• Published 26th Jan 2012
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Transcendence - Corejo



Scootaloo learns the wonders of flight.

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XV - Granted

Granted

“Scoot.”

Something nudged her face. She shooed it away with a hoof and rolled over, groaning.

“Scoot, wake up.”

The something nudged her again, harder. “Five more minutes...” she mumbled into her pillow.

“Scoot,” the voice said, sterner.

“Mnhh...”

Suddenly, her warm, downy down comforter disappeared from around her, and a mid-winter chill clawed its way across her skin. She curled into a ball to defend what little warmth her body held, eyes clenching shut before opening to find the culprit.

Her father was looking down at her with mild impatience.

“Cold in here isn’t it?” he said nonchalantly before his eyes shifted to her bedroom window. She followed his gaze, then scowled at him. It was closed when she went to bed.

“Come on, I’ve got something to show you.” He extended a wing onto the bed. “Up up.”

Scootaloo rubbed her eyes before sighing. She wasn’t supposed to be up for another hour or two. She complied, climbing onto his back and yawning loudly to voice her complaint. What in Equestria did he want to show her at this ungodly hour? Couldn’t it at least wait until sunrise?

They entered the living room where a small paper sack and her Wonderbolts scarf waited on the coffee table. Without breaking stride, Tyco tossed them onto his back, then headed for the door.

The still morning air was frigid and chilled to the bone. If Scootaloo wasn’t awake already, she was now. Instinctively, she donned her scarf. It didn’t help much.

“Hold on tight,” Tyco said.

Scootaloo was about to ask why, but his outstretched wings answered her unspoken question. She had less than a second to grab hold before he launched into the air with a force she never imagined. It felt as if her brains had been smashed into her hooves.

He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. “You don’t have to hold on that tight, you know.”

She blinked, then looked down to notice her hooves digging into his sides and promptly relaxed her grip. “Heh, sorry.” Her apology vanished from her mind as quickly as it had formed. Dad never flew—not since he was a Wonderbolt. Yet here he was flying, at a breakneck speed no less.

“Dad?” she said.

“Yeah?” He turned his head, curiosity peaking his brow.

“Why are you flying? I thought you said you gave it up after you were a Wonderbolt.”

He looked ahead. Though she couldn’t see, she knew he was looking down in thought. “I did. But it’s been a long time since then, and my grudge wasn’t helping anypony.” He looked back at her, a faint smile on his face. “Especially when someone I love is lost in the middle of winter.”

A pang of guilt tugged at the bottom of Scootaloo’s heart. Scaring him half to death was nowhere near on her list of things to do in life.

“Plus,” he continued, “if I didn’t get over it, I wouldn’t be able to show you what I’m going to here.”

Scootaloo smiled. She liked the sound of that. “What is it?”

“A surprise.”

She frowned. Surprises weren’t something she had the patience for. Regardless, she looked around to pass the time. Even in the morning darkness, she could tell they were headed toward the meadow, and quite quickly at that. Houses sped below in thatched streaks as the Everfree rose in the distance.

A sigh escaped her. Though riding on her father’s back as he flew felt weird, she couldn’t help the sense of contentment. He flew quickly, but fluidly, his stride and breathing efficient and rhythmic. It reminded her of the day Rainbow Dash carried her to the top of the mountain so long ago: her built-up excitement, Rainbow Dash’s enthusiasm, the chill wind of the peak.

Wait. He wasn’t going to throw her off a mountain, was he?

“Hey, wake up. We’re here.”

Scootaloo looked up, realizing she had been dozing off, and saw that they had arrived. It was the first time she had seen the meadow since her sonic rainboom nearly two months ago. Surprisingly, everything was exactly how she remembered, except the elm: the branches of one side were completely blown off and littered the ground. She ran an absentminded hoof along a faded scar on her chest.

Tyco extended a wing, which Scootaloo slid down onto the frosted ground. He then looked up at the sky where a massive storm cloud broiled. “I’ve been getting up early every day since your birthday to practice. I’m still a little rusty, but I think I’ve got the hang of it again.” He looked down at her and smiled.

Scootaloo gave him a curious look. Practicing?

With a mischievous smile, Tyco leapt into the sky.

Scootaloo watched in disbelief as he rocketed toward the cloud almost faster than her eyes could follow. Was he? She grinned. He was.

