Temperature - Twilight Sparkle & Rarity [Cold in Gardez]
It was not, as coffees went, a particularly sophisticated order.
Hot milk, a shot of near-boiling water forced at high pressure through finely ground beans, and a tablespoon of cocoa powder, all mixed thoroughly with – most important – a spray of whipped cream on top. To the other patrons, the ones seated around her or in line behind her when she’d ordered, it barely even qualified as coffee – more like a hot chocolate with a bit of caffeine added for kicks.
A foals’ drink, in other words. The sort of order that provoked little smiles from other customers as they indulged in their bitter, black brews. Coffees that beat the tongue into submission until it was too scalded and scarred to remember what sugar or cream tasted like anymore.
Twilight Sparkle blew on her cafe mocha and gave it a careful little sip. The hot liquid stung her tongue, numbing it, and she quickly pulled the cup away and swirled the burning liquid around her mouth and teeth to cool it. With nothing else to occupy her mind, she gazed out the wide window beside her seat.
Ponies trundled through the light snow. The storm had tapered off by morning, leaving a few inches of white powder on the streets and roofs. Flurries still fell, not enough to add anything appreciable to the piles on the ground but enough to look pretty. It built on ponies’ coats as they walked through the muffled, still air, leaving a white dust on their manes and backs that turned to sparkling dew as soon as they walked in through the doors. They stamped their hooves and shook themselves like wet dogs in the entryway, between a pair of folding wax paper screens the cafe set out for days like this.
Twilight heard the chair across from her table slide out, followed by the quiet creak of wood as somepony settled into it. The faint scent of cotton and lilac told her who. Without looking, she lifted her cafe mocha and took another careful sip.
Still a shade too hot for her liking. She considered taking a gulp anyway, but discarded the urge and set the cup down on the battered table. She was a patient pony.
Outside, through the glazed panes, snow fell in faint veils. It shrouded the distant rooftops. A faint tracing of frost creeped up the edges of the glass, concealing the world beyond with white and silver fractals that vanished when her breath touched them.
Twilight and her guest stared out in silence for a long minute. She could hear the other mare’s breath, slowly calming as she recovered from the effort of trudging through the storm.
“Bit for your thoughts?” Rarity finally asked. Her chin was propped on her hoof, her nose just inches from the window. It fogged every few seconds as she exhaled.
Twilight tilted her head. To be truthful, she was thinking about dozens of things, each for no more than a few seconds before some new thought chased it away and ran off with her imagination until it too was overthrown. Rather undisciplined of her.
Still, Twilight owed her an answer. “Energy, I suppose.”
“Energy?”
“Mhm.”
“How do you mean?”
“This coffee, mostly.” Twilight nudged her cup with the tip of her hoof. It was not really coffee, of course, but that was a needless distinction and would have distracted from her main argument. “It’s still too hot.”
“Ah. Did you try stirring it?”
“No, that would have melted the whipped cream.”
“Of course. May I ask why you have whipped cream on your coffee?” She smiled at the question, her eyes darting between Twilight’s mug and her face.
Twilight glanced at the mug. “Well, it’s a cafe mocha, actually.”
“Fair enough. What does that have to do with energy?”
“Heat is energy.” Twilight sipped at her mocha again. Perfect. “I was wondering whether the liquid was losing more heat through conduction or radiation.”
Rarity’s eyes flicked down to the mug held between Twilight’s hooves. “You have radioactive hot chocolate?”
“No. I mean, yes, I guess, but it’s not a source of ionizing radiation. Well, except maybe for some trace amounts of potassium, but that would hardly be measurable. It’s perfectly safe.”
“A relief to hear, I’m sure.”
Twilight arched an eyebrow. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”
“Twilight, if I were mocking you, it would be because you ordered a little filly’s drink from a big filly’s cafe.” A tiny smile bent up the corners of her mouth, softening the impact of her words. “I’m surprised they even serve those here.”
