Creatures of Chaos Talk Over Tea
Chaos. Everything I did, every title I adorned and every appearance I took was that of pure chaos. Even in its purest form, chaos could not be boiled down to any singularity. It was just easiest to understand that way. Though those who sew chaos throughout the land were deemed villains, and rightly so, not all chaos is created equal.
There was a sharp knock at my door. Ah, yes. I’d arranged an afternoon of tea with a special guest. No, not Fluttershy. This visitor wasn’t nearly as special as she was, but he and I were cut from the same cloth in a manner of speaking. I snapped by fingers and the door folded upward like an accordion. There was no creature on the other side, but I was keen to my guest entering. I shrugged, and the door lowered.
“Do yOu KnoW wHY I wAntEd to MeEt wIth yoU tOdAY?” a voice that any mortal would call extraterrestrial asked me. The voice lacked a body and even a direction of origin.
“We both know you won’t convince me. Even if you could, what would come of it? A reckless tirade of hedonism cut short?” I asked, setting the table by paw and claw rather than by magic. My usually jovial tone was flat and betrayed my sense of bemusement. “They wouldn’t succumb to us, you know. I had to learn that lesson the hard way twice, and a gentler, yet deeper-cut way once more.”
“WhAt HaPpenEd to YoU, DIScord? IS EqUeStRiA nOt Your OyStER? Are YOU nOT tHe PeArL?” the voice inquired.
“I’ve abandoned such selfish ways of thinking, friend. Biscuit?” I asked, holding out the soft, crusty, warm delicacy. There was a pause. No response. “Fine then.” I popped the biscuit into my mouth. There certainly was no sense in wasting it.
“You KeEp LOsiNG bEcAuSe YoU kEeP lEtTing youR GuaRD dOwN,” the voice rasped. I went on to pour us each a cup of tea. “EnTRopY dEmAndS dIsHarMoNY, dIsOrdeR AND ChAos. As SuCH, these MoRtAL PoNIEs will aCt in AcCordAnCE tO THeIr mOst BaSe InSTinCTs.”
I took a sip of my hot tea, feeling the near-boiling liquid energize my mind and stimulate my senses as the rest of me lulled into a state of lax. “Once upon a time, I agreed. One thing we could never see eye to eye on is that you never use that chaos to have fun. Always doing this deceitful, manipulative thing or that deceitful, manipulative thing; for what? A fleeting sense of satisfaction?”
Again, my visitor gave no immediate response. The table started to shake, and a ghastly wail of souls long since damned sounded with a rapid crescendo. I assumed this was his idea of a temper tantrum at first, but as the sound gained volume, so too did my suspicions change. I was sure that these were souls of mortals who had been ensnared by his whispers, rumors and gentle nudges toward their own worst instincts.
Wars, famine, greed, depression, strife; he reveled in it all. He thrived in the gradual, painful degradation of the order, structure and security that those who roamed the world relied so heavily on. In contrast, I just found those structures boring. For example, rainwater tasted so bland without a hint of lemon, but why not go the extra mile and make it rain chocolate milk? He, on the other hand, would make the mortals think and fear the rain for its potential torrents, or exacerbate the tension in the long, rainless periods.
“It’s mine! All mine! Wealth and power… the Idol of Boreas belongs to me, and all that comes with it!” the ethereal form of the cyclops Arimaspi bellowed before me. With a wave of my paw, the specter dissipated into mist.
“He seized the idol and fell to his death. One example doesn’t refute the thousands of years of progress the mortal races have made. He may have thrust the griffons into poverty, but they’re getting back on their paws and talons thanks to some ponies I’m proud to call my friends. I must say, too, that the hippogriffs, the dragons and even those from Abyssinia have opened their borders to them. It’s not like the world is without chaos. It’s just…chaos with company,” I explained in spite of the fact my words would certainly fall upon deaf ears. “There’s more to chaos than just…madness.”
“AnD tHaT’S a ReAsON to HolD BAcK?” he hissed as a disembodied talon materialized and cupped my long and devilishly handsome face. “CoMe NoW, DiSCorD. BE hOnEst wIth YoUrsElf.” Several black tendrils sprouted from the floor.
