The Ageless and the Anarch (ATTN: Discord)

[Blueblood]

It was strange, really, how a crowd could make it both harder and easier to have a private conversation.  One could hardly help being overheard, but the general surssurations of outside talking would blend the words together into something unintelligible to the casual listener.  Not to mention the fact that most ponies, kirin, and ryushima were too absorbed in their own chats, or contemplations of the Cherry Blossoms, to pay much attention to the words of others.  Even if one was dressed like a punk, and the other was an ancient spirit of chaos.

 

They made an odd pair, Akairo and Discord.  The first being a kirin dressed all in black, as if she was still the high-school yanki, with a baseball bat that was usually used for sporting activities.  And the second being... well, Discord.  He hadn't exactly been discreet when he first arrived; it was probably not in his nature.  That said, the pair were one a grassy knoll far from the crowd of initial impressions, looking over the whole Sakura Spring festival from a distance.

 

"I'm glad I met up with you, before I left."  Akairo began.  "I was about to leave the country, on a search for... sympathizers, with my cause.  There are few on these islands that would agree with my views, but I think you might be one of them."  It was perhaps a presumptive assumption, but it stood to reason that the very incarnation of chaos would dislike on principle an extended, homogeneous, exploitative order, right?

[RexDraco]

The spirit of chaos was nothing else, if not flashy. Subtleties did not sit well in his stomach and restraint only came with the desire to deceive. As it was: he has earned the title of lair in the past due to his former exaggerations, but sometimes you had to tell a little fib to keep the game exciting. And that was what chaos was all about! It was that magnetic spark that kept life exciting! The desire to change the world around you and the power to do so. Such a magnanimous gift could only come from a god. The world was nothing a mortal could mold on their own and if they thought otherwise -- well… it was always good for a laugh. Disassembling the complex that was his predatory god-hood the draconequus was rather charming, enigmatic even. A complex paradox with about as much sense as a toucan in a bathing suit perched on the highest cypress in Whitescar hooting. And that was just the tip of the iceberg, for below the sea was a indiscernible shape of cool intrigue. At least he liked to think so of himself…

 

He had followed the mare from the group, departing as things grew too lovey dovey for him. As pony as it was, he couldn’t find it in him to really partake in the cuddlefest that familiar friends often found themselves in. It was also a troublesome prospect that beyond Equestria he hadn’t a friend in a world. It was rather pathetic. Self-loathing tickled as his snout as he gave a snort. The spirit floated upside down along Akairo’s path. In his paw he had a banana that he ate with leisure. As he took a bite his griffon’s claw reached out to grab at the air. A box appearing.

 

“I collected a few interesting things in our time there.” His ears swiveled forward when she addressed him, his misshapen ruby pupils swimming across the molten gold pools he called sclera to focus on the mare. What was in that box? “Really now? I find that rather hard to believe.” And it was.

 

Ponies, and it seemed Caribou and Qilin too, were never too keen on meeting a legend, and one with such a ferocious appetite for trouble, or so the stories go. Kingdoms fall to chaos, societies crumble to anarchy! While Discord did tempt and tease the idle wonders of angry citizens and bored rulers -- he ad never had an outright paw in ruining a land’s prosperity … it was always fault of their own greed, slothfulness, envy -- he just gave it a little push in the right direction. A delightful soap opera it was to watch as mortals pushed and pulled hoping that the disaster they stirred was but a dream turned nightmare. He was never one who disliked the role of the hero, but neither could he deny the wistfulness of a villain. He was a neat little package of chaos. Neither destruction nor entropy he was the possibility of change and the change in possibility. He tossed the banana peel aside and rolled to right himself to better see Akairo from a level state. Swiveling those curved ears forward he took note of her declaration.

 

His lip curled back revealing the slight, jagged forms beneath that mask of ponydom. What was he -- truly? Prey or predator? Those vicious looking fangs seemed capable of rending through leather, yet it had just consumed a banana with delight! His smooth, baritone voice rumbled with mirth in his throat as her words passed his ears. “Oh I don’t agree with much that ponies have to say, but you’re no pony so perhaps you will be lucky enough to interest me…” He faded away, like a phantom witnessed in the foggy morn. As she would exhale, because she had to breathe at some point: the spirit would slowly reform, a ghostly cat with a grin to match. His lips would be a but breathe from her ear as he whispered. “But it’s the unexpected that is the delight to all of this… isn’t it? Your heart beating because I may …. say ….. no.” His forked tongue slithered over his upper lip, pushing the muscle to better reveal his snaggled tooth. So up close it certainly looked to be a dragon’s fang much overgrown for his pony-like jaws. “And nothing is more terrifying because I may even decide to stop you simply because it is my -- desire. Isn’t it something? That feeling of absolute uncertainty….”

