The Chronicles of Rainbow Flameborn Dash

It was six p.m. Night was eclipsing its way over the pony kingdom of Equestria, its hold slowly strengthening as the night hours progressed nearer and nearer towards midnight. Yet despite night’s tight grip upon one’s surroundings, the feeling of most nights, including this particular one, was a feeling of tranquillity and peace. Night was the introvert to the day’s extrovert, or so Pegasus philosophy went. Most believed that others perceived night as a bringer of darkness, of danger and of unknowing, and of one’s greatest fears. It was a rather tragic belief, with criticaly flawed foundations. Night was, in its own way, beautiful.

It was on this particular night, when two Pegasi, Emerald Dash and Flameborn Dash sat with Zecora in the same room, in an exotic yet well-heated hut. Zecora was a zebra, with tribal ear-rings and an odd sun-like symbol upon her flank, seemingly the equivalent of a pony’s Cutie Mark, a symbol which all would develop at some stage, once they discovered their greatness and allowed it to flourish. She was introverted, with a peaceful aura, but at the same time, open with her thoughts.

(It should be noted that Zecora was not trusted by most ponies. The fact that these two trusted her indicated their class and level of education. Emerald Dash, although not noble-born, was of a scholarly background and had lived in Canterlot for several years). Flameborn Dash was born as Flameborn Skylighter, and the Skylighters were well known for many generations due to having brought some of the fiercest Pegasus warriors around.)

Amidst their company was a newborn female foal, of whom Flameborn was keeping warm in her hooves. “Flameborn Dash, a mare so brash. The foal I shall need, so her mind I can read. Do not fret, o proudest mare, for my hooves give warm and tender care.” The zebra’s voice sounded deeply spiritual, even magical, being multi-layered, as well as soothing and almost musical, with an unusual accent to accompany this. She was trustworthy though – Zecora said that the foal would be in warm hooves, and Zecora’s voice seemed to emit a relaxing ray of warmth.

Flameborn Dash was weak from the birth she had just given, yet the position of her cheeks made it clear for all to see that she was in a relaxed state of mind. “Here…” Emerald Dash, though not exactly sure how his mare was feeling, smiled as she spoke, for her voice sparkled with life even in its weak state.

“Flameborn is well, this a truth I tell.” Zecora’s relaxing words served almost as commentary.

Emerald Dash was named because of the colour of his mane and tail, which were a metallic dark green. The overall feel was a strongly dynamic, but not aggressive presence. His mane and tail combined with his body, which was deep blue in colour, and these two put together made him look rich: not as in wealthy, but deep and philosophical, internally strong-rooted, and yet, at the same time, lively. His eyes were green, but glowing. In general, describing him as deep may have been an understatement – he was always somewhere below the surface, but had a very well-developed and intensive thought process, which was very well networked, but despite this his mind was hardly computerised.

Meanwhile, Zecora studied the foal’s features very closely. “Her gaze is strong. She is deeply in-tune with her senses. Her mane it flares with energy, of power and light for all to see. (At this point, Zecora passively raised her voice and shut her eyes as she appeared to be entering some kind of trance, and the trance’s power could be recepted by touch as well as hearing. The trance brought a dreamy and sleep-inducing, yet pleasant sensation.) Strong of hoof, brave and bold, and passion from a heart of gold! Fighter-born, wild by dawn, she’ll never be a pawn!” At the end, Zecora opened her eyes once more.

“Yet, she will not be easy, for she yearns to be free. She will feel unsettled, endangered and weak, if you don’t grant her what she seeks. And she is proud, perhaps too proud.” Zecora warned, now taking a more serious tone.

“Will we be proud of her? Does the good outweigh the bad?” Emerald asked, trying desperately to subtly suppress any emotions in his voice, but not quite succeeding and bringing out very obviously suppressed worry.

“She means nothing but well, this for sure I can tell. She may not show her love for ye, but proud of ye she’ll always be. Ye soon shall be just as proud, this I am sure – I have no doubt.”

