Descent (Gilda/Anon) - Part 5

>You pull your pants back on, despite the look that Gilda gives you.  She does have a point, modesty seems a little wasted at this point, but if you’re going to die, you’d rather do it dressed.  As you sit down across from her, she holds out another feather, plucked fresh.
>“You have given your seed, something unique to you.  In return, I give you part of me.  This feather defines who I am.  With this, our bond is sealed.”
>You reach out and take the feather, holding it under your nose for a moment while Gilda picks up the knot of her fur and your hair.  With a tug, the knot comes undone.
>“The physical tie is no longer necessary.  With this, we are bound.”
>Once again silence fills the room.  You wait, enjoying the barely there scent that lingers to the feather before finally asking
“That’s it?”
>Gilda grins and shrugs.
>“That’s the quick and dirty, seeing as we can’t do the whole process.  Unless you have a mortar, pestle and thirty different spices and extracts, then yeah, we’re done.”
>You flex your fingers a few times and raise an eyebrow
“Well, I don’t feel any different.  How do we know if it worked?”
>“We won’t until we’re dead.  Pretty exciting, huh?”
“If by exciting you mean terrifying, then yeah, it’s great.”
>Gilda laughs and allows herself to move a little closer to you.
>“Well, if it doesn’t, then there’s no point in worrying about it, right?  You’ve done a lot for me, and I appreciate that you’re willing to humor me.  But”
>Her eyes meet yours, and despite the overwhelming finality in her words, she manages another smile.
>“Are you ready to see if it works?”

>
>“Ms. Sparkle, please.  You’ve been at this for more than half a day.  It’s light outside.  You must take a break.”
>You manage a grunt, paying more attention to the trails of sweat pouring off of you, taking time to close your eyes whenever they got too close.  That pony is hovering again, trying to tell you what you can and can’t do.  You’re capable, you know you can do this.
“No time to talk.  Have to save Anon.”
>“Ms. Sparkle, if you keep this up you will suffer from burnout, or worse!”
“I.  Can.  DO IT!”
>The pony stammers a response, but puts his hoof down and retreats, leaving you to your casting.  A crazed smile flits across your face as your eyes widen.  You had no idea how much magic you actually had inside of you, waiting to be tapped.
>Certainly, you had done impressive tasks before, but never for such an extended period of time.  Maintaining an active spell required a different sort of mentality.  Shining Armor was exceptional at it, able to keep his barriers up for weeks at a time.
>While less magically capable than you, his stamina was among the best in the Guard.  And here you were, not only performing three spells that would utterly drain most unicorns, but actively sustaining them by sheer force of will.
>Rocks fly by your ears as they rocket out of the tunnel.  You barely notice the wind as they cut through the air.  Within the tunnel, your walls prevent the rocks from caving in, even as you project more magic into the rock itself, causing it to adhere and reform solid walls.

>A part of you delights in the challenge.  This feels just as good as learning any spell ever.  It was the same part that insisted that you help Anonymous.  You are light as air, ready for anything.
>
>Anonymous sits with his back to you, working on, something.  After you asked him if he was prepared, he’d said ‘not yet’, with that little smile of his, before asking for four more of your feathers.
>If he hadn’t been so incessant about it, asking you over and over when you tried to deny him, you wouldn’t have given in, but he seemed set on getting them.  It hurt, a lot, and then he started in on, whatever his craft project was.  Taking a few moments to rub your plumage, you watch him, trying to get some idea of what he’s doing.
>He’s torn most of the sleeves off of his shirt and is humming to himself, tying the two strands of cloth in a knot, and tying several knots throughout the fabric afterwards.  Sliding the ends of the feathers through the holes, he secures each several more times and then unties the main knot.
>The fabric stays in one piece, quivering from side to side as he breathes.  Your feathers are evenly spaced, for the most part.  Holding it up to his upper left arm, Anonymous reties the knot, using his teeth and right hand to pull it tight.
“That is the most ridiculous band I’ve ever seen.  Feathers?  Seriously?”
>“You’re just jealous.”
“No, you’re just a dweeb who’s wasting my plumage.”
>He grins and sticks his nose up in the air and you share a quiet smile with one another.  To be honest, you’re not sure you’re ready for this next step either, but you’re running out of options.  Better to die on your own terms, like Anonymous said.
>“So?”

