Chapters Butterflies.
That's what she saw around her... countless, infinite little butterfly wings, clouding her entire vision in their radiance. From somewhere, a brilliant circular illumination filtered through the petals of trees, a light too beautiful to be that of a mortal sun. Surely, it was some angelic orb cast forth from a dream, gracing the beautiful lands around with its visible song and chasing shadows into white oblivion.
She saw, also, sweet patches of sky intermixed with the peaceful glare. The sky glowed fuchsia in some spots, and in other spots, peach orange. It was like stained glass, she noticed, how the colors above checkered so harmoniously together. Even the clouds fit perfectly with the sky's color scheme, their wispy violet hue only adding to the atmosphere. If she looked closely, through the fluff, the butterflies, and the light, she swore she could see little diamond stars, twinkling kindly down at her from billions of miles away.
She calmly kneaded her pale golden hooves into the soft earth before settling herself down into it, flexing her wings out and over the ground. The shining grasses upon which she lay were mostly of a silken texture, but others were slightly more prickly, tickling her wing-tips. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant, though she barely reacted to it. Her rosy hair fell in long, ghostly strands over her back and the left side of her face, obscuring one of her reflective, river-colored eyes. The other sapphiric iris continued to glimmer brightly in the orb's fire, and it did so for a long time, as she refused to ignore the blaze for even a blink.
Unlike the euphoric world around her, the filly remained still and silent, even her face bore not a smile. Was the happiness there, somewhere, buried deep in the yellow form? Did she remain apathetic on the outside to mask a growing love in her heart? Alas, there was no sign of either. The filly's face was almost completely shadowed in coldness, with only her wide, watching eyes to contradict the darkness that slowly enveloped her. How could any child be so impervious to such a fantastic dream?
Ah, but that was what plagued her. That cursed word was what chilled her heart and left an unwavering mark in her soul. A dream was all that glory would ever be, a collection of thoughts so stuffed with lies that all existing truth would recoil in disgust. Soon all it would take would be a whisper from the outside, and the tricks would shatter into millions of tiny shards. The spell would be broken, and all life's ails would once again return to haunt her. Her unmoving eyes flickered with sadness, though they remained at their post.
Inevitably, it did pass by in a whisper, and the orb's loving warmth was no more.
"That's a black eye, all right..."
The butterflies around her dissipated, their wings either disappearing or blurring into a growing gray. The light above turned artificial in less than a second, automatically more harsh and potent than what lay in her imagination. The sky was nothing more than what looked like bathroom tile, made to look so harmonious before by the wool she herself had pulled over her eyes. The ground was merely the thin, scratchy bedsheets of a hospital bed, the fabric hardened by countless washings and not soft like the grass in her dream. The air felt stagnant on her tongue, the scents sharp in her nostrils.
"Sweet Celestia, how could a fall alone cause that kind of harm? Those bruises are shaped like hooves!"
Yes, that's right... there was a fall. Her blurry mind began to collect its memories like pieces of broken glass, as it slowly but surely healed itself enough to recall what exactly had happened. There wasn't just a fall, but a race, too. A challenge. The small blue pegasus- her thoughts were still foggy, and precise names were caught in the mist- had challenged them. That sweet filly alone had challenged the foals who'd been mean to her...
...who'd hurt her...
The filly felt an unknown energy take a swing at her heart, a bone-jerking pang resounding from it like a physical echo. No no no, don't think about them...
"Of course, to fall from such a height is by no means an undamaging experience, but those injuries are hoof-inflicted. Furthermore, our x-rays prove that this isn't the first time she's suffered said injuries."
No, please. Don't think. Don't you dare even think about them. Please... She felt her body shudder at the memories that threatened to rear their ugly heads, so she balanced fearfully at the border of vivid mental imagery and the ignorance to which she clung. Another nasty blow to her heart, and she began to loose her hold on the sliver of reality she possessed. Oh, Celestia, no.
"That's for being such a whiny little foal, you crybaby!"