“You know…you and I have been alive for centuries upon centuries. In all that time, have you made even one single friend?” I asked.
“WiTh or wItHouT oUr IntErVentIOn, YoUr ‘FriEnDs’ wILl PeRish,” he replied as the talon drew back from my cheek and sank into the growing mass of tendrils in my living room. The tentacles morphed and fused into an anthropomorphic form with three tendrils to serve as legs, two more as arms and a slender middle one protruding from what I could only call a head after process of elimination. The form was covered in glowing red eyes, and a vertical mouth adorning razor-sharp teeth exhaled from the middle of the front of its head. I’d be hard pressed to call it a proper face, and certainly not one with which he’d be a model. Thankfully, romance was never a priority of his. Though devoid of glamour, his appearance certainly was striking. If Fluttershy had seen him, the shock would stun her at best. Hell, even Rainbow Dash or Twilight would think twice about approaching him.
“Of all the forms I’ve ever seen you take, this is probably one of my favorites,” I remarked. “It’s also one of the more comprehensive bodies you have, Nyarlathotep.”
My chaotic fellow thrust an arm out, the tip or ‘hand’ morphing into a new shape. He got me. I was expecting to be hit or punched, but instead I was met with the face of Fluttershy. I locked eyes with Fluttershy—no, with the impostor. When I did, it started to age rapidly. Wrinkles formed under her eyes, then along her cheeks, then her forehead. As she started to grin, her teeth yellowed and some fell to time’s ever tightening pull. Her mane, a soft, inoffensive pink that made one think of spring, dulled and muted into gray. Her skin and coat began to sag before crumbling away like sand. I was met with a remaining skull, and it crumbled, too, once I recoiled from the shock of watching my first and dearest friend die.
Nyarlathotep cackled. Judging by his triumphant demeanor, I must have looked at least one-tenth as distraught as I felt seeing dear Fluttershy age and wither away. My mouth opened wordlessly. Of course. It was only natural that he knew. He watched every creature, everything, and watched as the shadow of all. He watched, waited and occasionally stirred the pot. That was just the way Nyarlathotep was.
Finally, words that came to mind were able to take shape in the air between us. “When she dies, her legacy will live on in others. They’ll have passed that onto others when they die, and so on and so forth. You should see her students and the animals she cares for. Of course, you already do, but you don’t see what I see. No, no, I misspoke. You don’t see them how I do, how they see each other.”
“TeLl Me, DiSCord, wHaT is IT YoU sEeK To dO wIth yOUr cHaOs? WhAT dOes YoUr EsSenCE MeAn tO yOu?” he inquired, his various tentacles disintegrating and rematerializing as his many eyes blinked independent of one another.
“Well, I suppose that, with my power, I like to have fun. I like freedom in its most absolute form. If freedom is enough, then having friends who appreciate that freedom is more than enough,” I replied. My angst was overwhelming, the confidence in my voice serving as my mask. He saw through it. He always did.
“AnD wHeN yOu LosE tHem? WhEn YoU LosE HeR? WhAt aRe YoU LeFT wItH tHeN? WhO WiLL yOu bE in THat daRK HoUr? WhEn LOvE DiEs?”
I could only shrug. No creature knew. That was one thing Nyarlathotep couldn’t see. Our crimson eyes locked, the silent tension hanging heavy. What would come next? Did it even matter? I could hold on as long as I could at the end of everything, but did I have it in me to let go?
Sects of many races who dabbled in more occult matters, matters more directly concerning Nyarlathotep and myself, believed that concepts like death and the end were transformative events, events of birth and new life. The ponies, yaks, dragons, griffons, hippogriffs, changelings, kirin, cats, diamond dogs and all sorts of other races had taught me much simply by their way of being. It wasn’t like they were unaware of demise, and it wasn’t like they didn’t care, either. Even as Nyarlathotep and I could bear witness to the infinitesimally small, gradual rot of all, hear it eroding existence as a river does stone, these creatures carried on.
Every creature wanted to know their purpose, the ponies especially. For everypony, a Cutie Mark was the key glimpse to what a pony did and who they were fundamentally. Nyarlathotep’s form sprouted membranous wings, and his mouth opened to reveal a pewter gray eye, contrasting the array of crimson ones scattered about the deity’s form and only standing out because of them. The pewter eye’s hollow, judgmental stare softened as its iris turned a teal color. He was trying to use my affections for Fluttershy as a weakness, just as he had when he demonstrated how the rot will take her as it does all things.