>Your ears pop as you swallow, steadying your breath and glancing around the altar.  Nodding towards a large rock, you look back at him.  Lifting a talon, you tap the side of your head.
“Here’s how this is going to work.  You’re going to smack the hell out of me with a rock.”
>“That’s a really well thought out plan.”
“Shut up, I’m not done.  Gryphons have thin skulls, so if you drop that sucker with enough force, my head should…”
>“Explode?”
>You glare at Anonymous who gives a small shrug.
“I, I guess that would be one way to put it.  Point is my head will fracture and pierce my brain if it doesn’t get totally scrambled by the initial hit.”
>“That works pretty well for you, but I don’t think I can brain myself until my head meats dribble out my nose.  What about me?”
>You smile, flexing your talons and raise an eyebrow.
“I’m going to set my claws on your neck.  You’re going to bash the hell out of my skull.  When you hit, my body’s going to tense up and pierce whatever veins you’ve got in there and your throat too.”
>“Ew.  How do you know it’s going to work though?  You aren’t exactly an expert on humans.”
>Rolling your shoulders, you can’t help but give him a satisfied smirk.
“I’m a top-tier predator, dork. I make my living off of knowing when and where to attack my prey.”
>He goes quiet for a moment, then adds
>“So, when you let me sleep with you”
“I was sizing you up in case I had to kill you, yes.  It’s a natural response, I know that your neck is vulnerable, and you’ve got this great little vein in there that sticks out when you have nightmares and your heart gets pounding.”

>Showing your teeth, you allow yourself a small laugh as he squirms back out of reach.
“Okay, just so we’re clear, you drown in blood, my brains gush out my ears, everyone wins.”
>“This sounds really messy.”
“I don’t like the idea of it either, but I can’t really think of any way for me the clamp down aside from you bashing my head in.  It’s a death reflex for gryphons, so that if we die on a perch our body doesn’t go flying off a cliff with the next breeze.”
>“What about if you die in flight?”
>You huff and roll your eyes.
“Why so many questions?  I’m not flying, so why are you even asking.  Do you want to ask questions, or do you want to die?”
>That didn’t come out the way it sounded in your head at all.  Sighing, you place your claw over your face and shake your head.
“Look, can we just get on with this, please?”
>
“All right, let’s do it.”
>You pick up the rock and take a few practice blows with it.  Gilda rolls her eyes and gives a small laugh.  You’ll only have to do this once, you hope, but swinging does make the act seem less intimidating.
>You’re still terrified, you’ve never killed anyone before, and now you’ve entered into a mutual death pact.
>Is it ridiculous?  Yes.  In fact, you could probably say something now and Gilda would forget the whole thing.  She’d be disappointed, call you a nerd, maybe a coward, make fun of your mother and have something to say about your sexual ability, but at least you’d be alive.
>“That’s right, you would be.  We could have so much fun together.”

>The low whisper sends shivers down your spine as ethereal tendrils slide along your shoulder.  You glance to the side, four perfectly pale fingers, dragging their nails up and down your arm.
>“That was quite a show you two put on, I want you now more than ever.”
>Glancing over at Gilda, you can tell she doesn’t see the, thing, touching you.  Wetting your lips, your voice comes out hushed and strained.
“You’re not real…”
>The chill rolls through your body as the thing rests her elbow on your other shoulder, and her chin upon the top of your head.
>“So cruel, Anonymous, you bring me here, tease me relentlessly and now you say that I don’t exist?   What kind of man does that to his woman?”
>The nails slide down your cheek.  Your thoughts freeze as its claws slide behind your ear, digging a little deeper.  A sticky wetness sliding towards your neck causes you to jerk your hand back.
>It’s not real.
>It’s not real.
> You try to wet your lips and remove your fingers.  When you pull your hand back, it will be clean.  Assured of this truth, you glance down.
>In the muted light, the dull gleam of blood is unmistakable.  As you wheeze in a breath, you hear Gilda stalk over towards you, a smile lighting up her eyes.
>“Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?  It’s going to take more than a scratch to do the deed, though.”
“I, I guess so.”
>Right.  You probably just scratched yourself when you reached back to check.
>“Wouldn’t that be convenient?”
>You shiver at the honey sweet voice and try to focus on Gilda.  The gryphon cocks her head to the side, looking over towards the debris.

