Anchor Foal II: Return Of The Cringe
Nopony Ever Asks How The Perfect Fulcrum Feels About It
Previous ChapterNext ChapterRainbow's been thinking about griffons a lot.
(One griffon.)
Over and over.
The thoughts are bad enough. Not being able to turn any of them into effective action is... pretty close to the same level of horror, but she's having some trouble pinning the level down as being consistently above or below. And the worst part (which never should even been in the race, but allow a surprise contender to weave their name into the entries on a card and just see how the whole bucking string starts to fray) is that none of her attempts to use words have been working.
Or maybe it's just that she can't find the ones which would do the job.
Which would... fix everything.
Make Gilda better.
Get her friend back.
Rewind time.
And not just for thirty stupid seconds where you can only watch and not truly do anything.
(Rainbow hasn't used her one shot at Twilight's version of the spell. Given her rather irritating (but unfortunately verified) total inability to actually affect events, she's been trying to figure out two things: exactly which thirty seconds of uninterrupted observational heroine study would be enough to help her bring back the lost pegasus technique of the shadowfount and given a rather finicky requirement for precise temporal aim, exactly when those particular thirty seconds took place. It's slow going. Also, Twilight keeps Rainbow's pin-down attempts as excuses to teach the weather coordinator the boring fundamentals of 'proper research' and as soon as Rainbow finishes unearthing the last dusty pieces of that one ancient prank from the Canterlot Archives, there's gonna be payback.)
Change the past. Truly change it, in the name of saving someone in the present. Someone who's... hurting.
And Rainbow can't do anything.
Not with actions.
And the words won't come.
'Ream'. That's a word you use when buying paper, to signify the total amount. It means you're getting five hundred sheets or, if you're Rainbow, five hundred little graves because Twilight said the writing process -- even for non-fiction, even with something as basic as a letter -- is about bringing your thoughts into the world. And to look at the abandoned remains of false starts which have been strewn, kicked, and spat all over Rainbow's barely-occupied bedroom is to witness the saliva-soggy graveyard for a lot of literary stillbirths.
There is a mare in Ponyville who's on the verge of producing a one-party paper shortage, and it's not Twilight. On multiple levels, this seems rather unfair.
'Ream'. If you're using it as a word to describe the original count of now-discarded sheets, it comes across as stupid -- especially because something about the sound seems to suggest a certain amount of violence. Accordingly, Rainbow feels it's a much better word for describing the actual act of trying to write. The process of ripping your own heart apart to see if the blood sprays can be diagrammed as a sentence.
...she hates this. Every foal has to learn how to talk: that's expected. And sure, it can take a few more years to get the right vocabulary together, or even to understand what you've been trying to work with: Sun knows Twilight still can't spot the fine usage differences between 'cool', 'radical', and 'awesome' more than one time in three. But once you have the words, they should just -- come.
And they won't. Not words which are good enough to heal, to fix, to -- make it all not have happened.
Rainbow shouldn't be surprised. They didn't show up the first time, either. And yet, here she is, losing hours and ink bottles and what's probably most of a small forest to... failing.
Over and over.
...well, that's a stunt, isn't it? You fail until you see exactly how each failure occurs. Record the issues. Correct for each. This means you've closed off all possible failure points. So now you do it one more time and once you've landed? You didn't fail.
Every Bearer has something in common with every other. Twilight and Rainbow are the scientists. The latter simply has some rather aggressive means of testing her theories.
...she could just ask Twilight for help. Editing. Moon's witnessed the librarian volunteering those services a few (dozen) times, because Rainbow apparently has a weapons-grade vocabulary and Twilight keeps saying she's just trying to keep ponies from getting hurt. And when it comes to stuff like making sure there's an accurate record of their adventures, Rainbow's willing to do that. Besides, according to the group agreement, none of it's going to be published until three hundred years after the last of them dies. By that point, Rainbow's pretty sure her advance request can get the Edited By cover credit to be any font size she likes.