“You want to know what the point of it all is? Well, mortals tend to find fulfillment in seeking out the answer to that very question. For some, that is enough. Others find their purpose in fellowship. The answers don’t come easily, not with such complex beings,” I remarked.
“HA! CoMplEX? To MaNY wHo MatCH ouR cAlibER AND PeDiGreE, tHEy aRe nO MorE ThAN DusT FLoAtinG aBoUT thE OMniVeRsE. To US, ThEy aRe aN ExPeriMent. RaTHer, tO ME. YoU ForGEt YouRSelF foR A mOrtAL mArE aNd foR FriEnDShiP,” the thing from beyond scoffed at me. I could hear the judgmental contempt that hung on every word. Taking a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and tempered them with another sip of tea. I stuck my pinkie out when I lowered the cup so I could gently conclude its descent to the table. The pinkie thing was a stereotype of the gentleman, but it had a purpose. I felt it necessary since I had decided I would use the fine tea set in spite of myself.
“This is far from what I wanted to say allowed, but at least I have friends,” I remarked, my gaze like ice. The eye in that gaping slit mouth closed. The head of this body he had made tilted upward and the mouth opened even more. A pony skull emerged from chasm-like orifice. It exhaled an incredulous laughter as green flames spewed from its hinged, skinless jaw and void eye sockets.
“AnD wHY wOuLD I NeEd frIeNDs?” Nyarlathotep asked through the floating, fiery skull.
“Between the two of us, you’re the one out to prove something,” I elaborated nonchalantly, as though I were merely remarking about the weather. To what extent, I couldn’t say, but that got a reaction out of him. The green flames searing about the skull turned blue and wavered for a single moment. Nyarlathotep said nothing, so I continued on. “I once felt the same way. Truly, I did. It took becoming an admittedly remarkable statue twice and a single Pegasus taking a chance to make a change in me. I’ve been more than satisfied since. It’s not like I’ve given up mischief entirely, and I’ve done the wrong thing for the right reason. That seems like something you would be willing to try.”
Before I could react, Nyarlathotep’s flaming equine skull was so close that it filled my vision. He hissed, “I aM NoT so EaSiLY ConVinCEd bY tHE SpoUtiNG oF GiBBErisH. PoNISh, MaYbE, buT noT GiBbEriSH. No CrEaTure caN EsCapE tHe ShAdows. No CreatUre cAn EsCapE tHe EnD Of EveRyTHing. WhY NoT sHoW tHeM what ReAl pOwER loOkS lIkE? ThE RuLe OF a GoD, DiSCoRd. A gOd!”
I cleared my throat and brought my paw and talon together. The skull backed away as I reminded him, “You’ve never been one for the limelight.”
“Oh rIgHT,” Nyarlathotep replied abashedly. I started to laugh, and he asked, “WhAt’S SO fUnnY?”
“You!” I exclaimed. Then, he joined me in my laughter. We howled and cackled incredulously. With the tension between us broken, I asked, “Hahaha! So, have we reached an impasse?”
“Oh, UnDouBTEdly, yOu DamNED SnAPDragON,” Nyarlathotep replied jovially. “WeLl, tImE to Go Be SomE CreAtuRE’s dArKeSt UrGEs. ThAnkS for HAvinG mE, DiSCOrd. WE shOulD do ThIS AgAIn sOmeTimE.” The house went pitch black as his body disintegrated and expanded into a thick, dark mist.
By no means was it a pleasant visit, but it wasn’t unpleasant, either. We agreed to disagree, taking different stances on life, death and chaos. I certainly wasn’t opposed to having Nyarlathotep over again, but I’d have to figure out whether I could describe the type of being he was to Fluttershy and the other ponies without compromising their sanity.
I waited for a minute. Two minutes. Now three. By the time the mist dissipated, I noticed that the teacup opposite him was empty, and the tray of biscuits lay bare. With a smirk, I commented to the lonesome room, “They always go for the biscuits.”