House of Wax: The Second Night [Dead]

[waxworks]

The sound of bones popping and low, unearthly groans permeated the gloom of the foyer of the House of Wax. Within a strange shape was contorting and twisting, writhing around on the carpet with a horrifyingly unnatural series of movements. After a moment of this, the figure recombobulated with several more shudder-inducing snapping sounds, sat on its haunches, and critically examined a series of images in a nearby book. While the images had an appearance of strange and unnatural positions, it also seemed to be laid out similarly to a tutorial one would follow to learn how to dance the waltz. The figure, which now more resembled a pony than a shapeless mass, licked her lips in concentration at the next image.

"Phew... okay... that's the inverted spider... now the broken centipede..."

With a grunt she attempted to stretch herself belly first across the room's carpet, and rotate her upper body one-hundred and eighty degrees, which resulted in a yelp, a crash, and an unfurling, similar to how a rubber-band powered airplane would unwind itself. Waxworks sighed in disappointment.

"Sheesh," she said, shaking out her mane, "I need to do more yoga before I try that one again."

She'd had herself on a routine of proper exercise and stretching to improve her ability to properly creep and sneak, although she still oddly had her somewhat plump physique despite now being more limber than before. Her time had been spent not only improving herself, but devising new, more wicked surprises for those ponies foolhardy enough to wander through the heavy doors of the House of Wax. The waxy white pony threw a glance across the room, to a sculpture of a changeling halfway through its transformation, giving it a hauntingly asymmetrical appearance. The theater had been redone to more resemble a magic show, an idea she'd gotten after a particularly breath-taking act her friend Quip had performed. The train was in proper working order, or so it would seem. It was always difficult to be certain as the train was artistically designed to appear decrepit while being functional.

Finally, something new she was quite proud of, a unique collection of objects that she'd gotten her grubby hooves on to tantalize and terrify her guests with. The cobwebs were hung with the greatest of care, a careful layer of dust had been spread on the furniture, the lights were flickering haphazardly, and the windows had a constant view of a storm wracked Ponyville, due to some visual trickery the local weatherponies had helped her with.

Waxworks tucked away the Big Book of Frightful Poses, and gave everything a last once over. Everything was in its final state of readiness, and with a macabre eagerness she trotted down the carpeted hallway to the entrance, and threw the doors wide with a loud bang. While her residence wasn't on a main thoroughfare, she'd found the alleyways gave her a nice echo is she pitched just right.

"Come brave souls," she cried, with a slightly mad look in her eye, "dare you encounter the new terrors that await you in the bowels of the House of Wax?!"

[lightningflickers]

Beaker trotted down a dark alley with Luke sticking very close to his side. This was one of his least favourite places to go wandering in Ponyville, the small crevices in the walls made perfect hiding places for undesirable ponies to wait for unsuspecting ponies to prey upon. He looked to his side to see how Luke was fairing he looked quite understandably uneasy with his surroundings, that is until he noticed beaker was looking at him then he assumed an unfazed disposition.

Beaker adjusted his top hat before knocking on a door to a cottage, he was supposed to be making an errand but after waiting a few minutes he came to realize that his client was not home. With a sigh beaker turned on the spot and began walking back the way they came, that’s when they heard it. An eerie voice travelled down the cobbled path toward them welcoming them to a mystery.

“wh-what was that?” luke stuttered as beaker looked around for the source of the voice.
“im not sure… though im sure we will find out soon enough. Im pretty sure it came from over here.” Beaker said trotting down an alley to the right, after a small time trotting they found themselves at a spooky looking house with a sign on the fence reading “house of wax, enter if you dare!”
“well luke, what do you think?” he asked looking down at an obviously terrified luke. Luke swallowed loudly before replying.
“i-I think we should check it out, professor”
“I thought you would say as much.” Beaker said as he pushed the gate open and stepped onto the front porch.

[~Silly CC~]

((Reminds me a bit of Haunted Mansion in Disneyland xP))

Orange Crème, trotting through the downtown streets of Ponyville, heard a strange vibrating echo of a pony's voice calling for something called 'House of Wax.' Being new to town, she decided to give it a try. Two ponies, seeming to follow the voice, gave the orange unicorn the way to to. As she entered the creepy yard, seeing the waxy pony ahead, she almost turned back, feeling the need to see the light again. But that didn't stop her from entering the seemingly abandoned house. She nodded to the slightly freaky-looking pony, then cantered in. What gave to her green orbs next amazed and frightened her.

