Eternity and the Color Orange

by Charcoal Quill

Rating: everyone
Tags: Princess Luna, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Tragedy, Random, Discord, Princess Celestia
Length: 4158

Something to the effect of Waiting for Godot... with ponies... in space.

What does it mean to be truly Immortal? If your body is everlasting but your mind is not, is it worthwhile to have a lifespan that exceeds the Universe's?

Philosophical questions aside, the former princesses of a long-dead land find themselves trapped in an endless void. With nothing to do but wait, how will they fare with the countless eons ahead of them?

Basically, think Waiting for Godot... with ponies... in space. (Don't bother to ask how they're able to talk, though.)

Published 2012-08-13 04:44:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-13 04:44:01 UTC

Perpetuity and the Pigment Tangerine

Eternity and the Color Orange
By Charcoal Quill

Void.

An inconceivably vast emptiness, an ageless pool of frigid, black Nothing, stretches out in all directions, dotted with the occasional pinpoint of sickly red light – the very last of the dying stars. Cosmically speaking, these are the final hours of the Universe. Already, it is almost hollow of light, hollow of warmth, hollow of life.

Almost… but not quite.

See…

There, two microscopic dots float through the endless abyss. As their distance from the mind’s eye wanes, their forms become clear…

They are a pair of mares, long-limbed and statuesque. Large, powerful wings are at their sides, and from each of their brows stretches a single, spiraling horn. They appear, in every sense of the word, noble – the sort of creatures that would lord over their lesser kin with a firm but gentle touch, the sort that should be bedecked in fine regalia as befitting their nature. Despite this, however, their forms are bare of decoration.

The first of the pair has a coat like purest alabaster, and her shimmering, multicolored mane flows in a nonexistent breeze. Had her body been stretched out to its full length, she would have been just barely larger than her companion, but currently she is curled up into a tight little ball. Occasionally, she stirs or twitches, mumbling under her breath. Her eyes are closed, her expression troubled.

The second mare has a coat of a dark, calm blue. Her flowing mane is filled with little white lights, glittering motes on a banner of midnight. As she floats through the void, her legs are tucked beneath her, but her head is raised and her eyes open, the blue-green orbs sharp and alert as she stares straight ahead.

The white mare stirs again, but this time the movement is different. Ever so slowly, she uncurls and stretches, her mouth widening into a yawn. Her rose-colored eyes flit open, and she turns to regard her companion.

The second mare, seeing the other awake, is the first to speak. Her voice is tinged with a note of concern. “Good morning, sister. How did you sleep?”

“Not very well,” the first mare admits, “but I appreciate your concern.”

“Oh…” The second looks away. “You’re having those dreams again, aren’t you, Celestia?”

Celestia nods wearily. “Yes, Luna. I’m having those dreams again.”

Luna stares at her for a long moment. Eventually, she speaks, albeit hesitantly. “Do you want to talk about it? I know we have before, and it hasn’t helped yet, but…”

Celestia sighs. “We might as well. Who knows, maybe it will help this time.”

Luna frowns. This was by no means the first time that Celestia had said that.

Celestia stares into the blackness, her eyes settling on a faraway mote of dim light. “Luna… I just realized something.” She lowers her eyes. “Do you remember what it feels like to be warm? We’ve been cold for so long, I can’t…” Her voice trails off.

Luna nudges her comfortingly, but says nothing.

Celestia drifts closer to Luna, then rests her head against her sister’s shoulder. “Luna, I’m afraid. What else have I forgotten? What more are we going to lose?”

“I don’t know,” Luna murmurs.

“We’ve been out here for far too long.” Celestia sighs. “I can feel everything fading. Old memory making way for new, for… for this.” She gazes out into the void. “For emptiness.”

Luna nods. Gently, she begins to stroke Celestia’s mane with a hoof. For a while, both are silent.

Eventually, Luna speaks. “If only we had something to pass the time,” she idly remarks. “Checkers, or something."

