> The Sour Grapes Chronicles > by The Incredible Werekitty > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > A very small beginning > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Okay. Everypony gather around, and I’ll tell y’all a story. “Once upon a time, a humble earth pony winemaker met the daughter of a wealthy and powerful unicorn family. They became friends, then lovers, courted, and married… much to the dismay of the unicorn’s family. The unicorn’s mother even went so far as to disown the hapless filly. The unicorn’s brother was angered by the decision, but the matron’s will was like iron. And so the Unicorn chose to live with the Earth Pony upon his vineyard, and for many years they were very happy. Then one day, they had a daughter. When she was delivered, her father made an amusing comment on how she looked like she’d tasted something sour… Just as the nurse was asking for a name. The Earth Pony’s name is Champagne Grapes. His family had owned Grapevine Hills Winery and Vineyard for generations. The unicorn’s name is Champagne Diamond. Her family was in the gemstone trade, among other things. She gave up a life of wealth and stature for a life filled with love. And that is, very briefly, the story of how my parents met, and how I came into the world.” And just so you know, the Grapes family is an offshoot of the Apple family, as are the Oranges. And that’s how an Earth Pony can have a unicorn for a cousin. Oh, and -heh- the Pears are distant relations.. a batch of nere-do-wells at most of their endevors. Hence the term "Things have gone pear-shaped." > Summerstart Rush > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Once Upon a time in Equestria... no not there. More over there. ... a litttle more. Yes, that's right. Right across from Sweet Apple Acres. Darned camera. Ahem, anyway. Once upon a time in Equestria, across from Sweet Apple Acres, there stood another farm. Unlike Sweet Apple Acres, and it's, well, acres of apple trees, this one had gently rolling hills, and wooden frames holding up a wide variety of very special grapes. This was, in fact, a vineyard, that provided quite a lot of the local wines. Its name was the Grapevine Hills Vineyard and Winery. It was well known. Well known enough to have attracted rich ponies from Canterlot to visit its grounds, and sample its wares... And leave behind one of their own, struck by the arrows of love, much to the dismay of her family, but you've already read that bit. While it is well known that the Apple family dabbled in making grape juice for the general consumption of ponies, their cousins, the Grapes family were very serious in the care and selection of their crop for the purpose of Wine making. Well most of their cousins, at least. Concord Grapes seemed intent upon cornering the grape juice, jelly and jam market, single-hoofedly. However, we're concentrating on Grapevine Hills, its wide variety of wine grapes, and the family that runs it... More specifically the daughter of the family that runs it. It was the beginning of Summerstart, that our story truly begins. It's a typical day at the vineyard, with the usual farm life early start. Up with the sun, quick shower, breakfast, then out to tend to the vines. Admittedly, Champagne Diamond-Grapes (called "Cham" to avoid confusion) had a slightly easier time of it, than her daughter Sour Grapes, or her husband, Champagne Grapes (Who went by the nickname "Champ"). "Looks like it's about that time again," Champ said with a satisfied smile at the harvest, this year. The earth pony was a sturdy fellow, not as massive as Big Macintosh but well muscled from life on a farm. His coat was dark brown, mane and tail burgundy, and his cutie mark a bunch of grapes, and a Champagne bottle. "It would seem so, love," Cham said with a nuzzle to her beloved's neck. Cham was a unicorn the color of, well, champagne. A golden color, that seemed to have a touch of brown in its mix, and her mane was a lighter shade of the same color. Cham's cutie mark was a set of four diamonds, the same color as her coat. Sour Grapes sighed, quietly, rolling her eyes. It was not like she hated this time of year... Okay, yes it was EXACTLY like she hated this time of year, but her father had promised to let her handle the temporary workers, this year. So it should be a BIT better. She can get rid of the chaff, more quickly, and NOT have to deal with her father's tendency to give 'second chances'. "It's time for lunch, anyway," Cham added, as they all clopped back to their farmhouse. "Love, how do you spell 'interim'?" Champ said, after lunch, as he sat at his desk, writing out this quarter's help wanted poster. "Eye, in, tea, ea, are, eye, em," Cham said, as she washed up the lunch dishes with her ponykenesis. Grapes looked on with a touch of jealousy but kept up her hoof-drying of the dishes, and putting them away. Champ wrote the word, then finished the poster, with a flourish. "Hey, raisenett, could you go and post this on the town hall's bulletin board? The sooner you get that up, the sooner you can start showing us your stuff," Champ said holding the poster up. "Sure, Dad. I'll head right over," she said fetching her saddlebag, and putting the poster into it. Sour Grapes was a unicorn filly just out of her teens, with a chocolate milk brown coat, and a mane the color of rich chocolate. A touch nearsighted, she wore gold rimmed glasses in front of her violet eyes. With the brown canvas saddlebags in place, she trotted out the door, heading to Ponyville. ======= After a brisk trot, Sour Grapes reached the Town Square, looking over the townsponies as she made her way to the bulletin board. There was that hyperactive pink mare with the curly mane bouncing around as usual. She stopped by an unfamiliar purple unicorn who had what looked like a dragon on her back. The dragon apparently was trying to get his unicorn friend to chat with the pink earth pony; when said earth pony gasped, then suddenly ran off. Sour Grapes rolled her eyes, and gazed up at Celestia's sun as if asking for divine assistance. Sour Grapes paused by the Carousel Boutique looked at the dresses there, and huffed a sigh, before moving on. "Load of fancy smancy crud that only a stuck-up git would love," Sour Grapes thought derisively, as she clip-clopped over to the Town Hall. She then snickered at a small secret she had observed, as she reached the board, then proceeded to hammer up the poster. Something she did in an earth pony manner, marehandling the sheet into place, and making use of a hoof-held hammer. She put the hammer into her mouth, backed up a bit, tossing the tool into her saddle bag before sitting back on her haunches to look over her work. "Why wasn't she using her levitation?" asked a rather immature male voice. "SPIKE!" came a very annoyed sounding feminine voice. "What?" "Don't you think that was a little bit rude?" the female uttered, sounding a touch annoyed. Sour Grapes sighed, as she levitated her saddle bag into place, and turned to discover the newcomer, and her draconian companion, right behind her. "I don't have fine motor control with my levitation ability," Sour Grapes explained with an air of having had to explain this, a LOT, in the past. "I can lift and carry large things, but more delicate jobs, I have to do with my hooves." "Oh," they both uttered. Despite her chastising her dragon, the purple unicorn had been, obviously, curious herself. "Well... Thank you for explaining. I'm Twilight Sparkle, and this is Spike. A pleasure to meet you," the unicorn, called Twilight said with a nod. This was obviously a pleasantry, but Sour Grapes' eyebrows shot up in surprise all the same. "Really? Oh! Uhm... *ahem* I'm Sour Grapes," she uttered still sounding a touch startled. "Uhm... Welcome to Ponyville?" "Thank you," Twilight said with a smile then looked a bit uncertain. "Er... Do you, by any chance, know the way to Sweet Apple Acres? I've been sent from Canterlot to oversee the preparations for the Summer Sun Festival, and that's my first stop." "Sure. I live out that way. I can show you to the gate," Sour Grapes said gesturing with a hoof. "Follow me." ======= "Here we are. Take that path and you'll reach Sweet Apple Acres in no time," Grapes said, gesturing. "Though... Ah..." Here Sour Grapes seemed to be at a loss for words. She was rather fond of the Apples, they being her cousins, but she knew how they were. "Don't be surprised if you get an enthusiastic greeting." "What do you mean?" Twilight asked, as she was about to set hoof on the path. "Oh, you'll find out," Sour Grapes said with a chuckle. "You won't go away hungry, though." She then turned and went back to Grapevine Hills, obviously amused. Tomorrow was the Summer Sun Festival, so she'd better get to bed early, unlike most ponies, tonight. On the up side, the holiday gave her a day to prepare for the new hires. On the down side, she'd have to be in the town hall at the break of dawn. Most ponies stayed up all night before the Summer Sun Festival, but Sour Grapes wasn't one of them. With all the chores for the next few days written up and all the tools that would be needed cleaned and lined up in the work sheds Grapes felt as prepared as anything for her first 'solo' Summerstart. She glanced across to the far end of the property to where her father was busy speaking with a local contractor on the refurbishing of an old barn into a new warehouse for storing wine. He had deliberately given himself a large project that would keep him out of his daughter's mane until she was done... bless his heart. Allowing herself a smile and a feeling of pride at the confidence he had in her organizational abilities she closed the Shed door and came face to face with a smirking Applejack. It always was so FRUSTRATING how a Mare that strong could always sneak up on her like that. "Howdy Cuz." "Applejack, do you deliberately try to cause me to have a heart attack?" Sour Grapes asked with a huff. "Oh a good jolt is good fer ya. Keeps yer ticker in good shape. Guess it's that time again, huh? When's your dad got the helpin' hooves showin' up this year? Same as usual, one week from postin'?" the blonde mare asked with a smile. "I think so. May even have some day after tomorrow," Sour Grapes said with a shrug. "I'm prepared for everything, and I get to be equine resources, this season. Should be able to get rid of the slackers, before they get out of hoof. And, as usual, I'll be sure to warn you about the worst ones, before they wheedle a job out of Big Mac." "Well now. You're comin' up in the world, ain't cha? Uncle Champagne's trustin' ya with the lives of the temporary workers and all... Say that reminds me why I came to begin with. Y'all see the new pony in town? Purple gal with a dragon?" Applejack asked. "Yes, actually. Lead her to your gate, before she could make a wrong turn, and get herself lost in the Everfree Forest," the brown unicorn replied, nodding. "Said her name was Twilight Sparkle." "Ah like her. A little wordy but Ah can tell she's got a good heart. Turns out she's here on business from the Princess, checkin' up on us here for the Summer Sun festival tomorrow. Guess who found out about her, and wants to roll out the welcome wagon?" "Oh... no... Don't tell me Pinkie Pie is throwing a party for that poor filly... That explains why she gasped and went running off like a madmare," Sour Grapes uttered rubbing a hoof against her temple. "Yep. She's got an open invite to everypony in Ponyville to head to the new gal's place at the old Library. Ah know you're not the party-goin' type but Ah figured Ah'd ask while dropping by for a few refreshments. You know Ah hate goin' to a party empty-hoofed," Applejack replied with a grin. "Don't you have your famous Apple Family Cider to take?" Sour Grapes asked raising an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on her muzzle. "Or would that be too strong for a wordy unicorn who, apparently, is moving into the library?" "Hard to say. The gal can certainly pack away the pie, Ah'll give her that. So you comin' or do Ah gotta hogtie ya?" Grapes looked at Applejack through half-lidded eyes. "You're not giving me a choice, are you?" Sour Grapes uttered deadpan. In fact her pan was so dead it was mummified. "Well no offense, Sour, but you kinda need to get out a little more. No one says you gotta put a lampshade on your head and dance the Pony Pokey on the tables, just drop by have some cake, a drink, say good night and it's all good." "Oh all right," Sour Grapes said with a sigh. ======= After Sour Grapes grabbed a couple of bottles of light wine from the family's personal cellars; and telling her parents where she was headed to, much to their obvious relief, she and Applejack started toward Ponyville. "I'm not that antisocial," Sour Grapes grumbled, as she trotted after Applejack, her ears laid back in agitation. "It's just that grapes, especially wine grapes, take a lot of care." "EKS-AHctly!" Applejack agreed, although her cousin realized there had to be a catch in there. "...and that goes for 'SOUR' Grapes too. You're a hard worker, no doubt about that, and honest to boot but you gotta live a little or you're jest gonna wither on the vine." "All work, and no play, huh?" Sour Grapes uttered, with a smirk. "Yep. Now let's getalong before Pinkie eats all the good cupcakes," Applejack said speeding up to a light canter. "Oh... RIGHT! That bouncy pink superball bakes as well as she eats," Sour Grapes uttered, matching Applejack's turn of speed. They arrived at the Library well before the arrival of Twilight Sparkle, in keeping with Pinkie Pie's desire to have a surprise party. Sour Grapes added her wine to the refreshment table, then stopped to chat with Cheerilee, asking Golden Harvest about her vegetable crop, and even pausing to give her cousin Concord a brief mane-ruffle. "GRAPESIE!" squealed a high-pitched hyperactive voice, a pair of pink forelegs encircling the chocolate brown unicorn's neck. "'Grapesie'?" Sour Grapes asked, looking sidelong at the ever-random Pinkie Pie. "Duh! There's no way I'ma going to call you 'Sour'. That'd be mean! Just 'cause you LOOK sour all the time doesn't mean that you ARE!" "Oh... Kay..." Sour Grapes murmured, looking at Applejack who just shrugged. "I allus call her 'Sour' 'cause it's her name," the orange pony said. "I guess I could go by 'Grapes'. Would probably make it easier on everypony..." Grapes mused. "I'm really really REALLY glad you could make it, Grapesie! You're always working so very hard, and Applejack gets really worried about you, sometimes," Pinkie gleefully said, nuzzling the increasingly annoyed unicorn. "And then I get worried about you too, and decide to throw you a party, but Applejack tells me that your farm isn't a very good place to throw a party, especially since your Dad's refurbishing the barn. Now where WILL you hold parties?" "Uh... I don't know? We don't usually hold parties. Wine tastings, yes, but they're usually pretty sedate," Grapes answered sounding genuinely bewildered. "OH! She's going to be coming soon! I'm SURE she'll enjoy being surprised like this! WHEE!" Pinkie uttered, going off to do something else. "WHY was this such a good idea again?" Grapes asked, looking at Applejack with a very annoyed expression on her face. "Why Miss Sour Grapes. What a pleasant surprise!" came a familiar voice as a blindingly white figure pressed her way gently through the crowd. Rarity was smiling and sipping some greenish drink out of a tall glass as she approached. "You hardly ever leave your vineyard unless it's a professional matter, please say you're joining in on our little soiree out of an interest in the newcomer?" Grapes looked a touch pained. "That... could technically be true, yes... But I can't say that, honestly," Sour Grapes uttered, with a slightly queasy look on her face. "Applejack... strongly suggested I come to the party, one way or another, so I chose willingly, rather than being dragged along by lasso." "Ah yes. Dear Applejack isn't one to make idle threats as well." "You've got that right. I love my cousin, dearly, but she can be... direct," Grapes uttered, choosing her words carefully. "So... how did the fabric come out? I don't come to town that often, so I never got the chance to ask." "Oh it was SPLENDID! I know it was a waste of a perfectly good bottle of wine but once I found an ideal fabric to catch the look of the linen then I was able to duplicate the color in a true Dye and now I have a popular purple-red shade of cloth for my projects... and the young colt who wished for a tuxedo in that color is very happy." "You... bought a whole case, Rarity," Grapes uttered. "Well yes, of course. It was a good vintage, was it not? I wasn't about to begin such a project without a little extra inspiration. And of course it's simply good policy to keep some refreshments on hand for company," Rarity replied airily. "Oh, of COURSE," Grapes uttered, imitating Rarity's mode of speech for her personal amusement. Grapes first met Rarity when she dropped by their Vineyard, to compare fabric samples to their crops. She and a client had very different views as to what 'Grape Purple" should look like so rather than admit defeat she went straight to the source. Grapes herself had taken the unicorn on a personal tour, explaining the history of the vineyard, the many varieties of grapes followed by a modest wine tasting afterwards. When Rarity had spilled a glass of 'Chateau D'Chevelier' upon the white linen tablecloth she just about squealed with glee. Apparently it was JUST the shade of purple she was looking for and after buying a case of wine AND the tablecloth she rushed off home to experiment. "SHE'S COMING! SHE'S COMING!" Pinkie squealed. "Somepony HIT THE LIGHTS!" The lights went out, and for a brief moment, a yellow colored pegasus with a flowing pink make came flying in. "Poor thing," the pegasus said in a soft, sweet voice. "You simply must get into bed." "Yes yes. We'll get RIGHT on that," Twilight's voice said from the door. "Well goodnight!" With that final declaration, the door slammed. "Huh. Rude much?" Spike asked. "Sorry, Spike, but I have to convince the Princess that Nightmare Moon is coming and we're running out of time! I just need to be alone so I can study without a bunch of CRAZY ponies trying make friends all the time. Now where's the light?" With that obvious signal, the lights went on, and all present shouted "SURPRISE!" Sour Grapes was probably the only pony there that noticed that their new arrival was somewhat less than pleased with the party. "Suh-PRIIIIZE! Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie, and I threw this party just for YOU! Were ya surprised? Were you, were you? Huh? Huh? Huh?" "VERY surprised. Libraries are supposed to be quiet," Twilight Sparkle uttered, that annoyed tone coming in again. "That's SILLY! What kind of welcome party would this be if it were quiet? I mean DUH! Boring!" Grapes watched the entire exchange, sympathizing with Twilight a bit, but only a bit. That was one pony who seriously needed to loosen up. And if Sour Grapes was thinking that, then it was a super serious case of being uptight. So Grapes watched Twilight grab a bottle of hot sauce instead of the bottle of Zinfandel that was beside it, pour it into a cup, and proceed to drink the condiment. The brown unicorn would have said something, but between Pinkie's torrent of words, and Grapes' own waning sympathy, she didn't get a word in edgewise. "And NOW you have lots and lots of FRIENDS!" Pinkie concluded, just as the heat of the sauce hit Twilight's tongue. The purple unicorn teared up, her face going a bright scarlet. "Are you alright, sugar-cube?" Applejack asked concerned. Soon after Applejack's question Twilight's mane and tail seemed to ignite on fire, before she went trotting up the stairs. "Hot sauce," Spike uttered, picking up the bottle. Pinkie ooh'ed, and poured some onto a cupcake, and munched it with obvious relish... But thankfully without the actual condiment. "What?" Pinkie uttered, around a mouthful of cupcake. "It's good." Grapes just stood to the side, chuckling at the whole scene, obviously enjoying the schadenfreude "Well, that was entertaining," Grapes chuckled. "Definitely worth the price of admission." "That was just a touch... mean-spirited, don't you think, darling?" Rarity asked raising an eyebrow at Grapes' comment. "I think so, yes. Maybe even more than a touch," Grapes replied with her usual uncompromising honesty. "However there are a multitude of things that I could have said that was much worse, and the entirety of them would not have reflected my actual opinion on the situation." "And what IS your opinion, dear?" Rarity inquired. "That Twilight Sparkle's even more uptight than I am... And that is saying quite a lot." Like many of Pinkie Pie's parties, it continued on full throttle, guest of honor present or not. Twillight must have had a flammable stomach because she didn't emerge from the librarian's quarters for as long as Grapes stayed. Still, her familiar... the little Dragon Spike, was quite the life of the party, even putting on the obligatory lampshade and dancing on a tabletop. Grapes assumed that SOMEONE had to do it and it was better Spike than someone who might too heavy for a table. Against her will she had a fairly good time, ate a little, drank a little and opening an ear easily caught up on the latest gossip. Apparently Twilight truly was Princess Celestia's representative and had apparently approved of all the preparations. And in just a few hours... Grapes had to admire that level of efficiency. As the time came for the start of the Summer Sun Festival, Grapes found herself joining her cousin, and the others, at the Town Hall. Grapes knew she was probably going to be regretting this all-nighter, but it had been fun. It was hard getting into town hall, the place was positively packed mane-to-tail. There must have been every pony in Ponyville here. She settled for a spot near the door and got comfortable. At least the high balcony had been chosen for Princess Celestia's grand appearance. EVERYpony could see it clearly. To be honest Grapes really couldn't give a sack of seeds about the Princess. It's not that she was anti-monarchist, it's just Celestia was the best KIND of monarch, one that stayed out of sight for the most part, letting Ponies get on with their daily ins and outs that kept things running. Out of sight out of mind, doing... well to be honest she wasn't entirely sure what Celestia did other than raise the sun and moon, but taxes were paid, roads were mended, hospitals funded, the Bit remained a stable form of currency and so somewhere this system was working. Then the fertilizer hit the fan. The sun did not come up, the Princess was gone, and in her place, appeared a frightening apparition! And through it all, it seemed that Twilight Sparkle was the only pony that knew what the hay was going on. She was jostled as the panic began to really hit the crowd. It was hard NOT to join on in as the fear spread but somehow she managed to keep her head.. and it was a good thing because she had to get the flank out of the way when that... living Nightmare transformed into a streak of purple and surged through the massive doors. "The Mare in the Moon?" Grapes asked, looking toward the moon, which still hung in the sky. Sure enough, the mare's silhouette was... gone. "But... wasn't that just an old legend?" "Ah don't rightly know. But it looks like Twilight's the only one who knows what's a goin' on," Applejack said, getting to her hooves. "Where are you going?" Grapes asked her cousin. "To see what she knows, an' to help her ifin' I can," Applejack replied. "All right. I'll... see what I can do, here, I guess. Good luck, Applejack. Do NOT get yourself killed," Grapes said adamantly. "Aw, shucks, Cuz, Ah didn't know you cared." "Well SOMEBODY'S got to keep me from becoming a total recluse!" Applejack gave her cousin a quick nuzzle, before galloping off, leaving Grapes to do what she could to help quell the panicked herd. To be honest Grapes awas hardly thrilled at the prospect at eternal night. Her first thought was 'All the crops in Equestria will die without sunlight... unless we start figuring out how to grow and harvest mushrooms on a mass scale in a hurry, everypony... and that was every earth pony, unicorn and pegasi... were gonna starve to death.' She and some other 'upstanding pillars of the community' put their heads together with the remaining Royal Guards and started getting everypony to start collecting lanterns all in the town square. At this moment light was comfort and if nothing else a lot of lanterns together would make an island of hope. It did give Grapes a slight warm feeling to know she was considered an 'upstanding pillar of the community.' She was feeling a bit more accepted, though she was still rather blunt in her dealings. It was a beautiful night... even if it was long past dawn. As she huddled there with the other ponies she could see constellations she had heard of in passing but never thought of looking for before. She tried not to think of the awareness of the kinds of trouble Ponyville and all of Equestria was in and more on the stars overhead when she felt a tug on her tail. Glancing down it was Applebloom looking up at her. "Auntie Sour Grapes? What do you see?" Grapes raised her eyebrows, then smiled down at the youngest Apple. She then began to point out the different constellations, telling their stories to the fascinated Applebloom. Soon enough they dozed off, snugged together, and napped there for quite a while. Even little Applebloom had an all nighter with her family, the eve of the Summer Sun Festival. But this time, there was no summer sun, to celebrate. Some ponies tried to get on with their daily routines... stores burning the midnight oil in the midday acted like beacons in the dark, adding to the town's attempt to stay in the light. Bread was baked, drinks were poured, customers served. Unlike the usual working day there was a morose quiet among the ponies... even when the unsaid was said it was usually as a weak joke. Nopony really could bring themselves to admit that the darkness truly could be eternal. The lamp store gave their lights away for free, charging only for the oil, and regular price as well. Something Grapes would have approved of if she had been awake... even at regular price the oil sales would make them recoup the hit they took from the freebies. Then, suddenly, it happened. The sun rose, warming the land, and waking up Sour Grapes and her little cousin Applebloom. "They... they must have did what-ever-it-was they needed to do," Grapes murmured, looking around, as the townsponies were gleefully blowing out the lanterns, and putting them away. Soon after Pinkie came galloping into town, and organized the biggest party that the town had ever seen. "Applejack is SO going to tell me what happened later," she uttered, as she decided to leave. She was tired of the crowds, and was not in the mood for another Pinkie Pie Party so soon on the heels of the previous one. Anyway, she had farmhooves to supervise, and grapes to harvest. The rest of Equestria, and Ponyville, could obviously take care of itself, now. > Of Ponies and Pomace* > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- *pomace: the unfermented skins, seeds and cluster stems that are produced from pressing grapes It was about a week after the Summer Sun festival, and Sour Grapes was standing at the gate of the vineyard. It was bright and early, and she was expecting the cart from Ponyville with the temporary farmhooves to arrive at any time. She had paid Big Macintosh to haul the workers here. This way it was the large farmpony who had to wait for stragglers, and not Grapes herself. Grapes hated repeating herself, especially to the temporary help. The rule she left on the job notice was be on the wagon or go home, so it was clear that if you wanted to work you had to arrive by wagon. Of course the large red pony was under no obligation to hurry either, so no doubt there might be a few last minute ponies who would run and jump in. She heard some faint laughter, singing and clowning about accompanied with a slow and steady Clip-Clop she recognized as Big Macintosh's patient gait. Grapes had worn her pruning vest, and was determined to be as imposing as she possibly could. She wasn't going to take any guff, or accept any laziness. This was her chance to prove to her father that her way of doing things, and not being so willing to let slackers stay on, would be more profitable. It would be better if she could find good steady full-time, or full-time-ish help, but nopony nowadays wanted to be a farmhoof. The Wagon turned down the road leading to the main house and she tried her best not to look too disappointed. The Majority of these ponies looked... well some were too skinny, some too heavy, and in general most looked like they had never done an honest day's work yet. there were a few who looked decent, some that looked strong or tough enough for the job. One pony looked like he had just escaped from Ardennes-traz Prison, what with his stubble, scars and black oilskin vest with metal rivets. Still she TRIED not to jump to conclusions and trotted forth to the group in the most authoritarian manner she could. "Good morning, fillies and gentlecolts. My name is Sour Grapes. You will address me as 'ma'am', or 'Miss Grapes'," she said crisply. "You are here to work. Not slack off, not eat grapes, not fool around among the frames. You will not be wine tasting, stomping grapes for wine, or any of the other things you were imagining on the wagon-ride up here. You are here to pick grapes. You will work hard, I WILL check up on you, and if you are caught slacking you will feel my hooves on your hindquarters kicking you out the gate. Any questions?" A green Pony with a shockingly purple POOF of a mane raised his hoof. It was like seeing a thistle trying to get her attention. "What is your question?" "Yes Ma'am... So where's the real boss of the Vineyard, or is he just busy right now?" The pony asked, his voice lacking even a tinge of irony that would allow her to assume he was suggesting that a Filly couldn't handle the task she was. His eyes twinked under the mop of hair on his head, suggesting a mischievous air about him, but he wasn't about to give her an excuse to fire him before he earned it. "My father is refurbishing the barn, this season," Grapes answered with supreme calm, gazing at the green pony with her most authoritative air. "Father left keeping you farmhooves in line in MY capable hooves." She lowered her voice into a very deadly tone, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes. "Do you have a... problem... with that?" "Who, me? Not at all Ma'am... you just don't look much older than me. Can't see you running a farm at this stage unless it's in someone's stead... or inherited." "I grew up on this farm. I learned everything I know at my father's hooves," Grapes said proudly. "I have no intention of disgracing his legacy. Nor do I have any intention of allowing anypony else do so either. Now are there any other questions?" A cloud-gray hoof went up at the back, the pony it belonged to eclipsed by the huge burly brown pony she noticed earlier. "I have one question." "And that would be?" The massive pony stepped to the side to take a look at the pony behind him, and revealed him to grapes. He was maybe the second-largest pony here, his body covered in sleek cloud-gray hair while his mane was neatly trimmed and the darker color of a raincloud. He had a decent amount of muscle, especially across his shoulders and back... at least as far as she could tell with the Quarter-sheet saddle blanket he wore. His legs looked pretty strong and his eyes... well okay she wasn't about to go goo-goo over some pony just because he had nice Sky-blue eyes but they really did look nice. He seemed a little uncertain for someone his size and he pawed the ground a little. "On the notice it mentioned the offered Salary but you neglected to say when payment is. Are we looking at, at the end of the job or in smaller installments as we go along... Miss Grapes?" "It's a daily salary," she said looking up at him. "You are paid by the poundage of grapes you harvest a day. If you're a steady worker, and do not muck about, you can net yourself a decent amount of bits, every day." The ponies relaxed, grinning and nodding to one another. She had seen their type before. Work all day, then into town to dance and carouse at the Wild Mustang Cafe... lose their Bits, then crawl back to the Vineyard to start it all over again. Grapes sighed, then looked back up at the gray stallion. "Was that all? Any other questions? If not, we will take the tour, and show you the common house, where you will be staying, then we can get a good start on the day's work." Nopony seemed to object and so she led them about the property, showing them the various buildings, the property boundaries and everything else they should know immediately. Like the location of the baskets and the scale that would be their lives for the next few weeks. She instructed them on what they were to do, and set them up in the ripest field. She walked the frames, keeping an eye on everypony, checking on their work, and oh-so-casually reminding them that the pay is by the weight not by the hour. After a few hours, she had then take a break, get some water, and stretch out the kinks in their necks. By the time she had them grab their baskets it was nearing noon, and many took her notice of 'by weight' to heart, really tearing into their work. She knew the burst of enthusiasm wouldn't last long, but she could dream. She did notice the pony with the blanket wasn't rushing, nor was he slow. He seemed to have found his pace and was sticking to it. It was a little strange to see a pony who caught on that quickly. They stopped for lunch, soon after, a grazing table having been set up, earlier, with an array of succulent grasses, hay, and other tasty food. Grapes went inside to eat, keeping to the rule of not eating with the farmhooves. If they were permanent, the bonds that could be formed over a meal would be vital, but... Well at this stage it was better to stay "Friendly but never familliar", otherwise they would think they could get away with blue fodder. Still she kept an eye on them through the window and watched to see how they interacted on their lunch break. It was a good way to see who might 'play nice with others' and who wasn't about to. Oddly enough one she mentally called "Oilskin vest Guy" seemed to be the most talkative and friendly... almost as if compensating for something. The Purple-maned pony easily bantered with everyone else and the gray Pony seemed to be happy to just listen to everypony else. Some of the others, though, she was sure were going to be tossed out on their flanks, soon enough. The overweight pony was causing her some suspicion, but she was not sure, just yet. Still she gave them till the end of the day and the final weigh in. She eyed the fat pony suspiciously, and the suspiciously not-as-heavy-as-it-should-be baskets of grapes. She couldn't prove anything but she made a mental note to keep an eye on him. The others came in with decent or half-assed quantities. The one in the blanket had a very good haul, only a couple had more than him, but they looked exhausted... she suspected that if they went out dancing tonight they wouldn't be waking up bright eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow. "Now, I noticed that your baskets wasn't as heavy as they really should be," Grapes said, as she took aside the two ponies who had half-assed quantities in their baskets. "That one," she added, pointing to the gray colt's basket, "Is a good example of what I was expecting, and you couldn't even get that amount. What did you call yourselves DOING!?" They looked at one another nervously when one started to puff himself up. She recognized the sight of a Pony about to try to push attitude back on her to save face in front of the others, and she steeled herself for it. "Hey, Excuuuuuse me, PRINCESS but we've never done this work before, it's hot out there and we've been feeling your breath on our necks the whole time making this a VERY hostile workplace." "It's a little thing called 'supervision', little foal," Grapes uttered, in that steely tone from earlier. "It's my way of keeping up with what you're doing, making sure you're not mucking about, being sure you're getting plenty of water, and multitude of other things to keep this harvest on track. If you do not like it, you are more than welcome to leave." "Well... Well... " he stuttered, trying to look in control in front of the other 'colts' before giving a large huff in her face. "Then I quit... pay me for what I did and I am out of this filly fest." "Very well. You and your little foalish friends can run home to mommie," Grapes said intimidatingly, "and get a job at the local fast food joint, because you will NOT get a job at ANY of the farms, out here. And if I see any of your sorry tails again, I'll personally buck you back to town." She doled out the few bits they had earned, then watched them go with a frown on her face. It wasn't easy to watch as several of her workers left on account of their pride... it was such a STUPID reason to leave a perfectly fine job. But good riddance to those who couldn't handle taking orders from a Mare. Grapes finished paying off the other ponies and put the undistributed bits back into the bag and looked them all in the eye. Something had to be said... she needed to remind them that she wasn't doing this to be a royal pain in the flank but out of fairness to the rest of them who WERE willing to work hard. She just wasn't going to take any roadapples from any pony who worked for her. "I want to thank you all. You, who remain, had the tenacity and gumption to actually do the job laid before you, do it well, and it would not have been fair to you to allow shirkers to stay," Grapes said, looking from pony to pony, studiously avoiding the eyes of the chubby one she had her suspicions about. "The rest of the day is yours to do with as you see fit. Dinner will be served at six. Thank you, again." Snapping the carpetbag shut she picked it up by the handle with her teeth and trotted up the stairs of her home. She could have lifted it by hornpower but it did a lot of good to show the workers she wasn't above physical acts. She shut the door behind her and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She was ready for that pony's words but they still stung. 'Filly-Fest'? As if being a female was a crime, nopony ever brought that sort of thing up, especially when they've had a FEMALE alicorn in charge for more than a thousand years. She wished she could ask the workers opinions on if she came across too... biting. She wanted them to think of her authority.. not some Biter of a Mare. Then she heard something through the door. The ponies were talking. She strained to hear when a deep, rough voice silence the others "WOOOAH." "What? What's 'Woah?" "That. What she did... That was SO hot." "Really?" "Hey, man, when a filly takes charge like that, stamps her hoof down and sends the little colts scampering home to momma? I don't care who you are... that's HOT." "Hmm. This might not be so bad, after all," Grapes chuckled to herself, then went to see about fixing a good dinner for those who stayed. The chocolate brown unicorn was in a considerably more cheerful mood, after hearing the burly stallion's declaration. After all it wasn't every day she was called 'hot' for being herself. ============================================================ Sour Grapes had set up the soup to slow cook, then hoofed over to the common house to see if the dining room, there, needed to be cleaned up, when it hit her. Well it wasn't an 'it', but a 'she'. Applejack had come barreling up the drive to catch Grapes in a tackle, that sent them both rolling. When they stopped, Grapes glared up at her cousin, breathing hard from the impact. "What the HAY has gotten into you, Applejack?" she asked, angrily. "Ah jus' got the BEST news, Cuz! Twilight got herself invited ta tha Grand Gallopin' Gala, an' she's got tickets for ALLA us!" "What?" Grapes uttered, as she got to her hooves, and shook herself off. "You were invited to the Grand Galloping Gala? I thought you HATED fancy parties..." "Well can't say I'll fit in too well, but I think ah can win em over with some down home charm while I bust out my Apple Stall," Applejack said proudly. "You're going so you can sell apple treats?" the chocolate brown unicorn asked, sounding a bit uneasy. "Sure as sugar, Sour. Ah figgure they've been livin on the fancy stuff for too long and might jest be lining up to sink their teeth into my apple pie." "But..." "Oh it ain't gonna be like I'll be setting up shop in her highness' throne room. I'll find me a nice quiet stretch of property... but not TOO quiet if you get my meaning, and set up there," the orange farmpony uttered, reassuringly. "They have their own caterers..." Grapes finally said. "I should know. I sell them wine." "And that's why Ah'll be sticking to the outside of the party. Ah doubt that there'll be fellas walkin about with silver trays there," Applejack insisted, sounding perfectly reasonable. "And it's a free buffet..." "Now don't you be usin' your fancy logic on me, cousin. Ah'm set on doin' this," Applejack said determinedly. "I'm just worried you'll be doing all that for nothing... At least you've got until next spring to plan the whole thing," Grapes said, still uneasy about the whole thing. There were just SO many ways it could possibly go wrong it wasn't funny, and Grapes was in a position to know far better than anypony. "Yep... and it won't be like I'll be missin' much. The other gals all got their own plans for the party," Applejack uttered with a grin. "Really? What could they all be possibly planning to do there?" Grapes asked with a laugh. "Little miss bookworm can't possibly be planning on ditching for the Royal Canterlot Library, can she? She's probably read every book in the place." "I bet she lived in there during her days at that fancy Unicorn Magic School... Come to think of it, I don't remember her ever saying when she graduated. Eh probably never thought it was important to mention," Applejack observed, musingly. "Do you know what they're intending to do?" Grapes asked. "I ain't exactly sure, but knowing the gals it'll probably involve Animals, Parties, Magic, Socializin' and Showin' off," she said nudging Grapes. Grapes mentally checked off the five ponies that Applejack had practically dragged out to the vineyard to formally meet her favorite cousin. Twilight turned out to be somepony Grapes could actually talk to, Grapes herself being rather well read. Fluttershy certainly lived up to her name, and it took all of Grapes' listening and observation skills to understand what the timid pony said, without constantly asking her to repeat herself. Rarity and Pinkie, she knew from before, but this was the first time that Grapes had seen Rainbow Dash up close. "Okay... Just hope all of you aren't going to be disappointed. It seems like you're putting a lot of hope into that one night," Grapes said, shaking her head. "Anyway... Know where I could get a new vest?" "Jest the usual place... " Applejack said rolling her eyes. "Rarity's place. I told her I was just planning on wearin' my duds there but she insisted on sprucing them up for me." "Seriously? THIS I've got to see!" Grapes laughed. "You, in fancy duds." "Well it ain't like I'll be in some old frumpy frou-frou frilly Filly dress. But if'n I know Rarity..." she trailed off and giggled. "Well we know what she's like." "Heh. Yeah. Well, I guess I should go and pay her a visit. My pruning vest has seen many better days, and it's practically coming apart at the seams," Grapes uttered. "I just hope I can get out of there, without her turning it into some kind of new fashion or something." "Or gluin' all kinds of rubies and diamonds to it." "What use would gemstones be on a pruning vest?" Grapes uttered. "Oh. Right. Ask HER that." "Yep... If she starts doin' that you may be able to get her to change to some kind of purple gem... Might look purty if she can make it look like grapes," Applejack mused. "It's a pruning vest. To carry pruning tools. It does NOT need gemstones," Grapes groused. Sour Grapes could not get away from the vineyard before the weekend, when pretty much everybody got a respite from the hard work of harvesting. And Grapes herself got a respite from the hard work of supervising. She knew it wasn't going to be easy, but so far it's been proving worthwhile. Even after she discovered that Fritter, the chubby pony temp, was eating more grapes than he was harvesting. Thanks to clever use of the scales, she was able to prove her accusations, properly fire the annoying little hay bale, and be sure to tell all the farmers in the area about him. The last thing that the farmponies around here needed was a greedy little goit who would eat their profits. She reached Rarity's shop in good time, and stood outside, as she listened to Rarity singing. "There must be something in the water," Grapes mused. "'Cause practically everypony I know has a good singing voice." Grapes, herself, could sing reasonably well, and often sang while she worked. She waited until the song came to an end, then knocked on the door, just to make sure it was safe. "Ah... one moment please," came Rarity's voice from inside. Grapes heard Rarity drop the volume of her voice and sing the last line of her song before the door opened wide revealing gleaming white unicorn beaming at her. No doubt she could NOT leave a song unfinished. "Hi, Rarity. I was wondering..." Grapes started to say, before the exuberant unicorn pulled her into the shop. "Oh, Sour Grapes, I've had the most astonishing BURST of inspiration lately," She GUSHED as she swept the other unicorn past six rather astonishing dresses. "I feel so giddy with it I haven't even slept for more than a few hours at a time these past few days." Grapes had to stop, and stare. "Wow, Rarity, those are amazing! Is that one Applejack's? It's fantastic." "Why thank you... I've worked so hard on them why I haven't even gotten past the design phase of my OWN dress. I am pleased to have captured the essence of my closest friends... So much in fact I may even make a gift of them." "That's incredibly generous of you, Rarity," Grapes said, tilting her head. "I know I couldn't afford anything like this, myself. Seriously, though, you outdid yourself with all of these. That blue one's obviously Twilight's. I love your use of impressionism, and the clever visual pun on her name. And Applejack's has got an air of elegant simplicity." "I tried to keep a sense of... sensibility in it. And something that would be perfect to advertise Sweet Apple Acres to the upper class," Rarity said as she pranced about, still aglow with her success, and the praise that Grapes had given her. "Oh! And what about YOU?" "What about me?" Grapes asked, bewildered by the sudden change in subject. "Surely you would need a dress too. A unicorn of your stature would naturally have an invite," Rarity said clopping her forehooves together and quickly bringing out fabric samples. "But I don't have any kind of..." Grapes began, only to be interrupted. "Oh come now... I know of these sorts of things, and it's not a dark secret that your mother, father and you have an open invitation to the Gala." She started draping bolts of cloth across Grapes' form, looking at how they hung and what colors seemed to work with the earthy brown of her coat. "You may show up at any time you wish and no guard may bar your entry... Unless of course you're a recognized troublemaker, but beyond that... Hmm. Purple seems ironically to NOT be your color, dear." Grapes had to chuckle at that, then looked back at her flank. "It works just fine on my cutie mark," she uttered drolly. "But, seriously, Rarity, you don't have to do this. I couldn't possibly afford..." "Please, you may not be able to afford this but I can. Remember that wine-colored fabric you helped me find? The pony that purchased that practically paid for ALL my spa sessions, this year." "NO way of talking you out of this, is there?" "Probably not," Rarity said as a glowing measuring tape SWOOPED in to start taking some very invasive measurements. "Back, Shoulders, forelegs, Hind-legs, inseam..." "HEY! Watch where you levitate that thing!" Grapes yelped. "Sorry, dear, I DO get so carried away. Oooooh I HOPE the others love the works I created for them. Mmm... Yes. I can see sedate yellows are more your speed. You really should get your colors done one day. It speeds things up." "What do you mean by 'get my colors done'?" Grapes said sounding perplexed. "I doubt I'm going to come here often, for anything more than, oh, say, a new pruning vest." "Well everypony has certain colors that work well with them. Some it's warm colors, some cool, and they're organised to match the four seasons. For example your cousin, Applejack, is an autumn," Rarity said, offhoofedly. "Oh... So you've done Applejack's colors, hm? It's not exactly like she comes here a lot, either... Except, maybe, for un-gussied-up work duds," Grapes asked oh so innocently. "One would simply have to wonder why you'd go through so much trouble." "Actually she seldom comes around here. Poor thing seems content to buy off the rack but in our time together I have done my best to figure out all my friends' colors." Rarity cinched some fabric about Grapes' waist and 'Hmmed' "Why all the inquiry about 'duds' anyways? Are you trying to ask me something?" "Just what you're intending to do at the Gala," Grapes said, with a shrug. "I know that Applejack's going to set up a booth, to try and compete with a catered buffet." She giggled in a conspiratorial tone. "Oh I have my plans... You know how much of a social rogue I pride myself on being? Well... While there I intend to cozy up to a certain gorgeous Prince." "Oh no, not Blue Dor-... Uh... Blue Blood." "Oh yes. Distant relation to Princess Celestia herself. Oh if I can make a good impression on him, prove to him I am a lady of refinement... and he chooses to ask me to marry him... Well, then I will be elevated in status and prestige to a level no other pony there that could match," Rarity gushed, enthusiastically. "You've got to be able to STAND him, first, Rarity," Grapes uttered, deadpan. "Him, and his Equestria-sized ego." Unfortunately Rarity seemed unable to hear Grapes, lost in her own little world which probably included Expensive fabrics, exclusive clientele and unrestricted access to the Royal Jewelry Vault. "RARITY! I've got to be able to BREATHE!" "Oh... sorry. Corsets are in this year... Silly things really but they are popular," the purple-maned unicorn said as she made notes and measurements. "Why in Equestria would a PONY need a corset?" Grapes uttered, looking back a the contraption in obvious annoyance. While Rarity was flitting from fabrics, to desk, a pencil flying via ponykenesis to draw on a piece of parchment, Sour Grapes struggled to get out of the confining piece of lingerie. Then all of the sudden TWANG! Grapes yelped in utter surprise. "Oh, for star's sake!" Rarity looked over at her fitting stand, and saw that Grapes had, somehow, ended up hog-tied by the corset, and was obviously laughing at herself. The fashonista began to giggle. "Oh dear.... Oh dear oh dear oh dear. On my dear Sour grapes... how did you accomplish this?" "I was trying to get OUT of this ridiculous thing... I'm not sure this qualifies as an accomplishment, or a mistake..." Grapes replied, still laughing. "But I look positively silly. Corsets. On PONIES! WHO thought this was a wonderful idea?" The marshmallow white pony got to her feet and began to laugh as she trotted over to help the hapless Grapes. "I wish I knew, darling. Now let me help you out of that thing." "Please do, the blood's rushing to my head..." Grapes did her best to get a new pruning vest included into her dressmaking but she feared that Rarity was too... artistic to get it right. Still by the time she left she almost was considering going to the Gala... Almost. Rarity seemed to make it sound fresh and exciting... Not filled with Old Bits and self-importance. Sour Grapes, however, remembered all too well how high society ponies were, and what an completely horrible time she had when SHE went to the Gala at her Grandmother Diamond's behest. She was, once again, afraid that yet another mare was setting herself up for disaster. ================================================================= Sour Grapes made her way back to the vineyard, pensively, her mind on the possibility of the disappointment that Applejack and Rarity would eventually face, that spring. She loved Applejack dearly, and hated to see the possibility of her having difficulties, but still she was competing with a catered buffet, that was offered as a part of the Gala itself. Sour Grapes, surprisingly enough, liked Rarity, bless her little artistic heart. Grapes still knew that the high society ponies at the Gala would think of her as nothing more than a common tradespony, and a social climber. And to be blatantly honest, Sour Grapes would never wish the arrogant "Blue Dork" on anypony. Still, after the fitting session with Rarity, she was VERY glad to get back to the farm. > Storm Warning > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- As far as Sour Grapes was concerned, things went back to fairly normal. Grapes were harvested, weighed, and put into the cool of the processing room to await processing. Workers were supervised, advised on when to get water, work checked, paid, and fed lunch and dinner. Some of the farmhooves went to town, and partied, coming back in the wee hours of the morning, but they were quick to discover that their employer had a distinct lack of sympathy for their shenanigans. One morning she came out and there, the enormous pony with the studded vest and the tattooish looking cutie mark of a bent thorny branch, with red buds on it, was standing there wearing his saddlebags waiting outside her door. She blinked at him, in quiet alarm. She had already lost three ponies, already, this season, and now it looked like she was about to lose yet another. "Good morning. Basashi, wasn't it? How can I help you?" Grapes asked in obvious trepidation. He smirked and then his face grew serious again. "Well Miss Sour grapes. I don't like leaving you in the middle of your season, but, well, that is to say I have to go now." "Is there a problem? Like you said, it's the middle of the season, and you've been one of the better workers we've had," Grapes asked, looking concerned. "Well it's a little embarrassing to say but... I've decided that I should go back to Altai-Traz prison and finish of the rest of my sentence," the large pony uttered, rubbing the back of his head, looking, indeed, quite embarrassed. "Wait... What?" "Well I did say it's embarrassing... You see, I've only served part of my sentence before I escaped from the Altai-Traz Penitentiary. I thought I'd lay low a while and so for the past few weeks here I've been going native, hoping nobody would think I was hiding in plain sight. But I'm feeling like I really should go back now," Basashi said, earnestly. Grapes just tilted her head in obvious confusion. "You, apparently, was... Eluding capture, but now you want to go back, and serve your sentence," Grapes uttered, sounding like she was trying to come to grips with the concept. "This is obviously a stupid question, but why are you going back, aside from the obvious desire to 'pay your debit to society' as it were?" "Well that's pretty much it. Working here hasn't been all that bad, it's not like prison is the better option to working for you or something," Basashi replied, obviously trying to explain himself. "Well... there is something else." "And what would that be?" Grapes uttered with an exasperated sigh. "Despite nobody really looking for me here I keep checking over my shoulder and worrying that they might somehow find me. Not really for what they might do to me... Heck the Royal Guard backed down when I just stamped my hoof at them. It's just that I don't want to cause YOU any trouble. You've been a fair employer to us all, you didn't jerk my reins and didn't take it when people jerked yours." Grapes blinked in sheer surprise at that declaration. "Oh... Well... Thank you. Uh... Give me a sec," she said, ducking back inside. Grapes quickly found a piece of parchment, and her quill, and she quickly wrote out a letter of reference. "Hard worker, not causing any trouble, wishes to pay debit to society, yadda yadda yadda," she murmured as she horn-wrote all this out. Hornwriting was the only "delicate" task she could manage with her limited ponykenesis, but even that was somewhat difficult for her, for prolonged periods of time. The brown unicorn went back to the door, and offered him a sealed envelope. "Don't know how much a letter of reference from me will help you, but..." He took the letter in his lips and carefully placed it in his saddlebag. "Thank you very much. I appreciate your sticking your neck out like that. It really means a lot to see there are good ponies in the world." "I did write that I didn't know, until you told me, about your great escape... Er... If you don't mind me asking... How did you get taken in, if even the Royal Guards backed down? And what the hay was your crime in the first place?" Grapes asked, obviously curious. "Well... Despite the reputation of the Freerunners we're not violent ponies, but we have our moments where we get a little full of our own mythos. The guards stepped up and I felt ready to buck them back down because my bronies where there behind me... Then the Princess appeared. I don't know about you, but while I could probably take a whole squad of guards there was no way in Equestria I was gonna mess with a Sun-juggling pony who was willing and able to send her own SISTER to the moon to keep the peace," Basashi paused and giggled nervously. "And the disappointed look she had on her face was not something I wanted to see again. You see, the Freerunners and me had been passing through Canterlot and well... I kinda got hungry and ate Celestia's award-winning Royal Roses." Grapes did not know if she wanted to facehoof, or laugh. So she did both. "Oh by the sun disk, you DIDN'T!" Grapes uttered, shaking her head. "So she put you in Altai-Traz for eating roses? But everybody eats roses... True, they usually wait until they've been pruned, and put in the store..." "You don't understand... I ate HER roses. Just three days before that big gardening contest they have every year. I couldn't resist.. they were just so delicious." "Oh... horseapples..." Grapes uttered. "No wonder... Well, thank you for being so honest with me, and good luck." "Thank you very much for being so understanding... and good luck with the help. I think the slackers are coming around." With that the burly brown pony trotted out of the gate. Grapes sighed, then proceeded to start her day, a pony short. Lunch came around, with Grapes setting out the buffet graze with an air of slight distraction. Four ponies gone. True the harvest was still on track, but it looked like she was going to have to see about more workers, at this rate. She had to admit that the early culling had helped a lot... It was a pity that Fritter didn't stuff his basket like he had stuffed his face or she might be ahead of schedule. She sighed and then noticed that gray pony come out of the fields with his baskets and set them next to the scales before picking up the next two. He was definitely an asset... He never complained, never shirked his duties, never went into town except on the weekend and always came back before midnight. He worked hard, kept to himself and was easy on the eyes... He was too good to be true. There was probably unseen layers to him and after losing Basashi she had the horrible feeling that they might prove problematic. Grapes sighed, and checked over everyone, one more time; then called them to lunch, giving them the customary hour off. She packed herself a sandwich, and trotted off to visit her cousin, Doctor Crabapple. It was better to get the customary checkups required by the Ponyville Statute of Fair Employment sooner rather than later. The later one put it off, the easier it was to forget that vital step. Everypony in the area who knew him, usually knew him as Ol' Doc Crabapple. With his green body and gray mane as well as his crotchety attitude, it was easy to fall prey to the illusion of him being, well, OLD. He was actually not much older than Sour Grapes was. Crabapple started out quite optimistic and positive, but he quickly found out that nobody ever seemed to take his advice seriously. It was only when he adopted the personality of the cranky old country doctor that ponies accepted his word as law, and now he seemed unable to drop the facade anymore. He was however one of the few ponies who seemed able to put up with her snark. She clip-clopped up to his door, and knocked, before sitting herself on the familiar rocking chair, and eating her rye grass and grape leaf sandwich. The door creaked open and the young stallion stepped out on the porch. He still looked old, that is until you looked past his coloring and expression and saw the rather youthful pony that still lay beneath. He glanced over and smirked when he saw her. "Sour Grapes... And what do I owe the honor of you darkening my doorstep?" "Mph," Grapes uttered, before swallowing her bite of sandwich. "I'll have you know I am NOT darkening your doorstep. I'm nowhere near the darned thing," she added, with a smirk. "Why I'm here, though, is that it's getting to be that time again, and if I put it off, it's likely you'd be sent by Mayor Mare's office, and I'd rather avoid that." "Oh... THAT," he said flatly. "As if I don't have better things to do than poke and prod ponies per Employment period." "Well, I would presume it pays the bills," Grapes observed, as she ate more of her sandwich. "So. Tomorrow good for you? Or any other day?" "Tomorrow is good as any time," Crabapple grumbled sticking his head under the table and pulling out a brown jug and some glasses. He poured two glasses and then had a seat. "At least it's a good way to make a few extra bits. So how are the latest batch of newbies?" "I've lost four, already. Two didn't like assertive mares, one tried to single-hoofedly eat all my Merlot grapes, and one, a Freerunner believe it or not, decided that to go and serve a prison sentence that he'd escaped from in order not to get ME into trouble," Grapes said, taking a sip of Crabapple's cider, shaking her head at the kick. "A Freerunner? Boy THAT takes me back," Crabapple smirked sipping at his own. "Crabapple, you're not that much older than I am," Grapes uttered, giving him this look. "So don't use that 'takes me back' crap on me, okay?" "Sorry... But I met a Freerunner when I was taking medical courses at Pindosburgh University... I always hate having to tell people I Graduated from P.U." the green earth pony replied, with a chuckle. "I hear ya. I did take some mail-order business courses from there... Their correspondence courses were all I could do, what with the vineyard needing me and all," Grapes mused, and sipped more of her cider, then she sighed. "I may be being too cynical, but I'm expecting something to be off about my best worker. Gray earth pony, with the strange name of Stormfront... How many EARTH ponies are named after a weather pattern? I guess it's just because I've lost four, so far, but... I'm expecting a disaster." "In case you haven't noticed, pony names are pretty darn strange to begin with," he chuckled. "Still, if it gives you pleasure I'll be extra-thorough with him. Just remember to point him out to me." "Will do, cuz," Grapes said with a nod. "Welp, I'd better head back, before they wreck the frames or something." "I'll probably stop off noon-ish, provided some fool pony doesn't run themselves over with their own cart or something. I know how my life works," Crabapple groused. "I hear ya," Grapes said, hopping off the chair. "See you tomorrow. Thanks for the cider." "See you tomorrow." ================================================= The next morning Grapes announced to the farmhooves that they were going to get their quarterly examination around noon. There were some groans, and complaints, but they were half-hearted at best. The only one who did not complain was Stormfront. The large gray pony in his quarter blanket simply nodded, before getting started on the day's labor. Obviously the harvest was going to be cut short, due to the examinations, for this one day. Still it was better to get this over with, than have to worry about a fine. By the time noon actually rolled around they had actually gotten some decent work in. She had half expected them to slack a little because it would be pretty much a half-day. Crabapple arrived on time... And without a word began to set up over in the Bunkhouse, pulling everything out of his bag that he would need. "All right, everypony, this is the drill. Doctor Crabapple has a list of your names, and will call you in, when he's ready to see you. Then you'll get some lunch, have the rest of the day off," Grapes said, levitating her list, nodding, then putting it back into her vest, which was still the threadbare version she tried to get replaced. "All right.... Listen up," Crabapple said standing on the front porch of the bunkhouse. "I call your name, you get your rump in here. First Pony... Wild Oats." A slick pony who had more than once been led back to the farm by constibles after hitting on the wrong mare stepped up to the Doctor, then inside. The door shut behind them and for the next few minutes the farmhooves busied themselves by pulling up the lunch table and starting a game of cards. Grapes sighed, and shook her head. That one was probably going to have some kind of mating-transmitted disease, she just knew it. Wild Oats emerged a short time later looking rather relieved and headed over to the table joining in on the game. "Barndancer" and the doctor was joined by another Pony. Time passed and one by one they went into the bunkhouse and came right back out again. Some happy, some not. Grapes sighed, watching the progression, just knowing that something was going to go wrong for her. Soon it was Stormfront's turn. He got up and headded to the Bunkhouse and for a moment she saw him next to Crabapple and was reminded that he was a pretty large pony, almost as husky as Big Macintosh, just a little... well... the word 'Sleeker' came to mind. Stormfront stepped inside and the door shut. It might have been her imagination but as the minutes passed by it felt like they were taking extra-long in there. Sour Grapes checked around the grape frames, checking the fertility of the soil with her Earth Sense, while she waited. She would look back at the Bunkhouse, every so often, waiting for Stormfront to come out. Finally the door opened and Stormfront stepped out, giving his belt a tug tight before smiling and nodding to the Doctor who smiled and nodded back. She did notice that Crabapple had a strange smirk in the way he looked at the larger pony as he walked back to the card table. He then noticed her looking at him. He seemed to be chuckling as he shook his head, a sign that maybe Sour Grapes had been TOO worried about it. But that look Crabapple had a moment ago suggested to her that SOMETHING was weird... just not dangerous. The chocolate brown unicorn pursed her lips, making a horsy raspberry shaking her head at her own worries. Just being a glass-half-empty kinda filly tended to make her look for disasters where they weren't going to happen. So maybe Stormfront wasn't going to be a problem, but she suspected Wild Oats may be, eventually. The Vineyard couldn't get that kind of reputation. And yet there was SOMETHING about Stormy that bothered her... He WAS hiding something. There would be no point in asking Crabapple... She saw him stand up to some of the most belligerent of prying ponies when it came to confidentiality. There would be no wheedling it out of him... But maybe if she were to ask the right questions at the source... After all, he was a good worker, and she could be considering him for a more permanent position, if he wanted it. Well... That was the truth of the matter, to be blatantly honest. Stormfront was the best worker she had, this season, and she needed to cultivate as many good workers on a permanent basis as she could. Like it or not... the vineyard was BIG and really needed the ponypower to keep it running efficiently. ================================================= The next day was a repeat of the first, though Sour Grapes paused to exchange words with the workers, offering some encouragement, which was a bit of a surprise for them, considering her usual demeanor. She paused by Stormfront, and took a deep breath. "Good morning," Grapes said calmly. "I was wondering... Is there any way I could know more about you? Er... Don't get the wrong idea, it's just that I'd like to know more about the ponies I'm considering for a more permanent position on the Vineyard, and you're one of the main candidates." "Oh? Well is there anything in particular you wanted to know?" He answered seeming surprised but not in any way defensive as she was concerned he might be. 'Oh he's got a nice voice, too... Head. In. GAME, Grapes!' Sour Grapes thought, then cleared her throat. "Well... A little background would be nice. Where you're from, former occupation, that sort of thing..." "Oh well I'm from Maneland. It's a small town near Cloudsdale, not really rich but a popular resort for Rich ponies who want to THINK they're 'roughing it' without really losing all the creature comforts they're accustomed to. It's on a plateau about halfway up the side of Saddlehorn Peak. Nice place, friendly people, lots of little restaurants. I think you'd like it," Stormfront replied, as he continued to work. "Sounds like it. The mountains aren't very good grape-growing country, though," Grapes joked lightly. "Sorry to ask, but why did you leave?" "Well I wound up with a nice government job there. Honest pay for honest work and a retirement fund. Pretty much sanctioned by Princess Celestia herself, but Well... It's embarrassing, but one day I forgot to pay attention to what I was doing and I got hurt.. Pretty badly. Last few months have been filled with me recovering from my injuries. I'm almost fully recovered," Stormfront replied, as rose up on his hind legs, to tug a large branch that had grown into the frame free. Just then his blanket shifted, revealing his flank, and Cutie Mark. Sour Grapes found herself looking, puzzled, at a dark menacing storm cloud with a pair of wings 'hugging' it. 'What Earth Pony has a Cutie Mark like that?!' the brown unicorn thought, bewildered. Stormfront dropped the grapes into a basket and dropping back to all fours, unconsciously tugging his blanket back into position. "It's been... interesting down here. You spend enough time on the side of a mountain you forget there's a whole WORLD of ponies below." "I guess that's possible," Grapes mused. "Sometimes it can get that way, here. Sometimes one can forget that there's a world beyond the gate, being so caught up in the running of things..." "Still I got to admit I probably wouldn't mind working on your Vineyard on a more permanent basis," the big gray pony observed. "What about your government job, Stormfront?" Grapes asked. "You're about recovered, after all..." "Well my job is great and all but to be honest... I don't get called to do stuff that often. I work hard when they call me in but sometimes it feels like they're just keeping me on retainer. Hm. I think if I talk it over with my superior, maybe they'd adjust things so I'd be a part-timer. Only paying me for the time I'm actually needed and the rest of the time I could work here," Stormfront replied thoughtfully. "Okay, I guess," Grapes mused. "Got to wonder, though, why did you choose to work here out of curiosity?" "Luck of the draw I guess... The doc who patched me up suggested the thicker air down here would be good for my recovery. After spending some of my savings on just doing the tourist thing on the back of a haycart I finally got restless enough to want to DO something. By that point I was in Ponyville so I checked out the big board and Bang... Here I am. The other option was me working at the bakery and well... My baking skills border on masonry," the big gray pony uttered, looking a touch sheepish. "Never mind Pinkie Pie would have probably driven you absolutely crazy by the end of your first day," Grapes said chuckling imagining brick-like muffins. "Oh yes... Nice Filly but not sure she's all there." "Knows how to throw one heck of a party though," the brown unicorn observed chuckling. "Anyway, I've monopolized enough of your time. Keep up the good work, Stormfront." "Thank you, Miss Grapes. It's nice to know you actually know the names of your workers. Too many employers don't care unless they're really ticked off at them," Stormfront said, as she trotted away. She nodded to him, a slight smile on her face, as she continued on with her supervisory duties. ================================================= Later that evening, after all the work had been done, ponies paid, and dinner for the workers set out, Grapes entered her home and smelt the wonderful flavor of her mother making home-made truffle chocolates. Entering the kitchen there she was ladling the thick warm molten chocolate into molds where they would harden. Her father was at the other end of the table checking his accounting. "Hey, raisenett, how was your day?" Champ asked, laying down his pencil and smiling at Grapes, warmly. "Went well enough. Had a nice chat with Stormfront about maybe signing on full time," the younger Grapes replied. "Stormfront? Oh yes, that really nice pony with the blanket and nice smile." Champagne Diamond recalled as she finished with the chocolates and set them into the icebox to cool. "I like that one. So well mannered and yet it comes across as natural. Were I a decade younger and unmarried..." "Oh Cham... You tease too much." Champagne Grapes chortled. "You're the one who said 'buck tradition, I'm marrying who I love', Mother mine," Grapes chuckled. "Glad you did, else I wouldn't be here," she added nuzzling Cham. "Oh yes. Your father was SUCH a gallant galloper in his youth. Of course I was far less frumpy then than I am now," Cham said a far-away look in her eyes. "Oh darling you KNOW you're not Frumpy. You're still as gorgeous and graceful as you were on that dance floor," Champ said, gazing at his mate lovingly. "See? Such the charmer." Grapes chuckled, going to nuzzle her father in turn. "I'm going to head to bed. It's been a long day." She was about to leave when the chocolate-coated bowl wafted under her nose, thanks to unicorn magic. "Are you certain Grapesy? Are you SURE you do not wish to help your dear mother clean the bowl?" Cham asked enticingly. "Oh... Temptress. You've got me," Grapes laughed. "So have you learned anything new about your young friend or have you against all logic taken my advice to leave his past be?" Champ queried, as Grapes delicately licked the chocolate from the big copper bowl. "Aside from his being from Mainland, recovering from an on-the-job injury, and taking up farm work to keep from being mad with boredom... Nothing really. And he volunteered that information. Gave us something to talk about," Grapes replied. "Oh yes. Lovely town... The Diamonds have some property there. Just a small manse where one can get away from the hustle and bustle of the city without losing ALL the comforts," Cham sighed with a little nostalgia and giggled. "Mother and Father seldom used it, but they allowed my brother to summer there. I should write him a letter and see how things are going this year." "Uncle Cabochon was never as bad as Grandmother Pave," Grapes observed. "Yes, Let that be a lesson that good memories together can help one keep strong relations in hard times, my sweet. Healthy relations... That reminds me, how many workers are we down to this month?" Cham asked, looking over at Champ. "We lost four, so far. Fortunately Grapes got the slackers early," Her father agreed making the final touches to the accounts. "All right, I've licked the bowl. Goodnight Mom. Goodnight Dad." "Good night, Grapes. Sweet Dreams." her mother called, as she started to head to her room. "Try to not dream of that Stormfront colt TOO much, eh salt-lick?" Her father added, chuckling. "Father!" "I'm just sayin'..." Champ uttered, innocently. "Oh leave the girl be," Cham said play-swatting her mate. ================================================= In the wee hours of the morning, Grapes found herself unable to sleep. She lamented that she no longer had the robust stomach all foals had where they could eat their weight in sweets without repercussion. Now it was all she could do to try to ignore the gurgling and occasional... strange dream. But Cham's chocolate was so GOOD... Grapes sighed, heaving herself up off the bed, and decided to see if she could walk some of the delectable sweet off. Grapes clopped around outside, sighing at her ill advised decision. The warm day was giving way to a stiff cool breeze from the east that gave some relief to her condition. All she needed now was some fizzy water and she would probably be able to shake the touch of indigestion she was suffering. Still... there was nothing like a cool drought of ordinary water for cleansing the stomach. The water trough was sitting there next to the pump full of clean cold water... beckoning. She thunked over to the trough, trying to be as quiet as she could, and drank a bit, sighing in relief. Between the water and the air she felt refreshed. Not a hundred percent but still refreshed. She then noticed a movement from the bunkhouse. The door had opened and a figure stepped out and shut it quietly. She recognized the horse blanket if not the Pony's distinctive coat and mane. Stormfront was no doubt stepping out for a midnight constitutional... But he glanced to the left then the right before trotting off in the wrong direction for the outhouse. Grapes raised an eyebrow, and trotted, quietly after, curiosity inflamed. It always amazed her how quiet he was when he walked, somepony that sturdily built should clip-clop but she swore he could probably walk on a cloud. Still it was easy to follow him, even though the small forest behind her property and to the clearing she loved to frolic in as a filly. It was a gorgeous night and his gray coat looked nearly white under the light of Luna's handiwork. He stepped to the middle of the clearing and stood there a moment, the grass around him rustling as the wind tickled it. He then turned his head back and tugged at the belt that held his blanket on... Grapes held her breath as she realized she had never seen his flanks before and this act was somehow... exciting because of it. But as the blanket tumbled off his back she was completely unprepared for what was revealed. Wings. Stormfront was a pegasus. Now the name, and that unusual Cutie Mark, made sense. It must have been uncomfortable for him to keep them lashed down and work but still.... then she saw him slowly unfurl his wings. Stretching them out wide she could hear a few joints popping as he gave them a shake to fluff out the compacted feathers. He had BIG wings... She had seen photos of Celestia in the paper and this... This was like seeing her wingspan on a regular pony. They looked positively huge, and now he was... closing his eyes and leaning into the wind. It was such a strange thing to see, him there letting the wind pass over and under his great light gray wings... It looked almost as if he were flying without so much as lifting a hoof. His wings shifted subtly and she could almost imagine him gliding gracefully across the surface of the clouds... no... not even gliding... SOARING. A wingspan like that would have him moving like part of the wind itself. Whatever job he had was probably important... and probably connected to him flying. Grapes knew why he was here. Stormfront told her. However she could not imagine him being truly happy, stuck on the ground. She never thought much of pegasi before... Not that her opinion of them was LOW or something but rather they were 'Up there' somewhere and so out of sight out of mind. This young stallion was here and now, and so first and foremost in her thoughts. "Something must have happened... That's the only explanation," Grapes mused as she went back to bed, with a sigh. "Just don't know what. Oh well." The next morning Grapes felt awake and refreshed. A miracle when she considered the bout of indigestion and the *COUGH* feathery dreams she had after seeing her farmhoof in the moonlight. She would have almost believed it a dream itself if she didn't find the feather out in the clearing. Large enough to use as a quill and the same shade as his coat. She picked it up, smiling, deciding to keep it. A quill always came in handy. The farmhooves were out of the bunkhouse by this time. One or two who had spent their bits in town were dunking their whole heads into the trough to shake off the repercussions of a wild night. Sour Grapes tried not to think 'serves you right' and set about getting everypony's tasks for today settled before the light breakfast was served. She did notice Stormy's expression when he noticed the 'quill' behind her ear. Not so much fear as... shock. "It's a nice feather I found in the field," Grapes explained, using said feather as a quill. "It's a lovely color, and in fine shape. Seemed like a waste to just throw it away." "I... see," Stormfront said a little cautiously. "It is a very nice color... Looks like it would match MY coat. So, Miss Grapes, what can I do for you today?" "Seems like we're harvesting the Bordeaux grapes, today, Stormfront. I've already gone through and gotten the sour ones, so it should be easy enough for you and the others. I'll be coming around to check on the progress, for today, and make sure you all get your water breaks and lunch," Grapes replied in a business-like tone. "Uhm... yes. thank you Miss Grapes," the large gray pony said with a nod. She heard one of the ponies in the group mumble "Apple Polisher," only for another to snigger and correct him "GRAPE Polisher." "WHAT was that?" Grapes said to the sniggerers, in a very dangerous tone of voice; clip-clopping over to them, eyes flinty, but smiling with deceptive sweetness. There was an immediate shuffling of hooves and attempts at boy-like innocence that failed on their faces. She could tell it was Thistledown that said it, the way he couldn't keep from nervously grinning and desperately trying not to look her in the eye or he'd break down laughing. The Green pony peeked out from under his POOF-like mane of purple hair and nearly lost it there. "Congratulations, Thistledown. Guess who just got himself Outhouse duty." Thistledown's smile faded quickly as he stared at her. "Oh fewmets." "Then you're in picking room, de-seeding room, and inspection room," Grapes added sternly. "That may, but I have my serious doubts, teach you the value of being polite." His head sank low, his neck drooping his head well below his shoulders before he mumbled: "Yes Sour Grapes." "Very good. Move along, then. You've got valuable compost to gather. Any OTHER smartyponies have a comment, or complaint? You could all benefit from learning courtesy, and try and make it the common occurrence it once was, instead of being rude little foals," Grapes uttered, sternly. With the disposition of a pony sent to the glue factory Thistledown walked over to the well-used Fewmets shovel, stared at it a moment and then took the handle in his mouth and dragged it to the Outhouses where his unpleasant task awaited. The other ponies stared at him then shook their heads and gave her various forms of: "Yes Ma'am" "Very good. Bordeaux grapes. Start now, and be efficient. You're being paid by weight, not by the hour. Thistledown IS being paid by the hour, because I'm not putting compost on the grape scale. However, he is only getting half rate. Let that be a lesson for you all. Punishment detail means harder, more disgusting work, but fewer bits," Grapes said, crisply. It was gratifying to see that 'First Day' scuffle back in their legs again as they all were reminded who was in charge. She had to admit the 'Grape Polisher' remark was clever, but not really welcome. Even Stormy had a little 'panic' in his trot. It was gratifying to see she could make even him kick up his hooves. But then, sometimes one had to reassert one's authority. And the comment was, to be honest, rather rude, and insubordinate. She gave everypony some time to fall into their work routines, checking up on the various projects on the Vineyard before visiting her Father as he was overseeing the finishing touches on the barn. "Ah. Hello there. How are things with the farmhooves going today?" "Fairly well. I had to put one on punishment detail for being insubordinate," Grapes said, looking over the barn, smiling at how well the project had come along. "Good to get that as soon as they crop up. It's one thing for youthful high spirits but quite another if your authority is being undermined. I hope it wasn't anything too out of line," Champ observed. "Not much. Just the use of the term 'Grape polisher' in reference to Stormfront. It was rude to both me and to him. I'm TRYING not to show favoritism, but honestly he's the best worker we've had this season," Grapes replied with a sigh, shaking her head. "And we could do with more the ever uncommon 'common courtesy'." "I've been keeping track of your tallies and while Mister Stormfront may not be the fastest but he definitely is the most steady worker I've seen in four seasons. I wish I could bottle work-ethic like that. Make a fortune." "I'd definitely inject it into those others, or feed it to them in their oats," Grapes uttered jokingly. "Yes. Your mother noticed a few slinking home from town this morning. Ah to be young and foolish again..." "Bunch of spendthrift idiots, the lot of 'em. Hopefully Thistledown will be learning the value of thrift, being on half pay punishment detail, today," Grapes observed gruffly. "Thistledown? The Poofy-maned one? What Am I not surprised?" Champ laughed, shaking his head in obvious amusement. "A little too much spirit and not enough brain... I think the mane's an indication of the mind beneath, perhaps?" "Ah well. When I was young I spent many a day mouthing the Shovel for my sins. So did you if memory serves me well." "You were wilder than I appear to be," Sour Grapes mused thoughtfully. "But I tended to learn my lesson quickly." Sour Grapes went back to the grape frames, checking on the farmhooves' work, making sure they take their water breaks, and after a bit of walking to make sure that the approach was casual she reached Stormfront. He was, again, balancing on his hind legs, stretching his neck out to nip a particularly high-growing bunch of grapes. Once again, his blanket had shifted, displaying that storm cloud being hugged by a pair of wings on his flank. This time, Grapes decided to comment. "That's an interesting cutie mark." She saw him stiffen in mid-pick. The bundle of grapes in between his teeth as he became aware of her looking at his flank and the unique icon upon it. "Uh... yeah. I'm... kinda attached to it myself," he said through his teeth as he slowly lowered himself back to the ground to drop the fruit into the basket. "It goes with the wings, I saw last night," She observed, quietly. He was quiet as he reached up to pluck another batch of grapes down before speaking. "Saw that, huh?" "Yes I did. I can hypothesize all I want about why you stand out in a field, pretending to fly all I want, but that doesn't answer the question about why DON'T you fly instead of just pretending." He continued picking grapes as she talked before glancing about at where the other farmhooves were before sitting down next to her. "Okay... I suppose you deserve the whole truth instead of just the pieces I gave to you. I want you to know I never lied to you. I have too much respect for you to ever do that. I just never told you ALL the truth." "I figured that out, myself. The information you gave me sounded very plausible," Grapes said with a nod, and looked at the large gray stallion sitting beside her. "Still, better part of the truth than a whole lie." "Okay... Where I live and my government job were all true. I work with a small group of Pegasai that do very specialized weather work. Now pegasi are renowned for things like our weather-making factory and in general controlling the weather. That's common knowledge. Heck your dad probably pays a dividend to the Cloudsdale weather regulation board to ensure that there's no rain on certain days. Am I right?" Stormy explained, gazing at Grapes in earnest, obviously trying to be sure that the brown unicorn believed him. "Or just simply regularly scheduled showers to keep the grapes hydrated," Grapes observed, then smirked a bit. "There's one scheduled for tomorrow, as a matter of fact... Our poor party ponies are going to get a rude early awakening." "Exactly! In fact sometimes they allow storms, which are occasionally needed to help shake things up a little. You know, kick dead-fall out of trees and stuff, but sometimes these get out of control. Sometimes two storms bump into one another making a big one... Or maybe a WILD storm comes in from an area where they just occur without Pony-intervention for example, the Everfree Forest. Now while pegasi can usually handle the small stuff without sweating, but these rogue storms can really do some damage. Especially if the pegasai aren't very clear on what they're dealing with. It's a highly specialized kind of work that needs ponies with a very particular mindset and talents... This is where the Storm Riders come in," Stormfront espoused, gesturing with his hooves occasionally. "I see. You were one of the Storm Riders... I can see where you'd do well in that work. You've got wings like an albatross," the filly observed wryly. Stormfront blushed and smiled shyly. "Why thank you. It's what allows me to be the, well, workhorse of the team. We all have specializations to different kinds of storms. Desert, ocean, mainland... You name it. Members like me might go out scouting for talent but Weathervain is the one who makes the final decisions. I felt proud when she gave me the nod of approval. We aren't always needed, with as many pegasi as there are out there it's only occasionally that you need the Storm Riders... Which explains why most ponies haven't heard of us, but when something like a tornado rears it's head... We're there to help out. We know you can't just BULLY a rogue storm, you need to look at it and coax it to be... less rogue, or nudge it off a more destructive course." "Something happened with a tornado, I take it?" Grapes said, shrewdly. "Yeah. Weathervain's instruments suggested we might be looking at one forming so we were sent to make certain is wasn't gonna cause too much damage... It was bigger than we thought. It's never easy to wrangle a tornado but we've done it... All we had to do was keep it from hitting any major population centers, like Ponyville. We went in, and did our job. All they probably felt was the outer storm, maybe enough to knock some branches out of their trees. Unfortunately the funnel moved in an unexpected way and started pulling in Earshot. He didn't have enough experience to get out on his own so... I volunteered to go in after him. Heck I got the wings needed to buck that twister, I was the best choice, and I got him out. I just... didn't see that the storm had picked up a hay-cart along the way," Stormy uttered, obviously reliving the memory. "So you got knocked for a loop, and was sucked into the vortex. Probably dislocated your wings, and strained the flight muscles of your chest and back, along with other injuries," the brown unicorn mused, obviously showing the wide range of reading material she devoured in the winter months. "It was like being in one of those big concrete mixer barrels, rocks and all. I had never been really CAUGHT in one before. Sometimes I got to see the eye of the storm, you know, where everything is perfectly calm... This was a nightmare. I can't even begin to tell you how TERRIFIED I was," Stormfront uttered, shuddering. "So it left you with a fear of flying," Grapes observed, rather bluntly. "You, with the wings of an albatross, afraid to spread them, and take to the sky on a CLEAR day." "Yeah. I awoke in a hospital a few days later, doctors telling me that I would recover fully and 'Be flying in no-time'... and that made my blood run cold. Twister may not have plucked me bald but up here..." he said tapping his head "Something got rattled badly." "Hm. Got the wings but you're too scared to use them. It's a waste, to be honest. I'd think you'd only be afraid of storms, not flying. You'd lose your place in the Storm Riders, but you'd still have the sky. But fear's never logical, and while you may be a cowardly pegasus, you're a first rate farmhoof." "Hard work has never scared me." he admitted. She saw movement under the blanket as his wings flexed. "Torn muscles and contusions have healed, and I've done the exercises the doctor recommended so they're strong enough... It's just every time I go to actually take off I'm back in the funnel again. I want to fly so bad I can taste the Stratosphere.... I just... I'm stupid aren't I?" "Depends on your definition. I wouldn't call it stupid. Just irrational. Fear is irrational, but a rational pony can overcome it. Look around. Not a cloud in the sky, and the air is calm. Not likely for a tornado to come jumping out from behind the woods, there, now is there?" She saw him cautiously looking up beyond the safety of the Vineyard that had become his home and workplace. He had built a nice place for himself here on the level of the earth ponies, and now his vision of safety was slowly expanding once more. "Never mind you're bound to be more comfortable without having to wear that blanket," Grapes added, casually. "But if you still scared, we can always see if a mage could find a way to turn you into an earth pony. Maybe give the wings to somepony who could use them." She saw him stiffen a little, his mane bristling at the thought. She found a nerve, some streak of pride that really didn't like that idea at all. "So. What are you going to do?" Stormfront looked at her, a moment, then up at the clear blue sky. He stared at it like a thirsty man looking at a glass of water right in front of him. Then he slowly rose to his feet, and half-turning his teeth found his buckle, undoing it. The belt clattered heavily to the ground followed by the horse blanket. His gray coat looked much whiter under Celestia's rays and those wings of his looked nothing less than magnificent as they unfolded and shook the kinks free. His eyes closed and he took a few deep breaths before opening them and with a leap flapped his wings downward with enough force to kick up a cloud of dust and dirt in her eyes. By the time Grapes had cleared them she saw him in the air above the Vineyard, going higher and higher. The other workers had stopped to stare, jaws dropped in total disbelief that the guy who made them look bad wasn't even an Earth Pony. "Oh BLOODY fewmets," Sour Grapes griped, then began to pick the grapes herself. "Oh well. That's what I get." It wasn't that she WASN'T happy for him. He was just so nice and he deserved a happy ending of some kind. She just wished she had waited until maybe, oh, AFTER harvest season before giving her best worker back his wings. Now she was stuck with the usual batch of clowns. She picked the grapes in silence for a few minutes, cursing herself when she heard a gentle flutter behind her and a slight breeze. A familiar pony shape was cast over her shoulder and she heard Stormfront's warm voice: "Thanks for covering for me while on my break Miss Grapes. I think I can finish up." Grapes scrambled out of his way, obviously quite startled that he'd returned. "Oh... Sure. No problem." Stormfront smiled at her (those nice teeth again) and chuckled. "What? You thought I was going to just up and fly off leaving you in my dust? Especially after being officially put on the long-term payroll by your father? Sorry Miss Grapes... you're stuck with me until at LEAST the end of the season." Grapes breathed a sigh of relief. "Well... One could never tell. Most pegasai are so... flighty." "Hey, I'd never leave anypony I consider a friend, in the lurch. That reminds me. I better contact the Storm-Riders. I haven't sent them any letters since I told them I needed some personal time to recover from my injuries." Grapes nodded, then screeched to a halt, a perturbed look on her face. She then spun around and stared at Stormfront. "You consider ME a friend?" "Well... Yes. You're certainly not my enemy. You've been fair and never pressured me despite your suspicions. You probably could have let me continue to go on just working the Vineyard but instead you encouraged me to face my problem, even you did it by appealing to my... well... Pegasi Pride. If that's not friendship then maybe it needs to be redefined." She tilted her head. "Huh... Never thought about it that way. I've never really had a friend, before," Grapes mused. "Really? Well if it's all right with you I'd like to be the first," Stormfront said with a smile. "Thank you," Grapes uttered, still sounding surprised. "Uhm... I should get back to work. Excuse me." "Of course," he said before turning back to the task at hand. Grapes went to check on the others, giving them a bit of rare praise, before checking on the hapless Thistledown. "I'm afraid you're not going to have the bits to take a night on the town, Thistle," Grapes said honestly. "But you're doing good work, here. When you get our mind out of the clouds and/or gutter, you do very well." "Yes, Miss Grapes," Thistledown responded around the handle of the shovel. He had been doing hard work shoveling the leavings into the compost wagon. No doubt mostly from fear of being fired, or being kicked and/or horn-poked to death by an angry filly. "If you've checked the weather schedule, you may discover that you not going into town, tonight, may not be such a bad thing," Grapes added. "Perhaps a touch of schadenfreude for you, tomorrow morning. Keep up the good work." The day went normally enough. Grapes made sure that Thistledown worked out the kinks, and stretch out his muscles, before dinner. "Trust me. You want to do this, unless you want to be stiff and miserable, tomorrow." All of the ponies were apparently feeling fairly good, despite the scare earlier they got a lot of work done and no doubt would enjoy their bits on the weekend. She noticed Stormfront heading into the bunkhouse right after weigh-in. Sour Grapes sighed, and headed to the bunkhouse kitchen, to fix something a little bit different for dinner. The unicorn filly then went around to the rooms, knocking to call everypony to dinner. She hadn't quite realized how few ponies were left from the original batch. The expression 'best of a bad lot' came to mind, perhaps a little unfairly, but still there it was. She knocked on Stormfront's door and it swung open easily revealing something she never thought she'd see in her life. There was Stormfront, bent slightly around nuzzling and nibbling at his wings like she had seen ducks doing down at the pond. It was so... ludicrous and cute to see a full-grown pegasi ... PREENING like that. Grapes stepped away from his room, and had to crouch to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. It made sense that he would preen. Just about everything that had feathers had to do so, but to see a Stormy doing it made him look so... CUTE! Something that just stood out from his strong build and nearly regal wings. She risked another glance and he was working the other wing over. No doubt it had been driving him crazy to keep them lashed down all this time and he was making up for lost time. She finally regained control of herself, and knocked on his door. He was still bent at an awkward angle, peeking up over his own torso to look at her. "Oh Grapes! Hi. What brings you to my door?" "Dinner," Grapes replied, still smiling a bit at the vision of preening she'd seen. "Oh great," Stormy chirped before burying his nose into his wing again. "Be right there in a minute. Just... some feathers refuse to cooperate. It's like bed-mane, you know?" "Need a hoof?" Grapes asked, trying to be helpful,though she didn't really know what she could do. "Nah I'm good... I can't tell you how good it feels to stop, well, hiding these things. I'm not sure I really was hiding them from you or the others but really," Stormfront gave them a firm shake, causing a stiff breeze to surge into the hallway. "Well keeping them hidden from me. I think I wanted to forget I was a Pegasus for a while." "Ah. Well you'll be more comfortable, at least," Grapes mused, as she watched the gray pony settle his feathers. "Oh DEFINITELY!" he laughed folding his wings against his flanks and trotting merrily over to her. "What's for dinner tonight?" "Barley stew." "Nice! Just like mom used to make," Stormy said obviously happy at the prospect, as they made their way to the more common area of the bunkhouse. "Hope you all like it... Looks like some of the others have already snuck out... We've got Thistledown here, though, for a change," Grapes said sounding a touch annoyed with the wayward farmhooves. "That should be interesting..." he paused and giggled "that was a rude thing he said but still... kinda funny. I never would have thought to apply the concept to the fruit we were picking." "It's a variation of 'apple polisher'. Another way of saying brown-muzzler." "I know what he meant. But that doesn't mean it wasn't clever. If he only would use his talent for good instead of mischief," Stormfront said with a shrug. "Hopefully you helped him to realize having a smart mouth doesn't mean you have to open it all the time." "I hope so. But he may get the last laugh. We've got rain scheduled, tomorrow afternoon, so we have to get up early," Grapes mused, chuckling, herself, at the eventual misfortune of her workers. "Good thing I was preening then. It helps waterproof my plumage," the pegasus said sagely. "We'll have to stop anyway. Vines are slippery, and it gets muddy," Grapes explained. "Not that I'm above getting my hooves dirty, but it's still a safety hazard. Never mind the health concerns." "I doubt many of the crew brought rainwear with them," Stormy observed wryly. "Nope. That shortsightedness is often a problem." "I don't really need a rain coat. Most pegasi when properly groomed are waterproof. We may need one for flying through rain and clouds, but I bought a rain coat just to get into the spirit of, well, looking like an Earth Pony," Stormy said, grinning sheepishly. "I can appreciate you're getting into the spirit of things," Grapes chuckled. "Do you have any writing materials? I got a few letters I have to write, after dinner," Stormfront asked. "Of course," Grapes replied. =================================================== Long after dinner, and after the house, and bunkhouse had settled, Grapes was sitting in her room, thinking over the events of the day. She, Sour Grapes, one of the most asocial ponies in Ponyville, had somepony who called her a 'friend'. She felt it was a momentous occasion, but didn't know quite how to commemorate it. Then she remembered something that Applejack had told her about. Twilight Sparkle was often writing to Princess Celestia about her adventures in Ponyville, and the lessons she learned from them. "Friendship Reports," Applejack called them. Grapes chuckled, pulling out a piece of parchment, and an ordinary envelope. She sat at her desk, after settling her stationary, so she could write. Grapes then dipped her Stormy-feather quill into the ink, carefully filled out the address, and return address, then began to write the letter itself. "Dear Princess Celestia..." > Applebucking Problems and Scholarly Advised Solutions > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes was grateful for the weekend, as she trotted to Ponyville in good spirits, humming an Istalliobrothers tune to herself, actually hopping on the “jump jump jump jump” bit. She, briefly, wondered if having an ‘official’ friend was the reason for her mood, or just that it was a fine sunny day. Grapes made her way to the Pony Express office to mail her letter, and to check on the eventual delivery of a very special package. That was probably when things started on their roller coaster ride between the highs and lows. "I... I'm so sorry Miss Grapes but while in transport it... kinda got... dropped off at the wrong location... from a high distance up..." the Post Stallion uttered looking very embarrassed about the whole situation. "Please... tell me that it didn't hurt anypony..." Grapes groaned. "All right I won't... but I doubt the Flower pot... the Anvil... and the Hay Cart helped matters much either," the stallion uttered, looking quite pained to be honest. "... It did, didn't it..." Grapes uttered, deadpan, her ears going back in annoyance at Mister Literal behind the counter. She then rubbed her temples. "Fortunately Miss Sparkle is a fast healer and we were able to settle out of court," the Pony Express clerk said with a smile. "And as you took out Delivery Insurance on your Piano we are reimbursing you for the cost of both shipping and the piano itself." Sour Grapes simply looked in horror at how blase the clerk could possibly be about all this. "... Your entire shipment fell on TWILIGHT SPARKLE?! INCLUDING the piano I ordered? Great flaming fewmets..." the brown unicorn uttered, double-facehoofing herself. "The Delivery Pony helping out accidentally tilted the whole shipment at the wrong time... First day on the job too," the clerk explained. "We're very sorry for this and we'll even deliver the next Piano for free... by land if you feel a little sky shy at the moment." "Buck YEAH I'm feeling sky shy! That blasted piano could have KILLED that poor unicorn! Just... get it here by next week, would you? I've got to go and apologize to Twilight..." Grapes uttered, not knowing why she should apologize to the studious purple unicorn, but still felt somewhat responsible because of her decision to ship her mother's anniversary gift via air freight. "Yes Ma'am. we'll have it here inside of seven days," the clerk said saluting her. "Thanks," Grapes said, sounding tired, and left the post office. Then something strange happened. She could have sworn that she heard clopping hooves, building in the background along with... singing. "You spin me inside outside/ Boy, you hold me so tight/ We'll dance and party all night/ Mambo mambo ley. So kiss me in the moonlight/ You know that always feels right/ We'll dance and party all night..." the random background voices sang, then Pinkie Pie popped up beside Grapes, startling the hapless unicorn, singing: "Mambo mambo ley!" Pinkie then grabbed Grapes just as the song segued into an instrumental bit, spinning her around a couple of times, before Grapes dug her hooves into the ground. "So you wanna dance, huh?" Grapes asked, grinning impishly. "He he he he! YEAH!" Pinkie yelled excitedly. "Okay. I'll lead," Grapes asserted with an air of 'Challenge Accepted', then just as the song picked up speed, again, she pulled the pink earth pony into a very credible Mambo. The ponies in the square had to stop and watch them, drawn by both the music, and the dancers, themselves. "Somepony's cutting in!" Pinkie announced. "Wait.. what?" Grapes uttered, being pulled out of her groove, to find herself looking at a very flustered Rarity. "Just when I thought it couldn't get any more random..." Rarity hooked her elbow into hers and the two spun in a small circle as she gave Grapes a shy smile. "I am SO sorry... but sometimes one cannot help themselves when Pinkie Pie starts one of these... er... musical interludes." "At least you know I won't step on your hooves," Grapes said with a laugh, spinning the white unicorn into the very same dance she had been doing with Pinkie, moments before. Rarity obliged, a little uncertain of the dance but picking it up quickly. "I have a strong suspicion that it's her link to her Element of Harmony that seems to make these moments so... big-scale." Off to the side they could see Pinkie Pie doing something of a group dance with another white unicorn with a blue-streaked mane and sunglasses, and a black-maned gray earth pony wearing a bow tie. All three were behind a turntable deck, which was the apparent source of the music. Grapes wasn't entirely certain if Pinkie Pie kept musically inclined ponies on retainer, or if they just happened to be in the area they were when she needed them. Truth be told, Grapes loved to dance, but usually was too self conscious to do so under normal circumstances. Fortunately the presence of Pinkie Pie had a way of making you feel a LOT less conspicuous. "I wouldn't know about that, but I do know it's cheered me up," Grapes chuckled. "You dance better than Pinkie, I have to admit," she added, dipping the fashonista, before pulling her into a spin, and continuing the lively Mambo-like dance. "I'm NOT wearing this!" came a very incised accented voice, causing both mares to look toward the turntable. The gray mare was holding a gaudy black VERY broad-brimmed sequined hat. "Aw, c'MON, Octy," the blue-maned unicorn pleaded, wearing her own hat jauntily. "You were having fun a moment ago." You could almost see the rage building in the gray earth pony. "Vinyl! I am NOT nor will I ever BE a member of a Mare-i-achi band!" she uttered. "Please leave me SOME dignity!" The song wound down, and many of the spectators were clopping along with the music, content to watch Grapes and Rarity show off their moves. When it ended, Grapes bowed to Rarity, still quite amused by the whole sequence. "Where did you learn to dance, like that?" Rarity asked, sounding rather impressed. "Self-taught, mostly," the brown unicorn said blushing, and scratching the back of her head with her hoof. "I don't usually show off like that." "Sometimes it helps to have a Pinkie Pie moment and just enjoy yourself," Rarity confessed. "Normally I prefer my dances to be more refined, but I did enjoy myself greatly." "And your pedicure is still intact," Grapes joked with obvious self depreciation. "Oh fancy that," Rarity said checking her hooves. "I'm feeling rather good now. A nice change from earlier, when I was quite beside myself when I found out that my Spa treatment was canceled due to them having to some structural repairs," she added smiling at Grapes. "Huh. That makes two of us who were a bit down. Guess that's why Pinkie started all this," Grapes said, gesturing to indicate the impromptu dance party. "I was upset because my mother's anniversary gift was destroyed in transit, and may have caused Twilight Sparkle severe cranial trauma. The important lesson is never send a piano by air freight." Rarity smiled and tittered. "Poor Twilight. A good thing she has brains to spare." "Still, on the good side, I did think to take out shipping insurance on the piano, so it'll be replaced, and Mom will be able to play her music, instead of having to rely on my phonograph," Grapes mused. "Still I feel I should apologize to Twilight." "Seeing as it was your piano, that would be proper. But I suspect she will accept your apology very easily," Rarity said thoughtfully. "Well since I'm here," Grapes said, clip-clopping to the library. "I'm surprised she didn't get curious about the music." "Well I HAVE noticed she gets quite absorbed in her work. I suppose we all have that.. 