But...
...this is about Gilda.
Twilight doesn't know Gilda.
(Did Rainbow really...?)
Twilight was certainly never Gilda's friend.
(Was Rainbow...?)
The sleek form, which is mostly in contact with the bed, shifts position again. Wings twitch, and the resulting wind guest relocates a few rejected drafts all over the house. Drafts riding drafts. There's probably some kind of workable image in there, but Rainbow can't use it.
It used to be so easy. She'd tell her father what she wanted her friend to read, he'd write it down, and then they'd go to the post office together to pick out the stamps. It took a lot of stamps to get words all the way to Protocera and it was crucial that Rainbow pick out the right ones. Nothing boring. It was important to make Equestria seem cool, especially when her own homeland was already working with a distinct deficit in the monster ranch department.
(Fleur was her friend now, and -- they'd talked about some stuff. Ranches didn't feel quite as cool any more.)
But she was trying to write for hours.
Couldn't sleep. Couldn't rest. Couldn't stop. All she could do was try to write, and she failed. Nothing she can trust. No sentences blazing from within -- no. Better. She doesn't need fire: she needs a more gentle heat. Words softly aglow with the warmth of caring and... the fading embers of what had once been a friendship. There had to be a little heat there left, if only from the warmth of old memories.
(Gilda had always been warm.)
Rainbow... hadn't had a lot of regular company, when she'd been growing up. There had been casual acquaintances, and ponies she liked to hang around with -- but most of the connections hadn't been too deep. How could they be? She was going to move away. Leave Cloudsdale, travel with the Wonderbolts. Going around the world with the squad and --
-- her best friend.
The one she's trying to save.
And the words won't come.
(Again.)
Maybe... they're a little like Rainbooms. She got that back because there was no other way to save Rarity's life, and -- everything just returned to her, in a single instant. It had taken weeks of post-stunt analysis before Rainbow had figured out the details of what she'd done, plus a couple of moons before she could manage to reproduce it more or less reliably -- but that didn't change the fact that when the designer had been plummeting to her death, with multiple Wonderbolts set to impact the split-second after the unicorn did and nothing else was left for Rainbow to try -- the Rainboom had been there. So maybe if Gilda was right there and Rainbow just tried to talk...
(They made out once. That means Rainbow is clearly justified in blaming herself for everything, because she's obviously just that sexy and anyone who went through the experience would be ruined for all other reeves, tiercels, and mares. Forever. Also, if it's her fault, then it's one less internal problem for Gilda to be dealing with and if she can just find the words to explain that...)
The wings twitch again. The tail flicks. Half of the discards are now heading for the bathroom. Others are migrating under the bed and whatever awaits them there is a fate Rainbow doesn't care to investigate. There's two purposes for the underside of a bed. You stick stuff there when you don't want to see it any more and if you're really lucky, something invisible moves in and treats all your debris as its snack. A roommate whose only purpose is to clean up after your mess is obviously the ideal, although she wouldn't mind if it also started doing some cooking. A mare does like to come home to a hot meal at the end of a long day, especially if she didn't have to prepare any of it.
Another wing twitch. The sleek form relocates itself to the right edge of the mattress. Left. Hovering over the sheets is tested for what turns out to be the hundredth (uncounted) time in the mare's life and once again, she reluctantly concludes that she won't be able to maintain altitude in her sleep.
Assuming sleep ever comes.
Loyalty does not deal well with bodily betrayal and seriously, what else would you call insomnia? Rainbow sees herself as a priestess of sleep and right now, she's clearly being punished for her lack of sins.
(...Gilda...)
She was trying to write for hours. To find the words. And maybe they'll come in the moment, but there's no guarantees of getting a moment. Plus words which might save a life don't do any good if you don't say them in time, she needs the words now and 'now' is stretching out to the point where she feels as if sh -- it might break...
