Bronze Skin, Winged Heart
A pencil scribbles across paper, its furious loops and swirls never quite as perfect as its owner intended. Her handwriting had always been more functional than decorative, but even in the dingy grey light filtering through the shuttered window shades she can tell her lettering has deteriorated. An 'r' shouldn't be indistinguishable from an 'o' after all, and that particular error is littered across the page. If that was the only issue she'd gladly take it, but the neat lines on her sheet are strewn with mistake after mistake after mistake. It wasn't a screenplay in potentia; it was a calligraphic war crime.
The wordless scream of rage that pierces throughout the young woman's home would be a familiar one if she had any neighbours. Instead, it echoes into the rural undergrowth surrounding the charming, woodsy cottage, what few creatures remained having acclimatised themselves to the homeowner's unusual tantrums, all so frequently on display.
Inside, however, the charm is absent.
Frustration, rotting food, and body odour swirl into a torrid perfume, a stink that's etched its scent into the few modest furnishings within her living room. It'll take some effort to remove, she's aware of this. At that very moment she doesn't just 'not care', she's taken a Neighponese bullet train all the way to 'most insignificant thing beneath my notice' and is considering a ticket purchase to pastures yet further.
Juniper Blush is feeling many things right now. None of them are particularly good, as evidenced by the mass grave of snapped pencils surrounding the nineteen-year-old and slowly filling her ratty sofa. She's had a tartarus of a time lately and would like a break, just one, just a teensy, tiny, little break. Instead, the Goddess throws a smirk in her direction, as a precariously stacked pile of half-eaten, three-day-old take out, decides right now is the perfect time to fall and cover her increasingly full coffee table in a greasy tsunami of crimson-coated noodles.
Oh, and destroy her manuscript.
No biggie.
It's one pm and this could be the third scream of the day, but, with a throat red raw and the familiar numb feeling twisting in her heart, she merely suspends the now-transparent sheets between thumb and forefinger. They're an oily, dripping, window to the world around her and all its imperfections. Electronics now long silent, with an almost accusatory glare coming from their darkened screens, the aforementioned coffee table-slash-writing desk, now a fatty swimming pool for ten different cups of coffee in various stages of consumption. Even herself... and dear goddess what a mess she was. Her skin was almost as bad as the paper in hand, the cheap pyjamas she wore resembled a Smoky Stain piece from his 'drip technique' days, and the less said about the lank waves falling about her neck the better.
She was desperate to leave but knew she couldn't. It just wasn't possible. Yet that didn't stop her overactive imagination from a half dozen merciless taunts. Oh, to feel the unfiltered sun (what little there was) on her skin! To walk into a corporate hub of smiling human automatons and buy a new (working) laptop! Even to interact with people! Something the teen acknowledged she... kinda sucked at.
Self-reflection screeched to an excruciating halt when a lance of pain strikes Juniper cleanly through her temple. This one was a gasper, the mess of paper, graphite, and cooking fat falling into a disgusting (and no doubt impossible to remove) mess on her carpet as she gripped at the afflicted chunk of her skull. She knew it wouldn't help, if anything squeezing would only make the agony worse; but a small, foolish part of her hoped that somehow, this would ease her suffering.
It was torturous, yet after an eternity of red-hot pokers being run around the inside of her head like a particularly vicious cowbell, the torment began to fade from behind her eyes. It was snail-like and ponderous; each breath a shuddering, choking, labour unto itself, but end it did. Her only recourse had been to curl up on the soft familiar haven that was her sofa right now, begging whatever deity up there (whether horse shaped or otherwise) for speedy salvation.
The meds certainly wouldn’t, they'd barely taken the edge off. Rather like dousing a flaming chainsaw, the result still left a vicious weapon that shredded chunks out of you. What didn't help the situation either was that she'd run out two days ago, desperately subsiding on the remaining few shots of expired Advil the previous tenants had left.
“F-F-Fuck,” croaked Juniper, slowly easing her body out of the tight ball it had transformed into, already savaged throat now exceedingly dry. “T-That...that was the worst one yet.”
Sloth-like dynamism took the forefront as she rose, waddling unsteadily towards the kitchen. Each step ached legs that had barely moved for hours, the blood running through them having more similarities to maple syrup than a viscous liquid right this second. Chafing was involved as well, certain parts of her were making it abundantly clear that she couldn't ignore the basic upkeep that came with being human version one point one. A bath was out of the question, total non-starter. The shower held some possibilities, but she'd been putting it off as long as humanly possible. Wet wipes? Those would be an ideal form of cleansing right this moment, but she'd run out before... well before all this had started. Stores refused to deliver to the edge of Canterlot frustratingly, unlike the fast food places which said a lot about society in Juniper's eyes.
Unluckily for her, every delivery guy had forgotten to drop the customary two packets of hand wipes in as well. Even something as simple as that would have been welcomed with open arms. Instead, she was sore, in pain, staring at a pile of dirty dishes that threatened to vote soon if she didn't wash them, and seconds away from drinking straight from the tap for the second time today.
Staring at the filth-encrusted pile before her, a voice seemed to reverberate in the empty, pokey kitchen. It was startling to the girl, mostly because it was her voice.
“Just call them, you loser.”
At the start of this ordeal, she'd have tossed the intrusive thought away, paid it little heed infact. She was gutsy, resourceful, and certainly able to handle herself. Now?
With shaking limbs Juniper retrieved her battered Neighkia from the empty cutlery drawer it had been hidden in at the start of this ordeal. An ancient relic from her youth, the thing hadn't exploded into a shower of glass and melted plastic like her smartphone. Instead, its battery merely shrunk every time she looked at it. With only a quarter of a power bar left she'd held off using the weighty plastic brick, save for the quickest of glances to check the time and lightning-fast meal orders.