Then came a smack to the muzzle, a hard one. The sound of bruised bone resonated through the early morning air, the delicate body of the pegasus going limp as she slumped to the ground.
"No... please stop..." She whimpered as a scorching, salty substance filled up the inside of her muzzle before trailing down her lip. Her vision went scarlet as her pleas were ignored, feeling yet another hit find its mark on one of her cheeks and encouraging even more blood from her mouth.
"Stop? STOP! We've only just begun, looser!" Her attacker laughed heartlessly, a laugh that was soon joined by countless other laughs just like it. In cadence with their assault, they all vocalized their enjoyment, slamming their hooves mercilessly all over her body until not one place remained untainted by their pain. Endless mocking and pain... more vermillion liquid falling like tears onto stained clouds, more screams of agony in blackened skies.
At last, when they grew bored of her torment, they left her, a bleeding mass huddled helplessly in the cloud.
Broken.
"Well, whatever the case, she's safe now, and undoubtedly the bravest little pegasus I've seen in a long time."
The filly winced as she was catapulted back from the terrible remembrance, the foreign stallion's words only serving to further her torture. Though the vivid flashback had ceased, the effects of it remained, and she could feel the agonizing pangs in each and every bruise she'd suffered from those colts she'd left in Cloudsdale.
It was like a song, almost, with each note being played at exactly the right time, one after the other in unending melody. Or if not a song, perhaps a poem, rhythmic sentences full of grief and regret.
With a gasp, the filly closed her eyes once again and focused on all the hurt building up in her chest, focused on the stallion's strange and untruthful claims, focused on all the confusion she'd garnered in only a few short minutes. Betwyxt the relentless attack of complex emotions and the bubbling fire of her internal wounds, the filly composed the verses to reflect, like a mirror, the hope she had lost, in such passionate language even she couldn't fully comprehend it.
Brave, am I?
'Tis bravery to cower 'neath the smite of hoof and monstrous gale?
'Tis bravery to face a city branded with their prints of ichor, stained?
I bear no mark of bravery, if so, I am to fail
When keratin met soft and supple flesh, and blood sept into clouds then scarlet rained...
Author's Note
Well, there's your protagonist, folks.
This is going to be a new take on Fluttershy's story. To me she's never really been that much of an interesting character by herself, but little thoughts came to me, and I began to wonder if what she's allowed others to know about her past is merely a romanticization of what actually happened. Bullying... it's not a joke. I've seen first hand what it can drive someone to do to themselves. What if she hadn't fallen off of that cloud accidentally... ?
Also, the whole "poetess" theme of this actually was inspired by Miss Bianca from the original Rescuers series by Margery Sharp. Trust me, the movie is nothing compared to Margery's impeccable writing. But I digress; in the original book, Miss Bianca is a compulsive poet who constantly writes verses about her adventures. I feel that this will be similar to such, albeit the tiniest bit more morbid.
Yes, I've been told how cruel I am to characters. Don't worry, things just have to get worse before they get better, sadness has to let up sometime.
Fluttershy.
That's the name she gave to herself on the day she awoke.
To her it seemed tolerable, even though it was a heretical mask. She drew inspiration from the charming little insects that had filled her mind up with their many colors, and how modestly, how shyly they fluttered about.
Fluttershy.
She let others believe this fake title to be true, in hopes that the authorities would be unable to find her home and bring her back. She never, ever wanted to go back, she'd choose death over returning to those who'd wronged her. The filly had long since dispatched of familial tears, and it was in her original agenda not only to leave her loved ones behind, but unbind from life itself. It wasn't that she was entirely indifferent about what she'd done; she was, after all, leaving behind two loving parents and a month-old baby brother, all of whom she loved to the very depths of her heart. It was devastating, yes, but this was what she'd bargained for, when she'd taken that near-fatal leap of faith.
Fluttershy had lost them all, true to form... yet she still lived. Why had she lived? Did life not understand that she didn't want to be there anymore?