Celestia does not respond. Her eyes are fixed on the hoof stroking her mane. “I’m starting to dislike this,” she murmurs to herself.

Luna quickly removes the hoof. “Sorry, sister.”

Celestia starts guiltily. “No, Luna, it’s not that! It’s…” she falls silent, wincing.

“It’s what?” Luna asks, eyebrow raised.

“You’re going to think I’m being silly.”

“I assure you I won’t.”

“Fine.” Celestia sighs. “It’s the mane itself. I’m starting to dislike my mane.”

“What?” Luna stares at her. “Why, whatever for?”

“It’s just… You still remember rainbows, don’t you?” Celestia asks. “Those six beautiful, dazzling colors, stretching across the horizon for everypony to see…” She grimaces. “Right now, my mane’s the closest thing in existence to a true rainbow, and yet it just doesn’t compare. It’s so weak and pale.”

“Ah,” Luna says.

“And of course, it’s missing some colors,” Celestia continues somewhat bitterly. “What I wouldn’t give to see just one streak of bright, clear, vivid orange…” She sighs. “But no. I’m left with a watered-down half-rainbow stuck to my head.”

Luna nods sympathetically. “If it helps,” she says, “there is still some orange here.” She gently taps a hoof against Celestia’s flank. The little sun depicted there, its eight rays blooming outwards like the petals of a heavenly flower, is as bright as it’s ever been.

Celestia sits up and looks back at it. “I know, but that is little comfort to me. How can it be, when it represents everything that we have lost?” She shakes her head. “The Sun, the Moon, Equestria and all the ponies in it… all the reasons we had for living are gone, yet we ourselves are left behind…” She hesitates. “I miss it, you know. I miss everything.”

A ghostly chuckle rings out. “Oh, yes, do tell!”

The two mares glance behind them. In a flash of light appears a twisting, serpentine creature, its patchwork body formed from beast and bird and more. “Everything, you say?” he chortles. “Even me?”

“Oh. Hello, Discord,” Celestia says, her voice dull.

Discord frowns at the subdued response. “Oh, come now, Celestia, is that all you can say? Whatever happened to that delicious animosity between us?”

“There is little point for it anymore,” Celestia replies. “Our differences have long since been reconciled.”

Discord grimaces. “They have? When I wasn’t looking? When did that happen?”

“When the Sun, ancient and red, finally collapsed,” Luna says, her tone carefully neutral. “When the warmth faded from the land, when the last living creatures curled up and died, when Moon and planet collided and utterly destroyed each other – that is when it happened.”

“Oh yes, that,” Discord says, waving a paw dismissively. “But I don’t see what that has to do with it.”

“Equestria is gone, and there’s nothing but us left,” Celestia says. “Since there’s so little for either of us to influence, whatever differing philosophies we possess have become largely academic.”

“Yes, well, there’s not quite nothing yet,” Discord points out. “Surely you can raise your ire over some of that?”

Celestia shrugs. “Over what, exactly? There is the occasional red supergiant. Some nebulas. Black dwarves, white dwarves, black holes, yes – but nothing truly important.”

“And by ‘important’, you mean your little ponies.”

Celestia is uncomfortably silent. She does not confirm, but neither does she deny.

“I thought so,” Discord sighs, lying back on nothingness. “You’re no fun anymore because you don’t have any of your precious little subjects to care about.” He idly inspects a claw. “It’s your fault, you know.”

Celestia’s head whips towards him, eyes burning. “Lies,” she says, her voice dangerously quiet. “You know we had nothing to do with our world’s demise.”

Discord laughs. “Oh, there’s the fire of the old Celestia; that’s what I like!”

“Discord,” Luna growls.

“Oh, fine, fine,” Discord says. “But I’ve really been putting a lot of thought into it! You see, it wasn’t any action of yours that led to the fall of Equestria. You let it happen through inaction.”