...so many kinds of exhaustion. Emotional. Creative. Eventually, it all catches up. Her body mostly stills. The wind stops whipping around the bedroom. Magenta eyes gradually close. And her body passes the duty of betrayal to another party.
Fleur would understand. When something's been on your mind all day, the constant focus of your thoughts -- and a venue exists where full replay is possible, where you won't have any knowledge that you are but reliving what had already taken place and no change can ever occur...
There's a plummet which nopony can escape forever.
Rainbow drops into the nightscape.
Some kinds of pain await the day.
The truest torment of memory only returns under Moon.
It shouldn't be a sunny day.
The Rainbow of memory, who's just left a decidedly ill-fated party -- the main stage for what turned out to be a Cavalcade Of Pranks with a lead across who'd completely lost her sense of humor --
-- what had gone so wrong? The tiercel had never liked being shown up, because -- well, because Gilda -- but she'd always recognized when a prank war was in progress and usually just started planning how to get the other party back. Was it because Pinkie had been seen as the primary suspect? Gilda barely knew Pinkie --
-- Rainbow barely knew Pinkie.
And yet, when it had felt as if she was being asked to make a choice...
I thought I knew Gilda.
Why is it a sunny day? The pegasus, who's just barely above the street in a low, half-drifting sort of mostly-aimless hover, occasionally scraping a forehoof against cobblestone -- she knows the answer to that one, because she's responsible for enforcing it. The Sphere issued the weather schedule for this settled zone, and the schedule says it's supposed to be a sunny day. So that's what got set up.
Even when Rainbow feels like it should be raining right now.
Not even rain. One of those really annoying mists that's like having fog condensing in your feathers.
...or it could be night. It's getting pretty late in the afternoon, but having the world reflect the way Rainbow feels right now really requires Moon and in order to make the setting exactly right, Sun won't be able to come back in for a while.
Rainbow's not sure about the exact duration of absence. Basically, whatever it takes for all life to go extinct, minus all of the time before the first part actually dies.
That ought to do it.
...ponies who don't know anything real about her have been known to say Rainbow is selfish, and that's a lie. She doesn't want the entire world to end because she feels bad. She just feels it would be a sign of both cosmic understanding and empathy if the planet would just... play along for a while.
There aren't many ponies over (or on) the street today. Feels like it's just about her, actually.
Good. She doesn't want anypony to see her like this. She managed to keep her ears up and her tail held high until she was fully out of the -- party -- but...
...maybe it was the baker. Maybe the earth pony did something which Rainbow missed and once Gilda explains what it was, they'll both go back and it'll be just like their first real teamup back at flight camp, except that Rainbow originally had to walk the little tiercel through the first-time prankster's guide course and now that they've both got some experience, revenge on the baker is gonna be --
-- it wasn't Pinkie.
My friend.
She's my friend.
I just watched my friend leave.
Over somepony I barely know.
Except... it had felt like Gilda was the one whom Rainbow barely knew. Lashing out --
-- there's a planter pot in the road. That dangling left foreleg just went into it. Stung a little, but... it's not as if Rainbow's making any real speed. Just a nudge with a little extra force. She looks down...
...huh.
She... knows this terracotta menace, because she's come close to a few while deliberately skimming this fence on the way home and really, what kind of pony puts planter pots on top of fence posts as regular decoration? Also, how did it get this close to the center of the road? Rainbow knows from experience that if you come just a little too close to one, it's going to land more towards the base of the slats. This kind of distance would require somepony to take a swat --
-- another fence up ahead, still familiar: she's been drifting along the southeast access path for her own residence. She knows everything about that fence, including what it's like to just barely miss it. The anger-placed talon swipe gouges in the wood are new.
...Gilda?
This is a path which leads to Rainbow's house. And Rainbow knows something about her friend.
(Her -- friend.)
