Beneath The Painted Mask (Pinkie)
| Beneath The Painted Mask (Pinkie) | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 24 January 2015 |
| Location: | Prohibition Chicago |
| Synopsis: | Quiet recovery in the aftermath of Baltimare leads Pinkie and the twins to some introspection. |
| Cast of Characters: | 470 |
| Tinyplot: | Crying Clowns |
Weeks worth of exhaustion had finally taken their toll, and shortly after being dragged out of the Baltimare catacombs, recovery was slow in progress. Though her injuries were light, she sure felt like she could sleep for a year.
The sound of singing only dimly registered through the darkness. A gentle lullabye she had heard many times in her youth; soft and distant. But eventually Pinkie managed to open her eyes, lashes fluttering before the world welcomed her again in the darkness of a hijacked Chicago safehouse, albeit blurred and out of focus.
"You're-""-Awake."
Pound and Pumpkin had been waiting at her side. Of course they would. The three of them had survived the orphanage after Ponyville was wiped off the map. She had practically raised them herself, even after Rarity had finally come to take her away. But that was long ago. And even those days were better than this.
"We were-""-Worried."
The Cakes were good children, innocent in many ways despite being trained killers in a world devolved into madness. Not that Pinkie had ever once allowed or ordered them to take a life. She always shouldered that burden- that sin- herself, as to never tarnish their purity.
"Mnh... Maud...?"
"She's-"-Dead."
"... The Laughing Mare?"
"Banished to-""-The Astral."
"And... Cranky?"
"Still-""-Cranky."
A sigh of relief followed her inquiries, and green eyes slid back shut. Her work was done for now, there was time for a little bit of rest at least. And with Maud dead, everything should eventually return to normal. ... For whatever definition of normal there is for Equestria now, anyway. Except for one small detail.
"Twilight Sparkle saw my face."
Now the twins were silent, save for the uncomfortable rustle of Pound's wings. The clown's grim realization falling into place for all of them.
"Sorry." He ventured.
"We weren't fast enough..." His sister backed him up of course.
Yet still, Pinkie's hands set gently atop their heads. "It's okay. It was bound to happen sooner or later."
The intervention of the Laughing Mare, as she did, was bound to forcibly change all plans, anyway.
"... Um."
Both pairs of eyes were on her in an instant, clear and pure, as she cleared her throat hesitantly.
"What about you two?" Ventured after a beat. "... Do you prefer me as one? Or the other?"
They had both seen her with the mask off; long before the businesses of cults and killings. Back before she HAD to wear the mask. They had both known who she was. And they both knew what she became each time she put it on.
Pumpkin, gentle little Pumpkin was the first to clasp her hand.
"I like you for you."
And Pound, strong, brave, Pound mirrored his sister's sentiments: "Yeah."
Even exhausted and sore, Pinkie sat up to draw her fellow Ponyville orphans into a hug, with a heavy sigh. It was nice, but...
"... I'm not sure of who I am anymore..."