Though only a speck, she could see him pull back against the cloud’s underside. White sparks of lightning slowly gathered around him, flashing and crackling until they built to monstrous bolts of light.

Then, he fell.

Scootaloo’s grin turned to slack-jawed awe as the lightning followed, leashed about him, before breaking off to sheath its new master. His form became slender like an arrow, and he picked up speed. She felt the hair of her coat tug toward him.

The lightning that wrapped about him intensified, then vanished, gone in an instant as he fell motionless, his legs and wings becoming limp. He looked anything but worried that he was barrelling toward the earth. Calm. Relaxed. His eyes were closed. A filament of static snaked through his feathers.

He spun and fanned his wings to their fullest, like a great eagle swooping down upon unsuspecting prey. The lightning returned tenfold, trailing like a cloak and obscuring his wings from sight.

Suddenly, he pumped his wings, and the lighting warped beneath him, connected, and fired at the earth not ten meters below. It blasted through snow and dirt, and at the same time, surged upward, through him and toward the cloud far above, which became a blinding white as it met the upward charge with its own, bold and brilliant like the innumerable branches of a tree.

Tyco landed deep into the lightning-softened earth, and the white blaze consumed him before exploding outward. It crackled and snarled, deafening, as it tore across the meadow, like titanic chains ripped from the earth. One roared past Scootaloo. She felt the ground quake and hot dirt upon her face.

Birds echoed shrill cries and took flight from nearby treetops, some of which were caught in the devastation, their boughs steaming with the snow that had covered them moments before.

Scootaloo’s legs felt wobbly, her mind blank. She fell to her haunches and gawked.

Tyco freed himself from the pony-sized crater of mud and trotted to her, wearing a huge smile. “Well? What do you think?”

What did she think? What did he mean what did she think? What was the only thing she could think?

“That was awesome!”

Tyco laughed. “I’m glad you think so.” He ruffled her mane, then looked over his shoulder at the crater. “I learned to do that when I was a little older than you, but it wasn’t nearly as...” He looked around, surprise growing on his face. “Violent.”

Violent was an understatement. For all Scootaloo would have known if she hadn’t witnessed it, she would have thought a war broke out here.

“But anyways, that’s what got me into the Wonderbolts. You remember all those bedtime stories, right?”

Scootaloo nodded enthusiastically. Who wouldn’t? “Uh huh.”

“Well... now you’ve seen it with your own two eyes.” Smiling, he tried to mat down his frazzled mane, but it defied his efforts. “I figured this would be a good first half of your belated birthday present.”

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “Half?”

Tyco grinned. “Why do you think I showed it to you?”

Scootaloo stared blankly at him, trying to make sense of his words. When it clicked, her jaw dropped to the ground. “Y-you’re gonna teach it to me?”

Tyco chuckled. “Well, yeah that’s what I was implying. You do wanna learn it, right?”

Scootaloo had never heard a more stupid question. Of course she did!

“Yeah!” Scootaloo somersaulted before giving him a huge smile.

He smiled back. “Well, alright then. But first thing’s first. I wanna see this sonic rainboom of yours.”

“Huh?” Scootaloo perked up, unsure she had heard him correctly.

“I said, I want to see your sonic rainboom.” He sat down and tilted his head while smiling, as if to say, ‘I’m waiting.’

Jittery pride welled in Scootaloo’s chest, and she grinned before rocketing skyward through the cloud. Its vapors frosted on her coat as the air thinned and the drop in pressure popped her eardrums. A newfound intensity of wind sounded in her ears.

A glance toward the cloud below called many memories from the back of her mind, some good, most bad, one perfect; she had done it once, and she would do it again. She would see that pink light, that pulsing thread, and defeat it.

Her father was watching; he wanted to see it, and that meant the world to her.

She circled around, took a deep breath, and then she dove.

While old hat, the sensation of falling felt new and exhilarating. Scootaloo welcomed the thickening air that tore at her face and the fire that burned in her wings. They made her feel free. Empowered. Alive.

The cone formed about her as she punched through the cloud to see her father’s grin in the distance. She couldn’t help the pride in her heart. It beat loud in her ears, louder than the roaring wind.

Quicker than she expected, the cone narrowed and wrapped her in static before its tip unravelled to a glowing white thread. It became a swirl of fluorescent reds, blues, and yellows and caused her to squint against their brightness; though, they weren’t nearly as bright as she remembered.