Oh ma douce Celestia, ce n'est certainement assez l'attraction...(Oh my sweet Celestia, this certainly is quite the attraction...) *ahem* You have outdone yourself, madame.

She nodded and gulped, taking in the sights and sounds. Wasn't it just sunny a few seconds ago? Orange Crème glanced to the almost closed door, and sure enough, it was sunny and warm, as it should've been. But the lightning spoke otherwise. Magic, perhaps? Non, this pony was not a unicorn, at least to the common eyes. Perhaps that upstanding lock of fiery hair was actually a horn? Orange Crème pondered the thought, then dismissed it, looking more to the creepy cobwebs and delicately placed dust. Her beret, starting to slip over her right ear, was placed atop the head with the creamy magic, supplied by the French-pony.

C'est magnifique, madame. Oh, I apologize. I mean, this is magnificent...

Orange Crème blushed, her French still coming out from time to time, especially when she was startled, surprised, mad, or extremely happy or sad. Though she'd lived in Manehatten for a while, she was still adjusting to regulate Equestrian language. A few books on the musty shelf, though, caught her eye; though not in a good way. Monsters and You, Scupltures have Souls Too, and Made of Flesh were only a few of the nerve-picking titles that took advantage of the soft, kinder pony.

[waxworks]

((Aw, thanks! It's supposed to have a similar vibe ^.^))

The candlemare adopted a straight, serious gaze as she trotted down the long hallway past her guests. A brief flash of lightning through the windows appeared to make her vanish for just a moment. Upon reaching the lobby she swung around on one hoof and sprouted her favorite Cheshire grin. "Welcome ladies and gentleponies to the House of Wax, where we guarantee thrills, chills, and even a little mystery."

She emphasized the word mystery by leaning in close to Luke and popping her eyes wide for a moment as she then swiveled her head towards Orange Crème, who had been admiring her books. "You haven't seen anything yet. Tonight's venue will begin with a tour of rare, mysterious antiquities I've managed to get my hooves on. In fact, you three will be the first in Ponyville to lay eyes on these objects, so do be kind if they're a little... shy."

Waxworks made her way across the lobby to the half-transformed sculpture of a changeling and smiled, "afterwards I'm certain you'd all enjoy a ride on the House of Wax's exclusive railroad to parts and places unknown. Of course the House of Wax plays host to all sorts of things just wandering around inside of it, so I'm certain we'll see what else the evening has in store for you as it goes on... but first, if you'd all be so kind..."

An urn near the wall had a bronze placard fixed above it, with an image of a full grown pony equated with four bits, and a young pony with two bits. The waxy white pony turned back towards Beaker and Luke, eying the small pony, "how much will the young sir be paying, two or four?"

[lightningflickers]

((ooh, I hope there will be some puzzle elements! I've been scratching to test Beaker and Luke with a more "professor Layton" like scenarios!))

Luke puffed put his chest,
"im professor sparks' apprentice number one! Im old enough to pay four." he announced proudly dropping four bits into the urn.
"very well, here's my payment also." Beaker said levetating his bits into the urn with an adjustment of his hat, he trotted around the foyer taking in every detail of the room noting that although they were very abstract and natural looking the placement of cobwebs and dust were done by a pony's hooves and not by natural causes.
"I see you've gone to great efforts to decorate your home." he added with a flick of his tail before turning to examine his host.

[~Silly CC~]

((I went on it twice, loved the Pepper effect, would be neat here!))

Though the wax sculpture seemed to almost stare into the Frenchpony's soul, she levitated four bits out of her small pouch hidden inside her beret. The plink of the small metal coins reverberated around the musty and ominous room, giving an even eerier essence to the already creepy attraction. The very feeling of the house, though knowing its created appearance, gave Orange Crème the shivering feeling that somepony was watching her, though she knew—or very more hoped—it wasn't true. Lightning flickering, cobwebs swaying, and wax figurines staring endlessly into the deep abyss of dark shadows added to the feeling of freakiness.

I, as well, will supply four bits to you. It does feel worthy of it, being the work you must've put into all of this.

