Necessary Love

by Zurock

Chapter 18: Within

The lobby of the Passion's Embrace extended the trend of merging commercial vacation with personal retreat.

It was a nearly cube-shaped room with a ceiling raised high enough to consume the second floor, and its depth almost assuredly reached through the whole building. There were four corridors that served as exits to elsewhere inside and they were dispersed evenly: two on each side, with one on each level.

The wealthy grandeur of the Baltimare hotel was not (and financially speaking could not be) present, but all the same there was an effort to be almost as enchanting. The chandelier above wasn't a ballet of crystal droplets or a massive airborne crown wrought from gold, but it was large, pretty, and decorative; carved from local wood and holding aloft many vibrant flowers. A central stairway emerged from the tiled, speckled floor and rose away from the entrance, connecting up to a gallery that ran high all the way around the room. The staircase was bold with its size and placement, and the carving of the twirled banisters was very finely done, but otherwise the ascent was only a functional piece that was little adorned.

Paintings hung on the walls of both levels, done in many different artistic styles, and they breathed most of the color and culture into the lobby space. But despite the effort at stylistic diversity there was a plain lack of variety: all of them captured some equivalent expression of ponies bonding closely, and every piece was quite obviously done as an experiment by the same local artist, having subtle qualities that fast became stale to the eyes. Everywhere else in the room that didn't have such artistic touches was merely plain white stone.

There was no need for the guests to check in, nor even a desk for them to do so at! Instead the crowd of baggage handlers, STILL not able to stand in a formation with any shapely order, waited for them near the base of the stairs. The island hosts held center stage. Venus remained red with tenderness, her eyes often kissing the mute and glowing Vesuvius, though she put forward a collected effort to keep her focus on more immediate tasks.

The seven guests were themselves gathered silently, most of them not yet finished with dusting under their mental rugs the disquieting previous outburst of their eighth friend. Their attentions swarmed about rapidly, eating up whatever distractions the room presented them with. Little note seemed to be made of this evasive behavior by the islanders, perhaps distracted themselves, or maybe they presumed that the guests were overwhelmed and taking in the experience.

James walked in through the propped open double doors, last to arrive. He was looking down at his hand, itself busy shuffling about in one of his pockets. When he finished ruffling about he withdrew his hand and patted the bulge on his thigh with a gentle slap of security.

His attention returning, he reached and stood besides his friends, bearing a grin which was politely sheepish; half-mannerly for the islanders and half-penitent for his companions.

Any glances his friends gave him were still exceptionally fast and mildly unnerved, but again there was no real coldness on their part. He was sort of just an unsettling elephant squashed between them at present.

"Right then!" Venus announced with pleasure. An enthusiastic but absentminded brand of haste pervaded her. "The dining room is on the first floor, to your right," she pointed to the hall on her left, barely pausing as she continued to race through her directions, "just through there. Before we share a meal though, our ponies will guide you to your individual rooms. Please follow whichever pony has your bags." Hurried, she forgot entirely about Spike's bags being swiped by the wrong pony. "Take some time to explore your rooms, rest from your travels, and so forth. We'll have somepony come and get you when it's time for dinner."

With a bow to her guests, a rapidly blurted goodbye, and a nod to the baggage-bearing ponies, she was away. Her Vesuvius was dragged along with her while he tried to get out his own fast farewell. They left in the direction of the dining room, though whether they were on their way specifically there was unknown. Again they were speaking to each other softly, hidden delights buried in their whispers, and they walked so squeezed together as to be one pony.

Each islander turned their eyes to their respective guest, not all with the same light; some invitation here and there, some withdrawn reserve elsewhere. Twilight and her friends obediently stepped forward to follow, and with that the many concierges all turned and began to climb the central stairs.

The only outlier was Spike. Scratching his chin and wobbling his mouth in uncertainty he kept trading his glances about. He would look at the ascending Sweet Nothing, heavy with jostling luggage as the pony carried himself up the steps with ease. Then he would look at the waiting Summer Wind, the pegasus more and more lowering her head forward with a gaze that requested he follow.

At last the large pony had to actually come before the undecided dragon and direct him, "Mister Spike? I know you gave me nothing to carry but... you're to follow me."

"Oh, I know," he hiccuped. "I mean... I figured as much."

By the way he hesitated and stared it became clear to Summer Wind that he wasn't actually confused as much as he was troubled. "Is... is something wrong, sir?" she asked.

"It's just," he pointed up the steps at the rest of the climbing group, wincing a little since he felt like a burden, "that guy has all my stuff. I put my things with Rarity's, to make it easier to carry." A flash of the dark stallion snatching everything came back and the dragon drooped from sour annoyance.

"Hm? Oh." Once the pegasus noticed her charge was fingering Sweet Nothing everything linked up in her head; no doubt more problems springing from that troublesome pony. She followed her immediate instinct. "I'm sorry about him, sir," she couldn't help herself from groaning her apology.

"What? You didn't do anything," Spike said, momentarily hit by some actual confusion. He then staunchly insisted to her, "You shouldn't have to apologize for him."

"I-..."

Although it was a simple gesture by the dragon it still caught Summer Wind rather unexpectedly. Between breaths her recoiling surprise turned over into an impressed smile.

"Thank you. For your understanding," she accepted.

"It's no problem," he replied, so casual as to not realize how his niceness had touched her.

However his actual concern was not yet addressed, and he squirmed slightly. "But..."

Any thoughts inside the pegasus of fulfilling stiff responsibilities morphed entirely into an easygoing wish to show kindness and respect where it was due. Much more relaxed now, she bent down so that she might not tower over the small dragon so terribly. A gentle glow about her face, she kindly offered, "How about this? Let me show you to your room first, and then I'll go with you and help you retrieve your things from your friend's room?"

Problem solved, Spike lit up. "Oh! Okay, sure!" A genuinely fun and carefree nobility danced into him, and he threw an open claw forward towards the stairs. "Lead on, please," he happily requested.

"Hehe. Right this way."

Trotting along quickly, less to catch up to those ahead than to avoid falling too far behind, she climbed the stairway with the dragon in tow. An enormous pony by all standards, she could take leaps and bounds up the steps with her natural gait, no wings needed. It was only halfway up the flight that the worried thought entered her about the dragon's much smaller stature. The stairway's mimicry of grandness meant that it had some fairly tall steps; leaps which could present a struggle for the little guy since each rise was practically half his total height. Perhaps she should have offered to carry him up?