“I’m a grown mare. I can have whatever I want.” She took another sip. “Anyway, it’s a popular item. They have those little marshmallows instead of whipped cream, if you prefer.”
For a moment – just a fleeting instant – Rarity’s eyes betrayed a hint of interest, but just as quickly her expression returned to the lidded indifference she so often wore. “Hm, not for me, thank you. They’re too sweet. Cloying, really.”
“Of course.” Another sip. Not perfect anymore – it had cooled a hair past that point. Still delicious, though, as it traced a molten chocolatey path down her tongue and throat.
Silence returned. They gazed out the window as a gust of wind sent the snow fleeing down the street like a frightened ghost.
“So, which was it?” Rarity asked.
“Which was what?”
“Radiation, or the other thing.”
“Conduction?” Twilight took a longer sip now, almost a gulp. The mocha had cooled further and was well on its way to lukewarm. “It’s probably a bit of both. Depends on the emissivity of the ceramics used in the mug. I did some of the math for it, but then it started snowing again, and I guess I got distracted watching it.”
Rarity glanced out the window. “It is beautiful. Cold, though.”
“What, this?” Twilight shook her head. “It’s barely below freezing.”
“And I’m sure in Canterlot this would be a balmy spring day,” Rarity countered. “But we don’t live on the side of a mountain.”
“You don’t like the cold?”
“I’m of two minds about it.” Rarity turned away from the window, gazing up instead at the blackboards fixed on the wall above and behind the register where, written in chalk, the Owner announced the day’s specials. “I don’t like being cold, no. But, ponies who are cold tend to buy clothing, and I do appreciate that.”
Twilight nodded. “I know the feeling. Ponies who are cold tend to use the library more often.”
Silence proceeded from that statement. Rarity turned back toward her, an eyebrow raised.
Twilight fidgeted. “Okay, fine. No they don’t.”
“Well, more’s the pity. Perhaps I’ll stop by this afternoon for a little light reading.”
“That would be nice.” Twilight hid her smile behind the mug as she took another drink. The mocha was merely warm now, and she gulped it down unhesitatingly. When she looked up, Rarity had turned back to the window, gazing out with her chin resting on her hoof again
“Bit for your thoughts?” she asked.
“Thinking about our friends,” Rarity said. “I wonder if they’re warm, or cold, or something in between.”
“Well, Dash is probably up there somewhere.” Twilight made a vague motion with her muzzle toward the clouds. “She’s been planning this storm for days, she said. The others are probably inside, staying warm. Unless they’re outside, being cold.”
“That does cover most of the possibilities.”
Twilight shrugged. “That’s winter for you.” She took a final swig of her mocha, lapping up a dollop of whipped cream that had somehow survived the whole cup’s journey.
“Any good?” Rarity asked.
“Very. Cooled off a bit too much at the end, though. There’s probably some optimal pace at which to drink a hot beverage so it doesn’t scald your tongue when you start, or get too cool by the end.”
“Sounds like a promising thesis statement. Oh, you’ve got some cream on your nose.”
Twilight blushed, rubbing her muzzle with her hoof. “Sorry, was a little left at the end.”
“Oh, it was there since I walked in,” Rarity said, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “It just looked too adorable to spoil, though.”
Ah. Twilight’s blush doubled, recalling the smiles the other customers had given her. “Well, uh—”
“Miss Rarity?” The Owner said, stopping suddenly by. “You appear to have had time to consider. Can I take your order?”
“Yes.” Rarity turned to him, all smiles. “I’ll have the cafe mocha, please. With those little marshmallows.”
“Very good.” He sketched a slight bow. “I’ll have it right out for you.”
Silence again. They filled it by gazing out at the drifting snow.
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5572865
Haha, I was hoping someone would appreciate the callback.
5574145
If you're still taking prompts, then I would like to suggest "food-chain" with Fluttershy and... oh, who would be a good one to have that conversation with her? Applejack, if it's not a problem to have the same pony twice, or maybe Gilda.
