The Elements of Turmoil

By RadaVonVon

Chapter 10: Reality and Fallacy

Thankfully, the rising sun had bled enough through the tent to wake up Clockwork. As he had been sleeping since five ‘o clock the previous night, he awoke well-rested, albeit groggy. He had no issue waking up, however his eyes were blurry and the colours smeared together as though a painter had splashed water on a fresh painting.

He stood up, getting to his hooves and carefully folding his blanket so it once again settled nicely in its saddlebag. He reached for his canteen, taking a meager sip of the water that was held inside, and turning to the rest of his party. “Guys.” He opened the window to the tent, a dusty, desiccated breeze rolled into the tent, sending the edges flapping wildly.

The first up was Sir Prize. He scrambled to his hooves, inhaling deeply and rubbing his eyes. “Eaugh. What time is it?”

“As if I know,” Clockwork grumbled. “Rise and shine, guys!” He exclaimed, unpegging a corner of the tent, leaving nearly an entire half of the tent covered with the canvas. He heard Apple Core groan and scramble to her feet. “Whyyyyy so earrrlyyy?” She queried pathetically.

“As I said yesterday,” Clockwork muttered through his teeth as he pulled up another peg. “I want to get this done as quickly and efficiently as possible, so I can just go home.”

He watched Candied Chaos crawl out from underneath the canvas, with the rolled-up blanket in her mouth and her saddlebags filled and strapped to her flanks. “Good morning.” She greeted.

“Good morning.” Clockwork smiled back at her. “How did you sleep?”

“Well.” Candy nodded, walking over to assist him in pulling up the other two pegs, and she helped him fold the remaining pieces of the azure canvas together and place it in his saddlebag. She was silent, which struck him as odd.

“You okay?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Chaos looked back at him. “Yes, of course.” She asked. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She looked up, smiling calmly at him. Clockwork was aware enough of her family situation, and could relate to her, as they’d both been raised without fathers. Though, Braeburn had died when Chaos still had slight memories of him.

“Just making sure.” Clockwork nodded. “Up and at ‘em, guys! Come on, I want to reach Dystopia by tonight. We’re about…” He pulled out the map, flatting it out against the hard-packed sand with his hooves and holding down the crisp edges so that they wouldn’t curl inward and obstruct his view.

His eyes scanned the brown, water-damaged page. “Alright, we’re about halfway there. So we’re making great time! Cool, we should be there in a little over a week.” He announced, though half to himself. Finally.

When each of his companions had pulled themselves and their blankets out from under the collapsed tent, (However begrudgingly.) he began to fold the fabric and finally placed it in his saddlebag. He glanced around, double checking for anything that may have been left behind. “Alright,” He turned around, smiling, to come face-to-face with four ponies, curled up on the ground with their blankets, snoring obnoxiously, or simply cuddled up.

Clockwork huffed, reaching for the corner of the blanket underneath Sir Prize, yanking it out from under him.

The grey colt gasped, startling to his feet. “Wha- Who?” He groaned. Clockwork turned back to Candied Chaos, nodding at her as they shared unspoken communication. She began to go doing the same.

“Everypony get up! We’re going. With or without you.” Clockwork shrugged while the rest of them writhed to their feet. Candied Chaos followed after him, strolling calmly beside him.

Everyone had caught up by the next five minutes, clearly not holding back their grumbles and complaints, aside from Sir Prize, who pranced ahead once again.

“Dude,” Solar Flare groaned from the back. “Over-achiever, much?”

“I’d rather win than fail.” Sir Prize elaborated simply.

Chaos was now chattering to Apple Core about things going on specifically in the Apple family, something that didn’t concern, nor interest Clockwork. He turned to Gem, unsure of whether or not to greet the hybrid. He seemed rather antisocial, and the last thing Clockwork wanted was to disturb someone who simply didn’t want to talk, or cause another conflict in the group.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a significant thought popped up, but he lost it immediately. He furrowed his brow, confused. “Hunh.” He mumbled quietly to himself, examining the road beneath his hooves. He wasn’t too sure what it had been, or what it had even been relevant to. He shrugged it off as simple de ja vu.

Luckily, he could appreciate the residue left behind of the night. The road was still slightly moist and humidity hung densely in the air. They were surrounded by high cliffs on all sides, sprawling up to the ever-large expanse of dark blue that was slowly fading into a lighter colour.

“You know,” Gem grumbled. “You can say hi to me. I’m not going to bite off your hoof.”

“Huh?” Clockwork turned to Gem. “Oh.” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah, sorry. I just kind of was worried you didn’t feel like talking or anything.”

Gem snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

Clockwork cocked an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you want to talk.”

