Chapter 28: Connected
"Well, I apologize. But I feel it's right to worry. Certainly we knew that we were stretching our chances by freely asking her to invite friends without setting down ANY conditions, but it had seemed worth it at the time. She is our best chance. EVERYTHING rests on getting her invested in us."
The deep thought behind Vesuvius' crimson eyes made them glow, like magma bubbling under a haze of red smoke. As ever, his beautiful mare was attached to his side, leaned heavily against him. She stroked one of his legs up and down with her hoof, rubbing a warmth into it, and to each his words she nodded along. They were alone in the entryway garden save for Prism whom they were speaking with.
"Of course," the confounded stallion master went on, a tired twist entering his neck, "who expected her to invite along SO MANY, and some who aren't even ponies!" He dropped a sideways look at his love before he rested his cheek on top of her mane, and he asked her openly, "Could we have somehow prepared more for this gamble?"
"I'm sure the magic will make it all work out," Venus almost cooed. Her next stroke down his leg pressed deep, slow, and long. "Destiny is behind us."
Prism spoke up, "I really don't think there's anything to worry about with James." The pony was quite deferential and polite, but more and more an inpatient insistence was peeking out from behind her. It hadn't been the first time she had made that specific declaration about the man during this round of questioning.
Yet clearly her judgment still didn't satisfy the island masters. Vesuvius showed her confidence the same regard as any dreamy fantasy uttered by a lovestruck filly. Venus was more sympathetic, but she didn't overrule her dear stallion's mistrust. The two continued to physically comfort each other while moving between bouts of silence and exchanges of loud whispers, all as if the other pony weren't even there.
"I'm afraid that if we stagger the introduction to our ways between guests then they'll start talking to each other about it," Vesuvius said.
"Well, that was the very reason we brought them all," Venus responded. "So that, in their friendship, they would share with each other, and help each other discover our beautiful truth."
"Or begin to grow their suspicions," the stallion feared.
"Nonsense. Why wouldn't they trust each other?"
"I think it's their trust itself that would be the problem. Without firsthoof experience nopony could possibly understand the enormity of what we are trying to accomplish. To hear the secondhoof truth from a clearly-changed friend would only disturb them. A pony has to taste it for themselves to understand. We should have realized it before! This crowd was a mistake."
"Mmmm..." Venus again hardened her stroke, but less tenderly. Even if she would not say it aloud, she did not agree.
Vesuvius lifted his head to stare at Prism, soliciting her opinion through his questioning leer.
The silver mare lowered herself in submission and agreed, "I never would have believed myself, even if I had heard it straight from every pony I've ever trusted," she said. "But now that I've actually felt it, I-... I want this for the rest of the world."
Vesuvius rewarded her response with a grunting nod and then he turned back to his beloved mare, again whispering warnings.
"And that is why we NEED Twilight. Hmph, but already that pony is digging in places she shouldn't be. She undersold her own pesky curiosity. If one of the other guests feels true passion before her and then goes to her about it, I don't think she would refrain from prying MORE in all the wrong places. But we can't lose her like that, my love. SHE'S our key."
Venus surrendered a forlorn sigh. There was in her no faith poisoned enough to have believed in such impossible misfortune. But never would she have dismissed her Vesuvius, sometimes rocky and volatile as he might be, and she held tight to him.
She tried to assuage him, "But where could they go? They can't leave. In the end they'll all experience it somehow or another, except for maybe the dragon and the man."
"My love, we have NEVER had a more critical moment in our mission," he reminded her, and his voice mildly began to erupt.
"Shh," the mare instinctively settled him, again sliding her warm hoof up and down his leg in slower, stronger strokes. "Alright, Suvi. You're right about how so very important this is. And with the biggest crowd we've ever had here, maybe we shouldn't be so cavalier. But! We shouldn't wait too long. We should make them a part of us as soon as we think we have a good chance to catch as many of them as we can. If they aren't all ready at that time then we can't wait for the rest of them. We have to TRUST the magic will bring them in."
"Hmmm..." The stallion shifted and mumbled as he thought, but then his troubles eased and he rubbed himself against her. "Alright. We take who we can, as soon as we can. Likely we'll HAVE TO, anyway. I have my doubts about Humble Herd's ability. Nosedive isn't performing as expected either. And Summer Wind? Hrmph." Then suddenly he rumbled as a great swelling stirred up inside him. "And it has ALWAYS been a mistake to have let Sweet Nothing in on all this."
