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Cold wind blew, but it did not bother her.
The setting evening sun burned, but she did not feel its eternal glare beneath the polished wood.
The silence of her bearers hung heavy, but she would not hear it anyway.
Ridley mused quietly as she stared up at her oaken barrier, letting out a quiet sigh through her nostrils. She wondered if her mother would be joining her soon. She had plenty of doubts about it. She never really was the sentimental type. It would probably just be a long wait. Give the warmbloods some time to forget. They always did after a couple of generations. It was laughably simple, really. All she had to do was wait out their rage. Torches only burned for so long, after all. She brushed a hoof through her long black mane in the cramped box, grumbling when she felt herself being roughly trundled along. She could feel the encompassing soil around her as her bearers trodded steadily downward, deeper into the bowels of the earth. Ridley frowned a little when she heard murmuring, her thin black brows furrowing a bit in confusion. Thralls didn't normally speak much, but it sounded as if they were having a full conversation.
She shrugged it off as she felt her custom crafted coffin was placed on its stone table. She was already so tired, and she had such a pleasant last meal. It wouldn't be long before her mother was back for her, waking her gently with that familiar little smile. She would stretch and beam like the morning sun that she could never see, and then they would begin the cycle again. She had been so worried the last few times, but by this time around she really had nothing to worry about. Ridley smiled quietly to herself as she curled comfortably into the plush cushions, letting out another sigh.
For once she could relax without fear of terrified townsfolk burning down their manor. By the time she got back they would have new servants, the place would be devoid of dust, and she could finally have fun again. She was tired; so achingly, bone tremblingly tired. It wouldn't be long.
She was sure of it.
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Ridley coughed and hacked as she sucked in the first breath she had tasted in who knew how long. She pushed weakly against the lid of her coffin with one peach colored hoof, gasping and choking on the dusty air.
It didn't move.
If she still had a heartbeat it would be pounding out of her chest. She held her breath and pushed again, hearing the wood creak. It was almost as if something heavy had been placed atop her bedding. It stank of old mildew and rot, and Ridley shoved against the wood hard to no avail.
“... Mother?” she asked raspily to no reply. The darkness was overwhelming; it had always been on her side, always served to hide and protect her. But this darkness was just too much... heavy, thick, smothering. She tried to call out again and received no answer, with the same result when she yelled and screamed.
She froze up, the panic clutching her throat tightly. She took a couple of unnecessary breaths, squeezing her eyes shut and thinking. The wood around her felt warped and creaky when she pushed on it. It only took a couple of moments to rip the cushions out of their holding with her teeth and they tasted heavily of filth and dust, causing her to hack and cough again. Ridley felt around the coffin for a weak spot, her mind feeling thick and sluggish as she tried to think, but all she could focus on was escape. She pushed hard against the side, shoving again and again, feeling the wood give a little more each time. With one final, heavy kick she knocked a board loose at last, and hope began to blossom in her chest. She wriggled a thin foreleg out of the rotten wood, and she kicked off from the opposite side of her coffin and came tumbling out. Mere moments after she fell, she heard a loud, splintering crack, and another cloud of dust blurred her vision. She covered her mouth with one hoof, scooting backwards along the cold stone floor as she blinked heavily, trying to let her eyes adjust to the dark.
It took several moments, but she could finally see around the circular carved stone room.
Her coffin had been crushed to bits by a pile of rocks. Ridley gawked in dull surprise, struggling to comprehend what had happened. Where were her mother's new thralls? Shouldn't they have been here by now to collect her? It certainly felt as if she had been asleep for a while. Her muscles were sore and tense, her head felt light from hunger, and her lungs were absolutely full of dust which took a long while to clear. She wondered who had done such a thing, almost as if somepony had been trying to keep her from waking. The thought was unnerving and she pushed it from her mind. She had just woken up, that was supposed to be the time for pleasant thoughts and time with her mother. Tora had always been her kindest upon wakenings, like she was seeing her for the first time all over again. Ridely frowned, brushing dust off of her flank and stretching her weary limbs. She was still tired, but that was to be expected. She was hungry more than anything, her stomach growled and she gnashed her sharp teeth in agitation. She was supposed to have a meal by now. What was mother thinking of, leaving her for herself like this?
