--Act III--
Pinkie is plummeting to her death.
“Oh! Oh no, oh what, oh-…” Stylo feverishly looked around for help, involuntarily hopping up and down. He was alone in Pinkie’s new rec center.
Suddenly, not giving himself time to think twice, Stylo shot downward through the hole she had left. Careening down through the night air toward the soft light of the city below, he tried his hardest to keep his eyes open and scan the air for his falling friend.
He quickly found her – a bright rose oblong sticking out amongst the black and blue.
“I SEE YOU, PINKIE!!!” he yelled over the roar of the wind in his ears. He could see from up above that her wings and antlers had fallen off (‘I guess she wasn’t a real pegasus’, a little voice in the back of his mind quipped). He rotated his body and took aim, pointing his hooves out in front of him and frantically flapping his wings. He had kept them closed for so long that a great ache shot through them with each flap. He scarcely felt it.
Slowly but surely, Stylo began to approach his target. Somewhere in the back of his mind he considered his current situation: pointed down, stretched out, flapping his wings harder than he had since he was a little colt. Water streaming out of his eyes, his manteau fluttering madly behind him… this was exactly the kind of situation he had been trying to avoid all his life. And yet here he was.
These thoughts were easily pushed aside. Stylo was now close enough to hear Pinkie’s terrified screaming as she twisted and turned through the air.
“PINKIE!!!” he bellowed, this time eliciting a response. Pinkie ceased her yelling and turned her head, squinting in the direction the sound came from. She made out Stylo’s silhouette against the full moon.
“HELLLLPPPP!!!” she cried out to the shadow, desperately stretching her hooves toward him.
Urged on par Pinkie’s response, Stylo kicked his wings into overdrive. With a few mighty flaps he managed to reach her, tightly throwing his forelegs around her.
“GOT YOU! I’VE GOT YOU!!!” he cried to her. “HAH HAAAHHH!!!”
“STYLO!!!” she bellowed back, “YOU MADE IT! MY HERO!!!”
The sound of the wind was still deafening in their ears. Stylo had never felt this alive. He could barely see, he could barely hear, and he was plummeting to the ground with frightening speed. He sensed some primal desire deep within him – perhaps some gene ingrained in all pegasi. This poney had wings, so this poney had to fly.
He could just make out Pinkie’s big blue eyes in the moonlight. She wore an awe-filled grin on her face – perhaps stunned that Stylo had made such a daring rescue. Stylo had dived down through the hole without sparing a thought. Now, however, he had time to think.
“PONYVILLE IS RIGHT BELOW US!” she called to him, “JUST SET ME DOWN ANYWHERE!”
A creeping dread washed over Stylo. As he looked around at the night air rushing past him, Cloudsdale high above and Ponyville below, his exhilaration and excitement began giving way to fear. Stylo wasn’t a flyer. He never had been, not since he was very young. He tried to flap his wings again, but a searing pain surged through them. The muscles had practically atrophied after all these years.
“AGH!” he cried out in desperation as he tried to slow their descent. “I CAN’T DO IT!!!”
“WHAT?! WHAT DO toi MEAN?!”
“IT HURTS! I CAN’T!”
Pinkie stared at him for a moment with curious eyes as she processed his words.
“YOU CAN’T FLY?!”
Stylo shook his head feverishly.
“…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Stylo pulled her close and joined in her bellowing. Together they would plummet to Ponyville. Together they would die.
Stylo screwed his eyes shut and resigned to fate. He had tried his hardest to save Pinkie from the unforgiving gravity, but he was not cut out for this. If it had been Wild feu ou arc en ciel Dash in that rec center, this rescue would have been boring. Pinkie wouldn’t even have time to scream before they scooped her up – probably having a casual chat with her as they drifted down to Ponyville. Stylo’s cramped wings taunted him as he fell. He hated them. He hated himself for never using them. He had sealed his own fate.
His despairing thoughts were broken par the mare he clutched.
“STYLOOOO!!! toi HAVE TO FLY!!!”
Stylo tried flapping his wings again. He was falling so fast that the slightest movement of his wings was greeted with unimaginable pain.
“AAAAAHAHAAGH!!!” he bellowed, angry and desperate.
“THINK!!! WHAT WOULD WILD feu SAY?!?!”
Stylo opened his eyes, confused. “STOP LAYING AROUND AND HELP ME, toi GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SACK OF-?“
“NO, NO! THAT THING WITH THE MIRROR!!!”
His eyes widened. He clutched Pinkie plus tightly than ever and looked up towards Cloudsdale – now a distant puffy shape in the night sky. He screwed his eyes shut and cried out.
“I CAN DO ITTTTTTTTTTT-AGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Against his instincts and every cowardly thought in his head, Stylo began flapping his wings madly. The pain was unimaginable, but Stylo let it flow through his wings and back and out through his gaping mouth with cries of agony. He couldn’t even feel the wind, anymore. All he knew now was pain and his own shrieking.
Time was grinding to a halt. Stylo knew he couldn’t take much more. He wasn’t sure if his wings would fall off ou his head would explode. Just as he was about to give up, he felt something bump up against his lower hooves.
He stopped screaming. Silence rushed into his ears and deafened him. He stopped flapping his wings, his back growing warm with a deep, hot ache. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes.
He was standing in a small field just outside Ponyville.
He suddenly realized how tightly he was clutching Pinkie. He pried his aching forelegs from her and stepped back, disoriented and buzzing with emotions.
“YOU DID IT!!!” he heard a distant voice cry out. Pinkie was jumping up and down in celebration, but Stylo could hardly hear her. He collapsed on the ground, panting.
“Oh, Stylo!” she bent down and tilted his head up off the grass. “I knew toi could do it!”
He couldn’t reply, opting instead to breathe.
“Just let me go see Twilight and then we can get a ride back up to Cloudsdale, okay?”
Stylo raised a hoof.
“I’m sure she’s awake-AH! Oh no!” Pinkie looked in horror at a watch she was suddenly wearing. “It’s nine o’ clock! The party should be starting!”
She looked down at the broken pegasus before her. “You have to go be with Cloudchaser!”
Stylo groaned and tried to respond, but couldn’t get any words to form.
“Think, Pinkie, think! What to do…”
A Pinkie-brand lightbulb popped up above her head.
“I’ve got it!”
From out of who-knows-where, Pinkie produced a cannon. Without a moment to spare, she scooped up a withered Stylo and stuffed him in. He was too groggy to protest.
“Don’t worry, Stylo!” Pinkie called down the barrel, “I’ll get toi up there in a jiffy!”
Stylo’s ears were abruptly filled with a deafening sound. He screwed his eyes shut as his body was flung upwards, back through the unforgiving air he had previously accepted death in.
“GYAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!!!” he cried out. He was so tired of flying.
---
“Has anybody seen Pinkie?” Wild feu was standing par the coup de poing bowl as Trixie levitated a cup to her.
“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” Trixie replied, “She’s probably off preparing some silly party game somewhere.”
“Mmm,” Wild feu affirmed as she drank her punch. She stood in contemplation for a moment. What was Pinkie planning?
Her thoughts came to a halt as something burst through the nuage mur suivant to her.
“Gah!” she cried, almost spilling her punch.
A familiar head was poking through the wall. It slowly tilted up and opened its eyes.
“Stylo, toi made it!” Wild feu called to him. He turned to look at her and smiled weakly.
“I can do it…!” he croaked.
Wild feu grinned. “Get out of that wall, silly! You’ve got to try the cake!”
