Follows A Little Spark: Sc.06&07


                                            >All around you is nothing.

                                            >It’s pitch black.

                                            >The silence is almost painful.

                                            >You can feel nothing, though you are pretty sure you are curled up into a ball.

                                            >Hours pass in seconds, or maybe the other way around. You don’t have a reference for time.

                                            >Maybe you’re going insane.

                                            >”Anon.”

                                            >The voice is really far away, far enough to be right next to your ear.

                                            >”Be not afraid, Anon.”

                                            >Ah, you’re pretty sure you know who that is.

                                            >Which means you know what this is.

                                            “Princess Luna, is this your idea of a prank?”

                                            >Or, you’re pretty sure that’s what you said. You can’t hear your own voice.

                                            >”We have brought thy mind to alertness before any dreams arose.”

                                            “This isn’t very fun.”

                                            >”Dost thou wish to see home?”

                                            >Ah, right.

                                            >It wouldn’t be your first time you’ve dreamed of home, but it’d be the first you could interact with it while aware. You were never a lucid dreamer.

                                            “Is it going to be as weird as last time?”

                                            >”Thy dreams formeth their own structure. We need not force them as before.”

                                            >Whatever that means.

                                            “Fine, let's see it. Just, uh, just don’t get your hopes up.”

                                            >”Whatever dost thou mean?”

                                            “You’ll understand.”

                                            >The darkness turns itself inside out, now blinding white. A loud ringing sounds in your ears. For the briefest moment, you feel like you’ve been kicked in the head.

                                            >Turns out you weren’t curled into a ball, you were standing.

                                            >You twitch violently as your brain does a proprioceptive double-take.

                                            >You are standing in front of your apartment’s door, to be precise. Your keychain is in your hand. The right key is already in the lock.

                                            >You turn the key and open the door, then step inside.

                                            >When you turn to close the door, you hear a voice behind you. “Ah. We understand.”

                                            >Turning back again, you see Luna in the middle of what passes for a living room. She's looking towards the kitchen area at the back of the long room. “Thou art lowborn.”

                                            “Uh, I guess you could say that. I wasn’t exactly rolling in it.”

                                            >You open a second door, one leading to your bedroom. The walls are covered with posters of nerdy shit, from video games to reference charts.

                                            >Luna cranes her neck to look over your shoulder. “This space is too small for thy family.”

                                            “I lived here alone.”

                                            >You hear a slight gasp from her. “Alone? Art thou honest?”

                                            “No lie.”

                                            >You walk into your bedroom. It’s spotless, but everything you remember is here. In their proper places, too, which is somewhat of a rarity for you. You spread your hands to indicate the whole room.

                                            “All this, just for me.”

                                            >You expect to see some expression of indignation, that she’d be mad you were without a minder, despite the fact this was your world and not hers, with no Celestia to demand a guardian.

                                            >Instead, she looks down at your carpet, and then to one of your bedroom windows. She makes her way over – cautiously, for your room was too cramped for her long body to maneuver well in – and looks outside.

                                            >You join her at the window.

                                            >Outside, the street is strangely empty. No pedestrians, no cars. No activity in nearby buildings.

                                            “It’s usually more busy than this.”

                                            >”Was that better or worse?”

                                            “Uh, sorry?”

                                            >She tries backing up the way she approached the window. Your dresser jabs her in the flank. Her wings extend outward slightly at the shock, which knocks some knickknack off your desk.

                                            >She sighs and stops moving. “Better or worse than silence, Anon. Didst thou prefer bustle or quiet?”

                                            “Quiet, I think. I usually just lost myself in...”

                                            >You wave a hand in the air vaguely.

                                            “Other stuff.”

                                            >You point to your computer, then.

                                            “This could talk to people all over the world, access all sorts of knowledge, play different kinds of games. Most of my time was spent using it.”

                                            >Luna cocked her head and peered at it. “Fascinating.”

                                            “Here.”

                                            >You wave a hand at your bed.

                                            “Feel free to take a seat. Furniture’s not arranged for someone who’s several feet long to walk around.”

                                            >”We shall presume not to lay ourselves upon thy bed, even invited. We have tact.”

                                            “Suit yourself.”

                                            >You sit on its end, facing her.

