Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Kindness

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Rainbow stared at the rectangle of the evening sky.

Scattered by the passionate action, fragments of her mind congregated to comprehend the reality that no longer seemed like a dream; her ears angled back.

A nightmare.

Abruptly rising from the couch to stand on the cloud-soft floor she peered into the opened door; the sweat-stained bed sheets clung to her ruffled feathers and matter fur.

The doorframe cut into the darkening blue, showing nothing but the wall of colour without a single blemish—be it a fluffy cloud or jagged chitin. The changelings couldn’t boast of being fast fliers, certainly not to Rainbow Dash; but something told her Teleta wouldn’t be open to the conversation right now.

Like snakes, the dirty and cold cloth coiled around Rainbow’s sticky body, suffocating her with both its fabric and stench of her lust; her eyes fell on the coach, fixed on the dark spots—some of them were tears.

Why?

Unable to answer, she drudged to the bathroom, stumbled past the sink and straight to the shower.

The cold water cascaded down Rainbow’s body as she stood under the small cloud raining down on her. It might as well rain on a statue. Her mind, however, didn’t rest, wrecking itself over the riddle.

What went wrong?

Teleta was receiving love, as she needed—she was going to get that gem after and bring it to the hive for her friends or use it for herself, whatever.

I was getting what I wanted.

It was a win for everypony… right?

Those words repeated themselves in her mind like a broken record till she noticed—nothing with them was wrong.

Rainbow did receive what she wanted. Teleta did get what she needed.

But not overwise.

As on cue, the cloud dripped the last of its tears for the heinous thing that took place in the next room and the pegasus staggered out of the shower.

Her eyes caught a mare in the mirror—she didn’t recognise her; it wasn’t even a pony—something abominable. Bile rose in her throat.

Screaming, she shattered the glass and, panting, watched as in the sink her blood mixed with tears; not of pain—not of physical, at least. Still, she couldn’t escape herself—a shattered pony gazed at her from the razor-sharp slivers, undiluted hatred and disgust and despair burning in her eyes.

What have I done?

How many things she had been chanting in her head for months, failing to see those nuances that mattered the most?

What have I done with my life?

Her mind conjured back the soft caressing touch of Teleta’s hooves; the reluctance and then excitement as the changeling, too, entered the dream, not knowing that Rainbow had already defiled it.

She was drunk on my love—she forgot that I cared only for the form, not what was under that lavender mask.

And then Rainbow burst that bubble of sweet self-abandon, reminding Teleta that it all was but a spectacle.

But the spectacle continues and I have to continue to play my role.

Her bleeding hooves carefully picked the shards one by one, staking them at the edge of the sink; the shattered mare disappeared and when Rainbow glanced up, a faceless void of the wooden board met her exhausted gaze.

Suddenly, a pair of beautiful violet eyes lovingly looked back—visitors from her fresh memories—the facsimile she forced Teleta to don; it was the eyes she fell in love with, but… were it actually Teleta’s or Twilight’s eyes?

I wronged both.

Not as much realisation—she always knew—but the inability to deny reality no longer crashed down on her like the sky.

Her betrayal of Twilight took place when she stood silent in the library to grovel before the unicorn mare, no different from how Twilight had fawned over her mentor; the resemblance seared Rainbow’s heart. They perfectly matched—two mares, whose unrequited love had festered into dreams of something twisted.

And she had bartered her loyalty for that—for a mare that no longer existed.

No—I sacrificed it for a mare that never existed.

Would I have abandoned my friend if Teleta didn’t flee?

The question scorched Rainbow’s consciousness; refusing to acknowledge the no less torturing answer, she landed and slowly trotted through the wilting overgrown meadow, climbing the shallow incline. Her hooves carried her through the long grass that had claimed the already rarely-trodden path; the grass that didn’t rustle with the waking nocturnal life, nor with the animals ceding that place to it.

Only when the pegasus finally overpowered the tangle of brambles that had crept up to the cottage door, did a tiny sound reach her hearing, coming from behind the wood with its paint peeling off.

“Fluttershy?” softly called Rainbow, not daring to knock; partially from the fear that the exposed planks might not be able to weather it.

The crying ceased and she had to angle and strain her ears to catch the answer that came as if a breeze carried it, barely audible, “Come on in.”

The hinges creaked. The pegasus peered into the darkness till her eyes made out a form huddled on the couch; mournfully silent animal shadows quivered about that spot of subdued pink and yellow, letting Rainbow pass.