A griffon's body might potentially display any combination of great cat and hunting bird: this applies regardless of parentage, although some combinations are more prone to emerge from a given bloodline. But when it comes to how they respond to matters emotionally... it's mostly going to lean towards the cat. A griffon who's completely failed at something, doing so in a way where their link might be called into question... a few might pretend nothing had happened, and that never works. But others would stalk off. Taking a few swipes along the way, but -- find a place to calm down, reevaluate the situation. And, once they'd had their chance to reason everything out --
-- they would come back.
That's a possible answer, and it's the one which has hope surging through Rainbow's heart with a force which gets her wings to accelerate and finally gives her some actual clearance above the road. A subset is currently reminding the weather coordinator that she's the one who taught the tiercel to get back at people through pranks, the property damage she's already spotted more than suggests that Gilda was trying to work through some things while heading toward Rainbow's house and incidentally, all of the fountains are outside.
She picks up speed. Sights on the billows of her own residence, aims up --
-- a near-curl of brown and white is parked at the base of a fully-intact prismatic fountain. Golden eyes, weary and with a slight hint of moisture, look up.
And Rainbow's heart sings.
"Hey," says the too-tired voice of her oldest friend.
"Hey," Rainbow replies, because there's no need to improve on that level of eloquence.
"I didn't..."
The tiercel stops. The tail sways a little, and the tuft lightly brushes against the base of the fountain. The pegsaus watches and waits.
"I didn't -- want that to be how it ended," Gilda finally says. "Not with a fight in front of stupid ponies."
Rainbow blinks. Feels her mouth start to open, with no idea of what might emerge --
"Stupid ponies who don't even really know me," the Protoceran's exhaustion continues. "Who don't know us. That's the stupid part."
Her left foreleg comes up. Talons curl inwards, and knuckles rub at where a blindfold had been.
"...they don't know anything," the griffon decides. "Nothing real. No one does. It's the same thing everywhere. They know what they've told themselves to know. And if you ever try to tell them something different, even once..."
She stops again. The tail goes limp, and the tuft sags against vapor. Against, not into. A very few griffons are capable of basic molding -- but any member of that species can perch on a cloud.
It... makes things easier. Gilda can visit Rainbow. Truly visit. Most of the ponies in town just stand by the ground-based mailbox and yell up. They don't understand what it feels like to walk across vapor. Gilda does.
Gilda understands about dreams and determination and drive. The things they share.
Gilda's been Rainbow's friend for...
"You're not drunk, right?" It emerges as a tease, and that's normal. The sound of her own voice has just made Rainbow smile, because there's a chance, they have a chance...
The tiercel's little snort is fully familiar, right down to the odd bit of reverb which comes from being forced through the rigid gaps in the beak. "Not unless you played a prank which I missed. And didn't taste." A little more quickly, "Did you?"
Rainbow shakes her head. The griffon shrugs.
"Good," may be a little too casual.
"We're both old enough now," Rainbow points out. "Unlike last time." Because she's really hoping to get Gilda talking about old times -- but she was also sort of hoping for a yes back there. Being drunk would have been an understandable excuse. Something Rainbow could work with, explain to those she barely knows...
"Last thing I needed," Gilda states. "Alcohol can do weird things with dominari. It's why some reeves call it Liquid Courage. It's hard to ask someone if they're predator or prey when you're not sure where you stand any more. And you don't know how you'll react until you actually try it. No matter which end you're on..."
Another stop. And then those huge golden irises look up at Rainbow again.
"I didn't want it to end like that," her oldest friend plainly states. "So I was waiting for you."
"I wanted to see you," Rainbow immediately admits.
It gets her a tiny sigh. "Rainbow... can we talk? Where it's just you and me, and the stupid p -- world doesn't get in the way? Like we used to? Just -- talk it out?"
They're friends.
They've been friends for years. It's hardly their first fight.
(Rainbow's not entirely sure what this fight is even about.)
