Ponderlot

[Amayonnaise 1535]

 

Ponderlot

 

She had read about the flower and the strange sense of euphoria it granted those who consumed it. Seek Enlightenment. She had tried this. She pursued the one who mirrored her own devious antics. Sought misery from the woman he parted from, manipulating and diminishing her hope and joy. She fed upon it, as if it had been centuries since her last sip of water in the midst of an extensive desert. Devouring, as if she bore no true face once more and required such a meal just to survive. 

 

Perhaps this was the enlightenment she sought? To examine her persona, and understand who she was, now that her immortality had been stripped. Despite the loss of her many gifts, perhaps the mark of a daemon had lingered, invoking an unrelenting desire to wreak havoc and misery wherever she went. Perhaps she would never change from this, and that was what she needed to realise?

 

But then she met him. 

 

Akin to the sun, he radiated warmth and peace. She was not drawn to him as others might have been - she was not drawn at all, initially. Merely business.. But through it, a friendship formed. She peeled layers from him, uncovering a deep kindness woven within immense restraint and a sense of duty. Strong ethics and morals that appeared as easy to follow and embody as breathing the air itself - at least for him. His presence gradually encouraged herself to ease her own malicious desires. 

 

It was during her own ranting that she realised the change he had caused within her. The peace his friendship had brought. The stability, upon her constantly fragmenting mind. A fallen immortal, suffering from the anguish of sudden mortality for over a century… 

 

But she had felt content, at last

 

But her enlightenment could not rest upon the shoulders of a single man. He was nothing more than another mortal. Easy to fell, quick to perish. She could rely on him in the present moment, seeking respite from the woes that plagued her mind. Eventually, however, she would require her own strength. Borne of her own mortality. Of found stability. Of a true name.

 

The Ponderlot was consumed

 

She laid upon the grass among the ruins of Savoy, gazing at the glittering abyss above. Time slipped as the drug gradually took root, easing her into a numbness that consumed her entire form. Wind swept through the blades of green rustling against cloth and skin, lulling her into an odd sense of euphoria. Her eyes closed, allowing her mind to drift and wane as she focused upon the sensations wrought. 

 

She remained like this for some time, losing her sense of self as it melded with the surrounding earth and breeze. A break, from all she had endured for over two centuries. Shelter from her own mind, as the surrounding world claimed it from her; whisking it away to render her defenseless against the physical realm.

 

A breath.

 

Her eyes fluttered open, thinning against the dizzying spirals of starlight above. Her focus shifted, landing upon the woman now laying beside her. She remained still for some time, silent in her processing.

 

It took you long enough.

 

The second woman’s voice trailed off in a gentle chuckle, though such a sound echoed around them; woven with warmth and comfort. 

 

Have you always been present?

Lingering.. Somewhere within?

 

Her own gaze returned upon that night sky, relaxing in the melodic humming of the Other’s amusement.

 

I’ve never really had anywhere else to go.

 

Why reveal yourself now, then?

 

I cannot claim I am truly physically here. 

You are high, Morgana.

 

I suppose that is true. 

 

They laughed together then, their shoulders jittering against the earth for some time. Once their musings eased, she rose upon one elbow to peer down at the Other present, examining the youthful, though much more plain features once donned.

 

I almost forgot what it looked like.

The original reflection.

 

The Other mirrored her movements, brushing blonde hair out of those more natural, emerald eyes.

 

I prefer the current. Much more.. Mystical, I think.

Your eyes - they are strange, though.

Too pale.

 

I am aware.

 

I’m not sure our husband would prefer them.

 

I assume you know what happened-

 

Yes.

 

I am sorry.

 

The Other’s eyes closed, for some moments. A breath was drawn, though their ever-curling lips remained so; a gentle smile, wrinkling the corners of their eyes that soon opened to gaze upon her once more.

 

We were loved. It was enough.

 

I was not.

He knew I was not you, from the start.

 

You were loved.

You still are.

