//------------------------------// // Picnic // Story: Alienation // by Longtooth //------------------------------// I suppose I should tell you about the party Pinkie threw the next day. Not that I particularly want to, but I mentioned it before so I might as well. That party… it was just one humiliation after another, spearheaded by an overactive pink maniac who I can’t even get properly angry at because she didn’t know how much it hurt me. The teasing about my indiscretion with Rainbow Dash was one thing. I had expected it, braced myself for it. Even my broken ribs weren’t an issue. Much. Well, in the interests of full disclosure, they were an issue. A big one. I was running the day without painkillers, I couldn’t afford to be doped up and let my act slip. The pain and the difficulty breathing were stressful enough that my tolerance for the rest of it might have been affected. Still, they weren’t the real problem. Remember how I’m most myself when I’m in a fight? Well, there, surrounded by ponies and trying my best to smile and pretend at happiness… that’s when I feel least myself. That’s when the doubts of my identity and worries about whether my will is truly my own come to the fore. I drown in these moments, and I can’t get free, because in them I cannot be myself. I cannot! I have to be Twilight Sparkle. That party, surrounded by a whole town of ponies, all talking and smiling and laughing and hugging and sharing. And they say it’s for me, but it’s not. They don’t know who I am, they don’t know what I’ve done, what I’m capable of. They don’t see it, and I am hiding behind a mask that isn’t a mask. Twilight’s face is my face. I have never known any other. It’s not the hiding, it’s that disconnect. The immense gulf between myself and others that only I can see. They laugh and they smile and they say “hello, Twilight! How are you doing?” and they have no idea! Not the first clue that I am not her and… and I can’t let them know. How does one scream without making a sound? By turning that scream inward. That was the entirety of Pinkie’s Ponyville picnic for me. Screaming in anger and frustration. Smiling and screaming, all at once. The day kicked off with Pinkie jumping on me in bed. Yeah. That particular scream was out loud, but it was the only one I got that day. Plus, it was a bad scream, since jumping on me did interesting and indescribable things to my broken ribs. Not the full-throated wail I wanted to let loose, more of a high-pitched tea-kettle hissing while I thrashed and kicked. “Wow,” Pinkie chirped, bouncing to the other side of the room. “Somepony must have been having bad dreams! I’m glad I saved you from them!” Oh, to be able to kill her. “I bruised my side last night, Pinkie,” I growled at her as soon as I could. “You just kicked me there!” “Oh! Oopsie!” Death would be too kind a fate. “Do you want me to take a look at it? I always liked playing doctor!” She had to know what she was saying. Twilight knew what she was saying. But the innocence in those big, crazy eyes of hers meant that my snarky comeback withered before it could get past my lips. “No, I’ll be fine,” I said. “How did you get into my room?” “Through the skylight,” she said. To be clear: there is no skylight in my room. “Skylight?” I repeated, never to receive an explanation. “Come on, sleepyhead! You can’t miss the party!” Pinkie bounced over and tugged at my hoof, thankfully being gentle about her efforts this time. “The party’s not ‘till noon, Pinkie,” I said. I looked around for my alarm clock, only to belatedly remember that I had reduced it to a fancy paperweight. “It is noon, silly!” Pinkie chortled. “Come on!” “Pinkie!” I snapped. “Give me ten minutes to get ready, at least!” “Oh!” she said, ducking her head in a poor imitation of contrition. “Sorry, I’ll, uh, just let you do that.” She grinned at me, backing out of the room as she spoke. Then, with a final titter she left. I knew that she wouldn’t be gone for long. She never, ever is. So I gingerly maneuvered myself into the washroom and went through the quickest, easiest morning routine I could manage. Which was a little difficult since I still hadn’t replaced my mirror. I was soon out and greeting Pinkie with a subdued smile. My practice before going to bed having told me in no uncertain terms that trying to show all my teeth at once was not the way to go. “So, picnic?” “Picnic!” she joyfully screamed, and then I was whisked outside. I won’t bore you with all the details. Just a few of them. The entire town was decorated to the extreme, streamers and balloons and confetti and all the things Pinkie likes best. I’m not sure if she realizes that a good party can be a subtle party. No, scratch that, I know she doesn’t realize that. The Grand Galloping Gala disaster showed that. Ponies don’t seem to mind. At least, the Ponyville ponies