“Whatever.” Gem huffed. “Listen, I know you don’t actually care. It’s cool.”

“Wha- No, I jus-“

“Go buck yourself.” Gem growled.

Clockwork gaped. “What? I-I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.” Gem muttered, heading to the other side of the road. (If you could call it that. It was more a weathered patch that was slightly more trodden than the rest of the area.)

Clockwork, now shaken up by the incident, had his eyes popping out of his head. “What in Equestria was that about?” he murmured to himself. Solar Flare trotted up to take his place.

“Well, that was rude.”

“Yeah…” Clockwork mumbled, his eyes staring at some nonexistent object in the distance.

“Hey, do you know if Chaos is okay?

“Yeah, she’s being weird.”

“Think it has anything to do with her dad?” Solar Flare asked, frowning.

“How do you know about that?” The only reason Clockwork knew was because Twilight had told him about it in some inexplicable attempt to make him feel better. (Why she had tried to relate him to Miss Pie’s family, he had no idea.)

“My sister was there, she warned me about it so I didn’t look for him or anything. Same thing with you, too, huh?”

“… What do you mean?”

“Your dad’s dead?” Solar Flare asked. “I mean, uh. You don’t have to answer.” Her cheeks went red.

Clockwork blinked. “Yeah.  He died before I was born.”

“Pinkie? Can I have the map?”  Fluttershy asked from across the room, slowly standing up and walking over to the pink pony. Fluttershy stopped, cocking her head at Pinkie. Something was off.

“My name isn’t Pinkie.” The mare turned around, and Fluttershy realized what exactly was wrong. Her hair had gone pin straight, hanging dully across the side of her face. Fluttershy cringed. “My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie.” She countered. “Call me that.”

Fluttershy shrunk back, her pink mane covering her face. “O-oh. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…” She murmured, quickly heading up the stairs where she knew Twilight, among other ponies, still were.

“Everythin’ alright, Sugarcube?” Applejack queried, green eyes glancing up at Fluttershy. “Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“P-Pinki- I mean, uh, Pinkamena. She’s… I mean, oh…” Fluttershy quickly shuffled her hooves, looking down.

“Pinkie? What’s wrong with her?” Fluttershy glanced up to see Twilight advancing, and Fluttershy shrunk back. “Her hair’s straight, a-and… She’s all…”

Applejack frowned, sucking in one cheek and exchanging a glance with Big Mac, whom was now next to Fluttershy, affectionately nuzzling her head. “She’s pro’lly just upset ‘bout Braeburn, still.” Big Mac sighed.

“Should I go talk to her?” Applejack asked, turning to Big Mac solemnly.

“No,” Twilight sighed, poking her nose out of her book. Ever since Rainbow Dash had pulled here away from the glass sphere, whatever it was called, to ‘relax’ or whatever, she’d been completely on edge. Nervously tapping her hooves and humming a tune in the middle of a room, giving one word answers. Her slightly dull and disheveled mane hung loosely around her head, unbrushed and tangled.  “I will.”

Everyone glanced up and silence befell the room. “Ya sure, Twilight? Ah can just as easil-“

“Yeah. Let me do it.”

Fluttershy, frozen, stood by the stairs with an ear cocked toward the conversation as Twilight descended. She inhaled deeply, the scent of old oak filling her nostrils. She leaned against Big Mac and listened in.

“Hey, uh, Pinkie.”

“My name is Pinkamena.”

“Sorry. Pinkamena. Listen, are you okay? I’m okay to talk about Braeburn.”

“That’s not it.”

A long pause. “It’s not?”

“No. I loved him. I did. A lot. And he loved me.”

“Then…” Fluttershy heard Twilight’s voice go up at least an octave in anticipation of Pinkamena’s reply.

“I don’t know, Twilight.” Pinkamena looked up. “I miss Chaos. I miss… I miss Braeburn, too.”

“I know. He loved you.”

“I know that. He was good. Something… Isn’t right.”

Fluttershy blinked. What could she mean by that? Luckily, Twilight immediately voiced her thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“Something’s not right.” Fluttershy heard the sound of hoofsteps. “I can’t… I don’t know what it is. It’s something, though.” She heard Pinkamena shudder audibly.  “And it’s wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Well. Uh, Pinkie-“

“Pinkamena.”

“Why do you suddenly want to be called that?”

“It’s my name, isn’t it?”

Dead silence.

“… Yes.” Twilight finally said. “Yes, it is…” She murmured, and Fluttershy watched her creep back up the stairs once again. “What is going on with her?” Twilight snapped, sighing. It was later in the evening, and the sun was just beginning to set. The lantern’s glow and the aftermath of the setting sun cast long shadows on those standing in the room.