Now though…
Her fingers danced across the chunky buttons, each clicking audibly as she pressed down. It was nostalgic, but also irritating; speed was necessary right now, not cutesy noises. With a hope and a prayer the 'send' button was firmly tapped, tinny ringing from the speaker tauntingly dangling the possibility of salvation. The longer it rang, the lower her spirits sank. Had the number she typed been correct? Would there even be enough power for a second attempt if she'd gotten it wrong?
Mercifully, the teen would never have to answer that question.
“Twilight? Hi, it's Juniper, Juniper Montage. Yes, Yes, I know I don't call often... or at all really. I need your help, badly. Something's happened, something weird. I don't know how much time I've got before my phone dies but this is-it's really important ok?” She bit her lip as the phone beeped in her ear, each chirpy noise announcing its last few dregs of power-sapping away, “Life or death important. No, I'm not exaggerating. Just get over to my place as soon as you can, ok ?”
As she awaited a response the device decided then and there was a particularly useful time to give up the ghost, its death-rattle an uncomfortably cheery tune before the screen dimmed, her cheap phone transforming into little more than a decoration.
“Well,” she muttered, pushing down one last scream and running a quick handful of rapidly cooling tap water over her face, “It's now or never I guess.”
Working with the firm belief that Twilight Sparkle would arrive anytime soon (and ignoring the familiar, charming, voice in the back of her mind calmly explaining to her no she wouldn't) Juniper began the arduous process of bringing her home back to some level of 'liveable'.
It wasn't a stellar job, with numerous bulging trash bags haphazardly placed in her kitchen, but it was done. Even the ruined script (( Light of our Stars, edit twenty-three)) had been extracted from its new home, an indelible carpet stain carefully hidden with the application of a tactical potted plant. Her coffee table hadn't survived the cleansing process however, its cheap wood having soaked up all that grease and brightly coloured sauce like a sponge.
Hopefully, the birds would like their new temporary resting spot.
Next came herself, a matter she'd been reluctant to think about as she scrubbed at plastic and swept across the dull, brown, carpet. With zero idea of her possible saviours timetable it had felt necessary to rush, another factor that brought her minimal housekeeping skills on prominent display. Now, standing in her cramped bathroom the prospect of a shower held Juniper in pause, seconds ticking by. Part of Juniper just didn't care any more, let Twilight suffer the awkward indignity of her filth! Maybe then she'd understand a fraction of how far her life had fallen.
Rationality won out in the end; she needed all the help available and stubbornly refusing to join in even the basics of what her Uncle called 'the social contract' wouldn't get her anywhere.
Peeling her clothes off, she stepped into the tub, eyes tightly screwed shut.
This was going to suck.
Once more settled on her now-presentable sofa, Juniper (damp and occasionally shivering) relaxed as best she could. Opting for a small boost of self-confidence she'd decided to wear something a bit more upmarket than her usual day-to-day mini skirt and jacket combo. A quick rummage had found the designer dress she'd worn to a few of Uncle's lower budget premieres. She wore jeans underneath as a simple practicality. Bare legs in a cold home after a freezing shower? That was just asking for pneumonia. Similarly, she'd abandoned her signature twin tails, lacking both the time and willpower to go through every motion necessary.
Now she just had to play the waiting game.
Without her Neighkia, time moved simultaneously too fast and too slow for the girl though. While barely visible through her (still shuttered) windows, what little sky she could see was blanketed in a thick layer of grey. It was utterly impossible to get a sense of anything beyond 'afternoon'; those same clouds seemingly mocking her from their home on high.
Adrift in a kind of chronal quagmire, imagined seconds flew by. Was Twilight late? Or had she called the girl mere minutes ago? It was all so...muddy now. A sense of unease, fresh and biting, slowly sank over Juniper. She wanted this resolved as soon as possible, but that meant relying on someone else. Someone not called 'Juniper Montage' or 'Uncle Zoom'. Her treacherous mind briefly floated the names' Mr and Mr's Montage', the twisted grey meat in her head always intent on stabbing deep with a smile on its face. Today the blade bounced, real life took precedence over faceless shadows in her past. This was more important than emotional self-harm.
Breathing slowly, nimble fingers tugged and teased at the thick black scarf held tightly in her hands, its soft woollen fibres bringing some small measure of comfort. It had been a last-minute flash of inspiration, but one that she took a tiny jot of pride in. She couldn't have the incident happen again.
Time ticked away, creeping despair eroding her self-resolve one drip at a time. What was the point? Could her friend (“Of a friend” the charming voice from earlier added snidely) even help? If she was being brutally honest she'd rather have someone else here, someone she knew she could trust, someone li-
The knocks ring out with a machine gun staccato. Tense, neat, yet insistent.
“Juniper! Juniper are you ok? It's me Twilight Sparkle!”
There's an edge to the girl's voice that paradoxically elates and infuriates Juniper. A keening, crawling, worry that she knows is fake. It has to be. Stuffing those feelings down (and ignoring her shaking hands) the world goes black, smooth fabric now pressing earnestly against closed eyes. A few heartbeats later and the scarf is tied tightly, so tight she can feel it rubbing mercilessly against her ears. Inevitable, but necessary pain.
One deep breath and she's ready.
“The door’s unlocked, come in!”
Blind to the world, Juniper revelled in her senses. Fiction would have her believe they magnified in the darkness, but that was a lie. Nevertheless, she can almost feel them expanding, fanciful delusion or otherwise. The silken feel of her dress, the intricate sound of a lock opening, even the powerful vanilla scent of the soap she'd furiously scrubbed with. Each is a welcome distraction from harsh reality.