'ZONE' where what you enjoy most literally insulates you to the outside world." Grapes nodded in understanding, and knocked on the Library door. The door creaked open and at first Grapes thought it might be Ponykinesis... then she looked down. "Hi Rarity! What brings you here?" Spike uttered, grinning at the purple-maned unicorn, obviously eager to please. "Hello Spike. Is Twilight in? Miss Sour Grapes, here, would like a word with her," Rarity said, smiling at the little dragon. "Oh sure. She's just organizing her schedule for this week." "Oh... kaaay... I know I keep MY schedule organized, because I've got workers," Grapes mused, as she followed the dragon into the very literal tree house. "Oh this is quit normal for Twilight," the white pony said before whispering quietly to her. "She's a little fussy about organization. The poor dear had NO social life before coming here and is still learning life doesn't always keep to a schedule." "Wow, she IS more uptight than I am," Grapes said, reiterating her original observation, chuckling. She then lifted her right hoof. "But I am doing BETTER! I've got my cousin, AJ to keep me from being a total recluse, stuck in the world of the Vineyard, and I've made my first official friend." They entered the main Gallery of the Library where Twilight was busy at a podium, scribbling away in a ledger while various books, charts and calendars rotated about her as needed. It was astonishing to see. Grapes had seen Rarity doing similar things in her shop but they were nothing compared to the multitasking going on here. It was a big reminder to Grapes that there was no doubt a reason Twilight Sparkle was Princess Celestia's personal pupil and her representative in Ponyville. "Spike? I can't seem to find that copy of 'Spectrum Sorceries: a Beginners Guide to a World of Color.' Where is it? I promised to help Rarity create indigo colored Fabric Dye." "I left it on the podium, Twilight. I think you put your schedule book on top of it," Spike replied. She moved the ledger and giggled. "Thanks Spike. I don't know what I'd do without you." "Well learning to answer the door might be on your list of things to learn. You have visitors." Twilight glanced up and turned around to see Grapes and Rarity standing there. "Oh... Sorry I didn't hear you there. I just... well... you can see." "I'd make a joke about the piano, but I'm here to apologize for sending it air freight in the first place," Grapes said drolly. "Oh that was YOUR piano?" Twilight asked, rubbing her head at the memory of impact. "Ah yes... I can see why you came to apologize. Well... I accept. You couldn't possibly have seen that happening. I sure didn't... I was in the middle of a field when... things began falling out of the sky." "... You weren't close to Pinkie Pie, were you?" Grapes asked, tilting her head. "That filly's a magnet for odd occurrences." "I was... observing her... from what I THOUGHT was a safe distance," Twilight groused. "Honestly, I would think if you've got visual contact, you're still within the zone of influence," Grapes observed in her usual droll manner. The brown unicorn was watching the various implements that Twilight had levitated around her desk just... stay there, levitating where Twilight had put then. Grapes was quietly amazed at the sheer power this one unicorn possessed. "I've noticed that... But I think strangely enough the closer I am to her, the safer I am. I just have to accept that... she has these strange incomprehensible qualities that defy pony logic," Twilight observed. "She also has this uncanny ability to know when two ponies in the same general area needs to be cheered up," Grapes observed with a shrug. "Still don't know where she found those ridiculous hats." After a little more conversation with Twilight, and Rarity, Grapes left the library to continue her in-town errands, before she went back home. Despite the piano fiasco, she was in a good mood, thanks to the Pinkie Pie moment. Even with the piano disaster, there was still some good news. Her saddlebags were full of supplies for the week, the piano was being replaced, a brief meeting with the wild-maned Vinyl had gotten her an invitation to a club opening and a permanent VIP Pass to same. So it was with a sense of accomplishment she made her way home, past Sweet Apple Acres. As she trotted past the archway to Sweet Apple acres she caught sight of Applebloom and Big Macintosh using a rope and pulley system to lift a freshly painted sign into place while Applejack stood top of the ladder with a hammer. "That's it. Keep 'er steady." Grapes paused to watch the action, keeping quiet, as to not break their concentration. Applejack was good, pounding the nails in just the right places to hold the sign up in no time. Only when she was satisfied did she come down the ladder and her helpers let the rope go slack. "Good work, ponies. Let's go get ourselves some apple juice." She then noticed Grapes and smiled. "Ah, you go on ahead. Hey Sour. Jus' back from town?" "Eeyup," Grapes said, with a slight smirk. "You finally catch up on all that sleep you lost, this past week?" "Oh MERCY, it felt so good to sleep in for the first time in mah life. Ah can see how Dash can enjoy her nap time so much," Applejack said fervently. "Good. I'm probably going to need some help at the Vineyard... Most of my workers are out, thanks to a bad batch of muffins, they had a couple of days ago," Grapes said making a face. "And I've never heard about Pinkie making a bad batch of ANYTHING." "Uh... yeah... well... that wasn't totally her fault. Ah kinda got mixed up when she was readin' off the instructions. If what Ah remember going in there was real then no wonder everypony who had one got sick," Applejack replied looking quite embarrassed. "Had yet another case of fool's pride? You know, you really need to watch that. It's going to get you into real trouble, one of these days." "It already did. Ah thought Ah could handle it all... Ah honestly did. Ah jus' couldn' say no to mah friends." "Never mind you're one stubborn mule of a pony," Grapes asserted. "Especially when you think you've been given a challenge." "All right All right. Lesson learned, letter written, an' dragon fired to Celestia. Can we please move on?" Applejack griped, giving Grapes a mild glare. "Okay, dear cousin, I won't bring it up any more... There a multitude of other things I can tease you about," Grapes said with a slight grin. "Don't suppose you've seen Stormfront, yet, have you?" "Stormfront? Ya mean that farmhoof you've been ravin' about lately? Best an' brightest o' the bad lot ya got stuck with?" Applejack asked. "Yeah, that's him. He's even gotten brave enough to call your prickly cousin a friend," Grapes replied with a lazy grin. "Brave Fella... When's the weddin'?" the orange pony teased. "Friends, cuz. Not engaged," Grapes uttered, deadpan. "I'm the last pony to fall head-over-hooves for somebody just because they happen to take a shine to me... If Wild Oats hadn't been hauled off by the guards for that arranged marriage of his, I'd have to have given him a right hook, buck over the fence combo." Grapes giggled as they started walking down the road to Grapevine Hills. "Well if even half the things you've been sayin' about this pony is true then maybe you SHOULD be taking a second look. Could be a keeper." "I've only barely made my first official friend, Applejack," Grapes said, as they reached the gate to the Vineyard. "I'm not very likely to go jumping into the idea of dating so soon after. I mean I'm still wrapping my head around somepony, other than my family, actually likes me, rather than just tolerates my presence." "Ah fair enough. So where is this coltfriend of yours? You'd think someone gray would be kinda obvious with all the bright colors around these parts," Applejack said looking around. "Probably can't see him for the grape frames," Grapes said. "He volunteered to put in some overtime, due to the others being stuck in the clinic. HEY! Stormy! My cousin wants to meet you!" A head popped up on top of her house, glancing down. "Heya Grapes. Your mom asked me to fix a leak in the tiles up here. I'll be right down in a jiffy." "Cool. We'll be down here, then. Want something to drink, Aye Jay?" Grapes asked, after waving to Stormy. "Nothin' with a kick, please. I gotta keep a clear head today." She glanced up and gasped. "Look OUT!" The gray pony had hurtled himself off of the roof and he plummeted for a moment then his wings unfurled like a set of great sails, catching the wind and slowing his decent to ground, allowing him to touch down without hardly a sound. "Yeah, I forgot to tell you. He's a pegasus," Grapes said, all too casually. Her cousin gawked at the Pegasus as he fluttered his wings before folding them back up along his flanks. He then extended a hoof. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Stormfront." "A... Applejack. Whooo... Land mercy, you're a big'un," stuttered Applejack, obviously impressed. "Thank you. Mom says I got my wings from my dad," Stormfront replied with a slight smile. "You get finished, up there, Stormy?" Grapes asked. "I was going to get some juice, and I thought I'd get you some, too." "Oh Sure I can join you. I was just trying the seal out with a little rainwater. It's holding nicely," Stormy replied. Grapes nodded, and went into the house leaving Stormfront and Applejack with a very awkward silence. "So... Yer a pegasus, huh? Funny thing you working a farm like this?" Applejack asked. "Yeah. I know... we're usually seen as just cloud-pushers but I'm really enjoying this. Probably helps that Grapes has been a great employer." "Well she's ornery but fair. I dunno if I'd feel as attached to her if she weren't family but she is, and cause we go way back I can put up with her tendency to be blunt as a horseshoe to the forehead," the farm pony observed, making a wry face. "Okay, she's a little blunt in her opinions. If she wasn't, I'd still be passing myself off as an earth pony right now," Stormy replied. "What would ya be doing that for?" Applejack asked, tilting her head. "Hiding from myself, really. Got badly hurt and couldn't face my fears afterwards... She gave me a kick in the rump I needed WHEN I needed it," Stormfront asserted, with a nod. Grapes, just then, came out with a tray of grape juice, and put it on the patio table. "Here we go. Concord's finest. No comparison to Aye Jay's apple juice, but it'll do to cut the thirst." "Thanks Sour. It's nice to switch things up a little from time to time." Applejack said, as she sipped her juice then glanced over the rim of her glass, and her eyes half-lidded as she smirked. "Strawberries." "Strawberries?" Grapes asked, then facehoofed, with a slight groan. "Oh... Oh great flaming fewmits, you've got a dearth of strawberries, don't you?" "Eyup. Got a good swap from Strawberry Valley, and figured you could do somethin' with a few crates," the orange pony said with a grin. "Just when that broccoli wine should be nicely aged, now, too," Grapes mused with a sigh. "Well now... ya actually got that broccoli to work?" Applejack asked, an eyebrow raised. "Yes, yes I did. I had to shred the blasted things. Only got about a barrel, but yeah. Probably the only wine that absolutely has to have cheese with it to taste good, but..." Stormy looked on in puzzlement as the two ponies spoke. "Am... am I missing something here?" "It's... an ongoing bet," Grapes admitted reluctantly. "Yep. When Sour, here, was just learnin' how to make wine from her daddy she got to braggin' how good she was at it. Swore she could probably make a potent drink out of jest about ANYTHIN'. So Ah got dibs on making her prove it." "I'm probably going to have to get into distilling, at this rate," Grapes laughed ruefully. "Maybe even brewing." "Ya shoulda tasted her Rhubarb Wine. It was nice on a hot day, but ya always puckered with each sip," Applejack said reminiscing. "That sold remarkably well, surprisingly enough," Grapes observed. "Wow... Sounds like a nice hobby to have along side the tried and true wines," Stormy uttered with a grin. "The VERY first one, she forgot an important word, when stating the bet," Grapes chortled. "And that would be?" Stormy asked, curiously. "'Palatable'," Grapes said with a smirk. "So Applejack ended up with an asparagus-based alcohol cleaning solution." "Stuff's great if you need something to fill your lamps with, if you don't mind the smell of asparagus." Applejack sighed "Thankfully it was another small batch, like the broccoli wine," Grapes added. "Strawberries should be easy, though, methinks. A lot of drinks are based on having strawberry as an ingredient, but I don't know if there's any actual fermentation project that's based on the fruit itself." "Wow. So I'm guessing this bet isn't on a schedule? You just work with it as she comes up with ideas?" Stormy asked. "Pretty much, sugarcube," Applejack replied. "I'm kind of stubborn that way. Guess it shows how much we are related. Neither one of us can back down from a challenge," Grapes chuckled, nudging Applejack. "No matter mow much of a bad taste it leaves in our mouths? Mmm?" Stormy asked with a slight grin. Grapes sniggered, smirking over at Applejack. The Pegasus smiled and drained his glass. "Makes me wonder what it would have been like to grow up with such a large close-knit family. Can't all be Wine and Apples, but it must be really nice to always find someone to turn to." "Well sometimes we drive each other crazy but Ah know I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world." "I'd be a recluse, without AJ," Grapes said truthfully. After that, the conversation wound down, and Applejack plead a need to return home to Sweet Apple Acres. Because the majority of the other farmhooves were either out on the town, or in the clinic, Grapes invited Stormfront to eat with her family. Champ and Cham seemed rather pleased with Grapes' action, though their insistence upon seating her and the gray pegasus together confused the filly. ================================================================= The second day of the weekend dawned, quietly, with little fanfare. Sour Grapes had chose to go out, and check on the grape vines, checking their need for a good healthy dose of compost. It was something that only Grapes, or her father Champagne, could do. And soon, it would be only her, because her parents had told her they intended to retire at the end of this season, because Sour Grapes despite the setbacks, had done very well on her own. Grapes had mixed feelings about this development. One one hoof, she felt honored that her parents had such confidence in her, but on the other, she felt the early pangs of loneliness. True they were only going to be at Seaside, and could visit easily, but that loving, comforting presence would not be there at any time of the day or night she needed it. Grapes sighed, then continued her fertilization project. A bit later, she heard hooves on the path to the gate, causing her to look up, wondering who'd be coming here today? The chocolate brown unicorn left her rake in the aisle trotting to the gate. Standing there, looking around, was Twilight Sparkle, with Spike riding her back, as he was wont. "Hey, there, Twilight. Hey, Spike What brings you out here?" Grapes asked as she walked over to the studious purple unicorn and her dragon companion. Spike waved a bit, a scroll in one of his hands. "Well... It's kind of... interesting," Twilight said, looking very confused as she levitated the scroll over. "I received a request to... forward this message on to you, Sour Grapes." "Huh? A message for me?" Grapes said levitating the scroll, obviously bewildered, as she examined the ribbon and seal. "Who in Equestria would send me a message through you?" Twilight glanced back at Spike before trying to subtlety as possible lean to read over Grapes' shoulder, despite the fact that Grapes had not opened it yet. "Believe it or not, only one person can send me messages the way this one arrived," replied Twilight, scuffing a hoof. Spike thumped his chest and stifled a belch. "Yeah... I wasn't even expecting that one." Grapes clip-clopped over to the outdoor table, laying the unopened scroll carefully onto it. "That doesn't really tell me a lot, Twilight," Grapes said, tilting her head. "I don't suppose you would be so kind as to, you know, enlighten me? I don't get out, much." "Well... Once a week I send a letter to Princess Celestia and the most direct route is to have Spike ignite it with Dragon Fire... and it appears in her presence. When she sends one back... Spike... uhm... Belches fire and the letter falls out of the flames. "You're saying this letter is from... Oh..." Grapes uttered, her legs going weak. She nearly hit her chin against the table, before she stumbled her legs back beneath her, staring at Twilight with wide eyes. "Great flaming fewmets, she wrote back!" "Wrote... back?" Twilight asked, her head tilting to one side. "You mean you sent a letter and she felt it was so important she sent it the speediest way she could?" "She's the ruler of the whole bucking country... I wasn't expecting Princess Celestia to even read the bloody thing," Grapes said, still sounding quite stunned. "And even if she did, I honestly wasn't expecting a reply..." "The Princess tries to be fair abut all correspondences," the purple unicorn deadpanned. "Yes she does have a Personal Assistant and a Royal Vizier to help her keep things on track but she tries to keep a hoof in all matters of her subjects... So what's it say?" "Okay... Let me get it open. I don't have the dexterity you do with your levitation, 'cause I'm half earth pony," Grapes said, as she used her levitation to hold the scroll, but her hooves to carefully unseal the seal, and unroll the scroll. "Let's see... *ahem* 'My reasonably faithful subject, Sour grapes, Thank you for your letter. It's arrival along with my morning mail and proved a nice change of pace. It's nice to hear directly from my subjects. Normally I usually get just the usual supplicants who come in seeking out my favor or blessing on some matter. There's only so much bowing and scraping a pony really wishes to see in her day so your... tone of letter proved a very welcome diversion. I had forgotten that the Apple family was so extensive and was close knit enough for such information as Twilight Sparkle's weekly "friendship report " to get around. While your style differs from Twilight's flowing script, I can tell that, like Applejack, you speak forthrightly and directly, treating your correspondence with admirable honesty, if a little blunt. I want you to know that while I don't expect regular correspondences such as this, I think I would like to hear from you again on any matter. So long as you continue to speak with an element of honesty yourself. Sincerely, Princess Celestia'" Twilight's jaw hung open for a moment before she shut it, and coughed into her hoof. "So Applejack mentioned my uhm.. 'friendship reports', did she?" "Of course. They're part of the story of, well, you, She'd be leaving out something important, if she didn't include them," Grapes said, with a shrug. "I just, recently, had somebody tell me that they considered ME a friend, and that's never happened before. So..." "So you thought it might be fun to tell Princess Celestia about it?" Twilight smirked and nodded. "I never was the kind of pony who could go out of her way to make friends so it was a surprise when I wound up with six after arriving here. Guess we have that kind of discovery in common, do we?" "I suppose we do. In all honesty, I wasn't even expecting a reply. Thought it would provide a momentary diversion, a bit of amusement, then Her Royal Highness would go on with her day," Grapes said. "After all you're her student. I'm just a young, somewhat asocial, winemaker from Ponyville." "You underestimate yourself. Princess Celestia isn't as distant from Ponykind as many really think. Yes she acts as a ruler should in public but... well... I've seen her struggle with some difficult news and decisions as I grew in her care. Maybe what she likes hearing from my friendship reports is a more ordinary point of view to the world she lives in. I'd use the word 'optimistic' in such a description but I get the feeling yours is more of a... a guarded optimism." "I suppose so. From what I've heard about you, I tend to be more cynical than you are, but then the pleasant surprises do tend to be sweeter, when they happen," Grapes said with a slight smirk. "I suppose, however, we could go on for hours, talking about the difference between 'nature' and 'nurture', and how my upbringing, and a particularly disastrous visit to Gala affected me, but we'd end up putting Spike, there, to sleep." "Probably," Twilight agreed rubbing Spike on the head. "Maybe some other time then?" "Maybe so. I work during the week, but I could pay a visit on the weekend. I could probably use something to expand my winter reading, too. One can only read 'On the Confluence of Magics' so many times. Though it helped me in finding the balance between my unicorn abilities, and my earth sense," Grapes observed, thoughtfully. "Really? I've never thought about how that could apply to the innate magics of the other Pony species. I always just... assumed it was a sort of Primer for spell casters. Helping to walk us through how magic is shaped and affects us as we affect it," Twilight said, surprised by this new use for a tome she's read several times. "Apparently mixed marriages weren't as common as they are now... 'Chapter Five: The Fruit of Forbidden Love; How the mixing of tribes affects the offspring and their abilities'," Grapes recited, then tilted her head, at a rosy blush showing up on the lavender unicorn's cheeks. "Hmmm... A touch embarrassed to read that far, hm? Oh... Wait... Yeah... That chapter was a touch racy... I think old Starswirl let his imagination run away with him... That or he had a secret thing for pegasai." "He was certainly ahead of his time. I just... couldn't wrap my head around that chapter. Guess it was too embarrassing," Twilight said, still blushing. "And the look on your face is priceless," Grapes chuckled. "It's nice to see someone other than me knows about Starswirl the Bearded. You'd think he was some minor character in Unicorn history," Twilight grouched, sounding a touch annoyed. "Heh. They don't call that book 'Obscure Unicorn History' for nothing. My favorite is Geode the Earthy. He's the one who actually discovered and documented Earth Pony earth sense." "We have a copy of that one?" Twilight asked. Spike, who had been trying valiantly not to go to sleep during the more literary discussion, shrugged shaking his head. "I do, in the house. Don't know about the library," Grapes answered. "Um... so... You gonna write back to Princess Celestia?" Twilight asked, curiously. "I... might. She might find it amusing to discover I may be befriending her student... If, of course, you're willing to call cynical hybrid like myself a friend," Grapes replied, with a slight smirk. "I have six Ponies I call my friends whom I never would have even thought of befriending before. What's one more?" "That's the spirit," Grapes laughed. "May even be the one pony who understands what the hay you're talking about, when you talking about your studies. Heh. May even be the reason why she sent the reply Spikey Express." "Probably. Celestia always has a reason for these things... even if it's not obvious at first," Twilight observed with a nod. "So... How does your particular earth sense work?" "I'd have to take you into the vineyard, proper, to show you," Grapes said, handing her letter to Spike. "Keep an eye on this, would you, Spike?" "Sure thing," the little dragon said, earning a smile from Grapes. Twilight accompanied the winemaker to one of the multitude of frames, and listened raptly as Grapes explained the synergy of unicorn and earth pony powers. Grapes liked showing off her ability to someone who really appreciated it. Her horn tingled as she demonstrated to Twilight Sparkle how she could divine various things about the Vines growing on the frame and the soil beneath it. The magical unicorn was duly impressed. "And you have expanded this ability all on your own? That's actually amazing. I might have to ask your help in writing up a proper paper for the Academy." "I guess that would be kind of unique... Most ponies from mixed marriages could choose to go one way or another... I had to embrace both sides of my heritage, because..." Grapes trailed off, looking down. "I... My mother couldn't have any more foals after me... I know I shouldn't... But sometimes, I feel kind of guilty about it..." There was a sound of something wooden, hitting something solid on the other side of the Frame and a soft curse "Ow... of all the mud-licking Jackapplery... Who left the rake in the middle of the aisle?" "Oops... Sorry, Stormy," Grapes said, looking embarrassed. "I was composting over there, and got distracted." His familiar face peeked over the top of the frame and down at the two fillies. He smiled (Oh those nice teeth) and his sky blue eyes twinkled, in spite the the shiner starting to appear around the left one. "Oh... Sorry Grapes. Didn't realize I had an audience... I don't like to cuss in front of other ponies. Makes me sound a little crass." "One of your farmhooves?" Twilight asked looking up at the face. "Yup. That's Stormfront. Stormfront, this is Twilight. I was showing her how I managed to integrate unicorn magic and earth sense to help me grow better grapes." "Well I'm very pleased to meet you Twilight. Any friend of Grapes can count me as a friend too. Anyways I was just putting in a little overtime since some of the farmhooves are currently... uh... well you know how they are right now. I just figured seeing as I'm still able bodied I could at least try to make up for the lack of horsepower at the moment." "Eh... yeah... Thanks a lot, Stormy. I really appreciate it," Grapes said with genuine gratitude. "The rest of the farmhooves are still at the Clinic... They went to Sugarcube Corner, after they got off work, and... Well it's really weird, because I've never known Pinkie Pie to make a bad batch of anything, but this time..." Grapes said, explaining the situation to Twilight. Stormfront's head ducked back behind the vines as Twilight nodded. "I know... It wasn't her fault. She had a severely sleep-deprived helper and well... Pride isn't always a bad thing but when you're too stubborn to even consider you can't do it all. That's when Mistakes happen," Twilight observed, nodding. Grapes sighed. "Thanks for finally getting AJ to come to her senses, by the way. When she gets like that, I'm so tempted to give her the old left hook... But then she'd have bucked me over the fence." Grapes chuckled, shaking her head. "What can I say? It's not easy to have such a stubborn mule of a pony for a cousin." Stormfront stepped out from behind the row with a full basket in his teeth. He put it down a moment to nod to the fillies. "Gotta head back for a fresh basket but I'll try to get two more in before dinner. your mom was nice enough to make dandelion salad tonight. Seeing how things have turned out I might be dining alone. Pleasure meeting you Twilight." Picking up the basket again he spread his wings and Grapes glanced over to Twilight and caught the expression of awe and wonder on her face as he caught the wind and leapt into the air. She paused a moment then spoke in a hushed tone. "That... he... he's a Pegasus? You have a Pegasus picking grapes? I.... we... we had some volunteers helping Applejack out over in Sweet Apple Acres but that was just... helping out." "It's a long story, Twilight... Though, it IS kind of easy to see why Starswirl may have developed a 'thing' for pegasai, hm?" "I... Oh.. my... he's very endowed, isn't he? I've never seen wings that large on anyone short of Princess Celestia." Sour Grapes couldn't help it. She really couldn't. It was just that statement could be taken more than one way... Well not the bit about the wingspan being on par with the Princess' but the bit about Stormy being 'very endowed'. So it was no wonder that Grapes started to snigger impishly. "What? The amount of lift those wings probably have... he must be like the Big Macintosh of Pegasai!" "It... it's just the comment about 'endowment' could be taken in a less than chaste way," Grapes giggled. "Oh... OH! Oh I didn't mean... N-not really anyways. Aheh.. I shouldn't use that description when I describe him to the others, huh? I might get teased all the way back to Canterlot," the other unicorn said blushing at the thought something she said could have such a connotation but was able to joke a little. "Yeah. For most ponies, 'endowed' is not a good word to use when describing attributes, because... Well I'm fairly cerebral, and my mind STILL went there, if that's any indication. But then," Grapes said with a grin and a nudge. "I am a little 'earthy'." "A-although I find it strange for a pony breed who favors the air to be so content picking grapes. I gotta know, is he any good at it?" Twilight asked, obviously trying to change the subject, from her brief stutter, but she still sounded curious. "Yes, he's very good at picking grapes. In fact he's been my steadiest and most dependable worker, I've had this season. I wish I could find more like him, because I've been, well, bleeding workers, left and right... Who would have thought that letch, Wild Oats, was roped into an arranged marriage? Uh... Anyway, I wish I could find more like him, and hire them on, full time..." "Well, if he's a hard worker then he's a hard worker. A pity he doesn't have some pegasai friends who might like spending their time with all four hooves in the dirt," Twilight said offhoofedly. Grapes looked at her, then looked very thoughtful. "Well, anyway, we should probably head back... It was great talking to you, Grapes." "Hey, you too. I'll be sure to visit, next weekend, too," Grapes replied, walking with Twilight to the gate. "Thanks for watching my letter, Spike." "No problemo," Spike said, handing it to Sour Grapes. "We headin' home, Twilight?" "Sure are. G'bye, Grapes. See you next weekend," Twilight said, waving, as she levitated Spike into position on her back. "Seeya," Grapes said, as the purple unicorn trotted back to Ponyville. She then went in search of Stormy. Predictably she found him in the grape frames. "Hey, Stormy, got a minute?" "Oh hey, Grapes. Yeah I can spare a few. What's on your mind?" Stormfront asked, as Grapes came up to him. "Well you've noticed the general lack of working ponies, here, due to various circumstances, right?" Grapes asked, gesturing to the vineyard in general. He moved his basket over a few feet and sighed. "I know... we lost some good workers with the bad." "I know... You mentioned your team, the Storm Riders," Grapes started, cautiously. "You don't suppose they'd be interested in working here, do you? If they have your same work ethic, they'd be great..." He stopped working a moment and stared off into the distance. "Well, to tell you the truth, the majority are in a similar boat as me. You know, brief calls to duty followed by long periods of inactivity. More than a few have secondary jobs just to keep themselves occupied. And yes, yes we do all have the same kind of work ethic, we're just... well... a mixed bag of personalities." "That would be different, how?" Grapes asked, in a deadpan tone, with a tilt of the head and a raised eyebrow. "Well... " Stormy paused a moment then he sat down in the dirt in front of her so the two of them were eye-to-eye. "Each of us is a specialist. I think I mentioned this before but imagine a team where every member is a real hot-shot in their field, and we never quite lose that feeling of 'best of the best' however, we have gotten into a very good habit of stepping down and letting a pony who is the best in the needed task, act as team leader. Hurricane battering the coast, Summer Squall will take the wheel. If there's a forest fire, Firestormer steps up. If it's freezing rain or a blizzard then Queenie... I mean Icestorm will take over. If I can convince any of the team to come here... That makes YOU the default team leader. You have to be ready to act the part if necessary. " "Aaaaand that would be different from me being the boss, how?" Grapes asked, feeling like she'd asked this before. "Well for one thing we'll ALL be pegasai. That will certainly test your patience." "Listen. You and your team deal with storms. I could probably give you some of the weather science behind them, but I wouldn't even dream of telling you how to handle them. I, however, deal with the vineyard, and all the niggly little details that go with it. And, soon, I'm going to be doing it all alone, 'cause Mom and Dad are retiring. If I can deal with snot-nosed unicorns, overeating earth ponies, and a Freerunner fugitive, I can deal with a flock of flighty pegasai." Stormy smiled and and stood up. "That's the right attitude! You don't have to be pushy or angry all the time but you will occasionally have to remind them that 'your stable, your rules'." "Am I really like that, all the time?" Grapes asked. "No, not really. You have your moments but you've been justified in those moments you had to throw your weight around, or in the case of Fritter, HIS weight. I can't believe you were able to lift him with your horn like that." "Hey, I'm GOOD at lifting heavy stuff," Grapes said with a smirk, bracing herself, and lifting Stormfront. She then set him back on his hooves, gently. "Somebody's got to move the wine barrels." "Oooh... Nice technique," Stormfront giggled. "Tingles a little too. All joking aside though, the Storm-Riders may be a little odd... Even compared to the temps you hired, but I think you can handle them. I'm just giving you the same speech that Weathervain gave me when I joined in... more or less." "Gotcha. See if you can have them here, soonish, okay, or else we're going to have a banner year for burgundy," Grapes asserted, as she picked up a basket to take it over to the weigh-in area, since it was only him, that day. "Gotcha. I'm gonna just take these baskets as-is to the scale and go in and start writing letters. If I'm quick I can get to the Pony Express before the evening shipment," the large gray pegasus said, as he picked up the rest of the baskets. "Sounds good," Grapes said with a nod. "Too bad Twilight's assistant couldn't do it." "Well you kinda gotta know who you're sending things to when you use dragonfire... I had to be personally introduced to Smudge when I started working for Weathervain. He can send letters to any Storm-Rider wherever they are in Equestria. Hmmm..." Stormy paused and tapped his head. "Maybe I should just send the letters to Weathervain and ask if Smudge can forward them to the team." "That may be a bit quicker," Grapes said with a nod. "Anyway, I'll weigh the grapes, and get you the bits. Can't have you going to the Pony Express empty hooved." "Right... Thanks." He started to bend down to lift the baskets when he stopped. "You know... if they come it'll be the first time I've seen them in a year. Hope they still like me." "If they show up, then they still like you," Grapes said drolly. ================================================================= Quite to Sour Grapes' surprise, one of the Storm Riders showed up the very next day. Grapes had been picking grapes that had gone to burgundy, along one of the rows of unharvested Chablis, when a skidding sound from the road attracted her attention. She galloped to the gate, hoping whatever had happened was not too serious. Instead of the wreck that her imagination had conjured, she found herself staring at a fiery colored pegasus at the end of some very long skid marks. "Are you okay?" The bright orange, red and yellow Pony took off his goggles and smiled. "That depends. Is this Grapevine Hill?" "Grapevine Hills Vineyard and Winery," Grapes said with a touch of pride. "And that would make you Sour Grapes?" "That's what my parents named me," Grapes said with a snarky grin. "And you would be?" He stood up and wiped his hoof off on his jersey before extending it. "Firestormer, Ma'am. I've worked with Stormfront and the other Storm-Riders on rogue weather detail. I specialize in conflagrations that get so bad they literally form their own unique weather systems. Got the call you're looking for a few able bodies for something that's a lot less... hazardous." "Don't mind hooves-on-the-ground type work?" Grapes asked, tilting her head, raising an eyebrow. "Well I'm not saying that my job doesn't give me a rush; but after dealing with things like pyrocumulonimbus clouds, ash storms, and fire whirls... I think having steady and mostly predictable work in between gigs will do a lot for my nerves. " "No need to ask if you've got a problem taking orders from a mare, either," Grapes said with a slight smirk. "Not a problem there Ma'am. The grand Poo-bah of the Storm Riders is Lady Weathervain, and don't let her know I said it but she rules with an Iron hoof," Firestormer replied. "Nice to know you're used to assertive mares," Grapes said with a grin, then gestured for him to come past the gate. "As you can see this is a vineyard. Been in my family for generations. You know Stormfront, of course." "STORMY! HEY!" Firestormer shouted, going to the big gray stallion. "Great to see you Firestormer. How's the gang?" Stormy asked, grinning at the flame colored pegasus "Doing good, doing good. How's the wings?" "Oh sweet Celestia they healed correctly and ready to go back into the fray when I'm needed," Stormy said with obvious relief. "Good to have you back pal. Just wasn't the same without our freaky feathered friend," Firestormer said with a huge grin. "Stormy can get you started on the basics. I'll wait until everybody arrives before giving the 'I'm in charge' speech," Grapes said. "I HATE repeating myself." The fiery pegasus blinked then smirked. "Something tells me we're all gonna feel right at home here." "Probably," Grapes said with a wicked grin. "Not quite 'iron hoofed', but I do not suffer fools gladly." "She means it. I saw her lift a Pony who looked like he swallowed a pickle barrel," Stormy said sounding a touch awed. "He was eating all my Merlot grapes," Grapes said grumpily. "Okay. Note to self, Never tick off the boss lady." "She has a mean right hook," Grapes added with a smirk. Later that same day, Grapes was checking over the grapes that the two pegasai had already picked, noting their individual tallies on the chalkboard, before carrying the grapes to the processing shed. When she came back out, she was mildly surprised to discover a taxi cart at her gate dropping off a sea-foam green pegasus wearing a red and white striped shirt, a jaunty sea captain's hat, and a sturdy leather-looking belt.. The stallion seemed to be a touch unsteady on solid ground, for some odd reason. "Arrr... the land doesn't move under me hooves. T'aint natural I say," he uttered in a seafarer's accent. "Of course it's natural. That's the nature of land," Sour Grapes said, rather cheerfully. "As opposed to say, water." "Arr... Nine tenths of the world ain't enough." he said quietly as he took a few tentative steps forwards. "Ponies can't live by kelp alone, you know," Grapes said with a slight smirk. "We can try. Ahhh, I'll be better when I get me land-legs back. Always takes some time when I come inland. It's different out there, Seaside is actually built on Pontoons and moves up and down with the tides." "Ah I see. Well... I'm Sour Grapes, as you probably deduced." "Aye. Please to meet you lass. I am Summer Squall. bet you were expecting me to be a Mare, weren'tcha?" Squall asked, with a lopsided grin. "No." The sea-foam pegasus tilted his head, seeming to be surprised at her rather deadpan answer. "Really. That's odd. Most folks hear the name 'Summer' and think I should be a gal," he replied. "Then they haven't met Fertile Fields, Apple Brioche, Sunshine Gleam, or Spring Breeze," Grapes said, listing off some of the stallions who had worked for her in the past. "Then there's my father, Champagne Grapes. My Uncle, Cabochon Diamond, my cousin Chablis Grapes... Poor guy got teased something awful. So when it comes to names, I simply wait and see." "Aye. I can see that. So where's the little albatross gone to? I'd like to see if'n I can catch him off guard." "He's harvesting the Chablis grapes, down that field, there," Grapes said pointing toward a section of the vineyard. "Firestormer's there, too." "Wait. He's harvestin' yer cousin?" Squall asked, giving Grapes this odd look. "No. Chablis Grapes, my cousin, lives in Paris Prance," Grapes replied. But Chablis is also a type of wine grape. Used to make, wait for it, Chablis wine. Stormfront and Firestormer are harvesting them, now. Down that aisle, in that field." "Arr. Thank you lass," Squall said wandering down the aisle with his dufflebag slung across his back. He continued to speak even though nobody was walking with him. "Prance is a nice place this time of year. I remember my last trip there during the season of the incontinent goatherd. It was a muggy summer... " "What am I getting myself into?" Grapes asked herself, shaking her head, as she went back to work. ================================================================= Grapes stepped out onto the porch and sighed. The moon was in it's crescent phase, a thin curved sliver of light in the nighttime sky, just BARELY adding it's dim illumination to the fields. Two of the Storm-Riders had arrived and there were others who said they were on their way. Stormy assured her they probably would arrive by late tomorrow and she could give her big speech then. Firestormer and Squall were interesting to say the least but through discussion she felt that they could make decent workers. She just hoped that the others would be the same. She sipped her hot-chocolate and enjoyed the sound of the crickets when there was a light fluttering sound. It wasn't really the sound she had come to expect of pegasi which had a sort of 'softer' tone to it. In this case it sounded a little more like... flapping a blanket. A quick scan of the yard didn't indicate any ponies at all, winged or not, and considering that she didn't even have the porch light on what kind of Pegasai would risk flying on such a dark night? She heard the noise again. Then a light 'clomp' behind her. "Hullo there. Is this Grapevine Hill?" "Why do you keep forgetting the Ess? It's Grapevine HillS," Grapes uttered with a sigh. "Sorry. My Bad. So is this Grapevine Hills, Miss?" the youngish voice said. "Yes, it is," Grapes said, turning toward the voice. "How can I help you?" Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the small figure sitting directly in front of her. His fur was a charcoal gray... Not so strange, and the long pointy ears were surprising but not odd, but his wide yellow eyes gleamed up at her with cat-like pupils and his wings... They were bat-wings. As a foal she remembered tales of The Mare in the Moon's minions, terrible bat-winged ponies. Night-Ponies who would come out of the night and steal away bad little ponies to feed the Fallen Princess. This colt reminded her very much of those Night-Pony stories... It was a good thing she was momentarily rendered speechless and the young pony had a chance to smile in a disarmingly normal manner. "Well I'm kinda, sorta looking for a job. A friend of mine... You probably know him if you work here, Stormfront? Big guy? Big wings? Well he sent me a letter asking if I wanted a job here and so.. I came hoping I could help." 'He's just a kid,' Grapes thought, and ended up smiling back. "I imagine you have a hard time," she said in a quiet voice. She looked him over, again, this time approvingly. "Nocturnal?" "Yes ma'am, I am normally nocturnal," he said grinning. "But I've gotten used to the daylight lands and the schedule you keep. I'm glad someone was up right now because I was sort of debating what to do if everyone was still sleeping. I probably would have found a tree or rooftop and just slept until you woke up." Now that her initial reaction was starting to subside she had a chance to look at the young pony. The Wings and Eyes really sucked your vision to them... They made him seem so... un-ponyish. He wore a midnight blue, shiny jacket with yellow lightning bolts down the sleeves and fluffy wool around the collar (An old aviator's jacket design but actually based on the Old Wonderbolts uniform before the invention of spandex) he also had hanging about his neck a pair of Flight Goggles, but the glass was tinted green. "Wear those during daylight hours, to save your eyes?" Grapes asked. "Yeah. They were a gift from my Grandmother. I see in low-light as easily as you see in broad daylight, but too much sun can hurt my eyes. So these let me function normally..." he paused then held a hoof up to the side of his mouth as he whispered. "Don't tell anyone but some ponies think my eyes are spooky so the goggles hides them so they don't get scared." Grapes smirked a bit. "You're secret's safe with me, kiddo. I'm Sour Grapes, by the way." He smiled again and extended a hoof. Grapes was secretly happy to see it lacked the claws that the old Mares tales suggested. "Hiya. I'm Earshot." She shook his hoof. "Nice to meet you," Grapes said with a nod. "So... What do you think you can do for a vineyard? We pick grapes during the day... But you're being nocturnal could work out." "Well if you want I could keep on doing the same work at night. That way someone's always keeping an eye on things. But as I said I can shift to a daylight schedule easily enough. On the Storm-Riders I serve mostly as recon. the eyes and ears of the team. I help them to size up the weather patterns and landscape. Not a lot gets past a pair of ears like these," Earshot explained, then tilted his head, as if he heard something. "By the way did you know you have moles in the east field?" "No. No I didn't. I don't suppose you could persuade them to leave?" Grapes asked. "If not, I'll see if I can get Fluttershy to do it." "Well I can scare them off if you want. I can speak in a tone that really bugs the heck out of rodents." "That will work just fine. I think you may do well as a watch-pony, at night. Keep the night time critters from eating the grapes." "Sure Miss Grapes. I can do that for you," Earshot said with a smile. "Have any of the other Riders arrived yet? " "Firestormer and Squall," Grapes replied, then smiled and mussed his mane. "If you get tired, the bunk house is over there," she added pointing it out. "Okie Doke. I should get some rest in before sunrise, I covered a lot of ground to get here and really need some time to get my strength back." "All righty. Welcome aboard, Earshot. I'm glad to have you here," Grapes said, smiling at the young pony. "I am very happy to be here. I don't think I've ever actually had a chance to see how food is grown out here before. Usually I'm flying past on my way to one location or another. I really like seeing how the Daylight lands operate." "This isn't, exactly, food, Earshot." "I know. Your crop is destined to go on to ferment into a refreshing but intoxicating drink meant for ponies older than me. I'm not totally naive about stuff like wine. I just... Well, I left home to see the world, and it always feels so BIG and NEW." Earshot grinned and trotting in place a moment his dark purple wings fluttered and 'hugged' himself. "I can't tell you how amazing everything is out here." "Must be quite a story behind that, hm? Why don't you go and get some sleep, Earshot? I'm about to head in, myself." "Ok. thank you for this oppourtunity Miss Grapes. It must be weird for you to be hiring on a batch of Pegasai like us. Huh?" "I hire on assorted characters all the time. But, you're right. I don't normally get pegasai. They usually do weather stuff," Grapes replied. "Good choice. Okay.. so you said the big building with the snoring coming from it is the bunkhouse?" "Heh. Yeah. Never knew pegasai snored so loudly..." "Good night Miss Grapes. See you after sunrise." She watched as he picked up a rather nice carpet-bag in his teeth and trotted happily down the short road to the Bunkhouse. His appearance brought back some old foalhood nightmares but his attitude and personality dispelled them like smoke by a stiff wind. "Nice kid," she mused, before going inside. ================================================================= That next morning, Grapes left Stormy in charge of the vineyard for her trip into town, because he had the most experience. Because she was going to try (AGAIN) to get a simple pruning vest from Rarity. It did not take long for her to reach town, and Rarity's shop, when she heard Rarity in animated conversation with another pony within. "Oh Rarity, this is just too much!" "Please, how can I NOT adorn such a wonderfully elegant countenance. It seems like a crime for you to not look your very best." "True true but there is no way I can afford this at this time. Although I absolutely ADORE the hat. Oh this is so gorgeous, I am absolutely in LOVE with the style." "You truly feel that way about my summer Chapeau?" "Such beauty, your choice of color, the simplicity of the band ribbon and crested dome. The boldness of the feathers and the wide brim... and yet it's practical too. One could do gardening with this as easily as they could go on a picnic with a paramour." "Then it's yours." "Oh, I COULDN'T." "But you must! I insist! It would be a crime to let your fair muzzle become sunbburnt." "Oh very well... but permit me to keep both our dignities intact and pay you in installments. Ten bits here and ten bits there add up in the long run." "Oh you push too hard, but I accept your terms. Good luck with the job... I hear your new employer can be quite the taskmistress." "Thank you for the warning, Rarity!" "Hello?" Grapes said, opening the door, and peeking into the shop. Rarity stood before a GORGEOUS pegasus with a pale blue-white body that actually GLITTERED in the light. She bore a set of light brown saddlebags on her flanks that looked rather stylish and upon her head was one of Rarity's creations. Even Grapes had to admit the stylish chapeau was partway functional, and rather pretty. The pegasai allowed Rarity to remove the hat to make a final change, and revealed the most jealousy-invoking mane of curly blonde hair she had EVER seen. "Hello, Sour Grapes. Pleased to see you in my shop again so soon." "Hey, Rarity. I was wondering if I could put an order in for a pruning vest. My old one's gotten rather threadbare, and ragged." "Oh, darling, I shall endeavor to do my best to make you a new vest but I am positively SWAMPED at the moment. It's astounding how my vocation can have these sudden surges of popularity," Rarity said dramatically. "Wow, must be a big order," Grapes observed. "All right. I'll come back later then. Heh. At least you've got my measurements on file from the last time I was here." "That I do... And unless you have had more than your share of Mr and Mrs Cakes' products they should still be viable. Have a good day, Sour Grapes," the brilliant white unicorn said, sounding more than a little harried. "You, too, Rarity," Grapes said, exiting the store, then sighed. "It's nice to see her so busy, but, I'm seriously considering something off the rack at this rate..." She heard the door open again and a hurried clip-clop coming up along side of her. "I'm sorry to be this bold but did I hear Rarity correctly when she called you Sour Grapes?" "Yes, you did," Grapes said, finding herself face-to-face with that drop-dead-gorgeous pegasus from earlier. Grapes looked her over. She talked like one of those Gala dandies that put her down, but held herself in a rather professional manner, and seemed just the least bit nervous to boot. "You talk, and look, a bit like a Canterlot dandy, yet you look like you've actually used your wings for something other than casual flight. In addition, you knew my name, and are probably looking for Grapevine Hill... It's Hills, by the way. I think Stormy forgot the Ess in his letters." "I surmised that much, yes. He spoke of the 'rolling' landscape which suggested that perhaps a plural would be far more appropriate." She extended her hoof and nodded. "I am Icestorm, and very pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Sour Grapes." Grapes couldn't help but notice that in spite of how impeccably groomed the offered hoof was, she could see beneath the polish and well brushed hair was the signs of a lot of hard work. "Likewise," Grapes said shaking her hoof. "I was going to swing by the clothing store, to see if they had something serviceable in the way of gardening attire, there, since Rarity was so busy, but... Well since you're here, I'd be happy to show you the way to the Vineyard." "I would be most grateful for that. I had planned on asking for directions at that lovely shop but I was sidetracked." She paused and watched the large form of Big Macintosh walk past with fresh produce for the Apple Stand in the market. "...barring that I may have asked one of the very friendly-looking locals." "They're all very nice. Heh, even Rarity knows where Grapevine Hills is," Grapes chuckled. "I must confess, I've known about Grapevine Hills for some time. My Parents have been known to stock the wine cellar with your fine vintages and I myself have had time to enjoy the occasional glass . I especially enjoyed Chateau D'Chevalier. Bold and yet sweet. A wonderful treat to enjoy as you watch the snow fall across the mountains," Icestorm said reminiscing. "You've probably had the Chateau Royal, or Chateau Imperial, if you've ever been to the Galloping Gala," Grapes said, as they trotted along. "Oh yes. I know the Gala seems like a polite clash of Egos but in a way I enjoy it, if not for the company then the food and efforts of the caterers. It's always refreshing to enjoy the fruits of somepony else's labors." "I hated it, when I went, but that was Grandma Pave's intent," Grapes grumbled. "Pave? You mean Pave Diamond? You're related to that withered old gluepot? My deepest sympathies, my family is very aware of the pull she has with the others but I assure you that the Ice Family has no desire to ally themselves with a beast like her... we have too much pride for that," Icestorm said primly. "Mom's Champagne Diamond. In a strange confluence of names, Dad's Champagne Grapes." "That should make for some interesting Census gathering." Grapes chuckled. "Only one Sour, though. But most ponies call me 'Grapes'." "I think I could be persuaded to use that name easily enough. My teammates have come to refer to me as Queenie, for reasons that escape me. I am however content to accept that nickname as it sounds... Rather flattering." "Heh. You have a rather... regal manner about you," Grapes observed, as they trotted along. "Thank you," Icestorm said with becoming humility, then paused a moment then smiled at her in a pleasant manner. "So... please tell me how Stormfront has been doing. He's rather gallant in his own rural way, protective of the Storm Riders as a whole like a big Brother. So naturally we have all been rather concerned when that Tornado took him away from us." "He's been doing quite well, to be honest. He seems to have taken to vineyard work," Grapes said thoughtfully. "Kind of surprised, but sometimes it helps a pony to broaden their horizons, if they try something different... And it helps that it's relatively low-stress in comparison with wrangling major storm systems." "Oh really now? Yes... I could see him quite happy doing that. While he can be fierce when roused, it's not easy to. He's a rather gentle and artistic soul. Have you ever seen him cloud-sculpting? It's inspiring," Icestorm said with a wistful smile. "You think he's taken with something other than vineyard work?" Grapes asked gazing at her with a raised eyebrow, as they trotted down the road. They were just beginning to see the rolling vine-filled hills of the Vineyard, and the expansive orchards of Sweet Apple Acres. "Oh that looks nice. Very similar to the illustration on the labels of your bottles," Icestorm gushed, as she looked over the landscape. "Thank you. It's been in my family for generations," Grapes said, with a smile. "And I'm glad you and your friends are joining the crew. It's been a not-so-good season for temp workers... My cousin's stubborn pride didn't help matters, but that's a long, amusing story in and of itself. But you seem to have dodged the previous question." "Previous question? Oh yes. The one about him being taken with more than his new secondary occupation. To be honest I cannot say. I know he is a very sweet stallion, artistic and very moral. That being said, if he likes you, you meaning any pony who endears themselves to him in any applicable manner, you could not ask for a more LOYAL pony to be at your side. I found this out rather quickly." "Well, he was the first ever pony to actually tell me that they considered me a friend." "The First? Well now... I hope that sets a good precedent then." "I don't get out much," Grapes said. "And after that rather horrible experience at the Gala... Let's just say I was rather hurt, and didn't want to take the chance... A whole night, being told I'm something less than a pony, because my parents married for love..." "Please, Miss Sour Grapes, do not mistake the loudest voices in a crowd as the ones speaking for everypony. In many cases it's the silent ones who make up the majority. It's possible most didn't agree with the old biddy but were too frightened that they were in the minority to speak up. Even if one spoke out... It could have easily have turned the tide. Social Pressures are difficult to overcome especially when you have the 'big mouths' to drown you out." "Thanks," Grapes said with a wry smile. "It's just taken me a while to get over it. Though I DID tell off Prince Blueballs pretty good..." The mask of propriety dropped a moment as Icestorm nearly broke out laughing, eyes and cheeks bulging at the effort of trying to keep the guffaw bottled up. It took few moments and a feigned coughing fit to get herself back under control. "That... *cough* Oh my, that's a new nick name I haven't heard before." Grapes grinned. "Gotcha. Well here we are," she said, as they reached the gate with its sign. "Oh... How Rustically lovely. It's just as the illustrations on the Crates depicted it. You know, I would have hesitated to even coming were it not for the reputation of your product and the praise of Stormfront." "Oh? Do I have that bad of a reputation?" Grapes asked, with a wry smile. "More along the line of the idea of working in the agricultural arena. I am not against the idea of hard work, but this," Icestorm said, looking thoughtful. "No offense meant here, but I never considered intruding upon the earth pony domain until now." "You're not 'intruding'. I asked Stormy to invite you. I need ponies with a good work ethic, and I'm the last pony to turn somepony down just because they have wings," Grapes said with a snort. "That's obvious... You don't seem the type to keep Stormfront around simply because he has nice fetlocks." "Well considering I'm half earth pony, myself, who am I to judge a pony by their tribe, hm?" "Exactly," Icestorm agreed before chuckling and speaking in a hushed tone. "Still.. he does have NICE fetlocks, I'll give him that much." Grapes cleared her throat, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "Well... the bunk house is over here... Sorry about the accommodations..." she said quickly changing the subject. "But I do hope you find them 'rustically lovely' as the rest of the Vineyard." "Oh, my dear, with the places I've been to as a Storm-Rider I'll be happy if it's a stable with fresh clean hay. I assure you I have slept in worse places out of sheer exhaustion. No doubt I won't have long before Sirocco arrives. Pleasant pony, if a little odd. It's the accent. You'll get used to it but trust me it can be confusing at first," Icestorm mused thoughtfully. "A pony from elsewhere? Outside of Equestria?" Grapes asked, curiously "Oh yes. She comes from a far off land quite foreign to what we know. The name I cannot pronounce but she speaks of it with a great deal of reverence. A great deal of sun and sand, like Appleoosa but without the 'rockiness'. She brought with her a knowledge of Desert Storms that that has been invaluable on more than one situation. Of course she has informed us there it more than just Sun and sand there... It's just that's the bit that sticks in your mind the most upon seeing it." "Interesting," Grapes said thoughtfully. "Well. I should set to selecting a bunk and unpacking my things. Shouldn't take any more than an hour at the most. Ah, I hope Stormfront is pleased to see us together again," Icestorm said with a happy smile. "They all seemed to be enjoying one another's company," Grapes observed, with a shrug. "We are a tight-knit herd. Relying upon one another to stay alive during storms tends to do that." "I'll see you around then. I don't intend to do the big 'I'm in charge' speech until everyone's here. Not fond of repeating myself. Though the others seem to have picked up on everything, with a little instruction from Stormy," Grapes said thoughtfully. "Well again I must say I hope this works out for all of us. It may be refreshing to have a steady income that doesn't mean we have to be at opposite ends of Equestria when there is a call-to-arms." "Well... Some of the work is kind of mucky, Queenie," Grapes said. "Just to warn you." "I assure you Miss Sour Grapes, that I have steeled myself for any eventuality here." she said trotting daintily towards the Bunkhouse. "Going to need volunteers for fertilizer detail," Grapes mused to herself, before deciding to take matters into her own hooves. She gathered the cart, and fewmets shovel, and made her way to the outhouse. Grapes started to shovel the valuable natural fertilizer into the cart, humming a cheerful tune, to herself. Just something about doing this, again, that brought back memories. She hauled the cart to the compost pile, dumped it out, and used the pitchfork on the side of the enclosure to turn the compost a couple of times to mix in the fresh load of fertilizer. Grapes pulled the cart back to the outhouse for another load, and just as she was starting, she heard a polite cough. Turning, she found Icestorm standing there, fancy hat and all, an amused look on her face. "One of the 'mucky' jobs you were speaking of, earlier?" she asked, nodding toward the outhouse, and its fewmets. "Yes. Usually it's a punishment detail, but... Well the fertilizer is useful, and it's not been getting done, so..." Grapes said, shrugging helplessly. Queenie simply nodded, set her hat more firmly upon her head, lowering the veil. "Very well, then. I shall attend to this matter, Miss Sour Grapes. It wouldn't do for the owner of the Vineyard to be seen doing such," the glittery pegasus said with great dignity. "But-" "Ah-ah. No buts. You are in charge, therefor you must show decorum," Icestorm uttered, shooing the chocolate brown unicorn away from the outhouse. Grapes simply trotted away, chuckling to herself. She looked toward the gate, and saw a white pegasus wearing a flowing white robe, and a cowled headdress of the same color Grapes turned her head to check on the Riders' progress. When she looked back at toward the gate, she was mildly startled to find that the pegasus had used the few seconds she had been looking away to move, QUITE rapidly, to the water trough by the Bunkhouse. The odd pegasus was gazing at Grapes, curiously. The brown unicorn mentally shrugged, figuring the visitor would let her know, eventually, what she needed. Right now, though, Grapes needed to wash her hooves. She went around to the back of the shed, where the hose was, rinsed off her hooves, then rounded the corner of the shed, and found herself face-to-face with the oddly garbed pony. "GAH! Stars, above, you're worse than Applejack!" Grapes panted. "Applejack? An acquaintance of yours I may presume?" the pegasus said, in a quiet voice, with a strange foreign accent. "She's my cousin... Don't sneak up on a pony like that, if you'd be so kind," Grapes said, panting, hard, still, obviously trying to recover from the ninja mare. "My apologies. I am Sirocco. I received a summons from my fellow herdmate Stormfront, indicating that there was work to be had here. As my previous work been completed I came." "Nice to meet you. Do wish you had not attempted to give me a heart attack. I have enough trouble with my cousin Applejack sneaking up on me. Also, it's not a very courteous thing to do to your prospective employer," Grapes uttered, sounding just a touch annoyed. "Ah. Then you would be Sour Grapes. Again I apologize. You seem... smaller than Stormfront's letters led me to believe. You must be a filly of great will, then, to keep unruly employees on the reins." "Yes. Yes I am. I also don't take anybody yanking MY reins. And I have a mean right hook," Grapes said, finally calming down. "So that's the lot of you, then? I guess I make the standard speech, tomorrow morning, bright and early. I can't believe Queenie volunteered for compost duty... Anyway... the others are harvesting the Chablis grapes, that-a-way. Queenie's at the compost pile, over there. I'm going inside for a drink, and to bring out lunch." "Will you need assistance with bringing out lunch then?" Grapes used her ponykenesis to gently lift Sirocco out of her 'personal space'. "I think I can handle it. Thank you for offering. She set the robed pony down. "I thought you'd like to see your friends, let them know you're here, and tell them I'm bring out the graze." The Pegasai didn't seem fazed in the slightest and simply nodded. "Very well. I shall see to my herdmates then." It only took a few minutes for Grapes to get a bit of wine, and to whip up a nice buffet lunch for her new crew. She was still wondering what she was getting into. They all seemed so different, but Stormy worked with them, and they all trusted one another with their lives. Sour Grapes was trusting them with her vineyard. She just hoped she was making the right decision. > Parasprites and Other Problems > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Storm Riders seemed to acclimate to life on the Vineyard, quickly. Grapes had allowed the Riders to start on the job, and they had gotten some on-the-job training with the various duties. Including fertilizer duty, done often by the elegant Icestorm, much to Grapes’ chagrin. They seemed to accept her little ‘I’m in charge’ speech with aplomb, for the most part, but during her listing of what they’re NOT there to do, a hoof was raised. “Excuse me, Miss Sour Grapes, but... ‘Fooling around in the frames’?” Queenie asked, with a raised eyebrow. “It only takes one instance of finding a pair of ponies doing something wildly inappropriate beneath the grape vines, that one simply MUST include the activity in the opening speech,” Grapes said deadpan. “You’ve, seriously, found a couple... doing that in your field?” Queenie asked, sounding quite surprised. “Eyup,” Grapes replied. Icestorm tittered; Sirocco, after a quickly whispered explanation from Queenie covered her mouth with her hooves, obviously laughing herself silly. Stormfront, Firestormer, and Squall all chuckled. Earshot just looked confused. “Is this one of those things I wouldn’t understand until I’m older?” he asked. “Pretty much, Earshot,” Grapes replied. “Okay,” he said cheerfully. ====================================================== After that, life in the Vineyard seemed to fall into a routine. Grapes were picked, weighed, and put into the processing shed, which now had Icestorm doing the de-stemming, and de-seeding. Grapes insisted that the fertilizer be collected in rotation, rather than have Queenie do it exclusively. In addition, the Storm Riders were on an hourly wage, the old time-clock being pressed into service, once again. This was due to the Storm Riders being the most reliable farmhooves that Grapevine Hills had ever hired, and the nature of their Weather Bureau job. It had not happened, yet, but should the team be called into service to wrangle a rogue storm, all they had to do was clock out. Sour Grapes was not quite sure what she’d do, with them gone, but she would figure out something. Grapes was glad they were here, but losing a day’s work chafed a bit, no matter how noble the reason. On the other hoof, it was not like the day’s work was being lost due to a multitude of other reasons; a lot of them being because of a bad lot of temporary workers. In the meantime, however, things were getting done. Grapes found herself with more free time than usual, because the Storm Riders truly did not need her to constantly check their progress. Like Stormfront, they all worked steadily, responsibly, taking breaks, when needed, and followed orders without the usual grumbling. The last few Earth Ponies left, feeling like they were being edged out by the pegasai, and went to work on the other farms around the area. Strangely enough, the only pony left over from the original batch was Thistledown, which surprised Sour Grapes to no end. “I’m kind of surprised you stayed on,” Grapes said, when she went to chat with Thistledown. “Why did you want to stay?” “Oh, well... In all honesty, I can’t fault your style, Miss Grapes. You may be a tough taskmistress, but you’re more than fair, and make sure of our health,” Thistle replied. “The only time you ever exerted your authority, you were in the right of things. Also, these new coworkers are simply divine. Three gorgeous pegasai stallions...” “Oh. You’re sidesaddle,” Grapes uttered, as if this revelation confirmed something she had suspected. “‘Sidesaddle’?” “You prefer to date your own gender?” Grapes supplied. “Oooooh. You know, I rather like that better than ‘colt-cuddler’. Sounds less... Derogatory,” the green and purple pony observed thoughtfully. “Glad you like it.” ====================================================== There came a day in the waning Summer season that duties threatened to overwhelm the young winemaker. Sour Grapes was running late in fixing lunch for her pegasai farmhooves, but she needed to go to town to check on a couple of important shipments to the Vineyard. If she stayed to fix lunch, she’d miss both the Pony Express, and the Glass-makers’ Guild before they left for lunch. It was a conundrum. She was looking through the root cellar for something quick to prepare and wouldn't burn her house down in her absence when a shape filled the door frame at the top of the stairs. "Hello? Grapes? Is that you?" "Stormfront?" Grapes asked, looking up at the cellar door. "Yep. Just checking to see if someone didn't leave a door open..." he chuckled coming down. "Last thing we need is someone falling down the stairs. What are you doing down here?" "Looking for something to make a quick lunch. I've got chores in town, but I can't leave you without sustenance." "I'm guessing you're in a hurry then," Stormy surmised astutely "Kind of, yeah," Grapes uttered. "Well tell you what. If you need to go, then go. I can spare a little time to make lunch for the crew." "You can cook?" Grapes asked, coming out of the cellar. "Of course I can cook. I might not be a four star chef but Mom worked in a restaurant and taught me how to make tasty yet filling meals. She said it was the duty of a mother to make sure her son wouldn't have to go graze for a meal,” Stormfront said proudly. “Okay, then,” Grapes said sounding quite stunned. “Thank you...” "Not a problem. We're no stranger to having to feed ourselves when on a mission, they usually let me cook because I put up the least fuss. Now go, do your thing. I got you covered here." “Thanks again, Stormfront,” Grapes said with genuine gratitude. “I don’t get ponies offering to make my job easier... Ever... So I really appreciate it.” "Should I use your kitchen or the one at the Barracks?" "Whichever works best for you," Grapes said, then grinned a bit. "Just don't burn down either place." He smiled and headed to the shelves and just as she was exiting the root cellar she heard him quietly say "...only happened once." She wasn't sure if he was teasing her or not. Sour Grapes quickly made her way to town, practically galloping the whole way there. She needed to make sure the corks, and bottles were going to arrive on time. There were several barrels that were ready to be decanted into bottles, this season, and she needed the supplies to be there. Grapes was only too glad to arrive well before both places closed for lunch. Mister Bottleneck was accommodating enough to get in one last bit of business before lunch, confirming and adjusting the order to Grapes' needs. Ms. Stopper on the other hand was her usual obstructionist self, seemingly taking the last-minute business as a personal affront. How the two of them ever kept a business going between them was a mystery to Grapes, but it somehow all evened out in the end. Grapes, glad to have gotten that bit of business taken care of, started back toward the Vineyard, with a feeling of satisfaction. She paused by the Apple Family apple stand, feeling generous enough to pick up some dessert for the crew. Applejack was there, no doubt it was her turn at the stand, because Granny Smith was in the rocking chair behind her snoring rather loudly, making noises and the odd half-sentence in her sleep. "Well howdy, Cousin. What brings you to town? Thought you were keeping your new farmhooves on short reins." "Well I finally got a bunch with a good work ethic, dear cousin. And how have you been, hm? I see you picked the prime spot in the square. Not too far from Sugarcube Corner, and right across from Carousel Boutique... Did you choose the venue?" "Snxxxx... Murf. Who in tarnation painted the kitten?" "Where?" Grapes asked, looking around for the aforementioned feline. "Oh, pay no attention ta Granny. She was up awful late last night and insisted on helpin' me with tha stand t’day. Dunno what she's dreamin’ bout but Ah think it's cider-induced," Applejack mumbled, tucking the blanket a little more about the old green pony. "An’ for YOUR information, this here spot's perfect for sellin' apples. Why we're here in the shade where our product won't get too hot, an’ people who duck in here to cool off will have a chance to look at somethin’ sweet, juicy and round." "Just seems interesting that you chose here to put the stand... Just the perfect place to watch a certain unicorn at work..." "Ah certainly did not. It's just... Only coincidence that Ah can see glimpses of Rarity's marshmallow white coat through the windows over yonder," Applejack protested insincerely. "Ah know... Zzzzzzzz... Ah'll put the earmuffs on the cookie," Granny Smith uttered from her dreams. "Oh reeeealy... You know, you've been acting a mite... peculiar about that filly, ever since that storm-induced sleepover you had at Twilight's,” Grapes observed, casually ignoring Applejack’s momentary dishonesty for the moment. "Oh p'shaw! She's jest a good friend, that's all. We came to an understandin’ that night. I'm a little down-to-earth, she's a little Hoity-Toity but when push comes to shove we have each other's flanks... BACKS! We have each other's Backs." Grapes was very obviously trying not to laugh at Applejack’s Freudian slip. The brown unicorn did so love her schadenfreude, especially concerning something her dear cousin, and her rather artistic friend were both in denial about. “So... No actual yearning to catch a glimpse, then? No stray hopes that she’ll step out into the sunlight, with a craving for some of your apple treats?” Grapes asked oh-so-casually. “Then inviting you back to the shop for a... fitting?” "Oh now that there's just a fabrication. Me and Rarity? Can you imagine it? Why we'd be compatible as..." "...vanilla ice cream and apple pie, please," murmured Granny Smith with the sort of timing that made Applejack BLUSH. Grapes leaned against the stand, snickering. "My dear Sour Grapes, what on Equestria is so funny?" the fashonista asked of the chortling winemaker. Grapes blinked, aghast, at Rarity and her rather fan-bucking-tastic timing, then collapsed laughing hysterically. "Uhm... Applejack, darling, do you know what's wrong with Sour Grapes?" "Ahhhh... She's just... laughing at something Granny said in her sleep," Applejack replied, unconsciously running a hoof through her mane. "Ah thought you were in your shop this time of day." “Well, darling, I found myself a touch famished, and decided to come out for a bite of lunch. Amazing how allowing one’s creative juices to flow works up quite the appetite,” Rarity uttered, remaining blissfully ignorant of both Applejack’s current nervousness, and the light blush that graced the orange earth pony’s cheeks. “I saw Sour Grapes, here, and decided to come over and say ‘hello’ to the both of you. And those apple fritters do look simply divine, darling. How much for two? Sweetie Belle’s sure to want a snack when she gets home from school.” “Okay! I’m good, now,” Grapes said, standing back on her hooves. Despite her declaration, she was still having the occasional giggle fit. "Well, tell you what. Since it's you, Rarity, I'll let you have the two fritters for the price of one," Applejack offered with a shy smile. “Oh, darling, I couldn't!” “Oh, p’shaw, Rarity, yer a friend, an’ Sweetie Belle’s been a right good friend t’ Applebloom,” Applejack declared, obviously not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Thank you, Applejack,” Rarity said, handing over the bits. "So how's business goin'?" “Oh, it’s been marvelous, darling! I’ve been quite swamped, ever since the fashion show...” Rarity uttered with a gleeful expression on her face, then double-taked, remembering that the chocolate brown unicorn was standing there, still looking quite amused. “Oh! Oh, my dear Sour Grapes, I apologize, again, but I’m afraid your vest has been pushed back,” the purple-maned unicorn added, sounding genuinely remorseful. “I promise, darling, I’ll have you a whole week’s worth of pruning vests, as soon as my queue clears up, and I can get them in. And I simply will not accept payment for more than the original vest you ordered. I feel simply awful about forgetting you, darling.” “But... you’re making me a whole set of vests...” Grapes protested. “Darling, you put in that order, ages ago, and I forgot! I simply must make it up to you!” Rarity uttered dramatically. “I insist!” “Well if you insist, I’ll accept,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “At least the materials for the vests will cost less than that gown you designed, so not as big a loss.” “Oh bother! I knew there was something I was forgetting,” Rarity uttered facehoofing. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not even going to the Gala. What say you and your friends stop by the Vineyard afterwards, and tell me about it?” Grapes asked. “I’ll provide some down-home refreshments, and very good wine, and you can tell me how things went. Aye Jay can come too, and you all can tell me about your best night ever...” Grapes made the offer, knowing that her cousin, and Rarity would probably somebody to gripe to, and possibly a shoulder to bawl upon. "Well.. Ah'd say that's a done deal. Ya’ve said you didn' care for all tha prancin' about with them, so’s Ah never ‘spected you'd go. So sure, Ah guess we could let ya know what went on," Applejack replied. "Oh that sounds delightful, darling. Thank you. I'm sure we'll all be able to regale you with our time at the Gala. T’is a pity you don't wish to go. I'm sure you'd be able to liven up the festivities," Rarity said cheerfully. "Uh... Rarity? I'm likely to tell some noblepony off," Grapes uttered. "Like she said: You'd be tha life o’ tha party with them old stiffs," Applejack uttered with a grin. Grapes made a rude noise. "No... no.. not th'mangos! Use the pears!" snored Granny as the group chuckled “Well as fun as this whole conversation has been, I stopped by to pick up a couple of pies, Aye Jay,” Grapes said, giving Applejack the proper amount of bittage for the confections. "Tha's it.. come t' Granny, Mister Hasslehoof. Lemmie help you out of them duds,” Granny uttered, a slightly lecherous look on her wrinkled face. Grapes blinked, and collapsed laughing once again. "Oh... oh dear..." Rarity giggled. "Awwwww, Granny!" groaned Applejack in over dramatic anguish. "Ah swear.. no more late nights for her." "I... I... I can't BREATHE!" Grapes laughed, pounding a hoof on the ground. “Oh my my my... I believe I shall take my leave,” Rarity tittered, gathering up her fritters, a slight blush coloring her white cheeks. “I must say, this was a most entertaining break.” “I’ll say,” Grapes chortled, as she got back onto her hooves, yet again. “Farewell to you both,” Rarity said, as she turned, and trotted back to her shop. “You’re staring at her plot, aren’t you?” Grapes uttered deadpan, as she smirked. "AH AM NOT..." she started crying out before catching herself and dropping her volume. "*cough* Ah am NOT starin' at her plot, thank-you very much." “Sure, Aye Jay,” Grapes uttered, taking her pies. “See you later, Cuz...” Applejack "Harumphed" and turned back to her work, and as Grapes took her leave she glanced over at Granny who opened her eyes a crack, smiled a impish little grin and winked before snuggling back into her chair. Grapes grinned, and winked back at Granny Smith, before heading back to the Vineyard. ====================================================== There was a fair number of the pegasai she had seen in town lined up along her fence, when Sour Grapes finally reached Grapevine Hills. The Fillies were too busy watching the Farmhooves going about their business to even notice Grapes coming up behind them. She was able to get along side of them and listen in on the conversations without being noticed. "Not bad... not bad at all." "Grapevine Hills has never looked better..." "I kinda find it a little weird... you know, Pegasai being so... 'dirty'." That last comment made the row giggle. Then Stormy walked over to the water trough and bend his head down to pick up the large ladle in it and begin pouring water over his sweaty gray frame. "When Twilight said they had a pegasus farmhoof here I never knew she meant a whole group..." "I think they came after the big one. Oh he's very nice." "Oh Wait for it girls... Here it comes." Sufficiently 'soggy', Stormfront unfurled his wings in a broad sweeping motion, that Grapes could hear from here. He beat them several times, shaking the water from his body in an impressive glittering spray. the peanut gallery cooed and Grapes noticed that their own wings had all opened up wide and proud as if in response to the show. "AHEM!" Their wings all SNAPPED closed and the rainbow of admirers turned about to see Sour Grapes standing there looking stern as a schoolmarm. "Uh oh." "Aren't you supposed to be clearing clouds, somewhere, ladies?" she asked in that deadly-sweet tone she loved to use. "We're... on break?" one said weighing her words carefully Before looking at her bare hoof and mock-gasping. "Well now.. Look at the time! We better get back to work." another said as they began to take off in a small flock, the ponies getting in one another's way as they achieved lift off. Grapes trotted up to the gate, chuckling. "Great googlie mooglie, Stormy's got fans." "Who's got fans?" Said a recognisably tomboyish voice behind her. Turning her head the familiar colors of Rainbow Dash assaulted her eyes. Grapes casually pointed to Stormfront. Dash shaded her eyes and took a look. Then she snickered. "You know... I was beginning to think that the rumors around Ponyville were not true. I mean yeah, Applejack isn't one to make stuff up but still... Pegasai doing Earth Pony stuff? I Hope your crop doesn't come out tasting 'airy', Sour Grapes." "You don't eat wine grapes, Rainbow Dash," Grapes said deadpan. "You know what I meant," Dash counter-deadpanned before smirking. "That reminds me, The weather guild asked me to drop by and get your plan for the upcoming season. Of course now that you got your own team of Pegasai you're probably gonna just have them do it for you. Very slick of you, you got them working the fields and can give you custom weather on demand." "You know, I didn't think about that." "Well, personally I hope you keep the guild on the payroll, even if it's for the big stuff," Rainbow Dash said, with a lazy shrug. "It's nice to have some ponies for your property but in the end you probably wanna keep the local economy strong." "I'm all for doing that. Especially if it keeps those fillies away... Why is there a circle of clouds up there?" Grapes asked. Dash looked up, then started to laugh hard enough she had to land. Grapes levitated a single burgundy grape, carefully aimed, spun the single grape until it was a blur, and sent it shooting up into the circle of clouds. "OW!" "Okay... I may lose all my burgundy grapes, but this could therapeutic." Dash laughed harder and waved a hoof. "You should... *gasp* use the rotten ones." "These are the soured ones. I don't let them get rotten, when the soured ones can be used to make burgundy," Grapes said, casually pew pewing the clouds with a few more grapes. There was a change in the shape of the ring of clouds. It dissipated a moment.. then came back together again as what looked like a face... a face with crossed eyes and an extended tongue. "Oops... Looks like they figured out who was shooting fruit at them." "Yeah. The problem is that I'm still having fun," Grapes said, peppering the face with soured grapes. She then reared to her hind legs, cupping her hooves around her muzzle. "This is a VINEYARD, you goits, NOT A PEEP SHOW! DON'T MAKE ME GET THE WATERMELONS!" The cloud-face dispersed, and briefly changed into an exclamation point, before dissolving into wisps and the pegasai fillies fled back to Ponyville. Rainbow Dash was still laughing. "I would have payed good bits to see you chucking watermelons at them!" "I know, right? But then I'd have had to pay good bits TO chuck watermelons at them... I've already made wine out of the ones Applejack gave me," Grapes laughed, having obviously enjoyed herself. "You're kidding. Watermelon Wine?" "It's one of a line I like to call 'Applejack Wagers'. She brings me something she thinks I can't make a potent potable out of, and I prove her wrong." "Heheh. Well if you need someone to act as a taste-tester, let me know and I'll clear my flight schedule for it. I'm not SO irresponsible that I'd drink and fly." "Still got to age a bit, but I'll be sure to let you know when I'm tapping the barrel. Oh, and tell the Weather Guild that we'll keep the same schedule as always. Oh... And I'll slip you extra twenty bits a week to help me make sure those pegasai fillies take their breaks, ELSEWHERE, if you'd be so kind... I don't want to have to start a watermelon patch... It's too late in the season, for one thing," Grapes said, coming up with rapid-fire ideas. "If Aye Jay didn't use her soured apples for scumpy, I'd ask her if I could have a barrel or two of them for ammunition." "I'll spread the word that you want them to keep their distance." Rainbow paused a moment then smirked. "So is it true?" "I do not understand the question," the chocolate brown unicorn uttered, looking confused. "Is what true?" "Your farmhoof over there. The Big one. Does he have big wings?" Dash asked. "Yes. Yes he does. Twilight said Stormfront's wingspan was on par with Princess Celestia's." "Woah... that's big. I almost bust a gut when she started saying 'well-endowed' to describe him. She caught herself but I could tell that was what she almost said," Rainbow Dash sniggered. "I did warn her that turn of phrase tends to lead many a pony mind straight to the gutter," Grapes observed with a smirk. "Even mine, and I'm about as big a nerd as Twilight." "Anyways if that pony's wings are that big then you may save a fortune in shipping stuff back and forth to town... And of course you KNOW what they say about Pegasai with big wings. Right?" Dash asked with a smirk. "No. But I'm sure you're going to tell me," Grapes uttered. Dash's expression changed as she lost the smile. "No... Really. You know what they say about them? Cause I keep hearing that expression and nopony's filled me in on it yet." "Brace yourself, I'm about to talk nerdy," Grapes deadpanned. "*ahem* If the speculation about a stallion's wing size is anything like the earth pony speculation about a stallion's hoof size, then the going hypothesis is that a pegasus' wing size is directly proportional to their... er... endowment." Rainbow Dash stared at Grapes a moment, then facehoofed with a long giggle. "Ohhhhh maaaaaaan! That's hilarious! You mean that... the size of... and... Oh man, no wonder the girls get so weird around Big Macintosh. Okay I think I'm good now." "You asked," Grapes said with a smirk. "Yeah yeah. Okay I'm outta here." She paused then glanced back at where Stormfront was stretching. His wings extending to their full span accompanied with a deep yawn. "If that's true I don't know if that would be a curse or a blessing for him. Seeyas." "See ya. I'll be sure to let you know when the watermelon wine's ready for tasting," Grapes said grinning. "You'll even be first in line." Now that the excitement had died down, Sour Grapes could actually smell the lunch that Stormfront had cooked for the crew. She actually caught her pace quickening in spite of herself while she turned into the yard and down towards the outdoor table that the Storm Riders were seated at. Looked like a fairly large lunch consisting of a soup, a salad and... Was that fresh-baked bread? She had underestimated Stormfront's talent in the kitchen, but she made a mental not to NOT tell Applejack or no doubt she would be hearing AJ say "Wrangle that bronco and put a bridal on him, he's a keeper." for months. "Hey, what smells so good?" Grapes asked as she trotted up to the table. "Oh! Grapes! Good to see you back," Stormfront said with a smile. "I made a nice vegetable broth and made some salad to back it up. Then I kinda thought it looked lonely and made some bread to bulk it out a little... Then I uh... felt that it needed a big finish so... I hope you're not upset but I made a cake for dessert." "Oh... Well no, but I went and bought some apple pies from Aye Jay. Guess we can have those with dinner,” Grapes observed, pondering, briefly, if she should be apprehensive about Stormy baking something. "Well... we COULD have the Pies now. The Cake just came out of the oven and needs to cool a little," Stormy admitted, motioning over to where a spongy-looking coral pink Cylinder was sitting in her window. I hope you don't mind me using some of the strawberries Applejack left here.” "I was going to try and make wine out of those..." Grapes said thoughtfully. "But if the cake's good, I probably won't mind too much. Anyway, I've got crates of the things... Even if you used forty strawberries per square inch, I'd still have plenty." "We can always give a slice to Miss Applejack so she knows some of her bet went to a worthy cause,” Stormfront said with a smile. “It's something my mom taught me.. Strawberry Upside-down Cake. I hope you like it." "Your mom sounds cool, Stormy," Grapes said, as she levitated the two pies to the table. "I was lucky to have a mother like her. I was... somewhat less than graceful when I was Earshot's age," Stormfront replied, as he served Grapes some soup. Grapes smiled, sipping her broth, and then eyed the salad. It looked good, well most of it did... The spinach, carrots, and celery and onions looked very appealing but the heaping quantity of alfalfa did nothing for her appetite. Since she was a child she remembered alfalfa being the bane of her existence. It didn't matter that it had a high protein content and highly digestible fiber, and was "Good for you", she despised it. Stormfront on the other hand had his muzzle deep in a bowl that seemed to be nothign BUT the vegetation that haunted her childhood memories. "Ugh..." Grapes uttered with a sigh. "Is something wrong?" Stormfront asked, mercifully swallowing before speaking. She wasn't sure she would have liked seeing him speak with a mouth full. "I'm... not a fan of alfalfa,” Grapes admitted, helplessly, not really wanting to show any disrespect for Stormy’s efforts, despite her aversion to the dreaded grass. "Really?” Stormy asked. "It's been something of a bane of my foalhood," Sour Grapes uttered, making a face. "Ohhh,” Stormy said seeming genuinely surprised. As if it didn't occur to him that such a thing was possible. "I'm sorry... I always thought it was a treat." "Guess Maneland couldn't get alfalfa, much?" "Yeah. Living halfway up a mountain kinda limits availability to... well.. what the customers wanted, And now that I look back on things, Alfalfa wasn't high on their priorities either,” the big gray pegasus mused, thoughtfully. "I never liked it. I'll never attempt to make a beverage out of it either,” Grapes asserted. "Well... if you don't want it, I won't be hurt if you pick it out of your salad. In fact if you slide it down this way I'll eat your alfalfa for you," Stormy offered with a smile. "You are a prince in a farmhoof's feathers, Stormy," Grapes said, sliding the bowl down. The other diners about the table chuckled and continued to eat. "So what did you do in town, Miss Grapes?" Earshot asked curiously. "Oh took care of the wine bottles, and corks, teased Applejack about her crush, bought a couple of apple pies, laughed at Granny Smith's lewd fantasies about Hasslehoof..." That last comment brought a lot of laughter around the table. Although Sirocco did ask "Who is Hasslehoof?" "He's an actor, and singer, Sirocco. Big hit in Germaney,” Grapes replied. "And he is pleasing to the eyes then?" Sirocco asked, looking at Grapes. "It's a matter of opinion, but the consensus is that he is,” the brown unicorn replied with a shrug. "Ah. Remind me to see if they have any of his music at the Recorded music disc store then. He sounds interesting." "They're called records, Sirocco." ====================================================== A few days later, Grapes found the Storm Riders all doing some manner of preparation after they had done their farm duties. Squall was creating some manner of wooden carving, a very impressive one at that. Queenie and Earshot were decorating the barn for some sort of quiet celebration. Firestormer seemed to go into town, after work, obviously searching for something. Grapes was not sure what he wanted, but he was not asking her for any help. Sirocco on the other hoof had come back from Ponyville with some records. Some Hasslehoof, but others did not seem to the exotic pegasus’ taste. Grapes was not sure what was going on, so she finally confronted Queenie on the matter. “Excuse me, but what the hay is going on?