And the thought slowly began to dawn on her, no matter how much she tried to keep it at bay...
Maybe something had happened.
Maybe her mother wasn't coming for her at all.
And to make the idea even more chilling... maybe nopony was coming for her.
“Hello?” her voice sounded raspy and shrill, quiet and stifled in the circular room as she felt around for the exit. “Mother? Is... is anypony there?”
She stumbled over her own hooves in the dark, snarling angrily at whatever had dared trip her.
It was a skeleton.
Ridley recoiled slightly at the sight of what might have once been a stallion. The panic was beginning to strangle its way around her throat once again and she had to fight to remain calm, and it was steadily getting harder and harder to do so. She brushed herself down habitually with one hoof, taking a few breaths to steady herself. Her mane felt so stringy and matted, and she was so hungry that she could easily feel her bones beneath her flesh and she despised it. She shouldn't have to be here, mother shouldn't have just abandoned her, it wasn't fair.
Ridley wandered around for a full minute before finally finding the hidden groove in the wall where the stone door was. She sighed in relief, brushing the black mane from her eyes.
The door wasn't opening.
She pushed on it again, expecting it to slide open like before. No such thing happened.
Ridley pounded and screamed and thrashed against the door as the weight on her mind finally began to make her buckle, the panic setting in fully as she struggled and strained to tear the door open. It had been too long; far, far too long, she knew that much just from how thin and scrawny she had grown, almost as skeletal as the useless remains on the floor. She needed to feed. She had to, or it was going to be very, very unpleasant.
Ridley glanced over the skeleton of the stallion one more time as she began to wear out. If her mother saw her throwing such an unmarely temper tantrum she'd surely get a tongue lashing. But mother wasn't here, like she was supposed to be. The hazy thought tumbled through her head that maybe she was just up early, but too many things weren't making sense. Stones on her bed, rot on her coffin, a corpse in her waking room. What in Tartarus had happened? There was simply no way that the warmbloods could have...
She didn't want to continue the thought. At all.
So she didn't.
She simply closed her weary eyes and took in another breath of the stale air. She almost heard a heartbeat, but she knew it was only a phantom reaction. Things like that happened from time to time.
She would be out.
Somehow.
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Ridley didn't know how long it had been.
Days.
Weeks.
… Years?
She couldn't tell anymore.
No matter how many times she tried, the stone door would not open for her. Each and every time that she tried and failed the panic returned, leaving her to stumble around in the dark as she waited for her mother. For anypony. Waiting for somepony that would never come. The endless cycles of going back and forth, repeated trial and failure, it wore on her a little more each time. Some nights she would simply sit and stare at the door. It was a long while before she finally resorted to speaking to the corpse on the ground. Ridley propped him up beside the stone door. She didn't know what his old name was. It didn't matter. His new name was 'Ridley Two', and he didn't complain about it. She told him jokes sometimes.
He never laughed.
Even when she did, it was short and hollow, devoid of laughter. Devoid of life.
She was so tired, but her bed was buried, and she knew that sleeping might be the last thing that she did, so the stones remained unmoved. She was so alone, and no amount of speaking to Ridley Two was helping. She was so hungry, and there was no way to sate her unending thirst.
Her foreleg began to look awfully appealing after a while.
Her mane was matted from seemingly endless hours of wandering in circles, trails in the dust the only sign that she was even moving. She felt hollow, and her cheeks felt sallow and gaunt when she touched them. She was just so hungry.
Ridley knew for a fact that there was at least one pony she could rely upon for feeding. But that was more commonly referred to by her kind as the act called ouroboros, and was guaranteed suicide. But what other option did she have? It had been too long. Any longer and she might lose it completely. The hunger, the constant, aching thirst would never end, and if she took so much as a single drink from that poisoned oasis she might slumber for all of eternity.
Ridley talked it over with Ridley Two for several hours before conceding to his logic.
It was that or curling up next to him and sleeping forever.