The telltale sound of mary janes on faux-wood floor tiles sends her heart racing. A thousand panicked thoughts jumble about, insistent that this was/wasn't a good idea/bad idea and she definitely wasn't/was going to screw this up/succeed. Each breath is a pant now and it's only getting harder to breathe
A creak in what she assumes is her living room doors direction heralds the muffled sound of shoes hitting cheap carpet, before a familiar voice (inquisitive yet hesitant) says in her usual crisp tones, “Are you- why are you in the dark?”
As soon as Juniper hears the light switch click she realises her mistake.
The woollen scarf still blocks Twilight, it does a marvellous job of that surprisingly. She (and a good chunk of everything around her) is still perfectly obscured. The artificial light, however, bleeds through every crack and crevice like a particularly insistent rodent desperate for food, her eyeballs being the lump of cheese in this case.
First, her fingers twitch, it's an involuntary spasm but one she's grown unhappily accustomed to. The next stage was when things got...weird. Working on film sets had been a core part of her life, and while her Uncle may have thought of her as 'a good girl' there were times when things were offered to 'pretty young ladies' like herself. Powders. Pills. Drinks. Indulging once or twice had been an experience, something she'd rather not revisit. The light hit her like every snorted powder or swallowed pill. Pure euphoria. It came with a curious energising effect, the feeling wouldn't last but it certainly made itself visible, her pale olive skin flushing heavily.
“T-Turn it off,” she mumbles, before repeating herself, this time louder “Turn it off!”
The light ceases, and with it comes some blessed relief. It's not as if the sensations are bad, but rather the opposite. They're too good. A high that just keeps rolling, not pleasure-per-se, but an overwhelming feeling of 'just right' that gets stronger by the second.
Twilight's laugh is nervous, musical, and reeking of awkward guilt. She apologises, but Juniper doesn't notice, too focused on the come-down, grim reality setting in. Every ache and pain in her body flares, the nagging feeling she needed to shave her legs looms large and concerns over bills become elephantine in her mind.
“I...uh, I came as quickly as I could,” Twilight's voice announces, somewhere to Juniper's left, the pattering of the younger girl's shoes starting to become indistinct as she moves back and forth. “I'd have been here sooner, but I needed my brother's help in loading all the portable equipment.” She clicks her tongue, “While I don't think we'll be needing the defibrillator, this rush has shown me I need to prepare these kinds of things more oft-”
“Enough....please,” Juniper interrupts, the second part an afterthought, half-remembered but hastily thrown in. She doesn't mean to, but there's a testiness in her tone.
Another awkward laugh and the heavy thump-click of something hitting the floor follows. She's curious but afraid to ask, knowing her words aren't right, that she's not right. It's just that this feeling of vulnerability is discomforting and alien. The pain doesn't help.
“So...what's your problem exactly Juniper?” Twilight asks, her voice earnest as she takes a seat. To Junipers right now, if the shifting of weight (both subtle and unsubtle) on her cushion was accurate she'd oddly scooched as far into the armrest as was humanly possible. “I'm guessing from the blindfold and the reaction to the light it's some kind of ocular hypersensitivity? There's a few genetic indicators for that I've been working on, and even a cure I'm in the...uh...'testing' phases of.”
Nails on a chalkboard would have been welcome, so awkward was the resulting silence.
Internalising her sigh, Juniper rationalised that as weird as the girl was, it wasn't important, Twilight was here now and that's all that mattered. If what little time they'd spent together indicated anything, then she surely would have some idea about what was happening to her
“It's...kind of a long story.”
It was.
An hour (according to Twilight's reassuring voice) had passed by the time she'd finished recounting the events of her last three days. Emotional exhaustion weighed heavily on Juniper's chest, as did a feeling of numbness, akin to being hollowed out. Spider-like, the thought crept into the back of her skull. It was simple really; a slow, logical argument for more light. Just a second or two, only to feel that wonderful feeling again, just for a momen-
“So,” Twilight began, snapping Juniper from the temptations crawling in her conscious, “Just for my clarification, since correct data management is the hallmark of every well-solved problem, you woke up three days ago with no symptoms save for your...eyes?”
She nodded, the scarf shifting slightly. It had loosened itself slowly throughout her story frustratingly, with each attempt at re-tying it only being a temporary measure at best. That wasn't the only thing annoying her, however. Twilight's detachment, so utterly clinical, was grating. Did the girl not listen? Did she not understand how this was affecting her life?
“OK, good. So you said your eyes were like silver. No pupil, no sclera, no iris, just...pure silver,” she hummed quietly, “This may not be the best time, but I'm honestly quite interested in the mechanics of how your vision works. Without the-” Twilight paused, seemingly catching herself in the middle of a serious faux pas. “ I apologise, my curiosity gets the better of me.”
“No, but please go on,” the older teen snapped back, a touch of venom in her irritated voice.
“Thanks.”
Blood slowly boiling, Juniper can almost see the girl's oblivious smile. There's a new temptation now eating away at her, to tear away the scarf. Let this nitwit really see why she's been hiding in fear of the outside world. It's a savage idea, cruel and malicious. She'll never do it she tells herself, but it's a darkly satisfying idea. Hubris deserves its rewards.
“Your first reaction is to take a selfie, just to ensure it's not some kind of oddity relating to the mirror or any possible eye damage. Except, upon looking at your Orange U-Phone it, um, exploded?” she trails off for a second, unsure.
“Yes,” Juniper sighed, absent-mindedly picking at a small hole in the sofa cushion she was sitting on, “The whole thing just overheated somehow, like one of those messages in 'Objective Unachievable'. ”
“The spy movies?”
