The World is Ugly/When You See My Friends/I Miss You
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The World is Ugly/When You See My Friends/I Miss You
Author's Note
This is a story in which Twilight does in fact outlive her friends. I'm aware there are a ton of these types of stories on the site so if it's not your thing I recommend skipping this. It's not something I'd usually write myself but given the circumstances of the prequel piece, an immortality story felt appropriate. You've been warned.
The World is Ugly/When You See My Friends/I Miss You
“Sign there please.”
Twilight looked down at the tablet, then looked up at the mare in front of her.
The mare was dressed in the typical forest green uniform of the International Office of Requisitions. Her pale blonde mane fell over her viewing glasses, endless lists of data scrolling away in front of her eyes.
Twilight missed the brown uniform of the Equestrian Postal Service. But that uniform, like the Equestrian Postal Service itself, had long since faded away with the development of local teleportation technologies.
There was no need for mailponies anymore. The mail service had become so obsolete in fact that all the world’s postal services were folded into one entity, which only served to administrate the automated services and occasionally carry out menial verification tasks.
But as Twilight looked at the pegasus in front of her, something felt vaguely familiar. She just couldn’t place it.
“Ma’am?”
Twilight blinked as the mare prompted her again. “Oh! I’m sorry. I’ve… a bit on my mind today.”
“That’s quite alright, ma’am, but I need your signature.” She gestured to the tablet again with a taut smile, her mind already going back to the list of tasks she had left to do today.
Twilight took the offered stylus in her magic and began to etch her name. For a second she considered adding her now-defunct title for fun but decided against it. This mare probably had enough things to worry about than some scorned, spiteful pony.
“Thank you ma’am,” the mare said, pulling the tablet away. Two automatic carts of books drifted towards her, strapped in and secured with all the protections the world could offer.
The mare turned to leave but paused when Twilight called out to her.
“Wait!” Twilight gave a strained smile as the mare turned around again. “I’m so sorry for asking but… are you from Ponyville by chance?”
The mare blinked then laughed. “Ponyville? No ma’am, I’m from Manehattan.”
“Is your family?” asked Twilight.
“No, not that I know of,” answered the mare. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Twilight faltered with a sigh. “No, that’s fine. Thank you.”
The mare tipped her cap and trotted back towards her messenger bike. The bike’s engines roared and the craft lifted up into the air, disappearing for the main city in the blink of an eye.
Twilight watched as it became a pinprick over the horizon, something turning in her heart. Something she couldn’t place. Why had she asked her that?
Why had she seemed familiar?
Twilight didn’t know. But she had met hundreds of thousands of ponies during her reign. Perhaps they had crossed paths at one point.
She sighed and turned to re-enter her home.
As she stepped forwards, the mechanical carts followed her into the home. “Hello Twilight!” A mechanical voice beeped as a colored sphere floated out from a pod in the wall. “Would you like me to sort your delivery?”
“No thanks, Tiberius. I’ll take care of it myself,” Twilight answered, rubbing the base of her horn.
“Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Twilight paused to consider this. “Actually… I am kind of craving muffins right now.”
The robot let out a beep that almost sounded sympathetic. “Shall I place an order with the Old Bakery?”
“That would be excellent. Thank you, Tiberius,” Twilight replied with a small smile.
As the robot puttered off, Twilight continued her trek to her room. She guided the carts to the corner and removed their protective coverings. Twilight picked one book off the stack, flipping through the pages and enjoying their signature smell.
It had been a long time since she had put a physical book in her hooves. But it was as good a place as any: once she was caught up on the older books, she could move on to the online database.
But as Twilight flicked through the book flippantly, her hopeful mood was suddenly dampered.
She didn’t want to read right now.
With a sigh she returned the book and went over to her desk. One hobby she had been attempting to get into recently was sketching. Twilight seized a stylus and summoned a piece of holopaper.
She let out a hum, trying to think of a subject to draw. Twilight glanced at her smart tablet, skimming some of the headlines. One headline caught her eye: Heritage Committee to Honor Element Bearers in Ceremony.