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow, at the decor. “Stormfront’s birthday is coming up,” Queenie said as she hung up some streamers. “Honestly, we didn’t know if you wanted to participate or not.” "Why wouldn't I? You are all becoming practically family." "Well, some employers can be friendly but... never familiar with the help. " Queenie said looking a little embarrassed. "It was a possibility that you might have had a few lines you wouldn't cross when it came to being with the Hired Hooves." "Well you guys are more permanent than the usual set of Hired Hooves," Grapes said as if that explained everything. "OK. But you gotta keep it quiet. This is the first time in a long while we have all been together for Stormy's Birthday. ...and I think I know how you can be useful." Firestormer said with a mischievous smile. "And how's that?" Grapes asked cautiously. "Out of all of us you're the only pony who can come and go from the farm without him seriously wondering where you're off to. You keep your own schedule, and we need a cake. The kind that has nice writing and decorations on it," Firestormer replied. “Okay. I’d be happy to do that. I'll have to head to Sugarcube Corner," Grapes said with a nod. "All right. He's not too fussy with sweets but he loves lemon as a flavor. Just a little tart in with the sweetness is how he likes it," Firestormer explained. "Right. A touch of tart... Note to self: See if the Cakes can make the cake,” said Sour Grapes then blinked, and looked around, making sure that no random pink pony would pop up out of nowhere, then looked relieved. "Are you okay?" Queenie asked, after seeing Grapes look around in a slight panic. "Yeah. Just looking for Pinkie Pie." "Were you expecting her?" Firestormer asked looking around, himself. "Let's just say... She's really really random," Grapes uttered. "Ah. OK. So just a simple ‘Happy Birthday Stormfront, from your friends’ is good." "All right. I'll be back later," Grapes said, heading toward the gate. "Thank you miss Grapes. We appreciate this... I could fly there and back in a jiffy buuuuut... well the writing would get smudged,” Firestormer said rubbing the back of his head with a hoof. "Gotcha," Grapes said saluting, before trotting into town. It was a rather pretty day, Grapes had to admit, but there was something a bit interesting going on in Ponyville. She had to pause and look around at all the preparation going on, and wonder what was going down. It wasn’t until she saw the sign saying: “Welcome Princess Celeste” that Grapes understood what was happening. A royal visit. Goody. Just what she needed to disrupt her day. She trotted to Sugarcube Corner to see if the Cakes could fit in a birthday cake with all the other stuff they’re having to do for the Princess’ arrival. This being Ponyville, however, it did not take very long for things to start going terribly wrong. Although she was hardly an old pony, Grapes prided herself on being well-read and decently knowledgeable on a fairly wide array of subjects, but this... this was beyond her ken. These tiny winged pests, cute winged pests, but still winged pests, were literally eating every ounce of food everywhere in Ponyville. The colorful buzzing whatsits seemed to take a non-personal glee in descending on anything edible and leaving not even seeds or stem left. She tried to keep them out of Sugarcube corner by swinging a broom at them, but the remarkably agile critters avoided her efforts and swooped in to feast on the goodies inside. What were these things? Where did they come from? How could hey metabolise food so fast as to make their asexual reproduction so... rapid. It had started out as SUCH a nice day before. Granted in her humble opinion the preparations for Celestia's visit were being overdone for what Twilight had said was a 'casual' visit, but she could at least appreciate the efforts everypony had gone to. Now they were in the middle of a plague of cuteness. She sighed heavily in frustration. She knew she was forgetting something but it was just avoiding her, all the munching and cooing and buzzing was really getting on her nerves... and there goes Applejack running like her tail was on fire. The sight of her cousin looking so frantic began to spark her memory, that elusive important thought starting to rise up to the front of her brain... then violet waves of magical energy washed over the town, distracting her and making her lose that thought. And the annoying little fuzzballs stopped eating the food. "Okay..." Grapes uttered, watched as some sniffed at a sumptuous pie resting on the counter and turned away from it... and began to chew the counter itself. Somehow in her mind the connection between a sudden shift in their eating habits and the color purple that game moments before added up to the most powerful purple spell-caster in Equestria. "Oh... TWI-light..." Grapes groaned. "Really? All our talks about 'Confluence', and you go and do this?" She swung her broom with renewed vigor. "EVERYPONY FOR HER SEEEEEELF!" cried a familiar voice and a heartbeat later she saw Rarity gallop past. No doubt she was on her way to her shop where her livelihood was no doubt being eaten. She had heard the expression 'Chewing the scenery' but this was ludicrous. Even the broom she swung was being nibbled to death. At least these little parasites weren't eating PONIES! Whatever spell Twilight cast could have wound up with far worse connotations than a town full of... well... TOWNLESS ponies. "What the hay ARE these annoying little fuzzballs?! And why do I hear polka?" Grapes asked, having to pause and listen in obvious surprise. It was a rather happy-sounding tune. It was bouncy, and gleeful and definitely polka... and it added a perverse tone to the otherwise horrifying sight of Ponyville being ground down to the foundations by gluttonous flying beasties. But something was different... the mood was changing. The flying pests had stopped their meal and were definitely listening to the music. Some were even moving to the polka beat. Grapes exited the bakery to see the creatures leave the town following... Pinkie Pie of all ponies. "What... the... hay?" Yes it was Pinkie Pie, set up with enough instruments o be a one-pony band. To be honest while it certainly LOOKED like something Pinkie would do, Grapes had to hand it to her. She never even suspected she had such musical talent. "... Oh fewmits, I'm going to be humming that for DAYS! Why did the blasted little furballs have to be led away with such an annoyingly catchy tune?!" She saw the Princess approaching from Canterlot off in the distance and realised she was going to arrive on the outskirts of town... Right in the path of Pinkie Pie and, well it looked like her friends were following her too. Judging by their expressions they were just as confused as she was about this turn of events. Still, at least Ponyville was salvageable, basic foundations looked intact even if a lot of the structures had more holes in them than a colander. She slowly walked through the streets watching the dazed Ponies, realising the latest crisis to hit Ponyville had come to a close. Some were totally shell-shocked, sitting out in the streets looking at the damage, and some were already starting the clean up. She felt so sorry for them. If it were her home and her crops that had been eaten... Then it slowly dawned on her why she saw Applejack running the way she was earlier. “OH FEWMITS!” Grapes uttered, before pivoting on her hooves, and galloped out of town and down the road seeing DEFINITE signs of both foliage and items having been chewed upon. As she approached the turnoff she could see Granny Smith staring up at the enormous wooden skeleton that was once the Apple family barn, and Big Macintosh putting a blanket across her shoulders in comfort. The cold rush of adrenaline surged through her veins, and she took the corner at breakneck speed, forcing herself down Grapevine Hills' road and steeling herself for the worst. And she saw some evidence of chewing on the fence and the grapes and frames in the first few rows... but only the first few rows. It was as if the creatures didn't care for the taste of her hard work and just.. left. It was both heartening and yet... she felt a little insulted. "I am so weird..." Grapes uttered at her own reaction. She slowed down and came to a stop where she saw the Storm Riders in various positions around her home. Squall sat at the peak with a telescope, Icestorm and Firestormer were on the Front porch while Stormfront was on TOP of the roof of the front porch. They were not resting, they were in fact very alert. It was a little inspiring to see them like this. "Ahoy Cap'n Grapes!" Squall called down without pulling his eye from the telescope. "You seen them too? The wee parasprite beasties that were well-bent on devouring yer crops a short time ago?" "Er... Yes." He nodded and put the telescope down. "They tried, but they were driven back to whatever deep dank well they came from. Good thing too. I've seen parasprites strip whole cities of their food... and sometimes the city itself when some wizard thinks they can change nature's nature. Still it was all we could do to just be ready in case they came back." "Pinkie Pie played some kind of polka," Grapes said, with a roll of her eyes. She was still somewhat unhappy about having that song stuck in her head. "Polka?" It was a word the small band of ponies all echoed at once. Squall recovered quickly and rubbed the dark patch at the end of his muzzle. "Aye... that would do it. But there just ain't enough of us here with musical talent to have done that ourselves. Truth be told I only heard rumors about polka being parasprite remover but thought they were just being snarky about polka." "Well Pinkie gathered enough instraments to do a one-pony band." "So did the little critters just keel over or what?" asked Firestormer. "They went back to the Everfree Forest,” Grapes informed Firestormer, then leaned close to the firey maned pegasus. “Obviously I wasn’t able to get the cake,” she added in an undertone. Firestormer simply nodded and shrugged. Neither one of them had been expecting parasprites. "Our methods were a little less... musical, but at least your farm is in better condition that Sweet Apple Acres," Stormy said leaping from his perch to the ground. "Should we... you know... offer to help them rebuild?" "Would be neighborly. And they are my relatives," Grapes said musingly. Applejack probably wouldn’t want to accept help, but she couldn’t tackle this on her own. "Okay. wasn't sure, I mean your cousin IS pretty proud. She might take offence to someone offering help." “I’ll just whop her up side the head until she accepts,” Grapes said with a smirk. “She should know that since we’re family, I’m going to help.” "Heya Miss Grapes," said Earshot as he circled the group before coming in for a landing. "You missed all the fun." "Oh? You had fun with those annoying little fuzzballs?" "Kinda." he said, as he stuck his nose into a paper bag, and chewed noisily. "I mean I was takign my mid-day nap when they arrived but I was ready to protect your crops from pesty pest-type parasprites." "What are you eating?" Grapes asked, surprised that a bag of potato chips survived the parasprite’s appetite. "Oh! I'm sorry. I'm being rude. You want some?" He held up the bag to her and before she could even think of reaching in she glanced over Earshot's shoulder to see all the Storm-Riders cringing in horror and disgust. Even Stormy looked like he was revolted and scared at the same time, holding up his hooves and shaking his head vigorously in the universal "Oh sweet Celestia, Don't do that, you'll regret it." motion. She cautiously looked into the bag and felt her stomach give a sudden lurch. Growing up in a rural area gave her a strong constitution to things a city pony would have lost their lunch to and she was greatful for that. What she had mistaken as potato chips was in fact insect wings, similar ones to the parasprites that had plagued Ponyville earlier. She forced her stomach back into place and smiled "Uhm... No thank you Earshot. I'm afraid your snack would disagree with my constitution. More for you, though." "Oh yeah. That whole 'Baked Bads' thing. I keep asking Pinkie to make me some but she keeps making this face and asking where she put her emergency bucket," Earshot said with a shrug. "She just wants to forget about that, Earshot," Grapes said with a slight sigh. The night pony had another mouth-full of wings and chewed happily. "Too bad. They sound like they're pretty tasty. I was amazed that there were parasprites here. They're a bit of a delicacy back home. In those "uncertain times" grandmother talks about when night ponies had to re-discover agriculture without earth pony assistance, we had to adapt a more flexible digestive system. We have kind of a... a truce with a local fiefdom where we eat the bugs that eat their crops, in exchange for seeds, tools and raw materials we might need. It's not a perfect system but it's helped us to survive... and kept us useful to the locals so they don't... you know... storm my home with torches and pitchforks." "A very wise arrangement. Maybe we can do something about... Trade... I bet your home has cool stuff that nopony's ever seen," Grapes said musingly. "Really? I guess... I mean I never really thought of it like that before. I mean, I'd have to show you Stygian Cove to get your opinion." "Well now. Your home DOES have a name," Queenie said with a smirk "Oops. I don't think I was supposed to tell. I mean Grandma said to try to keep where we are a secret but the word 'Cove' kinda narrows things down." "We're not the sorts to kiss and tell, Earshot," Grapes said, calmly. Queenie smiled and rubbed his mane. "Besides, it would be rude of us to take unfair advantage of the trust of a comrade. Perhaps you should ask your Grandmother if it would be permissible to invite friends there or not. A lot can happen in a year." "Weeeeeell. Alright. I'll ask,” Earshot said. "Just tell her a bunch of Daylanders went crazy and want to play tourist," Grapes said with a grin. Earshot blinked and then giggled. "I can do that. Grandma seems to like you guys anyways.” "Uh... Squall. There were an awful lot of those... parasprites. He COULDN'T have eaten them ALL." "Truer words have never been spoken lass. No, once the beasties saw that their position on the food chain had dropped to the very last link on this property... the bulk of them turned tail and ran." “Huh. How ‘bout that,” Grapes mused, thoughtfully. > Royal Delights and Canterlot Nights > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Several days later, Stormy’s birthday party was held in the barn. It was a quiet affair, with gifts, and reminiscing. Grapes prepared a simple lemon ice-box pie for Stormfront’s birthday, since the Sugarcube Corner was still recovering from the parasprite infestation. A simple recipe, with a pleasant tartness but not too tart that made Stormfront’s day. The big gray pegasus’ smile was worth the effort, in Grapes’ mind. Gifts were given, songs were sung, and the pie was eaten. And that day went very well for them all. It was a couple of days later that Sour Grapes had a rare visit from Twilight Sparkle. She arrived, with Spike, after lunch looking about the same as she did when she was told to forward a message from Princess Celestia. Spike seemed to be looking around at the pegasai who were working in the vines, and around the grounds. “Hey, Twilight. What brings you here?” Grapes said trotting over to her guest. “Looks like you got another letter,” Twilight said with a smile. “You’ve been writing to Princess Celestia, since that first time, I take it?” “Yup. Been keeping her up-to-date on current events, around here. Providing some insight, that sort of thing,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Wonder what the Princess wanted to know about, that it was so urgent?” Twilight looked at the seal, then blanched a bit. “I, uh, don’t think this was written by the Princess...” she uttered. “Huh?” Grapes uttered, then unrolled the scroll. “To: Sour Grapes care of Grapevine Hills Vineyards From: The Desk of Princess Celestia It has come to the attention of her solar greatness that several diplomatic functions are approaching and are currently without any planned wine provider. It is at the bequest of Princess Celestia that Sour Grapes will come to Canterlot via royal chariot with a broad sampling of her Vineyard's product for evaluation. Rapid response to this message is appreciated.” “Who wrote this?” Grapes said raising an eyebrow. Twilight looked at the scroll then at the wax seal and shuddered. "Uhm... well... you know that Equestria is a very large union of territories, it would be silly to believe that Even a being like Princess Celestia herself could possibly keep it all straight without assistance... right?" "Hmmm... True. Whoever wrote this, though, sounds rather... officious." "I know... But you really don't want to get on the bad side of Impertinence. As Celestia's Personal Assistant she has a LOT of clout... nearly as much as the Royal Vizier's." “You should know by now I don't tend to give a flying flip about 'clout'," Grapes said calmly. "But this does seem like a letter written by a pony named 'Impertinence'. Glad it was delivered on a Monday. I should have a nice selection by the weekend, and be able to pester Rarity into working in some kind of uniform vest into her queue." "Uh yeah. Look. I've been in and out of the Palace a lot since I was a foal. I know the ponies there and... there's two you gotta be careful around. One is Impertinence. She's as inflexible as Iron when it comes to keeping Celestia organized. Please be careful around her." "So... She teach you about being organized did she?" Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow, catching on to Twilight’s nervousness about Impertinence. "Possibly why you're so worried, aside from the obvious motivation of not letting your mentor down, about being tardy, hm?" Twilight hung her head and nodded. "She only taught me things because Celestia asked her to. The only Pony that seemed to get away with anything around her is Guarity... the Royal Vizier.” "I see. Hmmm... Well I'd better RSVP, with the time I will be able to return. Should I be just as official?" Grapes mused, thoughtfully. "If so, I'd better go inside and get some letterhead." "You have Letterhead?" the purple unicorn asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, because sometimes we've got to do some official missives for officious ponies. Be right back," Grapes said going inside, briefly, and coming out with her stationary kit. "Hmmm. 'I, Sour Grapes of Grapevine Hills Vineyard and Winery, is most grateful for Her Solar Radiance's regard in the area of fine inbibables. However, it is with great regret that my schedule prevents me from bringing forth a sampling of my fine vintages before the weekend. Come Saturday, I shall be at your disposal at your earliest convenience with a sampler crate of my most celebrated wines: Chateau D'Chevalier, Chateau D'Royal, and Chateau D'Imperial. I also plan on bringing something different for Her Royal Highness' perusal. Thank you again for your invitation. I await the weekend with great eagerness. Sincerely, Sour Grapes Proprietor Grapevine Hills Vineyard and Winery," Grapes muttered, as she wrote the letter. "Officious enough for dear Impertinence?" Twilight Sparkle read it over quickly and giggled. "Definitely. I think she grazes on red tape and thrives on bureaucracy." "Can Spike send this to Perty?" "Certainly. He's just down in the fields at the moment. He's kinda facinated by your workers," replied Twilight with a chuckle. "Why is he fascinated by pegasai? He sees them all the time around town, doesn't he?" Grapes asked raising an eyebrow. "He does... but even though he's seen them with businesses and doing a lot of ordinary pony things, he's never seen them as Farmhooves. You have to admit it's interesting." "Tell it to the weathermares who tend to take their breaks here..." Grapes groused. "They act like a construction crew would, if Rarity or Fluttershy walked by." "Oh yes... I remember Rarity's big debut in Cloudsdale when I gave her wings,” Twilight uttered with a roll of her eyes. Grapes chuckled. "So who's he checking out? Either Queenie or Sirocco, I bet. He seems to have a thing for the ladies." "He was impressed by Queenie, but I think he's more into darker manes. So it's probably Sirocco.” A sharp "GAH!" came from inside of the barn followed by the short purple dragon they were just talking about. He was running as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him, stopping only once he was behind Twilight's legs. "Twilight! There's... some... THING in the barn!" "Let me guess, he's a short pony with yellow slitted eyes and bat wings?" "All I saw were the eyes... wait... there's a pony attached to them?" A gray head with wide golden eyes and a purple/black mane popped out of the doorway looking around. "Miss grapes! Did you see it? There was some... THING in the barn a moment ago! It was purple and scaly and..." "Earshot, this is Twilight Sparkle's assistant, Spike. He's a young dragon. Spike this is Earshot. He's a night pony." "Hello." Spike said quietly, peering out from behind Twilight's legs like a shy foal and it's mother. Earshot stepped out from the barn and with a smile trotted over. "Oh wow... You're even smaller than Smudge. Hey there. I'm Earshot, pleased to meet you." Spike looked at the strange figure and blinked. "So... are you some kind of Pegasus?" "Oh yes. Thank you for noticing. I'm a Night Pony, we're a sort of Pegasus that happens to be built for night-flying," Earshot said with a nod. "Oh. that kinda explains all the creepy stuff,” the young dragon said with a slight grin. "Spike!" Twilight griped. "Sorry Twilight, I didn't mean to call him creepy..." Spike uttered, trailing off. "He grows on you," Grapes said with a smirk. "It's okay. I'm not offended. I know ponies find me different... That's why I came out here. I'm hoping to get people used to ponies that look like me. That way when the rest of my breed comes out of hiding maybe... we'll be treated fairly. You know, judged on who we are instead of how we look," the night pony said wistfully. "How... how many MORE of you... night ponies are there?" Twilight sparkle asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Oh... I can't tell you an exact number. Probably a town's worth at least. But we're way outnumbered by daylight pegasai and... Well... Daylight Ponies in general," Earshot replied. "So Night Ponies are real, and numerous but not... dangerous," Twilight uttered, musingly, obviously happy to have learned something new. "Yes, yes and no... We're no more dangerous than any other kind of pony. We have our good ones and bad just like out here. But like out here the good outnumber those who don't play well with others,” Earshot observed with a smile. "That's... amazing. I have so many questions I..." Twilight paused and looked at Grapes who was standing there patiently. "But they can wait for another time. Sour Grapes, please hand the message to Spike and he'll send it on it's way." "If you would be so kind as to send this to Impertinence, I would be grateful, Spike," Grapes said levitating her official reply to the dragonling. Spike gave her a look that was similar to 'Are you nuts?' as he held the scroll in his hands a moment. "Are you SURE you wanna send HER mail?" "Yes. She sent me an official missive, and I replied in kind," the chocolate brown unicorn replied with a slight smirk. "Well, okay," Spike said before took a deep breath and huffed out a short burst of green flame across the scroll. It was amazing how the paper was reduced to ash in a heartbeat, and the ash to just a swirl of swirly, sparkly purple with green accents rising up into the sky. "Well I need to head to town, and pester Rarity for a nice uniform vest. I'll get a label so she can work with the logo," Grapes said thoughtfully. "I'll tell Stormy he's in charge, while I'm out... And you can chat with Earshot, if you like Twilight." "Oh! That would be... I mean if you can spare him," Twilight said excitedly, obviously happy to learn more about the mysterious night ponies. "What were you doing in the barn, Earshot? Maybe you could do whatever work you were doing between chats with Twilight and Spike," Sour Grapes asked. "Oh certainly! I was cleaning out the hayloft, nobody's really done anything serious up there for a while." "You weren't cleaning the hay out, were you? We use that during the winter to keep the vines from being killed by frost," Grapes asked. "Well to be honest I don't think anyone's put fresh hay up there in a while. It really should be changed before winter comes in. But mostly it's cleaning out behind old crates and labeling what you got in them... mostly old clothing and stuff. Really nice stuff, but old," Earshot replied nodding toward the barn. "Hmm. Okay. Cleaning out the hayloft sounds like something you can talk while doing it. Knowing Twilight, she'd want to put her organizational skills to the task," Grapes observed with a slight smirk at Twilight. "Oh Spike and I can be of good use up there," Twilight said excitedly. "That would be great. Thank you Miss Sparkle," Earshot uttered with a grin at the studious purple unicorn. "Thanks, Twilight. Enjoy your talk, too," Grapes said, before going to find Stormfront, and telling him he was in charge in her absence. Once the small details were taken care of she headed immediately into Ponyville. It was fairly quiet, and Rarity had just finished speaking to the Mayor on some matter as she entered the shop. "Oh don't worry Mayor Mare. everything will be just fine. Oh Grapes! Darling! Welcome back so soon," Rarity said to the departing official, then turned to the brown unicorn who had shown up on her threshold. 'About time,' Grapes thought before saying out loud: "Hey, Rarity. I've got a bit of a rush commission to ask of you, if you're not too busy." "I have a little time on my hooves for a friendly face. What do you need?" "Promise not to... Overreact?" Grapes asked, just knowing that Rarity would do so, more than likely. "Very well... you have my word that I shall not overreact. I am not some Drama Queen you know," Rarity uttered with a toss of her royal purple mane. "Well you have this 'thing' about royalty, Rarity. And I just received a Royal summons from Princess Celestia, via her personal assistant mind you, to bring a sampler of my wines to Canterlot,” Grapes explained, apprehensively. This Rarity, after all, and she had nearly caused a death by corset whilst daydreaming about Prince Blueblood. "I see," Rarity said with a short nod. "Oh, pardon me a moment." She stepped into a changing room and Grapes watched in amusement as the hooves below the curtain 'danced' in excitement as a muffled squeal of joy could be heard through the pillow she was probably biting. The curtain opened again and dazzling white unicorn stepped out looking back in control. "So what is it you wish of me? Oh! I know. A lovely frock with Prance-styled ruffles on the collar and..." Grapes gave her this look. "No. Seriously no. I would like a nice uniform vest, with the Grapevine Hills logo on it. And it has to be done by Friday afternoon, or early Saturday morning... And I'm paying for it, since it's probably bumping the queue." Rarity looked as if she were wrestling with her conscience, her desire to create stifled by her desire to do what a customer NEEDED from her. She trembled slightly before taking a deep breath and nodded. "Very well. Because you need it so quickly I shall keep it... 'Nice'.” "And if it makes you feel any better, you could work on that Gala Dress... I could always use a nice 'special occasion' dress, for formal things," added Grapes, and then she chuckled, noting that Mayor Mare had left after Rarity's reassurances. "I don't suppose you helped Applejack with the positioning of her sales cart?" she asked with a slight smile. "It just seems so... convenient." "Me? Why whatever makes you ask that? Well... of COURSE I made a suggestion or two, that being such a nice spot in the shade, out of the hot sun and I DID note that ponies often keep to the shade when the weather grows too warm. No sense in Applejack, her produce and her customers being inconvenienced by overheating,” Rarity said airily, as she searched for just the right fabric for a good vest. "And right across from your boutique, too. Easy to go and grab a fritter, or an apple." "You know me, I often have a... a 'hankering' for fare without fanfare. Applejack's product may be many things but it has never had to resort to anything too superfluous to taste so good." "So... No hankerings for company of a more... wholesome nature, hm?" Rarity paused a moment then smirked at Sour grapes as she walked over to her seamstress' dummy and began to drape fabric across it with intent. "Well, I will admit that Applejack's... uncomplicated nature is somewhat refreshing. However it's not like I wish to.. pick out curtains if that's what you're trying to get at." "Just seems like you two have gotten a bit... closer after that rather disastrous sleepover," Grapes said oh so casually. "Who told you...? " Rarity started before catching herself and reigning in her emotional moment. "That is to say, how did you even hear about that sleepover?" "Twilight mentioned it. Never mind the tree falling through the Library wasn't something that went unnoticed." “Well the tree in itself... well that's not really an indicator. Twilight on the other hoof..." the purple maned unicorn’s voice dropped a tone, indicating she wasn't pleased such information was shared so openly. "Well she DOES like to talk. I'd take anything she says on such an evening with a grain of salt. After all she DID try to organise a slumber-party like one would an inventory day." "Heh. Yeah, Twi loves to organize things," Grapes chuckled, then paused, and levitated out a label. "I almost forgot. I brought a label so you'd have a Grapevine Hills logo to work from. And all Twilight said was that you two had a horrible argument, then worked together to move the tree." "Oh really?" Rarity queried, pausing in her work and laying her tools down to come over and take a look. She scrutinized the image before continuing her work, and saying: "Well we may get on one another's nerves but we are FAR from being enemies you know. Friends fight, one cannot simply have a friendship and agree upon everything. It's just one has to be willing to accept those differences and move on." "I've always been something of an observer of the equine condition... And I notice things," Grapes said with a slight smirk. "Oh? And what things would that be?" Rarity asked with a raised eyebrow. "Little glances, little smiles. Things that most would miss. From what I've observed, I could infer that you think dear Aye Jay has nice legs," the brown unicorn observed casually. "Uh... well..." A hint of rose colored her cheeks, looking positively elegant upon her flawless white face and indicating the comment struck true. "Of.. Of COURSE she has nice legs. The dear runs about all the time on her farm, doing all sorts of farm.. things. So strong and yet retaining femininity. How can one NOT stare. I am... positively... JEALOUS of legs like hers. No long days at the spa or the gym to keep her body well in shape. No. For her such legs come naturally." "I would also infer that you find Aye Jay to have an appealing physique," Grapes added, looking ever so innocent, a slight grin on her face. "Well... YES!" Rarity managed to say, apparently getting into her plausible excuse. "Again it comes down to simple envy. You see my body?" The white unicorn did a turnaround to show off her own graceful form to her customer. "Oh how I SUFFER to keep myself in good condition. And yet Applejack does it with clean country living and hard work. Why shouldn't I look upon her physique? There is nothing wrong with looking through the windows of a shop, even if one isn't there to buy. Is there?" "Hmmm... I guess not," Grapes said musingly. "I have to admit, though, even I'm envious of her hair." "Ah yes. Her hair is nice I suppose. Although it looks like straw and has a similar smell." "You haven't really looked at it, have you? Especially compared to my mane," Grapes uttered, running a hoof through her own. "I assure you that I got a VERY good look when I was at the Slumber Party. I DID wind up sharing a bed with her." "Well she's changed something, since then, 'cause it's like corn silk," Grapes said. Rarity was at the window in an eye-blink and looking out. "What? Where? I didn't... " She then paused and glanced back at Grapes. "Well-played Miss Sour Grapes." "I seem to have overstepped a boundary. I apologise. But I tend to tease my friends, so..." Grapes added with a shrug. "No. Don't apologise. As you said you were just teasing. Perhaps I DO have some feelings for Applejack but we are close friends, and she is attractive... Not to mention we are both bearers of the elements of Harmony. Such an... infatuation is no doubt fleeting in nature, but our acceptance for one another's differences will remain long afterwards," Rarity observed quietly, seeming rather glad to have spoken that bit of hidden truth. "That's good. Though you two have a lot of common ground, as well," Grapes mused. "You're both hard workers, you're both dedicated to your families, and you both have good hearts." "Yes, YES! Precisely! Dedicated is the correct word," said Rarity as she seemed to get a slightly sad look on her face yet managed a smirk. "Although it's easier for her to really... mesh with her family. My parents come from a rougher cloth than myself. Like the difference between silk and cotton, but I love them and my sister." Grapes smiled. "Nothing wrong with cotton," she said. "Not quite as good as silk, but at least cotton won't slide you off the bed when you least expect it." She then launched into a silly story about how she tried jumping on her parents' bed, the day after Hearts and Hooves Day, as a filly. And ended up simply sliding off the other side. It was a story that Rarity could laugh along with. "Oh dear oh dear oh dear. You poor dear. I always liked slipping between the sheets but it's so easy to forget one can slide out of them... or across them. Very well Sour Grapes. I'll work on your vest. It's a simple enough project, I should be able to get it done before Friday." "And I'll have the bits for you by then. I remember you add ten percent to the fee for a rush job," Grapes said, nodding. "And since it IS a rush job, I'm paying for the vest." "Very well. It's customers like you that keep me in business," Rarity said beaming. "You're generous to a fault, Rarity... And you can put up with my teasing... Twilight's crush is a touch dangerous to tease about..." "Oh? Twilight has a crush? It's hard to imagine our bookish little friend harboring such feelings but I suppose locking herself up with all those books means they have to come out sometime," the purple-maned unicorn mused thoughtfully. "Eyah... Considering WHO it is... It's a bit... Risky to even mention." Rarity placed a hoof on Grapes' shoulder and smiled. "Then don't. Rumor has a way of running about on it's own, and once it gets out there's precious little that can be done about it... It's juicy, isn't it?" "Indeed. But this is from my own observations, though... IF you think about it it's really obvious," Grapes said. "I'd better head, and let you get back to work. Oh... And if you want to see Applejack’s mane look like spun gold, wait for her to step into the sunlight." “We’ll see,” Rarity murmured, as Grapes left her shop. The fashionista shook herself out of her reverie, and went back to work, while keeping an eye on her front window. The moment that the orange earth pony stepped from beneath the tree’s shade, Rarity found herself sidling to the window to take a peek, gasping quietly at the golden shimmer of her friend’s mane. She shook herself, then with a more determined hoofstep went back to work, once again. “Blast that Sour Grapes,” she muttered. After the visit to the Carousel Boutique, the week seemed to fly by. There was the daily business of the Vineyard that needed to be attended to, with the harvest coming along quite nicely. Grapes also checked on the aging wine barrels, and determined that the new watermelon wine was ready for bottling, and tasting. This prompted a trip into town to ask around for Rainbow Dash, since Sour Grapes had promised her the first taste. Quite to Grapes’ surprise Rainbow invited all her friends to taste, as well. Of course, Applejack had to be there, but Rarity being eager to taste the experiment was still quite the surprise. Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity all found the watermelon wine to be quite delightful. The broccoli wine didn’t go over quite as well, until Grapes brought out a nice sharp Trottingham cheddar. Applejack, predictably, grumped about losing yet another wager. Friday, Rarity surprised Grapes with her uniform vest in a dazzling white with well-done embroidery. Grapes was more than happy to pay the seamstress the bits owed, because the white unicorn did fantastic work. "Oh, my dear Sour Grapes, I only wish you would have let me make you a proper dress or... or something like that for this visit. Still.. I bowed to your common sense and made what you felt you needed. I hope you Like it. I went with the best cotton fabric I could get my hooves on, this has a thread count of over three hundred. Very sturdy and yet it still will breathe. Never, let royalty see you sweat, darling. Although I prefer not to be seen sweating anywhere other than a sauna." Grapes coughed, sniggering, obviously NOT rising to bait. “I cut it a little roomy for comfort and double-stitched it for strength. It simply wouldn't DO for it to fall apart while in Canterlot. Also as per your request I added your Family Vineyard's logo upon it. Not my best work, of course. But in the end I am... satisfied I did a good job.” "If this isn't your best work, it's darned near close." "I'm just used to far grander projects with much more time to work in," said Rarity as she nodded at a curtain blocking off her display area from her workshop and with a flash of her horn slid it aside. Grapes saw six more dressmaker's dummies each with a similar vest, each in state of incompletion, and each a different color. "It took me several false starts before I finally found a color that seemed to work. White adds a sense of purity, and cleanliness to the vest. Hopefully this still reflects your occupation and family holdings while saying to the world ‘I did not just come out of the fields to visit’." “I think it looks wonderful, and considerably better than my old pruning vest,” Grapes said with a nod. “Thanks for this, Rarity. It was well worth the extra bits.” "I'll finish up the other six so you have some spares you can use. I'd rather they not be 'wasted' material..." Rarity giggled. "One for each day of the week." “Heh. Or at least a variety of colors, for different situations. I could commission some uniform vests for my farmhooves, in the future, too,” Grapes said musingly. "I belive I would like that. I hear some of your farmhooves could be a challenge designing for," Rarity said, obviously relishing the thought of a challenge. "Well you've already met Icestorm," Grapes said sounding amused. "Oh yes. Such a lovely, darling Mare. Such an attention for detail... no wonder you have her working your deseeding... uh... shack," Rarity said with just a hint of distaste. "The place is a work in progress," Grapes uttered with a sigh. “I also heard from Twilight and Rainbow Dash that you have a Big Macintosh of your own. Although this model has wings. Care to comment?" Rarity asked archly, with a slight grin. "I don't think he's quite as big as Big Macintosh..." Grapes observed thoughtfully. "Well yes... he has to be aerodynamic I'm sure. But still... Both walked away impressed," the fashonista observed with a slight grin. Grapes merely looked at Rarity. "You were there for Twilight's near use of the phrase 'well endowed' weren't you?" she asked deadpan. "Oh yes... Miss Dash was positively rolling about in hysterics while Twilight corrected herself. Poor dear,” Rarity mused, looking amused. "I tried to warn her," Grapes uttered. "And she TRIED to get it right... She stopped halfway though the word before changing tack,” the white unicorn said with a grin. "No, I warned her not to use the phrase 'well endowed'," Sour Grapes asserted. “Well to be honest Endowed is a perfectly clean word, it's just society that has added that spin to it." "I know I know, but... When the phrase 'well endowed' is used in reference to a stallion, one's mind goes straight into the gutter." "I know... Truth is now that we're speaking about it, I'm thinking bout it now. Not very ladylike but part of me is curious about that statement about the wings. Ah well... As you said. Gutter-thought. So... please try the vest on. If it fits badly then this is the time to find out,” Rarity uttered, primly. "All righty," Grapes said, using her limited ponykenesis to slip on the vest. "Mmm. Looks good... looks good. I really should have put a lining in but I really didn't have any truly suitable material other than silk, and that might have had you sliding about inside of that vest the whole trip,” the dressmaker mused, thoughtfully. "And that would have looked incredibly silly," Grapes said with a smirk. "Definitely. All right. So Fits fine? No tight spots or anything? Wonderful!” Rarity said gleefully clopping her hooves with glee. "Quite so. You do fabulous work, even rushed," Grapes said with a nod. Sour Grapes paid for the vest, and left the boutique with a cheerful air. She was stopped en route to her home, however, by Twilight. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you before you went home,” the purple unicorn said with a smile. “I got another scroll for you via Spike.” “Thanks, Twilight,” Grapes said taking it from her. “This probably outlines my itinerary. May even have a ticket for the train. I’m just a common tradespony after all. I wouldn’t be brought to Canterlot in a chariot like you were brought here.” “Well... Good luck with your visit. I hope it goes well,” Twilight said with a kind smile. “Thanks,” Grapes said with a nod. “Oh, and tell Spike thanks, too, for being such a willing conduit for fast mail.” “I will,” Twilight chuckled. They said their goodbyes, and parted ways. Twilight had to get back to her studies, and Grapes had to get ready for her trip. She had her vest. She just needed to get together the wines she was taking, a wedge of Trottingham Cheddar sharp enough to cut a pony’s tongue, and the tasting glasses. She was well prepared, and how that she had the ticket to go to Canterlot. The trip should be a simple one. A simple tradespony going to meet either the Princess’ personal assistant, or the Head Chef. The weekend dawned quietly, with Sour Grapes getting up early, and gathering her things to head into town. The itinerary said that she would be picked up at the depot. So the mode of transport was going to be a stagecoach. Kind of odd, with the train being right there, but Grapes was not one to argue. She made her way to the depot just in time to see a pegasus drawn chariot come in for a landing. Grapes looked surprised to see it, until she saw an older mare hop off the transport. “Red Ink?” Grapes exclaimed, sounding surprised, as she trotted up to the well-dressed mare. They had met, years earlier, when her rather snobbish grandmother, Pave Diamond, had the Vineyard audited. Pave’s plans backfired, however, due to her father’s good business sense and better record-keeping. “Sour Grapes! What an unexpected pleasure. You’re going to Canterlot, then? Looks like you’re prepared for a personal wine-tasting,” the Auditor General of Equestria uttered with a smile. “I’m here to catch the train to Dodge Junction, then on to Appleloosa.” “Why? 'Cause it's easier to travel by rail to Appleloosa, and Dodge Junction?” Grapes asked, curiously. “Exactly," said Red Ink before dropping her voice to a more conspiratorial tone as she leaned in a little closer to Grapes. "And between you and me, I LOVE travel by land. It's the only time in my busy schedule that I get... well.. TIME to enjoy myself." Grapes grinned, and nodded. "Well enjoy. I hear those Western towns are... interesting." "I'm looking forward to it. Safe journey to you, Sour Grapes,... Watch out for turbulence." "Turbulence?" Grapes uttered. "Air travel can be as rough as land travel. Dips and bumps in the wind. I recommend using the harness in the chariot to reassure yourself and in the little pocket to your left is a small paper bag in case you feel your lunch making a curtain call." "Huh... Thought I was going by train..." Grapes mused. Red Ink glanced over at the two pristine white pegasai in golden armor who pawed the ground with their hooves while they drank from the water fountain. "I can only guess that since I was taking ground travel from Ponyville, Celestia must have thought this convenient for all parties involved." "I guess so..." Grapes uttered, sounding surprised. "This is quite the arrangment for a simple tradespony," Grapes said. "Well, have a good trip." "Thank you, Sour Grapes. Enjoy your own time in Canterlot." Grapes climbed aboard the chariot, and settled her bags into the luggage rack, then strapped herself in. "Ready when you are, gentlestallions." The pegasai nodded, and after a quick check of their own barding and harnesses gave a CHUFF of satisfaction and started trotting. There was a moment of acceleration and they brought the chariot up to speed. Not too different from any Coach or Cab ride she had taken before. Then the world fell out from beneath them and her stomach along with it. She hadn't quite expected the sudden elevation, or was ready for it... or for that matter the sight of Ponyville shrinking so RAPIDLY beneath her. Grapes squeaked, then ducked down to where she couldn't see the rushing scenery. "Are you all right, Miss?" one of the Pegasai asked, over the roar of the wind passing overhead. "I just discovered I'm afraid of heights," Grapes said peeking over the edge of the chariot's front. "It was not something I knew, until now, but I'm fine if I don't look down." "Oh..." the one of the left replied. No doubt the very same who asked is she was fine. "Air-travel isn't for everypony. We'll try to give you a smooth ride. Just stay low and try to keep your mind occupied, ...and in case you feel like you might ruin the upholstery feel free to make use of the small paper bag in the pocket there." "Ugh... Okay. NOT looking down. Do not look down. Keep the mind occupied, and do not look down..." Grapes murmured, then looked behind her, and made a strangled squeak. "You just had to look down, didn't you?" She manages to scootch down into a corner of the chariot and try to read the small novel she brought along. At the recommendation of Twilight Sparkle she had started on the Daring Do books. They seemed fit for teenage foals, but... Well the story was surprisingly deep. And fun! It was easy for even a non-pegasus to identify with the main character. She had been so drawn into it that she hardly notice the soft 'bump' that accompanied the landing. "We've arrived Miss Sour Grapes. Your inn is to the left. Just show them the same pass you showed us and they'll take you and your personals to your room," The one pegasus pointed out to her. Grapes marked her page, and picked up her bags. "Thank you, gentlestallions," she said hopping off the chariot, and smiling at the guards. "The ride was smooth, and I had no sense of vertigo what-so-ever." They nodded thanks and trotted off to probably the Royal stables where they would be unharnessed and their gear properly stored. Grapes looked up at the Inn and examined it critically. It looked surprisingly nice. The description that Twilight have given on Impertinence made her half-expect some flea-trap dive. But no, it was a simple four story building, boxy and unadorned save the brass plaque next to the awning-shaded doorway that read "The Dew Drop Inn" "Wouldn't be surprised if the propriotor -or the founder- was named Dew Drop," Grapes mused, as she trotted to the Inn. The lobby had a red carpet leading to an oak check-in counter currently occupied by a pleasant young Earth Pony mare who smiled sincerely. "Welcome to the Dew Drop Inn. I am Dew Drop, proprietor, owner, and chief desk clerk. How may I help you today?” Grapes levitated her pass. "Sour Grapes, owner, and proprietor of Grapevine Hills Vineyard and Winery." "Ah. We've been expecting you Miss Sour Grapes. We do a lot of business with the Palace, giving a place for visiting ponies to stay." She rung the bell and a trio of short ponies came out in a comically bumbling manner. "Please take Sour Grapes' things to her room while she checks in." They grabbed her bag and the crate that contained her wares and in a haphazardly excitable manner loaded them onto a trolley and vanished into the elevator. Dew Drop noticed Grapes’ pained expression and smirked. "It's all right. They may act like a trio of stooges but they're actually quite competent.” "Oh... Good. Didn't want the wine bottles to be broken. Er... Any messages?" "Just a welcome fruit basket left in your suite... Oh yes. And a message from the palace confirming your eleven-fifteen appointment. If you wish we can have a wake-up call for you. As I mentioned, before, we are accustomed to ponies with business with the Palace. Most often it's those who cannot afford hotels such as 'The Glitz' but we often provide a place for parents visiting their children in Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns,” Dew Drop replied. "All right. I'll take the wake-up call, thank you. Early enough for me to get dressed, and properly groomed, please," the brown unicorn replied with a nod. "Certainly," Dew Drop said as she slid a key across the counter. "We have a small restaurant next door that has an arrangement with us. If you wish to eat in your room rather than there, they can send meals up to your room, and we have a small pool out in the garden out back. You will be staying in Room 306. Enjoy your stay." "Thank you, Miss... Is your family Dew or Drop? I've got a cousin who puts his family name first, because it makes more sense..." Grapes asked, obviously trying to be properly polite. "We go by the surname Drop, but most often I'm just known as Dewdrop as if pronounced as one name." "Well most of the time I go by 'Grapes'," Grapes replied with a smile. "Mostly because nobody wants to call me 'Sour' to my face. Except my cousin, but she's one in a million." "Well Miss grapes, I hope you find Canterlot well during your visit,” Dew Drop said, cheerfully. "Has Canterlot been ill?" Grapes asked as she took her key, her eyes gleaming with mirth. The young Mare giggled, and Grapes was lead to her room by the same trio of buffoons who brought up her luggage. She was grateful it was all there, intact, and the room was rather nice. It was far from the silk drapes and Prancian windows she might have expected from Canterlot but tasteful and functional. She could easily see why this hotel was a common stopover for parents and non-noble visitors. Sour Grapes quickly settled what few possessions she had brought with her, and was very grateful that the inn provided sample-sized toiletries, because she’d only expected to be there for the day. For all the pretentiousness of Canterlot, Sour grapes was impressed. The sheer vertical feeling of the white walls and the spotless streets were a far cry from the warm 'homey' feel of Ponyville. And yet it didn't come across as cold... just... like the whole city was standing at attention. In her own way she was glad she was wearing her white vest. People seemed to accept her as a professional tradespony of some kind, neither snubbing nor going out of their way to greet her. The Restaurant Dew Drop had pointed out, The Jolly Duke, was like going back to Ponyville. Rich dark wood with low light and earth tones made her feel like the business itself had opened it's arms in a welcoming hug like an old friend. The Owner certainly did. Oak Cask was a portly Pony who treated every customer like they were family, sometimes even sitting with them for a spell and getting into long discussions on their business and families. Grapes smiled around at the restaurant, feeling at home. She ordered a simple meal, and simply pony watched, while she ate. The meal was quite hearty and delicious, as was the thick wheat-grass smoothy that came with it. She enjoyed watching Oak Cask keep things on the level with his employees and still greet everypony personally, making new friends and greeting old customers and asking them about details that astonished Grapes that he could remember them all. He even found time to sit and speak with her about her own visit... And he remembered her parents. "A wonderful couple. When they were seeing one another they would come in here because... well... Pave Diamond would never be caught dead in here. In fact the only other pony from your mother's family that ever came in here was Cabochon liked him. Good customer, always paid his tab and was always friendly." "Uncle Cabochon was always like that," Grapes said with a smile. The time passed quickly in the restaurant and by the time she left it was dark, and she found herself asleep almost the moment her head hit the pillow. It had been a slightly stressful day. Discovering a new phobia was a bit nerve-wracking. The next day, Grapes received her wake-up call. She showered, and made herself presentable, then put on her packs to head to the Palace. The winemaker was sure that she would have to walk all the way there, because she was nothing more than a common tradespony, after all. This could get her some nice business with the palace. Something other than the Gala would be quite nice. Twilight had assured her that in spite of her lofty position, Celestia was a wise and fair pony and wouldn't rush any decisions about Grapes' wine one way or the other. She would be Fair and just with her selection as she was with all other aspects in Pony Society. Even so, she was still a humble tradespony, and was certain she'd be speaking with the head chef, and not the Princess, herself. Writing letters was one thing. But an audience? Hardly. She Found the Palace easily enough... it WAS the biggest building in the city. It practically WAS a city unto itself. Before coming she did a quick historical refresher for small talk, the castle was only as old as the Celestian age after Nightmare Moon's reign had been violently ended with enough force to devastate the old castle that once housed the Royal Sisters. Many facts, much trivia, and yet As she stared up at the edifice she couldn't help but wonder about that old adage about 'compensating for something' might hold true here. Grapes wondered if she should take herself to the tradespony's entrance. She pulled out her scroll, and looked it over, to make sure of where she was supposed to go. She had to hoof it to Impertinence. Her writing style was forthright and blunt as a large hammer. She was to head through the East entrance (Direction of the rising sun, how clever) and head up the stairs and using the Pass to get beyond any guards along the way, report directly to the main Admissions area. The first pair of guards she unfortunately mistook for the pair that had brought her here. They informed her that Royal Guard uniforms contained a spell that kept a certain 'look' for the guard so they all matched. His 'bored' tone was a sign that this was not the first time he had explained this. Still it was informative, and after he looked the pass over the two let her by. It was actually alarmingly beautiful on the palace grounds. She even got a chance to see large stone urns with explosions of Royal Roses growing in them. Each nearly 'glowing' like iron heated cherry red in the sun. Sour Grapes now knew why her former farmhoof, Basashi, couldn't resist a taste. Her own mouth watered at this feast for the eyes. Her pace increased as she worked to put them behind her. 'Note to self: Ask for a sample,' Grapes thought, as she trotted on into the palace, seeking the admissions area. The guards at the main doors noticed her coming and again she produced the special Pass. They nodded to one another and slowly pried the heavy wooden doors open, allowing her to enter. She walked into the chamber within and found her hooves on a thick wall-to-wall rug. Heavy tapestries hung on the walls obscuring any sign of 'wall space' as ponies in garb that made her feel like she was dressed in a burlap sack waited on a long bench that went once around the room and back again. The carpet and tapestries ate any and all sound in this room, causing it to be dead quiet. In the middle of the room like an island in the middle of the decor was a doughnut-shaped mahogany desk where a Unicorn sat working with one of those new typewriters she had seen at the technology shop. Her typing was the only sound in the room as everypony had a very uncomfortable 'scared' look on their face. Approaching the Unicorn, Grapes realised the desk was subtly higher than any pony, forcing them to look up at this stern mare who looked almost like she had been cast from Iron. "Miss Impertinence, I presume?" Grapes said with a wry smile, and a tilt of her head. The typing came to a stop, and the mare turned to peer over her triangular glasses down at Grapes. For a moment Grapes had a feeling of smallness, as if she were intruding on this pony's vastly more important time. She took a quiet breath and centred herself. She had been invited here, after all. She had a Pass, and thus was supposed to be here, on time, and she was here, on time. "You would be correct. I am Miss Impertinence, Royal Personal Assistant to Princess Celestia, lady of the Solar Flame. Do you have an appointment?" "Yes, ma'am. I am Sour Grapes, head winemaker, farmhoof supervisor, and head of quality control of Grapevine Hills Vineyard and Winery," Grape said sounding just as snooty and officious as Impertinence, obviously in mockery of the stuck-up mare. "I also have a pass that you sent me, as proof of said appointment." "Ah yes. Princess Celestia did wish for a formal examination of your product for possible use at various upcoming events." She turned her head slightly to the large set of doors bearing Celestia's Heraldry and Grapes could see how her mane had been pulled back into a severe bun which only served to accent this Mare's angular features. "I'm afraid Celestia's meetings with the board of Agriculture has run long today, as has her time with the Pit-Pony guild. Please have a seat and you will be called in rotation." Grapes saluted, and sat herself down, pulling out her Daring Do book, obviously well prepared for a long wait. She did have time to reflect on the room. How it had been designed to intimidate those who came in. To force them to sit in silence at the whim of somepony who's gaze could make royalty squirm. She was aware that a Pony she was certain was a Prancian Aristocrat, was politely as possible reading over her shoulder. Then the silence was shattered as a happy voice sang out from nowhere "Ahhhhh... Impertinence my sweet! And how has the morning been to you?" Glancing up she saw a White and black figure wrapped in ebon and silver robes sweep across the carpet to an obviously irritated Impertinence. “It WAS absolutely well, until your arrival, Oh... Royal... Vizier." "Ready for me to turn the page?" Grapes whispered to her co-reader, as she watched the Vizier irritate the oh so stuck-up Impertinence. He looked evil, but something about him put her at ease. Maybe it was because he didn't care for Perty's overbearing personality any more than she did. Her co-reader blushed and nodded, but also seemed distracted by the sudden appearance of the Royal Vizier. He looked... gaunt. His bone-white coloring clashed with the greasy tangled black of his mane. He grinned through sharp-looking ivory yellow teeth as his red eyes scanned the room, and even caused a few ponies to try to duck. And yet for the goat-like features he had, and the robes he wore, the one part that stood out in her mind was that horn. She had seen many unicorns and most horns had a graceful spiral to it. certainly some had been nicked or notched from injury, she had even known a Unicorn who's horn had been broken in an accident and he had it capped with a flat golden crown, but the Viser's actually TWISTED up like a corkscrew. It was a shocking detail that you couldn't help but stare at. Again the Vizier grinned at the Personal Assistant and majicked her day-planner out from under her nose. "Looks as though you're going for a hat-trick today, my darling. Let me see if I can speed things up. Mmmm... No. No. Nope. Uh-Uh. Not my style," the gaunt looking unicorn mused, as he looked at the entries for the day. "Guarity!" she hissed looking not unlike a teakettle starting to boil. "Return my Day-Planner. I will not just sit back and let you disrupt..." "YOU!" Guarity shouted, pointing at Grapes with his hoof. The ponies on either side of her 'scootched' away from Grapes slightly hoping not to get hit by... whatever was about to happen. Grapes sighed, marking her place, shrugging helplessly to the Prancian Noble. "Can I help you, sir?" Grapes said calmly. Sure he was ugly, sure he looked sinister, but she was NOT going to let him intimidate her. She wasn't sure HOW he did it, it was like his legs hadn't even doing anything under those robes. Like he just... flowed over like mercury. He smiled and slipped a hoof behind her. The touch made her skin want to crawl but she had been ready for it. He seemed the type. "Come along young mare. You don't wish to keep the Princess waiting for your appointment, do you? We'll take the service entrance and bypass all those uppity guards," Guarity said with a smirk. "Guarity! I swear, by Celestia herself..." Impertinence uttered threateningly. Grapes, honestly, couldn't help it. She was finding Impertinence's frustration incredibly amusing. It was about as much fun as she had teasing Rarity about her crush on Applejack. She was guided over to one of the tapestries that rolled aside to reveal a hidden passageway behind it. Just as she entered she heard 'Guarity' call back to Impertinence. "Keep fighting the good fight, my precious!" Guarity called back as he closed the service entrance. "OOOH!" was the last thing they heard from the uptight personal assistant. Grapes waited until the service entrance door was closed, before she started snickering. The passageway was narrow but far from cramped and softly lit nicely by razor thin, beams of light streaming through slits in the wall, and striking a series of crystals high up on the wall. The dark gray walls and oak and iron beams that supported the castle's weight were a far cry from the pristine white stone and plaster she had seen making up the palace on the outside. "So, Miss Sour Grapes, how are you finding your trip to Canterlot so far? I hope that the Dew Drop Inn is to your liking." "It is quite cozy, I have to admit. The restaurant owner knew my parents, so that was fun. I wasn't expecting accommodations, but I have to admit the treatment of Equestria's tradesponies is not something to complain about," Grapes said with a nod. "Well too many ponies in Canterlot seem to forget who's backs they stand upon. I find it easier to extend some small gestures in the now than to ward off pitchforks and torches later." Guarity paused a moment to open a small slot on the wall and peer through it. "And here we have the royal library where much of Equestria's written history is stored. Care for a peek?" Grapes looked through the slot. "Doubt many ponies are here, considering it's the middle of the day on a weekend." "There used to be only one regular. But she had special privliges. From this angle you can see on the glass-encased podium the original Treatise Equestriorum, the original agreement between the three tribes of Ponykind before the Hearth’s Warming unification," the Vizier observed, as the winemaker peered at the library. "That was probably Twilight Sparkle," Grapes said musingly. "She did say she used to spend a lot of time there." "Why yes. Yes it was. Nice pony but rather antisocial... More interested in her studies than meeting other ponies. I'm pleasantly surprised she's actually wound up with some friends,” Guarity observed, thoughtfully. "I've met her. She's fun to talk to." He closed the hatch ont he wall and led her further down the hidden corridors, taking lefts and rights at various intersections. Pointing out points of interest both inside and outside of their crawlspaces. Despite her initial reaction to him, Guarity came across as a quirky tour guide than a Royal Vizier. "And if you look through this small hatch right here..." he said opening up a another peephole for her. "Mmm. What will I see, this time?" Grapes mused, peeking through the hole. "The Stallion's changing room for the Royal guard." Guarity said matter-of-factly. "I belive you're catching them just after the changing of the guard." Grapes blushed and backed away. "Now that there is just plum improper," she said. He grinned and gave a rather sinister-chortle. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. But I suppose no tour is complete without seeing SOMETHING inappropriate. Ah... here we go. Just down here will take us straight to the throne room." Grapes couldn't resist one last peek before shutting the peep hole and following the Impish Unicorn. She couldn't help but wonder a bit about Stormy... But she wasn't about to start putting peep holes into the bunkhouse for her personal titillation. She clip-clopped behind the Vizier with a grin. "So... I take it you're whole 'evil vizier' thing is a front?" "Mmm? Why, Miss Sour Grapes, whatever brought you to that conclusion?" "Let's see... First and foremost, your demeanor. You're too cheerful, and impish to be truly evil. Secondly, you're very 'over-the-top' in your costuming. The robes have an enchantment to ooze, making you look like some kind of slug, or oil slick. It enhances the 'evil vizier' image. Considering the literary device of the 'evil vizier' most of them try, at least, to hide their nefarious plans, not lampshade the whole trope," Grapes observed. "However, most ponies are not careful observers, and will think that an evil look means an evil heart." Guarity paused and glanced back at her with a wistful smirk. "I wish I knew more ponies like you back in my days at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns.” "Heh. We're rare. We stand outside, and look in, and know what makes weaknesses, or strength. We know that Life is bucking strange, and just go with it," Grapes said with a smile. "And would never judge somepony because of where they came from, or how they look, or who they choose to love. Life may be bucking strange, but love is even stranger." "Well I suppose I DO lay it on awfully thick, but I find I can get SO much done when ponies overestimate what I'm capable of. Truth be told it really helps in the long run. Everypony skittering out of my path or assuming I'm up to no good... and few ever questioning my actions. Impertinence and myself work our hardest to pick up the slack of the pony sisters. Need an accord negotiated between two factions. Let the Princess do that... but when it comes time to write it up, and sew up the loopholes... well... let's say Celestia is a better DIPLOmat than a BEAUROcrat,” the vizier observed with a helpless shrug. "Bit of a mother hen, but that seems to be part of her nature." "She worked hard to earn her domain and defends it fiercely. Ah here we go. Let me go first and introduce you," Guarity said as he nudged a hidden switch on the wall and a segment of wall opened up letting in harsh white light. He moved into the hall quickly and quietly, and when Sour Grapes’ vision focused she could make out that she was not just IN the throne room, but behind and slightly to the left of the great throne itself. If she leaned just right, she could actually see the princess herself there. In spite of Grapes’ self-assured cynicism her breath caught in her throat as she saw the sculpted beauty of the Princess and the pastel-rainbow of her ever-flowing mane. Seeing her in person, so close felt like every rainbow and sunrise she had ever seen in her life all at once. And there... silently standing next to her in the blindingly white room was Guarity. A patch of sinister shadow in the sea of light. The fat bejeweled pony who was speaking to her only just now saw him and started to stammer and stutter at the silent distraction. Grapes rolled her eyes at the sight of the fat pony, and huffed a bit. Nobles. "And so, that is... I ah... must insist on the uh... redefinition of... the... price for corn on the open market. That is to say... " "Yes, yes, Mister Porkbarrel. I assure you that I will give this matter to my highest official for immediate processing. Oh what a coincidence. Here he is." Celestia hadn't even turned her head, there was no way she could have seen Guarity, her guards certainly didn't. Grapes noticed how their wings bristled as they turned back in surprise and glared at him. "Ah yes. The Maize Re-evaluation Reform Bill. Has that come up again? Do not worry yourself Oh Luminescent one. I shall take this off of your hooves and give it the attention that it duly... deserves." Porkbarrel seemed to cringe inside of his jewelry and robes before nodding graciously and backing up all they way out of the room. "Thank... thank you your grace, and thank you your Majesty," Porkbarrel uttered. "So Royal Vizier. What brings you to my throne room? Some important matter of state?" "Nothing escapes YOUR notice great Celestia. We have some issues to bring to the fore... but please... not in front of the guards." "Very well. As always you have my COMPLETE faith, Guarity. Guards... please form a perimeter outside of the throne room. I wish to remain undisturbed." The guards bowed low but gave Guarity such a GLARE that a lesser pony might have burst into flames. As soon as they were out Guarity motioned to Grapes to enter. "Might I present to you Master Winemaker, Owner of Grapevine Hills Vineyards and keen observer of pony society, Sour Grapes of Ponyville." Grapes trotted to the front of the throne, set down her crates, and genuflected, properly, before the sovereign. "Good day, your Royal Highness. I hope the nobles haven't been too obvious in their desire to take advantage of the common ponies." "No more than usual. Fortunately I have completely TRUSTWORTHY ponies such as my Royal Vizier to call upon," she said, a slight telltale smirk on her face. No doubt she wasn't just in on the joke, she authored it, notarized it and distributed it by hoof. Grapes grinned, impishly. "Glad to hear it, Your Royal Highness. You certainly surround yourself with interesting, and lively personalities." Celestia rose and descended the dais with a grace that reminded grapes of how the light of the sun slowly moved across the floor when it came through her bedroom window. She stood a moment before Grapes and then smiled. "You've guessed the truth about Guarity, haven't you?" "If one knows what to look for, it's obvious," Grapes said, nodding, then continued with a slight smirk. "The main give-away is how he lampshades the whole trope. The scheming, conniving 'evil vizier' He is the very epitome of the stereotype, from oozing robes, to what is obviously a naturally less than savory appearance. I was, however, taught to look beyond the surface, and see things for what they are, not how they appear to be." "I may have to include a lampshade-shaped headpiece now," Guarity said as he went to the balcony and opened the Prancian doors wide to let in fresh air. "It's a turn of phrase," Grapes said to Guarity. "It means to call attention to the very obvious use of a trope. It's also a literary device used to help preserve suspension of disbelief." "Guarity is perhaps one of my most loyal and indispensable members of my royal staff," Celestia agreed before motioning for Grapes to follow her to the balcony. "He is an absolute GEM of a find. He has a talent for dealing with the... the seamier side of politics." Guarity smiled at Grapes and pulled his robe up in the back, showing off a cutie mark that bore a green cloak and a silver dagger. "It's a gift." Grapes merely grinned, as she picked up her crate and followed Celestia out onto the balcony. "Nothing like a natural talent in cloak and dagger dealings," she said. The three of them stepped out onto the balcony and there was a small table set for tea-time with a gorgeous view of the city and a large portion of Equestria. Guarity brought out a pair of Velour pillows for the mares and setting them at the two plates, bowed. "If you'll forgive me, Princess I have some matters to attend to. Annoying Impertancance, Terrorising the staff, accepting bribes... the usual. Please enjoy your wine tasting. The server will be bringing up an assortment of small cakes shortly," the sinister looking unicorn said bowing. "Thank you Guarity," Celestia said with a regal nod. He left without fanfare and only once he was gone did Celestia speak. "He really does keep the Palace staff on their hooves. I cannot keep track of every detail, even with the return of my sister it is a full trough to keep track of, especially those who wich to take advantage of my good nature. I found him at my school for gifted unicorns some time ago. He was frequently snubbed, teased and bullied... but of all the students there, only he had the wit to recognise the entry examination for what it was." Grapes raised an eyebrow, and began unpacking her crate. Chateau D'Chevalier, Chateau D'Royal and Chateau D'Imperial were set by a pair of unassuming bottles. One of a glorious pink substance, and one of a... well... light green. She then brought out the cheese, and unwrapped it, and after that the tasting glasses. Grapes nodded at the arrangement and opened the Chateau D'Chevalier to breath a bit. "And what is it, exactly?" Grapes asked. "Well tell me this, Miss Grapes. You have studied hard to use your magical potential and come to the entry examination, and suddenly you are presented with a magical task not covered by the basic texts. Say... hatching the egg of a Dragon," Celestia posited, gazing at the brown unicorn intently. “What would you think?” "I would think that the teachers had set me up to fail," Grapes said bluntly. "Precisely. But while the solution of the test is not the failure in itself... but how well you handle it. We're teaching students how to harness magic... unless they can accept failure as a stepping stone to success then they could be more of a danger to themselves and the world than most would believe. Not only did Guarity see the test for what it was... he surprised the judges by pointing it out to them," the solar princess explained. "Hm. Interesting," Grapes observed, thoughtfully. "Well, as for the wine, I'm sure you're acquainted with my most well known vintages." "Oh yes. They are often a big hit at the Galloping gala every year... especially by those ponies who wish to be seen with a glass of them in their possession," Celestia observed. "Well, at least they're helping me live another year, pay my bills, and workers," Grapes said deadpan. "Sometimes you look at your hard work and wish it was appreciated for the effort you put into it, don't you?" the gloriously white alicorn queried with a raised eyebrow. "Is it that obvious?" Grapes uttered deadpan, with a slight smirk, then chuckled. "So... I hope I haven't disappointed TOO much. It's rather nice to meet you, in person, by the way." "And I am pleased to meet a Fellow Tradespony on equal hoofing," Celestia said with a smile. "You work in soil and vine while I work hard at constantly building, shaping, fixing and in general keeping Equestria in one piece. All these centuries of peace and comfort are not easily come to... or maintained. To be honest, you do NOT disappoint.” Grapes grinned, and poured a sample of the Chateau D'Chevalier. "This is my most popular - and least expensive - wine. Well known for being perfect for anything from a simple dinner, to relaxation. Apparently it's good in cooking, too." A quiet servant brought in some brightly colored pastries, just in time for the tasting. Celestia looked at the wine through the glass, examined the color, smelled the bouquet then took a sip. "Very pleasant. I can see how it would work well as a cooking alcohol as well." "The other two are exclusive Gala vintages," Grapes said opening the Chateau D'Royal. "I find them to be exceptional, but it's all a matter of opinion." "I'm certain they'll be quite nice. So I hear you and my... I mean Twilight Sparkle are getting along nicely. It's gratifying that her social circle is slowly expanding," Celestia observed, correcting herself for some reason. Grapes raised an eyebrow at the correction, but said nothing. "It's nice to have somebody to talk about literature, science, and astronomy," Grapes said. "She seemed to be quite happy that I knew who Starswirl the Bearded was, and what he contributed." "I must confess it hurt me a little that she preferred her studies to meeting other ponies and making friends when she was under my tutelage." Celestia drained her glass and returned it to Grapes for a refill with he next vintage. "One really shouldn't let school get in the way of one's education." Grapes chuckled, as she poured the next vintage into the glass, not putting TOO much into it. "So very true. But that seems to have changed for the better... Having my cousin, Applejack, drag her to the vineyard, along with the others was funny." "Oh yes. She was impressed by your pegasai workhooves. I believe that Guarity said they are also in my employ as part of the Royal Equestrian Rogue Weather Bureau. It's good to see somepony is keeping them out of trouble in their less active moments," the alicorn said meditatively. "Well... They all have a fantastic work ethic, and have been doing very well on the Vineyard," Grapes observed with a smile. "They're becoming good friends, too." Celestia sipped at her wine and nodded. "A much bolder flavor with smoky undertones. I like it. I have to admit that Ponyville has seen much in it's time... truth be told it is a 'hot-spot' for strange activity. It was no accident that I chose it as the location to have my thousandth anniversary of the summer sun festival, nor to send Twilight there. It shouldn't have surprised me so much that you wrote me a Friendship report out of the blue like that, and yet it did." "Well... It was a case of Friendship Report from a random pony who just happened to be Applejack's cousin," Grapes said jokingly. "But it just seemed appropriate for some odd reason. "You seem to enjoy my letters, so I keep writing," the winemaker added with a shrug, opening the Chateau D'Imperial. "Well after so many ponies bowing or plotting it's good to hear from ordinary citizens on what's going on. I sometimes wish I could be like Guarity and use illusions to disguise myself and walk unnoticed among the other ponies,” Celestia said wistfully. "You're kind of a hard pony to hide, Your Highness," Grapes uttered with a slight smirk. "Why thank you." Grapes chuckled, with a slight grin. "I don't suppose Twilight's been writing about me has she? I showed her how I balance both sides of my heritage, and she seemed intrigued by it." "Actually she has. She mentioned you were like sandpaper. Abrasive at first, but often resulting in a smoother finish once you were done." Grapes smiled a bit, as she unwrapped the cheese, and sliced it. "That was nice of her to say." "Yes. And now that you are here in person I can say that I find your blunt honesty to be refreshing. I might tire of it if exposed to it too much but in small doses..." the Princess said as she took another sip of the wine and nodded. "So you've had an evening to take in the sights of Canterlot. What is your opinion?" "In all honesty, I didn't see much. I discovered, quite to the dismay for someone who's friends are, for a large part, pegasai that I'm afraid of heights. I'm fine as long as I don't look down, though, so the chariot ride was all right," Grapes said thoughtfully. "Oak Cask's restaurant was very nice, and the Dew Drop Inn was incredibly pleasant, and homey." "I'm so pleased to hear that. It was on Guarity's suggestion that we currently use it for visiting tradesponies and I suspect Impertinence doesn't put up a fuss over that because it's on the inexpensive side. I wish I could see it for myself but he assures me that it's rather nice, and the restaurant next door quite pleasant... he's even brought me some boxed lunches from there on occasion,” Celestia mused, with a small smile. "Makes you wish for a good illusion spell, hm?" Grapes observed, as she waited for the Princess to finish her current glass of wine. "Well, one that can disguise a full-grown Alicorn, reasonably well. I just love Oak Cask's wheatgrass smoothies, and would love to have one as it was meant to be drunk. With him talking your ear off," Celestia said smirking and placed the empty glass down and arched an eyebrow at the cheese. "I didn't realise you brought a selection of cheese as well. Branching out, are we?" "It's for one of the selections that I brought. It absolutely has to have a good sharp cheddar to taste right," Grapes said pouring a measure of Chateau D'Imperial. "You notice that one of the wines is a distinctive green color, correct? I will explain when we get to it." "Oh. Very well.. I like surprises... most often anyways. There are always some that I'm never prepared for... like Parasprites. I found your letter on what happened in Ponyville to be.. informative." "It was... interesting. I think Twilight tried a smidge too hard. But it is, apparently, a mistake that many mages have made," Grapes mused, thoughtfully. “Though it’s often hard to tell which would be the better choice. Save the food, or the structures.” Celestia nodded and sipped at the Chateau D'Imperial. "Yes... I made the same mistake when in Fillydelphia." "Tried to save the food, and ended up with a town full of holes, hm? I hope you found the solution, in time..." Grapes smiled up at Celestia. "Nice to hear that even you can make mistakes, though. Makes you seem more equine, instead of the plaster icon that most prefer to see you as." "Oh yes.. fortunately I thought to undo the spell, making them normal once more... and then Pinkie Pie arrived shortly afterwards. She is rather talented, even if I had that song in my head for DAYS afterwards," the Princess uttered, with a roll of her eyes. "I know, right?! Even now I find myself humming that blasted polka," Grapes uttered, bringing her hooves to her head in an overly dramatic gesture. Celestia laughed and nodded. “I only got the tune out of my head after I transcribed the music into the Canterlot library of musical scores. I didn't know what else to call it other than Pinkie Pie's Parasprite Polka." "Annoyingly catchy, isn't it?" "Oh yes. I noticed the archivist started humming it after he read the sheet music," Celestia observed, chuckling. "And how are you enjoying the most expensive wine of my Vineyard, Your Highness?" Grapes said, moving oh so carefully away from the subject of the annoyingly catchy Parasprite Polka. "Oh it's delicious. It's so very... rich. I can nearly taste the history of your vineyard in it." "Thank you," Grapes said with a grin. "These two, though... They're interesting. From a line I call 'Applejack Wagers'. There's a story behind that." "Oh really now?" Celestia asked with a smirk. "Care to share the tale while you pour?" "Well, as you know, I love across the road from Sweet Apple Acres, so Applejack and I grew up together. When I was young, impetuous and rather full of myself, after I had learned how to make wine, I bragged to Aye Jay that I could probably make anything into a potent potable. So Applejack took it upon herself to see if that was true," Grapes explained. "Oh my. Such bravado to be called upon,” Celestia chuckled. "Well... The first ever experiment was a failure, and a success. I made an alcohol from asparagus, but it wasn't palatable... But then Applejack forgot to make that a condition." The princess giggled and nodded. "I cannot imagine asparagus alcohol." "It tasted horrible, but made good lamp fuel," Grapes said drolly. "Now this is broccoli wine," she added pouring a very small measure. "In order for it to taste good, you need to take a bit of the cheese, chew it a bit, then take a sip of the wine." "You came prepared," Celestia observed taking up some of the cheese. "And thank you for the warning... Between you and I, broccoli has been the bane of my existence since I was a foal." "Really?" Sour Grapes asked, curiously "Yes... well broccoli and alfalfa." "You too?" Grapes asked sounding astonished. "You as well?" the Princess asked, surprised. "Alfalfa... I hate alfalfa..." "I often made Luna fear the Alfalfa monster when I was forced to eat the horrid stuff," Celestia said with an air of nostalgia. "Alfalfa monster?" Grapes queried, giggling. "Seriously?" The princess giggled, and rolled her eyes. "I'm afraid so. She was my little sister and so I would do what an older sibling would do with a younger when eating such nasty stuff. " Grapes tilted her head. "Uhm... I wouldn't know what an older sibling would do with a younger, when eating that horrid stuff. I'm an only child." "Ah... well it involves chewing alfalfa then displaying it and growling out "Alfalfa Monster! Bleaugh!" the white alicorn exclaimed, waving her forelegs in a mock-menacing manner. Grapes made a face. "Bleugh..." she said, then chuckled. "Oh it was oodles of fun. She would squeal out 'eww' and giggle and somehow having to eat it wasn't quite so bad," the Princess chuckled, smiling at the happy memory. “The only way I would eat broccoli back then was when cheese was poured all over it first." "Yeah. I'm kind of perturbed and amused about making a wine that practically requires cheese to taste good," Grapes observed. Celestia chewed thoughtfully before sipping at the green drink and making a slight face. "I think... it could be a hit at a wine and cheese party.” "Now you know why I didn't give you much," Grapes said with a slight grin. "Do you like watermelon?" "Actually, yes. I can't be seen enjoying one in public... not the way they were MEANT to be enjoyed anyways." Celestia rolled her eyes dramatically and gestured in a very un-royally dramatic manner. "Oh yes! It's perfectly FINE for a princess to have small cubes of watermelon on little toothpicks but Heaven and Earth FORBID you want a large slice and a spittoon." Grapes blinked. "You'll have to excuse me, Your Highness, but I need to collapse in laughter, right now. I'll be right back." And with that rather polite declaration, she did. "Oh, by the sun and stars," Grapes gasped between guffaws, "that's about as good as Grannie Smith going on about Hasslehoof!" The princess grinned and nodded. "I'm sorry if that came out less than princessly but I have been dying to say that to somepony they way I felt about it. There is only so much I can confide in Guarity about.” Grapes slowly got back to her feet, still giggling. "So... One-at-a-time, or repeater crossbow?" "It's been so long I don't honestly know... " the alicorn admitted with a smile. "If on your next trip you could smuggle a watermelon in I'll share it with my sister and let you know." "All right. I'll have to see what I can do. Maybe get Twilight to help me with that. Some kind of holding bag so it won't be obvious," Grapes mused, thoughtfully. "ANYway," she continued, pulling out a clean tasting glass, "I present for your tasting pleasure watermelon wine. I have it on good authority that it's twenty percent cooler than other wines... But that's just one pegasus' opinion." "By all means. Let's see what we have." "Fluttershy seemed to enjoy it too," Grapes said, as she poured the dark pink hued wine into the clean glass. "Actually they all did." Celestia looked at the pink colored fluid through the glass and smiled. "Well I can honestly say that I like the hue. It's so cheery." "I hope you'll enjoy the taste, Your Highness. I haven't come up with a good name for it, yet, but I think I'll leave that to my new marketing manager." Celestia savored the sample for a moment, then smiled. "Something with the word 'summer' in it would not be amiss. I can see this as a picnic favorite." Grapes nodded. "I can see that." "Oh I am so enjoying this one. I may have to have a crate shipped to my personal stock... but then I'd need a personal stock to begin with," the Princess mused, thoughtfully. "Well thankfully I can get you started with a 'personal stock' with this stuff. Hmmm... 'Summer Sunrise' sound good?" Grapes asked, after a moment’s thought. "That sounds very pleasant. I'd go with that, myself." "Glad you like it. I'll be sure to ship you a case of Summer Sunrise, then," Grapes said with a grin. "And anything else you'd like, of course. I'd use the D'Royal, and D'Imperial for your formal functions. Known expensive, so your delegates will think you're going all out for them. A little pampering makes ponies pliant." "Wonderful. I'll have Impertinence deal with the appropriate paperwork for shipping then." The princess agreed before taking another sip. "Do you have anything cheap that can be passed off as Elite? Blueblood's birthday is coming up soon." Grapes did a full body shudder. "I'd be tempted to foist off the broccoli wine on him, Your Highness. He is a complete and utter git." She smirked and nodded "I know... and yes. I do belive that your Broccli Wine would no doubt be a big hit at his party. The rich and witless would spend incredible amounts of money if they thought bad taste was trendy." "And it'd probably help the Trottingham cheese makers," Grapes said with a smirk. "Never mind get that barrel of broccoli wine out of my cellar." "I'll take it," Celestia laughed. "Put it in some expensive-looking bottles and I'll tell him I spent four times the price it actually cost." "Deal, Your Highness," Grapes laughed, offering a hoof to either shake or be bumped in triumph. The deal was sealed between the two mares, and after sharing some more time together with small talk, tea and danties, Guarity made his appearance to show Grapes the grounds while Celestia got back to business. As the two walked through the Royal Gardens, Guarity paused to look up at a rather impressive statue of a draconequus before he glanced back at her. "So how was your time with the Princess?" "It was nice to finally meet her in person. She's quite likeable," Grapes observed. "I know... I so wish all of Equestria could see her that way, but there are far too many who would try to take advantage of her in that respect. She used to get so... lonely. I try to be her friend as much as I can without breaking protocol. She got a little better when she took Twilight under her wing, and now that Princess Luna is back she's nearly beaten all those spells of melancholy she used to fall into. I suspect that having an ordinary pony to speak to openly and honestly will be good for her,” Guarity said, as they trotted along. Well Grapes trotted, he flowed, as usual. "I bet nobody appreciates how positively impish she can be," Grapes mused, thoughtfully. "Oh yes.. she has quite the sense of humor. Twilight helped to rekindle that a little... she used to 'sic' me on her to teach her illusionary magic." Grapes chuckled heartily. "So how do YOU eat watermelon? One-at-a-time, or repeater crossbow?" she asked with a smirk. "One at a time, thank you very much." Guarity said matter-of-factly. "I get better accuracy and distance." "I'm definately going to have to see if Twilight can make me a holding bag, now..." Grapes chuckled. "Princess Celestia can't remember which one she preferred." "Now that's proof that you're helping her out of her shell,” the vizier said with a grin. "I can always smuggle the watermelons under falsified documents. I can claim them as Books, or vases or some such." "Oh, it gets even worse," Grapes snickered. "I brought a libation of mine that's... interesting. A broccoli wine. Our beloved Princess thought it was a fine idea to foist it off on Blueballs -er- Blueblood's birthday." Guarity laughed, a surprisingly rich voice from the sinister pony. "Oh... I don't know what's funnier. The gift, or your nickname for that boor." "So he hasn't changed in the past four years. He's still the biggest nothing in the principality." "Well I wouldn't go QUITE that far... There are others worse than he. But he's still a contender for first place,” the vizier said thoughtfully. "He still does nothing to help the equine condition, and contributes nothing to the greater good, apparently," Grapes said, sourly. "He believes his only purpose is to 'inspire' other ponies to his 'ideal',” Guarity muttered with a roll of his scarlet eyes. "Hemph. So the only thing he's good for is paying tradesponies like myself his bits for the trinkets he thinks are imporant. Typical. I think half of Canterlot heard me tell him that to his stuck-up snobby face. Too bad Rarity's setting herself up for a huge disappointment," Grapes said shaking her head, sadly. "Is she a smart pony?" "She's a savvy businesspony, and one of the up-and-coming fashion designers, but she's got a 'thing' for Royalty, unfortunately. I'm sure she, and my poor cousin, Applejack, are probably setting themselves up for disappointment." "But they are bright enough to know when the truth is right in front of them?" "Possibly. Though Rarity may convince herself she can change a sow's ear into a silk purse," Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. "Hmmm... Depending on the strength of her resolve, she may have a chance of succeeding. To date YOU have been the only pony who has ever confronted him on ANY issue. All the others think that his fewmets smell like roses, and tell him so," Guarity observed, casually. "If I didn't dislike the Gala so much, I'd want to be here, when Rarity finally gets tired of his boorishness." "Can you keep a secret, Miss Grapes? Ah! Of course you can, silly me," Guarity said with a chuckle. "Very well then... Between you and I, there is another reason for my existence as the Royal Vizier. It's more than just keeping the ponies on their hooves thinking a sharper mind that Celestia is stalking about. Sometimes... sometimes..." he grew quiet and Grapes saw the puckish caviler attitude drain out of him for a moment. "...Sometimes our Princess needs to make difficult decisions. Hard choices that are for the greater good, but extremely unpopular in the eyes of her subjects. Some of these decisions can undermine the people's trust in her, and so... I am... I'm...here to provide her with plausible deniability.” "So you're a professional scapegoat, hm? I can see the need, though. Everypony needs to see her has a benign ruler, not somepony who makes harsh decisions which may seem horrible in the short term, but will have long-range benefits,” Grapes said thoughtfully. "Not many ponies have a long-term view of things... They see one, ten maybe twenty years down the road at best. Dear Princess Celestia has to see her kingdom in centuries. What seems harsh today may have a glorious repercussion two hundred years from now,” Guarity observed. "Not everypony has her longevity." The vizier hesitated and gave a giggle. "I might... after a fashion. I've only been doing this for a few decades now, but I've been doing such a good job Ponies are SWEARING that I was the one who suggested Luna's banishment." Grapes had to laugh. "Your reputation is retroactive," she uttered with a grin. "I know... I hate to say it but even Princess Luna is second guessing herself. Her memories as Nightmare Moon are... befuddling for her,” Guarity said, obviously concerned. "Well, she may need to get out more. Being stuck, here, can't be good for her." "It's hard for her to take that step. She's ashamed of the actions of her other self, because she gave voice to her own secret feelings... as distorted as they became. She's actually coming out into the garden during daylight now," Guarity observed, as they strolled about the guardens. "Hm. Foal-steps, I suppose," Grapes mused. "FORSOOTH! ANOTHER GLORIOUS DAY IN THE ROYAL GARDENS! MY, MY SISTER'S ROSES LOOK LOVELY THIS AFTERNOON!" came a painfully amplified voice from the middle of the gardens. "GAH!" Grapes yelped. "Ah... that would be her. Pardon me." "Oh my poor aching ears," Sour Grapes groaned. Grapes followed behind Guarity, trying NOT to be seen by the lunar princess. Mainly not to disturb the alicorn. She watched as Guarity stuffed cotton into his own ears and ducked quickly behind a large hedge. "Gooooood afternoon, your Majesty. Good to see you up and about." "AH! ROYAL VIZIER! IT PLEASES US TO SEE THEE AGAIN. TELL OUR SISTER THAT WE WISH TO TAKE TEA TOGETHER AROUND SIX. WE WISH TO DISCUSS THE UPCOMING ECLIPSE." "As you wish oh, luminescent one. May I direct you to the grand Lunar fountain in the eastern portion of the garden. The Sculptors have repaired the damage you accidentally caused last month." "AH, THAT IS GOOD. I DID NOT MEAN TO ATTACK IT SO... I SIMPLY DID NOT CARE FOR NIGHTMARE MOON TO BE IMMORTALISED THUS." "True, but it is part of Equestrian history. We DID however add a statue to represent your current countenance. It comes across as rather striking." "VERY WELL. WE SHALL GO AND SEE IT. WE HOPE SUCH A COMPROMISE PLEASES US GREATLY." Grapes simply sat on her haunches, her ears covered. "Great googlie mooglie... Does she think we're all deaf?" “I hope it pleases you as well, your grace. Oh yes, we did get an assortment of wine samples today. Your sister may wish your opinion on them later on." "WE TRUST OUR SISTER'S JUDGEMENT BUT AS SHE SEEKS OURS WE SHALL THEN GIVE IT. THANK THEE VERY MUCH ROYAL VISIER. WE SHALL LOOK AT THE FOUNTAIN NOW." "Good day to you then, Princess. I shall let your sister know of tea time." Guarity returned to Grapes and winced as he pulld the cotton from his ears. "Well... my horn is extra curly today." "Why does she talk with her volume cranked to eleven?" "It's how they... that is, Canterlot ROYALTY, used to speak in the way back time. I'm uncertain if she even remembers how to speak quietly. " "They used to shout? Why?" Sour Grapes asked with an inquisitive tilt to her head. "I haven't the foggiest. It's up there with them using the royal 'WE' when speaking... I'm just glad that the trend has fallen out in the last thousand years. Luna is somewhat behind the times, trying to adapt to innovations and new social conventions... she actually was fearful a Stallion's unshorn fetlocks would incite the present mares to a riotous lust." "Not my thing," Grapes said drolly. "No... I suspect your thing might be more towards practical ponies with strong backs and an even stronger work ethic," Guarity observed with a smirk. "Got to have a brain, too," Grapes uttered with a smirk. "I actually like intellectual stimulation." “Ah... were I younger... and better looking, better shape too, I might take the risk of rejection. As it stands I'm enjoying the relationship, I have with Impertinence. She's so... cute when she's furious." Grapes raised an eyebrow at that. "What? I personally would like to see what she's hidden under that armor plate she calls a personality." Grapes chuckled. "It's been said it's always the quiet ones," she chuckled. "I wouldn't exactly quantify Impertinence as 'quiet', however. But somebody that... well... repressed has got to have a really bucking wild side that's just itching to be let out." "Oh. I would like you to know that SOMEhow your room has been booked for five days rather than a day. Fancy that. If you wish to make the best of it there are a lot of things about Canterlot you might wish to take in before heading home," the Vizier said impishly "Wait.. what? I thought I was here for the weekend... I don't suppose we could ask the Princess to send a letter to Lady Weathervein... I need to tell Stormfront he's in charge for longer than I thought..." "I can deal with that, quite promptly. As Royal Vizier I have some resources at my disposal too, you know," Guarity said with a smirk. "Unless you can send a letter to someone who could receive D-Mail directly... That would be quicker," Grapes mused, thoughtfully. "You mean Twilight Sparkle? Consider it done. "Actually, I meant Stormfront. He can get a letter sort of 'poofed' to him from Weathervain... But I'm not sure how that would work, but Twilight does know Stormy, so that may be quicker... Just wasn't expecting an extended stay." "You don't HAVE to stay. It just seemed a little silly for you to come for a day of work and leave," Guarity said with a shrug. “Well, it does, kind of, to me, too, but... Well... It was what I was expecting. I haven't really had a vacation in ages, either, but now with the Storm Riders as farmhooves, I can take advantage of the extra time," Sour Grapes said with a grin. "Alright then. I'll inform Miss Weathervain of your extended stay and she can have Smudge pass along the information to her charges," the bone white unicorn asserted with a nod. Grapes nodded, and smiled. "Sounds good. I guess I could wander around a bit, and see the sights. Never been here before, after all." "Oh... and one more thing..." A small silver key came out of his robes and levitated over to her. "To the Royal Library. I believe you will find it rather illuminating." "Thank you," Grapes said with a nod. "Twilight did mention that you were one of the most well-read ponies in Ponyville. You actually read that book on Obscure Unicorn History." "Yes, yes I did," Grape asserted, with a grin. "And I know who Starswirl the Bearded was, as well as Geode the Earthy." "Oh! That's not a commonly known obscure Unicorn, either," Guarity said, sounding impressed. "I rather like old Geode... Heh... I've also read 'On the Confluence of Magics'. Starswirl the Bearded seemed to have quite the thing for pegasai, if chapter six is to be believed," the winemaker said with a small laugh. "Mmm Yes. Of course one has to read between the lines for it," the vizier mused, thoughtfully. "True. I'm kind of good at that," Grapes said with a slight smirk. "It may have been such an infatuation that lead to his study of the inherent magic all three pony species. How else would he hide it?" Guarity queried, obviously enjoying the conversation "Hm. True. But that chapter helped me balance my earth pony abilities with unicorn magics. Can't do much with either, they being at half power, but I'm good at what I can do," the brown unicorn explained, as they walked back to the entrance. "I noticed how well you manipulated that heavy crate. That's some rather strong Ponykinesis," the vizier observed. "Earth pony strength bleeds into ponykenesis. But I can only levitate one thing at the time. I can lift heavy things, but I can't juggle them to save my life," Grapes explained. "But still impressive. So the guards now know who you are, and have instructions to let you come and go from the library as you see fit," Guarity explained. "Thank you, Guarity. I appreciate it." "Now go forth, remember that your meal bill at the hotel is covered by the castle but everything else is up to you... Are you good?" Guarity asked, obviously concerned. "I'm good. Both in virtue, and in well being," Grapes replied with a slight smirk. With that, she bid the Royal Vizier adeau, and went back to her hotel, for the evening. Tomorrow she was going to start on her long overdue vacation, and explore the city. > Curing Final Harvest Melancholy > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes got off the train, glad to be back at Ponyville. Canterlot is a nice place, and was a nice change of pace, but she was never one for the big city. Ponyville felt smaller, and less crowded but far more welcoming. If Canterlot was always standing at attention, Ponyville was seated on a bench offering you the seat next to it. She started heading over to where her luggage was being offloaded along with the souvenirs she had splurged on. She always prided herself on not being an impulse buyer but she couldn't resist a few of those items. It was then that she noticed a large number of ponies all in a group against the station wall. She turned to take a good look and saw all of her Farmooves standing there with wide smiles on their faces... and little Earshot holding up a plank of wood with "MisS SouR GrApes" scrawled on it in bright yellow paint. Grapes had to laugh. "Hey, everypony. Did you miss me?" she asked, a smile on her face. "YES!" came the unanimous cry, causing the ponies at the train station to turn their heads in time to see Grapes getting mobbed by her workers. "How was it?" "Did you meet the Princess?" "Did they like your wine" "Did the green wine make anypony sick?" "Did you bring us anything?" "How was your trip?" The questions came fast and numerous until she held up her hooves and they settled down. It was like being mobbed by a horde of schoolfoals, to be honest. Grapes found it rather amusing, but it warmed her heart that the pegasai missed her so. "Come on! Come On Miss Grapes! We got some lunch waiting for you at Sugarcube corner!" Earshot said tugging on her vest. "Thistledown has the cart waiting out front." "Wow... I wasn't expecting such a warm welcome," Grapes said, as she was tugged along. "Well we figured you might actually miss the company of your hired weirdos," Stormy joked as he took the saddlebags from her back and put them on his own. "You know... seeing as Canterlot is so full of those stuffy high-society ponies with their noses in the air and riding crops shoved so far... uh no offence Queenie." "Oh you know I don't take such commentary personally Stormfront. But I'm certain such generalisms don't hold for everypony in Canterlot." “That’s definitely not true of Princess Celestia,” Grapes observed, as she trotted along with her luggage cart to the cart of a different sort that Thistledown was watching over. It took her a moment to recognise the old all-purpose cart they used on the farm. Someone had repaired it... no not even repair, it had been given a total overhaul. Tired timbers had been replaced, corners smoothed, the wheels now were more decorative and the whole thing was given a rather sharp paintjob of bright yellow with a stylised stencil version of the Vineyard Label on the side in wine-purple. Thistledown stood there grinning, all trussed up at the front and wearing one of the vests that Rarity had been working on. The sunshine yellow one that matched the cart. "Welcome home Boss. Hop on in and I'll trot you over to Sugarcube corner," the green pony called. "What has been going on in my absence?" Grapes asked, nearly doing a jaw-drop at the refurbished cart. "Well Miss Rarity came by with some really nice workvests for us. She said she wanted us to try on the different colors for a while to see what seemed to work for us. So for the past few days we've been trotting about with