Whitney smiled one of her usual smiles while Luna's students said their goodbyes. She had detached herself from Rarity as soon as she could and made her way to the back, closest to the city gates where she could kindly wait until they left. All the while she continued to wear her usual fake smile. Most of her smiles were fakes, that much was true. But this one was noticeably faker than most.
Even though Rarity had thought she was doing something good, her actions had very harsh consequences that she didn't realize. It wasn't her fault though, she didn’t know. She couldn’t have known.
Nevertheless, Whitney had lied to her face as she stumbled over her own words in an attempt to hide how she really felt. By all means, Whitney should have been better at lying since she did it all the time.
Whitney and the others continued to say their goodbyes until all of Master Luna’s group had entered into their strange alligator like machine… Or was it a crocodile? Whitney never could understand the difference.
Once they were gone, Whitney quickly went back inside the palace and quietly separated herself from the rest of the group. Her once calm walk slowly evolved into a full blown dash for her room. She made sure to avoid any mirrors as she rushed through the halls.
She didn't want to look, she didn't want to remember…
*****************
Whitney's earliest memory is her mother hitting her. Hard. "You ungrateful, stupid thing,” her mother would yell. “Can't you handle anything without breaking it? You're costing me a lot of money! You damage anything else and I'll beat you black and blue!"
Whitney, age three, fell to the ground and began crying her eyes out, not understanding why her mommy was yelling at her. In her hands was a stuffed toy, one of its arms accidentally ripped open. Whitney hadn't even noticed or cared, she loved the thing anyway.
Perhaps that love is the reason her mother threw it out anyway several days later. "You idiot,” she hissed. Sometimes the way she talked put snakes to shame. “It's broken and useless. You get rid of things like that, not hug them. Imbecile"
It would be years before Whitney ever made the connection as to why her mother never hugged her.
****************
Whitney arrived in her private room and opened a desk drawer to pull out a worn pair of barbers sheers. Her room is very sparse. An old wooden bed with simple cotton sheets. Lime green of course, as they were the cheapest. She lied and said she liked the color. A low quality dun throw rug sat in the middle of the room. Again, she lied about the color because it was so cheap. Her desk and chair were worn and came with the room. She had said they didn't need replacing with new furniture. She told them that they worked fine and that she liked the style. That at least, hadn't been a lie.
If one were to look around her room, they would notice that something was absent that should’ve been common in any girls room. There were absolutely no mirrors of any kind. That one she had just said no to. Whitney absolutely hated mirrors. Her mother loved them, though. So it was without reflection or aid that Whitney took the scissors to her hair with the desperation of a person about to be hung.
****************
Her mother preened in front of the mirror, checking her makeup, dress, jewelry, and hair for the twentieth time that hour. Finally, she ceased her preening and held Whitney by her shoulders, leaning down so that they were face to face. With the hiss of a venomous snake, she whispered, "Now remember, all you have going for you is that you're not completely ugly. If you want to trick any guy into marrying you, you'll have to do your best to look pretty and keep your stupid mouth shut.” Whitney suppressed a groan of pain when her mothers claws squeezed her shoulders. She knew that any sign of protest would make the squeezing worse. “One conversation, and any man of decent breeding will know you're broken. Now come over here, I want to make sure I did a good job making you look at least a tiny bit attractive."
Whitney was dragged in front of the mirror and forced to look at herself while her mother circled her like a rabid wolf, looking for any sort of imperfection to attack. Her hair came down past her shoulders. It was smooth, voluminous, and expertly styled. Her dress was exquisite, the sort of thing a high class girl such as herself was expected to wear. Her necklace was a simple golden chain adorned with a simple golden heart charm. Her eyes were a striking blue thanks to the contact lenses, though they itched like crazy. Her mother had done a masterful job with the makeup.
You couldn't see any of the bruises.
****************
"She has been swinging her blade at thin air for a good long while now," Octavia explained as she led Celestia into the gym. "It's been… how long, Lyra?"
