I-solation

by Lapis-Lazuli and Stitch

Day 3

I-solation

Day 3

For whatever reason, I wake up really late the next day. And I’m not tired or sleepy, which I guess is a little bit of an improvement from waking up yesterday in the train station. I stretch anyway, since it helps work out all the soreness in my legs from walking so much. And for the record, that’s the first thing I notice. I’m sore just about everywhere. I can still move and walk and turn my head and swish my tail, but every one of those things just feels ten times harder. The fact that it seems to take effort at all is stupid. Normal stretching doesn’t seem to do the trick, so I shake off that gross coat (which is now damp to go with the oily thanks to my dumb brain) and sit up.

Bringing my head off the ground tells me why I slept so long though. Beforehoof, I couldn’t hear anything but the gurgly sound of the boilers, and even sitting upright, I can barely make out the noisy peasants shuffling around outside the nook I’m in. So I guess even if they are ugly, the boilers are good for something. I shake my head and go back to stretching each of my legs one at a time. I think I squeal at some point when my left foreleg seems stiffer than the rest, but it’s too short for me to be sure. In the end, I feel like I’ve done my limbs more harm than good with how achy they are now, but I decide I should maybe just wait out the majority of the soreness before heading out again.

Not that I want to go back out there. That much I know for absolute certain. This city isn’t full of anything but dumb half-royals, cheap peasants, and idiot foals who don’t know how to actually sell something. There aren’t any stray bits lying around, they name their streets stupid things that are hard to keep right, and nopony has taken the time to learn who I am. Even Ponyville, the biggest hick town in Equestria, has taken the right step to learn who Diamond Tiara is. I’ve decided I hate everything about Baltimare, and if Princess Celestia wanted to burn it with the sun, I’d ask for a front-row seat.

But of course, even though Daddy apparently knows the princess, I haven’t been able to get to know her. Which means I won’t be able to convince her to melt everypony in this city. I stomp my hoof in the dirt and edge over to the crack of an entrance to the boiler nook. I need something else to think about other than how much I can’t stand this city. Normally, that would actually help me decide what to do (helped plenty of times with the Cutie Mark Crusaders), but it’s a little hard to give flank hurt to a whole stupid city. I wait until I don’t see pony legs passing by for a few seconds, and I peek my head out the entrance. I’m glad I have a scowl on my face, since the morning sunlight doesn’t hurt my eyes because of it. But I’m too furious to even have a smirk at that little bit of ‘good’ fortune.

My eyes dart to what part of the train station I can see from here, and I search for one of the big clock faces they have on the outside. It takes more seconds than I think are safe to find one, so I pull my head back and wait a few more minutes before watching the opening again. I have to repeat sticking my head out into the walkway of the idiots several times before I finally see the clock faces. The fact they’re hidden beneath the archway above the platform entrance is stupid enough, but it’s just my luck they’ve got something like five of the things all turned to different times. I huff-growl and whip myself back in with my boilers and sit against one of the them, crossing my forelegs over my chest. Sure, that’s helpful to some dork like Daddy maybe, but it’s not like mares like me are supposed to be able to learn that sort of thing. I mean honestly, how hard would it be to put those inside instead of out?

I should have known though. Baltimare ponies are all morons and are no help at all. And being smack in between two buildings, I can’t really guess what time it is by where the sun is. The only way that’d be helpful is if it were noon. And I can tell just by how I feel it’s definitely not lunch time. I’ve gotten myself into morning limbo again it looks like. That time of morning where there’s not enough time to really do anything before noon, but it’s still going to take forever for noon to get around if I do nothing. Ugh, this is not the kind of start to the day I wanted or needed.

I start tapping on a boiler pipe as I try to sort out my head. I’m not even really wanting to think about anything at the moment, but just getting my brain to that point is hard enough. I’m a flat-out, jumbled mess, and I can’t stand it. Of course, I realize that it’s not really me that’s so bent out of shape. Well, yeah, I am in the absolute worst of spots, but none of it’s my fault. Daddy didn’t check to see if I was coming onto the train with him, the royal ponies here don’t have eyes good enough to see a royal mare from another part of Equestria, and… and… UGH! None of it’s fair at all, and nopony seems to get it.

