Coda Da Capo

by Cinder Script

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Sad, Original Character, Octavia, Tragedy
Length: 2349

When a mare survives the nightmare of her life's destruction, and awakens to find even time has abandoned her, what comes after the happy ending? When a Stallion loses everything, and his guide is gone, what path does he take? What is a Saint?

This is a compilation of three pieces I've written, partially to work through the word count limitations Fimfiction insists on. Each is, to put it honestly, a story written for a character's backstory: Chosen Heart, Blindfire, and Collelia. But each is also a very personal piece, and each is experimental in their own ways. I hope you enjoy.

The first is a piece depicting a crystal pony mare following the return of the Empire, struggling with her life after Sombra's enslavement of her homeland and being plucked from time. This is not a happy story, possibly not even fully coherent. This is a story of gray, of color washed from the world, and of how one small thing can touch the hearts of those we may never even know. This is a story where the end is the beginning.

The second is a piece depicting a blind zebra stallion soon after his life came crashing down. A journey to the land of Equestria gone afoul, a lifetime's wandering come to a turning point as a lifetime ends. This is a tale of grief, of sorrow, and of hope. It is one of my more unique stories, as its written entirely through monologue and stream of consciousness thought. At no point is there narration in this story. This is a story where the end is the beginning.

The last is a story of ascension told many years and lives past, of a legend who walks the world with cinders at her hooves. This is the tale of an epic war, a struggle for survival, and of the sacrifice of a single mare. Of Entropy's cold embrace, and of the mare who sacrificed all she was in Devotion to those she loved. A mare who, many years and lives later, would write her legend in liquid adamantine. This is a story where the end is the beginning.

Published 2018-04-19 06:40:07 UTC
Last updated 2019-11-12 08:23:26 UTC

Heartstring Melodies

She returns to Canterlot, a changed mare in a changed city. It's fall, in the mountain city. She wanders, trailing from job to job. The Equestrian Historical Society contacts her, helps her get therapy, and gets her story of Sombra's Reign.

It's part of what will enter into history books, but she can't bring herself to delve into the horrors she suffered. Not fully.
The therapy isn't working.
The medication doesn't help.
She sees a gray world, a gray city devoid of color.

It's winter now.
A pink mare in a pink scarf sits on a bench in the park, watching the ponies go by.
She watches their eyes, listens to their conversations, and she finds gray.
A mare with a new foal, lamenting the expenses in the same breath she adores her son. A stallion discusses a business investment, oblivious to the stress on his face.

She sees a thousand ponies wearing masks.
A new year comes.
It's the night the year ends. Ponies count down the hours, then minutes.
A pink mare in a pink scarf lays in bed, staring at a black ceiling.

And then she stands.
She fetches her bag, leaving a small sack of bits and a letter on the table, along with her key.
She leaves her apartment, and walks down the street.
All around her, ponies with friends and family, cheering on the new day.

She's quiet inside.
Down twisting avenues and loud streets she walks, staring at the sky.
She gives her scarf to a cold looking filly on the street. A smile as the filly runs off, another mask.
She can see it. The waterfall, in the industrial section of town. It won't be her first visit.

And then she stops.
A faded mare looks up at a brilliant sign. A mare stands where a filly did, millennia ago.
She walks up to the booth, and purchases a ticket. It costs her what's left of the savings from her bag.
A price she pays gladly, a final happy memory worth all the money in the world.

A faded mare sits down. Her seat is in the middle of the theater, one of the best seats in the house.
She's the last to arrive.
The lights dim, and she drifts off to a memory.
A filly sits in her mother's lap, ignoring the stares their glow earns.

On the stage, a middle aged stallion with a cello, alone.
He rises his bow, and all is hushed.
The memory breaks on a low, rich note.
A gray mare in a pink bowtie stands on the stage, awash in lights.

She sees nothing, hears nothing. She raises her bow, and puts her soul into music.
Somber, gentle and rising, falling, rolling with the breathe of her crowd.
A faded mare sits in a crowd, and she cannot look away.
A gray mare stands on a stage, and she cannot stop playing.

Time stands still, and souls connect.
A mare is empty. A mare is somber. A mare is enraptured.
The melody plays upon heartstrings as much as the cello.
A pink mare exits the theatre. There are tears on her face, shining like diamonds.

She looks to the waterfall, so far off.
And turns away.
A crystal mare, shining in the glow of streetlamps and fireworks, walks through avenues and busy streets.
All around her, ponies with friends and family cheer on the new day.

She's very loud inside.
A shining mare enters her apartment. She drops her bag upon the table, and lays in bed.
She weeps. She smiles. And she looks out onto the world.
There is gray, but she's no longer afraid.

Gray is beautiful, and so is this world.
In that decision, she lays upon her bed, and succumbs to sleep.
Heartstrings and bowstrings play across her dreams.

The Beginning.