The last words don't have to be the last words.
She loves her friend.
She can't lose her.
"Yeah."
Rainbow lands.
They talk it out.
Or rather, Gilda is talking it out.
On a more exacting level, the griffon is mostly trying to talk Rainbow out of town.
A dreaming pegasus brings back all of it for full replay in the nightscape, changes none. But she can only bring back what was actually said and even then, Gilda was... twisting the subject. Or rather, keeping an endless spiral of topics rotating around a central core. Something meant to spin through Ponyville and uproot Rainbow's life.
It starts by going back to the beginning, and Rainbow hardly minds that. Talking about how they'd met. Memories invoke the sort of warmth which Sun can only approximate. But it quickly turns into a sort of review, and then a revue. Their mutual All-Time Greatest Hits. Remember all the fun we had together?
We should go do some more of that.
Away from here.
That's the theme. All of the dreams we had. Over and over: we. Regardless of whose dream it may have been originally, who talked the other into coming along, not so much following as a youthful commitment to a lifelong partnership -- there's nothing for Rainbow in this town, or so Gilda insists. The Wonderbolts are out there. So are the practical exam trials: Gilda has a schedule, and can show Rainbow every testing site where they can directly try for Academy acceptance over the next fifteen moons. And does.
The weather coordinator... wants to go. The Wonderbolts are an old dream. Arguably the oldest one she can remember. And this is her friend. They were supposed to do it all together...
....she... met some ponies, very recently. And 'met' is -- kind of on the technical side, because only the one is really new in town. She'd known of several before everything happened, the earth pony should really just be leaving out free samples for the weather team already, and one of them went all the way back to flight camp --
-- we can talk about flight camp some more! Remember that one counselor who took the picture --
-- this is... sort of important, Gilda. It was this year. First day of summer. Um. First night. Maybe you remember when Sun sort of didn't -- show up for a whole. Kinda of a big deal. Rainbow was going to write a letter about it, but she wasn't sure how much of it might be -- classified? Is that the word? The palace is sort of weird about that kind of thing. But this is really important, so maybe she can at least explain the basics. The thing is that there's these five other mares --
-- oh, says Gilda, and the darkness in the sudden tone drop doesn't fully register until it impacts the nightscape several years after the fact. Mares. So which one are you seeing? Is it the baker?
No! It's not like that! We did something -- look, just give me a minute, it's almost so awesome that I might have to make up some new words just to make it all fit right -- and... I've just had this weird feeling ever since. On and off. Like we might wind up doing some more things.
We did a lot of stuff, Gilda points out. You and me. The best stuff of our lives. And there's more things we wanted to do. Together. That's still ahead. Rainbow, how are you supposed to get in Wonderbolts shape when you're living here? If you came with me, we could just train full-time --
-- being a weather coordinator is paid training! I'm doing nearly all of the same things I'd do in the squad! I just -- stunt them up a little. Gilda... look, I haven't been in charge of the weather team for very long. I don't know if I've got the authority to bring in a new hire, and...
...and they wouldn't take a griffon?
It's the magic --
-- yeah. Right. It's also Equestria. Keep talking.
...I do know a lot of ponies around town. And I kinda met one who -- lives in the capital. Two. Look, I promise, this is an awesome story. I just have to figure out how to tell it. The point is that I'm pretty sure I could find you a job somewhere. You could live here! And then we'd train together whenever we got the chance, I could introduce you around to the others for real and we could sort of -- tell them about griffons in new places. Plus I just got this invitation to a really big party in a few moons and I bet if we just ask the right way, you could come with --
-- you... want me -- to live with you.
Same town, yeah! It'll be great! And we can totally sort out everything which happened back there! It's like explaining stuff to our parents, right? We were always okay if we went into together --
-- Rainbow? You usually don't stop talking like that. Half the challenge is getting you to shut up on cue --
-- Gilda?
Right here. Always right here.