She continued downward toward the earth, its snowy white still far below, of little concern. The thread’s colors swirled faster, racing each other up and down its length. Soon, they began to flee from the tip of her hoof, where a pink light grew brighter by the second. As the light consumed the thread, Scootaloo stared it down, ignoring the inferno it brought to her hooftip. She forced herself harder against it. But something felt different.

Her wings grew numb, and the chest pains laxed. She suddenly felt at ease. The blinding pink light turning a deep violet seemed normal, its note—a high ringing in her ears—natural. The clawing winds felt calm, like an afternoon breeze content to cool her face and nothing more. Her pupils grew wide, and her smile all too real. The thread snapped.

And Scootaloo laughed.

Everything went silent as color bled away, and she felt the weight of the world disappear.

The ground rose ever faster, but she shrugged off her concern. The sensation, the thrill of speed beyond sound, engrossed her: utter nothingness around, complete fullness within.

Everything about her was less—colorless, senseless. Mad. Something not meant for her. She was more, filled to the brim with the moreness that now made them less. Her heart beat with it. Her lungs breathed it. Her mind drowned in it.

And more she became as she pulled into an upward curve toward the expanding grey ring of her rainboom. She interlocked its grey with that of the trail behind her and looped back toward the earth, relaxing her speed and letting her moreness refill the world. Color returned to the forest and the twinkling snow upon the meadow. Sound returned to the birds that fled in terror and the wind that whistled playfully in her ears.

The thrill of life beyond its limits left her, taking all the wonders of her silent and full world with it. Scootaloo landed beside her father, legs jittery with adrenaline, but mind adrift.

“Ain’t that a sight...” her father whispered.

She looked up. Two rings of the most brilliant violet graced the sky, one cutting through the other as it blossomed like a flower. The force of the rainboom had blown a gaping hole through the cloud above, letting the sun shine down from a beautiful blue sky.

Scootaloo sighed wistfully as her father wrapped a hoof around her and drew her close. She pressed herself against his warmth and could hear his heart beat within his chest.

The two sat in silence for a long minute before Tyco gave her a gentle shake and chuckled. “I guess I should put that cloud back together.” In a gust of wind, he leapt into the air.

Scootaloo knew that pegasi controlled the weather across Equestria: she had watched Rainbow Dash and the rest of the weather crew clear away a cloudy sky many a time. But never had she watched them build one.

Her father was a master of this craft.

His orange form darted in and out of, around and through, above and below the cloud, weaving it back together with the steady finesse of a master loomspony. He wrangled and wrestled with vapors that dared try breaking free of the mesh. None escaped him. Within minutes, the hole in the sky had been closed, and the cloud grew darker than the deepest caverns.

His pattern changed. He began to loom his way up and down the cloud. Seconds of disappearance within traded with seconds of appearance without, wispy contrails in tow like thread following a needle.

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. What was he doing now?

A low rumble met her ears, and her eyes shot wide. He wasn’t just rebuilding the cloud; he was rebuilding the lightning.

Her jaw fell slack as he worked his way back down the cloud in the same looming pattern. A bright flash near him set her on edge. It flickered twice before lashing out at him with a fork of white hot power. He dodged it and resumed his work without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

Scootaloo cheered, proud but disappointed. How could her father be this awesome and never tell her? She wanted to ask when he landed seconds later, but the answer came with his smile: actions speak louder than words.

“That should do the trick,” he said, giving the cloud an appraising glance. As if to affirm his statement, it flashed, then roared with the might of a lion. “You ready to give it a try?”

The question washed over her like an ice bath. Trying on that would be suicide. She may have been crazy, but not stupid. “Uh, shouldn’t I try it on a—” A bright flash lit up the sky as a deafening clap shook the world beneath her hooves. Her pupils narrowed, and her words left her.

“I would have had you practice on a regular cloud, but I’ve tried it before many times. It just doesn’t work—you can’t feel the cloud with your wings like you’ll see in a bit. But listen close, because this is very important.” The smile he wore evaporated, and a stern gaze took its place. “I know what doing this means to you, but you have to know what it means to me. Letting you do this goes against everything I’ve ever learned about being a parent. You have to promise me one thing. You’ll only practice this when I’m there with you.”

Scootaloo’s jaw dropped. “But—”

“No buts. This is extremely dangerous. I won’t have you practicing it out here alone. Not even with your friends.” He came face to face, a hoof around her shoulder.

