Azalea Vs Karma
AZALEA VS. KARMA
There are quite a few ways I enjoy being woken up.
Gentle kisses to the neck? All for ‘em. Nibbling my ears? Absolutely. Long, lingering strokes of a hoof against the feathers of my wings? Yes, please.
Ear-piercing scream inches from my face and a punch to the gut at three in the morning? Not so much.
While I can’t call it a pleasant way to be awoken, it certainly does the job. I grunt and roll away from my assailant, sheets tangled around my hind legs as I plunge over the side of my mattress and hit the ground hard. Laying there dazed while the screaming goes on, the likely context comes back to me. After Azalea finished emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet, I helped her brush her teeth (because I was not spending the night with those fumes being breathed into my face) and cuddled up with her in my bed, half-listening to her drunken apologies for the better part of an hour before she drifted off. The same bed that, as I get up, I find her thrashing about in when I turn on the lamp sitting on my nightstand.
“Azalea? Wake up.” She doesn’t. Because of course that would have been too easy. I raise a hoof to slap her awake, but then stop. Everything she poured out to me last night before we settled down comes back to me, and I just can’t bring myself to do it. Instead I pull her flailing, thrashing body against mine, trying to ignore the elbow she just threw into my ribs. Once I’ve pinned her down, I begin gently but firmly to shake her by the shoulder blade. “Come on Az, wakey wakey.”
Mercifully, she eventually does. “Nooo... who... what...”
“You’re safe, Azalea,” I say as she settles down. “It’s Cloudy. You were just having a night OOMPH!” She sits bolt upright with surprising force and I topple to the floor for the second time in as many minutes.
“Where am I? What oooh Celestia my head.” I could say I feel bad about her having what must be a truly wicked hangover, but being punched in the gut hasn’t exactly made me any less mad at her than I already was.
“Yeah, eight mini-bottles of vodka will do that. That glass of water on the nightstand is for you, by the way.”
As she reaches over and chugs it down in a single long pull, her eyes go wide and start to dart about as she recognizes where she is. “Oh no,” she whispers. “I remember drinking on the train and... please tell me I didn’t just cheat on Twi—” She abruptly stops, and slumps down on the spot. “Oh. Right. I guess... I guess we aren’t actually... what have I done?”
“Relax, Azalea. We just slept together,” I say, climbing back into bed and sliding a hoof under her wing. She lets out a little sob as I leave her twisting in the wind a bit processing that. Nice? Not really. But being the better pony only goes so far. “And by that I mean actually slept. Nothing else. You were smashed, and I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Did I do anything else I don’t want to know about?”
“No, but you did say a few things.”
She goes rigid under my touch. “What did I say?”
“It was pretty rambly. You had a long tirade about how Lyra’s new composition isn’t nearly as good as she thinks it is.”
“Please don’t tell her I think that,” moans Azalea. “Was there anything else?”
“Not really.” She starts to relax. “Except for the whole thing about how you used to be a changeling and spent the first month we knew each other systematically violating my body and mind. You might have mentioned that in passing.”
Azalea lets out a high pitched, panicked squeak that she tries to cover up with a bout of forced laughter. “Wow, I must really have gone overboard if I made up such a ridiculous—” She’s cut off when I grab her muzzle and yank her head around to face mine. I hope it hurts. Judging from the tears that start to flow as I glare into her eyes, I suspect it does on a lot of levels. “...Sorry. Force of habit. It’s true. Oh Cloudy, I’m so sorry.”
“Listen to me very carefully,” I begin, “I am right at the end of my rope as far as you’re concerned. I have exactly zero reasons to trust anything you’ve ever told me, and every reason in the world not to. If you lie to me, and I mean about anything, not only will I never speak to you again but I’m also going to tell every single pony you call a friend exactly why they shouldn’t either. If Kicky doesn’t like that, well, too bucking bad. There are no more chances for you after this one. Am I being in any way unclear about that?”
“No. No, I understand. Cloudy, I’m really sor—”
“And you can stop saying that. It’s getting repetitive.” I have to take a deep breath before I can go any further. “Now, do you want to talk about that nightmare you were just having? It sounded pretty bad.” Instead of answering, she curls up as tight as she can under one of my wings and squeezes herself against me. “Was it clowns? For me it’s usually clowns.”
“It was the morning I died,” she answers. “It was my ribs snapping under the wheels of the runaway cart that killed the original Azalea months ago. It was the agonizing pain she was in as she bled out in the middle of the street in front of her entire family’s eyes, and all she wanted to do was tell them one more time that she loved them but she couldn’t. It just stretches out forever until she fades away and I wake up screaming for them.”
“...So not clowns, then.” That earns me a little snort of laughter from Azalea, the burst of air tickling at my coat. “Seriously though, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you remembered that.”
“I remember everything from both of my pasts. And I don’t especially like either of them. But it’s the same thing almost every night. Sometimes Luna shows up and manages to ward it away, but I don’t think she can handle every pony every night. This last week she hasn’t shown up at all. I don’t think she’s helped me since around the time you and Kicky went to see your family in Canterlot, actually.”
“I’m sure she’s just busy with something important and she’ll be back to protecting you soon.”
“I hope so. They’re getting worse,” says Azalea. “I even skipped spending the night with Twilight after our date because I didn’t want her to know.” Reminding herself of Twilight brings her right back to the verge of tears again. “I had a chance to be with her and I ran away. And now I never will. I’m so stupid. Stupid, stupid, STUPID!” She screams into my chest, sending her misery vibrating all along my ribs. “You know, the physical pain isn’t even the worst part.”
“Seriously? It sounds like it’s pretty bad.”
“It is, don’t get me wrong, but the worst part is all of her regrets.”
“Regrets?”
“Yeah. She’s... I’m laying there and looking back on the past and it’s all just so... nothing. If there’d been just one thing she could point at and say ‘I did this, and Equestria is a better, richer place for it’ then it might not have been so bad. But no matter how hard I look for one, all I can find are opportunities she passed up, or chances she didn’t take, never anything she actually did or accomplished.”
I remember something she said the night before, in the middle of that drunken confession she made to me. “You didn’t matter.”
Whatever self-restraint she was using to hold back the full-on flood of tears up until now is overwhelmed at last, and she completely breaks down. “I don’t. I didn’t back then, I don’t now, and I never will. I’ll never matter, I just know it. I’m going to live the rest of my life hiding and running away and making excuses for why I do, and some day years from now or, who knows, maybe even today I’ll die again and it won’t be a nightmare this time. I’ll be gone and nopony will even care.”
I hold onto her and stroke her back until the flood has died down to a trickle and her sobs evened out. It takes a good long while, but she grows still at last. “Yeah they will, Azalea. They’ll care more than you know. Because you already do matter a lot more than you think you do.”
No reaction. When she doesn’t answer for a bit longer I raise my wing to check on her, only to find her fast asleep at my side. Poor thing must be exhausted. I try to drift off and join her, but discover I can’t get back to sleep. After two hours of trying I throw in the towel and get up far earlier than I usually would. I can’t stick around here without risking reawakening Azalea, who clearly needs the rest. I’m not hungry yet, either. Maybe an early flight around town will change that. It’s been a long while since I was up early enough to watch a sunrise.
With no particular destination in mind, and nopony else having surfaced this early, I end up taking a long, loopy path around the outskirts of town. I test myself with a few sprints here and there, just like they used to put us through at West Hoof, but the exercise isn’t really the point and my heart isn’t in it. Half an hour into it I’ve got a light sweat building as I pass over the road leading out to Fluttershy’s cottage. I frown a bit when I discover that it’s just bright enough to make out a small plume of smoke from that direction, and having nothing better to do swoop down to check it out.
The smoke is, thankfully, coming from the chimney. Peering through the front window, I discover nopony other than Scootaloo sitting at her table digging into an ice cream sundae that’s absolutely drenched in fudge and walnuts, whipped cream smeared all around around her mouth. I tap on the window a few times and she snaps her head up, nearly losing her spoon in the process. She trots over to the door and opens it up a crack. “Fluttershy isn’t here. She’s supposed to get back from Canterlot this afternoon.”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “So it’s just you here all alone?”
“I can handle it. Besides, somepony has to take care of all the chores. It took a while, but I convinced her to let me stay while she was gone.”
“Uh huh. And you convinced her that ice cream was an appropriate breakfast for a young filly too?”
She hesitates. “Please don’t tell her.”
I sigh, remembering the trouble I got into the first time I was allowed to stay home and be in charge all by myself. “Alright, your secret’s safe with me. You’re up early, though.”
“Hmph. I once went five days straight without sleep waiting for a shift rotation in a minotaur guard contingent that would let me get in close enough to snatch one of their generals. This is nothing.” Then she yawns.
“Growing ponies need sleep, Scootaloo,” I say, trying hard but probably not hard enough to contain my amusement. “Still, as long as you’re awake I wouldn’t mind asking you a couple of questions.
She narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t answer questions. Especially not from ponies who are members of the Guard. Why should I?”
“Because I know about Azalea.”
She stares me down for quite a while, probably hoping to see some sign that I’m bluffing. She doesn’t. “Fine. Come on in.” The door opens wider. “Want some coffee?”
The part of me that wants to nag her about drinking coffee with that body goes down in quick and brutal defeat to the part that really, really wants coffee. “Sure.” I step inside and there’s a loud sqwawwwwwk! from above me. I look up just in time to see a cloud of white feathers and talons descend on me from the ceiling and start flailing.
“Elizabeak!” shouts Scootaloo. The furious chicken doesn’t stop, but can’t do much more than scratch at my face as I push her back with one hoof. “Stop that right now!”
“Squawk!”
“No, we are not luring her into a cunning ambush. Get it through your skull! Kicky vouches for her, and I trust her too.”
“You speak chicken?” I ask, finally getting Elizabeak pinned to the floor and wincing as she makes a last ditch assault on my hoof, pecking at it furiously.
“Along with about fourteen other languages. You never know when an infiltration might turn on whether or not you speak enough conversational goat to get by without suspicion,” says Scootaloo. “I’ll be right back with the coffee.”
Elizabeak struggles out from under my hoof, and rather than continuing her assault follows Scootaloo into the kitchen. “Squawk?”
“No, I’m not putting arsenic into hers.”
“Squawk!”
“Well, because she’d be able to taste it if I did, for one thing.”
“Squawk?”
“Yes, I’m sure they can taste arsenic. You’re thinking of griffins.”
“Squawk.”
“Oh, please. I’ve forgotten ten times as much about poisons as you’ve ever known. Your idea of subtle is turning into a bear and mauling one of them to death.”
“Squawk!”
“Being able to eat the body afterwards doesn’t make it subtle!”
“Squawk?”
“If I wanted her dead? Well, there’s a perfectly serviceable patch of foxglove on the edge of the Everfree, I’d probably use that. But even if I did I wouldn’t do it in one dose.”
“Squawk?”
“Because a healthy adult pegasus falling out of the air when her heart stops is the kind of thing that gets ponies asking questions. Hang on, I think she might be wondering what’s taking so long.” Scootaloo leans her head out from the kitchen entrance. “Hey, the water isn’t hot yet. It’ll just be one more minute.”
“Uh... take your time?” I reply.
“Two shakes of a lamb’s tail, don’t worry,” says Scootaloo before disappearing again. “Look, I’m not killing her, and that’s final.”
“Squawk!”
“You think everypony knows too much.”
“Squawk.”
“Oh really? Even Fluttershy’s gardener? Or the mailmare?”
“Squawk!”
“Of course she knows where I live. That’s how she delivers the mail. I was there when Fluttershy filled out the form at the post office.”
“Squawk.”
“Because she’s not our enemy. None of them are. If anything the other changelings are the real enemies now.”
“SQUAWWWWWWK!”
“Oh yeah? Well here’s a little more blasphemy for you to swallow. Chrysalis is dead and she’s not coming back. Ever. So get over it and move on.”
“Squawk.”
“Yeah, being reduced to a cloud of ash is a bit more than ‘a minor setback.’”
“Squawk.”
“Well, eventually yes. But it’ll be months before any of the other underqueens gather enough personal power to ascend into the real deal.” My ears perk up. “Besides, what good will it do us? We aren’t changelings anymore. Not to mention that the Princesses will probably be ready to make their move on them before the hive builds up anywhere near the power it used to have. And I’m glad to finally be on the winning side for once.”
“Squawk!”
“Yes, I’m totally sure that someday you’ll, what was it? Tear out my eyes out and gargle the fluids from within them? Nope, not being sarcastic at all. Don’t you see me trembling?”
“Squawk.”
“Tell you what, why don’t I go wake up Angel Bunny and see what he thinks of your plan?”
For a long time, there’s only dead silence from the kitchen.
“What’s the matter? Sure, he’s cranky when you don’t let him sleep in but I’m sure once he hears about your plan to murder the pony Fluttershy used to be in love with he’ll be very interested.”
More silence.
“That’s what I thought. Now get out of my sight before you have to come up with some way to explain to the rest of the coop why I didn’t feed them before I had to go to school.” Elizabeak scampers out from the doorway to the kitchen and past me to rooms unknown. I’ve never actually gotten the full tour of this cottage, though now that I think about it Eepy has offered to show me around a couple times. I resolve not to pass up the next invitation. Scootaloo reappears with two steaming mugs of coffee and offers me one of them. Understandably hesitant after the conversation I just overheard, I eventually give and accept it, taking a long sip. It’s surprisingly tasty. When I lower the cup Scootaloo’s grinning up at me. “Good, right? It’s the poison that gives it that extra kick.”
She finds my subsequent hacking, choking coughs to be absolutely hysterical.
When she calms down from rolling around on the floor laughing at my reaction, she speaks up again. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. I figured you overheard my little chat back there.”
I swallow the heavy lump in my throat and glare at her. “You’re one sick little filly, you know that?”
Before she can answer, the chime of a kitchen timer rings out behind her. “Looks like it’s time for the sunrise, wanna come watch it with me?”
I can hardly protest seeing as how that was more or less my plan in the first place, to the extent I came out this morning with any plan at all. We sit side-by-side on a little hill behind the cottage just as the first light of day starts to break over us, and I’m a bit surprised to see her little face all scrunched up with rage. “You okay there?”
“It’s a complicated story,” she growls. Then she lets out a long breath and smiles up at me. “Back... before... this was a special little ritual Chrysalis had for us. We’d watch the sun rise and as we did she’d—” she shudders at the memory “—she’d just pour all this anger and hate into our minds. She wanted to make sure we all remembered who was responsible for raising it, and how we were supposed to treat them. The Queen’s gone now, but old habits die harder for some of us than for others. You’ve seen Elizabeak, and last I heard Sweetie Drops has driven away at least three marefriends since she moved to Canterlot. Each one she does just makes her that much more bitter. So every day since you brought me out of the Everfree, I get up early, come out here and remind myself of all the ponies who I don’t hate. And every day it gets a little bit easier to do.” She leans over and rests her head as high up on my shoulder as she can manage. “You helped save my life, Cloudy. Of all the ponies who’ve been good to me, you’re one of the ones who I don’t hate the most.”
“Heh. Thanks, squirt. Don’t think you’re getting out of answering my questions about Azalea that easily, though.”
“Drat. And the adorable, cuddly filly routine usually works so well,” she replies. She pauses to think for a moment. “Alright, fine. Against my better judgement I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just don’t expect me to name any names; Kicky and I are on the same page in that particular regard. And some of this stuff isn’t so pleasant, so I’ll warn you in advance I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you.”
Fair enough. I think for a moment trying to figure out where to begin, and decide to start broad and work my way inward, depending on what she says. I close my eyes and let the sun’s rays wash over my face. Scootaloo might not be the only one who has some baggage she needs to let go of. “Is she the only changeling who was feeding off me?”
Scootaloo lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “Seriously? Not even close. She’s the only one who focused on you exclusively in the runup to our second try at Canterlot, but some of us have been here for way longer. Kicky alone started using your shape over a year ago, among others.”
She has to be lying, right? “I think somepony would have noticed if there had been two of me wandering around for that long.”
“Well, she wasn’t always you. But you have to admit, Cloud, you have a certain reputation for getting around. A well earned one, even if none of us had ever gone near you at all. Once we figured out which ponies wouldn’t think anything of waking up in bed with you after a one night stand, it was almost too easy.” She reminisces for a moment, then chuckles. “Oh, this one time? I think it was during a Harvest Festival and the Apple family was selling cider at ten bits a mug for all you can drink? We had four extra copies of you running around, and none of them woke up hungry the next morning. And come on. Think back to how many times you’ve ‘lucked out’ and run into stunningly attractive identical twins who happen to be really into you at the Sun’s Flank.”
I groan. It hurts to hear that what you previously believed to be evidence of your devastating charm was based on a lie. “And nopony ever said anything?”
“Well, after we’ve eaten we have a few tricks to blur the details in ponies’ heads. A little confusion and a hangover go a long way. Sometimes we’re gone before they even wake up and they barely realize anything happened at all.”
I’m torn between being impressed with myself and miffed that this has been going on for so long. “So any changeling passing through hears that if they need a snack, I’m the town bicycle. Fantastic. You couldn’t have sent them to Algae Bloom or somepony else instead?”
“We’ve actually tried her out a few times, but she’s not really the sort of pony we’re looking for.”
I grin at that. “I knew she wasn’t half as good in bed as me.”