...is everything okay with your folks? I mean, you had to tell them you were coming all this way, right? I know we're both adults, but going all the way to Equestria -- if they didn't know --
-- you care about my parents, and you care about me. Enough that you want me living here.
You're my friend --
-- do you love me?
There's nothing particularly unusual about the tiercel's tone. Normal words. A standard question. But for a split-second, the upper half of the griffon's expression displays an irreconcilable amount of utter, self-directed shock --
-- gone.
...we've been friends since we were kids. Of course I lov --
-- then come with me.
...I... can't. The last weather coordinator this place had before me -- you remember that, right? I don't know if I put enough stuff into that letter. Passing Shower -- he sort of...
...you just said you loved me.
I do --
-- then come with me. Live on the road with me. Ditch this place. What does it have which we can't give each other?
Gilda --
-- if you loved me, you'd come with me.
It gets worse from there.
She relives all of it, through the nightscape, and does so without knowing that it is but a replay. That nothing can change. But she is resurrecting a tornado -- or perhaps a hurricane. Forever spinning around a center which is never truly touched. So much was said or, in time, shouted -- but Gilda never contacted the core of it. And Rainbow, who didn't spot it the first time, is... watching her past self, without knowing she's doing so. The most she can contribute to what had once been are rippling echoes of timeslipped guilt.
But it's all right there, isn't it?
Come with me.
If you loved me...
If...
It starts as reminiscences and some degree of attempt at reconciliation.
It turns into a fight.
The last fight.
Perhaps the hurricane might be the more appropriate description. It doesn't take very long for the moisture to arrive. Hot, angry tears.
They've been yelling at each other for nearly an hour now. On and off. Most of the 'off' is Gilda.
She doesn't want them to fight. They've been friends for years. They love each other, right?
(Technically, there was a lot of talk about love that day. And on another level, there was none at all.)
And this fight is... bad. The worst one they've ever had. It's the sort of fight where you don't want to remember anything you said, just in case that word was the breaking one -- and then you carry every sentence with you for the rest of your life. Because sometimes you need a memory suitable for beating yourself to death and hey, that particular impact nearly took you out the first time.
So the tiercel has tried to change the subject several times or rather, put it back on the only thing she truly wants to discuss. Namely, that Rainbow needs to leave the settled zone. The stupid ponies are cramping her style. Gilda would know. She's seen how much Rainbow has changed, and the only way to get her friend back in every kind of shape is to take her away from the weakening influences. Once they're together again, truly together, so that nothing and no one and nopony can separate them, once they make it to the Wonderbolts together...
The Bearer of Loyalty, newly chosen, is -- trying to deal with it. Doing everything she can to balance it all off. Gilda won't let her talk long enough to explain what happened with the Nightmare and right now, that doesn't even feel important. What she wants to talk about is Gilda. What's going on there, if there was something at the party that she missed, she even tries to apologize for the pranks and that's hardly her usual style, but -- this is Gilda. If somepony else launched this flight path, then Rainbow has to get her friend out of it and then punish whoever set things up to go through the worst possible thermals. And if the tiercel is somehow just... spiraling...
...she's trying. Doing everything she can to figure out what's going on. But she's not the smartest mare, getting more information means asking questions and words aren't her skill, Gilda just keeps going back to the same subject and it's getting louder and louder as Sun begins to dip and Rainbow's heart sinks towards the cold ground.
She was chosen as Loyalty.
If anything is supposed to hold a newly-forged group of near-strangers together, it has to be loyalty --
If you loved me, you'd come with me.
-- and she's loyal to her nation, she feels like there's something necessary going on, but she's also loyal to her oldest friend and a pure dream and Rainbow feels like she's a hollow tube made of diamond with a thousand strings passing through the core, only they all enter and exit on different angles, pulling her in so many directions as the bob weight jerks up and down and the thing about diamond is that all you need is one flaw and one of those strings will start to slice inwards --
-- the fight gets louder.
