>>150967The clopping of hooves can be heard across the limestone(?) floors. The door opens - slowly, relative to the quick pace of the lope that lead her to the door.
Heather takes a moment, relaxes, and looks up to the 12 foot or taller plywood covering over the window. She stares at the poorly lit wood, as if admiring it. It's at least two pieces, with the one on top cut to fit the taper of the window. Whether by design or happenstance, she begins to speak shortly after the backdoor closes.
"This one right here." She points at the plywood with her hoof
"This was Saint Sable, about to cross the river at the battle of Elmwood. The river was a dark blue, the grass a darker color and blown by wind. Saint Sable herself looked kind of like Flowercup, I think. Black mane blowing in the wind, grey coat, white cloak. I saw that image every week from the time I was a filly until the time I was a mare. Until last May."
She pauses
"The thing about Artillery, is... It doesn't really have to hit you, to hit something... To - to hurt you. It must have been one of those really big shells. I don't know what they're called. The bigger shells that shoot further. I don't know where it actually hit. It must have been several blocks away. It shook the ground so hard it broke the window. At least that's what one pony told me. Mud clods, rocks, chipped stones... We had a rock from the bottom of the river.
The bottom of the river. Tossed up in the air by a shell and hit the Cathedral. It hit this gorgeous image of Applejack jumping through the Hayseed swamps. That one right there."
She turns her head and points a hoof at a plywood section just to the right of the section she started with. The two panels are adjacent.
"Shattered it. At least it wasn't as old, but still..."
She looks down
"If only that was the end of it"
She sighs
"No. The Fascists. You see... they are a disrespectful lot. Disrespectful to the Elements. Disrespectful to the Princesses. Full of themselves. But deep down... I think they knew. They knew who their betters were. They didn't
try to break the windows. But some of these Anarchists..."
A tear runs down her cheek
"It was September. September of last year. The whole city mutinied. Some hooligans' came by. Smashed a window panel over there. There in the East near where you come in. A panel of the Pillars talking to Scorpan. Shattered. Several panels suffered the same fate..."
She takes a moment, and sniffled.
"It's like children, you know? You know how they can be, sometimes. Adolescents, I mean. When they decide they don't want to take orders. That's who they were, I think. Adolescents who thought they were rebelling against their parents and teachers. They knew what the Elements, the Pillars, the Saints represented. They resented it. They broke through the front door. I'm not really sure how. Maybe they went through a window, and the door broke later, but... They trashed the pews. Pushed them to a pile in the center... and set them on fire. The fire burned and blackened the paint off many of the friezes. We had to strip the paint away. It destroyed the pews, the tables. Everything wooden, obviously. A couple more panels cracked. Panels that had survived everything before.
They took a statue over by the front. To the right when you come in. A statue of Wind Marigold. It disappeared. I don't know what they did with it. A police officer said he figured they cut off the head and dumped it in the river... But it hasn't been found."
She looks down, and then back up
"It wasn't quite over. Not a week later, the Fascists sieged the city. I am told there was a barricade outside. Maybe it was on the bridge, maybe it was in the park. I don't recall. I wasn't there. The Fascists set up a field gun directly across from it, and showered it with shells. In a strange way, it's fortunate, I think. For the church, I mean. It got hit directly with shrapnel, and it got hit on the one side that was all thick stone. The columns, the walls, the front door... all are chipped by steel. But it's not that visible. Not as much, anyways."