"SHHHhhhh," Venus again soothed him, this time also running her nose up his neck before kissing it softly.
The unrestricted love melted upon his itching heat like healing ice, and he calmed. They spoke no more about their disagreement and instead Vesuvius returned to Prism's debriefing.
"Do you understand? Don't get overeager," he sternly instructed her. "And come to us right away if you suspect there's going to be some trouble with the human."
Prism couldn't hold back her shy laugh, and a light blush washed into her face. Again she had to explain, "I don't think there will be. He already seems interested. And all the things he's said about his past relationships? Sometimes-... sometimes when he was talking about them I felt like-... like his passion had already been opened..."
The red light in her cheeks seared, and her legs wiggled as she shivered with excitement.
But Vesuvius was smoking with suspicion. For another time he cautioned her with a hard tone, "Just don't jump the gun and reveal anything you shouldn't. Keep in line with the others. And KEEP US IN THE LOOP. We don't know for sure what the corcandeo will do to him."
Venus laughed loudly, "Suvi! This pony is one of our dearest and most faithful! You don't need to treat her like she's trouble! Prism, you're not going to take any naughty risks, are you, sweetheart?"
"No, of course not! I'll do exactly as you want me to," the other mare effusively promised, as if her very future depended upon it.
"Alright. Thank you for your time. Now off with you, then," Vesuvius commanded. Yet she hadn't even lifted a hoof before he further pressed, "But don't expect you'll have much longer here; we'll be leaving the Gardens soon."
"...? Yes sir."
Prism carried herself away, fighting to restrict her speed and appear collected until she was out of the entryway garden. Free of her masters' sight she flew into a merry gallop to return to James.
Venus unchained her tongue and questioned her stallion, "'Soon?'"
"Yes. I don't want to give them too long."
"But this is such a beautiful opportunity for them to spend time with their ponies."
"That's swell for those who are succeeding," he emphasized, "but, as mentioned, we might need to keep a tighter eye on a few of them. Let's allow them to rest and mingle at the Passion's Embrace instead, where they'll be more contained."
"Dear, dear Suvi," the island lady laughed again, quieter and from her heart, beating ever faster. Up his leg she tickled with her hoof, and this time it continued beyond. She climbed his chest sensually until she was dancing up his neck and on his cheek. Her nose and lips she brought to his, close enough that she could have passed a fevered whisper straight from tongue-to-tongue. However, she only purred to him, "If you don't trust the magic to work on them, how can you trust it to work on us? I know you're afraid of the risks because everything we're doing is so, so important. But spend too much time micromanaging everything and... you're going to leave less... time... for... US..."
The kiss she planted under his chin was faint, with the sound of a sweet strawberry releasing a pure drop of dew onto the leaves below.
Vesuvius couldn't stop himself from holding her tight and cradling her neck with his own. Through his nose he breathed in the smell of her marvelous mane.
"Mmmm... My love... This is almost enough WITHOUT the passion. But for later! Later... There's too much more to do right now."
All throughout the trek back to the Passion's Embrace there were signs that maybe Vesuvius had been right about curtailing their time in the Pleasure Gardens. A very different air had settled over the group. More than half of the guests were less engaged than they had been beforehand, reflecting inwards while they walked and not even so much as whispering with one another. The only guests who were unaffected by the rash of introspection were James, who was still rather engaged with Prism, and Spike and Rarity, who were still tangled up with Summer Wind and Sweet Nothing.
Upon arriving back in the lobby the island hosts thanked all the guests for their attention during the tour and then released them. Vesuvius predictably gave them a stern echo that they shouldn't wander, Venus invited them to enjoy the amenities of the Passion's Embrace itself and to be forthright in asking their attendant ponies should they need anything, and both masters reminded them that they should all gather again in the lobby in a few short hours if their ponies didn't retrieve them. The beginning of the bell moths' mating season was the next event and it was a very timely one. They would need to head out at the very border between afternoon and evening, into the light of the yawning sun, if they didn't want to miss its start.
The reminder of the bell moths brought Fluttershy out of her contemplative shell, lighting her up like a new day. The moment was short, though. All the attention her gasping squeal brought her quickly rendered her dull and mute once more.