She gave a calm smile to the candlemare, whose flame atop her head seemed to flicker with the lightning. Orange Crème gave a small cough, hoping to push the scary feeling away from her, no matter how much it's clammy, cold hooves tried to rest upon he creamy Manehattenite. She then settled her attention to the earlier comment of a train taking them around the more unknown areas of the looming house's shadowy corners.

[waxworks]

((HEE! Waxy has used the Pepper trick before in another RP. And I'll see if I can come up with any Professor-worthy brain teasers.))

"Everypony's paid? Good, excellent. Well then, if you'd all follow me, we'll begin."

She trotted past the three, taking a quick mental inventory. The pony in the beret and the little colt would be easy marks, she could already feel hesitation coming off of both of them, and the small apprentice's urge to prove himself worthy would lend itself well to catching him off guard. But the one in the top hat would be a little trickier. He was going to pick everything apart, that was a certainty, but she knew how to scare smart ponies. Fill their heads to bursting with intrigue and they get all off-balance.

The path she led the group on descended down a dark spiraling walkway at the entrance of the sculpture museum. A detailed sculpt of Mare Do Well was watching them from another direction in the museum, almost as though it were trying to warn them away from the area they were headed towards. But soon it was out of view, and the path got darker and darker, until only a faint glow that seemed to be coming off of Waxworks herself served as the illumination. A cold, clammy draft blew on the group from every direction, as it seemed wherever they were going was turning out to be a much larger room than the House of Wax seemed capable of containing.

With one more strong breeze, Waxy's hair seemed to visibly flicker before the room went pitch black. The group was left to stand in the darkness for a moment before Waxworks began speaking, accompanied by the haunting tune of a music box from somewhere in the room. "I'd like to tell you all, a story."

A spotlight snapped on, illuminating a single brick pillar surrounded by darkness, with a very well done oil painting of an illustrious looking stallion hanging upon it. The stallion had an amused, somewhat greasy, slightly seductive look on his face, like somepony that was about to offer you a terrific bargain on a used wagon. While Waxworks herself was no longer anywhere to be seen, her voice could be heard quite clearly.

"Once upon a time, there was a very successful stallion named Archival Stuff." She pronounced Archival as one would say Archibald. "Shipping, real estate, magical procurement, mining, you name it, he'd dipped his hooves in it."

She leaned out from behind the brick pillar and grinned, "anypony who was anypony wanted to know him, mares wanted him, stallions wanted to be like him, and most of all, everypony wanted to be invited to one of his parties."

A sound began to creep into the dark room, a very distant sort of sound, like numerous cheers and laughs mingled with old fashioned big band music. Waxworks tilted her head curiously and peered into the darkness, as thought trying to figure out where it was coming from. Her eyes lit up and she pointed eagerly, crying, "THERE!"

The lights went out for but a moment, as a series of streetlamps began to switch on, illuminating a path through the darkness towards a distant mansion where every window was brightly lit, silhouettes of partying ponies could be seen, and the loud noises continued to blare. Of course, this was all a trick of perspective, as Waxworks reappeared next to the distant mansion, appearing to be roughly the same size as the building. She bent down and peered into one of the windows, waving the others over. "Every weekend would be a major event. You wouldn't even get an invitation, you were just expected to be there. Strangers would become friends, enemies would become confidants, and as the party wore late into the evening everything would take a surreal feeling of hazy dreamlike quality. Archival Manor was the place to be!"

She turned to the group with a wicked grin, "right up until that one night nopony came home."

The streetlights, mansion lights, and sounds of revelry all seemed to cut out at exactly the same time, as the lights in the large room gradually came up. Waxworks was sitting in front of the group, but the model of the mansion, the brick pillar with the painting, and all of the streetlights appeared to be missing. The room itself was quite large, and extremely unfinished. Exposed wooden framing and stripped insulation could be seen on all of the walls. Ceiling beams stood nakedly with old roofing tiles haphazardly netted above them.

"When curious ponies approached Archival Manor the following morning, wondering why everypony had decided to stay the night instead of coming home, this is what they found. A hollow building. No stairs, no floors and ceilings above them, no furniture, even the walls were stripped. It was like the entire building was an empty cicada shell."

She paused and looked a little sad, "nopony who had gone to the party that night was ever heard from again, and the more ponies looked into information about Archival Stuff, the fewer concrete facts there seemed to be. However, there was something left behind. See, the entire house was hollowed out... but the cellar was still in the floor."

