"Tell me, what do you see when you look at me?"
War isn't black and white, don't ever think that. The darkness we live and breath is a undying shade of gray.
With all due respect ma'am, you're not a soldier. A kill is a kill, a death is a death. It can mean no more or no less, no matter who's side they're on.
They walk like us, they talk like us, they break like us, and they believe in some higher power, like us.
Don't get me wrong, The Night is eternal, as is Her Highness, and does not require justification, but we are not The Night. No, we are just mere mortals.
I fear The Day, the Celestial Tyrant. Not them, nor do I pity them. In the end, they're just another soldier. The only ones that mean anything in this war are The Two.
Yes, I have a ranking, a title, but so do the Pawns and Knights in a Chess game. All the same, Captain Dash of the Shadowbolts sounds important, that's the point after all.
Do I care that my comrades laid down their life?
That's a hard question, ma'am. I didn't know them, not really, but they fell under my watch. As I said though, they're just soldiers.
They can't be more, they just can't.
You ask why I feel that way? Well, let me tell you a little story of a eccentric pony. She didn't belong in this war, not because she wasn't a good fighter.
No, indeed, she was one of our best ones. An earth pony of all things, but she had a heart. She had a smile that should never of faded, that has no place in such a war-torn place.
Past tense, didn't you hear, I was talking past tense?
No one ever seems to notice the small details until they realize that they're not so small anymore.
Don't say sorry. She always hated that word, said "Life's too short for apologizes, actions speak louder then words anyways," I don't know where she got that from, but it fits.
The point is I cared for this pony, I cared for her so much that it broke my heart when she went missing in action.
They told me that it was all in fate's hands, and maybe it was, but after Pinkamina's death it wasn't worth the pain to care for someone.
So did you get your answer?
Look. Just accept what I'm saying. I've seen the bad guys cry, and I've seen good ponies ordered on suicide missions.
Perhaps I've lost faith in who we are and I've never have faith in who they are, but maybe it's better that way.
My heart doesn't have enough room to trust in more then one being anymore.
Don't call me that! Rainbow Dash hasn't been my name for a long time, it's Captain.
I haven't been called that since Pinkie... You have no right to-agh!
So what if it wasn't always like that? You think this world was always like this? I'll repeated it again, The Night is the only thing that is unchanging.
It hides who we all truly are, it's a higher mercy to ponies who don't deserve it, we're all cowards in the end.
The only ones still alive at this point are those who fight for themselves. It's selfish maybe that I don't fear the time that this all ends.
Ha, ha. No, I don't mean like that. True, one day this warfare will finish, but not in my lifetime. As short as that may be.
Instead, I mean the most reliving dark of all. The sinner's salvation. Only The Day and The Night are unconquerable of It . For One must fall to the other.
Morbid, maybe, but not tragic. We after all are warriors of the Stygian Sky. I live for the inky black, it is only reliving that it shall be the last thing I see.
It's a sign, I believe. That we have the guidance of The Reaper.
Tell me, what do you see when you look at me?
A short dyed mane and no tail, a bright blue body that has to be darkened in mud. Scars, and horrific marks. My voice is the only thing that they haven't changed.
Pinkie was adapted as well, unlike me, her body tone could stay because of the design of Earth Pony armour but her mane had to change.
It was short, and straight. Trust me, if you ever saw a picture you would know why that saddens me.
Her voice though was untouched. High pitched, it had a way of making you think everything was okay.
She was always an uncanny liar, a surprising trait, but one that had saved my life on more then one occasion.
Do you know what The Night leaves us with?
Our voice, and our voice only. It allows us to hide in it's reach, but only things that they change, only things that the war changed.
Our tone is always left alone, a small blessing, but one none the less.
Your voice tells me a lot, that your shelter from the war wasn't your own choice. That you lost someone dear.
You know, you remind me quite a bit of a book character I read about so long ago. They have voices too, just muted.
You wonder what book? Well ironically enough, the same book that Her Highness first shows up in.
It's a mockery of Her, no doubt, but a good book in all.
I don't usually believe in the uncertain, but there's something about those chronicles. Blind faith doesn't get you far, but sometimes you can risk it.
I was missing the point, wasn't I? Yes, the tale I was comparing you with... A rather vague story, but somehow the protagonist seems a lot like you.
Now, she wields the elements of Harmony, along with 5 other ponies. They're the heroes of the fable, but thinking about Her Highness, who knows if they would be the good guys in real life.
What did you say your name was again?
Hm, Twilight Sparkle, I like it.
Author's Note
A/N As this is my first Fimfiction story (through admittedly not my first Fanfiction) please don't insult me if I ruined the personalities of your favourite ponies. I kind of rushed this because it's sort of for Remembrance Day, if only because it's about war.