Then it gets vicious.
Gilda is -- almost sobbing -- no, she is sobbing, the tiercel is crying and and none of the desperate heaves of soul-slicing pain touch the screams. It's time! It has to be now! Rainbow, if you ever cared about me, me instead of these stupid -- then we're leaving, we have to leave --
('We'. Over and over.)
-- you have to listen, this is important, I feel kind of like maybe all of us might be... Gilda, you can stay here, you can live with me for a while, I swear I'll find you something --
-- so that's the way you've got time for me? Splitting it with everyone else? I get what's left after you're done with your new 'friends'?
I'm doing everything I can to make sure we'll have some time --
(Up until this point, it was just a fight.)
(The worst fight of their lives, but -- they could have come back together. Rainbow knows it.)
(If it hadn't been for the next words...)
-- so if you had less friends, inquires the too-calm voice of a tiercel who has just found the place which lies directly underneath rage... less stupid ponies around, and you'd have more time for me? And if there were no ponies, nothing holding you back again, ever...
Rainbow's wings flare out. It takes her a moment to recognize they're in the challenge position.
Shut up.
Just making a point. Less demands on your time, more time.
(Then why had it felt so much like a threat?)
(Like something in the griffon had just -- flickered.)
Auratui --
-- the tiercel winces.
Gilda. It's Gilda. You always call me Gilda. The first one who did it, remember? My parents didn't think anypony at camp could pronounce --
-- stay away from them. Permanently.
Another flicker of emotion, and Rainbow almost misses it. It's just barely there long enough to register: the half-recoil produced by a near-fatal mix of rejection and pain --
-- but then golden eyes unscrunch. Pupils turn talon inspection into a full show.
...make me, says the griffon.
Rainbow isn't on her hooves in an instant. Her wings are already flared. Going directly to airborne saves a step.
You know I will.
The tiercel looks at her...
...there's something strange about that gaze. Evaluating, on the most fundamental level --
-- in the pony's opinion, the griffon has just made her first attempt to study a pegasus as potential prey. Rainbow isn't happy about it.
Then let's play for it, the griffon darkly states. Any old game. Maybe a camp one, if you still care enough to remember any of them. And before we start on that... let's work out what we're playing for. Or -- who.
It feels like the last time they've ever going to talk. Maybe the last time they should.
(This is her friend...)
It's a familiar sort of discussion, at least. They've made wagers before. Each knows the other's weak points, especially in terms of what they're willing to attempt something stupid for. (The griffon is particularly vulnerable to any stakes which include fresh shark.) But after all of these years, they both know how to close off loopholes. Setting the rules of the final game.
It winds up as -- tag.
This isn't exactly Rainbow's preference, but -- you have to give a little to get a little, and the contest had to take place at the intersection of a final mutual agreement. But with tag...
First to a given number of touches. That's normal. Gilda, however, managed to restrict the size of the contest area. And as much as Rainbow hates to say it, speed isn't everything. Positioning counts for a lot and if she gets her velocity too high, she's going to have major problems with turning radius and naturally, Gilda also put in some rules for leaving the competition zone.
Equestria has been at war with Protocera before. Nothing in the last couple of centuries, but... the faceoff of griffon versus pegasus is an old problem. Maneuverability counts for so much, and surprise can mean everything.
They know each other.
Each is almost fully familiar with what the other might bring to an engagement.
It's a hunt, isn't it? Because Gilda put in her own terms. That's part of any game. Loser has to give up something to the winner. So in a way, Rainbow is being hunted. Get caught three times and her Ponyville life ends.
They talk about all the terms. Every condition.
They discuss everything, except for every topic which isn't voiced. All of which are just as bad as the ones which were.
The unspoken syllables burn.
It's over.
The pegasus and the griffon are still outside the vapor home. Moon is in the remembered sky now, and the light carries no warmth. The Protoceran is close to the fountains, while the Equestrian is just about on top of her own door. Several body lengths lie between them.