She peeked back.

Size didn't disrupt Spike in the slightest; not his nor the stair's. He followed her closely and easily. The peppy energy powering his feet let him bounce from step to step, popping his way up without strain or distraction.

Summer Wind grinned in delight, and carried on up without a word.

When the island ponies reached the top of the stairs they split apart. Gallowayo, Nosedive, and the one who held Applejack's saddlebags in his teeth turned left; Sweet Nothing, Hulahoof, Prism, and Humble Herd went right.

Twilight and her friends stalled for a moment, partially startled at this unpredicted and unexplained separation. Slowly they picked up their hooves to follow their designated ponies again, and with shrugging goodbyes they traded impromptu glances or whispers of farewell. They split as implicitly directed.

Not long after, catching up with robust speed, Summer Wind whipped left at the top and the stairs and Spike naturally followed, evening out the two groups as they progressively drifted apart.

Though the originally large group had been divided into two halves the guests felt squeezed together more tightly walking around the thin gallery. In Twilight's group there was an awkwardly cold silence that came upon things, driven mostly by Rainbow Dash and Applejack quietly harrumphing at each other. They had been unfortunately pushed side by side between the vice of the wall and rail, and neither of them seemed content to let the other pass ahead even if it would create breathing space; obstinance whether from pride or spite. If their battle was relatively silent now it was only perhaps because James' uncivilized rant had put a tight-lipped damper on their moods, not because the war had cooled.

Modestly holding back her dismay so as to avoid alerting the island ponies, Twilight tried to nonchalantly insert herself between her two not-so-secretly bickering friends. It worked insofar as shoving herself into the tight system essentially forced one of the fighters to fall back so that there would be room. It was Applejack who relented, grousing hoarsely to herself, and yet NOT about the purple pony either.

It bothered Twilight that her two friends still hadn't resolved their differences despite the farm pony's earlier promise. She had sworn that if trouble between them worsened then she would come forward and discuss it openly with the pegasus. That seemingly hadn't happened yet, so did Applejack still believe she was courteously enduring some of Rainbow Dash's excess personality? Or had she lost sight of her intentions amidst all the frustration? There was still hope that the quiet serenity of this vacation could produce solutions, and the unicorn would have been on top of assisting with that if there wasn't a more pressing matter in her mind.

Speaking of that most pressing matter... there would be a chunk of time before dinner... Maybe also... in this window of time right NOW... she could perhaps request-

The island ponies lead them through an arched opening and into a white corridor which stretched all the way through the left side of the building. It half-resembled a standard hotel hall: closed doors to guest rooms lined the corridor, staggered on either side so that no one door faced another, and a rosy carpet shot down the center unbroken from one end to the other. But like the lobby the hallway tried to achieve some unique form of artsy ambiance, again with questionable success. Across from every door was a short stone stand holding a vase of savory-smelling flowers or displaying a piece of rounded pottery, and behind that decor hung more of those repetitive paintings of lover ponies. Down at the far, far end of the hall was the exit onto one of the terraces, the doorway out appearing from there as only a minuscule box of light.

What interrupted Twilight's spontaneous plan was that immediately inside the hall, right next to the arched opening they had come in through, was another open doorway. No sooner had they started into the hall did the already halved group halve again! Gallowayo and Nosedive turned and slipped into the new doorway while the chocolate-colored earth stallion continued forward. Summer Wind went straight as well, closing the freshly cleared space quickly.

Again the guests shared a delayed moment of skeptical thought at this unexpected breaking before they merely surrendered to doing what was expected of them.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash followed their ponies, discovering that the new doorway lead into a tall stairwell. Steps ran both up and down, built of evenly sized climbs with landings every half-story, and by looking over the spiral banisters one could see that any of the five floors could be reached. Naturally the ponies leading them were ascending.

Applejack and Spike trailed their ponies straight ahead, giving sideways glances back at the doorway through which their friends had disappeared. The farm pony sighed with tired relief at finally having a reprieve from her persistent thorn, though she wasn't without notice that things seemed to have gotten awfully sparse pony-wise. Spike, also juggling some perplexity at the diminishing number of nearby friends, gave her an ignorant shrug.

Over on the other side of the building the same scenario played out. The other group of islanders and friends had entered a mostly identical hallway; instead of an open terrace at the extreme end there was the numbered door to a room. Once inside the corridor, some of the leading ponies also broke off to enter an immediate stairwell. In this case Sweet Nothing, Hulahoof, and Humble Herd all went to climb to a higher floor, with Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy following them after a short exchange of peculiar pauses.

It left James alone in the second floor hall with Prism; a development which actually caused him to break to a stop. He kept a long stare upon the doorway his friends had left through, and one of his eyebrows sat unsettled. It probably only FELT weirder than it was that they had all vanished so suddenly.

True to the advice Venus had given, Prism seemed particularly excited for this solitary opportunity. Instead of continuing to lead on or otherwise encouraging him not to delay she simply stayed there waiting without a word, his bag still caught by her magic and floating besides her.

Before the man even turned around he was able to sense her lingering presence. Her many colors made for a sort of inescapable flare whose tendrils of vibrant light could reach around his turned back and seize him, all powered by a brimming kind of eagerness which was hard for him to understand.

As soon as he did face her again she pounced, saying enthusiastically, "Your room is nearby! Just this way, sir!" She went to lead, but all the speed she had used before in order to keep pace with the group was now entirely absent.

"'James' is fine, thanks," the man offered. "'Sir' sounds a little weird to me, depending on who it comes from."

He very actively endeavored to slow himself down so that he might keep obediently behind her but her speed was lagging so horribly. Tiny step after tiny step, it was like she was snatching the remaining moments and stretching them further and further, as far as she could take them. Eventually the unnatural crawl was too much for him to handle and he wound up succumbing to walking alongside her. Even then the trudge was brutal.

"Oh, of course!" she accepted his instruction, alight with such glee at his giving her a more personal permission. It shined through her somewhat flimsy shade of professionalism.

She inched along, more of her attention dedicated to looking him over and smiling at him than to the hotel task which was hers to complete; almost to the exclusion of watching where she was going. When she nearly tripped once she scarcely seemed to notice her mistake, correcting herself with continued fixation on him.

But the man held some doubt. Rather than risk being sidetracked towards wherever her private, distracted interests might lead he decided instead to probe her first.