“See? I’m worried.” Fluttershy explained, biting her lip.

“I… Yeah. I do see.” Twilight plopped down into a chair and rubbed her eyes deliberately. She inhaled deeply and sighed.  “I… Well. She could just be... Upset.”

“Nahh.” Fluttershy watched Applejack shake her head. “Somethin’s up. We’ll find out soon enough. Everypony should go to bed.”

“W-wait,” Fluttershy interrupted. “What about Pink- uh, Pinkamena? I don’t like her staying all alone…”

“She’ll be okay. She’s still staying in Sugarcube Corner.”

“Twilight, I’m not so sure that’s a-“

“She’ll be fine.”

The place was remarkably empty. The only light came from the long bars of fluorescent bulbs up ahead to illuminate the single mare standing in the near- empty bakery. Everything seemed fake and manufactured. Colours too bright, too reflective. Every white was imposing and suffocating. It was nearly entirely silent.

Nearly.

The only sounds were emanating quietly from the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner, where a pink pony with straight hair was pouring wet ingredients into a dry mix. The only sound in the deafening silence was the seemingly earsplitting noise of the eggs plopping on top of the mixture of flour, baking soda, and salt.

A drawer opened. The pony reached mechanically inside, calmly stirring the mix before snatching a bowl of chocolate chips, a soft clanging sound ringing out when she picked up the glass bowl, examining the contents briefly. A series of quiet thumps rang out as the chocolate chips hit the bowl and the semisolid mix.

The mare reached for the wooden spoon again, now covered in the mix with a thin oily residue seeping between the gaps in the wood. She inhaled softly, stirring it once again. The dead silence returned for but a moment, until there was a click, and a whirring noise. Air conditioning. She looked up slowly, her expression devoid of any emotion or life.

She deliberately moved over to the thermostat on the wall, clicking a small dial into the ‘off’ position. She was met with instant gratification and the booming silence once again. She moved back over to the immaculate counter with two bowls, one whisk, and one wooden spoon, all aligned perfectly, at right angles.

The baker turned rigidly to the counter, taking her right hoof, and dipping it straight into the mix. She dragged it through, slow and deliberate. She took her hoof, bringing it to her mouth and sucking off the dough, licking off even the smallest bits of residue and swallowing.

Braeburn’s favourite.

Once her hoof was clean, she dipped it immediately back into the dough. Braeburn had loved doing this. She distinctly remembered the first time he had come to Ponyville she had made cookies with him. He had eaten most of the cookie dough before she could put it in the oven.

The only sounds echoing through the mare’s ears was the sound of her, crunching down on a somewhat soft chocolate chip. The vibration chattered through her jawbone and into her inner ear, where her brain transferred it to electric synapses and explained what the specific noise was.

The mare chomping down on a somewhat soft chocolate chip.

She was tasting none of it. The whole experience was merely memories with Braeburn.  Re-experiencing them. She looked up, across the counter, and was faced with a picture of her and the stallion, making faces at the camera while his yellow hoof reached out to take a picture. The image was blurry and distorted, but it was framed. Pinkie had asked him to frame it. She loved the chaos of it.

Chaos.

She stopped for a moment, to think. Her face remained emotionless. She was not smiling. But, she was thinking. She discarded the thought in the appropriate mental bin and turned, dragging her hoof once again through what was left of the mix.

Apples.

Apples, apples, apples. Braeburn loved apples. His favourites were the red ones. His cutie mark was a red apple. Applejack’s cutie mark was of red apples, too. MacIntosh Apple was red, too. Fluttershy and MacIntosh Apple were in love. Fluttershy’s mane was pink. The mare baker herself was pink, too.

See?

Everything comes full circle.

But how did she connect back to Braeburn?

She baked. She could make a good apple pie. Braeburn loved apple pie.

Yeah. Everything did come full circle.

Without warning, the mare slammed a hoof down on the edge of the bowl, splattering the dough across her face, body, mane, and the wall behind her. She let out a bloodcurdling scream, and began to chuckle immediately after and smiling.

“EVERYPONY HAS TO PLAY!” She twisted her head and smiled, slamming her hoof down once again. “E-everypony!” She cackled, slamming her hooves around in the batter and rolling it into a ball. She ran it along the walls, smiling and laughing, her eyes huge and her mane hanging lifelessly around her face. She screamed again. “STOP CHEATING! Hahaha… Braeburn, darling? Would you like some cookies?” She turned to the imaginary stallion behind her. “O-of course you would! HERE!” She screamed, throwing the ball of cookie dough at the floor before her face calmly became cold and unaffected once again.