>“All right make sure you pick a rock that will get it done in one shot, okay?  The less discomfort I’m in, the easier it will be on both of us.”
>Rooting through the rubble, the shadow-thing speaks with you again.
>“Things will be so much better once the pest is out of the picture.  You and me, together at last, the way things should be.”
>You need to move quickly, you’re going out of your mind.
>“Oh me, me, me, you’re so selfish Anonymous.  Can’t you think about someone else for once?”
“Get out of my head.”
>“Fine.  I know when I’m not wanted.  Go with that hussy, see if I care.”
>Blissful silence follows afterwards, finally allowing you piece of mind.  Clutching a large, jagged rock in your hand, you move back towards Gilda.
“All right, I think I’m ready.”
>Eyeing the rock that you chose, Gilda gives you her best confident eyebrow raise.
>“About time, I was beginning to think you’d lost your nerve.”
>The two of you settle into position, you kneeling on the ground, she perched on her hind legs across from you.  All at once, the rock feels much heavier in your hand.  Neither of you seem ready to make the first move.
>“Hey.  Anonymous.”
>You mange a grunt, fighting the growing uncertainty in your stomach.
>“I’m, sorry I didn’t meet you sooner.”
>Flashing a shy smile, Gilda slides a claw through her plumage.  Totally unlike her.
>“You, you’re a major dweeb, but, I figure we could have had a crazy adventure or two.”
>“Lets make time for one when we meet up again, okay?”
“Sure, that’s what friends do, right?”
>The words fall out of your mouth before you realize you’re speaking.  But the way Gilda’s face lights up, you figure that was exactly what she needed to hear.
>“…Dork.”

>With a small laugh, Gilda reaches up and sets her talons against your neck.  Your heart accelerates as you lift the stone, neither of you taking your eyes off the other.  The moment freezes in time, broken at last by her quiet words.
>“Don’t keep me waiting long, okay?”
>Gritting your teeth, you close your eyes and bring down the rock.  A sickening crunch and wet squelch follows.  But you’re not aware of that.
>Because you currently have six bird talons lodged in your throat.
>Making a conscious decision to drown is a unique sensation, an ultimate battle between mind and body.  On the one hand, you realize you wish to drown.  On the other, the body’s innate need for oxygen causes it to rebel against the mind, going into autopilot.
>You clutch at your throat, fingers trying to free yourself from Gilda’s grip and replace it with your own.  You have to stop the bleeding before it fills your lungs.
>You feel yourself drift back down to the ground, staring resolutely at the stone ceiling.  You realize the futility of your body’s actions, but cannot bring yourself to try and tame it.
>Small gurgling sounds rumble from the back of your throat as you squirm, coughing up blood.  Death is approaching, but you can stave it off.  You have to.
>Smirking, you look up at the shadow as it coalesces above you, showing its feminine face.  Taking a moment to spit some blood at it, you barely manage a wet chuckle.
>You showed her.  She would never have you.
>Darkness descends, faint pinpricks of light swallowed whole in an instant.  You’ve failed.  You can finally rest.

>
>The twitching starts deep in your chest, but spreads without warning.  Every pint of blood in your pony body feels like it’s burning you from the inside out.  With a cry, your focus is broken, and your hard work collapses in front of you.
>But you’re still burning.  Falling onto the cold stone beneath you, you whimper as your body twitches and twerks, small gasps punctuated by breathless screams.
>Confused and afraid, you curl into a fetal position and try to cry away the searing pain.  The flesh seems to revel in its proximity, burning all the more.
“What, what’s wrong with me?”
>You sob, even as a pony trots over to you with water.  Holding your head up with one hoof, he places the bucket in front of you.  Your greedy slurps and pants echo into the wooden design.
>It doesn’t eliminate the burning, but it at least manages the pain, notching it down to a thunderous crackle from the raging blaze it was before.  Coughing, you groan as the bucket is removed from your snout.
“More, more, please!”
>“I believe you have had enough, Twilight Sparkle.”
>The voice is stern, but concerned.  Between your oxygen-deprived wheezes, you manage to lift your head towards the sound, shame burning behind your face.
“P-Princess Celestia.”
>A shimmering halo surrounds the Sun Princess even at these depths, her ethereal hair blowing in the nonexistent breeze.  Her eyes are concerned, but distant, as if your well being is not her priority.
>Part of you aches at that thought, but you still drag yourself closer, whimpering as you do.
“Princess, Anonymous is trapped, with Gilda.  It’s been so long, I had to save him!”