"So what was with that?" he swiftly came out asking. Driving a thumb over his shoulder he pointed right at the stairs, and he wiggled his wrist about chaotically. "That... 'divide and conquer' and thing?"

"Hm?" No mistaken interpretation appeared upon Prism's face, nor recoil at what could have been taken as an accusation. She only gave herself a plain moment of thought before responding. "There'll be plenty of time to spend together with your friends while you are here," she assured him, "so, to each, a small amount of personal space, if they should need it."

"Ah." Though, what wasn't personal about having individual rooms even if they were clustered together on the same floor?

James decided to ask, "Are there any other guests here in this hall? Or am I going to be all alone?"

Her answer was immediate, though also fully ignorant of the first of his two questions.

"You don't have to be alone if you don't want to be," she said. Maybe she was just leaning in a little too much... but it almost seemed like she had edged closer to him.

"What?" he coughed in surprise, also clothed as a request for clarification.

"There's going to be many things to do," she told him, enthused. "Some activities which we've planned for you all..." The different scheduled affairs danced through her mind, and she grinned to herself. "... And also some free time that you can spend how you wish...," she grew hopefully quiet, "... and with whom you wish."

Suddenly she snapped up and skipped ahead. One of the doors on the right had grabbed her and pulled her in. His room, undoubtedly.

The door itself felt much larger than it needed to be; two ponies walking abreast could fit through with ease. Tall, the peak of the curved top very nearly reached the ceiling. No visible hinges; it probably (and logically) opened inwards. No knob or handle either, though that was often typical of pony door designs. It was composed of thick, sturdy, bleached wood, and adorned only with a designation and a hardy lock. A thin plate of gold was stamped barely above a pony's eye height, shaped in the now-familiar design of two pony heads nose-to-nose, and upon it the room number was etched in a loose and loopy script.

The man looked over his shoulder at how much ground they had traversed with their mind-numbing hobbling. His assigned chamber wasn't far into the hall at all; only a few doors down from the lobby doorway and the stairwell. By far the distance was greater to reach the other end of the hall.

He grunted to himself and let his idle eyes look about. Across from his door the chosen space-filler was an unremarkable pot of bluestar flowers. The painting on the wall behind them drew his notice however.

Brightly colored but done entirely with large blotches which consequently fuzzed all the details, it depicted two ponies laying close together on their backs in rest. Hooves on each other, they reclined under the shade of an interesting tree whose crown grew quite tall and thin. The fruits hanging from the branches were not particularly numerous nor identifiable due to the image's sloppy style, but each one was made from red and yellow splotches weaved together, and they were all somewhat lopsided and bulbous towards the bottom.

While he silently explored, Prism brought her hoof up and gently fiddled with the lock on the door. Not in any specific way, though. There wasn't even much to fiddle with! No keyhole or lever, or any other obvious way to engage with the device.

Circular and large, bigger than her hoof in fact, the lock was embedded in the right side of the door. The whole of it was milled from a metal which had a matte finish, leaving it with an old appearance, though one of unbreaking strength. From its more extruded outer rim it fell in towards the center. Within that central divot was an opening which left some of the deadbolt mechanism visible, and the bolt itself seemed incredibly stout; a railroad spike stuck inside the door.

It seemed by her brief inspection that the pony was only checking to be sure that it had been left unlocked. Upon seeing it so she happily and swiftly pulled her hoof away.

She looked back at her charge, and once again she waited patiently until his wandering focus came back to her. Once she was sure that he was watching, her magic embraced the knobless door and pushed it open. After it drifted inwards enough to clear the way, she twisted her neck towards the entrance in an inviting gesture.

"Your room, James."

He thanked her with a nod and crossed the threshold.

Again the room's design made clear the islanders attempt for a specifically-defined aesthetic. It at least assumed unabashedly the same general form of a hotel room: bed, dresser, bathroom, closet, and so forth, all with fairly typical placement. The room's scale was slightly greater; not quite equal to the suite in Baltimare but much more spacious than a usual two bed chamber at any other hotel; remarkable considering it was a room for one.

Somehow though it tried so hard not to evoke the commercialized feel of a hotel. It made itself almost out to be a personal study; some place of familiar privacy which was intimate with comfort. The make of the furniture did not have the dry gleam of standardization; no banal repetitiveness which would have come from a factory floor. Every piece stood out in its own personalized way. And the far wall where windows should have been expected was instead blocked by a gray curtain that hung ceiling to floor, from beyond which sunlight was pouring forth. What glow broke through the veil which guarded the balcony illuminated the room with cheery ease. At night, light was instead provided by a few sconces which dotted the room; fashioned in the same kissing-ponies mold and meant to hold heavy, powerful candles. Even more light could be had from a lamp on the nightstand, shaped like an enormous bead and controlled by a rotating dimmer switch which allowed brightness of any desired level.

There were a few more little touches that blatantly or discretely tried to yank the room away from pure, reusable business. Instead of a small table with a chair or two, suitable for a hurried breakfast, there was a full desk; an honest-to-goodness sit-down-and-get-some-work-done desk. It was even readily equipped with papers, envelopes, quills, ink, and more. No less than four of the hotel's ubiquitous paintings were present. The bathroom didn't feel like an extra closet with functional washroom fixtures crammed in; to step inside gave a sense of being slightly dwarfed, like the space was intended for somepony unusually large or perhaps even two ponies together. Across from the bed, set in a thin frame which was secured unwaveringly to the wall, was a massive mirror that towered from floor to ceiling, nearly four feet wide; almost creepy with the sense of self-voyeurism it represented.

James wandered towards the center of the room, taking it in as he went. For what was only supposed to be a place for him to sleep... it WAS nice. His suite in Baltimare had been impressive for bluntly superficial reasons, but why he should find this space MORE impressive wasn't really obvious to him. Something about the balance of it? Not overly extravagant or regal, which was a state of class he simply couldn't get used to. Not foreign like the Ponyville Library occasionally felt (though by benefit of time, and the making of friendly memories, that sensation had slowly been diminishing.) Not sterile like a bland hotel chamber cleaned and reset after every stay. It had just enough of that familiar lived-in feel; that old scent of memory which he could have mistaken for dreams of his own recall; to take on a personal aura. It simply breathed a homelike peace.