There's a quiet click and it only just hits Juniper that Twilight has been writing all this down, odd rustles and scratchings she'd ignored having clearly been pen and paper. She knows it's necessary, but it still makes her feel like a lab rat, little more than an experiment for a girl who had already admitted to tearing at the fabric of the universe for even more knowledge. “I mean, it started as a better TV series,” she snarked, deflecting one set of bitter thoughts for another, this time about long irrelevant arguments on casting forums, “but yes the spy movies.”
“Huh, interesting” the scribbles resumed. “After your phone exploded you then felt the first of these... let's call them surges? Intense bouts of ecstasy, increased energy levels, even hypo-mania?”
Juniper wasn't quite sure what 'hypo-mania' was but felt it a good idea just to nod and move on. “Then the lights-” a sudden jostling motion shook her as she felt Twilight rise without warning.
“Yes, the lights,” heavy pacing echoed around the room, “You turned them on and began to notice the surges. The one your phone caused barely lasted long enough to register, beyond an odd cheeriness at the destruction of a two-hundred-note smartphone." A metallic click cut through a brief moment of silence from the CHS student. “It's still slow going, you feel unusual but aren't quite sure. You reach for the remote to turn on the television only to find both unresponsive, but still fried.” She pauses once more, the rattling of glass on metal the new interlude.
Something about the latest noise discomforts Juniper. She's barely moved since sitting down, but an itching in her feet demands the girl to rise. It's not fight-or-flight, but it certainly feels on the same wavelength. Without her sight it's a less appealing prospect, so she sucks up her misgivings, from what little she knew about Twilight she'd never harm anyone...intentionally that is.
“OK, sorry about that. Just setting up more equipment,” comes Twilight from the darkness, her voice sugary. None of this is an inconvenience to her, none of it. Not the frenzied call, the hassle of loading up heavy-sounding equipment, driving to the edge of Canterlot, even listening to a weird girl she barely knew tell her an insane story while wearing a blindfold.
It stirs an emerald snake in the pit of Juniper's sense of self, something that once eyed Chestnut Magnifico and the Rainbooms themselves with lidded eyes and bared fangs. Now its attention was on Twilight personally. The girl was lively, and pretty in a geeky sory of way. She was smart as well, right? That's why she'd called her. Sunset was out of town for the weekend and Starlight…
Starlight was never here.
“This theme continues with every other bit of modern technology you encounter,” Juniper half-heard, her mind playing back to those few days she'd actually felt accepted. Not inadequate, or lonely, or some nepotistic hanger-on. Actually accepted by the odd girl with closed fists and tales of a magical world, who laughed at her jokes and made a real honest-to-goddess connection.
“Older technology doesn't react so violently, but your presence drains its power. Even escalating to light or heated water. You make an educated guess it's related to the transformation in your eyes, including some basic tests regarding open-shut involving warm water,” More noise, more clicking. Metal? Glass? Plastic? It all melded together in the end.
“Withdrawal from these external stimuli, electricity, heat, light in large enough quantities bring on increasingly worse cases of cephalalgia, or headaches to use layman's terms,” the droning voice continued, ignorant of its subject lost in her own thoughts. Sunset was Starlight's friend, and through that, the two had clicked. It wasn't quite the same, but she liked her spontaneity and attitude. When that girl wanted something, she got it, which Juniper could appreciate. Admittedly Sunset had apparently zombified a whole school, but hey, no one was perfect.
“And in reaction to people-”
“They die,” Juniper simply stated, jumping back to reality with those last few words, jaw firmly set.
The hand that held her own wasn't Starlight's, smooth and fresh from a new body unused to the world, or Sunset's, rough with chipped nails thanks to endless hours of motorcycle rides and repair work. No, this was soft yet firm, with the barest hint of moisturiser leaving its familiar greasy touch. She should have felt something, inside herself that is. Yet it did nothing. Twilight wasn't the same.
“Juniper, he didn't die,” the girl's warm, minty breath intones, “You heard the mailman get up again, he just...just...” she searches for a few moments before falling silent.
He'd died. She knew it. She felt it. That it hadn't stuck was a miracle. Swift Bill wasn't charming, not by any measure. He was rude, abrasive and often late. Yet watching the old man collapse, eyes bulging as he gripped his chest tightly, should have been a horror show. Except it wasn't. That’s what would be chiselled into her memory, she'd practically killed a man and all that preoccupied her was the buzzing in her brain, dopamine rushing like a freight train around a system greedily eating what it could from another human being.
And it was Twilight's fault, a dawning realisation told her. Her, Sunset and all those other girls. The Rainbooms. They'd done this to her. She'd be a shut-in forever, never seeing another human face for the rest of her life. How could she live? Find love? Create her Opus? Twilight may not have fired the gun, but she'd certainly loaded the bullet that killed her. If they'd just let her alone, let her chase Chestnut out of the role, then she'd never be near any magic, mirror or otherwise.
“Don't touch me,” she finally snarled, swatting the younger girl's hand away, heart hardening by the second. “I don't like it!” She couldn't see Twilight, but hoped the message was clear.
“I-I'm sorry,” Twilight said, the little tremor in her voice giving Juniper a deep sense of satisfaction, “I just...we, the girls that is, we're...I just, I don't know you very well.” she finished, petering out.
Displaying as much aggressive posturing as possible was rather difficult when you couldn't see who you were talking to, but the few acting lessons she'd managed to take helped tremendously. Her body was taut and regal, a stone wall against any feeble attempts to curry favour.
“No, You don't.”
