My name is Trinity Bellucci, and my story begins on the day that I died. And you know what? I was happy that morning. After a couple decades on death row, I was ready to experience the sweet embrace of death.

I suppose now you expect me to go into some sob story of how “I was innocent” or “a victim of circumstance.” I know what I did. I enjoyed what I did. And I made a killing to boot- pun not intended.

You know, getting caught wasn't even my own fault. There was no spectacular car chase, no shootout with the cops. One day I woke up, made my morning coffee, and heard a knock at the door. Cops. They had a warrant for my arrest; I rolled my eyes and held my hands out. I know people. I won’t be in for long. I would get away scot free like I had on so many other occasions, celebrate with a whiskey debauch, and get back to work.

Well, fuck me I was wrong. Turns out there was a rat; bastard fucked us all over so he could skip town and live a life of luxury. So many of my partners and friends, either rotting in a jail cell or on death row limbo like I was. That fucker better hope we don’t meet back up in Hell.

I bet you’re still waiting on some grandstanding “Oh, I had such an awful childhood. Daddy beat me and Momma was a whore- That’s what made me into the woman I am today, it really wasn't my fault!”

Hah. Right. Yeah, my childhood was a fucking mess, but that doesn’t matter now. None of this matters.

Honestly, I was feeling better than I had in a looooong time. Of course, this is helped by the contents of my last meal- A bottle of Wild Turkey. God, how I missed the burn of that stuff pouring down my throat. I still can’t believe the warden actually allowed it, though I chalk that up to men being easy to manipulate.

You can do whatever horrible crimes you want, and all you gotta do is bat your eyelashes and show a little skin and they’ll empathize with the poor, sweet girl. Hell, I remember a few years ago hearing of a case where some woman murdered her kid and was only sentenced to a few years. Lucky bitch.

Anyways, on to the show!

After having drank half a bottle of liquor, I was pretty fuckin hammered when they lead me to the chair. Come to think of it, they might have started earlier than scheduled, since I was drunkenly scream-singing Shambala in my cell.

I stumbled into the room yelling “dead bitch walking here” on the way to my throne with a red faced, dopey smile and graciously plopped into my seat. I was giggling like a moron as the guards tightened the straps on my chair, thinking of my ingenious plan to seduce the Devil himself, knocking my knuckles against the wood to the beat of Shambala like a madwoman. I looked at the crowd of shocked and disgusted old cunts and couldn’t help but laugh my ass off.

“You all came here to watch me die. Why do ya’s look so glum?” The guards merely looked at me in disgust.

Warden spoke up.

“Trinity Bellucci, you have been condemned to die in the electric chair by a jury of your peers, sentenced by a judge held in good standing within the state of Florida. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?”

With a deep breath and a smirk, I spoke up in a definitely not sarcastic tone.

“With the lord as my shepherd, I’m sorry for all the bad shit I done and the people I’ve fucked over and… snrk hope they forgive me and I won’t do it again, that-that’s for sure…” and in that moment, I had a minute of brief lucidity appearing through my drunken haze. I looked to the woman standing next to the lever which would lead to my (apparently unultimate) demise.

“You there. Look at me.” My voice was stern and calm, devoid of my previous drunken joviality. The guards looked at each other before the leverwoman looked this way.

“We’re not so different, you and I. Today, you’re getting paid to murder someone. You’re snuffing out a human life, one of God’s children, if you believe he truly loves us all.” I smirked and took a breath.

“I have to ask. Do you find this line of work fulfilling? Do you get a sense of righteous justice for killing some prick who probably deserves it? Or is it just a paycheck for you? A simple means to sustain yourself as you blindly flop through this life until you’re granted passage into the next.” The crowd was looking amongst themselves and muttering, though the overall sense of resentment remained.

“Do you think God will forgive you? Or do you get the sense that whenever you pull that lever, you are God. Whatever plan He had for me, will be overwritten by your sense of justice. But the difference is, I’m ready to die. Will you be?” the woman looked down at her hands, maybe imagining the blood staining them. Slowly she opened her mouth to speak her mind, but the warden shook his head. She scowled at me, and I smirked.

