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02-11-2014, 12:39 PM
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The rotund pony had been lured back to the confusing room that hid its secrets in plain sight. To her credit, Moniz had learned a thing or two since her first excursion into the hallowed chamber. She knew now about the horned and winged figures. Not much else had been learned in her season of darkness, but at least she had made some kind of progress towards broadening her horizons, even if that had not been her intention. Frankly, she didn’t give a damn about her horizons – not consciously, at least. Of course, if she had simply decayed over the months, learning nothing, accomplishing nothing, being nothing… true nothingness breeds a uniquely profound type of despair. Even the crude little pony would not have been able to prevent herself from succumbing to its existential terror. It was this existential terror, buried under dozens of layers of flawed coping mechanisms and misguided attempts at self-preservation, that propelled Moniz back to the Wall of History. She did not know this, of course. She was not reflective enough to consider why she felt the need to go somewhere or do something. She only knew that an uncomfortable incongruity had jammed itself in her mind somewhere, and for whatever reason, she was drawn to this room to release it. As it would happen, the forces that be have chosen to bestow another learning opportunity on our unlikely little heroine. Moniz felt the now-familiar glow of artificial light playing across her back as she bee-lined for the bubbling fountain. Black-rimmed ears swiveled with atypical caution, as though she knew something different was to happen and she should be on guard for whatever it may be. There were others around, as there always seemed to be in these crowded, musty caves, but like usual, they seemed mostly absorbed in their own thoughts and conversations. A dark-coated pony could slip like a shadow, entirely unnoticed in the murky light, even if she were not moving with any semblance of stealth. The lights flickered continuously along the wall, shifting and sharing the time in the spotlight for each section of the room. Thick legs’ forward progress halted abruptly when, jutting out from a crevice that lurked conspicuously along a lonely section of the wall, something broke the endless monotony of stone. Still keeping her distance, Moniz lowered her gaze towards it, and a dim red-orange glow played across its smooth exposed surface. Her choppy strides resumed, this time drawing her to the object’s half-hearted hiding place. The shortness of her neck compelled her to draw within mere inches of the sphere, and as she lowered her muzzle to the floor to investigate it, she recalled the existence of similar items above ground, most often hidden in trees but occasionally cracked on the floor, little undeveloped bodies unfit for life next to the delicate pieces of porcelain that had been intended for protection. There was no tree here – no way to explain the egg’s existence in such an odd spot. Fortunately, Moniz was not the type of mare to require explanations. She felt strongly compelled to take the lonely thing for herself, so she did. Her flexible upper lip went to work, carefully working the fragile egg free from the wall. Once freed, it rolled to a stop by her hoof, glistening suggestively at her. Instinct directing her every unusually delicate movement, she stepped back and laid her heavy body to the cold floor with surprising grace. Once settled, she poked the pale sphere gently towards the soft flesh that covered the dried fig of her heart, and ever so tentatively, both it and the egg began the arduous process of ripening. OOC: Open if anyone particularly wants to reply =) |