                                            >She looks around at your walls. “Thy appetite for art seems as voracious as it is peculiar.”

                                            “Well, it’s not all art. Some of it is reference material. Others are… Well, here.”

                                            >You gesture towards a sky blue poster with images of many rockets.

                                            “This one depicts a bunch of vehicles we used to get to space. Uh, outside the atmosphere. Er, beyond the sky.”

                                            >More light jostling of furniture as Luna makes her way over. She looks at the many designs. “How doth they function?”

                                            “Explosions.”

                                            >She looks at you like you just yanked on a couple of her feathers. “We desire serious answers.”

                                            “I’m giving them to you. They work by exploding. Controlled rapid combustion. Think like giant fireworks, but many times more violent. Rockets are thousands of tons of canned explosion, with a couple people sitting on top crazy enough to light the fuse and try to steer.”

                                            >You point to the image of a Saturn V

                                            “This one sent people to the moon, with enough hardware to get them back home. We did that half a dozen times.”

                                            >Once again, Luna defies your expectations by remaining silent. She slowly sits down on her haunches, staring at the poster.

                                            >Her silence extends for an uncomfortable period of time. You decide to get something else to show her.

                                            >Your neglected electric guitar sits in a corner. You never did bother to learn how to play to any degree of proficiency.

                                            >As you’re reaching for it, Luna finally speaks.

                                            >”Why?”

                                            >You look back at her as you pull the guitar free.

                                            “What was that?”

                                            >”Why send thy kind to the moon?”

                                            “We wanted to go, just to say we did.”

                                            >”Foolish. Naught but rocks.”

                                            “Rocks we were quite happy to take home. It was a race; who could get there first. Uh, we have a lot of countries here. Some of them compete. Some of them… do worse than compete.”

                                            >She hasn’t looked back at you since she asked the question. She lapsed into silence again.

                                            >You turn on the tiny amp near your guitar stand, and pluck a few strings. At least the thing was in-tune

                                            >This finally gets Luna to face you. “A musician?”

                                            “Hell no, I can’t play for shit.”

                                            >You noodle through some of the Forbidden Riffs. Even in a dream, you manage to fuck up quite a few of them.

                                            >Luna looks less than impressed.

                                            “I got this cheap piece of crap for a project I was doing in college. I was meaning to learn it properly some day, but obviously that’s not going to happen.”

                                            >You stop yourself cold, and slowly put the guitar down.

                                            “I’m not coming back here, am I?”

                                            >Luna’s expression immediately softens. “Our sister and her student have found not a way to send thee home. We have discovered not how thou came to us in the first place.”

                                            “I didn’t exactly lead a spectacular life here, but the little things bother me.”

                                            >You gesture at your computer again.

                                            “Not gonna lie, I miss that thing a lot, and that’s not something I can rebuild in your world. I didn’t have many friends, but those I did have were good ones, and I miss them too. Every once in a while I’ll be working on a project and have a question I’d want to ask, and I can’t do that. I miss sending dumb edited pictures to friends I’ve never met over the internet.”

                                            >You sigh as Luna delicately makes her way over to your side.

                                            “There are a lot of things about my new life that are better, I’ll admit. I was surprised by that, which is weird, considering my mode of humor when I was still here. This world sucks. But despite that – maybe because of it – we made a lot of ways to enjoy it. Human technology can be summed up as one long arc of making our shitty world nicer for ourselves. And for the most part, we did a damn good job. There’s so much I lost that I loved.”

                                            >”May we touch thee?”

                                            “What? I guess, whatever.”

                                            >Luna stretches a wing out, hesitates a moment, then wraps it around your shoulders.

                                            >You realize just how little physical contact you’ve received these past few months.

                                            >”We know, better than thou mayest imagine, the difficulties of an exile. We thought not that our world could be considered such a curse as that. We see now that thou hast lost that which is most important. Thou hast lost friendship, and our world hath not given much of it to fill such a void.”

                                            “Well, Twilight’s nice enough. Celestia relented on that one.”

                                            >You look at Luna. She’s looking over the details of your face, but her neck is held at an odd angle. You guess it’s to put an arbitrary polite distance between your face and hers.