As if that would break some sacred rule, Rainbow tried to make no sound as she approached her friend; like snow, she settled on the springy cushions and, without a single word, wrapped her hooves around the shivering mare.

Instantly, Fluttershy pressed—flung—herself at her chest; in no time, Rainbow felt wetness matting her fur. Sniffles, sharp and unpleasant and quiet—like glass shattering—cut into the cool night air.

Eventually, they grew softer and softer; the damp spot on the blue pegasus’ coat stopped spreading and the weight pressing on her shoulder had grown. Mustering all the gentleness she possessed, as if she was about to take hold of the most fragile thing in Equestria, Rainbow shifted, preparing to leave her friend in the merciful embrace of sleep.

Then a voice came from behind the pink curtain of tangled mane.

“I don’t hate them, Rainbow. I don’t hate them. I don’t.”

She tried not to flinch from the desperation that dripped from Fluttershy’s words—the futility of repeating them, vainly hoping it would convince herself at some point; the pain of realising that need in the first place.

Her mouth opened to offer support, though she knew not what to say, but Fluttershy spoke again.

“It’s the nightmares,” she whispered, shuddering and whimpering. “I see her. How she kills the Princess, then us—one by one. How her vile magic strikes Applejack, Pinkie, you—”

Rainbow pressed the shaking mare back to her chest and firmly whickered in the flattened yellow ear, “Don’t even dare to think about it—you know it’s not going to happen.”

They travelled back in time; the feeble crying echoed through the empty cottage till it did no more, leaving the exhausted mare slumped on her friend’s aching shoulder and heart. And as Rainbow again sighed internally that this was over for a night, Fluttershy’s mumbles again chained her back to the cushions.

“I don’t hate them. I don’t hate them,” she chanted in despairing conviction. “But…” Rainbow tensed at the unexpected turn. “I can’t do it anymore, Rainbow.” The blue pegasus turned into a stone that dreaded hearing what came next. “I’m afraid to sleep.”

A web of cracks covered the stoic surface of the pegasus-like statue; Rainbow clenched her teeth so hard, she was sure Fluttershy could hear that in the haunted silence of the suddenly much more dark and forlorn cottage. The blue mare held back the salty cocktail of hatred, fear and pain welling behind her eyelids tightly screwed shut.

Finally, Rainbow was able to open her eyes to the darkness without spilling any of her emotions. Someone spoke in a voice devoid of anything but a determination that couldn’t be reasoned with; it was her, she realised.

“We have to talk to Twilight about this.”

Fluttershy pushed her away in one panicked motion and two eyes gleamed reflecting the pale light of the Moon, infusing it with indignation and alarm and despair.

“No! You promised!”

“Fluttershy…” Rainbow rasped, pleading.

“No.”

The blue hooves held the yellow ones, still pressed against Rainbow, as if trying to push her away—despite the need of that sturdy mare to hold her upright. She carefully squeezed them. “But you just said—”

“Enough!” Fluttershy wrenched her out from Rainbow’s grasp; a promise of tears to flow flooded her speech as it grew louder in pitch and volume. “You know I don’t want to talk about this. Why do you keep pressing?”

“Because I care. It tears you apart, we all can see it.”

“We?”

Rainbow recoiled from the venom that all but drenched that single word; wide-eyed she stared in the darkness, seeing the face of her friend but failing to catch Fluttershy’s gaze—only shadows coiled there. Moisture glistened under the moonlight, as it travelled down her grimacing cheeks.

“Fluttershy,” the pegasus said slowly, keeping her voice calm.”When did Rarity come to you last time?”

The cottage knew one nightly visitor at a time—always; Rainbow sometimes thought the couch smelled of exquisite perfume—sometimes.

Is it Rarity lying to herself that this is alright or is it Fluttershy refusing to let her know what’s going on?

The tear-streaked face turned away.

“We’ve met in town,” she tersely muttered.

Someone here is lying; other than me, that is.

Against her best efforts a heavy, tired sigh whistled past Rainbow’s lips.

“I’ll ask AJ to come tomorrow,” was all she could answer.

“Only if she wants to,” Fluttershy meekly responded—an echo of her former self.

None of us wants to.

Casting one last worried look at her friend, Rainbow headed for the door; as her hoof wrapped around the knob, a thought emerged to burn bright enough to banish everything else from her consciousness. Her grip tightened.

Because none of us should have to—such a price is too great.