Bearded Lust 2: The Re-Beardening

Nothing moved in the ruins of Canterlot. The only sound was the screaming wind twisting through the streets and the screaming ponies continuing their cataclysmic procreation far above.

The ancient stones of Equestria's capital lay charred and cracked by the searing quimferno that had swept over them at the culmination of Celestia's acockalyptic cumsplosion. The greatest kingdom of the world, and all it surveyed, reduced to nothing by the whims of a horse who liked to sub and had an itch to scratch. The white-hot metal shards of gutted homes wept molten tears, as if in bitter injustice.

It began to rain, a cloying black downpour thick with the ash of ponykind. Equestria itself lamented its own passing. Nothing remained, save the echoing grunts of the two rutting whoreses who had doomed the future with their terrible hubris. Or their brutal day-long vortex of cascading rainbow sexual energy. One of the two.

But then...

A sound. Barely audible above Rarity's bleating wails, the clink of stone on stone made itself quietly known. In the sea of shattered stone surrounding the palace, a single pebble… moved. Then another. And another. The stones heaved as though something below were struggling to break free, an impression considerably reinforced by the fact that something was.

The movement stopped for a moment, the life within pausing for one final push. The world held its breath for the future, for the possibility that perhaps… just perhaps… Equestria could return.

A sudden push, an impossible effort, the stones bursting from their resting place, and the survivor thrust itself into the dead light with gasping triumph. Shadows danced as tattered hair flowed in the breeze, the burning sky casting its angry glare upon Equestria's hope.

Snaking strands, every strand rich with every colour of the spectrum. Heavy brows over a determined glare, ready to face whatever life had left to throw at it. A faint aura of power, no longer the blazing corona of magic that had once filled it with strength.

The beard was back.

Rainbow Beard twisted about, searching the ruins for further signs of life. As the time passed and still it saw nothing, vicious wind whipping at its outlying fronds with increasing intensity, fear gripped it like a bad gel. Was it the only one? Was it all that remained?

The stones moved again, and Rainbow's attention snapped to the pile of shifting rubble. Without thinking, it lolloped toward the cracked paving, tumbling to a stop and grasping at the rock with as many strands as it could spare. Within moments of concerted effort, its companion was free. Struggling from the dust and gloom, its fellow, tinged with purple, bent politely in thanks. If Rainbow hadn't come when it had...

Rainbow shook itself reassuringly, gesturing an errant lock at their surroundings. What was there to do now but look out for one another? In silent agreement, Purple Beard leaned toward a crater more scarred than the rest. It had seen the white-striped beard falling in that direction before… before the end.

Moving as quickly as they dared in the treacherous landscape, the beards flowed to the edge of the crater. Rainbow moved to enter, but Purple held out a hurriedly-formed plait to stop it. They had no idea whether the crater was safe, and if they were going to save White they had to… to...

Rainbow stared as Purple visibly slumped. Its strands fell limp, its entire form sagging in dismay. Rainbow moved closer, unsure of what Purple had seen and seeking to comfort it. Perhaps some poor ponies were-

Purple shook itself and, with terrible slowness, pointed into the vast scar's centre. Rainbow forced itself to turn, dreading with every fiber of its fibres what it might see.

Scorched earth.

Flickering flames.

A flash of white, wisps of smoke still twisting at its edges, amongst the ash.

And nothing more.

Purple collapsed, lavender fronds spilling across the russet ground in black despair beneath the crimson sky, the depths of its blues matched only by the orange-speckled fuchsia of an ill-considered tie dye. Rainbow sagged, but pulled itself together. Even as sorrow threatened to overcome it, determination filled it in response. The broken world had claimed White's life.

It would not claim another. Wrapping itself about the still loose Purple, Rainbow gathered itself, holding its friend tightly as it lolled with sorrow. Guilt poked its angry talons at Rainbow's core, but it ignored them. There was no time for sadness, no time for grieving. White was with the Bezoar now. Rainbow looked into the burning sky, drinking in the ugly sun, then out across the wasteland of Equestria that was to be their… their…

It began to flow, pulling Purple with it. It would let Purple have its time, but it would not let itself fall to despair. Yes, there was no time to grieve.

They had a home to build.