Scootaloo pauses. “Actually? She’s, uh, better.” My eyes snap open at that. Telling me that I’ve been a psychic buffet for a race of parasites is one thing, but worse at banging than Algae Bloom? That’s going too far. Fortunately Scootaloo hurries onward with her explanation. “Mechanically, at least. Believe me, I’ve bedded both of you myself.” Well that’s a pair of mental images concerning Scootaloo I never needed. “Problem is, underneath the lust it’s just kinda hollow. There’s nothing substantial for us to feed on, whether we’re using her form on others or other forms on her. You, though, throw off all sorts of tasty emotions. More than enough to go around without having to dig in deeply enough to hurt the pony we’re feeding from. It’s a victimless crime.” She squints into the sun, a bit wistful. “That’s not what Azalea did, though.”
“What did she do?”
Scootaloo picks at the grass under her hooves, stalling as her nerves get the better of her and her wings twitch. “She hit you fast and hard, right from the first day you met her. Twilight was technically the main objective, but it wasn't easy to get close without tipping off her or Spike, and if either of them even suspected anything all the preparation we'd done would have meant nothing. So the plan adapted. We had most of the intel on the city defenses we needed, and you knew enough of the rest for our purposes. Your family’s been guarding Canterlot for, what, nine-hundred years now? You know more about old hidden passages into and out of the Palace and your compound than you even realize. So she waited until you were post-coital and then started digging. She’d insert the questions, and you’d sleep-talk the answers. She’s very good at what she did, and you were an excellent unwitting source. She wasn’t even looking for the information she got from you about the train five of the Bearers were going to be on.”
“Why would she care about our compound?” I ask, despite the growing, horrible certainty I already know the answer.
“Once the palace fell, the idea was that your compound would probably become one of the holdouts for any remaining resistance. Plus there’s all sorts of nasty rumors about what you keep in that family vault of yours. You knew the plans to hunker down there in a crisis, which means we knew it too. And you knew about the secret door in the pantry that leads down an escape tunnel into the sewers. We could have bypassed the defenders and—”
“Stop. Just... just stop.” I beg.
She doesn’t. “No survivors. That was the Queen’s order. And then once we had the compound Azalea would come knocking on your door here in Ponyville sporting some fake tears and begging you not to make her sleep alone that night, not with all those mean ol’ changelings somewhere out there. Then one thing leads to another, you pass out in her embrace, and she’s free to go digging as deep as she needs to in order to figure out how to get the vault open. You’d either have woken up in a cocoon or never woken up at all,” she finishes. “Told you I wasn’t going to sugar coat it.”
Funny how much of that Kicky never mentioned, but then I guess she couldn’t without outing Azalea. Still, I’m getting really bucking sick of finding out this kind of thing from other ponies.
Unaware of my thoughts, Scootaloo finishes her coffee. I can already hear her teeth chattering a bit as the caffeine hits her bloodstream, and I say a quick prayer to Shadow for the sake of Cheerilee’s sanity in the day to come. “I know it’s not easy to hear, but I promise you that it’s worse for her to have to look at you every day and remember what she was going to do. Give her some time, a bit of distance, and just be there for her. She has things she needs help letting go of as much as the rest of us. Now I really have to get moving if I’m gonna finish all my chores and get to school on time. Ugh, I wish I didn’t have a social studies test today.”
“Mind if I come back later if I have any more questions?” I’m quite sure that I will after another chat with Azalea and Kicky.
“Sure. Anytime. I’m sure Fluttershy wouldn’t have a problem with it.” She waves goodbye to my as I take off and head back for town, this time with an actual goal in mind. With the sun up, ponies are starting to come out to begin their day in earnest, but I’m headed back home in the hopes I’ll catch Azalea before she leaves. By the time I get there, the only signs she spent the night are some rumpled and tear-stained sheets, a freshly rinsed glass jar in my recycling, and a note that reads IOU One jar of pickles on my kitchen counter.
-------------
“Pinkie Pie? Why are you inside my shower?”
It was not a question I’d anticipated asking when I left work for the day. I haven’t had any visitors since the morning two days ago after Azalea stayed over, and I hadn’t been anticipating any. It took discovering that I was very nearly instrumental in the murder of my entire extended family, but it turns out there actually is something that can put a damper on my libido.
Not enough of a damper that I don’t briefly note that if Pinkie is going to pop up in my shower at all it would have been nice of her to be soaking wet, covered in strategically placed soap bubbles and bearing an invitation to join her in helping to scrub them off. I’ve thought about the Element of Laughter in some dirty, dirty ways in the past, but I’ve always considered pursuing her to be a coin flip. Either it’d be the best night of my life, or they’d have to seal me up for good in a lunatic asylum the morning after. Or possibly both.
“Hiya, Cloud Kicker! You know, you should really degrout your tub. Mildew isn’t funny. I mean, it thinks it is, but it just has no appreciation for subtler comedy.”
“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” My brain is already starting to fall into the usual pattern of nonresistance that serves as the best defense against encountering Pinkie Pie in places like this. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yep-a-rooney!” She nods so vigorously that a tube of body wash sitting up on the tub’s rim shakes enough to come dangerously close to toppling over. “It’s about the PoProPanaParty I’m throwing for Twilight tonight. There’s something that’s super-duper important I need you to do.” I hesitate to answer her until she adds the final detail. “It’s about Azalea.”
“Azalea?”
“Wow! Your shower’s super echoey! But yeah, it’s Azalea. See, she’s my friend too, and I know she’s probably really sad about what happened with Twilight at the hospital.”
Figures that kind of thing wouldn’t escape her notice. I can’t imagine she knows about all the other stuff that has Azalea upset, but who knows? Maybe she does and just doesn’t see what the problem is. With her it could really go either way. “She hasn’t been at the market, and if she’s home she isn’t answering when I knock on the door. Do you want me to see if she can come to the party?”
Pinkie’s eye twitches, which makes me instinctually step back away from her. “She... nnnngh...” Gritting her teeth, she forces herself to go on. “Azalea... isn’t... nnnngh... Azaleaisn’tinvitedtotheparty!” One final neck spasm, then her chest heaves as she pants for air before going on. “Wow! Not inviting ponies to a party is hard! But it’s a party for Twilight and making her happy again. She’s been a real gloomy green-broke, so I have to concentrate it totally on her. I’m like a giant magnifying glass. I’m gonna focus warmth and energy onto Twilight until she can’t take it anymore and she just bursts into smiles.”
“And that means not being around Azalea right now, is what you’re saying,” I conclude. Yeah, I can see how that could be a volatile combination.
“Exactly. It’d be a party to cheer both of them up, but then when they saw each other and remembered what just happened they’d get sad. And then they’d be sad again, so I’d have to throw them a PoProPanaParty to make it better, and then they’d see each other and be sad again, so I’d have to throw a—” She slaps a hoof over her mouth and her eyes go wide. “Oh no, I’m cursing in subtext again! Twilight hates that! “Now I’m gonna have to throw her a party to fix that and I’ll have to decide whether or not to invite Azalea and when I’m trying to decide I’ll get stuck subtext-cursing again and Twilight will hate that so I’ll have to throw a party to—”
“It’s okay, Pinkie. I understand.” Blatant lie. “Just tell me what you’re hoping I’ll be able to do.”
“Right,” she says with a nod, earlier troubles forgotten in an instant, “so at first I was gonna throw her a separate party at the same time, but you know what ponies say: Mo’ PoProPanaParties, mo’ PoProPanaProblems.”
“Ponies say that?”
“Well duh, of course they do. I’m a pony and I just said it, like, three seconds ago. But since I can’t throw her a party tonight and I have to focus on Twilight, could you, um...” This is a look I’m not used to seeing on Pinkie. Bashful isn’t a big part of her usual repertoire. “...could you make sure she’s alright? Just make sure somepony is taking care of her, even if that's just her taking care of herself? Because I think maybe nopony is right now."
An easy enough request. "Sure thing, Pinkie. I'll head over there in a bit and check in."
Her usual smile returns. "Great! Thanks, Cloud. Oh, and tell the three-headed monkey behind you that he isn't invited to Twilight's party either."
The what? I look back, but there's nothing back there except a sink and a mirrored medicine cabinet. And when I turn back to ask about it, Pinkie is gone too.
Seriously. How does she do that?
No point dwelling on it. I won't figure it out, and I'd be more worried about my grip on reality if I did. I take a quick shower and let my mane air-dry as I open my front door. I'm taken by surprise at how chilly the late summer afternoon has turned; autumn's sort of crept up on me with everything else that's been going on. I grab an old scarf, once bright orange but faded over the years to a far paler hue, and throw it around my neck for the flight over to Azalea's.
The first thing I notice when I land in her front yard is the flower garden. It's not overgrown or anything, but there are definitely a few weeds starting to encroach on it. More than there should be. I knock on the front door and call out to her, but no answer. The door's locked too, but today that isn't going to be a deterrent.