The doctors and nurses whose care she was under tried desperately to get more information out of her. Yet apart from her nom de guerre, uttered like a sad violin note under her breath, Fluttershy would only respond with, "I don't know." For the most part, the filly's unchanging murmurs were actually true. When it came to the situation in its entirety, Fluttershy's replies were as fitting as only words could be. She didn't understand any of this, she didn't know herself. She desired so painfully to be gone and away from their seeking hearts.
Away from their... labels.
Sick, they called her. Abused, depressed, so tiny. The unflattering appellations went on and on, and within the fourteen days she wallowed in that temporary refuge, she found the labels were only increased.
The filly couldn't help but think about them in the night. Her mind would not be calm.
Fluttershy quietly squirmed under the covers as drops of rain lightly batted at the window of her dark hospital room. Another day walled up in the facility had gone past, making way for a starless, cloudy night devoid of silence. The thunder outside was low and warning, like the threatened growl of a large predator. Lightning occasionally flashed, brightening up the already-illuminated sky in an unfriendly blaze.
The blanketed filly remembered how her flight camp once took a field trip to the Weather Factory. She could barely picture the adventure in her head after the brutality of her later memories, but she and her friend-- the blue pegasus, who was but a cerulean blur in her mind-- had learned how Cloudsdale produced the large assortments of rainclouds that made up such a storm. It was a careful, selective process, with each centimeter of the clouds being inspected and checked for any signs of malfunction. Even her friend, who was often quick to dismiss any type of non-physical learning as "boring," really took to the creation of weather. Fluttershy, too, found the procedures to be enthralling, but she was too timid to verbalize her interest.
A twinge of homesickness. That will ebb away in time. Fluttershy told herself assuredly.
The filly tried her best to let sleep take her, so she may once again return to her universe of love and imagination, but her attempts were in vain. Fluttershy was not used to sleeping through rain at all, let alone thunder, and the ominous rumbling was enough to unnerve her alongside her preexisting agitation. Finally accepting that dreams would not surrender peacefully, the filly sighed and retrieved the small lantern on her bedside table, shifting carefully as not to disturb her wing and leg bandages. The lantern had been enchanted with unicorn magic, and it took only the minor twisting of a protruding dial to ignite it.
The storm outside only whistled with increased gusto, as though annoyed that the filly had given up on an early slumber. Fluttershy ignored the rain's protestations and turned her attention once again to the table, observing its contents searchingly. In the dim light, she discerned a variety of different items stacked atop the stand; a small, wooden wind-up frog one of the doctors had crafted for her, a pair of pretty blue mittens her primary nurse had knitted, a stuffed white bear dressed in a smart bowtie, and a beautiful glass box containing her most favorite gift of all: a magnificent swan-feather quill accompanied by a sterling inkwell. This had been a present from one of the wealthier employees there, and who'd apparently purchased it from one of the most expensive shoppes in all of Canterlot. Fluttershy knew she didn't deserve such luxuries, but the doctor had insisted she accept it, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings.
Besides, now is as good a time as any for a pen.
Fumbling the lantern ungracefully in her left hoof, Fluttershy reached out and tugged the box closer with her right one. With some awkward reaching, she was able to slide it onto her hoof, and all the while it balanced between the filly's golden fur and the utter destruction the floor below would surely bring. In that moment she lightly envied the talent of her unicorn cousins, as it would have made difficult tasks of the sort tremendously easier. But she let the jealousy pass... after all, unicorns probably wished they had wings sometimes, too.
Not my wings, of course. Fluttershy thought dissapointedly, as she let her gaze fall to the bandaged little feathers below her shoulders. Even under the swath of padding, she could still see how tattered the underdeveloped limbs were, and briefly wondered if they would ever behave appropriately again with what they'd been through.
But that's of no consequence now. Fluttershy decided, returning to the task at hoof. She had means of writing her verses through her precious quill, yet she still required material upon which to craft them.
Fluttershy blinked, questioning gaze once again on the table. No paper? Anywhere?
No, there had to be something.