It was true. Starlight knew her, Sunset knew her. The rest of the Rainbooms? They made cursory attempts, but it was all so clear and obvious. She wasn't their friend. She was a burden. Someone they had to put up with because of her actual friends. Yes, she left the group chat. After no one responded to her messages, and yes she refused to do meet-ups, because, unlike the girls, she had to work for a living. Even with a house-slash-former-set gifted to her by a frustrated caretaker she still needed to feed herself, unable to rely on goodwill and loving parents.
The presence of Twilight departed slowly, each step slower than the last. If the sound implies anything she's gone back to a...crate? Maybe it was some kind of box, with those snaps from earlier being clips unlocked.
“Have there been any unusual changes in your life lately?” she asks in between the sound of more clasps being opened and the rustle of plastic, “Something we could pinpoint this change to?”
It takes Juniper a second to realise her hands were reaching for the knot, her impromptu blindfold already loose again. Just one tug and-
“Are you okay, Juniper?”
“No,” she spat, carefully sitting on her hands. “As for 'unusual changes' how about being transformed into an eight-foot tall, super strong, delusional monster thanks to magic brought to this world by some girl who couldn't get over herself? Is that unusual enough?”
The poisonous words were sharp and focused, unlike her tantrums of the past. Those were silly cries at the world, frustrations at not getting her own way. This was striking back at someone who'd stolen her life. If only she knew more about Twilight. Some way to really get under her skin, to make the girl hurt.
As Juniper pondered how to cause pain, she felt Twilight approach... only to step back moments later, a stinging sensation blooming suddenly on the older teen's bare forearm.
“D-did you just scratch me!?” she asked Twilight incredulously, probing the area with her fingers and feeling a small dot of wetness. A cursory, hesitant, taste revealed the liquid to be blood... and now the scratch made sense. “You took my blood!? What the fuck! Ask a girl before you leech her, you crazy-”
Any further curses were cut off by a light breeze filling the still (overly febreezied) air of the living room, a buzzing, whirring sound of glass and metal almost immediately following.
“Sorry about that!” The CHS student yelled over the increasing noise, “I needed a sample for the centrifuge, I have a hunch about all this though, don't worry!”
She did more than worry. It had been a full fifteen minutes of the outburst, and that left plenty of time for panic to set in. What would her blood show? Wasn't it enough that she could kill at a glance? That despite her snap at Twilight it was she, not her, that was a leech, gorging herself on all manner of energy. Would the mistakes of two months ago end her life before she'd even truly lived it?
Twilight had tried to make herself useful during this lull. A half-drunk cup of tea was cooling in Juniper's hands as the girl's magic (identifiable by the odd vacuum effect on sound it made) levitated near-bursting trash bags through her house. Despite all this supernatural power, it still couldn't contain the smell, her nose twitching as the disgusting procession made its way out an open front door and to the bag's new home. Specifically, three overly large cans waiting in an untended garden, clanging as they received their long overdue fill. She'd also claimed to have organised her book and DVD shelves, something Juniper would need to see to believe. Her collection was eclectic, leaning more towards a mixture of franchise material, technical guides to media and Daring Do, yet even within that there were incongruities. Odd one off's, different sizes, even a few clear rip-offs chosen more for amusement than anything else. She'd tried finding order in that chaos long ago and had given it up.
A shrill beep sent a shiver up her spine. Was this it? Had the machine finished?
“Spark-”
“Coming! Coming!” Twilight announced, her heavy footfalls telling the still-blind girl she was running, eager even.
Eager.
A bitter taste filled Juniper's mouth, and it wasn't the tea.
“OK, so I rigged the centrifuge up to my lab's computer at home,” Twilight said through a mouthful of something, “It's all satellite connected, well bouncing off of satellites to be correct. I can't afford one...yet! Anyway, the point is that the data is quick, accurate and safe. No Wi-Fi hijacking here, I can assure you.”
It was hard to look at someone like an idiot through a blindfold, but she did her best.
“Why are you-oh! Yes, I haven't said what the data is for,” the faint sound of palm flesh hitting something told Juniper that Twilight was a fan of the dope slap. “It's pretty simple actually, I'm comparing your genetic material against mine. Well, mine, the girls and Gloriosa Daisy. I don't expect you to know-”
“Gloriosa Daisy? Sure I know her,” she savours the moment, tapping her foot in amusement. “My Uncle does like Camp Everfree remember? I haven't been in years, but he used to send me there when the shoots were too long for on-site babysitting.”
The next words out of Twilights mouth make Juniper wish she had enough cruelty in her heart to rip the scarf off.
“What about your parents?”
It would be easy. Just look at her. Stare at the girl as every shred of energy; electrical, thermal, biochemical, all of it seeps out of her. That perky little know-it-all would hit the floor, gasping as her nervous system flickered and died like a city hit by a power outage. A heartbeat getting softer and softer, each flutter closer to its last until the inevitable. Her rural backyard would do the rest of the work. She'd even heard wolves had been reintroduced recently.
“I don't want to talk about them.”
It would be easy. It also wouldn't be right. Even with some skewed ideas of 'right and wrong' she wasn't a murderer.
“Oh,” was all Twilight said, her voice suggesting she picked up far more than Juniper had put down in mere words. “I apologise.” Taking a deep breath she continued, “Moving on then. I'm comparing our genetic material in hopes of finding some commonalities. We've all been exposed to magic. Some more than others, and while I don't have a copy of your DNA before any exposure, I hope to see a pattern emerge.”
DNA? She put down the (now cold) cup of tea as her mind was assaulted by visions of wild-haired madmen in labs, elbow-length rubber gloves slicked in gore as shambolic monsters crawled out of pods. Definitely not a bunch of teenage girls with sparkly powers from pony land. Still, DNA was a big deal. Even a light tweak could save or condemn someone to a horrible death. She didn't need a horror movie to tell her that, she saw it every day on the news.
