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My Sister Loved You
It happened on a bright afternoon.
Alone in her bedroom, Princess Celestia leaned up against her window, soaked in the sun, gave Equestria a gentle smile, and died. Nopony found her until after nightfall, but then, they had no reason to suspect that anything was wrong.
The sun had set just fine without her.
Princess Luna spent most of the next week in her room, and whenever she did leave, she went on hoof. Her wings didn't feel strong enough to carry her anymore. And every morning she would make her way to the balcony, where she would hang limply over the railing and stare at the rising sun until her eyes burned.
Word spread through Equestria quickly. Everypony got the same story, since there wasn't much to obscure. Princess Celestia had simply slipped away. It hadn't been anypony's fault. 'Heart complications' was the official cause.
And the sun was still moving.
This last fact started out as a footnote, then found its way into the story, and eventually became the headline. It couldn't be Luna's doing, it was agreed. It was too different. The sun didn't rise at one hour and fall at another, as Celestia had done it; it simply traveled along its own path, like somepony set free.
On the day of the funeral, Equestria came to Canterlot. A sea of black clothing mingled and shifted, failing to hide the various colors of Equestrian fur, feathers, carapaces, and scales. Some of the mourners squinted up at the sky, trying to see if the sun really was still drifting up there. But they couldn't stare for long.
Some of them brought umbrellas, expecting the pegasi to be starting a light drizzle for the occasion; but in fact, Princess Luna had asked for the clearest sky possible.
Only a curtain separated her from the muttering crowd below, but she had her back to it. She watched the sunlight, the suspended flecks of dust. It was better than watching Twilight pace around the room.
"I'm reading newspaper articles," Twilight fretted, "saying that every time you raise the moon you're just putting on an act. They think it was just your way of establishing rule. And there is this… spinning globe theory making the rounds that's frankly dangerous. Princess Luna, they want an explanation."
"I have one for them."
"But you said you don't know what's happening. You aren't going to lie, are you?"
Luna looked up at her without raising her sunken head. "There was a time long ago when Equestria lost a princess. And my sister lied about it."
Twilight faltered. "Not…withstanding…"
"You cannot apply the word 'notwithstanding' to my banishment."
"But that was different."
"Was it?"
Twilight looked around the empty room for an imaginary ally. "Luna, you were coming back."
"No, I wasn't. There was only one pony who knew me that would ever see me again. And now she's gone."
Twilight scratched at the floor. "I'm sorry."
Luna nearly pulled off a smile. She had heard that phrase so many times over the past week, and it was refreshing to hear it from somepony who was actually apologizing.
There was a knock from across the room. An aide poked her head through the door, making no eye contact.
"The fires have been started, Your Highness."
Twilight looked at her. "Fires?"
Throughout the crowd, piles of wood and paper burned from inside enormous cauldrons, pouring gray smoke into the sky. Guards kept the mourners at a safe distance, as if the heat wasn't a good enough deterrent on its own.
The crowd hushed when she appeared. She wore a fierce black dress, standing out against the white castle behind her. She was close to them, only two stories above. Creatures turned their heads towards her—some cried, while others merely stared. And for every creature gripped with sadness was another gripped with a desire for answers.
Luna tipped her head back, as if they weren't even there. She shook her head and produced the first real smile she'd managed in days.
She said, "That must have been some spell."
Only a few of them heard it. Those who barely picked up on it asked their neighbors, and the words spread through the crowd. Luna waited.
The creatures looked up to the sky. Veils fell off their faces. Hooves and claws and talons were held behind their necks for extra support. They stared upwards toward the sun, moving imperceptibly without anypony's help. The smoke protected their eyes.
Alone in her bedroom, Princess Celestia leaned up against her window, soaked in the sun, gave Equestria a gentle smile, and died. Nopony found her until after nightfall, but then, they had no reason to suspect that anything was wrong.
The sun had set just fine without her.
Princess Luna spent most of the next week in her room, and whenever she did leave, she went on hoof. Her wings didn't feel strong enough to carry her anymore. And every morning she would make her way to the balcony, where she would hang limply over the railing and stare at the rising sun until her eyes burned.
Word spread through Equestria quickly. Everypony got the same story, since there wasn't much to obscure. Princess Celestia had simply slipped away. It hadn't been anypony's fault. 'Heart complications' was the official cause.
And the sun was still moving.
This last fact started out as a footnote, then found its way into the story, and eventually became the headline. It couldn't be Luna's doing, it was agreed. It was too different. The sun didn't rise at one hour and fall at another, as Celestia had done it; it simply traveled along its own path, like somepony set free.
