Pinkamena Diane Pie, the pony of parties…her name synonymous of all things fun and comical; the pony of laughter, the epitome of happiness, randomness, a pony of whimsical vibes of driven to amuse. One of the legendary Mane Six; the vibrant pony provided everypony within her expressive vicinity with laughter and smiles; these aliases quondam as she was now hundreds of miles from any pony, mining rocks and various ores alone.
Although it wasn't always like this...
Her sisters, aside a few other strangers, were some of the ponies that used to work alongside their pink sibling... and it wasn't extremely so bad for she was reunited with family despite all of the terrible things that was going on. Sure they worked in heinous conditions, mined rocks and ore out of dangerous caves and mine shafts, but with the Pie family on the job it was a doable task. And Discord noticed that, and he slowly wanted to pauperize Pinkie's spirit and mind... and within time, the workload became bigger exponentially.
And... Sometimes the workload was too big…
Bones broke... Minds broke… as Discord wanted, her very spirits were crushed as Pinkie Pie witnessed her family, her siblings, the ponies she loved are brutally crushed as Lord Discord's insidious demands of rock and ore become too much for her family to handle. Pinkamena, too, wasn't safe from the defragmentation of body and soul. The former party pony hasn't smiled in months; her mind was in utter dissonance, her spirit barely alive like a lone flame blowing in the wind, threatening to go out any day now.
With eyes low and barely alive with color, the pale pink pony trudged laboriously along the dusty ground towing a massive load of stones of all sizes to the industrial train that would carry today's workload to Canterlot to be processed into more statues or foundations for building massive tributes or buildings, for Lord Discord sole pleasure.
After dropping the agonizingly heavy weight of the rocks in the industrial material cars, she trudged blankly back towards the fields to mine more rock to fit the insane quota issued by Lord Discord. These days it seemed as the quota gets bigger and bigger; you'd think he was building a castle with the massive rock he demanded. Pinkie often wonders can she actually live like this for any longer- this isn't living, heck, this isn't even surviving, this is a prime example of a soul misplaced in Tartarus, being punished for being alive.
Her head was kept low as she lumbered along the used path.
Thick, crimson blood oozed gradually from her sore hooves from ugly scars that marked around each of her hooves, it pained her greatly but she ignored the pain. This world is full of pain, so full of the evils; why would she let scars, blood, the death of her siblings and parents faze her.
She passed five graves; one quite recent, on her way back to the main mining field without so much as a sorrowful glance towards it. Albeit her mind betrayed her eyes as she mentally screamed and wanted to run from every day's torments to a world much safer than this. This mental cry for a better place persuaded Pinkamena's hooves to turn onto a path that she only took a few times before. The ground was less hard here as it felt like soft gravel and it rose in elevation slightly.
Why would she let scars, blood, the death of her siblings and parents faze her.
The poor, tormented pony walked silently to revelation…
Her brain pains her greatly as she thought of a way out. A way out. She can't live like this anymore. What's the point in living if the things you live for have been ripped out of your hooves to be replaced with pain, blood, and death?
Why would she let scars, blood, the death of her siblings and parents faze her.
After a long, arduous walk of about thirty minutes she came across rocky ground. The wind whipped her long, dirty mane around, the dry wind slapped against her face forcing her to squint to keep her eyes safe.