                                            “You know, your sister said you might be avoiding me. Said you were in charge of planning stuff, so I’d have to come to you if I wanted to know how my suggestions, and your silence meant you might not want to be around me. We don’t see face-to-face, in the real world, outside those evening meetings.”

                                            >Luna frowned. “Anon, we have received no such suggestions of thine.”

                                            >Well shit. You rub your face with a hand.

                                            “She treats me like a child.”

                                            >”Our sister is very protective. We think thy position exists not to advise. Thy position exists to shield thyself.”

                                            “I got that impression.”

                                            >You don’t even try to keep the sarcastic tone in check.

                                            >”If thou wishest, we could make time for thee. Late evening, or early night, we could discuss matters of state.”

                                            >You shrug.

                                            “At least I’ll be able to fulfill my job description.”

                                            >”And Anon...”

                                            >You look over to Luna when she trails off. She looks almost bashful.

                                            >”We are princess of dreams. We are not princess of friendship, as Twilight is. But we understand thy suffering, even if not its particulars. We shall endeavor to be a friend to thee as best we can.”

                                            >You’ve never in your life heard something so formally declared. Considering the subject, it should have been preposterous.

                                            >Luna, somehow, sold the idea as if it was perfectly ordinary.

                                            “I… thanks. I appreciate it.”

                                            >Luna smiles, but it’s a sad one. “When we say we wish it was not needed, we hope thou understandest we mean not that we wish to be rid of thee.”

                                            “I, uh, I think I follow. Maybe.”

                                            >Luna laughs. Compared to her stilted form of speech, it’s the most natural sounding thing to come out of her mouth. “Perhaps, with time spent in our company, thou mayest understand proper speech.”

                                            >She pulls her wing from your shoulders, folding it against her back once more. “Come show us more of thy world. We are sure there are more wonders to this place than large exploding cans and distance friendship boxes.”

                                            “For as long as this dream lets me, sure. But first, lemme do something.”

                                            >You grab the heavy paperweight that had earlier fallen off your desk and move over to your nightstand. After lifting the polished stone comically high over your head, you bring it down as hard as possible on your alarm clock.

                                            >The thing caves in as if it were hollow.

                                            “Always wanted to do that. Princess, as a formal declaration of our friendship, I destroy my killer of dreams.”

                                            >She smiles at you, warm and gentle. “We accept thy gesture with gratitude, Anon.”


                                            * * *


                                            >As palace guards close the great hall’s main doors behind the last batch of petitioners, you turn to Celestia’s throne.

                                            >She wears the same serene smile you always see when she interacts with her subjects

                                            >You, however, have been learning to read her eyes rather than her face

                                            >Her eyes tell a much more complicated story.

                                            “Your Highness.”

                                            >She slowly turns her head to meet your gaze.

                                            “Your feelings for your subjects, even when hearing trivial matters, is touching.”

                                            >She sighs and stands from her throne, turning and heading for a side door. “Anon, I’ve been doing this for a thousand years. I’ve spoken with hundreds of thousand of ponies about problems they’re desperate enough about to come to me with. Each one breaks my heart, even if I’ve heard their same problem a hundred times. Every day without a single petitioner showing up is a day I know I’ve played my part well. Those are the days I still live for.”

                                            >Well that’s fucking depressing.

                                            >You walk fast to catch up. Celestia’s the only pony you’ve met of comparable height and stride to yourself.

                                            “The last one is pretty simple, it’s just a matter of balancing logistics.”

                                            >”I already know how we can reallocate things. I’ll give my sister the instructions at this evening’s meeting.”

                                            >You walk alongside her in silence for a time, looking at her eyes.

                                            >She stares ahead unfocused, navigating her palace through instinct and muscle memory alone.

                                            >You have a feeling she’s performed this daily ritual long before you’d arrived.

                                            >You also have a feeling you’re the only person who’s ever accompanied her for it. In a long time, at least.

                                            “I have a question that may seem a bit, uh, weird.”

                                            >”Hmm?”

                                            “Has my counsel ever been useful? As you said, you’ve been doing this for a thousand years. Why keep me where I am?”

                                            >She finally looks to you, eyes shifting minutely as she looks your face over. “I value your input.”

                                            “Even when it contributes nothing.”

                                            >”Then it’s affirmation, which is its own help.”