Somewhere inside, I’m vehemently opposed to crying anymore, but I just shove that idea away. I don’t care. I just roll over onto my side and don’t open my eyes. I let the tears leak out and try not to give my head a place to wander. But I can’t, and I start thinking about really stupid morbid stuff. I’m probably going to die in this dumb city. Right here surrounded by ugly, loud boilers. I’m going to starve instead of going out in a way that will be remembered. And nopony will know that I’ve even died for a while. I notice amidst all of it that I can’t even seem to cry right. I’m not sobbing, my chest isn’t breathing in bursts. I’ve just got tears rolling out my eyes which makes them feel all puffy and sore like the rest of me.

At some point (I lost track of time), one of the boilers cycles down, and the change in its tone does something in me. The tears stop and so do the thoughts of how I’m going to die isolated from the rest of the world that should be mourning me. NO! I’m not going to just lie here and fall asleep and never wake up. I’m going to have a full stomach, at home, in my room, with my mane brushed and taken care of by the servants I have. And just to rub it in Daddy’s stupid face, I’m going to come home in style and class. I stand up and wipe away what’s left of the tears and rub my eyes to get rid of as much of the redness as I can. I’m going to show them all. Every last one of their stupid little mugs.

I march out from behind the boiler half-alley with a grim frown of intensity on my face. I’ve got a plan, and nopony in this dingy city is going to stop me from getting away from their grossness. I don’t even bother taking the trashy coat with me. I’ll have things a hundred times better in the first class train car alone. I make it inside the train station and start looking around for their departure billboard. And instead of being right up front like it is in the dinky Ponyville station or hanging from the ceiling like in Canterlot and Manehattan, the postings are nowhere in sight. I whirl in place for a few seconds, trying to see in all directions past all the moving ponies blocking my view until I finally give it up. I push somepony out of my way and walk over to the nearest bench, not even bothering to look behind me at the startled and offended noises coming from whatever dork I moved from in front of me.

There’s already too many ponies trying to cram themselves onto the thing, so they obviously don’t care about what kind of pony has to touch their fur. I move around to the end of the bench, and after several tries which none of them seem to notice, I clamber onto the armrest, and from there, onto the back of the bench itself. It’s tricky to balance half of my body on the solid wood of the bench and the other half on the squirming and whining heads of the ponies underneath me. I manage it though, and I’m sure they’ll get over it. Idiots never remember who or what did anything to them in the first place.

Luckily, from my new vantage point, I spot the board pretty quickly and hop off the squished and doofus ponies before their yelling and hoof waving actually does anything. Whatever. I slip back into the crowd briefly so they can’t chase after me and get out of that gross, smelly mass as soon as I’m close to the board. The floor around it’s packed. Typical. Not one of these ponies obviously knows where it is they want to go, or they’d be like me. Standing back far enough, I can see the names and times just well enough to make out what they say, and as soon as I spot what I’m looking for, I turn right around and head for the ticket office. As if I need to think about where to go. If nopony knows me here, I’ll have to go someplace where I’m sure the classy ponies know me and will get me home. And since I’ve been there plenty of times, Canterlot is where I’m going.

There’s two lines at the ticket counter, one for receiving pre-bought tickets, and one for buying tickets on the fly. I’m never in the latter line and for good reason. Daddy makes all of these trips way in advance, so we never have to buy tickets the day of, but the ponies in the purchasing line are so much grimier than the ones like me. It has to mean they’re ponies from Baltimare, and as much as I hate getting in line with them and their unbrushed coats, I do it. I don’t know if it’s physically possible, but I think my scowl gets deeper when I realize I probably don’t look out of place in the line. But even if these idiots all look like they’ve all crawled out from under a rock, I can admit at least most of them know what they want and get moving out of the way. The stallion at the ticket counter can’t see me from his booth, and if he thinks I’m going to find something to lean up on to see him when he’s perfectly capable of reaching his head over, he’s gonna need a new job.

He doesn’t do it at first, which impresses me and makes me even more annoyed all at the same time. But when the muttering and grumpiness of everypony else increases to the point that he can’t ignore it, he edges over to look me in the eyes. “Yes?” he asks, and his tone is more holier-than-thou than any other adult I’ve ever heard. He’d have probably made my momma proud.