After that the hosts departed, and the large group broke apart to head to their rooms. Most had no real desire to explore the building for a variety of reasons, but all sought some form of solitude, silence, or rest. And in any case, for those guests who had guides present, the eager attendants wasted no time in starting to pull their guests back to their rooms.
At the top of the lobby's grand stairway Sweet Nothing bore right to steer Rarity up to her fifth floor room. He was ever the gentlecolt in his refined gait, but it seemed like with each step further he was more and more ready to seize the seamstress and take off, carrying her all the way there by himself. All day his aggression had be stirred and simmered by many problems and interruptions to his plan, and in that moment at the top of the steps his impatience really began to boil.
He held himself in a stop, motioning for Rarity to do the same, and waited for the busy crowd of ponies heading in the same direction to pass them by. He had endured quite enough clamor already and needed time alone with his given mare, and he wasn't going to wait all the way until her room to get it.
So he really blew a silent gasket when he looked backed and noticed that Spike had ALSO turned right at the top of the steps, and Summer Wind had followed behind the dragon.
He whirled about, dressed impeccably with professionalism from face to tail, and even delivered a charming smile to Rarity in a flash. The abrupt spin brought the approaching dragon to a halt.
"Excuse me, SIR," Sweet Nothing addressed Spike, and he pointed over the dragon's head in the opposite direction down the gallery, "I'm sorry to be TROUBLE, but I do believe your room is THAT way."
Spike folded his arms.
"Uh, no thanks? I don't WANT to go to my room right now. I'm fine sticking with Rarity."
"SIR, everypony should be taking this time to REST. You're supposed-"
"As VENUS and VESUVIUS said," Summer Wind freely inserted herself, "this is free time for them to do as they please. And they can spend it together if they'd like to." She gave a positively earnest look to Rarity. "That is, miss Rarity, if you'd like to spend this time with... your dragon?"
Put on the spot, the unicorn fumbled, "A-Ah, w-well, of c-course! I m-mean, I wouldn't m-mind at all! T-That is, if my dragon—ah, if Spike really would like to-"
"My beautiful lady," Sweet Nothing removed the burden of answering from off her shoulders, coming upon her with command even as he sang with such overflowing deference, "after so many long and, of course, enjoyable hours where we tramped around in a such a large and uncomfortable group, wouldn't some solitary relaxation be very good for everypony?" He donned his dashing prince although he never surrendered his servant's garb. "I would be more than pleased to draw you up a hot bath and stand at the side ready to attend to your every need. And perhaps afterwards: a massage. My hooves can reach your deepest aches."
Had Rarity been a tea kettle surely she would have been whistling steam.
The intoxicated mare, now a drunken shade of red, could hardly speak her spellbound words straight at the dragon, "Oooh, Spike... aren't you at all tired after that exhausting excursion? Such trekking about is for tourists, but we're on vacation! A-And that m-means... ooohehehe... some q-quiet time to t-take in the l-luxuries. Mhmm..."
Sweet Nothing, having ownership of her eyes, made an enticing show of himself and his impeccable form. Like an artist he found the right angle and the right pose to bounce the lobby's falling light off of his trim muscles. And like a romancer his gaze over her spoke poetry, telling her of all the pleasures he would open up for her.
Spike nearly abandoned all hope, giving up an unheard sigh.
But then he felt again a hidden nudge against his side. And upon inspection, sure enough, Summer Wind was stealthily prodding him. Secretly she gestured her nose between the other two ponies, miming a wedge between the stallion honey pot and the mare drinking so deep she risked falling in. Still she encouraged the dragon to intervene; to offer some enticing service of his own to the mare he adored.
Except the dragon remembered how such efforts hadn't worked out so well the last time. The shame of earlier clung to Spike like rank sweat caught under his scales. He had no wish to draw another rebuke from Rarity, and honestly he had now accepted that in terms of stunning looks and raw charisma he was really no match for the dark stallion.
'Hunk' she had called him. More than once, even. A body sculpted from obsidian. A mane and tail glowing like crests of silver moonlight. And what was mighty Spike's counteroffer to that? A dumpy form coated in dried out, flaky scales that were purple like some sort of tart-tasting candy, and flabby frills that jiggled like gelatin when he walked.