Aimless

"Ah ain't ever been on a beach before, ya know? Ah think we talked 'bout it before headin' over, over a cuppa th' best brew in Cervidas. Never did finish that drink, Ah 'eard the boat arrivin' 'fore we could. Ah've still got the bottle... but Ah'm gonna save this'n. Ya keep tellin' me not ta drink so much... Ah guess that ain't much of a problem anymore." Waves roll 'gainst th' shiftin' sand, evenin' warmth startin' to fade off over th' horizon. A soft breeze, th' usual smells of Cervidas missin', blow over what Ah figure is a rollin' plain. Far out as Ah am, Ah still can't escape the sounds of th' city on th' wind. "Ah still ain't used t' 'em. Cities, Ah mean. Ya always liked 'em, but Ah couldn't stand th' noise. Never did stay in one place fer too long, guess Ah can't complain 'bout 'em much. Hay, waitin' in Seaddle's longest we ever did spend in one place. Almost a year, if mah time's correct." In, out, in, out. Th' tide's still steady on this side. "Ah guess Ah was wrong, ya'll was right when ya said it'd be the same on the other side. Yer right more often than yer wrong, ya know. Heh, Ah guess it ain't hard to be right when yer tryin' to talk to me 'bout directions. Maps ain't for ponies like me... err, well, zebras like me. Ah guess that'll be a bigger issue now we're in Equestria." The grass ain't all that comfortable t' be sittin' on, and Ah'm more comfortable on mah hooves anyway. Even that's different, grass's a lot tougher over th' ocean. "Figured we'd start headin' out soon. Ain't no good sittin' infront of a sunset Ah can't see." The sand's tricky, like gravel out in the Emberbrace Mountains, 'cept a whole lot finer. Already stuck in mah coat after a few steps forward. "Well, ya comin'? Yer supposed ta tell me ta turn 'round 'bout now, or Ah'll be joinin' ya in th'..."

And now Ah can hear ya 'gain. Ah guess it's been happenin' over 'n over in mah head since Ah got 'ere, just ain't able ta hear it 'fore now. Shoutin' over th' storm, barely holdin' on ta th' door frame, ship sideways... "Yer supposed ta tell me ta turn 'round 'bout now." Ah ain't one ta care too much 'bout rain, but Ah swear th' seaspray hurts these blind ol' eyes of mine worse'n scarrabbit venom. Already coverin' me, and Ah ain't even touchin' water yet. "Ah'm fine, Ah ain't gonna close 'em though. Ya always're tellin' me ta keep 'em open, in case'a trouble. Heh, and yer always sayin' ya want ta see the world with me. Now how am Ah gonna do that if Ah keep 'em closed all th' time?" Mah packs sat off up th' hill a ways, where we left 'em. Ain't gonna need 'em now. "Speakin' of which, ya gonna tell me where we're goin'? Ah've been waitin' a year now, and Ah know ya'll've been cookin' up somethin' good." The wind dies down, leavin' me with mah thoughts an' the uncarin' waves.

"...Ah ever tell ya th' worst part 'bout travelin' alone? It's th' quiet. Bein' alone like that... ain't somethin' Ah can imagine anypony managin' fer long." Th' soft splashin' turns ta rippin' winds an' roarin' worse'n a burrowmaw. Ya keep screamin', even after ya let go. Ah can't hear what yer sayin', 'n then it's gone. Waves're back to lappin', and Ah can't feel anythin' 'sides sand in mah coat and cold inside.

"Ah ain't gonna be alone, ya know that. Remember when Ah got lost 'n Concordia fer a few hours, we nearly got kicked out after Ah set off a signal. Ya know Ah ain't the type ta be alone... So why am Ah talkin' ta nothing?" More sand, damp now, clings ta mah foreleg as Ah raise it fer th' first step. "Ah... Ah need ya Jack Boot. Ya ain't just mah friend, yer a part of me. Ah've known ya fer most of mah life, Ah've been with ya since Ah was a colt. We walked 'cross Emrelda, me 'n you. Why'd ya have ta go an' leave me alone? Ah..." The sea spray's comin' back again, already runnin' down mah face and stingin' mah eyes worse'n ever. "Ah can't leave ya behind. Ah-Ah'm... Ah can't walk on without ya!" Cold seawater hits mah leg from that first step in'ta the ocean, where Ah know ya are. Yer watchin' me, like ya always did. And Ah... "Ah know whatcha'd say..."

Ah ain't walkin' no more. Ah'm sittin' 'ere up ta mah barrel in seawater, shiverin' and freezin', ‘bout ta walk inta th' ocean. And Ah... Ah’m gonna stop walkin’, fer th' first time. "Ya wouldn't want that... Ah know ya too well. Can hear it now, ya tellin' me ta get mah flank outta th' water and dry off 'fore Ah catch hyperthermia again. Ya'd say..."

"Ya ain't got anythin' holdin' ya back now, so keep walkin'."