“Yeah, listen colt,” I demand to him. However much I loved Momma, I’m not her, nor am I in the mood to try to be civil. None of the ponies in this city deserve my best. “Tell me what the price of a first class ticket on the three o’clock train to Canterlot is.” He’s got this dorky little bowtie, as part of his uniform I’m guessing, and if the counter weren’t so high up, I’d grab it and pull him down a bit for emphasis. Instead, I have to settle for my hardest voice and deepest glare. I also give a solid kick to the stallion behind me who coughs in disbelief at my question.

“Two hundred bits up front, and another two fifty when you get there,” the pony says to me as blandly as possible. “Now stop blockin’ the line filly.”

“You’d better save one of those tickets,” I point my hoof at him as he straightens up back into his chair and motions for the stallion behind me (still wincing a little) to move up. He ignores me, but I’m gonna have the last laugh for sure when I show back up with the bits it’s going to cost. I don’t want to waste time, so I take off at a full run. Funny how ponies naturally jump out of the way when you’re running pell-mell toward them but won’t move if you’re just walking. I make a mental note of it. Could be useful for when I get home.

Even if I know what I’ll have to do, it doesn’t make me thrilled to have to do it. There’s only one way I’ll be able to get out of this stupid city, and it’s sitting on my head. Daddy bought me my tiara when I got my cutie mark. It’s a custom piece. The solid parts are made of white gold and platinum, the circle itself is studded with diamonds, and the pearls on top are the of the best, natural quality. I’ve never gone anywhere without it ever since Daddy put it on my head at my Cuticenera. It looks just like my cutie mark, and I guess I kinda look at as actually being my cutie mark too. It sounds so dumb to even think it, but it’s like a part of me. I’d never thought of getting rid of it or replacing it, even to get a bigger one as I get older. This one is the only one. But now, I’m about to sell it off for bits to buy a train ticket. I know Daddy can buy me another one when I get home, and I know he will too. But it’s not much comfort. I convince myself as I’m running down through the grimy streets of Baltimare that it’s doing just what a cutie mark is supposed to do. It’s keeping me on track for my destiny. I can’t be a royal mare like Momma if I’m stuck with these morons.

Normally, no matter how fast or slow I run, I can’t feel it on my head unless it slips off, but now I can’t help but notice how it’s weight seems to shift with every running bob of my head. I can feel the war in my chest over whether or not to give it up and just narrow my eyes and block it out. I’m not staying in Baltimare any longer than I have to. That three o’clock ticket is going to be mine. Once I think I’ve run long enough, I slow to a trot and start looking around at the gross, wrecked-looking buildings around me. They’re definitely beat down, so the place I’m looking for shouldn’t be too far away. There’s one in Ponyville, and it’s the only shop front that’s consistently nice-looking. Always has bright colors and big signs when nopony else can come close to affording them. Ha! There.

Even more than it does back home, the pawn shop in Baltimare sticks out like a sore hoof. Better yet, it sticks out like a dragon in a crowd of mice. A unicorn must run the place, since they’ve got flashing magic inside the store windows. Daddy’s gotten some nice things from these places before (or that’s what he says anyway), so put my face up the glass to check if there’s anything inside that looks like my tiara. There’s a lot of instruments, a lot, and several china sets that I can see. No jewelry from where I’m standing, but that doesn’t surprise me. It’s probably hidden so nopony can know how much they really have.

After all, ponies in this city probably steal just because they think it’s fun. They’re stupid enough. I shake my head and end up mouthing ‘no’ right then. Memories of jumping in the fountain are coming back. That wasn’t stealing, I say to myself. It was no different than if they’d just thrown them out into the street for anypony to find. “Oh! Just shut up!” I growl under my breath and angrily push the door open to the pawn shop. I don’t need to think about that right now. If I lose my nerve, I won’t get the bits I need out of this shop. I’m probably swindling myself asking for only four hundred fifty bits anyway, but… oh, no I don’t want to think about my tiara either.

