Where we Stand:

The room was dark, a void, lacking life, lacking joy, lacking sound, nothingness. Dawn, poor little Black Dawn, sixteen lay limp in the cold metal chair awaiting her personal demon, the faceless and demanding Figure to continue the story.

Only a flicker of light remained inside her head, a flicker of her entire being solely dedicated to the decryption of her life, the voice, the events, her strange magic fits that propelled her into a dark corner of a place or pony’s past.

Sixteen, she was no saint, she was no monster either. Sitting on the fence of morality as her ‘Family’ descended into the darkness, the one she identified as her brother in the pits of it with his vindictive grin, his malicious brother standing darkly at his side, the pair drawing her into the void, good intentions at heart.

At the fence alongside her is Night Light, the young unicorn mare beautiful silver maned and coated, flawless and soft features matched with a pitch perfect silky voice, clad in her thick padded brown jacket with the matching waistcoat underneath hiding a thick armoured vest, she wore  toughened brown spurred cowpony boots the dust of the trial beaten into them and a striking brown cowpony hat with a wide brim and a black band around the crown. A black feather propping out from the side of its crown tucked tightly into the band and on her hind legs wearing blue ripped and worn jeans. Ragged and worn contrasting with the soft and beautiful. A live wire, reluctant and protective of her past with a bad temper and trigger itch. All that hatred and anger behind those soft grey eyes.

Standing just ahead of them pacing slowly to the promising words of the two brothers was Rico, known as Ricochet to his mother. The tall and slim brown unicorn clad in his gothic and well balanced combat armor the black and crimson design with all its studs and shielding. On his hind hooves were the two heavy duty bulky black boots. They looked ridiculous on such a thin frame but, he treated them like a badge of honour.

Her life has no clear meaning or objective, it just persists. Aimlessly and blindly following her mentor, on the flanks on the path into the darkness are ponies. She can see them clearly, or their silhouettes, their outlines. Three were visible already, they were the closest the fence. And it was a long walk into the darkness.

The two on the left were the first and third, the first was impossible to forget. The pony with the harmonica, A tan sandy coat with a long grey mane wearing tatty ripped rags for barding and adorning an old worn, ripped colourless cowpony with a horn sticking through it. Dangling from his neck on a old piece of string was holding an tarnished rusted over metal harmonica.

He was staring aimlessly forward, his dead emotionless face gazing at nothingness.

Next to him on the path was Mister House, the pitiful old cripple. His light green coat losing its vibrancy and colour the tired old senile pony, a tatty and greyed mane. Deep wrinkling on his face and hooves. Resting in a rusting electric wheelchair, his hooves resting peacefully on their corresponding rests. Dressed in a sharp tuxedo with a blanket over his lap. His expression was tranquil as he gazed aimlessly across the plains of Dawn’s mind.

Across from those two was the pony in second place, Dawn almost forgot he existed. She seen him only once before, he wasn’t even aware of her existence in all likelihood.

The greater Angel, from VDNKh his armor was fashioned and flamboyant versus the plain and practical design of the others.This greater Angel’s armor had many spikes and grooves, jags and swirls. Barbs laid into the armour to give him a ferocious demeanour. All the spires and bulk of his armor rising upwards to make him seem large, imposing and powerful. His helmet was like all the others except it had a jagged crown around it golden filigree of leaves circling his skull, ear to ear.

Gabriel, that was his name, the feminine smooth voice she had always heard in her head guiding her had told her. Every time she spoke to Dawn her words sank deep  “Gabriel always was a proud fool. Unlike you my dear. You have shown humility. You’ll make me proud yet dear.” her words came to the forefront of Dawn’s mind. All within this flicker of light was the playing field.

She was still on the fence, the small wooden fence staring at the downhill descent into the darkness, she couldn’t twist her neck behind her back, she could never look behind her. Her vision remained forward, steadily into the darkness.

Next the suave radio presenter ‘The Buck Himself’ whispered gently across the plain of thought, a very old broadcast she overheard in Dead Water. Every syllable replayed in perfect detail, crisp clear

“The N.C.R are engaged on all fronts with the griffins in the battle for Wuden’s Valley, I’ve known some ponies who’ve been there, it’s a frozen hell you better pull out while you're ahead General Bay that place is worthless, there hasn’t been a blade of grass there in over 200 years.”

The flicker had only a fraction of the pieces so far. Dawn never put thought into it, not until her capturing, not until she was thrown into this dark lonely cell did the pieces begin to fall in place.

This is where she was in the retelling, the recollection jogging her mind into gear helping her further decrypt it. Crack through the nonsensical haze of the world and for once she things as they truly are.

So far in the retelling of Dawn’s story the so called ‘Project Respawn’ is yet to be mentioned, but the events leading to it are critical to its relevance and where the pieces stand now.

Three ponies are lining the passage to darkness, many more do but are indistinguishable, its a long journey, but hey, At least it’s downhill. And if, or when she finally climbs off the fence, it's not like she won’t have company.