different colored vests and I have to admit sometimes pockets come in handy. And to be honest I like the yellow one and I felt the poor cart had seen better days so I convinced everypony to help me fix her up for you," Thistledown replied. Grapes loaded her luggage then climbed aboard, herself. “I hadn’t even ordered the vests, yet,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Leave it to Rarity to take the initiative. I wonder how much I owe her?” "Oh these aren't the final product." Thistledown said letting Grapes take a closer look. It was indeed lacking the careful stitching, dense fabric, embroidered logo and other details that were typically 'Rarity'. "See? She did these mock-ups for us to wear so when she collects them later from us she can see how they have worn out as we work as well as get our opinions on colors best suited for us. She normally doesn't make 'off-the-rack' so she has to make these as generic as possible so that later on she... or Celestia forbid... any other tailor or seamstress can make adjustments with minimal effort." "Not looking forward to the bill, even so," Grapes said quietly. "Gotta admire her professionalism. I mean look at the way this flatters my flank... and for a mock-up it's like wearing nothing at all," Thistledown enthused merrily, as they made their way to Sugarcube Corner. Grapes chuckled, shaking her head. The trip there was short, as most trips inside of Ponyville proper were, and the Cakes were happy to see her, as with all their customers (except maybe Dustbin but that was for some fairly specific reasons). A table had been set up outside and an assortment of treats brought out to them and some fresh lemonade to start with. “Geez, you guys,” Grapes laughed. “Okay. What happened, while I was gone, hm? Did the bunkhouse fall down around your ears? Do I have a house, or vineyard to return to?” It was obvious she was joking. "Well a few things went totally tail over teakettle but most of it we were able to get under control," Stormy said before earshot bumped in. "Yeah! we had a storm while you were gone and the lightning hit the old barn but Firestormer got us organized to put it out awful fast!" "Eh. Best she hears about it now than when she finds the charred lumber on the comp-pile,” Firestormer observed. “Well... It was just taking up space, since Dad build that new barn,” Grapes observed. “Any other disasters I need to know about?” Sirocco coughed into her hoof. "Just that when young Earshot went into town to mail a package we had a... mass-bunny migration," said the umber-coated pegasus, before pausing a moment looking a little uncomfortable. "I would swear by the sun and moon that they seemed to be taking advantage of his absence. Fortunately flight does not take long so he was back before they could deal any damage on an unrecoverable scale. It did make for a... tense hour on the vineyard." “While the Night Pony’s away, the bunnies will play, huh?” Sour Grapes asked, chuckling. “Why does that not surprise me?” They all chuckled over that and they spent an hour or two just playing catch-up on what had happened around Ponyville in general in her absence. Thankfully it was not much. Lovely thing about living in a small town is that it was relatively quiet. There had been word that a dragon had planned to take a long nap in the mountains just outside of town, resulting in some thick smoke drifting in. As usual Twilight Sparkle had gathered her friends and they went off and dealt with it rather quickly. "Miss Sparkle seems to always be in the thick of things, doesn't she?" Commented Firestormer as he stirred a hoofull of Cinnamon Red-hots into his coffee. “Pretty much,” Grapes commented, as she sipped her own morning libation, and munched a cinnamon roll. “But then, she and her friends are national heroes... Not that anypony would know it.” "You're kidding. I know that purple pony is the personal, perpetual Professor's pet to the Princess but a National hero? What did she do?" "Recovered the Elements of Harmony, and defeated Nightmare Moon," Grapes replied. "Along with my cousin, Applejack, and the rest of her best pals." "Oh. Yes... well... that would definitely be heroic," he said sounding rather surprised. For an instant Grapes noticed the strangest look on Firestormer's face. The others no doubt dismissed it as the embarrassment of being caught belittling somepony else's accomplishments before finding out they were actually grand ones. But that wasn't it at all. If she didn't know better she could have sworn that for a brief moment it was a look of intense guilt. “You look like a pony with a lot in his past,” Grapes observed astutely. "What? Oh... no. Sorry. It's nothing really worth," he began before Queenie leaned against him, nudging him slightly. "Ah, he's probably suddenly feeling like his big shiny medal isn't big or shiny enough compared to the accomplishments of Miss Sparkle and her friends." Grapes gave Queenie a flat look. "Queenie, don't you have someplace to be?" Queenie made a show of thinking about it before saying in an equally flat tone "I think not. My friends are here, welcoming you back and you are here." she smirked, her tone playfully teasing, much to Firestormer's embarrassment. It was easy to see the relationship between the two was that of an Older sister and a younger brother. Grapes had to chuckle, and shrug. “You know, as nice as this has been, I think, perhaps, we should head home... Before Pinkie gets it into her head to...” Grapes uttered, trailing off looking for the aforementioned mare. The sounds of an accordion began to fill the air heralding the appearance of a Pink Pony with an accordion between her forelegs and balancing a cake on her head as if it were a hat. "Welcome Back Grapes! Nopony told me you were gone, I had to find out from Mr and Mrs Cake as to why you were all sitting out here!" "Yeah, Pinkie, I just got back from spending a week in Canterlot," Grapes said, with a look on her face as if she was developing a migraine. "Ooh. I have a song for that!" Pinkie exclaimed enthusiastically. "No," Grapes uttered, trying to prevent a random musical number. "You do?" Earshot said his ears perking up. Grapes facehoofed. "Of course I do! What kind of pony would I be if I didn't have a song welcoming her friends back from Canterlot!" "Wow. Can I hear it?" Earshot asked gleefully. "Well it's for Grapes but sharing is caring! AH One and ah two and a..." The song was lively and blessedly short... and Grapes suspected she was making it up on the spot. After all 'Canterlot' didn't really rhyme all that well with 'Hugs-a-lot' but it was a decent attempt. And the cake made up for Pinkie's enthusiasm. Grapes considered very briefly asking Stormfront to bake her one of his cakes... if anything could slow this bundle of energy down it was his confectionaries. “Thanks, Pinkie,” Grapes uttered, with a slight smirk and a roll of her eyes. “You’ve... outdone yourself.” "Oh Your welcome! Now I gotta run, Vambrace is having his Barn-Mitzvah at four and I still gotta load my Party Cannon! Byeeeee!” "Pinkie Pie... Best taken in small doses," Grapes uttered, as she got up. “I like her, she's a breath of fresh air... granted it has the lingering odor of cotton candy, but still her perkiness is quite infectious," Queenie said with a giggle. Grapes simply rolled her eyes, and chuckled. “Well, as fun as this has been, it’s time for me to get integrated back into the routine, lest I forget how,” Grapes uttered jokingly. “The weathermares and colts still eyeing the lot of you?” she asked, as they trotted away from Sugarcube Corner. "Oh yes. Very much so." Sirocco said holding her head up a little more proudly than usual. "It may be my vanity speaking but sometimes it feels... gratifying to know others find you interesting enough to watch." “Hm... True. But I’ve not seen a pony like yourself around here... You are unique, all by yourself, Sirocco,” Grapes observed. “Though maybe you’ll find yourself a special somepony. Who knows?” "Perhaps one day I shall. The Ponies back home are not as... appreciative of a mare who knows her own mind. At least not in my herd," Sirocco said, sadly. “It’s a wonder we don’t have more ponies from where you’re from immigrating here,” Grapes observed, as they trotted toward the farmlands. "The world is a daunting place. Some ponies would rather stay with the Nightmare Moon they know... than the one they do not." “Let me guess... There are stories about Princess Celestia being a tyrant?” Grapes asked, looking at Sirocco. "Not so much a Tyrant but as harsh and unforgiving as the very sun she raises. It brings life but can also scorch and drain water from the land. It is understood by our kin that Benevolent does not always mean nice." "That's rather brave of you then, to have come so far in the world, Sirocco,” Stormy observed. "Thank you, Stormfront. But I could not have made it so far were it not for the one who came with me. He has gone on to fulfill his yearning to be a great actor while I follow my own dreams. We Creep in Touch," the exotic pegasus mare observed. "That's 'keep in touch', Sirocco," Grapes corrected, automatically. They were just coming up to the turnoffs to Sweet Apple Acres and Grapevine Hills when Earshot's ears suddenly shot straight up and swiveled in all directions in an almost violent manner. "Oh no!" he uttered. "That does not sound good,” Grapes observed with a roll of her eyes. "They're BACK!" he shouted as he began to gallop toward the frames in a mad dash, leathery wings flapping and adding to his speed. "Those little fluffy bundles of trouble came BACK!" The group watched as Earshot ran into the vine-shrouded frames and vanished from sight for a moment... then a large wave of bunnies, mice and moles all EXPLODED from the frames followed by an airborne Night-Pony, who suddenly looked very much like the creature of the night his people had earned a reputation for being. "You're NOT welcome here! Go AWAY!" Grapes sighed, shaking her head. “Looks like I’m going to have to bring in a specialist,” the chocolate brown unicorn observed, as she watched the critters scramble away from the irate Night Pony. The chaos that followed could have been considered pure comedy as Earshot flapped about the property, trying to both herd and drive off the nibbling horde. "Scoot! Move it! Don't me start a round of Nessun Draft Horse!" It was about all the Ponies around Grapes could do to keep from laughing. Finally after nearly ten minutes of amusing airborne antics it appeared they were finally rodent free. Thistledown continued to giggle and wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. "Wow... he takes his job in Grapevine Hills Pest Control seriously," he observed. “Everybody, check around for other creatures,” Grapes said. “There may be some hiding out in nooks and crannies.” They wandered off about the property. Searching around the property for any remaining critters. It was only after a thorough search that they declared the yards empty... all except for Earshot. They found him circling the old 'Copper Shed' on the far side of the property near the Everfree forest. He seemed to be 'singing' at it in his usual 'silent' way but with a frustrated look on his face. "I think I got rid of most of them, Miss Grapes, but a few of them have taken refuge in... this weird shed of yours. I've been trying to drive them out but the shape and materials just bounce most of my sound off." “The copper shed?” Grapes asked. “Did somebody leave the door open?” "Ah.. that would have been I," Sirocco said raising a hoof. "My apologies but there was a terrible odor in there so for the sake of our nostrils I cleaned out the offending materials and was airing it out earlier. I guess the window of responsibility for the bunnies in this case was a door." "Opportunity," Grapes said absently, mentally calculating how long it would take to get across town. "Well..." Stormfront said bending down to get a good look at the base of the shed. "They're cornered.. but they're very well shielded. That's six inches of copper plate between us and them... and the angles are all wrong to get a grip on to carry it anywhere... are those... wheels?" "Yeah, but all the mechanisms are all rusted solid. The lock works, and it's set up so you can't be sealed in from the outside... But if you lock yourself in, nobody's going to force you out, until you're good and darned ready,” Grapes explained. "So the Bunnies in there are safer than we are, that's for sure. So now what? Wait them out?" Stormy asked, looking around at the others. "Not a chance Stormfront... before we headed out to the train station I put some fresh sweetgrass down in there to sweeten the smell... They'll be fine for days," Sirocco said laying back her ears. "It was a nice thought Sirocco. I don't suppose anyone here speaks Long-eared rodent?" Stormy said kindly. "Nobody HERE. But there's Fluttershy,” Grapes observed. Stormfront's head swiveled to look at the large dull green inverted cone of the Copper Shed where the bunnies made faces through the small round windows before turning back to her and deadpanning "I don't think time is an issue here." “No. Time isn’t an issue, here. Fluttershy, herself, though, is,” Grapes said with a sigh. “She is, as her name would suggest... Well... Shy. Sometimes painfully so.” "Well lass..." started Summer Squall "If that's the issue then assure her that we'll give her, all the space she needs to do her job." “All right. I’ll go and get her,” Grapes said. “She knows me from around town... And from my asking her help, before.” There was no great hurry to get to Fluttershy's place but, Grapes felt silly trekking all the way clear across Ponyville just after getting home. Still it was something that needed to be done, and it probably was not good for bunnies to be left to their own devices in an old shed. She made a mental note that if she saw a cab on the way there... or back, to hire it. She really didn't feel a need to go back and forth more than what was necessary. Once Grapes got to the quaint turf hut, she sat on her haunches with a heavy sigh, taking a moment to catch her breath, before knocking on the door. The door slowly creaked open a crack and a wide light blue eye came into view. It blinked a moment, before it opened the rest of the way revealing the nearly painfully shy Pegasus. "Hey, Fluttershy," Grapes said, sounding rather tired. "I've got a small problem. Small... furry problem... Well problems. Some bunnies have holed up in my copper shed." "Oh. You have a shed for copper? That's a strange place for bunnies to hide, they usually prefer cool dark places made of earth and easy access to vegetables,” Fluttershy replied, tilting her head at the oddity. "No, it's a shed made out of copper," Grapes explained. "My dad said it could be an old machine." "Oh. And they're hiding in there? Maybe I could help. That is... if you want my help," the yellow pegasus uttered timidly. "I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't, Fluttershy," Grapes replied. "All right then. Let me just lock up and I'll be right with you,” Fluttershy said, as she briefly returned inside. Grapes could hear her admonishing her bunny to take care of things while she’s gone. This time Grapes was able to flag down a Cab. It would be worth the bits to save some energy on her part, and she knew it was a small price to pay for the free service that Fluttershy was providing. She never seemed to be concerned with bits. Grapes knew she MUST make money somehow but for the most part she simply could not work out where or how. "Is there anything I can offer you? As compensation, I mean, for helping with the lapin problem?" Grapes asked. "It doesn't seem... right to just have you come in and persuade the bunnies that the shed isn't a nice place for them, without offering you something in return." "Well... you make wine..." she said hesitantly "If you have a wine that's more sweet flavor than alcohol that would be a nice way to say thank-you." "Hmm... I'll have to think about that. I have the watermelon wine, of course, and a new strawberry wine... I'm going to have to start growing watermelon, because I got something of a, uh, royal commission to make more of the watermelon," Grapes mused, as they pulled up outside the gates of Grapevine Hills. "And don't be afraid. The farmhooves are going to make sure to give you plenty of space so you can work." "Oh... thank you. I really don't mind that much... I mean... they look like they're very nice and everything but... yes. I probably would need a little space," the timid yellow pegasus said, as Grapes escorted Fluttershy to the shed. “Well here it is,” Grapes said gesturing to the shed. “And there they are.” She heard the familiar sound of leathery wings fluttering, and noticed a shadow cast from behind the shed. She had hoped that Earshot would have gone off with the others but no doubt he was taking this personally. Being the youngest pony on the farm he took his job here seriously, even if he had some fun with it. "You guys gotta come out sometime. Come on... I'll even leave a bag of raisins at the front gate for you if you come out and go," Fluttershy murmured, cajolingly, then looked up at the leathery flapping. "Oh dear... I thought you said nopony would be around," she gasped, sounding frightened. "That's Earshot. He's a youngster, and... a little different. Not like any pony anyone's ever seen," Grapes explained. "Want to meet him? I don't think you mind nocturnal critters, do you?" "Oh I like nocturnal creatures. They have a sort of beauty all their own. Why do you ask?" Fluttershy queried, tilting her head curiously. "You're back already Miss Grapes?" asked Earshot popping out from behind the copper shed. His goggles were up on his forehead letting his wide golden eyes gleam in the fading rays of sun. HIs Dark leathery wings were spread displaying their bat-like nature and Grapes heard Fluttershy gasp in her typical quiet manner... but what happened next was surprising. "OH MY GOODNESS! A NIGHT-PONY! You're a Night-Pony! You... you're REAL!" the gorgeous yellow pegasus squeed cutely. "I... well. YES. Yes I AM a Night-Pony. thank you for noticing," Earshot said, taken aback by the rather positive reception. "Well that wasn't the reaction I was expecting," Grapes deadpanned. "Oh my. Oh my oh my oh my. You're so cute! And you're not dissolving in the sun. That's good news. It wouldn't be a nice thing to have the sun wash you away like that," Fluttershy enthused quietly "Is that what Ponies believe about us?" Earshot asked. "You mean you don't know?" she queried, obviously surprised by his not knowing. "Uh... not really. I'm the first to really get out among ponies in a serious way since... since the the fall of Princess Luna,” Earshot explained. "Oh... I'm sorry to hear that." “Don’t tell me you’re a Gracious Ardor fan...” Grapes uttered with a roll of her purple eyes. "Oh yes! I have ALL of her books and... and..." she trailed off sounding a little embarrassed. "Well I've been reading about Night-Ponies in books from a lot of different writers. They're really... neat." "You've got Crown Superior's books too? She's a hack," Grapes uttered, sounding dismissive of the entire Dusk series. "Well... You have to have her books or you'll never keep up with the popular culture of... well..." "Fluttershy, Crown Superior's works all sound like wish fulfillment fantasies of an unpopular secondary schooler. A helpless shrinking violet is wooed, and fought over by two warring tribes of fanciful creatures. Gracious Ardor... Heck, even that Pampelonne filly, writes more dynamic mare characters than Crown Superior," Grapes said, sounding incised. “I... I know. But some ponies like a little Wish fulfillment," Fluttershy murmured, shyly, looking at her hooves. "I'm not talking about the wish fulfillment aspect, but how the main character is just there to be fought over by the aforementioned fanciful creatures. She has no depth. Beautiful Purity was just... there," Grapes persisted. "Well, yes. You're right about that. She was just too... convenient. And well... while it's nice to be wanted they did come across as treating her more as a possession,” Fluttershy conceded, sounding thoughtful. "Even that Pampelonne mare, no matter how... lurid... her works are, can write a female character with much more depth... Though some of the personalities seem familiar," Grapes mused, thoughtfully. "O-oh really? I never noticed. Um... so... Bunnies?" "Right. Sorry. Get me talking about books, and we'll be here all day," Grapes said laughing at herself. Earshot giggled and tapped on the shed. "Yeah the Bunnies locked themselves in the old Copper Shed. I've been trying to get them out but... well... all they wanna do is make faces and wave at me." "Oh dear... they're not waving," Fluttershy said, sounding embarrassed again. "They're not?" Earshot asked. Fluttershy tippy-hooved up so she could look through the small window and called out "Do you hug your mommies with those paws?" "Rabbits can make rude gestures?" Grapes uttered. "You mean... those bunnies are giving me the PAW?" Earshot asked incredulously. "Oh yes. It's VERY rude of them. Pardon me a moment," she said. Fluttershy looked into the glass once more and said quietly, "Please let me in." There was a moment of silence, then a loud CLANK! before the door swung open and she went inside. Grapes could barely hear Fluttershy's naturally soft voice speaking to the bunnies. Occasionally she would pick up a couple of words here or there such as "that's not a good excuse" or "Oh dear." Still Earshot seemed to be following along... Of course he would be able to. He admitted to her once that his cutie mark, the one that looked like an ear with a stylised funnel symbolised his special talent was listening. That on a good day with the wind right, he could hear virtually everything in Ponyville from his bedroom window in the bunkhouse. At times she wondered if such hearing was a blessing or curse. The sheer amount of sound he must pick up might be maddening at times. Seeing as it was a private confession to her, she never shared it. Last thing ponies needed to know was that he could effortlessly invade their privacy no matter where in town they went. Fluttershy stepped out of the shed and smiled sweetly at Earshot. "The bunnies told me why they hid in there. They said that you were chasing them around, and telling them you were going to sing to them." "Singing to the creatures around the Vineyard is what I get paid to do,” Earshot said, with a nod. "Oh," he said quietly. this was information he already knew, but Grapes could see he really didn't want to hurt Fluttershy's feelings by telling her he was deliberately chasing them away with his singing. "Well... Miss Fluttershy? If you would be nice enough to tell the Bunnies... and in turn all the other creatures around here that... if they don't like my singing then maybe... coming to the Vineyard property isn't a good idea. I don't mind if they don't like my singing. Not everypony likes opera and I sing it to make sure the vines grow big and healthy so I can't stop, but if they leave now, they won't have to listen to me any more." Apparently satisfied with his answer Fluttershy nodded and went back inside. A moment later there was a small wave of bunnies pouring out the door and making a beeline for the wilderness. "Well that worked out for the best," Grapes observed. "I think they REALLY don't like your singing, Earshot." said Fluttershy as she exited the shed and nosed the door shut for them. "They're all gone and I think only the troublemakers will bother your Vineyard again. To be honest I think your singing is one of the nicer ways to keep them out. I've read in one of Twilight's books about some very not-nice ways earth ponies used to use. "So have I," Grapes said. "I prefer to use Earshot's subsonics to the less equaine methods." "Miss Applejack's dog seems to like my singing though. Sometimes she comes over and tries to sing along." Earshot giggled. "Thank you for helping us out Miss Fluttershy. Oh! May... May I BORROW your books?" Earshot asked. "You want to read about Night Ponies? But you're a... oh wait. You said you want to know how we feel about you. Well... I'm not sure all my books are good for a pony your age... That is unless you only look young and are really hundreds of years old," Fluttershy observed, thoughtfully, as they trotted away from the shed. "Oh no. I really am this young," Earshot said, chuckling. “Uhm... is it alright if I ask you about Night Ponies? I mean the real kind?" Fluttershy inquired. "Could somepony fix some tea... And do not let Stormfront anywhere near the flour, please," Grapes called out. Sirocco waved from behind the tree she had been behind. "I shall make the tea and clear the table at the bunkhouse eating area for you Miss Fluttershy. You and Earshot may spend some time there swapping insults," she said with a slight bow. "Insults?" Fluttershy asked, confused. "Sorry, her mastery of Equestrian idioms isn't the best," Grapes supplied with a shrug of her shoulders. "Ohh. I see. Thank you very much..." Fluttershy started, then trailed off, looking at Grapes inquiringly. "That's Sirocco. She's from the Great Dune Sea." "Thank you very much Sirocco. So... Earshot... do you fly very well with those wings?" Earshot and Fluttershy headed towards the bunkhouse with Sirocco in the lead. The other Ponies were no place to be found... No doubt either good at hiding or obeying Grapes' request to give Fluttershy some space. It was only a little later that she was in the new barn, making certain everything was squared away for the night when she heard a fierce belch and a pair of ponies giggling behind the back wall. Peering out the back window she could see a small scattering of orange-drink bottles on the ground and Thistledown sitting next to Firestormer as they drank fresher bottles and watched the sun go down. "Good one Thistledown," Grapes heard Firestormer assert. "I had a good teacher," came the reply. It looked as if this was where Firestormer and Thistledown spent their down time. She had to admit it was a nice view but she never would have guessed these two would buddy up like this. Then again they were around the same age, plus there was the question of if they were buddies or were they reinmates? "I think I'm in love, Thistledown." "That would explain the Googly eyes you were making at Fluttershy earlier," Thistledown chuckled "I was NOT making 'Googly eyes' at her... That obvious, huh?" Firestormer asked with some trepidation obvious in his voice. "Yep. Not that I can fault you for taste. She's one striking young filly," Thistledown said thoughtfully. "She's not striking, she's Bucking GORGEOUS," sighed Firestormer, sounding profoundly twitterpated. "I know. I was being tactful." "I thought you were... you know... sidesaddle." "I am. But that doesn't mean I don't know a Gorgeous mare from a rock on the ground. Just because I ain't buyin' don't mean I can't admire the stuff in the window," Thistledown asserted. "Ok ok. Fair enough. I mean we hang out and you know I'm not sidesaddle,” Firestormer said, the shrug evident in his vocalization. "You're not?" Thistledown asked, in mock surprise. "Now cut that out. I'm being serious here." "I know I know. You're just cute when you're flustered." The two drained their bottles and tossed them aside with the other empties before opening fresh ones. "So..." "So?" "So, why don't you approach her? Ask her out? Woo her?" “Me? Woo Fluttershy? HA!" Grapes stood there, an eyebrow raised at that rather derisive comment. "What's the matter, Firestormer? Out of your league?" "Hardly, Thistle-boy. We're in the same league, just playing on different teams. I'm Too loud, too flashy, too much of a show-off." "No argument there." "What I'm saying is... can you really imagine me and her together? I mean Honestly?" Firestormer asked. "When you put it that way... yeah. She'd probably hide in her cellar the moment you swoop in to say hello for the first time." "I know. Face it. Personality-wise we're too incompatible." "So let me guess... The Noble thing?" "Yeah. The Noble thing... As long as she isn't about to do WORSE than me I'm gonna let her find her special stallion..." "Ahem" "...OR special MARE, thank you Thistledown." "VERY noble. So, if it looks like she's gonna do worse?" "Then I'll swoop in and say hello. But I'm a sappy guy when you get down to it. I believe that there is somepony out there for everypony... even me." "And me?" "Buck yeah. You got a lot going for you Downer, and that's coming from a straight Pony like me." "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Here's to being Noble and Sappy endings!" "Here! Here!" Their bottles clinked in a toast, and while they drank up Grapes had a moment to mentally file that new expression in her mental vocabulary. 'Sappy Endings'. "Hey... is it wrong for me to wanna brush Fluttershy's hair for her?" Firestormer mused. "You TOO?" Grapes had to laugh. Fluttershy had gained a pair of new fans. Thankfully the day was done, and the dynamic duo would be heading inside after cleaning up their mess. Grapes then went to the supply closet and checked on the blankets. In these waning days of late summer, the nights were beginning to get cooler. Sour Grapes was wanting to make sure everypony had one in chase it was needed or wanted. She had already left blankets with all the others, but the last pony she came to was Firestormer. Like most of the rooms in the bunkhouse, it was relatively small, but the pegasus had done things to make it quite homey. There were pictures of Firestormer’s family. A scarf bearing a symbol of a dark brown pegasus riding a lightening-shooting storm cloud was hanging off one of the hooks on the wall beside a respirator, and a pair of flight goggles. On a bedside table was an odd velvet covered box, and on the bed, itself sat Firestormer. “Hey. What brings you here?” the orange pegasus asked. “I thought I’d supply everypony with a blanket, in case it’s needed,” Grapes replied, as she levitated said blanket to the foot of the bed. "Thanks," he said, a little quieter than normal. After she set the blanket down Grapes had a moment to take a closer look at some of his pictures. He looked like a cute foal once upon a time. No doubt he had his father's wings and his mother's sleek form, an ideal mix for hitting those high speeds and tight turns he often bragged about. She also noticed some pictures of him with other foals, some of him older at what she guessed must be that Cloudsdale flight school and a startlingly picturesque one of him posing with a monstrously active Volcano in the background. “You were a cute kid,” she observed with a smile. "Thank you, Miss Grapes," He smirked in that weird cocky-crooked way he did. She wondered if it was something he was even aware he did. She never saw him smile the way he did as a foal in those pictures though. Never showing all his teeth in a grin. Maybe knowing you're that good of a flier tended to change you. She then glanced down at the small bedside table, her eyes alighting on the box. “What’s that?” "That? Oh! Oh that... that's nothing all that important. Just some old junk I was putting away... " Firestomer moved to pick it up but jostled the tiny table, sending the box falling to the floor. It hit rather hard, the box springing open and a large golden metal disc with a neck-ribbon tumbled out, rolling until it hit her hooves and fell flat. Grapes levitated the disk, and looked it over. Grapes gazed at the fire-colored pegasus thoughtfully. "This have anything to do with that particularly guilty look I saw you sporting, when I mentioned that Twilight and her pals are national heroes?" Firestormer blinked and turned to see her looking over the trinket in her hooves. The brass 'pin' was easily the size of a horseshoe, shaped like a shield it was silver with the inlaid gold icon of Celestia's icon. The Words "Fortitudinis in aliorum" were etched in the Silver surrounding the Golden sun icon. The metal gleamed with near-mirror shine. No doubt he took care of it, polishing it with regularity, but because it was kept in the little black box it was no-doubt something that he uncharacteristically never showed-off. He stammered a moment, and she noticed a strange black tinge enter his crimson cheeks. Apparently his version of a blush. "Well.. I mean... Well it was disrespectful of me to assume they weren't uhm... heroic. You know?" "So... How'd you get that little doodad?" Grapes asked, casually. "Oh... well.. You know. It's not as impressive as saving Equestria or freeing the princess from a spell or something. It's not really worth mentioning." "Firestormer," Grapes said with a stern look, "it's still something that's eating away at you. It may help you to talk about it. Especially since that's the Equestrian Medal of Heroism." The guilty look came back, and it stayed there. Firestormer sighed in a quiet way and sat down on his bed. " Yeah. It is. It really should have gone to some other pony but I wound up with it." "I see. Apparently you did something that was seen as heroic, but you don't," Grapes observed. “See it as heroic, I mean." "Well there's not really all that much to tell. There was a fire in my town, and some of my friends were in the burning building and... I... got them out. Sure it sounds like I was heroic but it really wasn't," Firestormer said with a shrug. "Obviously there's more to the story than that cut and dried account," Grapes said, leaning on the doorjamb. Firestormer lowered his head and nodded. "Ok... I guess if I can trust anyone with this it's you..." he paused a moment and said quietly. "If you're listening in Earshot, could I have a little privacy please?" Grapes heard a faint cranking sound from downstairs followed by some loud Jazz being played. The timing left no doubt in her mind that Earshot was giving them some much-needed aural privacy. "The curse of super hearing," Grapes observed wryly. "First off, my name isn't really Firestormer... It's actually Hot-Shot. My parents own a Courier Service in Upper Taisu Town. The Red Streak delivery service," Firestormer explained. "I think I've heard of it,” Sour Grapes said, thoughtfully. "Yeah. They're not a huge company but reliable and with a solid customer base. We've shipped everything from food to Paperwork to.. to fireworks." "To special deliveries of wine," Grapes added, with a nod. "Something disastrous happened I take it?" "When I was a colt my friends and I were in the new warehouse, snooping about. It was pretty much what any colt our age would do. Looking through the deliveries for anything that looked neat.. and we found the fireworks. We figured nopony would miss a few sparkler sticks. We lit them up in the dark of the warehouse and had a little fun writing our names in the air,” Firestormer continued his story. Grapes could see where this was going. "Ah... I see." "Yeah. We had a blast but Scale Tipper forgot how hot those wires can get, and he burned himself. We gathered around Scale to deal with his wound and we forgot his sparkler was somewhere among the crates... Still burning... and some of those crates had REAL fireworks in them,” the red pegasus uttered, sounding a bit sick. "Oh... dear." "Yeah.. it was pretty and yet NOT pretty at the same time. We realised something was wrong when it started getting brighter. We saw the fire and we tried to stomp it out... then everything hit the fan. It was like lightning hit a rainbow, and kept on hitting it. Fire and color in all directions. We couldn't even figure out where the door was in the bedlam. The air got thick with sulfur-stinking smoke and the fire spread like crazy." Firestormer's voice cracked as he went on. "Stone took a roman candle to the side of his head. He hasn't heard anything in that ear since then. It's a miracle he wasn't blinded... or his horn blown off... " "And you saved your friends from a burning building, receiving a medal for heroism, but you don't feel like you deserved it, because you single-hoofedly set your family's business back by... hmmm... years, yes?" Grapes asked, before the firey hued pony could sink further into self flagellation. "I don't even know how I did it... I was lost as they were. they had passed out, I felt like I was gonna pass out and the place was coming down. All I remember was their weight on me... then acceleration... the pain of punching through the burning timbers with my head... then blue skies. They said other pegasai caught me and my friends before I passed out. We spent some serious time in the hospital for smoke inhalation and burns... and... and Celestia came," Firestormer continued. "You got to meet the Princess, when you were younger," Grapes stated, with a raised eyebrow. "She called me a hero... gave me the medal. Asked me to show up at the gala when I was feeling better. I wish my jaw wasn't wired shut at the time. I would have told her the truth... " He started to cry but turned his head to hide it. "Even my friends think I'm a hero. If I hadn't have let them in, helped them snoop... Every time they greet me with such smiles... and I still can see their old injuries. And yeah... I crippled the family business. We recovered but we ran in the red for some time. I feel like I've been trying to live up to that bloody medal ever since. I've been learning everything about fire, since I was recovering in the hospital. How it works, how it behaves, what it does... I learned so much I actually became the youngest fire marshals in the history of my town. That's where Weathervain found me. A daredevil hotshot who was cool under fire. She offered me a chance to put my knowledge to use on a new level. How... how could I possibly say no?" "So... You feel like you've received a medal you didn't earn, and praise you did not deserve,” Grapes said, with an air of somepony who was wanting to get the bottom-line of a particular story correct. "Even if you saved your friends' lives, despite the foalish mistake, and even with the fact your family's business has recovered... You still feel guilty. And continue to beat yourself up over it." "I made a stupid mistake and my friends paid for it. Yeah I know it wasn't my hoof that dropped the sparkler but mom and dad trusted me with the keys to the warehouse. They said I was old enough for the responsibility,” Firestormer asserted. "And how long are you going to punish yourself?" Grapes asked bluntly. "I... I dunno. Every time the Gala comes up Mom and Dad insist I wear the medal, so do the Storm Riders... So do my old friends. Even Stone says I earned the right to wear it. I just don't know anymore." "I don't suppose you've told anypony how you feel?" Grapes asked. "Just you,” Firestormer replied. "I don't suppose it's helped?" The fiery colored pegasus sat there a moment, thinking it over then nodding. "As surprising as it sounds... yeah. It does feel a little better." "Well I'm sure that having somebody to share your burden does help," Grapes said with a nod. Firestormer smiled, looking a little better for it. His eyes flitting to the medal she was holding. "Maybe... I should talk to Mom and Dad about this. I think I can handle that now." Grapes put it into its box. "Good. It's time to give yourself a repreive." Firestormer wiped his eyes on his foreleg and took a deep breath. "You won't tell anyppony I was blubbering like a foal, will you?" "Why would I?" "Well there are someponies who wouldn't hesitate to," the fire-colored pegasus observed. "And you think I'm just somepony, hm?" "Well, I gotta ask. I mean Stormy did tell us your honesty can be... kinda harsh." "I can be. When the occasion needs it. But you took me into your confidence, and told me something that you've kept festering in yourself for a while. You don't need me to punish you, since you've been doing an admirable job of it yourself. I am glad, however, you're taking foal-steps to forgiving yourself,” Grapes asserted. The next day the air had a distinct nip in it. It was obvious the weather was turning. Grapes felt a touch melancholy, at the change. Summer was winding down, and soon it will be Fall. The Vineyard wouldn't need as much tending when there were no crops to collect. In fact it would be time to close up after the first frost where the last of the crop froze and she could make Ice Wine... no doubt snow and ice loving Queenie would be in LOVE with the notion. Still after that there would be no point in keeping the Storm Riders on, there would be so little to do that one pony could do it. No doubt they had friends or family to go to for the winter and Hearth's Warming, leaving her in the solitude she enjoyed... This would be the first year she wouldn't have her parents around to be with either. Who knows... she might make regular forays into town more often if just to sit in the local cafe sipping hot cider. Still... there was a LOT to do before that, AND there was the Running of the Leaves. She always giggled at that. Maybe this year she might even participate. But this year, she wouldn't have her parents. And this year, she actually had friends. This year was going to be lonely. She took a deep breath and let it out. There would be plenty of time to feel down later. She still had work to do, and it was her least favorite task. Grapes pulled out her file box of receipts, and other errata, getting everything together to slog through the calculations for her Equestrian taxes. "Well that was final harvest... Just got the final processing to do. Sales, of course, have been brisk, this year. The new fiscal year starts next week, and that's where the Gala sales goes... Oh yes, just got the reciept, and cheque for the Broccoli Wine. Many happy returns, Blueballs," Grapes uttered with a smirk, as she set it in the correct pile. For some reason, it helped her to talk her way through the task, out loud. It may make her seem eccentric, but it was but one of a multitude of quirks that made up her psyche. "Cheque gets deposited, receipt for miss Red Tape. Nice pony, but she gets a lot of guff." With some soft music playing on her phonograph she plodded through the mire that was 'what was earned and what was owed'. This went on for a short while when there was the creek of the front door and a soft breeze wafted through the living room. the receipts fluttered, threatening to take flight before the door could be shut. "Sour Grapes? Are you at home?" "I'm in the kitchen," Grapes said, using her levitation to keep the receipts from taking flight. The click of the door was a sound of relief for Grapes who as soon as the fluttering settled allowed herself to relax... right before she turned to the left and found Sirocco standing there, silent and tall. "Hi, Sirocco. How's it going?" Grapes asked with a smile. "I am not unwell, thank you for asking. And may I ask how you are this evening?" the exotic pegasus asked. "As well as can be expected," Sour Grapes replied with a shrug. "I hope you do not mind my coming in this late in the evening. I saw the light on and hoped I could punt my head in," Sirocco said quietly. "That sounds painful," Grapes deadpanned drolly. "What are you doing up this late, Sour grapes?" "I'm slogging my way through the Equestrian Tax code," Grapes replied with a quiet sigh. "Ah the finances of the Vineyard no doubt," she said sitting down across from her. "There are two things that are eternal certainties. Breath and Taxes." "'Breath' isn't always a certainty, Sirocco, but death certainly is," Grapes observed with a chuckle. “Unless, of course, you’re one of the Princesses.” "My apologies. Speaking a foreign language is hard enough but Equestrian has so many... idioms and adages that it's frustrating to get them correct. I will not relate to you how I spent a day looking for the all-knowing pony Scuttle-Butt," Sirocco uttered with a shake of her glossy brown head. Grapes had to blink, and chuckle. "Oh... that tally is incorrect," the pegasus said gesturing at a very lengthy bill from a Phillydelphia. "You... glanced at the bill, and calculated the figure just like that?" Grapes asked, sounding astonished. The tall pony shrugged. "Mathematics have always been easy for me. Numbers are simply easier than words. A word can have many meanings but a One will always remain a One. I have been reading the tax code of Equestria over out of curiosity and while predictable it is rather refreshing." "I don't suppose you could help me out, here? I'm okay with math, but I'd be here all night if I did this by myself," Grapes explained. "Oh. Why yes, certainly I will help," Sirocco said sounding almost happy as she scooted closer to the table and began rearranging and restacking all of the neat little piles that Grapes had been working on. "Let me see... this belongs here, this is not deductible, medicines are best placed with medical expenses unless they are arboreal medicines then they are placed with gardening supplies..." "So many little expenses. How exciting. I may have to retrieve my new abacus for this," Sirocco said with a grin. Grapes chuckled, getting up. "I knew I forgot something," she said, trotting to her room. When she came back she saw Sirocco leaning over the paperwork, scribbling meticulously away on a pad. Her pencil neatly writing in a language she was unfamiliar with, but the columns belied the universal language of numbers. "Thank you for allowing me to assist, Sour Grapes. This is such a welcome change of place for me." Grapes smiled, and plunked an abacus on the table. "Would you say you'd qualify as an accountant?" "Well I am hardly certified but I like the Equestrian Tax system. It is not without its twisty parts but I find it very straightforward,” Sirocco said thoughtfully. "So... yes?" "Well, Princess Celestia tends to be very fair with the system," Grapes said with a smile. "The princess, herself, tends to be a bit mischievous, but she tries to be fair. It is suspected that the twisty bits come from the Royal Vizier." "While I am enjoying this, I did have a different topic in mind to speak to you about," Sirocco said quietly. "Oh? What is that, Sirocco?" Grapes asked, tilting her head, curiously. "The upcoming winter season. I suspect that there will not be much need for farmhooves when the snow falls. Yes?" "That's true. There's nothing to harvest. Really, all that happens is basic maintenance," Grapes said with a nod. "I was wondering if I might be permitted to stay on the property. Unlike many of the other Storm Riders I have no place to call home to return to for the winter holidays. It is a long story but as they say, one cannot grow home." "The phrase goes: 'One can not go home, again'," Grapes corrected, with a melancholy tone. "I've noticed that aside from the heat, and the sand you don't... really talk about your homeland." Yes. It is hard to speak of the things that happened between myself and my family. I could say there was a misunderstanding, but it was more of a far-too-much was Understood-ing." Grapes gazed at the foreign mare thoughtfully, then nodded. "I think I get it." Grapes could have sworn there was a slight blush in Sirocco’s cheeks as she nodded. "I won't lie to you, this place... your piece of land, the buildings, even my small room, all of this. This has come to feel to me as a home. No matter how cold it may get in this region, I would very much like to remain here." "I, honestly, have no objection to your staying. Heh. Earlier today I was... kind of down at the thought of you all leaving," the brown unicorn said with a self depreciating chuckle. "I understand. This will be your first winter without your parents?" Yeah... They may be here for Hearths Warming, but it's not a sure thing," Grapes replied. "I will be more than happy to keep you company in the long months ahead. And I shall continue to be a good guest and pull my waist." “Weight,” Grapes corrected. "Pardon me?" “The phrase is ‘pull your weight.” "Ahh. I was wondering about that. Pulling at one's waist seems to imply some manner of corset," Sirocco observed. "WHO thought that was a GOOD idea?!" Grapes asked, automatically. "I wish I knew. I did not even know what a corset WAS until I visited the Carousel Dress Shop. Although Mistress Rarity said that I probably didn't even need one... then she mumbled something about her giving up pastries," Sirocco replied. "Yeah... Rarity's... a piece of work, herself," Grapes chuckled. "This is perhaps the longest time I have ever been in one place since I left the Dune Sea. It's always been town after town, bed after bed. Sometimes even stables. Anywhere one could lay their head for rest. That's not to say that Mistress Weathervane does not have a place for us to sleep at the Forcastery,” Sirocco explained. "But some assignments leave you so tired, you just need to rest, wherever you can lay your head," Grapes finished. "There was one time we were all so tired that we just lay in a heap on a rooftop for warmth. I had my head upon Queenie's side, Earshot was snuggled close, Stormfront lay his wings across us all like a blanket... It was then I realised I had a family once more. I wept myself to sleep I was so happy." Grapes chuckled. "And hey, why not add a grumpy unicorn to the mix?" she asked with a grin and a shrug. "Another Pega-sister is always welcome." she giggled. "Even if she has a horn instead of wings." "Good thing this house's got a guest room... I don't think the bunkhouse is really all that well insulated... Grapevine Hills has never had permanent hooves, before," Grapes observed. "I have noticed it does not hold heat well on cool nights. I'm usually up feeding the Pot Belly to feel comfortable." “Yeah. But then that’s an old bunkhouse. It probably needs to be updated,” Grapes said with a sigh. “It’s just we haven’t really had the bits, or the need...” "Well I have noticed that the sheep farmers have been hawking their wares more and more. Perhaps I should be more... " she hesitated, thinking for the right word "...aggressive in my efforts to be warmer, and buy myself some knitted goods." "Well the sheep want some profit for their wool,” Grapes said with a shrug. "And well made knitted goods are very comfortable... Of course, I suggest Rarity's boutique for any winter wear." "Ah yes... I hope her ability to make warm clothing is equal to her sense of the aesthetic. I will not lie, the Dune Sea can become frightfully cold at night but Firestormer has warned me that the cold in this region can sometimes freeze the bells off a brass monk's key." Grapes blinked, then cleared her throat. "You know I think I like that better than the actual saying." "Very well then. I shall finish with assembling your accounts as best I can, head to bed and then tomorrow I shall make an appointment with Mistress Rarity for winter-wear," Sirocco said as she accepted Grapes' abacus and began moving the beads back and forth as she shuffled the stacks about further and made notes on the pad. "You are certainly doing well this year. You have a good buffer against future troubles. Do you have any further forms of income you can add to this?" "Just the rent from the storage sheds, and Redline in the north field," Grapes replied. "Redline? Would he be a grayish blue unicorn with a wild mane of red hair? Usually walking about in some manners of coveralls, sometimes in the presence of a small pegasus filly with a dust-gray coat and mane?" Sirocco asked, tilting her head curiously. "Yes, that's him. And the pegasus filly is his adopted sister, Moondust." "Ah. I was wondering about that. The affection they have for one another is very heartwarming, they do not even seem to notice that they are so different. And you say he is in the North field? I was under the impression the land there was unusable," the foreign mare mused thoughtfully. That's why there are those storage sheds, out there. And Redline and Moondust, of course. Though Moondust's done a good job of clearing a garden spot... I've really considered building them a house," Grapes replied as she shrugged. "If the land there is unable to be tilled then perhaps a few modest domiciles would be a good way to edge your bats. Many ponies would be happy to have a small home to start off with before earning enough for a larger one," Sirocco advised. "The phrase is 'hedge your bets'," Grapes corrected. "Oh... Equestrian is so confusing sometimes," Sirocco uttered, as she took a moment to scribble some figures down on a fresh sheet before showing them to her. "Rental minus basic upkeep costs for a small home may still be putting you out ahead for a steady Income source. ...might I ask what Mister Redline does for a living?" “He’s a tinkerer, and general repairspony,” Grapes replied. “He’s probably doing well, this month, after the parasprite problem.” "I can see that. It is remarkable how fast Ponyville recovers from disaster. It is as if that which nearly hobbles them, makes them stronger somehow." “Gotta love the resilience of the place, to be honest. But then it was founded by the Apple Family, and you know how stubborn my cousin, Applejack can be,” Grapes observed. "Surprisingly enough stubbornness can sometimes be an admirable trait." she agreed. "It's knowing when to keep butting heads or to simply walk away that's the trick." Grapes chuckled. "And indeed it is a trick." "Well then, until you have those who owe you rent and other payments, give you what you are owed I do believe that I have crushed your numbers as best I can," Sirocco said with an air of finality. “Crunched," Grapes said absently." "Thank you again for allowing me to stay the season here. It is good to... Put... roots... down?" "That one you got right," Grapes said with a smile. The next day, Sour Grapes decided to visit the North Field, and see if Redline had the rent, this month or needed another extension. True she could be a bit stern with farmhooves, but Grapes was not about to put a filly out of her home because her brother was having a rough patch. The North Field was a sad rocky patch of ground that came with the vineyard when the Grapes Family first came to ponyville. Sandy, rocky and tangled with old tree roots and scrub, it wasn't truly good for anything but denting plows and giving headaches to anypony who got it into their head to try to claim the land. Previous attempts only allowed for the foundations of several large sheds to be built there. She rented these sheds out to the ponyville citizens for the storage. Sometimes for the storage of dangerous materials that were best away from a populated area, but most often for ponies who just needed a little more space in their homes. And then there was Redline... He was a piece of work. Redline was a unicorn inventor. Who loved to improve things. He had come to ponyville a year or so back from the city of Detrot, pulling a colorful 'Gypsy wagon' full of tools and trinkets to offer his services as creator and repairpony... oh yes... and to raise his sweet and excitable sister Moondust. He rented her largest shed as a workshop so that he and Moondust could have some genuine living space in his wagon. It was so... heartwarming to see how devoted he was to her. Being an only child, Grapes sometimes wondered what having a brother or sister would have been like for her, and she often hoped that it could have been like the relationship those two had. Granted sometimes Redline was more trouble than what he was worth. He had a habit of causing small disasters around Ponyville by pushing his inventions too far. Making them work beyond their limits until... well... it was no wonder the locals now called a machine that was overpowered had been "Redlined". Grapes had often considered building a house for the two. Maybe during the spring... Believe it or not, having the Riders that summer had cut down on costs. Operations had in her own memory never been this far in the black. This level of surplus was a welcome surprise and would provide a buffer in case of any unforeseen disasters. Boy was she glad the Storm-Riders were around when the Parasprites hit. Her first year in control could have been one of total financial ruin. She should do something nice for them to show her appreciation, sometime. She would figure it out, later. She only hoped that they would be around next year. The north field looked as rocky and unforgiving as always, and Sour Grapes had to pause by one old stump to ponder a gear being embedded in it. That was new. Yet at the furthest point of the field there was signs of civilisation. Moondust, bless that little filly's heart, had taken time to pry up rocks and pull weeds and dig a large circle of tilled soil around her 'Property' and filled it with wildflowers creating a colorful hedge of a sort. Wild Jazz played on a nearby gramophone as several pots of paint sat open and she danced wildly about with a brush in her teeth, painting her Wagon-Home with an impressive array of bright colors. She remembered her first impression of the little filly. She had a moment of cautious disbelief that a Pegasus could be Redline's little sister.. but she told her... quite PROUDLY that she was Adopted, and that "out of allllllllll the little colts and fillies in the world, she was special enough to be chosen to be Redline's little sister." Sweet thing. Grapes trotted up, a smile on her face. "Hey, Moondust. How are you doing?" Moondust giggled and leapt over to Grapes, her little wings buzzed madly, failing to make her fly but somehow reduced her personal gravity to allow some impressive jumps. "Miss Grapes! I'm doing great. Red told me I could paint the wagon anyways I wanted because it was looking very sad. What do you think? I found some old paint in his workshop and was working hard all night long!” "It's looking good, Moondust," Grapes said with a smile. "It's very cheery." "YEAH! OH! You must be here because of something important... uhm...." The little pony screwed her face up cutely as she tapped her hoof against her forehead in thought. "Must be... MONEY DAY!" "Ah... Yeah..." Grapes uttered, realizing that was about the only time she ever came out here to visit. "Okay! I'll get my brother," Moondust said as she skip-hopped over to the shed and knocked loudly. "Big Brother! Are you still in there? Miss Sour Grapes is here for Money Day!" "She is? Oh that's great... be right out, Moondust." Grapes chuckled, as she waited patiently. There was a sound like metal parts being shuffled around, accompanied by muttering and the occasional 'mystery noise' before the door opened and Out stepped Redline. His coat was a dull colonial blue but he had a pink muzzle and an impressive wild mane of unkempt red hair. It was nearly laughable how much he looked like the stereotypical mad scientist even wearing pince-nez glasses on his green eyes or the utilitarian gray coveralls he wore to keep grease and oil from staining his body. He smiled around the bag in his teeth before trotting over to her and setting it down. "Hello Miss Sour Grapes. Nice to see you again, I'd ask what you're doing out here but it's rather obvious isn't it?" "Hello to you too. How've you been?" Grapes asked with a chuckle. "I'm doing pretty good. I'm ready to pay not only this month's rent but the back rent I owe you and even have some for winter months. The Parasprite infestation may have been bad news for Ponyville but it was a much-needed boon for a repair-guy. I've never been so busy, or profitable. Some ponies got into small bidding wars for much-needed hoofpower to repair businesses and homes,” Redline replied with a smile. Grapes chuckled. "Well that's good. I appreciate you're paying up what you owe. But it's not like I'm short on bits. Just let me know what's going on, and I’ll be sure to spot you again. And how’s Moondust been doing?" "Well, Moondust is enjoying her classes with Miss Cherilee and her wings are getting stronger every day. It won't be long before I'll have to send her to Cloudsdale for flight school, and that means I'll have to arrange for a dorm room for her. That's an awful long way for her to commute,” Redline replied. Grapes nodded. "Understandable. Maybe some of the pegasai I know can lend a hoof." "That would be great. I can examine and explain how to fly all I want in a technical way but in the end she needs real pegasai to show her how it's done. She needs to have a few pointers from a proper pegasus before she heads up there. In the end she's a pegasus and I'm a unicorn," he said as he tapped the impressive long horn that curved up from his brow with a smirk. "Wings are very different from horns." "No? Really? I'd have never guessed," Grapes snarked. "Sarcasm aside you know what I mean. I see her looking up at the skies and I don't want to deny her that feeling of... of laughing at gravity and looking down on the clouds." "All right," Grapes agreed. "So...." Redline said levitating the cloth bag up and out to her, she could practically HEAR the amount of bits jingling in there. "It should all be there... thank you very much for extending the time I needed to get it together. You have been more than generous to me and Moondust." "I'm not going to put a family stallion out on his flank because he's having a hard time," Grapes asserted. "I appreciate that. Thank you Sour Grapes. Not many other ponies would be as patient with me. I know I've caused a few problems now and again but I just can't understand how I can wind up with the reputation of being trouble. I don't know where they get this idea that I bring some kind of disaster with me wherever I go." "Uh... Let's see... There's the sewing machine you made for Rarity," Grapes started then there was a sound like a steam whistle from his shed, getting louder by the moment... then a dull *THUD!* as a mushroom-shaped plume of intensely vivid purple smoke shot up from the chimney into the air. Redline wheeled about, and looking up at the cloud, shouted "MY TEA!" before dashing into the shed. "And there's that," Grapes finished. A moment of clattering later he walked out of the shed, levitating a teapot ahead of him, thick purple smoke rising from it. "Awww... it's ruined. I'm going to have to make adjustments to the pressure cooker." "... You don't use a pressure cooker to make tea." "Really? I thought it a great idea. My tea was being made in a mere 20% of the usual time needed and the blend came out quite potent," Redline mused, as he turned the pot upside down and out fell a small Purple/orange puck of condensed and charred... tea matter. In spite of the appearance, Grapes was able to recognise many of the teas in it by appearance and smell. Grapes raised an eyebrow. "Er..." "Aww horse-hockey. My special blend. I'm gonna feel all logey later." "So you've got a blend of Assam Darjeeling, Golden Steed Eyebrow, and Bailin Gongfu. Oh, and Pu'erh. Lovely. All that caffeine can't be good for you,” Grapes uttered. "It can't?" "No. It can't," Grapes said with a certain finality to her voice. "Well I'll admit the sudden lurch in my chest after the first cup isn't always pleasant but it really perks me up in the morning," Redline observed. "Yeah, that lurch is your heart protesting you jump-starting it like that," Grapes asserted. "You think? Wow... maybe it really could be bad for me," the red-maned unicorn uttered thoughtfully. "You're going to get yourself checked out by a doctor, to make sure you haven't done any permanent damage to yourself," the brown unicorn said, firmly. “If not for your own sake, for Moondust’s.” "But..." he stopped and looking over at where his sister was now trying to catch a butterfly sighed. "Ok. You're right. I should take better care of myself, shouldn't I?" "Yes, yes you should." Redline looked at the small coaster-sized mass of material and smirked. "Pity... you might have liked the flavor. It's bracing as a jump in an icy pond." "I'd rather like my heart without scars, thanks," Grapes uttered with a smirk. "Okay. So it's nearly time for Winter. Are you set for it?" Redline asked. "Mostly," Grapes said with a quiet sigh. "You don't seem too enthused," Redline observed astutely. "Well... My parents retired. And for once I have friends, real friends. But most of them are probably going to leave, once the season's over," Grapes said quietly. “Sirocco’s asked to stay, though, which is a good thing, but it’s still going to be kinda lonely,” Grapes said with a sigh. "Well if you ever get TOO lonely you know Moondust and I are always willing to entertain. I'll even serve normal tea," Redline offered. "I would hope so. I'd hate for somepony to get into that stuff, that ISN'T used to it," Grapes admonished. After that, they said their goodbyes, and Grapes went back to her house. "Huh-oh Mith Ghraes," Earshot greeted her, his teeth clenched around the string that held a small parcel about the size of a breadbox closed. “Hello, Earshot,” Grapes replied. “You get some mail?” He came in to a very graceful landing next to the Long table reserved for farmhooves dining and set the parcel down. "Yes I did. All the way from back home in... my home region." “I suppose your obvious differences is the reason why you keep your... ‘home region’ a secret, hm?” Grapes asked, kindly. "Yeah. It's part of why I'm out here is to kinda both see how Daylight ponies feel about my kind and... to put my best hoof forwards and make a good impression,” Earshot explained as he examined the knot a moment then tugged one bit with his teeth and it unraveled perfectly, the box springing open quite neatly. “Well... Most ponies think that Night Ponies are fictional,” Grapes said. “Well... Until they meet you.” "Looking at most of the reactions, it's not always a good bit of fiction. But that's why I'm here... to hopefully reintroduce us. Can't live in the dark forever. Oh hey it's from my grandmother. " He cleared his throat and began to read out loud. Grapes stole a peek over his shoulder and noticed that the script on the page was unlike any language she had seen. Made of vertical lines, horizontal lines and dots it reminded her more of sheet music than actual writing. "Earshot, My dearest grandson. Your letters always help me feel that you and I have made the right choice in sending you out into the world. Your latest letters from the town of Ponyville have been especially heartening and amusing as you speak of all the ways you have come to know the ponies that live there and integrated yourself into their lives." “You write about us?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow, as she looked over the rather lyrical writing. “Wonder how that would sound if it was played on an instrument...” "Well, yeah! I mean don't you write to your family about friends and happenings around you?" Earshot asked. "I do... Not sure if Mom and Dad are checking their mail box, though," Grapes replied with a chuckle. "That may be a good indication they're going to be coming for Hearth's Warming..." He glanced at the sheet again and giggled. "Speaking of which, there's more here. *Ahem* It is with no small deliberation on both the Stygian Cove council, and with myself that I would like to ask you a favor. I know how much you look forwards to coming home every year for the Long-Dark but with you having become an accepted face in Ponyville we... I would like you to consider staying this year to act as an observer for the upcoming Daylight Pony holiday Hearth's Warming. You know how until now we have only been able to watch from the fringes of...." he paused a moment before continuing "...of the local town. We would very much like to see how well you are accepted amid the upcoming celebrations. Sometimes we must walk before we can fly my dear Earshot, and your hooves are the sturdiest ones we can set forward. If you wish to come home none will oppose your decision but give this a few days thought before replying. In the meantime enclosed is... OOH! Enclosed!" He put the letter down and began rooting through the box. He pulled out a pale yellow-green wool blanket that seemed slightly 'off' to Grapes, it looked warm but like it was a low-grade wool. Earshot however didn't seem to mind. he wrapped it about himself and churred happily before pulling out a large jar filled with a brackish fluid and stuffed full of what looked like eggs. "Oh! She remembered! Thank-you Grandma!" “Do I even want to know?” the brown unicorn asked apprehensively "Pickled Eggs!" the night pony chirped happily. "When I think of home during the Long Dark season, I automatically think of these. They're tasty and one of those... guilty.. pleasures, like what Miss Rarity talks about." "I can see that, yeah. Though, they sell those in town. Some ponies have a greater tolerance for protein than others, so..." Grapes replied sounding a bit relieved. Earshot’s tolerance for... interesting sources of protein was something that had been demonstrated before. “So... You’re going to be staying over the winter?” "Well, that is, if it's all right. I think I really would like to see what Hearths Warming is like up close. We usually only see it from a distance, the colors, the smells, the hub-hub and hullabaloo." “I’ve no problem with it. Sirocco’s staying too, so it’d be nice to have another familiar face around the homestead,” Grapes replied. “And maybe you’ll be able to explain what the hay ‘Long Dark’ is about, you know, as a cultural exchange. I know Pinkie Pie does a party, and there’s the pageant, of course.” "Really? I'd like very much to see as much about Hearth's Warming as I can. With ears like mine I can usually hear the town back home almost as if I'm there in the middle. Kind of a tease for me to hear but never really get a good look at things," Earshot said looking excited. "Well I fully intend to take you to the pageant. And to Pinkie's party. No bugs, but still very good food,” Grapes said. He giggled. "That's ok. I like the food here. It's different than a lot of what we get back home,” Earshot replied. "Say... Earshot... Is that the usual grade of goods that your home gets?" Grapes asked, looking at the blanket. "Yeah. Why do you ask?" he said snuggling his cheek against the coarse wool. "Come inside the house, and I'll show you," Grapes said, trotting into her home, and going to her linen closet. He followed her, the blanket on his back like a strange cape. She opened the closet and pulled out a few different blankets and she could see his eyes glitter at the sight of them. "Oh very nice colors. You must have payed so much for those, Miss Grapes." "That's the thing. I didn't. I know you want to keep your home a secret... But it seems like your people are getting short-changed," Grapes said quietly, as she found a nice yellow wool blanket, and offered it to Earshot. "I always thought that we got what we could afford. I mean yeah the other ponies had such bright pretty clothing but we had to buy the wool or fabrics from them and make our own dyes... make our own clothing. It was never as pretty but we never saw that much wrong with it." "Maybe you could tell me about your home, sometime. You mentioned other ponies, and a nearby town... And yes, the fiction is usually overwhelmingly negative... But you are as pony as anypony else, and your people doesn't deserve to be sold a town's less-than-stellar goods because you're different," Grapes said, putting up her blankets, except the one she gave to Earshot. "Well.. ok. I trust you enough that you won't do anything weird with stuff I tell you. Aren't you forgetting this blanket too, Miss Grapes?" "Think of it as an early Hearth's Warming gift, Earshot. A pony can never have too many blankets." "Oh! Thank you very much Miss Grapes. That is so nice of you." “You’re welcome. Thank the stars I’ve got another guest room,” Grapes chuckled. "Grandma asked me to think about it a few days but I'm pretty sure I know what my answer will be," the night pony said cheerfully. "I'd be happy to have you, Earshot," Grapes said with a grin. “I better head into town at some point and get some warm weather wear then. Firestormer usually loans me some of his when we do Queenie's schtick,” Earshot observed, thoughtfully. "Why don't I take both you and Sirocco? I know the region better than either of you, and I'll help you get the best deal." "OH! That would be wonderful. I got a lot of money set aside that I never got around to spending," Earshot chirped happily. “I’ll ask her about it, then we’ll see,” Grapes said, as they walked out of the house. “And I’d better see about getting those rooms aired out.” Grapes paused, then decided to go back inside, and do just that. She went to her old room, now made a generic bedroom, and opened the window. The sheets were fresh, since she moved into her parents’ old room, recently. The unicorn then went to the guest room, opening that window. Grapes then went to her new room, and sighed in satisfaction. She had gotten it looking the way she wanted. She DID keep the old comforter, though. The brown unicorn looked around, then lept and flopped back onto the large bed, the comforter FLOOFING in the way she adored. So many good memories. Well she’ll be making her own, now. Two friends staying the winter. The cold months were not looking as bleak as they were. Grapes then hopped up, realizing that she should get some extra toiletries. Grapes made it to town well before the shops closed relieved. True she could have waited to get the toiletries, but she was the sort that did not like to put things off. She went to the Day Spa, picking up some shampoo and soap from the twins. And barely got out of there before they could convince her to partake an herbal soak and massage. "I swear those two..." Grapes uttered with a shake of her head as continued on her errands, picking up some extra food, and other sundries. As she set about gathering up what she needed, she wondered where her parents had stowed away the Hearths Warming decorations. She wasn't even going to bother putting them all up this year, maybe the wreath on the door and maybe the good seasonal tablecloth but with Earshot wanting the 'Hearths Warming Experience' then perhaps she should pull them out and have him, and Sirocco, help her to put them up. Grapes paused by the post office, pondering if she should write her parents a letter about the decorations. She decided it would be for the best if she did. One, it would reduce the head-scratching and grumbling if they directed her to the right hidey-hole from the get go rather than directionless searching, and two... it would put her parents at ease. Asking them where they were would let them know she was not going to let their absence get in the way of her enjoying herself. She was going to enjoy her holiday even if they can't get home for the holidays. With that goal in mind, she diverted her course to the building, proper. The Pony Express office was in it's own way... slow. Fast delivery of mail, but long lines for processing of those who wrote it. She stood in line awaiting her turn when she realised that sompony had come in behind her. Turning slightly she realised it was Queenie, currently re-reading a letter while balancing a parcel on her back. “Hey, Queenie,” Grapes said said with a smile. “Have some ‘in town’ stuff to do, too?” "Mmmm? Oh! Grapes, I didn't see you there. Ah yes.. well I got a letter from my parents and I need to put a few things in order early this year." Grapes nodded. "Well I'm sending a letter to my folks. Need to know where they stashed the Hearth's Warming decorations." "Oh really? Nice to know you're looking ahead like that. Ur... that being said, I need to take a week or two off soon,” Queenie replied. "Well we just had final harvest, and you're practically finished with the deseeding. I figured you'd be going home for the winter season," Grapes said, as the line slowly progressed. "It turns out that I may not be needed there this season," she said looking oddly cheerful. "Oh... kay... I thought you'd want to go and see your family," Grapes said sounding confused. "Well... I love my family dearly but every year at this time I head back to Avalanche Valley, literally going from one job to another. You see... Avalanche Valley is my ancestral home... literally. I can't remember if I spoke of this to you already but Father and Mother are the Duke and Duchess of Avalanche Valley and I am it's heir... an heir that has since she was a child played chambermaid to all manner of tourists because the whole region has since the 8th dynasty been not only broke, but heavily in Debt," Queenie explained with a touch of melancholy. "Severely. The Eighth Duchess, Thin Ice, had little business sense and rather than let the grand gem mines of the region be a sustainable resource... chose to dig them until there wasn't any 'seed gems' left for the innate magic of the land to grow more from. She squandered the wealth on making things 'pretty' and ever since his reign the family coffers have been... somewhat light. As a result we have a beautiful town and I have a magnificent home... and a country where every Stallion, Mare and foal has to pull their weight to make ends meet." “Talk about a ironically appropriate name...” Grapes uttered. “Because that’s exactly where she left her descendants. I’m surprised that none of her relatives tried to stop her foolishness.” "This was still in an era where people still respected the Golden Rule... the one where whomsoever has the gold, makes the rules. And nopony wants to be the one to rock the boat when everypony seems to be making bits hoof over fetlock. It was once the mines were empty, the money spent and the foreign workers hired to do the job packed up and took said Bits with them to parts.. foreign, did anypony suddenly look about and realise we were now in a very deep... picturesque hole. Our mining may have boomed but in the end, like all fast-growth industries it went bust." Grapes nodded, as she handed her envelope to the postpony. She then left the line, and waited for Queenie to finish her business. “I like the modern-day Golden Rule better,” Grapes observed, when Queenie met her by the door. “But that was a different era, I think. Since you’re not going home, what do you intend to do for winter?” "Well I will be headed home. Normally this time of year I get ready for the long drudgery of prancing about in a black and white chambermaid outfit, kowtowing to rude tourists and bawdy powder-trash with pockets full of foolishly spent bits... oh... joy," Queenie deadpanned in a way that let Grapes knew she had learned well from her. "Mother and Father who are 'officially' the Innkeeper and Chef at the Valley's largest hotel... my ancestral Manse... have informed me that this year, I may have a holiday of my own. They somehow managed to get some interns this year. Ponies who work for experience rather than pay. I have to head home for a week or two, teach them what's necessary to do their duties and then..." she paused and tilted her head up at the bright blue sky, the sunlight catching her hair and making it glimmer like gold. "My first true vacation since... ever." “You have learned well, my faithful student,” Grapes said jokingly. “So... what do you intend to do?” "I'll finally have time for... well.. for ME. I'm not certain I'll know what to do with it. Maybe I'll come back to Ponyville and just... let the world pass me by for a change," Queenie said before she paused a moment then seemed a little unsure of herself. "I... don't suppose I could stay here, could I? I've been sending home the bulk of my earnings to help ease the needs of my subjects and... I don't think I can afford a hotel to stay at AND still afford to eat." Grapes stopped, a stunned look on her face slowly morphing into one of sheer panic. “I... don’t have any more guest rooms... And I will NOT put anypony on the couch,” Grapes uttered. “And the bunkhouse is NOT set up for winter borders.” "Well it's all right. I've slept in worse places... trust me. And I... wait... guest rooms? Who shall be IN those rooms?" "Sirocco and Earshot," Grapes replied. "They asked to stay, too. Earshot for the whole Hearth's Warming experience, and Sirocco... Well she can't really go back to the Dune Sea, and she said that Grapevine Hills feels like 'home' to her, so... yeah." "Really? How odd..." Queenie mused. "What's so odd about it?" "Just that... well... Perhaps since your Vineyard is the one location I've spent the most time on serving as a Storm-Rider, it's actually been feeling quite... home-like to me as well. Funny, isn't it?" "Even with a heaping helping of snarky unicorn?" Grapes asked with a self-depreciating grin. "Oh, especially with that. Your snark is actually intelligent and well-timed. Trust me. I've had to deal with poorly executed unintelligent and witless for some time and I can appreciate the effort you put into your quality snark." Grapes just blinked at Queenie a couple of times, then laughed merrily. She smiled at her as they headed down the street. "Look... all jest aside we Storm-Riders HAVE roosted in strange and far more uncomfortable places than your Vineyard. Your couch would be quite adequate compared to some locations in recent memory. Heck, with my high resistance to cold I'd be happy with sleeping in the barn all winter... Provided there's fresh hay and a blanket." “If you don’t mind the couch, which is quite comfortable, then you’re there,” Grapes said. “No winter guest of mine gets stuck in the barn, no matter HOW cold resistant they are.” "It's not my fault that I have good wintering genes," Queenie giggled. "It's been said that the Ice clan has frost in their blood. We're certain that it's meant as a compliment and not a reminder of the tenth Duke, Ice Heart the dispassionate." "Maybe you can tell me your family history over the winter, hm?" Grapes asked. "Oh I would love to. Mother and Father would drill me on it until I had the entire line committed to memory. It just doesn't come up in conversation enough to really justify that... buuuuut it's 'TRADITIONAL'.” "There are a multitude of silly things carried on for the sake of tradition," Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. "Sometime they should be looked upon, critically, and given the boot for being useless. History, though, isn't one of them. History tells us the mistakes of the past so we do not repeat them." "I usually repeat it when I go to bed... helps me fall to sleep quicker." Grapes snerked. "Sounds about right. Okay. So now I've got three guests. And I was worried about being lonely this winter." "You may really enjoy showing Earshot Hearth’s Warming. When he remembers to sing in a pitch normal ponies can hear.... ah... he has the most gorgeous voice," Queenie said with a smile. "I am going to really enjoy showing Earshot Hearth's Warming. Sirocco, too," Grapes asserted, then poked Queenie. "And you're going to help." "I'd love to. Earshot is wonderful... like the little brother I would have loved to have had." "Good. It'll be nice to have a friend helping me." "So... do you want me to bring back the family album to help paint a better picture of Avalanche Valley?" Queenie asked. "Don't see why not. Might be nifty to see your parents... and your baby pictures. Bet you were a darling foal," Grapes observed, mentally making a note to bring out her own family album. "Oh. Why thank you, Grapes. It also includes photographs of the paintings and statues done of all my ancestors... You may not care for Thin Ice's statue. It's been a target of public aggression for centuries starting with its relocation in the back of Deadbeat alley." Grapes chuckled. "Oh, it's fine. Good to have something to vent at, hm?" "Oh yes. Pity really... the one painting the family hid away in the attic showed she was a fairly striking Mare. Still she did bring her legacy on herself." Grapes nodded sagely. "Ah well... at least her statue has become a good punishment for those who push our hospitality past the breaking point. The judge usually forces such moral trespassers to clean it." Grapes grinned. "Sweet. Wish I had something like that.” "I can tell you how. First you need to find somepony who is a terrible example..." Queenie teased. "Li-i-ike... Blueballs?" Grapes asked with a very impish grin. "Oh... oh yes... yes yes yes yes," she laughed. The next day Grapes decided to get a start on putting the insulating hay over the roots of the grapevines for the winter season. She was sure she could get some help, later, but she wanted to get a start, at least. She was about halfway down the first row, when Summer Squall landed nearby. "Arr... Miss Grapes. May I have a moment of your time?" Grapes looked up quizzically at the sea-green pegasus. "Ah duh shee eye naw," Grapes said the pitchfork still in her teeth. "Wonderful. I ah... seem to have an interesting situation on me hooves this year, that I didn't before." Grapes raised an eyebrow, then put the pitchfork down, making a couple of faces to return the flexibility to her lips after being used as a gripping mechanism. "And what, if I may be so bold as to ask, would that be?" "Well. In no small part to your good work offer, for the first time in a few decades I find m'self with the curious addition to my life known as a 'Home Address'," Squall chuckled and sat down. "It's something odd to get used to, but strangely convenient. For a large part of my life I've been making due with checking a post-office box in Seaside but due to the nature of me work with the Storm-Riders you can guess how long between visits that can be." Grapes nodded. "I can imagine," she observed. "Well I visited Seaside a few days ago to clear out the remains of that box and made a point of visiting the local Watering hole." He paused a moment and his eyes seemed to stare off into the horizon as he smiled in the way only an old pony could when confronted with a good memory . "T'is owned by a lovely lass. Full Pint. She slings a mean Algae Cider as well as a mean right hoof when someone tries to put the blinders on her. Anyways I visit, intending to have a quick one for the road when she asks where've I've been keeping m'self these days. Well, says I. I told 'er how I had become gainfully employed by a straight-talking landlubber all these months, who even gave us a residence to stay." "They make cider out of algae? How would that work? You'd almost be making a whiskey out of it, by turning any algae into something akin to a mash," Grapes mused, obviously sidetracked by the errata. "I never said it went down smooth," Squall said tapping the side of his nose with his hoof. "... And now that I'm curious about it, I'm half-tempted to try making something palatable... Great, I'm Applejack Wagering myself..." The sea green pegasus chuckled and went back to his story. "So there I was, telling her about the Vineyard and how it have become my place of residence when she laughs and throws her bar-rag at me and tells me 'Now isn't that lovely. I finally have a place to send your bill you wharf rat.' I think she was impressed that I actually have a place to call home. And it suddenly dawned on me that I've been staying in flop-houses, hostels, cheap motels and even barns these past few decades, and that this... this place has been the first place in all that time that has had me feeling like I've come home when I walk through the big gate out front. Funny, ain't it. I was born on the oceans, I have salt water in me veins but here in this landlocked tract of property I actually find myself hesitating to fly away from for something as small as a holiday." Grapes stood there, looking stunned. "You... consider Grapevine Hills home? Are you asking to stay the winter, too?" "Well it's not as if I really have a home to go TO. Me father, Scrimshaw, is still stomping about but we were never the touchy-feely types. He loves me in his own rough way and he knows I love the old gaffer back. It's a Stallion-y kind of affection. But to answer your question, Aye. This place has become my home more than any OTHER port, and yes... I would like to winter here." Squall paused as if something occurred to him. "You say I'm not the first to ask this question?" “Well it started with Sirocco. She can’t go back to the Great Dune Sea, and she said that the Vineyard felt a lot like home to her. I was feeling a touch down, because you all were probably going to be heading off for your own holidays, and to your own families, so I was happy to say ‘yes’,” Grapes started to explain. “Then Earshot asked to stay so he could get the whole Day-Pony Hearth’s Warming experience. The last one to ask was Queenie. She’s getting a little vacation from having to play chambermaid at her family’s resort in Avalanche Valley. And now I don’t have any room in the house... Sirocco got the guest room. Earshot got my old bedroom, and Queenie was going to be on the couch. She volunteered to be on the couch, believe it or not. I have NO clue where I could put you to be honest.” Summer Squall looked at her with the most kindly... fatherly expression she had seen anypony other than her own father give, and placed his hooves on her shoulders. "It's alright lass. Take a moment, and we'll look at this problem... no, hmm not problem... CHALLENGE from another angle. Shall we?" "The challenge is that the bunkhouse is unsuitable for guests," Grapes said with a slight smirk. "Considering how things have been going, it won't be long before Firestormer, and Stormy ask to winter, here, too." "It does look that way, doesn't it. Arr... Let me think a moment." "Well... The main problem is insulation. But after Wrap-Up, we could see about building a new bunkhouse, with some real rooms." He chuckled and stepped out of the frames to take a better look at the Bunkhouse. "I can honestly say that while she's not in her prime anymore I have worked with worse. When your new barn was built was there any lumber left over?" "Yes. It's stored in the barn, itself," Grapes replied. "And Grapevine Hills did very well, this year. Having you guys on the payroll really reduced my overhead." “Well you're about to find yourself with another small windfall," Squall said sitting back on his haunches and hooking his hooves into the 'pitts' of the jacket he was wearing. "You happen to be looking at an experienced carpenter with no small talent in working in the medium of wood. Give me a few weeks, and a few ponies to lend a hoof and I can insulate and make her watertight enough to go to sea in." "We've got a few weeks, and there are a few ponies about town, unless you were wanting to use the other Riders as labor," Grapes said with a grin. "But I don't think we need to take the bunkhouse to sea." "Well, it just may wind up that way. I learned all me carpentry from me father Scrimshaw, who was... and really still is one of the finest Shipwrights in all of Equestria. You only get one chance to get a boat right so you gotta be good. Especially with these newfangled Airships. He's currently working on making one for some fancy bigwig in Canterlot... should be ready by next year. But that's only because of the decorative aspect. What we're looking at here is four walls, a roof and the fiddly bits inside." "That's right. But we'll work out the plans for the new bunkhouse, come spring. If you are going to be actually LIVING here, you should have a good home, not something intended for temp workers to flop in," Grapes said with a nod. "Fair enough. Fair enough. But don't expect me to do a shoddy job just because we're rushin' things," Squall uttered with a nod. "Why would I expect that? You're a craftspony, right?" Grapes asked. "You know what I mean." he smirked. > The Caffeinated Calamity > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was early Fall in Ponyville, with the last vestiges of Summer giving way to the cooler weather of Autumn, the leaves just beginning to turn from vibrant green to the glorious reds and golds of the season. Sour Grapes, Sirocco, and Earshot had traveled to Ponyville in order to do some pre-winter shopping, so they would have proper clothing for the coming season. The trio had made a day of it, enjoying all that the Ponyville Market had to offer. Lunch at Horsia’s, apple treats from the Apple Family cart, various grains, fruits and vegetables from around the square. Donuts for breakfast, tomorrow, came from Sugarcube Corner as well as desserts. Sirocco, being very number-aware, was very wise with her bits. Earshot on the other hoof... not as much. His Saddlebags bulged with impulse purchases based off of color or novelty, not that he COULDN'T afford it. He apparently hadn't spent very much of the cash he had earned as both a Storm-Rider as well in her employ, but there was more than once Grapes and Sirocco had to carefully remind the enthusiastic young colt that he probably didn't NEED a particular item. His favorite purchase happened to be brightly colored earmuffs, as the bright scarlet pair he currently wore bore a silent but obvious testament. "I've never actually gone shopping like this before," Earshot chirped, pressing his face against the glass of the Quills and Sofas. "I've bought stuff but I've never actually gone out for a whole DAY for shopping. Ooh... those are Be-YOU-tiful pens! Grandma would love them!" "Doing some early Hearth's Warming shopping, Earshot?" Grapes asked, chuckling. "Yeah... well... when you told me that the nice stuff isn't expensive down here, I began thinking of making a parcel of things to send home. I know they'll love some of this... I wish I could send that sofa there to Grandma. It looks so comfortable compared to the one she uses, but delivery is the problem... We have to use the local pony express office and... they don't really like ‘Night Deliveries’ there, if you know what I mean." "Yes. Yes I do... Considering what they do to you and yours, I'm not surprised. They probably don't want your people to know that there's a whole country out here, that MIGHT decide to trade with them," Grapes observed. "Yeah. I like it here in Ponyville though. The people are so nice, even if they look at me a little funny it's a nice kinda funny... is that weird?" Earshot asked. "More curious than mean, sorta?" Grapes inquired. "Yeah. Especially the Cakes. They're really nice... They say they're used to ponies who are REALLY different." Grapes looked around, chuckling, then grinned down at Earshot. "Be glad you've got those earmuffs on, squirt," she said. "HIIIIEEE!" squealed a pink pony that seemed to just appear out of nowhere. "I'm Pinkie Pie! Who are you? Are you new? Wow, you look different. You MUST be new, 'cause I know everybody - and I do mean EVERYBODY - in Ponyville! I saw you, and your pals, a while back, and realized you were new, but I got so caught up with Featherweight’s Barnmitzvah, I forgot!" The Night Pony blinked then laughed, his wings fluttering in surprise and glee. "Heya I'm Earshot! You’re Pinkie Pie? I've heard your voice ALL over Ponyville, nopony else sounds like you. You look a LOT like you sound! I mean I wasn't exactly sure what you look like from the way you sound but now that I see you I can say you sound like you look!" "WOW! You must have REALLY good ears to hear me all over Ponyville! But you're new... OH!" Pinkie uttered noticing Sirocco. "And YOU'RE new too! TWO new ponies! You know what THIS calls for!" "A party?" Grapes deadpanned. "A PARTY!" Pinkie exclaimed. "Wow! You like to party a lot, don't you? I keep hearing about you always throwing parties..." Earshot observed. Sirocco blinked and cocked her head to one side. "Is this true? You must be really STRONG to throw a whole party." Grapes blinked, then laughed. "Sirocco, she's not literally throwing... The phrase 'throw a party' means the process of setting up, then having a party," Grapes explained. "Ahhhh. I got the words right, but not their meaning," Sirocco said, thoughtfully. "Of course I wouldn't literally throw a whole party. That'd be silly. I'd have to be strong as a dragon, if I could do that," Pinkie giggled. "But I put together and have parties all the time." "Ah. And so you must be very flatulent to set up so many parties, yes? After all such activities are no doubt quite costly," Sirocco stated. "I only get flatulent if I eat a lot of Golden Harvest's five bean salad. Not an experience I want to repeat, but WOW was that salad good!" Pinkie uttered. "She means 'affluent', Pinkie," Grapes explained. "Oh? Why didn't she say that, then?" Pinkie asked with her usual guilelessness. "She's not from Equestria, originally, so her grasp of the language is still firming," Grapes replied. "Really? Kinda like Zecora? That's neat! Though I guess Zecora learned Equestrian from songs, and poetry, 'cause she speaks in rhyme," Pinkie giggled, smiling at the exotic pegasus. "Who is this... Zecora? I have not yet heard of her," Sirocco asked, looking curious. "She's a Zebra herbalist, and potion maker," Grapes explained to Sirocco. "Oh! I've got to get the supplies!" Pinkie said dashing off. "But..." Earshot said as Pinkie dashed off into the distance. "...we didn't even tell her where we were staying." "She'll probably figure it out," Grapes said shaking her head. "I like her... she's neat! She didn't even seem to notice how different I look." "Indeed... that in itself is enough to wish her to be your friend," Sirocco agreed, rubbing the top of Earshot's head and mussing his mane. "Well... Now you know what the Cakes ment by they're used to 'different ponies'," Grapes said with a chuckle. "OH! So she's their daughter? I don't see a resemblance... well other than the lingering smell of Sugar Cookies," Earshot observed. "No. She's their employee," Grapes elaborated as she lead them onward. "Ohhhh... Still it explains a lot." "So ready to head back home?" Sour Grapes asked as they turned toward the road to Sweet Apple Acres, and Grapevine Hills. "I believe so. Mixing some of what we have bought with my existing wardrobe will no doubt be very helpful. As cold as the desert can get at night, I have been with Queenie when we had to deal with storms that are very... vicious," Sirocco observed. Earshot looked around and sighed. "I guess... There is just so much to buy when you actually feel like buying things." "It's not like you're NOT going to come back, Earshot," Grapes observed. "I know," he said looking quite chastised. "It's that whole thing about being here NOW." "I hear you. You tend to wonder if they'll have it the next time, but..." Grapes trailed off, and shrugged. "Well I'll still have money for it then, and it may be better off in my shoe drawer at the moment,” the night pony observed, thoughtfully. "True... It's better to set money aside for an emergency, rather than spend it all at once,” Grapes said sagely. Earshot looked at his saddlebags, already too heavy for him to fly. "Ok... I'm good." "Well you've got quite a few nifty things," the brown unicorn observed with a chuckle. "I know! Won't Grandmother be so surprised at what gets sent to her and the others! Thank you for letting me know that... nice things don't have to be expensive." "Well, I keep saying that place is short-changing you and yours," Grapes observed. "I'm beginning to actually see that now," Earshot said as they trotted along. "Beginning to get an idea... Maybe next winter, we can go and visit your village," Grapes suggested with a smile. "I... I think that maybe if this Hearth's Warming goes well... and I can tell my people how nice everyone is during this season, Grandmother may allow that." "I'd like to meet your Grandmother,” Grapes said with a smile. "I'd like you to meet her too. She's really a wonderful and wise pony. Everypony back home respects her. Even the grand council, and they don't really HAVE to listen to her, but they always do," Earshot observed, thoughtfully. "Well... She sounds like a very nice pony. I'm pretty sure we could come to something equitable for both parties... Hmmm... I bet Applejack may like to exchange farming tips with your farmers...” Grapes said, then blinked, and shook her head with a slight chuckle. "Oh... dear... Just thought of something else, too..." “What?” Earshot asked, his ears perked up in the manner that showed he was genuinely curious. "Rarity. She's sure to think that your people being deprived of vibrant colors, and proper materials to be a crime against... something," Grapes said waving a hoof in a vague manner. "Oh? Well.. she could talk to our clothsmiths. Maybe she could work something out with them," the night pony said, with a nod, as they trotted along. "... Clothsmiths?" Grapes asked, pondering the word. "Yeah... they work with cloth. Knitting, weaving, dyeing, sewing... Kinda little like a blacksmith does with metal." Grapes just looked at the colt, blinking a few seconds, then chuckling at the logic. "Yeah, but they're usually called 'Tailors' or 'seamstresses', here, depending on gender..." Grapes observed. "Ohhhh... that sounds so pretty. I'll have to put that in my next letter," Earshot gleefully enthused, skipping around happily. Sirocco mussed Earshot's mane and smiled. "Come Earshot, we shall help you write the letter home telling of how you have chosen to stay at your home away from home. After all... Home is where you wear your hat." "Hang your hat," Grapes corrected. "Why would I hang my hat? Whatever did it do to me?" Sirocco asked, sounding shocked. “Ugh... Not, like, with a noose, Sirocco. On a hat stand or a hook, to keep it from being on the floor," Grapes uttered, rolling her eyes, barely preventing herself from facehoofing. "Ahhh. Yes. Then it would make sense that one's home would be a good place to hang one's hat. Would you like a frozen milk confectionery before we head back to the Vineyard?" Sirocco asked with a smile. "I can hardly get enough of them... I fear if I do not withhold myself I would eat bowlfuls until I weighed too much to fly." "It's close to dinner time, guys. And you had ice cream after lunch," Grapes said, as they trotted along the road. "Awwwww," chorused her companions, but the tone was playful enough that Grapes knew not to take it seriously. They walked past the cafe where amid the other ponies, the bright red-orange coat of Firestormer caught her eye like a flare. He was sitting on the patio, chewing thoughtfully on a sandwich as he read through a pile of mail. "Hey, Firestormer. What's got you so down?" Grapes asked, coming to a stop in front of the brightly hued pegasus. "Mmm? Oh hey, Grapes. I'm just catching up on my mail. Being a Storm-Rider is a big part of my life, but I got a legacy with the Mom and Dad's business I gotta keep on top of. Some of this is a correspondence course for learning how to run a business, some is Business Records so I can learn to apply what I'm learning to it and some... Woah," he stopped as he stared at the letter in his hoof. Grapes stood there, casually, obviously waiting for the other horse shoe to fall. "It's from my parents. They're coming HERE for Hearths Warming." "Congratulations. Do you know where they're going to be staying?" Grapes asked. "I... oh wow, I don't know. Uhm... the Inn?" Firestormer uttered questioningly. "Booked up," Grapes said. "They're usually the first to be booked for Hearth's Warming." "Oh fewmets... uh... yeah. I got some things to do," Firestormer said as he got up and started sweeping papers into his saddlebags and shoveling his lunch into his mouth. "I'll thee you guyth in a while. "Try the bed and breakfast by the Spa," Grapes suggested. Tossing a few bits on the table he stopped a moment, then looked up and smiled, not a pretty picture with a mouthful of daisy sandwich. "Thanth Grapth." She had never actually seen him fly beyond just local fluttering, but she had heard from the others he was the fastest on the team. Now she could see why, in a heartbeat he became a three dimensional smear of orange and yellow with a gust of wind in his wake. No doubt he could give Rainbow dash a decent run for her money. "Well that was different," Grapes observed. "Well we'd better head back. He’ll probably burn off that sandwich in time for dinner. Any requests? And no, Earshot, you can’t add any special ingredients to dinner.” "Aw... And I wanted popcorn." "For dinner?" asked Grapes, curiously. "Is there something wrong with that?" Earshot asked. "Perhaps later, little one. I am more in the mood for turnips, boiled, mashed and drenched in swaths of butter," Sirocco observed. "Boiled turnips. Anything on the side, Sirocco?" Grapes asked. "I am not certain... Earshot? What about you?" Sirocco queried, looking down at the young Night Pony "Maybe regular corn then?" Earshot suggested. "I have noticed you seem to like corn a great deal,” the foreign mare observed. "I don't get a lot of it at home,” the night pony explained. "What say you, Sour Grapes? Do we have any canned corn?" Sirocco asked turning to the chocolate brown unicorn. "We'll see. If not I'll see if Applejack has some,” Grapes replied. "Thank you Miss Grapes." "Always glad to help. With Stormy away visiting his mother, You've been having to endure my cooking," she joked. "Yes. But not his baking. His 453.592 gram cake feels like a brick in one's gut,” Sirocco said with a grimace. "Pound cake?" Grapes asked, doing some quick mental figuring. "Oh yes... Pound Cake." "Well, pound cake is usually a pretty dense cake, anyway... Just when Stormy makes it, it's more like... well... ten-pound cake," Grapes observed with a grimace. Earshot hung his head and pouted. "Any kind of sweet stuff he bakes leaves you feeling so heavy you can't even fly... but it's so GOOD you can't stop yourself from eating it." "Kind of like a trap, isn't it?" Grapes asked, shaking her head. "Indeed. I know of a few ill-personalitied pegasai I would love to send a box of cookies to,” Sirocco said with a sour look on her face. "The wouldn't happen to be members of the Wonderbolts, would they?" Grapes asked casually. There was a moment of silence from the stately pony before she answered. "...not all." "There's a story behind that, I reckon," Grapes observed. "Yes there is. Suffice it to say that my family could use some good grounding for a time." "That bad?" "You helped me learn the correct words for ‘You cannot go home again’, but I have known the meaning for a long time. My family is mired in foalishness and slog their way through tradition for the sake of tradition. Instead of embracing our beliefs to reach for the stars they use it as an excuse to stick their heads in the mud," uttered Sirocco, who paused a moment realising from the expressions of her companions the edge her words were gaining. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "They will not adapt to a changing world. They refuse to welcome change... and so I could only do them one service... and remove myself from their herd, so that they can continue to atrophy without anything to offend them." "There are some ponies, here, that are like that, Sirocco. They are everywhere. Just not in charge, thank the stars," Grapes said fervently. "I know. Perhaps that's one reason the Wonderbolts irk me so. They are impressive, yes.. but ultimately they are the best fliers for no other reason to be the best. Tradition for no other reason than tradition makes it meaningless," the foreign mare uttered with a frown of distaste "There may be more to it. Just takes a bit more research into the background," Grapes mused, thoughtfully. "I am proud to serve as a Storm-Rider. Beside my new family I have purpose, my actions have meaning," Sirocco said with a happy smile. "You really think of us as a family, Sirocco?" Earshot asked his eyes going wide. "Of course I do little one. You are the little brother I wished I could have had growing up,” she said. "So we're all your brothers and sisters?" "Well maybe not Summer Squall. He is the wise father I should have gotten were the world an amusement park," Sirocco mused, thoughtfully. "'Were the world an amusement park'?" Grapes asked. This time it was Earshot who screwed up his face in thought and sorted out an answer. "Amusement Park... carnival... circus... FAIR! If the world was fair." “Sounds legit,” Grapes said casually. "Ah! Yes... thank you Earshot," Sirocco said with a small smile. ----~O~O~O~----- Dinner was still being cooked when there was a loud grinding noise outside. A sound she now recognised as Firestormer's way of coming to a halt on her gravel driveway. Sour Grapes counted to three and there was a loud rapping at her door. She turned to where Earshot and Sirocco were tending to the dinner to be sure she wasn't needed before opening the door to Firestormer’s frantic knocking. “How’d it go?” Grapes asked without preamble. "It's great. Just perfect. I got the last place in town for the holidays. Mrs. Lacy Doily was more than happy to reserve her bed and breakfast for me but I still needed to pay in advance for it." He took a deep breath and exhaled, before pulling out the letter he read earlier and holding it out to her. She recognised the Art-deco styled Scarlet pegasus of his family Courier service on the stationary. The hoofwriting was jealously-invoking though. Crisp, tight curls and neat lines that were easy to read, in comparison to her own pensmareship. "I think I got a mark-up too on the price, but sometimes you gotta take what you can get. Anyways you can see mom and dad are just dying to meet you. Apparently they think you're the bees knees. Go figure." Grapes tilted her head, raising an eyebrow at this revelation. "Earshot isn't the only one who's been telling the world about yours truly." "Well. Yeah. But I haven't put you on a pillar or anything," Firestormer asserted. "I just talked a lot about your operation here, how fairly you treat us, how even handed you are in doing business... " "Was I mentioned, when you discussed the past with them?" Grapes asked, with a raised eyebrow. "Well, of COURSE. I mean you can't talk about your work without talking about you. You're kinda part and parcel with the whole thing.” “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it, Firestormer. Not my past, but yours,” Grapes said quietly. "Well... yes. I mean you got me to admit some things I really didn't want to think about. Credit where it's due," the fiery hued pegasus said with a slight grimace. "This is going to be interesting. But why did you feel the need to come beating down the door?" Grapes asked, stepping aside to let him in. "And I hope you like mashed turnips." "Turnips? Sirocco's cooking I take it. Uhm... well the thing is... I was so happy that I got the last bed in town that I suddenly realised..." Firestormer started. "You don't have a place to stay?" Grapes asked, apparently finishing his sentence. "I was faster than my brain... story of my life. Um... This is gonna sound dumb but..." "Can you stay here for the holidays? Don't see why not. You're going to have to help get the Bunkhouse finished, of course," Grapes added. “As it turns out, it’s not an original idea, staying here for the winter.” "So... that's why the sudden rush to renovate before winter?" Firestormer asked. "Yes. Mainly because I ran out of room in the house. It was fine for three mares and a young colt, but once Squall asked..." Grapes said trailing off and shrugging. "Well you can see where things got a bit... complicated." "I would have been willing to tough it out in the Bunkhouse. Whether it's like a sieve or not. Still... this will give me a chance to look over Squall's plans, make certain that the new Bunkhouse will be reasonably fire-proof," Firestormer said, drawing himself up with a new air of purpose. "Alrighty. The ladies and I have been getting supplies laid in... Earshot's been doing some early Hearth's Warming shopping for his family." "I'll help Squall with the construction... and help you with the last of the harvest work of course. You're paying your bits for work," the red pegasus said, thoughtfully. "Well we've almost got it wrapped up. There's not much to be done. Though I could pay a little bit for keeping an eye on the heaters in the caves," Grapes mused. “But, really, it’s kind of boring here. Will be nice to have you over the winter, but I can’t really do much beyond room and board.” "Well at least you'd be getting a pony who actually has an idea how heaters work." he said with a smirk. "Took a correspondence course in Heater repair a few years back." "I know how heaters work, too. Mainly because I read the instructions... Have read the instructions. Several times," Grapes asserted, deadpan. “Did I mention how boring it is, here, during the winter?” "I'm sure we’ll liven things up a little. I am glad to hear you have read the instructions though. Some ponies are really good at working stuff like that intuitively, but most others... well... you'd be surprised at the statistics." “No. I probably wouldn’t,” Grapes said, still in that deadpan voice. “I’ve probably read those, too, during a blizzard.” "Well if it helps, dad's probably gonna bring his movie projector and tons of old family movies. He's quite the camera-bug." "Cool. Somepony else's home movies," Grapes chuckled. "Anything embarrassing? We going to see you galloping about clad in soapsuds or something? Oh great. I'm probably going to have to dig that out, aren't I?" "Chances are I'm gonna get totally embarrassed. I'd probably blush the whole time if it could actually be seen on these cheeks." "I can only hope that my parents can't make it for Hearth's Warming... Then you would see the soapsuds flick." "I think jaybirding is pretty much a standard for parental embarrassment,” Firestormer observed. "Don't see how. We go around sans pantalones most of the time," Grapes observed. "Yeah but when you're a foal and just out of the tub there's something... humiliating about a photo of it when you're all grown up for some reason." "Even if you can remember it being fun, when you did it," Grapes said chuckling. "And you know deep down they're saving it up for blackmail so they have a retirement fund,” Firestormer groused. "Or just to get back at you for having fun at their expense," Grapes said. "After all my parents saved for their retirement fund." He was quiet a moment then looked up at her with a sheepish grin. "Thanks for having so many of us for the holidays." "Eh, better than being stuck with a pile of books I've read a million times before," Grapes quipped. "Just need Stormy to ask, to finish the set." "Well fat chance on that one. He's a total Momma's Colt at Hearth's Warming. He will head back to Maneland come drought or high water,” Firestomer asserted with a smirk. "We'll see. I bet you a portabella marsala dinner that he'll ask before the season's out," Grapes said with a smirk. "If you win, I'll cook. If I win, you have to get it from Horsa's." The young pony slicked back his yellow mane before extending his hoof. "A sucker's bet, but heck... I'm in." "Maybe. But at least from Horsa's, it won't be Istallion food by way of Crescent City." The two ponies shook on it, and just in time. Sirocco trotted into the room and called out "Dinner is served!" "C'mon, flyboy, let's eat," Grapes quipped. "Sounds like a good idea to me." ----~O~O~O~----- The next morning, breakfast was had, and everypony was setting up for the day's chores. There wasn't, really, much to do, with the harvest winding down. Grapes and Earshot were forking hay over the roots of the grapevines, Ice Storm was pruning the vines that had been harvested, Firestormer and Squall were working on the bunkhouse. Stormfront had yet to return from his visit to his hometown of Maneland. Grapes caught Ice Storm staring at the grapes that had yet to ripen. “You look like you’re pondering something, Queenie,” Grapes observed, as she trotted up to the ice blue pegasus. “Care to share?” "Well You're leaving these grapes up awfully late in the season. You're risking them getting a touch of frost, you're not depending on it are you?" "Yes, actually. I was going to experiment in Ice Wine. Just to see how well it turns out,” Grapes replied. “Why do you ask?” "It... It was something I was looking into back home. A way to help get a little more income into the community. You grow grapes and you harvest the ones that are ripe just as the frost comes and freezes them solid. then you smoosh and get the juices while they're still frozen... You see? Less water in the juice means the flavor isn't as watered down before fermenting. We... tried growing grapes as an experiment. Collected seeds from the grapes we used, set aside some land and found out we knew fewmets-all about tending them," Queenie explained. "Pardon my Prancian." “Heh. I can imagine that you found out you knew buck all about grapes pretty quickly,” Grapes observed. “It really depends on the variety. There are some that do well in high altitudes, and some that don’t. But you have to make sure you have the right sort for mountainous climates, make sure you have the correct variety that has a late fall to early winter harvesting time, make sure the soil’s properly prepared, and a load of other factors.” "Yeah. Now I can see that. We just used the seeds from the grapes the guests gorged themselves on... maybe not the best kind,” Ice Storm observed, looking a bit embarrassed. "Hmmmno. Those are table grapes. Fine for serving at meals, but not so much for making wine," Grapes explained. "Those varieties of grapes have a tad TOO much sugar, which would ferment into a lot of alcohol. You're wanting wine, not hard liquor." "Yeah... It's only now that I realised how much goes into growing grapes,” Queenie said looking at the vineyard. "Well, you are in the right place to learn all about it," Grapes quipped merrily. "But yeah. There are a lot of ponies that don't realize how much there is to growing grapes. That's why there are so many failed hobby-wineries. Some noblepony gets it into their fool head that just because they swill the stuff at their fancy parties, they're experts on wine. Mind you, I'm talking Canterlot nobles. Meant no disrespect to your family." "I know I spent more time in the deseeding shed than anywhere else but I have been watching. Learning where we went wrong,” Queenie said quietly. "Well you could, also, ask my advice," Grapes said casually. "I had been working up to that. I wasn't certain how much ridicule I might get admitting to our own attempt. Now I know better." "I've come to know you, Queenie. I consider you a friend. You're not one of those nobleponies from Canterlot who wouldn't know a vine from a runner, but somepony who would genuinely try their best at producing a potable product. After all it's for the benefit of your family, and people," Grapes said looking straight at Ice Storm. "You're not one of those hobbyists who thought it'd be a lark to toss some vines in the ground, with no rhyme or reason, and expect wine to be produced somehow." "Thank you, Grapes. And you've become as good a friend as I could ask for in this world. I must admit that working under you, I have learned so much. And if you would have me, I would like to learn more." "Teaching you the wine business would be something to do during the winter," Grapes said with a grin. "We would both gain something. I could learn a skill that would lend to the financial needs of my people, and you would have a welcome diversion during the long winter months." "That's always a good thing in my opinion," Grapes said with a grin. A large shadow passed overhead, momentarily blotting out the sun. Queenie looked up and smiled. "Well well well... guess who came back from momma-bird's nest." “He looks hap--YEEEE!” There was a feeling of fore legs wrapping around her and the world suddenly shrinking below. Flight was scary in itself for Grapes, but to be swung about like some kind of dance partner in the grasp of a laughing pegasus was downright terrifying. "Hahahahah! Grapes! It's WONDERFUL! Oh my goodness it's AMAZING! Finally something GOOD has happened for Mom!" "That's wonderful, now PUT ME DOWN!" Grapes yelped fearfully. "She won the Royal Equestrian Lottery! You hear me? SHE WON! Grand Prize! All expense-paid trip around the world on one of those new Airships! Finally! Oh Celestia FINALLY she's going to have someone looking after HER for a change," Stormfront crowed joyfully. "And if you don't put me down, WHO IN THE HAY WILL BE LOOKING AFTER YOU IN THE HOSPITAL!" "What? OH! Sorry! Sorry about that," Stormy said spreading his wings and slowly glided in for a gentle landing next to her mother's small flower garden. "My bad... I forgot that air travel doesn't agree with you..." Grapes staggered around a bit, before ducking into the begonias, and sounds of gut-wrenching retching issued from the flower bed. The pegasus winced, then went to the water trough to bring back a small full bucket and one of the towels that Ice Storm had been hanging up nearby in case of somepony desiring to wash themselves in a 'rustic' manner. "I am SO sorry.. I was just in such a good mood..." Stormfront uttered, looking embarrassed. "Obviously," Grapes uttered, sounding woozy. "Ugh... I'm happy for your mom, and all, but you grabbed me when I was feeling particularly 'earthy'... Ooogle..." "Well... at least your plants will grow well next spring." Grapes simply gave Stormy a flat look that said... quite a lot actually. “So. Your mother is going to be heading off for a ‘round the world airship cruise? When does she leave?” she asked. "Just before Winter begins. By the time the snows hit she will be in warmer climes,” the gray pegasus said happily. "So... She won't be home on Hearth's Warming?" The guilty look he had before now turned to sadness as he nodded. "Well.. yeah. That's the downside. No big Hearths Warming homecoming for me. I got a copy of the ship's itinerary so I can fly up when I want. My wings are perfect for long-distance travel, so maybe we can have a dinner or something." “Where will you be staying, then?” Grapes asked. "Well... I could still go back to Maneland and stay there. I mean an empty home is still home, right?" Stormy pondered. "Yes, but you'll be all by yourself, and on Hearth's Warming, too. Won't you get lonely?" Grapes asked. "Yeah. But I don't have a lot of options. I mean flying south for the winter is one of them but it's not like I could stay here. You've mentioned before how the Bunkhouse isn't built for severe cold weather," Stormfront replied. "Yeah, I had mentioned that... Before we started renovating it... Funny story..." "I'm going to need to be filled in then," he said giving her that oh so nice smile. "Looks like even being out of town for a few days can put me completely out of the loop." "Well it all started when I discovered that Sirocco would make a fantastic accountant. She helped me with my taxes, and I put her in charge of the finances, because of her math prowess. I can slog my way through, just fine, but she's quicker and more accurate. Then she asked to stay the winter," Grapes explained. "Obviously she can't go home. Then Earshot said he wished to stay, too, and experience Hearth's Warming, and after that Queenie found herself in possession of some vacation time, but not in possession of enough bits to stay in the local inn..." "Wow. You're really racking them up," Stormy observed. "So, two mares and a young colt. Shouldn't be a problem in the farmhouse, right? After all I have two guest rooms, and Queenie volunteered to sleep on the sofa. Then a complication named Summer Squall entered the mix. He asked if he could stay, too. So here I am, with a full house, and a bunkhouse that isn't fit for winter habitation. That's where the renovations came in. Squall was only too happy to volunteer his carpentry skills to renovate the Bunkhouse, to make it habitable in the winter months, AND give you rooms that you don't have to go to the common area in order to change your mind," continued Sour Grapes, obviously enjoying telling the story. Stormfront glanced back at his wings and giving them a little flex, chuckled. "And my disproportionate limbs thank you for okaying that." "Well let's just say the renovations came just in time. Because guess who's parents are coming to Ponyville for Hearth's Warming. And if you say mine, then you wasted a guess," Grapes quipped cheerfully. "You're kidding. Firestormer's parents are coming?" "Enope. I’m not kidding. He even got the very last room in Ponyville booked for the holiday, too," Grapes replied, with a chuckle. "Well that's great... oh wait... the last room, huh? I'm guessing that means it's Hearths Warming Eve and there's no room at the Inns... So he came to the farmer for a place to stay," observed the big gray pegasus. "Eyup. Came to me, and he's helping Squall with the renovations. Makes getting supplies, here, much quicker." "Wow. I'm amazed at how far along they're coming. Looks like it could be ready in just a week or two at this rate," Stormy said, sounding amazed. "Which is a good thing, I think. And over the winter, the decorating can be handled by those who are staying here," Grapes said with a grin. "Oh! Oh yes... I think I have a few ideas,” Stormy said thoughtfully. "Oh? Thought you were going to be in Mainland, over the winter," Grapes observed, oh so casually. "Um... well... about that... You know, seeing as you're renovating the bunkhouse and everyone else will be here and everything... Do you think I might be able to stay here as well?" "Of course. We'd be happy to have you, Stormfront," Grapes said with a grin, one ear listening for Firestormer. "So is there anything I can do to help things along?” the large gray pegasus inquired. "You would have to ask Squall. He's the forestallion on the job, and the expert master carpenter," Grapes replied. Firestormer's bright orange body swooped around the side of the house, coming to a rest near Grapes and Stormy. He placed the heavy pail full of nails down and worked the kinks out of his jaw. "Oh Hay, Stormy. Welcome back. " "Stormy had some great news... that he simply had to tell me while airborn," Grapes uttered. "I don't think I'll be taking up pegasai-assisted air dancing any time soon." "Oh. Too bad...." "...Firestormer." "You see Stormy here..." "Firestormer. No." "Well that just so happens..." "Stop." "Stormy's got a masters degree in Aero- Dance," Firestormer finally got out, looking triumphant. Stormy facehoofed. "Good for him," Grapes said simply. "I'm just terrified of heights. So, obviously I'd make a horrible partner... Last thing a good aero-dancer needs is his partner getting airsick on the audience." "Well he's really good at tripping the light fantastic. We saw him perform The Goose and the Gander during flight school." "That's lovely, Firestormer, but you've still got to fly to Horsia's and get dinner," Grapes deadpanned. "What? But... aw fewmets." Now it was Stormy's turn to smile. "You guys wagered on me staying or going?" "Yeah but the odds of you staying the winter..." "He didn't know about your Mom winning the lottery, obviously," Grapes observed, casually. "Wait... you mom won the lottery? You mean she's got that cruise around the world?" "That's right. She's off to exciting new climes and you, I'm guessing, are off to get dinner," Stormy replied with a grin. "Awwwwwww,” groused Firestormer. "I better get my bit bag... and a map." "And suddenly I'm feeling a lot less embarrassed," Stormy said. “And if you do any dancing with me, it’d better be on or near the ground,” Grapes quipped. He blushed and bowed his head with a smirk. "Deal." "Okay. I guess you'd better check in with Squall. I'll set the table. Hope everypony's in the mood for Istallion food," The brown unicorn uttered, turning toward the eating area set up outside. “Ok. And incidentally... thanks for not giggling when he told you about my dance performances." "What? Why would I laugh? All it did was explain why such a big pegasus is so graceful," Grapes observed, casually. "Well... Mom made me take lessons because I wasn't exactly graceful as a colt... Kept knocking things over and tripping over my own wings. By the time I was good at it I found out that the idea of me doing such... sensitive classes made fillies giggle and colts laugh,” Stormy sighed. "Foals can be so cruel at that age," Grapes observed. "But, seriously, I don't judge a pony because they've taken dance lessons. I've got a natural talent for it, myself, but I don't belittle others for needing a little help." "You dance?" "Yes. I dance. Everything from Argentine Tango to Vehaynese Waltz. Ask Pinkie Pie, and Rarity. I do a mean Mambo,” Grapes asserted proudly. "Wow... Good to know if I ever need a Dance partner." "And it's good to know you won't step on my hooves." "Or take waltz you among the clouds.... which is a pity because we have a heck of a ballroom in Cloudsdale." "I'm fine, as long as I don't look down," Grapes explained. "Or think I'm on a relatively solid surface, with no fear of falling." "Yeah...walking on clouds is a bit of a talent that has to be learned I think," Stormy mused. "Or have a spell for if you're not born a pegasus," Grapes quipped, as they walked toward the dining area. "You know, there's probably something like that for visiting dignitaries. What's the point of looking down on the world unless you can bring ponies up and gloat about it to them?" Stormfront uttered cheerily. "I could ask the magical maven, herself," Grapes mused, thoughtfully. "Anyway, it's portabella marsala, tonight. Firestormer gets to buy, because I think Crescent City cooking is best saved for deep winter." "Mmm... at least we know it'll be hot and fresh," Stormfront observed with a grin. "Indeed. I don't know how good it would be if I cooked it. I'm a passable cook, mind, but... That's one I'd never made myself." “I think we all have something we're good at preparing. Ironically enough Queenie is great with cold meals. Squall has a wide variety of meals he's picked up during his misspent youth, I'm good with comfort food, Sirocco has some interesting ones like this dish she calls hummus. Earshot... well... we have yet to let him make us a meal. Firestormer... he has a taste for spicy dishes. I mean dunk your head in the water trough spicy." “Why am I not surprised,” Grapes uttered, as she set the table. ----~O~O~O~----- A few days later, the Bunkhouse was coming along nicely, the final few grapes were being brought in and processed, and the vineyard seemed to be taking care of itself. Sour Grapes decided to take some time off, and finally read the new Daring Doo book that had come out. Despite the air getting cooler, it was still one of those days where if you lay in the sun instead of the shade you felt quite toasty. And there was JUST such a spot over by the gate where two posts had been set for just days. She found the hammock and hitched it to the nice large brass rings on the posts. Satisfied it would hold she set up a small table next to it, put her fresh iced tea on it, then putting her book between her teeth, carefully maneuvered herself into the sling. She wasn't expecting anything more than a simple afternoon of light reading, when... BOOM! Grapes started, and was sent spinning at high speed in her hammock, then dumped unceremoniously upon the ground. She lay there, dazed, for a few moments, before staggering to her hooves, and looking around, curiously. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, but there was a fading shimmering of color. She had heard Rainbow Dash had finally pulled off the Legendary Sonic rainboom, with credible witnesses no less, but had she done it a third time, this close to home? She then looked up, and there was a rainbow streak. So yes that was her, and she was turning around. Then there was another burst of light, but it seemed more subdued. Her eyes widened as she saw multiple booms happening one after the next, but they were hitting one another, smudging each burst in turn and... nullifying? It was amazing! The sound was like one long rumble of thunder but this... This was astounding. The only thing that could neutralise a sonic rainboom was... ANOTHER one. "How in the hay is she doing that?" Grapes asked, watching the show in awe. "Beats the hay outta me, Cuz," said Applejack from the yard across the road. "Sure is pretty though. Maybe she's practicin'. " “At the rate of speed she’s having to go to perform sequential rainbooms, she’s either going to crash, or rip her wings out of their sockets, THEN crash,” Grapes said, frowning. "Is that a fact? Well ah'm sure things'll sort themselves out. As for me, ah can't stand around her jawin' all day. Ah got mah final harvest to get movin'." "You don't sound particularly worried about one of your best friends possibly killing herself," Grapes observed. Applejack began to trot forwards and there was a horrible groaning sound from behind her. Like wood and metal crying out in protest... Then Grapes saw it. Behind Applejack was the BIG cart. The ones the Apples only brought out on special occasions. It was about twice the size of a regular cart but this one was full to the top with apples. The orange pony 'lunged' forwards, dragging the incredibly overloaded cart behind her. "Ah'm sure she'll tucker herself out before then. If not, Twi will do somethin'. Besides, these apples ain't gonna buck themselves, or find their way to market. See you later Grapes." "Uh... Applejack? Do you think you're Big Mac or something?" Grapes asked, looking in askance at the huge cart. "Or, maybe, a whole team of Big Mac's? Because, seriously, how are you pulling that cart?" "Dunno, sugercube, but Ah got all this energy t'burn and ah ain't a gonna waste it. H'YAAAA!" Applejack said and began to gallop, dragging the helpless wagon behind her. “‘Energy to burn’?” Grapes mused, raising an eyebrow. “Hmmm...” Sour Grapes then turned, and galloped to the one pony she knew that just MIGHT know what’s going on. She ran into town, more than a little disturbed that with such a large load, Applejack was leaving her behind. Still she made good time and headed to the library... And skidded to a stop as a group of male ponies ran past in a panic. "What. The. Hoary. Horseradished. Hay?!" The small stampede finished passing by and for a moment Grapes thought it was safe to go when a butter-yellow pegasus dropped in front of her. It was Fluttershy but she had a riding crop between her teeth and had a predatory gleam in her eye. "Come BACK! You need to be herded together in one spot and cared for! Come Back! I swear... You... Are going... To LOVE ME!" "What just happened?" Grapes asked staring stunned at the retreating stampede. "Hiiiiiiiiiii Grrrrrrrrapes! Was that Fluttershyyyyyyyy?" said Twilight from behind her. “I’m almost scared to look,” Grapes uttered, before turning around and facing the lavender unicorn. Twilight looked a little... frazzled, bearing a twitchy, creepy grin. That in itself was unusual but even counting the purple flickering nimbus of magical energy around her body she seemed otherwise fine. "I wonderrrrr why she was chasing all those Stallionsssss?" "I, honestly, have no idea. And what have you been up to, Twilight? You look a bit... overworked," Grapes said, exercising tact, a rare occurrence for her to be honest. More like overloaded, she thought gazing in trepidation at the mare. "Oh me? It's amazing! I've been exposed to a whole new way of looking at things. It's like enlightenenenen... en...ment. The magical harmonics of everything around me lies open like an open... thing... that's easily read... like a book or something.... " Twilight was acting stranger than normal, and the fact she was slowly turning a cartwheel in mid-air before Grapes' eyes wasn't helping her opinion that something was wrong. "I can see the Uuuuuuuuuuuniverse." Oh yeah... handle with care time, Grapes thought, an ear flopping back, as she pondered what to do, now. The smartest pony Grapes knew was... well... incapacitated. Grapes, herself, was unsure of what was occurring, except it involved ponies having an unusual amount of energy. “Okay, little miss ‘I can see the universe’,” Grapes then stated. “Follow me. If you can see the universe, then you can see new and interesting ways to make wine.” This was not, however, an effort to use Twilight Sparkle’s current condition to her own advantage. Sour Grapes had a hastily put-together plan, and she figured that a unicorn as powerful as Twilight Sparkle did not need to... er... float about unsupervised. "Ooh... new wine methods... I'll have to add that to the ever growing list of things that I can ponder with my new accelerated mystic perceptions... Right after Fluttershy's herding stallions into a paddock in her yard and before why Rarity is coming this way." "She must be really repressed," Grapes observed wryly. "Wait. Rarity's coming this way?" True enough, Rarity was trotting over to them with a rather pleasant expression on her face and her saddlebags full to bursting on her back. "Good day Sour Grapes, Twilight. Isn't it a magnificent day?" "Hiiiiii Rrrrarity!" Twilight said gleefully, her waving tilting her axis to a new angle. "Depends on your point of view, Rarity," Grapes said casually. "Twilight is seeing the universe, Rainbow Dash has been performing sonic rainbooms for the past... Hmmm... Fifteen minutes, and Fluttershy is herding what few stallions Ponyville has living here together at her house for some hereto unknown purpose." "Really? Sounds like a fascinating and puzzling set of occurrences. I'm afraid I couldn't help you there, but if you asked for a new outfit, my muse has been working overtime today," Rarity said, then her face lit up and she giggled like a schoolgirl. "OH! Oh, inspiration strikes! Stand back... I'm about to be BRILLIANT!" Her horn began to glow diamond blue and Grapes heard a wrenching sound from behind her. Looking up she realised the Green and yellow striped awning from the building behind her had been ripped from its moorings and gracefully descended upon her and Twilight while wrapped in that same Diamond Blue light. As if it were a choreographed dance, Rarity's bags shimmered with unicorn magic, and opened as dozens of sewing implements leapt forth. Scissors, cut, chalk drew, tape measures found their way across every inch of her and Twilight's bodies before pins, needles and threads did their work and all at alarming speed. It felt as if she had no choice but to stay stock-still and pray Rarity didn't poke her with something sharp as she was wrapped lovingly in thick fabric. The whirlwind of activity ended and implements flew back into Rarity’s bags and she grinned with contentment. "Oh yes... oh my dear Twilight, oh my dear Sour Grapes... you look magnificent." Grapes dared a peek in the nearby shop window and realised she was now dressed in a fairly sharp-looking dress jacket with a bustle-skirt. Quite business-like and really not that bad. Twilight was in a Nehru Jacket with some manner of slacks. It was strange, but with her floating there it seemed to actually suit her. “Well,” Grapes observed. “That’s different. I hope that shopkeeper didn’t mind you using their awning for material, though.” "Oh pish-tush. Genius cannot be constrained by mere legalities," Rarity said with a dismissive motion of her hoof. "You are so rrrrright Rarrrrrrity." "Thank you, Twilight. Now I must be off... oh so many ponies to CLOTHE! Oh nakedness everywhere BEGGING for my designs! Ta Ta!" "She'll get the bill, later," Grapes quipped, casually. "Well, come on. Time and wine wait for nopony." With Rarity off doing what she did best Grapes returned to her attempts to find her cousin. Twilight slowly drifted off in the general direction of Grapevine Hills, tumbling along in mid-air like a bizarre cross between a tumbleweed and novelty-balloon. She did a circle of the town, noticing signs of pony mayhem here and there, ponies in strange 'inspired' clothing, Stallions cowering in hiding places, some stared up at the sky in awe and an enormous pile of apples sat where the Apple Family Stall once stood. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle stood there digging through the pile as a small muffled voice came from within; "Ah think you guys are gettin’ close. Ah can hear ya now." “Has anypony seen Applejack?” Grapes asked, then looked at the huge pile of apples. “ONE pile of apples. One pile of apples...” she repeated to herself like a mantra, and lifted one pile of apples, carefully setting them aside. A small pale yellow filly with red hair sat under the stall munching on an apple. Around Applebloom was a small pile of apple cores. She blinked in the sunlight and smiled. "OH! Thanks Auntie Sour Grapes. It was kinda stuffy under there." "Looks like you got a head start on attempting to eat your way out," Grapes quipped casually. "So what happened?" "Well Applejack came home from her trip to the doctor's office this mornin’ and started buckin’ up a storm. Ah ain't ever seen her work with this much enthusiasm since the last Applebuckin' season. Y’know, where she nearly bucked herself to the grave? Anyways she set me here to sell a wagonload of apples before she started puttin’ the rest into storage. Guess when she upturned the wagon she forgot there was more apples in the cart than there was stall... or me," Applebloom explained. "Yeah. Applejack really put the cart before the pony,” Scootaloo giggled. Grapes merely facehoofed. "So she's back at the farm now, probably got the whole family helpin' her get that last harvest in before things frost over,” Applebloom concluded. "She could try making ice cider," Grapes muttered. "You guys going to be okay, now?" "Well, if we can sell all these apples, yeah. Thanks again Auntie Sour Grapes." "No problem. Good thing the Running of the Leaves was LAST week," Grapes said, trotting off toward Grapevine Hills. First, to make sure Twilight got there safely. Second, to send the Riders to keep Rainbow from becoming a crater. Sour Grapes galloped at full tilt through Ponyville, determined to get home in a hurry, then something caught her eye. She came to a screeching halt, then slowly walked backwards to take a better look. There, sitting quietly at a small table at the cafe was Pinkie Pie. Her hair was straight as if it had been put on an ironing board and flattened, she was wearing a black turtleneck and beret, a pair of small black sunglasses. She seemed to be absorbed in quiet contemplation, occasionally jotting down a thought on a large notepad... and scarily enough... she was sipping tea. This was new. Grapes trotted over, cautiously, unsure if this was a prank because Pinkie was well-known for them. “Erm... Hello, Pinkie,” Grapes said uncertainty obvious in her voice. “How are you doing, today?” "Oh. Hello, Sour Grapes," she said in an almost bored tone. "Bordering between existential ennui and pleasant jubilation. Ever since I was at the Doctor's offices I've just felt like sitting down and watching the world pass by, observing the events as they transpire and transcribing my observations as they come." “Interesting,” Grapes observed. “The doctor’s office, hm? Were all six of you there, then? And did anything peculiar happen, while you were there?” "If by all six, you mean Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and myself... yes. Yes we were. I don't remember anything out of the ordinary. We were there because Twilight wanted to get her flu shot for the winter, and we decided to show solidarity by getting ours at the same time. We got our shots, helped ourselves to the complementary tea and went our separate ways," Pinkie replied. "Complimentary tea... It wouldn't have happened to taste like a blend of Assam Darjeeling, Golden Steed Eyebrow, Bailin Gongfu, and Pu'erh teas by any chance?" Grapes asked, a sick look coming over her face. "Why... yes. I do remember those flavors. A rather bracing blend. Like diving into an icy pond," Pinkie said, and Grapes remembered the exact same description being used by a different pony not too long ago. "That. Explains. Every. Bucking. Thing. I am going to seriously maim Redline," Grapes uttered, before turning to continue her journey to Grapevine Hills. "I can't kill the bucking idiot, because the last thing I need is to put that cute little filly back into foster care. And I can't take her in. Though the Riders would absolutely love her..." Grapes arrived at home in record time. Giving a sidelong glance at the manic activity in Sweet Apple Acres she focused on the task at hoof... having words with Redline. She took a detour around the house to get to the north field and found Moondust sitting by some of the frames with Twilight... actually she was sitting there and holding the end of a bright red length of yarn that was tied around Twilight's waist as she floated there. It was seeing her with the strangest novelty balloon in Equestria. "Hi, Miss Grapes!" "Hi, Moondust. Keeping the incredible Miss Sparkle out of trouble?" "Yep. She's just looking at your plants. It's kinda neat. I've never seen a pony just float like this before. Big brother is getting some water from the pump for her," the pegasus filly replied. "Good to know," Grapes uttered, looking around for the eccentric inventor. "I need to have a little chat with him." "Chat about what?" asked Redline as he trotted towards her, Full water bucket sloshing as he approached. "I hope it's not gonna take long... I think Twilight Sparkle isn't herself today." "Nor is Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rarity," Grapes said. "And somehow, they all got some of YOUR tea at the Doctor's office." He stopped in mid-step, and the bucket fell to the ground, spilling its contents. "Wait... Hold on... Please back up a few paces. They did what?" "Somehow, they ingested some of your tea blend, at the doctor's office," Grapes repeated, a bit slower this time. "Okay that's starting to explain a lot... I mean I never thought that my tea would do anything to another pony like THIS but then again the doctor said I had built up a tolerance to caffeine. But why is he handing it out to his other patients?" "Why did the doctor have your tea in the first place?" Grapes asked. "Oh that. Yeah he wanted a sample for testing so he could start me on a program where we dial back how much caffeine I'm ingesting. Apparently you can get withdrawal from going cold turkey with caffeine. Go figure," Redline replied with a shrug. "So why was your tea blend, which obviously is a blend of highly caffeinated teas, which would naturally have a dangerously high level of caffeine in the complimentary tea pot?" Grapes asked then looked fearful. "And... Oh... darn... STORMY!" "Stormy?" Redline asked, confused. A gray-white head popped up from amid the rows and looked around in a startled manner. "What? What? Grapes? What's wrong?" "Rainbow Dash has been up in the sky making sonic rainbooms for... I don't know how long. She's been over-caffeinated, and will probably be coming down from the caffeine high, soon, and will NOT be in any shape to land, properly," Grapes explained. "Oh... oh wow. That's not good." "Ya think?" Grapes observed, sounding just a tad sarcastic. "Need you, and... Firestormer to go and catch her." "Right... You want me to have someone get a doctor?" "Yes. Get Crabapple. I trust him more than that quack at the Clinic," Grapes replied. "Oh, and see if you can get Queenie to go and round up Rarity. She's been on a fashion crusade, obviously, and I think Queenie may be the only one who can talk her down." Stormfront gave a smart salute and took wing, flapping up into the air. "You can count on me boss." "Applejack should be collapsing from exhaustion, soon, so when Crabby's finished with little miss mystical prodigy, here, he can go and tend to A. J.," Grapes mused. Redline glanced over at Moondust who was gently tugging the yarn, this way and that, making Twilight bob about in funny ways. "Yeah... maybe this is a sign that I'm not doing myself any favors drinking such strong teas. Moondust, please don't play with Twilight like that." "But look... she's like a balloon." "Yes, but she's still a mare, with amazing cosmic powers... And probably a bad case of magical exhaustion coming on," Grapes observed. "I'm glad you're keeping her from floating off, and getting into mischief, but you have to take the responsibility seriously." "Okay," she said bowing her head in disappointment before Redline hugged her. "If you're good I'll make you a Twilight-shaped balloon later. Does that sound nice?" "YAY!" Moondust enthused cheerfully, as Grapes sighed, rolling her eyes, and smirking a bit. She watched as the pegasai flew off to take care of their assignments. Then she saw Fluttershy flying toward Sweet Apple Acres, and the vineyard. Grapes casually trotted over to the road, and caught the errant butter-yellow pegasus, and held her in her golden levitation field. “What, may I ask, do you call yourself doing?” the chocolate brown unicorn asked in her best disapproving schoolmarm voice. "Let me go! I've got to get Big Macintosh! He needs to be cared for! I'll put him with the others, he'll be fed, and watered, and loved..." "He's needed at the farm, and you know it," Grapes said sternly. "And why, pray tell, have you been herding up stallions, anyway, Fluttershy?" "I... I don't KNOW! I want them all together in one place! I want to just have them... I... I'm... I'm being silly... aren't I?" Fluttershy uttered as she began to cease struggling, and calm down. the maniacal gleam in her eye fading. "Just a bit, yes," Grapes said with a nod. "I think the tea you had at the doctor's office was not meant for general consumption. Not sure why that idiot had it out where you and your friends could get to it, but you're on a bit of a caffeine high, right now." "So that's why I'm feeling... urpy?" Fluttershy asked. "'Urpy'?" Grapes asked. "Yes..." she said looking a little unsteady on her hooves. "My stomach isn't feeling very..." her face went green and she rushed for the outhouse... but only made it as far as Grapes' flower garden. “Wow, the flowers in that bed are going to be extra fertilized," Grapes deadpanned. “I barfed in there, earlier this week.” "Ew," the little filly uttered, making a face. "Yes, Moondust. Ew," agreed Redline. "Wasn't my fault. Stormy decided to celebrate some good news by taking me air-dancing... Just one problem. I'm afraid of heights," Grapes explained. "Why don't you hang out here, Fluttershy, and help Moondust keep Twilight from floating off?" "O... ok... If that's alright with you," she murmured walking over and accepting Redline's offer of the remaining water in the bucket. "It's fine, Fluttershy. My cousin, the doctor, will be by, and give you a check-up to make sure your run-in with overcaffeinated tea hasn't done any permanent harm to you," Grapes said soothingly. "And we're going to make sure Rainbow Dash, and Rarity are all right. I'll go and see if I can get Pinkie to come here, too, just to have most of you all in one place." "Ok... That sounds... nice..." "I'm sorry my tea did all of this Grapes. You really did have a good point," Redline said sadly. "At least you'll be around for your little sister," Grapes said with a nod. "Didn't know how close you were to causing your heart to just... give out, did you?" "I'm just glad we figured it out before I added another variety of tea to my blend..." "Let me guess... You started out with one, then when the first one got to the point where it wouldn't give you the energy you needed, you added another variety known for its caffeine level, then another, and another. Am I correct?" "Well caffeine level and flavor... I wasn't about to just drink mud. Although Moondust never could stand the taste of tea. she likes the smell, but that's about it." "Right. Well I'd better get Pinkie," Grapes said, heading back to town, hoping that she hasn't moved from that cafe. It took about two hours to wrangle the ponies all into one spot. They were sore, exhausted, sick and confused but at least they were safe. Doc Crabapple just finished checking them out and sighed. "And all this started because each had ONE cup of tea... Just lovely." "No this all started, because that idiot at the Clinic left a specimen out where these six could get their hooves on it," Grapes quipped. "Yes, it was tea, but it was a special blend that THAT mad inventor, well, invented to give himself energy." "Stallions Alive! You mean some stallion drinks that tea on a regular basis and is ALIVE?" Crabapple exclaimed disbelievingly. Grapes casually pointed at Redline. The earth-pony doctor galloped over to Redline and started examining him. "Hey... what gives?" Redline yelped. "Hold still, son, let me get a look at you," the crab apple green pony grumped as he continued the examination. "The patients are over there, I'm fine," the red-maned unicorn protested "I'm amazed," uttered Crabapple, undeterred. Grapes sat there, smirking at the hapless inventor. Revenge was sweet. "Aw come on... focus on the sick, Doc. You can poke and prod later," Redline protested. "Fine, fine... But I want you in my office for a full physical later today. *Ahem* Ok... our caffeinated stallion aside they'll all be fine. Just a lot of muscle strain, their systems are overtaxed and the caffeine plus the exertion has left them dehydrated. So, I'm prescribing lots of fluids and bed rest for the lot of them... well except for the librarian," Crabapple observed in his usual gruff manner. “Extreme magical exhaustion, correct?” Grapes asked. “I’ll put her up, here, and make sure there’s somepony around to help her with the menial tasks. Until I get her dragon here.” "Yeah. You know the drill. Fluids, bedrest, no excitement, no solids, no magic for no less than four days. I can write out a prescription for the right herbs to take some of the sting out of it but Magical exhaustion is best treated with rest," Crabapple replied. "Aye aye, Doc. You heard the stallion, Twilight," Grapes said sternly. "And the rest of you need to get home, and rest. I don't have room to, well, room you all." There was a chorus of groans from the other five when a hay wagon was pulled over to them by Stormfront. "Relax ladies. I got this one. Free rides for all tea-timers," he said with a cheerful smile. It took a little effort to help them all into the cart but they seemed grateful that getting back to their own homes was taken care of. “Come on, oh mystical prodigy and seer of the universe, let’s get you to bed,” Grapes quipped, helping Twilight up to her hooves. "Nuuuuuuuuuuu," Twilight murmured, still very much out of it, the occasional flicker trying to be mustered from her horn... and fizzling. "Wanna stay up... the munsters will get me without my book fort." "I'm going to tuck you in, and you'll be all warm and cosy, and safe from all monsters," Grapes said soothingly. "Monsters don't like me. They're afraid I'll put them to work harvesting grapes." "She means it too," came Earshot's voice from behind her. "Look at me. According to the stories I should be sucking blood... and terrorising the night... not scaring little bunnies. Need any help, Miss Grapes?" "I've got it, Earshot. Thanks. Though you can tag along in case I do need help. And it's not your fault that some idiot author decided that Night Ponies would be perfect vampires," Grapes said, as she helped the somnolent purple unicorn to her old room. "I can do that for you... How much magic was she doing? She smells like Ozone," Earshot observed. "She overdosed on caffeine, and was floating around like a balloon," Grapes said. "Not a CLUE of what ELSE she's been up to, today." "Wow... I must be drinking the wrong kind of tea then." "It was Redline's tea blend, and all she had was one single cup," Grapes uttered. "Oh yeah. I heard you say something like that." "Let's just say you won't be getting that tea any time soon," Grapes said calmly. "No clue how you'll react, for one thing." "Ok. Boy it's been a crazy day though... I could swear I HEARD Miss Fluttershy yelling," Earshot uttered, shaking his head in amazement. "You did." "So what does 'Loving the stuffing out of you' mean?" Earshot asked. "I'll explain when you're older." "You'd be surprised how often I hear that." "It's because you're nocturnal creature in an area inhabited by diurnal creatures," Grapes observed. "And you have incredibly good hearing." "What would that have to do with people always telling me that ‘I'll explain when you're older’? " Earshot asked. Grapes blinked, realizing that she had made a mistake about just which phrase Earshot heard a lot. "How old are you, Earshot?" "About ten... give or take,” he replied. "And have you had the 'where little ponies come from' talk?" "Not yet. That's one of those ‘When you're older’ details,” the night pony answered with a sigh. "About thirteen or so. Trust me, you'll know when it's time," Grapes said sagely. "And ten? Really? You act so much older... You getting enough schooling? You could join the classes at the town's school, if you liked." "That would be kinda neat. I often listen in, and the other Storm-Riders have been teaching me stuff. Sirocco calls it Home-Cruelty, but I think she means Home-Schooling." “Probably so. That or it’s a word from her country,” Grapes observed. “All right. I’ll take you to meet Miss Cheerilee tomorrow, and see about getting you enrolled.” "Okie dokie lokie!" Earshot chirped. Grapes chuckled, then looked over at the sleeping Twilight. That could have been me, had things been different, Grapes thought. But I’m glad things worked out this way. > Interlude - Calamity's Aftermath > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grapes lit the oil lamp at her kitchen table before sitting down with pen and paper. Twilight was upstairs tucked into her bed, in a fitful sleep. Magical stress from overtaxing yourself usually included some horrific nightmares, something Grapes herself remembered from when she was trying to work out her own magical talents. She only used the one lamp because, one: It saved on oil, and two: She didn't want to risk waking up Twilight unless she had to. Poor mare had nearly turned her horn into a burnt-out matchstick with her caffeinated antics. Taking a deep breath, Grapes centered herself. She needed to focus when writing, after all she did it as earth ponies did. By Lip-service. Well she could both lip-write, and horn write. Just depended upon how much 'heavy lifting' she had been doing with her limited magic any given day. She checked her reserves, and figured she could go with hornwriting for a bit, the much neater option to be sure. Now how to open this letter? 'Dear' could be too familiar, but she didn't want to go too formal, unless it was for humorous purposes. So "Most Radiant, and Glorious Monarch of the Sun, Princess Celestia" was right out. "To the Mare that is so tough that she can bench-press giant balls of fire"? Grapes giggled, and mentally edited "Mare" to "Princess". Perhaps a little much, but Celestia did say that it was nice to hear from someone who was obviously NOT sucking up to her for a favor. She giggled and took a sip of her glass of Summer Sunrise Wine and continued. "I thought I should bring you up-to-date on the activities of everypony's favorite under-sung national heroes, and their danger-prone little hometown of Ponyville. We have had a VERY interesting day." Interesting being an understatement. No doubt her Royal Vizier, Guarity, was still shuffling through facts in an attempt to work out what happened down here today. Where to begin... well first person experiences usually are best done in chronological order. Her mind flickered back to when the FIRST Sonic rainboom knocked her clean on her flank. "I was taking some time off to do a little light reading, when I heard a loud 'BOOM' cut through the air, knocking me on my flank. It was more than a little startling, especially when I was expecting a relatively quiet afternoon. Running of the Leaves was LAST week, along with that ridiculous Iron Pony competition, so I figured we were due for some quiet. I guess I was wrong. Anyway, I look up, and see Rainbow Dash flying through the air at top speed. She then executed a sonic rainboom. Then another, and another." She took a moment to close her eyes and remember how amazing all of those rings looked going off, slamming into one another and... blending like a child's watercolors. She wished she were more artistic so she could draw or paint a picture to commemorate the event. "It looked amazing. There are absolutely no words, even in my vast vocabulary to describe the shimmering rings of rainbow colors blending together like ripples in a pond. But I was wondering how she was able to do sequential rainbooms. The stresses upon her body had to be terrific. I ended up in a conversation with my cousin, Applejack, and she seemed sure that Rainbow Dash was practicing, and would be all right. I wasn't so sure about that, but what happened next sort of shocked the concern for Dash from my head, and replaced it with concern for Applejack. She was hauling what looked like over two-hundred pounds of apples in the Apple Family's large wagon." The ludicrous details of the day came back to her much faster now that she had the quiet time to think about them. So far it seemed that nopony else in town had been hurt during the events but many were fairly shaken. "I tried to follow Applejack, but even with half a ton of apples and a wagon, she still outdistanced me. Either I was really out-of-shape, or something else was going on. I decided that I should see Twilight Sparkle, because it would be good to get somepony else's insight into these events, when I was startled by a group of stallions running by in a panic... Followed by a very assertive Fluttershy. Apparently she was herding the stallions to be cared for... I am still not sure why, to be honest." The truth was she did have a FEW tangible theories, but she really didn't want to embarrass Fluttershy by being the one to start spreading them. There was a time to be honest, then a time to be honest up to a point. They were, at this point, more hypotheses than anything. She had no proof, or anything other than her on conjecture to support them. But Princess Celestia did not need to know Grapes' speculative ponderings. "It was then I was greeted by the distorted voice of Twilight Sparkle. I was, almost, afraid to look, and when I did, I quickly found my fears justified. There she was, surrounded by a magical nimbus, looking twitchy, and (to be absolutely honest) overloaded on arcane energy. I asked her how she was. And she told me that she'd been introduced to a new way of looking at things. The magical harmonics of everything was laid out like an open book. She could, she asserted, see the universe. Our dear Twilight won't be living that down any time soon. I hastily came up with a plan to get her, and the rest of the Element Bearers to the vineyard, to keep an eye on them." In retrospect maybe she should have tied a string to Twilight, like Moondust did. It was a rather simple yet ingenious solution to having her drift off... in more ways than the figurative. Still... personal levitation was perhaps one of the least bizarre things she saw that day. "I was able to persuade Twilight to make her way to the vineyard, when Rarity showed up. Have you ever had a fashion designer spontaneously use an awning to make you a new outfit? It's... slightly frightening. Mind you the outfit looked rather smart on me, but it took me awhile to get it off, because Rarity forgot to include little things like fasteners on the blasted thing. Strangely she seemed to be inspired by our going about without clothes, for some reason... Anyway, she went off to play dress-up with other ponies, and I continued on my way to find Applejack. Instead I found a pile of apples. I helped rescue Apple Bloom from the appleanche, and discovered that Applejack had already gone back to Sweet Apple Acres. I decided to head back to the Vineyard to check on Twilight, and get Stormy to rescue Rainbow Dash from becoming one with the landscape when I noticed Pinkie Pie sitting quietly, drinking tea at a local Cafe." That in itself STILL gave Grapes the willies. It was the complete lack of motion in the hyperkinetic pony that was truly disturbing. She had a feeling her own dreams were going to be VERY interesting tonight. Probably involving mad tea parties where the pink hostess was still as a statue. "It was disconcerting to say the least. I had never seen Pinkie Pie that still. Ever. That was when I was given an explanation as to what had happened. Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack accompanied Twilight to the local Clinic to get their flu shots. And they all had one cup of the complementary tea. Just one problem. The tea wasn't so complementary. It was a sample of a tea that Redline came up with to give himself extra energy. A blend of the four most caffeinated teas in existence." A giggle rose up her throat as she imagined Princess Celestia if she were to drink such a tea. She was, after all, a notorious tea-aficionado and might risk trying some. She had a mental image of the sun rising and setting so fast it would be like a big yellow streak of light in the sky. She just had to trust that she wouldn't be so foalish as to try the caffeinated horror that was Redline Tea. "The sample was intended to see just HOW strong Redline liked his tea... And he ended up getting a lesson in what would happen if the uninitiated had gotten their hooves on the stuff. After all, I did tell him that he was courting a heart-attack, when I discovered his blend, a while back. He has a younger sister, and he needs to be there for her. Thankfully I caught Fluttershy en route to add Big Mac to her herd. And managed to marshal the troops to save Rainbow Dash from becoming Rainbow Crash, roundup Rarity, and persuade Applejack and Pinkie Pie to join their friends at the Vineyard. Twilight, of course, was already there, being kept from floating away by Moondust and a bit of cleverly applied yarn." She paused a moment to make a mental note to untie that yarn from Twilight tomorrow. It was just leaving it on her and tying the other end to the bedpost gave Grapes a sensation of comfort. She knew it was silly but she was worried Twilight might have a relapse and drift out the window. "Well that's about it. Doctor Crabapple noted that they were all exhausted, and will probably be sore. Naturally they will need rest and liquids. Twilight, as you can probably guess, is suffering from Extreme Magical Exhaustion. I have her tucked up in my guest room, and will keep her here, until she recovers. She's a good pony, and as her friend, I'll help her get better. Just wish somepony else was in charge of that clinic. The doctor, quite frankly, was utterly careless." She did the mental arithmetic in her head about the size of an average teacup and the volume of the average Teapot, coming to the conclusion that six Ponies would have just about finished a full pot off. So hopefully there weren't any other ponies out there who were forced to go on a Caffeinated bender. Although it might have been interesting to see how each pony she knew would have reacted to the sudden burst of uncontrollable energy. "All in all the damage was fairly minimal, and every pony involved will have recovered in the next week or two. However the doctor at the clinic should be replaced with somepony more competent. May I suggest Doctor Crabapple? Sure he'll be grouchy about it, but in the end, he'll be helping more ponies, and saving others from another caffeinated calamity. Well that's what's been happening here. I hope this missive finds you in good health. Your Reasonably Faithful Subject, Sour Grapes." The next morning after Sour Grapes wrote her missive, she put it into an envelope, and made ready to go out, and fetch Spike and Twilight's owl... whatever its name was. She put the letter into her saddle bag, did a quick check on Twilight, to make sure that she wasn't going anywhere, and to untie that yarn, of course. She decided to pick up Spike, first, so she'd have someone to talk to, in the line at the Post Office, since she needed to get stamps. "Heya Miss Grapes." Earshot said, squeezing out from under her front porch. "Where you off to?" "Just going into town... Er... what were you doing under there?" Grapes asked, curiously. "Clearing out a nest of mice that were trying to move in. They kinda got the idea after I stared at them for a minute and slunk off... then I had breakfast and found some neat stuff like a jar full of bottlecaps." "A jar full of bottlecaps?" Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. "I wonder who put it there? Anyway, keep an ear on Twilight, okay? No solids. And get Stormy to fix some soup for her if I'm not back by lunch." "Okie dokie." He held up the jar and gave it a shake. "Can I keep them? They're neat." "I don't see why not. They're some young colt's lost treasure, I'm sure. They probably grew up and forgot about them," Grapes said, as she trotted down the front steps. "I'm sure it'll be nice for them to be somepony else's treasure for a while." "I'll be back, soon, Earshot. Just going to pick up Spike, and Twilight's pet owl. Don't think they should be left alone at the library," Grapes said, as she headed to town. She wasn't sure what Earshot would DO with all the bottlecaps but he seemed interested by them and maybe that would be enough. And she deliberately kept the notion of what Earshot could possibly find for 'breakfast' under her porch's floor joists, out of her head. She passed Sweet Apple Acres and saw AJ draped over Big Mac's back. Her legs were well bandaged but she had a firm look of determination as he carried her about. "Heya Cousin... Get me closer, Big Mac. What you all up and about for?" "I need to go and pick up Spike and that owl. Can't remember it's name, though. Then pick up some stamps and mail a letter." "Yeah... I have trouble remembering her Night-assistant too. Funny name.... Owl... Owlicious?" Applejack mused. "That sounds like a griffon snack... Close though... Maybe Owlawishes?" suggested Grapes. "Sounds better. Doc told me Ah had to take it easy but ah gotta see what ah messed up yesterday when Ah was all whacked-out on wowie-tea." her voice dropped aleve as she grumbled "Cain't believe some durn maniac drinks that stuff regularly." "He's supposed to be being weaned off it," Grapes observed. "And off hoof, I'd say the big wagon, and possibly the stall. That's about it. Unless you bucked some trees to oblivion." "That's what ah'm worried about. Big Macintosh here says that other than the silos being full t'burstin' from a season's wrap-up bein' done in one day ah have not a lot to worry about. But Ah'll believe that with my own eyes. Giddyup bro. Let's get to lookin' over them orchards,” Applejack said with typical determination. “Eyup,” Macintosh said with his usual eloquence. "You ARE supposed to be resting, you stubborn mule of a pony... no offence to mules, of course," Grapes uttered, with an aside remembering that there other species aside ponies living in the ever inaccurately named town of Ponyville. "None Taken," said the local Mule, who was taking a cartload of flowers to the local florist. "Love really IS stranger... ANYway you're supposed to be resting. And that would include letting somepony ELSE worry about the damage you did to the orchard. YOU'VE got to recover from the damage you did to yourself," Grapes admonished her dear cousin. "Don't make me sic Crabby on you." "NO!" Applejack cried before calming down. "Ah mean, Ah'm just doing a look-see. Nothin' serious. Not like ah can do much else until the strained muscles in mah legs stop hurtin' nohow. It's just hard to get sleep when you start gettin' cramps in yer legs at random times." "All right. I can understand that... I'm just going to get Spike to help keep an eye on that silly purple mare. All that talk about pacing herself, and what does she go and do?" Grapes griped with a roll of her eyes. "If she was feelin' the way I did then she probably had no choice in the matter," Applejack observed. "Maybe. She could have tried running it off, too... Oh well. I've got a dragon, and owl to pick up. You take it easy, or you know what I'll do." "All right! All right! Don't tell Crabapple ah'm skirtin' his rules. Ah'll head back to the house right after ah get a look at things.... heck, Applebloom probably will have the' bathtub full of ice by then." "Good to hear. Maybe I should check up on the others. If they're anything like you, their families have their hooves full," Grapes uttered, as she trotted into Ponyville proper. Ponyville seemed to be rather resilient, having weathered this latest micro-crisis in fine form. Sure there was a lack of Fabric awnings about but there were a number of ponies showing off their new 'outfits' and laughing at the memory of Rarity's efforts. Sugarcube Corner seemed to be in good shape, and Pinkie Pie was actually outside in a wheelchair, sucking down a large strawberry milkshake and happily surrounded by balloons and get-well bouquets. She waved to Grapes and grinned "Hieeeee!" "Hey, Pinkie. How ya doin'?" Grapes said detouring toward Sugarcube Corner. "Oh I'm good for the most part. I kinda feel like that feeling you get when you whack your crazybone good and you tingle in a way that smarts, but instead it's like a full-body crazy-bone whacking. The Cakes were nice enough to let me sit out here while I recover. They even found an old Wheelchair I could use in the back shed. Turns out I'm pretty good with one of these things. Wanna see me do a wheelie?" "Ah... no. You ARE supposed to be resting. Not doing wheelies," Grapes said. "And I'm supposed to be picking up Spike and Owlawishes to help keep Twilight company." "Ooh.. Let me come with you." she said pushing the chair from in front of the shop, the Balloons tied to the back bobbing happily... and a peculiar purple one 'peeked out' from the mass. Grapes looked up at the purple balloon, and smirked. "Man, Twilight's NOT going to be living that down any time soon." "You like it?" Pinkie said nudging the strings with her nose to reveal the comical Twilight-ish balloon that bobbed there on the end of a red length of yarn. "Moondust gave it to me. Said I probably needed it more than she did... like a Get-well party in one balloon. I think I remember something like this from yesterday... but I didn't find it funny then. Hmf." Grapes laughed merrily. "I should ask Redline to make another one, and send it to Princess Celestia." Pinkie's face nearly split in half from the grin "OOOOOOH! Do it! Do it! Do it! Princess Celestia must have all kinds of bad surprises in her life, this would be a GOOD one!" "I should totally get one for Twilight, too. That'll learn Little Miss 'I can see the universe' not to drink strange beverages in a doctor's office," Grapes chuckled. Pinkie coverd her mouth with her forehooves while she wriggled her hindlegs in giggling glee. "Yesyesyesyesyesyes! Oh that would be such a funny prank. An no pony gets hurt too." "All right. I'll do both. It MIGHT cheer up Princess Celestia to get the balloon, after receiving my letter... And it just might cheer up Twilight," Grapes said, giggling, as she headed to the Library. "Get well, Pinkie." "Oh.. ok. I'm going to wheel over to Rarity's place. I hear she's strained her horn a little. Not like twilight but she's got the curtains closed and is taking the day off." "Has she gotten the bill for the awnings, yet?" Grapes asked. "Not yet. But I did hear her mumble something about a new line of Designer Awnings." Grapes giggled. "Maybe that'll make up for her using the awnings of others as material. True the outfits are going to be pretty durable, but she forgot to sew buttons on mine... Okay. Pick up Spike, and the Owl, and go to the post office. Priorities, Grapes..." "Byeee!" "Bye, Pinkie. Say hi to the Fashion Crusader for me." "I will!" Pinkie rolled the chair off in the other direction, the small cloud of balloons following in her wake. Grapes trotted over to the Library, glad to know that Pinkie Pie, and Rarity was doing well. Applejack was doing as well as she could. But then Applejack will be Applejack. Knocking on the door, it creaked open revealing the familiar Purple/green form of Spike who seemed slightly disappointed. "Oh. Hey Sour Grapes." "Hey, Spike. Came by to pick you, and Owlawishes up. Twilight's staying at my place, 'cause she ended up with a bad case of Extreme Magical Exhaustion." "OH! So that's why she didn't come home yesterday. Usually she tells me if she's headed out somewhere... or leaves a note,” Spike replied, looking a bit relieved. "She wasn't herself, yesterday, after she went to the doctor's office," Grapes explained. "So she's got Magical Exhaustion? Let me check the big list a moment." He opened a drawer and pulling out a long list, let it unroll as he skimmed it. "Ahah! I knew she had a plan for this. Ok... Kit number 27. Right." "What?" The young dragon put the scroll back into the drawer and went to a closet near the door and opened it up, revealing it was pigeon-holed and full of modest-sized satchels with little tags hanging from them. He stood on a stool and read them off. "Oh Twilight is pretty prepared for a lot of different events. In case she has to run out the door at a moment's notice she can just grab and go. Twenty-seven... twenty seven.... Let's see... Kit Fourteen: Sudden Meteor Shower observation kit... Kit Thirty One: Celestia summoned you to the castle for an important spell... Kit Twenty Five: Rainbow Dash has fallen down the well... AHA! Kit Number Twenty-Seven: In case of Severe Magical Exhaustion and staying at a friend's house during recovery. See attached note." "I've heard of crazy-prepared, but that's just silly. Oh, we're stopping by the post office, too. I need some stamps so I can send this letter to Princess Celestia," Grapes said pulling out her envelope. "Sure,” the dragon said reading the attached note as he listened. "You want me to save you the trip?" "I'll still need stamps for other letters," Grapes said. "But you want to send the letter directly? It's just a rundown of what happened yesterday." Pulling the Kit out he set it by the door and started upstairs. "Be right back, I gotta get something... by the way what DID happen yesterday?" "I'll start the explanation when you get back, Spike." Spike came back after a minute with a large and obviously home-made quilt, a well-used pillow and, she could have sworn there was an old stuffed doll of some sort peeking out between the folds of the quilt. "Her kit told me to grab some comfort items like her favorite pillow and her Flu-Quilt." "'Flu-Quilt'?" Grapes asked, using her levitation field to fold said quilt and drape it over her back. "I'm just one pony. How are we going to get this stuff to the Vineyard?" "Hey I might not be big but I can pull my own weight you know," Spike said sounding a little insulted. "There's a reason Twilight keeps me around as her assistant..." "I'm sure, but I didn't want to overtax you. You're going to be a guest, and sort of helping me keep an eye on little miss 'I can see the universe'," Grapes explained. "Well... ok. I do have a little red wagon we can use," the young dragon said, gesturing to a nearby closet. "Alright. Looks like we're not going to the post office, after all... Now where's the flying feather duster?" "Oh. Him... He's in his nook taking a nap. He takes care of Twi's night stuff. I'll leave him a note where we are and to join us after dark." "Right," Spike said as he grabbed a quill and paper and sat down to write. He was rather quick, and she had to admire his tidy style of writing. He finished up, then folded up the paper, wrote the owl's name on it and put it on the podium. After a moment of thought he then put a large paperweight on it. "Last thing we need is some kind of plot twist where it blows under a sofa or something." "Plot twist?" Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sorry... Twilight had me reading this book on story structure and how many stories follow similar rules. Like how the plot of a story can turn just because of a lost object." "... Well yeah, our lives do seem to follow story structure, don’t they?" Grapes observed, with a laugh. "Yeah. Ponyville's weirdness sounds a lot like someone's trying to keep readers from getting bored or something." Spike paused and looked at Grapes then laughed. "Yeah right! Who here could possibly be interesting enough to be the protagonist? There are just too many ponies for that to happen." "Yeah, you're right. Heh. It wouldn't be me, that's for sure," Grapes chuckled. "Well we'd best be off. I can get stamps another time. Here. Go ahead and send this." "Watch and be amazed!" Spike announced, taking the letter with a flourish and exhaling flame upon it, sending it forth into the aether. "That was just in case I'M the main character." "Yeah, but if you’re the main character, you don't seem to get much narration time, now do you?" Grapes quipped. Spike gave Grapes this look and retrieved his wagon, putting the kit, and it’s accoutrements into it. The unusual duo left the library, heading for Grapevine Hills, while Grapes told the story of how a sextet of over-caffeinated ponies could make a day excessively interesting. > Princess' Pet Proposes Party Planning Preperations > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grapes lay in pleasant slumber when a light fluttering occurred near her. Her internal clock was trying to tell her it was nearly time to wake up anyways and the sound was a good a reason to do so. She pried her eyes open and looked up at Twilight Sparkle's owl, perched on her bedpost and looking at her expectantly. Grapes yawned, and levitated her glasses over to make sure it's the owl, and not something less savory. "Morning. What can I do you for, Owlawishes?" she asked looking at the avian calmly. "Hoo," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, before turning to look out the window at the sun, freshly past the horizon. His shift of watching over Twilight had just ended and it was time for his own sleep-cycle to begin. "Thanks for the warning," Grapes said yawning, and pulling herself out of bed, and doing a series of very limber stretches. "I'll check on our universal oracle, and see how she's doing." "Hoo!" he agreed before fluttering off to the area she had set aside for his improvised perch. If he took issue with using a coat rack with newspapers below it as a perch he didn't bring it up. When all was said and done he accepted his accommodations with the same stoicism Spike did. Spike had set his little box just in front of her hearth the night before and seemed content being that far away from Twilight. She yawned, stretched, scratched herself then got out of bed and did a quick hygiene regimen before checking on her primary guest. She nosed open the door, and looked into the guest room, checking to see if Twilight was up, already. The purple pony lay there in bed, looking rather disheveled. Her flu quilt had wrapped around her like a multicolored cocoon from all of the tossing and turning of a fitful sleep. She must have been wrestling alligators in her nightmares to look like that. Grapes carefully unwound her guest from being cocooned in the quilt, spreading it back out to cover the bed. "Hmm... Maybe an oatmeal smoothie for brekkers," Grapes mused in undertone, as she looked over the lavender unicorn. Once you got past the matted hair, the sweat-stained nightshirt and tangled mane... not to mention her fairly academic personality, Twilight was a fairly attractive mare. Grapes dabbed her brow with a damp cloth, the feeling causing her to murmur in her sleep. Grapes chuckled a bit, then went downstairs to whip up an oatmeal smoothie with banana. Halfway down she was greeted by the smell of fresh-brewing coffee and what she was sure were pancakes. Entering the kitchen she saw Spike, in an apron, standing on a chair at the stove with every burner doing something. He glanced over and smiled. "Oh, good morning Miss Grapes! How's Twilight doing?” the young dragon asked. Grapes blinked, looking at the spread in shock. "She had a rough night, it looked like. But then, magical exhaustion does come with nightmares." "I hope you don't mind but it looked like your farmhooves were up early so I started making breakfast for us all. They've already started," Spike said with a grin, as he put the finishing touches on Grapes’ breakfast. "Works for me. I was going to make Twilight an oatmeal smoothie... I, honestly, wasn't expecting this," Grapes said as she made her way into the kitchen, proper. "Oh you can still do that." he said grabbing the boiling coffee pot in both hands and hopping down off the chair to set it on top of a pot holder on her table. Instinctively she wanted to pick him up and put his hands in the icebox before he started screaming from burns... then she remembered he may be a baby dragon, but he was still a dragon and no-doubt fairly fireproof. "I mean that sounds pretty good, actually. Twilight might like one." "Well as far as I know, she's still on ‘no solids’. But a thick liquid would be good for her, and fill her up," Grapes explained, as she got out the ingredients. "If you'd like to make an extra one... and if your grinder can take it I got some rubies that would probably be nice ground up and mixed into one." "Ah.... I'm not exactly set up to take care of grinding gemstones,” Grapes said grinning sheepishly at Spike. “I don’t have dragons as house guests often.” "Oh... well... The smoothie sounds good anyways." "Sorry, Spike," Grapes said as she set about making the smoothie, a double batch so Spike could have one, as well. "If you want I know this great little shop in town that has great cooking items that I got my kitchen grinder from. It's called Hard Hat's Industrial Supply," Spike suggested. "Hoof one here, and let me try something..." Grapes said, deciding to make an attempt. He pulled one glittering red gem from a small bag he had on the counter and handed it to her. Grapes took it in her golden levitation field, and looked at it. She braced herself against the floor, then brought all her magical strength to bear upon the gem, obviously trying to crush it. The gem crumbled easier under her attention than she thought. Although hardly soil she let her earthsense seep into the crystalline structure feeling out for an explanation... and found one. The Ruby was deeply flawed. Every facet was riddled with flaws... which would explain it's weakness and perhaps how Spike got ahold of it instead of Rarity. She ground the crumbling pieces against one another, encouraging it to turn into the smallest pieces she could before setting the sand-like particles into a bowl. "Whoa... that was neat. How did you do that?" Spike asked as he watched in fascination. "I'm half earth-pony," Grapes said, taking up another ruby. "I have earthsense, along with unicorn magic, though neither are as strong as they would be if I went one way or the other, fully." Again she felt it out and found it was equally as flawed as the first. She tilted it to another angle for more efficient use of pressure and repeated her actions from before. The glittering red sand that filled the bowl was gorgeous, like a million tiny red stars twinkling on her countertop. She repeated the process until she had a good amount to mix into Spike's smoothie. Once the oatmeal and banana was liquified enough to suit the stipulation of "no solids", the chocolate brown mare poured it into two glasses. The second one she added the ruby dust to, and stirred vigorously, then handed to Spike. "There you go. One oatmeal-banana-ruby smoothie." "Gee. Thanks Miss Grapes." he said before sipping at it. Grapes couldn't help but feel jealous at Spike's drink. The way it sparkled in his glass made her actually wish she could risk a taste. "No problem. Enjoy, Spike," Grapes said, as she put a straw into Twilight's smoothie, and took it upstairs. Twilight was awake when she came up, rubbing her head and squinting at her bookshelf with pained expression. "Oh yeah... magic strain... ow." "Need a book, Little Miss I Can See the Universe?" Grapes asked with a smirk. "I'm not gonna live that down am I?" Twilight asked looking a bit sour. "Probably not," Grapes said with a smirk, as she set the smoothie down on the nightstand. "But it does seem like the perfect thing to say when you're having a small bout of hubris." "Yeah. I woke up in a strange bed, saw books I hadn't seen before and then I saw Ironflank's guide to home medicine and ironically tried to... 'reach' for it with my horn... and regretted it," the purple unicorn said with a small groan, as she flopped into the pillow. Grapes looked at the bookshelf in what was her old room, and pulled out the book with her levitation. "Not a bad read. Not as thorough as Super Naturals, but it's a nice compendium of remedies that can be concocted from household foodstuffs." "Show-off," Twilight grumbled before looking over at the glass. "So what do we got here?" "An oatmeal and banana smoothie. Spike's having one with powdered ruby." "Oh that was nice of you. Do I get one?" Grapes simply pointed at the smoothie on the nightstand. "That one is for you. Sans ruby, of course, considering the havoc it'd play with a pony's digestive system." Twilight stared at it a moment and then shuddered "Like swallowing broken glass... yeah. I'll leave that for Spike's indestructible digestive system, thank you. You're sure this is the right one?" Grapes simply held it up to the light, to display a lack of red sparklies. "I'd say so yes. It if were Spike's, we'd see red glittery bits." "Then, yes please and thank you." Grapes gave the glass to Twilight, and set the book on the nightstand. "There you go. Reading material, and breakfast." "Mmmm... Paradise... if paradise included the feeling that your own horn was being reverse-screwed into your brain. What was I THINKING?" Twilight uttered with an exasperated gesture. "You weren't," Grapes said simply. "And who even DRINKS tea that caffeinated? On a regular basis no less?" "Redline," Grapes said simply. "He's being weaned off of it, though." "You want to know what the worst part is?" Twilight asked looking up at Grapes with this annoyed look on her face. "Oh DO tell." "It was the best tea I ever tasted." "Redline did say he chose for flavor as well as caffeine content. Maybe the blend can be duplicated with less caffeinated varieties," Grapes suggested with a shrug. "I hope so," Twilight sighed before sipping her smoothie and blinking. "Although this is a close second for flavor." "I do try," Grapes said with a bow. "Um... thank you for all of this. You really didn't have to take care of me and everything." "You're my friend, Twilight. The second one I've ever had. SO... yeah, I did have to take care of you." "Thanks... um.. so... What's Spike doing?" "He was cooking breakfast for the farmhooves," Grapes said, looking out the window at their picnic area." She looked out the bedroom window down at the picnic table where the farmhooves usually ate and as usual marveled at how close the group was. Discussing a wide range of topics, teasing, joking, laughing as only a family could. Then it happened. A swirling burst of Gray smoke and Red flame appear before each one and down drops a scroll in front of each of the Riders. The mood instantly changes. In that moment all the joking is gone and their faces suddenly serious as each unrolled their scroll and read it. Eyes meet and silent nods are exchanged. The group stood and almost as one head to the Bunkhouse leaving Thistledown at his seat, watching. "That's new," Grapes said. "I've never seen them get dragon mail before." "Dragon mail?" "Like you get from the Princess via Spike," explained Grapes. "That is strange... I didn't know anypony else had access to a dragon." "Lady Weathervane, the head of the Emergency Rogue Storm Response Team, has one, if I remember correctly," Grapes explained. "Stormy told me about her." "I... I remember meeting a Lady Weathervane once,” Twilight observed thoughtfully. “She helped me greatly during a project around the principles of weather generation. I remember being a pretty and very proud mare." "From the stories told to me," Grapes said, as she watched them all stand, and move as a unit into the bunkhouse. "She's a quite the character... And they just got a weather emergency." "Wow... You know I DO remember her telling me about the theories about Rogue weather formation. We were on a break and she was trying to explain to me what she did for a living. Being as young as I was I couldn't help but imagine clouds wearing masks," Twilight remarked with an eye-roll at her childish notions. "But now you know it's all about weather that gets beyond the control of the usual weather teams. Like storms from the Everfree, or hurricanes from the oceans." "Yeah... Although I wondered how they do it. I mean... it's dangerous work getting right up a storm's nose like that... so to speak," Twilight mused, looking a bit worried. "It is," Grapes said simply. "Stormfront got seriously injured trying to save Earshot from being sucked into a tornado. That's how he ended up here." "He... Yeah I could see him working with tornadoes with wings like that. He must be a monstrously strong flier. What about the others?" "They all have their specialties. Earshot's is sonar, for low visibility situations. Squall's is seaborne storms. Queenie specializes in ice and snow storms. Firestormer deals with unusual weather patterns created by forest fires and other heat events. Stormfront's is thunderstorms, and tornadoes," Grapes explained. "Sirocco's specialty is high winds, and sandstorms." "Wow... So who leads?" Twilight asked, sounding fascinated. "It depends on the storm they're going to tackle," Grapes said. "They switch, and follow the lead of the specialist for that particular storm." "Wow again. The amount of trust they must have for one another must be... amazing." "It is. They are very close-knit. But it does make sense to have the specialist taking the lead for each type. This way the one with the most knowledge and experience is giving the orders," Grapes explained. "On the vineyard, I'm the specialist, so naturally I'm the one in charge." Twilight sipped her drink and thought about it. "That's incredibly convenient. They default to the most learned pony in a given situation. Now if only all of Equestria could be so wise." "That would be difficult. All of Equestria tends to have this slight difficulty with its ego," quipped Grapes with a knowing smirk. "Tell me about it... Although I have to admit even I'm not immune. I probably know more about anything than most ponies I meet... but all of it from books. No real-world experience. So I almost always want to take charge of a situation." Grapes chuckled. "Not surprising. But not everything can be learned from books." "Yes. Although a lot of that book-learning is best from a book instead of experience. Learning from others' mistakes and all that." "True. Especially if the author wasn't shy about admitting their mistakes," Grapes observed. "It certainly helps... makes you feel less... small when you screw up. I was scared my friends might think I was a big magic show-off when that one pony came to town. You know.. the one that inspired two foals to lure an Ursa Minor into Ponyville just so she could defeat it?" "Oh yes,” Grapes uttered with obvious distaste. “That one." "Yes. I realized I didn't give my friends enough credit. That they wouldn't think less of me for such a display of magic. But they reminded me that they were, above all else, my friends." "And it would have prevented a lot of later problems. Though, it is said that hindsight is twenty-twenty," Grapes observed. The Storm Riders strode out of the bunkhouse wearing their signature cream-colored scarf with the Storm Rider logo upon it in a deep brown. Each had streamlined saddlebags also bearing the logo, they also wore goggles and, strangely enough, the filter-masks similar to the one she remembered from Firestormer's room. Walking in single file with Firestormer in the lead, they pause momentarily at the breakfast table to pour coffee into thermoses and sandwich what they can between slices of bread and stuff them into their bags. They stride with purpose, perhaps not synchronized but they seem to know what to do and where to be. Their pace quickens as they now run down the front road, wings extending as one by one they take to the skies. "Wow." Twilight said staring through the glass, able to see them slowly vanishing into the blue from her place in bed. "They look... heroic." "Equestria's second group of under-sung heroes," Grapes observed, releasing the curtain. "I wonder where they're going?" Twilight asked. "There is a way to find out," Grapes said. "I'll be back. I probably should help clean things up, anyway." Grapes excused herself from Twilight's bedside and headed down to the table where Thistledown was still seated. By the time she got there he was reading one of the scrolls, frowning. She momentarily wondered if she should tell Thistledown he was being rude, but then again she was dying of curiosity herself. "Hi Sour Grapes." Thistledown said quietly, motioning to the letter before him. "I... don't think the others will be helping out today. Can't say I blame them. This is heavy stuff." "What do you mean, Thistle?" "Well... they work for you. I think they left the letters here so you would know why they had to fly so fast. At least they were smart enough to pack a lunch. You won't believe what they're up to." "I would presume it's a weather emergency," Grapes observed casually as she picked up what was probably Queenie's scroll with her magic and began to read. It was actually pretty good paper. Not exactly Vellum grade but you could tell from the feel this was a very high grade of paper. Perhaps a standard for all government offices under the 'Royal' title. She scanned the writing over. Rich, flourishing lines with well-practiced loops and swirls that indicated a practiced writer who prided themselves upon their calligraphy. "My good Storm-Riders" it began. An interesting beginning. the word "My" indicated a certain pride or possessiveness towards the pegasai. She continued down the paper. "I have received news from three of the foremost Earth-Pony seismologists and geologists that the normally quiet Mount Ashbringer is awakening from dormancy and is due to erupt soon. Several Unicorn sorcerers in conjunction with the vulcanologist Dr. Pumice have been working to weaken the lee side of Mt. Ashbringer to cause it to erupt away from the local populace who are currently rushing to evacuate, but I fear the worst. Please have Firestormer mobilize the team immediately as the last time this volcano erupted, the weather disruptions, according to historians, were felt far across all of Equestria. Fly fast and fly Safe my Storm-Riders." "For some reason I'm reading this in Princess Celestia's voice." "It does kinda have that sort of tone to it doesn't it?" Thistledown smirked over his coffee mug at her. "I knew what they did for a... well sorry to say it this way but for a REAL living, but this... A whole volcano. This is beyond just my mental imagery of bucking blizzards and fighting flash-floods." "I hear you. But conflagration weather patterns are Firestormer's specialty." "Yeah. The team is more than happy to talk about their specialties if you're willing to ask. They got a lot covered if you ask me... and to be honest I don't think I could do their job for any amount of bits. I think there's only a very few special ponies who would risk their lives for the safety of others like that." Grapes shrugged. "There are probably more positions in the Storm Riders than weather bucker," Grapes observed, indicating the note. "After all, somepony's got to coordinate the effort. Well we'd better get this cleaned up. I'll let our house-guest know what's going on." "Right. I'll start by finishing the Jumble-berry muffins. Yum." "My oatmeal and banana smoothie went over very well with Twilight," Grapes observed, as she gathered the plates, carefully making piles. "Is that what it was? I saw that dragon boy with one... what's his name? Spike? Yeah. His looked a little sparkly for my appetite. " "That's because it had crushed rubies in it, Thistle," Grapes explained, taking the piles into the kitchen to be washed. "He's a dragon, and dragons, apparently, need the minerals present in gemstones to grow properly." "Good to know, even if it looks a little tacky for my tastes... pun unintended. " "Heh. You can only wear so much, eh, Thistle?" "Exactly. I must admit though, Spike certainly has a way around the kitchen. You think when he hits full size he might become a kind of gargantuan gourmet, building a temple-like kitchen in a cave somewhere?" Grapes chuckled, as they went into the kitchen. "What d'ya think, Spike? You going to be a giant gourmet?" "Me? You think I could? I mean... I sorta always imagined myself with a big horde like most adult dragons do but... wow. That could be a pretty cool hobby to have," Spike said smiling at the thought of being a draconic gourmet. "We may have started something." Thistledown said popping a muffin into his mouth "And even before you reach your full size, you could probably be a fantastic chef," Grapes observed, as she started to wash the dishes. "It's something to shoot for, that's for certain, Spike. You got hundreds of years stretched out in front of you. You might not get a cutie mark to tell you what to do like ponies, but that means you can be good at whatever you want to put the effort into." "I like that. And like you said I'm in no big rush... I got ages ahead of me." "Keep reaching for that rainbow, little guy," Thistle said encouragingly, as he and Grapes continued to help in the kitchen. Grapes hummed cheerfully, glad for the brief distraction, but was quickly brought up short by the memory of her first heart-to-heart with Stormy after she discovered his wings. How he said a 'big piece of scenery' knocked him out of the sky during a tornado. As strong and powerful as he seemed in flight she felt her gut drop like a rock at the thought of a fiery glob of melted stone dashing him from the sky. She sighed, having to stop for a bit. It was a curse of being so well-read. She knew that the world had no guarantees. No Absolutes. That any time Stormfront... or... the rest of the Storm-Riders went out, there was a very real possibility that they might not come back. But then again... she forced into her head... there was no guarantee that they WOULDN'T come back either. It was a comforting thought. She wondered, though, why she was so concerned about Stormfront. He had come into her life, and now that he was in it, she had a hard time imagining life withOUT the big gray lug... And life before, seemed dull. She wasn't really the praying sort... Even she realized that prayer should not be done with snark and so she kept out of that sort of thing. But she looked out the window a moment in the direction of where Mount Ashbringer lay and found herself remembering that final line from the letter. "Fly Fast, Fly safe... my Storm-Riders." ================================ After the kitchen was cleaned up, Grapes and Spike went back up to check up on Twilight. Thistledown had gone out to the rows, to do what he could on winterizing the roots of the precious vines. Grapes, herself, was not sure what she was going to do, just yet, but she was pretty sure that it would involve her getting away from Grapevine Hills. If she stayed here, she’d fret herself into a lather worrying about Stormfront and the others. “Ugh,” Twilight uttered, as she huddled beneath her flu quilt. “I just realized I’m probably going to be in no condition to even THINK of attending my first Ponyville Nightmare Night.” “If its any consolation, neither are your friends,” Grapes observed, casually. “Yeah... oh crud. I just realized I’ve been so deep in my own misery that I completely forgot that they’re all suffering too. Oh poor Rarity is probably as burnt out as me... OK maybe not QUITE as burnt out but she’s probably really strained her magical limits.” “Well considering that Rarity was going around dressing ponies in fashions created with awnings... I’d say a close second, given her power level,” Grapes observed thoughtfully. “What she lacks in sheer power, she makes up for in pure finesse.” “They’re ALL probably going to have to sit out Nightmare Night this year too... great. Not only do I get to miss the festivities, I can’t even surprise my friends with my great costume concept.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “It’s a recreation of Long Horn the Pointy, straight from the Obscure Unicorn History book I’m going to give Spike on his next birthday.” “Long Horn the Pointy... He’s the one who looks like he’d gotten his horn caught in a pencil sharpener... Invented something to do with horn-care, right?” Grapes asked. “That’s right. he invented the modern horn-brush. Before that clever stallion’s innovation it wasn’t unusual for horns to be yellowing or suffer from waxy build-up or even ugh... Horn-Rot. Not many unicorns realize they have him to thank for modern horn hygiene.” “So you and your friends would have to sit out Nightmare Night in the Square... Hm... I think I have an idea,” Grapes observed. “The Storm Riders may want to head to town, but I could always hold a sedate little party, here.” “That... “ Twilight said, struggling to sit up. “That could actually work... ooh... sat up too fast... world is wobbly.” Grapes chuckled, and waited for Twilight’s dizziness to pass. “Well it’s a great way for you to still have a Nightmare Night celebration, even if you can’t get to the shindig in town. It won’t be crowded, and you don’t have to worry about your costume, and you can just enjoy some snacks, and scary stories,” Grapes mused, thoughtfully. “I’ll go and invite the others, then we’ll see about setting things up.” “You’d do that, Sour Grapes?” “Why wouldn’t I?” Grapes asked with a shrug. “Because... uh... okay I got nothin’. But thank you for doing this.“ “We’re friends, Twilight. And just because you got all floaty and weird doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you out. I’m letting you stay in my house, after all,” Grapes observed. “All right... my hoofwriting is a little out of practice but I think I can make a list of things we might need for a decent Nightmare Night... provided I’m provided a pencil and paper or parchment to pen my pensives on pony party preparations.” Grapes blinked and chuckled. “Threading thoughts on thoroughly thrilling those that will be there to take in the tantalizing treats?” “Was I just... being alliterative? I haven’t done that since I was a foal.... It was sort of a phase I went through and my big brother Shining Armor teased me about it a lot.“ “Well yes, you were, but I love to alliterate. It’s fun, and you get to exercise your vocabulary. Okay. Pen and parchment for party pensive perusal,” Grapes said, fetching said items, and making sure to include the portable desk that she had as a foal. “Here you go. Said supplies, sans situational silliness, but with a savvy surface for scrawling.” Twilight lay the portable desk and paper on her lap and took the pencil between her hooves and paused a moment, the tip hovering over the blank sheets. “Boy, it HAS been a while... You never really appreciate your horn until you’re in a situation where you can’t use it.“ “I’ve never had that problem,” Grapes observed. “I’ve had to hoofwrite, hornwrite and lipwrite whenever the situation called for it.” “Really? But your ponykinesis is so STRONG. I’ve seen you juggle casks and... “ “No, dear, you’ve only seen me lift casks. I can only lift things one-at-the-time, because my ponykinesis is limited. I can lift piles of casks, because a pile counts as one thing, as long as I’m thinking of the pile, not the cask,” Grapes explained. “The strength is a bleedover from my earthsense. I have some of the Earth Pony stamina and strength, just like I have some of the unicorn ponykinesis.” “So the strength of your ‘lift’ is a little too raw for a pen, huh?” “Oh no. Actually hornwriting is the only fine-tune thing I can do with my ponykinesis. It’s just because I’m at half power, I can’t do it for very long,” Grapes explained patiently with an air of having had to explain this before. “Half power means half the magic pool, so... half the writing time.” Twilight paused a moment before scrawling on her page and speaking out loud with each word. “Note to... self. Find time to... put... no, ASK Sour Grapes if she would... please sit in brain-scan machine left over from Pinkie Pie research.” “Why?” Grapes asked. “Haven’t you read On the Confluence of Magics by Starswirl the Bearded? Oh wait... Yeah you said chapter six was hard for you to get past the introduction.” “It got so... sordid-sounding.” she said with a blush. “But there’s just some things that are best discovered through good old-fashioned research... accompanied by state-of-the-art equipment. I’m surprised that Redline was able to create what I needed so readily.” “Okay... I am not coming within ten feet of that equipment, then,” Grapes observed. “No way in Equestria.” “But it’s perfectly safe. I put Pinkie in it and nothing bad happened... granted her ‘Pinkie Sense’ is still a mystery but still... no adverse effects.” “Yes, but the contraption was constructed by a caffeinated colt,” Grapes uttered. “Wait... you mean he’s THAT Redline? I never made the connection... he seemed so... stable.” “How many stallions named ‘Redline’ do you know?” Grapes asked. “And you’ve got to remember, he’s built up a tolerance to that high level of caffeine. True he said that drinking it was like jumping into an icy pond, and it gave his heart a jolt, but yeah, he’s the same Redline.” “There’s a lot of ponies in Ponyville I haven’t met yet, you’ve lived here your whole life while I’ve only just arrived a few months ago. Every day I go out I meet somepony new. It kinda feels like any time the ponies of Ponyville have a need, you turn around and there’s a Pony to fill that gap. As for our caffeinated inventor... I really have no idea how common the name Redline is. Well, other than there used to be a Stallion in the running against me for Valedictorian at Celestia’s School for Gifted young Unicorns. Supposedly he was on the Artificer course fast-track. He vanished a while back though. Always wondered what happened to him.