It's a relatively scant distance. There are virtually no forces in the world which could make Rainbow cross it.
"That's it," she says. "We're done."
The griffon's head tilts slightly to the right.
"I wasn't expecting you to start breaking up clouds," she almost randomly comments.
"No temperature differential to help you hide," the pegasus says.
"That's just not something you do --"
She'd randomly remembered something the librarian had said about taking out enemy resources --
-- enemy...
"-- I did it," the pegasus says. "I won, within the rules. Admit it."
Slowly, the griffon nods.
"The victory was fair," the tiercel slowly recites. "Acknowledged, with all agreements honored. Your... your link above mine."
(Perhaps that was for the last time.)
And then, "Rainbow?"
The voice had almost been -- normal. Tone, added to posture and the little dip of the eagle head. But the pegasus is still angry over what was said before. Still...
...afraid?
(This was my friend.)
A little too sharply, "What?"
"I..." The tiercel takes a deep breath. "I... left something out. I -- just thought of --"
"-- no reneges, no renegotiation, no way --
"-- my parents," Gilda softly finishes. "Don't tell them. Let them... think we're still together. We both owe them that much."
(It will be years before the tiercel's exact wording begins to haunt her.)
"Okay," Rainbow tells her friend.
They stand under moon. Four eyes bleed reflections of silvery light.
You dropped on top of me for that second touch.
Weight over edge. You like to get the pin, even when you can't keep it for more than a second.
It almost looked like your talons were coming in first...
"Your promise," the pegasus half-demands. "Now. You swear."
"You," the griffon shoots back, "list."
"Huh?"
"I'm not supposed to go near the weaklings?" is openly spat, and the fresh moisture sinks into the cloud. "Then I need all of their names. One chance. Name all of them. Right now. And then we both swear."
The pegasus nods, and then begins the list.
There were... all sorts of attempts at distractions, during the match. (Even her nightscape prefers to skip over the actual competition, for there was no true joy in that victory.) At one point, the tiercel was almost laughing. Something about how the pegasus should have saved that move for the practical exam, because the Wonderbolts might have never seen that before. But it would never be completely fresh again...
The griffon tries to shift closer as the names are read. The pegasus makes sure she can get through the door or, if necessary, go directly over the preda --
-- there's a little bloodscent in the air. She's not sure whose it is. They were... both really pushing on that last tag. She was waiting for the griffon's magic. To -- find out what it was going to feel like. They've... well, they've never. It was always described as something you didn't do to... a friend.
She had to keep watching for golden eyes, and then she kept wondering how long she could go before she would have to look away, just before it became a question of what could happen while she couldn't make herself look...
...but it never went that far.
(Or maybe the gold just never got a good angle to use.)
She can still smell blood. Could be anyone's, really. After a while, just about all blood starts to smell the same. An old lesson from the ranch.
She could touch the griffon, who's always warm. But the pegasus is shaken. She's just at the bare start of raw-feeling new friendships, and that's hard enough. Ending an old one...
...she doesn't even know what happened, what went so horribly wrong...
They can't touch. No reminders of what's just been lost.
They both speak. The names are listed, one at a time. And they swear, the Protoceran way. For the pegasus, she's invoking things she doesn't fully believe in, and it doesn't matter because Loyalty -- she wants to think of herself that way right now, because 'Rainbow' is the name of a mare who just failed -- is making a promise. And will keep it.
The griffon does believe. Fully. She swears, and will keep her word.
(For the last time?)
The names parade forth, and the griffon has small reactions to a few. Frustrations about the sheer numbers, perhaps, or making an effort to file them away for later. But the anger builds as the connection frays.
The pegasus names everypony she can, and adds in one dragon.
But she can't name somepony she has yet to meet.
And it would be the wrong name anyway.
Next Chapter