Everything Sweet Nothing had whispered had been some sort of mesmerizing spell to her, regardless of whatever specific words he had actually used or what things he had actually been talking about. Whether true or false, right or wrong, up or down; it was only how he had spoken that had mattered; how his each uttered syllable had snaked their way into her ears and used their forked tongues to tickle her brain until she had become moldable goo.
The only thing Spike had versus those dark powers was that he never spoken to his beloved mare anything that he hadn't earnestly meant.
"Rarity...," he quietly asserted himself, "... I don't care where we go, or what we do. My idea of a vacation is just getting to spend some time with you without dresses, and work, and libraries, and clients, and other ponies being in the way."
Bit by bit the witlessness trickled from the giggling mare. It drained away while something sincere – something stronger – came in to take its place.
"Oh, Spikey..."
Sweet Nothing swiftly rolled up next to her, appearing again in her vision. But now he had suddenly become a sight of broken, frightened, pitiable, and discretely-obnoxious defeat. No part of his of toned and powerful musculature was allowed the strength to stand upright; not from ears and neck to flanks and tail. His golden eyes were a treasure whose luster had been smeared off in a hurry.
"Ah, of course. I wouldn't presume at all to tell such a breathtaking lady how to spend her time," groveled the stallion. He even started to generate a sad sniveling. "That your stay is the most wonderful experience of your life is my only concern. Venus and Vesuvius charge me with ensuring guests have their every desire met and their every comfort provided for, and I would be so shaken to fall short of their demanding expectations."
"Oh!"
Concerned, Rarity laid a hoof upon him. Right on his shapely, firm, well-built leg.
"No, no, we couldn't have that," she said. And generously she told him, "So don't you worry. I guarantee you that they'll hear not a word of disappointment from me! I will insist to your employers that you have provided me only the best possible service since I've arrived! Now head along and enjoy the break you've earned, Mr. Nothing."
She pulled her hoof away from him easily, not a tug of magnetism coming from him. In turn she offered her hoof to her dragon.
"Come along, Spike. Let's head back to my room. All this striding about in the heat has butchered my mane, and I could use an experienced claw in curling it right again. That sounds rather relaxing, wouldn't you say?"
Renewed and reinvigorated, the little lizard popped up straight.
"Yes, Rarity!"
Together they continued on along the gallery, the dragon at first skipping along to catch up to her side.
Left behind and no longer caught under the attention of his target, Sweet Nothing slowly inflated back to his usual stature. But a hard anger kept him slightly bent out of shape. In silent fury he watched as the dragon disappeared into the second floor hall with the prized mare. And once they were gone their were no ponies left in the lobby but him and his detestable partner. He turned his vengeful leer upon Summer Wind.
She was in a mild daze as well because of the very same dragon, but for an entirely different reason. That heartfelt display from the little squirt had been truly impressive! Actually, she was envious of Rarity... if only by a small amount. Ah, were that dragon to have been bigger and older...!
"Proud of yourself?" Sweet Nothing bit her.
She was pulled from her brief reverie.
"Are you?" she scoffed.
"I'm doing what I'm SUPPOSED to be doing. Maybe Venus and Vesuvius should know about your little interference?"
"Maybe they should know about your theft of their fruit?" Summer Wind acidly shot back. Foul grooves cut deep into her chin, and she picked him apart easily, "Besides, I think we both know you don't give two bits about what Venus and Vesuvius want."
The dark stallion cast aside all his minimal efforts at civility and reason, and he went straight into sharpening his barbs to their most penetrating, "So what is this, then? Jealousy causing you to lash out? Or are you just frustrated because you're so broken? Look at yourself: fawning over a lizard child now..." He had a special spear ready, especially for her. "... just like before with that pathetic crybaby."
They were through. The pegasus waited for no more; it wasn't even worth wasting her tenderest insults on him. She turned around immediately and strode away.
But Sweet Nothing had to ensure he had the final word. He didn't need to shout to make his booming voice chase after her.
"Never again, Summer Wind! You're mine never again!"
Increasingly nervous were James' steps, and he tried to mask his awkward jitters from Prism by humming an impromptu, distracting tune, as if his faulty ambling was being done for some lazy but intended purpose.