The Element Bearers. Twilight wasn’t even sure who the current ones were. It had truly been a long time she had known any of them intimately, and there had been several times when she had mixed up their names.
That gave her a small smile, though it returned that strange feeling in her heart. She decided that she’d draw her friends.
With a plan in mind, Twilight went to work. In a couple of minutes she had produced the form of a unicorn, and began to make it Rarity. But a thought occurred to her that froze her pen.
“How many diamonds were on Rarity’s cutie mark?” Twilight went to activate her tablet but scowled. “You shouldn’t need that, Twilight. You knew Rarity for years. She had… four.”
Twilight went to sketch the diamonds in but paused again. “Were they square diamonds? No, they were… triangles, right?”
She sketched some shapes but immediately released them with a frown. “No, no. I’m confusing her with Brilliant Gem… who had four diamonds as a cutie mark. Rarity had three. Right?”
Twilight closed her eyes and tried to picture her friend. The features came easily at first: a rich coat with a coiled, perfect mane. A confident smile with warm, welcoming eyes. But as she tried to coax out the details, the picture in her mind became muddled.
She squeezed her eyes shut harder, trying to conjure up images of her other friends.
But just like with Rarity, the details blurred.
She knew Applejack’s warm smile, Fluttershy’s kind eyes, Pinkie’s mane, and Rainbow’s grin. But their coat colors were murky. Twilight couldn’t recall their eye colors, or even their mane styles.
With a frustrated yell, she threw the holopaper across the room as the truth finally settled in. “I don’t remember,” Twilight whispered. “I… I don’t remember.”
“Twilight?” came Celestia’s voice from the doorway. “Your muffins are here… is everything okay?”
Twilight turned to look at her former mentor, tears welling in her eyes. “I… I don’t remember my friends.”
Twilight slumped over at the table, poking at her untouched muffin. “They were my best friends. They changed my life. And now I can barely remember them. Well, I remember their names but I don’t remember the details,” Twilight said. “They were my best friends. They changed my life. And now I can barely remember them.”
Celestia was quiet.
Twilight sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I’ve realized how out of touch I am now. Everything’s changed now. I barely remember them. I barely remember Ponyville.” She glanced out the dining room window, making out the towering skyscrapers of the city in the distance. “When I was so busy with ruling I hadn’t noticed how much time I had missed. But now that that’s gone…”
She slumped over again, and Celestia came around to put a hoof on her back. “I may have an idea,” she suggested.
Twilight lifted her head, intrigued.
“Twilight, do you remember your very first edict after becoming ruler?”
“I…” Twilight pursed her lips in thought. “I don’t,” she finally admitted.
Celestia smiled. “Then perhaps it is best if I reminded you.”
When Celestia had mentioned Old Town Ponyville, Twilight had wondered what parts of the town it included. She hadn’t anticipated the district being the entire original city.
The outskirts of Ponyville were foreign to Twilight: buildings erected hundreds and thousands of years after she had left for Canterlot. But as they approached the heart of the original town she began to notice subtle changes.
A majority of the buildings had been reconstructed, as time and nature had proven too much for even the best preservation efforts. But even if they were the same, Twilight wasn’t sure if she would have remembered them.
Twilight looked up and down the sleek metal streets. The layout looked mostly the same, but it was still jarring to look at. Though the buildings here weren’t nearly as tall as the ones in New Canterlot, they still reached higher than the pastel thatch houses she was used to. Their designs felt like a meager and lazy reproduction: flawed, incorrect, and wrong.
In fact most of everything felt wrong, despite the hints of familiarity nestled within. There were cars and messenger bikes in the road instead of wooden carriages. Computer and technology stores where the flower shops once were. And instead of familiar, friendly faces, Twilight was surrounded by a crowd of strangers.
It was like she was coming to Ponyville for the first time all over again.
Twilight had been to Ponyville in the past centuries. She was often invited to the Friendship School for commencement speeches and yearly ceremonies. But the last time she had been to Old Ponyville proper…
...was when Rarity’s Boutique burned down in the fire. She shuddered, another strange feeling washing over her and numbing her appendages.