How pleased he was came off in how he stood, more than readable enough for Prism to lift her beaded tail with elation and take a few steps in after him. She was so intently fixed on the man that her magic sloppily discarded his bag on the dresser's edge, and it nearly dropped to the floor and spilled its contents.

"So, what do you think?" she eagerly questioned him.

"I like it," he nodded. "It's going to be hard to drag me out to the beach when I can just relax here."

"I'm glad you approve!" she crowed. Then, vigorously, "If there is anything you feel is missing, or anything at all you need to make your room more comfortable, please just let me know!"

"Thank you. I will."

The man gestured in gratitude towards her and then visually explored the room again. The flood of brightness pouring out from around the curtain at the back called to him.

Intuitively he knew what lay pass the faintly swaying cloth but regardless he wondered what exactly the view beyond the veil looked like. His curious steps lead him forward until he reached the curtain and he laid a careful hand around one end, gripping it tightly enough to feel the velvet slide between his fingers. It was somewhat coarser than might be expected but still fine to the touch, and quite warm from resting in the sun's heat. At last he drew in a breath and evenly pulled the curtain aside.

Automatically his other hand shaded his eyes as the full love of the sun beat past him, washing the room with immaculate glory. Hand remaining raised he walked out onto the balcony.

The stone protrusion didn't have dimensions much wider or deeper than a typical car, poking out only a small amount and with slightly more space available to pace side-to-side. Still, there was enough room to share the provided vista with a guest or two, whether standing up or relaxing on borrowed chairs. Stocky, stone bars supported the rounded railing, hoisted to the right height for a pony but otherwise a little too short for him. He hardly felt unsafe though, being sure of his balance and in addition only one story up. Bending forward steeply, he leaned on the rail and looked out.

The front gardens were immediately below him, green where not blooming with vivid colors. Beyond, at the sand's dying edge, the small cookhouse and drink stand still rested, waiting peacefully to be of use. The further white shore rippled its way down to the churning water, and then serene swirls flourished beyond, all the way to the forever blue horizon where sea kissed sky. Warmth filled it all and greeted his vision; the late day sun was only beginning to paint the view with sleepier colors.

Stupendous. Outright stupendous.

Everything felt so good. Right there... wrapped in the mellow island breeze... caressed by the burgeoning evening heat... it became unbelievably clear to him how much a vacation was exactly what the doctor ordered. In all his work to reorganize his LIFE in Ponyville he had seemingly forgotten that LIFE itself was sometimes a chore which had to be escaped from. For brief periods at least.

James sucked in one last soothing breath on the balcony, holding it for a perfect moment before he released it to the wind, which carried his air to sea. Content, he eased around and stepped back inside.

Some surprise nicked him when he saw Prism still standing within the room, unmoved from her few paces in at the door. It wasn't a big shock; she had a colorful presence whose coming and going seemed hard to ignore. The jolt mostly came from having unthinkingly assumed she would have left after her guiding task had been completed.

But no real worry crept into him either because of her continued presence. While her behaviors he still regarded as unusual at best, they had generally become at least less off-putting with each shared moment.

When his eyes acknowledged her without any dismissal or rejection she took it as an invitation. Thrilled, she penetrated further into the room and asked unhesitantly, like a youth scrambling through the pages of a story to devour it, "Where are you from?"

"Somewhere far, far away from here," came the man's somewhat idle answer.

It wasn't his intent to sound so unobliging of her but her chosen question was one he had no particular interest in fully answering, and more so he was still quite mired in some of his own thoughts. There was enough rumination in him to anchor his manners down below an honestly respectable level.

He wandered over to the bed, taking a soft seat down on the green hoofspun quilt which was folded over the end. He sat such that he could face the pony as he chose, or gaze elsewhere if he needed.

His shallow rudeness certainly didn't seem to damper Prism's spirit at all. She pressed in. "Ooh. What's it like?"

"A little same, a little different," he quietly compared his home to Equestria. "Not always in the ways you expect."

For another time her eyes were all over the man, scanning him. Her crawling probe moved up his leg and torso; her drooling indulgence plodded its way down his body.

"And... what are humans like?" she asked in a deepening voice.

Venus had given James fair warning of this pony's curiosity, and once more it seemed true that the island host hadn't been wrong. Prism was so mesmerized, absorbing him in sight, sound, and smell; every sense open to taking him in. Yet he found that he couldn't separate her inquisitive desires from the... stronger, pursuing behaviors... his native biology was familiar with, and it rubbed against him in an uncomfortable way.

However... Twilight had been uncompromisingly firm about pony sexuality; if 'sexuality' was even a valid term with how restricted it apparently was. If that was so then whatever he was seeing in Prism was clearly some kind of social mistranslation; some eccentricity on her part that tingled his mature human senses in a false positive way. Hadn't all of his friends earlier noted that the island hosts' conduct had been UNUSUAL in its lusty affection but yet NONE of them had assumed anything truly salacious? It took them a terribly long time to even dip into such thoughts during his everlasting airhorn of euphemisms.

One thing that he knew ponies and people shared beyond all truth was diversity. It wasn't extreme to think that, of ALL the ponies in ALL of Equestria, there existed a small few for whom the very idea of love got them excited in some kind of physically flamboyant way. Or, additionally, that there existed a pony like the one who was before him. One who it seemed suffered from a full-bodied worldly curiosity for the exotic.

And honestly... with only the exception of the awkward shadows surrounding her... the unconstrained attention she had been affording him didn't feel all that bad. Actually he felt his enjoyment inch slowly higher as he thought about it.

The past few months in Ponyville had mostly been rehabilitation through regular good old times with close friends. Only now and again had he gotten serious interactions with ponies extending outside of his circle; the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Princess Celestia, Poppy, and the like; most others saw expected neighborliness and no more. No doubt Twilight would have probably graded extending himself to new ponies in friendship as a positive development, and she would have recommended that he pursue such while he worked at creating a new life in Equestria.

So, as long as Prism was so fascinated by him, and so eager to give him free reign to approach her unabashedly as himself... was there a reason NOT to test this for friendship?

"Humans? Kind of like ponies," his busy mind spared some time to answer her question. It was hard to resist conjuring up related images, the bubbles of memory puffing out like smoke tooting from a chimney: the madness of the Ponyville market, the days sweating on the farm with the Apple family, the camaraderie with his rainbow-maned amigo, the shelves and shelves of library books tended to by an insightful and delightful nerd (and resident pal of a dragon,) the 'war' and peace at Hamestown and Heartwood, the beautiful and bouncing filly who was inescapably full of so much adoring love...