“Aha!” shouted Twilight, a loud digital 'ping' informing all and sundry that some information had been received by her phone, “The results are in!”
With the drunken tea already threatening to return, she steeled herself. She was angry, furious in fact, but the fear had been taking centre stage as soon as the centrifuge began. This wasn't just a problem with her talking to other people, having a bad attitude, or any other 'friendship of magic' crap or whatever they called it. No, this was life or death. For all Juniper knew she had a few months before dissolving into a pile of goo. Or dying in a rigid, terrified, rictus, like the Similiclones from Swordchaser.
“W-What do the results say?”
The familiar swish-swish of a finger sliding across touchscreen gives Juniper pause, as does Twilight's little 'hmms' and 'huhs'. Each more nerve-wracking than the last. Seconds later the sofa briefly relents to the other girls' weight, her press gentle this time.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” The younger girl says matter of factly.
“Bad news.” It's no contest. Suffer the pain, then enjoy the gain.
“Your DNA-” she sighs, her next words not easy to say, “ - It shows high levels of mutation Juniper, similar to mine and the girls. It's not easy to see without knowing what to look for, but it has clearly changed. All of us have been changed. Magic's like radiation that way, when you... when you bathe in it like we have it takes a cost. The girls took repeated, smaller dips. Us, we--" Twilight swallowed. "Well. Um. You know." There's a sense of shame in her final words.
Sunset had told her about Midnight Sparkle once. A force unlike anything the former unicorn had seen in either world. 'Like the Princess but wrong' she'd emphasised again and again. Midnight hadn't merely been an expression of a troubled girl's Id, she was something essential, but inverted. Like gravity, if it had gained a penchant for mass genocide.
“What does that mean though?”
She felt Twilight's hand grip her own, its tightness a preamble for the sinking sensation that had circled this whole affair.
“I... I can't cure this Juniper, no one can. It's not a magical corruption like Vignette or Wallflower. The girls can't just blast you with harmony and make this go away. This is a part of you now, like my Telekinesis or Applejacks superhuman strength-”
It might have been her 'friends' tone, the three days of unrelenting anxiety and pain, or even some long-simmering resentment, but something inside Juniper Montage broke.
“Bullshit!” the older girl growled, “ How am I like you? You get fucking superpowers after trying to eat the universe for a pop quiz. I use a mirror for less than three hours, and now my life's over? I want a second opinion.” She stood, legs once again treacherous. “From an actual friend!” Juniper added, attempting to give a sting to her final words as she marched off.
Whatever air of dignity the girl had evaporated the moment she fell to a crumbling heap, her blind eyes missing the mess of wires Twilight had previously set up while preparing the centrifuge. The fall hadn't hurt, not really, but she lay there, letting her new reality flood over whatever she'd imagined a normal life could have been. Angry tears soaked through her soon-to-be-permanent blindfold.
“You! I fuh-" and she was stumbling over words, feeling too big to fit inside simple sentences, but she had to let them out and "fuh- Fucking hate you! Twilight Sparkle!” She wailed, face heating up as an emotional wellspring burst forth, “You and every one of the Rainbooms. You've ruined my life! You made my Uncle hate me! You turned me into a FREAK!” She groped aimlessly for a second, searching for something, anything to throw, needing a more physical outlet for her rage. Finding nothing, she settled for punching the ground, the pain blossoming in her fists ignored as a pent up bottle of black emotion was released.
“You couldn't settle for me being just a worthless loser you pitied, could you? No, a menial nine-to-five job with zero prospects wasn't good enough, turning me into a monster was your only option!” She lashed out, both with words and limbs, connecting with something heavy and metallic, shattering glass soon following, a prelude to her continuing rant. “Not only that but my only real friend? Yeah, she's a fucking alien and-and-and she doesn't even see me any more! Do you understand? Even if she ever returned I could never see my only friend's face again and it's all your-”
It was warm.
That was one detail which would always stick with Juniper. When you heard about telekinesis you didn't expect any sensations bar movement, but the warmth that washed over her was surprisingly pleasant. Even if she found her body (and mouth) unresponsive.
“Juniper Montage!” the invisible Twilight barked, pausing for a moment to control her rapidly escalating breathing.
“I want you to know," she said, panting, "that I'm holding you with my powers for your own good, not because--"
Another pause.
She continued, her voice now stilted and restrained. "This isn't about petty revenge. Your words may hurt, but I'm a big enough--" she huffed. "I won't let you hurt yourself.”
Air pressure shifted, and the older girl found herself levitated upright, a dizzying sensation assaulting her inner ear from the sheer speed of her transition. Mildly nauseous, she remained in the magical grip, now held aloft if the very lacking sensation of solid ground beneath her heels was real.
“ I can tell that you're scared. Which I understand, when my powers first developed I was terrified, but you need to understand something. One part of being a friend –and I am your friend Juniper, no matter what you think- is honesty. Everything you accused the girls and I for? That was your own fault Juniper. No one but yours.” Her tone hardened suddenly, “You were the one who decided to sabotage the Daring Do movie, you were the one who used a magical artefact with the barest understanding of its powers, you were the one who refused to take responsibility then and it seems now as well.” She sighed, “I want to help you Juniper, but it's not going to happen if you keep blaming others for your mistakes.”
It hurt, but Juniper had discovered long ago that the truth always did.
“You didn't even let me get to the good news,” Twilight said, dropping her hard tone in exasperation.
The momentary sound of crunching glass and feeling of fabric-on-fabric told Juniper Twilight was facing her, yet those same senses couldn't explain the girl's next actions though.