With an ominous creaking sound, a wooden trap door lifted up on the other side of the room, letting out a musty blast of stale air. The candlemare trotted over to it and turned to the group, grinning and gesturing down the steps into the darkness. "Wanna see?"

[lightningflickers]

(ooh, I like where this is going! Also I love the way you just hit the nail right on the head with how I was trying to portray my characters!)

Luke peered over the edge of the trap door, the steep stairs seemed to endlessly go down into a dark abyss.

"y-you want us" He gulped, "t-to go down there?" he said turning his gaze to the strange waxy pony
"I mean it's no problem, im not scared or anything. I-It just doesn't look terribly safe" he asserted his point by testing a creaky stair with his hoof.

"yes, they do seem a bit riggedy." Beaker replied before his eyes went wide as if he was struck by lightning.

" I say, where are our manners, we havnt introduced ourselves yet! Im Professor Beaker sparks and-"

"im his apprentice, Luke ratchet!" Luke injected as Beaker extended his hoof to his host and the other guest.

[~Silly CC~]

Orange Crème gulps as the story finishes, her fur on her neck prickling to a point. She darts her eyes downward, staring into the abyss of a cellar, and she slowly turns her vision upwards, towards the others of the group. She nods and lets the two colts introduce themselves, then she gives a slight bow of the head, smiling slightly through her jittery, nervous attitude.

And I am Orange Crème de la Crème. You may call me Orange Crème if you wish. Please excuse me if I suddenly exclaim in French, as Prance is my native land.

She gives a slight smile, though she feels more nervous having to meet the glowing eyes of the waxy pony. Her cheeks blossom into roses of red as she expresses her slightly jumpy and scared attitude, but she hopes it will not make her seem wimpier and more easy to scare. She also nods to the two colts, giving a kind upturning of the lips.

A pleasure to meet you, as well. I know you were speaking to the candlemare, but with all respect I will remember your names as I try to all my customers back in Manehatten.

She carefully turns herself towards the cellar, awaiting the response of the eerie white pony, and she gulps again.

Shall we go, then? We shouldn't let time pass by, or else this mare's time may run out before we get the full tour.

[waxworks]

"Professor," said Waxworks gleefully, "Mister Ratchet, Miss Crème... Miss Crème..."

She pronounced this a few times, liking the way it sounded aloud. The white pony trotted past the group to the entrance to the dark, musty cellar, and looked down into it for a moment, as though considering. Her head swiveled around to a worrisome degree, and with a flash of lightening, a rumble of thunder, and a somewhat askew smile she said, "I'm Waxworks!"

The lightning seemed odd, as there didn't seem to be any windows in the large room, but one thing was certain, it was getting darker. As Waxworks descended down the steps, the light seemed to be reluctantly following after her. She calmly said to the others, "you really shouldn't stay in any dark room here too terribly long." From a distance a small pair of white eyes had appeared in the shapeless blackness, looking intently at the group. "If you'd all be so kind as to follow me, we can continue."

She trotted down the stairs into the cellar, where sconces along the walls sputtered to life with flame. The cellar felt like the inside of an ancient library, with a haze of dust hanging in the air. Even the stonework in the walls, which one would expect to be slightly damp in such a place, seemed untouched by even the slightest hint of moisture. It was the sort of room that made you thirsty.

"Welcome to the cellar of Archival Manor," said Waxworks, in a warm tone that was tinted with danger, "where we keep those remnants that remained when the rest of the building and its occupants... well... who knows. But regardless, it would seem that Archival Stuff had a penchant for collecting, the strange, the odd, the beautiful, the unique, objects from all across Equestria."

She turned to the group, trotting along backwards as she went, "they say when a pony leaves this world their spirit, essence, life-force, whatever you call it, hangs around for a brief moment before it goes to who-knows-where. But..."

A slight creaking sound to the left of Waxworks and the right of the group synchronized with a torch suddenly springing to life, casting its light on a collection of small, slightly garish and preternatural carvings. Each of them looked to be in the shape of a young pony at play, although the age of the wood and slight rot had made them rather difficult to look at. There had to be at least two dozen of them, and even though each was in a different playful pose, they all seemed to be looking towards the group somehow.

"...sometimes, you can convince a spirit to hang around for just a liiiittle longer than it's supposed to. I guess the idea is to give you a little more time to say goodbye, but some say if you make them look enough like the spirit they're supposed to be an anchor for well, they might hang around longer, or maybe they're simply... stuck. These little cuties are called Tayekennies, and if there's one thing Archival Stuff liked to collect, it was statues."