The smartwatch on her foreleg beeped, and Twilight looked up to find her GPS had led her to a massive painted structure. Unlike the shapeless buildings around it, the architecture of this place was dated, with brightly painted walls and window frames. Just below the roof, in massive gold lettering was etched its name: The Cheerilee Museum of Equestrian History.
And Twilight remembered her first edict. It diverted a set number of funds in the name of museums and heritage sites, to honor and reflect on Equestrian history. To honor those who had passed and the work they had done.
But Twilight had never really seen the fruits of her labors. Until now.
As she climbed up the steps, the automatic doors slid open and Twilight was greeted with a rush of cold air. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene in front of her.
The middle of the room held a circular self-service reception desk, with screens and monitors depicting a detailed layout of the museum. Behind that, nestled in between two grand staircases was a gargantuan pink steam engine, its front window carved in the shape of a heart. Dangling from the ceiling were two hot-air balloons, billowing gently in the flow of the air conditioning.
Behind the train was a perfectly preserved mural that showed a crowd of ponies. In the middle was… herself, staring up at the sky with wings spread. A brown and gold book was levitating above her head. Around her were a sea of familiar faces, their smiles frozen in time forever.
“Whoa…” Twilight moved over to some of the display cases, peeking inside. The case lit up as she approached, illuminating the piece of parchment inside.
“Letter-writing was an incredibly important aspect of day-to-day life,” the automated narration stated. “Back before instant communication was established, love letters such as this one were typically used to stay in touch during periods of extended leave. This letter is to a confectionary Bonnie, from her lover Lyra.”
Twilight gently put a hoof on the glass, reading the contents of the letter to herself with amusement.
“Hello!” She turned to see a small pink sphere floating towards her. “I’m Starlight Glimmer!”
“Sure you are,” Twilight muttered.
“Welcome to the Cheerilee Museum of Equestrian History. I can serve as your personal tour guide for today’s visit. Please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions on any displays, artifacts, or exhibitions! Would you like to hear about what special exhibitions we are currently hosting?”
“Yes, please,” Twilight answered.
“Great! The Cheerilee Museum hosts several permanent exhibits, most notably our exhibition of The Age of Friendship. In addition, we also host the Founding of Ponyville, History of Communication and Transportation, and Development of Cloudsdale exhibits as well.”
Twilight blinked. “The… Age of Friendship?”
“The Age of Friendship exhibit is dedicated to the first generation of Element bearers: Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Twilight Sparkle,” Starlight explained.
“I’d like to start there.”
Starlight let out a series of happy beeps. “Great! Follow me!”
The bot flew off at a slow pace, and Twilight followed it up the metallic staircase and deeper into the museum, past artifacts that felt more familiar than anything else in the world.
“The Cheerilee Museum of Equestrian History is built over the location of the Ponyville Schoolhouse, which was first dated a historic site before it was destroyed by the Consuming Darkness about two thousand years ago,” Starlight explained. “The Museum was constructed adjacent of the defunct schoolhouse, but after its destruction the government allowed the museum to be expanded over the former grounds.”
Twilight took in the information, eyes scanning the paintings and pictures hanging from the walls as they passed.
“Since its founding, the Museum has played host to several noticeable exhibits over the course of its existence: for example Luna collaborated to create an interactive experience on the dream realm following its collapse during the reign of Silent Wind,” Starlight continued.
They came to a stop outside of a lavishly decorated hallway portal. Six large banners hung to the sides of the entrance, each one depicting a cutie mark of one of her friends. The phrase “The Age of Friendship: Equestria’s Golden Age” was etched in bold lettering in between.
Twilight stood in awe of the entrance, staring up at the words. Memories began to swirl in her mind as if blown by the wind, echoes of voices in the chambers of her mind.
Starlight waited patiently until Twilight summoned the courage to move again. The tiny robot guided her through the entry, where she found herself in a pitch black hall.