“What are you-NO!”
She was untying the blindfold.
The girl's dextrous fingers, that Juniper had personally seen repair a mess of wires once called a flat-screen TV in forty seconds flat, were picking at the poor knot she'd reinforced mere minutes ago. Adrenaline rocketed throughout her body as she struggled, or attempted to at least, to break the spell holding her limbs. Anything to stop the deadly vision from being unleashed.
“Please Twilight, don't make me do this, don't. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'M SORR-”
Blinding light assaulted Juniper's unguarded eyes, the unfamiliar brightness (even as weak as it was) stinging. A rapid-fire instinct was to slam her eyelids shut, desperately hoping such a minuscule movement would be overlooked by Twilight's telekinesis.
“Oh wow, they ARE silver...or more like a mirror actually?” A fuzzy purple shape cooed, the gentle touch of fingers slowly tracing around her eye sockets a terrifying sensation.
No. No it wouldn't.
An unusual stillness resonated within Juniper as the indistinct purple form came into focus. She knew with certainty that Twilight would die, her hands stained forever more with the girl's blood, yet she felt...fine. Accepting. It was an end to the mess she'd made of her own life, but one with a clear signpost. No more struggle, confusion, or misery. Just the assurance of her own death. She'd make sure of it.
It was the least she could do.
“I wonder if they refract light differently?” The younger girl said, so close now Juniper could make out the light dusting of acne on her cheek, poorly hidden with make-up. “Maybe the rods have enlarged...hmm...can you see any better in the dark at all?”
The twitch wasnt-couldn't come, not like this. So she waited. A noble part of her hoped to feel shame as the wave of pleasure hit, knowing it was fuelled by another's suffering. It was another lie, but at least it was one for a good reason.
“Sorry if I'm in your personal space by the way, but I just repaired the centrifuge last week and you wouldn't believe how hard it is to get the parts these days,” the girl prattled good-naturedly, seemingly fine despite taking up every inch of her vision.
It made no sense. There was nothing. The lightest of tinglings from ambient sunlight, yes. Yet no assault on her brain, no rush of wonderful, addictive, joy. Just...nothing. Twilight should have been curled into a ball of agony by now, choking out her last breath. Instead, she seemed utterly fine to Juniper. Well aside from the ears-
“Wait, ears? What the f-”
Cute and fuzzy were not words Juniper often associated with ears. In fact, she didn't think about ears at all really, when it came to people the focus tended to be on other parts of their anatomy. Faces mainly. Yet right this second she couldn't help but stare at the girl's large purple ears, their twitching vaguely reminiscent of horses, poking out of her fringe.
She'd blame the stress later, it had been an emotional day for her after all. No one would argue. They all agreed that it must have been an astoundingly difficult time, trying to brave it alone like that. Foolish? Yes. Friends were there to help each other, but certainly brave.
She definitely didn't pass out when Twilight grew wings.
Nope.
Parks weren't very high on Juniper's list of places to relax. It wasn't that she disliked nature, more that any park she even considered entering was always swamped. With dozens to hundreds of people swarming any one area with their idle chit-chat and meaningless ambling, it killed any possible joy. Her idea of relaxing was to escape the crowds, not join them.
Today was different.
She was sitting calmly on a wooden bench, a cool early breeze genially strolled through the hedges and flowerbeds, its intent to raise the goose flesh on her legs. Knee highs and a mini skirt were not the best of combinations for this time of day, but it seemed appropriate. She was closing a chapter of her life, perhaps it was the artist in her but some symmetry seemed fitting. She'd begun like this, she'd end like this.
The steady pounding of feet on concrete told her the joggers were out in force this morning. Something the teen could never understand. Surely getting into a sweaty mess was bad enough on its own, why add company to the mix? As if to congratulate her prophecy, a horde of the overweight and middle-aged tromped past, their leader a teal woman whose enthusiasm easily matched her blubber. She paused the faltering group for a moment, shouting praise and encouragement while jogging on the spot.
Juniper focused on the woman for a second, taking in every detail of her. Despite the jogger's size, there was a certain attractiveness in her face, handsome more than pretty. If her proselytising were to be taken seriously then she seemed to have something of an iron will. At five hundred pounds she'd made a decision, take control or die. Part of that was accepting herself and her problems, she couldn't blame anyone else. It was her depression, her overeating, and her weight. Control or die. Now look at her! Two hundred pounds and a regular skinny minnie.
Guilt spiked in Juniper as the woman hit the ground...only to dissolve as she slowly pushed herself upright. 'Just a trip, nothing more' she assuaged her crowd and a teenagers conscious.
“How are you finding them?” a familiar voice enquired behind her, cheer and eager curiosity blended in the way that only this girl could do.
“They itch,” Juniper replied bluntly, scratching carefully beneath her eyelid.
“Well,” Twilight said, joining her on the bench with a calm smile “I did consider other options than contact lenses, but considering the eye-to-lens ratio and what I could complete in a week, it was this or goggles.”
“Steampunk is on the rise...” muttered the older teen, once more scratching at her eyes. “What did you say these were made of again?”
The string of words she got in response both confused and frightened Juniper in equal measure. It was as if science and the arcane had decided on a drunken tryst, with the two discs covering her fragile lumps of eye jelly the resultant offspring.
Grunting in acknowledgement, she eased back into the stiff wood, marvelling at the sights around her. Better to live in ignorance and absorb the benefits of Twilight work. Had tree's even been this green before?
The rustle of plastic heralded her bench mates breakfast, a flaky pastry, meticulously and delicately nibbled by the younger girl.
“Hey, Twilight?”
