Lost and Not Quite Found

by Onyxjew

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Adventure
Length: 3280

Baroque Palette is a lone unicorn mare with a voice in her head. Her goal? Return to Trottingham.

A city-filly wakes in a foreign land with a blank space in her memory.
A young ensign finds himself thrust off the deep-end without a lifeline.
A cynical bandito lives with a burning grudge.
A tinker has an epiphany of grandiose proportions.

What do these have in common? Nothing more than a date and two mares deep involvement. The world is in a time of great unrest and dark things lie just beyond the horizon. A turning point is coming; a choice that will do nothing less than affect every living thing for now until the final star winks out. This choice lies in the collective hands of our unlikely heroes, most of whom do not even know the others exist.

[img]http://i.imgur.com/1RInUfJ.png[/img]

Edit: Going under for editing. My bad, FimFic. I'll have it back up shortly with less complete ambiguity. Note to self, prologues aren't the absolute epitome of all things terrible.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-29 02:10:02 UTC

If you go out in the Woods Today...

Dear Kenny,

I know it's been awhile since I've been to see you, but I think this is best for me. You know me, probably better than I know me. It is your talent after all. The Trottingham Academy of the Visual Arts has been my dream for years, and the admissions committee is absolute on this. I hate it just as much as you do, but there's just no way for me to visit very often.

She awoke with her mind a tangled mess of low buzzing and slowly receding pulses. The slow, rhythmic pounding and crackling pops permeating the air engaged the mare's hazy focus long enough to regain a semblance of consciousness. Chandler tried to cook... again. She thought as the acrid smell of scorched earth caught up to her awakening senses. A solid wall of dirt greeted her when her eyes slid open. She could feel the occasional impact on her drenched coat as the rain poured on. Wait... dirt? The mare rolled and contorted into a reclining position against the mound of dirt her crash through the undergrowth had left.

The mare jolted up straight with a strangled cry and swiveled about searching for some sign of familiarity in the unfamiliar wilderness. She was surrounded by a dense jungle with heavy rainfall pounding the leaves, giving off a steady staccato rhythm. The air was warm and pleasant, going so far as to make the raindrops almost enjoyable. The foliage sliced whatever natural light may have been into thousands of thin shafts shooting down through the canopy, though there were several small fires scattered about the newly-made clearing, hissing and sizzling whenever rain landed near them as they provided lit the dim atmosphere. The clear centerpiece of the area was the giant mangled hunk of metal laying battered and worn a mere sixty paces from where the mare was sitting. There were other furrows through the dirt similar to hers leading from the crash site, most ending in large pieces ripped from the construct, others had sources hidden from her view.

When she looked toward closer areas, she finally got a glimpse of herself. Her tan coat was covered in dirt  and blood from a combination of her tumble and a myriad scratches. There were a few small bits of dirtied metal lodged in her limbs, though judging solely by blood-flow nothing seemed life-threatening. Her mane was brutally distinct from it's usual pampered muted-red curls and silken length, as the tumble and elements had forged it into a brambled nest glued together with everything the forest had to offer. The mare dropped back against the mound without regard to the new coating of mud her back just earned. "Where am I?"

"Just some backwater rock with a few interesting residents. I'm much more interested in who you are, kid." The voice was scratchy but had a definite feminine lilt to it. The voice seemed to echo and bounce in the undergrowth, giving no easy hints as to its location.

"If you don't mind my asking, um... who are you?"

"That's not important. What is important, is patching you up." When the mare simply shifted about searching for the voice, it quickly added "As in, now."

"But what's going on? Where am I? Where are you? What is that thing? How did I get here?" Her voice rising into hysterics as the shock settled in. "I don't belong here!"

"None of that is worth the time it would take to explain. I promise I'll answer your inane, endless flood of questions later, but for now just shut up and listen.