“Honesty.” A disembodied voice spoke the word, and on Twilight’s left a hologram projected an image of a crystalized apple onto the wall.
“Loyalty.” Another symbol appeared, this of a lightning bolt, joining the apple on the left wall.
“Generosity, kindness, laughter.” A diamond, butterfly, and balloon appeared on the walls, with the diamond on the left and the others on the right.
“And finally, magic.”
The final symbol appeared on the right wall, one of a six-pointed star.
“These are the Elements of Harmony. Over the years they have had many bearers, but this was not always the case.” The symbols faded away, leaving Twilight in the darkness as the narration continued. “Thousands and thousands of years ago, Equestria entered the Age of Friendship, a movement which produced some of the greatest heroes our world has ever seen.”
The hallway was then flooded with bright light, as a chorus of voices began playing over the speakers. Yet the exposure wasn’t harsh: instead, it was soft. Comforting, in a strange sort of way.
The walls began changing from solid color into black and white images, and Twilight began hearing words and lines from the voices.
“Ain’t no work like hard work, Sugarcube. But it’ll all be worth it in the end.”
“Try to keep up with me, then we’ll talk.”
“Darling, you should never measure yourself by someone else’s standards.”
“Oh, if you ever need help, my cottage is always open.”
“Let’s celebrate! And after that, we’ll celebrate again! Because you’re that special!”
“Never underestimate the power of friendship. If you ever need a friend, I’ll always be with you.”
Twilight didn’t remember saying that, but it was undeniably her voice. But more importantly, it was the voice of her friends.
She watched as the images came to life, gradually gaining color and depth. She watched as Applejack bucked a tree and Fluttershy knelt by a river, and as Rainbow led a flight formation through the air and Rarity presented her latest design. Pinkie Pie seized a turntable, silently commandeering some unseen party. Finally, she saw herself, talking with a tiny dragon who scribbled a note on her back.
“My… my friends,” she whispered. She reached a wall out to touch them, but her hoof passed through the hologram.
All too soon, the symphony of voices faded away, and the characters projected assembled. Twilight watched as they engaged in a group hug and froze, as the lights began to turn back on and the narration resumed.
“Join us, and discover the story of the six ponies who set the course for Equestrian history, and began what some argue was a golden era. Welcome to the Age of Friendship.”
Soon, Twilight was standing alone in an empty hallway again. But the feeling instilled from the short cinematic had not gone away. She felt something churning in her gut like a bomb ready to explode, and it pushed hard against her chest and heart.
“Right this way,” Starlight gently suggested.
“Yes, of course,” Twilight replied, speaking through the lump in her throat. “Lead the way.”
The tiny robot flew down the hall, keeping its pace with Twilight’s movement. They passed through the second set of doors and emerged in a large, circular room, with the words ‘The Element of Honesty’ projected onto the ceiling above.
Immediately, Twilight’s eyes were drawn to a display case in the center of the room, illuminated from below by a spotlight.
“Applejack, the first Element of Honesty, was a member of the famous Apple Family,” Starlight said. “Even today, descendents of the family still occupy various positions in Equestria. One might even be your neighbor!”
Twilight didn’t pay attention to any of this. She stopped in front of the case, which held a single object: a tattered and patched brown stetson hat. It floated serenely in the case, suspended in thin air as if it were floating in water. The lump in Twilight’s throat grew larger as she tried to speak. “Is this… was this one of hers?”
“This hat was donated to the museum by descendents of the Apple family,” Starlight replied. “The family verifies that it was indeed one of hers.”
Twilight pressed her hoof against the glass, staring at the hat. Her imagination filled in the rest, adding the ears and face and neck of her old friend.
Slowly, she turned to view the rest of the room. Plaques and display cases had been carefully spaced out, and another holographic projector offered a lifesize replica of Applejack in mid-buck. Slideshows of colored photographs also played along the far walls, each one lingering before it transformed into another.
As she began to walk, memories of conversations and interactions from thousands of years ago began to return. She recalled visiting Applejack on the farm and the two holding a conversation while she worked, bucking each and every tree with confidence and precision.
