“Hey Twi! It Worked!”
B_25
Clattering objects. Teacups within saucers vibrating across a hardwood surface. They formed an orchestra around the table—around her. Twilight breathed through it all, ears vibrating to the dull sounds evoked by the cheap dishware.
And yet, to her laboured breaths, it served as pleasant percussion against the horrific salvos increasing from the distance. The falling of something massive to the crashing of something majestic. Starting then stopping. Roaring, though tamed, followed BOOMS followed by silence... joined with the heavy slicing of winds then—BOOOM silence BOOOM conflicted winds BOOOOM!
“I-It’s probably n-nothing, right?” Twilight scratched the scruffy-fluff on her chest, left unbrushed, the neglect of grooming expressed in the frizzles of her mane. “Just a storm on a clear and sunny day. Nothing more.” Her hoof went and wrapped around the teacup within her magic, its saucer floating beneath it. “I’m sure all the ponies here would agree, right?”
Her head cracked to the left, moving an inch at a time, the dim interior of the shop revealing itself. Wooden tables and chairs and stools were scattered around the floor. The place was filled with tea and coffee, cups and mugs, all a sleep-deprived mare could ever crave.
Twilight being the sole patron was of no importance.
BOOOM-THRUUUUM!
The booms compounded into a spot before whizzing up. A high whistling of winds consumed the mare’s ears before fading into nothing. Silence filled the seconds after. The thumping of the foe no longer resonating. Safety! Twilight could drink her fourth cup in—
BRUUUUAAAAAMMM!
Twilight was looking straight—smiling as she did so—as if to let everypony know that if she was in a panic attack, she was okay about it, or not even having one to begin with. Her head cracked to the right this time. Glancing out the window, the filtering sunlight warmed her face... but the long-ropes of prismatic strands slithering across the grass removed all said warmth.
“Just ponies s-setting up decorations! Must be some holiday today!” Twilight kept her eyes to the window but her muzzle to the cup of tea, sipping as if to remedy her anxiety. It didn’t help. Never did. Yet another sip was taken anyway. “Explains why nopony is sitting around! So busy helping around! M-must be those sounds I heard earlier too, r-right?”
Her forelegs crossed over one another, rubbing together, unable to cease their jitters.
“Ponies with carts and carriages will pass any second now.” She nodded. It helped. Somehow. “I’m sure of it.” At least the resulting smile was genuine.
Outside came the appearance of ponies. To the far left on the window, blocked by the corner of a building, a portion of the road revealed itself to Twilight. She saw a parade of pony folk. They waved their hooves in the air like they didn’t care while screaming with glee. Twilight did the same, waving back.
BUNCK-POOOF!
The mass of a wooden cart shot from the air, slamming and exploding in the lane beyond the window, dust expelling, a ball of smoke appearing. Boards of wood shot outward with wheels rolling into the sides of buildings.
“Somepony incompetent messing with fireworks...”
Carriages fell from the sky into the remains of the cart. Once this explosion cleared, a mountain of wood had mounted. Twilight blinked. Distant monolithic creaks echoed through the air. They drowned out the screams. Whoever was doing sound-effects was doing a good job.
The ponies had cleared. No screams or marching of hooves or anything of the sort. Sounds of the broad movement were the only noise now. Across the street, something great landed on its roof, right in its middle, causing the structure to bend and crack down its center.
The shape arched out of the ground, rising from beneath the earth, with dirt cascading and roots dropping. The crashing of air came again. That shop dropped and clattered back into the place. Twilight’s head zipped right, following the whispers of the piercing current. Another building had cracked in the middle, compressing into itself, arching to balance the weight of something great, of something massive.
“Nope! Nu-uh! Not take responsibility for this one!” Twilight shook her head, no longer a nod of disillusion, from which her previous words were born. Now her breaths issued from a different reality. With various tactics this time. “It’s not my fault. It’s not my problem. It’s not here. It’ll go away if I keep quiet.”
BOO-CRAAA-OOOM!
Billows of dusty clouds erupted from beneath the sudden pillar of blue, crashing into the collection of carts and carriages, flattening them beneath the circumference of the abroad hoof. More creaking and cracking. The rising decibels of groaning wood undertaking greater weight.
Twilight glanced up. Waterfalls of dust poured from the sides of hovering beams. On the arched ceiling came the creaking. Cracks tore across its surface, shallow and superficial at first, then a storm of crashing winds that were followed by a monster crashing into the roof. The splintery fissures deepened and spread like spiderwebs across and down the entire establishment.
“Everything will be okay... everything will be okay... everything… thing...” Something heavy was appearing towards Twilight’s side. The monster was emerging in all of its beauty. Twilight took a gulp before gazing outside. Thick strands of rainbow draped before the glass. Followed by a massively blue something. “...will be...”
Then it came. A vertical pool of whiteness vast enough to swim across. It dropped and dipped until the mass of the monster’s head had reached the ground and pressed against it. Currents of mane flopped and spilled across the grass — all to allow the glowing sphere of violet to consume the entirety of the window’s screen.
And then the sphere narrowed with confidence.
“Okay! Everything will be okay!” Twilight spread her forelimbs out to the sides and reached for the wooden blinders, each of which hung on the side of the window. After a brief struggle, Twilight grasped and slammed them shut. She heaved within cool, cold darkness. “No problem what-so-ever!”