"At least an hour and a half since we found her," Lyra answered as she leaned against the back wall while keeping an eye on her fellow student. "Before that, who knows? It'd been a couple hours since we last saw her."
"I think she's mad because she lied and cut her hair that the nice lady styled," Ditzy suggested, nodding at her own suggestion.
Indeed, Whitney's hair was even shorter and, if anything, more uneven and unkempt than before Rarity's ministrations. There was no way it could have been anything but deliberate on the part of the furiously training girl. As for Whitney herself, the training was good. As it helped her avoid thinking about other things.
****************
Her mother was drunk. Again. She drank a lot when dealing with Whitney. "Don't even know how you got born kid,” she slurred. “I don't even have any filthy earthens in my family. Your father probably hid some dirt blood somewhere.” Her mother grunted, took and swig and turned to yell directly at Whitney. “Why couldn't you have been something useful?! You're mentally retarded, you break everything, and you can't even get a guy to look at you twice. You're useless, worse than useless, you're a burden."
Whitney said nothing. She simply stood there in case her mother wanted something, or in the unlikely event her mother had something new to say.
Finishing up her mini rant, her mother slumped back down on her couch and looked down at her bottle with a soft expression. She wore a smile that Whitney knew would never be directed at her. "Now your sister... your sister is good blood. A fine mage. She’s smart, brilliant even. Good with money, gorgeous. Her hair is gold while yours is what? Dusty grapes? She should have been the first kid I had. Then I could have stopped and never had to deal with you." She leveled one final glare at her first born before finally passing out.
Whitney, expecting something like this, picked her mother up and carried her upstairs to the master bedroom. She then tucked her into bed. It was a typical night, except for one thing. Whitney’s eyes lazily lingered over a pillow that leaned halfway off of the bed near her. The temptation to just grab a pillow and shove it in her mother's face.
Whitney hesitantly grabbed the pillow and held it in her hands for a good long while, just staring at it. She glanced over to her mother. She was too drunk to wake up, and even if by some miracle she did, she would never be strong enough to counter Whitney's strength. Five minutes... and it would all be over.
Her hands moved of their own accord, hovering the pillow over her mother’s face. Her soft breaths became ragged and uneven. Her eyes were wide and manic as something rose from deep inside of her. This was her chance. This was her moment of freedom. She could end the nightmare once and for all.
But she still hesitated. Her hands were shaking like a leaf in a storm. Finally, she gave up and dropped the pillow back where she found it. Once again, she couldn’t do it.
Whitney exited the room and headed over to her own room, a converted closet. She'd need her rest if she was going to prepare breakfast for everyone in the morning.
****************
Celestia stood next to her clearly frustrated student. "Do you want to talk about it?" Celestia asked, already knowing the answer.
"No," Whitney barked. She swung her keyblade once more only to find her arms stopped. Turning, she saw that Master Celestia had caught her arm and held it still without struggle.
Lowering herself to look Whitney in the eye, Celestia shook her head. "Be that as it may, I think that this is something you need to talk about. Rarity did a very nice thing for you. Why did you cut your hair after you promised not to do it again?" Celestia flared her aura just a bit, trying to open the quiet girl up. She always felt a little guilty doing this but Whitney was clearly upset about something, and it was the only way to ensure that Whitney didn’t lie. She was far too kind for her own good.
Whitney, just stood there, looking uncertain how to respond. "I… I don't like my hair being styled. It reminds me of my mom. She was always fussing over how my hair looked. It used to be a lot longer."
Celestia nodded, Whitney's past was an open wound, and in the two years that she had known her, Celestia saw very few signs that it was healing. Something like this would be quite painful for any young girl… woman. Even Celestia had trouble on occasion remembering how old the tiny, emotionally vulnerable person in front of her really was. "You could have just told Rarity."
"I had trouble telling you," was Whitney's pointed rebuttal. "Anyway I—oh my goodness! It's already that late?" she exclaimed, noticing the clock on the gym wall. "I forgot to get groceries a-and it's almost dinnertime.” Whitney began to panic, her keyblade disappearing entirely. Celestia usually tried to say something to calm her down, but she knew how the girl would get during these kinds of situations.