                                            >She looks back ahead when the two of you reach a door at one side of the hallway’s end. She opens the door telekinetically and extends a wing to indicate the narrow stairwell inside. Once you start the ascent around the spiral, she follows you, closing the door again behind her.

                                            “I spoke to your sister last night. She thinks you put me here to protect me, rather than listen to me.”

                                            >You can’t see her reaction, with her behind and below you, but she takes some time to respond.

                                            >”I think my sister’s view may be colored by her… archaic perspective.”

                                            >But you’ve been working on getting better at The Game.

                                            “That doesn’t say anything about the truth of her belief.”

                                            >In the next several seconds of silence, you reach the top of the spiral staircase. A golden glow opens the door before you.

                                            >On the other side is a tiny library, round like the tower it sat atop. At the far end is a balcony overlooking Canterlot. You step inside and aside to let Celestia in. She heads immediately for the open balcony, and you turn for the shelf that contains the work of history you’d been reading the past few days while Celestia took the time to organize her thoughts.

                                            >”Please let me show you something,” she says.

                                            >You stop halfway to the shelf in question, then move to join her on the tiny balcony. There’s barely enough room for both of you to stand on it.

                                            >She nods her head towards one side of the city. “Down there. Grey stallion, on the otherwise empty street."

                                            >It takes you some time to find the individual in question, but when you do, you nod.

                                            >”He is a good husband, wise father, and is clothed with strength and dignity. His herd’s business has fallen on hard times, so he takes to the streets in search of odd jobs, and utters no complaint. He wants nothing more than to look after his foals, but here he is.”

                                            “You know a lot about this random stallion.”

                                            >She nods solemnly. “Once a week, he finds a tip pointing him somewhere that could use his talents.”

                                            >You look back at Celestia.

                                            “Your doing?”

                                            >She nods. “I don’t have the time to attend to our subjects’ every problem, but I do what little I can for those on my doorstep. Helping in those small ways makes me feel just as good as helping in big ways in my formal capacity."

                                            “Huh. Noblesse oblige, I guess.”

                                            >She looks at you and tilts her head. “Luna has been talking to you about the nobility?”

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            “Just something we had too, back when we had monarchs and stuff. Kings leading their men in battle. Dukes and counts overseeing infrastructure projects. We have two units of measurement – the Rayl and the Rayleigh – named after a baron and his son, who devoted themselves to science. Kelvin was made a baron for his scientific and engineering contributions, got a unit of his own. It’s a long list.”

                                            >”It’s a philosophy I try to uphold. Princesses are made in this world. Magically elevated to the position for achievement, but that doesn’t mean you can turn away from how you got there. Twilight Sparkle spends her time being a force of friendship and harmony. Cadance, our adopted niece ruling another land, bolsters the emotions of her people. Luna soothes the troubled dreams of our subjects. I try my best to use my power to help ease their lives as I move the heavens that guide them.”

                                            “Sometimes going so far as to leave personal notes in mailboxes.”

                                            >She chuckles. “My reputation as a prankster comes with a certain set of skills I occasionally put to more productive purposes.”

                                            >You furrow your brows. “You’re known for pranks?”

                                            >Celestia, for the first time that you’ve seen, visibly flinches. “You don’t know?”

                                            “I’ve never even heard of it. I’ve never seen you prank anyone. I haven’t had any jokes played on me that wasn’t a rude comment from a guard since I’ve arrived.”

                                            >She stares at you, slack-jawed for a minute, then throws her head back and laughs. “What am I doing with you?!”

                                            “Well, that’s sorta what I was asking. You put me in a position I’m not qualified for, and when we interact outside of it, you’re doting on me more than anything.”

                                            >Celestia recovers her composure and looks back to the city. “Luna probably meant I was protecting you physically. Her heart’s of a time where stallions were either far in front or far behind, absolute protectors or in need of absolute protection. That’s not true; I know you’re probably stronger than most of the ponies you’d run into. I meant to protect you mentally. I put you under my wing and at my side in court to give you time to adjust, and to show you this world was worth living in.”

                                            >You stare at her as that sinks in.

                                            “You mean you knew I’d never be going home again?”