"That 'thing' over there is how to live for longer than sunset. Walk over to it. If you can't, crawl. If you can't do that, then there's no hope for you, and you're dying very unhappily on this rock. Just get moving, it doesn't matter how fast or slow. As for where you belong... I don't think you want to know about that."

"But why is th─"

"If I hear one more word starting with 'whuh' out of you, I'm leaving you to the jungle. And if you're going to ask about everything I say, then yeah. You wouldn't like that. I already told you, get to the cutter. We can talk there." The mare started cringing amid the undergrowth, struggling with the conflicting unknowns. "You're a serious pain, you know that? Fine, there's probably some rations and maybe something to clean out all your scratches. Heh, you should probably bathe in pure booze for all the dirt in those." The voice broke away into light chuckles at her own joke. It wasn't that funny... the mare thought ruefully.

Shaking her head the mare gave in, and started pulling herself up. Do I really have a choice? The blood loss and soreness in her muscles made it more difficult than expected, but she eventually lurched to stand under her own power. After a short while of stumbling steps and near-falls, the mare began to near the wreckage, and finally saw what caused the acrid stench. Everywhere she looked the charred remains of whoever was with her when she came here were scattered and cooling. Images of house and home flew through her mind faster than she could keep track of, though a combination of distance and damage kept her from recognizing the bodies. As she spun slow circles around her in the shadow of the wounded metallic monolith, she eventually came to a stop as her mind blacked out.

A short while later a drawling and increasingly familiar voice awaited the mare's second return to consciousness.

"Great job, you're now a pansy on top of being annoying. 'Least you got to the cutter, I guess."

"... What?"

"Not answering that, get inside."

Her memory returned to her in a short burst of images while she began her trek once more. The mare kept her eyes firmly on the ground. They can't hurt you. They're just... her mind trailed off as she had difficulty bringing herself to think of death. When she reached the foot of the construct she looked up and examined it, glad for the distraction. It was a dingy affair, coated in rust and faded green paint marred by long, charred gashes. Some of which were much older than whatever recent events caused the explosion of bodies and metal. The monolith was angular and lined with creases in the metal, seemingly for aerodynamics, though the general block shape and lack of wheels contradicted that theory. It had a large hole with glass shards lining it at the front, and a series of four seemingly intact cylinders in a row at the back. Despite her training at several universities, the mare was at a loss as to what purpose the cylinders held. Probably some kind of storage, judging solely by size.

"I don't know what you want me to find here." she complained as boredom sunk in.

After a few seconds of waiting, a hiss of rushing air drowned out the sounds of the jungle and a thin slat fell off the

building landed with a resounding clatter on the ground below, and left a dark hole leading further in. As the mare walked over to the opening, she realised there was still a problem. The new entrance was a grand three feet away from the ground, and there was no chance of her climbing in her condition.

"Um... voice, I can't climb."

"Can't climb? How did you even... Ugh. Are all the creatures the Seekers find this naive and pathetic? Yeah, no. I'm not helping you with this. There are more than enough ways to get this done. You don't need my help for everything, and you're sure as the Night Rays not getting it for everything. By the way, the name is Serra. Call me 'voice' again and I'm abandoning you."

"What does that bit about 'more than enough ways' even mean?"

"Oh, go ahead and ask questions now. You're not hearing from me again until you're in that ship."

"What? But what if─"

For once the mare cut herself off, realising how pointless the inquiry was. Grumbling to herself, she took stock of the area again, hoping to find some inspiration or perhaps a ladder among the wreckage. Looking the same rainswept and furrowed landscape, her eyes settled on the piece of sheet metal that fell from the building. It lay with a slowly growing pool of water in its concave center just a few feet from her hooves. Smirking at her luck, she grabbed the metal with her mouth and hoisted it over her head to line up a ramp to the opening. The lifting proved difficult, but the metal was almost as light as tin once the water had cascaded down.

Climbing up her makeshift ramp proved easy enough, and when the mare set hoof on the lopsided floor dim lighting flicked on and an increasingly familiar voice returned.