Glows of lavender seeped through the closed blinds.
“Leave! That’s all I have to do. Leave.” Twilight arched onto the floor with shaky forelegs, wobbling on all fours. She hovered her drink before her muzzle, sipping still. “Just walk out. Go away. Let this allllll take care of itself.”
Twilight walked across the establishment--only for the ground to rise beneath her hooves. The flooring lurched upward as she slid downward, her hooves clattering against the loosening tile, struggling to find footing. Soon, Twilight’s bottom swept across the shop and, by the time it levelled out, the mare was already poised out the front door.
“Hey, Twi.”
Twilight sat within the entrance of the door, hope draining from her expression upon staring outward. Though moments had passed, time did nothing for her comprehension. Her mind had booted, only to require yet another instant restart.
Rainbow Dash. Her head was *looming* despite being only a few feet away. Its upside-down form consumed the width of the street lane—demolishing into a far building on the far end, behind overturned wagons and loose-leaning fire hydrants. Her eyes were half-lidded, going from pool to pond. Waves of her mane flattened and flowed across the street, thick enough of a current to swim in.
Her snout hovered above Twilight’s entire field of view and--beyond even that--the cavern of her maw parted open.
“It worked.”
Twilight didn’t say anything. She stood as still as she could muster between jittery sips from her tea, most of which had splashed completely out of the puny cup by now. She too felt as small and empty, suddenly.
Rainbow rolled to the left, the dome of her skull crushing deeper into the ground. Confidence blossomed across her gigantic expression. Utter satisfaction now inbound.
Another sip, and Twilight’s cup was drained. Not much else could be done, that was, before raising the cup into the air—and slamming it against the ground. The glass clattered and shards blasted in different directions.
It was only the morning on the weekend.
Author's Note
The image is perfection.
I don’t know what else I can give you… I don’t know how much more I could give you. Purple prose has been my tagline in the vain attempt to encompass more than that phrase. To evoke its every implication.
And in those attempts, as always, I remain a failure.
Take a look at the piece inspiring this story. Indulge for moments on the details. The overall success is what every creator of macro strives for—rendering the scale of the giant to the point of immersion.
I can’t tell you all the reasons why Rainbow Dash feels big. The easiest metric is perhaps the placement of perspective and the comparison of buildings known for being large rendered small beneath her frame.
There is so much within this piece. Rainbow lands on the building nearly like a bird, the weight enough to collapse a portion of the root and slice fissures into sections of its centers. We’re given the impression the building is flat, but from the application of Rainbow’s weight, arches as expected from a cartoon—while keeping a sense of realism.
The left side of the building is compressing outward. Closer to the right side, however, the building arches out from the ground. Dust and dirt pour in streams as it starts to rise. The building leans to the left, and the swaying of the dangling sign reflects this.
Rainbow is composed beautifully in NC’s style (the weakest word I could use to describe that which is so much more.) She feels gigantic to the eye and every portion of her becomes its own thing. I’ll save you from talking about her wings and rump for a myriad of reasons.
Perhaps the most beautiful aspect is Rainbow’s hair and tail. Sleek and clean with a shine of polish. Everything subtle to the eye. The colors are delicious. We’re also given the best of both worlds. Where her rail is stacked and composed… her hair is draped from gravity and each color is a silky waterfall of prismatic amazement.
Last and not least is the face. I won’t call it glow despite it being something close. There’s something about the way NC draws eyes that causes one to be lost within them. The violet of Rainbow’s irises is beyond words. The upside-down half-lidded gaze is set to amaze. The cavern of her maw is matched by her confident expression as the rest of the piece oozes from this fact.
And if you look deeper… you’ll see a nervous Twilight, panicking, the perfect contrast to Rainbow. She sets reality to the piece. Both characters infuse their personalities to the perception of the piece. And the total composition of all these qualities leaves the viewer immersion behind the veil of the page or screen or desired format.
And all of this is done without saying a word or NC commenting more on the fact. Perfection is crafted and joined by a witty or fun passage beneath it. Then it’s off to the next project.
This story and introduction should be enough to sell you the position I’m currently within. NC is someone who strikes all those details to their most immersive and yet minimalist state. He achieves with brevity; my purpleness stands no chance.
But this story was written with care and appreciation to the person. My goal as a writer is to write concise descriptions befitting NC’s art. Don’t label me a stalker just yet. What I mean to say is that, currently, when the highest quality of micro and macro comes to mind—his art jumps first.
It’s all the things that he nails… that I hope to do myself. To hit those high notes and strike the cords exactly right. I desire the kind of writing that doesn’t need to ramble, embellishing, to achieve the desired effect I’m reaching for. I’d rather there’d be enough within the work that I barely need to comment on it afterward.
I won’t call the person an idol or a mentor or impose anything of the sort. But when it comes to wit and wisdom and prose and skill and personality and art and a lot of other things—NC seems to be the greatest mixture of them all. Hence my great respect toward them.
NC. You and your work mean a lot to me. Please do your best to have a great birthday and life and to continue doing great things. What you say and what you do has inspired me in dark times and sparked higher enjoyability in good ones as well.
And I’m not alone in that regard.
In five to ten years… I’ll catch up.
Just you see.
~ Yr. Pal, B ~