"... Yer right, like ya always are."

"Ah know Ah am, now getch'er flank outta th' water an' dry off. Ya'll gonna freeze t' death, and Ah ain't gonna be able ta help ya this time." Th' tide's headin' in, an' with th' sun gone down mah shiverin's gonna stick 'round for a while. The wind blowin' through mah coat ain't much help, but Ah recognize it. Feels like it's blowin' straight through me. Blowin' North, away from th' waves an' inta Equestria. Th' place we was gonna walk 'cross next.

"Follow th' Wanderin' Wind, it'll always lead ya somewhere, though ya'll walk a thousand miles..." Ah can't stop the shiverin', but Ah've been through worse. Mah bags, both pairs of 'em... Mine 'n yer's... ain't much more strain neither. "Ya listenin' Jack Boot? Ah'm... Ah'm gonna finish whatcha started. Ya'd better be watchin', 'cause Ah'm gonna need ya ta stick 'round for a while longer. Ah ain't gonna see the world like ya wanted, but Ah ain't gonna let it go unwalked neither. Ya'll'd better be watchin'... Please..." The darn spray musta gotten inta mah mane, cause Ah can't stop the burnin' or the trickle down mah face. "Ah'll meetcha at the... at the end of the trail. Ya'll'd better be watchin' me from there... wherever ya are... Jack..."

"Safe Travels."

The Beginning.

Adamantine Oath

Come and listen, O Seeker Mine... Come and see, O Seeker Mine...The tale of fire, opulence and gold, daring to trifle upon time. Borne by capricious currents, tumultuous tales tainting treasures of treason bought. O Seeker Mine, be blinded not by Light nor Dark, fortuitous to gaze upon legend. Gelid grasp upon the lifeblood of the land, servants of inevitable truth, brought thy ancestors to extinction. So it was, so it had been, and so it should be. Apocalyptic apotheosis through glacial embrace. Entropy, expressed in eternal executioners. All succumb to the existential end, nothingness in stasis brought by spectral steeds. Wendigo, O Seeker Mine. Nomenclature elected by mortality for entities beyond mortal kin. Fortune, Fate, and spirit. None served as bastion to blind obliteration. And so you were found, O Seeker Mine.

A capricious saviour, devastation danced between on hooves of smouldering conflagration. Sigil of subservience upon their throat, paracausal power perched upon their brow. So it was, thy forebearers’ bargain for power answered. The first Risen strode through that which cast oblivion upon their fellow. And yet, O Seeker Mine, they were not unmade. Presented to that which all cease before, the Risen did not. Hate and wrath and fury fed within, tempered in hope and love, the Risen were reforged upon Devotion. And so, when naught remained but ice, inevitability was condemned to slaughter. From blackest nothing sprung resolute existence, and so the Risen claimed their name by flame and hammer and infernal spirit.

O Seeker Mine, forget thy altars. Cast aside thine idols and statues. For salvation came naught from stone, but from fire. Awash in heat and light, Windigo found another being paracausal. An entity borne of power beyond existence, sculptor of reality by nature alone. Though the war cast much to oblivion, brought by blaze and chill in equal measure, rejoice O Seeker Mine. For Wendigo was, and is, and shall be found ever wanting.

Beneath hoof and claw thy forebearers brought oblivion to trample. Ten thousand’s thousand marched, in conflict finding peace. Mine armor in Love. Mine shield Friendship. Mine arms are Devotion. In those whom became Mine, shall bear Fire within and without. So it was, where seas grew thin, Beginning and End came to Fate’s final crossroads. Hearthlight became the end of all.

In greatest triumph, that which Rose thy forebearers realized loss. Servant of flame, bearer of Devotion to all but herself, was found wanting. Marked by negation, as none but those Risen would return. None remained beyond that end, body and soul lost to the logic of the cold. This creature of mortal blood, as that blood was spilt only to be no more, buoyed by that which births Devotion, cast herself to sacrifice. What would be made cold oblivion was hurled to the Flame, and consumed. This will not do, O Seeker Mine.

O Seeker Mine, suffer not to be Risen. Such a fate is beneath you. O Seeker Mine, cinders shall be thine least mark upon thy world. O Seeker Mine, thy soul shall be Heat and Fire and Light. Thy body shall be flesh and inferno thine soul. Thy Love shall flow, thy heart shall shine, thy form adamantine. Thou shalt be Fire. So thou shall be mine, I shall be made manifest. O Lover Mine, bear and be born anew. Thou shall know no death, and by thy sacrifice shall give Devotion life. So that thine world shall be known, and Loved, and made Greater. Collelia, O Lover Mine, by thy will, I am. By thy consent, thou shall be. By your Devotion. By your love. We are one.

~The Journal of Saint Collelia, on Apotheosis. Scribbled in the margin, written in smouldering adamantine: "The First Eternity."

THE BEGINNING