“I'm going to need to shower, get to the store. Where did I put that list? Wait I should shower then check the list. Maybe I should just grab what I'm cooking tonight and get the rest of the groceries tomorrow? No wait, we're low on breakfast cereal I need to pick that up before tomorrow, and then I—"
"I'll get the food!" Ditzy suddenly volunteered. "You take a shower, you're too tired from being angry to cook-shop. I don't want angry food."
Whitney was relieved… mostly. "I'm sorry, it's my fault for being so late."
"Nah. Angry food doesn't taste as good. Even in you weren't late I'd still not taste good anyway. Besides, I never get to cook." Ditzy said.
"Okay then, I guess. The list is in the kitchen," Whitney said. "I guess I'll take that shower now." She walked off, feeling slightly bad for giving Ditzy extra work, but knowing that the girl really didn't mind.
"You know," Celestia called after her student, "like Luna said, there is a chance that your family did survive on some other world. I know the chances are slim and I haven't found anything, but it is still possible."
"They're dead," was Whitney's response as she left the gym, ending the conversation.
As such, she did not hear Celestia's quiet lament. "You are much too young to give up hope so completely."
What the Keyblade Master failed to understand was that Whitney's hope was that her family was dead. Anything else was too awful to imagine.
****************
Whitney was going to die. Her mother was beating her to death with an empty bottle. It had started off as a typical beating. Her sister, Gloria, had purposefully bent a piece of silverware and blamed it on Whitney so that he could watch their mother berate the earthen girl. Except this time, her mother didn't stop after a hit or two. Or even twenty. She just kept raining blows and showed no signs of slowing down. Things had been going bad in the family business, and they were rapidly losing their money and status. Who did they all blame? The black sheep of course. When things went wrong Whitney’s mother would always blame her. The family curse. The unwanted child. The white eyed freak of nature.
Drunk and angry, her mother finally snapped. And this time, her father wasn't there to protect her.
When the waves of darkness washed over everything, she thought she had finally died. It wasn't until she came to by a campfire in the middle of a desert that she realized she was still alive. Looking around, she noticed a few things. She was under a very ragged old green blanket, and her dress was torn to shreds. The blanket was as much for warmth as for modesty. She couldn't feel her hair on her back anymore. A quick check with her hands showed she still had hair, it was just short. Very short.
Whitney had been so intent on checking herself she had failed to notice she wasn't alone. "Ah good, ah see you're awake," an elder man's voice sounded from the darkness. Seeing Whitney's shocked and scared reaction, he spoke calmly. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you none. Was off gettin' firewood." With that, the figure stepped into the light. He was a big man, with an oversized dusty coat over a worn gray sweatshirt. He had on black sweatpants, old heavy boots, a red knit wool hat with ear flaps, and fingerless blue wool gloves. He also had a large, scraggly looking beard that had been graying heavily but with some black still mixed in. It was a clear match for the tangled mess of hair on his head.
"Found ya out in the middle of the desert. You're lucky I was happenin' by." Dropping a load of what looked like sticks next to the fire, he sat himself down and fed a few sticks to the flames. "So, how are ya feelin'?"
"Better," Whitney said... and realized it was true. Touching her arms and face, she found not even an impression of a bruise. "H-how?"
The old man nudged the fire with a long stick, moving the wood around nonchalantly. "Yeah, you looked pretty bad when I found ya in the ravine. Looked like you'd hit every rock on the way down to landing in that briar patch. Sorry 'bout your hair, had ta cut you free." the man explained, nodding. "As for the how of you being better? Well, you can thank me ‘fer that." He smirked and waggled some of his fingers, causing green glowing sparks fell from them. "Did a little bit of healing I picked up, nice and clean. Gotta learn at least that much out in these parts. So, you got a name?"
"Whitney. Whitney… Mane. That's… my name," she supplied, coughing a bit. "Sorry, my throat..."