Energy was slowly recharging through Flameborn’s veins, as she now spoke – “Seems you’ll have more than one strong mare to handle.” She gave a smile as she said this.

Flameborn was a fierce mare, and by all accounts one of the best fighters that Cloudsdale had witnessed. It showed in her appearance – the most distinguishing of her features were her two dark rose-coloured eyes, which were far brighter than anypony else’s eyes should ever be. She had maintained this brightness even in her weakened state. Her mane and tail were orange, but a very reddish-orange, almost flamelike, a colour which makes one think of passion. Her body was a sun-like orange, radiating with just as much heat and energy. This powerful appearance was aided by her mighty wings, which were sharply angled like blades. Many Pegasi had very light and thin wings, but hers were tough and thick, and soared against the wind with ease. Her appearance was that of a warrior, and although as a mare this was not encouraged, she was needed. She looked far too strong for anypony to even think about not recruiting her for dangerous missions, and with her daredevilish nature, she was the first to volunteer.

Emerald Dash laughed at what she had said only to follow this by quietly contemplating in his head whether this was a serious matter or something to laugh about. He’d come to the conclusion that it was the former.

Zecora interrupted them: “Perhaps ye wish to stay for tea, for all that I provide is free.”

Emerald Dash gave a prompt reply: “We would gladly do so.”

Flameborn spoke up, somewhat bluntly. “Zecora, when can you return the newborn?” She was always somewhat blunt (for want of a better word) in conversation. She didn’t quite seem to understand the fine complexities of manners.

“Flameborn, you may now have her back. For I now know her winding track.” Zecora said, handing over the newborn.

Flameborn turned to Emerald. “What name is she worthy of?”

Emerald replied, his thoughtstream speaking aloud: “She has a rainbow mane and tail, an undisputed rarity among ponies. Rainbows are filled with colour, these six colours reflecting a wide variety of tones and moods. It’s a spectrum of complexity, and rainbows are of intense beauty. I believe Rainbow should be her name. Rainbow Flameborn Dash.”

Flameborn replied: “Seems fitting. A truly awesome name, rather befitting for the daughter of one of Equestria’s finest warriors!”

“I only hope she’s more modest than her mother.” Emerald snarked.

Flameborn was typically belittling to anypony she ever spoke to. “Unlikely. And the mother is always right!” She attempted to stare down Emerald and frighten him into submission.

“Alright, you win this time. Stop rubbing it in everypony’s face.” Emerald said lightly.

“I do not rub stuff in everypony’s face! I just state the truth! False modesty doesn’t unveil a pony’s greatness!” Flameborn said, in a tone that created a thin line between joking and arguing, and nopony (or zebra) in the room could be sure which it was.

“You hate false modesty? Wouldn’t have guessed.” Emerald said, very obviously sarcastically.

Emerald was the notably softer of the two, but Flameborn (and Flameborn’s mind is the law here, because she was the figure of dominance) had nothing but utmost respect for him. Emerald was highly analytical and a deep thinker. He always had a lot more in his mind than what he spoke. This latter point was made even stronger by the fact that he found it easy to analyze situations, but very difficult to come to any sort of conclusion. Hilariously enough to Flameborn, he was still quietly contemplating inside his head all of the potential problems that may be offered by his seemingly troublesome daughter, what may happen, how to solve it and whether or not this will actually do anything to solve the matter.

Flameborn did not want to get into a philosophical discussion with Emerald, least of all when Zecora was present. Whilst warmly holding Rainbow, she found a quick chance to change the subject:

“Hello, Emerald. Hello. What planet did you make it to?” She said somewhat mockingly. She was referring to one of Emerald’s psychological theories (and he had many, because he couldn’t be sure which one was correct, or if any of them were) – his own idea that he had a vast solar system inside his head.

“Not one that I haven’t been to before.” Emerald replied, having a good laugh.
(She softened her voice, raising her pitch at the same time): “Rainbow, see Daddy over there? He’s always contemplating. Always contemplating, isn’t he?” Flameborn joked. The foal seemed to find this somewhat funny, judging by a slight movement in her mouth.