The girl paused, lowering her food with the caution of one schooled in proper table manners and enforced by the strictness of private education. Juniper had been a Prepper, different social circles, but she'd roamed the halls of Cinch's tyrannical kingdom and knew how fierce they were over such minuscule things.
“Is the pony world really called Equestria?”
Despite how po-faced she'd been when asking, Juniper couldn't help but giggle. It was all so weird.
“Yes. I'd say it's unusual but our world is commonly referred to as 'dirt' if you think about it” Twilight answered, the infectious laughter slowly getting to her too.
A bird, small and brightly coloured, landed nearby, emboldened by the few crumbs of pastry that had floated away on the breeze despite the two behemoths laughing before it.
“It's just...weirdly unoriginal for a land of magical horses.” Juniper mused out loud. “You'd think they'd come up with something more fanatstical. Even my crappy script has better endonyms.”
One eyebrow was raised delicately, the younger girl staring in confusion while tearing shreds from her breakfast, absent-mindedly tossing them to the scavenging bird.
“What?”
“I thought your script was rather good. It's been a while since you posted anything in the group chat, but what I saw certainly impressed me.”
A shard of Juniper wanted to scoff, to think this was just another attempt a pacification. Keep the sad little loser in line with praise now she could do some damage.
It was ruthlessly purged.
That was the old Juniper. The paranoid mess with an ego so big she fell into delusion after delusion. Who lied like breathing. She wasn't-couldn't be that girl any more. She had to do better, be better. Which meant owning everything, both praise and punishment.
“I spoke to Uncle Zoom today,” she said, entirely unbidden.
Sipping from a small water bottle she'd somehow secreted on her person, Twilight nodded slowly. “How did that go?”
“He's...still mad at me.” Juniper grimaced, kicking at a small stone, “Not as much, but I can tell. Say's I'm 'a liability'. He understands why I did what I did. The mirror he's still unsure about, you girls might want to give him 'the magic' talk, but in between the questions I think he got it.” Her eyes traced the bird as it bobbed warily closer, intent on the few remaining crumbs surrounding the duo.
“ A guy his age, no wife, high-stress job. 'We all feel alone June-bug,' he told me 'But you've gotta make the effort to change that, nothing's real until you make it real,'” she whispered, feeling the awkward beginning of tears.
A tissue was rammed in her hands, the uneasily smiling Twilight holding several more. If it wasn't for the oncoming cry-fest she'd be more curious as to where the girl was hiding all her items. That dress certainly didn't have pockets.
“Don't want the battery to get wet huh?” She chuckled, dabbing at the hot salty rivulets running down her face.
“Battery was a slip of the tongue, technically your powers are more like-”
“I take energy, store it, and if you're a mutant like us you get turbocharged. Sounds like a battery to me,” she snuffled, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Twilight's fastidiousness.
The younger teen held her pout momentarily before relenting, a brief giggle rustling loose a few more crumbs for their small friend still hopping away. With little ceremony she reached beneath the bench they sat at, reappearing with a leather-bound book now in hand, a familiar symbol emblazoned on its crisp front.
“Invisible magic storage...bag of holding-thing? MAYBE. Probably.”
“After everything you said last week, well it made me think. You were right, the girls and I don't know you very well, and it can be hard to fit in with a new group. I know I found it intimidating at first. It felt like they weren't seeing me, just the shadow of the other Twilight-
“Other Twilight?”
“Pony world stuff. Anyway-” she said, rerouting the conversation, and tossing the last third of the pastry to the ground, ignorant of the imminent avian mob's descent, “I'm trying to say I know what it's like to be in your shoes. To feel surrounded by a group of strangers and have only a single connection. It's just yours, she, well she doesn't live here. So I asked Sunset, to ask pony me, to ask the Princess if a few strings could be pulled...magic wise that is."
The book was pressed into Juniper's hands reverentially, its cover feeling delightfully warm despite the chill in the air. Starlight Glimmers icon (or was it 'cutie mark' in their world?) etched into the leather gleamed with the daylight, each detail seemingly hand-painted with great care.
“It's a magic journal,” Twilight explained, filling the silence as Juniper slowly stroked the cover. “Sunset has a similar one. It lets her communicate with anyone..uh any-pony that is, in their world. At least if they have the corresponding journal. You just write in it and they respond. Multiversal texting I guess?” She shrugged at the complexities of interdimensional communication. “Give it a shot, you might be surprised at who's on the other side.”
Shakily she took the proffered pen, this time witnessing it being pulled from the girl's bun. Putting it to the first page of the thick volume, she began. This time it doesn't matter how poor her handwriting was, whether or not the loops were perfectly executed. All that mattered was the result.
'Hello? Is anyone there? It's Juniper Montage.' sat on the creamy sheets, dark blue ink alone amidst a sea of fresh paper.
She waited, tense as the world faded around her. It was just her, Juniper Montage, 19-year-old screw-up, newly discovered magical battery, and an otherworldly book now.
It vibrated.
The words materialised slowly, each fading in with a spark of gold. The letters were uniform and carefully cultivated, yet had a certain flair to them, just like their owner.
'Juniper! It’s me, Starlight Glimmer, I'm so glad this worked. I've been missing you desperately, but Equestria has just kept me so busy-'
She snapped the book shut.
Juniper wasn't much of a hugger, but that didn't stop her from squeezing the girl tightly. The surprise embrace caused her friend (of which she was sure now) to gasp, but Twilight settled in quick enough, slim arms wrapping around the taller girl. Precious warmth that had once been absent, that Juniper had desperately searched for, was there now in the hug, small but growing.
She'd do everything in her power to keep it alive.
Author's Note
Notes can be found here
