//------------------------------// // Six Strangers // Story: The Elements of Love // by UnweptSchlipps //------------------------------// For the young ponies of Ponyville Elementary, it was just one of those days. It was one of those days that seemed to drag on into eternity, one that boredom so great they would rather stick needles in their faces than bear through it. Today, Miss Cheerilee was delivering a “riveting” discussion about photosynthesis. Half (if not more) of the students had tuned out the spiel thirty minutes ago, the eyes glued to the ticking clock that always seemed to move too slow. A few colts had their heads plastered to their desks with little specks of drool seeping out of their mouths. “No, Snails. Leaves are not green because they’re jealous, although I like your creativity,” Cheerilee said gently. She tapped the blackboard and continued, “Leaves are green because of chlorophyll, a pigment in the leaves embedded in the thylakoid-.” The teacher was interrupted in mid-sentence by the ringing of the final bell. Her students immediately jumped out of their seats, hastily heading towards the door as one huge mob. As the students rushed out of the school, Cheerilee called out, “Don’t forget to do Assignment Forty-Two in your workbooks!” As the last student shuffled out the door, she whispered with a sigh, “Bless their little hearts.” The schoolteacher turned to her desk, putting away the books and lesson plans stacked on top. She stuffed a stack of soon-to-be-graded tests into her pack, as well an apple given by one of her students. Although Cheerilee had grown very tired of apples, she simply couldn’t leave behind such a touching gift. “Alright Cheerilee,” she uttered while slinging her bag over her back. “You’ve got a date…with a delicious apple tart.” She turned to leave for the day, but she was stopped short by the sight of a small filly standing in the doorway. She had purple-rimmed glasses and a frazzled red mane, and the poor thing looked very disappointed. The young pony said with a noticeable lisp, “Oh…I didn’t know you were busy.” The teacher put down her pack and asked, “What’s the matter Twist?” “Well, I wanted to ask you a question about tonight’s homework, but you said you had to get home…I don’t want to be a burden…” “Oh it wouldn’t be a burden at all, sweetie!” Cheerilee exclaimed. She motioned the young pony to come forward, saying, “I’d be happy to do anything for one of my students. After all, that’s what I’m here to do!” For the next few minutes, Twist began to explain her questions, and the whole time Cheerilee looked on with utmost tolerance and respect. The thought of her pie waiting at home had been pushed back, and the thought of helping the young filly had taken its place. This was her special talent; this was what she was born to do. And by Celestia’s mane, she was going to do it right! Finally after helping Twist solve one or two problems, the filly scooted out the door, saying, “Thank you Ms. Cheerilee!” “You’re welcome Twist!” Cheerilee replied lovingly. “And remember, I always have time for my students.” The bell had just rung, and the entire yard was swarming with young ponies eager to get home. Part of that mob was three fillies with bare flanks, talking excitedly about their next venture. They pulled out their patchy, ragged capes while calling out their signature cry, “Cutie Mark Crusaders!” The orange pegasus told the others happily, “Hey girls. Check this out, I’ve been practicing!” Scootaloo began to buzz her tiny wings, her face scrunched up in effort. Exerting a vast amount of energy, she began to slowly hover up a few feet in the air as her friends watched with admiration. Unfortunately, the valiant attempt didn’t last very long. The filly’s small wings gave up on her, and Scootaloo was sent face first into the dirt. As she spit out some pebbles, Sweetie Belle said encouragingly, “Wow Scootaloo, that was higher than last time!” “Ah bet you’ll learn ta fly in no time!” Applebloom added. Scootaloo opened her mouth to thank them, but she was interrupted by a wretched sound in the background. It was as appealing as the sound of hooves scraping against a chalkboard, a bomb exploding, and a dying cat combined. This was the sound of Diamond Tiara’s nasally giggle. The pink pony strolled up to the pegasus on the ground, eyeing her distastefully. Then Diamond said, “Oh look, it’s the Flightless Wonder. Don’t you ever get tired of falling flat on your face Scootaloo?” The orange filly got up, wiped the dust off her fur, and replied, “Don’t you ever get tired of being an annoying brat?” She began to flap her wings once again, but this time she landed on her bottom. “Come on Scootaloo, just give up. A foal can fly better than you. Don’t embarrass yourself