I blinked, and the double vision returned. Softly, I began to sing. Wash away my troubles… wash away my pain… I’m on the road to Sham-ba-la… A guard came over and lowered a hood over my shaved head, strapping the electrode to my scalp. My world went dark under the mask. Wash away my sorrow… wash away my shame… with the rain in Sham-ba-la…

“Trinity Bellucci. Electricity will be passed through your body until you are dead in accordance with state law. May God have mercy on your soul.” Everyone is helpful… Everyone is kind… on the road to Sham-ba-la.

“Roll on two.” just as I took in a breath to belt out the chorus, I heard a clank and sucked in a deep gasp of air. For a split second, it felt no different from a static discharge shocking my scalp… then nothing.

So this is it. This is death. In the blackness, I couldn’t see a thing, although no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t wrench my eyes open. It felt like an utter void- both infinitely expansive and constricting.

But rather than feeling the bitter, biting cold, I felt… warm. In fact, uncomfortably so. It felt like a hot day in a swamp, the humidity clinging to my skin like tight spandex. I tried to worm my way around, and with great difficulty, I felt a draught of cool air against my scalp. I began to hear voices yelling, but I couldn’t make out any words.

Slowly, the void began to push me out of its warm embrace- but I was met with immediate regret. It’s so cold… I tried to worm my way back in to no avail. The hands of demons began to grip my skull, slowly tugging me into the frozen depths of Hell. And for the first time in my life, I felt regret for my actions. Is this what awaits me? An eternity in a frozen pit of Hell, tortured by demons with hard, calloused hands?

The voices grew louder, and with a wet schlick I was ripped away from my warm, comfortable void. The demon's hands felt rough and scaly. And for once in my life I was gripped with a pure, primal terror. I took in a deep gasp of air and shrieked- though my voice sounded quieter and weaker than I expected. I shivered terribly and tried to wrap myself up to preserve what little body heat I had when suddenly, I felt something… soft. As though a fuzzy cloth blanket had been wrapped around my body.

I suppose that within the cosmos, there is balm as well as bitterness. But soon, I was even more confused. I felt myself being held gently against a surface of what felt like soft, fluffy feathers. Just then, I heard the voice of a woman speaking.

“Look how tiny she is, Gramma…” Her voice sounded proud and a little choked up, but I barely paid them any mind as I sought to bury myself in the river of feathers, relishing the warmth and protection I felt among them.

“I can see that, darling. She looks quite healthy, to boot…” an ancient sounding woman said, and that gave me pause. I wouldn’t call the last couple decades of prison fare and the whiskey debauch I recently partook in healthy… but what makes one look healthy?

“Well, have you decided on a name yet?” the ancient woman spoke up, and the inquisitive part of my brain was shot into overdrive. Just what could she mean by this?

“Leona… I’ll call her Leona.” Just then, I began to slightly crane my head away from the pile of feathers and slowly opened my eyes for the first time. Everything seemed bright and blurry like an unfocused camera, but slowly everything began to click.

I was not being held by a demon from Hell. I was being held by… my mother. But at the same time, not my mother. She was an odd creature- an avian-like front half connected to a feline back half. Like a gryphon, depicted in medieval heraldry. My mind was racing with questions- and I didn’t even know where to start. I was utterly speechless.

All I could bring myself to do is laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Meanwhile, across the ocean in another part of the planet, extraordinary events were set into motion. Events which would lead to six friends discovering the magic of friendship and saving the world, time and time again. At the time, no one could have known what effects an airburst of pure, raw magic would bring; whether for better…

Or for worse.

One thing is for certain. The fate and course of this world has changed, ever so subtly, from the path intended by providence. Alliances will form and fall. Some who were meant to die would live, and some who were meant to live would perish.

And one who was never intended to survive lives and breathes.

Of course, the Sun Princess had no idea the depths of the problem. Standing out on her balcony, Celestia looked up at the moon and sighed.

"Only a few more winters, dear sister."

At the moment, I decided it best to hold my tongue and take in everything I could. I don’t know how they would react to a talking baby, and frankly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. Hell, I didn’t even try talking at this point.

The home I was born in was a quaint little cottage, somehow looking both medieval and modern in decor and style. It’s like when you go to an old ladies house and there’s a microwave next to the old woodburner stove- just very jarring. There was a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedrooms, as well as a cellar for storage-accessed from a hatch out back.

And the city we were in? Fucking MASSIVE! It was like the idyllic medieval city, with massive stone walls, cobblestone streets, thatch roof houses, that sort of shit. The city, called Featherworth, is a large walled circle with separate districts for markets, housing, factories, all with a large, towering castle in the center, with surrounding fields covered in fertile land for farming.

