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'The Pegasus Paradox' Chapter 8: A ChoiceAs soon as the TARDIS landed, Celestia followed The Doctor’s instructions, magically teleporting herself back to the throne room in Canterlot with a flash of golden-yellow light.
The Doctor then began heading outside before being stopped by Twilight.
“Doctor, where are you going?”
He slowly turned around.
“To speak with Discord, in less than an hour you and your friends will arrive to return him to his stone prison.”
“But, if we’re here now doesn’t that mean you failed to talk him down?”
“Time is more complicated that that besides, I have to try. You and Rainbow Dash remain here in the TARDIS until I return, we narrowly avoided one paradox and we don’t need to risk causing another.”
“What about me?” asked Shining Armor.
“You can stay or go with me-it doesn’t really matter-you were still Captain of the Royal Guard up in Canterlot if I remember correctly, so there’s no risk of you runnin
'The Pegasus Paradox' Chapter 7: Allons-y!Chrysalis was still writhing in pain as The Doctor spotted the Sonic Screwdriver on the ground a few feet across from him.
He was actually quite surprised, before winding up in Equestria he had thoroughly believed that magic was all just superstition or advanced science that most societies were too primitive and ignorant to even try and understand, but after a while he came to accept that this world worked far differently than any of the others he had ever been to.
The Screwdriver usually only worked like that on other machinery and pieces of technology, rather than organic mass and he actually had no idea if that bit of trickery would work actually work on the Queen or any other magical source for that matter, he had just made the plan up at the last minute, so as not to worry Twilight.
But, for once it actually seemed like everything was going the right way as he slowly crouched down to try and avoid detection from injured Queen’s peripheral vision-which seemed unlikely-as her
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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