His trouble was that he hadn't memorized his room number; a small detail that had been lost in the forest of dinner, chitchat, volleyball, tours, and gardens. He knew which side of the hall his door lay on but only roughly how deep in it was, and so he could only pin his best guess on any one of the next three or four doors down. Prism surely had the correct answer, but for some reason he was so utterly afraid of appearing as a buffoon before her that he dared not ask for it.
Thus he hobbled like a drunkard who hoped they'd pull through in a key moment with a sudden burst of sobriety, and he hummed away at his ever more incoherent song. All the while he stole poorly-disguised looks at Prism in a search for useful clues. Perhaps she might have revealed an expecting stare towards one the doors, or maybe she might have taken a very purposed step in an indicative direction. But always he found no hints on her; certainly not with how fixated on him she seemed to be.
And she had a remarkable nervousness as well, but quite distinct from that of the man. He held back shame, but what she held back wanted to be free.
As time dwindled down James genuinely couldn't come to a decision as to which door was the correct one. In the last fevered moment he made a guess and started to greatly slow, inching ever closer to freezing before his lucky door but not committing enough to stop.
Prism only kept speed with him, slowing also, as if her mind had wholly forgotten where they were going and why. Pleasantly she waited for him to share his thoughts, ever smiling up at him.
A low, phlegmy noise came from the man's throat, as of words not quite connecting together as they should, and his arm lifted with a wiggle only to fall back down, the muscles distracted by contradictory impulses, and all manner of other silly little things came from him which weren't quite decided actions.
Perhaps the pony then realized the root of his dithering, or perhaps not, but regardless she betrayed no sign of knowing. Merely she gave a chuckle which lit up her cheeks and then she started up again, walking past the door James had selected and stopping at the very next one.
"R-Right," the man choked on a laugh of his own as he caught up, admitting nothing out loud but certainly incapable of hiding anything with his floppy body.
Still charmed, Prism opened the door for him and then held herself aside in invitation. Once he entered she turned and stood before the doorway like a servant awaiting instruction.
James gripped the open door by its edge and looked down upon the waiting pony. His greased palm rubbed on the wood, smearing sweat over it, and his fingers alternatively rapped and scratched against the backside. He bounced on his heels a time or two.
"So..."
There was a desert in his mouth. The dryness had baked away all his saliva and his shriveled tongue felt like a prickly cactus. Even his audible rasps were hot winds coasting over coarse dunes of sand.
But then he tightened his hand on the door, held it open wider, and turned his body aside to clear the way for her.
"... I guess we have some time to kill until this bell moth thing happens?"
A happy victory dawned inside Prism, shining through her like a magnificent sunrise leaping high from below the horizon and throwing its light through every east-facing curtain in a gilded hallway. She was a hungry hound being offered a seat at the dinner table; a quiet dancer on the floor whose very favorite song had suddenly come up; a child whose simple wish had come true before her very eyes. Ready, she leaned forward, and her eager hoof lifted.
But she didn't enter.
She swiftly clouded over and let her hoof sink back down. Her pleasantness stayed unfaded and her demeanor didn't falter, but so much of her light shaded over and so much of her earnest hope was squelched. The ominous smoke which had billowed from Vesuvius left her dark.
"We've... spent so much of today together already," the pony strongly disliked her own gratefully delivered words, "and... I think... I should attend to a few other things?" She forcefully injected some truth, "But I'm really looking forward to taking you to see the bell moths! I haven't see them yet myself and it's supposed to be incredible! I'll... come get you when it's time?"
The man was inscrutable for a short moment before he acknowledged, "Yeah. I'll be here, waiting for you."
"Oh, okay! Great!"
Reluctant to go, the pony moved away in incomplete steps, never quite turning about. Every regret she had; every itch that tickled her stalled her. Several times she readied to speak, to add another second more to their encounter, but it was only on the fifth try that she finally produced anything.
"Thank you!"
"Hm? No, thank you."
Even after that Prism still stammered away, struggling to pull her heartened smile out of view. A lifetime later she had finally disappeared from the doorway.
James, silent, stood with the open door still in his hand for a long, thoughtless moment before he at last eased the door closed. But on impulse he didn't press it all the way shut, and he held his ear to the crack he had left open.