Downstairs windows? Also locked. But it looks like she missed one on the second floor, and there's my way in. It deposits me into a dark hallway a few paces from the top of her stairs. "Azalea?" I call out. Not that I really expect an answer, but it seems wise to announce myself before heading any deeper into her lair.
Would I have thought of it as a lair before I learned what I know now? And now that I have, will I ever think of it as anything else?
I call out to her again as I descend the stairs, and a groan from the dark living room replies.
"Go away."
Target acquired. I trot in and turn on the nearest lamp to get my first good look at Azalea in over two days. It's not a pretty sight. She's flopped out along the length of her couch, snotty tissues overflowing from a nearby wastebasket. Bloodshot eyes stare back at me, slack eyelids too tired to put any real force into her glare. After a second, she gives up on the contest and brings an unpreened green wing up to block me out. "How long have you been laying there?" I ask.
"Depends," she replies, hunkering down deeper into the cushions, "what day is it?"
"The day you get up and start pulling yourself together. Come on, chop chop." I grab one of her primary feathers between my teeth and give a little tug as an extra incentive.
"No. Go away."
"Come on, Az. You can't just lay there forever," I say through clenched teeth.
"Sounds like a plan to me."
I release the feather; pull much harder and I risk actually yanking it out. Seems I need a different approach. "Have you gotten any sleep the last couple nights?"
Her tired shrug tells the entire story. "Luna helped a bit last night. I only woke up three times." She groans as I yank the blinds open and some of the light slips through her feathers. Squeezing her eyes closed, she rolls off the cushions and shoves her entire head under the coffee table.
Her upraised flanks are far too tempting a target. In my extensive experience, a quick slap to the cutie mark will almost always get a reaction. It doesn't fail me now.
The sharp smack of hoof against flesh is quickly followed by a crash as the table flips over onto its back. Good thing the woodworker built it sturdy. I anticipate her kicking back at me, so that's dodged easily as well. "Cloudy!" Her face is hovering between shock and rage, but I'll take angry energy over no energy any day.
"I told you, no more moping. Now if I start straightening up in here, can I trust you to go clean yourself up without supervision?"
"I'm not some helpless foal."
"I'll take that as a yes. Now go on, shoo!" She grumbles, but she goes. When I hear the water start up in her bathroom I turn my attention to the task before me. There's plenty to do and not very much time, so prioritizing is key. Things like dusting and washing the linens clearly need to be done, but I can get a lot more mileage from things like clean silverware and tossing the pile of trash that's starting to attract flies. I put my scarf aside after a few quick folds and get started.
I've at least managed to get the slimiest and most putrid parts of the job done when the water stops and a few minutes later Azalea emerges. While the worst of her accumulated grime is gone, her wings and mane are still in a pitiful and disheveled state. I can't help but walk over to her for a hug, which she's more than happy to accept. "You're gonna be okay, Az. I promise."
"I guess," she mumbles. She hardly sounds convinced, and from the way she slumps over my shoulder she's not ready to stand on her own four hooves. Fortunately, there's one thing anypony can fall back on when they're low.
"I have an idea. Let's go do some work in your garden. Get some dirt on those hooves."
"You just told me to take a shower!" she moans.
I shrug. "Well somepony has to clear out those weeds, and if I try to do it myself I'll take out half your flowers at the same time. You're the one with the special talent in it."
She looks down and away. "It isn't even really my talent."
"Hey, if you can't get rid of the bad memories you might as well take advantage of the good ones you got too. They're both a part of you now."
She finds nothing in my observation that she can rebut, or at least nothing she can muster up the energy to. This isn't the first time I've inflicted my help on a mopey mare. From my experience, as long as it's less of a hassle to go along with what I'm telling her to do than to argue I can push her into making better choices. She leads me out to a small shed around the side of her house. I'm a little ashamed to admit that just as she opens the door a part of me wonders if there's a fresh cocoon waiting inside, but instead there's just a perfectly innocent collection of dirt-covered tools. I grab a trawl and lead Azalea out to the yard. It's just a matter of providing a bit of encouragement and quiet company until she slips into the habits learned from decades of tending to her flowers. Or at least the memories of them. Once she's in her groove, something slips onto her face. Something that I'm not sure I've ever actually seen there in all the time I've known her.
Serenity.
I mostly just fiddle around in one out-of-the-way corner, awkwardly copying her motions as best I can. She's the one with the green hoof. Actually trying to help would probably do more harm than good, but I can still just be there for her. As the sun vanishes below the horizon, she's a far muddier pony as well as a far happier one.
"Pretty good haul," I say, the first words we've shared since she got into the zone. Her ears perk up and she's a bit startled by my voice. Bet she forgot I was even there at all. As she sinks back into reality, a little bit of that peace I was reading off her slips away. But not all of it. I gesture a hoof towards the pile of azaleas she's pulled from the earth. "You'll have something to sell at market tomorrow, at least."
A bit more of that hard-earned peace of mind gone. "I don't know, Cloudy. I was thinking maybe I'd hold off for a few more days."
"You mean go back to moping. No way." The night is upon us, and I don't bother stifling a yawn. It comes with an instant guilt trip. Of the two of us, there's no way I'm the more exhausted one. "Is there anything I can get you for tonight? I can stay over if it would help."
She shakes her head though. "Not much you could do. I'm used to it, and there's no reason for both of us to become insomniacs."
"Okay." One more goodbye hug. We're both dirty again, but I think ordering her to take another shower would come across as condescending rather than helpful this time. "I'll make a flyby over the market tomorrow morning to check in. You'd better be there, okay?"
"I will be. Thanks, Cloudy. For everything." With that she collects her tools and trots, head held a bit higher than before, back to her shed.
-------------
The next morning I'm as good as my word, landing next to an alert and smiling Azalea just as she's wrapping up an order for an earth pony mare and her colt. I wouldn't go so far as to call her bright eyed or bushy tailed, but she looks like she's on the right track. "Hey there! Sleep okay?"
She shrugs. "Nothing a few pots of coffee couldn't fix. Hey, are you missing a scarf? I found one laying around last night that doesn't belong to me."
Shoot, I completely forget to grab that before I left her house last night. "Yeah, I think that might be mine."
"Well, swing by any time if you need it. Or I'll just bring it along next time I know I'm seeing you."
"No hurry. I can't stay, but I just wanted to come and see that you made it out today. I'll let you get back to your customers." A hug would be a bit intimate for the middle of the market, so I just pat her back with my wing and watch as her smile gets just a bit more genuine. She turns to the orange pegasus beside me, and I trot away past the purple unicorn stallion who's making a beeline for Azalea's cart. A few stalls down I stop to wonder if I should pick up some fresh turnips while I'm here.
I'm still close enough to hear Azalea address her new customer. "Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, you nasty, selfish cunt."
Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa. What did he say? I wasn't the only one who heard it, and the usual din of the market quiets as other ponies turn to see what the commotion is. Azalea's smile has turned stiff and fake. "I'm sorry, sir. I think maybe I misheard what you just said."
"Did you? Then we can add 'hard of hearing' to the long list of your many deficiencies as a marefriend and as a pony in general," says the purple unicorn stallion from before. I try to think of whether I've seen a cutie mark of three shooting stars arranged in a circle, but I come up blank. "Tell me one thing: did you ever care about her at all? Or did you just see somepony who was beautiful and strong and decide it would be fun to smash her heart into a million pieces? Just so she'd be almost as pathetic as you are, I'd imagine."
Azalea starts to tremble, and it only grows worse as more ponies turn to watch the exchange. "What... Who do—"
"Twilight Sparkle! Obviously! Do you know what she almost did to protect this world from that monster? What she was willing to endure if it had come to that? And you have the bucking nerve to sit at the side of her hospital bed and treat her like dirt?" The stallion kicks out a hoof, spraying dust up into her face and chest.
When she stops coughing, Azalea tries to speak again. "It wasn't like that. I was scared."
He scoffs. "Oh, you were scared. Well you just threw away your shot with the greatest mare you'll ever meet, you weak and stupid coward. And I'm actually glad you did, because she's better off without a pony like you in her life."
"Please," says Azalea, beginning to cry. Frankly I'm surprised she lasted this long. "I know that what I did was wrong, and I'm sorry. But the idea that she could become that—"
"Should only make the fact that she's as good and wonderful as she is that much more special. What about her scares you? That once she's set her mind on some goal she'll do whatever it takes to achieve it? That she'll consider options other ponies wouldn't? That she'd beat herself against an obstacle a thousand times until she's bloody and bruised, and still give try number one-thousand-one her all anyway? Yeah, I'll grant you that sometimes she needs somepony to rein her in a bit. But I'll tell you from personal experience that the kind of mare who has that sort of passion for what they love, and that much force of will, and yes that kind of darkness inside them? They're worth holding onto even if there's a chance of them turning into a monster someday. If only because I can tell you from personal experience that sort of mare is awesome in the sack." His anger softens a bit, almost wistful for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment. But then it's back and stronger than ever. "That sort of mare deserves the best, and you're not it. Stars and stones, you're about as far from deserving her as a pony can be. You should be ashamed to even show your face in this town. If I were you, and thank the Princesses I've never been cursed with that particular affliction, I'd pick a direction, start flying, and not stop until I fell out of the sky somewhere I'd never impose my worthless, feeble-minded plot upon another unsuspecting pony. You'd be doing us all a favor."
