The walls were oppressive.
No one controlled Moniz. Her parents never controlled her. Her herd never controlled her. She had never submitted herself to the terrible anchor of love. No pathetic foal demanded her resources. She owed nothing to any creature. Her life was insular: she need only report to herself. She was her own sole master.
But the walls begged to differ.
Moniz was getting her bearings in this underground labyrinth, somehow not quite stupid enough to get herself into trouble without a clear mental representation of how to get out of it. The whole place buzzed with intense activity, allowing her to skulk around largely unnoticed. Skulking unnoticed wasn’t in her typical behavioral repetoire, but there were few opportunities to interject as she usually would. Everyone was so caught up in the storm of their own chaos that they could not spare the attention to notice the minor squall of a strange pony.
They will not be blind to me for long, she reassured herself with a crooked smile.
In the meantime, her exploration had led her to the Wall of History. This chamber was not like the others Moniz had graced thus far. There was something of a reverent hush that blanketed everything touched by the glowing light that hung overhead. Compared to the endless chatter that echoed everywhere else, the silence felt ominous. Everything was amplified in its throttling embrace.
Moniz wanted to shake it off. The silence could not stop her. She could do whatever she wanted without fear of consequence. Right?
She stepped hesitantly towards the glimmering screen that initially drew her here, immediately scolding herself for the brief moment of doubt and swishing her thick black tail against her sides. She resolutely investigated the object of her curiosity despite the unpleasant sensation of hot breath down her cool neck.
The walls were elaborately marked, spiraling around her with infuriatingly nonsensical depictions. A small minority of the etchings were vaguely familiar, resembling horses as she knew them, but the dizzying majority were far beyond her realm of experience. Somehow, it began to feel very important that she understand whatever clandestine meaning these painted walls concealed. She brought her nose mere inches from the wall, as if proximity could grant her new insight. She exhaled heavily, expecting the sparkling flecks of gold to scatter in a cloud like the thick dust of a parched Tallsun and reveal some other more harmonious imagery, but they stubbornly clung to their granite purchase. They knew the story they wanted to tell, and they did not concern themselves over the confusion of one small pony.
The walls persisted in their elusive glistening.
An ember of rage began to warm in her belly. She needed to know what the walls said - she deserved to know. Did they have any idea who she was? The room's obstinate silence was mocking her, the twinkling walls delighting in her frustration.
Moniz was not the sort of mare who did not know how to respond in the face of mockery. In one smooth, deliberate motion, she lifted her tail and let rip a mighty fart. Its harsh noise bounced off the peaceful walls with satisfying cacophony, and a pleased smirk spread across the vulgar pony's face.
@[Elsa] |
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[O] Serenade me with rocks, love (Elsa)
