Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

“You snore, sister.”

A toe prodded me gently in the side.

“Twi…?” I sat up, dazed with sleep. In spite of the lateness of the year I had slept soundly, naked on the grass. Something more subtil than any blanket had kept me warm. “Twilight?”

The distant square of sky shew grey with predawn and framed the figure standing over me. My eyes focused and I saw a tall woman, not Twilight. She was as naked as I, here in this holy space, and smiled down at me past dark, heavy, breasts.

“I don’t need to ask you if your supplication was heard.” There was a hint of rich laughter in her voice.

I touched my face, felt dried saliva, glanced over my body and saw leaves of grass, smears of dirt, some blood where my elbow had scraped white granite, more grass on my thighs.

“Not the physical signs.” Now her eyes were closed and I sensed that she communed with the holiness surrounding us through the touch of her bare feet on grass. “Even a raw novice would have felt the song and storm in nature last night. Not many feel the touch of the sacred so literally.”

She put her hand out and I took it; she pulled me easily to my feet. Standing a good fifteen centimeters taller than me, she inclined her head down to kiss me. I reach up to place my hands on her sides to steady myself as I raised my lips to meet her greeting.

“I am Isha, priestess of the shrine of Aphrodite. Well met, sister,” she said.

Those eyes. I looked up into them like I was falling. They were so dark and warm, full of life. For a moment I almost staggered, only my hold on her strength, the warmth of her pressing on my wrists, held me upright.

“W- well met. My name’s Tanna. Did you guard me long?”

“I stood by your side, Tanna, only to be near one who has felt the great mother’s touch. You had some small trouble with the wildlife?” she gestured towards a tangle of limbs where I had flicked the intruders. They hadn’t been a touch of nightmare.

“Ugh, that was real? I barely noticed them.” I thought of the unpleasant task of dealing with the bodies. “Do you… need help with the mess?”

“Let them rot as warning to their kind. It is not good that the scum dared trespass. Come, I left water and a cloth by your clothes.”

“Thank you.” I coughed. “Oog, I think I swallowed a bug.”

“The sacred grove is not for mundane picnics but a light snack to sustain you for the ritual is not frowned upon.” She spoke seriously but I sensed her humor. Everypony has to be a joker I reflected as I walked out of the sacred space.

I was glad to clean up a little. As I scrubbed with the wet cloth, Isha put her hand on my wrist. Long fingers held gently and turned my arm to expose the inside surface. She ran the fingers of her other hand over the scars and wounds exposed there. The scaring reached almost to my armpit and the back of her hand brushed my nipple as she felt the old, and new, wounds. She looked at my other arm which I had instinctively clamped to my side. I bit my lip and turned the arm so she could see the inner surface. One of the wounds had been infected and still was ugly, though healing. After examining with careful touch, she looked me in the eye.

“Some of these were deep. I see suture marks – do you have good access to medical care?”

“I have access to information. I do the stitching myself. Fewer questions. Am I… do these make me unworthy to be here?”

Too ashamed to hold her gaze any longer, I looked away and noticed the scars peeking around the curve of her arm a little below her armpit. Exploring them, I saw that they were cleanly healed and not fresh.

“I see. It’s a grim road, sister Isha. Turn back if you can.”

“I don’t walk that road. I did this to help me understand those who are so compelled. Can I counsel one I cannot comprehend?”

The notion of someone cutting themselves to try to understand was novel. Judgment I had experienced plenty, and condemnation. But never such a frank curiosity.

“Really? Did you learn anything?”

“I did. The pain was intense and from that I learned that I must respect the mental pain that drives sufferers to seek such dire comforts. Let me tend to your wound, the one that is still inflamed.”

Her fingers traveled along the lingering gash and the heat and pain faded away under her cool touch.

“Do not,” she said, “take this healing as license to risk worse injuries.”

“You aren’t going to tell me to stop entirely? Or cast me out for having done it in the first place?”

“How can I cast you out after Great Gaia has come to Aphrodite’s shrine to bless you. And how can I tell you to stop, without knowing why you do a thing. Did. I think you will find yourself changed. You have turned a corner this night and the sun rises on a new day.”

“Day? Shit! The sitterbot, she’ll take it apart! I’ve got to go!”

“Speed then, sister, but panic not.”

I finished an abbreviated wipe-down and started to don my clothes.

“Tartaus! All natural handspun cotton my hoof!” My top had come apart along the seams. I held up the detached fabric fragments as tiny wisps of disintegrated threads blew away. “They used synthetic thread to sew together their organic cloth.”

“Take my blouse. It will be much loose at the bosom, but at least you’ll be covered. I keep a robe here for watch on unexpectedly cold nights, and will wear it when I venture forth.”

“When can I return your clothes?”

“Take watch with me on the night of the next new moon. You are ready to endure the shadows of the Dark Night. Usually a neophyte studies for years before entering the grove alone; you would benefit from knowledge to compliment your strength. I will stand with you and teach.”

“Is it often dangerous? Standing watch?” I make a point of not looking at the fallen hoodlums.

“Rarely. And to you, indeed not at all. You just killed two men with only a thought last night.” That wasn’t my power, I protested silently, something else was flowing through me. “Anything that can defeat you now will not be much slowed by a domicile door, or your arcology’s security.”

“Do you always talk like that?” I paused for one more second before dashing away to find out if the childcare robot was broken. “All formal and priestess-ly?”

“Nah.” Her eyes sparkled with humor as she shook her head. “Just part of the gig.”