“We had to!” Luna says angrily. “What lives must eventually die. What is created shall be destroyed, from the tiniest speck of matter to the entirety of the Universe itself. It is formed, it is extinguished, and it is reformed. Nothing can exist outside that cycle!”

“We can,” Discord simply remarks. “We do.”

“That is different!” Luna snaps. “We are Immortal!”

“Well, if we can innately survive the rebirth of the Universe itself, then why not try to hold onto a little something? Take it with you, as it were?” Discord says. “Even you had the power to hold your little world together long past its natural expiration date, but for some reason you abstained. If you two really loved your subjects so much, then why did you let them die out?”

“It would have been a… a perversion! A hollow mockery of the natural order!” Luna snarls. “Do you have any idea what that would have done to the Balance?”

Discord shakes his head gleefully. “Nope! And I suspect you don’t, either.” He shrugs. “Oh well, what could it have hurt?”

“Why, you–” Luna starts to say.

“Never mind,” Celestia interrupts, sounding resigned. “What’s done is done. All we can do now is wait and remember.”

Discord makes a face. “Oh, please. It’ll be eons before we even catch a whiff of the next batch of primordial soup, and you two are going to sit there doing nothing?”

“Not ‘nothing’. We converse. You are welcome to join us,” Celestia suggests. “It’s not like there’s anypony else to talk to.”

“I’d rather not,” Discord says, grimacing. He stands up, and the lack of anything to stand on does not seem to perturb him. “All that sentimental chitchat without any action? Ugh, count me out. Besides, you two might get all nostalgic and try to use me to breed ponies back into existence, and I assure you that I’d rather not get involved in that.”

Luna snarls. “Well, the feeling is mutual, you depraved SCOUNDREL!”

“Oh look, it’s happening already,” Discord laughs. “Well, instead of waiting around for the Universe to finish dying like you two seem to be doing, I’m going to speed things up a bit. Let’s keep this cycle moving, yes?” In a flash of light, he’s gone.

“GET BACK HERE!” Luna yells.

“Let him go, Luna,” Celestia sighs. “There’s not much point to anything right now, is there? Might as well let him have his fun while he has no victims to persecute.”

“I suppose you’re right, sister,” Luna grumbles.

The pair falls silent. For a time, silence reigns.

“Celestia?”

Celestia stirs. “Yes, Luna?”

“If we had the chance again…” Luna says slowly. “Would you try to change everything? Would you try to save our ponies, no matter the cost?”

“I don’t know,” Celestia sighs. “But I certainly wouldn’t wish them this.” She gestures to the abyss. “It’s better that they died like…” She hesitates. “…like Twilight Sparkle and her friends did. Quietly, of old age, under a healthy yellow sun and gentle moon.” She casts her eyes downward. “In a way, I envy them.”

Luna’s eyes widen. She stares at Celestia questioningly, but the longer she stares, the more her expression dulls. “…I suppose that is understandable,” she finally mutters, looking away.

“But then again,” Celestia continues suddenly, “if now they’re gone forever, then what was it all for? What was the point of any of their lives, no matter how happy they were, if everything they worked for vanishes without a trace? They only live on in our memories… our… memories…” Celestia’s voice trails off. She stares ahead, unblinking.

Luna regards her worriedly. “Sister? What are you–”

“That’s it!” Celestia exclaims. She turns to her sister, her eyes full of emotion. “Luna, for the sake of our dead world, we have to remember. Because that’s all we can do, and remembering is important if it means that some small part of Twilight and all the rest of our little ponies can live on through the rebirth of the Universe. If we didn’t remember, then it would all be completely in vain. We can’t let their lives be in vain…” As her voice trails off, she stares at Luna pleadingly.

After a moment, Luna nods determinedly. “Well said. For Twilight and her friends, for all of Equestria, for…” She gives a dry chuckle. “…for the color orange, we will remember, sister. We both will.”