"A little same...," he repeated tenderly, raising a palm.

More thoughts stormed into his head. Memories of a dissimilar kind; some of the struggles great and small he had seen so far in this new land. And not the least of those memories was his recent witness of Twilight's complete mental meltdown at the merest pinprick of sex.

His other palm came up and he repeated, now in confession, "... A little different..."

And with those passing remembrances floating about in his brain his inner conscience delivered him a scolding thwack on the back of his head. Letting go of some natural inhibitions and seclusive reluctance for the sake of exploration was most probably a good thing... but... maybe... JUST MAYBE... he should get his damn priorities straight? Perhaps he should not so quickly and selfishly ignore the ponies - the FRIENDS - who had been so dedicated to him; the ones that he already had obligations to?

Twilight had clarified just how much of a contemptible assault on their sensibilities he had unleashed, and it skewered him with guilt. He could have avoided crossing the line; enough hints had been there; so it was on him to do right and fix things.

Though, if he was being honest with himself, he really would have preferred to procrastinate with the help of his present pony company. His stupid ass had such a tough time with the bitter pills of apology.

Again his conscience fought back against diversion, this time donning a disguise familiar and beloved. His mind's eye showed him Poppy, so brokenhearted and distraught at his choices. But underneath she still had her faithful smile, knowing without a shred of doubt that he was in his heart better than that.

One of the man's resting hands patted his right-front pocket, feeling the stony bulge within. There were things that he had to do. And if Poppy weren't enough inspiration then he could always draw more kindness from another pony whom he deeply admired.

Very well.

There would be time for Prism; plenty of time. Just not time right now. Lessons in friendship called his name.

"You're," the rhythm of James' voice abruptly changed, "supposed to come and get me when it's time for dinner, right?"

The new sound coming from him caused an unfounded guilt to snag the unicorn's face by surprise, dragging it down with the rest of her shrinking body. Slightly panicked, she replied, "Y-Yes..." Then quickly conciliatory, she pleaded, "I... If... if, sir, I've overstayed my welcome-"

"Oh, no, no. It's not that," he rushed out, pushing off the bed. Shaking free of his mental shackles he tried affirmatively to bring out his better side, pouring it into his posture, tone, and understanding. He worked to assuage her, "I'd really love to chat with you for a bit when there's time but... well, there's just some other things on my mind right now. So all I meant with my question was: I don't think I'm going to be in my room when you come back around."

"Oh...?" As suddenly as her painful shame had earlier appeared it was drained out and replaced with general confusion. She stood up fully again, staring at him.

In searching for an explanation to give her he realized something, and he reached out to her with an open hand and a simple, beckoning smile, saying, "Actually I could use your help."

The opportunity for service before her, any slight disarray remaining died in the face of wonder, and she listened intently.

He spoke, "I need some directions."

---

Sweet Nothing, even heavy with Rarity's luggage, lead the way up the stairs. Though he marched forwards he kept quite an attentive eye backwards on his chosen mare whenever he could, and not overly outpacing her was the sole reason he hadn't already blitzed up the steps to be rid of his compatriots Humble Herd and Hulahoof. Carefully he played his speed, moving slow enough so that Rarity would not lose him yet with just enough haste that she had to chase him a little to keep up, which she gladly did.

The energy of the four remaining ponies was altogether different; repressed and ill.

Humble Herd plodded up the stairs on the outer extreme, his face mostly locked to the steps beneath him. Anytime he picked up his gaze to look back he saw Fluttershy following some distance behind him, several steps further down than she needed to be. Even with that wide space, when circumstances slowed him by any amount then she took immediate, wincing notice and slowed down herself. Perhaps her walk was driven by pity, only making a token effort to keep up with him...

The most obvious thing he noted about her was that she spared nothing to keep her own eyes averted. Obviously she didn't find him fit to TOUCH with her gaze. The awful churning in his stomach would have sped him up to create an even safer space between them but he wasn't able to go any faster; Sweet Nothing was not far ahead of him. He rather desperately hoped not to have another engagement with the black stallion, as he still felt the ache caused by the earlier blow to his chest. From both sides nervous frustration plucked at his fears like a harp playing an off-tune melody.

Hulahoof was all smiles, as he always tried to be. With a steady stream of clippity-clops his rubber hooves bounced him up the stairs. It was an easygoing ascent with a perfectly regular rhythm: strike, leap, momentary floating, and drop to strike again; step after rising step, one at a time all the way, trading diagonal hoof pairs for each landing. Not even the bloated weight of Pinkie Pie's evershifting sack on his back pulled his cheerful skipping down.

But, of course, his buoyant appearance was in part a dedicated cover. He was actually quite focused on pouring his inner personality out as hard as he could. Every peek back at Pinkie Pie showed to him only a soul-sapped pony who didn't seem to really care whether she followed him or not. That sight was a more encumbering weight than all of the stuffed bags which he hauled.

The whole lot of them skipped by the third floor, but at the fourth floor Humble Herd and Hulahoof both broke off, exiting the stairwell. Achingly slow, though each for different reasons, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie followed them. Sweet Nothing, very content to have the dead weight distractions finally out of his mane, selected a new, perfect pace for himself which allowed Rarity to inch slightly closer to him as they continued on up the stairs.

The fourth floor hallway resembled the second floor closely. For instance the paintings and plants selected for display were obviously both the same and different. A single major change from the second floor's design stood out: a common area, for relaxation or pleasurable company, located immediately next to the stairwell and above where the lobby was positioned on the lower floors. It had dense, shaggy carpeting, several cushy seats (including four love seats,) some small tables, and a connection out to a moderately sized balcony in front. Through that lounge the hallway on the other side of the building could be seen, all the way down to the terrace.

Upon emerging from the stairwell Hulahoof stopped at the very first door on the opposite wall. The wholly numb Pinkie Pie followed up, closing the distance with slower and slower clops, speed decaying like a drifting vehicle coasting to a stop.

Humble Herd and Fluttershy however continued down the hall pass them. Both appeared miserably uncomfortable now that they only had each other for company, not to mention fearfully worried at having lost all potential allies should something risky occur, like needing to actual speak to one another. Too nervous to talk, and lacking other ponies to set a steady walking pace, their movements became erratic. Either one of them would secretly dread that they were going too fast or too slow and change speed, which in turn caused the other to dread the same and respond reciprocally and oppositely; a ludicrous, uneven, irregular, stuttering dance down the hall in silence.

