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- >You lifted the sheets away. Destroyed, her legs were a velvety white, peppered with vulgar puddles of blackened red and violet. Grotesquely distended in several places, flesh was distended in vicious swelling, and not a part of her lower half was untouched.
- >Her eyes were black. Sealed shut, quite obviously painful, the placid and gorgeous blue was only there through recall of her features. Her nose and face, too, were entwined beneath a set of wires and clamps. So much more than the obvious had been broken.
- >She had not moved. Not once. Not on her own power.
- >Her eyes, her voice, her locomotion. Violated beyond reproach, the sight of her brought disgust and hatred to a tangible flavor. The most significant impact of her injury, however, was that she was aware.
- >PrettyFilly: How is she doing?
- “She's worried about you. We all are.”
- >PrettyFilly: I'm okay. Tell her I'm okay.
- “I'm not going to lie to her, Rarity. I don't even think I can.”
- >PrettyFilly: But I AM fine. I just
- >Her text paused. Lingering in you AR, your baggy eyes glistened with sand. How long had it been since you slept? Bathed? You didn't feel any different, for having lost either.
- >Did that body of yours suffer, if it lost sleep?
- >Gilda watched you from the corner. Violet cloaked, her coat had not even jostled while she merely observed. Not a flinch, not a whisper of interruption.
- >You had taken several glances back to her. Every sentence you brought to completion, you took notice.
- >every word seemed to have placed a weight upon her height. She'd at first squinted. Now, hearing you, the cruelest and most violent physically violent creature you'd known- even without what you had lost- was not allowing you to lock eyes.
- >PrettyFilly: I just need time.
- “I know. I know.”
- >You shook your head.
- “But, I... I refuse to lie to her Rarity. I just can't hide it from her.”
- >PrettyFilly: she's only a child. She won't understand.
- “You really think she's that ignorant? No. If anything, dodging her questions will only confuse her more, or worse, get her curious.”
- >PrettyFilly: Please. Don't.
- >You didn't reply for some time. Sympathy overshadowed by festering rage, you were forced to organize the phrase before you spoke.
- “I don't know if you'll forgive me for this, Rarity, but...”
- >You brushed over the side of her head. Moving the neglected hair, you slid a knotted violet strip behind her cracked horn.
- “The moment you were put into this bed, things changed.”
- >PrettyFilly: Please, I'm fine. I'll BE fine. Don't be like this. We can explain to her later.
- “She's already worried about you. What happens if she accesses the med logs? The security feed? Finds out the father she's barely met, was keeping secrets like THIS from her?”
- >PrettyFilly: Tell her not to worry. Keep her mind off of it. Keep her away from it.
- “I can't, Rarity.”
- >PrettyFilly: Can't, or won't?
- “A little of both, really.”
- >You almost smile. Impossible to actually do while looking at her, you resign it to a mental smirk. It was one of painful pride.
- “She's our daughter, after all. She's capable of what we both are. Do you really think, even with all I'm able to do, that I could stop her?”
- >What followed left you squirming.
- >She moved.
- >She arched her back, the inches covered a true accomplishment with her injuries. You heard a positively pathetic and whining squeal. A scream, far too weak from agony penetrating the painkillers, was all that left her splint clenched jaw.
- >PrettyFilly: What's happened to you?
- >She writhed. Whimpering breaths passed over the metal, causing it to whistle. Though it took you longer than you admitted, the acidic understanding overwhelmed you.
- >She was trying to cry.
- >You took the blanket and recovered her, brushing over her neck. You passed your nose across her neck, attempting to avoid the bruises. Sharing your heat, you sighed against her ear.
- >PrettyFilly: Why are you like this? Of all times, now?
- >You bit your lip, if only for a second or two.
- >Gilda had lowered her head. Having security access like she did, and likely ordered by Twilight to monitor you, she yet remained uninvolved.
- “Because I need to be. Twilight's asked I attend the summit, and I don't intend to disappoint.”