“ “Wonder if he’s the same pony?” Grapes mused thoughtfully. “Hard to say. I only knew about him because they posted the grades on the big board in the lobby. Always wondered what he was like. ...well seeing as he was giving a bookworm-slash-personal apprentice to the Princess a run for her Bits you can imagine his intelligence level,' Twilight said with a shrug. “They could be, though. It’s a big country but a small world.” She wrote for a minute before looking back at her friend. “This is just a basic list. Nothing really special but hopefully it will have all the basics covered.” “Mind you, I’m no Pinkie Pie, but I was pretty sure I could put together a party... Though you may know your friends and their preferences better than I would,” Grapes observed with a grin. “So this is sure to help a lot.” “Just let her know that WE want to throw this party... I don’t want her to get all excited and try to rush over and hurt herself.” “Oh... Right... Good point,” Grapes observed. “Don’t worry I think I’ve got a way to spin this.” “Great.” Twilight added a few more items to the list and then gave it to Grapes. “Please let me know how the others are when you see them.” “Well... Pinkie was doing well, when I saw her. Note to self, check in with Redline about that special delivery,” Grapes said thoughtfully, looking amused. “Applejack was being stubborn as usual. Threatened to tell Crabby on her.” “Oh that’s mean, but fair. Applejack has to learn how to let go and let other ponies do a job she can’t.... I thought she learned that lesson, or something like it. So... what was she doing?” “Riding around on Mac’s back, checking the damage she did while on her caffeine high,” Grapes explained. “That’s actually clever.” she giggled. “It’s hard to imagine her being lugged about like a sack of potatoes but yeah... if she was too ill to walk she would at least want to see it all with her own eyes.” “Yes, but ‘bedrest’ doesn’t mean ‘ride around on your big brother’s back’,” Grapes uttered with a roll of her eyes. “My cousin is the most stubborn mare in Equestria, I swear.” “Practically speaking... probably but statistically speaking probably not. Still. Good you were there to force her to take it easy.” “Unless I find her out and about again. Still... Maybe I should save her for last. Got Fluttershy, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie to invite,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “I’ll swing by AJ’s on the way back home.” “Nice to have a plan. Oh... can you pick up some sherbert from Lovin’ Spoonful’s shop? I think that qualifies as a non-solid.” “I think I can do that,” Grapes chuckled, as she headed out, list in ponykinesis. “Enjoy the book. Oh, see any others you want to look at, before I go?” “Uh... well... The Adventures of the Fuzzy Wuzzy Pony in the Lost Land of the Brush People?” Twilight asked with a slightly embarrassed smile. “...Foalhood Favorite.” “You too?” Grapes asked with a grin, as she hoofed over the book in question. “I’m saving it in case I have foals, someday...” “I’m glad you did. Books have always been my ‘comfort food’,“ Twilight said hugging the little foal’s book with a sheepish grin. “Thank you again for this, Sour Grapes. I can hardly remember a time when I felt this... Ineffectual. It’s nice to have something I can affect even while there’s so much I cannot. Guess that’s why AJ was on Big Macintosh’s back. She couldn’t help physically but she could at least get everypony on the farm in line to get things done.” > Playing Messenger > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes left Grapevine hills, trotting down the lane, on her way to check up on everypony.  It was better than moping around the Vineyard, fretting herself into a lather about how well the Storm Riders were faring against a volcano. She wasn’t even entirely sure HOW they were dealing with such an emergency. She made a mental note to ask Firestormer about it if.. no, not IF, WHEN they got back. The Storm Riders were competent, highly-skilled professionals when it came to this stuff.  They wouldn’t take any undue risks, they would do their jobs with great efficiency and the WOULD come back.  Grapes shook off the darker feelings and focused on the here and now.  She checked Twilight’s list and nodded to herself.  Nothing too fancy at the moment, after all much of what could be used at the Nightmare Night party could be improvised from what was laying about the property.   Just some things like decorations, and snacks would be purchases...  Of course that meant a trip to Filthy Rich’s store "Rich's Barnyard Bargains".  As annoying as Mr Rich could be, he did have decent prices on his products.         Also she had to spread the word about her plans... well just to the ponies who mattered. She plotted out her route between Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Fluttershy, Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s homes... then stopped and rethought that last one.  Dash literally lived with her head in the clouds in a gorgeous surreal estate of cloudstuff, currently in a holding pattern over Ponyville. Grapes wondered what it felt like to be able to walk on clouds or treat them like one could treat wet clay... what would a bed of cloudstuff FEEL like to a pegasus? Not that she really wanted to find out, her fear of heights would probably be crippling even if she had wings to try... which also brought up the same problem.  She might have to ask another pegasus to go up to Dash’s home and pass on the news.  There was no bucking way she was gonna resort to setting up a ladder... or crawl up one to chat.  She made a decision to save that message for last.         Grapes trotted along to the other side of town, going to visit Fluttershy, first.  Thankfully the trot was lovely, and the weather was still pleasant enough that there was no need to supplement her growing winter coat with clothes.  The breeze was still brisque, but the unicorn didn’t feel the need to add anything to her wardrobe, or in this case lack of wardrobe.         As she skirted the edge of the town she noted that some ponies were currently looking through an assortment of colored swatches of material, holding them up in the air and squinting at the vacant awning frames on their homes. It was funny how quickly the Ponyvilleians bounced back from a crisis. There was an odd “hardiness in the face of the bizarre” to them that gave her a rare sensation of civic pride.         Her hooves found the short road that lead to Fluttershy’s modestly secluded cottage. She couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of it. It was so... picturesque. It was like something out of a painting and was always so well kept. She wondered where Fluttershy got the money to even buy it. Unlike the usual Pegasus ‘Surreal Estate’ which was as available to make as any castle in the air, earthly property tended to come with a price tag. Still, Fluttershy had the right to her privacy on such matters.   Though Grapes had her suspicions, of course.  Freelance vet may pay a bill or two, but a popular author of sordid literature...  Well that could definitely pay for the picturesque cottage, and buy a lot of critter food.  It would also explain just why certain personalities in the aforementioned author’s books seems so... familiar.         Upon reaching Fluttershy’s cottage, Sour Grapes simply had to stop and stare.  Trotting about Fluttershy’s cottage, doing little errands, were the several dozen stallions that had been rounded up by the shy pegasus, previously.  Naturally, Grapes would have thought that the lads would have gone home, upon being freed from captivity.         She never really realised there were so many young, single males in town... the high Female to Male ratio tended to dilute one’s perception on such things. And yet there they were, feeding chickens, slopping pigs, brushing dogs and cats, herding sheep... It was then that a rank stink hit her nose. A... a THICK, nostril-caking, rancid odor that seemed to reach right up her nose and elbow all other smells out of the way to monopolise her sense of smell. She knew of only one source for such a malodorous stench. She switched to breathing through her mouth and without turning around, greeted him.         “Ah.  Hello, Dustbin,” Grapes uttered, dearly wishing for a cantrip for numbing the sense of smell.  “I see Fluttershy rounded you up too.”         “Hello, Sour Grapes. Yes she got me too, guess that means I’m an eligible bachelor,” the unkempt pony said moving up beside her and putting a large bag of Haz. Brothers brand Skunk Chow down. Dustbin was one of the friendliest ponies around. Once you got past his thick, matted grayish beige and grayish brown hair that desperately needed a dozen washes and a lawnmower, as well as the lingering odor of... Ponyville detritus that clung to him, you found him easy to like. It also helped that he had the monopoly of one of those jobs that nopony else ever wanted to do. “So what brings you over here?”         “I came by to visit Fluttershy, and see how she was doing.  Twilight’s staying at my house, for her recovery, and wanted an update,” Grapes explained.  “Also, since she’s feeling under the weather, I thought I’d invite her to a very sedate Nightmare Night party I’m throwing for the casualties of the Caffeinated Calamity.”         “Caffeinated  Calamity. Now that’s a good way to sum it all up. Don’t touch heavily caffeinated beverages m’self... never really needed it, although the occasional, ordinary hot cuppa can perk you up when you need it. My mum swore by green tea herself.  Ah well, it’s good you came by. Fluttershy’s not short of help since the other day, we just thought since she was so nice to us after the whole... herding thing, we’d stay on and help the poor thing. It was pretty obvious that she was under the weather to begin with... what with all that running about with the riding crop and yelling.”         “Yeah.  The whole set weren’t themselves, that day, Dustbin,” Grapes explained with a chuckle.  “But Redline is being weened off that stuff, so he should be living longer and his inventions be a bit saner.  By the way, Dustbin... I hope you don’t mind my asking, but is there something wrong with your olfactory facilities?”         “My... Oh. You mean my sense of smell? Yes, there is something wrong with it... don’t got one.”         “That explains it, then,” Grapes observed.         “Yeah. Bit of a chemical accident when I was a colt burned it all out. Glad it didn’t do the same to my lungs but haven’t stopped to smell the roses since. Why do you ask?”         “Well...  Let’s just say that though you have no sense of smell, other ponies do.  True, having no sense of smell is a boon for working in the refuse trade, but it doesn’t help a pony keep up their daily hygiene regimen,” Grapes observed.         He lifted a leg and looked at the tangled shaggy fetlocks that seemed to hold  dust and grime as possessively as Filthy Rich held onto his bit bag.         “You may have a point... it would explain why I keep getting spa certificates for Hearth’s Warming gifts.”         “Maybe.  After all, it’s hard to imagine other ponies having a sense of smell, when you don’t, but you can usually see it on their faces...  Most ponies don’t have scrunched up muzzles, normally,” Grapes observed.  “Also... keeping clean could do wonders for your social life.  You’re rather a personable pony, I’ve found.  It’s just the eu de refuse that would keep somepony from wanting to get to know you better,” she added, affecting a Prench accent, briefly.         “You do make a good point. I’ll have to check with the spa and see if they can get me in for a cleaning.”  Dustbin hesitated a moment before continuing. “Aloe said they couldn’t take me at the time because they needed to order in some lye soap. Guess that should have been a hint that I’m not their average customer.”         “Yeah.  Probably not.  But you are caked up pretty good, there,” Grapes observed, thoughtfully.  “Anyway, do you think Fluttershy is up to having visitors?”         “I’d say so. Short round is keeping her household in order so she can rest. Just watch out for that cranky little bunny. I’m not sure he likes having so many young stallions about his mistress’ property.”         “Oh I think I can handle Angel Bunny,” Grapes observed, as she trotted along to Fluttershy’s house.  “Good luck with the skunks.”  She got to the door of the quaint cottage, and knocked, waiting patiently for the door to be answered.         The door creaked open, and her eyes dropped down to see the short stallion looking up at her expectantly. Short Round seldom spoke, his position as a servant at the Canterlot Antelope Embassy (currently closed for the winter) seemed to make him a stallion of few words but good character.  Sour Grapes cleared her throat.         “Good day, Mister Round,” Grapes said in a comically officious accent, a small grin to let him know she was parodying his more pompous clients.  “Is Mistress Fluttershy receiving visitors?”         He gave her a knowing smile, and stood to the side as he opened the door wide enough that she could enter. The inside of Fluttershy’s home was as nice as the outside, there was a lingering ‘animal’ smell but it was amazingly enough, not as strong as you’d think. Fluttershy no doubt kept her home very clean. The smaller pony lead Grapes up the stairs and knocked gently on a closed door.         “Who is it?”         “Hello, Fluttershy,” Grapes said through the door.  “Thought I’d come by for a visit, and see how you were doing.” “Oh... well, thank you for asking. I’m not feeling very well but everypony’s been so very nice. I was so frightened of what they would think of me when Big Macintosh brought me back the other day. You know... because I was chasing them down like... like I was herding sheep. But they were so supportive and after Big Mac explained things they offered to help me out. I wish I remembered why I wanted to round them all up and care for them. I'm not sure where the riding crop came from... I don’t even OWN a riding crop... although Mister Zoom Lens says he would like a picture of me holding it in my mouth like I was the other day.” “Gee, I wonder why,” Grapes uttered, rolling her eyes.  “Anyway...  I know you’re not the biggest fan of Nightmare Night, but I thought you’d like to come to a very sedate party I’m holding for you and your friends, who were tuckered out by the caffeine.  Twilight’s kinda bummed out about missing the shindig, but I thought it’d be nice to have something, so she’s not completely missing out on her first Ponyville Nightmare Night.” “Um... I don’t have to do anything scary will I? I mean if that’s alright with you,” Fluttershy uttered timidly “I wasn’t planning on anything scary,” Grapes said with a shrug.  “Stories, maybe, but that’s about it.” “Can... I can probably make some snacks in a well-lit kitchen for everypony. You know.. popcorn and stuff. That way I don’t have to be in the way.”  Grapes, by sheer force of will, kept herself from facepalming. “Fluttershy,” she said with more patience than she felt, “you are an invited guest.  You would not be ‘in the way’.  If you prefer, though, you can stay inside.  My house is always well-lit, as is the Bunkhouse.  Though if you want, after the scary stories, you may want to come out, and roast marshmallows.” “Well... ok. That sounds like fun. I’ve never done much in the way of Nightmare Night... Ponies love to try to scare me. I know they don’t mean to be mean but...“ “Being scared is part of what Nightmare Night is about, and so are pranks,” Grapes said.  “I know all too well.  But the scares on Nightmare Night are supposed to be the fun kind.  I know I know, but sometimes being scared can be fun, if you know in the back of your mind it’s all fake, but at the time it feels real.  It’s a way of making fun of the things that scare you, and make them smaller in your mind.” “All right. I’ll come. Just please let the other ponies know I’m not well enough to handle a prank right now. OK?” “I’ll be sure to let them know.  Especially Pinkie and Rainbow,” Grapes replied.  “I’ve got other invitations to deliver.  You should probably get some more rest.  I’m sure Shortround and the others are taking very good care of you.” “Oh yes. They’ve all been so nice. It’s good to know that my animals will be taken care of while I’m resting. Thank you for dropping by, Grapes.” “You’re welcome.  Twilight will be happy to know you’re doing well,” Grapes said getting up, and heading back downstairs.  “See you Nightmare Night.” ========================== Sour Grapes made her way back into Ponyville proper, casting a brief glance up at Rainbow Dash’s house.  It was a fantastic house, with its rainbow water fountains, but there was no way in Tartarus that she was going to find her way up there.  Grapes swung by Sugarcube Corner, delivering her invitation to Pinkie Pie.  She took the time to explain to the sugar-fueled pony that the party was going to be rather sedate, and mostly for Pinkie and her friends who were too under-the-weather to go to the big Ponyville shindig.  Pinkie, of course, wanted to contribute, but Grapes was quick to nip that notion in the bud. "But I wanna..." "No." "But, Grapsie..." "No, Pinkie." "But... but it's a party!" "Pinkie, do you want me to sic Crabapple on you?" "No." Grapes sighed.  "Look, I didn't say you couldn't contribute something.  Just not anything that could undo all the good the rest has done so far.  Do you have any Nightmare Night decorations I could use?" "DO I?" Pinkie cried sitting up straight in her wheelchair before wincing and slowly settling back into it. "Owie... yes. Yes I do. They're up in my room." "Where, exactly?" Grapes asked, not wanting to stumble upon any unmentionables in the Room of Pie.  Considering whose room it happened to be, the unmentionables could be pretty darned unmentionable. "I keep them in the steamer trunk at the foot of my bed.  Just be careful opening it.  Like helium tanks say... contents are under pressure," replied Pinkie with a sheepish grin. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Grapes uttered, before heading upstairs.  Pinkie Pie's living space was relentlessly cheerful... and pink.  She could have sworn that there were places that the earth pony could have stood and blended perfectly with her surroundings like a beast of prey... if one's prey were ponies in need of a good party or a prank.  Still the trunk was easy to locate... it was an insidious dark blue with the icon of Nightmare Moon emblazoned upon it.  Well, if 'emblazoned' included an artistic application of glue and silver glitter.  She carefully pried open the lid, preventing it from springing open violently from the expertly crammed contents and after marveling at them all, closed the lid tight again and took the whole trunk with her. She really didn't want to spend too much time in here.  Too many questions were rising up in her mind... and she REALLY didn't even WANT to know why Pinkie had a bright blue and pink cannon in the corner.  Sour Grapes departed Sugarcube Corner, thanking Pinkie for the decorations, and promising to return the reusable ones.  Grapes went over to Carousel Boutique from Sugarcube Corner, pausing just outside to take a deep breath.  Strangely enough she found Rarity to be more trying than Pinkie Pie, some days.  Especially when the diamond white unicorn was feeling particularly dramatic.         Grapes looked at the boutique, and there in the window was a piece of paper with the words “SOrry... Sick tOday. MaYbe TOmOrrOw?” scrawled on it in bright crayon. Obviously NOT the work of the perfectionistic fashionista. Grapes had seen her hoofwriting and knew that even without the use of her horn, Rarity was actually quite adept with doing things equinually.  Nevermind the simple fact that crayon was not Rarity’s usual medium for making signs for her window.  Grapes simply knocked, and waited for an answer.  The door was opened by the small, sweet smiling face of Rarity’s little sister Sweetiebelle. “Oh hello, Sour Grapes. Sorry but Rarity is sick and can’t do stuff today. She had a drinking problem yesterday.”  Grapes stared for a few moments, then started sniggering.         “Oh... If you’re lucky I won’t tell Rarity you said that,” Grapes said with a smirk.         “Said what?”         “That she had a drinking problem,” Grapes snickered.         “Well she DID! One cup made her act all WEIRD! She put me in a dress when I wasn’t looking and made me model it for her. ...it was really pretty but she made it out of her drapes.”The small unicorn foal glanced over at where a Sweetiebelle-shaped hole sat in one of the beautiful velvet drapes.         “Having a problem with a drink, and having a drinking problem are two different things,” Grapes said, then laughed.  “She made mine out of an awning.”         “OOh. Was it pretty too?”         “Actually it looked pretty good.  Durable too,” Grapes said with a chuckle.         “Soooo... Rarity can’t work on any dresses today. Sorry.”         “Lucky for her, I’m not here to ask her to work on a dress,” Grapes said with a grin.  “I’m here to check up on her.”         “OH! Well that’s different. I think she’d love to have a visitor. She and Rainbow Dash haven’t had any yet.“         “Rainbow Dash is here?” Grapes asked, tilting her head.         “Yeah. When Big Macintosh dropped off Rarity she said that he could leave Rainbow Dash here too. You know... because the only way he’d be able to get her up to her house would be to throw her or something. So she’s in the guest room, I’ve been sleeping on Rarity’s couch and I’ve been taking care of them both.  So far Rarity has me ordering out a lot instead of letting me near the kitchen. I dunno why... I can cook.”         “Maybe she’s just concerned about a young filly in the kitchen, alone,” Grapes said kindly.  “After all you could get hurt.  Knives, the stove, that sort of thing.  And she’s stuck upstairs, and without the use of her magic to help with any injuries you could get.  Don’t look at me, either, Sweetiebelle.  I don’t know the first healing spell.”         “That’s OK... maybe I can get my cutie mark in taking care of the invalid.” the foal said, letting Grapes into the shop and locking the door behind her.         “Is it something you enjoy doing?” Grapes asked, as she put the trunk down beside the door.  “Anyway, planning on having a small Nightmare Night get-together at my place.  Going to invite Rarity and Rainbow to come, too.  Pretty sure Applejack is going to bring Applebloom.  See if you could drag Scootaloo along.  You, Bloom, and Scoots can go with Earshot to show him how Trick-or-Treating works.”         “OOH! Rarity’s been working REALLY hard on a Nightmare Night costume for herself. I know she’ll wanna show it off. “         “Why am I not surprised?” Grapes chuckled.  “So... upstairs?”         “Yep. She’s in the big room to the left. My room, oops, I mean the guest room is to the right... and the bathroom is at the end of the hall.”         “Good to know if I need to use the facilities,” Grapes said as she trotted upstairs.  She went to the left, and knocked on the door.         “Mmmmuhhh?” came a groan from somewhere beyond the door. “Sweetiebelle? You know you may come and go from my room as the situation sees fit. And right now I could use another lemonade. Plenty of ice, thank you.”         “I’ll go down, and get you some lemonade, Rarity, but anything else you’re on your own,” Grapes quipped, casually.  “I’ll be right back.”  Grapes went downstairs, chuckling to herself, fetched Rarity’s lemonade, with plenty of ice, and came back up.         Rarity was sitting up in her bed, elegantly simple white cotton sheets were draped across her form as she sat there in her robe, looking apologetically at Sour Grapes.         “Please forgive me, Grapes. I had NO idea that Sweetiebelle believed I was well enough to entertain visitors. Magical overtaxing aside I feel rested enough to sit up and talk, and am pleased that somepony has decided to bring well-wishes and not more dresswork. Oh, why is it when one is unable to perform that is when the demand is highest?”         “I suppose it’s because they realize something special is there, then it’s not available,” Grapes observed.  “Lemonade, with plenty of ice.  Good to see you’re doing better.  Twilight’s still a bit horn-sore, and is missing her magic greatly.” “Mine is aching quite smartly right now but other than some nausea and lingering nightmares of... well for some reason I keep dreaming of buildings with my designs being used to shade windows instead of awnings. A ghastly thought and yet strangely compelling.”         “Well considering you were using awnings to make fashions, yesterday, that’s not really surprising,” Grapes observed.         “I did WHAT?” she asked looking quite shocked before blinking twice and leaning forwards. “How did they turn out?”         “Well mine turned out fine.  I’ve now got a rather spiffy looking dress done in green-striped canvas.  It lacked buttons, of course, but I think you were a little too far in the zone, as it twere,” Grapes said, thoughtfully.  “What it lacks from being made of finer materials, it makes up for in durability.  And it is rather comfortable.”         “Oh... well that’s good. I can only hope the rest of my works are as well-received. So...“ she sipped at the lemonade “I am guessing since she did not leave with the rest of us that Twilight is under your tender mercies. Probably more competent than my own nursemaid but she IS trying. I’ve done my best to keep possible mishaps at a minimum by sending her out on errands such as takeout or delivering apologies to my customers. It is good to have somepony looking out for your well-being though.”         “True.  Myself, I felt that I couldn’t let that poor dragon handle a severe case of magical exhaustion alone,” Grapes said.  “Twilight’s case would be extreme, and the nightmares would be just as extreme.  Poor guy would have been overwhelmed.” “Oh yes... Sweetie did say she saw her floating about like... some floaty thing.” “A balloon, perhaps?” Grapes suggested.  “I did mention it to you.  You probably don’t remember my mentioning that Twilight was seeing the universe...”         “The Universe? How... no. No, I don’t believe I wish to know,” the white unicorn giggled “It’s hard to picture Twilight floating about like a balloon. If she could do that then one can only imagine just how painful her magical overtaxing is right now. Poor thing.”         “Nopony was themselves, that day.  You were creating clothes from awnings, Pinkie had gone into a state beyond hyper, Rainbow Dash was making rainbooms for...  I don’t know how long, and Fluttershy was herding together all the eligible bachelors,” Grapes rattled off, chuckling at the memory.         “Wait... What? FLUTTERSHY?” Rarity’s jaw dropped as what Grapes said sank in past the layers of polite small-talk to her taste buds for good juicy gossip. “You mean to say she was gathering up stallions? Our little shy Fluttershy? What was she doing? Using a riding crop?”         “Yes, actually.  How did you know that?” Grapes asked.  “If it was yours...  Well you’re kinkier than I ever thought possible, and that would explain where she got it.”         “I... I... Well I NEVER!” she huffed, turning her head to the side in exaggerated act of being indignant.         “You have to admit you trotted right into that one, Rarity,” Grapes said with a smirk.  “Eyes wide open, even.”         Rarity, with her nose up in the air, glanced back at Grapes then broke out into a wide grin and giggled.         “I suppose you are right... I certainly incriminated myself with that statement. Actually yes... I do happen to have such an item. I happen to have a classic  Equestrian ‘Riding’ outfit complete with scarlet jacket, black helmet, boots and yes... a riding crop... which now that I think of it was all borrowed by Fluttershy about a week ago. She said she needed it for... research? I thought she just wished to... you know... play dress-up at home. Every lady needs some time to try on outfits in private, yes? I’m surprised she put one item to better use... how many did she collect? Five? Ten? A Dozen?”         “I didn’t count, honestly.  She even got Short Round, and Dustbin.  I managed to stop her before she grabbed Big Mac.”         “Well we can’t say she wasn’t thorough, can we now?  So, how did those poor stallions take their domestication by our empowered Filly?”         “Surprisingly well, honestly.  But then Fluttershy is always so sweet, and she was a good host, despite being overcaffeinated.”         “That figures. Still it is a thought that baffles the mind. Fluttershy with a herd of strapping young stallions in a paddock. Their new mistress, trotting back and forth with a riding crop, eyeing them hungrily... I honestly don’t know whether to feel astonished or jealous.”         “I felt a bit shocked, myself, but then I saw her chasing the stallions, yelling that they are going to love her, and said stallions fleeing in terror,” Grapes casually said, deadpan.  “Then she was feeling, in her words, ‘urpy’ when I caught her en route to herd Big Mac...  Then she contributed to the fertilization of my mother’s begonias with the remains of her lunch.”         “Oh. Well. If I too... contributed, as it were, would you accept my apology?”  Grapes chuckled, shaking her head.         “That poor begonia patch.  I’d almost would have to accept your apology, Rarity.  Considering I was the first... contributor, as it were,” Grapes observed, obviously laughing at herself.  “I’m really really really afraid of heights.”         “Oh dear. Then it’s a good thing Rainbow Dash is staying with me. You won’t have to bribe a pegasus to air-lift you to her home to visit. She’s just down the hallway.”         “All right.  Oh.  Also, I’m holding a more sedate, and toned down Nightmare Night party for everypony involved in the calamity, since Twilight and I figured that nopony who went through it would be up for the big town shindig,” said Grapes, gesturing toward the window to indicate the town square.  “Got some decorations from Pinkie, so she’ll feel like she’s at least contributing something to a party.  Still got to pick up some snacks, but that should not be too hard.” “That actually sounds wonderful. I have a costume I was SO looking forwards to showing off. Give me a moment to stand and get my cane and I shall join you to see what Rainbow Dash’s expression is. Poor thing has been doing little more than sleeping since the event. She only awakens long enough to have a drink, relieve herself and then hobble back to bed.” “Well doing consecutive sonic rainbooms over an unaccountable span of time was probably very hard on her.  The gravitational forces, and atmospheric resistance probably took its toll on her musculoskeletal system,” the winemaker observed casually.         Rarity grunted in a very un-ladylike manner and finding a cane that would have looked more appropriate in a chorus line, got to her hooves and led Grapes down the hallway. The unicorn peered through the doorway on the right and then pulled away.         “Oh dear.”         “‘Oh dear’?” Grapes asked, peeking into the room.         The guest room was very different from Rarity’s own room. Where her personal chamber was a testament to femininity which included elaborate drapes, exquisitely carved wooden furniture and a four-poster canopy bed, the guest room was very utilitarian. The walls were a soft but neutral blue with no pictures, a simple window with white curtains shone light in from the morning sun. For furniture it had a very ordinary single-pony bed, a bed table, an armoire and a Dresser with a large mirror. All in all Grapes could understand why Rarity made this room so spartan in comparison to the rest of her home. She had no idea who would be staying in it and was trying to keep the decor as neutral as possible to give them a feeling of comfort. But that really wasn’t what had caused Rarity to lower her voice to a hush.         Rainbow Dash was SERIOUSLY flaked out in the small bed, snoring softly, and there next to the bed was Sweetibelle.         And a makeup kit.         Rarity was peeking through the doorway with Grapes now, shaking with suppressed giggles as her sister was applying liberal quantities of make-up to the one mare in Ponyville who swore off anything ‘girly’ years ago.         “This won’t end well,” Grapes whispered.         “Oh no...” Rarity sniggered. “It certainly will not... we may have to intervene should... oops. Too late.”         One eye on the pegasus was sleepily opening, then the other. Their owner blinked the stickiness in them away as Sweetiebelle continued to apply blush to her patient. A slow recognition entered Dash’s eyes as they now widened in shock and outrage, rotating slowly to regard the filly with a suppressed anger. “Sweetiebelle?” “Oh Hi Rainbow Dash.” “What... what are you doing?” “Making you look pretty.” “Uh huh.” “Yeah.” “So I’m in a tea-induced coma and you think I needed to look pretty?” “Yep. You never wear make-up and I thought maybe that’s because you don’t know how pretty you can look with it, and so I thought I might be able to get my cutie mark in beautician stuff.” “Uh huh.” There was a long silence between them as Sweetiebelle added lipstick to Dash’s muzzle. “You are SO lucky I actually like you kid. Could you do me a solid and get me something to wash this stuff off with?” “Well... ok. It’ll have to be cold cream though. Rarity likes waterproof makeups.” She trotted happily out the door, past the two mares and down into the washroom, leaving Dash all alone. The Pegasus moaned as she slowly rolled herself out of bed, popping sounds seemed to come from every joint in her body when she moved but with the stubbornness usually found only in earth ponies she got to her hooves and pulled her face up and level with the mirror on the dresser. “Great Celestia on a Bicycle! I look like a circus clown!” “That’s an understatement.” Rarity quietly agreed to Grapes under her breath as they watched the show. Grapes merely snerked, as she watched Dash. The Cyan pony leaned in closer to the mirror to examine Sweetiebelle’s work. She didn’t just blow her stack like the two voyeurs thought she might but was slowly and carefully looking over everything that was done. Tilting her head at different angles to scrutinise the makeup caked on her face. “Ugh. Not really my thing,” she concluded.  “How does Rarity make this paint job look so good?  It’s like smearing colored mud on your face to me. Well...”  She leaned in forwards and smirked.  “Okay.  The eyeshadow is okay.  The color actually does something for me.  Huh. This stuff REALLY brings out my eyes.”  Rarity and Grapes watched in stunned shock as Dash struck a pose or two and batted her eyes at the mirror and spoke in a voice no doubt inspired by Rarity’s.   “I do so ADORE this color, my darling. I have always felt my eyes have always been my FINEST feature. Perhaps I shall wear it the next time I sip tea with the Princess.”  Grapes covered her mouth with her hooves, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Yeah, Dash, that really suits you,” Grapes said out loud. Dash’s head snapped around like it was spring-loaded and she stared in horror at her friends seeing her in her moment of ‘shame’. She recoiled in terror, trying to block their view by waving her hooves in front of her face.  “Don’t look at me! DON’T LOOK AT MEEEEE!” “Oh for the love of...  And they call ME a drama queen!” “You are,” Grapes quipped. “Well... yes. But at least I am not so amateurish at it,” she declared as she managed to settle her giggles and trot into the room to where Dash was now trying to huddle in the corner.  “Please, Rainbow Dash. We know this is Sweetiebelle’s work. You are far too... ur, ‘awesome’ to wear makeup so irresponsibly?” “Yeah.  I’m not the biggest fan of makeup, myself, but even I know it’s meant to be used sparingly in order to enhance your natural features... and cover up any blemishes,” Grapes said, oh-so-casually cutting her eyes toward Rarity. “Yes. Yes. And you did have a point about the eyeshadow. It does bring out the color in your eyes. Perhaps you should keep some on hand for... special occasions. Better a little daub here and there rather than looking like... “ she giggled “...Floppy Hooves the Clown.” “Aw RARITY!” Dash cried out trying to wipe the makeup off of her cheeks. “Sorry dear. I couldn’t resist.” “Calm down, Dash.  Here comes Sweetiebelle,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “I got the cold cream, and some hot water and some old towels Rarity uses for Opal. OH hi Rarity.” “You may leave what you brought with us, Sweetie. We’ll get Dash all cleaned up. It’ll give us something to do that doesn’t require magic.” “And give me a chance to tell Dash about the Nightmare Night party I’m holding,” Grapes said taking the items from the young filly, carefully. “Nightmare Night?” Sweetie asked while Dash ceased her ineffectual hoof-rubbing. “Woah, wait. What was that about Nightmare Night again?” “I’m holding a small Nightmare Night party for all the victims of the Caffeinated Calamity,” Grapes explained.  “Twilight and I both figured that everypony who had drank Redline’s weapon of equine destruction would not be up to attending the big town party.” Rainbow Dash looked at Grapes a moment then carefully sat herself down on the bed where they could begin cleaning her up. “You know... after all that craziness that day...” she then gave a sidelong glance at Sweetiebelle with a smirk “And the craziness in here, maybe a quieter Nightmare Night would be good for me. Bet Rarity has enough stuff laying around here that I can come up with a costume. You know.. to get in the spirit. Can I get a lift there too? My wings feel like jello at the moment and I don’t think they’ll be much better by the time of the party.” “You could try walking, you know,” Grapes quipped.  “Unless you think your legs will still feel like jello.  If so... I’ll see what I can do.  I do have a larger farm cart.” “Well my wings are like jello, and the rest of me feels... crud I feel like I got put through a garlic press. Squeezed through the holes and come back together. I must’ve been really booking there.” “You were doing rainbooms, Dash.  Over, and over,” Grapes said. “Really? AWESOME!... ow.” “Yes.  Awesome. Now hold still while we work around your eyes Rainbow Dash.” “Ok Rarity. So... yeah. I’d love to go to your party Grapes.” “That sounds great.  It’ll be nice to have you all,” Grapes said. The remainder of Grape’s visit consisted of some jokes at Twilight’s expense, an update to Fluttershy’s condition and scrubbing Rainbow Dash’s face free of any colors that weren’t there to start with.  It was a nice visit, but soon Grapes had to leave, and put in an order for some snack foods with the Cakes for her party.  She took the time to read over the list that Twilight gave her, to double check things, before she left town, Pinkie’s steamer trunk in tow.         Back on home soil she put the steamer trunk in her barn for safekeeping, only to hear a dull *THUMP* and a sharp cry of surprise from the barn about ten minutes later. She entered to find Nightmare Night decorations on every surface and a very surprised Thistledown tangled up in a cocoon of blue and black streamers.         “What, may I ask the buck just happened?”         “You opened the box,” Grapes said casually.  “It was perfectly packed by Pinkie Pie to preposterous proportions.”         “Positively, this package popped me on my posterior from the party... uh... dang... ran out of P words..” he trailed off before looking up at her with a pleading expression “Um... little help? Out of this stuff, not with the rhyming thing.”         “It’s called ‘alliteration’, Thistledown,” Grapes explained as she helped the poor stallion get free of the streamers.         “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m not being smothered in decorations.”         “Of course.  The lesson, here, is do not open strange boxes,” she mused, as she started to pick up the decor.  “These were contributed by Pinkie Pie, since she can’t come and cater the party herself.”         “I thought I smelt the lingering scent of sugar cookies.” he said as he was worked free and the extra decorations were put back in the box. “Figures she would have a party-in-the-box device. I suspect Redline builds her stuff for her.”         “Oh.  Dear...  That would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?”         “You know... it does. I’ve seen her with this weird... thing that let her fly when Rainbow Dash had a flying friend in town. Freaky Gryphon gal. Very surly. I just stayed out of her way.” Thistledown dropped his voice and said in a hushed tone “Do you know Gryphons even got a word for pony meat?”         “Well, there was a time when Equestria and the Gryphon Kingdom was at war, Thistle,” Grapes said.  “That was a long time ago, during the reign of Prince Nebula, but still...  I’m sure that both sides were somewhat... uncivilized during that time.”         “Oh. I never knew we had a war with anyone. Guess I slept through that part of class. “         “I’ve probably got a book about it, somewhere,” Grapes muttered absently, as she went over Twilight’s list again.         “Yeah. Still.. to know what it means when they refer to us as basashi when they feel like insulting us... it kinda makes me wish I never took conversational Griffin in school.”         “...  Wait... ‘basashi’ is Griffin for ‘pony meat’?” Grapes asked looking startled.         “Yeah. Like you said it’s an old word, but it’s still very active in their language as a derogatory expression towards ponies.”         “You don’t remember?  We had a pony, here, who called himself ‘basashi’,” Grapes uttered.  “That huge Freerunner.”         “Him? Oh yeah... I never asked his name. Seemed like a nice fellow though, even if he looked like he could take your head off with just one hoof. Guess when you’re built like a brick outhouse you can call yourself whatever you want and get away with it.”         “I guess so.  Welp, we’re set up for Nightmare Night.  Just got to go and invite AJ.  Wanted to get this home, before headed over there.  How’s our guest doing?”         “Well I checked up on her a few times. She was reading for awhile, then sleeping, reading, sleeping, sleeping, reading... and now sleeping. Her book is like a little fort the way it’s propped up on her horn right now. I sketched out a picture to commemorate the moment. Wanna see?”         “You’re an artist?” Grapes asked, curiously, as she gestured for him to show her the sketch.         He complied readily, pulling a small notebook from his outrageously purple shock of mane and flipped it past a series of photo-accurate pencil sketches of the Vineyards before finding the one he was looking for. There was Twilight, on her back in bed, the book resting over her face, and yes... her horn propped it up like a little tent.         “I know I’m no Reinbrant but how’s it look?”         “That’s... really quite good,” Grapes said, sounding astonished.  “You have quite the talent, Thistledown.”         “You really think so? My parents always said I should focus less on drawing and more on getting a real job... like working in their Sandwich shop in Manehatten.”         “Well that’s typical parents for you.  Can I ask you how you got your cutie mark?”         He glanced back at his flank and gave the thistle-shaped icon a rub, smearing it.         “Sure, but it’s a short story. I don’t got one.” he said matter-of-factually.         “That’s kind of rare,” Grapes observed.  “I suppose you haven’t, really, found your special talent, just yet.”         “Pretty much what I was thinking.” he agreed, pulling some color sticks from his mane and did a touch-up job on the Thistle. “I never really felt like I needed one to tell me who I am, in fact the only reason I do this is to keep ponies from staring.  And to keep mom and dad quiet. There. Good as new.”         The ersatz-cutie mark was quite well done, looking virtually indistinguishable from the real deal. There was no doubt that Thistledown had a lot of artistic ability. She had seen his work with the wagon earlier that year and flipping through the sketchbook was like finding a secret stash of forgotten treasures. He certainly shouldn’t be making sandwiches for a living, and just toiling in her vineyard was a disservice to such talent. There had to be some way to make use of him that went a little past picking and carrying produce.         “Hey, Thistle,” Grapes said thoughtfully.  “How would you like to be in charge of labels and advertising for the vineyard?”  He straightened up and looked at her in surprise.         “Are you serious?”         “Yes, I am serious.  You’ve got a real talent.  I’m not sure how good a designer you are, but you are quite the artist, and could definitely update the labels with a better image of the Vineyard than what’s on them, currently.  It would be wasted, keeping you stuck as a produce picker.”         “Well I admit picking produce isn’t what I call fulfilling or intellectually stimulating, but it has been the most honest work I’ve put in in years. I don’t see labels and advertising being a full-time gig but share that out with the manual labor and you’d be getting your bits out of me. So... yeah. I’d like to give it a try.”         “Glad to have you aboard, Thistledown,” Grapes said with a grin, shaking his hoof.          ========================== Sour Grapes was astonished at the sheer variety of Pinkie’s Nightmare Night decorations. Thistledown’s inadvertent ‘decorating’ of the barn with them was a blessing in disguise. It allowed her to see it all at once rather than having to carefully unpack everything. Everything from darkly colored balloons to books on Nightmare Night themed party games was laid out before her... in a chaotic way. She was able to cherry pick... or should that be GRAPE pick what she liked most and could find a use for from the mess and then pack away what was, in a word, superfluous. Twilight was a good help, despite being in bed, sleepy and unable to muster the strength to levitate a pencil. Grapes discussed what she had, the yard space she was allotting and Twilight was able to give some good ideas... and a few that Grapes patiently turned down as they were a little TOO academic for anyone not particularly interested in Equestrian history to really ‘get’. Still she was good company, and she was a particularly good-natured critic for some of Thistledown’s initial ideas for some new label concepts. Grapes had to admit that in spite of his usually flippant attitude, Thistledown seemed to really be throwing himself into this opportunity to put his artistic drive to good use.          At the end of the day, chores were done, decorations were ready to go up and guests put to bed. As Twilight and Spike drifted off to sleep and Owlwishes rose to take the night shift Grapes dragged herself to a fitful sleep of her own. She had flashes of dreams involving Royal Guards arriving at her door to present six urns of ashes to her. One sprouting large cloud-gray wings and fluttering off before she had a chance to take it into her hooves.         She awoke in her guest room, upset and angry at her own overly creative subconscious. She got out of bed for a drink when she heard light flapping from outside in the yard. Moving quietly to the window she watched as six moonlit figures descended from the sky, landing in her yard. They were BACK!  They were filthy with soot and grime, their bodies had small burns in places and their body language betrayed their emotional and physical exhaustion but they were back! She wanted to run out then and there and greet them, but there in the quiet of the waning hours between night and dawn she could see a sort of ritual going on. Without a word they went to the dining table and laid out their gear, Queenie began operating the pump, filling the Trough with fresh water while Earshot disappeared into the bunkhouse only to return shortly afterwards with towels and cakes of soap.         Nopony spoke as they cleaned one another and applied healing balm to their wounds. They scrubbed their gear free of the filth that ash and soot had caked them with. Goggles were polished, their scarves and bags were cleaned and the filters inside of their muzzle-covering masks were swapped out with fresh ones. Even from her perch, Grapes could tell how weary they were and yet, their discipline was great enough to make certain that both their equipment and one another would be in decent shape to be used for the next emergency.         The first rays of the dawn began to illuminate the yard, the Storm-Riders had finally finished and they slowly dragged themselves to the bunkhouse where they no doubt would sleep at least until noon... and Grapes would let them. Heck... SHE was tempted to go back to sleep now that she knew her Storm-Riders were home safe.  Grapes sighed, and trotted downstairs, not giving into the temptation.  It was about time for her to start her day, and though she was going to go about her chores in as quiet a manner as possible, she still had them to do.  Another day of pre-winter preparation had to be completed.  Another day of decorating had to be done.  And lastly, a hearty lunch had to be cooked.  They were sure to have not eaten well during the disaster, and would need to regain their strength.         As Grapes directed the green and magenta form of Thistledown to his section of grape vines to cover with insulating hay, she began to wonder about her depth of feeling toward the Storm Riders, and Stormfront in particular.  They had began to feel like family.  Like she had gained four brothers and a sister, and a kindly uncle.  Stormfront, however, presented a different conundrum all together.         If the reactions from the local pegasai mares was any indication, Stormfront was a decently handsome Pegasus. She of course could only judge his looks from an earth pony or unicorn standard and well... he sure as hay wasn’t UGLY, that’s for sure.  Nevermind his personality, which was easy-going, and considerate, those eyes, that smile...  Grapes remembered how her cousin Purebrook had answered her rather naive question she had asked at one reunion:  You could tell that you were in love when all the songs started to make sense.  This was what Grapes suspected was happening, but she was not going to go for any great declarations just yet.  For one thing, she did not really have time, just now.  And for another thing, she was unsure if Stormfront felt the same.  She was not going to risk losing a friend, and one of her best workers - and possibly all his pals too - just because she was infatuated.   Infatuation.   That had to be it.   She would get over it, soon.   She was sure of it. > Preparations and Paliptations > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The time seemed to pass with the slowness of molasses in mid-winter. Sour Grapes did not want to keep thinking about her decision to not follow through with her infatuation, but that was the thing about equinal labor. It did not engage the mind, and left plenty of time to think. There could not have been another pony who was grateful for the time to get close to noon. Cooking took thought, and she was going to make the Riders a hearty lunch. Now just what to fix? There were some dried goods in the pantry, easy to prepare and good to bulk out stews, soups and other basic meals. With the chill in the air, a good hearty stew would be just the thing. Potatoes, carrots, legumes, and assorted other vegetables soon were put into the basket to be taken into the kitchen and turned into something tasty. Sour Grapes would have to make sure to puree anything she made for Twilight’s sake, though. So a basic stew of veggies and grains would be hearty, and filling. Grapes set that to simmering, pulling out the much-used blender, and a smaller pan to whip up Twilight’s serving. Spike wandered into the kitchen, sucking on what looked like a ruby. He peered up over the counter to watch Grapes as she began to bring the water to a boil. “So what’s on the lunch menu today? Whatever it is we’re gonna have to make a lot, your employees are back and... they kinda look like how one of Pinkie Pie’s Piñatas feel.” “I saw them when they came in, Spike. I’m fixing a nice stew for their lunch. Should be hearty, nutritious, and filling. Just the thing to help get back their energy after an exhausting couple of days,” replied Grapes, as she started adding seasoning in a very holistic manner. “OK. You need me to do anything? Set up the table? Fetch stuff from the root cellar? Get the breakfast-in-bed serving set ready for Twilight’s portion?” “You can set the table, and get the tray ready to take up to Twilight. I've already gotten the ingredients I need, though. Thanks, Spike,” Grapes said rubbing his head. “You've been a fantastic help.” “Hey, that’s what I’m here for... at least until I’m forty feet tall and out on my own.” The little dragon set about grabbing dishes and napkins and other paraphernalia before heading out to the dining table. “Forty feet tall?” Grapes asked, sounding confused, then shrugged,and continued with her stew-making.” She busied herself at the stove for a while, adding what seemed right and stirring occasionally. The contents of the pot smelt like it was coming along. Dried ingredients plumping up nicely while fresh ones were beginning to soften. She didn't even notice the presence behind her until Firestormer’s nose came around from the left inhaling the soup’s aroma deeply. “YAIE!” Grapes yelped, leaping rather impressively for an earth-bound mare. “HOW in the hoary horseradished hay did you become so soft-hooved?!” “Doing time training with ground-pounders. Ponies who fight wildfires and forest fires, up close and on the ground,” he said matter-of-factly. “They gotta wear some seriously heavy footwear so they can walk on ground hot enough to burn your hooves up to your ankles. They make all the rookies practice marching, walking and running in them for hours at a time. When you take them off... well you realise you feel a LOT lighter.” “And much to your disappointment, you’ve got four left hooves, right?” Grapes quipped, offering Firestormer a taste of stew. “Surprisingly enough... no. Turns out I got used to it pretty quickly and well, it kinda helped me become more sure of my footing. Never learned to dance or anything but I have what some of the Lumberjack ponies call ‘Logdriver’s hooves’ and asked me if I wanted to try being a lumberjack next,” Firestormer paused for a moment. ”I had other plans though.” He accepted the taste and smiled. “Really nice. You got any white pepper? That might pep this up a little without being too strong.” “I do, actually. It’s a leftover from when Mom did the cooking. I always wondered why she had multiple hues of pepper, but she did tend to get fancy on holiday meals,” Grapes observed, as she fetched the pepper from the cabinet. “Mom was from Canterlot, originally.” “Really? I didn't know that. Then again I don’t think I ever spoke to your mom directly. She looked like a really nice mare.” “She is one of the better cooks. She taught me a lot about cooking, too,” Grapes said with a smile. “The different hues of pepper add a different taste. She’s even got green and pink peppercorns. And, of course, you have some tabasco pepper sauce on the table to turn this perfectly innocent stew into your usual moulton dish.” “I like my food with a little spice but I find that it has to be the right amount. Enough to let your taste buds know they’re alive... but never so much that you can’t taste the hard work of a chef who toiled to make something tasty in it’s own right.” “Yeah. That’s the problem that you have with some ponies who try their hoof at New Hayleans cuisine. They spice it to ‘surface of the sun’ levels. You want some, as my Aunt Muscadine says ‘zang’ to it, but you don’t want to burn off your taste buds,” Grapes said, as she sampled the soup, and added a magical pinch more of the pepper.” He moved away to give her some space, and sat down at the kitchen table. He watched a while then sighed. “No fatalities.” he said rather out of the blue, the words short but speaking volumes. “Good to know,” Grapes murmured, as she pulled out a baguette, and sliced it thinly. “Any serious injuries?” “A few. None on the team, thank goodness for small miracles. Among the populace there were blessed few to call ‘serious’ but it’s never easy trying to explain that to some little filly who’s sifting through the ashes that was once her bedroom to see if anything survived. The worst injuries happened because of some...” the orange pony hesitated a moment, head twisting in a painfully looking manner to the left as he grimaced in a way that suggested he was fighting back some choice cuss words. “...nnngh... there are just some ponies in the world that really should have been locked away to save the rest of us from their stupidity.” “Anypony we know? Or just some idiotic feather-jockey with more guts than brains showing off, hoping to get into the Wonderfarts?” Grapes asked casually, then smirked. “And you’re off duty, Firestormer. If you were on-the-job, you’d get a reprimand, but off duty, you can call a clod-brained cloud jockey a clod-brained cloud jockey, and not get into trouble.” “Thanks... I mean it. It’s just... they should have KNOWN better. I mean this was a total no brainer and yet there they were. Straight from a celebrity visit to a local foal’s hospital, two streaks of blue and yellow surging up into a sky filled with ash, soot and Celestia knows what else! I at least know the risks and made certain that me and the others were ready for them but those... WONDERBOLTS! URGH!” he bonked his head against the table and gave a large moan. “No preparation, no planning, NO common sense. It was as if they wanted to die... and they nearly did. They probably thought they could treat ashfall like a snowstorm. It’s like I’ve told the others. Feathers get clogged. Ash and soot will get into your eyes and blind you or into your lungs along with all kinds of volcanic fumes... It’s not a nice way to go. Never just rush in blindly. Wear goggles and a filter. Only take short flights and take short breaks often to give yourself a chance to shake the ash out of your wings. Last thing you want is to choke or get too bogged down to fly when you’re in no position to do anything about it.” “So a pair of Underdolts came and tried to steal the glory in a place where there was no glory to be had,” Grapes mused, spooning out some of the stew into the pan, then poured the pan’s contents into the blender to liquefy the stew. Firestormer chuckled and nodded. “There’s no room for ego during an emergency like that. They were oh-so-very lucky they weren’t killed. As it is the Light blue mare with the white mane needs to get her wing worked back into it’s socket... too much ash between the feathers to keep her from having anything BUT a crash landing. On the other hoof, the cobalt-colored one with the smart mouth, will be in an oxygen tent for a while. Turns out he’s not so witty when his lungs are clogged.” “I don’t keep up with the Wonderbolts, to be honest. I have enough trouble with the mares on the weather team. They seem to find you and your cohorts quite fascinating,” Grapes said, as she poured the liquefied stew into the saucepan, and reheated it. “Wait... what?” He blinked and stared at her a moment. “Run that one past me again. The mares on the weather team?” “You mean you haven’t noticed them taking their ‘breaks’ on my fence when I wasn’t supposed to be looking, or ‘discretely’ moving clouds around the vineyard?” Grapes teased with an impish grin. “You must be losing your touch, Firestormer.” “Touch? What touch? Oh... OH! Uh... yeah. Must be losing my touch, not... noticing all those mares. Yeah. Maybe I’ve been just working too hard to be my usual uh... Love-em-and-leave-em kind of guy. “ Firestormer paused a moment with a smile as phoney as a three bit pearl necklace. “Sooooo... how many on average?” “Sorry, Casanova, I never keep a count,” Grapes uttered with a smirk, as she tested the temperature of the soup. She poured it into glass, added the requisite straw, poured some juice to go with it. “Hey, Spike? I got Twilight’s lunch ready. Would you carry it up to her, please?” “Sure thing.” “Hey little guy. Didn't see you there,” Firestormer greeted Spike as he came in. “Oh hey Firestormer. Yeah just got back from setting up,” the little purple and green dragon said as he took the tray of pureed goodness into his claws and headed up the stairs to where Twilight was staying. “Nice guy... Glad to see crankiness doesn't automatically come with the fireproof scales and 3rd degree morning breath.” “You know another young dragon?” Grapes asked, sounding very curious. “Well. Yeah. Smudge is the guy who sends us our summons. Teleportation fire is very useful to have when it positively, absolutely has to be there ten minutes ago.” he smirked. “Mom and Pop are in negotiation with some dragons to see if any were interested in doing it as a hobby. Smudge on the other hand... well... he’s kinda doing ‘Community Service’.” “How does a dragon get a community service sentence? He do something naughty?” Grapes queried. “Well... neither Lady Weathervane or Smudge will say much on the subject, but apparently it’s summed up, to the effect of ‘Do not anger the solar monarch, unless you wish to pay the price.’ I believe them.” “Hmmm... makes sense to me,” Grapes observed, as she levitated the soup out into the dining room. “Well better let everypony know soup’s on. So. Feel better for having the chance to rant about the Blunderbolts?” He eyed her and began to giggle. “Yeah... I’m still frustrated at their actions but, at least now I feel better that not everypony worships the air out of their buttocks.” “I’m not a pegasus, hon. If they did more than just flying shows, and water transfer supervision, then yeah, I’d think more of them. But all they are is a bunch of stunt jockeys that turn normally sensible pegasi into giddy fanponies. They’re impractical, egotistical, and do nothing but take young pegasi away from the more needed job paths,” Grapes groused. “Well they also get a lot of worship from the other ponies. They have their share of Unicorn and Earth Pony groupies. Meanwhile me and the guys work our wings off and still are next to unknowns... where’s OUR love?” “Usually out on the edge of the property watching you from the fenceline. Is that good enough for you?” Grapes quipped from the dining room. “Now go and tell the others that lunch is served.” “Yes Ma’am!” Firestormer said saluting her sharply “And... thanks.” “You’re welcome, fly boy,” Grapes smirked. -----------~ooo~------------ Lunch went very well, Grapes could see how a good rest and a hearty meal did wonders for her crew. The early-morning weariness she had witnessed now peeling away to show the old Storm-Riders she knew... even if their colors were somewhat less vibrant. All the ash and soot had a way of doing that for the next few washes, Once they had been rejuvenated enough she sprung the news on them that what she jokingly called “The Mane Six” would be spending Nightmare Night on their property. Reactions were a little mixed but the most surprising came from Earshot. “What’s Nightmare Night?” “Oh... boy... this is going to take some explanation. For most ponies, Nightmare Night is a holiday that is used to poke fun at all things scary,” Grapes explained, obviously thinking through how to spring the news of the... less salient bits of Nightmare Night on the poor Night Pony. “It didn’t start out that way, but... well... it gets its name from Princess Luna’s stint of being... somewhat less than sane. In other words, Nightmare Night is named for Nightmare Moon. It’s changed a bit, but nowadays, it’s a festival about scary things, i.e., the stuff of ‘nightmares’. It’s a way to make them a bit less scary. The foals go ‘round town, knocking on doors, and receiving candy. Though there’s tact permission to play a small harmless prank on anypony who doesn’t cough up the goods. The adults have the big Nightmare Night party in the town square, with games, and food.” “So foals go begging for candy, and the grown-ups just GIVE it to them?” “It’s not ‘begging’. They don’t go from door to door asking for candy. It’s... kind of a bribe to keep the pranks from being played. I played some good ones on the more stingy mares in town, too. You say: ‘Nightmare Night, what a fright. Give me something good to bite’, and you’ve gotta be in costume. That’s important too. Everybody wears costumes on Nightmare Night. Originally it was from an old legend that Nightmare Moon could send down her ghost to come and snatch away foals, unless they were in costume. Later even the grownups got involved, and some seem to want to outdo each other in how creative their costumes are. I think the whole candy offering thing came about after the whole candy or prank thing came into play. True it may have been taken from an old appeasement ritual, but the idea must have seemed divinely sent to parents. It was a way to get the foals to NOT be eating candy till their teeth rotted, after Nightmare Night,” Grapes explained, having to laugh at herself. In all honesty, she should have started with the candy, first, from the looks of it. If there was any doubt that Earshot was just like any other ten-year-old foal, then this would have laid them to rest. “But we still would get to keep some candy for ourselves... right?” Earshot asked, causing Grapes to smile a bit. “Of course! If we weren’t, the whole holiday would come to a screeching halt! It’s supposed to be enjoyed by everypony, the one night of the year, where foals get to stay up late, and gnosh candy. Not give it all away to a statue,” Grapes declared excitedly. “So why haven’t I been introduced to this before? Usually around this time of year I get told to go to bed early and they let me play my opera records at full volume next to me.” The Storm-Riders looked guilty as they toed the ground uncomfortably. “Well lad... you see the truth is... We really didn’t know how to explain Nightmare Night to you without risking hurtin’ yer feelings.” “Mainly, if I have my guesses right, because your people revere Princess Luna, and still feel guilty about not knowing if your ancestors made a pact with Nightmare Moon, or not,” Grapes said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “They didn’t want you to be saddened by Princess Luna’s alter ego being remembered, while Princess Luna, herself, was not. But then, this was probably before her being cured by the Elements of Harmony. No telling what Princess Luna is going to think of the holiday, now that she’s back.” “I think she might like getting candy. Who doesn't like candy?” “Dentists?” Grapes quipped. “I’d think Dentists would LOVE candy. It brings in more business.” “Kid’s got a point.” Stormfront said with a smile. “Look... maybe we were being overprotective of you in not introducing you to Nightmare Night before. You're level-headed enough to accept that it’s all in good fun... and you certainly haven’t gotten upset over finding out how the world perceives Night Ponies. Maybe... this will be a good experience for you. Also it’ll give you something to write home about.” “You can’t keep a foal in protective wrappings forever,” Grapes said quietly. “Even if that foal’s tough as nails, and faced horrors, there are still going to be things you can’t protect him from. Sometimes he’s just going to have to get his knees skint, and then learn to pick himself up. Mares and Stallions may be forgiving, but other foals... now that’s going to be tough. So. You looking forward to starting School, after Nightmare Night, Earshot?” “Well, yeah! Shouldn't I?” “It’s going to be very different. I’ll have to see what Rarity has for you to wear to meet Cheerilee, but... Well, like I said, other foals can be incredibly cruel,” Grapes advised with a smile. “You’re going to be different, and a lot of foals don’t like the one who’s different. You may be teased, and taunted, and even bullied. But don’t let them get you down, Earshot. They’re trying to make you feel small, because they don’t want to learn or even give somepony a chance..” “Or they ARE small, and the only way they can feel big is to make YOU feel small.” Queenie said, hugging Earshot. “There are far more of those kinds of ponies than should exist.” “I agree wholeheartedly, Queenie,” Grapes said, with a sad frown on her face. “So... going back to the candy...” “YES yes yes... Candy abounds on Nightmare Night, and we’ll have somepony take you out treat-or-tricking.” The blond pegasus laughed hugging him a little tighter before releasing him. “But you'll have to find a costume first.” “Miss Grapes? Where can I get a costume?” “This time of year? Most of the stores sell them or at the very least accessories, like Pinkie’s favorite party supply store. I’m afraid that Rarity’s out-of-commission, so she can’t make you one, this year,” Grapes answered. “Ok. I’m sure I can find a nice costume in time for the party.” “Actually...” Firestormer said quietly “Would you mind if I did some party tricks to liven things up a little? You know. Put on a show?” “Not at all, Firestormer. I’m sure everypony would enjoy whatever tricks you do,” Grapes said with a smile. “Actually, Lass... the lad’s not alone in his desire to pitch in for the party. I had me a thought about turning some of yer frames into a haunted maze fer the foals. Just take some canvas and a few odds and ends.” Grapes blinked in surprize, them grinned. “All right, anypony who has any ideas to liven up the Nightmare Night party for the foals has carte blanche to put those ideas in motion, as long as said ideas can be disassembled, easily, within the next few days,” Grapes declared. “How’s that?” -----------~ooo~------------ And when all was said and done, the Storm-Riders needed a distraction from their last job. It had been long, hard, somewhat brutal, and very sad in some instances. They had saved lives, not property, but property can be replaced. Now, however, they needed to recuperate, and maybe even have a little fun. The bunkhouse was so close to being done that one could almost stick a fork into it. And all the little projects to make the vineyard an enjoyable Nightmare Night attraction was also coming along nicely. A maze was constructed, snacks were made, with Stormy being kept well away from any baking. And lastly, Twilight Sparkle was finally able to eat semi-solids, and walk around a bit. Grapes was surprised when she caught Firestormer, freshly returned from town, placing bottles of what she recognised as the cheapest, nastiest alcohol available onto the yard dining table. There were other things in the grocery bags but she took some ‘professional’ offence to the presence of such blatant ‘booze’ on her property. “You know, you could have gotten something much more... palatable with your employee’s discount, Firestormer,” Grapes observed, eyeing the hootch in disdain. “Uh? Oh hey, Grapes. You mean this stuff? Sorry about that but for what I got planned, I need something good and strong. Way over the 40 proof mark.” “I do have some stronger drinks, Firestormer. Not sure why you want something so strong, but...” “Look I know you take great pride in your product, and yes you have some strong stuff but... okay. I was gonna surprise you tonight but... you forced my hoof. Time for a demonstration.” The orange pegasus jerked the cork from a bottle labeled “Faust’s Bane” with his teeth and spit it to the side. he then winked at her before tilting his head back and taking a deep draught but surprisingly enough, not swallowing it. His cheeks bulged like a frog’s before he put the bottle back down. What happened next was a genuine shock. He turned his head away from the house and a great blue gout of flame filled the air. It was astounding, and he did it again, and then a third time. Each time the brief burst of flame, akin to a dragon’s breath. He wiped his mouth on the ‘sleeve’ of his leg before smiling at Grapes. “A fire breathing trick. Nice! I haven’t seen one in years,” Grapes said with a grin, then smirked. “You still could have used my strong stuff for that, though... Probably wouldn’t leave as bad a taste in your mouth as this stuff. I don’t mind my ‘art’ being used to create somebody else’s. Not sure how you did the actual fire-breath, but I bet you had some rainbow water in your mouth too... Or this rotgut is made with rainbow water... Either way, I suspect rainbow water in the color change.” “You have a good mind for thinking this stuff out. So yeah. A little Rainbow water goes a long way. Picked some up from the local Weather Pony outlet and was trying to decide what color would go best for my show. I’m afraid that I can’t show you how I ignited the stuff, it’s a trade secret but... somepony as sharp as you’ll probably work it out by morning. As for using YOUR product... well... I never thought of it. Guess I had too much respect for your hard work to consider it. Shortly after getting my... obsession, a circus came to town and one of the sideshow performers was ‘The Infernal Hay-Burner’. Watching what she did with fire amazed me... I begged mom and dad to let me run away with the circus for a summer job. And so, I wound up understudying under Hay-Burner. It was my first taste, no pun intended, at learning how fire could be controlled instead of fought. She didn’t so much as play with fire but harness it to entertain others, and I learned enough about the trade to actually be asked to come back when I was older and maybe finish my training as a full performer.” “You’re definitely going to wow the audience with your act, Firestormer,” Grapes said with a grin. “Now let me find a bottle of good stuff you can use, and let’s see what happens.” “Well it certainly would be an improvement in flavor, that’s for sure. This stuff tastes like it must’ve been strained through the inside of an old saddle.” “What can I say? I care for the well-being of my friends... Hm... If we’re going to get Earshot started in school, he’s going to need to meet Cheerilee.” “Really? Um... so, does the schoolmarm KNOW Earshot is ‘different’?” “I don’t know, honestly,” Grapes said. “You remember the maroon filly with the pinkish mane? Rather unrelentingly cheerful?” “Yeah I remember seeing her around town. Has flowers on her keister? Would have thought her a florist instead of a teacher.” “Cheerilee has this rather... broad interpretation of her cutie mark, Firestormer,” Grapes said with a grin. “But she’s really rather good at being a teacher.” “Well if you say she’s ok then I won’t worry about Earshot too much. Um... can I make a suggestion? Maybe put him in some clothes before introducing him. Might help draw her focus to the similarities he has with other ponies.” he toed the dirt with his hoof and sighed. “The little guy needs all the help he can get for a smooth transition on here. First time at school can be rough on the unprepared.” “Don’t I know it. I’m planning on checking with Rarity. She may have something we can use,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “Also... he’s probably going to need a legal guardian to vouch for him, too.” “I... I would do it but... he’s been more of a little brother to me than a son, really. I think if this teacher is as good as you're implying she'd pick up on that pretty quickly.” “She more than likely would. She’s just that good, and tends to know when the rod or the carrot is needed,” Grapes observed. “Though some foals have protection from the aforementioned rod... Well I’m heading into town, to check up on Rarity, and see if she’s got something useful for short-notice. You and the others decide who’s going to be the go-to guardian of our favorite little Night Pony.” “We'll have that sorted out by the time you get back with him.” -----------~ooo~------------ Grapes had never seen Rarity so apologetic in her life. In her words, Earshot was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something different and she was in no condition to give him a proper outfit. She had never even considered the notion of making clothes for a Night Pony or how to make one look more... pony-ish. Still, she didn’t let Earshot “Suffer in the name of fashion.” and dredged her ‘Unclaimed clothing’ closet and discovered a gorgeous colt-sized White suit jacket and accompanying Black shirt with white tie. It was a little larger than Earshot’s frame but with a few cleverly applied pins he would wind up looking quite dashing in it. Apparently the outfit had been bought and paid for but never picked up, so literally Earshot was purchasing it off the rack. An event that, like the Carousel's owner, was definitely a rarity. Grapes thanked Rarity, as they left, feeling that Rarity had earned her bits, even if the outfit was off the rack, as it were. They trotted back to the Vineyard, Grapes eager to see how the Great Debate on who would be the designated guardian had turned out. It should be interesting, but Grapes was willing to volunteer, if they had not reached a decision. Half the time, honestly, it felt like Grapes was, already, the guardian of the whole blasted team. -----------~ooo~------------ The group was around the communal dining table in the yard, apparently just winding up the debate. They seemed to have debated their way through three pies and a bucket of chocolate chip cookies before she arrived. “Simple rule of a committee, lass. Never begin talks when yer hungry otherwise it could go downhill fast.” “Makes sense to me. I DID feed y’all, before I left, though, I thought,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Looks like all you did was... not save me any pie, OR cookies.” The subject of the debate had apparently been given the remains of a raisin pie and was far-too enthusiastically licking the plate clean. In moments the dish was scoured nearly spotless and the night pony smiled at Grapes from a somewhat less-than clean, purple-stained muzzle. “We got more, Miss Grapes,” said Sirocco as she opened a small crate at the foot of the table and pulled out a Lemon Meringue pie. “ I simply could not decide on one type of pie from Sugarcube Corner and so I asked them to send one of each flavor over.” “Aye... we got plenty to go about right now Miss. Glad she went at the end of the day instead of the start or we'd have more than ten,” Squall chuckled. “Oh.. Kay. Got your suit, Earshot,” Grapes said, lifting the article from her saddlebag. “Why don’t you go and hang it up, so it’ll be neat?” “Okie Dokie! Miss Rarity did a great job, didn’t she? It’s so beautiful, Miss Grapes.” he said, starting to reach for the pristine white material with his purple-stained hooves. “...on second thought, I’ll do it,” Grapes said heading into the bunkhouse. “You, young colt, need to wash your hooves.” “Huh? Ooh... OH! That could have been very bad,” Earshot chuckled looking at the goo on his hooves. “I’ll do that right away.” “Good lad,” Grapes said, then went on in to take care of putting up the suit. She heard the steady, dependable gait of Squall enter the bunkhouse behind her. By the time she had hung up the suit in Earshot’s surprisingly sparse closet, he had caught up with her. “Colts will be colts, eh lass?” “Yes,” Grapes chuckled. “And some days I feel like I've got three colts under the same roof.” “We all have our moments, but when I became a Stallion I put away all foalish things, Miss Grapes. And that includes the fear of foalishness and the desire to be grown-up.” “I hear you, Squall. I like the Daring Do series, and that’s written for foals, originally” Grapes observed. “But sometimes, you just have to stop, and try not to facehoof too hard, when they start acting like a trio of hooligans.” “Aye... but to be honest the fillies are just as bad at times.” he chuckled. “We’re not whining, we're complaining,” Grapes said with a grin. “And nice to know that I’m not the only well-read one on this vineyard. Feel free to browse the shelves, during the winter months, if you need reading material.” “Thank you miss. Me father always stressed me trying to be a well-rounded individual. It’s even in the family motto. Without getting into the old Equestrian, it’s Never stop living, never stop learning, never stop loving.” “I rather like that one.” “We’re rather partial to it ourselves. It’s one of the reasons we’re sailors. You go out, see places, meet new personalities and are continually trying out new things.” He looked at the white suit and black shirt hanging up and smiled. “Speaking of which, looks like the lad will be wearing his Sunday best when I take him to meet his new teacher.” “So you’re going to be acting guardian, hm?” Grapes asked, smiling at Squall. “Because of seniority? I’d have stepped in, if needed. Practically feel like I’m your team’s guardian, already.” “I think we’ve noticed that on some level. As homey as this all seems to us, to the Ponyvillians we’re still... outsiders I guess. You know, not really residents yet. In that respect you are... somewhat responsible for us. But don’t worry. I doubt we will do anything deliberate to reflect badly upon your family name.” “Good to know,” Grapes said with a smile. “I should probably get me good outfit cleaned before then. Wouldn't look right for him to look so sharp and me looking like I just got keelhauled.” “Miss Cheerilee wouldn't mind, but sometimes it’s best to put one’s best hoof forward,” Grapes said patting Squall’s shoulder. “No telling who else may be there.” “I can understand why the others think I should be his legal guardian. The lad does look to me for advice and whatnot, but still... It’s hard to see meself as the fatherly type. Not that I hate foals or anything like that, y’know.” “If you did, you wouldn’t get along with Earshot so well,” Grapes observed. “Do you think I’d make a good father? One day, I mean.” “I’d have to say yes. Yes you would make a good father, someday. Because you are able to work with a variety of different personalities, and abilities,” Grapes replied. “So you’re ready to deal with anything a foal can throw at you.” -------=======------- Grapes approached the Ponyville schoolhouse and only glanced at it briefly before averting her eyes. It wasn’t that it was a BAD schoolhouse. It had a fairly classic construction for a single-room schoolhouse including a little steeple in it for the schoolbell. It was the paint job that always got to her. Whomever was tasked with adding the french curves and hearts to it went above and beyond the call of duty... and good taste. To Sour Grapes it was just too over the top, and like Sugarcube Corner looked less like a building and more like a toy marketed towards young fillies. Taking a moment to wonder if she was the only one to see it that way she squared her shoulders and entered. Cheerilee was busy at her desk, no doubt marking tests. The purple mare looked up from her task and apparently glad for the interruption smiled. “Sour Grapes! What an unexpected surprise, what brings our local winemaker to my school? Did another foal try to buy me a bottle of something in lieu of the more contemporary apple again? I thought we already agreed that they should be gently turned in a less... alcoholic direction for a bribe.” Grapes chuckled, shaking her head. “No, Cheerilee, thankfully nopony’s tried to buy another bottle of wine from me. Well except Berry Punch, but that’s another story altogether.” “That’s good to hear. Then again a drink right now sounds almost welcome. I’m grading term papers, they may be short but some of them are simply... well Twilight asked me to introduce to the children that an unknown quantity is usually identified with the letter ‘X’. So in this question I asked them to find ‘X’. You wouldn’t BELIEVE how many just circled the letter and pointed to it with an arrow saying ‘Here it is.’ I worry for their sense of logic... but at least their sense of humor is sharp.” Grapes paused, blinking for a moment, and gave Cheerilee this look. “You mean to tell me that Twilight convinced you to start these kids on algebra?” Grapes asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Well not EVERYTHING about algebra. She said... ‘A concept here and there could help give them a leg up later.’ So that’s what I did. Nothing complex, after all the term ‘X Factor’ is bound to be overheard at some point, so at least they understand that X is another way of saying that there is an unknown quantity. I have three fillies who think that ‘The X-Mares’ a nicer term than ‘Blank Flank’... I’ll give them a week before they forget about it though.” “Well... actually I have another ‘X Factor’ that’s going to be introduced... I have this ten-year-old colt that’s very different, and I thought I’d stop by and warn you beforehand. You see, he’s what is called a Night Pony, and...” Now it was Cheerilee’s turn to give Sour Grapes that certain look. “Oh Grapes... Pull the other one, it has bells.” “I’m serious,” Grapes said. “Note serious face.” “Really? Come on, Sour Grapes. Do you have any idea how many foals each year I have to patiently explain that there is no Boogiemare, no Zombie Ponies and that there is not now nor ever was such a thing as Night Ponies?” “Well if you think about it, you’re telling the truth. There is no such thing as the literary Night Ponies. There is, however, a nocturnal species of pegasai that are called ‘Night Ponies’, but they do not steal children, or drink blood, are not immortal, and don’t go ‘poof’ in the sun,” Grapes explained. “They are a bit more omnivorous than your typical pony, though, so I wouldn’t recommend anypony trading lunches with Earshot, once he’s enrolled.” The Teacher stared at her visitor, the skeptical expression slowly crumbling away to reveal a shocked one beneath. “You... you ARE serious, aren’t you?” She got up from her desk and slowly walked over to look out the window facing Ponyville. “We actually have a Night Pony in Ponyville? I thought that was a silly rumor, like the time we thought that Celestia was coming to town and she was merely passing by.” “No, it’s not a rumor. Earshot’s a little different, but he’s a very nice colt. Just don’t ask him what he’s having for lunch,” Grapes quipped with a grin. “Any particular reason I shouldn’t?” she paused a moment then shook her head. “No wait... maybe I shouldn't ask you that.” “Good call,” Grapes said with a grin. “Seriously, though, Earshot’s something of an ambassador for his people. They went into hiding after the whole Nightmare Moon thing, so... They sent Earshot to gage pony’s reactions to someone different.” “Wait... you mean to tell me they were hiding because they thought all the other ponies would want to take some sort of revenge against them? That’s... actually a good example of forward planning. But to hide for a thousand years? That certainly would explain some of the stories we’ve been coming up with on our own. So... what’s he look like?” “A little colt with a gray coat, yellow slitted eyes, bat-like ears and bat-like wings, ” Grapes said simply. “Yellow slitted eyes? Like a cat’s? Bat ears and... bat wings. Yes... I can see how that would result in a LOT of stories.” “Oh yes,” Grapes said with a grin. “And fangs.” “Fangs?” “Just small ones. Really.” “Oh... kay...” the schoolteacher said cautiously. Her mind putting together a rather fearsome image, in spite of Sour Grapes’ best assurances. “He’s a ten-year-old colt, not some massive monstrosity of nightmarish proportions,” Grapes said soothingly. “Earshot is a kid.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” There was a gentle knock at the door and the two mares turned to see Summer Squall standing there. His shirt was clean and pressed and he was wearing a Dark Jacket that had four yellow stripes on the cuffs. It had never occurred to Grapes that Squall might actually have more rank than the standard sailor... and it was a Royal Equestrian Navy jacket as well. She made a mental note to ask him about it later. She did note that he had removed his hat and was holding it under one foreleg. That was rare, she couldn’t remember him taking his hat off for much more than mealtimes. He was on REALLY good behavior if he was showing this level of respect. “Ah, begging your pardon Miss Cheerilee, My name is Summer Squall and I am here to... hopefully enroll my young charge in your fine establishment here.” “Oh, um. Sour Grapes? Is this stallion the legal guardian of the colt you've been warn... I mean, telling me about?” “Yes, Cheerilee, he is,” Grapes said, then leaned close. “Careful with the paperwork, the ink may still be wet. His friends had been giving him a rather eccentric form of home schooling, until he expressed an interest in coming to school.” “Oh... well yes. Home Schooling isn’t that unusual but as long as he has basic literacy and mathematical skills I can work with that. Is the young... I mean did you bring Earshot with you?” “Aye Miss. He’s just out here on the front stoop. Come along lad. Smartly now.” “Uh... I’m caught on a nail and I don’t want to just...” “I’ll give you a hoof with that. Pardon me Miss. Just a wardrobe malfunction. Won’t be but a moment.” Squall turned and took half a step out the door to give Earshot a hoof, meanwhile Grapes became aware of the teacher taking very deep nervous breaths. If she didn’t know any better, Grapes could have sworn that... “So... all those years telling the foals that there’s no such thing as the nightmarish Night Ponies, it wasn’t the foals you were trying to convince, hm?” Grapes asked with a smirk. “A... a little. It’s silly I know it’s just...” She trailed off as Summer Squall entered with Earshot at his side. The colt was wearing the suit that Rarity had selected for him and here under the light of day and in the cheerful environment of the classroom all things dark and sinister had boiled away, leaving just Earshot behind. There was a moment of silence, then Squall placed a hoof on Earshot’s shoulder. “Go ahead lad. Introduce yourself.” “Hullo Miss Cheerilee. My name is Earshot and I would really like to learn more about Equestria and the world... that is... if it’s alright with you?” “Oh... my.. gosh... He’s so CUTE!” It was all Grapes could do to not collapse laughing. “Just look at him! The little suit and tie and shirt... and so polite. Is he always polite?” “Yes, actually,” Grapes casually. “Oh my gosh. A polite colt. That’s hard to find... and you’re not even remotely creepy! I - I didn’t mean to imply that you would be. It’s just...” “It’s ok Miss Cheerilee. I’ve read all of the Night Pony books. I know how we’re remembered... even if some of the stories had stuff I really didn’t understand. Are there really ponies who turn into giant wolves?” “No, they’re as made up as vamponies, Earshot,” Grapes replied. “I see I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?” Cheerilee observed. “Yes Miss Cheerilee?” Earshot replied, somewhat questioningly. “Oh he IS polite. I can’t really have you with the younger foals but I do have a class after they leave for older colts and fillies. They'll be more around your age... you are about ten, right?” “As best we can figure... living in a cavern can mess up your perception of passage of time. We just say ten... give or take.” “A cavern? Why...? No, I’m sure you’ll explain when I introduce you to the others. Now before this, is there any particular lessons you’d like me to try to work into the curriculum?” “Well I’d like to know everything!” “You and me both kid. But seriously... what sort of things do you know already?” Cheerilee asked, looking amused. “Not a lot. I mean the ponies I work with have taught me some neat stuff like, geography, cartography, fire safety, weather formation, I can read and write six languages outside of my own, arithmetic, cold weather survival, xenozoology, herbology, various theologies of Saddle Arabia, cooking...” “Stop, stop, stop... does he really know all of that?” Cheerilee asked, looking over at where Squall and Grapes now stood together. “Well now, he did have a firm grasp of his letters and numbers when he left his home. Since then he fell in with us at the Royal Equestrian Rogue Weather Bureau and well... in the lulls we’ve been teaching him whatever we had to share. The little fellow’s quite eager to learn whatever you throw at him,” Squall explained with a shrug. “He’s also learned grape cultivation, varieties of wine grapes, the difference between wine grapes and table grapes, and some basics of fermentation chemistry, along with the process of winemaking from the grape to the bottle, some basic farming techniques for melons and strawberries and the effects of hypersonics upon the rodent and lapine ear,” Grapes added. “Hypersonics? How...” Cheerilee took a moment to think about it. “Those ears are for more than keeping the top of your head from flying off, aren't they?” “I never thought of it like that but, yeah. I guess you could say that. Like all night ponies I can ‘see’ the world just with my voice... and I can hear really good too. Listening is my special talent,” Earshot chirped happily. “Oh my. That is a talent to be proud of. Okay, Earshot. My class for older foals begins the day after Nightmare Night. Will you be ready for it?” asked Cheerilee “YES! I mean.. um... yes.” “Oh so eager too! I’ll give your guardian a list of materials you will want to bring with you. Nothing fancy, just pens, notebooks, rulers.. the usual.” “Aye. I’m certain I have some of that laying about in me bunk.. I mean my room," Squall said, nodding. “And if not, I probably have some in my house,” Grapes said. “Any other equipment? Protractor, compass, abacus, stuff like that, needed?” Cheerilee began going through her desk and pulled out a small blue sheet of paper. “It should all be right here. It’s fairly standardised stuff, useful up until you realise that some ponies only think a compass is for carving their name in the desktops,” the maroon mare observed with a roll of her eyes. “I thought it was for drawing accurate curves, Miss Cheerilee.” “He IS a bright one. All right then. I guess I’ll be seeing you after Nightmare Night, Earshot. I hope we both enjoy this new experience.” “I will. Thank you miss Cheerilee.” Once Squall had lead Earshot from the schoolhouse, only then did Cheerilee look back at Grapes, and smiled. “And to think of the bits my parents spent sending me to foal psychiatrists to alleviate my fears. If I knew Night Ponies were so... pony-like I’d never have feared them in the first place.” “It’s been over a thousand years since they’ve been around, Cheerilee. I’m sure they’re all ponylike,” Grapes said with a smile. “It IS the victors that write history, after all, and if my research into that time period is correct, our dear departed ancestors may have been a bit vengeful toward any creature that would look like it would benefit from eternal night.” “Perhaps I should consider working something about preconceived notions into my curriculum,” Cheerilee said thoughtfully. “That sounds like a good idea. Ponies would benefit from learning that stereotypes are not a good thing,” Grapes said with a nod. “Especially from an early age.” > Giggle Guffaw and Grimace With Grapes > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grapes draped the sheet across herself in varying directions, trying to find just the right angle to make it all work. After accidently uttering some old words she, as a foal, had her mouth severely soaped up and rinsed out by her parents because of them, she finally found the best possible pattern to allow her to wear the sheet without a potential tripping hazard. Putting a clothespin in place to keep it there while she rooted about for a broach in her jewelry box she felt a presence in the living room. She turned and found Stormy looking at her with the most curious expression. “What? Look, you convinced me to wear a costume, so... yeah. I’m trying to get it just right. How did those ancient ponies ever wear these things?” “I think they usually had togas custom made... at least I hope you’re working with a toga. If those are meant to be burial wrappings then you’ve strayed from the basic shroud look.” “Yes, it’s supposed to be a toga,” Grapes chuckled. “Just got to go stomping around in some pomace to get the ‘I’ve just finished stomping grapes and have put the juice in an amphora to ferment’ look.” “So you’re gonna be Juicy Seizer this year?” he inquired as she found a rather stunning pin that bore the image of a bundle of grapes etched into it’s silver surface. “She was a rather important political figure in a toga... at least according to Spear Shaker’s plays.” “Actually, I had somepony different in mind,” Grapes said pulling out a book, and flipping to the page she wanted. He looked over the illustration of the tan-bodied mare displayed and looked between her and the mare before him. “Gracious Spirit? ...accredited with the discovery of the techniques required to achieve fermentation on purpose. She was Equestria’s first winemaker! An appropriate selection on your part... and I note there is a resemblance you can monopolise on. She’s got hair like yours and a similar body color... can’t quite see... huh... What was her cutiemark?” “Nopony knows. She always wore that toga, and that wreath of grape vines. See you can’t tell if she’s got a horn or not,” Grapes said grinning. “It’s almost as if she didn't want anypony to know her cutie mark, or what type of pony she was. She could even be hiding wings under the toga.” “You're right! She’s a real mare of mystery there,” he chuckled and looked up at where Grapes was now selecting lengths of grapevine and bundles of various colored grapes from a large bowl. “You think she did it on purpose? You know... to keep any one tribe from laying claim to who she was and her contribution to pony culture?” “That’s one possibility. Or she was an alicorn, and didn’t want everypony worshipping her,” Grapes said as she carefully wove her wreath. “Take Princess Celestia for example. Can’t go and visit her friends without the whole thing being made a big tadoo over.” “Yeah, I can see that. I guess we’ll never know for certain, will we? And maybe it’s better that way... lets us all think, ‘She could have been one of us,’ eh?” he chuckled with a gentle nudge. “So true,” Grapes chuckled, putting on the wreath. “Hide the horn well enough?” “Mmmm... maybe if you just turn it to the... yeah there you go. Looking good there, granted they probably didn’t wear glasses back then but hey, maybe if she could’ve she would’ve. Right?” “If she needed them, and they had them, then yeah, she would have,” Grapes chuckled. “Magical vision correction is a lot more expensive than glasses.” *********************** Grapes wasn’t sure why she was taking the road that skirted the edge of the Everfree Forest. Maybe she didn’t want her good mood ruined by traffic, or maybe she just wanted to see “IT” in broad daylight before the shadows cast by moonlight made it all spooky. She remembered many a Nightmare Night where she stared up at that statue and swore it moved... just a little. Grapes shivered at the thought. The night can cause quite a lot of spooky imaginings. The road didn't go all that close to the location but it was close enough to see the statue standing out against the darkness of the forest. She never knew why it never gathered moss or showed any sort of decay despite a total lack of maintenance over the last one thousand years. Maybe she would take Twilight out here sometime and ask her opinion. The explanation could be simply the type of stone. There were types of stone that were so dense that the tiny tendrils that moss used to take root just couldn't get started, but for now that was just speculation on Grapes’ part. She crested the hill and looked over. There it was... as unchanging as ever. The Pale moon-white stone gleaming in the sun as if lit from within. It was hard to believe that something so elegant and well-crafted was a reminder of one of the greatest threats to Equestria. She was so focused on the statue that at first she didn’t notice him. Then when she did she wondered how he found this spot. Of course when you thought about it, with ears that could hear every rumor in town without leaving the farm, it was a wonder why he hadn’t have heard about this sooner. Earshot was sitting there in front of the statue, a few packages laying in the grass as he just... stared up at it. She brought the cart to a halt and after a moment of indecision, realised that whatever was going on in his head, he probably could use a familiar face right now. “Hey, Earshot,” Grapes said, trotting over. “Looks like you found the statue I was talking about.” “Yeah... I just... I just wanted to... I dunno... see it for myself.” “Good idea coming here at this time of day. It kind of loses some of its menace by daylight,” Grapes observed. “It’s positively spooky at night, though.” “I never understood why you daylighters... uh... well... ponies who live under the sun, why they think things look spooky when you add darkness. They seem kind of the same to me... mostly. Maybe it’s my sonar talking though.” “That, and you’ve got much better night vision than those of us built for daytime,” Grapes observed. “We poor dark-blind daylighters can’t see as well as Night-Ponies.” “Yeah.” He glanced back at her, golden eyes glimmering in the sun a moment before turning back to the tall figure of the Nightmare Moon. “I thought that she was a bad-guy when she looked like that.” “She was,” Grapes said quietly. “When she looked like that, she wanted to shroud Equestria in Eternal Night.” “I know... but it’s really silly and kinda short-sighted isn’t it? There’s a reason we have both day and night. We need sun to warm and make so many things grow, and the night to let the daytime things rest while the nighttime stuff gets to work.