Celestia sighs, relieved. “Good. Then I suppose…” She stares out into the abyss. Now it doesn’t seem quite so bleak to her. “…I suppose we can live with waiting a little longer.”

And so time passes.

Void.

An inconceivably vast emptiness, an ageless pool of frigid, black Nothing, stretches out in all directions. This is the long-dead corpse of the Universe, hollow of light, hollow of warmth, hollow of life.

Well… not quite.

See…

There, two microscopic dots float through the endless abyss. As their distance from the mind’s eye wanes, their forms become clear…

They are a pair of mares, long-limbed and statuesque. Large, powerful wings are at their sides, and from each of their brows stretches a single, spiraling horn. They appear, in every sense of the word, noble – the sort of creatures that would lord over their lesser kin with a firm but gentle touch, the sort that should be bedecked in fine regalia as befitting their nature. Despite this, however, their forms are bare of decoration.

The first of the pair has a coat like purest alabaster, and her shimmering, multicolored mane flows in a nonexistent breeze. Had her body been stretched out to its full length, she would have been just barely larger than her companion, but currently she is curled up into a tight little ball. Besides the slow, gentle rise and fall of her chest, she is completely motionless. Her eyes are closed, her expression peaceful.

The second mare has a coat of a dark, calm blue. Her flowing mane is filled with little white lights, glittering motes on a banner of midnight. As she floats through the void, her legs are tucked beneath her, but her head is raised and her eyes open, the blue-green orbs glazed over slightly as the mare sits in quiet contemplation of nothing in particular.

Presently, the white mare stirs. Ever so slowly, she uncurls and stretches, her mouth widening into a yawn. Her rose-colored eyes flit open, and she turns to regard her companion.

The second mare, seeing the other awake, is the first to speak. Her voice carries a sort of dreamy detachment. “Good morning, Sister. How did you sleep?”

“Very well,” the First replies in the same tone, smiling. “I saw the Pictures again.”

The Second’s eyes widen. “Oh, the Pictures?” she says eagerly. “What were they this time?”

The First is silent for a moment, and her brow furrows. “I… I can’t quite recall, but it felt oddly familiar. There was something happening… like some sort of event or similar.”

“An event?” the Second repeats. “We haven’t had one of those in a long time!”

“I know! It was quite lovely.” The First sighs wistfully. “I wish you could have seen it.”

“So do I.”

“Yes, you would have liked it.”

For a long moment, they are silent.

Eventually, the Second speaks up again. “What do you want to do now? Do you want to play… um… what was it called?”

The First frowns thoughtfully. “I don’t know.”

After a moment longer, the second’s eyes light up. “Ah, yes! Checkers. Do you want to play checkers?”

“I don’t think I remember how to play,” the First says slowly. “Do you?”

“Um… No.”

“Neither do I.”

“Oh. Maybe later, then.” Casually, the Second glances around. Nothing of interest immediately presents itself, so her gaze soon falls once more upon her sister. After a moment of thought, she says, “Have I told you that your mane is pretty?”

The First glances at her own mane, wide-eyed, as if she’d never seen it before. After a moment, she replies, “I don’t think you have. It is sort of nice, I guess. It’s so wavy…” She frowns thoughtfully for a moment, then shakes her head. “…I think I like yours better, though.”

The Second shakes her head fervently. “No, yours is much better! Mine has only one color. Yours has three!”

“Yes, but… your mane is sparkly!” the First says. She leans forward and flicks her sister’s mane. “Sparkle sparkle!” She giggles, but after a moment, her smile fades. Her brow furrows, then she quietly adds, “And… for some reason, my mane makes me feel so sad when I look at it. It seems… so weak and pale…”

The Second stares at her, unblinking. “What do you mean?”

“Well… “I… I dimly recall…” The First’s face contorts in her herculean effort to produce details. “…something. Something sort of like my mane, but… but big! It stretched as far as the eye could see.” She spreads her hooves wide.

“That does sound pretty,” the Second murmurs.