The moments which ticked by in front of Pinkie's room were equally silent.

Hulahoof stood to the side, throwing inviting glances towards the door while working different brands of smiles across his face. None of the grins he tried on had any apparent effect on the dead stare of the pink pony, who only held still with her unchanging face of stone.

"Why don't YOU open it?" the blue pegasus at last suggested, still hopefully enthusiastic. "Go ahead! It's not locked." He shivered in anticipation.

Even the sunny sound of his voice took some time to finally sink through Pinkie Pie's consuming cloud cover, and at last she rushed forward with all the blazing speed of a turtle. The four steps she needed to take in order to be appropriately positioned in front of the door might as well have been four physically impassable minutes.

At last she arrived, barely a pony's length from where she had been standing, and she began to draw up her hoof like a crane throttling to reel in an immense slab of concrete. Finally her hoof stretched out to the door, tapping against it once with the softest of pats, and then she pushed weakly forward with a bit of a lean. No creak, or swish, or sound of any kind accompanied the door's gentle and floating swing open. Never once did the face of the pink pony register as alive.

BANG! WHIZZ! TWEE! WALLOOLOLOLOLOOP-POP!

A cacophony of whistling, whirring, ringing, dinging, clapping, slapping, and trilling toots sang as a snowstorm of navy blue and pretty pink confetti exploded out of the open doorway, shot forth from some kind of carefully rigged party trap. Crumbs of paper fluttered about, a few extra streamers jumped out and twirled through the air, and even a few small balloons drifted free; everything painted in only the same two colors.

"Ta-da! Welcome!" Hulahoof cheered, bouncing at his knees again and again.

Plenty of the falling confetti settled into the placid Pinkie Pie's mane as she stood there without having flinched at the noisy ambush. Due to their color the pink sprinkles partially camouflaged with her hair, thus she was left with an apparent case of gigantic blue dandruff. After the balloons came to rest on the ceiling and the last of the party paper collapsed to stillness on the floor she finally inched her head a few degrees towards the other pony. The subtle motion knocked loose only a small few of her new hair accessories.

"Yay," she grunted neutrally.

The smile stayed on Hulahoof's face, though the spirit behind it was slowly being strangled. His knee-bobbing died a drawn out, agonized death.

"Okay!" he eventually said, still forcefully bright. "So... this is your room. Head on in!" His guiding hoof pointed inside. "I hope you don't mind but I snazzed it up a bit."

Plodding pointlessly Pinkie Pie followed his direction, moving glumly in with her guidepony at her tail.

The room in most ways was naturally identical to James'. The few considerations that had been present for the man because of his size and shape had of course been retracted; a shorter chair at the desk, and so forth. She was also given a pink quilt for her bed instead of a green one.

What made her room ultimately unique was the aforementioned additions by Hulahoof. Bows of streamers were strung high along the walls, circling the room. Shorter individual ones hung from the ceiling in whatever places the blue pony had capriciously chosen to tack them. Small cut-outs of silly faces and frivolous things were taped over the paintings on the walls to make remixed, more ridiculous works. And, by Celestia, the balloons! Pink and blue, any that weren't floating free on the ceiling were tied all about: on the handle of every drawer of the desk and dresser; some on each of the four stumpy bedposts; more tied around the back of the desk chair; even more on every sconce! Not enough balloons to be a ball pit on the ceiling but enough to make the space feel a little crowded.

One last decoration stood out for being unmistakably made by hoof with some painstaking amount of effort. Hung above the bed's headboard was a string of paper letters, each one cut with extremely smooth precision into showy shapes with uniquely flashy curves. Every letter was tied where it needed to be in order to hold the whole message together using ribbons wound in bows like on a gift. The eye-catching advertisement, on two lines, screamed out joyfully:

WELCOME
PINKIE PIE

Much like the party trap that had peppered Pinkie Pie, every decoration in the room came in only two colors: a deep navy blue and a preciously peppy pink, and they were always mixed. Every set of balloons had at least two; one of each color. The cut-out amendments to the paintings were the same; solid shape additions of only those two colors. Likewise every letter of the sign above the headboard was pink and the ribbons binding them were blue. All the streamers that circled the room near the ceiling were done in twos, both colors wrapped and twisted intimately together.

Hulahoof stayed near the open door and began to finally set down the heavy haul which he had carried all the way from the dock, dropping his load against the wall. Whatever mind-boggling menagerie was in Pinkie's large, extra bag made a zoo of noises; thunder which sounded like iron ball bearings rolling over crinkly tin foil while pressing against something squishy and squeaky, growling a dimming laugh towards silence as it all settled into place. Her burdensome, overstuffed saddlebags also rustled and popped when they landed, before their upright shapes melted a little and they came to rest.

Feeling a million pounds lighter the pegasus arched his back, spaced his legs wide, and stretched up his stiff and now slightly misshapen wings. He pushed himself out, every limb reaching and expanding as much as they could, before he very suddenly whipped back like a rubber band, wobbling in place for a moment. Just like that he was all limber and loose again.

Eager to see what his extra attention to her room had earned him, he looked over at Pinkie Pie.

The pink pony still snailed forward, pathetically pacing her way inwards, neglecting to utilize her uninterested eyes. And she crawled. And she plodded. And finally she reached the center of the room, just besides the end of the bed. And then she sat, still facing away from the door and Hulahoof, her rear half-dropping onto her poofy tail with a flat splat.

For awhile he watched her, never failing to be hopeful that she might pipe up at any moment. And he watched. And he hoped. Still. It took a slow minute before he accepted that maybe he would have to encourage her.

"So... what do you think?" he tried, relatively jolly.

"It's good," she answered without a vibrant syllable, and likewise without ever having actually looked about the room.

"Oh. Mega-great. I'm glad." He waited again but she didn't add anything. So he tried once more, "Like the balloons? 'Balloo' them up myself! (Get it?)"

"Nice touch."

"Thanks!"

He waited.

Still.

... It was kind of like speaking to a broken mirror. A broken mirror that was also upside down AND backwards (however that worked.) And maybe also possessed by ghosts. Extremely, extremely boring ghosts.

Optimistically he tried again, "Do you need anything?"

"No."