“A loyal and dependable friend to all, it is said that Applejack never told a lie,” Starlight said. “Yet her dedication and resilience never seemed to waver, as she continued to provide for her family, her farm, and her friends.”
Twilight paused in front of a display case: one that held a lasso and a series of rusted tools. “She really was a dependable friend,” Twilight answered. She found herself missing the natural, imperfect apples that Applejack would always offer. Especially when every apple now was doused in chemicals and magic spells and looked so perfect it was unnatural.
She sighed as she finished her rounds of the room, finding none of the artifacts familiar or enticing to her. “Starlight? I think I’m ready to move on.”
“Of course.” Starlight led the way down the hall into the next room. Twilight paused before leaving, turning to examine the room one more time. The animated recording of Applejack winked at the camera. Twilight smiled and left the room.
The next room was the color of the sky, which made perfect sense.
“Always a restless soul but nonetheless loyal to her friends, Rainbow Dash was the perfect embodiment of the Element of Loyalty,” Starlight said as they entered the room.
Rainbow’s room featured her cutie mark painted on a massive scale on the floor. The ceiling above was clouded with simulated clouds, reminding Twilight of the original Cloudsdale before its anchoring.
The holograph sat in the middle of the room, depicting an animated Rainbow in flight. She’d occasionally look to her right and put on another burst of speed, in a desperate race against an unseen opponent.
Rainbow’s display cases were filled with medals and trophies, along with certificates and documents and autographed photos of the speedster. It would have been enough to fuel her ego for millions of years.
“Rainbow Dash not only made history as an Element of Harmony, but she became a legend amongst competitive fliers as well. Rainbow was named the youngest captain of the Wonderbolts, surpassing her mentor Spitfire Maverick and holding the record until two thousand years ago with the promotion of Cerulean Ascension.”
Twilight took all this information in with a wistful sigh, scanning the endless shelves of memorabilia. “I wonder what Rainbow would think of the Wonderbolts today.”
“An excellent question, as in Rainbow Dash’s time the Wonderbolts were composed solely of natural-born, unassisted fliers. Today, the Wonderbolts are divided into several categories, including unassisted pegasi, machine-assisted pegasi, and mechanical flight teams. An interesting note is that the signature Sonic Rainboom created by Rainbow is now a staple of Wonderbolt shows, typically performed by aircraft or a machine-assisted pegasus.”
That stirred something in Twilight. It made her angry that something so unique and special to Rainbow could now be done by any pony with the help of a machine, just like how Applejack’s homegrown apples had become faceless and mass-produced.
Were they getting phased out? Like how Twilight was? Were they all nothing more than toys, to be discarded after the world got tired of them?
Twilight shook off the thought with a shudder, finding some solace in Rainbow’s hologram.
She thought back to a late-night conversation she had with Rainbow, when she was seeking advice on a political matter. Rainbow, in her typical headstrong manner, had advised her to take a stand and double down, and to never yield on something she believed in.
“If you’re ready, we can move to the next room,” Starlight suggested.
Twilight nodded, and the two followed the carpeted path into the next encounter. The hologram’s eyes almost seemed to follow them out of the room.
The third room was lavish, but fittingly so.
“Never one to stay hidden in the background, Rarity was certain to make a splash in every room she entered. But beyond that, she was always able to lend a hoof to whoever would need it: a trait that made her perfect for the Element of Generosity,” Starlight reported.
Rarity’s room was designed like a runway: several replica dresses were positioned on poniequeins, protected by a thin magical barrier. Blueprints and notes from Rarity herself were laminated and locked in display cases, along with strips of fabric and stray pieces of accessories.
Next to the hologram, floating in another secure container, was a dress that looked incredibly familiar to Twilight. “Is that an original?”