- >PrettyFilly: What? You can't! Not like this! Not like how you are now!
- “That's my girl. Always looking out for me.”
- >PrettyFilly: That's NOT funny. You have to wait. You simply MUST be in the right state of mind!
- >You pet over the back of her head. You stop, once you realize her appreciation for it would likely be ignored, with how she perceived you were acting.
- “Well, from what I hear, you always were better at politics. Maybe you're in better condition to represent me?”
- >PrettyFilly: Stop it stop it STOP IT! They aren't cruel! They'll understand if you delay it, or even if you avoid it completely. I'm begging you, please don't let yourself get seen like this!
- >You recline, and breath. Her scent, sterilized by antiseptic, still managed to permeate your body's brain. For a long time, you simply rest, eyes closed.
- “Rarity, have you ever felt as if you were being blamed? Just a convenient little scapegoat for all the collected shit?”
- >PrettyFilly: that is far from the truth. You KNOW that.
- “A bullet from Luna's guns ripped you in half. The weapons were designed by Twilight. The p0nies that tried to beat you, a mother, completely to death, were from the Conglomerate. And now I get to defend myself against shit I don't even remember- the bombings, the shit with Gilda.”
- >You look over her form once more. Snorts escaped her nostrils, utterly weakened noises that you understood were frightened, mortified sobs.
- “Now, you're saying nop0ny is to blame? That I should just, remain at some fake happy place, just so I don't piss one of them off?”
- >You shook your head. You knew she couldn't see it, but on some level you hoped she had at least felt it.
- “No, Rarity. I'll do things your way with Sweet Heart. But not with what's happened to you. The only real thing in my life, the only creature that's even been willing to acknowledge me as more than what every other sees me as, has been battered, broken, and nearly killed. All for the sake some collective fucking ego that says I'm some kind of travesty and don't deserve to be recognized as having a soul.”
- >PrettyFilly: That's not true, and you damn well know it.
- “Spending your time in a collar would probably change that. But they can't and won't do that to YOU, can they?”
- >PrettyFilly: You spent every second inside that thing for my sake. For the sake of having a future with me. Don't you dare say otherwise, and don't you EVER think I enjoyed seeing you inside it.
- “No, you're absolutely right. And being in that thing nearly got you killed.”
- >Gilda, for the first time, speaks aloud. Perhaps she was doing so to halt you; she did have a sense of timing, you had to admit. Not one of sympathy, but... Her rough voice growled through the room, a singular notion passed by her beak. “We have to get to the C-room. Twilight just sent the ping; they're waiting.”
- >You sigh.
- >PrettyFilly: Please. Don't go. Not yet.
- “I have to. They need to know I'm here, even if they don't understand what I am. I don't even know what the hell I am. But there are more out there, just like me. Trying to kill or destroy. That's why everyp0ny hates me. Hates you, for caring about me. Hates our daughter.
- But it means I have to ask you something.”
- >PrettyFilly: What, then?
- “I armed myself. I know I've killed things, real and digital. With the way every other thing just like me acts, with the atrocities we've all committed, I just... With my kill count it just seems like I'm going to become one of them. That's what they're so scared of, right? Well...”
- >It takes a long and searing breath, an action you wished you could simply switch off. With what you were, you wondered if you could actively do that, and if you could even allow it to hurt.
- “what could I possibly do, that could inspire them to give a fuck about me? About our daughter? About the rest of them just like Sweet Heart?”
- >There was a gap before the response. The longer you waited, the more ill you felt. It came not only from the wait, but from the miniscule movement she made. Blind, in obvious pain, and nearly shivering as she moved, the only sound was a wheeze.
- >PrettyFilly: Without trying, without wanting to be or even knowing
- >PrettyFilly: Even with all those horrible turns and twists, the things you've seen and done, and even if you have to fight tooth and hoof to be so
- >PrettyFilly: You're still the only one out there that any of us has seen, that merely wants to remain kind.
- --
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