At last his pleasant despair peeked through once more, just faintly leaking out of the cracks in his personality. He more quietly remarked, unsteady as he did, "Uh... I'll... I'll come get you when it's time for dinner...?"

"Okay."

"Right-o, then..." He began to turn away, wobbling awkwardly like he was trying to sweep his disappointment under his wings. "See you later," he called weakly.

"Bye." At no point had she even looked back at him.

Hulahoof exited into the hallway, drawing the door quietly closed behind him.

The strings of a balloon couple which had originally escaped from his earlier sprung trap were hanging immediately in front of him, and their entwined twisting tickled his nose. One of his hooves came up and twiddled the twirled strings while he stood wondering about what had happened. In that room was NOT the pony he had read about at all!

After a dreary moment he looked up at the two balloons, one as beautifully blue as him and the other a pretty shade of pink, and he watched the happy way in which they bobbed and danced together. He listened to how, as they kept playfully bopping into each other, their bumping noises sounded like rubbery giggles.

He sighed an uneasy sigh; an action extra uncomfortable for him as he seemed so incredibly unpracticed with the motion.

Grabbing the strings of those two balloons in his teeth he walked away.

Inside her room, Pinkie sat. And sat. And sat. Even without a pony watching over her she still was motionless; practically unblinking even. Not one thought was given to unpacking her things. Never a whim was felt to explore her room. No ounce of will whispered to her in any way; not to stretch, not to stand, not to laugh, not to sing, not to eat, not to feel.

And why should she? There really wasn't much use for an unfriendly pony, after all.

Perfectly preserved, the entire room came to a standstill.

At some point a knock came to her door, struck with a precise gentleness.

The timeless Pinkie Pie, ignorant of how much or how little the clock had moved, at last got up. She was resigned to zombie-ing her way through the upcoming dinner. Dragging herself there, the knock repeated several times before she managed to limp the door open.

"Hey, Pinkie. Good, you're here," Twilight very tenderly greeted. "Sorry if I'm surprising you. Rather than explore my own room I just asked Gallowayo for directions to the rest of you." In tiny amounts she reflected a recent distress, saying, "I mean, I would have LIKED to have stayed and chatted with him but..." It passed instantly, and her heart reached out to her friend. "... I'm worried, Pinkie."

Compared to Hulahoof it was much harder for the pink pony to withdraw her entire being from the powerful pleas of her close friend, and in trying to fend off her inner emotions she suffered a fast fit of twitches and tics, like knitting needles pricking her on the inside.

Still, she was after her bout able to regain her lifeless form and declare without emotion, "I'm fine, Twilight." She turned around, perhaps only luckily forgetting that the door was open, and she shambled back to the center of the room before she again plopped her butt onto the floor.

"Pinkie..."

Twilight stepped inside, coming up behind her friend and taking a seat of her own.

"Nopony's going to believe that you're alright," she painfully told the wounded pony. "You haven't been yourself, and it's only been getting worse. I mean, look at this room." Her magic swished some of the ceiling-hung streamers like a blowing breeze and slapped a few of the tied down balloons about. "Normally you'd be ecstatic to have been given a room like this but... you're sitting here sorrier than I EVER remember seeing you."

Pinkie Pie merely repeated herself. "I'm fine," twitch, "Twilight."

Softly Twilight gave a lamenting heave. Her concerned and stressed thoughts worked themselves into overdrive, trying hard to divine the best path forward, and she slouched a little.

Memories came to her, she straightened up, and she recalled aloud, "When he first arrived in Equestria James would always tell me that too."

The mention of the man's name made the pink pony jerk her neck in another impromptu spasm.

Resolved, the unicorn continued regardless, "Anytime I'd ask him how he was he'd say, 'I'm fine, I'm fine.' But he wasn't. He wasn't AT ALL, Pinkie. Do you remember what he was like?"

The pink pony's spine ever so faintly started to curl, and her head dipped down more slowly than could be imagined. It was a motion mired in sluggishness; not one of her spasms of denial at all.

"Do you?" Twilight beseeched her friend to remember.

"... He...," Pinkie Pie's whisper almost didn't come out, "... he almost never SMILE smiled. Then... he started to learn how to do it for all of you, at least a little bit. But never for-... never for-..."

"Pinkie..."

"... Then...," she came back louder but weaker, "SHE made him really smile, without even trying... I saw it... The biggest... most magical... most laughing... most loving... most life-filled... most FRIENDLY smile..."

Twilight paid close attention, noticing from behind that her friend began to twitch and shudder again. Only... it seemed that this time... the jerking movements were quite different in nature than before; much more soft and subtle.

And that's when the unicorn heard low sniffling and suppressed huffing. Quiet, forlorn gasps of grievous sorrow tried to escape out of the pink pony while she desperately worked to hold them in. Tears.

"Pinkie?" Twilight called, with raising alarm.

"Gotta go now!" Pinkie Pie wheezed. Failing at all control, the words tumbled out in a single lightning lump.

Somehow, even with one of her forelegs welded over her watering eyes, the slippery pony managed to dart around Twilight and dash for the still open door. Blue and pink confetti scattered in a trail behind her.

"PINKIE! WAIT!"

Blind, Pinkie Pie scrambled along on heedless instinct alone. She rushed into the hallway, sliding over the party trap refuse still on the floor and nearly tripping head over hooves as she stumbled onto the carpet which ran the length of the hall. Barely on balance she swiveled around and charged towards the stairwell.

But she hardly got three steps there.

"OOOF!"

"Ow! Hey!"

Feeling herself stopped, along with the thumping and ringing pain on her skull from the blow that had halted her, Pinkie Pie pulled away her salty, soaked leg. She was buried practically half-a-pony deep into Rainbow Dash.

The annoyed pegasus stretched her now-sore neck and unfurled her wings, partially crumpled in the crash. She winced a little with the kinks that panged her as she moved, but she didn't fully extract herself from her partially tangled position.

Instead, she looked over her panicked, pink friend and quite clearly picked out the flight that had consumed her. Planting a hoof on Pinkie's chest Rainbow Dash pushed the other pony backwards to separate themselves apart.

"Yeeeaaaaaahhhhhhhhh," the pegasus droned while shaking her head, "No. You're not going anywhere."

"After what happened on the boat," Twilight sympathetically explained from the open doorway of Pinkie's room, "I asked Rainbow Dash for her help. I went to get her just before coming to see you."