"Great job, you are now qualified to be a pack mule."

"Do you have to be that brash and rude in every word you speak?"

"Heh, you're not far off. Anyway, I never caught your name."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Jeez, defensive much? I don't need to know, and I don't really care. If you don't mind being called kid, unicorn, or ignorant waste of flesh then go ahead and let me be creative."

"Call me Ms. Palette, it's what most ponies I've only just met call me." Serra fell silent, and after a short while of waiting politely for a response, Palette became acutely aware of her dripping coat and soaked mane. She called out hoping . "There wouldn't be a shower somewhere in here, would there?"

"Check for yourself, I have no idea." Palette began to notice the voice was more indistinct than usual. The scratching was the same as far as she could tell, but something seemed... lesser. It's probably just distance. She shrugged and looking around the room she found herself in.

It was a squalid affair, with rust coating the inside as thoroughly as the outside, to the point the floor flaked under Palette's hooves. A long metal table with a spattering of playing cards sat in the center of the room with several folding chairs of the same make sitting in disarray around it with one of them actually being on the table, upright. Along the walls were the door she entered, two on her left, and a heavily-dented one to her right. The damage drew her attention, Why is this wreck mostly damaged on one side? Everything else just reeks of neglect and a fully-male community. I'll have to ask Serra about that.

Continuing her search, she checked the doors on her left. Though the doors lacked knobs or any obvious means of moving them, they slid into the wall whenever she got close to one so despite her unfamiliarity she had no trouble finding her way through them. One led to a privy, though that is loose use of the term. Small hole over continually flowing water does the room more justice. The other door led to a hallway with yet more doors to explore. Before she was given the chance, Serra cut in again. "Second on the left."

"Come again?"

"The second door on the the left. Go inside it. Do I have to spell it out?"

"What room would that be, and why do you want me to go?"

"Stupid questions, but I said I would answer them. It's the kitchen, and you're probably starving. We can talk while you eat." Palette nodded at this but before she could respond she was cut off by an addendum. "Plus if you have something to shove in your face it'll give me time to answer before you start rambling off other even more stupid questions."

It appears I was correct, she apparently does have to be that uncouth. Fighting her urge to look in the doors she passed, Palette made her way into the kitchen and was not surprised in the least by its conformity with the relative squalor. After a moment of poking through cabinets she found a box of 'Instant Rice' and began cooking it. To her eternal astonishment, the stove did manage to start. It didn't even explode when it heated up. The rats that ran squealing from the suddenly hot appliance reminded her of home. I don't think I've ever missed the rats of all things in Trottingham. Once the meal was underway and she had a free moment the questions began anew.

"That should do it... and done. So Serra, where are we exactly? I've heard of a jungle deep in the southern edge of the Everfree but I think I would remember going halfway across the country."

"This place doesn't exactly have a name. We never cared to name it, and the Dominion didn't either. I think it's written in some ledger as 'E13-B'. Lemme guess, you're about to ask what that means? Your guess is as good as mine, Palette." Dominion?

"Where are you, specifically? I haven't seen you at all since we started talking. On that note, why does your voice sound so odd? Is it an old wound?"

"Me? I'm sitting in a tent. Far away, too far for it to matter to you. The voice is jacked 'cuz the speakers got scrambled when the comms unit started blaring right before the crash. It probably would still sound scratchy to you though even if I was right beside you. And that, is a question I'm not answering."

"Uh huh, and I can levitate this whole building through the sky like a kite." Palette nodded sagely as the sarcasm flowed like molten butter. "That's all right, you can keep hiding. Anyway, how did I get here, and why can't I remember what happened to me before..." Palette drifted off into silence as she delved into her memories. "Huh... I think I was gardening? But that's not right. It couldn't be right."

"This 'building' is a poorly made cutter, I know it's a wreck but its still a ship. As to how you got here... that's probably something you don't want to know if you haven't figured it out for yourself. You don't remember anything because you were knocked out the entire time. Why you were knocked out goes back to the first answer: you don't want to know."

