Nightmare Moon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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paradisalogs2012-10-05 10:50 am
mareinblack) wrote in paradisalogs2012-10-05 10:50 am
Entry tags:
Did somepony say nightmare...?
Who: Luna and YOU
What: Nightmare plot
When: Right now?
Where: Her dream
Rating: PG???
[It's a meadow; a beautiful one, illuminated under the light of the full moon, large and low on the horizon. The coolness after the heat of the day is refreshing, as shyer creatures make themselves known. The fireflies dance, even as the stars above seem to hum their own stories.
It starts off with whispers. Kind ones, even. "Oh, there's no need to trouble yourself. We're just waiting for your sister." "What a magnificent job! You'll catch up to your sister in no time!"
It gets darker and it gets louder. Pity, chuckling little laughs. Hesitance. Questions about Celestia's approval or the lack thereof. Loudest of all are the silences. The silences broken only by whimpers and cries, the sharp scent of fear that only goes away with the rising of the sun.
It becomes impossible to see and there is nothing to hear, beyond the sound of your own breathing, magnified in this absolute nothing.
And then after an interminable amount of time, there are vividly green, slit-pupil eyes in front of you. The contours of the fully grown alicorn mare can barely be seen in the dark, if not for the glow of her mane and tail. That smile is nothing short of insane.]
"'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Nightmare to the dreamer." [and her grin grows wider]
What: Nightmare plot
When: Right now?
Where: Her dream
Rating: PG???
[It's a meadow; a beautiful one, illuminated under the light of the full moon, large and low on the horizon. The coolness after the heat of the day is refreshing, as shyer creatures make themselves known. The fireflies dance, even as the stars above seem to hum their own stories.
It starts off with whispers. Kind ones, even. "Oh, there's no need to trouble yourself. We're just waiting for your sister." "What a magnificent job! You'll catch up to your sister in no time!"
It gets darker and it gets louder. Pity, chuckling little laughs. Hesitance. Questions about Celestia's approval or the lack thereof. Loudest of all are the silences. The silences broken only by whimpers and cries, the sharp scent of fear that only goes away with the rising of the sun.
It becomes impossible to see and there is nothing to hear, beyond the sound of your own breathing, magnified in this absolute nothing.
And then after an interminable amount of time, there are vividly green, slit-pupil eyes in front of you. The contours of the fully grown alicorn mare can barely be seen in the dark, if not for the glow of her mane and tail. That smile is nothing short of insane.]
"'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Nightmare to the dreamer." [and her grin grows wider]
no subject
Very good. Thou wilt enjoy this one, methinks.
Once 'pon a time, a dragon egg was taken. Whether 'twas an act of outright thievery or a careless extension of grace to a child abandoned by his parents, I cannot say. Whatever the situation, it suited the ponies' purpose, for they - or should I say 'she' - used the child in an aptitude test for a young filly.
Despite these inauspicious beginnings, the young dragon was received with an open heart. He was raised as a pony, with love and care, with friendship and warmth. He could ask for no better family.
Years passed. The young dragon grew larger and larger as his family grew older and weaker. He was ever caring of their needs and helped in every way possible. However, whispers followed him wherever he went.
Ponies are primarily motivated by fear, as thou dost know. Fear prompteth them to react with hostility and unkindness when otherwise, they would ne'er even dream of such things. When they looked 'pon their dragon, they saw not the immeasurably sad little brother who put on a brave smile for his aging sister. Instead, they saw a wide awning cavern of sharp fangs. When they looked 'pon their dragon, they saw not the measured, slightly exasperated way he placed library books back in their proper places. Instead, they saw only the gleam of sharp claws that can bisect a pony without a second thought.
He endured. He endured the sudden silences, the sharp smell of fear in the air, the way ponies would slowly edge in front of their foals, the way doors and shutters would slam shut as he passed. He endured them all for the sake of distant memories, when he could once traverse the town carried on a pony's back.
He finally succumbed to his Hundred Years' Sleep, taking care to sequester himself away so that his smoke cannot harm any others. [a sad shake of her head] Solicitous 'till the end. And when he awoke? Well, few ponies can e'er hope to live that long. And their memories are even shorter. Who would be willing to see beyond tooth and claw, fang and fire?
[she looks bluer at the end of it. But then again, what else are illusions good for?]
no subject
...But as it progresses, his heart sinks more and more. She's right, of course. He may be young but he's not stupid. He's well aware as a dragon, he will exist for thousands of years, much longer than any pony lifespan, bar the sun and moon sisters. But just because he knows it's a fact, doesn't mean he wants to face it. He avoids it as much as he can, and it hurts, to have it laid so bare in front of him.
But what she says next hurts him even more. He remembers when he let his greed get the better of him. How the ponies ran and screamed in terror. How, even afterwards, they watched him with a little more caution than they had before. He's from a race of monsters, plain and simple. He can learn to control his base instincts as much as he likes, it still won't change the fact he's a dragon. One of the monsters.
...Maybe one day they really will stop seeing him as one of their own, and see him for what he came from.
He sinks a little to the ground, curling his tail around himself protectively. Not wanting to believe it, but knowing it to be a very likely scenario for him anyway]
I'll find a way to make them remember. I will.
no subject
It is almost selfish of them, is it not? The ones left behind are the ones who have to suffer the hurt. How many times will you be able to stand it? Abandoned, again and again, across thousands of pony lifespans? Will they start blurring into each other? Faces and manes, likes and dislikes, stories and dreams?
no subject
No. I won't forget them. I won't forget any of them. And I won't forget you, either.
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[a half smile that doesn't reach her eyes] Dost thou know wherefore Celestia doth sport that smile at all times?
no subject
[He has a feeling that he really, really won't like this]
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We have persisted for eons, young Spike. There is literally nothing new under the sun - or the moon. And worst of all? [and here, her voice drops a few notches] We blink, and another generation of ponies have lived and died. We take but a single breath, and their grandfoals have grown and have taken over their families' time-honored posts in service to Equestria.
Dust to dust, young Spike. A pony may give her entire life in devotion to us, but it is only later that we realize with a jolt that she, and others like her, has been dead for a thousand years. Her bones are dust. Her descendants know not of her. Nopony alive knows anything of her, but for us. And we have not even realized she's dead until that moment.
She smiles, young Spike, because she is tired, because they expect her to. She is expected to be warm and maternal, the mother of all her little ponies, the nurturer, the giver of life, the sun. So she smiles to hide the sudden pangs when a familiar cutie mark, a distinctive curl of a mane comes into view. She smiles to hide her guilt when she accidentally calls a guardspony by the name of his great-great-great-grandfather. She smiles because how else can she deal with the furious scurrying of these little ponies who she cares so much for, but who she cannot name? How many deathbeds have she stood watch over? How many of them have asked her to remember them? How many has she forgotten, until that very moment when she realizes that even their names have slipped her mind?
[mildly] Dost thou believe thou canst surpass Celestia in this regard?
[how much of this is pure artistic license? Who knows.]
no subject
...I can try. I have to try. They're...they're my family.
no subject
And try you will. [there's a laugh as she stands up again]
What is the average life span of a mare? Eighty, was it? [this number is subject to change and is in no way reflective of known canon at this current time] And how old is Twilight Sparkle now? She is about a quarter of the way through, yes?
[she laughs] Begone, dragonling. [aaaand he gets kicked out of the nightmare on that cheery note. But at least it's over, right?]
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You're a pal!]
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USUALLY.]