5574150
th09.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2011/261/9/d/great_and_powerful_timepiece_by_sugarcube_corner-d4aa5sa.jpg
5575093
Okay. I'm liking the concept, but I must admit there's one thing that rankles me a bit. It's hardly unique to your story, but given that this is specifically set in a cafe that serves coffee with an owner who seems concerned with the quality of his drinks I kinda have to point this out.
Coffee doesn't have to be bitter.
Dark roast coffee, yes, will likely be bitter due to the roasting process. Coffee that's cheap, or badly produced, or over-heated, will be bitter but that all depends on the beans, the grind and the method of production. Coffee can be rich, smooth, mellow, warm, nutty, fruity, sour, sharp or sweet. It can even be tasteless, stale and, yes, even bitter.
But not all the time. And it drives me up the wall to see so many authors painting tea and coffee in this very black/white way.
Anyway. My rant over with. And yes, I am a bit of a coffee snob IRL. :P
5578677
Hi there! Thanks for commenting.
Well, first of all, I don't want to argue with you, because... well, you're right. I also like my coffee, and maybe I don't know as much as you do, but I am quite aware of the effects of roasting on beans, and I am also aware of how it affects body and acidity. I, myself, am partial to cold brewing as it does in fact provide for a lighter cup with higher floral notes and less stringency and all that.
Coffee doesn't have to be bitter, no. But in the end we're going for the use of coffee to help with the painting of the scene, and we're dealing with ponies who, from their perspective, probably also doesn't really know as much as the next person on the street.
Now, I recognize your complaint, and trust me when I say that it wasn't really due to just careless abandon that I chose to write the beauty of coffee in this way. I don't mean to be disrespectful to the beverage, and I also know that to an avid coffee-drinker, the very thought that I've added such concoctions that one might find in a Starbucks to be laughably insulting. (And no, I don't consider Starbucks coffee 'real' coffee either). But I suppose the point is that The Cafe molds itself around what's necessary. Coffee is always bitter to the patron who considers coffee to always be bitter.
So, no, I'm not trying to paint coffee in such a manner. It just so happens it's fit the scenarios so far. I will do my best to pay more respects to the drink in the future, as much as it can go, but the coffee itself really isn't the focus of the stories rather than just a MacGuffin. I will try to be aware.
Thank you for the feedback!
5578167
It is pretty coolio (I just went through the first 3 episodes during a break in classes), and this chapter just kinda felt a little like that.
I feel like getting dialogue down is the hardest part of writing, at least for me it is. Just trying to write a few lines for an RP had me going "Does that sound like shit someone would say...uh...dammit" for forever. XD That's why I'm liking this so far.
5571613
Would it be entirely wrong to say I spotted just a bit of Cowboy Feng's Space Bar and Grill?
Loving this story, or perhaps, stories. I feel like I want to find this place, finally order a perfect cup of Sumatra, and have a conversation with someone I know, or maybe someone that I should know, but don't yet.
Perhaps someday I will make a fortuitous wrong turn and find the Cafe that doesn't exist, but should.
5579532
I really do enjoy writing dialogue a lot. I personally find the secret to dialogue is to actually leave what's being said to last. I know that sounds weird, but this is how I see it. You have to know your character's attitudes and let them say what they probably would say. The idea is that if you write the script before they find their voice, then their voice is sacrificed. They'll have no choice but to read what's on the script. Rather, you should just be very familiar with the character's manner of speaking, have a sentiment in your head (this is the information/point they need to get across) and have them write their own lines, so to speak. It's not always just about the words being used, too. You have to remember that action is a big part of dialogue as well, something people don't realise as much. What characters do WHILE talking also delivers a line. It shows if they are flighty, focused, what have you. Also, different characters might even choose to relay information in different ways altogether. One might tackle a problem frankly, one might side-step, and one might even choose to avoid the subject altogether. This is why one should never start writing dialogue with the words.