"You really want me to believe this giant hunk of metal could float? I may have an art major but I know something like this wouldn't last a second in open water." The smell of charring began to fill the air though it went unnoticed under the other scents pervading the scene.

"Float? What are you talking about?

"Wait a damn second. Talking about the Everfree like you've been there, stupid, pompous but not arrogant... Oh Gods... Hold still, this shouldn't take long. I've just gotta check this." A sharp whistling sound began resonating from outside the window just before it crashed inward. Something struck Palette behind the ear and knocked her into the stove. She fell to the floor with a cry and before she knew it everything was silent again but for a small pain behind her ear. "Damn, here I thought my aim was getting better with this thing." The voice coming through was significantly clearer.

"What in the light of Borean was that?!" The voice disintegrated into thick, deep, throaty chuckles. She remained incoherent while Palette picked herself up.

"Ha... oh Gods that was just... just too priceless. Your reaction! And Boulderface said the cameras were a waste!" A small needle of pain floated by unnoticed in the heat of the moment.

"What. Was. That."

"The answer to your question!" Serra broke down again at her own joke. Palette continued glaring and tapping her hoof while Serra regained her composure. "No, I'm serious. You asked how I could talk to you from so far away, and that was your answer. Feel your ear, I need a minute to check something anyway. Just don't rip it off, it won't work." Feel my ear? What did she mean by that? There's nothing wro─

"Get it off!" Upon feeling over her ear Palette found a bulge just inside it. Further inspection showed it was stretched to fill her ear, but the lack of a visual left it at that. A combination of shock and the awkwardness of a quadruped holding one leg up for an extended period of time toppled the mare once again, this time into a pile of quirking and writhing fur as she struggled with the foreign object.

"I told you to hold still, didn't I?" Palette payed no attention and continued her wrestling without the object moving in the slightest. Serra managed to hold her peace and watch the exercise in futility for another minute, which was almost a record for her today, before her razor-thin patience broke.

"You do know that isn't working, right?"

"You act like I care! Get it off!"

"For the love of... Shut up!" She roared, finally getting the mare's attention as the wave of sound was channeled directly into her ear. "Did you hear a word I said? Do you ever hear a word I say? Step one, hold still. Step two, don't claw your ear off. A child that hasn't slept in days listens better than you do! I should know, I was one!" Palette sat in silence, covered in rust flakes and awed by the tirade from someone who at worst showed sarcasm or cold indifference. "You know less than nothing about the most basic things, and you doubt everything I try to tell you! Do you really think you know better than I do? That you would do better without me? If you want me to keep dealing with you, I want a promise. When I say run, you run. If I say jump, you jump. If I tell you to jump off a cliff, you better trust me to know there's a river at the bottom. Think carefully before you answer, I'll be back in an hour. I'll trust you to do what you need to do and not tear yourself apart trying to remove a bio-seal." With that, Serra's voice faded into the slowing patter of raindrops, and once again, Palette was completely alone. What set her off? She knows I get scared easily and have no idea what's going on. She directly proclaims it to me.

"Serra?" She asked the open air. "Can you still hear me?" Silence. After a moment's hesitation Palette turned to check on her cooking to find a ruined mess. The rice had melted itself onto the pan. Had we really been talking for that long? It hardly felt like a moment. Her musing was interrupted by a crashing sound of metal striking metal following by cursing. Palette froze.

A stranger approaches.

I'm telling you, don't worry about me. But that's more than enough about me, how are you all holding up? Has the household collapsed under the pizza boxes with its last cook gone? Ha, I'm sure you've figured out how to manage that iron dragon in the kitchen by now... right? Still, I'm a bit worried about Chandler. I really want to know how he's holding up. All that's happened can't be too easy on him... but, ruffle his mane for me, okay? He's probably taking this hard. I'll write again soon, I promise.

By the lights of Lady Austrea and Lord Borean,

Baroque Palette