He still heard her. Her hooves dragging on the carpet made the same noise as an unsteady mouse scampering about and stopping to inspect every crumb. Perhaps she was watching the door as she retreated, to see if he would emerge.
Longer the man stood there, for a time attentively listen, but even his ears eventually were drowned out by his own rambling thoughts.
The hinges on the door gave a sharp and wobbly creak, calling loudly for his attention. His hand was shivering, and therefore in turn the door was bouncing and pulling on its hinges. There was a soft wooden clap as the edges of the door lightly scratched the doorframe when one particular jiggle brought both too close together.
Fast but softly James shut the door, and then he squeezed his nervous hand until it calmed. The whole time he breathed heavily, bringing the air down into his stomach before he wheezed it back out. He felt sweaty.
Turning back into his room he dropped himself onto his bed, not bothering with the sheets or covers. He crashed on top of the mattress, slung at an angle which he didn't bother to correct, and he slapped his face into the pillow. Humid breaths met feathery fluff, tickling his lips even as he gave a low groan. And when his half-hearted effort to take a nap predictably failed in every immediate way he instead seized the pillow, lifted it over his still-facedown head, and wrapped it over his ears. Again, not that he imagined burying himself under it was going to have shut up his mind.
Had he EVER behaved so awkwardly about a girl, even as a teenager? He was beginning to think that he had never actually been a mature or capable romantic partner at all, and maybe he had somehow ignorantly bungled his way through every one of his past relationships. MAYBE it had been genuinely true for his first, but surely by the third serious relationship he had been better? Though from some perspectives, 'love' and 'don't know what the hell you're doing' certainly were hard to distinguish. But... no. No, on Earth he had definitely grown to have been way more capable of holding conversations with rosy-cheeked girls without having turned into a wet, flopping fish. How could a little tumble through the dimensional weave have regressed someone by such a horrific amount?
Calm down! CALM DOWN. This wasn't as crazy as it seemed, by virtue of being SO STUPIDLY CRAZY. He hadn't been flirting with some lady he had bumped into while out with friends at a bar. Rather, he had just spent several hours TALKING WITH A HORSE who had been ASSIGNED TO HIM for the purpose of BEING A PERSONAL ATTENDANT while he was at a TROPICAL ISLAND RESORT. She was a concierge, and one who had the perfect eager-to-please personality for it. In this whole nutty situation there were enough unknowns involved for which he lacked the experience or training to deal with, and THAT justified his absurd and incapable reaction.
Right.
Right! He was, in fact, the first human being to have ever remotely faced the TRUE possibility of snogging with a sentient horse.
...
Oh God.
These were his real, LEGITIMATE thoughts that he was having.
"Shut up," he moaned preemptively to no one.
He didn't WANT to kiss her. He liked kissing very much. For good or for ill, make-outs had always been attempted by at least the third date, and he had so far spent some short time with Prism TWICE now. But he didn't want to kiss A HORSE. Of course he didn't! She was the one who had brought it up! She liked kissing too!
...
She probably tasted like hay, anyway. Bleh.
...
Yo. Remember that one time when the party schedule ran really late into the evening, and you got back to Sugarcube Corner and Pinkie Pie heard your stomach going nuts so she heated up some quick hay-stuffed zucchini she had laying around? That hay was actually pretty warm and delicious! Mmm.
"Shut up."
Just saying. You never know until you try it.
He had never tried slicing his own tongue off with a chainsaw either, but somehow he had the confidence to know he wouldn't have enjoyed that.
Alright, well, if you move in on her and then hear her throat start to rev up or something, and your suddenly-severed tongue start to squirt blood into her mouth, THEN you can say, 'I told you so.' Come on man, get real! Smooching is smooching! And you heard her! She handed you her consent NOTARIZED. A little tongue-tango would be SOOO GOOD after all this time, eh? And who's going to judge you? The people of Earth an infinity-billion miles away in another dimension?
Ponies aren't like that, though. Twilight said so (kind of). Prism had probably just wanted to snuggle a little.
So why not start with that? You like that too. And then if during said cuddling some hands or some lips begin to wander... well hey. 'That's one small step for a man...'
James couldn't stand to stay laying facedown. Something below was growing uncomfortable.