any further. Or actually, keep going. It’s a real good laugh.” Scootaloo just sneered and said, “As if I care what you think.” “At the rate you’re going, you’ll never be able to fly.” At this, the pegasus simply had it. She stormed up to the mean filly, stuck her snout in her face, and stared her down with a glare that could bore straight through diamonds. With her voice dripping with venom, Scootaloo said forcefully, “I don’t care what you say or what you do, but I am never going to stop trying. And some day…I’ll be zooming circles around you, flying around with the Wonderbolts and Rainbow Dash. I just know I will. So why don’t you just make like the insect you are and buzz off! I need to concentrate.” The filly turned around, leaving her nemesis with her mouth open from shock. Scootaloo made her way down the road, with her two friends following suit. The three had huge grins on their faces, not daring to look back at the distressed, angry filly they had left in the schoolyard. “Oh boy, ya sure showed her, Scootaloo!” Applebloom remarked. Sweetie Belle snickered and added, “Yeah! Did you see the look on her face after you called her an insect? Priceless!” “Thanks girls,” Scootaloo thanked happily. “Now, let’s get back to earning our cutie marks!” The three friends jumped in the air simultaneously, clapping their hooves while shouting, “CUTIE MARK CRUSADER HEART SURGEONS YAY!” “Three laps to go folks, and the Wonderbolts are barely hanging onto the lead with the Thunder Clouds close on their tails!” the announcer cried over the raucous crowd. The mob of ponies had their eyes a trained on the blurs zooming around Cloud Coliseum, cheering on their idols as the race began to come to an end. Three of these blurs were Spitfire, Soarin, and a rookie; all of them representing the proud, first-ranked Wonderbolts. Closing in behind him was the number two team and their bitter rivals, the Thunder Clouds. It had been a grueling hundred-lap race, and now the finish-line was in sight. Soaring and Spitfire led the pack, with the rookie, who was appropriately called Rookie Blue, dragging just a tad bit behind. “Faster!” Spitfire commanded. And on cue, all three slowly began to pick up speed, trying to lose the enemy on the final stretch. But the Thunder Clouds were able to match the Wonderbolts’ acceleration, and they still remained close behind. “Two laps to go!” the announcer yelled as the teams simultaneously crossed the line. The Clouds began to make a move for the lead, but Wonderbolts would have none of it, cutting them off. They made another move in the opposite direction, but the elite fliers clad in blue kept their small lead. Soarin yelled at a particularly buff pegasus, “Hey Tiny! Your wings too small for that fat head?” The brawny pegasus gritted his teeth, and flew toward the savvy veteran. Soarin swiftly dodged out of the way, and the not-so-bright stallion crashed into the stands, effectively eliminating him from the race. “One down, Spits!” the blue pegasus called. At that moment, the two teams crossed the line again, and the final lap was underway. The leader of the Thunder Clouds, a sleek black pegasus, had set his sights on the rook, trying to overtake her. However, Blue was a skilled maneuverer, and she cut him off at every turn. The overzealous stallion made a desperate move to take the lead, but the rookie dispatched him with a tap of her hindleg. Finally, the leader of the Thunder Clouds couldn’t take it any longer. He would not let this…this stupid rook make him look stupid. The stallion lowered his head, and suddenly charged towards Blue, roaring in anger. The rookie looked back to see the pegasus’s face flushed with pure rage, barreling straight for her like a missile. She tried to escape, but it seemed that this time, the stallion’s attack would not be evaded. So the rook closed her eyes, and braced for impact. Thud! The newbie opened her eyes to find that she was still in the air, soaring at high speeds. She glanced behind her see the leader of Thunder Clouds being tackled out of the air, by none other than Soarin. The two barreled into the other member of the Cloud team, and all three went spiraling into the track. And before she knew it, Rook Blue found herself over the finish line, with the announcer crying out, “And the Wonderbolts win!” Xxx Rook sat in the hotel lobby, peeling back her hood to reveal a blue slicked-back mane. Spitfire was sitting across from her, nibbling on a bagel. A gold medal hung around their necks proudly. The rookie was beaming at her first victory, as well as anxious for more races to come. Suddenly, Soarin walked into the room with a slight limp and a welt on his cheek. He had just gotten back from the infirmary. The young flier saw this, went up to the