It was then that the filly noticed two drawer handles extending out from the stand, the turquoise knobs glinting beckoningly at her from the half-shadow. Grasping the lantern in her teeth, Fluttershy carefully slid herself downward, hoof curiously prodding at the first drawer until it creaked ajar. Through the meager sliver of light peeking in through the opening, Fluttershy could descry a large pile of mothballs and a dusty picture frame containing no photograph. If she were truly desperate, Fluttershy might have etched her poem into the frame's oaken back, but she ultimately decided against the idea and pushed the drawer closed.
On to the second one-- that one was a bit more challenging of a stretch, considering Fluttershy was still trying to keep her lower body as still as possible. It took some adjustment, but she was finally able to slide the lower drawer open enough to see inside.
The only occupant was a white cloth napkin. That would do.
Scooping it out with her hoof, Fluttershy let the drawer close while swiftly pulling the rest of herself back onto the bed. After settling once again into a semi-comfortable position, the filly lay the cheap serviette over her lap, its eggshell color reacting brightly with the lantern's glow. The inkwell, along with the enchanted light source, had been placed on the opposite side of the bed, as still to be useful but out of the way. Yes, it seemed everything was ready.
Gently, Fluttershy removed the quill from the inkwell, heeding the iridescent liquid dripping from its tip and being sure it didn't splatter onto the bedsheets. Maneuvering the fragile object in the firm grip of her hoof was initially difficult, but once she was able to set the bend of her foreleg down in a comfortable writing position, the task was far less cumbersome. Fluttershy's eyes traced over the blank napkin in front of her one last time, before touching the quill down and allowing it to venture where it pleased.
Oh!
It felt as though the feather had come to life! The words in Fluttershy's soul began to appear on her canvas of linen, flowing freely from the pen's glistening point in rivers of poesy. Her eyes went wide as her hoof moved on its own accord, feeling an intense inner fire flooding from her hoof and into her utensil. The verses themselves seemed to brim in ash and ember, and Fluttershy could not peel her astounded stare away.
As morning graces young eyes, comes a game
Impregnate labels deep inside the womb that is a name
But within me, flourishes a wild which shan't be tame
Fluttershy or names long past? To me, reads all the same
Must all small wonders have a designation 'til they die?
Does their beauty not sound sweeter, free from what pigheadedly describes?
Are they not still beautiful, without a name of which to call them by?
Fluttershy or names long past... either way it all is born a lie
Two weeks past, the clock upon the wall ticks ever on
Still I wonder if I should have gone
Flew far away from names, no more a pawn
Yet somehow I feel this is the dawn.
Then the quill fell limp on the napkin, blissful snores signaling the poetess's sleep.
Author's Note
Dedicated to all of those, myself included, who are fed up with society's aggravating need to put a label on everything and everyone.
I'm almost too tired to include an endnote tonight, but I've made it this far. I want to get this chapter out before I fall asleep at my desk.
So yeah, there's your chapter two. I haven't done much editing of this one, so if you spot any grammatical errors, please let me know.
It's so super cool that this is already getting some attention, and I'm only on the second chapter now! I really appreciate it, everyone, I try my best to make my stuff readable, and I'll hopefully continue to do so. XD
That's all I have to say for now, folks. Have a good night, good evening, good afternoon, or whenever in the timezones you may be!
Fluttershy stared down at the inconceivable height below her. Balancing feebly at the edge of the cloud, she drew her sleep-deprived gaze over the frightening distance with a stillness in her soul. She felt cold, entirely invulnerable to the fear that such a drop should have ignited within her.
She should have felt at least a twinge of fear. Her final page lay just inches away, all it would have taken was a single step, premeditated or no... and she would be lost.
Yet Fluttershy felt nothing, even for one so near to death.