With that he turns and starts to walk away, leaving Azalea staring off into the distance with a blank stare and a slack jaw. Too late I realize that I've been frozen in place during the entire tirade. While my first instinct is to fly after that stallion and wring his scrawny little neck, Azalea needs me more. I rush back over to her and try to snap her out of the fugue she's in.
What happens next is exactly the perfect way to make this worse. Somepony in the crowd starts to laugh.
I do my best to cover her ears against it, but I'm not quick enough to block out Algae Bloom's laughter or what she says next. "Did you see that? She just got wrecked! That was amazing!" She might be the only one laughing, but it's more than enough. Azalea wriggles away from me and takes off straight up to the clouds overhead.
I'm quick to give chase expecting to find her bawling, but she's not. When I get there, she's just laying spread eagle on her back, eyes looking up into nothing. "Sorry about that. I don't know who he was but next time I see him I'll—"
"Don't worry about it. It's not worth making a big deal over." The words are reassuring, but her vacant, hollow tone isn't. "This is all just a big misunderstanding. I'll finish selling for the day, then this afternoon I'll go talk to Twilight. Twilight will know how to make this right. I just have to explain why I left, and she'll tell me exactly what I should do and I'll do it and it will all be right again."
"You... uh..." I can't say I think this is the best idea, but it's up to her. "You might want to leave a couple details out."
"You have to go to work, right? Don't worry about me. Once I talk to Twilight she'll make this all better." She gets up and walks to the edge of the cloud.
I'm not letting her go quite that easily. "Promise you'll check in with me tomorrow, then."
"Of course. I promise," she replies, distant and dreamy. "Tomorrow it is."
With that she drops down to the road below and rejoins her cart. A few of the other salesponies come up to her to check in, some even bearing free samples or other tokens of comfort. She smiles and insists that she's fine. She's an excellent actress, but I guess that shouldn't surprise me anymore.
I wish I could fillysit her for the rest of the day, but I have other obligations to fulfill. I just hope if she does see Twilight, the conversation goes well.
-------------
"Twilight haaaaaaaates meeeee!"
It could have gone better.
"I'm sure she doesn't hate you, Azalea," says Lyra. When I got home from work to find Azalea on my doorstep in tears once again, which is becoming an unpleasant pattern, it took me an hour to pry out enough information to determine just how catastrophic yesterday's conversation actually was. At that point it became clear I was in over my head here and I needed to call in some backup. "Here, have another candied blackberry."
From beside the nearby table, Blossomforth takes her cue to pass the bowl across the little three pony circle we've been sitting in for over two hours now, arranged around Azalea to provide comfort from every angle. Momentarily distracted from her heartbreak by the treats under her nose, she sniffles. "These are really good," she says in a miserable little whisper before she pops a few more of them into her mouth. Half the bowl is gone, but at least Azalea is mostly coherent at this point. "She said... she said I don't even know her, and I don't get her at all. And she doesn't trust me because she thinks I'll leave her again."
"I know, Az. I know it hurts to hear that. She shouldn't have said those things to you," I say. Laying a supportive hoof on her shoulder, I meet her gaze and smile. My hopes of provoking her to return it with one of her own go unrewarded.
"Why shouldn't she? They're probably true. I promised her I'd do my best, but she doesn't think my best is good enough. Who am I to tell her she's wrong?"
Before any of us can come up with a response, we hear the front door open and close followed by the thump of saddlebags hitting the floor. "Lyra? I'm home."
"We're all in here, Bon Bon," Blossomforth calls back.
Bon Bon trots into the living room, looking tired from a long day running her shop. "Oh, hey, the gang's all here. I didn't realize you were—" She freezes mid sentence and her eyes lock onto the bowl in front of Azalea. "Are those the blackberries from my work fridge?"
Lyra scampers up onto her hooves in a single frantic burst. "Bonnie, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?" Her magic lifts Bon Bon up and spins her a quick one-hundred-eighty degrees before putting her down again. They both hurry away, leaving the echoes of a frantic, whispered argument in their wake.
Blossom is quick to fill the silence. "Twilight doesn't know what she's missing. In fact, I'll bet she's just as unhappy as you are right now."
"No she's not," insists Azalea. "She's already moved on. She has a date tonight. I missed my chance. This new mare is going to show up looking radiant and she'll be smarter and nicer and prettier than me and she'll always know the right thing to say and when Twilight asks her to come inside with her at the end of the night she'll say yes and then their next date will be even better somehow and they'll fall in love and everything will be wonderful and on their first anniversary Twilight will propose and she'll say yes and they'll get married and have a little filly and a little colt and be a perfect family and one day they'll be walking down the street and the colt will look over and ask 'Who lives in that house, mommy?' and Twilight will tell him 'Oh, nopony important, just crazy old maid Azalea who's alone forever because nopony could ever love somepony like her!'" She bursts into a fresh round of sobs as Blossom and I exchange horrified looks.
"I think you might be getting a liiiiiittle bit ahead of yourself there," I say.
Bon Bon and Lyra return from the kitchen, temporary truce secured. With one last wistful look at the mostly empty bowl, Bon Bon joins the circle and leans in give Azalea a big hug. "It'll be okay. Things will work out."
"No they won't," she mumbles. "Twilight's gone forever and I'll never find a fillyfriend half as good as her."
"Well, not with that attitude you won't," declares Lyra. "Hasn't anypony told you that there are plenty of fish in the sea? You'll just have to fish up another one. Just be patient, keep your eyes open, and when you see one that you want you reach out and grab it with both forelegs and hold on as tight as you can."
Blossom raises an eyebrow. "You've never actually seen anypony fishing in real life, have you?"
Lyra scoffs. "Well, it's obviously a metaphor. It's not like she's going to literally jump into some pond and come out of it with her soulmate. That would be ridiculous."
"But I don't want a fish. I want Twilight." She lowers herself onto her belly and covers her head with her wings. "I only want Twilight."
"Look, Az, crushes suck. Especially the unrequited ones. But you'll get over it, maybe even end up being just friends somewhere down the line. Just look at me and Blossom. She used to have a crush on me, but she got past it. Now we're best friends and she's with Davenport. Right Blossom? Maybe you can give Azalea some tips on what helped for you," I say, hopeful that we can start to move this little pity party in a more positive direction.
Rather than pick up my obvious prompt, Blossom gives me a look I don't entirely understand. Surprise and... something else. "You sure you really want to go there, Cloud?"
Huh? "Well sure. It's been at least a year now. I thought it was ancient history at this point. Why wouldn't I?"
She screws up her muzzle. What am I saying wrong? "I would think you would know exactly why. But sure, why not? Yes, Azalea, I did have a crush on Cloudy here. Then one night about a year ago, I was hanging out at the Sun's Flank for a drink after work. It was just me since Cloud was away at a conference on hailstorms in Vanhoofer, or so I thought. So I look up just as nopony else but her walks in the front door and I flag her down."
"What?" I ask.
"Don't interrupt. So the two of us start to catch up, it's actually great that she got out of the conference a day early so she can catch up on personal stuff around town before she has to go back into the office. Anyway, we're having a good time and I don't think anything of it until I glance up and catch her looking at me. Looking at me in a way I'd wanted her to look at me for a long time. Then she reached over and took my hoof. For once she wasn't kidding. She was open and sincere and just..." she blushes hard and takes some time to compose herself. "We went back to my place. And that night was amazing."
"Blossom—" I'm cut off by her hoof before I get any further.
"I said don't interrupt. I fell asleep feeling like something had really changed between us, but when I woke up the next morning you were long gone. The bed wasn't even warm."
"Cloud!" says Bon Bon. Seems she's joined team Not Me and from the look on Lyra's face she's about to be recruited as well. "I can't believe you'd do that. I mean maybe to some one night stand, but to Blossom?"
"Why are we only hearing about this for the first time now?" asks Lyra before I get a chance to defend myself.
Blossom can't even look at me, and Azalea's gone quiet as well. "Well, I figured that was the beginning of a new phase of our relationship. But next time I saw you it was like nothing had changed at all. I kept waiting for you to mention it or acknowledge it somehow, but you never did. And the longer that went on the harder it felt to say anything myself. Whenever I even thought about the prospect of talking about it with anypony I'd get these awful headaches, I guess from the stress. Eventually I just sort of realized that, well, you are the pony you are. You weren't going to change or settle down just for me. Or even worse, maybe I was just that forgettable. Either way it wasn't going to happen."