vet and said, “Soarin! Are you alright?” “Heh. There isn’t anything those stupid Clouds can throw at me that I can’t handle,” he replied confidently. “Jeez Soarin, that was a nasty hit you took back there. You could have easily just let that guy run into me. Why-why’d you do it?” Despite the massive bump on his face, Soarin gave the mare a cool smile. He told her, “You’re the newbie, right? Well, how ‘bout I’ll teach you your first real lesson.” He slipped off his goggles, revealing a set of eyes that looked perpetually relaxed. He began, “You see kid, we are a team, and we put the team first. We’ve gotta do what we can so that at the end of the day, we come out on top. And if that means taking a few extra bruises, then fine by me.” He then gave a short chuckle and added, “And that’s something flight school never teaches you.” “And let me tell ya, Soarin’s taken quite his share of bumps and bruises. But without him, I doubt we’d be able to win,” Spitfire added, having swallowed the last of her snack. The leader teased, “Now come on Soarin, ya big baby. We’re supposed to be at the Coliseum for press interviews. We would’ve been there already, if you hadn’t taken so long whining to those docs about that measly little bruise.” Rook smiled as the two veterans strolled out of the room, leaving her to ponder her first lesson. In the dry, dry desert town of Appleloosa, the sun’s hot rays baked the cracked ground until it was almost bleached white. It had been a hard summer for the Appleloosians, what with the excruciating heat being almost unbearable. But, just as they had always done, the hardy cowponies had bared through the harsh weather. And with winter coming up, things were looking mighty fine. Braeburn strolled through the dusty town, making his rounds as he usually did. He gave a friendly tip of the hat to every pony he saw, saying kindly, “How d’you do?” The cowpony smiled at every horse-drawn carriage and horse-drawn horse-drawn carriage that passed him by. Basically, he took in every little aspect of the modest settlement, and how they had grown so much since its inception almost two years ago. T’aint much, but it’s home, Braeburn thought, as he walked into The Salt Block saloon. Sitting alone at a table, taking a swig of a cool glass of apple cider was Sheriff Silverstar. The mustached pony saw Braeburn walk in, and he greeted, “Well howdy, Braeburn. Quite a hot day, if I do say so myself.” “Well, it ain’t nothing we haven’t seen before, sir,” the yellow stallion replied happily, taking a seat across from the sheriff. “What can I do for you today, son?” Silverstar asked gruffly. Braeburn took off his hat, wiped some sweat off his brow, and got straight down to business. “Well ya see sheriff…the tree orchard’s been plagued with them pesky venomfang rat critters. Ah was hopin’ y’all could lend a hoof to help clear ‘em out.” Sheriff Silverstar put down his mug of cider, glanced quickly at the floor, and replied, “Sorry Braeburn, but I’m afraid there’s been a bit of trouble with some buffalo down south. I don’t have time to help you right now.” But as the sheriff said this, Braeburn caught wind of something. It was a certain glint in the sheriff’s eye, and the way he had glanced away for just a split second. Braeburn could sense a smidge of uncertainty in the old stallion’s voice, so small it was almost non-existent. But it was there. By golly, it was there. The yellow cowpony gave a small chuckle and said, “Come on now Sheriff, you and Ah both know that ain’t the complete truth.” The mustached stallion opened his mouth to defend himself, but then the two stallions locked eyes. Silverstar looked straight into that smug little glare Braeburn was so good at doing. Unwavering. Unmoving. Unmatchable. Finally, the sheriff broke into an embarrassed grin and said, “Well, I should’ve known not to try and pull a fast one on good ol’ Braeburn. I don’t know how you do it, but you can spot a little white lie a mile away.” “Ah guess honesty sorta runs in the family,” Braeburn replied with a tip of his hat. “Now come on, help me clear out them critters. Then you can go watch them dramatic detective shows you love so much.” Ponyville wasn’t exactly the busiest hospital in Equestria. In fact if it wasn’t for the pegasi crashing into buildings and Pinkie Pie’s “firework extravapaloosa”, the staff probably would never have work. But today was a different day. Today, the doctors were about to attempt a rare feat in Ponyville. A surgery. The procedure: Open heart surgery. The patient: a month-old foal. The poor colt was born with severe heart defect, and needless to say, the doctors were anxious to perform the life-saving surgery. They were prepping themselves for the patient, slipping on their rubber hoof-gloves and