He flipped over and leapt into a sit. Bent off the edge of the bed, his back was crooked and his heels dug into the side rail, and he watched as his profuse sweat drizzled off his forehead and splashed onto the floor. He tangled his loose shirt in his hand and beat it against his chest, whipping air over his body, but while that fought back against the heat oozing in from the balcony it did very little to combat the heat coming from inside him.
Suddenly he the tore the shirt up off his body and held it out in front of him for inspection. Truly he was indebted to Rarity forever for having clothed him (clothing the naked being a great act of love, after all), but Christ Almighty it was such a hideous thing to wear! Those frilly ruffles; something a ballet dancer might have covered their legs with, really! And the spaghetti straps were just so unenviably humiliating, not to mention they had left pale lines on his crispy shoulders.
He couldn't wear this! No lady would have ever found such an ugly-looking gown attractive!
He crumpled the garment and flung it aside in disgust, and it flew so lightly that even the dying breeze slipping in from under the balcony curtain was enough to float it down gently onto his dresser.
James rubbed himself; shoulders, back, chest. Thanks to Prism's sunscreen he was only faintly cooked. His back had gotten the worst of it. It probably would have been wiser to have let Prism coat it instead of himself. Likely she would have magic'd it over him, fast and convenient. But... maybe she would have slathered up those delicate hooves and—
Grunting again, the man jumped off the bed and paced a minute before he threw up his hands. Tearing off his ugly pants and likewise kicking off his sandals (probably the only remotely acceptable piece of the whole ensemble), he marched straight for the bathroom.
He needed to take a shower.
A very, very hot shower.
Summer Wind slammed the door to her room, though unintentionally. Despite how Spike and Rarity's situation had worked out, a lot of things were cutting into her.
Sweet Nothing was such scum! This island offered something truly special, BEYOND ALL IMAGINATION – something incredible that simply would have overwhelmed the understanding of everypony far back on the mainland or anywhere else in Equestria! – and what did that vain stallion do with such a special gift? He had only always tried to pick and choose which mares he wanted for himself; which ones he felt were worthy of being duped into pleasing him. The only thing bigger than his body was his ego! Even if the passion in his body was capable of being opened, there was no special fruit in existence which could have ever opened up a passion inside his greedy heart!
And, of-freaking-course, he was the only pony on the whole island fit and energetic enough to give her what her body's passion craved. Her ONLY source of relief was that abominable stallion! Fate had made sure that not even THE DRAGON was a right fit for her. Why did she even need it so badly that she endured getting fulfillment from trash like Sweet Nothing? Why was it so irresistible that-... that-... that she really HAD been daydreaming about sharing it with a big, powerful dragon?
As if the parade of injustices hadn't already been enough, it had turned out that the very same unobtainable dragon was also an admirable sweetheart; a fellow whose faithful and well-meaning affections she found immediately endearing; the polar opposite of the detestable stallion. Yet it also wouldn't have mattered even if Spike had been everything she had physically wanted, since that scaly sweetheart was also sweet on Rarity.
So now here Summer Wind was. Instead of spending time earning enough trust to share an amazing treasure with Spike and finally getting some relief, she had been exhausting her already-weary self by defending Rarity from her own cohort's predatory advances.
Vesuvius might not have agreed with her choices if he had known about them. But Venus might have. After all, if Spike was truly devoted to Rarity in the deepest way, and if the seamstress also somewhere inside felt the same towards him, then-...
Then-...
Both of them DESERVED more than Sweet Nothing being allowed to get in their way.
As she mulled through the same cycle of cumbersome thoughts over and over and over again, Summer Wind filled with a self-disgust. It was unbelievable that she had succumbed to the dark stallion last night; that she had given him exactly what he had wanted. And all so that she could have felt that exhilarating, breathless experience again. (Even if only a less-than-perfect version of the experience, taking into account that awful pony's toxic presence.)
But at least she had extracted something good for Humble Herd out of her sacrifice. True, that sweetheart of a pony deserved far, far more and far, far better than a simple apology from Sweet Nothing, and not just for that one act of coarse rudeness which the guests had witnessed but for all the contemptible ways that flea-riddled sack of garbage had treated Humble Herd since the latter's arrival on the island. But baby steps; she had to celebrate her small victories.
And what an especially delightful victory! Bowing in apology to somepony was an ordinary thing for most, but forcing Sweet Nothing to do it before a pony he so thoroughly looked down upon like Humble Herd? The self-inflicted humiliation that self-important jerk must have suffered through had probably been drinkably delicious!