On the day of the funeral, Equestria came to Canterlot. A sea of black clothing mingled and shifted, failing to hide the various colors of Equestrian fur, feathers, carapaces, and scales. Some of the mourners squinted up at the sky, trying to see if the sun really was still drifting up there. But they couldn't stare for long.
Some of them brought umbrellas, expecting the pegasi to be starting a light drizzle for the occasion; but in fact, Princess Luna had asked for the clearest sky possible.
Only a curtain separated her from the muttering crowd below, but she had her back to it. She watched the sunlight, the suspended flecks of dust. It was better than watching Twilight pace around the room.
"I'm reading newspaper articles," Twilight fretted, "saying that every time you raise the moon you're just putting on an act. They think it was just your way of establishing rule. And there is this… spinning globe theory making the rounds that's frankly dangerous. Princess Luna, they want an explanation."
"I have one for them."
"But you said you don't know what's happening. You aren't going to lie, are you?"
Luna looked up at her without raising her sunken head. "There was a time long ago when Equestria lost a princess. And my sister lied about it."
Twilight faltered. "Not…withstanding…"
"You cannot apply the word 'notwithstanding' to my banishment."
"But that was different."
"Was it?"
Twilight looked around the empty room for an imaginary ally. "Luna, you were coming back."
"No, I wasn't. There was only one pony who knew me that would ever see me again. And now she's gone."
Twilight scratched at the floor. "I'm sorry."
Luna nearly pulled off a smile. She had heard that phrase so many times over the past week, and it was refreshing to hear it from somepony who was actually apologizing.
There was a knock from across the room. An aide poked her head through the door, making no eye contact.
"The fires have been started, Your Highness."
Twilight looked at her. "Fires?"
Throughout the crowd, piles of wood and paper burned from inside enormous cauldrons, pouring gray smoke into the sky. Guards kept the mourners at a safe distance, as if the heat wasn't a good enough deterrent on its own.
The crowd hushed when she appeared. She wore a fierce black dress, standing out against the white castle behind her. She was close to them, only two stories above. Creatures turned their heads towards her—some cried, while others merely stared. And for every creature gripped with sadness was another gripped with a desire for answers.
Luna tipped her head back, as if they weren't even there. She shook her head and produced the first real smile she'd managed in days.
She said, "That must have been some spell."
Only a few of them heard it. Those who barely picked up on it asked their neighbors, and the words spread through the crowd. Luna waited.
The creatures looked up to the sky. Veils fell off their faces. Hooves and claws and talons were held behind their necks for extra support. They stared upwards toward the sun, moving imperceptibly without anypony's help. The smoke protected their eyes.
That double spaced paragraph near the start is bugging me. Don't know why, but it just kinda looks out of place.
I thought I should mention that in particular because I don't really have any other complaints with this. Tight, evocative writing, which tells its story in exactly as many words as it needs. The beginning hooks you instantly, and I loved the ending. Great job.
I thought I should mention that in particular because I don't really have any other complaints with this. Tight, evocative writing, which tells its story in exactly as many words as it needs. The beginning hooks you instantly, and I loved the ending. Great job.
Also known as: Who Needs Epicycles Anyway
Running impressions:
That's a heavy scene to start with just like that. The hook feels just a tad soggy with the first paragraph where it is; is there a way to move the first sentence of the second paragraph up to become the hook without making it feel rushed, I wonder? It doesn't feel glurgey, at any rate, which is good.
The scene breaks are a bit weird. I think the first weak break should probably be removed, and the second weak break should possibly be a hard break.
The description of the information spreading is evocative.
I'm having trouble visualizing the scene starting at “Only a curtain …”, and that seems like a significant problem on my second reading, given where this goes later. When I hear about a curtain in this context, I at first think Luna's still indoors preparing, and it's a window curtain. But then it turns out that she's facing away from the curtain and toward the… sunlight? Wait, no, she is in a room. Hmm. I'm confused.
The idea of spinning globe theory being dangerous raises questions for me: why couldn't they explain it as the princesses taking shifts spinning the globe, and maybe something about the motions feeling the same, or being the same? (That's probably a nitpick.)
The dialogue starting at the part with “notwithstanding” is kinda where this starts into the weeds for me. Why would it be different to lie about it because Luna was going to be back? What emotions are these characters having that makes this conversation like it is? What does the part with the “somepony who was actually apologizing” have to do with anything?