surgery masks. The elite team was ready. That is, if the patient would actually arrive. Back in one of the hospital rooms, the tiny colt cried hysterically. The baby flailed his hooves to and fro, not allowing any nurse to get near him. One young nurse was absolutely flabbergasted, not knowing what to do with the shrieking foal. The painful screaming pierced her very heart, and the nurse stepped out of the room on the verge of tears. Suddenly, she heard the sound of galloping hooves down the hallway. Rounding the corner with a stretcher was a white earth pony with a big red cross on her flank. Her pink mane was tied up in a bun, and her face was one of urgency. “Nurse Redheart!” the young nurse exclaimed, relieved to see some help. “Thank Luna you’re here! I just can’t get the poor thing to calm down!” Redheart nodded, telling her associate, “Just get the stretcher prepped and ready.” Then the white mare slipped into the room, coming face-to-face with the crying foal. For a moment, the nurse could see the pain in the frail figure’s eyes. The pain, the sadness, the fear. She returned the glare with a sad gaze of her own. Then the nurse slowly made her way to the bed, whispering, “Shhh…there, there sweetheart. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” For some reason, the foal ceased his flailing, still continuing to cry out. Redheart was able to gently carry the young pony, and she took him in a warm embrace. Despite his fearful shrieks, the nurse held the poor figure close, tenderly rubbing his barely-formed mane. She continued to whisper, “Shhh. Everything will be okay.” This continued for about a minute, as the young nurse outside watched intently, hoping for some kind of breakthrough. The foal’s crying slowly began to cease, becoming just random spurts of weeping. Finally the sound of the colt’s misery faded away, and the poor child rested his head on Redheart’s shoulders, his eyes closed in gentle slumber. Redheart gave a calm smile, and whispered, “Good night, sweetheart.” The pony walked out of the room holding the colt carefully in her hooves. She slowly lowered the child onto the stretcher. Redheart looked at the serene, innocent child’s face, and she couldn’t help but shred a tiny tear. So small…so fragile, she thought as she began to whisk the colt away. The nurse and her tiny passenger arrived at the surgery room, where other nurses took over. Redheart gave a curt nod as the sleeping baby was wheeled away, not knowing the intense operation he was about to undergo. The other nurse had followed the white mare, and she asked, “Redheart…how…how were you able to get him to calm down? He’s been crying nonstop for days!” Redheart took off her nurse’s cap, heaving a long sigh before replying, “It just takes a gentle touch and a kind heart. The poor thing. He’s in so much pain. It just breaks my heart seeing a poor foal like this. But…I can tell he’s a strong one. He’ll pull through.” “What makes you say that?” the young nurse questioned. With an unwavering voice, the mare answered, “I can see it in his eyes, Tenderheart. I’ve been here a long time, and believe me; I understand what that child is going through. Seen it one too many times. And I also know he’s going to come out fine.” Xxx Only a day later, Redheart watched as a giggling little colt was swept up in the embrace of his crying mother. “Hit me,” uttered a unicorn stallion, tapping the table with his cards. The place was Las Haygas. More specifically; Maynn casino, the swankiest casino in the entire city. Only the high-class elites paid a visit to the Maynn, both literally and figuratively. Only the richest of the rich ever saw the ivory fountains and golden light fixtures that graced this dazzling hotel. Here, the casual wear was silk tuxedo jackets and long silk gowns. Here, the rich tycoons and business moguls came to share a drink or waste their bits on a game of blackjack. One such player was a gray unicorn stallion, who sat quietly at a blackjack table. His black mane was spiked back, and his sky-blue eyes gleamed with self-assurance. Three four-leaf clovers graced his flank. The unicorn shared the table with four other contestants, all them just looking to spend some pocket-change. But this stallion wasn’t like the others. Sure, he wore the designer vest, the pinstripe shirt, and the red Istallian neck tie. But he was no business tycoon, no stock-market stallion. If one didn’t know him any better, they would call him a self-made stallion. He, on the other hand, would rather describe himself as a pure winner. His domain was the gambling room; his entire earnings won by skill…and a bit of luck. After all, they didn’t call him Lucky for a reason. The dealer handed him his next card. Lucky gave a quick glance at his opponents’ faces, before giving another to his cards. A two, a five, and a queen. 