Ridley took a breath to steady herself, shook her mane from her eyes and brought her foreleg up to her dry, cracking lips that parted to reveal her fangs, and sunk her teeth deeply into her own flesh. She bit back a yell of pain as she drew blood, and her eyes dilated a little upon the taste. It was sweet and bitter at the same time, coppery and tangy and wrong but it tasted like joy and fresh air and life-
Ridley didn't know for how long she had been feeding, but it had clearly been too long. She tripped over her own hooves as she stumbled toward the door, the shortlived strength already fading. She gave one push against the granite door – two, three, five, twenty – and after what felt like an eternity of frantic shoving she finally, finally began to hear the heavy grinding of the stone being pushed to the side. She whooped with elation as she at last managed to squeeze out of the small opening. Her mind was fuzzy, her foreleg dripped with her own blood but she didn't care, she was out, she was free.
At long last, Equestria was finally hers for the taking.
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Author's Note
Just a little something I thought I'd get cracking on. Don't expect literally any part of it to be, y'know. Good.
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The night air was more refreshing than anything else she had ever tasted.
Ridley breathed in deeply of the cool late evening wind, grin on her lips as she sighed and stretched. Her foreleg was sore and she was limping, but she didn't care. She was out. She was free. She didn't know just how badly she wanted something until it was taken away. She looked back to the burial grounds, her eyes quickly adjusting to the bright moonlight.
What was once a gaudily decorated tomb was now a demolished ruin of rubble and stone. Ridley cringed internally at the sight. It used to be a place of calm, of healing and recuperation, and now it was just... wreckage. Grass and vines grew up around the sides of the partially buried tomb, the little hole she had squeezed out of already filling itself in with loose soil. Ridley frowned at the sight, her worry slowly growing in her chest. Mother was supposed to have been here by now, surely. The 'clearing' was no longer such a thing. Thick, heavy forest surrounded Ridley on all sides, enormous looming trees that bowed over and almost seemed to watch her as she slipped from shadow to shadow. They almost reminded her of her mother's stone gargoyles lining their property like silent sentries. Those had been comfortable.
This was just creepy.
Ridley called out to no avail, her voice feeling once more stifled by the thick woods. She bit her bottom lip and blew the mane from her face in agitation, carrying on in hopes that her memory would not betray her. But surely any direction was better than just sitting around and doing nothing. She had to keep going, no matter how tired she was. Her foreleg ached terribly, but it was already beginning to heal, albeit very slowly. She was so hungry, she just needed a little bite.
The woods seemed to stretch on forever and ever, and though she could easily trot on at an even pace, she decided against it. She could hear the chirrup of a few nighttime birds, the swooping of bats. All manner of creatures were hunting tonight. She might as well join them. Even if it wasn't prime feasting, something was better than nothing. Just a quick peek through the underbrush revealed tracks, and a smile tugged at her cracked lips. The markings were fresh, thankfully. She could follow them easily, outmatching the original pace of the unfortunate soul that had left the tracks. She would find her prey, no matter how long it took.
Ridley took in a few steady breaths as she slid along the shadows beneath the trees. It was more out of practice than anything. She didn't even need to breathe, but it made her feel better. Baser instincts could be very powerful, and she felt silly for falling victim to silly habits. She had to stay focused. Ridley stilled to the point that should anypony pass they would see no more movement amongst the trees than the wind blowing loosely through the branches. She was silent, she was still as the grave. All she had to do was wait.
A couple of squirrels skittered through the bushes nearby, and her head slowly, quietly swiveled in their direction as she caught sight of them. One of them was digging a hole and the other was pushing berries. They didn't even see her coming-
A twig snapped from her hoofstep, and both the squirrels darted away immediately. Ridley swore loudly and kicked a tree, only serving to irritate her further. It hardly left a print on the bark, the indent only a measure of how weak she had grown. She was weary, worn out, and dammit all if she wasn't hungry. It looked like she would have to be hungry for a while longer. She needed to feed, now. Hunting wild critters like one of the baser creatures was pointless. Ridley didn't care how long it took, she would find a proper meal tonight. Her temper was hot and her veins ran cold.
One way or another, somepony was going to bleed.
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The night air was cool and fresh, blowing gently on Cheerilee's face and throwing the mane from her eyes. She could hear crickets and frogs from her place just on the edge of Ponyville, but she was deaf to them by this point. She stared in shock, her teacup trembling in her hoof as the stallion looked away from her. He backed away off the front porch, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yeah, it's... it's not gonna work,” he mumbled, looking away from her.