“This dress is indeed crafted from Rarity herself, and is one of the museum’s most prized pieces,” confirmed Starlight. “It was donated to the Canterlot Archive who transferred it to us, and originally included a tiara as well, however that is kept in our vault for safekeeping. This dress was actually worn by Rarity during--”
“The Grand Galloping Gala,” Twilight finished, glancing up at the intricate fabric. “I remember. She spent hours just cleaning it after that disaster of a night…”
And as she remembered that one night, she began to remember others as well. All those nights spent drinking tea and conversing with her friend had kept her sane over the years, and she would always look forward to her visits to Canterlot.
Twilight turned away from the original to look at the replicas. They were certainly Rarity’s designs, but they were miles different from anything Rarity had made herself.
The plaque mounted next to them stated that each replica dress was created from designs and sketches Rarity herself left behind, crafted with synthetic materials to resemble what would have been available at the time in articulate and precise machines.
They were copies, Twilight decided. Copies of something long gone.
She turned around to gaze at the holographic Rarity, with a pair of red reading glasses perched on her muzzle, expression deep in thought.
“I think I’m ready,” she said.
Starlight clicked and whirred in response, and the two left the holographic Rarity to her work.
“Although soft-spoken, Fluttershy actually holds an incredibly extensive repertoire. Not only was she the Element of Kindness, but her accolades also include being the first Warden of the Everfree Forest, animal rescue specialist, and senior environmental advisor for Twilight Sparkle’s administration.”
Fluttershy’s room was quiet, decorated with a mix of fake trees and live plants. Hidden speakers played animal sounds to further immerse Twilight in the scene, and an indoor waterfield in the corner of the room completed the look.
“Her individual accomplishments should not be scoffed either: her reformation of Discord for example is one of the most notable reformations in history, on par with the Changeling reformation, the redemption of Lonesome Moon, and the return of the late Queen Chrysalis,” Starlight reported.
The hologram of Fluttershy didn’t seem to notice their entrance. She sat by a makeshift river, surrounded by rabbits and raccoons all vying for her attention.
Unlike the other rooms however, this one held considerably less display cases.
“You may notice this room is a bit barren in regards to artifacts,” Starlight explained. “That is because most of Fluttershy’s legacy was tangible in other ways. Her work in animal care is further documented and explained in our sister museum, the Museum of Natural History, and in the Everfree National Park’s museum.”
Twilight nodded, leaning against the railing which seperated her from the running water. Fluttershy giggled as a bird perched itself on her shoulder. “Starlight, do you know what happened to Fluttershy’s cottage?”
Starlight clicked and whirred, summoning the information from her database. “Fluttershy’s cottage was destroyed during the Everfree Fires. A replica was built in its location and is used by the National Park Service as an animal care center and field research site.”
Twilight sighed at that, eyes falling on a plaque mentioning Discord’s reformation. She hadn’t seen much of the Lord of Chaos recently, but he was most certainly still around to terrorize the current Element Bearers. From what she had heard though, he was noticeably colder to the Element of Kindness.
She recalled a tea party with both Fluttershy and Discord present, and how she had enjoyed being able to relax and unplug from the hectic life of a politician. Fluttershy was always there to lend her ear and her heart, even to the most undesirable of ponies. Twilight had made a constant effort to hold herself to the same level of patience and understanding Fluttershy did, but even after thousands of years Fluttershy still outperformed her.
Fluttershy giggled again, and Twilight pulled away. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst, but she swallowed hard and swore to persevere. “Let’s… let’s go to the last room, please.”
Starlight complied, and they left the serene forest scene behind.
“This next room may be hard on the eyes. If you have an underlying medical condition I would advise you to skip this room or apply your shielding devices should you have them available,” Starlight warned before the next door opened.
“I’m fine,” Twilight remarked, clearing her throat before speaking.
“Okay! Then let’s meet the Element of Laughter!”
The doors swung open, and Twilight was met with a triumphant blast of confetti. Her eyes were similarly assaulted by a very pink room, complete with balloons and party decorations hanging from the ceiling. Energetic music pumped out of the speakers, giving the entire room a vibrant feel.
It did nothing to help with the lead in Twilight’s chest.
In the middle of the room, rotating on a pedestal, was a sleek and recognizable bright blue party cannon. Twilight approached it, a painful nostalgia swirling in her head. As she put her hoof on the barrel, Twilight suddenly found herself face-to-face with a pair of eyes.
