Ritual of Freedom ch2: A wise woman

>the walk itself is placid. The mundane scuffle of steps on dirt, stone and flora. The sound of crickets, wind, and leaves.  Insects land upon your robe, yet you have not the will to murder them.  You never had.
>A flurry of fireflies hovers about you.  Flaring against the sky and enshrouded trees, you pause.  You gyrate your walking stick, mumbling a small chant- a bid for their aid, in there tongue. The only bit of their language you knew.
>The mare you knew as Luna looked at you.  The color of the night would have made her impossible to see, had her curves not been lined with the shine of polished moonlight.  Even her hair, a wispy, rolling mane of stars you had been nearly hypnotized by, held the color of the full, white orb in the sky.
>Yet her eyes.  They had the quality of a stilletto, and her focused gaze was the sort that could have caused any sane man to buckle and cower.
>If you had anything to hide, any reason to lie, that might have been dangerous.  But to you, it was merely part of her.  Something to accept.  And to meet.
>”What spell was that?” she asked you.
>The fireflies had clustered in a close orb.  They hovered near you, providing a golden light that allowed your steps to remain deft.
“Spell?”
>You pondered.  Yes.   You supposed it could be called that.
“It has no name.”
>You replied to her.
“I merely asked them.”
>She regards you with a bit of a sneer, but it is cold, and unfocused on you yourself. You can sense her malice surrounding the lack of information.

“I have been here but hours.  Your creatures are kind enough to act at a lost man's request.”
>As you walk your stick aiding your right foot on each step, the nest of fireflies scatters a moment before reforming.  Their way of acknowledging you, without either of you being able to truly listen to them.
“For this, I know I am safe.”
>Some of them rest upon your arm.  It leaves the robe glowing green in flashes.  They co-ordinate, and flash their bodies at the same time, giving you a green, flaring glow.  You can nearly feel the light.
>”You are not a magician, then.”
“No.”
>You practically spit.
“I have never met such.  And I cannot say I would approve of such.”
>Luna's wings flutter a moment, and she begins to lead several steps ahead after she lands.  “And why would THAT be?”
“I work from the very core of nature.  I seek to understand. And through it, I become more and more whole.”
>You look to the sky as you walk.
“and yet, I still feel so worthless here.  Your sky makes me feel so small.  In knowing that simple idea, I can only pray I may be reborn with my mind.  The collection of knowledge, to which I may continue to add.  A fleeting hope.”
>You look back to her. She was walking slower, then, her ears lost in your words.
“To use blood for such a thing.  To change the very fabric of nature, for one's own ends.”
>You grit your teeth.  Such sudden, inwardly focused rage was unlike your practice.  But it was necessary.  It let you know what was wrong.
>You had come to terms with your character.  With it, you could fear nothing.  Merely being unawares of it's corruption.

“Thaumaturgy, sacrifice. That plain practice of war.  Of that, I cannot abide. Nor will I ever, if it means the life of this body.”
>”Barbaric ideas, spoken from a creature that has experienced them.”
>You do nothing for a time. Then, you nod, slowly, and once.
“Have you armies?”
>She says nothing.
“Have you stood before them? Truly, looking out upon their faces?  The feel in your soul, your being.  What was it?”
>”Nothing I wish to speak about.” she replied.
“Then tell me this.  Would you will them upon others?”
>”... No.”  She looked away from you, forward, onto the path.  The trees were beginning to thin.  In the distance, there was a faint glow that crowned the hills, and to which you could only assume the path would extend.
>”Never.”
“Not with their vows? Not with their acceptance of their place, and their purpose?”
>”Never.”
“And if there were others that would not share the sentiment?”
>”Was that a threat?”
“A question, cobalt goddess. From a humble man, whom has experienced much.”
>She stops where she stands.  You do not pass her. You merely stop, looking down toward this wondrous creature of darkness and stars.
“Would you?”
>”If it meant the lives of my subjects,” and without fear in her voice, without regret: “I would die before it meant a single pony under my charge would themselves.”
>Despite her wretched, belligerent attitude, you smiled.

“Then, cobalt goddess, you are wise and noble.”
>You gesture to the field around you.
“I do not know this place, but from what I have seen, I am certain. There are forces that could, and would, take the lives of your kind and generous people.  Even your creatures.”
>You pass the stick to your other hand, and wave your right arm gently through the ball of fireflies at your side.  They disperse into a pair of glowing orbs, many tickling your fingers before taking off to coalesce once again and give your vision distance.
“They would ruin the land.  They would take from you whatever you find precious, simply to have some perverse satisfaction in the demise of what you stand for.”
>You turn, and turn the stick toward the sky. Drawing it across the stars, and using the top to circle the moon, you finally hold it centered and pointing upward toward the platinum orb.
“They would cloud your soft, beautiful night.  They would darken a brilliant dawn, of which I have seen already through the mercy of your worlds honorable, unspoken life.”
>She follows the trail your stick makes, and soon focuses upon the sky of unfamiliar make.  She lifts a forehoof, before turning to face the sky as you do.
“I... Could not accept that with a still soul.”
>Tears melt in your eyes.  Yes. That you had seen such vile darkenings, too.  Fires and drums, blotting out the sky and wind with smoke and misled passion. The recollections stung.  You blink to clear your eyes, and allow the drops to roll down your face.
“I am not of this place, and in hours already, I am too in love to ever willingly bring it harm.”
>With interest, she looks about.  She avoids the horizon, the mountains.  Luna looks to the sky, as if for the first time recognizing... No, acknowledging it.

>You stomp the heel of the stick on the ground, and turn.  You begin to follow the path once again, uncaring of if she actually followed.
>There were others.  With the light of a town ahead, there had to be.  However you terrorized them, you knew you meant no harm.
>And you also knew, as she stared skyward, that you would die to remain at such a peace with yourself.
>”So strange.” she whispered.  “From so far away, and you are the first to use a compliment for the darkness I bring.”
>Again, you stop.
>Truly, had her kind been so unfaithful?  Did they not simply look up?
>How pitiable.
>But it meant there was work that had to be done.  Work that, perhaps, whatever strange turn nature had given you, had been intended for you.
>”Come here, creature.” Her wings extend.  They were a length that extended once for your height, each.  As she unfurled them, the edges of innumerable feathers glittered with moonlight that distorted with the brush of wind.

>”I shall carry you to my home.  But on a single condition.”
>You turn to face her.  You say nothing, awaiting her demand.
>”While we travel, you speak to me.  Answer my questions, and whatever debt you have incurred by your trespass will be considered paid.”
“Then answer me something.”
>”Speak it.”
“You had intended to parade me through the town.”
>”Yes.”
“Your people do not know me, nor what I am. Your aim was to show them my existence, and to frighten them with it.  To have their support in destroying me should any reason arise.”
>You were accustomed to such treatment.  Men of power used such means, in order to remain elevated.  She lowered her head as you confronted her with it.
>”... Yes.”
>You turn to the fireflies.  Mumbling the chant, you bid them to return home.  Weakly obeying, you mumble one further word, the human equivalence of thanks.  Three remain, and you can only believe that they are saying their own goodbye.
>You approach her once you are sure they are leaving.
“Luna, you truly are wise.  More so, perhaps, than yet you realize.”
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