Broadcasters

by HoneyQuill

Sundae

The walk home seems to take forever. I pass by a familiar pink pony who, at my silence, takes to the air and comes to rest by my side. A Pegasus, strange enough in these parts even without taking in her odd appearance. Her wings are a pale lilac – a throwback, she says, to her connection to royalty – and seem oversized for her tiny form. Flowing curls in a combination of fuchsia and plum tumble from her scalp and to the ground. It’s a good thing she can fly, or that mane must get awfully grubby.

“Hey, Indigo Wave!”

“Hi, Raspberry Sundae.”

“Good job today.”

I force a smile. Sundae is one of those ponies who I can never figure out. She can be kind and loving one moment, and the next insult you in the most painful way possible. But despite her agonisingly childlike demeanour, you can’t help but like her.

“I am so jealous of you unicorns!” she laughs, before taking to the air, “I mean sure, I’m descended from royalty and can fly, but you’re a megaphone!”

I nod absent-mindedly, knowing that she won’t care if I tune out.

“No, but really,” she comes to land next to me, “Aren’t you worried? If something goes wrong, then you’re the only one who can alert the Princess. It’s kind of all resting on you.”

“I know. But it’s okay. It’s my special talent, and all.”

She grins, baring her teeth just a tad too much to be friendly.

“And that’s great! Mine is so boring, I just make yummy desserts!”

“I’d say in some ways, that’s better.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

She hums under her breath and then seems to remember her initial topic.

“So can you do it?”

“Can I do what?”

“If a big, scary monster comes, and starts hurting everypony, can you call for the Princess?”

I shrug.

“I don’t see why not. The whole point of being a broadcaster is that it’s two-way communication in case of emergencies.”

She stops suddenly and I turn, only mildly interested at her sudden change in attitude. She does this.

“I don’t think that you can do it.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, you're a good broadcaster but really, you're not exactly the most level-headed of ponies, are you?”

I tilt my head.

“I don't think it's all that bad. It wouldn't be my job if I couldn't handle it, right?”

“I suppose so,” she sighs, “by the way, I saw Lava talking to you earlier. What was he saying this time?”

“The usual. He doesn't like me.”

“Give him a break. He was so mean to you for being a blank flank. He's probably just embarrassed now you've got an important job.”

“I thought you said I couldn't do it.”

She grins and takes to the air, calling back as she does a mid-air twirl.

“That doesn't mean you won't. It's just an opinion. Geez, Indigo, you really worry too much!”

I shoot her a sarcastic stare.

“I will never, never be able to figure you out, Sundae.”

“Good for you!”

I sigh. See? She's not even listening to me. I continue walking until she lands unceremoniously at my feet.

“Wrong way!”

“What?”

“Maize is throwing you a party, right? Not sure why or even where, but if you wait here I'll fly up and find him!”

“It's okay Sundae, I really don't care for parties.”

“Boo.”

With that she takes to the air, searching madly for signs of the distant party. As soon as she disappears from my sight I turn and walk pointedly away. On the main road I smile and greet several ponies. They all respond, as predicted, with a nod and a polite 'good afternoon'.

As I walk, I feel myself becoming increasingly agitated. I can't place my hoof on why, though; today has been a fairly regular day by all counts. Yes, Lava Pit has been... well, Lava Pit, and Sundae has been her strange bipolar self, not to mention Maize and his imminent, unavoidable parties – but isn't that just a regular day in Trottingham? Why is there a spinning feeling in the pit of my stomach?

I shake off the strange feeling and push on, heading back into town. As I near the centre, the heavens open and suddenly I'm drenched through, shivering in the icy cold.

“This. Is. Insane.” I mutter, as I walk on. After a moment or two the rain seems to stop – I glance up to see a green stallion levitating an umbrella over both myself and him.

“Afternoon, Miss. I hope you don't mind, but you'll catch your death out here.”

I try to smile sweetly; but it just ends up being a grimace as the uneasy knot in my gut tightens.

“Thank you very much.”

He walks me over to a shelter, where I assure him that I will wait out the storm. The truth is that I don't have anywhere to go. I could return home, back to my cramped, square room, but there's very little to do there. No doubt Maize is still partying; I daresay he hasn't even realised that I'm missing yet. Lava Pit is probably boiling over somewhere, and Sundae – Celestia knows. I stand up and shake violently, trying to get the water droplets off my body. It helps a little, and I'm filled with hope as I see the first tiny rays of sunlight in the distance. But this is Trottingham, and it's always grey, always cloudy, and always, always raining. Even a bright, perfect summer day is marred here by the occasional droplet of rain. There's never a chance to see snow and ice because the heavy downpours wash it all away in hours.

I kick a rock into the rain and watch as it instantly becomes darker with rain. My mind wanders back to the Princess’s orders. If anything goes wrong, I have to contact her – despite the fact that little has seemed off about today, a strange squirm in my chest makes me feel instantly sick with nerves.

Ponies wander past, most hovering umbrellas over themselves as they walk. None of them seem to be concerned about anything. Their days are beautifully monotonous. Wake up, go to work, wander into town, go home, sleep. My days, on the other hand, are spent waiting around and doing very little, while I wait for a new law to be passed or for some horrific bout of destruction to be launched on my home town.

My quiet whine of envy is drowned out, however, by an unearthly roar. I'm on my feet in an instant, focussing as the town falls silent.

Darn. I was only joking about the destruction.