Thunk!
A mess of metallic knick-knacks flew into the corner of the dark warehouse.
Cl-Clakkk!
The remains of a wooden beam flew into the opposite side.
Crasssssh!
A bucket full of rusted hammers was flown against the wall.
These heavy motions were being committed by the unicorn Dihmer. She attended to the scavenged detritus with a tense expression, moving her limbs with unmitigated savagery, turning the sorting task into a battlefield.
Slowly... with the skill of a hidden chameleon... Flynn entered the warehouse. His good eye remained trained on the mare. Meanwhile, he skulked and crept along the wall. More than once he had to duck—wincing—as a tossed splash of metal mayhem flew his way, only to bounce off the wall and litter the appropriated corner of the interior.
It wasn't until a full minute of this punctuated bedlam had persisted that Flynn realized that the mare was the only Dihmer in the room. The other two warehouses were chock full of colored-eyed Dihmers, as far as he could tell, but this particular chamber was relegated to just one sorter.
As he sat down and observed her motions, it made only partial sense. Only a mad pony would stand within the same room as this equine's violent ministrations. Only a crazier one would try speaking to her.
"Just what are you looking for amongst all this shit—?!"
"GAAAH!" The mare jumped and tossed a giant metal cogwheel towards the source of the noise.
WHAMMM! Flynn had just barely inched his head to the side at the last second. His metal lens rotated outward, observing the severe dint that the thrown projectile had made into the stone wall beside his skull. Dust rose and fell as the cogwheel joined the rest of the bric-a-brac on the floor.
The mare slumped against a half-empty cart of junk. Panting. Shivering. Fuming.
"... ... ...besides improvisational weapons to spatter brains with?"
"It leaves!" she hissed into the shadows.
Flynn shook his head. "It doesn't leave." A blink. "It wants answers."
"It leaves..." She gnashed her teeth, gripping the side of the cart with shaking limbs. "...please."
Flynn bit his lip. "Look... you seem troubled. Like... troubled troubled... and not like the other Dihmers. I just... I just can't walk away while knowing that one pony is dealing with bullshit while all the others can't even smell it! I mean... heh... I don't know if you've taken the time to notice, lady..." Flynn smiled awkwardly. "But this place stinks!"
"It does not matter," the mare droned.
"What doesn't?"
"It does not matter."
Flynn shrugged. "And who says it doesn't have to? You? Or those all around you?"
"Please..." The mare fumed once more, her forehead tensing. "...it leaves."
Flynn squinted at her. "... ... ...when do you honestly think you're gonna have someone like me asking you something like this again?"
The mare huffed and puffed and—"Rnnngh!"—she grabbed a chunk of metal from nearby in her fetlock.
"Hey, what are—?" Flynn rose up.
"Grkk! Hrkkk!" The mare repeatedly pummeled her other forelimb with the shard. Whack! Thwack! Thunk!
"Hey—HEY!" Flynn rushed towards her, gripping her fetlock with two hooves. "What the Hell do you think you're doing?!"
"It... purges...!" The mare hissed. "It purges!"
"Httt!" With a burst of telekinesis, Flynn yanked the shard from her grip and propelled it to the other side of the room. "My ass, it purges! To hell with that weak-ass emo shit! You wanna get the bad juju outta ya—you do it like a sane pony! Talk it out!" He leaned back with a heavy breath. "Damn girl!"
She stood in place, breathing in and out in intense waves.
Flynn pointed. "And don't you dare pick up another piece of junk and start whackin' at yourself again!"
She fumed and fumed and fumed and...
...breathed calmly. "... ... ...it purges."
Flynn blinked.
"It purges. It purges." Suddenly tranquil, she returned to sorting through the scavenged materials. Non-violently, this time.
"Why..." Flynn leaned his head aside. "...do you do that to yourself?"
"It purges," she murmured. "Because it lingers."
"I... I still don't understand."
"It lingers because it feels." She gulped, locking her eyes on her work as she continued tossing objects into separate corners. "That which feels is that which suffers. That which suffers becomes fuel."
"Fuel?" Flynn leaned down to her level. "Fuel for what?"
"It wars."
"... ... ..." Flynn's ears drooped. "The changelings... the Night Shard..." He gulped. "They've been preying on of the non-aligned ponies all this time..."
"It wars."
"That long, huh?" Flynn nodded limply. "And there's no sport in hunting and gutting a victim that doesn't feel the urge to scream." He sighed. "So I guess all this 'purging' makes Dihmers stale to them too, huh?"
"It leaves."
"I can't leave," Flynn stammered. "I... I just can't let somepony like you do this to yourself."
"It lingers—"
"No—don't you see?!" He pointed at her fetlock. After the ritualistic punishment she had given it, a fine layer of blood had leaked out. The fluid was dim, but it nevertheless glowed. "You're not like all the other Dihmers I've seen! There's something about you! Your blood! Your eyes!"
"It lingers—"
"Dammit—no it doesn't!" Flynn stomped his hoof. "And—hell—it it does... then all the better! That means you're not as far gone as the other Dihmers who have purged themselves!" He forced a smile. "Not just you—but the others around here!"
"It lingers."
"Girl—do you even see your blood?! It glows!"
The paused... only to sigh. Her ears folded back as she said, "It is a false glimmer."
"... ... ...where I come from, the light is anything but false," Flynn said. "I... I wish I could tell you... show you. Every Dihmer, really..." He paced about, kicking at errant pieces of junk on the warehouse floor. "Ever since we came here, it's been month after month... mile after mile of nothing but emptiness... darkness... cold." He rubbed one fetlock against another. "I hoped against home—perhaps to my detriment—that someone we'd meet here wouldn't be a bunch of warring psychopaths... wouldn't be a bunch of monsters corrupted by chaos... wouldn't be big frickin' sapient spiders." He shuddered, briefly turning pale. "And—lo and behold—when we finally see some ponies... they're all obsessed with screwing themselves with this... bullshit life-hating... ... ...b-bullshit!"
"It purges."
"Oh go buck yourself!" Flynn frowned at her. "If you're so damned intent on avoiding suffering—why not toss yourself into the Blob and get it over with?!"
"... ... ..."
Flynn sighed, his features softening. "... ... ...my friends and I have come so far, and I see a pony like you and... and it's like everything's right at the Edge." One eye moistened. "I joined the Herald to save the world. Aren't you part of that? You and the others? The Dihmers? Aren't we all?!"
"It leaves," she breathed.
Silence.
"Hmmmff..." Flynn snorted. "Yeah, well..." He slowly limped out of the place. "You're gonna have to try harder than that, null-opinionated-goth-chick." His tail flicked in frustration as he exited. "Wish this shithole had a friggin' door for me to slam behind me! Buck!"
As his voice echoed in his exit...
...a pair of purple eyes glanced his way.
"... ... ..."
With a sigh of resolution, she went back to her chores.