>Her attention snaps to you, realizing your state.  Leaning down, she brushes her hoof against your cheek, sparing you a smile.
>“As I was informed, Twilight.  But it would appear that there is much more going on here than a simple rescue mission.”
>Lifting her head, Celestia turns back to the collapsed tunnel, scowling.
>“It would have been better that this terrible place have been lost to time.  Ancient power resides in here, my student, older than even myself.  I thought it had been dealt with long ago, but it appears I was mistaken.”
“But, Anon…”
>“Of course.  We must see to the safety of our otherworldly visitor, and to the gryphon delegate.  Rest, and leave the clearing of the path to me.”
>As you gaze up at the pristine white coat of your teacher, you feel exhaustion settle over your body.  Utterly drained, you feel yourself slip away against the chilled stone floor.
>
>So.
>This is death.
>…
>Huh.
>It’s not so bad.
>You’re kind of
>Floating.
>Definitely floating.
>It’s not blackness, it’s more a lack of
>Everything.
>A void, as it were.
>Sighing, you allow yourself to lounge in the empty space and stare off into the infinite.
“Okay, yeah, I’m going to go nuts if I have to stay here for very long.”
>“I knew you’d come around eventually.”
>The voice snaps through you like a rat-tail in gym class.  Thick, syrupy sweet, resonating between your ears, the dreaded mezzo soprano that’s been haunting you.
>Sitting upright, you glance from one side to the other, throwing your feet onto the ‘ground’.
“What the hell, you’re following me after I’m dead too?  Just leave me alone!”
>“But where would the fun be in that?”

>Purring, the shadow-woman steps out of the emptiness and strides up to you.  Still pale, but now wielding a tinge of color in her cheeks, she reaches up and caresses your face.
>Despite your attempt to pull away, you feel control leave your body as it leans into the motion.  She smiles.
>“There’s a good boy.  Didn’t I tell you we were meant to be together?  You, and me, forever.”
“No way, I’m dead.”
>“Are you now?”
>As she chuckles, you feel the sensation of her fingers sliding down your neck.  As she arrives at the location of Gilda’s punctures, you flinch, only to feel her digits glide over them without any fuss.
>Snapping out of your daze, you grab at your neck, frantic fingers groping for wounds.  The skin is still slick with blood, but the piercings have scabbed over.
“That, that’s impossible.  She went straight through my neck.”
>“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”
>Pulling her hand back, the creature makes a show of licking each of her fingers clean, moaning as she slides her index finger between her lips.  After a few moments of bobbing her head, she releases herself with a resounding pop, biting her lower lip in the process.
>“I was once known as The One Who Lays Low the Mountains, The Earth Shaker, Thundering Hooves, The Spirit of the Plains, Earth Mother.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me!”
>“Of course not, why should it?  I can see that you and your kind have long forgotten the old ways.  But I haven’t forgotten you.”

>The woman, spirit, Thunder Hoof, whatever, fades from your sight.  After a short reprieve, you are assaulted by a bevy of visions.
>
>The world when she was young, flat, devoid of form.
>The creator titans, mindless beasts of dust who dug her trenches and created her peaks.
>The great flood that turned their bodies to mud and brought forth their children to continue the labor.
>Eons of disputes, large and small, distilled into a fraction of an instant.
>The rise of the great tribes.
>Dragons, Wyrms, all manner of reptiles, torn from the spirits of the old and wise.
>The lesser tribes that followed.
>Ponies, Gryphons, Bison, Zebras.
>If it walked on four legs, it followed, born of the spirits of the creative and bold.
>And Humans as well.
>Time stretches on.
>Denial.
>Rejection.
>The lesser tribes casting off the old ways.
>Twisting them.
>Manipulating them.
>The Humans sacrificing their own to open a gate to another world, abandoning the Earth Mother.
>And then the pony invasion and formation of Equestria.
>Creator children taking physical form and rising up against the invaders, only to be cast aside by the brilliance of the sun and the night’s sweet caress.
>Celestia’s stern gaze.
>The crushing blow from her hoof against your chest.
>
>The vision fades, and the woman appears before you again.  You wheeze from your position on the ‘floor’, glaring up at her.
“That’s what this is all about.  You’re just a dead god.”
>“No, not dead.”
>A smile slips across her face as she touches your cheek.  Beneath the room temperature flesh, you can feel a thousand dark tendrils squirming, begging to escape.
>“Reborn.”