“It can kill you, Scoot. And it will if you’re not careful.”

Scootaloo stopped, eyes fixed on his. The worry in his eyes reached out to her as if she were a lifeline. She looked aside. “Okay...”

Tyco nodded, solemn in expression and voice. “Good. We’ll start with the basics.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Speed is everything. It all comes down to your start. Since the whole trick is done upside down in freefall, you have to reach the cloud at the right angle and speed.”

“Why do I have to do it upside down?” Scootaloo asked.

“Because you don’t wanna turn your brain into a hardboiled egg.” He paused, then looked away, as if troubled by a distant memory. Prying for details was the last thing she wanted to do. Upside down would be just fine for her.

“Anyways.” He spread his wings to their absolute fullest, every feather discernible from its neighbor from tip to base. “When you commit, and you’re gliding beneath the cloud, you have to graze it with your wings.” To display what he meant, he extended them downward toward the earth, feathers still spread. Scootaloo nodded, eyes riveted.

Only your wings. If anything else touches the cloud, you’ll circuit the charge back into it instead of building it up inside you, so you need to tuck your legs in. And if your wings aren’t touching the cloud at all, then it won’t work anyways. So as you can imagine, it’s a narrow window.”

“Wait, build it up inside you?” Scootaloo asked, her head cocked to the side. “Does it hurt?”

Deep within her heart, she already knew the answer before he cringed.

His eyes swirled with the words that tortured his spirit, knowing what was to come of her. “More than you could ever imagine.”

The chill in the air suddenly felt much colder. A breeze kicked up a dust of snow in the silence.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Scoot?” he asked. His voice was hollow, pleading.

She could sense how much it hurt him to let her practice such a dangerous stunt. But she also knew he loved her enough to push her toward success. Beating Rainbow Dash demanded the best. She looked up at the cloud, then grinned.

It would be worth it.

He matched her grin. “That’s my girl. Just one other thing: sometimes the clouds’ll rain depending on how saturated they are when I put ‘em together. I can’t do a thing about it. All you need to know, though, is that the rain can make holding the lightning inside you harder.”

Scootaloo nodded almost mechanically. His statement passed through her head, and guesses as to why it could be true formulated, eventually coming to rest on conductivity, and desired no more explanation.

Tyco smirked at her. “You’re nodding like you don’t even care how it works. Well, I guess it isn’t really that important, and we don’t have to deal with it right now, anyways.” He sighed away what could have only been disappointment for a lost opportunity to teach her something. “So... You ready to give it a try?”

The cloud let out another roar that resounded off the Everfree. Though her nerves quivered, Scootaloo nodded.

“Alright then, let’s get started.” He lifted himself into the air and circled about. His eyes met hers, and she felt safety wash over her like warm water.

Scootaloo followed him into the air and trailed behind as they flew toward the cloud.

Another flash. Another roar.

A lump formed in her throat, and her breathing began to match her racing heart. Just stay calm. Relax.

Tyco looked over his shoulder at her, catching her attention. “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.” He slackened his pace to fall behind while giving a reassuring smile and then nodding toward the cloud. Its darkened mass rolled over itself, churning and flashing faster the closer they came.

Scootaloo gulped as its deep bass vibrated her heart. Here we go.

Beating her wings for speed, she looped upward, straight at the cloud. Pulling back, she felt the unfamiliar sense of inversion settle in her stomach. She angled herself to graze the cloud, but didn’t pull back enough, and instead of gliding along its underside, flew into its soaking belly. Drenched, she fell out and spun rightside up to look at her father.

“You’re fine, just gotta try again,” he yelled over a peal of thunder.

So she did. Tyco right behind, she dove toward the earth to build momentum and carry herself back toward the cloud. She again pulled back to graze its underside, but missed entirely, falling a whole meter short. She knocked herself on the head. Focus, you idiot!

Righting herself from her second try, she shot her father a glance, then the cloud. She gritted her teeth. She could do it. Third time’s the charm.

And a third time she tried. The cloud’s underside flashed a warning, and a low rumble met her ears, but she returned it with a glare, undeterred.

She began to loop into a wide half-somersault and beat her wings as hard as she could. Louder every second did her heart pound in her ears as the cloud came within hoof’s reach, and her heart gave a sudden flutter.

Only your wings can touch.

