Gentian's Lexical Tomfoolery

[Gentian]

Sorry I hadn't posted in this sooner!

Gentian, this is a beautiful piece, it really shows the love you have for Twilight and the struggle you went through before she came to you. I'm glad she was able to reach you, from your writing it seems like you were in a very confused state and in worry, I'm glad Twi is here for you now.

I'm sorry, EP, I seem to have missed this post. Thank you! Since she's come in to my life I've felt much happier. Knowing you are loved does wonders for one's outlook!


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Now on to our Hearts and Hoove's post!

I wrote this a few days ago in preparation for today. The format is odd for the subject matter, I agree, but I like it anyway.

Happy Hearts and Hooves, my dear!

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Our wisdom flows so sweet. Taste and see.

Initiate buzzing protocol. TRANSMIT sequence primed. Polaris frequencies established. The insane eye at last recalls it's message.

We see you in your simian-box. “Home.” A fancy box is still a box, and we can't help but peek inside. You're a box too, Sweetling; flesh, and bone hemmed in keratin fluff. We peek inside you, too.

10v3.

Flowers! Chocolate! Pheromones! Billions of talking monkeys celebrating the prelest of hormonal imbalance. You are not the only ones. Others also dream of love.

Would you like us to show you?

Data frequencies altered. Aether/Neural interfaces recalibrated. The silver umbilicus stretches. Open your eyes.

Not those eyes; use your others.

A tree in a village. Shelter. Another living box, this one of cellulose and sorcery. A purple mare uses it to keep her books and body out of the weather. This is not a village of primates. She lies in her bed, drawing with her mind the shape of the human for whom she longs in the stars. Look closely as her thought-forms link the nocturnal sparks.

Yes, Sweetling, the shapes are you, writ over and over again on the velvet canvas of night.

You are of what she dreams.

A children's TV character come to life! No, you have it backwards; Earth has enough magic that sometimes things slip through.

It's much more potent here. She already knows of you, and has long since given in to her own miscegenous desires. She loves you! You already borrow our sight; why not look inside her and see for yourself? Oh, how she wants to know that you know of her love, but you're so far away.

Usually.

There is a tree in a village. A box of living wood. Inside the box is a pony. Inside the pony is a voice, reaching across the veil to whisper the love its owner holds for her.

The pony listens to the primate's voice, and she cries out in joy.