“But-but- was it something I did?” Cheerilee's legs felt like giving out. “Chadley, we-we can still f-fix this... I-”
“Yeah, like, sorry n' stuff,” the tan stallion shrugged with a light frown. “But honestly, you're not getting' any younger, and also you're kinda getting fat. Like, you put on weight and stuff. So... y'know.”
The stallion shrugged again and stepped off her front porch completely.
“Laters I guess,” he turned without looking back, utterly unfazed by the tears streaming down her cheeks. Cheerilee threw her teacup into the sink and watched it crack. She didn't care. The front door was still open and blowing in cool air, but it felt too hot inside anyway. Her cheeks were burning, her throat felt tighter with every dry sob. Stallions were so fucking worthless. Her trembling hooves grasped the wine bottle as she dropped into the kitchen chair, chugging heavily. It soothed and burned her throat at the same time, but she didn't care about that either. She just drank and drank until the heartache began to soothe. It didn't, of course. But it was a nice thought.
Cheerilee gasped for air as she pulled the ivory bottle away from her lips, sputtering and wiping her mouth with her foreleg. Celestia, what was she even doing? It didn't matter if it was a weekend, she had papers to grade. But of course, maybe that was just one of the reasons that she kept losing stallions left and right. She always put her work first, no matter how much it drained her. And she certainly felt drained as it were. She muttered miserably to herself as she pushed the smokestack bottle back and forth across the table, imagining drowning herself in the crimson liquid and never having to face the next day again. Cheerilee really should have been expecting this. Chadley had been dropping hints all day. But then again, he wasn't really all that fantastic himself. But what was she supposed to do? She was getting older. Her options were steadily dwindling. Maybe she was just doomed to be alone forever. She wouldn't doubt it.
Cheerilee took another long look at the ivory bottle before shrugging. She tended to get awfully cynical when she was drunk. Was she drunk? It felt like it. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She dug around in the cabinets until she could find the painkillers before popping a couple in her mouth and washing them down. It was so hard to just keep going, didn't anypony care anymore? Maybe it was just young stallions that were pricks. Only focused on one thing, they didn't really care. There was no point. There was no point to anything-
Okay, Cheerilee. Think this through. You are drunk. You aren't thinking clearly. Be a grown up, it's not that hard. Just get it together.
She stood woozily and splashed some cold water on her face from the sink, sighing again. She felt a light breeze and dimly recognized that the front door was still open. She peered out into the bright moonlight and let out a wary breath. Her now ex was long gone. Maybe that was fine. She had plenty of things that she wanted to say to him that weren't very nice, so maybe it was for the best that he wasn't around. She shook her head, pushing the mane from her eyes. She needed to sober up. She shrugged and started to close the front door behind her. Perhaps a nice nighttime walk would help her clear her muddled head. Cheerilee turned around and yelped when she saw the ragged figure before her.
A gaunt, thin, sickly looking mare with matted black mane hanging over her eyes stood before her in tattered, dirty red cloths. The peach colored mare had glistening eyes that peered out brightly from behind her thick bangs, a quiet little smile on her thin lips.
“... Hello?” Cheerilee's voice came out much quieter than she intended.
“Salutations friend,”the skeletal thin mare said in a wispy, ethereal tone. “I am but a weary traveler looking for a place to recuperate. Might I come in?”
“S-sorry,” she shook her head, not caring that her mane was falling in her eyes. She brushed the hairs from her face and glanced over at the sickly thin mare, and even though she hadn't seen her move she could have sworn that she was just a little bit closer. There was something in her black eyes that belied a deep, longing... hunger. Like that of a timber wolf. Cheerilee shivered slightly as her rational mind began to kick in. She was being silly. It was just a weary mare asking for help.
“Why don't we go inside out of the cold?” the mare asked quietly, and it sounded like such a lovely idea. Or maybe the alcohol was clouding her judgment. The mare didn't even seem to be bothered by the night chill, not shivering or shaking at all. In fact, she was completely still, like a statue that happened to speak. It was slightly unnerving, and Cheerilee had difficulty shaking it off.
“You know what, it's fine,” she shrugged at last, holding open the front door for her new guest. “Come on inside, miss. Nopony should have to be out on a cold night like this.”
“How very right you are...” the black maned mare crossed the threshold with a lilt in her voice, her lips parting just a little to reveal a gleaming white smile. “Why, it could be downright dangerous for a mare on nights like this.”