And it hurt. It hurt because Fluttershy, against all logic, wanted to feel that regret. She'd hoped so terribly that horror and anger would strike her in a moment of truth, simultaneously shocking the urges to jump from her treacherous hindquarters. Leading up to that day, she'd prayed in desperation that a warmth within her would stir, that a voice of velvet would whisper words of sense into her ears, and tenderly coax her from the border of expiry. She'd gazed for dangerous spans of time into the sun above until it stained her eyes, the orisons of her salvation clamoring in her mind as she searched for an answer. But the sun was surely as indifferent as her own soul, as not to send her one beam of hesitance from its heavenly mass.
A single, icy tear slipped down her cheek, the brutal lack of emotion no more rawer than in that moment. The lucent drop of liquid, having been touched by the altitudinal chill of the air, was quick to solidify and launch its hardened body from Fluttershy's chin. Fluttershy watched as the tear leapt from her muzzle and fell into the open air below, until it could no longer be seen through the distauncal haze atwixt earth and cloud. She would soon be just like the tear, descending freely through the mist, and ultimately waiting to feel the ferocious bite of gravity at the very end.
It wouldn't last long, she acknowledged. The unforgiving ground below would make short work of her, crunching her fragile bones in one halfhearted chew before spitting her out, an uneaten carcass. Oh, the joy.
Fluttershy took a deep breath in, allowing oxygen to fill her lungs up before forcibly expelling it all out. No more stalling, no more thoughts. Now it was time for action-- a final, crushing action at that. She let all the whispers in her mind float away like bubbles on a breeze, to be taken wherever abandoned thoughts go. She let her heartbeat calm in her chest, until it was nearly completely silent. The blood that screamed in her ears, she let bleed back to where it belonged. The feeling in her body melted away all at once, numbing her in preparation for the coming storm.
The filly's eyes fluttered closed, as she let her grip on the cloud falter and at last met with what lay beyond the solid verge.
What she met with was nothingness.
But that nothingness was soon filled with life! All around Fluttershy, in spirals of elation, swirled shimmering lyric and photographic events of her life. In the black of her eyelids, there stood windows into a world suddenly awakened by a gruesome demise. She felt as though she were floating, caught up in the haze of a unicorn's magical aura, spinning her endlessly through images and verses all tied together via the knots of mystical chanting. None of the whispers could have been cast from an equine throat; the sounds were more akin to a chorus of bells, chiming at exactly the right intervals to elicit their own understandable language. They spoke in riddle and rhyme, ever lulling the dying pegasus into a sleep of one final breath.
Fluttershy never felt the thud, for her consciousness was foggy with promises of spectra, cascading across the sky for her only.
Maybe not promises... but butterflies. Thousands of beautiful little butterflies blanketing her fall.
"Fluttershy?"
Fluttershy blinked as a room focused in around her. She remembered, now-- she'd thought for a moment that she had returned to that fateful day from only four weeks prior, but that was not so. She was in the hospital cafeteria, bound to a wheelchair, and staring dazedly off into the undetermined distance as she fiddled with the hay-fries on her plate. However, the voice had returned her attention back to her companion, Nurse Intapink.
"You've barely touched your oatburger, sweetheart. What were you thinking about?" She asked. The caregiving mare gazed kindly albeit concernedly at Fluttershy, yet the filly could sense she was seeking an explanation beyond what was verbally implied.
Fluttershy wasn't even sure that, if given the opportunity in a willing mood, she could give the nurse and her listening coworkers a thorough walkthrough of what was happening in her head. Honestly, no amount of cohesive speech would be able to describe the extent of the half-imaginary phenomenons effectively, thus the words would always end up dying on her lips.
With an overused shrug of her shoulders, the filly allowed her head to hang so that her mane would fall over her left eye most concealingly. "I don't know." She told Nurse Intapink, the trail of repetition ever an unbroken one.
Fluttershy was met with the faltering smile of her caregiver. Though, perhaps smile wasn't close enough a description. It was too simple for the flurry of emotions dawning on the mare's face, a mixture of disappointment and sadness slipping between her clenched teeth. For that's exactly what was on her muzzle; a mouth full of clenched teeth, such a thin veil of dying hope that only strengthened the wall Fluttershy had built around her heart.
