimes, she liked to think that it — names were always it to her, being such a distant concept — had to do with the cold weight of the object on her head. She would reach her hoof — the left one, always — up to touch its surface. Every time she did so, she felt more cold ripple through her as her whole body sank into numbness.
But she kept flying.
She knew that she had worn it for ages, but not really what ages were. It was hard to remember anything but her.
Her.
She loved her.
Celestia.
That was a name for her silent companion. Celestia was the cold silent flyer who only pressed onward without any wheezing or the dull ache of frost on her coat from someplace ages ago. Celestia shone brightly in the dark, mane rippling with all the colors of—
Of something. They were bright and so warm — an old feeling — but not purple. And She knew that Celestia didn't need magic to run where blood and everything should be to leave her cold and hollow, yet following her anywhere.
That's where they were going. Anywhere.
She didn't know exactly where anywhere was, but it must have many stars.
She remembered stars from a long, long time ago when there was something beneath her hooves forever and where she was buried — she forgets why she was — for a long sleep that only Celestia unearthed her from. It was Celestia who had so lovingly dissected all her rotten parts, replacing this and that with magic and something metallic to keep her going. All that could be restored was tattered and cursed, but very much appreciated. Ever since Celestia had pulled her from the womb of cold sleep, a sunbeam song played in her head nonstop.
'So you can help me; so we can find them' was what Celestia had first said when she woke. That was when Celestia still spoke with the voice that was all the warmth in the cold, dry world that they had left. She didn't remember it. Or much but Celestia and all that she had been before and after. In her head, there was only Celestia, who was not unlike the sunbeam song.
And she knew that she loved Celestia and that there were stars.
All around them, distant lights would glimmer and radiate something that she could never feel. This something-feeling made her — the vital part of her that Celestia kept stitched to what was left of her; she called it a soul — feel more detached, looser, and drifting more than normal. That nagging little feeling was as though a seal were being melted.
But she loved Celestia and she would follow Celestia anywhere and everywhere.
Celestia, who flew beside her with something that gleamed like starlight but was oh-so-cold on her head in their sleepless existence and smiled forever was all she ever wanted. Except, there were times when Celestia's lovely bone-white face did not smile so, and that's when she made small sounds. Whimpers would leak from the radiant mare. They'd slow but never stop, just like their flight. She would wrap her stiff purple forehooves around Celestia, telling the mare who never said any words to go on. Every time she repeated words, they sounded stiff with her voice when she spoke them. Most of the time, she merely parroted Celestia's own words to her so they might keep going to anywhere.
And when Celestia woke her from sleeping long ago and fit her with metal and magic, she told her that they were looking for Luna.
Luna and another. She didn't recall the name, but Celestia and she had stood on a broken world rife with cracks and dust, magic everywhere. That could make it hard to remember.
And they were looking for Luna and the other. The sunbeam song in her head would trill that over and over.
She didn't know much about this Luna other than a few recollections. Her own coat was not purple but some fathomless, deep shade that she thought was a bit terrifying, like all this black space but lighter and with more substance, neither warm nor cold. She did not love this Luna like she loved Celestia, who was bright and warm. The eyes of Luna were terrifying because they reminded her of something she could not name — stuff on the ground, springing up and stepping on it — but also a sky occupied by something warm and gold that was Celestia. That sky-thing hung above the soft stuff on the ground that glowed with a color she couldn't remember as she flew on and her patchy, lank lesser mane whipped through the dark.
Luna scared her, but Celestia loved her, so they followed somewhere to go anywhere.
Then, there was the other who Celestia spoke even less of, never once crying out their name in the eternities they flew on together. Did Celestia love or hate them? She didn't know, she just flew wanting neither food or drink, nor rest. She likely no longer needed it.
And she knew that it was cold and she loved Celestia... she couldn't refuse follow her. It was even more unfathomable than Luna, whom Celestia would chase forever. The sunbeam song would not allow it; love would never permit her either. All the memories of before would become a scream in her hollow skull not to.
She never asked anything because Celestia never spoke much anymore. She asked why they were flying many times, but then forgot why she asked every time. So, she trusted Celestia, and kept her voice that rang through the emptiness when she spoke to herself because the sound was overwhelming.
Celestia said they were looking for Luna.
Celestia said they would find Luna.
Celestia said they would keep flying.
Celestia said they could do this forever, but never looked her in the eyes for that.
Celestia said that she didn't want to be lonely, but never said what lonely was.
But that was back when they started flying, and with each passing something she remembered less and less of everything as they ventured into the dark.
But she always, always remembered Celestia.
And she loved Celestia. That was enough, since she would tell Celestia, flying up to her radiant aura and letting the words creak out in a low whisper. Her voice was so quiet, as if this black and the endless world didn't want them to be speaking or visible. These words made Celestia smile a funny tight smile and make that same whimpering in her throat. The mystery sound was as thin and taut as her smile — as though she were trying to stifle something. Celestia's eyes would leak at the corners in ways that hers could not, if they had ever been able to. She could no longer remember — she likely did not need to. The sunbeam song knew how to direct what was needed — like Celestia — and what was not. Unneeded things were things that were not Celestia.
Without the sunbeam song, she would forget everything, given enough time. Celestia had explained it to her once, and it had to do with the reason her wings were bone and blade and long-tired feathers. Without the sunbeam song, there would be no Celestia to remember — and thus no love to be had. All her memories would throw themselves away with all the brevity of a shooting star's crash given enough time, all the time — if it were not for the sunbeam song. That single song held all of her memory, all together, all the time. She was not a Celestia-creature, which was why she could fall apart, sleep so long, and be buried beneath a blanket of stone within the ground of an ash-land. She could not remember forever — so a song helped her.
Once, she almost paused. Another time, she remembered almost catching Celestia's shaking lips form the word, the name: Luna.
Or maybe she didn't remember. She wasn't sure, but that was okay because she wasn't sure of a lot of things lately and forever.
But she loved Celestia, whose horn glowed the same pale gold as Twilight's eyes ever since she could remember.
That was forever enough.
Author's Note
I don't know what this is or if it ties into my other works - maybe? - but I like it and this needed to be written and that picture begged for art and something something author's note. ...Maybe it has to do with there being so many end of the world Twilestia fics? I dunno.
[Revised for print on 11/30/2020]