don’t. It almost hurt to look at all the clashing colors and wild explosions of sparkles. Heh, sparkles. I just got that. Maybe Pinkie can be subtle, if only obliquely. The entire town was out, enjoying the festivities. Applejack had laid out a dozen tables full of food and drink. Fluttershy was supervising a bunch of fillies and colts playing with some of her more cuddly animal friends. Rarity, for some reason, had set up her own table and was crafting friendship bracelets and other shiny little trinkets. Pinkie Pie was everywhere, of course. Seeming to be in a dozen places at once, making sure everypony was smiling and happy with the picnic. I wandered through the throngs of happy ponies and wished dearly to go back to bed. I greeted everypony I could with a smile and a kind word. Or, what I hope were kind words. I knew who all of them were, but I couldn’t care less about the banal minutiae of their lives. I think it stretched me thin. I’ve already told you what agony this was, I don’t think I want to revisit it anymore than that. In any case, it’s not that important. I started just using the same rote compliments and questions over and over again, barely paying attention to who I was talking to. I was busy looking for the last of Twilight’s friends. “Hey Twilight!” Pinkie said, appearing beside me so suddenly that I think she might have actually emerged from my mane. “Who are you looking for? Is it Rainbow Dash?” The way she said the name, drawn out and heavy with emphasis, left no doubt in my mind that she had heard of yesterday’s incident and was not shy about making the most of it. “What?” I sputtered. “No! I mean, yes! She’s my friend!” Pinkie laughed, bouncing to the other side of me and pointing a hoof. I looked past a few balloons and a pony on stilts to find Rainbow Dash competing in an impromptu race with a half-dozen of the more adventurous pegasus stallions. None of whom had any chance to beat her, of course. I let a genuine smile cross my face as I saw that. I watched and admired the best qualities about her. Her athleticism, her strength, and most importantly, her drive. Always the best, showing no pity or mercy for those who couldn’t keep up. Everything that excited me about her, on display. Of course, this did not escape Pinkie’s remarkable and remarkably fickle perceptions. “Hey! Rainbow Dash!” she shouted. Dash ignored her, focused on the race. “Twilight wants more smoochies!” That got her attention, causing her to come to a sudden and complete stop, staring wide-eyed in our direction. My face went hot with embarrassment. “Pinkie,” I growled. “Why would you say that?” She shrugged. “I wanted her attention,” she said, then raised her voice back to a shout. “She’s really, really blushing! I mean, wow is she getting red!” “I need a drink,” I moaned. “She’s also really thirsty!” Pinkie bellowed. “Could you grab some punch on your way over!?” Dash abandoned the failed race and zipped over to us, doing as requested and grabbing a few glasses of punch. I took the offered glass as she touched down in front of us, desperately hoping that somepony had been conscientious enough to spike the crap out of it. “Hey, Pinkie, hey, Twi,” Dash said, apparently not as embarrassed as I was. “Hi, Dashie!” Pinkie said. “I hope you’re having fun!” “A blast,” Dash assured her. “How are you doing, Twilight?” “Exceptional,” I hissed out, taking a gulp of my blasphemously non-alcoholic punch. “Have there been any more weather problems?” “Not since yesterday. Did you figure anything out about that thing you grabbed?” I shook my head. “Haven’t had the time yet.” “I sent a report to Cloudsdale,” Dash said. “Maybe they know something.” I cursed silently at that. I hadn’t thought about how Dash might actually have information sources other than me. That meant I couldn’t study the crystal node in private, I’d have to eventually let somepony else see it. Which carried risks. Outwardly I nodded. “I hope so.” “Hey, Twilight, do you wanna–” Dash began, only to be interrupted by Pinkie leaning in and whispering into my ear. “–go out to dinner sometime?” she said in a horrifyingly good imitation of Dash’s voice. “Pinkie!” I growled. I wanted to snap at her, but broken ribs make it hard to quickly suck in enough breath to snap. If I wanted an outburst, I would have to plan ahead. “Are you going to keep this up all day?” “Yup!” she said. “At least she’s honest about it,” Dash offered. I rolled my eyes, but didn’t really have a proper response to this situation. It wasn’t in Twilight’s experience, so I didn’t really know how she would react. Very frustrating. “I was going to ask,” Dash continued. “If you wanted to judge the race.” “I don’t see what there is to judge,” I said. “You win, hooves down.” “Yeah, but I wanna to know how much I win by,” Dash said. “Gotta keep improving my times!” I mused