As if eagerly awaiting its cue, there was a tremendous, crashing metal sound immediately behind the group. The torches on the wall did little to illuminate it, but whatever it was, it was hanging from the ceiling on chains and seemed to be swaying back and forth. Coldness radiated off of it, as did the sound of chain links rubbing together.

"Sheesh you lot are impatient," said Waxworks, chuckling to herself as she plucked a torch off the wall with her teeth and trotted towards the source of the sound behind the group. The torch was deposited in a conveniently located sconce, as the white pony shook her head in a 'kids these days' sort of manner. "They always worry I'll forget them, but I haven't ever done that yet, have I?"

She cleared her throat somewhat sheepishly like someone who's broken character for a moment, as she gracefully bowed and gestured towards the segmented iron statue hanging in front of the group. It was a horse of some sort, that much was clear, but each and every piece of it seemed to have been individually made, limbs, hooves, ears, even the tail was broken into several segments, and each piece was attached to its neighbor by exceedingly fine, surprisingly pristine chain. The whole of it must've been brilliantly weighted because instead of hanging limply, it seemed to bob and wiggle as though it were alive, similar to how a mobile hangs above a crib, only here it was hanging from a chain in the ceiling.

"Ladies and Gentleponies, may I introduce you to Drop Forge." She paused, as though waiting for everyone to exchange pleasantries with the statue before she continued. "Long ago... hidden away from prying pony eyes, there was a sculptor of exceeding precision. Every day he'd made a new statue, and every night he'd destroy it, dissatisfied because of some minor flaw only his eye could see. Ponies from far and wide came to model for him with hopes that they might be the one that finally sparked him to create his one perfect creation. But as the years went by and he became more fixated, he started to realize it wasn't his creations that were flawed, but his models. Each one of them had something wrong. A scar here, a leg just a millimeter too long there, nostrils that weren't absolutely perfectly symmetrical. It was more than he could bear."

She took a breath, and lowered her head as she continued, "some say that he overheard some of his models making derisive comments about his talent. Others say it was pressure from his landlord wanting money. No one knows exactly what the last straw was, but when he snapped, he began making this. He'd become absolutely convinced there was no single perfect pony out there, but only perfect pieces. It was said that in a single night... he stole away the pieces he needed. He readied a massive vat of molten iron, and dropped each piece in, using techniques known only to him to forever capture that little tiny piece in its perfect state. And before each piece cooled, he connected them to one another with chain made from some special alloy."

She looked to the group with a worried look, "but really, really it wouldn't have been all that bad... it wouldn't have been all that bad if it weren't for the missing ponies. See... every piece of Drop Forge is a separate pony, trapped in that single form, and they all still struggle to each take full control over it... you can hear it sometimes start moving when there's no wind, and a horrible metallic sound, like dozens and dozens of voices screaming in unison..."

Waxworks bowed her head in silence for a moment, before she brightened up, "sadly the chain is SUPER strong, I tried to help them out by snipping it but even my best bolt cutters can't get through it. I suppose someday they'll finally learn an important lesson about togetherness and cooperation, and when they do," she said this in the same way a mother would say 'and once you've eaten your vegetables...', "I'll let them out of here to trot out and about in the countryside. Now if you all come over here, there's something I'm sure you'll like..."

[lightningflickers]

the story ended leaving a small chill in the air causing both Luke and beaker to shiver a little, though there seemed to be some truth in Waxworks’ words, upon closer inspection of the drop forge it became apparent to beaker that the chains were indeed made of a strange alloy, or at least not one he was familiar with which of course was quite a feat due to his profession in both archaeology and engineering. Though one thing was bothering him about this little excursion to ‘the cellar of Archival Manor’.

”excuse me, waxworks. I have a question; how are we in the cellar of Mr Archival if the house above is obviously not the empty shell of a manor, or at least not a manor in any sense of the word?” beaker asked making a metal note to ask more about the chain later.

[~Silly CC~]

Just the sound of the story, let alone the spooky sound affects, gave Orange a reason to shudder yet again. It's just a story, and it's just a bunch of special effects. Deep breath, and keep brave. She does so and tries to stand straight, but the eerie sounds chip away at her confidence. Pondering the stallion's question, it seems to give her a bit of hope that this duo may help her feel braver, or perhaps it would ruin the experience. Hearing the candlemare pronounce of something they'll like, which Orange doubted.