 

This was Discord. He was not merely some mare’s tale passed down through Equestria. Continents across the realms had stories of his interloping, his misanthropy, his lies and his chaos. There was no reason to his rhyme and even with his reformation it only ensured to many countries outside of Equestria that he was tethered to its land, still capable of acts of chaos so long as nopony was hurt.

 

And madness was painless...

[Blueblood]

Akairo was not possessed of a mind inclined to reflect upon the subtler philosophical implications of the true nature of chaos.  Really, subtlety of any kind was more or less foreign to her, and nuance not a thing she valued.  It was one of the things that drew her to Revolutionary aims; a direct, if somewhat hard and brutal solution, appealed to her line of reasoning than convoluted methods of working within a system.

 

And it was this disregard for systems, this refusal to let "the way things are done around here" get in the way of imposing his will that the kirin saw in common between her and the draconequus, no matter what potential disagreements.  "Maybe so.  But for all that, there are things which you could not agree with, under any circumstance!  I mean, what do you think of a huge, vast, bureaucratic machine, enriching itself by oppression as a matter of routine, of habit?  Cruelty I can forgive, whether done in anger or in fun, as an act we might both fall to, but not the calm acceptance of cruelty.  You have to have lowered yourself to accept that, in my opinion; there are bars below we shouldn't stoop."

 

She let out a whoosh of breath after that little rant, looking up into Discord's face.  Her eyes were not picking up much more than superficial details; she would see his fangs, but never reflect upon their meaning.  Something had been preying on her mind too long, leaving only narrow corridors for thought.  In other words, any effort to drive her crazy would be already partially redundant.  
 

[RexDraco]

The spirit of chaos held his own ways of working. He was underhoofed, subtle and was given to mischief that left a pony's head spinning thereafter. It was impossible for him to resist the temptation of trickery, unless he resisted it. Challenge was part of the game and if he gave an opponent every opportunity to succeed at his courses -- well: t’wouldn’t be fun at all. They say surprise was the zest of life and Discord was inclined to believe that. While fate had no bearing on his operations, he did feel that once w choice was made there was no turning back. Yet still … he felt ponies, masters of their own fate, often made boring choices despite their ability to change.

 

To evolve.

 

It was revolutionaries such as Akairo whom helped push that envelope create that niche for change. A stagnant culture was no longer a culture at all when it could no longer change. One grossly underestimated how difficult it was to uproot the idea of stability once planted. Peace was a romanticized structure created by those in charge to control. Never was there such a process as true harmony. It was unfettered. The idea alone becomes an edifice on which tyranny is born. Society was a machine that would eventually fall into disrepair with none to carry the knowledge, creativity, nor expertise required to repair it's functionality unique parts. From the hammers to the springs: each part of the machine required it's unique skill to function and when one systematized these the machine was no longer unique and created a production like product that no longer had any spirit.

 

“Well when you can forgive cruelty you certainly set yourself up for a progressive standard of barbarism that diminishes your capacity as an evolved being. You’ll become stranded in your ways and suffer an irreparable change thus becoming that which you seek to end. It becomes an unchanging cycle.” A paradox in and of itself. “If you want to become change you’ll have to overcome the malignant standards set by your kinsmen. You have to become a god above your oppressors, better than them.” He would tempt. But now stood the question: how would she do that?

 

In truth, for any rebellion, one needed power. The accumulated power that the current standing government had was something that developed over years, generations and, in some cases, millennia. Rebels would suffer from their lack of numbers, supplies and overall skill: for a dictator had long since learned to quash rebellions and sway the public to their side with pretty words, petty motions, and intimidation. Such was no simple task to dissolve a state that has rooted itself into the very culture and ways of a civilization. One needed to gain equal or greater power in a short amount of time to overcome these tribulations and in doing so one becomes a legend -- a god to the standards of mortals which, by the end of war, become despairingly low. Though it would not do if that god was as corrupt as the former leaders. Discord was not one to interfere so directly in the affairs of mortals. The times he has, and having done so little, he had become infamous for all the wrong reasons.

 

He raised his paw and pointed at Akairo before vanishing and returning in a floating state with his hindlegs crossed and a lotus blossom in one paw, a floating flame tongue in the other and a small, orange scented satchel in his tail’s tuft. He had a golden aura behind him that seemed to mock the native Long, or perhaps he was something the Long themselves emulated and had become gods with that gained power. Seated on a cotton candy colored cloud the chaotic spirit presented Akairo with a choice.

 

“Which do you take?” Now the three items did represent various aspects of power that one could obtain to fight, but which would Akairo choose?