"Here," was the man’s reply, handing her a canteen. He chuckled a bit as she gulped it down. He gave her an odd look. "Bit trusting ain't ya?"
"Not really," Whitney admitted, pausing in her drinking. "It's just that if you wanted to hurt me you already would have. And not fixed my injuries earlier."
"Smart girl." the man replied, before pulling out a pot and setting it to heat up some water. "Hope you don't mind supper taking a bit. I'm makin' watcha' got stew."
Whitney tilted her head in confusion and glanced at the the ingredients that he began removing from his bags. "Watcha' got stew?"
"Yeah. Cause it's made with watcha' got," he said, cracking a smile. That got a laugh from Whitney. "So, we're you headed too young lady?"
Whitney stopped laughing and her smile slowly followed her eyes to the ground. "I...I honestly don't know. I don't even know where in Equestria I am."
The old man stopped stirring the pot and looked at her in surprise. "Equestria? The Constellation? Three close worlds?" Seeing the girl's nod he hesitated. "Oh boy. Kid, you are as lost as can be. This ain't the Constellation. In fact," he looked up to the night sky, “ah don’t even see it out tonight.” Seeing she was clearly upset, he smiled to reassure her. "Hey, don't worry kid. We're only a day or two from Dust City. We can work on getting you home from there. I heard they got them fancy world traveling devices."
"Thank you...um… uh...."
The man laughed. "Oh dear, where are my manners." Holding his hand out, he introduced himself. "Names Joe. People call me Boxcar Joe. The Magic Hobo."
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Joe." Whitney replied, shaking his hand. After a couple minutes sitting in silence as he cooked she realized something. "Hey Joe, what's a hobo?"
*****************
Whitney got out of the shower and toweling off quickly. That was one of the perks of shorter hair, it was so quick to dry. She left the mirror fogged over so she wouldn't have to look into it as she applied some deodorant and the like at the sink.
Fogging over the mirror was just a bonus when it came to long hot showers. It was really the only luxury she let herself have. They just felt so good, and she had so little opportunity to have one before she came to Radiant Gardens.
Going to her closet, she decided it was late enough that it didn't make sense to go through another uniform. Instead, she debated between wearing some of the day cloths that had been bought for her, or just getting into sleepwear. In the end, she settled on a plain white tee and a pair of black sweatpants. She wasn't planning on going anywhere after all. Half of her closet was filled with her old work uniforms. The other half was filled with casual shirts and pants. All of her clothes were a bit loose. She preferred the comfort and ease of motion it granted, as well as it being generally cooler. A habit in clothes shopping she had picked up from years in the desert. It was also why her shirts tending towards light pastels. The fact that they went with her pale skin that simply refused to tan was simply a coincidence.
The only other piece of clothing in her closet was a pale blue dress her fellow students had bought her as a welcoming gift. Whitney had thanked them, put it in her closet, and never took it out again. Her mother and sister had loved dresses. Gloria never wore anything else if she could help it.
****************
When they had learned that the Constellation was gone completely, Whitney didn't know how to feel one way or the other. Her main concern had eventually become how to survive now that she didn't have a home to go to.
Joe's solution had been to get her work with the train company. Now, the manager in Dust Town considered Joe a good person, so he was willing to give Whitney a try. However, any of the easy jobs like shoveling coal into a furnace, sorting parcels, even ticket tilling was quickly proving to be beyond her. It was clear that Whitney lacked the education to handle money and could barely read. And proper soaking technique was too complex for her to easily grasp. It soon began to seem that she was unemployable.
The manager was just about ready to send her on her way before a crate fell on one of the workers when a pulley snapped. It continued to pin him to the ground and slowly crushing him. The dozen men there tried to lift it off, but without the mechanical advantage of the pulley they had little chance of budging it.
Whitney had wasted no time in running up and casually tossing the crate aside. All the while worrying and asking the guy if he was okay. Meanwhile everyone else stared at her in shock. The crate had contained over two tons of iron.
