Technicolor - Chapter 3

The pink mare lumbered over to her bed again, shivering all the way. Then she crashed in her bed, legs splayed at random. A wave of discomfort passed through her body and faded away. Her eyelids sank, giving up like so many times before.

Pinkamena dreamed.

A dimly-lit room greeted her as she found herself able to see again. There seemed to be nothing but a round table in it, with two chairs. Seeing no other course of action, she took a seat. Silence settled in around her. Trying to shake the eeriness, she closed her eyes and murmured to herself, saying mostly nothing.

As she opened her eyes again, she let out a sharp scream.

"Hello, darling," said Rarity.

She stared in disbelief, her mouth twitching slightly.

"Well?"

"Uh... h-hi. What are you- No, how- I mean, why-"

"Hush, Miss Pie. Recall that you are dreaming."

"Oh! I guess I am. Unless you're lying."

The unicorn smirked. "Anyhow. You called me here- willingly or not, I do not know. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

"I... don't know what to say."

"Very well. Close your eyes again, dear."

Pinkamena did. When she opened them again she was greeted by two glasses, along with a bottle of something dark red.

"I thought some refreshments might help this conversation along. Shall I?"

She nodded. The white mare poured some of the liquid into both their glasses. She watched intently as it swirled around.

"Go ahead and have a taste if you like. That's what it's for."

She lifted her glass warily and took a sip. Bitterness snaked down her throat. Almost what she expected, and yet so wrong. Off.

"Pomegranates," she muttered at last.

"Indeed. The finest pomegranate juice." Noting the look of confusion, she added, "is there something wrong?"

"I was expecting wine."

"Wine."

"You like wine," stated Pinkamena with a strange nuance of uncertainty.

"Wine isn't in anymore, dearest."

"Oh." She could accept that, she supposed.

"You're a goddess now?"

"Huh?" She shrank back at the question.

"Horn, wings. I can't seem to remember you having those."

"They come with stardom, apparently. Status symbol, maybe. I never really figured it out."

"You simply let them do all that to you?"

"...yeah." She frowned. If you looked at it like that...

"Of course you don't blame anyone forit."

"N-no, of course not!"

"Not even me."

"Not even..." She sighed. "You."

"I honestly think it's awful that you're lying to yourself." Her voice stayed as cool as before.

"What?"

"I drove you to it that day, you and I both know that. I persuaded you, inspired you. Everything was beautiful that day. Simpler, yes-"

"But I never felt like this."

Rarity nodded grimly.

The alicorn resumed, feeling a surge of eloquence coming on. "I never felt dead inside, always alive, burning, bringing joy. I was myself." She looked at her friend, pleadingly.

"Don't cry, dear. You can't cry."

"You... won't help me?"

"Help you? How?"

"Rarity, I... I need somepony, anypony so bad. I'm all alone here, and it's so cold..." Her voice drifted off.

The designer looked at her with contempt. Then she lunged forward at her. "I can't help your misery! I can't be your saviour, your hero, the one to pull you out of your hole. Your own efforts have to accomplish that!"

She backed off, Pinkamena a quivering wreck. Then she continued. "No one here will ever be anything for you either. They won't be good, they won't be bad."

She worked up the strength to speak again. "That hurts more than anything."

"It does. What can you do about it?"

"I... don't know."

"Figure it out."

"I can't give in. I can't let them numb me, dumb me down. Like you and your in pomegranates." She looked up, regretting her remark. Rarity showed no reaction.

"You came here to make your dreams grow."

"I have to keep them alive."

"Or you can lie down, make it easier. To struggle is to suffer. You too will be consumed, mark my words. Canterlot lets nothing walk away."

"You've never even lived there!"

"I am you."

"No, you're just... an illusion!"

"A mirror fits better." She smiled, satisfied. "No, I'm not real. But ask yourself this, Pinkamena." She hovered a hoof over her friend's glass. "Are you?"

She brought her hoof down hard, smashing the glass as her face twisted into a snarl. Red splashed everywhere, time slowing down to a crawl as, to the pink pony's horror, everything began dripping down, losing its very substance. The nectar flowed on, flowed from everything, running red, crimson red, all over her everything.

She took a deep breath.

The scream that pierced the heavy silence carried over into her waking.

She breathed hard, air rushing in and out of her. The mare had broken a sweat and now was trying to soother herself, to tell herself that none of that had actually happened.

And yet she couldn't ignore it.

She left the comfort of her bed again, walked over to her mirror again, stared at herself again. Was she real...?

"I'm so sorry, Rarity." She looked down, digging at the floor petulantly. "So sorry..." She turned her attention to one of the posters that surrounded her- how covering her walls with images of herself had ever been a good idea was a mystery to her.

The sickly, coy smirk, the glitzy dress, the bright clashing colours. It all stung.

That wasn't her. She was no technicolor alicorn, some hot pink demigoddess once worshiped by thousands.

And yet what she was was just a filly with no way out.

Her reflection had meanwhile formed, synthesized a smile somehow. It sickened her, made her boil- even now she was betraying herself.

She's just have to get rid of that smile.

Before even fully realizing what she was doing, Pinkamena spun around and gave the mirror the hardest buck she could muster, the unmistakeable sound of shattering music to her ears.

And then she collapsed on her just like the dying star she was, seeing the broken, desperate visage staring back at her tenfold, as if wishing to apologize, repent, save herself from something.

What in Celestia's name was wrong with her.

She knelt down, trembling uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry, so sorry." She had the unpleasant feeling her words didn't mean much anymore. Nothing did.

As she sobbed heavily, all she could focus on was one promise.

She wouldn't pass out again.