“Gah!”
Twilight recoiled, her horn sparking with energy, before the form in the cannon poked its pink poofy mane out of the barrel to wave at her.
“Pinkie Pie, the legendary party planner of Ponyville, was perhaps the best fit for the role of Element of Laughter. A mare also known for her longevity and spontaneous behavior, Pinkie Pie made the world a better place just by being in it.”
The holographic Pinkie hopped out of the cannon and trotted around to the rear, fiddling with the fuse and adjusting its course.
Twilight gasped for her, her heartbeat still racing. She scrambled to her hooves, suddenly feeling quite dizzy. As she leaned against the wall, Twilight looked up to see a large photograph of her friends and herself, gathered around a large table with a birthday cake in the middle.
She felt like throwing up.
“Are you alright?” Starlight asked. “Should I summon medical services?”
“I’m fine.” Twilight’s voice sounded echoey, as if she were submerged in water. “I just… I need a minute.”
Starlight floated by her side. “Shall we continue to the next exhibit on Twilight Sparkle?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Twilight said hurriedly. With that, she turned and stumbled out of the room. Her stomach churned as she retraced her steps, the holograms of her old friends staring as she passed.
Twilight bit down hard on her lips, tears blurring her vision as she stumbled through the main hall as unearthed memories wracked through her mind.
She remembered Spike’s first birthday in Ponyville, and the Grand Galloping Galas, and Rarity visiting Manehattan, and Rainbow’s acceptance to the Wonderbolts and Pinkie’s visit to the Yaks and Applejack overworking herself and Fluttershy’s short career as a model. She remembered Starlight and Trixie and Luster and SunburtsandShiningArmorandtheCakesandZecoraandherparentsand--
Twilight stumbled down the steps and from her mouth tumbled a forlorn and despairing scream.
As she fell to the ground the bomb inside of her went off, and Twilight Sparkle’s heart exploded.
She didn’t know how long she lay on the grass before she snapped out of her haze.
Twilight was laying in a grassy field just behind the museum, overlooking the Starlight Glimmer University of Friendship and Old Town Ponyville. The sun was just setting overhead, with the silhouettes of pegasi and vehicles dotting the air in the distance.
Few clouds hung overhead, white and puffy and natural. They drifted by aimlessly, paying little attention to the alicorn far below them.
Twilight was exhausted. Her eyes were still red and her throat raw from crying. Apparently she had caused a disturbance with her breakdown, but everyone had left her alone now. Alone with nothing but her thoughts and fractured memories to keep her company.
She let out a sigh, but it held no mirth. Twilight looked up at the sky and had an idea. She barely had the strength to move her hooves, but a pale white sphere formed around her horn. It glided up into the air above her, and when it made contact with a cloud, it began to whirl faster and faster.
Soon, it had divided several chunks of clouds into segments and began shaping them.
Twilight smiled a bit wider, guiding the ball with her last reserves of brain power.
After a few minutes, the clouds became faces. From the shapeless forms Twilight carved her friends. She made Applejack complete with her stetson and Rainbow with a mischievous grin. Next to them she crafted Fluttershy, hiding behind her mane, then Rarity with a needle in her magic and Pinkie Pie mid-cheer.
When they were done she seized more clouds and continued her work, even as her eyes began to droop. She crafted Spike taking a note, then Starlight flying a kite and Trixie performing a spell. Each face brought a dozen more, and soon Twilight was creating dozens of faces from her past.
Lyra. Minuette. Moondancer. Bon Bon. Apple Bloom. Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo. Cheerilee. Starswirl and the Pillars. Her parents and her brother. The list went on and on until Twilight’s chin fell, and the ball of magic dissipated without any further instruction.
And that was how Celestia found her: leaning against a tree and fast asleep, with faces of her friends keeping vigil above her.
Surrounded by the memories of their names.
Nostalgic, but not broken. Tired, but not alone.
And above her, the skies carried on forever.