Thus began Whitney's career as a cargo hauler for the rail line. Since she was literally doing jobs that would require entire teams by herself, the owner payed her double wages. It was a good deal in Whitney's mind since her jobs didn't require a lot of effort. Plus, she honestly didn't need that much. She was always traveling on the rail line to load and unload large bulk shipments, so she didn't stay anywhere for very long. Not having a house, but instead, sleeping in the train, saves one a lot of money. Whitney didn't eat any big fancy meals either. In fact, she actually put on weight, reaching a more healthy look. Before that, he nickname had been "Boney", due to one actually being able to see her bones.
With her health improving, Whitney soon found that her strength was also increasing. She could, after a couple years of work and decent food, lift full cargo cars themselves without having to deal with loading and unloading. This became obvious to the company when a train she was riding slipped the tracks and spilled onto its side. Everybody was fine, thankfully, but the train was considered lost. Then Whitney had calmly decoupled all of the cars and, from caboose to engine, flipped them back onto the tracks. Wanting to see what she could do, the company gave her an old, retired engine and told her "Impress us." They were quite impressed when she proceeded to suplex the train. Whitney now got two and a half times pay.
****************
Whitney entered the dining area, pleased to see that the others were there and waiting for Ditzy to finish cooking. Looking into the kitchen, she could see the girl stirring a pot. "Why is she using a pot? Chicken marsala is cooked in a pan," she asked, stepping closer.
"She's not cooking that,“ Celestia explained. ”Though she did buy the ingredients to cook it tomorrow. She was serious about cooking something to make you feel better, and said that she knew just the thing to make if you've been having a bad day."
"Which I still don't believe!" Lyra interjected. "No offense, Whitney, but I have no idea what your favorite foods are. When I cook, everything is just 'fine'. You don't even seem to like the stuff you cook all that much."
"Really Lyra, what part of that wasn't supposed to be offensive?" Octavia asked, a glare in her eyes.
Whitney decided to diffuse the situation. "No, really, it's fine."
"No it is not fine Whitney." Octavia countered. "Just because Lyra is too thick to learn anything about you, she assumes everyone else must be just as bad."
Lyra took the challenge head on. "Oh yeah? If you're so sensitive, then what does she like?" Smirking at the silence that greeted her, we flippantly added "Betcha fifty munny Ditzy got it wrong."
"Deal." Octavia, Celestia and, surprisingly, Whitney all said at the same time. Noticing the stares, Whitney shrugged. "I trust Ditzy. Plus, if I'm smelling what I think I'm smelling, it's in the bag."
"Smelling?" Lyra asked, taking a good whiff of the air. Her eyes immediately started to water. "Oh jeez, it's like somebody shoved fire up my nose! What is that?"
"It's done." Ditzy answered, bringing the pot over to the table along with several bowls and spoons. She then began to dish out what she had made. "The Doo family three alarm chili. Oh, also, we need more paprika, horseradish, tabasco, and cumin."
"Gah, I can feel my mouth burning just smelling this stuff," Lyra noted, her eyes waterfalls at this point.
"While I do appreciate you sharing a family…eh tradition with us, I feel you may have overdone it a bit in your enthusiasm," Octavia hedged. "Wouldn't you agree Whitney…? Whitney?"
"This is pretty good." Whitney admitted. Her mouth was full as she was already helping herself to a second bowl already. "But back home on the rails, this was two alarm. You're going to have to try harder if you want to hit three." Seeing the others incredulous looks, she just shrugged her shoulders. "I like spicy food. Anyway Lyra can give my winnings to Ditzy. She's earned it."
"Yay! I won! What did I win?" Ditzy asked, her lack of knowledge not dampening her enthusiasm at all.
"So anyway, Whitney, I've been thinking," Lyra started, desperately trying to change the subject. "As strong as you are, you should consider mixing some martial arts into your fighting style. Punches and kicks and grapples and stuff."