It’s an odd feeling, really. Realizing you’ve been born again in a literal sense. I admit- being breastfed is awkward as fuck, and I quickly found out my continence currently just… wasn’t there. But it’s just one of those things you try not to think about, like how people tend to shit themselves when they die. Yes, it’s natural, but hardly on the forefront of my mind.

I also found out I had wings, which could apparently function, and a tail. Not long after I was born, I noticed soft, black feathers sprouting all over my body, and I was finally able to see myself in a mirror.

Above the basin where they bathed me was a tall mirror. I pointed at it as Mamma lifted me out of the water. She set me on the bathroom floor, cooing at how adorable I was and asking who I was seeing.

Well, myself obviously. I know how a mirror works.

I had large eyes of pure gold, an upper half of black feathers and a light gray back half. In fact, I bore a striking resemblance to Ma, aside from her blue eyes and mottled gray-and-white coat.

Then there’s the beak- it is surprisingly expressive. My dark gray beak was hard like keratin yet malleable like any other facial muscle. I gave myself a scowl, then a smirk- my two favorite expressions. I stuck my tongue out and blew a raspberry, with Mamma squealing in delight at my antics.

And of course, I should probably explain my... interesting home situation. Mamma and I live with her Gramma, whose real name I have yet to figure out. She’s… an interesting woman. She constantly wears a scarf and shawl to hide the fact that her head feathers have fallen out, making her look like an old babushka. Another thing: she’s a massive alcoholic. Her breath constantly smells of whiskey, and I rarely ever see her without her flask(more like a canteen) of rotgut hanging on a strap around her neck.

I can respect it, in all honesty.

And Mamma is attending school, which wouldn’t be concerning… except she’s fifteen. I honestly feel for the poor girl. I don’t know if she got knocked up at a party or what the fuck, but at least she seems to be taking it in stride.

Honestly, if I were in her shoes I probably would’ve tried to drink the fucker out. For that reason, I respect her a lot. Either she doesn’t know who the father is, or doesn’t want to know who my father is. Whatever the case, I have yet to hear her speak of him.

So, that brings me to the present. I’ve only been alive a few days at this point, but… I easily accepted the situation. To start over Tabula Rasa, or Blank Slate is a one in a billion chance, I think.

It honestly makes me wonder, what kind of life will I lead here? I think… I dunno. Maybe I can try being a good person this time around? Away from the crime, away from the constant death and threat of being caught…

Either way, the world is my bitch.

Author's Note

Special thank you if you made it this far! This fic is a long one; so long, that I've learned so much more since I started writing this fic. Me and my girlfriend, along with some input by some friends in the community, have created a world so much bigger than I anticipated.

If you stick around, you're in for a wild ride... especially when Leona becomes an adult, and her horizons widen exponentially. I don't plan on abandoning this fic- I will see it to the end. And of course- you, the reader, are just as important to me as the story itself.

Let me know what you think! Please, feel free to leave a comment, DM me, whatever your thoughts and theories are; the themes and lore of this fic are heavily based off the themes and concepts of early industrial society, including opposing worldviews on things like right or wrong, the consequences of laissez-faire capitalism, monopolies threatening to overtake the power of government, and... mental illness and other issues that arise alongside these societal woes.

MLP:FiM was a glance at Equus through Twilight's eyes and experiences, to be told like a children's fable- The history in which foals will be taught for centuries from now; Tabula Rasa is a glance at Equestria through some gangster who's smart enough to draw parallels from the histories of her own society.

Who is truly foolish, and who is merely lost? Is the foundation of the status quo cracking? And when Machiavelli wrote The Prince, was it meant to be a guide for dictators? Or was it a subtle jab at the disgusting methods that cunning rulers use to gain power; or better yet, a warning to the masses on what precisely to be wary of?

Think about that as you read... or don't, just enjoy the show; you'll find lots of drama, trauma, pasta, Mamma Mia! The Griffons aren't just Germanics in this world! What happens to the Changeling Hive after the show's over? What harm is there in a couple drinks? What happens if Diamond Tiara makes a new friend? And just what the heck is a Carcosa?

Again- THANK YOUUUUUUUUU!!!!!! You're all so awesome! :3