"You aren't forgettable, Blossom," I say. "Not at all."
"Well it's how that night made me feel," she counters, "and then at one of your parties a month later you introduced me to Davenport. I got the message loud and clear: we weren't going to happen, so move on. It wasn't easy, but I did. Look, like you said, it's ancient history. You don’t owe me an apology or anything.”
“The buck she doesn’t,” says Bon Bon. “So do you have anything to say about all this, Cloud?”
Like I haven’t been trying to chime in this entire time. “Blossom, we’ve never slept together.” The room goes silent, and Blossom finally manages to meet my eyes. She’s pissed. “Not that I’m calling you a liar or anything, but I remember that conference. I didn’t get back a day early. I actually had to stay later than I expected to.” From the look on her face I can tell she doesn’t believe me. “Look, you know what sticklers the department higher-ups are about certifications and conference attendance. Pull out the old documentation and it’ll corroborate what I’m saying. Maybe you slept with somepony that... looked like...”
I’m going to kill her. Granted, I’m not entirely sure who ‘her’ is or if she’s even still a her at all, but remembering what Scootaloo told me the other day makes the truth all too clear. My eyes lock onto Azalea’s as the guilty party’s most convenient available proxy, and she shrinks back. “I want to believe you, Cloud,” says Blossomforth, oblivious to what I’m realizing, “it just seems really far-fetched for me to take it on your word. I’ll pull the papers, but if you’re lying to me about this...”
“They’ll back me up, I’m sure of it.” Something else occurs to me. “Wait, you thought I did all this to you and you’ve still been my friend the entire time? Uh... why?”
“I’d like to know that too,” says Bon Bon, only to be punched in the shoulder by her marefriend and glared at until she closes her mouth again.
“Because you’re still the pony I’ve been friends with this whole time. I’m not giving that up just because I thought you could be something other than yourself. You mean too much to me.”
I bet she’d keep going if I didn’t tackle her right then and there with a leaping hug. “I don’t deserve you,” I mutter into her shoulder. “Even though I didn’t do what you think I did. There’s nothing I could ever do to deserve a friend as good as you.”
After the initial shock passes, she returns the hug with just as much force. “Sure you do. I’ll always be your friend.” She pulls back from me. “This doesn’t change anything. I’m not settling for Davenport because I thought I couldn’t have you. I love him, and whatever spark there might have been between us... it’s out now. I don’t think it’s coming back, and I don’t really want it to.”
Azalea yawns. The others buy it. I’ve seen her pretending too often not to notice the little signs that it isn’t the real deal. “I feel better now, and I’m sorry I dragged all that stuff up for you, Blossom. I didn’t mean to.”
She shrugs. “You couldn’t have known.”
“It’s been a long day. Want me to walk you home?” I offer.
“Could I... would you mind if I stick around? I’d like somepony to talk to. Somepony who... well... isn’t Cloudy. Sorry Cloud,” says Blossom, looking to me for forgiveness. Like she’s the one who needs any of it from me.
“You’re welcome to stay. I hope you don’t mind if dinner is a little sparse. I was going to make Lyra’s favorite buffalo broccoli bites, but somepony gave away my candy and I need to make a new batch,” says Bon Bon.
We all bid one another goodnight as Azalea and I reach the end of their walkway and start heading towards her place. We’ve gone two blocks in silence before Azalea says anything. “It wasn’t me.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Oh, come off it. If I’m not allowed to lie to you, I’d appreciate it if you at least returned the favor. A changeling slept with Blossomforth, borrowed your shape to do it, and you’re pissed. Did I miss anything?”
With it all laid out that way I feel my anger rising all over again. “Do you know who did?”
“Probably some drone passing through. If Blossomforth was crushing on you that hard we’d have smelled it a mile off. Slip in, spend the night, plant a few mental blocks, slip away again. Textbook feeding technique.” When I don’t reply, she goes on. “Look, the stronger the feelings the food... sorry, the pony has for the disguise, the less we have to force and the less long-term damage there is. From a changeling’s point of view, this was a—”
“I swear to Celestia, Az,” I growl, “if the next words out of your mouth are ‘victimless crime’ the two of us are going to have a serious problem.”
“We all have to eat. At least in this case everything worked out for the best.”
What if it hadn’t? What if Blossom and I had drifted away from one another and I never knew why? What if I’d confronted her, she’d told me what happened, and I’d accused her of lying to me? All the possibilities spiral out in my mind’s eye, far too many to vocalize. So I swallow that bitter little pill. But only for now. “Fine. It happened. If you say you weren’t involved... well, I can’t prove you were.” Her ears droop a bit as we pass a crooked streetlight, moths and lightning bugs swarming around the lamp. “Either way, you and I are doing something nice for her. What’s your schedule like this weekend?”
“Not so good, actually. I’ll be in Baltimare this weekend.”
“What for? Convention?”
She shakes her head. “There’s another former changeling living there I’ve been pen pals with for a while now. In one of her letters she mentioned she was looking at this townhouse, but couldn’t afford the rent by herself. She was having some trouble finding a roommate.”
“What does that have to do with you?” I ask. No answer. “Az? I asked—”
“Yeah, I heard you,” she says. “You know, that stallion in the marketplace yesterday... he wasn’t exactly wrong, was he? You girls are great, but I don’t want to live somewhere everypony knows me as ‘that mare who broke Twilight Sparkle’s heart.’ And it’s not like I had any reason for moving here in the first place, or at least not one that matters anymore. Maybe a fresh start and a clean slate would help. You could always come visit.”
I pause right there in the middle of the sidewalk. I don’t think she’s kidding. “Az, no offense, but you’re not really in the right state of mind to make any major life decisions right now.”
“This is my street. Your house is that way,” she says, jabbing her hoof down a side street. “Goodnight, Cloudy.”
“Azalea? Azalea!” I shout after her as she walks away. She doesn’t respond, and I can’t do much but watch as she gets further and further away. Shaking my head and sighing, I turn to make for home.
It’s not until I’m walking up to my own house that I realize that, once again, I forgot that my scarf was at Azalea’s. I groan at the prospect of going back for it, but a chilly breeze that kicks up changes my mind. There’s a cold front we’re moving in over the next few days and I’m better off having it on me. Plus I know she’s still awake. Most importantly, though, it’s a really convenient excuse.
I turn back and canter back towards Azalea’s, wondering if there’s anything I can say to her that’ll make a difference to her weekend plans. Why Baltimare, of all places? But it’s clear enough that this isn’t about where she’d be living. It’s about where she wouldn’t be living.
I’m about to round the last corner when I hear her voice out there in the darkness. “Um... I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to do this. I feel a bit silly doing it at all. Still, back when I was a changeling there was always someone else with me listening to what I was thinking, even if it was only the other drones. Do ponies have something like that too?”
Puzzled, I peer around the side of her house to see who she’s speaking to. She’s sitting in the middle of her flower garden looking up at the night sky. Whoever she’s talking to it’s nopony I can see. “I know for sure I’m not supposed to pray to the Princesses. They aren’t really in the prayer-answering business, and Queen Chrysalis proved that they aren’t exactly invincible or omniscient. That doesn’t leave me with a lot of other options. When I was a changeling the Queen didn’t want us believing in anything greater than her, and I’ll die before I ask a single favor from that monster. But Azalea, the old one I mean, as far as I can tell she didn’t believe in much beyond just sort of passively assuming that if she just did what she was supposed to and never rocked the boat, she’d eventually sell enough flowers and... I don’t know. Somepony would just show up one day, congratulate her on being finished with the boring part of life and hoof over whatever her ‘happily ever after’ was supposed to be. Maybe not exactly in those terms, but it’s the way she acted.
“So that sort of puts me in a bind, because I can’t believe in either of those things. Not anymore. The only thing I can think of to replace them, though, is whatever that magic was that came down on me out of nowhere during our invasion and lit me on fire right there in the middle of my living room. Were you trying to burn away all my bad parts? Because you missed a lot of them. Just look at what I’ve done ever since. I’m not better, and I still hurt ponies I care about. I’m probably a major disappointment after you went through all that trouble getting me this way. That’s why I’m pretty sure you aren’t listening to me right now. I don’t blame you; I wouldn’t listen to me either. I’m not the one you gave a magic crown or those necklaces to. I guess they’re kind of like a hotline to you? I’m not exactly sure how it works, but it’s not for me to know. They’re for the special ponies.
She smiles, even with her voice catching in her throat as she continues. “Speaking of the special ponies, I hope if you’re not listening to me you’re focused on Twilight right now. She’s got a date tonight, you know. What am I saying, of course you know. Whatever you screwed up that led you to send her out with me before, I hope you’ve ironed out the mistakes this time. She was a bit of a goof on ours, so please make sure the pony she’s with isn’t thrown by that. Just give her the pony who’s special enough to make her happy. Frankly, you owe it to her.