[Blueblood]

"To forgive and to tolerate are two entirely different things."  Akairo shot back, feeling herself shift into 'debate mode.'  It was exciting, the closest one could get to guerilla combat in a civilized society.  Also, it had the added bonus of severely ticking off her teachers at the Naval Academy.  She wasn't sure how well Discord would take it, but she didn't care.  "We must decide a point at which we cease hostility; the Revolution is a means to an end; that is, it has to end sometime, with the goal accomplished.  I don't mean to reduce my country to a smoking ruin, merely break its bad habits, and liberate those it has kept under unlawful hoof."

 

She was willing to concede the point of rising above her oppressors, though; that need was obvious.  Akairo was a one-mare movement, in need of power.  Hopefully, Discord would offer some.  And the god of Chaos was apparently making an offer, but in an annoyingly metaphorical way.  The exact nature of his wares on display, she had no real way of interpreting.  Obviously, the fire, flower, and stachel all represented something, but what?  The last was probably gold, economic power.  The first, possibly force, with the flower being persuasion.  If that were the case, though...

 

"I don't see myself succeeding without all three, and I question therefore your arbitrary limitations."  She said at last.  Discord would probably force her to choose anyway, but she couldn't afford to be any more hasty or less wise than she could help.

[RexDraco]

Clever mare. Indeed the two principles were different, but they were also based on ideological constructions that stood based on understanding. Without this neither could exist for one could not forgive if they did not understand the motive of another pony and to tolerate one has to understand the nature another. Apart they were wholly unique, but at their source they carried similarities that could not be as easily denied. Discord was reputed to have neither: tolerance nor forgiveness, but that was based on the fact he could not understand the limiting nature of the sentient beings of Equus. A god of chaos has no need to “get” such a primitive race, but at the same time he has come to accept them, which required neither for he has agreed to disagree.

 

Despite his rivalry with the solar princess he was given to accept the fact the ponies existed and he could have more fun with them at their level.

 

“Shouldn't the obvious question be posed, though?” Discord opened as he followed the qilin along. “When are acts presented as hostility to begin with? Where does it start and just where should revolution begin… and end?” He presented the query to raise an important question. “Just what aren't looking to liberate your kinspony from?”

 

Slipping on a flowing yukata of red and dawning a white bandana with Neighpon’s flag on his forehead he would hold out his paw and claw, the obi around his waist weighed down by the sheath of a katana. He looked like the stereotypical revolutionary seen in plays shouting for brimstone and fire. He drew the blade only for a pen to whip out, pointing at her. Flicking his wrist like a fencer a banner of paper unfurled from the pen’s shaft. The dripping ink painted a phrase onto the paper: give me liberty or tread on me!

 

Now floating before her with a book in paw and a bifocals on the end of his muzzle. “What you do will be forever inscribed in the annals of history.” He assured. “Undoubtedly whether you fail or succeed, but how do.you want to be remembered?” He smirked and caused his props to vanish.

 

But now a monumental decision had to be made. The revolutionary would be presented with three paths. Often which, of these, one could only surmise to take one over the other. When he proceeded to give her a choice, after all if they were best known for anything it was how their choices affected the time-space continuum, it also became clear that they were nameless. The paths had no clear rhyme, reason or goal and such was change. Oft times the path was unclear, but there was also the choice of action which became the banner of a revolution. For every action there was an opposite and equal reaction, so without a balanced decision all else could fall to pieces like a stone in a house of cards.

 

He was almost impressed. Almost. He was also disappointed she didn't pick the most obvious one, but these qilin were as clever as their pony cousins. He scoffed and snapped the digits of his large, lion’s paw: dispelling the illusion before manifesting what looked to be a key hanging from a chain. He had pulled it right from his coat of feathers. It seemed to emit a glow as well, almost hypnotic. Just holding it close as he was one could easily determine it was magical. A key? Well of course. It was essential in all matters.

 

But what was it for?

 

“I must say while I cannot directly impose on your countrykirin, I can offer you an indefinite step forward.” His sentence seemed off. Indefinite?

 

Did he mean that, despite his ideal state being one of chaos and change, he could not guarantee it? Well of course he could not. The strength of a revolution was only as strong as the will of its rebels and the lengths of their hope. One could only carry so far with charm. Discord seemed to know well enough. He was behind the qilin again, his large paw around her shoulder and the key being balanced on the tip of his claw’s pointer. It was hard to look away from the key if you packed the will. It could open anything. Treasure. Weapons. A whole armada of magitech equipment…

“They may seem arbitrary to such a small Kirin, but I assure you that the only limitation is in your ability to see them. With this…” she could perhaps… open a sealed door in her path one day. “Now you have to tell me, I've been dyyying to know.” He professed. “Do you have a cute, hidden base with liberated equipment for your fight or do you just meet in your neighbor’s barn after work?”