Whitney rolled her eyes, a rare enough sight that it truly showed how ridiculous the idea was. "There aren't many martial arts designed for people that can suplex trains. It's more meant for people that are faster than they are strong anyway."
As Celestia ate a spoonful of her own, and briefly wondered if she had accidentally ingested the sun. While she contemplated the possibility, she realized something else. Whitney had called the rail lines "home". Not the Constellation where she had grown up.
If she didn't consider her birth world home anymore after its destruction, Celestia would have figured she would have picked the place she was happiest. Was that not Radiant Gardens? Or was it simply that the two years here didn't replace the nostalgia of her old life? But if she was that sentimental, Celestia would expect her to cling to the idea of the Constellation as her home. She was missing something here, something that would put the pieces in place. Until she had the missing piece however, all she could do was mentally shrug her shoulders and eat another spoonful of sun while her mind drifted back two years...
****************
Celestia was enjoying a stroll through town. Her students were back at the castle, going through some training routines she had set up for them that morning. All things considered, she was in a rather good mood when she went shopping for groceries, it being her turn on the duty roster and all.
As such, her good mood turned sour when a familiar face walked up to her from out of the crowd. "Joe? What are you doing here in Radiant Gardens?" She was quite wary, though not hostile. While Joe wasn't truly malicious, he was also a known meddler and things had a tendency to get complicated when he got involved.
While the "Magical Hobo" did posses some talent in the mystic arts, for a regular human anyway, it was his smooth tongue and rough charm that let him more easily get his way. It also didn't help that he tended to have good arguments, and he always seemed to be working to make thing better for everyone involved. Even if that wasn't always the end result. While more than a few of his plans worked out for everyone, enough had "unforeseen consequences" or "didn't go as planned" that Celestia felt that either Joe wasn't as clever as he thought, or wasn't as nice as he acted. Either option meant trusting him fully was a foolish move.
"Woah, easy Master Celestia. I'm here on business." Seeing her raise an eyebrow at the use of her title, Joe nodded and cracked out a huge grin. "Yeah, that sort of business. Come on over, Whitney."
A small, pale girl dressed like a train worker with the messiest hair Celestia had seen in a while stepped forward out of the crowd. She looked nervous, agitated, and confused. She also had a keyblade in her hands. A small one, true, but Celestia could feel power coming from it. There could be no doubt that it was the real deal. "You found a keyblade wielder and brought her to me?"
"Yep. Whitney, this is the Keyblade Master I was telling you about, Celestia. Celestia, this is Whitney Mane, recently manifested Keyblade wielder and a friend of mine for several years.” Joe turned and pulled out a small sack and handed it over to the girl. “Whitney, here's some munny. Why don't you go over and buy the three of us some hot dogs for lunch while I discuss a few things?" Seeing Whitney nod, he smiled. "Great. Could you get mine with mustard and relish?"
"Of course," Whitney replied, smiling. "And what would you like for yours Master Celestia?"
"Hmmm... Onions, ketchup, and relish," Celestia decided. As the girl rushed off, Celestia turned to face Joe with her neutral expression. "Okay, explain. Now."
Holding his hands up in a placating motion, Joe began his story. "Relax, ah was going to. Just also got some things to say ah don't think Whitney should hear. Alright then, as ah said I've been a friend to her for years. She's an Equestrian Constellation survivor.” He beheld Celestia’s shocked face. He knew that this would be what got the women’s attention, as it had been one of her top priorities to research it’s disappearance.
“Yep, she's an earthen. Anyway, she got stranded out there with no money of any kind, no place to go. I talked to a few people, helped her life get on track. A bit literally in her case with the rail line. Anyway I'd stop by every few months, see how things are going. Only this time, she sought me out see, cause she had a glowing magical thingy appear in her hand, and even when she threw it away in fear it kept popping back to her. As the only magic person she knew, she spent three days tracking me down. Well soon as ah saw the keyblade ah knew she’d need some training. So ah took her to you."