She flattened her legs against her body and extended her wings toward the cloud. Its soft wetness broke around them like waves in an ocean. Then, the oddest sensation began to work its way through her.

It twinged and tingled down her wings like thousands of tiny needles and quickly spread to every inch of her body. The pricks in her wings became stabbing flames, white hot, as the cloud flashed inches from her face. Her breathing became nervous and choppy.

Streaks of lightning spooled around her wings as she began to fall away from the cloud. They followed in thick, spidering, sizzling trails before snapping off from the cloud and vanishing within her.

She felt the charge inside, exactly how her father had described in his stories—wild like a caged animal. From muscle to bone to tendon to skin and back to muscle it leapt in an endless circuit of flame. Every fiber of her being screamed for its release.

Faster than she could react, the sensation built at the base of her wings. It snaked upward through her feathers in white coils to collect at her wingtips. Scootaloo gasped. Too soon.

“Scoot, watch out!”

The lighting in her wings snapped together and fired toward the cloud, which returned its own. She braced for the incoming bolt, but quicker than the lightning itself, Tyco intercepted both strikes. The charges showered outward in a deafening clap that shook Scootaloo from the inside out.

“Dad!” she cried, unable to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. She spun about and dashed toward his tail-spinning figure. Feathers scattered in smouldering tufts, and the smell of burnt flesh flooded her head.

His wings whipped awkwardly about as he tried to regain control, which gave her time to catch him. She wrapped her legs around his back and beat her wings as hard as she could, but wasn’t strong enough to carry him. The two crashed to the earth in a heavy thud and cloud of fallen snow.

Sprawled on her back, Scootaloo stared at the grey sky, heaving for air, head swimming, lungs compressed. She rolled over and saw her father curled in a ball, wing muscles pulled unnaturally taught, breathing erratically.

“Dad!” Pain shot down her foreleg when she stood to wrap him in a fear-filled hug. She felt him convulse uncontrollably. “Dad!” Her vision began to blur. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she leapt over him to look into his pain-twisted face.

“I’m okay,” he said with heavy, trembling breath. “I’m-I, I’m okay. J-j-just give m-me a m-m-minute.” He rested his head on the ground and heaved for air.

Scootaloo could see the hot steam of his breath and blood trickling from his nostrils. She looked away, unable to bear the thought that she was the cause of it, but then heard the shuffling of hooves and turned to see him trying to stand. His knees wobbled, and his head was bent low, as if it were too heavy for his neck to support.

He looked her in the eye and gave her a weak, almost creepy smile. “And that’s why I don’t want you doing this alone.” His front hooves gave out, and he fell to his knees.

“Dad!”

“I’m alright. I’m fine.” Though it attempted to be sincere, his smile held cracks clear as day. He looked up at the cloud and chuckled. “I think that’s enough practice for one day, don’t you?”

Scootaloo bit her lip. The idea of gauging practices on how much pain she could cause him didn’t appeal.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, I’ve been through worse.” His smile became genuine, and she couldn’t help but return one, despite its implications. “Now come on, help me up.”

His sudden, struggling movement startled her. She rushed to his side and pushed up into his chest to help him stand. He wavered for a second before catching his balance and giving her another fatherly smile. Celestia only knew how he could after being struck by lightning. A moment passed before he tried to spread his wings, but they were curled in awkward positions, one still twitching ever so slightly.

Scootaloo gaped at the blackened and twisted tufts of feathers that clung desperately to his wings. She clenched her own tight against her sides.

“Yeah... dispersing the lighting through your wings does do a number on them, but its better than letting it go straight through you. Feathers grow back real quick though, so we’ll pick this back up in a day or two.”

Scootaloo attempted a nod, but was too fixated on his wings to know if she had. It looked beyond painful. And to think he was dismissive of it. Even if it was the lesser of two evils, the sight worried her.

The cloud flashed and roared above, and they both looked up. “That’s probably our cue to head back,” Tyco said. “Come on, I’ll make pancakes.”

That sounded like a good, safe idea. They started for home, Scootaloo close beside, to catch him if he stumbled. Though their walk was slow, it bothered her none. All that mattered was her father's warm smile, and the anticipation fluttering in her heart.

When they reached the outskirts of Ponyville, she cast a glance behind her, and grinned.

[Author's Note: Thanks to Belligerent Sock for his review of this chapter.]

[Onward and Upward!]