“But... if even you’re too busy to listen to me, who’s left? I feel like I’m just so alone right now, and that’s selfish of me because you’ve set me up with some really good friends down here. Still, sometimes it feels like there’s something empty inside me and the only thing I have to fill it with is nightmares. It doesn’t have to be a lot, but I need something. I don’t even know what it is, but it has to be something I can believe in. Something that’s good and right and deserves to be believed in. And don’t give me any of that vague ‘all part of the plan’ stuff either. It’s gotta be something I can hold in my hooves. Because if I don’t get something to hold onto, and soon, I’m scared that I might start slipping away altogether. So yeah. Get on that. I mean, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
I don’t step out of the shadows; I don’t want her to realize I just saw something that obviously wasn’t meant for me. I don’t even move while she keeps just sitting there and staring upwards, waiting. I don’t have a watch on me, but it’s a good fifteen or twenty minutes later when her head abruptly droops to the ground. She gets up and dusts off her coat with a few beats of her wings before turning to go inside. “What did I expect?” she mutters as she walks away. It’s not until the front door closes and I hear the lock being set that I’m willing to back away. My scarf can wait after all. There’s got to be something I can do for Azalea, but no new ideas are coming to me on the flight home. When I land in my front yard I catch a new sound in the air, faint but distinct.
Somewhere behind me, just at the edge of my hearing, somepony is pounding their hoof against a wooden door.
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You know, I love the lake scene from Stitch. It's honestly one of my favorite bits of that story. I'm happy to add Azalea's perspective on the run up to it. But I'll be the first to admit that at this point the only way I could pack more religious imagery into it would be having the weather vane technique involve an actual crucifixion.
Although for all you guys know, maybe it does.
8ut I only have one head!
~Vriska Serket
The Feeels!
I especially enjoyed the last little bit, the quasi-worship really works, and really made me feel for poor Azalea who feels like she's fallen so far.
Can't wait to see the next bit from Cloud's perspective.
4796176
I had fun with that. I even arranged the mentions of time passing so that, depending on the assumptions you make about how long certain things play out over, Azalea's prayer is happening at exactly the same time as Twilight is in the bathroom during the Algae!date and a particular italicized phrase pops into her head.
Is it divine intervention? Some kind of soul link? Just the phrase she'd heard earlier popping into her head? I'll never tell
Ah. I absolutely love how you match the two different points of view. It's just so good, Azalea praying at the Princesses...and Twilight pounding at the door.
And sorry, Lyra. It may sound absurd, but Azalea did catch her marefriend on a literal pond.
4796261
She wasn't praying at the Princesses. She was going directly to the source of the Elements, which we've seen is a force independent of the Regalia and that ponies can occasionally tap directly into. The Regalia helps, but it tends to impose its own agenda. See the big showdown in Fate chapter 5 and some of the comments Twi makes about the Elements touching her right before ascension in chapter 7.
As for whether they actually answered her prayer or whether it was a coincidence? Well...
4796284 Yes, sorry. I knew that, and commented the wrong word.
4796296
Phew, okay, just making sure I made that clear.
And yes, Lyra was more right than she realized.
Knowing where the ending of this chapter fits in with Stitch, all I can do is smile like an idiot.
4796261
Oh my god i just realized that
i3.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/230/569/a08.jpg
4796522
Seemed appropriate since I wrote like half of this travelling to/waiting for things at/ too excited to sleep during/ going home from Bronycon on the Gdocs app of my phone.
Conventions? In Baltimare? Such crazy random happenstance!
Great chapter, though. I can't get enough of what a good friend Cloudy is being, and the emotions at play are just ... Well, you've always surprised me with how potently you can write them.
Yikes. The Elements certainly aren't nice in what they do to people. Of course, at this particular stage of the timeline I'm pretty sure the Elements are explicitly not nice.
Nice, Scootaling is hardcore. Well, was.
Wait, I was right the first time, is. And Elizabeak is pretty scary, too.
Wow, make that really hardcore.
Holy crap, that conversation with Scootaloo.
Holy crap, that conversation with Pinkie.
Holy crap, that conversation with Starswirl.
Hahahhahaha!
Oh lord, nail meet hammer
I'm so bad at finding your sequels. I went a month after I read the original story to find you were halfway through the sequal and about 3 chapters late on the third story. I probably would have never found this if it wasn't for your blog post having a single mention of you writing about azalea.
4796948
Well, you're in for a long read, then. This is already the longest story in the series, and it's nowhere near over.
4795782
One leg bound to North, one leg bound to South... Twilight heads East to West.
Ecchem.
This is extremely clever. Extremely so. I'm sure I used to do song parodies for your old series... reasonably certain... This is just so clever I feel it deserves a little more.
Azalea feels she's got to
Run away she's got to
Get away
Though her changeling past breaks the heart of Cloudy
And so she's scared
Some guy with a beard
Called her on Twilight
And she tosses and turns and can't sleep at night
Once she ran to you (She ran)
Now she'll run from you
This tainted love she's given
From the double life she was living
Take those tears and a jar of pickles!
Oh...tainted love
Tainted love
Now she knows she's got to
Run away she's got to
Get away
Ponyville has too many bitter memories
And for Twilight
She wants someone to hold her tight
Because once she was her prey
But now she prays a different way
Once she ran to you (She ran)
Now she'll run from you
This tainted love she's given
From the double life she was living
Take those tears and a jar of pickles!
Oh...tainted love
Tainted love
So Starswirl please
You can't see the forest from the trees
And Twilight loves her but it hurts her so
Azalea's packed her things to go
Tainted love, tainted love!~
4796906 brb can't breathe
Damn, Starswirl.
I always wonder, is it as nice for you to be able to write these characters again for a bit as it is for us to see them again?
4798357
I'm pretty sure my commitment to this 'verse of mine qualifies as an addiction by now.
4796869
Heh, I actually worried that I was making her a bad friend in leaving Az after the Star Swirl tirade. Glad it didn't come across that way.
4796887
When were the Elements nice? They've been murdering Twilight since Hard Reset Chapter One.
4797497
Great song! Your Youtube link doesn't work for me, though.
Great as always. I remember theorizing that plain lust was insufficiently complex to be adequate food for changelings.
comma
no comma
I
extra quote
Did I miss a mention of a scarf earlier on? I don't recall it at all.
show says "foalsit", but not too important.
In any case, loving the different perspective of the events. It gives much more meaning to Azalea's... ah... "leap of faith" shall we call it.
I could hear Cloudy's reality shatter multiple times during the conversation with Scootaloo.
Whoo updates! This story is awesome.
Pinkie Pie is Batman.
And four different Cloud Kickers running around Ponyville? Talk about banging, banging everywhere...
Blossomforth and Davenport sound like a really cute couple.
This is really good, but if ponies keep switching between 'hostile interrogation' and 'Let me help you!' like this, I'm going to be sending you the bill from my Chiropractor due to whiplash. :P
4796531 you write from your phone? Good Luna, you're either even more of a madman than I'd thought, or even more my hero.
Or maybe both
Awesome update, I'm hoping to see more of this soon.
4799688 Cloudy's reality broke in ch. 11, when Az gets drunk, I'm pretty sure.
I can't imagine the effort to write on a phone. I'm not sure if you have editors or not, but a phone's autocorrect may be an editor's nightmare.
4800424
4800471
Well, I prefer a laptop and keyboard, but you can't beat the cell phone for convenience. Waiting for the metro, riding in a car, eating lunch, whenever. If you'd have time to play a level of Angry Birds, you have time to get a couple sentences down on the page.
4800357
That should ease up a little bit in the next few chapters. The last two have had a ton of extra revelations to unveil. Hopefully they'll be a bit shorter than the double-sized updates I've been posting. I had specific ending points I knew I wanted to hit or I'd probably have split the material from these last two into three.
4795782
Pah, religious symbolism isn't bad. Well, as long as it isn't pointless, it's not the kind of thing you step into lightly.
Ooh, wonderful stuff! I am really enjoying this side look into the HR-verse, and I think I like Azalea a bit more now than I did during the original trilogy. At least she's certainly an interesting pony, and of course Cloudy (and Kicky) are in great form as well. Looking forward to more as always, and thanks for the chapters, a bit of catch-up reading after BronyCon is always nice.
I adored Azalea back when I read the trilogy, and these chapters (and this story in general) make me feel the same again. The pain, the love, the whole thing, and as was mentioned earlier all this puts her "leap of faith" more into perspective. I'm so excited for happy!Az in the chapters to come after the lake scene! But, umm, I guess this is just one of those positive comments that aren't as useful as critique or all that. So, sorry about that
though technically it's your fault for making me feel strongly enough for Azalea, and of course Cloudy and Blossom, too, to simply enjoy the wonderful show, and thanks for writing this.4804301
4805588
Azalea's really grown on me the more I write her. Kind of funny since she wasn't even going to be in the trilogy at all originally (during my early planning for Stitch, Twilight would have gone out with Cheerilee for her blind date) and when I go back to read the chapters to refresh my memory about what canonically happened she sometimes seems like a different character. Heck, at the time I originally wrote the lake scene I hadn't even decided to make her a former changeling at all. And yet now her spin off is the longest single story in the series with a long ways to go, and I've even picked out a song to listen to on repeat when I'm trying to get into her head.