She didn’t turn off the lights. The mare glanced passively around her and walked up the steps of Sugarcube Corner, turning, and flopping down on her bed. It was dark upstairs, but she didn’t turn on a light. Her steps were slow, calm, unhurried. The sounds of the café settling creaked through her pink ears, only occasionally mixing in as she walked down the hallway.

Her head snapped to the side, gaze falling upon a slightly open bedroom door. It was entirely pitch-black inside. She slipped in almost soundlessly, closing the door behind her and sitting down noiselessly on her bed.

She didn’t sleep. Almost as soon as she laid down, she heard the sound of claws scratching against the hardwood floors, and breathing right behind her.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? A helpless little pony, at my mercy?”

She knew that voice, but she didn’t bother get up. “Hello.”

“Hello. Listen, I’ve got a bit of a preposition for you, my dear.” The voice chuckled. It was directly behind her.

The mare didn’t reply.

“I ask that you listen to me while I explain to you the knowledge I’ve accrued.” She could practically hear the voice smile. It was male. Distinctly male.

The mare was scared. Somewhere, deep inside her soul, she was terrified. But, if she was feeling it on the surface, she certainly didn’t show it. She felt herself being picked up, but didn’t dare open her eyes for confirming who it was. In spite of the fact that her eyes were closed, an image still flashed by with remarkable clarity. Braeburn, smiling.

“What if I were to tell you none of it was real?” Another image flashed by. Pinkie and him, making faces and tackling each other. “It’s all fake, Pinkamena.” The mare tensed up, snapping her eyes open and bucking the creature that owned the voice in the face.

“Shut up!” She snapped. “How are you here, anyway? We sealed you away.” She barked, getting to her hooves. There was no floor. There were no walls. Just blackness. No sound when she walked. Whatever she was standing on had no texture. A single light shone on Discord and her from directly above.

More images swam by through the blackness. Braeburn. They started to fade, to burn. Discord chuckled. “It was never real at all!” He wiped a jubilant tear from his eye, circling around her. There was something menacing in his yellow and red eyes. “Come, Pinkamena. You don’t believe someone would actually… love you, do you?”

The baker’s blood ran cold and her eyes narrowed. “Braeburn did!” She snapped.

“Braeburn died long ago. Poor Pinkamena.” Discord chuckled, pulling a teacup from nothing. A stream of tea fell from the same area, landing directly into his cup without splashing. “Meant to grow old and decrepit, none to share her life with.” He drew a finger from his griffon hand across her jawline, and she stiffened.

“D-don’t touch me!” She cried out, struggling backward.

“Hah, oh, this is good stuff! Have you considered acting?” He grinned menacingly at her. “Now, now. I’m not going to turn you to stone.” Suddenly, he glared. “I’m not that type of draconequus.” More images of Braeburn flashed by. “It’s all lies, Pinkamena!” He laughed, snapping his fingers to an unheard beat.

“No. It’s not.” She defied, stamping a hoof and glaring up at him. “I love Braeburn, you ugly chimera!” She hissed, chomping down on his lizard leg. Discord barely flinched, picking up the baker.

“Ha. Really. I’m busting a gut here, kid.” Discord rolled his eyes, setting her on the invisible floor. More images of Braeburn flashed by. “Now, as I was saying-“

“You’re lying.”

Discord only chuckled. “Oh, Pinkamena. I am a draconequus of my word.” He bowed histrionically, and more images of Braeburn with Pinkie in Appleoosa began to pop up. She tensed up, feeling tears rise to her eyes.

“No, stop.” She said quietly, staring at her hooves. The chimera chuckled, now hovering just off the ground.

“Hah!” Discord chortled. More gruesome images began to show up, gradually. A newspaper article talking about a fire in a house in Appleoosa. A loose wire hard shorted out, and the sparks had started the flames. She tensed. Flames. Everywhere. Flames… Burning into her skin. Starting with her hair, singing it. Digging into her skin, burning. Aching. She screamed, and the flames disappeared, but the pain stayed. Licking into her skin. Her eyes, her nose. She could smell the singed hair.

She let out a bloodcurdling scream as the images of Braeburn has passed by, rushing and blurring together. The draconequus’ appetite for sadism had yet to be whetted, yet. “It’s lies! All forged. None of it ever happened. Those memories were planted there!”

“NO! NO!” She screamed, throwing her hooves against her ears. Her ears rang, but she could still feel the burning. Her ears stung and there was an alarming wetness leaking from her ears. Red. She continued screaming and bashing her hooves against her ears. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

“None of it’s real.” The draconequus smiled. “Can’t you tell reality from fallacy, Pinkamena?”

Next Chapter: Chapter 11: Deserving of Wings Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 16 Minutes