on that for a moment. “Huh. Well, if you want to do timed laps, I guess I could help with that.” “Awesome,” she said, and dragged me to the field the pegasi had annexed for their speed games. That was the most pleasant part of the entire day. I was allowed to sit and didn’t have to talk to anypony and got to watch the object of my infatuation show off. If the whole picnic had been like this, then I might have actually enjoyed it. Like all good things, however, it couldn’t last. Dash was called away on weather duties and I was forced back into the social melee. There are only two other highlights of the day. One of which isn’t so much a highlight as a reminder, and the other… was about Spike. The first happened when I bumped into Berry Punch hanging out, where else, by the punch bowl. I wanted to berate her for not applying her prodigious knowledge of good spirits to that selfsame punch bowl, but while she is an inebriant, even she has limits. “Hey, nice to see you back,” she said. “How was Canterlot?” “Fun,” I said. “Go to any good parties?” I remembered my raids on the addict hideouts, blood and magic thick in the air. I smiled and nodded. “Oh, yes. Some very good parties indeed.” “Good to hear. We missed you down at Heather’s, but we’re glad you’re feeling better.” The same platitudes I’d heard all day. But this time it actually meant something to me. “Thanks,” I said. “I, uh, I’ll try to make it to Heather’s some night.” “You don’t have to,” she said. I shook my head. “I want to. It was fun hanging out with all of you, and I’d like to do it again.” Her smile was wide and beautiful. She had honestly thought that I would never come back to that little bar. “Well, see you soon then!” I promised her I would. Maybe if I had kept that promise things would have gone better. Maybe it would only have delayed the inevitable. Either way, it would be more than a week before I saw Berry Punch again, and by that time things had gone too far. As the picnic was winding down and ponies were going back to their lives, I was sitting in the park and hoping desperately for an escape route. Twilight wouldn’t just leave, though, so I couldn’t either. I prayed for one of Ponyville’s signature disasters to happen. I would accept anything: flood, monster attack, ancient evil, Cutie Mark Crusaders, anything! “Want some company?” An over-repeated answer was halfway past my lips before I recognized the voice that had spoken. I turned around to find Spike standing behind me, a big, toothy grin on his face. “Spike!” I gasped. “Your casts are off!” “Yeah!” he said, then wiggled each leg in turn to show that they were good. “Just this morning.” “And you’re walking already?” He shrugged. “Dragons are tough. They said I shouldn’t run or dance for a while, but it doesn’t hurt or anything, so I’m good.” “I… I’m so glad,” I said, the emotion genuine. “Come here.” I grabbed him with magic and dragged him over for a tight hug. He hugged me back and I held on all the more fiercely. “I’m so sorry.” “Come on, Twilight,” he replied. “We’ve been through this. I’m okay, and you got your first vacation in, well, ever! Sounds like a win-win to me.” “Can you just… let me be miserable for hurting you, for once?” He chuckled. “Nope. I’m your number one assistant, and part of that job is keeping you happy. So you’re gonna be happy whether you like it or not!” I managed a smile at that one. “Will you be home tonight?” “Sure, as long as, you know, you don’t have any other company,” he nudged me with an elbow, waggling his eyebrows. I got the picture. “Does everypony know about that?” “Everypony who knows Pinkie Pie,” he said. “So, uh, yeah. Everypony.” For some reason that struck me as funny. So I laughed. Which, as you can imagine, was not a good thing for my ribs. It just added to the moment, really. Pain and relief, anger and uncertainty, contradiction and complementation. I hugged Spike and I laughed and it hurt. It hurt so badly, because I knew that this would be my life from now on. I would be lying to Spike every minute we were together, and it was going to hurt him when he found out, and it hurt me to do that to him. And through that hurt there was a fierce joy, because I cared about Spike. Maybe as a result of Twilight’s memories, maybe as the one shred of a conscience I had managed to salvage, but still me. He was an attachment wasn’t afraid to share with Twilight, and that meant more to me in that moment than all the pain in the world. I… I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll be back, there’s one more part I want to get to before tonight’s done, but I need to calm down first. I don’t want to be crying for this next bit. I need you to understand the decision I made, and why. I need… I need to be centered or I won’t be able to explain it right. If I can explain it at all. I’ll just… I’ll be back.