Still, now that we're post-lake scene she'll be a whole lot more confident and self assured. Plus I have tons of ideas for needlessly adorable Twizalea scenes I can tack on as we keep the timeline moving forward. Ideally I'd like to run through all the canon events of You Can Fight Fate and have the final chapter be the Twizalea wedding.
Sorry to say but I am still a fan of Starswirl chewing Az out. I like Az, but I just have an incredibly vindictive side and a built-in love for Twilight. But you do a great job of writing her, and I have few complaints. Personally, I'd love to see more self reflection and less moping, but that's a minor issue. So yeah, I love the story, even if I wish everyone did a little more analyzing and a bit more yelling.
4806543
Note what this chapter is titled. Azalea brought all this stuff down on her own head in a lot of ways. Star Swirl was out of line. That doesn't mean he was necessarily wrong, per se, but he was more of a dick about the way he went about confronting her over it than he had to be. Because, well, Star Swirl is kind of a dick. Twilight is one of his very few genuine friends who he also respects as a peer. Heck, in Stitch chapter 6 he explicitly called her the only real friend he has. Presumably he's also close to Celestia and Luna, though perhaps more in a mentor/lover sense than strictly as friends.
Anyway, this chapter was all about ripping Azalea down and tearing her apart. There'll be room for the self-reflection as she tries to rebuild herself into something better than she was.
4806613 Ah, but you see I am also kind of a dick. So yeah, what I said is just personal preference. I'm all for acting like a dick towards people who screw up. That's clearly a bad thing, but as far as fiction is concerned I have fun with that. So if you say to wait, I'll wait, since it's not like my criticism is professional.
Edit: Clearly unprofessional, even. Look how I've overused the word "see"!
Azalea was taking a pretty good beating from Karma until Algae decided to tag in.
4807979
Algae Bloom is like Satan, except less likable.
OK... damn I have a sudden need to re-read the Stitch version of Starswirl ranting at Azalea; Pinkie's messed up perspective on it is the only possible antidote I can think of for how much the full version hurt. Then again, sometimes you need a tactless jerk to come along and say the things everyone else is being too polite to say - after all, to quote a certain character from Buffy: "Tact is just not saying true stuff."
Gotta say I rather like the idea that the changelings have been adding to Cloud's reputation as the village... does 'village bicycle' really work for ponies? The nearest I can recall to a bike from the show was Pinkie's flying machine, and that's Pinkie, so it doesn't really count. Anyway... I really like the way it ties into Blossomforth no longer having her Winningverse crush on Cloud, though the details? Youch.
Gotta love the interplay between Scootaling and Elizabeak, especially the bit where Angel Bunny gets used as a threat... then again, given that he manages to put Spike through hell, despite Spike being bigger and having very tough scales... yeah, that Bunny is hardcore.
I've gotta say, I'm curious as to whether any of the former changelings are going to provide any insights into how Chrysalis's plan was supposed to work out, long term - were they supposed to end up treating all of ponykind as basically livestock? And what would have happened had she carried off the part that involved killing Celestia (and presumably Luna too, since she didn't have Queen!Twilight's reasons to keep her around... thankfully) - from the timeline Starswirl used as a refuge in Fate, we know that losing Celestia and Luna = end of the world scenario - did Chrysalis take this into account in her plans at all? Was she planning on keeping them alive but enslaved? (I'm guessing not, given that unless I'm much mistaken, Queen!Twilight's first appearance included a mention of Chrysalis having killed Celestia by the time she challenged her...) Did she just plain not know that killing Celestia was a bad idea, or what.
One final plea: please don't make us wait too long for the next chapter, 'cos that last bit hit me right in the feels, and... you know what, I'm just gonna have to go re-read the lake scene to tide me over.
4810208
Well, He is a man of wealth and taste, so... yeah.
I've gotten behind, so let's catch up.
Chapter 10:
Elizabeak. Huh. Well-played. Was not expecting that. That revelation is at once both hilarious and horrifying, considering the events of Stare Master when we think about them in retrospect.
Chapter 11:
A feelsy sort of chapter, this one. Scootaloo's scene was great. Granny Smith's scene was great. The fake mother scene was great. And that Azalea scene was especially great, even if I saw it coming after reading the preview you so generously linked. I especially liked the explanation for Cloudy's blind spot with regards to Az. Makes sense, and justifies a lot of the more questionable moments from earlier in the story. Nice work.
Chapter 12:
I see the best character made a comeback, by which I of course mean Elizabeak. But damn, this chapter was just brutal on Az. I think this was the one that I was really waiting for throughout this whole story. Not the changeling reveal, but the break-up. I think good writers aren't afraid to put their characters through some suffering for the sake of an interesting story. They don't pull punches if they don't have to. And knowing that it all works out well in the end anyway, you really went all-out with the crushing despair here. This chapter just seemed like you had no mercy left in your soul. I heartily approve.
There. Done. Caught up. Back to regular commenting, I hope. Unless I'm buried by story updates again.
4810482
I'll try not to keep you waiting too long, although I can't rush the upcoming conversation between Azalea and Cloud about weather vanes. Such momentous revelations take time to do properly
As for what Chrysalis was planning, I assume she didn't know that the Regalia could explode and wipe out the planet. Why would she? They never have before... at least not in this timeline. I figure she planned to murder both Princesses and stuff the rest of the population into cocoons for future snacking purposes.
4827609
The more I like a character, the more I make their lives a living hell. Just look at what I put Twilight through in the trilogy itself. Obviously Azalea is growing on me. She's firmly planted herself in my Top Three favorite characters to write (Twi and Ebby from Taste being the other two) and I'm horrible to all of them.
Okay, top five. But only because Elizabeak gets two spots all to herself. Actually, a lot of supporting characters are getting more screen time than I anticipated. Scoots, Elizabeak, and Granny Smith have all been too much fun not to bring back. Probably why the size of the chapters has ballooned like it has.
4829725
Hey, longer chapters are in no way a bad thing, wait times aside. Characterisation I feel is one of your major strengths as a writer (at least if the TLT is representative of your greater work), so any chapters that show off those interesting side characters more are always welcome.
Finally caught up completely with the Time Loop Trilogy, all five of the fics. There are only five, right?
4841318
I guess that depends on how you count horizon's homage to the original, but the five I've written are the only 'canon' ones.
4841742 I'm actually reading that one right now after going through some of your other stuff.
4829725
I was less talking about the Regalia's behaviour (I agree, no way she could know about that) than the fact that killing Celestia and Luna would FUBAR the day/night cycle (like in the timeline where Fenris ate Celestia, and Starswirl and Luna failed to save her) - granted, she wouldn't actually have any first-hand knowledge of the consequences of that either, but the notion that killing the beings who control the sun and moon might have bad consequences isn't too much of a stretch to expect - since in the dark timeline, Queen Sparkle obviously managed to keep things going, did Chrysalis already have a plan to handle the lack of Celestia and Luna? For that matter, was Queen Sparkle doing anything about the sun and moon, or was she just mind-controlling Luna into doing it?
I think I may be thinking about this way too much. Then again, the whole modus operandi for the Changelings, right from Canterlot Wedding, makes very little sense compared to just integrating into society, creating 'new' pony identities (obviously not that difficult, in your 'verse at least, given what we've seen here....) and, you know, <i>not</i> making everypony hate them.
My personal preferred explanation: Chrysalis is a megolomaniac who doesn't have any sufficiently intelligent/trusted advisers to point out how dumb her plans are.
Oh my!
Poor Blossomforth... Poor Cloud Kicker...
ooooh damn
That presents an interesting dilemma: Is Azalea "really" Azalea? Cloudy and Kicky obviously are distinct individuals despite their memories, as are any other living pairs; Scootaloo is obviously herself since she never even had an original. Azalea is the only one who is basically the swampmare. Since nobody in Ponyville knew her original, this only gets resolved much later when she meets Azalea's parents who treat her as their daughter
.
Oh hey, I was wondering when he'd show up. Somehow I'm reading those swearing-filled lines in the voice of Peter Capaldi. Appropriate for a, heh, fucking time-traveler.
Azalea's old life is almost more depressing than her death...
4856004
I think the answer falls somewhere grayer than a simple yes or no. When we get to some of the Trottingham chapters and start meeting her family I'm sure it'll come up. I've already started sketching down initial ideas for a somewhat one-sided conversation Az will be having with the original Azalea's gravestone