And then I mostly don't understand the third section. (The antecedentless “she” in its second paragraph doesn't help either.)
Luna tipped her head back… oh, I see what that means now, but… and what's the prompt connection? Oh. … nope, I still don't get it. What kind of spell was it? What actually happened? The last paragraph is evocative yet again, but evocative of what? Does the title have something to do with this?
Overall: I like the style, but the progression behind it is confusing. It feels distinctly possible, especially because of the buried but striking-when-I-saw-it connection to the prompt, that I've just missed something specific and important, and that it'd have gone up several places on my slate if I'd understood it properly, but I've gone over this section a few times now and I still can't fit the events together in a way that makes the motivations and in-character knowledge make satisfying sense. Which feels bad, because the writing has quality ingredients. Looking forward to finding out what I missed! Slate: 8th of 13.
Running impressions:
That's a heavy scene to start with just like that. The hook feels just a tad soggy with the first paragraph where it is; is there a way to move the first sentence of the second paragraph up to become the hook without making it feel rushed, I wonder? It doesn't feel glurgey, at any rate, which is good.
The scene breaks are a bit weird. I think the first weak break should probably be removed, and the second weak break should possibly be a hard break.
The description of the information spreading is evocative.
I'm having trouble visualizing the scene starting at “Only a curtain …”, and that seems like a significant problem on my second reading, given where this goes later. When I hear about a curtain in this context, I at first think Luna's still indoors preparing, and it's a window curtain. But then it turns out that she's facing away from the curtain and toward the… sunlight? Wait, no, she is in a room. Hmm. I'm confused.
The idea of spinning globe theory being dangerous raises questions for me: why couldn't they explain it as the princesses taking shifts spinning the globe, and maybe something about the motions feeling the same, or being the same? (That's probably a nitpick.)
The dialogue starting at the part with “notwithstanding” is kinda where this starts into the weeds for me. Why would it be different to lie about it because Luna was going to be back? What emotions are these characters having that makes this conversation like it is? What does the part with the “somepony who was actually apologizing” have to do with anything?
And then I mostly don't understand the third section. (The antecedentless “she” in its second paragraph doesn't help either.)
Luna tipped her head back… oh, I see what that means now, but… and what's the prompt connection? Oh. … nope, I still don't get it. What kind of spell was it? What actually happened? The last paragraph is evocative yet again, but evocative of what? Does the title have something to do with this?
Overall: I like the style, but the progression behind it is confusing. It feels distinctly possible, especially because of the buried but striking-when-I-saw-it connection to the prompt, that I've just missed something specific and important, and that it'd have gone up several places on my slate if I'd understood it properly, but I've gone over this section a few times now and I still can't fit the events together in a way that makes the motivations and in-character knowledge make satisfying sense. Which feels bad, because the writing has quality ingredients. Looking forward to finding out what I missed! Slate: 8th of 13.
The technical skill on display here is great. Your hook turns heads, and you do a great job of switching between high-level, informative narration and the moment-to-moment dialogue as the story needs it. It really makes your wordcount feel longer than a minific, in a good way.
The thing is, I think I'm having trouble with how you're handling your payoff. To me, Twilight's convo with Luna makes it clear that the audience is meant to empathize with Luna. But Luna's motivations and actions come across as somewhat manipulative and selfish, the more I read this. I assume that we're meant to believe that day and night are non-magical processes, and that Luna is lying to the public to preserve the image of her sister. This begs the question of why Celestia "faked" raising and lowering the sun in the first place. The story doesn't convince me that it was a good thing for Celestia to deceive the world, so it makes me feel that Luna's involvement and enforcement of this deceit is similarly in the wrong.
Additionally, Luna's explanation as to why her lie on Celestia's behalf is just as valid as Celestia's lie on her behalf falls flat to me. Just because Luna was 'dead' to the people who knew her originally, doesn't mean she can't benefit from a good image upon her return. But no matter how you cut it, preserving Celestia's image (since she is, as far as we can tell, irrevocably dead) can benefit only Luna, by association.
This is causing a degree of cognitive dissonance for me. On the one hand, I'm supposed to care about Luna because she acts very sympathetically. But on the other hand, the decision she makes and the way she rationalizes it still feels wrong to me.
In the end, I feel like this could be a great "the princesses are manipulative tyrants" story if it lost its sympathetic depiction of Luna, or it could be a great "princesses are only people" story, if it did a better job of convincing me that deceiving the public is an acceptable idea. As it stands right now, I'm definitely enjoying the prose, but I feel like I'm not getting a coherent message.