5583061
Ach. I'm afraid I've not heard of that before. Strangely enough, I did a little google on Steven Brust, and he shares remarkable similarities with Spider Robinson, the author of the book that did influence this to a small degree. They're both cowboy types, they both are singer-songwriters, and they both seem to enjoy writing about the concepts of inter-dimensional travel, time and space, and other such oddities. I'd say there was something about that, but I have to combo break it because I, myself, am unfortunately not a space-faring cowboy.
Although I wish I were.
But thank you for your thoughts. I kinda think this is the nicest thing anyone's said about this story so far because that kinda really was what I wanted to portray The Cafe as. Just a place for people to go because it's warm and lovely and there is nothing else for just that one perfect moment in time.
Until the mariachi band starts up at 4 and then everything goes to hell because of conga hour and they FORCE you to dance in those PANTS and UGH. You know what I'm talking about.
5583118
It feels like that. As a collection of shorts written for the dialog, it has a definitive sense of place. That is important I think. It could be set anywhere, but its not. It is set here, in this strange little cafe. It's quirky and cool and there is no place you'd rather be at 3:30 on a Thursday afternoon.
I know! If you don't dance everyone looks at you like you're some kinda square and by the time you sit down the coffee has gone stone cold! But in all fairness the mariachi band is very good.
Cowboy is a state of mind, not a dress code. And aren't we all space faring time travels?
5583219
You know, you're right. In a literal sense, we are. In a spiritual sense, much more. I would like to now declare myself as part of the space-faring cowboy collective. A mere member of the planet earth.
And this is my application photo.
gerweck.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/jimmyyang.jpg
5583267
Welcome to the rodeo.
I wrote a review of Temperature; it can be found here.
This obviously took me far too long to get to! But I very much enjoyed this for:
- The layering of a world and ponies covered in new snowfall. Beautiful.
- Twilight and Rarity, sitting in comfortable silence as good friends who are comfortable with each other enough that watching the snowfall is a thing they can do without filling it with anything but their curiosity about each other.
- Twilight's self-confidence, aware of and unmarred by the perception of adults at what should constitute acceptable behavior among themselves. It's very reminiscent of C.S. Lewis' statement, with which I very much agree. (Full quote)
- Rarity's light teasing of Twilight, and then her acquiescence to Twilight's rejection of other's perceptions of her choice as a self-actualizing adult: Marshmallows for a marshmallow pony. Rarity wins marshmallow points and a purple princess in the library!
- Twilight has excellent taste. I'll have what she's having: Grande Cafe Mocha with a triple shot, at 180F, whipped cream on top, please!
- Twilight with whipped cream on her nose. Cute!
I've been meaning to read this chapter and the rest for a while, so now I really have to much sooner than later.
Note: CiG uses conduction early on to describe the heat transfer, and convection later on. I'm pretty sure convection in this case is wrong, and he probably meant conduction. Those are two different things, especially in the context.
5676375
5676641
As Southpaw notes, the 'convection' was actually a typo. I meant to type 'conduction,' as I did in Twilight's first comment.
I gotta say, I have a deep, philosophical objection to Rarity's comment this chapter. If you have to ask "Why whipped cream?" you've missed the fundamental point of the existence of whipped cream in the first place. It's like asking "Why breathe?" or "Why books?" or "Why bother living?".
5709444
Ah, but you see, it is the purpose of the zen masters to make you question them in the first place, as questioning that which we take for granted is the first path to enlightenment.
My child, you must sit by yourself in a cold freezer, amongst the berries, and consider to yourself...
Why whipped cream?
For once you understand one of these universal truths, you will soon reach nirvana.
*nods sagely*
I wish I could like this story twice...
Moustache for you.
Its a very nice story. These little one shots make you think about the finer things in life.
5836624
I do very much appreciate that! And of course, I couldn't have done this without the guest authors as well, so a lot of props to them, eh? =)
5583118