17. His face was absolutely emotionless, and his sleeves were rolled up as though he was about to get to work. Behind him, a Trottingham pegasus with a fedora and a bowtie whispered, “I think you should stand, friend.” But the unicorn just raised his eyebrows, and tapped the table while saying, “Hit me.” “Are you crazy Lucky?” the pegasus chided. But Lucky gave his friend a confident smirk, and addressed the dealer, “You heard what I said. Hit me.” The dealer passed him another card. The pegasus held his breath as Lucky revealed the card for only them two to see. A three. The pegasus let out a sigh of relief, and whispered, “Don’t push your luck, friend.” Lucky paused for a second, taking to time to survey his opponent’s faces. Two had already elected to stand, and one was so drunk he could barely comprehend what was going on. But the last opponent, a savvy looking unicorn, had a noticeably different air about him. Lucky had played this game too long to not notice these types of players. That stallion just emanated smugness, and Lucky didn’t like that one bit. Then the unicorn stared at the deck in the dealer’s hooves, and for some reason, he could feel something coming from those cards. An instinct. A gut feeling. Whatever it was, Lucky seemed to be convinced it was good. “I’ve pushed my luck further before, mate,” Lucky told his fellow Trottingham stallion. Then he tapped his cards and said assertively, “Hit me.” The other ponies turned towards the daring unicorn, staring at him in shock. Even the half-drunk stallion stared at him with his mouth agape. After all, Lucky already had four cards in his hoof. Surely the unicorn couldn’t be serious. But Lucky was as serious as serious could be. Reluctantly, the dealer handed out the final card. The gray stallion stared at the card intently, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. However, with Lucky, one could never tell what he was thinking. So the opponents held their breath. Finally, he flipped his cards to reveal… An Ace of Spades. Lucky smiled at the other players triumphantly, uttering a single word. “Blackjack.” xxx The Trottingham duo strolled out of the hotel with their huge bags of gold in tow. The pegasus hovered in the air and began to cheerily twirl around, absolutely beaming from their winnings. Lucky gave a short chuckle, being a bit more subtle. That is, as subtle as he could be while levitating multiple bags of cash near his face. The pegasus said in disbelief, “I can’t believe it, Lucky! You won on the final hit five times in a row! How do you do it, mate?" The unicorn's friend lowered voice and inquired, "You don’t…count ‘em, do you?” The unicorn immediately scoffed at the notion, and he replied, “Come on Snake Eyes, you know I’m not a counter. You can watch my horn if you want, but I was raised to play the game fair and square. Always have, always will.” Snake Eyes flew backwards, facing his partner. He said, “Alright, I believe ya friend. But still…you never cease to amaze me. How do you manage to win it all?” “I’m pretty sure I told you this before, Snake,” Lucky answering, giving a friendly wink. He continued, “Sometimes…sometimes you just gotta believe that what you’re doing is right. It’s a…a gut feeling, you know? And a pony has to go with his gut, am I right? Besides, they don’t call me Lucky for nothing!” “Haha! I swear mate, you’ve got more luck in your left ear than anypony in the entire country!” Lucky returned his friend’s light-hearted laughter with a bout of his own. Then he shook one of the bags of bits and offered, “Now then, why don’t we head down the street and get some bagels? I’m buying!” “Well? What do you think? I know how to pick ‘em, right?” Cadance asked as the projection faded away. “I suppose so,” Celestia replied. “But they hardly know each other! We would need time for them to train.” “I’m afraid there’s no time!” Cadance interrupted. She beckoned a Royal Guard to come forward and deliver a message. Then the love princess added, “Besides, Twilight and her friends were able to do it. I’m sure these strangers can too!” And now for my first real A/N. A bit of info on Lucky... He was nothing more than a background pony with a fanon name, but his clover cutie-mark intrigued me. And yes, he doesn't have a horn in the show, but I decided to add it since I realized the group was lacking a bit of magic. So after a bit of brainstorming...BAM! Here he is, a background pony infused with a bit of backstory. I suppose he could be classified as an OC... So yeah, just wanted to tell you guys that info. Don't forget to comment, favorite, and/or thumbs-up. Thanks for reading! And as always, keep on flying bronies; keep spreading the love!