                                            >”I don’t know for sure, but I wanted to prepare you, just in case.” She shakes her head sadly. “Instead, you’re trying to bring your world here with you, through your little science projects.”

                                            “Would you rather I not?”

                                            >She was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “I don’t know.” She shook herself then in some sort of full-body twitch. “I want to do everything in my power to make sure you have a place in our world. But on the other hand, you’re precious, Anon, and truly unique. You come from a land far beyond anything we know, with different ideas and customs and practices. You have so much you can share with us.”

                                            “Is… does that mean you want me to continue?”

                                            >She looks at you and smiles. “It means I should be asking you, and should have from the start. What would make you happy?”

                                            >You look back out across the city.

                                            “You help your people, in little ways they can’t imagine. I hope someday my creations may help you, in ways you can’t imagine.”

                                            >Her smile broadens. “I’d like that very much.”

                                            >The two of you watch the city for a time in silence, until the sun begins to set.

                                            >Celestia turns away then, back into the library. “It seems even after a thousand years of life, I still have things to learn, even about myself. I’ve been treating you poorly. I hope to put an end that starting tonight.” She walks to the door and opens it for you.

                                            “What does that mean?”

                                            >You move to her side.

                                            “Just letting you know, I’m not a fan of pranks.”

                                            >She smiles again, but says nothing, extending her wing to point you down the stairs.

                                            >You start your descent, but call out behind you when you hear the door close above, with Celestia’s hooves against the stone stairs following you.

                                            “And I told you how dangerous my projects can be if you don’t respect them!”

                                            >”I promise I wont mess with them, Anon.”

                                            >Once the two of you arrived back at the side corridor running down this wing of the palace, Celestia leads you towards the chamber that served what you called ‘The Royal Shift Change.’

                                            >She opens the large doors to the conference room for you.

                                            >Luna is already sitting at the far end of the table.

                                            >Prince Blueblood sits in the chair to the right of Celestia’s end of the table, as the current master of the royal household. For all the stallion disparagement you hear, you’ve noticed they’re trusted implicitly with any and all domestic operations.

                                            >As Celestia sits at her end of the table, you sit in the chair to her left.

                                            >Other seats are occupied by unicorn representatives of the various dukes that managed Equestria’s regions.

                                            >Celestia clears her throat. “First order of business; Prince Blueblood, Anon is to have direct and unfettered access to the royal stores and palace facilities, without escort, from now on. Please familiarize all staff with appropriate etiquette.”

                                            >Across the table, Luna gives you a sly smile. You give her the slightest nod you think would still be noticed.

                                            >”We request also a chamber like this suitable for discussing certain plans with Anon,” Luna then says. “It shall be cleared for the first hour after every moonrise. Canst thou arrange this, dear Prince?”

                                            >Blueblood nods while taking notes on a pad, but he doesn't look happy about the commands.

                                            >Celestia looks between you and Luna, then smiles and shakes her head. “It seems, sister, that you realized more about my… mistake than I suspected.”

                                            >Luna’s only acknowledgment was a dip of her head.

                                            >”Now, for Appleloosa,” Celestia continues. “Please inform Duke Silversaddle that we received a delegation from one of his outlying towns. In accordance with their wishes, we are sending relief. Please allow us three days to organize a course of action.”

                                            >The emissary bows her head.

                                            >Celestia looks to you, next. “Anon.”

                                            >You’re shocked; she never addressed you in these meetings before.

                                            “Yes, Your Highness?”

                                            >”If Prince Bluebood finds his space for you and Luna tonight, I’d like you two to discuss the logistics of that request.”

                                            >You blink in astonishment, and glance over to Luna before looking back to Celestia.

                                            “Ah, with respect, why me?”

                                            >”I’ve said I was interested in your outside perspectives. I want to compare your plan with mine. Perhaps by looking over both, we can find one better than either.”

                                            “I’m, uh, I’ll be honored to.”

                                            >Is THIS her idea of a prank?

                                            >No, her eyes never lie, and they say this is genuine.

                                            >Shit, you’re really in it now.

                                            >Celestia looks to the Appleloosan emissary, then. “Please have the Duke send us a short summary of available resources for my adviser here to look over. I want to make sure we have the most up-to-date information.”

                                            >You’re starting to wonder if you should have ever opened your mouth. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.