Or 'would be delicious' perhaps, if that over-proud pony hadn't gotten around to it yet. She needed to verify that he had kept his promise.
Her many frustrations didn't dispel easily and so the pegasus blindly stomped about her room for awhile. Too wound tight to sit loosely, too worked up to lay down, too tense to vent her hot energy on her many wing-weights scattered about the floor or on her exercise machine tucked in the corner, and too lost in a grisly fog to even zip through her balcony curtain and shoot into the sky where she could smash apart some clouds. Around her room she pounded away. The air she took in saturated with her anger and angst, and when it came back out it diffused in moans of madness and misery.
During a tight pass by her nightstand she weaved too close while turning about and her thick tail slapped against it. With all the boiling exasperation steaming off of her, even down to the very tip of her tail, the whip was enough to cause the nightstand to jump. Startled, she quickly stabilized the upset furniture, and it was then that she noticed somepony had left behind something on it for her; the stand had definitely been clear when she had woken up that morning.
Dead center on top sat a small statuette. Not one solidly carved out of stone but instead one built from a whole assortment of many very natural things. Pebbles were glued into place here and there by tight packings of once-sticky but now-solid dirt. Thin twigs and reeds were flexed into shape and held together in the same way, or sometimes bound by twists and weaves into each other, much like a bird's nest. Most prominent were a few small feathers used to decorate the item; ones that had not been cruelly plucked from any bird but had been donated after molting. The craftsponyship of figurine was absolutely masterful: a mix of fallen things plucked from the ground and painstakingly assembled into an exquisite and beautiful depiction of a little pony, prepared without flaw.
No ultimately personal marks were present on it. The artist could never have found anything fine enough in Equestria to have represented such tender eyes and thus the face of the figurine was featureless save for whatever imagination chose to lay over it. Nor had there been anything good enough to have done justice for such a splendid cutie mark and thus the flanks of hay and sticks were blank. Yet even without such details there was still just enough uniqueness to distinguish the item. The two collections of feathers gave the little pony rather large wings compared to ordinary pegasi, and they were on glorious display because the statue stood reared with power. It was high on its hind legs like a hero, its wings spread broad and grand.
Summer Wind recognized who the statuette was immediately.
Gently and with much care she slid her small, fabricated duplicate aside, for it was holding down a short note which had also been left behind on the nightstand. She pulled the paper up and read:
Summer Wind,
Sorry I disappointed you today.
But thank you so much for encouraging me and also for believing in me. Not just today, but every day. It really means a lot more than I can express.
Humble Herd
The pegasus set the note back down. All of her headaches and pains drifted away into a carefree ether. A happy, sad smile came upon her.
With such devoted love and respect she picked up the figurine and carried it over to her dresser. There she placed it on top, setting it down like it had been crafted from fragile gold. And softly with her strong hoof she nudged it right into place next to the dozen of other statuettes that were already there. The many figurines were all little models of Summer Wind, every one of them made from the same kinds of materials precisely woven together with astounding, dedicated, and attentive skill. No two were posed alike, but each was unique in a different but fully gallant stance.
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CALLED IT! CALLED IT CALLED IT CALLED IT! The magical drug cult, boys and gals, now explicitly stated in narrative!
Summer Wind seems like someone that Jim would be able to have a loooong chat with. But for now, all I can wait is for the magical drug to be no-selled by his anti-magic nature, because right now there's bugger all else in the world to prevent Prism from going on with her mission of indoctrination initiation, and he's not making a move until the notion that there's some shady s[YAY] going on in this place SHOVED into his slow-geared head.
7304482 Good time to ask this: why do you use caps instead of more conventional emphasis indicators, like italics, underlines or bold? It's strange, I read every capped word like the speaker is suddenly SCREAMING it.
7358231
Lack of concern with formatting polish, mostly. Terrible, I know. It's one of the things I've grown and more interested in changing over the years, which is why I can be seen experimenting with the other formatting options in Pride Goeth. I actually wrote about this specific thing a little bit in a blog post.
Kiss the Horse, James... You know you want to...
Other than that, hope James, Spike and our heroines bring this drug cult smashing down around Venus and Vesuvius' ears...