"I see. And why to me exactly? My sister Luna is training a whole batch of Equestrian survivors, she would probably be more comfortable there. And if not with her, there are still a few other masters out there."
"Ahh, yeah, ‘bout that. See, first off ah only know of three great Masters. The ones taught by the one true descendant. Luna's got others from there, yeah, but they've been training together for years. Since they got spit out by the darkness together as I hear it, ah figure that they're all really close in terms of friendship and training.
Whitney would be an outsider playing catch up to a whole group. You grab your students as they come, and you have more experience teaching students at different levels. Both things make you better suited than yer sister. As for the last guy… well he's a hard case. Very odd. Even ah don’t know much about ‘em. Only thing ah know is that he’s got some strange methods. I wouldn’t want her to get too confused and burn out or quit half way.
Heck, girl's half scared of her mind just being ‘round so many people in a market. You noticed her keyblade bein’ out? She has trouble dismissing it ‘cause it tends to come on out whenever its owner feels scared or threatened. It's named Save the Queen, so as you can tell it's really protective of its owner. Also, ah..." Taking a quick look around to make sure nobody overheard and that Whitney wasn't around, he leaned in and whispered "Look, it's a bit rude to say this but you need to know. Whitney ain't that bright. She can't do much in math past addin' and subtractin', she can barely read, and those are some of her strong suits when it comes to book learning.
Now, I ain't saying she's got problems. From what I can tell she don't. It's more like she never got a chance to learn. Well… either that or no body cared to teach her." Leaning back he resumed speaking normally. "Poor girl don’t talk much about her time before the rails. Actually seemed better off. But anyway. Yeah, I figure you're more patient and gentle approach would be a great fit for her."
Celestia sighed. This was always the problem with dealing with Joe. His rock solid arguments. "Alright, I agree I am the best fit. But do you honestly think the girl is master material?"
"No." Joe said, startling Celestia. "Honestly, I don't expect her to become a master. But I do expect this to be a good thing for her. She needs a place to learn, to grow, and, most important of all, she needs a place where she can heal. She does her best to hide it, but her emotions are kinda torn to shreds. She needs a place where she can move on and become a whole person. An’ who knows, in the process she just might become a candidate to be a master. Because in all honesty, I see her lack of learning and her emotional wounds as the biggest hurdles. Masters are mind, body, and heart after all if I recall correctly."
Celestia sighed, "Alright fine, I'll take her in for now. If she is physically fit like you say, the mind probably is the biggest issue. Also, you seem to overestimate how big an impact emotional scars have on one's chance at mastery."
Joe just shook his head. "I didn't say scars, I said wounds. I don't think she's been healing the way she was and… ah there she is!” He turned to the sound of Whitney’s footsteps and greeted her with a smile. “You didn't get lost did you?"
Jogging up, hot dogs in hand, Whitney shook her head. "There was a line. Anyway, here you go Joe. And this is yours Master Celestia." Whitney then tore into her own hotdog, which seemed to be loaded with everything.
Taking her hotdog, Celestia noticed two things. One, Whitney was on the skinny side. And two, her hotdog order was not only correct, but Whitney had actually put the toppings on in the order she had listed them, from bottom to top. Clearly, the girl could pay attention and learn, even if she did have the difficulties Joe claimed. "Whitney Mane." Upon hearing her name the girl snapped to attention. "Joe has been explaining to me why I should train you, but I want to know one thing: do you want to go through with training? I will be honest. It will be a lot of hard work. It will probably take years of your life to complete. I will have to push you to your limits, and then make you break them. Knowing how much you will have to work and sacrifice, are you still willing to train?"
Whitney stood there and thought about it for almost a full minute before replying "Yes. I want to do it. I...I want to be useful. To be worth something."
That tugged at Celestia's heart. Emotional wounds indeed. "Very well then. I do nearby accept you as my student. Come with me to the castle and we'll get you settled in." Thinking for a moment, she added, "I almost forgot to ask. How old are you? Around ten?"
This seemed to confuse the girl. And for good reason as it turned out. "I'm twenty two."