Cheerilee could have sworn that she saw a smirk on the mare's face for just a moment, but it was gone the next. She shook her head fiercely. The wine was strong and it was getting to her was all.
“I apologize about the mess,” Cheerilee shrugged a hoof toward the living room littered with half graded papers, somewhat embarrassed.
“Do not worry at all, young one...” the thin mare looked around the place with glistening eyes, the quiet little smile still on her lips.
“Oh, you don't have to be a flatterer,” she snorted, gesturing for the new mare to follow her to the kitchen. “My name is Cheerilee by the way, it's very nice to meet you, miss...?”
“Ridley,” the mare responded almost silently, Cheerilee's ears perking up just to hear her.
“Ridley...?” Cheerilee motioned with one hoof for her to continue.
“Just Ridley,” the black maned mare brushed a hoof over the countertop, inspecting the bottom of her hoof as if checking for dust. “My, what a lovely home you have. So very quaint. Small, yet practical.”
Cheerilee was steadily growing more uncomfortable with every passing moment, uncertain of her new guest. Ridley passed around the kitchen absolutely silently as if sound were afraid to emanate from her.
“... Tell me,” Ridley asked as she stopped before Cheerilee, reaching out to the table and tilting the ivory bottle with the tip of her hoof. “Cheerilee. Do you... enjoy living?”
Cheerilee's concern suddenly flared into full blown panic.
“Excuse you?” she took a step backwards into the countertop. Just what had she gotten herself into...?
“You don't have to be afraid, you know...” Ridley's voice was like honey on her ears, soft and gentle as she glided across the floor. She reached out a hoof and gently brushed the mane from Cheerilee's face, locking eyes with the blushing mare. “Just listen to me for a bit, that's all I ask. Might I... trouble you for a bite?”
Cheerilee didn't answer at all. She just stared at Ridley, unable to quite accept what was happening. Her lips parted to reveal a pair of needle sharp fangs, and Cheerilee felt her limbs turn to jelly. She couldn't move away from that piercing, empty, hungry stare. Maybe it was the weariness of the evening. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was some kind of bizarre mind trick that she was unaware of, but Cheerilee didn't even notice much as her jugular was punctured, still staring blankly ahead as she steadily grew colder.
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Ridley was conflicted.
It wasn't anything hard. In fact, it was pathetically simple. Her mother would have just laughed her off should she ask. But mother wasn't around to ask for advice, leaving Ridley to fend for herself. And she was asking a question that had never occurred to her before.
Why didn't she simply drain the mare completely and leave?
It would be so easy. Cheerilee hadn't even put up a fight, it was just pathetic. She was like putty in her hooves. And she had fed, stars and stones she had finally fed and it was orgasmically delicious.
And yet, she couldn't quite shake that strange feeling in her chest that took so long to identify. Was it... some kind of guilt? Ridley didn't understand. Perhaps she was just a little loopy for being locked away for so long. That was the only reason she hadn't drained the mare completely. She most certainly was not getting sentimental. Mother would never let her live it down. Besides, if she kept the mare around and let her recuperate she could have another meal fresh and ready. That was all.
Ridley still couldn't shake the feeling.
She stood by the bedside the entire night, drawing the bedroom curtains tightly closed as the morning sun began to rise. Ridley yawned and drew up a chair beside the bed, glancing over at the hastily patched neck wound. A little bit of blood was still leaking through, and she couldn't help but lick her lips. She was full as it was, and stars help her she was tempted for just a little more. But that would likely be the end of the first pony she had even seen in so long, and she really didn't want a Ridley Three on her hooves. She needed somepony that would listen to her. Somepony that would talk back.
“Shade help me I am so getting sentimental,” Ridely groaned as she rubbed her temples. She was so weary, so very exhausted. She was full for the first time in what felt like eons, so satisfied. She dropped into the wooden chair beside the bed and let out a heavy sigh, crossing her hooves over her chest. She wouldn't sleep, she knew that. But Cheerilee would. Cheerilee could have all the rest that she desired.
Ridley could wait.
Ridley was very, very patient.
And yet, that same little panicky feeling in her chest desperately wanted to shake the slumbering mare awake just to make sure that she was still alive. To check that she was still breathing, still okay.
Ridley hated that feeling more than anything.
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