Oh, je suis sûr que nous allons adorer...(Oh, I'm sure we'll love it...)

Orange Crème says with a tone of sarcasm, rolling her eyes slightly in the gloom. She was really just scared, which made her act a bit ruder sometimes, but she decided she shouldn't show it so much.

[waxworks]

"Oh!" Waxworks perked and swiveled to Professor Beaker, "this isn't the actual cellar of Archival Manor, no no no no. I just replicated the cellar atmosphere to house all of the artifacts that are on loan from the Archival Stuff Collection. Atmosphere is everything in presentation! Now where were we..."

She turned to a nearby metal door, and cracked it open for a moment. Inside a white pony with fiery eyes and a flame-like cowlick appeared to be tied to a chair. As its eyes widened the door quickly slammed shut and Waxworks chuckled sheepishly, "ooh, uh, exhibit under repair, come on, this way everypony!"

The waxy pony twirled back around, coming face to face with a large, cylindrical metal object. It wasn't as tall as the ceiling of the cellar, but it came very close. Whatever it was, it appeared to have a door on it, and it was certainly large enough that somepony, or several someponies, could fit inside of it comfortably. Waxworks cleared her throat and gestured to the grand machine, "behold, an ancient machine designed by clever ponies to save those ponies that had brains that weren't wound completely tightly!"

She trotted around the machine, reappearing on the other side of it slightly faster than was expected, and coming nose to nose with Luke, "see some ponies see things that aren't really there." She glanced to her right, down an empty dark hallway and then back at Luke, "and some clever clever pony came up with an idea. If we can make them see things that aren't really there, maybe they can learn to control it!"

Waxworks leapt from her position, skidding to a halt in front of Orange Crème, twisting her head around, "problem is back then they thought it'd be a cure for everything, and there's no such thing as a cure all! But behold, the Grand Zoetrope, in all its glory!"

With a single well-placed buck, the door of the machine yawned open, revealing a fairly small but well lit room inside of it, with an image of a cheerful looking pony, caught mid-stride in a gallop, painted on one of the walls. "Who wants to go in? The curious professor? The brave assistant? Miss Crème?"

She paused, and began repeating Orange Crème's name again, liking the way it sounded. Grinning widely, she looked up at the beret wearing pony and said, "by the way, y'know what the accent on your name is called?" Waxworks leaned against the door of the machine, gesturing inside, "it's called a grave."

[lightningflickers]

((Sorry for taking ages to reply, it's been a very hectic couple of days for me.))

Beaker gazed at the interior of the cylindrical room, it looked pleasant enough but that picture, there was something somewhat unnerving about it.
He was about to comment about it when waxworks made a rather grim remark about miss crème's name causing Beaker to round on waxworks with a well tempered rage.

"just what are you implying waxworks?" Beaker's voice was calm and smooth as velvet but the tone of warning was unmistakable.
"as a host im sure you are aware that it is of utmost importance to ensure the safety and comfort of your guests." he continued, shooting an inquisitive glance at waxworks before turning to face crème.

"miss crème, you don't need to enter the room if you do not wish to, don't let her trick you into doing anything you don't want to do." Beaker reasoned as Luke pushed past him.

"yeah! I'd be more than happy to take your place for you miss Crème! After all, it is the duty of a gentlecolt to help a lady!" he offered puffing out his chest proudly.

[~Silly CC~]

Orange Crème smiles, but shakes her head. She peers into the room and then glances back to the two gentlecolts.

Thank you for offering—you two are very kind—but I'd like to enter the room. I trust all is for pure entertainment purposes, and I myself could do with a stronger sense of my hooves on the ground, so I'd like to enter. I don't want to be seen as a weak and easily-scared mare, but I appreciate your kind offer.

She nods and grins to Waxworks, stepping closer to the beckoning room.

Thank you, Waxworks, I will gladly enter. And that is quite interesting, as in French, it does mean cream in my native tongue. I wonder, from what language does it translate to such as you mentioned?

She keeps her emerald orbs fixated on the waxy pony's glowing eyes, which seemed to unnerve her in the slightest bit. She really is curious, though the thought of her name meaning "The Grave of the Grave."