The thing is, I think I'm having trouble with how you're handling your payoff. To me, Twilight's convo with Luna makes it clear that the audience is meant to empathize with Luna. But Luna's motivations and actions come across as somewhat manipulative and selfish, the more I read this. I assume that we're meant to believe that day and night are non-magical processes, and that Luna is lying to the public to preserve the image of her sister. This begs the question of why Celestia "faked" raising and lowering the sun in the first place. The story doesn't convince me that it was a good thing for Celestia to deceive the world, so it makes me feel that Luna's involvement and enforcement of this deceit is similarly in the wrong.
Additionally, Luna's explanation as to why her lie on Celestia's behalf is just as valid as Celestia's lie on her behalf falls flat to me. Just because Luna was 'dead' to the people who knew her originally, doesn't mean she can't benefit from a good image upon her return. But no matter how you cut it, preserving Celestia's image (since she is, as far as we can tell, irrevocably dead) can benefit only Luna, by association.
This is causing a degree of cognitive dissonance for me. On the one hand, I'm supposed to care about Luna because she acts very sympathetically. But on the other hand, the decision she makes and the way she rationalizes it still feels wrong to me.
In the end, I feel like this could be a great "the princesses are manipulative tyrants" story if it lost its sympathetic depiction of Luna, or it could be a great "princesses are only people" story, if it did a better job of convincing me that deceiving the public is an acceptable idea. As it stands right now, I'm definitely enjoying the prose, but I feel like I'm not getting a coherent message.
I see the intricate weaving of grief and emotion here, but it feels muddled all the same. Mourning often rips the soul like that, so I'm sorta okay with that, but also disappointed. This story would have benefited from revision and polishing.
The story's one fatal flaw was implying the denouement rather than showing it. The emotion of explicitly describing the sun* would have generated the emotional heat that would have burnt away the foggy sense building throughout the entire story.
I usually ask writers not to justify their work after receiving a critique because that'should must be a personal journey for them and I am but one reader whose own context should not be ultimately trusted. Justification just sours your relationship with the critic. Mort de l'Auteur. I'd typically advise you to say "Thank you" to all your crits and just silently ask yourself if anything stated was helpful or enlightening.
But still, I am asking you, why not show?
I'd written off your story and wasn't even going to give a critique, and spent time asking myself why when I figured out what I asserted above to be true about your story. Vague endings are justified when you want the reader to decide their own ending: I wrote a novel where either the main character genuinely interacted with the spirits of the dead, or she was insane but good at managing her insanity. Why? I wanted readers to question their religious beliefs or lack thereof.
So. Author. Why?
*Yes, I am implying Celestia's face is on the sun.
The story's one fatal flaw was implying the denouement rather than showing it. The emotion of explicitly describing the sun* would have generated the emotional heat that would have burnt away the foggy sense building throughout the entire story.
I usually ask writers not to justify their work after receiving a critique because that'
But still, I am asking you, why not show?
I'd written off your story and wasn't even going to give a critique, and spent time asking myself why when I figured out what I asserted above to be true about your story. Vague endings are justified when you want the reader to decide their own ending: I wrote a novel where either the main character genuinely interacted with the spirits of the dead, or she was insane but good at managing her insanity. Why? I wanted readers to question their religious beliefs or lack thereof.
So. Author. Why?
*Yes, I am implying Celestia's face is on the sun.
I am not... entirely sure what's going on. My baseline assumption is that Twilight's panic over heliocentrism is accurate; the Earth revolves around the sun, and Luna/Celestia have been hiding that reality for their entire existence.
In which case... why the smoke? In the moment, it might help hide that fact, but unless Luna plans to kick off the Industrial Revolution and turn Equestria into Smogquestria, someone is going to notice something, sooner or later.
(Assuming my interpretation is accurate, anyway)
I liked a lot of the narrative elements, and the dialogue, too. The exchange between Luna and Twilight, especially, gave me sympathy twinges. But I'm lost on the premise here. And if my interpretation is right, then it just raises further questions.
In which case... why the smoke? In the moment, it might help hide that fact, but unless Luna plans to kick off the Industrial Revolution and turn Equestria into Smogquestria, someone is going to notice something, sooner or later.
(Assuming my interpretation is accurate, anyway)
I liked a lot of the narrative elements, and the dialogue, too. The exchange between Luna and Twilight, especially, gave me sympathy twinges. But I'm lost on the premise here. And if my interpretation is right, then it just raises further questions.