“ “Well... at the time, Princess Luna didn’t think that the daytime ponies appreciated her work on the night. The Night Ponies aren’t mentioned in our legends, so... it could be that they didn’t really appreciate the night either, because to them, it was their day-time, and they worked then. We don’t know,” Grapes observed. “Your ancestors were very thorough in their exodus. Never mind those ancient daylighters were very thorough in their excising of the concept night pony existence.” He nodded slowly. “They must have been very angry... but also maybe they felt sorry for wanting to hurt us, making sure nopony would remember we ever were so nopony would remember how mad they were. But the same could be suggested for us too... we hid so well we... forgot ourselves.” He took a deep breath and hung his head low. “We remember only that we hid for fear of being destroyed... we remember much of our slow thousand-year crawl to become a civilisation again, even if it’s a hidden one. We remember the history of Stygian Cove as far back as it’s birth as a hidden home... but the one thing... the most important thing... we forgot.” he looked back at her again, those golden eyes glittering with tears barely restrained. “Do we... do we actually DESERVE to be... forgotten?” “Deserve to... what do you mean by that? Sure you’re born to thrive in the dark but you sure as hay aren’t evil.” “There’s stories that get told about when Nightmare Moon kept her moon in the sky, that out of fear... or a desire for power... or just blind loyalty, our ancestors swore to help Nightmare Moon. That they promised her we would serve her ‘forever and a day’... and in return she twisted us up and turned us into what we are now. Children of the night. If that’s true, that we kinda... sold-out like that, basically BETRAYING all the other ponies by giving in, then maybe crawling into a deep dark hole was the least we could do.” “You know, believe it or not, I used to be a foal, once. Back then I heard those sorts of stories too, you know. No matter how it was suggested they came to be, ‘The Nightmare Moon’s minions’ always sounded a little sad to me. Anyways, since I met you I began remembering them all over again, and I did some reading on magically created species,” Grapes said with a smile. “Did you know it takes about two-thousand years or so for a newly created species to become fully established?” “Really? I didn’t know that.” “I didn’t either, until I found that out. Approximately one-thousand five-hundred years to two-thousand years. So if you Night Ponies haven't been around for that long, you’d still have the occasional pegasus born in your village,” Grapes said with a smile. “Know of any?” “Uh... “ he shuffled his hooves a little as he thought about it. “I can’t say that I do... and we’re a pretty tight bunch. Hard to keep anything like that a secret.” “So, as far as you know, there have been no just regular feathered pegasus births in your society?” Grapes asked with a smile. “Well yes.... which... would mean.... no night pony was made into a night pony inside of.... a thousand years?” “That’s right,” Grapes said with a grin. “You’re a smart one, Earshot. So... what would that mean for your folks, hm?” “That would mean... we have been night ponies a lot longer than The Nightmare Moon has been around?” “Give the lad a prize!” Grapes said triumphantly, hoofing him a cookie which was eagerly accepted. “Thank you miss Grapes... and thank you for the cookie too.” “Figured you could use a treat for using the noggin,” Grapes said, mussing his mane. “Also means your people do NOT deserve to be forgotten, nor do they deserve second-hoof goods. Get me?” “I understand now. Thank you very much.” He smiled and nodded before looking up at the statue once again and tilting his head to the side. “Do you know who made this? It’s strange that anypony would make such a good statue of somepony who was so... angry.” “I don’t know for sure, but there are some theories,” Grapes said quietly. “Like what?” “If I went into it, we'd be here all day, Earshot,” Grapes laughed. “Another time then?” “Sounds good. Back to the party preparations. I think I was picking up Fluttershy, so she can be ensconced cosily in the kitchen.” “That sounds like a good idea. I can hear her colt friends coaxing her to go.” “I’d better get a move on, before she convinces herself to stay at home,” Grapes said, trotting on. “You’ve got your costume, right?” “Right here. There wasn't much left to pick from in my size but they found something,” Earshot asserted. “Fantastic. I’ll see you at the party, Earshot,” Grapes said fondly. “Sure thing Miss Grapes.” ***************************************************** Grapes reached Fluttershy’s home in due time, and was greeted by the myriad males that were helping the shy filly with her animals while she was indisposed. She clip-clopped up to the door, and knocked on the door. The door seemed to open of it’s own accord, then Grapes remembered to look downwards where the passively benign expression of Short Round looked up at her. He gave her a silent nod and opened the door all the way and gestured for her to enter. With Short Round, his motions spoke volumes. Sour Grapes sighed, unhitched herself from the wagon before following Short Round inside. “Is Fluttershy ready to go?” Grapes asked as she came in. He nodded, leading her to the living room where a pile of laundry sat piled on the couch. It then shifted and Grapes recognised the basic shape of a pony covered by a white bedsheet. “Um… Boo? That is if it’s allright with you.” Grapes chuckled. “Hey, Fluttershy. Ready to go?” “Yes. At least I think I am. This isn’t too scary a costume, is it? I wouldn’t want to give anyone the creeps.” “It should be fine, Fluttershy,” Grape said kindly. “It’s not bad at all, honest. I’m here to pick you up. You know, because you’re probably still a little weak.” “Oh I appreciate it. Doctor Crabapple came by earlier and said I should be ok in another day or so. So, I guess these nice ponies won’t have to worry about me then. They’ve been so sweet.” “Good to know. I’ve got the cart outside. The lads will keep an eye on things, I’m sure… And maybe head back to their friends and families,” Grapes said with a slight smirk. “Thank you for inviting me to the party… and offering to let me watch from a well-lit and safe distance.” “Well you were a part of the whole calamity, Fluttershy,” Grapes said as they walked outside to the cart. “Didn’t want you to feel left out.” Short Round placed a small stepladder at the base of the wagon and extended a hoof to assist Fluttershy climbing into the back. He then bowed politely and returned to the house, where the rest of the stallions all waved happily to her. “Thank you, Sour Grapes.” she said waving to her temporary workers before settling in on the flat of the wagon. “I know I don’t really like Nightmare Night but it’s nice to be part of the group when they’re having fun.” “Didn’t want Twilight to completely miss out on her first Ponyville Nightmare Night,” Grapes observed, as she pulled Fluttershy along. “You’re a light little thing, aren’t you?” “Well, I am a Pegasus. We’re often lighter than we seem. But you do work very hard on your Vineyard so maybe I seem even lighter because you work with many heavy things,” Fluttershy observed thoughtfully. “Hm. True,” Grapes said, as they trotted along. On the way, they met Stormfront who was hitched to the large farm cart, Rarity and Rainbow Dash riding in back, Scootaloo and Sweetiebelle riding in front. The one foal had done her best to look like her big sister Rarity, complete with the unique color and curls of her mane and tail, Scootaloo on the other hand was deep in the land of heroine worship by somehow succeeding in gaining the same colors as her Rainbow Dash. “Got our other guests, Stormy? Er… Rainbow Dash? Is that you?” Rainbow Dash was dressed in the most un-Dashlike way. Upon her head was a large brimmed light-purple bonnet with a pink band. Around her neck was an orange cashmere scarf. She smiled in the most demure manner and fluttered her suddenly long eyelashes at Sour Grapes. “Why Sour Grapes, DAH-Link. Iz zat you? Oh how MAH-velous to see you again so soon. Why I just got back from ze country club where we were speaking of tonight’s little… soiree.” Grapes blinked, then began to absolutely HOWL with laughter. “Yes,” Rarity said, in obvious pain. “Yes it is. Oh for the love of Celestia, if it wasn’t Nightmare Night, that would be SUCH an affront to couture…” Even Fluttershy was giggling at the scene. Quietly, of course, as per her nature. “Must… resist… urge… to correct crimes against fashion....” “Oh My dearest Rarity.” Dash said gently teasing her hair. “You say such delightfully humorous things. You know zat although I don’t always dress to kill, Rainbow Dash ALWAYS dresses in STYLE!” “... You just had to dress as Princess Luna, didn’t you Rarity?” Grapes uttered with a snerk. “Though I have to admit, you do look good. And, of course, you’d have access to coat dye that can wash out with a good shampooing.” “Wait… there’s a SPECIAL dye for that?” Scootaloo said before looking at Sweetiebelle and the two saying “Uh Oh” in unison. “Yes, there’s a special dye for that, Scootaloo. Why, what did you use to get that rather lovely cyan hue?” Grapes asked. Scootaloo hung her head and mumbled softly. Sweetiebelle was a little clearer. “Food dye.” “Okay. That’s not so bad. Clothes dye would have been worse, honestly, but you’re not going to have a bad reaction from food coloring,” Grapes said nodding. “However, it’s going to to take more than a good shampooing to get it all out. More like several. Sooo… yeah.” “Oh Sweetiebelle,” Rarity sighed, shaking her head. “Well it DID say Non-Toxic,” Sweetiebelle said in her defense. “Yes but well… we could have found some Mane dye together and skipped the next few baths,” Rarity said with a smile. “I… uh… wanted to surprise you, Rarity,” Sweetiebelle said sheepishly. “Well this shall be a surprise to mother and father, will it not?” Rarity observed “I guess so. Maybe the spa ladies know a way to speed it up?” Sweetiebelle suggested. “Good thinking. We shall speak with them on the matter at first opportunity,” Rarity said clopping her hooves with glee. Grapes just had to chuckle, and saw Applejack being carted over to the Vineyard by Big Mack, both in costume. “Ah ain’t helpless, Mac!” “Eeyup.” “Ah coulda walked, easy peasy!” “Enope.” “Yer just gettin’ me back fer fillin’ alla silos with apples, ain’t ya?” “Eeyup.” “Well didja have to bring me over in Applebloom’s wagon? I feel like a durn fool.” “Eeyup.” “That better be about bringin’ me in the wagon and not me being a fool.” “Hmmmmaybe?” “It probably is, sis, ‘cause the lil wagon’s bout like tha big’un. They’s both in mighty rough shape after yer… episode,” Applebloom observed. “Howdy, cousins. Ready for the party? I feel like we forgot somepony...” Grapes mused. “Nope dopey!” Pinkie said popping out from under Fluttershy’s sheet, causing the demure yellow pegasus to squeak in surprize. “... I’m not going to ask,” Grapes deadpanned, and turned into the vineyard with her cargo. Sirocco came out, and bowed elaborately to Fluttershy. “We have the kitchen set up, nice and brightly lit, so you would be comfortable, Miss Fluttershy,” she said in her exotic accent. “Oh, thank you very much. Nightmare Night has always been like porcupine… interesting and pleasant looking but in the end something I would rather give a respectable distance.” “Still, it’s great having you here,” Grapes said as she unhitched herself, and looked at Pinkie, who’s hair sported at a jaunty angle on top of her noggin… a paper cone. “Hmm… Cotton candy, right?” “Yepperooni! I didn’t have time to fix a really good costume, so I improvised,” Pinkie giggled turning herself upside down so everypony could see her costume at the right angle.. “It’s clever,” Grapes said with a nod. There was the sound of a throat clearing, and Grapes turned to find Zecora standing at her gate. “I hope I do not find you in a bind, but I thought I’d be here, if you do not mind,” she said with a polite bow. “My being a friend to the town is somewhat new, and would rather be with a chosen few.” “Don’t mind at all, Zecora,” Grapes said with a bow. “It’d be wonderful to have you here.” “Aw shoot. Is that you there Zecora?” Applejack said craning her neck from her position in the little red wagon. “Sorry we plum forgot about you during our whole time getting ready for tonight. Took us long enough to say howdy to you in the first place, makes us look bad for not sendin’ out an invite now.” “It is all right, I do not mind. It was through Crabapple I did find that Grapes is holding a small soiree. Hearing about it, I figured, ‘what the hay’?” Zecora said with a shrug, then blinked, and stared in the direction of the only male in the group. “Oh… my goodness. Please forgive my stare, but is that Big Mac under there?” All eyes turned to where Big Macintosh stood. His normally scarlet and straw coloring covered in black and white theatrical mane dye to a startlingly vibrant series of Zebra Stripes. He suddenly looked uncomfortable and bowing his head spoke the only thing he could in the circumstance. “Eeyup?” “Do not be so shy, it can be true that stripes in fact look good on you. Or you in stripes, there’s nothing to mend. I assure you that you did not offend.” she moved closer and placed a curious hoof on his strong leg with a chuckle. “So many ways you could have gone, many right, so many wrong. But here’s the truth, as I hear tell… whether black or white… you wear it well.” Big Mack scuffed a hoof, blushing. “Shucks…” he uttered. Rarity giggled “Good heavens! You managed to get him to say a new word. You are astounding Miss Zecora.” “Oh, Mac talks jus’ fine. Just don’t like ta show off,” Applejack said with a nod, as she carefully got off the wagon. “Not everypony needs twenty-bit words t’ get their point ‘cross.” “I’m well aware of that, Applejack, darling,” Rarity said, turning then froze at the sight of Aye Jay in braids. “Nice costume, Rares,” Applejack said with a smile. “Princess Luna, like we saw ‘er at the old castle, right?” “Er… Yes…” Rarity uttered, then cleared her throat. “You… Your mane looks good like that…” “Why thank you. Pain in tha tail to get it like this, truth be told. Fancy unicorn magic woulda been handy, when Ah was braidin’ it, but it makes mah Filly Nelson costume all the better knowin’ the work ah put into it.” Aye Jay said with a chuckle. “Of of course. Er… Would you like some punch? I’m suddenly feeling quite parched,” Rarity asked, sidling away from her friend. “That sounds right nice, thank you kindly, sugarcube,” Applejack replied. As soon as the elegant unicorn was out of earshot, Aye Jay slumped shaking her head. “Lordy mercy, Rares looked awful good, like that…” “Eeyup,” Mac said casually. “An’ don’t you say nothin’ to Sour, y’hear? She’ll tease me inta next week, ifin’ she found out ah said that!” Applejack grumbled, glaring at her brother. Mac, knowing better than to say anything, simply held up his forehooves in a mollifying gesture. They turned to see Twilight make her careful way out of the farmhouse, dressed in Reneighsance garb, with pouches of crystals hanging from her belt. “Hey, everypony!” she said tottering over to give her friends a hug each in turn. “It’s so nice to see you all!” This lead to the five outside greeting Twilight, hugging her, and commiserating with her about being indisposed due to high test tea. A few moments later, Grapes came out, dressed in her Nightmare Night finery. “Holy hay, she’s wearin’ a costume!” Applejack declared sounding surprised. “Why is that so surprising?” Twilight asked. “She hadn’t worn a costume since she was a foal,” Aye Jay replied. Twilight looked at her borrowed costume in surprise, amazed that it fit so well. “So, cuz, who are s’posed to be?” “Gracious Spirit, the discoverer of fermentation,” Grapes replied. “How… appropriate,” Rarity observed, chuckling. ****************************************************** Grapes nudged Applejack to the front of the crowd. She stood next to her as they watched the spectacle that could only have been Firestormer. Up on stage was a glowing green Pony skeleton with horns that must have at one time belonged to a longhorn steer. It bore a beat-up stetson hat and rattled about in bright glowing orange shackles as it all but danced across the stage. Laughing maniacally it took deep draughts from unmarked glass bottles and belched gouts of blue, green and red fire into the air. It was only during those moments that one could see the skintight black cloth that made up most of the costume. The way the fabric matched the night sky behind him, the illusion was that only the bone-pattern of the phosphorescent paint could be seen making for a wonderful bit of stage-magic. The crowd oohed and ahhed at the sight, becoming even more entranced when he pulled a lasso from somewhere and began to twirl it, the length bursting into a ring of green fire as he performed many of the same tricks with it that she had seen Applejack do in the past. She glanced over at her cousin and was surprised to see her ears flat against her head and her posture severely shrunken. It was as if she was scared of the sight, then she smiled and spoke quietly. “Firestormer’s pretty good, isn’t he?” “Uh… y-yeah. He is. Can Ah go now?” “What’s wrong, Aye Jay? Granny’s old stories about the Ghost Galloper coming back to you?” Grapes asked. “Y-yeah,” Applejack uttered with a heartfelt shiver. “You know there’s a scary story contest, coming up, later,” Grapes said casually. “You could tell Granny’s stories.” “So Ah can share tha scares with a new generation?” Applejack asked grinning. “Great idea, cuz.” “Hey, nothing helps a case of the creeps like spreading it around,” Grapes quipped jovially. ***************************************************** The Scary Stories contest had been a hit, of course. The classics had been trotted out, naturally, the Slendermare, the Olden Pony, the Headless Horse. Applejack shared the story of the Ghost Galloper, making the ponies there, gasp, then look at Firestormer who had played the part earlier and had yet to remove his costume. Earshot, though, scared everybody with the scary stories from his homeland. The Mad Baker’s Basement, The Color Collection Contraption, The Tale of the “Unmarked”… It almost looked like Earshot, who ironically was dressed as a literary vampony, had wrapped up the contest, when Scootaloo asked something that would change the whole event. “Hey, Miss Grapes, do you have any scary stories?” “Not really, Scootaloo,” Grapes said with a shrug. Earshot then grinned. “You could tell us about the Nightmare Moon statue!” he declared. Grapes chuckled. “Really? It’s not that scary,” she demurred. “Well, yeah, Auntie Grapes, but at least ya tried!” Applebloom declared happily. “Okay,” Grapes said then looked thoughtful. “Over a thousand years ago, as you all know, Princess Luna grew resentful of her sister, and how the little ponies froliced during the day, and slept through her beautiful night. When her resentment and jealousy became so much it made her forget her love for her sister, the power of those negative emotions overwhelmed her, and transformed her into Nightmare Moon.” “Wait a minute,” Sweetiebelle said. “So… no spell was cast on her? No possession? Nothing but her being jealous of Princess Celestia is how she became Nightmare Moon?” “That’s right, Sweetiebelle,” Grapes said nodding. “Now as any unicorn knows, magic is the tool we use to interact with the world, but it’s affected by emotions. Princess Luna was a powerful user of Dark Magic, which is powered by the night, and the moon and stars. It’s especially susceptible to negative emotions, and can cause a pony who loses control to do some horrible things, and give in to their most negative of desires. Something may have caused a rift between the sisters, causing them not to talk as sisters and friends are wont. If they had talked, I’m sure Princess Celestia and Princess Luna would have come up with something. Even then, the little ponies were discovering the night held wonders, after all. As it turned out, Luna was transformed into Nightmare Moon, and the battle for dominance of the sky was longer than any legends ever tell. From ancient journals, and writings, the night lasted for over a month, both sides fighting hard, and losing many loyal followers. Yes, there were night ponies among Luna’s entourage, but they weren't Luna’s entire court, no matter what later ponies wrote. While this was going on, some of the more unscrupulous nobles decided to live out some of their darker fantasies with their servants… which caused a small exodus to… well.. here. A small mixed shanty-town of fleeing servants who chose to live away from their cruel noble masters, and as the night kept going, doubts crept into the hearts of ponies about who would win the battle. “So a sculptor, in an effort to bribe the possible new tyrant of Equestria, made the statue of Nightmare Moon in her full frightening glory. It’s not known what Nightmare Moon thought of the sculpture, and it’s possible we’ll never know. What we do know is that the appeasement ritual, you carry on with your candies, is a holdover from those ancient ponies who came here. Princess Celestia eventually won, and the ponies who fled here went directly to her, bringing their grievances to her ears, and causing the abusive nobles to be arrested and jailed. New laws about the treatment of servants were enacted, and the servants who came to Princess Celestia became the palace servants, whose descendants are, to this day, fiercely loyal to our solar diarch. “So, my little colts and fillies, it’s true you’ll experience negative emotions. Just don’t let them rule you. They can transform somepony, even without Dark Magic, into somepony else entirely, and you could end up doing things you’ll regret.” The Cutiemark Crusaders gazed up at Grapes with wide eyes, then at each other, as did Earshot. “Ah think you’ve won it, Auntie Grapes,” Applebloom said. Grapes raised an eyebrow. “But it wasn’t…” Grapes started. “It’s scary, because what happened to Princess Luna could happen to ANYpony,” Scootaloo said shivering. “Ask Miss Cheerilee, it has happened to a lot of ponies, in history,” Grapes said soberly. This caused the young fillies to look at each other again with wide eyes. “So… yeah, you won, Miss Grapes,” Sweetiebelle said. “Yeah. That even scared me,” Earshot uttered, who sounded amazed. With the contest part over with, Summer Squall broke out some of his old tales from around the world. Grapes looked around, and the party seemed to have grown quite a bit. Grapes, privately, hoped that Mayor Mare wouldn’t be too… oh there she is listening to Squall. Guess she wouldn't be too cheesed off about the party moving here, if she was listening to Squall’s stories about big hairy giants that scare little fillies. What? ***************************************************** “Can you believe mister Squall’s story?” Diamond Tiara snorted “Honestly... who believes in big hairy giants who live just to scare little ponies. It’s absurd!” “Absolutely.” sneered Silver Spoon as she trotted along side of her cohort. “I’ve never heard anything so far fetched in my life.” “Hey... you. Little fillies,” a deep voice spoke to them. “I’m a little lost. Can you tell me if this is the way to Grapevine Hills?” “Mmm? Oh yeah. It’s behind us. Just follow the stink of bad storytelling. But don’t expect the party to still be going on. They were just getting ready to close down.” “Oh that’s all right. I was just dropping by to say hello to an old friend.” “Really?” she asked now peering at the shaggy shape in the shadows. It moved slightly and a light from above illuminated it as a very large, very hairy foot. The two fillies stopped and looked up the hairy leg attached to the foot, and higher and higher until they realised that there, above the treetops was a massive skinny ape-like creature rolling a cigar the size of a log between it’s fingers, the lit end illuminating the area in a cherry-red light. It’s massive eyes rolled in their sockets to focus on them and a mouth as wide as a haycart smiled massive white teeth, each the size of a tombstone at them. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon clung to one another for a moment, shrieking in terror before galloping for town with all the speed they could muster. The Kapre laughed and taking a few puffs on it’s cigar renewed it’s stride to Grapevine Hills. “That never gets old.” ***************************************************** “All right. Guess it’s time for everypony to head back home,” Grapes said, looking up at the moon, being about at its midway point in the sky. “There’s morning chores, and school to go to, and all sorts of other things. Fluttershy, if you want, you can stay in my other guest room, until morning. Your entourage should be able to care for your critters, until you get home.” “Oh, thank you, Grapes. I didn't think I could make it, you know, by myself,” Fluttershy said demurely. Twilight yawned, and stretched a bit. “Yeah. Any kind of exhaustion is no joke,” she muttered. “Tell me about it, darling,” Rarity uttered. “Hey, you an’ Dash wanna stay over at our place? Got a couple of spare rooms y’all can use,” Applejack offered. “Thank you, darling,” Rarity said smiling. “It’ll save good Mister Stormfront from carting us back into town.” “Just bein’ a good friend is all,” Applejack said, scuffing a hoof. Grapes smirked at her cousin, who just eyerolled. “It was well and truly grand, I must say. All in all,I had a wonderful stay,” Zecora said with a smile. “Now I must trot back to my home. Thankfully I did not have far to roam. Please don’t mind me, it won’t be a lark to find my way home, well after dark. I know the woods well, and my path is laid out, but if I need help, I know I need but shout.” “It was great having you, Zecora. Feel free to stop by again,” Grapes said warmly. Zecora smiled, and trotted back toward the Everfree. With that everypony went their separate ways, heading into their guest quarters for the night. It had been an enjoyable evening, but now everypony just wished for everything to return to normal… Well what passed for normal in Ponyville. > As Normal As Ponyville Gets > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The next morning, Sour Grapes was fairly slow to awaken. It had been a harrying few days, and with the culmination of the Nightmare Night party, the poor mare was, frankly, pooped. In all honesty, she was relieved that the whole ordeal was over. Mind you, it had been fun, especially with her inadvertently winning the Scary Story Contest. She wasn’t expecting her history lesson to go over so well, but apparently she had underestimated her storytelling ability. Grapes got out of bed, stretching and yawning hugely, and clip-clopped down her stairs to find Spike was cooking, again, with the help of Fluttershy. “Oh. Hello, Sour Grapes. I hope you don’t mind me helping Spike here. I’m finally feeling good enough to do something more than just relax, today.” “I don’t mind one little bit, Fluttershy,” Grapes replied with a smile. “Honestly, I’m not going to know what to do once he and Twilight leave. The little guy’s been spoiling me rotten.” Spike smiled up at her as he carried a steaming pot of oatmeal from the stove over to a large bowl at the kitchen table and poured it in. “Aw. Think of it as me repaying you for keeping Twi out of trouble. Usually by this point in a day she’s had three nervous attacks, runs around in a panic and then tries to drag me along for the ride. I hate to say it but she’s still adjusting to life outside of a structured environment.” “School-to-real-life transitions are always tough… Speaking of transitions to and from school, I should see about getting Earshot so he’ll be up, and ready to go, in a bit,” Grapes said looking at the clock. “Ugh. My sleeping schedule is going to be so screwed up for the next few days.” Grapes trotted out of house and into the bunkhouse, going to Earshot’s room, and looked around. It always amazed her at the vast array of colors in his room. It took a lot of persuading to get him to pick just ONE for the walls themselves. When the bunkhouse was renovated Earshot had somehow gotten enough paint to do each of all four walls and the ceiling in a different vivid primary color. Now he had settled into a cheery ‘Sunshine’ yellow for the walls and a deep shade of blue for the ceiling. She saw two or three pillow cases on the floor, candy spilling forth from them. Obliquely, Sour Grapes felt a tad jealous. She’d never gotten such a haul in her trick-or-treating. Not even most pegasi kids got that much. Guess Earshot had a cuteness factor that garnered more treats. She glanced at his bed, a modest single-pony model and noting the smooth well-made sheets on it smiled. Earshot had many things it took time to get used to, eating habits, the ability to hear rumors in town from the outskirts, not to mention his bat-wings. His sleeping habits were just one more thing that made him unique. She remembered the first time she discovered them. She had been putting fresh sheets in the closets of each room of the old bunkhouse… and got a surprise when she found him hanging upside down from the armoire’s inner ceiling. With the redesign of the bunkhouse he now had the only room with two ‘closets’. One for storage, and the other… well… he liked dark quiet places to just… ur… hang out. Grapes trotted over to Earshot’s sleeping nook, which she had persuaded him to paint a dark soothing blue. It was easy to do. She actually let him paint the walls, in there, yellow and the next morning she casually asked him how he had slept. This lead to an impromptu lesson in color theory, and how different colors caused different moods. Kind of hard to have a dark quiet place, when the walls were sunny yellow. She opened the door to find him hanging there, only partially out of his costume. Grapes carefully undid the cheap cape, and slipped it off him. “Wakey wakey, Earshot, time to get up.” “Nummugh…” he grunted , face half-visible under the smeared Chalk-white vampony makeup. “Whuh? Izzere a storm?” “No, Earshot, it’s your first day of school,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Uhmf… don’ gotta be there until after midday…” he said quietly somehow shuffling his way a little further to the back of the nook. “jus a few m’ere hours… m’kay?” With a flick of her horn the blinds flipped up the rest of the way on his windows, letting hard sunlight burst into the dark recesses of his nook. He blinked and HISSED like the creature of legend he was supposed to be and wrapped himself up tightly in his wings, looking suspiciously like a big leathery pinata. “Earshot. You are FAR too young for me to ask you to come out of the closet,” Grapes quipped, then rolled her eyes. “My sleeping schedule isn’t the only one that’s messed up,” Grapes muttered, then used her levitation to gently pry him down from the ceiling of the nook. “You give me no choice, mister. I tried being nice. Time to share a lesson my mother taught ME when I was the sleepy foal who was up too late on Nightmare night.” With that she casually trotted to the bathroom, levitating the little leathery bundle behind her. She moved Earshot under the shower-head, and turned on the cold water, full blast. She was ready for the ear-splitting cry, although it seemed to have an ‘extra’ quality to it that made the lenses in her glasses shiver in their frames. She wasn’t however ready for the stream of… noises he made after that. It reminded her of musical notes mashed together in a way, it took her only a moment to come to the conclusion that this was probably what Nightpony language sounded like. Whatever he said it didn’t sound happy. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, mister?” Grapes asked sternly, deducing that the lad was probably being very unflattering with his adjectives. “N… No Miss Grapes,” he shivered as the icy shower turned the water soluble portions of his makeup into streams of white, red and black rivulettes. “Its later than you think,” Grapes said adjusting the temperature, so he would have a nice warm shower. “I think even Aye Jay’s rooster slept in, today. Now get your shower, and head on down to get some breakfast… brunch… lunch… whatever. You’ve got a couple of hours before you should head out, to be on time.” With that, she left the bunkhouse bathroom, and went to the kitchen to fix him a late-afternoon snack, using the special bread, and grabbing the chocolate cookies from his special cookie jar. The special cookie jar had been decorated with cute cartoony bugs, indicating that the cookies, inside, had ‘extra’ ingredients. The breakfast/brunch table had been set up inside, because there was a distinct nip in the air in the mornings, even late morning, that would cool the food too quickly. Grapes grabbed a bowl of oatmeal, and was mixing in more ‘special ingredients’ to sort of make up for the cold shower. Oatmeal became Oat Meal, a hearty mixture of oats and mealworms… and a few cranberries for color. Just the thing for a growing Night Pony. “Hey, you guys!” Rainbow Dash said, bursting into the Bunkhouse. “Somepony’s feeling better,” Grapes observed, adding a touch of honey, and brown sugar to the bowl, just as Earshot came down. Grapes trotted over, and put the bowl on the table, only to have a cyan hoof grab it. “Oh LOADS better!.After all that sleep I needed a night out to get back in the groove. Ooh! Oatmeal! Thank you very much!” Dash said, hoofing a spoon into the bowl. “Rainbow Dash, that isn’t yours. It’s Earshot’s,” Grapes said sounding a bit ticked. “If you want some oatmeal, I’ll make it to your specifications.” “But this is ready now,” Dash argued, scooping out a spoon-full, and nomming it. Grapes casually moved the bowl to Earshot, minus the spoonful, mouthing ‘sorry’ to the Night Pony. “Be that as it may, you’re still Rainbow Dash, not Earshot,” Grapes said with strained patience. “Hmph. I think you got a stale batch, there, Grapes,” Dash said, licking her lips. “Kinda reminded me of the time Gilda dared me to eat worms, in Junior Flight Camp.” “Gee, I wonder why,” Grapes uttered. “What?” Dash uttered, then blinked. “There were…” “Mealworms, yes. Thankfully, they eat clean grains, and not dirt or garbage. Just the thing for a growing Night Pony,” Grapes elaborated. “So that’s why you made such a big deal out of…” Dash started. “Oh, look, she IS smarter than she looks,” Grapes quipped. “Note to self, get a special bowl for Earshot…” she muttered, as she clopped back into the kitchen. Dash continued to sloooooowly chew her mouthful of Earshot’s breakfast, and thoughtfully before making a face and swallowing. No doubt desperately trying to keep her cool under the circumstances. “Oh man… Sorry about that. Better than the LAST time I ate… stuff. Guess the oatmeal and fruit help, but definitely NOT part of a well-balanced breakfast.” Grapes came back out bringing Dash out a bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar, honey and cranberries. “Well, not for just regular, ordinary, herbivorous pegasi,” Grapes observed, plunking the oatmeal, sans mealworms before Dash. “But it is for Night Ponies.” “Oh. Right… Sorry, again. I just… forgot you’re all that different,” Dash said scratching the back of her head with a hoof. “It’s ok Miss Dash. Stuff like this is bound to happen. So you really have eaten worms before?” “Yeah, kid. A Griffon dared me to,” Dash explained, as she dug into her own oatmeal. “Got you something to eat, later, Earshot,” Grapes said, putting the brown bag beside him. “You should start out, as soon as you’re finished.” “Ok. Thanks Miss Grapes.” He looked at Rainbow Dash and smiled, a little something like admiration in his eyes. “It’s kinda cool you did that Miss Dash.” “Yeah? Why’s that, squirt?” Dash asked. “It means Night-ponies probably really are just a… an offshoot of ordinary Pegasai. We had to start changing our eating habits somewhere, and you doing that without getting sick, well it’s a little piece of proof.” “Huh. Okay. I guess that makes sense,” Rainbow Dash said thoughtfully. “But don’t you gotta head to the School? It’s kinda a long flight, from here.” Earshot hungrily dug into his breakfast and nodded. “Well, my school day starts at the end of the regular classes. Miss Cheerilee thought it would be better if I learned with ponies closer to my age than the younger ones. She calls them the holdbacks. Something to do with not being able to get a space in an apprenticeship program?” “Makes sense to me,” Dash said nodding. “I was hoping to chat with Queenie. First Snow’s coming up, soon, and I’d like some advice, since I’m in charge of it, this time.” “She may be still asleep. Tottering about on stilts, most of last night, left her tuckered out,” Grapes observed, picking up the now-empty bowls, and carrying them back into the kitchen. Grapes came back out with her own bowl of oatmeal, and nommed happily on it. “I rather liked how that worked out. Rarity was Princess Luna, and Queenie was Princess Celestia. It’s almost as if they conspired.” The young Night Pony finished up his meal and trotted off up to his room to get his good suit ready. A minute later the sparkling form of Queenie entered the room, clad in a pale blue and white fuzzy night-coat… and more curlers than Grapes could count. She smiled a dazzling smile and poured herself a cup of tea. “Good morning all. Wasn’t that a truly WON-derful night? Oh, it’s been awhile since I’ve just allowed myself to enjoy festivities for the sake of the festivities. Good show, one and all.” “All I did was unwittingly win a scary story contest,” Grapes observed casually, obviously underplaying her part in arranging things. “All she did was give Rarity conniption fits all night, with her costume,” she added pointing at Rainbow Dash. Nopony else was in the bunk house dining room, just then. Rainbow Dash just smirked. “Oh, the sentiment is what’s truly important, Grapes. The others will catch up soon. I believe I heard Stormfront starting his calisthenics on my way down. ...Granted they are more like the five basic moves of Aero-Dance but still… pleasant to watch if one is into that sort of thing,” Queenie said thoughtfully. “He does Aero-Dance? Really?” Dash asked sounding surprised. “Why yes. Yes he does, Dash. Is that so surprising?” Queenie queried. “Well, duh. Look at the wings on the guy. I’d be worried he’d take his partner’s head off with a Peeroay,” Dash said twirling a hoof. “Pirouette, Dash,” Grapes corrected absently. “Yeah, what she said,” Dash uttered. “I’ll admit one would easily jump to the conclusion that dear Stormfront would be quite, ungainly just from his build, however I assure you he is light as a feather and graceful as a swan when dancing… and flying. I suspect that whatever lessons he took helped spare him from a life of being a minotaur in a china shop,” Queenie asserted with obvious pride in her teammate. “You know she dances, right?” Dash said pointing to Grapes. “I’m right here you know,” Grapes grumped grouchily. “Yeah, I know. But I’m talkin’ to Queenie, right now, okay?” Dash said. “Really now? Then you should take some time to dance with Stormfront, Grapes. Trust me when I say it’s a real treat.” “Only if it’s not fifty feet in the air. Last time he tried that, I barfed in the begonias,” Grapes observed, with a slight smirk. “She’d probably be able to keep up with him,” Dash said nodding. “Hey, she can keep up with Pinkie Pie, taking the lead, even!” “Oh, you saw that?” Grapes asked. “Heh, yeah, Grapes,” Dash laughed. “If Rarity wasn’t so hot for a prince, she’d have gone after you like a shot.” “... And suddenly, I’m grateful for Prince Blueballs,” Grapes quipped. While they shared a laugh, Spike slid a plateful of lightly fried diced potatoes in front of the trio of mares before returning to the stove to keep an eye on things. “Oh. Oh that is rich. I keep forgetting your nickname for that distant relative of Princess Celestia. I hope his attitude has gotten better since last I saw him. If not… well… Rarity is a fairly strong-spirited mare. I’m certain she can handle things,” Queenie said giggling. “You’re going there, too, right? To the Grand Galloping Gala?” Grapes asked Rainbow. “Well, DUH! Me? Wonderbolts? Same room? I’m gonna do everything I can to wow them and want me to be part of the team.” Grapes looked pained. “Ah… I don’t think that’s how it’ll work out, Rainbow Dash,” Grapes said, cautiously, obviously trying to let the brash pegasus down as easily as she can. “Oh I know it’ll be tough impressing them. Especially at a stuffy party like that, but with a little luck and a lot of awesomeness I think I can get my hoof in the door.” Grapes gave Queenie this look, then sighed. “I hope Rarity and Applejack bring you, and the others, along to the little get-together I planned for after the Gala,” Grapes said rubbing her head, as if she was getting a headache. “I wouldn’t want to miss hearing about your being too awesome for the room…” “Sweet!” Rainbow Dash said puffing herself up proudly, then blinked. “Hey! Yeah, I wanted to talk to you, Queenie. I could use your opinion on something.” "Is it your personality? Your appearance? Your personal hygiene? Or will this be more weather-based?" Queenie asked a slight smirk on her face. "It's weather-based. Heeeeey. What's wrong with my looks?" Dask inquired, eyeing Queenie. "Nothing. Just asking," the sparkly pegasus said holding up her hooves defensively. Grapes sniggered at the exchange, and scooped herself some potatoes, and nommed on them to help offset the healthy goodness of the oatmeal. "Who has two wings and has been offered the contract for getting the Ponyville region ready for First Snow?" Dash thumped her chest and made a 'Muscle' pose. "That's right... yours truly. Just got the Cloudsdale Weather Bureau paperwork today. So seeing as you’re an expert on all this winter wonderland weather stuff I thought I’d get your opinion on my prep work later today... You know… expert to expert.” “Let me finish my breakfast, and we’ll go outside and check the conditions, alright?” Queenie asked. “Sounds good to me,” Dash replied with a nod. “Ahoy, lads and lasses,” Squall said, coming from his room. “Hey, the lad’s still here. Good. I got ye a goin’ ta school present. Cost me more than a few bits, lemmie tell you-me, but I think it be worth every coin,” he said, hoofing Earshot a brightly painted metal box with a handle on top. "Oh, good, then I don't have to brown bag his lunch," Grapes said with a grin. Earshot turned the colorful box over in his hooves and found a squint-eyed pony with a corncob pipe, a sailor’s shirt, great anchor-shaped brands on his forelegs and a large open can of leafy green stuff. His eyes went wide with recognition and he laughed. "Hey! That's the pony you were dressed as last night, Squall!" "Aye. This here is Blackeye the Mariner. He’s been around longer than me but I used to love seeing his adventures down at the Thimble Theatre Puppet shows when I was yer age." the older pony popped a corncob pipe into his mouth whipped out a concertina from under the table and began to sing. "I'm Black-eye the Mar-i-ner.” Toot-toot! "I'm Black-eye the Mar-i-ner" Toot-toot! "When you needs me help, I just eats me kelp. And show 'em all What Fer!” Toot-toot! Earshot laughed and clapped his hooves together while Grapes just grinned. “If they ever need a live version of Blackeye, you got my vote.” “Blackeye the Mariner?” Dash said looking confused. “Before your time, Rainbow Dash,” Grapes observed. “Aye. I’d think you’d like him and his antics. Next time the puppet shows are playin’ I’ll buy you a ticket for when they play The High-Seas Adventures of Blackeye the Mariner. Loads of fun for a mare of action such as yourself.” “Well.. I’d feel weird watching a puppet show and everything,” Dash admitted rubbing the back of head. “Then take that filly that’s always followin’ you around. Little thing with the scooter. Nopony ever questions somepony who is just taking a foal out for entertainment,” Squall asserted. “Okay, deal,” Rainbow Dash said with a grin. “Scootaloo will probably get a kick out of my taking her.” “Deal. Trust me. Some stuff never goes out of style, and one is Blackeye and the gang.” Earshot busied himself with a journey of discovery into the workings of a lunchbox in between bites of his breakfast. “Wow. There’s a small thermos in here, and a space for sandwiches and one for a snack. Hey and a place for… lunch money? “ “Or cookies,” Grapes said, taking out the thermos, and putting the sandwich and snack into the lunch box, and then adding the cookies. “Chocolate weevil, your fave. What would you like to take to drink?” “Mmmm... chocolate milk?” He asked hopefully. “Sorry, hon, milk’s not good for long-term thermos storage,” Grapes said. “How about some grape juice?” “That’s good too,” he said with a smile. That was one thing Grapes liked about him. He wasn’t picky. Grapes saluted, and trotted off to fill the thermos. Queenie gently took the box from Earshot and examined it. “My word… this box has seen better days. It’s in good condition, don’t get me wrong, but it looks like it’s already been used.” “Aye. It has. I picked that up over at Rare Ransoms,” Squall asserted with a grin. “Rare Ransoms? That’s a veritable treasure trove of nostalgia!” She gasped under her breath as she examined the box even closer. “You mean to say this is an original? It’s… dare I say… Vintage?” “Aye Queenie. You would be right on the button with that,” the sea green pegasus replied. “Wait… You got him an antique lunch box that any collector would give their eyeteeth for? And you intend for it to be used?” Grapes asked, as she slotted the thermos back into it’s cradle, having filled it with grape juice. “Indeed I do. It does nopony any good to sit it on a shelf someplace and gather dust. Books should be read, pictures viewed, toys played with, and lunchboxes…” he took the box and placed it in front of Earshot with a smile “...Should be in the hooves of good little colts whom I know will appreciate it and care for it. Right lad?” “RIGHT!” Earshot exclaimed enthusiastically before wolfing down the last of his breakfast. “That’s a good colt. Now go put your clothes on and get going. I’d rather you arrive early than late. Go on… off with ye,” Squall said in a gruff, yet good-natured voice. “Hm… I have to agree with you about the whole collectable thing,” Grapes said thoughtfully, then grinned at the sea green pegasus. “You’re taking this ‘legal guardian’ stuff seriously, aren’t you, Squall?” “A little. We’ve always looked out for him before, this is maybe the first time I’ve been responsible for anypony’s actions other than my own... It’s interesting.” “Be good experience, should you ever decide to settle down with that lady from Seaside you mentioned,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Well I… that is…” Squall stammered. “Oh good heavens. He was actually thinking about that,” Queenie giggled, Dash joining on in. “Not necessarily a bad thing, but it is cute to see there’s still life in the old wreck after all.” “Who are you calling a wreck?” Squall demanded. “How about Relic?” “No no, Queenie,” Grapes said with a grin. “He’s vintage. Maybe even retro.” “‘Retro’?” Rainbow asked. “Means either being old, or having an old style, but still is pretty cool,” Grapes explained. Just then Earshot came downstairs, dressed in his white suit, and looking pleased as punch to be heading out. “Have a good day at school,” Grapes called. “Thank you, Miss Grapes. Good luck with your chilling thing Miss Dash!” Earshot said, as he was heading out. “Just Dash…. ‘Miss’ Dash makes me feel like I’m girly or something. That was fun for Nightmare Night but it’s just not me.” “‘Kay. Good luck, Dash!” Earshot amended, his wings fluttering excitedly as he went out. “Well. I believe Queenie wanted to finish her breakfast, Dash wanted her expert advice on cold and ice, and… I think Squall has breakfast to eat,” Grapes listed off, as she finished her potatoes. “And Firestormer is no doubt going to have breakfast in town today,” Queenie smirked. “New Pegasus at the cafe’s been giving him the once-over. I pointed it out to him and I think he’s going to show off a little.” “Oh of course,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “We’ll see how well that goes, won’t we?” “Hey, everypony,” Twilight Sparkle said coming into the dining hall. “We finished up the dishes, and will be heading home. Thanks again, Grapes, for having me here.” “Hey, if anypony else had been able, they’d have done the same thing,” Grapes asserted. “Spike’s totally spoiled me, though, I swear.” “Oh, and uhm… Thanks for letting me stay, last night,” Fluttershy said in her usually quiet tone. “I wasn’t about to let you go walking around after dark, Fluttershy, especially not after all the spooky stories that were told,” Grapes replied with a firm nod. With their final goodbyes, the two mares, and baby dragon left. Grapes, honestly, was a bit relieved. Things were getting back to… Well… As normal as Ponyville could possibly get. “Rainbow Dash, if you’d be so kind as to wait a bit, I really should start packing for my trip back home,” Queenie said, as she was eating her breakfast. “Hey, sure, I can hang. Clear skies, today, and got that taken care of in ten seconds flat,” Dash said with a smirk. “Somebody’s glad to be feeling better,” Grapes snarked, as she took the last of the dishes to be washed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ While things were getting back to their status quo at the Vineyard, Earshot was happily fluttering his way to school. The young Night-Pony was happy to start on this new adventure, and was glad that Sour Grapes had talked him into going forward with this. He came upon the schoolhouse, and saw that the day’s classes had let out, and he still had some time before his classes started. Some of the schoolfoals were playing on the grounds. He even recognised the three that had come to the Nightmare Night party, last night. Earshot felt a bit nervous as he approached them. They were going to see him without costume, and they would know he was a real Night Pony. “Hey,” Scootaloo said, noticing him coming up the road, “isn't that the colt who told all those awesome scary stories, last night?” “Why are you still in costume?” Applebloom asked. “It ain’t Nightmare Night anymore.” Earshot shyly extended his bat-like wings and gave them a little flutter. “I’m um… not wearing a costume,” he said with a sheepish grin. Sweetiebelle scooted over to him, looking at his wings. “That’s not a costume?” she asked, squeaking in that cute way she does. “Those wings are real?” “Real what?” Earshot asked as his wings stiffened at the sound of Sweetie’s squeeks. “Wow,” Scootaloo said, as she watched him talk. “He’s got fangs! Not really big ones, but I guess you’d be talking funny if you did, huh?” “Guess yer not from ‘round here, huh?” Applebloom asked. “Those stories from yer home?” “Well, yes. That’s right. I’m from quite a long ways away from here. My family and community wanted me to see what the world was like so they asked me to go. Foh fahr fings are wookin… uh..” he stopped and blinked as Scootaloo was forcing his lips back to get a better look at his teeth. “Whuh ah hyu ooing?” “Just getting a better look. Wow… these look way better than the ones you were wearing at the party. Didja get those from Barnyard Bargains?” Scootaloo inquired, looking at the Night Pony’s fangs excitedly. “Scootaloo, don’ look a guest pony in tha mouth! It’s rude!” Applebloom scolded. “What? Oh… sorry. Didn’t mean to get all touchie-feely there,” said, Scootaloo contritely. “His wings feel like velour!” Sweetiebelle squeaked, happily, as she rubbed her cheek against Earshot’s wing. “Ohh… um… is that good? What’s velour?” Earshot asked, looking at the white unicorn filly. “It’s a type of fabric. Rarity uses it for… Well all sorts of things,” Sweetie replied, backing up a bit, and blushing slightly at getting a really good look at his face. “Oh. I’ll have to ask miss Rarity about it when I’m next there for a suit,” Earshot mused, rubbing a hoof against his chin. “Are ya here for the afternoon classes?” Applebloom asked. “They’re jus’ about ta start.” “Yeah. I am… I’m just…” Earshot put his Lunchbox down and took a few deep breaths “Just a little… nervous. That’s all. It’s silly I know but… my kin… we don’t have the concept of organised education. KNowledge is passed down from elders to foals, in the homes and from tradesponies to apprentices in businesses. This… put everypony in one room and teach them… it’s… intimidating me.” “Psh, that’s just first day jitters,” Scootaloo said with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “Everypony gets that on their first day of school.” “Yeah,” Sweetiebelle said. “I was so nervous about my first day, I clung to my Mother’s leg, all the way here. Thank goodness Miss Cheerilee is so nice.” “Yer jus’ nervous ‘bout tryin’ somethin’ new,” Applebloom said with a grin. “If we let every new thing intimidate us we’d never… get inta half tha trouble we get into…” “Yeah, but that’s half the fun!” Scootaloo asserted. “So, it’s ok to feel nervous?“ asked Earshot. “Well yeah,” Sweetiebelle said with a warm smile. “You’re doing something you’ve never done before. Sure it’s kinda scary, but Miss Cheerilee won’t let anything really bad happen. She’s the bestest teacher EVER!” she added, nuzzling his wing again. “Eep… Well… that’s good then. She did seem so nice. I um, better get going then.Don’t want to be late,” Earshot asserted. “Tardy,” Applebloom corrected. “What?” “When ya’ll are late to school yer tardy.” “Oh… Yes. Ok I don’t wanna be tardy,” Earshot said, before he trotted into the schoolhouse, leaving his lunchbox outside. “Hey, Sweetiebelle,” Scootaloo said, smirking, “think you nuzzled his wing enough?” “No… I mean yes… I mean… I did not nuzzle his wing that much!” Sweetie yelped. “Ah think she’s lookin’ fer a coltfriend,” Applebloom teased. “Am not!” “So are too.” Scootaloo laughed. “You just wanna nuzzle his wings all night long.” “Do… do not,” Sweetie uttered, blushing a bit, now. “Ah we’re jest teasin’ ya. Gotta admit it was funny the way you were doin’ that,” Applebloom said as she started to leave. “Hey… Ain’t this his lunchbox?” “What? Oh hey, I think you’re right.” Scootaloo looked it over and tipped it on it’s side to get a better view. “Looks like that stallion that told that cool story about the big hairy giant. Hmm… ‘Blackeye the Mariner’. Looks kinda cool.” “Should we take it to him?” Sweetie asked. “He’s bound to want his lunch.” “Yeah but class is probably gonna start any moment now. How about we leave it where he can find it?” Scootaloo suggested. “Like the swings or the slide?” Sweetie asked. “Maybe the stairs would be a better place,” Applebloom said, taking the handle in her teeth, and trotting to the schoolhouse, and putting the box on the stairs, in plain view. “There we go.” “Yeah. Don’t want him to lose his lunch on his first day,” Scootaloo said with a nod. __________________________________________________________________ Rainbow Dash lay back on her cloud and held a hoof in the air, testing it. Normally she’d be catching a nap right now but after all that time in Rarity’s bed… check that ...Rarity’s GUEST bed she didn't want to spend her first day out cold. “Thank you for waiting, Rainbow Dash. I’ve got to visit my home to help train some interns, then I’ll get to have a glorious vacation,” Queenie said, landing on the cloud next to her with a smile. “So… Let’s take a gander at the conditions, hm?” “I think you’ll like what I’ve done so far,” Rainbow asserted with a smirk. “So far very nice. Breezes are nice and brisk, with just a hint of a nip,” Queenie asserted. “But that’s just the air. Let’s check the ground.” With that the sparkling pegasus hopped off the cloud and flew down to earth. “The ground? Why do we wanna do that?” She asked following her down. Queenie ran her hoof over the soil in a wide arc, digging up a little furrow before tamping the dirt with her hoof and frowning. “Oh dear… No, no. This won't do,” she tsked “This won't do at all. There’s too much of a temperature variance.” “Woah wait. What kind of temperature variance?” Rainbow Dash asked looking a bit confused. “Remember ground and water hold their heat longer than air. So any snow that actually lands will turn to slush at best. We’ll wind up with a combination of snow and mud… Snud, if you will. Not really a postcard perfect first snow,” Queenie explained. “So… I gotta drop the local temperature even more. That’s all?” “Yes. By at least… oh… to be safe let’s say a full twenty percent.” Queenie arched a graceful eyebrow at the brash athlete and smirked playfully. “You CAN do a temperature drop of twenty percent, right?” “Hey. I can do ‘20% cooler’ no sweat!” Rainbow Dash asserted confidently. Queenie simply trotted up to to the cyan mare, looked her straight in the eyes, and smirked. “Prove it,” she said, challengingly. Queenie stood back as the other Pegasus became a rainbow streak into the sky and began whipping up some good ground-level icy breezes to catch up on her work. “Well now that I've prevented an all-too-common rookie mistake, I’ll get back to my packing.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The air definitely had that fresh nearly-winter chill to it. Thank goodness all the winter-prep work was nearly done. She heard from the local pegasi that the farmers had asked for an extra-deep snow this year to get the groundwater tables up to par. She made certain her scarf was done up tight and trotted up the path to the north field. It’s not like she didn't trust Redline… Okay yes it was exactly like she didn't trust Redline. His ability to cause catastrophe was astonishing so Grapes was going to check up on him.. She stopped at the old rail fence that surrounded the area and touched inquisitively it with her hoof. The rough-hewn lumber had been whitewashed recently. She was surprised, not displeased just, surprised. No doubt this was Moondust's work, probably thought that the old gray wood needed to be 'prettier' and got her big brother to make a batch of whitewash for it. Now it was a pleasant-looking yellow... and so was that old stump over yonder., and those roots there, and that stump over there... yep. Moondust's work. It did make this foreboding piece of property much more welcoming, not that it made her less on her guard. There were still gopher holes and old roots and rocks hidden in the scrub… now neatly trimmed scrub , thank you Moondust. And of course there was the local hazard of… There was a sound like a oversized mouth-harp being plucked and a wheel larger than herself rolled past about a dozen or so feet from her to come to a hard crash against a large boulder… cracking the stone in half, and splintering the wheel. A moment later the familiar wild-maned figure of Redline came galloping out of his barn and stopped to stare mournfully at the remains of the runaway item. “Aw nuts.” “Care to explain?” Grapes asked, an eyebrow raised. “Oh! Sour Grapes!” he said finally noticing her. “Ah… just an effort in saving energy in potentia for travel. Basically clockwork on a large scale to power a cart. One of the springs was stronger than the axle for the wheel… an oversight.” “So you’re, essentially, making a wind-up wagons?” Grapes asked, tilting her head. “Why are you connecting the spring directly to the axle? I would think it’d be better connected to some form of variance, to allow you to control the speed, and the variance connected to the drive-shaft. Similar to the workings of a steam engine.” “I was inspired by one of the toys I got for Moondust earlier. Simplistic yes, but in the end the simpler something is the less can go wrong. My first mistake, I feel, was having a spring for each wheel to lighten the overall load. Maybe if I put them all side by side working off a central gear or something… Like you suggested maybe I should have looked at the workings of a locomotive first, but on the other hoof sometimes I learn a lot from a failure than an easy success.” He looked over at the broken rock and the bits of wheel before smiling sheepishly. “Some lessons are ‘bigger’ than others.” “Well at least no pony is hurt, but having one spring, one central gear, and one drive shaft means fewer parts for things to go wrong with,” Grapes observed before turning to the reason that brought her here. “So how’s the weaning going?” “The weaning?” he asked, picking up a few choice brass fittings from the ruins and walking back to his workshop. “You know, dialing back of that blasted tea of yours? The stuff that caused the six heroes of Equestria to be laid up for a couple of weeks?” Grapes asked, trotting alongside him. “Oh! Um… well… it’s getting better. I have to admit that seeing what it did to them really was an eye-opener. Makes me more motivated to ‘clean up’ my act. Although I found myself with a new doctor, unexpectedly. Just showed up on my doorstep and barged on in with a stethoscope. He did some tests, watched me brew a pot of my tea and did some tests on that as well… then checked me over to make sure I was alive.” “Green coat, grey mane, gruff demeanor?” Grapes asked. “That would be Crabapple.” “Lives up to his name. You know he’s not really doing or even intending harm but you can’t help but…” he made a wincing motion and shuddered. “Could have at least warmed up that thermometer first.” “You try being a young stallion with stubborn patients,” Grapes snarked. “You’d develop a grouchy demeanor to get ponies to take you seriously, too.” “Young? He’s young?” “Yes, he’s my age,” Grapes replied. “Guess it’s true what they say. The job ages you.” The door to the workshop opened wide and he stepped inside with Grapes. She had never actually SEEN the inside of his workshop before. She had tried to avoid it in most cases but the conversation had caught her up. She looked around at the clutter, wires and gears and tools were everywhere. Half-completed machines of dubious purpose loomed in various locations as were ones that whirred and hummed of their own accord. They bore blinking lights and long scrolls of paper with wiggling pens and one thing had two metal sticks with small arcs of lightning sparking up and down between them. She wondered if this was like walking into his head. He put the pieces down in a box marked ‘Recyclables’ and moved over to a drafting board where a chessboard was laid out. He moved one piece and smiled. “Check.” “Check-mate.” came a second voice. One that was strangely… un-ponylike. “What in Tartarus,” Grapes asked, trotting over, “was that?” Approaching the drafting board she could now see towards the back was a metallic doll’s head. The Pony-like shape was painted white, and had bright green eyes that swiveled about in their sockets to look up at her. It blinked with a soft clicking sound before looking back at Redline who was moving one of the other pieces in place. “Huh. You’re right… well played.” “Would. you. like. to. play. again? Too. bad.” “... What is that?” Grapes demanded. “Oh.. this? This is my attempt at making a friend for my sister. Never got past the head stage… or even picked a tribe for her. I just wanted her to have somepony to have fun with, play games with… “ “You. lose.” “She needs some fine-tuning in the personality department.” “Redline, that’s… really really creepy. Also, there are foals in Ponyville. She could, you know, go out and make actual friends,” Grapes asserted. “Actually… she has.” he said looking a little saddened. “She’s met a few recently and has been spending time with them… guess it was bound to happen. Ponyville is the first place we’ve stayed long enough for her to make some.” “So why do you sound so sad?” Grapes said with a frown. “Real friends are better for her than some wind-up construct.” “Wind-up? I. wound. up. on. his. desk.” “I just… well… I worry one day she won’t need me anymore. I’ve been taking care of her all this time. I’ve been father, mother and big brother all rolled into one and… It makes me both happy and sad that she’s growing up and making friends.” Grapes sighed hugely. “Congratulations, you’re a parent. Now get over it, and use it as fodder to embarrass her with, when she’s older. You can’t keep her wadded in cotton batting forever. She has to get out, make friends, get her knees skint, and all that other wonderful childhood stuff.” “Yeah. I know that’s for the best. Certainly will make her more well-rounded than I was.” He moved away from the desk. “Never really had friends growing up… more like an entourage.” “An… entourage?” Grapes asked, an eyebrow raised. “I was… gifted. Star pupil on the Artificer fast track at CSFGU. Acing every test and displaying all-around brilliance… and ponies collected in my wake to enjoy the glow of success. It was a popularity that made my ego swell to new proportions. Then… well… the bubble burst. Parents disappeared but dropped by long enough to leave Moondust in my custody… And suddenly she became my world, and world didn’t benefit from those who previously orbited around my old one. I found out that there is a big distinction between acquaintance and friend.” “Fair weather friends,” Grapes spat. “Only seeking to use you to better their status. I hate those.” “Yeah. Although I could have stayed at the school, I had no money to pay for it or raise Moondust. Courts seized all the family assets and so I found myself out on the open road taking odd jobs to give her a comfortable life. I’d… like to think that it made me a better pony. Gave me for the first time something other than myself to think about.” “Except for your weapon of massive caffination,” Grapes quipped, looking at the chess bot. “But I’m sure even you know that enchanting an inanimate object with the intelligence of a pony is a never a good idea.” “Set. phasers. to. HUG!” “I don’t know… she might say strange things at times but all in all I’ve had great progress in making her likeable and loving.” “I. love. my. sister. Apple. Jack.” “What…?” Grapes said raising an eyebrow. Redline chuckled and removed a tarp from a strange green and red box-like contraption with stylised apples on it and a crank handle sticking out from one side. “She’s talking about this. A cart-jack I made it for the Apple family. Big Macintosh might be able to lift a cart but he can’t hold it up and fix a wheel at the same time. I jokingly called it an Apple-Jack and our friend there took me literally. Considers any device I build to be a brother or sister too. She hasn’t a mean bone in her body… figuratively speaking of course. “Well right now, she doesn’t,” Grapes said. “And… she’s a machine, Redline. You can never be certain of what they’re thinking. You can never tell when the slightest bit of neglect would cause her to turn on you. You don’t know all of her motivations, or anything else. There’s a reason that warning is on that particular spell.” “That’s why I made her just a head first. And to be honest she turned out a lot better than the toaster did.” “You used the intelligence enchantment on a toaster,” Grapes stated, gazing at Redline flatly. “Seriously, I’m going to take away your advanced spellbooks until you’re completely off that tea.” “Would you like to meet the toaster?” Redline asked. “May as well,” Grapes sighed. He lead her over to a small table at the back… with a complex machine next to it with what looked like a Cast-Iron version of a teapot with brass banding and rivets sitting next to it. He motioned to a small metal box on the table with an eerie cherry red glow coming from a slot on top. “BEWARE FOOLS! YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF… THE TOASTER! MUAHAHAHAH!” “Not only did you use the intelligence enchantment on a toaster, you ended up with a megalomaniacal toaster. Okay. I am REALLY going to take away your advanced spellbooks, now. Seriously. You need some remedial study in WHAT NOT TO DO.” “Oh he’s troublesome but he can’t really get into any trouble. He’s a toaster! What is he gonna do?” “FOOL! The difference between a raging magical inferno and a toaster is just a larger power supply. COWER BEFORE MY ARCANE HEATING COIL OF DOOM!” “That’s the question that worries me, Redline,” Grapes said. “Also this proves my point.” “You really think so?” Redline asked. “She sees my terrible potential for horror! I will BURN Equestria in magical fire if given half the chance!” There was the sound of little hooves behind them and Moondust walked past with a plate and several slices of bread upon it. She set it down on the table and smiled. “Hello Miss Grapes. Hello Mister Toaster.” “Hello child.” “Can I have some toast please?” “Certainly… where was I? Oh yes. WORSHIP ME FOALS! WORSHIP ME! Moondust fed the slices into the slot and sat patiently. Grapes sniggered. “Every...body likes Moondust, apparently.” A moment later the toast popped out and onto her plate with pinpoint accuracy. Grapes had to glance again at the toast when she realised each had in the neatly toasted bread the shape of a cutie mark burned into it. One was Princess Celestia’s and the other was Twilight Sparkle’s. Moondust collected her plate and smiled. “Thank you Mister Toaster.” “You're welcome child. SEE? SHE APPRECIATES ME!” “Why do you have the coils in the cutie marks of Princess Celestia and Twilight Sparkle?” Grapes asked. “Because they look neat!” Moondust chirped as she left with her toast. “When I built the toaster I made it so it could make any pattern on the toast that was suggested. From cutie marks to the Pony Lisa. I thought it would be a great feature… however he doesn't get artistic as much as I’d like.” “Of course not, he’s a megalomaniacal toaster. Megalomaniacs don’t tend to be artistic, they’re more dramatic, and bombastic,” Grapes observed. “And you need to get out more.” “Really? Well I guess I have been a little… busy lately.” Redline pulled the teapot out of the larger machine and poured himself a drink. “Caring for Moondust, repairs and keeping track of.. well.. everything has been time consuming.” “Yeah. But you’ve got to take care of yourself,” Grapes said glaring at the teapot. “That is a weaker version of your tea, right? If it isn’t, I am so going to kick your flank. I say this as a friend.” “Oh yes. Crabapple came up with a comprehensive plan to dial back the dosage over a four season period,” Redline assured. “Good. I, as your friend, am still going to take away your advanced enchantment books to keep you from experimenting with artificial intelligence. The early creators of those spells did discover that it is, indeed, a crapshoot, and you found that out, for yourself, with mister toaster, here. What are you going to do with mister toaster, anyhow?” Grapes said looking at the device. “I’ll admit he’s amusing in a ‘what the Tartarus is wrong with him’ sort of way.” “Well he IS still functional. He can’t help but make toast properly when you ask. It’s hardwired into him. I just don’t have the heart to just melt him down or something. I feel responsible for him.” “You, also, could do with more than just one friend, Redline,” Grapes observed. “Or else you wouldn't be so tempted to try and make them, literally. Could send him to Princess Celestia as a gag gift.” He nodded with a slight bit of amusement. Before walking back to the desk. He began sorting through a small pile of little pieces of paper. “I’ll add it to my calender… soon as I find it. Everypony’s been giving me odd jobs lately and it’s hard keeping them all in order. I think I’m supposed to fix the plumbing at Rarity’s tomorrow… apparently she had a houseguest who left things in a mess. Or am I supposed to fix the ovens at Sugarcube Corner? Sugar crusting in the jets are a common occurrence.” “You know, you really need something like an intown office. You can keep your appointment calendar, and customer files, there, and be better able to keep them organized. Also you’ll be able to set working hours, and keep ponies from calling on you when you’re trying to care for Moondust, and be able to better set appointments,” Grapes suggested. “That’s… that’s actually a good idea,” he mused. “Must be a few little bits of office space in town I can rent. I’d need a secretary.” “I. volunteer. I. would. make. an. excellent. secretary. If. I. had. limbs. I. would. have. impeccable. shorthoof.” “I would strongly suggest against it, Redline,” Grapes said. “For one thing, ponies prefer a personal touch. Also, it would give somepony, in town, a job. There are one or two that could use a good part time job to help their families make ends meet. Lastly… I wouldn’t trust that thing with hooves. Call me paranoid, but I’m not ready to bow down to automata masters.” “But. I. love. ponykind. so. much.” “Be that as it may, it is said that the road to Tartarus is paved with good intentions,” Grapes replied. “Awwww. Occupational. aspirations. failed.” “You’re setting hours, Redline, and you’re getting out and making some living, breathing friends,” Grapes said poking the inventor’s chest. “Get me?” “Yes, Ma’am.” “Good…” Grapes said, eyeing the animatronic pony warily. __________________________________________________________________ Earshot had to admit, he had over thought his first day of school. He dressed a little overboard but still, that was normal, he had put far more than enough pencils and pens in his saddlebags, that was understandable, and he had worried far too much about all the what-ifs, but if those nice three fillies were to be believed, that was ordinary. He smiled as Miss Cheerilee let them out for their ‘lunch’ to unwind and have something to eat. He suddenly realised upon walking out into the sun that he had lost track of his lunchbox. Come to think of it he didn’t remember putting it down inside either. Panic began to come back, Squall had implied that he trusted him with the responsibility of owning that box… That EXPENSIVE box. He rewound his memory and tried to think of the most likely location he would have put it down… then realised somewhere on the playground when he was talking to that pegasus, earth pony and unicorn. He looked out across the playful landscape where the younger foals were folicing and playing, using both his eyes and ears to search for a very recognisable piece of square metal… then he got a PING. Earshot trotted in the direction he heard his sonar bounce off of tin in the right shape… and came across two fillies with an open box between them, gorging themselves on the contents. He eyed the box, quickly to be sure it WAS indeed his before the gray filly with a lighter gray braid and the pink filly with a purple and white mane became aware of him, and looked up at him as if he were intruding. In the words of Summer Squall he had ‘several options open for dealing with this’. He opted for the best possible one to give a good impression. “Hiya. My name’s Earshot. I see you’ve found my lunchbox. Thank you for watching over it until I came to get it.” The two earth ponies looked at one another and smirked in a way that made his ears wanna go flat against his head. “Oh.” the pink one said. “Is this yours?” “Yes. Yes it is.” “I don’t see your name on it. Unless your name is…” she flipped the lid over to scrutinise the cover. “...‘Black-eye’ the, uh… Mariner.” “Oh wait,” the gray one snickered. “You said your name was ‘Earshot’, didn’t you.” “Well. Yes, I did.” “Well I guess you won’t be getting this back, will he Tiara?” “Nope. Pity though, Spoon. These are very tasty cookies.” “MmmmHmmm,” Silver Spoon agreed, “very tasty.” “I didn’t know that other ponies would like chocolate weevil cookies as much as I did,” Earshot said, looking surprised. The fillies stopped chewing a moment, a look of pure puzzlement on their faces before they looked at the last cookie still sitting in the bottom of the lunchbox. Like sharks being drawn to wounded prey, the other foals from nearby, sensing something awry, had started forming a small crowd around the event. “Chocolate… what… cookies?” “Chocolate Weevil Cookies,” he said in his best upbeat manner. “Miss Grapes knows that I don’t mind the extra protein in my diet so when she winds up with weevils in her flour, instead of throwing it away she doesn’t let it go to waste and bakes it into stuff for me. This batch is chocolate chip cookies, but with Weevil infested flour. Chocolate Weevil cookies, see?” The crowd of foals was thick now, watching with rapt attention as Silver Spoon slowly picked up the last cookie out of the box and with deliberate care broke it open. The silence was nearly palpable as the two fillies took a closer look at the content of the baked dough. The two were almost in perfect harmony as they shouted out “EWWWWWWWW!” and dropping the cookie made a mad dash to the water fountain. The circle of foals were all laughing and jeering Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon as they fought over the right to rinse and spit while fighting a case of the heaves. “That… was… AWESOME!” Shouted Scootaloo as she leapt up in the air. “Wow… you made them EAT BUGS!” Applebloom laughed. “Does this mean you eat bugs?” Sweetiebelle asked. “Not all the time. I love daylight pony food, I just have the option of eating other stuff too. Bugs just happen to be part of that… but don’t worry. Unless you eat other ponies lunches without asking first you don’t have to worry about it,” Earshot replied with a nod. “Oh… oh ok,” Sweetiebelle nodded before looking over at the two royal pains who were now losing the war against their gag reflexes. “Ewww… those might have been your cookies but they’re really tossing them now.” “Points for distance tho,” Scootaloo roared with laughter. A weary and sick-looking Diamond Tiara staggered over to Earshot and growled up at him with as much nerve and bluster she could. “You… You’re gonna be SO sorry! I’m gonna tell my DADDY on you, you… you…” Earshot instinctively smiled in his most disarming manner. The result was all the color draining from Tiara’s cheeks as she suddenly became aware of things like his teeth… and cat-like eyes… and those bat-like wings. She whispered, “....Night Pony,” before turning and running off with just the hoots and hollers of her classmates in her wake. “I ain’t ever seen Diamond Tiara run like that from a pony. You didn’t even say nothin’ bad to her,” Applebloom said sounding amazed. “Yeah. And nopony here saw you so much as raise your hooves to her,” Scootaloo observed with a smirk. “Witnesses rock.” “She won’t get sick from eating your food, will she?” Sweetiebell asked. “She shouldn’t. I mean it was just some weevils in the cookies. She just thought it was really gross… She’ll be ok,” he said then stopped and looked at the swiftly shrinking pink dot. “So why do I got this terrible feeling something bad is gonna happen soon?” _________________________________________________________________ All in all it had been a good day for Queenie. She was pleased that she could help a friend… well, an acquaintance sort business out in a department she was proud of. Her choice of personals were collected, not that she needed to carry many. Going home meant a wardrobe always waited for you. And her friends had all had a small quiet going-away party for her. Even Earshot had come home in time to wish her well. Sour Grapes had broken out the cheese and crackers with an accompanying wine of excellent vintage and gave her a bottle to share with her family in the Valley. It took a lot of convincing on her part to have them stay at the vineyard while she traveled to the train station alone. Bless them but she didn’t want them standing out in the cold if her train was late, and she hated long goodbyes. So now she was on the back of the Grapevine Hills cart with Big Macintosh pulling her to the station. The view back tugged at the heartstrings but the view forwards… well… Big Macintosh was a nicely built stallion with a nicely built posterior. It gave her something to look forward to. He also was content to do his work in silence, a stallion of few words. She appreciated that. As the cart passed by the fairgrounds she noted a certain brightly colored mare face-to-face with a white pegasus mare she recognised as Carte Blanche, The Cloudsdale director of winter affairs. Blanche was a stickler for details and right now she was looking at the cane-length thermometer she had sunk into the ground at Dash’s hooves. “Well now,” Blanche said making a note of what she saw. “I am well aware of your reputation Rainbow Dash. Lazy, undisciplined, self-centred… but immense amounts of raw talent. I do not impress easily and yet you have done so. I am pleasantly surprised that you have somehow managed to get everything right. Wind speed, ambient atmospheric pressure and temperature and, alarming enough, you even achieved optimal ground temperature by a margin of twenty percent. Somehow you avoided the most amateurish of mistakes. This will look very favorably on your permanent record.” Rainbow Dash looked past Blanche’s shoulder and saw Queenie smiling enigmatically at her. She just beamed and spoke just loud enough for her voice to carry the distance. “Oh hey, that earth temperature thing is SUCH a rookie mistake. Nopony who could be considered a professional at her job would ever let something like that slip past her notice." Queenie arched an eyebrow then giggled softly before settling back onto the hay lining the cart. The great Rainbow Dash, mistress of the long-lost Sonic Rainboom, bearer of the Element of Loyalty… had in her own way, said ‘Thank you’. It gave her a nice warm feeling inside and actually made her look forward to the upcoming task at hand. “Onward, Mister Macintosh. The Train awaits.” “Eeyup… m’lady.” She laughed nearly the rest of the way to the station. > The Winter of Our Content > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- There was a little sadness at seeing one of the group leave, but Grapes was certain that Queenie would only be gone a few weeks at best. She knew her duties in her homeland were important and if anyone had an overpowering sense of duty… it was Queenie. Everypony got back to doing those last few chores in preparation for the first snowfall. Nothing too earth shattering but important nonetheless. One pony had a little more to do than chores though. She entered her dining room where a particular nocturnal colt was taking advantage of the unused table and the excellent lighting from the oil lamp in the middle. He had a few textbooks open, apparently cross-referencing some information into the scribbler before him. “Huh… so the main export of Equestria ISN’T apples. I did not know that.” “Really? So what is it then?” “Well, according to Miss Cheerilee’s books, it’s Wheat. If they had’ve asked me before I left the Cove, I’d have guessed Cabbage… they grow a lot of it at the town. That and Garlic for some reason.” “Sound like this town is in Germaney. They’re big on sauerkraut, up there,” Grapes said, thoughtfully. “And they use garlic in a lot of their dishes, especially sausage. Hmmm… Nothing like a good garlic and oat sausage. Have to remove the paper casing, though.” Grapes tried to keep the opinion that garlic was supposedly a repellant for vamponies to herself. She really didn't like pointing out the many myths about his tribe more than necessary. “It also says here that another lu… luke-rah-tive… lucrative export is trained weather ponies,” Earshot continued, sounding out an unfamiliar word. “Lucrative, adjective, synonym for profitable. Profitable, adjective, an item or activity that makes money,” Grapes said, absently. “Huh. Good to know.” he nodded before putting his pencil down. “I wonder what my people would bring to the table if...um… when we come back. Other than pest-control.” “Twenty-four hour business for one thing,” Grapes posited, “including nocturnal weather manipulation. Would be nifty if all the necessary rainfall happened at night, after most ponies have gone to sleep.” “Oh… um… My kin, we… can’t manipulate weather.” he said quietly. “Oh? Sorry, I just assumed, because you’re a subspecies of pegasi,” Grapes said apologetically. “Yeah. It’s okay. Only a few of us even have the talent to manipulate air, like my sister Lightning Stripe. She’s one of our Air-pushers and actually heads up the team in Fresh Air shaft number 17.” Earshot seemed to speak about his sister with more than a little pride, before growing quiet again. “I don’t know if this is another thing we forgot how to do, or if we just… LOST the talent altogether. Heck, if I hadn’t have joined the Storm-Riders I wouldn’t have ever found out that I can walk on clouds.” “It could be… Just lying dormant,” Grapes observed. “It’s a part of a pegasus’ innate magics, like walking on clouds. If you can still walk on clouds, you can probably still manipulate weather, which… seems to involve a lot of cloud manipulation. Your people would just need to learn what to do, just like any other weather-team trainee.” “You might be right. I always just… I dunno… assumed that there was some kind of trade-off for us. Better at life after dusk in exchange for the really neat stuff. I wonder if the others would be willing to teach me some basics.” “Doesn’t hurt to ask,” Grapes said, with a shrug. “Anyway, if you had any trade-offs, I would say it would be your appearance. If you had the innate magics that make you a pegasus taken away, you wouldn’t be able to fly, so instead, you look really different. Tribal magic, i. e. the magic that makes a particular pony of one specific tribe, is pretty much a package deal. I only have the ability to call upon two different types because I’m half Earth Pony and half Unicorn. If I chose one over the other, the one not chosen would atrophy until I can’t use it at all. True some ponies may be better at a specific part of their special tribal abilities than others but that’s natural talent playing into the mix.” “It would be nice to do some stuff like daylight Pegasai. It’s certainly be something to write home about… OOH! that reminds me!” “You need to write home?” Grapes said as she rummaged in her pantry for something. “Oh good, I still have some. This talk about sausage made me want some. I think I’ll make my Aunt Muscadine’s jambalaya.” “That sounds pretty good actually. Then again almost everything edible out here I’ve tried does. But I really should write down today’s schoolyard events while they’re fresh in my head.” Earshot found a blank piece of paper and got his pencil out once more. “Oh, I do all right. For a real taste of New Bléleans, you need my Aunt Muscadine to cook it herself…” Grapes said as she pulled out some oat sausage. “Even going to write about you being bullied by those two pains in the flank? And would you like a quill?” “Oh… you heard about that.” he said quietly. “And yes please. A quill would be nice.” “This is a small town, Earshot,” Grapes said, going into the other room, and coming back with a quill and ink. “You don’t need super-hearing to find out about what’s going on.” “Well, I guess I should write that in. It doesn’t make much sense if I don’t tell the ponies at home the bad along with the good. Right?” “True. It helps them to know that the ponies out here, are pretty much like those back home: Some good some bad, some okay, some you’d rather not talk to. Seriously, you’re ponies. Different ponies, but ponies.” Earshot took the quill in between his hooves and gingerly dipped the tip and began to work it across the paper in the curious script she had by now come to understand as the Night Pony written language. She still wondered what it would sound like if they tried playing it on her piano as if it were the sheet music it resembled. “Dear Grandmother Moonlight Sonata. Today has been another interesting day for me. Not only did I survive my first Nightmare Night, but I found out that there can be too much of a good thing. I recommend that if candy becomes plentiful to our kind, that we show a little self restraint and not just eat a whole Pillowcase full at one sitting… no matter how delicious.” He gave Grapes an apologetic look before continuing. “Learned your lesson the hard way, didn’t you?” Grapes asked, as she carefully sliced the oat sausage into even pieces. “Just hope you keep that in mind, when Hearth’s Warming comes around.” “There’s candy on Hearth’s Warming too?” “Yes,” Grapes replied. “Never mind all of the other treats, as well. Hot chocolate, cake, Hearth’s Warming cookies, pie…” “Sounds a little like Long-Dark… Although our treats aren’t quite as amazing as the ones out here. They are, tasty and certainly life isn’t the same without them.” “Fascinating. You don’t talk much about the holidays and traditions of your home enough, Earshot,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “See if you can get permission, would you? I would love to learn about them.” “You’d really be interested in hearing about that? I know I was given permission to spend time here during the winter months to learn about yours but I never thought you’d want to hear more about mine.” “You’re a new and interesting sort of pony who comes from a place that is different, yet rich with traditions,” Grapes responded. “Why wouldn’t I want to learn about that? And, no, because you’re different isn’t a valid answer. It just sounds fascinating.” He looked back down at his letter and continued to write. “A long day and a late night in addition to way too much candy didn’t make me very… um… nice when Miss Grapes came to wake me for school. But she got me up and fed and ready, and Mister Squall got me a neat little tin box with a handle for my lunch. If I can find more lunch boxes I might be able to send some to you for Long-Dark gifts. I’m certain that Max should be able to make more on his anvil if you give him one. He’d good with stuff like that. Miss Cheerilee is one of the nicest ponies I’ve met out here. She’s kind, smart, patient… very patient and if she doesn’t know something she’s not afraid to look to another source of knowledge for an answer. In short she is a VERY good mentor.” “You mean Teacher. And she’s very patient with the terrible trio,” Grapes quipped, cheerfully. “But now you know just why everypony loves sending their kids to her.” “Trio? But I only saw Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Please don’t tell me there’s one more in their group.” “I wasn’t talking about the twin terrors,” Grapes replied. “I was talking about three little fillies who are really intent upon getting their cutie marks” “Oh! Them. Uhm, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and… S-Sweetiebelle don’t seem that bad to me.” “No, they’re not bad, per se, but… Oh boy the damage they can do,” Grapes uttered, then blinked, and grinned. “You like Sweetiebelle, hm?” “Uh… what? Well I meant yeah. She’s nice and she and her friends helped me…” He stopped and his head turned abruptly to the east, his ears perking up and wings suddenly *POOMPHING* open. “...and she sings really nice.” “Yes, yes she does…Bet you’re listening to her right now. But I don’t think her just being nice, and a good singer would make your wings do that,” Grapes responded, with a grin. “Wow. Your first crush. You’re growing up so fast.” “I’m not crushing anything. Honest! I just…” he looked back at his wings and blinked before struggling to fold them up again “This… what is… Nnnnnff! This is -SO- strange. Rrrrrr! What’s going on with my wings?” “What do Night-Ponies call it when a young filly or colt develops a strong affection for another?” Grapes asked. “Uh… I dunno. Marriage?” “At your age? I said young filly or colt, well before marriage age.” “Oh! Um… That you REALLY like somepony? That you get all melty-eared? Act goofy? Sorry, but I’ve been a little… on the go for a few years now.” “‘Melty-eared’?” Grapes asked, giggling. “Well… yeah. You know how when some ponies look at one another and they just seem to… relax everything?” He demonstrated with his ears slowly lowering in a manner that reminded Grapes of very soft wax candles slowly collapsing under their own weight on a hot summer day. “Kinda like that.” “Oh that’s cute,” Grapes giggled. “Well… Up here, when a pony develops feelings for another, it’s a crush. Not sure why, honestly, but it can go unrequited, but just seeing them, or in your case hearing them, makes you react.” “OH! So… I have a crush on Squeekiebelle? I mean Sweetiebelle?” Grapes blinked, then started giggling. “‘Squeekiebelle?” Grapes asked still giggling. “Oh… wow… Squeekiebelle… Because she does squeak on certain words, doesn’t she?” “Oh yes! It’s so… I dunno… I like how it sounds. And how she sings. I’ve heard her before but never knew who it was singing until now.” “Well now you know. You’re going to ask about that cultural exchange, right?” “Oh YES, Miss Grapes! Right after I describe the rest of my day… I think I’ll send them a bag of my candy too. I don’t need three bags full… not if I’m going to ration them out for the winter.” He thought about it a moment and then dipping for a little more ink, put his pen to paper once more, and once again voicing his thoughts. “I found out there were six other ponies in my after-class class. First was Brass Horn. She’s a unicorn with a talent for playing musical instruments you need lungs to play. All the musicians are in the busy season so nopony can take her under their wing… so to speak. So she’s in Miss Cheerilee’s class to kill time and learn a little more. Then there’s Stonewall… he’s funny. Good earthy sense of humor and he’s also an Earth Pony. I actually met him last night, he was also in a Night Pony costume… although took me a while to explain what Night Ponies were really like. He really thinks we say “Bleh Bleh Bleh” a lot. I don’t even know where that comes from.” “Er… Me neither, honestly. It’s weird. I think it may have had to do with one famous actor’s accent, when he played a vampony in the movies,” Grapes observed, as she chopped onions and bell peppers.. “When he said ‘blood’, he sounded like he was saying ‘bleh.” “Movies… something else I have yet to experience properly. Somehow I think it’s not the same as when we review footage of our flight exercises with Lady Weathervain.” “I’ll check the paper for a good feature we can check out, this weekend,” Grapes mused, as she started sauteeing the onions and peppers. “Anyways he had no problem with me being a real Night Pony. He says it’s really cool. Skyhook on the other hoof has a problem with me. Thinks I’m ‘weird’ and maybe should ‘crawl back under my rock’, but the others explain she doesn’t really mean it. Not in any personal way anyways. She’s just angry because she’s very tribalist and her parents sent her here to learn how to get along with everypony else. They put this special collar on her that if she flies over 50 feet high in the air… she gets a shock. The longer she stays above that the worse it gets, so… it’s understandable she’s cranky.” “I’d be cranky too, if they put something they save for class A prisoners in Altai-Traz on me,” Grapes said, distractedly, as she browned flour, then slowly added water to it. “Hope everypony’s hungry. This recipe makes a lot. And now to let this simmer, and I’ll get some rice started.” “Really? Prisoners? Wow. I’m gonna make a hoof-note here on that.” “Not quite sure how the kid got so tribalist if his parents were the ones to send him here, though, “Grapes observed. “Usually such opinions are passed from parent to foal… Apparently not in this case.” “Apparently she was getting it from some gang of pegasi she knew up in Cloudsdale. The Down-Lookers or something. Anyways…” he began to write once more. “Her parents hope she’ll grow out of it when she sees other tribes have so much in common with Pegasi. I just hope she includes Night Ponies in that attitude as well.” “Be sure to include that in your letter, too,” Grapes observed as she checked the rice. The kitchen was beginning to smell wonderful. “I will. ...The other three ponies are very good, close friends. So close you would think they were related, if it weren’t for the fact they were an Earth Pony, a Unicorn and a Pegasus. Lock, Stock and Barrel are to me a good example of what Skyhook needs to see about us. That once you take away everything that’s different about us, wings, horns and whatnot… then we would realise there’s nothing really keeping us from liking or disliking one another on just our… our CHARACTER alone. ...does that sound right to you Miss Grapes, or did I miss the point?” “I think you missed the point,” Grapes said, as she fluffed the rice, and put it into a container to keep warm. “What you mean to say, I think, is there’s no reason to base one’s like or dislike of a pony upon tribe alone, and just because one tribe has abilities and talents that the others can not do as well, or even at all without some manner of mechanical or magical assistance doesn’t make any one tribe better or worse than another. Just different.” “That sounds a lot better than I worded it. Sometimes things never sound as good on paper or out loud than it did in your head.” He ran a line through what he had previously wrote and jotted down what Sour Grapes had summed up. “ Anyways, Lock Stock and Barrel are good ponies and really funny.” “And dinner’s almost ready. Grab the tobasco would you, hon?” “Oh. Sure thing, Miss Grapes.” Earshot laid the pen down and went to the pantry where he located and retrieved the necessary bottle. “That smells really good.” “Thanks. I tried to stay as true to Aunt Muscadine’s recipe as I could,” Grapes replied. “So, Miss Cheerilee taught us some stuff about the economy of Equestria today, and when we broke for a lunch break I met some ponies who were less than nice to me. Two fillies younger than me named Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. They had my lunchbox and were eating my cookies. I tried to be nice but, they didn’t seem to really… respond to it. So I complimented their good taste, because you know, they were eating my chocolate weevil cookies. I’m guessing they have delicate stomachs because they got very sick and ran away.” “A wise stallion once said: ‘A coward flees when no one pursues’,” Grapes said, stirring the dish, and checking the rice. “OOh… that’s a good one. Yeah I can get that.” he wrote it down. “And the rest of the day at school went very well. And to think I almost didn’t go to school today. I got scared at the whole thing. It’s silly I know… I’ve been in every kind of storm imaginable… and a few that are very UNimaginable, first to walk in the sun in over a thousand years, looked the Princess who banished Luna in the eye… but the idea of my first day in school…” he blushed and sighed “I felt rooted to the spot if it weren’t for Applebloom, Scootaloo and Sweetiebelle. They told me it was… normal. And knowing I was having a normal feeling made me feel better about it. Is that strange?” “Not at all. You got advice from voices of experience, and they helped you get over your nerves,” Grapes replied. “Everypony’s gone through first-day jitters. Even me.” “Really? But you’re so… what’s the saying? Level-headed. Nothing really seems to rattle you.” “Yes, but that’s because I’ve got experience. I was a foal, too, once upon a time,” Grapes replied with a chuckle. “Hard to believe, huh? If my parents come by for Hearth’s Warming, you’ll get proof. Lots and lots of proof.” “It’s kinda hard to imagine you as young as me.” he admitted. “Your glasses musta been hyooge.” “Thankfully they made glasses in foal sizes, back then, too,” Grapes deadpanned. “I’d have looked like an owl, otherwize. Almost done? Dinner’s ready, and we need to get the jambalaya and rice to the table.” “Almost. Um, yeah…. here I am. So I’m a normal foal in yet one MORE way. After I got home I was able to say goodbye to Queenie as she headed back to her home to help out there for a couple’a weeks. You remember I told you all about her duties back home… anyways they let me try a little wine to toast her and we said our goodbyes. Now I’m here writing this while miss Grapes is making a dinner. It smells really nice.” He paused a moment then nodded. “Oh! Before I forget. Seeing as I’m here to learn about Hearth’s Warming, Miss Grapes said she’d like to learn about Long-Dark. If it’s ok with you and the Dark Council I’d really like to show them our winter party. Please? As ever, your loving grandson, Earshot.” Grapes smiled, and went and got her Stormy-feather quill, and brought a couple more pieces of paper. The first one, she wrote down “Muscadine Grapes’ Famous New Bléleans Jambalaya”, and the recipe, with detailed instructions on how to make it. The second, she jotted down a note. “Dear Milady Moonlight Sonata, If you haven’t guessed, by now, this is Sour Grapes. First of all I thought you’d enjoy my Aunt Muscadine’s jambalaya recipe. Second is to reiterate what Earshot said in his letter. I would, truly, wish to learn about your winter celebration. It seems fair, at least to me, to have this cultural exchange be a full one as possible, as well as give Earshot a taste of home. All in all he’s been a joy to have as both an employee, and as a guest, and I’m sure he’d enjoy sharing some of his home’s specialities - sans the ‘extra’ ingredients - with his friends and adopted family. Sincerely, Sour Grapes.” Grapes folded both missives up, and hoofed them to Earshot. “Here. Thought I’d add my two coppers, and share a recipe.” “Oh! That’s really nice of you, miss Grapes. Not many daylighters have written my home. Just the Storm Riders and regular corr… corres… letters from Lady Weathervain.” “Correspondence,” Grapes said with a grin. “May go and pick up some spices, too… They may not have the right ones to get the taste just so. May as well send ‘em a little piece of Hearth’s Warming back. Spices, recipes, cookies…” “OH! That’s a WONDERFUL idea! I think I can get a nice box for that from the Pony Express office. Thank you very much miss Grapes.” “Well if we’re going to have a cultural exchange, we may as well do it right,” Grapes said with a wink. “And we’ll do our shopping this weekend, after the matinee at the movies. How’s that sound?” “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll have to get out my coin sock.” “I’m helping with the expenses, Earshot. Anything personal, you can buy, but we’re doing this up right. I want a cultural exchange, and I’m not going to stint on my end…. Say, how many families are down there? Can get a box of cards, and send Hearth’s Warming greetings from Grapevine Hills to them all..” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Even though almost everything was ready for the winter snowfall, Grapes still had a few fiddly things to do before hand. Stuff like making sure the rain barrels on the property were empty so they wouldn’t burst when they froze, or make certain the old copper shed was closed up tight for the winter. The barn was in good condition, no errant cracks to let snow drift in, although the impromptu guest within was more comfortable with the doors wide open. The Kapre had proven a very good guest, happy with resting on the floor of the barn with his legs sticking out into the yard. He insisted upon leaving after two nights of visiting his old friend Summer Squall, on account of “Guests are like fish. Their presence isn’t so welcome after three days.” She was surprised that the gigantic creature only drank a total of four kegs of wine since he arrived, sipping it slowly from the barrel as a pony would tea from a cup. It had made her secretly very happy that he savored the taste of the wine rather than pretend to. He had been gregarious and very friendly, and while he was a little disappointed he wasn’t able to scare Earshot, consoled himself with the fact the colt was genuinely impressed by him. Hauling a large hay bale down to the pond she intended to spread it about the shoreline so that when ice skaters came down to practice in a more quiet spot, the soil wouldn’t be churned up into a frozen muddy mess. At first she didn’t see him but after a moment it became obvious there was somepony out in the middle of the pond. There he was, Summer Squall, dressed in just his red and white striped shirt and belt, swimming in the pond. Well swimming in a way that made her drop the hay bale and stifle a laugh. She shouldn’t laugh, she really shouldn’t but all the ponies she knew never swam like that… the way his wings were folded, and just his legs were paddling away under the surface he reminded her in every way… of a duck. “How’s the water, Squall?” Grapes asked, once she had gotten control of herself. “What? Oh, very nice Miss Grapes. Chilly but that’s to be expected this time of year. Just wanted to get in one last go before it got too cold.” “Not a bad thing to do. Care to lend a hoof spreading this straw around? Don’t want any ice skaters to churn up the shore into a muddy mess,” Grapes said patting the bale. “Oh certainly. Won’t be but a moment, lass.” he said before dipping his head under the water level with his hind legs in the air. Grapes nearly lost it then and there. It was all so very… Duck-like. One he righted himself he swam over to her, long reeds dangling from his mouth. He chewed them happily as he assisted her. “Mmm… won’t be getting this delicacy for a while now. Reed-Roots are always so tender and tasty. You ever try them?” “Can’t say that I have.” “More’s the pity, lass. Once the ponds and lakes freeze the only place to get them will be warmer locations and it kinda defeats the purpose of enjoying the winter months to just run off to where it’s warmer. Although I suspect Sirocco will wind up wishing she wintered in the “Funshine” cities.” “Funshine cities?