“But that’s not all. It had... um…” As the First stares into the blackness, her eyes unfocus.

The Second gently clears her throat. “It had what?”

The First turns to her sister, her face blank. After a moment, her eyes widen in understanding. “Oh yes! Sorry. Anyway, it had six colors!”

The Second’s eyes slowly widen. “Six? Is that even possible?” she breathes.

The First nods fervently. “I know it sounds hard to believe, but I saw it.”

“Are you sure? Maybe it was the Pictures,” the Second suggests. “Those never make sense.”

The First frowns thoughtfully, then shrugs. “It might have been. I don’t think it was, though.”

“It had to be,” says the Second. “I don’t think there even are six colors.”

“Well…” The First’s brow furrows. “…look at us. Look around us. Let’s start counting colors.”

“Okay. Well, there’s all this black…” says the Second. “That’s one.”

“And I’m white. You’re… blue, I think,” says the First. “That makes five.”

“Three,” the Second adds helpfully.

“Oh yes, three, how silly of me.”

“Yes, quite silly.”

“Well, your mane is also blue,” the First continues, “but… a different sort of blue. Does that count as a new color?”

“I don’t think so…” the Second says slowly.

“Oh. Well, there’s my mane. That’s three colors!” The First beams. “Blue, green, pink. And that with the other three makes six!”

“But blue was in the other three, wasn’t it?” says the Second.

The First’s face falls. “Oh. You’re quite right. Drat.”

The pair falls silent. After a moment, the Second glances at her sister. “What about that color?”

The First blinks. “What?”

“The color of that thing on your flank,” the Second clarifies, pointing at it with a hoof.

“What thing?” The First cranes her neck to stare at her flank. At the sight of the image there – a round thingy with eight sorta-swirly protruding bits – her eyes widen. “Oh, that! When did that get there?” She rubs at it with a hoof, then frowns. “…Huh. It doesn’t come off.”

“Well, what color is that?”

“I… I don’t know!” the First says, exasperated.

“But it is a color, isn’t it?” says the Second.

“Oh, so it is!” The First’s face lit up. “Just because I don’t know what it is doesn’t mean it’s not a color.”

“Right. So there are six colors,” the Second concedes. “So that thing you mentioned was all those colors? Black, white, blue, green, pink, and the Mystery Color?”

“I… I don’t think so,” the First says hesitantly. “I mean some of those were there,” she quickly adds, “but there were also different colors.”

The Second’s eyes widen. “Different colors? Now you expect me to believe there’s more than six colors!” She laughs.

After a long, contemplative moment, the First chuckles too. “I suppose I am.”

“Well, how many more?”

“I guess some of them were the same,” says the First. “Like blue…”

“What about black? Or white?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Green?”

“Yes! Yes, there was green.”

“And pink?”

“Well… sort of. It was…” The First pauses, brow furrowed. “It was like pink, but more vivid.”

“Like… some sort of Super-Pink?” the Second suggests.

The First shrugs. “Sure, why not?” Suddenly, her face lights up. “Oh! And there was the Mystery Color, too!” she exclaims, pointing at the thing on her flank.

The Second nods. “Okay… so there was blue, green, Super-Pink, and the Mystery Color… what else?”

“…I can’t quite remember…” The First says slowly. After a short pause, her eyes widen. “Wait! Hold on. Something O-ish.”

The Second raises an eyebrow. “O-ish?”

“Yes… O… Or… Ora… Orange!” exclaims the First. “Was it orange?”

“Orange? That’s a rather daft word.” The Second snorts. “Are you sure it was a color?”

“I think so.”

The Second blinks. “Wait, I remember now. I think orange was a fruit.”

The First scowls at her. “No, that’s daft. And just what is a fruit, anyway?”

“I don’t know, but orange was one of them,” the Second insists.

“No, orange is a color.”

“No, it’s a fruit!”

“Color!”

“Fruit!”

The First opens her mouth to supply another clever retort, but apparently changes her mind. She sighs. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we’re both wrong.”