Jaw dropped, Celestia turned to Joe who was laughing his ass off. "You never asked my dear. You never asked."
****************
Whitney had decided to go to bed in her cloths, as they were comfortable and fresh enough that it made no sense to break out the pajamas. As she was getting ready however, there was a knock on the door. "Come in."
Ditzy entered the room, arms behind her back. "Hi Whitney! Are you feeling less sad-angry now."
Thinking about it, Whitney nodded. "Yeah, I really am. Thanks Ditzy. How did you know I loved chile?"
"You keep adding spice to your food when we aren't looking. I figured if you liked spicy, you liked chile as its the best add spice food," was the walleyed girl's reply.
Whitney had to admit, Ditzy was the best part of being here. She always knew just what to say or do to help brighten her days. "So, Bright Eyes, what do you have behind your back?" she asked, using her personal nickname for Ditzy.
"Well alright then White Eyes," Ditzy responded with her own nickname of choice, as they were comfortable enough with their looks to point out their looks to each other as silly nicknames. Not to mention, the fact that they both had odd eyes seriously helped make it work. "Do you remember that bet you won at dinner? Well I know that you gave the cash to me, but since I'm always winning from Lyra I decided it was your money. But!" she added, cutting off Whitney's already forthcoming protest. "But... I knew you were too nice for money and would lose it, so instead I spent it on a gift. Tada!" At her exclamation, she pulled out her surprise.
Whitney was struck dumb by the familiar toy that sat in her best friends arms. "H…h-how?" she stuttered
"I saw you looking at it every time you passed the store. If you weren't too nice for money, you could have gotten it yourself. Merry feel better day, but now I need to be sleepy. Better night!" Ditzy exclaimed as she left her present on the bed, leaving for her own room.
Whitney stood there for a bit, before crawling into bed. "Hello there, Sir Lucky Bunny, Knight of Hoppity Hop. It's nice to see you again!"
"Yes it is, Princess Sunshine," the plush white rabbit toy "replied". "It has been many years since the Wicked Queen banished me to the Land of Trash."
"I'm glad to see you again. We'll talk more in the morning, we have a lot of catching up to do." Whitney said, turning off the light and plunging the room into shadows. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, see you in the morning," Sir Lucky Bunny replied.
If one were to watch the shadows in the room that night, one would almost swear they were slightly smaller and less dark than they had been the night before. Darkness had just a little bit less of a foothold here, held at bay by the brave Knight of Hoppity Hop.
****************
"This is the place." Joe muttered as he knocked on the door. It was a large log house located in deep woods. It was surprisingly hard to find, given how famous its occupant was.
The door opened, revealing a very large, buff man with a blond mullet and ponytail. He was dressed in a blue silk shirt and pants, a black belt tied at his waist. "Yes, can I help you, Mr?"
"Call me Joe. And if I'm not mistaken, you're Sabian Figgaro, master of the martial arts? I hear you're looking for an apprentice."
"Um, no offense intended, but I don't think you'll qualify sir. My style relies on the practitioner being very strong," Sabian explained, clearly used to having to turn people down.
"No no, not me. A friend of mine might be a good candidate though, Joe explained. "She's really quite strong, and I'm sure your style would be a good match for her."
"Oh, she's strong huh? Do you think she could work her way up to pile driving a train?" Sabian played his trump card. The thought of trying to perform one of his famous feats always scared any persistent beggars off. Nobody felt that confident just starting off.
Joe just smiled. "She's already suplexes them, I don't see why she couldn't work her way up."
Sabian’s face lit up in surprise."Is your friend here?"
"Ah, not at the moment," Joe admitted. "Actually, there are a few things we'd need to discuss. If I could come in and sit down, tell you the details?"
"Sounds fine, come on in. I'll start up some tea." He graciously opened the door and gestured for Joe to come in.
"Ah good. Well, it's a bit of a story you see. It starts when I was walking along in the desert, I was traveling you see, when I spot this poor girl lying in a briar bush in a ditch..."