Dark Star starts has embarked in a new venture - infiltrating cells of leftwing radicals at a local university.
/vx/ - Videogames and Paranormal
Merry Christmas and Happy Hearth's Warming Everyone and Everypony!
[YouTube] The True Gift of GiftingIf you want to see the latest posts from all boards in a convenient way please check out /overboard/
File (): CB30A0EAC3BC000BD8C4350A6D3CD3C8-715340.png
(698.6 KB, 838x612, 4C5FF72EC592924090BFAEAB06105F4E-16638154.png)
1300 replies and 28 files omitted.
>>150966
Virgin nods and gives another one of those solemn looks of respect that she give her before.
Virgin looks at the filly scurrying away. She smiles. It's nostalgic in sense.
She looks up at the plywood windows again and then sighs.
"Why are the windows broken?" she asks in a quiet voice. Not that her voice was loud before but it's more subdued.
Virgin nods and gives another one of those solemn looks of respect that she give her before.
Virgin looks at the filly scurrying away. She smiles. It's nostalgic in sense.
She looks up at the plywood windows again and then sighs.
"Why are the windows broken?" she asks in a quiet voice. Not that her voice was loud before but it's more subdued.
>>150967
The 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."
The 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."
>>150968
Thanks for effort posting. This was a nice post with a lot of background story in it. Appriciated.
During most of the time Heather tells her story, Virgin's gaze just follows where she points. She does look at her at times and sees the tear going down Heather's cheek. As Heather finishes she sees first how Virgin seems to be on the verge of tears but tears don't come.
Virgin looks over at one of the plywood windows and Heather sees her face from the side. Her teeth start to show as she clenches them. She starts to inhale and exhale through them. Her muscles starts to flex and her hooves tremble. A vein bulges near her forehead.
"Those. Buckin'. Bastards!" she shouts into the floor of the church as tear runs down her cheek.
Thanks for effort posting. This was a nice post with a lot of background story in it. Appriciated.
During most of the time Heather tells her story, Virgin's gaze just follows where she points. She does look at her at times and sees the tear going down Heather's cheek. As Heather finishes she sees first how Virgin seems to be on the verge of tears but tears don't come.
Virgin looks over at one of the plywood windows and Heather sees her face from the side. Her teeth start to show as she clenches them. She starts to inhale and exhale through them. Her muscles starts to flex and her hooves tremble. A vein bulges near her forehead.
"Those. Buckin'. Bastards!" she shouts into the floor of the church as tear runs down her cheek.
File (): 1D5720FE992DC0D64F518D7D9A9546A3-828930.png
(809.5 KB, 6163x5040, 99279E3C-4D3E-49E7-8E7C-79DB75929498.png)
>>150972
Virgin turns around and grabs Heather. Not so that it hurts her but still firmly around Heather's shoulders but with hooves?..... Anyway, she looks into her eyes but not in anger but determination.
"Where in the river did they drop the head? What did he base this on?" she asks.
Virgin turns around and grabs Heather. Not so that it hurts her but still firmly around Heather's shoulders but with hooves?..... Anyway, she looks into her eyes but not in anger but determination.
"Where in the river did they drop the head? What did he base this on?" she asks.
>>150991
Or maybe rather, "Where in the river did he think they dropped the head. What did he base this on?"
Or maybe rather, "Where in the river did he think they dropped the head. What did he base this on?"
>>150991
>>150992
“I suppose it must be because that’s what happened to statues in different parts of the city. But really, I think he was just guessing. I tried to ask the Colt across the street - the teller over at the bank. I think he saw it. But I wasn’t really clear on what became of the statue.”
>>150992
“I suppose it must be because that’s what happened to statues in different parts of the city. But really, I think he was just guessing. I tried to ask the Colt across the street - the teller over at the bank. I think he saw it. But I wasn’t really clear on what became of the statue.”
>>150996
A Bank Teller is a basically a cashier who helps in withdrawals from, and deposits into the bank. It’s a fairly low level position.
A Bank Teller is a basically a cashier who helps in withdrawals from, and deposits into the bank. It’s a fairly low level position.
>>150998
As he looks out the window, the section is approached by a beige pony with a green and black uniform and a tall, lidded black cap.
“Tickets and IDs.”
As he looks out the window, the section is approached by a beige pony with a green and black uniform and a tall, lidded black cap.
“Tickets and IDs.”
[Reply]
[Last 50 Posts]
[Last 100 Posts]
[Last 200 Posts]
You are viewing older replies. Click [View All] or [Last n Posts] to vew latest posts.
Clicking update will load all posts posted after last post on this page.
Post pagination: [Prev] [1-50] [51-100] [101-150] [151-200] [201-250] [251-300] [301-350] [351-400] [401-450] [451-500] [501-550] [551-600] [601-650] [651-700] [701-750] [751-800] [801-850] [851-900] [901-950] [951-1000] [1001-1050] [1051-1100] [1101-1150] [1151-1200] [1201-1250] [1251-1300] [1301-1313] [Next] [Live (last 50 replies)]
1313 replies |
30 files |
54 UUIDs |
Page 14