I tense the muscles in my neck, focusing on looking straight ahead and not letting my head wander anywhere else either. There’s nopony at the counter like there should be, even though I just came in to the sound of a little jingling bell. I keep walking anyway and bang my hoof on the dividing wall since I can’t reach the chime. I wait and… nothing. I rap my hoof on the wall again, this time shouting, “Hey! Anypony in here?” That gets an answer. There’s some muttering from somewhere behind the counter, and I hear some frantic scuffling when somepony bangs a chair on a desk. I would know. It happens all the time when Daddy is expecting somepony at the house he wants to greet himself.

I take my tiara off then and pointedly decide not to look at it or think about how it feels between my hooves. The pony that comes to the counter is as dorky as they come. He’s about as thin as a candy stick, has freckles on one side of his face, and is wearing crooked glasses. I think his mane is the only reason he hasn’t died from how dumb he looks. It’s not too bad. “Yes, Ma’am. How can I help you today?” he asks me, and for once I’m getting the respect I deserve.

“I want bits for this,” I say and offer up my tiara. I’m glad he doesn’t know how much I hate even saying that or showing it to him like this. Could this sacrifice hurt any more? Does the counter have to be so tall that I’m forced to hold it up like a primitive offering or something else stupid? He doesn’t care what it means, as I can tell from the way his magic yanks my tiara from my hooves.

“Hmmm,” he hums to himself, and I glance up to see what he’s doing to it. I’m determined not to cry when I have to look at somepony else eyeing it like it belongs to them. He’s got his tongue in his cheek and’s rolling my tiara over and over in his magic. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “What are you looking to get out of it?” he asks me, and he sets my tiara down on the counter and lets go of the magic.

“Four hundred fifty… fifty… bits,” I manage to croak out despite my voice wanting to break.

“Steep, not unreasonable,” he muses, leaning his chin on his hoof and seeming to think for a moment. “If it’s real anyway. I’m going to guess you don’t have any official documentation that will make this easier for both of us.” I nod. What’s he getting at, official documentation? Any half decent jeweler would be able to take a look at my tiara and know immediately it’s real. “Then would you mind if I took a closer look with some instruments of mine? just so I can be sure myself of course.”

“My tiara stays here while you go get whatever it is,” I say, and my brain catches onto something brilliant even by my standards. “And you promise me the bits I asked for once you see it’s real.” I’m glad my face or voice doesn’t crack that time.

“You drive a harsh bargain, filly,” he laughs and leans under the counter with a grunt. “But it’s a deal,” he says when he comes back up, and he’s got a set of magnifying lenses in his magic. Some of the lenses he immediately sets aside and others he arranges in what I can only guess is a very specific order. I watch his every move with rapt attention just in case I think he’s about to try to pull something. He may be showing me the proper amount of respect, but he’s still the owner of a pawn shop in some dingy part of Baltimare. But he’s thorough if nothing else. It seems like he checks every inch of my tiara over like he’s looked at other fake ones before. He even switches out some of the lenses for the pearls and diamonds.

When he finally finishes and stows the lenses away again, he lets out a big, gusty sigh before looking at me. “Look, I can see you’re desperate for bits, but…” he sighs again and takes off his glasses and chews on one of the ear pieces. “It’s fake. The gold’s real, but it’s only a thin coating. I’d give you maybe… um… one fifty.”

“NO!” I scream, and I can feel my whole body trembling. “It’s real! I’ve had it forever! My daddy bought for me for my Cuticenera! He doesn’t buy fakes! I… It’s been looked at by professional jewelers in Canterlot!”

“Calm down, calm down,” he smiles nervously at me, trying to keep my tone like his.

“No!” I yell louder. “You’re evil!” I jump up and grab my tiara from off the counter and run out the door as fast as I can. It’s just… I can’t… I hold my tiara close to my chest and actually, really cry. I sob. I sniff. I shudder. It doesn’t make things feel any better. It actually makes things worse, but I do it anyway. I keep turning my little circlet over and over in my hooves as the tears drip off my chin and my heaving chest makes it harder to breathe right. Now it’s going to be next to impossible to let it go, I know it.

Except… “Hey, you okay?” a voice asks me, and I look up out of instinct more than wanting to know who it is that’s trying to get the attention of dirty, grimy, crying mare on the sidewalk. “What’s up? Low Value knock somepony else again?” There’s a stallion looking at me, and even though he’s a pegasus, he looks a lot like Daddy. He’s wearing an all black suit instead of the traditional style Daddy goes with, and he’s got a hat and a little scruff, but he’s definitely similar. Probably a decent business pony at least.