"You don't think I haven't noticed how you've been such a lame-legged buffalo lately, have you?" Rainbow Dash remarked, squinting at her pink friend. With a tilting-up of her nose she nearly boasted, "Come on, I'm Loyalty. Obviously I know when my friends are upset."

"Pinkie," Twilight approached from behind, pleading, "we ARE your friends. And we're trying to help. Please?"

Still faintly trembling, with baby buds of tears continuing to crawl out of the corners of her eyes, Pinkie Pie looked between the two ponies who had surrounded her. Then she peeked once longingly at the stairwell beyond Rainbow Dash.

"Oh no," the pegasus caught sight of the pink pony's wish. She pressed her hoof more firmly upon her friend's chest. "You're going to stay right here and tell us all about what's been bothering you," she ordered.

The crossed-eyed Pinkie gazed down at the hoof prodding her. In her right state of mind there no doubt would have been a million means to get around the obstacle blocking her. Yet she felt trapped there. Somewhere she was still cognizant enough to understand how barely she was functioning. Ultimately... she relented.

"Alright, let's get some privacy. Back into your room, come on," directed Rainbow Dash, changing where her hoof was pointing.

The dead strength in Pinkie Pie's neck failed and her face fell towards the floor. The biggest curl of her mane drew sad little waves on the ground as she sullenly turned and plodded back, heading into her room.

Twilight took a big, long breath. "Thanks, Rainbow Dash," she whispered to the pegasus.

"Well, we still have to figure this out," Rainbow Dash warned.

"We will," the unicorn confidently asserted.

Together they walked towards the door, following their broken friend.

As they went, a moment of incidental thought spurred Twilight to ask the colorful pegasus, "I didn't see your guidepony when I went to get you. What happened to him?"

"Who?" croaked Rainbow Dash in utter confusion.

Comments

[Coranth]

Something about the whole resort and its ponies seems... off. It's like there's something suspicious going on beneath the surface but I can't put my finger on what, Either these island ponies were 'set up' to meet the Mane Six and weren't expecting James... or they're eventually - off screen - possibly going to b-ng the Mane Six, or... *sigh*

[Jack Kellar]

Identification: collect all details on the guest.
Matching: create a lure-persona that would have them identify with the most.
Isolation: lead them away from all outside inconveniences to them bonding exclusively to the lure-persona.

I tell you, this shit reeks of cult indoctrination. James was stated to be a combatant at the start of What Separates, he out of all of the eight is the most foolish not to see this in motion. Ponies have time and time again shown not to be above the insidiousness of humans, even when we're talking about violence (I'm looking at YOU, Broken Oak), and brainwashing is also on that list.

Good thing Pinkie is listless, Dash and AJ are so at odds, and Spike is so young and childlike. These aversions to the "matching" part of the Passion's Embrace indoctrination have condemned the process for them from the start, so they're the most likely to see the force pushing the lie so hard from behind the veil. Fluttershy is still unaccounted for, Rarity is a lost cause, and James is very very close to that point.

But really, I get a VERY heavy feeling that what will give the biggest shove on this scam falling face-down is Sweet Nothing's arrogance. He's already grating on Spike, his predictable attempted hogging of Rarity will get in Jim's way of making it up for her past generosity will put the two in a collision course, and hopefully Twilight will take notice of that before she gets TOO infatuated with Gallowayo. But I'm not holding my breath for her.

[wlam]

You know, I just realized that the "villain's" big, evil plan seems to boil down to helping everybody to get laid. I don't really feel the menace anymore.

[Zurock]

6128521
That is the greatest single-line rendition of the conflict ever.

Off, though. ;)

[wlam]

6128708
Eh... Nah. I'm gonna choose to believe that they really are just that eager to be everybody's wingman... person... pony thing.

Either way, up to snuff when compared to Eternal Night that ain't, in terms of being, you know, threatening. There are so many things about how utterly insane the cast behaves sometimes that would be explained, if you think about it as sublimated sexual frustration.

[kalash93]

6129177

And on the 18'th chapter. reader said, "Let there be boning!"

Oh, and also, please space out the paragraphs. A great wall of text is not nice to look at.

[Zurock]

6129190
I actually feel the opposite! Spaced paragraphs to me look unsightly and wasteful in prose. I only use such spacing as a narrative cue. I use horizontal bars to indicate a scene change or reasonable time skip, but in Chapter 15 there is some single spacing between paragraph blocks to implicitly denote to the reader that all the events are happening simultaneously. Something like this comment is styled differently because it's much more informally written.

By the same token the way I've written the chapters doesn't bother me in the least because I have no problems picking out the paragraph indents; e.g. it doesn't appear as a wall of text to me, and I have to practically cross my eyes to see it as such. Again, see how this more informal and fast comment doesn't have paragraph indents... so it uses spacing to separate the grouped thoughts instead!

This is unfortunately a legitimate grievance for you that is unresolvable by me; too much of a conflict of style. In a reversed position this is where I would find something like regex to solve things but that's hardly a solution for everyone.

6129177
Heh, yeah. It's one of the things that sort of makes getting to the topic of sex in this story... you know... fun. I know the show is never going to go into it in any detail so that frees me up from the more usual degree of commitment I have to the show's world. This is, for instance, where Twilight's declaration of what I guess could be called 'Neo-Prudism' comes from; I get to make that up and see how things play out with my free characters vs the characters the show defined (or to be fair and accurate, my good-faith interpretation of said characters.)

[wlam]

6131122
Even with the best-faith interpretation of that attitude, the same thing still disturbs me about it that disturbs me about people like that in general: They are demonstrably able to deal with bloody violence better than with the idea of sex for pleasure. There is just something incredibly wrong with anyone who can more easily cope with murder than with love expressing itself. It's morally and emotionally perverse, in the proper sense of the word. It hints towards a value system in regards to the relative worth of life and death that is beyond fucked up, as a whole.

[Truthseeker]

Seems to me that any sane being would have to be absolutely BLIND to miss all the subtle innuendo that have been laced into every surface of the place. It is just THICK with subtle intimate nuances and hints. If the characters were not so set on contemplating their navels, they would see it.

[DerpTape]

7504396
Culture Shock. The 'standard' mentality in this Equestria is so Puritanish, that innuendo is litteraly a foreign language to the cast.

Sadly, to them, "69" is only a number, rather than a hilarious standalone punchline.

[KvAT]

6149985
Tell that to ancient church and their crusades...