After a moment, the Second nods sadly. “Yes, that’s probably it. I guess we’ll never remember what orange is.” She stares at her sister’s mane for a little while, then speaks up again. “Do you remember what we were talking about?”

The First shrugs apologetically. “No. Sorry.”

“Oh. That’s okay…” says the Second. “Do you want to play checkers?”

“I don’t think I remember how to play,” the First says slowly. “Do you?”

“Um… No.”

“Neither do I.”

“Oh. Maybe later, then,” the Second suggests.

The First nods. “Yes, later. That would be wonderful… just wonder… ful…” As her voice trails off, her eyes slowly widen, filling with an abrupt lucidity. Her mouth falls open with a strangled gasp.

The Second peers at her worriedly. “Sister? Is something wrong?”

“I…” the First whispers, trembling. Suddenly, she lets out a ghastly wail, then turns and grabs her Sister by the shoulders. “LUNA! Oh goodness, all of the… oh goodness, everypony… nothing, all nothing, all gone, all gone!” Celestia sobs. “W-what did we… W-why? S-so much death! Why didn’t we do anything?” she shrieks, shaking her sister. “WHY?!”

The Second stares at her, eyes wide and uncomprehending. “Wh-?”

“Why?! D-Discord was right, we sh-should have tried!” Celestia breaks down sobbing again, burying her face in her hooves. After a moment, she raises her head with sudden urgency. “Oh, Luna, w-where’s Twilight? Oh, heavens, I w-w-want T-T-Twilight…” Tears stream down her face.

“Sister!” the Second exclaims. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Suddenly, Celestia’s eyes cloud over again. She looks puzzled for a moment, then shrugs. “…I… nothing,” says the First. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m dreadfully sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was the most exciting thing I’ve seen in ages,” replies the Second.

The First beams. “Well, I’m glad you liked it.”

“Although…” the Second continues, frowning thoughtfully. “What’s Twilight?”

The First looks away, frowning. “I’m not sure. It seemed important, though.”

“Huh,” says the Second. “Twilight… light… ight…”

“Night!” the First says triumphantly. “It had to do with night. Oh! And day! Yes, Twilight was between night and day!”

The Second smiles. “That’s lovely!” After a short pause, her expression changes to one of confusion. “…But what are night and day?”

“I… I don’t know that either,” the First murmurs sadly. “I think they were almost as important as Twilight, though.”

“Oh.” The Second stares out into the darkness. “I barely even remember what important means, you know,” she whispers.

“I’m afraid it’s the same for me, Sister,” the First replies. “But…” She hesitates, struggling to draw meaning from the dregs of recollection. “…but we have to remember. Because that’s all we can do, and remembering is… is…” She gives up. “…something or other. If we didn’t thing, then it would all be completely whatsit.”

The Second nods appreciatively. “Well said. You’re right. We have to remember. I’m glad we’re so good at it.”

“Good at what?”

“…I don’t remember.”

“Oh.”

“Never mind,” says the Second. “It probably wasn’t important.”

For a long while, the mares do not speak. Eventually, however, the First breaks the silence. “Sister…” she says quietly, hesitantly. “…Do you remember what death is?”

“Death? I… I think I have heard of it…” the Second replies.

“So did I, but I… can’t quite recall…” The First frowns.

“It… no, he,” the Second says. “He’s an old friend of ours, wasn’t he?”

The First’s face lights up. “Oh yes, now I remember!” Her brow furrows. “…I think.” She nods. “Yes, good old Mister Death.”

“It’s funny, but I can’t remember what he looks like,” the Second muses.

“Neither can I,” says the First. “Do you remember what happened to him?”

“He went away, I think,” the Second answers sadly. “I don’t know why. We used to see him all the time, but then he just disappeared.”

“I wish he’d come back,” the First murmurs. “Maybe he could remind us what orange is.”

The Second nods. “Yes, that would be lovely.”