[Blueblood]

"What do I wish to liberate my countryponies from?  Delusions of grandeur, if I had to sum it up in a phrase."  Akairo was blunt; the pomp of Imperium impressed her as little as, well, the parading of chaos, to be honest.  Not much impressed her, in fact.  The last pony who had managed that was a Polyneighsian freedom fighter, which had no small bearing on her current choice of profession, as a matter of fact.  "It pains me to admit it, but I am burdened more to liberate those whom the Neighponese oppress.  What glimpse I had of their spirit, determination, and status practically compels me; I have never forgotten it."

 

With that simple affirmation of purpose, she tilted her head curiously at Discord's display.  Her choice seemed to have been accepted as an actual choice, replacing the initial three metaphors with a fourth, a key, in fact.  A gift who seeks the path through doors thought to be locked... Certainly something to think about.  Seek the way, whatever means are at one's disposal, and overlook no potential paths.  Yes... that was sound wisdom.  She accepted his gift with an oddly genuine display of gratitude, with a bow.  This humility even extended to laughter at his final question.

 

"Oh, we don't have a base yet, but there's a series of little islands I know of that would be just perfect.  All we have to do is get rid of the caribou slavers and free the slaves!"

[RexDraco]

Pomp and parade were the spirit's flagship. He would be deigned to appear without an exhibition of his power. A flashy appearance here and a show costume there! It was all one needed to be wowed. But than there were those like Akairo. Her enthusiasm was notwithstanding any sort of regal display. It remained as stonewalled as her expression. In a sense it was amusing she was stuck with a visage of such focus, but in the same he had to wonder just how far she could carry without a hint of enjoyment for the silly and odd. Laughter sometimes kept hope tethered down in dire situations. One could only hope she didn't soon experience that.

 

His head cocked at her words. “Well you certainly have the weight of a pony burdened by responsibility.  Let us not forget the power of a smile~” He would say as he appeared behind her and made move to pull back her lips to draw a smile. “And you look less like a ruffian, making it easier to make friends. Revolutions need friends more than enemies.” And such was true.

 

Many times a failed revolution was due, in greater part, to the lack of support. So long as enough believed in your strength and ideas they would just give to you power. And sometimes that was a scary prospect. Sometimes that power went to a pony who can't handle it and in the stead of change creating good…. At some point Discord began to speak and create small versions of himself that marched across what appeared to be a map of the Crystal Empire. A tiny pony-Discord was shown, grey, walking amongst the colorful brands of himself. It wasn't until the grey one reached the center that he appeared on a throne and everything would become black as night, swallowing the map and evaporating the example.

 

He stood with his paw over her shoulder, a smirk on his lips. “If you stiffen that upper lip to tightly in your determination you may sacrifice more than what is necessary…” A warning of what was to come, or the spirit just being his usual, ominous self?

 

Hard to tell with him sometimes.

 

The key he offered was an amalgamation of where her choices would lead her. There would always be pats, but there would be times those paths were blocked by a door. His head gave a til at her mentioning Caribou.

 

“Caribou you say?” He scratched his beard thoughtfully and nodded. “Well little kirin, if you hold onto the key, you'll find it easy to open that otherwise impossible door. If ever you need my infinite wisdom… just remember all it takes is a bit of wishful thinking.” He paused and chuckled. “That and a calamity.” He would cackle before giving her a thumbs up and putting on a pair of sunglasses. From that thumb a flash escaped to momentarily blind her so he could make a heroic escape.

Or not. It all depended on the magic in the air… He was a strange sort.

[Blueblood]

All through the rest of the conversation, Akairo would be stealing glances back to the key in her grip.  An oddly serene mood was settling over her; doubly unusual, both for being uncharacteristic for her personally, as well as being a rather atypical attitude to have while sitting next to the Lord of Chaos.  But perhaps it wasn't so unusual; after all, here was a revolutionary, sitting at the feet (paws?  claws?) of what one may call the inventor of the very concept.  Deference and trust are due to the Old Masters, after all.

 

"Friends..."  The kirin mused.  "I've always looked for comrades, but I suppose there might be a difference between the two.  Would you consider us friends, I wonder?"  She looked up with a half smirking smile, tilting her head slightly at Discord's displays.  An Empire of crystal, darkened by regime change...  She couldn't see how it was relevant to her situation, exactly; she wasn't seeking to replace the shogun, just reduce the extent of his rule.  But, she supposed this might be a cautionary tale about not setting her ambitions too high.

 

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you."  Carefully putting the key into her pocket, patting once to ensure it made it in safely, Akairo jumped to her feet.  "And I'll definitely be seeing you later!"  The brief paused seemed to have re-united her enthusiasm, as she reached out to hoof-bump Discord before he disappeared in his flash of light.  Whether or not he went elsewhere, though, Akairo was already bounding off, key secured, to unlock the gates of Elysium... or Tartarus.

 

Only time would tell.

 

~Exit~