 

By who?

 

Everyone.

Those who knew all your faces.

Ludwig. Cerys.

Morana.

 

Me.

 

She harked then, parting her focus from the Other in disbelief. 

 

I am high, hallucinating self-love.

How pathetic.

 

You are high, hallucinating Me.

I am telling you what I would have told you, if I were actually sat beside you.

You know this.

 

Perhaps you were too...

Forgiving, then. Too kind, too accepting.

 

Virtues. Not sins.

Born of patience, my dear.

 

A sigh swept forth as she raised her form, drawing her knees to her chest. Her chin rested upon such, gaze focusing on the grass before them.

 

You know what it is you seek,

Morgana.

 

I do not want it.

 

You do.

You are simply afraid.

But that is alright.

 

I was not created with such a purpose.

It is not natural to me.

 

Your purpose is lost, now. Your abilities are gone.

Mortality is a gift, not a curse.

 

I was endless.

Endless faces. Endless names.

 

And now you need only one.

Much less strain on the mind and memory, no?

 

A hand lowered, plucking at the grass as she fell silent in the midst of their conversation. Unwilling to answer - for she knew the Other to be correct.

 

You have sought answers for some time now.

You learnt of our blood.

Of our name.

 

Your name.

 

Is it?

I am nothing more than a memory.

 

I hate names.

 

It is what you need.

You wish to be content with Mortality?

You must take a name. One that will not change.

 

Her focus returned. She examined their ever present smile, her brow knitting in response.

 

And your heart-

 

It is self preservation.

 

It is not, and you know it. The others are correct.

You must face the onslaught of misery. Experience the pain of rejection.

Learn to grieve, and move on.

 

There will always be another.

 

I do not want another.

 

Nor did I.

Until I met him.

 

The Other huffed. Their form rose upon their knees, reaching forth to gently lift her chin, cupping her face within soft, unscathed hands.

 

I did not know what would become of me, cast within those pools.

But I chose to dive within regardless.

To devote myself to whatever lay ahead.

 

But you lost him.

 

But we loved.

Perhaps it was a short love, but it was fulfilling.

I do not regret my sacrifice.

 

I do not wish to feel that pain.

He grants me peace, I could not be without it.

 

You could.

You need to, in order to be content with yourself.

In order to be Mortal.

 

Slowly, those pale eyes narrowed, blinking at the betrayal of tears that had gradually wove forth. Her own hands rose; scarred limbs, calloused palms. She gently held onto the Other’s wrists, clenching her jaw in the struggle against her emotional release.

 

Then do I simply.. Move on?

Pretend it is not so?

 

Honesty, my dear.

A true companion will accept your heart.

They will give you space to process, but welcome your company after.

 

I.. I am scared.

 

It will be alright.

I will be here, always.

Part of you.

 

A trembling breath, the final barricade against the turmoil that sought to break through.

 

..Alright.

 

You are ready?

 

Her arms stretched further, seeking to coil around the Other’s torso. Her face burrowed into their shirt as gentle sobs croaked forth, seeking the comfort of a true Mother.

 

I will always be here.

 

I know.

 

I am part of you.

 

And you are part of me.

 

I know.

 

Her embrace was returned, their arms tightening upon her for some brief moments. Her sobs were eased, warmth radiating from the Other’s form, weaving deep within her own as if searching for the long abandoned wick of a candle.

 

A spark.

 

Heat engulfed her, causing her eyes to widen as her tightened embrace suddenly slipped, arms phasing through the Other’s form. Incorporeal mists began to separate and zip forth, whirling around her akin to a swarm of butterflies. Their face was the last to dissipate, leaning forth to press a single, yet all-enveloping kiss upon her brow. As those mists wove within her form, combining with her own essence, a voice drew forth to linger within her mind. A final word.

 

N ó r u i w y n

 

Spoiler

tl;dr Morgana got high and spoke to herself from 200 years ago, enjoy

 

[JJosey 1215]

Spoiler