“H-h-h-him?” I hiccup and shakily point at the pawn shop. How am I supposed to know who Low Value is?

The stallion nods with a grim look on his face. “Thought so,” he tells me. “Guy’s got no talent at appraisal. You lookin’ to sell that crown there?” I nod, but don’t say anything, since another shudder goes up through my chest.

“Should be sinch at my shop,” he tells me and offers a hoof. “C’mon, I’m just around the corner from Value’s place. We’re kinda like competitors, except he’s got the street front.” I take his hoof, and he easily pulls me to my hooves for a stallion his size. Most pegasi in Ponyville are only strong in the wings. I put my tiara back on my head, but I can’t gather enough conscious effort to do or say much more than that. After all my time alone in Baltimare, getting help from some random business pony was the last thing I’d expected. Maybe… maybe I won’t have to sell my tiara after all. Maybe he’ll believe that I am actually the one and only Diamond Tiara and get me home or to Canterlot because he knows about Daddy.

“Just around here,” he says and directs my hooves to turn down an alley. Well no wonder he has trouble competing with a street front store. He doesn’t even have any signs pointing down here or anything. I’ll give him some advice to do just that. I wipe away my tears and sniff, and I’m about to turn to suggest it to him when I notice two other stallions coming down toward us from the alley. They’ve come out the only door and both are dressed just like this other stallion. Just as I’m about to stop and try to turn around on impulse, the pegasus holding my hoof bodily tosses me on ground.

I feel the breath pushed out of my lungs at landing so hard, and I have to cough at the suddenness. Already I can feel my brain screaming at me to get up. I know this is bad, I know these stallions are the worst of the worst, and I… I… I scramble to my hooves, and I don’t think my eyes could be smaller or my mouth more dry. All three of them are coming closer, and I try to back up, my mouth trying to say something, but I’m too shaky to get anything out. I bang one of my hind legs on a trash bin and fall on the ground again. “Please! Don’t!” I scream. A million things are flying through my head, and I only know I don’t want any of them to happen.

“Oh, shut up,” one of the stallions grunts at me, and before I register what’s happening, a hoof slams into my chest. I cry out, but that only hurts worse and trying to stand and run even more so. I stumble backward, coughing and feeling tears coming at the sharp, burning feeling in my middle. “I… I… please…” I stutter, descending into a coughing fit that only makes me wince more.

“He said shut yer trap,” another one of the stallions growls, and another hoof hits me in the side of the face. I feel his hoof on my face still as I collapse on the ground, and it’s a white hot searing sensation. My hooves are shaking as I try to touch where he hit me, but they never get there.

“Gives us the crown you brat, and we’ll stop after this!” the first one laughs, and I actually scream when he bucks me in the flank. I roll over and over until I hit the other side of the alley wall, and I can feel the bricks scraping up my back. But nothing else hurts worse than my flank. I can’t help whimpering and shaking my hooves at the three of them as two keep walking closer.

“Enough!” the one who brought me here says, grabbing the other two with his wings and pushing them back. “He said get the tiara! You guys are real nut-jobs. That’s a kid! Now grab the jewelry and get back inside!”

“Shove off!” I can hear one of them hiss, but my eyes are starting to blur, so I’m not sure which. I just… I just want to go… go to sleep. It hurts. It all hurts so bad. I can’t even move without hurting somewhere. I feel somepony taking my tiara without my permission, and I try to say something and reach with my hooves, but all I get is a sharp slap across my cheek. I’m knocked to my other side, and when I hit the cobblestone again, all I can remember is how much I hurt, and that I’ve had a part of me taken away.

Comments

[Inky Jay]

4019655
I know what you mean. Though, this story is kinda interesting to edit. In order to get the next chapter out on time according to the challenge, I have to turn around and edit what I just finished writing immediately. It's a bit of a drain, looking over it so soon. Glad I haven't let anything more than what you caught slip through the cracks because of that.

[silverMEGAlicorn]

Ohhhhhh I'm trying so hard not to insert my OC into this story! I really want to, but only with your permission!

[vullture]

You are really following through with this challenge well. Getting them out faster then I can read em.