"...All right, dear." Nurse Intapink eventually said, her sweet tone laced with defeat. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine with me, just please have at least one bite of your lunch. You need to keep your strength up, especially after the operation you've had."
Yes, Fluttershy recalled hearing of the operation. Now that she'd thought about it, the doctors had actually shown her much of their materials, though their explanations of her circumstance had been dumbed down to childlike language. That, Fluttershy thought, was almost more difficult to understand than if they'd simply been straightforward with her: she was not supposed to have lived. The fall had destroyed her ribcage, fractured most of her limbs and extremities in multiple locations, and both of her wings had to be almost completely recreated with faux bodily matter. Even the assembled practitioners, as they whispered words of comfort to Fluttershy, had gazed at her as though she had descended from the cervix of Celestia herself.
Fluttershy wriggled uncomfortably in her wheelchair, suddenly acutely aware of the several artificial structures holding her small frame together. Though she couldn't even feel the foreign metals enveloping her skeleton, the realization of their existence beneath her stitched skin was somewhat disturbing to the filly.
Her thoughts were broken for the second time when the plate of food was pushed even closer to her, via Intapink's pale yellow hoof. Fluttershy looked up from her sewn chest and into the nurse's azure irises, which stared back in sudden sternness. "Fluttershy. Eat." Intapink commanded, no longer pleading for the filly's compliance.
With that, Fluttershy let her mind rest and began nibbling at the oatburger placed in front of her, grimacing a little at how cold it was. The nurse raised an eyebrow at the face she'd pulled, the beginnings of a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.
Fluttershy gave her not the satisfaction of a glance.
When the hospital lights had ceased to shine and the sound of hoofsteps had finished resonating through the hallways, Fluttershy once again produced her quill and inkwell under the lantern's glow. One of the nurses had been so kind as to order her some paper, which lay in a stack atop her bedside table. Slipping one of the slender white sheets from the pile, Fluttershy slid it over her lap and began without a second thought.
A wound in cloud reveals an earth, thus summons thoughts to fall
To fold thy wings in empty air is a faux pas unspeakable
But who dost you be true to, and should you have the gall
To prove to all of pegasi, that bones are mortal, wings are not unbreakable...
Descendera, you feel a mother's love, a brother's pain
En same you sense the clockwork grinding life into your heart
Descendera, you break the rules, cascading yet again
Into the gaping maw of what shall tear your hope apart
As insect angels swim through aer, through sky into your hair
Their breath leaves warmth upon your ear, radiance too brilliant for e'en royalty to bear
They say, “Descendere de City of the Clouds, do not despair
For someday, you shall be a xana of their hope, and blisters shall be ne'er.”
Fluttershy's eyelids swept over her irises as silken beads began their stream onto her lower lashes, turning them sticky with salty fluid. Every time she pressed the feather's ink-coated tip to the paper, she experienced a feeling of elation she thought not was possible. Such was in her grief, she feared joy may never exist at all for her. But as the poems of her mind became more hopeful, she would find herself bathing again and again in the most passionate and lively of metaphorical waters.
But as it always did, the afterglow passed, leaving Fluttershy exhausted yet fulfilled. Almost instantly she found herself drifting into sleep, contentment written on her face as a rare and sincere smile.
Her bandaged flank slowly started to shine.
Author's Note
PLOT TWIST!
Yep, in this story, Fluttershy did not receive her mark at the same time as the rest of the Mane 6. This is a fact she is determined to hide from her friends until the end of time, forever concealed by the fake story she created for herself. Her mark, however, is still the same as it is in the cannon, just with a slightly different meaning. How she did eventually come to understand animals and nature shall be explained in the next chapter, or maybe in the one after that. We shall see.
Anyways, hope you liked that one. It's probably the one I've put the most thought into, and I'm actually pretty happy with the result. I'm finishing this up REALLY late at night, and I don't have the patience nor the energy to edit it fully, so if you spot something strange let me know.
Also, "Nurse Intapink." I'm way too proud of that one. XD
Have a good day or night, reader!
-Hiraeth