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “You know. Lots of fun in the sunshine… hence ‘Funshine’. Like Las Pegasus, New Tex-ass city and Cantercun.” “Ooooh. I see. I never saw the appeal, myself,” Grapes observed. “But then I’ve never been fond of gambling away my hard-earned bits.” “Las Pegasus is a nice place to go and blow yer bits, that’s for sure. I’ve lost entire fortunes there… so much they named a gamblin’ room after me.” “The Summer Squall Room, huh? That would be worth going there just to see it,” Grapes quipped cheerfully. He finished chewing his subaquatic graze and smiled. “It’s a nautical theme, and built to accommodate a wide variety of gambling desires meant for small groups of ponies and high stakes. It’s a strange thing but riches never really meant a lot to me. If’n I kept all the treasures I’ve discovered, earned or stolen I could have probably bought m’self a small house in the country… and a country to put that small house INTO.” “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Grapes chuckled. He looked past her and began swimming to shore, looking behind her Grapes noticed Earshot making his way over the hill. No doubt his hearing told him right where they were. “This don’t bode well… the lad usually goes straight home, while flying. He’s walkin’ this way… slowly.” “I know that look,” Grapes said quietly. “That’s the ‘I had to bring a note home’ look.” “Looks like he’s been told to go to the pillory box.” He got out and shook the few droplets that clung to him off and stood tall as Earshot approached. “Ahoy lad. What’s the good news from yer school? Learned many things, did ye?” Earshot hung his head then turned his head back to his saddlebags to pull out an envelope and give it to Squall. “I learned a new concept today… Parent-teacher Conference.” His voice was low, and he seemed unable to make eye contact. Grapes remembered that sensation from when she was a foal. “Mmm... It says here that Miss Cheerilee wants to see me about some accusations on your schoolyard conduct. I’ll be speaking to the father of the foal in question with Miss Cheerilee as a mediator it seems. Ye haven’t been fighting now, have ye? You know what I’ve been teaching you. Better to not be in a fight than to win one.” “OH! Oh no! No Squall, I’d never get into a fight unless I was sure there was no other way to get out of a situation. You were very clear on that. It’s… it’s just… well this is something different.” Squall looked at him and sighed. “It’ll be alright lad. I’ll see to this. You head up to the houses and do yer sums and whatnot while I speak with Miss Grapes here.” “Yessir,” Earshot said, and flapped off toward the bunkhouse. “You’re thinking I should come with you, aren’t you?” Grapes asked. “I’ve never been to one of these parent-teacher things, but I do knows a court-like proceeding when I sees one comin’. Granted it’ll be just the one pony as a judge but we got the defence and the plaintiff and we’ll be arguing to and fro about what’s going on. Let’s just say I’m more of a ‘settle-out-of-court’ sort of pony. I could use a cool head next to me on this one.” “I hear you,” Grapes said nodding. “When should we be there?” “Well, it seems I’m to attend this meeting once Earshot’s class is over and done with tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be clearing my ‘busy’ schedule it seems.” He smirked. “I’m pretty much free, myself. Even so, let’s get this bale spread. Tomorrow will bring what it will,” Grapes said philosophically. ------------------------------------------------------------- It was six thirty the next evening and suffice it to say… the Parent-Teacher conference was NOT going well. Sour Grapes was seated at the one end of the arts and crafts table next to Summer Squall. Miss Cheerilee was halfway down the long end acting as a mediator, bless her kind heart. And at the far end was the other ‘parent’. Mister Filthy Rich, father to the wealthiest latchkey foal in Ponyville, Diamond Tiara. Long story short, in her single-sided way she told her daddy about Earshot and in a predictable way for a parent that only rose up from behind his desk for emergencies in his child’s life, Mr Rich had come in in a storm of ill-informed sturm and bluster. Unfortunately he faced somepony who didn’t give two-bucks about how many bits he earned last quarter or how much of Ponyville he owned. Just that the only thing between them was ten feet of inch-thick plywood. "...You will have the student in question removed from the property immediately! I will NOT have that little bat-winged... THING going to the same school as my daughter, much less coming within fifty feet of her!" Filthy Rich concluded his tirade, somehow adding an inflection to the word ‘thing’ that suggested his skin crawled just speaking about Earshot. Squall rose from his seat, slamming his forehooves down on the table with enough force to make the items on it leap half a foot in the air. "If you call that lad a 'THING' again I will personally give you enough reason to change your name from FILTHY Rich to BLOODY Rich!" Sour Grapes could see the murderous gleam in Squall's eyes and knew he was a heartbeat away from putting Filthy in the hospital and himself in a prison cell. She couldn't blame him, Filthy was out of line calling Earshot a thing when demanding he be banned from school property. Under other circumstances she would have been happy to tear verbal strips off of the business pony, but common sense demanded a more genteel touch. "Belay that, Mister Squall! Stow the attitude, sailor, and stand down." She had picked up enough nautical speak from him that she hoped it would get through the red haze he was experiencing... and fortunately it did. He took a deep breath and slowly settled back into his seat, leaving a very frightened Business Pony at the far end of the table, and a bewildered teacher between him and them. "You have to excuse Summer Squall, here. Earshot's a coworker and close friend, and he's taking his duties as a guardian very seriously," Grapes said with a sweet tone of voice that many who knew her knows that fewmets were about to hit the rotating blades. "Be that as it may, Mister Rich, Earshot is not a 'thing'. He is a young pony, much like your overindulged, over-pampered, under-disciplined daughter. Who, by the way, has a substantiated history of bullying, mockery, and deriding of ponies she deems LESS than herself. I can't help but wonder where she could have POSSIBLY gotten such an attitude." Filthy Rich's eyes flitted between Sour Grapes and Summer Squall as if uncertain which he stood a better chance of surviving. "I'm sure I can guess what prompted this little sit-down. Your dear darling daughter said that a Night Pony brainwashed her into eating cookies that contained bugs, correct?" Grapes said, still using that deadly-sweet tone. "That... well yes. That is the issue here. She said he used his Night Pony mind control powers to..." He paused a little more cautious over his choice of words now "Well she CLAIMED he used them to force her and Silver Spoon to 'Eat Bugs'." "Apparently you have been deficient in teaching your dear darling daughter the difference between what is real and what is completely and utterly fictional," Sour Grapes said with a sniff, still using that calm, even, sweet tone. "Earshot is not a vampony, he has never been and will never be a vampony, because there are no such things as vamponies. Night Ponies are merely a nocturnal tribe of pegasi. True they are a bit more omnivorous than daylight ponies are, but they have been in self-imposed exile for a thousand years. You, Mister Rich, was lied to, by Diamond Tiara, because she did not wish to admit that she stole somepony else's lunch, ate it, and ended up facing the consequences of stealing." He was silent for a moment. It was well known that Mr Rich was not a pony used to being lectured, nor was he accustomed to thinking his daughter was any less than his special little princess. However faced with the shock of an averted physical threat, Grapes could tell he actually listened to her 'opinion'. "I have your word that that... that THE young colt in question has no... extranormal abilities for a winged pony his age?" "Well... He is rather bat-like, in that he possesses echolocation, and can hear in higher registers than most ponies. Again, nocturnal winged pony, so he is adjusted to low-light conditions,” Grapes said primly. "You have not only my word, but the word of his colleagues in the Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team, their handler Lady Weathervane, and even Princess Celestia, herself." He blinked at the mention of the words 'Royal Equestrian' then again at 'Princess Celestia'. Apparently it helped to have some political clout when speaking to someone who equated his status in town with his purse strings. "Right... well now... " He said matter-of-factly as he got his thoughts in order. "It seems I was hasty in my accusations. I have to admit that I'm not as... involved in my daughter's life as I should be. I'm better with handling customers and business rivals than... well.. being there for her. It's not easy being a single parent no matter if you're rich or poor." "Perfectly understandable, Mister Rich. Though she could do with a few less gifts, and a little more tough love, if you don't mind my saying, sir,” Grapes casually observed. “ Also... Night Ponies could use somepony as business savvy as yourself to help them expand their market. Right now their closest trading partner hates them. Again, because of the old Night Pony legends." "Wait... there's more of... him?" "Did I mention he was part of a lost tribe of nocturnal pegasi? I thought I did..." "I'm sorry. It's just... the idea that he's not just a..." Filthy Rich stopped and edited what he was about to say "..as unique as I thought. A whole tribe? Where have they been? How do you 'lose' a whole tribe of ponies?" "They imposed their exile upon themselves, right about the time Nightmare Moon was banished," Grapes explained. “After all, they did look like they would benefit from Eternal Night, so they felt that they would be easy targets for anypony who wished to avenge themselves upon a nocturnal representative.” “Hm. That does make sense,” Filthy Rich observed thoughtfully. “Now what’s this about their trading partner?” “The town they trade with gives then shoddy goods. Second-hand, well-used, practically trash goods. Mind you, having the option to buy such as a good short-term inexpensive fix is one thing, but having such forced upon you day after day, week, after week, month after month… Well, their sense of value has been skewed.” "How... skewed are we talking here?" Filthy Rich asked, curiously. "You know, just a regular blanket? Not the 'well loved' ones, but just a regular one, that will last a couple of years even with rough use?" Grapes asked. "Well yes. My stores carry blankets just like those, and sell them at a very reasonable price." "They think that such good quality goods would be incredibly prohibitively expensive. Unfortunately somepony could take advantage of that... Or teach them the right way of things. What I'm wondering, Mister Rich, is which sort you would be." "So.. just to be clear. His kind, Night Ponies, they've come to the conclusion that low-quality is the norm and the standard would be like... Canterlot goods are to us?" "Exactly," Grapes said, gazing at him with an air of supreme calm. "And this situation has been put on them by a single town, which I'm going to assume is the only one near to where ever they've been hiding out." "You are in the right of it, Mister Rich." "Well that really doesn't help anyone, does it?" Filthy Rich said crossing his forelegs and frowning. "They have a monopoly, yes but what really are they gaining from it?" "Pest control, and a boost to their egos about keeping 'evil night ponies' in the dark about Equestria,” Grapes replied. "Earshot has proven to me, though, that Night Ponies are just another type of pony. Sure, they're nocturnal, sure they have bat wings and slitted eyes, but they're ponies, like you or me. I see no reason for them to stay hidden." "Well yes there is that, but..." Filthy Rich started, and Grapes could see something going on inside of his head as if turning the situation over and over again as he appraised it. "Look. You're a self-employed pony. You know at least the basic ideas of how to run a business." "That, and I took a correspondence course to fill things in. It's just the tax code that confounds me," Grapes replied. "Right. Well... when you get down to it, we all want to be rich and there's nothing wrong with that. It's a natural state to want to reach a point where you have enough to not have to do anything anymore than spend it. At the very core of things, it's basic greed that drives every economic model. Desire, want and need. You want that shiny new gramophone to play your records so you work hard to earn enough bits to pay the shop keeper for it, and they take your funds for goods and services, which in part go to the pony who built it, the pony who designed it and so on and so forth. See? When you think about it, greed in moderation is good." "That sounds about right." "Now... this small town in the middle of nowhere have a total monopoly on this tribe of ponies hiding away from the world. They stick the branding iron to them and give little back in exchange. It sounds like any business pony's dream, but what are they doing with that money?” Filthy Rich asked. “I keep a general eye on the monetary flow of our country and well.. if a whole civilisation was doing a mostly one-way shift of wealth, I should have seen this somewhere in the economic model. No... somepony is sitting on all that wealth. They're probably keeping it inside of the village and to all intents and purposes putting a big dam in the cash flow and letting it stagnate. Greed is one thing but money likes to get out and get around. This level of selfishness is only going to hurt Equestria in the long run." "Well... As far as I know, it's probably not money, they get in exchange for giving the Night Ponies their trash, but services, and some goods. As you know, Night Ponies can eat bugs, so... they make great pest control... In fact the Parasprites only lightly touched my farm because Earshot started eating them. Apparently they're a delicacy." "A delicacy? That... that could really be..." Filthy Rich began to trail off a moment before getting back on course. "Well, you can see where I was going with this though. The point is, a businesspony's greed really should reflect the greed of his or her customers. IF they become selfish and want to keep it ALL for themselves, nopony wins. This is why our economy is mostly an open market. It allows for competition to help keep prices reasonable and spread the wealth around a little." He was silent a moment before smiling at Sour Grapes. "Miss Sour Grapes, I believe that when the time comes you can count on Barnyard Bargains to introduce the Night Ponies to the idea of a competitive market." "Good. It's nice to know that Diamond Tiara isn't a reflection of you, but rather... An aberration." "I may be opportunistic, cut-throat and mmm... 'reasonably' greedy, I am if nothing else fair when I deal with other ponies. You don't get rich by getting a reputation as an underhanded cheat. It's simply bad business to rip ponies off," Filthy Rich asserted. "I agree with you there, sir. I even try to deal as fairly as possible with the nobles, even if they, mostly, seen to be gits," Grapes observed with a nod. "Very well then. When they are ready to step out of the shadows remember to put in a good word for me. In return I'll... have some words with my daughter about treating others so badly," Filthy Rich asserted "It would be appreciated. I fear she may have taken your talks about 'greed' and made the natural mistake of taking them to extreme. Again, you are a single parent, and probably had the singleness thrust upon you," Grapes observed thoughtfully. "Yes. All too quickly. I can't promise miracles with my daughter but I assure you that I will be making more time for her." "It's a start. I'm sure she's got quite a lot to unlearn, and it will take time for the lessons to stick. However, I appreciate the effort you are going to put into it," Grapes said, offering her hoof. Filthy Rich shook her hoof and glanced for a moment at where Squall sat, still giving him a flint-edged stare. "It's certainly a lot more appealing than the alternative." "Well if you haven't guessed, Mister Squall is a sailor. He's also the hurricane expert for the Storm Riders. He's a little salty, and rough around the edges, but all in all a good pony, who's taking being a guardian very seriously. Being part of a storm response squad tends to form strong bonds. Also, it may smooth things over, if you apologise," Grapes added, in undertone. "Just saying." “Right. *ahem* Mister Squall, I wish to apologise for my rather… uninformed bluster, from before. Miss Grapes was kind enough to explain things, and made me realize I was a bit hasty in my condemnation of young Earshot,” Filthy Rich said contritely. "Apology... accepted, Mister Rich. I also apologise, for nearly forgetting my place as a concerned guardian. It would have been unfair to Miss Cheerilee had things ur... gone badly." “It’s obvious you care for Earshot very much, Mister Squall,” Filthy Rich said with a nod. “And I am also quite glad you chose to bring Miss Grapes along… For Miss Cheerilee’s sake, as well as my own.” With that the businesspony bid everypony farewell, and left. Squall turned to Cheerilee taking off his hat. "I do hope you'll forgive an old fool for putting ye in a situation like that. You should never have to be stuck between a terrible old stallion and the pony who P.O.ed him." the pegasus said apologetically. The purplish mare smiled and patted him gently on the shoulder. “You should come on a normal Parent-Teacher night. There are a lot of ponies out there at odds with one another and how their foals should be taught. Although in your case… I suspect you would have done more than leave him with a black eye.” “Aye. For a moment I was ready to take him to pieces. I make no excuses for my actions, however putting it into perspective, a lifetime at sea and traveling the globe tends to give a pony a rather ‘rough’ personality. The sea is harsh and unforgiving away from the coastline pegasi, and those who sail it’s waters tend to pick up on that trait.” “So you’ve spent almost your entire life at sea?” “Aye. Several decades of it. I’ve been a sailor, a mariner, a naval officer, a fisherpony… done time with merchant marines and traders. Pretty much done it all,” Squall explained. “In that case, Mister Summer Squall, I’ll accept your apology if you agree to come and speak on your experiences on the next Career Day. Would be interesting… Especially for the colts.” Cheerilee said warmly. “In that case, Miss Cheerilee, I would be honoured.” “I’ll be sure to tell Earshot when you’re expected to come by. Right now, though, I’m sure you two would like to get home for dinner,” Cheerilee said with a warm smile. Squall and Grapes bid the teacher adieu, and went home. All in all, it had been somewhat productive, and had fostered understanding if not with Tiara herself, but her father. ------------------------------------------------------------- A few days later, the day seemed unusually calm, and in the night everything seemed… hushed. Then it started, light, fluffy flakes falling from the sky. Soon the snowfall gained intensity, and the landscape became covered in a glistening blanket of white. Grapes looked over the white surface and saw a bright orange figure flying over from the Bunkhouse. Looked like Firestormer was up early today. Settling down on the porch he tugged his scarf a little tighter and shivered. “Boy… when Rainbow Dash does something, she really isn’t into half-measures, is she?” Firestomer observed. “It would seem not. She’s probably going to get a promotion out of this,” Grapes observed, casually. “This stuff looks thick. I didn’t realise a first snow would use so much.” “There was a request for a heavy snow, this winter, to restore the water table,” Grapes explained with a shrug. “Checking up on me, Firestormer? “A little. You’re probably ready for this sort of snowfall down here. It was a near-blizzard condition last night but because it was just a snowfall it was more or less harmless. If Queenie were here she’d have us shoveling it off your roof to lighten the load.” “Been ready. And the roof has held up for generations of snowfalls,” Grapes said with a nod. “You look cold, Firestormer,” Grapes said conversationally. “Eh. Fire’s been my element since.. you know. I should have wrapped up a little more than just a scarf before coming over but, you know, it’s just a couple of dozen feet.” “Heya Firestormer! Heya Miss Grapes!” came a happy call from down by the Bunkhouse. Eyes drawn by the friendly call, the two ponies looked over to see Earshot standing on the Bunkhouse porch with a midnight blue sweater on with a bright green scarf, bright red earmuffs and four colors of snowboots. “See? He’s got the right idea.” “Can’t lose him in the snow, either,” Grapes said, looking amused. Earshot then gracefully trotted forwards… and in a puff of glittery white snow, vanished from view. “Oops. Spoke too soon. YOU OK THERE SQUIRT?” “He’s stuck in the snow, not deaf,” Grapes said. “I’ll be right back, I need my snow outfit.” With that she went inside. By the time she came back out she noticed a long ‘upset’ of hillocks on the crust of the snowpack leading from the bunkhouse to somewhere out front of her house. She could see a pair of familiar gray ears sticking up out of the whiteness, each swiveling independently of one another. “That’s funny. It SOUNDED solid enough,” came the night pony’s muffled voice. “Need a hoof, there, Earshot?” Grapes asked, chuckling in amusement. “Just keep talking. I’ll find you…” came the reply as the ears began moving in her direction. A few moments later he apparently found the stairs to the front porch and slowly rose up out of the sea of fluffy powder, caked in it. He gave a shake of his wings and body before opening his eyes. “That was… really weird. I’m only used to working with snow that deep when taking directions from Queenie after an avalanche and it’s usually well-packed.” “Probably so. It hasn’t gotten to get really packed, just yet, so it’s still light and fluffy. But the early morning sun was able to melt the top layer, and form the crust, which you thought was solid,” Grapes explained. “Snow tends to absorb sound, anyhow, so that’s probably how it fooled your ears.” “That’s actually good stuff to know. We usually don’t go outside during winter at Stygian Cove. A lot of us like to take long naps during that time too.” “Really? I guess it would make sense to conserve your energy during that time,” Grapes observed. “And it makes your winter food stores last longer.” “That’s what Indigo says about it. She calls it an… add… Adapt… Adaptation to our subequestrian life.” “Indigo Gleam, right? You mentioned her before. Your archivist?” Grapes asked. “Yes. She’s our community scholar. She’s always writing stuff down and rooting through the dump for books thrown away by the Townsponies. She feels we lost so much history we have an obligation to having as much written stuff as possible for future night ponies.” “Okaaay. Add to the list of things to get this weekend a book on Equestrian history,” Grapes said musingly. “Bet she’d be over the moon over getting a new book. And ‘over the moon’ means ‘really happy’.” The colt giggled at that and nodded. “That’s an expression we might love to embrace.” “All right. Where’d Firestormer go?” Grapes asked, looking around. “Thought he was trying to mooch some coffee off me… I haven’t even started any… Actually I’m in the mood for hot chocolate. Care to join, Earshot? After that we’ll have to get out the ole snow shovels, and clear the trotways.” “He’s over there. He was helping me find the house… You know. ‘Marko!’” “Polo!” Grapes noticed Firestormer sitting on the porch’s swing-bench behind her and chuckled. “Want some hot chocolate, Firestormer?” “That sounds like a good idea, Grapes. Gives me a chance to set my brain into a shoveling mood,” Firestormer replied with a nod. “Same here. A little warmth inside will help with the cold outside,” Grapes said, as they went inside, and Grapes whipped up a nice batch of cocoa, and called everypony there to have some. After all, there were more than just the entryway, and the path between the farmhouse and bunkhouse to shovel. With Earshot and a better-insulated Firestormer assisting her, all the entrances to the farm buildings where cleared and paths dug between them rather rapidly. They had gone inside the house for another cup of hot chocolate when Stormfront made his appearance. Rather than fly above the snow he walked down the path that linked the Bunkhouse with hers and smiled up at her. She hated to admit it to herself but he looked damn handsome in that russet red winter vest and his flight scarf. “Good morning Grapes. Hope I didn’t miss out on helping you here. To be honest I didn’t realise I had packed away my winter outfit so well. Took me longer than I thought it would to find where it was hiding.” “Well, there’s still the entrance path,” Grapes said with a smile. “You could always do that for us. Don’t want Earshot to freeze his poor ears off.” “Oh good heavens, no,” he laughed. “We wouldn’t want that, would we. This shouldn’t take long.” Sour Grapes turned towards the barn to indicate where Stormy could get the plow. For a long straight run like the front drive, it was probably easier to just do it that way. Besides he DID have the build to handle something like the plow… A very STURDY build… She took a moment to shake a stimulating image from her head when there was a loud noise. It was like a muted thunderclap followed by a soft hissing sound like sugar being sifted into a bowl. She turned back and saw him at the base of her stairs, his wings were not just fully unfolded but pointing straight ahead of him and his face had a very… well… she never saw it on him before but he looked… Smug. She then followed where his wings were pointed and her eyes widened. The flurry of snow was still settling but the entire driveway had been cleared. It was as if the snow itself had been blown away in a straight line all the way from her front porch to the road. Heck it looked as if it reached the gateway of Sweet Apple Acres across the road where Applebloom’s Snowpony sat. The Big Mac sized snowpony was so cute but it was strange too. Grapes had been out there all morning and never saw Applebloom out making that thing. Then it blinked in a VERY surprised way. “Well what do you think? Bet I beat Rainbow Dash’s claim of ‘Ten seconds flat’, huh?” “Ah… Yes. Yes you did. Though… Why don’t you come with me,” Grapes said, trotting to the end of the drive. He followed closely behind. She had to admit it was a good job. Right down to the gravel and everything. “What do you know. I made it all the way out here too. You know, I always wanted to try that in a non-crisis situation.” “Good job… Except for one thing,” Grapes said nodding to the snowpony. “Oh hey. That’s a nice snowpony Applebloom did there. Wow she did a great job too. It looks a lot like Big Macintosh… Uh oh.” “Yeah… You think, maybe, you could help my poor cousin out from that pile of snow you piled upon him?” Grapes asked. “Uh… yes… Yes I think I better.” Stormfront said quietly before plodding over to where poor Big Mac stood. “Hey Mac. Do… would you like some assistance there?” “Eeyup.” She watched from a ‘safe’ distance as Stormy used his wings to brush the thick layer of snow off of Big Mac before settling down to help him clear the drive to Sweet Apple acres. A little time later he returned to the house where she was waiting for him with hot chocolate. “Here. Figured you needed to warm up, after that,” Grapes said indicating the steaming mug. “OOh… thank you.” he said gratefully accepting the mug. “A hot drink in cold weather is always welcome. Even if it’s just makeshift tea.” “Makeshift tea?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh. Uh… yeah. It usually happens in areas just recovering from a major disaster. Food and clean water are scarce and so of course you have to boil the water to make it drinkable, which often leads to someone trying to make tea out of whatever’s available at the time for comfort. Often they do it with kitchen spices like Thyme or Oregano… one time it was Bay Leaves. That was… bracing.” He made a face and smirked as he let that thought settle in for her. “Tea. From bay leaves…” Grapes said making a face. “The herb that you only put one singular solitary leaf in soup to season it…” “Yeah. Of course keep in mind ‘whatever’s available’ can also mean stuff like Pine Needles, Kudzu, Chickweed, Goldenrod… once there was a batch of tea made with Stinging Nettle. I’m still sitting on the fence on whether or not it was good.” Grapes just made a face. “I shall consider myself forever fortunate if I never have to try that, ever,” Grapes uttered. > Time For Family and Friends > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the beginning there was Pinkie Pie Amid the sea of endless white a patch of bright pink would occasionally appear, BURSTING out of a snowbank like some kind of pink porpoise, making a glee-filled squee before diving back into the white powder. Despite being in over her ears for most of the way, Pinkie Pie’s sense of direction bordered on the supernatural, and brought her right to Sour Grapes’ vineyards. Grapes stood there, watching her bound along through the snow, wondering what in the hay would bring her out here. Sour Grapes was sure, however, that she was about to find out in the most obnoxious way possible. Pinkie emerged at the front gate and made a show of shaking each part of herself in turn to get the snow off. It was almost laughably cute the way she did it, and once she was finished she trotted happily up the driveway to the front door where Grapes watched through the window. “Hieeee Grapes! Can I come in?” “Would it actually stop you if I said no?” “Oh you’re so silly!” she laughed while Grapes opened the door to let her strange visitor enter. “I was just going around town checking up on if everypony had any advance orders for Sugarcube corner for the holidays. You know… beat the Hearth’s Warming rush and everything.” “You mean like gingerbread houses, and the like?” Grapes asked. “Any way for Mister and Misses Cake to do up a kit? I’m sending a care package to Earshot’s family.” “Oooh. A kit? You mean like ALL the ingredients together, or make the parts in advance and have a note saying ‘Some assembly required’? OH oh! How about we include instructions on how to properly demolish a gingerbread house too! Mmmmm… Step one, nibble away at the foundations…” “Make the walls in advance, and package frostings and candy decor for some assembly required,” Grapes suggested. “Actually that may be a neat side-line for the Cakes. Ready-made gingerbread houses that are self-assemble, and they could buy packaged frostings, and candies to make it very personalized.” “And the basic shape is Sugarcube Corner! I love it! It’s be like advertising you can eat!” “Whatever floats your boat, Pinkie,” Grapes quipped. “Anyway… hm… five tins of cookies. Make that six… Earshot’s going to have a tummy ache, but it is the season… three stay here, three go to Earshot’s people in the package.” Pinkie pulled a pad of paper from her mane and jotted the order down on the pink paper. “Uh huh, Uh huh. Any squares or fruitcake? You know Mrs Cake does great fruitcake… Even though she adds an ‘extra-special’ ingredient, like with her rum balls. I once ate an entire fruit cake by myself and I was wobbly the rest of the night.” “Hmmm… the fruit cakes are good. All right. One for the bunkhouse, one for my house, and one for the package.” “RrrrIGHT! Okay. That’s everything. Hmmm… I should check with Applejack and her family and see if they want anything too.” “They generally make their own treats, Pinkie,” Grapes said, casually. “Generally apple-based. Though you could offer the do-it-yourself Gingerbread House, in the shape of their barn…” “Ooooh… That could be fun,” she giggled. “I bet Applebloom would love to put that together.” “Girl just needs to realize that…” Grapes grumbled. “Thanks for stopping by, Pinkie.” “Not a problem. So how are things going for you? Normally you spend a lot of time up here alone with your mom and dad during the winter. Now you got a whole LOT of guests. It’s like a wacky Situation Comedy movie.” “It would have been, if I hadn't gotten the bunkhouse remodeled to be suitable for equine occupation,” Grapes quipped. “The story of exactly how I got my passel of guests is kind of like the set-up to one of those.” “Yeah, but you've already told it, like, three or four times, already, and I’m sure the readers don’t need to read it again,” Pinkie said giggling. “Wait, what?” Grapes uttered, looking bewildered. “Oh, nothing. I gotta go now. Byeeeee!” and she bounded off to the farm in front. “Well that’s filled my daily quota for weird…” Grapes muttered, closing the door. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Friday dawned bright and sunny, though not warm enough to melt the snow. Walking through town at this time of year was actually, invigorating. She saw ponies starting to put up Hearth’s Warming decorations, tinsel, and glitter, bright balls and boughs of holly and other evergreen plants. She also enjoyed seeing Earshot’s expression as he tried to take in all of it. It was easy to forget his primary sense was his hearing, and so all the bright colors and dazzling joyous spectacles were probably not unlike her walking past a gramophone playing an amazingly catchy tune. She could almost see all of Ponyville reflected in those wide golden eyes of his as he kept pace with her. It was a good thing he was a good follower or he might have been left behind standing in a snowbank just staring at everything. She had a few things that had to be cared for in town. Orders to fill, forms to process, banking to do… this year had been very productive, but like with any farm it takes time to produce a product and you have to ration the money that comes in the rest of the year. Still, it was nice to be able to see the breathing room this year’s income has. The money she had spent on the Bunkhouse and the small home for Redline and Moondust were just good investments. The bunkhouse was WAY overdue for an overhaul, and the house in the north forty… well… Some ponies liked solitude in a starter home. Anyways she was feeling pretty good. She and her little helper had as few chores to do while here in town and then, she was going to see her first film in more time than she cared to remember. She had promised to take the night pony and she was going to keep her promise. After all, she felt he should have lots of new experiences to write home about. They had a lot to learn about modern Equestria, and modern Equestria had a lot to learn about them too. Which brought her to the next topic in their ongoing conversation… “So, just so we’re on the same page, when DOES Long-Dark happen? I don’t want to worry about Hearth’s Warming being more complicated than it usually is just because of scheduling,” Grapes observed, as they trotted along. “Oh. Well we celebrate it on the day of the longest night of the year. A time we can have as much time as possible to appreciate the nighttime sky.” “Huh. How about that. That’s the time we switch to the new calendars, or as Twilight would put it, the Winter Solstice,” Grapes observed casually. “So your Long Dark coincides with the Equestrian New Year. I think that could work.” “Really? Sole-Stass. That’s a serious-sounding word. Solstice.” “There’s two during the year. One in the summer, where it’s the longest day, and that’s when we have the Summer Sun Celebration, and one in the winter, which is the longest night and our New Year,” Grapes explained. “Wow. I think I’ll include that in my next letter. You think miss Sparkle would want to write something about the Solstices...es….s?” “You know this is Twilight we’re talking about, right? Biggest nerd in Ponyville, and bookworm extraordinaire,” Grapes quipped, laughing. “Seriously, do you really need to ask if she’d want to write something up about the Solstices?” “I guess not. She’s REALLY smart, isn't she? She asked me so many questions about Night Ponies… mostly just ones that were about things that weren't true about us. She called it clarification. Lady Weathervain would have called it ‘Rumor control’.” “And I would call it ‘getting the facts straight’,” Grapes added. “Speaking of ‘rumor control’, you up for this movie? It’s a classic, and features the folkloric representation of Night Ponies, but it also has that actor that I mentioned, with the funny accent.” “Oh! Yeah I think I am. I mean Miss Fluttershy’s books have prepared me for a lot of stuff… even if the stuff about Night Ponies ‘sparkling’ was just plain silly.“ “I did warn you about those books. I really did. Crown Superior is a hack,” Grapes uttered with an eyeroll. “A hack with mindless fans, true, but still a hack. If you’re going to read fictional vampire literature, it should be good fictional vampire literature, and not some secondary schooler’s teenaged fantasy of being fought over by two stallions.” “Oh yeah. The part about the hippawolves was kinda weird, I mean are there really ponies with an innate magic that allows them to turn into wolves? I mentioned those books to Thistledown and he said they were the… the tragic story of a Filly torn between bestiality and necrophilia. Then he told me to ‘never mind’ and nopony has answered my questions on that statement.” “Standard answer number one, Earshot,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Sorry, hon.” “So when is the ‘Older’ part of you ‘telling me when I’m older’, start?” “After puberty, sometime after the ‘where foals come from’ talk,” Grapes replied. “You may be fairly mature, but there are some subjects that won’t come up until after you understand certain things. We’re trying to help you enjoy your foalhood for as long as possible.” “Oh. You know that makes a lot more sense than ‘because’ or ‘we say so’ or ‘ask your mother/father/grandmother/the Dark Council’. I get that a lot too. I hope my family is sending me some Long-Dark decorations. I asked them if they could include some in the next package.” “Well, after the movie, we’re going to do some Hearth’s Warming shopping to send them some decorations, and other stuff,” Grapes said with a nod. “Doing the whole cultural exchange thing, like I said we would.” “That would be nice. You know I thought your town was beautiful and colorful normally, but seeing the ponies decorating everything like this… Hearth’s Warming must be a big deal to you to want it all so pretty.” “It is. It’s a remembrance of the Founding of Equestria, where the three pony tribes came together, in harmony, after years of infighting and inter tribal strife and exploitation,” Grapes explained. “Kind of sad it took some supernatural creatures who feed on hate to cause ponies to put aside their differences, though.” “Reminds me of something my grandmother said. Nothing brings ponies together like a common threat… of course she was answering my question why the townsponies got along with one another so well and yet hated us, but yeah. I can see that.” Grapes grumbled something about insular, small-minded twits, as they reached the theater. “Ah, here we are,” Grapes said with a smile. “Think you’ll want some popcorn?” “Oh please and thank-you. Popped corn is so… fluffy. My kin were kinda surprised when I showed them it,” Earshot giggled. “With ears like ours though, it was a little… scary when you don’t realize the noise they make that first time.” “All righty. Popcorn, soda… Hm… What else,” Grapes mused, as they contemplated the theater. “Do they have dried raspberries there? I like those. Reminds me of the Thornrows back home.” “What’s a ‘Thornrow’?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh! Uh… well according to what I overheard parents telling their foals in the village, long ago the ponies of… the region built these… raised sections of land. It was something to do with picking out all the rocks from the fields as you plow and stacking them along your property lines and tossing dirt on them. Anyways over time these long and twisty fake hills became permanent, then something about the local castle happened that spooked the townsponies and they planted raspberry bushes on top of the rows to act like a big thorny barricade between it and them. Whatever it was that spooked them passed and they left the bushes there, letting them grow bigger and more twisted and thorny over the years. Now the Thornrows are like this big maze of spiky bushes with deliciously tangy/sour berries that only we Night Ponies seem to appreciate. So they never notice us taking a few buckets now and again.” “Really? Spiky bushes with tangy-sweet berries…” Grapes said thoughtfully. “Yeah. I overheard them called Bastion-Raspberries, must be because of how hard it is to get through a wall of them. Good thing Night Ponies can fly. They are delicious though, Shades of red and purple... Miss Red Vine makes this one drink from them that seems popular with the adults.” “Well yeah, you can make wine out of raspberries,” Grapes said with a nod. “The last time I did, it went over quite well.” “Red Vine might like talking to you one day, then. What she does is tiny compared to what you do, but she says the other Night Ponies pay well enough.” “I’m sure we’ll get along wonderfully,” Grapes said, as they trotted up to the ticket booth. While she made her purchase, Earshot looked up at the poster displaying the Vampony in question. Earshot seemed to be trying to line his face up just right so he could see his reflection in comparison to that of Bella LeTrotosi. It was understandable, this was the big one. Dragonwing was THE first name that most ponies thought of when you said Night Pony to them. Of course he also dressed up as this version of him for Nightmare Night, so this might be an innocent comparison of his make-up job. While deciding on whether to bother with salt with the buttered popcorn or just to get a salt-stick on the side she noticed a small group of young ponies sneaking up behind him. A young Brass-colored unicorn filly with white hair that reminded Grapes of those powdered wigs worn by famous composers, raised a bugle to her lips and took a deep breath… “Hello Brass Horn. Heya Stonewall, You too Skyhook,” Earshot said before the unicorn could toot her own horn. Taking the horn from her lips she exhaled like a spent balloon. “How did you know it was us?” she demanded. “Stonewall is not really a light-stepper, and the sound of you inhaling like that is at a specific pitch… and you always bring Skyhook along with you. Besides, who else would sneak up behind me in a way that didn’t involve torches and pitchforks.” “Day’s still young,” The sky blue pegasus with the sunshine blond mane grumped, tugging at the surprisingly ornate metal collar about her neck. “Heck give me time to find the Pitchfork and Torch store and I can…” “Aw don’t be that way Skyhook,” The Brick-red Pony with the mortar gray mane and tail said giving her a friendly ‘bump’ with his shoulder, which from his stocky frame caused her to have to take a step to keep from toppling over. “It’s movie night. Time to forget our cares and stuff with a visit to the silver screen.” “Technically, it’s ‘movie afternoon’, since it’s not even lunch-time yet,” Grapes corrected. “Really? I stand corrected then.” “I would think the general brightness of the surroundings, the lack of stars in the sky, and the activity of the birds would generally indicate that it’s not yet night time,” Grapes quipped. “Meh… What do you expect from an Earth-pony,” Skyhook uttered. Stonewall looked at the pegasus a moment before laughing and pulling her close in what could be either a death-grip or an affectionate noogie, depending on whether you were giving or receiving. “Oh Skyhook. You make me laugh.” “Chhhck… air… air please… need… air.” “So these are the classmates you wrote home about. Nice to have faces to put to the names. What’s with little miss prissy-feathers?” Grapes asked, narrowing her eyes. “Oh her? She’s the one I told you about,” Earshot said quietly. “Parents sent her down here to learn how to get along with the other pony groups. See? That’s the special collar that keeps her from getting her head in the clouds.” “Yeah. She was hanging out with a group of bigots called the ‘Down-lookers’ and they were quick to ground her so she could get a hooves-eye view of the world,” Brass horn chuckled. “Seriously, she isn’t a bad pony. You can tell she’s really TRYING to be a tribalist even though she isn't really there yet.” “Well the lesson, here, is that we’re all ponies. Just because you were born with wings doesn’t make you better than the rest of us. Just different. Same as being born with a horn and the ability to use magic,” Grapes said simply. “Nor does it matter if your family happens to be descended from some grand poo-bah that started your family line, and got you some kind of passed-down recognition It’s what you do, now, with what you've got now that makes or breaks a pony.” “Wow. That’s so familiar, like I heard it off of the educational film my parents showed me before exiling me to dirt-town,” Skyhook snarked. “Isn’t she a Pip?” chuckled Stonewall. “Yeah, she’s a real bitter little seed, alright,” Grapes quipped with a smirk. “And, honey,” she continued in a sweet tone that made Earshot a bit worried, “you won’t be losing that collar anytime soon, thanks to that lovely attitude of yours.” “Now you sound like my parents,” Skyhook quipped “Yeah, that’s the thing about parents. They have authority and experience to back it up. And all you had was a bunch of little punks who thought they were better than anypony else,” Grapes said, as she paid for her and Earshot’s snacks. “All I know is Mom and Dad booted my flank down here and stuck a grounding collar on me for speaking my mind.” “Aw the change will do you good. Some thick air in those lungs will help you clear your head,” Stonewall said stepping up to the counter and sliding some bits to the server on the other side. “Jumbo Popcorn, seventy-two ounce titanic soda and a box of sugar cubes please.” “You’ll regret the jumbo soda, later, Stonewall,” Grapes said, with her own more petite soda in a holder on her back. “Nothing teaches you to not get such a big drink like having to water the hedge RIGHT during the climax of the movie.” “She’s got a point. A Seventy-Two ounce titanic soda is NOT part of a well-balanced breakfast,” Sky Hook observed. “Eh. Gives me an excuse to watch the movie twice.” “Sure. Let’s go with that, “Grapes uttered. “But me and Earshot have got Hearth’s Warming shopping to take care of.” “So, is this your keeper, Earshot?” the white maned unicorn asked. “Kinda, Brass Horn. She’s my employer… OH! Sorry. I should have done this sooner. Miss Grapes, these are my friends from school. Brass Horn, Stonewall, and Skyhook.” “Saved me for last I see,” the pegasus mare uttered. “My friends, this is Miss Sour Grapes who employs me during spring through fall at Grapevine Hills Vineyards,” Earshot continued. “Obviously nothing grows during winter, so I can’t exactly employ farmhooves, then,” Grapes observed. “And since the inns are full up, they’re my guests for the holidays.” “That’s very kind of you,” Brass Horn said, getting a box of sugar cubes from the counter. “Earshot said he was going to the movies today so we figured we’d meet him here.” “Earshot told me he’d never been to the movies, before,” Grapes said with a shrug. “So I figured what the hay? We had to come into town for some shopping, anyhow…” Grapes paused, buying a box of Choco-Dots, and tossing them to Skyhook. “And here. A local makes those, and they’re extra tasty. But then with a name like ‘Bon Bon’ you’d expect her to know candy.” Skyhook looked at the box a little suspiciously before accepting it and mumbling an uncomfortable “Thank you.” The merry bunch made themselves comfortable in the middle of the theater, getting ready to enjoy the show. The theater darkened, and the first thing to show was a newsreel. Grapes noted that while film was still in the improvement stage of ‘Embedded Sound’ for its “Talkies” the Newsreels were still silent, resorting to title cards and local ponies reading off more detailed information from the cue-cards provided with the reel. Perhaps it was symbolic how news always seemed to take a back seat to the far more popular (and better funded) entertainment. Still, every town with a cinema was proud to have one of their number designated as the local reader. Ponyville’s most trusted newsstallion was Hugh Jelly. Nopony could doubt his reading ability, with that rich, silky voice of his, but he was always a bit… off putting. He always felt… slightly sticky, and smelled strongly of various fruit. Never mind the rumors that sprang up from his being a good customer of the various fruit farms’ jellies and jams. “Good afternoon Fillies and Gentlecolts,” he began. “As usual I have been asked by the theater owners to speak on their behalf on movie-going etiquette. Unicorns please turn off all light spells before the films begin. Those of you with small bladders or large sodas take note of where you are seated so if you have to leave halfway through you can find your seat quickly and quietly. Also kindly refrain from talking, whispering, and scribbling notes during the show… yes, Twilight Sparkle, we can hear the scratching of your quill on paper.” Grapes noted a purple unicorn a few rows down, slowly sinking into her seat as the ponies, and Spike, around her giggled. “All right then. That about covers the etiquette. And now the news.” The lights dimmed and the soft whirring, clicking sound of the projector began as the machine sent a flickering beam of light onto the screen. Grapes couldn’t help but glance over at Earshot and watch as his eyes went wide the moment images appeared on the screen. Off to the side one of the local pianists began to add musical accompaniment while Mister Jelly cleared his throat. “Dateline: Equestria. All is well across our fair land. Farmers claim an excellent year, the weather patrol see no foreseeable issue in the upcoming winter season and the merchant’s guild of Equestria claim record profits. “In Appleoosa the fledgling treaty between the Buffalo Locals and the Pony Settlers continues to hold strong. The Chieftain was quoted as saying that ‘A compromise that brings peace is better than stubbornness that brings war.’ Well said, Chief. “In Canterlot’s School for Gifted Unicorns, despite losing their valedictorian to deal with a country-wide emergency earlier this year, graduation ceremonies went off without a hitch. Celestia herself was on site to watch the proceedings with dignity, poise and cake. “Ponyville… too many crises to keep track of… next… “Reconstruction efforts in the Mount Ashbringer region continue to move forward. On a related note, two Wonderbolts injured as a result of their heroics during the event are being released today. No Doubt Blue Streak and Contrail will be dazzling us with feats of acrobatic skill soon enough. “Avalanche Valley…” Grapes sat up straighter, an eyebrow raised. “Wonder what this is about?” she asked. “I hope nothing’s happened to Queenie or her folks…” “... the Hay-Bale Energy Bar Winter X-Treeme Sports Spectacular; co-sponsored by Ponythirst, Red Minotaur, and Manticore Energy Drink was considered a major success with record attendance and athletes from across Equestria and beyond,” he continued as images of a beautiful mountain township and its surrounding picturesque slopes filled the screen along with the colorful ponies who attended. “Among attendees were such big names as Snowblynde, Slideways and the ever popular Dusty, the flying unicorn!” From off to her left a barely restrained “SQUEE!” of joy came. Grapes didn’t turn her head but rather let herself peek past the corner of her eye at the source. Only Earshot and his friends were seated there. Earshot, Stonewall and Brass horn were watching intently as Grape’s cousin Diamond Dust performed tricks amid the sculpted snow and ice, only one pony was enthralled. The self-professed “tribalist” pegasus was grinning in the most fanfillyish way, wings spread and eyes dazzling from the show. Grapes smirked, knowingly, as she settled back to watch her cousin. This was a most amusing development. “Amid the fun in the sun and the ice a good time was reportedly had by all…” Quick cuts of tourists and athletes going about their business flashes past, including one brief moment where a very familiar pegasus mare in a maid’s uniform was caught “admiring”’ Dusty from afar. “But even in paradise… calamity can strike.” The piano player switched to a minor key, adding more emotional impact to the next scene. Dusty with his team, going down the hill, then a flash of rocket-propelled foalishness, a moment of near death for her cousin averted only because of his athletic ability… but resulting in a monstrosity that make Pinkie Pie’s Party Cannon look like a pop gun, invoking a literal wall of white to surge towards the town and the ponies in it. The next few shots were chaotic as the camerapony was obviously more interested in getting someplace safe instead of taking shots. But the shots they got were still enough to take in Ponies cramming themselves underneath a long tunnel-like structure under a building. Then suddenly snow filling the two ends resulting in sudden darkness. One by one unicorn horns lit with soft light, then little jars of glowing liquid were brought forth from what must have been emergency cabinets, illuminating the ponies in an eerie glow while they seemed to discuss what to do. “Yes, from Party to Predicament, things looked bleak to the victims of the avalanche. But then… when things were at their darkest… a hero emerged.” It was hard to say how much time had passed but at the one end of the tunnel some of the snow began to lose it’s darkness and light began to appear behind it. Then, a long rounded piece of wood thrust through, making a hole. Moments later a head poked in, revealing the concerned face of Dusty. His snowsuit was torn in places, leaking fluff, his hair was disheveled and his eyes showed that… he was in pain. Yet, in spite of all of this, he smiled to see ponies who were okay, and finished scooping out the snow with what looked like a broken snowboard. Grapes glanced over at the enthralled pegasus mare who gazed at her hero helping ponies of all tribes, despite in what looked like intense pain. Dusty looked haggard, and his leg… His leg looked kind of rubbery, and he favored it for his other three. “He’s important to you,” Earshot whispered to Grapes. “Your breathing changed when the avalanche hit.” “He’s my first cousin,” Grapes murmured to Earshot, “from the unicorn side of my family.” “I don’t think his leg is supposed to bend like that… is it..?” Earshot asked, looking concerned. “Broken,” Grapes stated with a frown. “Probably happened during the avalanche. Then he goes around digging out who knows how many ponies… Dusty’s always had more heart than brain… He’ll probably be here, in the spring, after his leg’s healed up.” “Why do you say that, Miss Grapes?” Earshot asked. “Because I know Dusty. He’s going to feel responsible, especially after apparently setting off that cannon. Whatever money he won from that shindig, and probably most of his savings will go to help Avalanche Valley. So he’ll want to lay low, hide from Grandma Pavé, and do some honest work to get back on his hooves, while he thinks of some scheme to get his fans to donate to Avalanche Valley’s cause.” “He’d actually do all of that?” “Well yes. Dusty’s like that. He’s so generous, and kind-hearted that it could be a fault, if you think about it,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “But then… It’s kind of his rebellion against his Grandmother.” Earshot nodded and turned his attention back to the screen, where the young stallion directed others to help dig out the shelters until he finally collapsed from his efforts. Shots of Queenie still in her Maid’s uniform apparently commanding others with great authority flickered between scenes. “The spirit of community spread and soon all of the valley was alive with ponies helping ponies. Strangers assisting strangers… and while Avalanche Valley is badly damaged and their greatest event lead to their greatest disaster, their can-do spirit cannot be denied.” Mister Jelly smiled that curious smile of his at the audience as the Newsreel wrapped up. “My name is Hugh Jelly and this has been the News Around Equestria. Thank you and enjoy the rest of the movie.” Although the newsreel had left her concerned about Dusty and the sort of mood that Queenie might be in when she returned she did congratulate herself on her choice of film for Earshot. Dragonwing was a true classic Night Pony. The opera cloak, the noble-looking tuxedo and eyes that could bore into your head. This was what Earshot had come to fight, the image of Night Ponies being these blood-lusting creatures of darkness. He needed to see this and not some modern pouty bag of fairy dust. (Boy were the fans of that book series going to be disappointed when Night Ponies came back into the herd) When the lights came up and the doors opened, the way Earshot and his friends were laughing and discussing the film at great length as they left the theater Sour Grapes felt a strange understanding. Why WAS Earshot chosen to be the emissary of Stygian Cove? Because of his innocence? His endearing youthful enthusiasm? Or maybe it was because of all his kin, perhaps he would be fascinated by how the world saw him, and not be offended or disheartened by it. She saw him swoop one wing around to just below his eyes as he mimicked Bella LeTrotosi’s famous hypnotic stare, and his friends, Skyhook included, actually played along. Grapes smiled, chuckling at the byplay, and reminded Earshot that they still had shopping to do. “You guys want to come with us? We’re doing up a Hearth’s Warming package for Earshot’s folks,” Grapes asked. “May be nice to have some more input as to what to send.” “Sounds like fun,” Stonewall said without hesitation. “Earshot did mention that this is his first one.” “Bet he’s gonna love the carols. He’s got excellent pitch,” seconded Brass Horn as she gave Earshot a nudge. “If every Night Pony has pitch as perfect as him, then it could revolutionize music in Equestria.” Skyhook shook off the moment of camaraderie but still didn't exactly run off. “Uh… yeah. I ain’t got nothing to do right now so, why not?” “Thank you, so much, milady Skyhook,” Grapes snarked. “We would not know how we could have possibly proceeded without you.” The pegasus was fairly quiet the rest of the time downtown. She was apparently unused to ponies who could not only verbally spar with her but were willing to use it to slap her down a peg. Still, it ended up being quite an enjoyable afternoon. They stopped by the Daisy Cafe for a light lunch, and Pony Express for a box to ship all the goodies to Stygian Cove, along with stopping by Barnyard Bargains to pick up some nifty decorative items, and pre-packaged candies, making sure to get some for the Bunkhouse. “The bad thing about the locally made candies is that they’re not really made to be shipped,” Grapes observed with a sigh. “Though Sugarcube Corner is making up some nifty stuff to send in the package. I hope your folks like fruitcake, Earshot,” Grapes said as they wound down the shopping for the day. “I've never seen a cake with so much in it. It’s almost like a brick made of fruit.” “That… isn't too far off, pal.” Stonewall agreed with a smile. “An old way of preserving fruit for long-distance travel. Tastes pretty good. Especially the way the Cakes make them,” Grapes said with a smile. “I read that fruitcake was a pegasi invention, originally. Long-flight rations made with dried fruits, baked into a cake, and cut into bars. Ancient pegasi took them on their border patrols.” “You hear that, Hook? All of Equestria can blame your kind for the scourge of fruitcake.” Brass horn laughed. “Hey! Fruitcake isn't a ‘scourge’. You’ve probably just never had good fruitcake. The Cakes make some of the best, outside of my own family. My Aunt Muscadine… Oh, that mare can cook! But then she’s got a restaurant in New Bléhleans. Classic creole cuisine, but her fruitcake… absolute heaven,” Grapes said with a smile. “I know. I know. Not all fruitcake is bad, but really… you ever taste the stuff that’s mess-produced in Manehatten? That’s like eating masonry.” “No. But then, I know better than to eat any food that’s ‘mess-produced’,” Grapes quipped with a grin. “Anything that’s ‘mess-produced’, or even mass-produced, is never as good as something that’s home made. Candy doesn't seem to have that problem, but there’s only so much a pony can do to sugar, and flavoring, except maybe speed up the process of production. So… The pegasi gave us a wonderful, easily shippable, cake recipe that profit-hungry goits proceeded to muck up.” “I… never heard of that before.” Skyhook said frowning. “Well, obviously your tribalist pals weren't really that interested in pegasi history and culture, hm? I tend to read a lot, anyway, and I find the histories of all tribes to be equally fascinating,” Grapes said. “All kinds of ponies have contributed to making our lives better, in this day and age. Not just one tribe over the others… No matter what any of the tribalists of any tribe will tell you. Eugh...” “Yeah. And especially at this time of year,” Stonewall said, gesturing with a hoof at the decorations of the streets. “Didn't you ever take part in a Hearth’s Warming pageant before? Is it really so hard to forget that thinking that your fewmets don’t stink nearly did to our ancestors? It wasn't pretty.” “A lot of the hardship, strife, and outright warfare was glossed over to keep the pageant a reasonable length so ponies could head home and enjoy time with their families,” Grapes observed. “And yes, during those dark times unicorns fought pegasus in bloody battles for territory, fertile soil, and Earth Pony peasants to slave for them. Some Earth Ponies tried to strike out on their own, but they were at the mercy of the magically potent unicorns and the weather-controlling pegasi. Some may have even tried to venture into lands where the weather is wild… But they were still at the mercy of those who controlled the day and night. When the wendigos came, naturally they all blamed one another… And in a way they were right.” “So is that what Hearth’s Warming is all about?” Earshot asked, looking up at Grapes. His friends looked back and forth at one another before Brass Horn smirked. “Step one… we find a book store for this guy so we can get him an early Hearth’s Warming gift in the form of ‘The Hearth’s Warming Unification’. Mumsey and Dadsey insisted I have and read a copy before I performed in MY first pageant.” “Obviously, I've got a copy of that, at home,” Grapes observed. “Along with ‘The Untold History of Hearth’s Warming’, ‘Letters From The Territory Battles: Missives From Pre-Equestria’, ‘Excerpts From The Diary of Clover the Clever’, and… a lot of others. Mom wasn’t a fan of glossed-over history, because it kind of lead to her mother becoming a tribalist loon.” “There’s some in every tribe,” Stonewall noted. “Heck in every family. Even us earth-ponies can look down our noses at other ponies for no other reason than ‘What extras got glued on’.” “And my tribalist look grandmother really dislikes me, ‘cause I’m half Earth Pony,” Grapes chuckled. “And funnily enough… all my best friends just happen to be pegasi.” Stonewall smirked and gave Earshot a rough one-legged hug. “So where you gonna take our little bat-winged buddy now? Bookstore like Brass Horn suggested?” “Oh, right. We were going to get a book on the History of Equestria to send to their archivist,” Grapes said nodding. And a copy of ‘The Hearth’s Warming Unification’, too. Thanks for the idea, Brass Horn.” They quickly moved to the bookstore, checking out the history section for the two needed tomes. Stonewall was very eager to introduce Earshot to the world of comic books much to Grapes’ amusement. Skyhook got yet another surprise from Grapes in the form of “The Hidden History of Pegasi”. They wrapped up their shopping, and parted ways at the edge of town. All in all, it had been a fun day, and Earshot’s people were going to receive a pleasant surprise. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A couple of weeks later, Grapes found herself hanging out with her pegasi pals in a partially finished basement to the bunkhouse. Apparently it was going to be a rec room when it was finished, but they were no real hurry to finish it. Privately, Grapes found it rather amusing that pegasi could be comfortable underground, but she didn’t say anything out loud. While the upstairs’ main floor had a small kitchen, a dining table and some couches and chairs and was comfortable enough by the fireplace, there really wasn't much room. Down here it was a mostly finished wood floor, some walls were missing showing the dirt behind them and lots of support beams. Well that and the Sofas, chairs, the beginnings of a mini-bar, a dartboard and… a large heavy Rucksack-like bag hanging by a chain from the ‘rafters’. She had enough sense to recognize a Bucking Bag when she saw one, she just never thought there was any place in town they could have gotten it. Even Bulk Biceps’ Gym got theirs from one of the larger cities. Grapes looked around at her friends, as they either lounged about, chatting about this or that. Squall was working the bag, of course, but that seemed to make a lot of sense. It must have been normal enough because the others ignored the noise his hooves made slamming into the heavy canvas. “Any ideas on how, exactly, we’re going to handle Queenie when she gets back?” Grapes asked casually. “She’s sure to be in a right snit, when she arrives. I’m sure velvet socks are recommended, initially...” “Why velvet socks? Do they make her feel better?” Sirocco asked, curiously. “No Sirocco,” Stormfront chuckled. “It means we be careful to not aggravate her until she’s accepted whatever’s bothering her.” “Ah. I believe we all shall watch one’s worms until then,” Sirocco said with a nod. “‘Watch one’s worms’?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think Sirocco means ‘Words’,” Squall said, displaying some rather youthful hoofwork as he trotted in place a moment, examining his cylindrical opponent. “Not bad advice either way.” “Unless Earshot wants to try salmon, I doubt we’re going to need to watch fish bait,” Grapes uttered, deadpan. “Guys… and gals too.” Firestormer began looking up from where he was working with the water boiler. “Seriously, Queenie’s many things, prissy at times, a little stuck up now and again, maybe even a little bossy here and there. But she’s tough. She wouldn't be one of us if she couldn't haul the emotional baggage. I say we just give her some space but just not really treat her like she’s made of glass. If she wants to talk, she’ll talk.” “Like you did, when you had a personal tragedy?” Grapes asked casually. He stared at her a moment, then gave that trademarked crooked grin and shrugged comically. “Okay, you got me there. But maybe I just needed the right moment and the right listener… sure it took me a few years, but Queenie isn't me. She’s a big frosty princess with her own personal kingdom.” “You mean a ‘big frosty’ duchess of a small duchy to be precise, but that would splitting ‘heirs’, would it not?” came Queenie’s voice from the doorway. “Welcome back, Queenie. Would you care for some coffee, or maybe a good strong tea?” Grapes asked, her eyes half-lidded, and her nose slightly wrinkled. “Good to see you in such high… spirits, by the way…” Queenie entered the room with more than a little swagger to her step before she leaned heavily on Firestormer. “Whunnnnnderful to see you all again. My loyal extended family. Even the annoying brother I never wanted.” “Woah… you smell like a distillery, Queenie,” Firestormer uttered. “Oh pish-tush, Firestormer, I have merely been tippling,” Queenie said dismissively. “Just don’t breathe on the water heater or it’ll go through the roof.” “Ah hah hah. I missed your damp wit, dear Firestormer. I suppose I HAVE had more than a few drinks. No doubt I shall pay for this in the morning, but at least right now I am pickled enough to not mind remembering my problems.” Grapes simply gazed at Firestormer impassively. “Handling the emotional baggage, hm?” she asked casually, then waved at Stormfront, “Strong coffee, with a water chaser. I think you know how she takes her cuppa, right?” Grapes then turned to Queenie, with a snarky smirk on her face. “You’re lucky you’re a guest, Queenie, old gal. If this was the ‘on’ season, I’d let you wake up with a hangover, and put you on double duty.” “And you would be RIGHT to do so, oh noble warm-season employer. However this is the winter season… and one does not spend time in the presence of a well seasoned sailor without learning what one would do with a drunken sailor… Er-lie in the Mor-ning.” Queenie actually sang the last line, fairly well too as she staggered away from Firestormer to lean against Summer Squall. “Arr. Three sheets to the wind, are ye? Bet that last comment meant you remember all the tricks I taught ye on how to blunt the day after.” “Aye-Aye, Captain Sir!” She saluted a little too sharply and accidentally whacking herself with her hoof. “Nnnngh… although I’m nowhere near the heavyweight thou art. The train had a car with a tavern and while I didn’t deplete their supply I should say I held my own.” “Oh, I know a trick or two of my own, passed down the family tree,” Grapes observed with a smirk. “Though I have to admit this is highly amusing. Guess this is as close as I’ll get to seeing Rarity drunk off her plot.” “Ah yes! RARITY! I should ask if she wishes to go out tippling with me! A ladies night out… out of our gourds! Aha hah hah!” “At least, for now, she’s a happy drunk,” Grapes observed with a smirk. Queenie’s face got very serious and she moved away from Squall over to where Earshot was laying reading his new comic books. “Now, Earshot, dear, I don’t want you to believe that becoming ineb… ineb… pickled like this is in any way a valid manner in which to deal with one’s personal issues. Mmm?” “Yes, Queenie,” Earshot said distractedly. “That’s a good colt… and now… I must PEE!” “You know where the hedge is,” Grapes deadpanned. As soon as Queenie dashed out of the basement, she hung her head and said: “I’m a bad bad pony… because I am this close to laughing my plot off.” “Aw go ahead and laugh, Grapes. It’s probably the most loosened up she’s been in a long time.” Stormy chuckled. “Stormy, honey, that’s not why I’m so close to laughing. Mind you, I admire her, I really do, but here she is, setting herself up as this grand, romantic, tragic heroine… and the moment she experiences a tragedy that’s personal, she goes and gets herself snockered,” Grapes explained, with appropriate dramatic gesturing. “Mind you it’s not nice to find amusement in the misfortune of others, but that seems to be a ‘thing’ with me.” “At least she is aware she’s gonna pay for her ‘Tippling’ in the morning,” Squall said with a chortle. “A over-tippled Miss Rarity. I’d pay good bits to see that.” “I’d charge admission, and run a popcorn concession,” Grapes quipped, chuckling. “I’m sure you’re not the only pony who’d love to see little miss prissy-mane drunk.” "No doubt, lass, no doubt. I wonder if Miss Rarity has ever been deep in her cups?" Squall asked. Grapes chuckled, and said: “Nopony knows for sure… Except maybe her closest friends, and I’m sure they’d never tell.” "Maybe if you asked in a non-specific way. Like if Miss Applejack had seen any of her friends with one too many in them.” “You know, that just might work,” Grapes said thoughtfully. "Bet she could hold more than a few herself," Squall said rubbing his chin. "She seems the type.” "You. Have. NO. Idea," Grapes deadpanned. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The next day Grapes got up, and prepared for a trip that her parents usually made this time every year. She went into her cellar, and picked up some of her oldest ‘black’ wines, and put them in a case. She then brought the case up, dressed in her warm-weather gear, and went outside to prepare the sledge. It was only big enough to carry the case plus, in a pinch, one pony, and that’s all she needed. Quite frankly, Grapes wanted to get this trip done, so she come come back home and mope a bit about her parents not being there and not sending her a letter about whether or not they’d be there for Hearth’s Warming. She hated it when they were trying to surprise her. “Hey there, Grapes. Making a delivery?” She looked up to see the gorgeous outstretched wings of Stormfront momentarily block out the sun as he slowly descended next to her. “Kind of… It’s… something of a yearly thing. I don’t really need to do it, but it’s been being done, so I may as well continue,” Grapes said with a long sigh. “Every year, around this time, we take a case of black wine to a remote area, and leave it, and in exchange, we get a bag of gold dust. Don’t exactly need it, this year, but there have been years when we needed it desperately. So… might as well continue the tradition. And it gets that stuff out of the cellars.” “Interesting. Gotta ask what, exactly, black wine happens to be, though,” Stormy queried, looking at her curiously. “Its wine that’s been in the cellar so long, the color’s changed drastically,” Grapes replied. "Long story short, this wine is at the point I don't know whether I should market it as a drink or a salad topping." “Oh yeah… you mentioned this sort of thing before. That if you make a mistake along the way you can wind up with vinegar instead of wine. And someone genuinely wants this kind of borderline wine? Huh. Guess it takes all kinds.” “Yup. It’s the condition of the tradition. First year I've done it solo, though,” Grapes said, as she shouldered the harness. “I should be back in a few hours.” Stormfront stood there watching her for a moment before saying quietly. “You know, you don’t have to do it solo.” “I don’t?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “What? Are you saying that you’d like to come with?” “Well…” he began, one hind leg scratching the other, “It’s not like I have any pressing business at the moment. And things might go a little faster for you if I pull the sleigh… sledge… thingie. You know I’m not limited by things like hip-deep snow.” “Oh… Well…” Grapes said, looking down, bashfully. “I didn't want to impose on you. This is kind of an off-season, unless we have an out-of-control blizzard or something…” “I’m sure they can find me easily enough if trouble brews. I just need five minutes to fill them in and grab my gear. You may want to make sure you’re bundled up good and tight. Windchill factors sneak up on you.” “Good idea,” Grapes, said, double-checking her winter outfit, making sure her scarf was loose enough to cover her muzzle. She then got out the bigger sledge. If he can fly over the surface of the snow, while she rode the sledge, that would go a lot quicker than the original plan. True to his word he returned after only few minutes, wearing a thick quilted coat and saddle-blanket plus a heavier version of his Storm-Riders scarf and a pair of snow goggles. He walked over to the sledge and positioned himself so she could harness him in. “I figured this would go quicker if I was able to ride, comfortably,” Grapes observed, as she settled the harness so it would not be uncomfortable on Stormfront. “The sledge I had, earlier, was just too small for that.” “I’d have missed that detail. Like how you remembered to wrap up your crate there in a blanket in addition to the straw in it.” “That’s because it’s still pretty cold, out. Liquids can freeze, and shatter glass,” Grapes said, as she settled herself into the sledge, pulling up her scarf to cover her muzzle. “I know about how to keep alcoholic beverages intact when traveling in cold weather. And even though alcohol has a lower freezing point than water, I’m not taking any chances.” She watched as he slowly stretched and twisted, limbering up. Under that coat were the muffled sounds of joints and muscles popping and cracking. “OK… I’m not gonna go too high here. Less than ten feet at any time. I remember that time I tried to share my joy with you… and so do your begonias.” “Those things are going to be huge, come spring,” Grapes observed. “OK… let’s see if I remember how to do this.” he chuckled, heaving forwards and putting the sledge into motion. For the first little bit down the driveway his gait reminded her of Big Macintosh… except his butt looked nicer than that big red one. After a moment he broke into a trot, then a decent paced gallop. She inhaled deeply at the sight of his wings extending, since the day she saw he had them, she had never gotten used to that. Beautiful light gray feathers catching the wind, and slowly flapping, and below the sledge the ground gave her a respectable distance. He tilted slightly, passing over the fence line and following the road away from town. “Pilot to navigator, Pilot to navigator. I need a bearing before we get too far off course,” he laughed back to her as lights of her home began to dwindle in the distance. Grapes chuckled. “Take the east road,” she said, amusement still evident in her voice. “I’ll tell you where to turn.” “Gotcha.” he said adjusting his course. “Just let me know if I’m rising too high.” It was an amazing ride. Part of her told her that this was too dangerous, they were going too fast, that they might crash or something… then the other part of her was telling her ‘enjoy this, he’s sharing part of his world with you’. She could see his passing, kicking up a beautiful spray of snow behind them, his large powerful and yet graceful wings beating with a slow tempo that pulled her forwards at speeds she had only dreamed of. “Okay. Turn here. When you see a clearing with a flat rock, stop,” Grapes instructed. He nodded and banked gently, the tip of one wing grazing the surface of the snow in what had to be an act of him showing-off a little. She checked her watch and was surprised at how much ground they had covered in so little time, even following the same route she and her father had in previous years. She could get used to this… next time she would bring a thermos of something hot, though. The wind really had a way of trying to cut through what you were wearing. Maybe she should consult with the other pegasai on what worked best. It was in that thought she heard the sound of snow under the runners, followed by the sound of hooves joining them. He had landed, trotting to a full stop before looking back at her then motioning with his head to the clearing just off the road and the large flat rock in the middle. And as usual, it was completely swept clear of snow. “This the place?” Stormy asked. Grapes looked it over, and nodded, carefully getting up, and stretching a bit, before carefully moving the case to the rock. “Allright. Just got to leave this here. Then come back later today. The exchange will be made, and we’ll have a little extra to add to the emergency fund,” Grapes said patting the case. He smiled at her as he unhitched himself (oh such a nice smile) and nodded. “I’ll leave you to the lift and tote then. This is your tradition, not mine.” She smiled back to him and with a little flourish of her own (What? Only colts were allowed to show off?) she carefully lifted the crate into the air and the two crossed the open clearing to the rock. Stormfront watched attentively as she settled it down, adjusting it just a little so it looked… picturesque there in the middle of all that beautiful, clean, pristine snow. At last satisfied with her work, she made a show of dusting off her hooves and the two ponies turned to leave and found a tall imposing figure in a black hooded robe blocking their path. In this unexpected moment, many things happened. Hearts raced, adrenaline surged into veins, and two young ponies found themselves clinging to one another. The hood tilted downwards slightly and deep within unseen eyes scrutinized the couple before a soft and yet strangely authoritative voice issued forth from it. “My, but you’you've grown into a lovely young mare. And I see you've brought a friend rather than your father this time. I can only hope Champagne is well.” “Ah… Yes,” Grapes uttered. “He’s fine. He just retired, this year, and moved to Seaside with Mom.” She then realized that she was clinging to Stormfront, and he was to her. Blushing furiously, she quickly detached herself from the big gray pegasus, and dusted herself off, her cheeks still red. Stormy mirrored her motions, trying to regain a little pride from the incident. The hooded figure seemed oblivious to this. “You’ll have to forgive me for actually making my presence known. Under normal circumstances I would have stayed with the longstanding tradition with your family and allowed you to return for this, later.” A rather terrible-looking eagle’s claw extended from the folds of the robe, bearing what Grapes recognized as the reddish-brown leather pouch that was always full to bursting with gold dust. “However the presence of your traveling companion demanded I come forwards. It’s not every day one gets to meet an Angel.” “An… angel?” Grapes asked, taking the gold dust, and putting it into the sledge. “And it would seem that you, sir, are a griffon.” “Why, you would be correct, young mare,” the figure said reaching up and pulling down the black hood confirming his status as a griffon… a very OLD griffon. Wrinkles were rare in griffons but this one seemed to possess them in spades. Unlike normal old souls who seemed as if they deflated inside of their own skin, Grapes would have sworn that these wrinkles were carved into him as if he were a statue artfully made from aged wood. The beak curved upwards into a warm smile before he reached out and patted Stormfront on the shoulder. “Yes… Angel. Or at least one of their bloodline. Dear heavens above, you can’t fake wings like those.” “I know they’re big,” Grapes observed. “But I just thought it was some manner of genetic anomaly, possibly hearkening back a possible alicorn in his ancestry or something.” “While it’s true that Alicorn blood might explain them, I am certainly certain that your young stallion friend is an Angel.” He approached and placed a claw under Stormfront’s chin and carefully coaxed him to turn his head to the left and right. “What’s your name son?” “S-Stormfront sir.” “Stormfront?” the griffon asked, looking genuinely surprised. “Well now. That’s an astounding coincidence. I once knew a pony by that name a long, long… long time ago. And you look a LOT like him. Yes. Very much. Oh but where are my manners. I’ve stepped out of the shadows to meet the two of you, I might as well introduce myself.” The griffon managed a flourish with his cloak, flinging it open, revealing an aged but well-maintained military uniform beneath, including a bright red metal breastplate. “I… am Robin the Red-Breasted, Air Commander of the Fourth Generation Phalanx of his eternal glory, Emperor Abattoir the second, and Seasoned Warmancer of the Seventh Tier…” He paused a moment before chuckling and bowing respectfully. “...Retired. I would like to stress that I am very, very much retired.” “Well… I’m Sour Grapes, daughter of Champagne Grapes and Champagne Diamond-Grapes, proprietor of Grapevine Hills Vineyard and Winery,” Grapes stated, then looked thoughtful. “...I must say you are quite well preserved, for someone who’s over one-thousand, five-hundred years old, Commander. Emperor Abattoir the Second was the instigator of the Griffon Wars, during the reign of Prince Nebula.” The griffon raised his eyebrows and chortled. “It seems you are very well informed, Sour Grapes. You have truly surprised me for the second time today. It’s been a terribly long time since I’ve seen anygriff um...pony who even remembers that there WAS a war between the griffons and Ponies much less who the two monarchs were back then. griffons are far prouder of their military history but ponies tend to focus more on good times than bad. Pity. So many gave their lives so those alive, today, could live in peace.” “A great scholar said that it is best to learn from history, lest we repeat it,” Grapes observed. “And I agree, that it’s a pity that more ponies don’t learn about that conflict. Mistakes were made, chests were thumped with much bravado, and a war that could have ended with ponies becoming nothing more than a food source for griffons was started. Though it seems something was left out… What exactly did you mean when you called Stormfront an “Angel”?” “Let me think how best to describe what they were.” He had a seat on the edge of the cart and pulled the Black Velvet robe around his frame again. “During the war times were indeed grim for ponies. There were a few alicorns rallying the troops and some rather grand heroes… but we griffons were virtually born to fight. Yes, very grim. Then as best as we could determine an Alicorn named Ambitious Theory gathered some of the most powerful unicorn acolytes together for a daring plan. Volunteers from the three tribes were found for what they called Project Exemplar.” “Project Exemplar? What was that?” “Just getting to that young stallion. The premise was simple. Alicorns were few and far between. Beings of immense potential that were like the best of the three tribes all in one body and magnified. Ambitious Theory planned to share some of that gift with others. Imagine an Alicorn princess or prince, then separate their three tribal aspects and let them become ponies unto themselves. That’s not exactly what was done, more like approaching the problem from the other direction. Elevating a pony to that sort of stage… transforming a mere Unicorn, or Earth Pony or Pegasus into a Titan.” “So these volunteers were meant to be, well, exemplars of their particular tribe?” Grapes asked. “You hit the nail right on the head, Sour Grapes. I have no idea how many times they failed before they succeeded. Only that the successes were unlike anything we had seen before. Each tribe suddenly found itself lead by a paragon of their kind, The sturdy Earth Ponies were awed by Giants. Massive and monstrously strong, with inherent magics embedded in the very land they walked upon. The proud Unicorns were cowed by the Sidhe, Graceful and glamour-clad these ponies nearly made reality melt around them from the pure magic crackling from their horns. The dynamic Pegasi instantly rallied to the sides of any Angel in their midst.” He paused and gave a short bark of laughter. “We griffons had believed ourselves the masters of the skies until the Angels entered it. Today a legion of Pegasi would be needed to command the weather on the scale an Angel could, and they were able to match us in hoof-to-claw combat any day of the week. And yet as potent as the Titans were personally, it was their inspiring presence that was their true power. Before them, the ponies fought a desperate war. Many making suicide charges not out of bravado but because they truly believed they had no hope of winding up more than meat on a plate. These new generals revitalized them, gave them something to believe in… something personal. Alicorns are great icons of pony solidarity, but sometimes you just need one of ‘your kind’ to look up to.” Grapes sighed at that, shaking her head. “Inherent tribalism,” she uttered. “Why doesn't that surprise me? So… You think Stormfront is descended from one of these ‘angels’?” “Very much so. The powerful wings, his large but sleek build as well as the strong resemblance to General Stormfront of my era are uncannily similar. Tell me colt, what do you do?” “I ah… I work for the Royal Equestrian Rogue Weather Bureau, bucking Tornadoes.” “You’re a Storm-Rider? And bucking tornadoes? Really?” “Yes,” Stormy said feeling a little more confident and proud. “Yes I am and yes I do.” “There’s proof if I ever heard it. Not everything was left behind over the generations but some of the old spirit lies in your bones.” “He also works for me, you know, between tornadoes,” Grapes added casually. “On this little agricultural concern I happen to have. Maybe you've heard of it.” “Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought he was perhaps your coltfriend doing you a favor,” Robin observed, with a slight smile. “Uh…” Grapes uttered, eyes shifting to Stormfront, then everywhere else, then cleared her throat. “I… am rather inexperienced in the department of romance, honestly, and have always found romantic novels to be rather silly and unrealistic. And while I may rather shamelessly try to match-make my cousin and one of her best friends… I still have no, how you say, personal experience...” “Ah, well you’re both young. You have a whole life ahead of you, and you as well, Stormfront. Remember that hope springs eternal, and is much cheaper than cider.” “Hope may spring eternal, sir, but it never lands where you want it to,” Grapes observed. “And therein lies the fun. For example, hope was all your mother and father had before you were born. Well that and a rising pile of bills and the overbearing presence of your grandmother waiting patiently for them to come ‘crawling back’ to her for money. Pave is a crafty one, she bribed weather ponies here and there to short-change rainfall on your land and to make winters just a little harsher inside of your property line. Nothing too obvious or even ‘illegal’ , but enough that after a few years it took a great toll on your family’s business. Fortunately after that whole ‘Nightmare Moon’ fiasco, I do my best to keep in touch with the goings on of the Equestrian court, and while I could admire Pave Diamond’s tactical acumen in cutting the Grapes family off from their lifeblood, I did find it morally reprehensible and decided to lend a claw.” He took a moment to pull a flask out from under his cloak and held it up. “During the war, when I was still a soft-beaked private, my unit and I were behind enemy lines and in deep trouble. We hid in a farmhouse basement and waited for the units to pass us by. While down there we came across a few bottles of wine that was halfway to becoming vinegar. I believe it was Casa Del Crepúsculo. Tasted terrible but to a batch of half-starved, beaten-down, frightened soldiers it was the best damn stuff in the world. We eventually got out and after that moment that wine became a symbol of our experiences in the war. Often leaving a sour taste in your mouth but still you cherish the time you had. “In the here and now every soul I knew from that time is gone. So what better way to toast my comrades than to recapture that moment in a glass now and again? So I sent an anonymous letter to your parents requesting delivery of that specific kind of wine. They were dubious but unable to pass up any order. They came here in the middle of winter, and by the time they placed the crate on the rock, there was a bag of gold dust left on the seat of their sleigh. They never questioned it, out loud. Too damn grateful I suppose. But I enjoyed being part of somegriff… someONE else’s life so much I made a habit out of it. Habit turned to tradition and now… here we are. Sorry to destroy the illusion you had as a filly believing I was some kind of mysterious fairy princess of the forest.” “Well. That was when I was a filly, sir,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “That image was destroyed a long time ago.” “Pity. I rather liked that picture you drew of what you thought I might look like. Butterfly wings on a unicorn are rather striking.” “That’s what they thought in Cloudsdale, when Rarity made her debut. Only later did I discover the glitter-wing spell, and of course, it took a magical prodigy to be able to pull it off,” Grapes quipped. “Well… What now? This tradition seems a bit pointless, now that I’ve got good steady farmhooves… But I wouldn’t want to leave you without your… memento mori. Maybe, next winter, you can stop by for Hearth’s Warming? Give you a year to get used to the idea of interacting with ponies on a friendly basis?” “Oh I have no problem with interacting with ponies. I just liked the sneaky thing with you and your parents. Still coming straight to your door at this time of year would also be a good tradition. BE nice to talk to the makers of this potable instead of admiring their lives from afar.” “It’ll be great to have you. This year, though, we’re going to have a house-full,” Grapes said with a sigh. “And I don’t just mean the rest of the Storm Riders. Don’t want you to get lost in the shuffle.” “Is that an invitation? I accept. It will be nice to have someplace to actually be during Hearth’s Warming Eve rather than just a night at the Chi-neighs food place.” “Oh! You mean the Jade Stable? I just love their sweet and sour dumplings.” Stormy stopped a moment before realising he was making a spectacle of himself then smiled. “Sorry. Big fan of Golden Gong’s cooking.” “Aren't we all?” Robin asked. “They even deliver, which is a big plus in my book, during an especially busy season,” Grapes observed, with a smile. “Anyway… I suppose we’ll see you sometime, next Hearth’s Warming?” “I can say, with all certainty, that yes I will be dropping by.” “I’ll be looking forward to it,” Grapes said with a nod. “Say, what happened to the wine?” Robin asked. Grapes and Stormfront turned to look at the rock where the Crate sat, then turned back to Robin, only to be met by a little snow swirling on a gentle winter breeze. They looked back to the rock only to see it was suffering a sudden shortage of the precious holiday cargo they left there. “He’s good. He’s really good.” “Can’t live that long, without learning a few tricks,” Grapes observed. “C’mon, tornado-bucker, let’s head back.” “Your ‘coltfriend’ is at your command,” he chuckled with a salute before harnessing himself up to the sleigh. Grapes froze, blinking, for a couple of seconds, then smiled a bit sheepishly as she boarded. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes woke up under her down comforter and wished she could stay in there like a big toasty cinnamon bun. Unfortunately work beckoned and while it was a weekend, on a farm of any kind, holidays were few and far between. With personal effort she slipped out from under the covers into the cooler air of her room and stretched a few times to work out the kinks. She then looked over at the leather bag with it’s golden draw-string sitting on her desk. It wasn't a dream, Mister Robin was real… before bed she reviewed the few books she had on the war and found him in them. He was considered a war-hero, even by Ponies. Honorable, gracious, a flying ace and… well no one knew why he painted his breastplate bright red. The generally accepted theory was that it kept both friends and foes from ever seeing if any of their attacks had indeed wounded him, the blood blending in with the shiny red coloring. The little foal in her wished that Robin truely HAD been a fairy princess or something. She remembered her theory originally came from the fact that the payment in question happened to be a bag of gold dust, or to a child’s eyes “Fairy Sparkles”. She remembered her father’s face one time when she applied glue to a sheet of paper and sprinkled some on for adornment. It was a cross between ‘That is so adorable’ and ‘You’re gonna dig a new latrine, kid.’ “I wonder if I’ve got still got that picture?” Grapes mused, as she got dressed to do any pre-breakfast chores she had to do around the farm to keep the winter for being too damaging. Keeping an eye on the gutters, and any barrels and water troughs, keeping the wine press oiled, checking on the heaters in the aging caves. True, Firestormer was keeping an eye on them, but she liked to double-check, and it was part of her routine. She went downstairs, set the kettle on the stove, set herself up the pots and pans she would need and headed outside to do her pre-breakfast chores. The first thing she found was that somepony had done touch-up on her driveway and the paths to the various buildings on the property. The paths were all perfectly squared off. the deep snow looking almost like a seamless fence bordering them… and they had not just swept it clear down to the cobblestones, but also the gravel of the main Driveway. Grapes tilted her head at this, somewhat surprised, then shrugged, and went on about her business. Going along she glanced up and noted that somepony had cleared all of the icicles dangling from the gutters on the buildings. The property lost a little wintertime aesthetic but she knew it was safer having them not there to fall down on you, or cause ice-jams in the eaves that could split them, or even pry up shingles and cause leaks in the roof. Still she was wondering who would have got up even earlier than she usually did to do all this. Grapes huffed at the change in her routine, she continued. Passing by the water barrels she peered in out of curiosity and found them all completely clear of ice. Not so much as a snowflake left behind. Each one exactly the same. Same with the troughs. The strangest part was that there wasn't any telltale hoofprints left behind. She couldn't imagine even a pegasus doing these things without having to set down at least once. Her tour of the farm was one of bewilderment. A lot of the chores she took for granted were already done. Not all of them but it was as if somepony had been going through a checklist behind her back. Now Grapes stalked the yard more from morbid curiosity than anything else, before entering the storage shed where she kept all of the “Summer” equipment for the yard, including the wine press. It was there that she found the culprit. In the light of a lamp was the ever lovely form of Queenie as she was reading the label on a can of grease. She halted what she was doing and looked up with a smile. “Grapes! Wonderful to see you up and about. I hope I’m not stepping on your hooves but I couldn't sleep in this morning and decided to try to get ahead on the chores. You have several kinds of lubricant here. Do you have a preference to which you want on your contraption?” “...You got up earlier than I do, and did all my morning chores before I could get to them… That’s a serious case of insomnia, Queenie,” Grapes observed. “And I use the linseed oil on the wooden bits to keep it from drying out, and repel water, and machine oil on the metal parts to keep them from rusting together in a big old mess.” “Call it the curse of the working filly. As a housekeeper back home I had to rise before the rooster, as it were. Although rise before the rabble is more accurate,” She said sprinkling linseed oil on the wood and rubbing it in with a rag. “One just gets into the habit I suppose… I only knew I had to do SOMETHING or I wouldn't be comfortable.” “Let’s see… You’re taking your first vacation in who-knows how long, and you've had to get up early for as long as you can remember… You know I've never had much trouble turning right over and going back to bed, when I've had days off,” Grapes observed casually. “Something’s bothering you. I bet you feel like you should be back in Avalanche Valley doing something to help with the rebuilding.” Queenie paused a heartbeat before continuing the task at hoof. “Well… yes. Yes I do. I know mother and father suggested that I return home and give my citizens the benefit of the doubt that they can get along without my presence. It’s just… I’m used to working nearly all of the time. As a housekeeper, as a Storm-Rider and countless little jobs along the way till I came here and became one of your workers. I’m supposed to be resting but… I cannot.” She finished up with the Linseed oil and applied the machine oil with the skill of a mixologist making a martini. “And isn't your head hurting? Throat dry? Aren't you the least little bent sensitive to light?” Grapes asked shrewdly. “After all, you were… Let’s face it, yesterday you were snockered off your flank.” “I… would be lying if I said I was in the pink of health. I apparently took precautions last night and my hangover is somewhat mild compared to most. The cool air helps too.” Her eyes shifted to the left then the right before she spoke softly. “I didn't say or… do anything that would make you think less of me. Did I? I’m afraid my memory is currently perceived through bottle-goggles.” “You were highly amusing, I will admit, but I don’t think any less of you. Maybe took a little schadenfreude at how you were dealing with a rather personal tragedy, but my amusement was at your being drunk, not at the fact that the tragedy occurred… I guess living in Ponyville’s sort of inured me to a town getting wrecked. Seems to happen all the time, here. Though the conclusion was reached that seeing Rarity in a similar situation would be worth bits to see.” “I see,” she nodded with a weak smile. “I would hate to have acted like an absolute ass in front of you and my friends… No offence meant.” “Nonnne takennn,” came a far off voice, causing the two ponies to blink in surprise. “Now that you've completely ruined my routine, threw me off for the entire day, and left me with no pre-breakfast chores, why don’t you come in and help me make breakfast?” Grapes asked, sounding a touch grouchy. “No doubt you've already checked up on the heaters in the aging cave. Did I write down my chore list, somewhere, or were you watching me, before you left?” “Well, I found the list your father had left you… I’m making a leap of faith that this is your father’s hoofwriting. And no, I have not yet gotten to the heaters… those are more of a Firestormer ‘thing’ than a Queenie ‘thing’.” “And it’s a Grapes ‘thing’ to double check, just to keep an eye on ‘things’,” Grapes observed. “Very well. I shall join you and observe.” She walked along side of Sour Grapes, silent for a little ways down to the heavy doors that looked like a common pair of farmhouse external cellar doors. It was only after her employer had unlocked the heavy padlock and and lit the lamp did she speak. “I've never actually been down here before. Normally it’s you or one of the more… sturdily built ponies who haul the bottles and casks down here. It’s giving me another reminder of home.” “Well you've never really had a reason to come down here,” Grapes observed. “Just wondering why being in a cave would remind you of home. You have caves in Avalanche Valley?” “You know… dozens of empty mine-shafts all over the place. When I was a filly I often would try to do some exploring. Never was comfortable with the feel of the shafts. Totally tapped out and hollow… they felt somehow ‘dead’ to me. Then of course there is the Undergallery.” “What, exactly, is the ‘Undergallery’?” Grapes asked, as she checked on the heaters, finding them all topped up, and in good working order. Keeping the caves cool was a priority, but the idea was to keep the wine from freezing. “Oh, the Undergallery was one more thing left behind by Queen Thin Ice. She felt that no monarch should have a kingdom of their own and not have a place to put those whom offended her. So some of the mines directly under the town were… repurposed. Ends were sealed off, proper walls installed and transformed into a true dungeon. She was its only occupant.” “How about that. She makes a dungeon for political enemies, and she’s the one who gets put into it. I love the irony,” Grapes said with a grin. “Yes. Of course, these days it’s more of a museum. Adds some ‘romanticism’ to the Duchy with many tourists trying to imagine the final ‘terrible’ fate of Thin Ice. Truth is she lived in spartan comfort till the end of her days. But we tend to gloss that point over, especially since there are so many unused torture devices down there to get one’s imagination going.” “Well of course. Ponies love to imagine a perceived villain getting their just desserts,” Grapes said with a nod. “Honestly, I’d have gone pre-equestrian on her flank.” “She was not exactly loved at the end. Cold and terrible as she was, she was beautiful. She had that glamour about her that only the truly damned could possess.” The pegasus swallowed and took a deep breath. “I never really liked looking too hard at her picture in the Manse gallery, but you couldn't help doing so. If there was a genuine portrait of her it was lost long ago. In her place on the wall is a picture of her on the way to her trial. A crowd of angry ponies in the streets of the beautiful town that beggared us. Pitchforks and torches at the ready, faces contorted in rage… and her in the middle of it all. Up in a hastily built cage on a hay cart she stood proudly, her face stern and unresponsive. The crown still on her head even with the Undergallery’s best shackles weighing her down. They truly were quality restraints. Even today you can see how form and function fused into something so utilitarian.” “High quality shackles. Could be an export,” Grapes quipped. “Okay, Queenie, that’s done. Firestormer’s keeping on his tippie-hooves with the heaters. Let’s go and whip up some breakfast for the crew. And maybe you can tell me what’s really eating you.” The kettle was whistling it’s drawn-out mono-note tune of readiness when they entered Grapes’ home. Tea and grits was the breakfast of this day, a shredded slab of good cheddar made a nice treat with the hot cereal and in due time, Queenie was telling Grapes of her experience with the Statue. “We all know it’s there, nearly all of us have at some point or another vented upon it down there in ‘Slattern Alley’. Even I have occasionally made use of rotting fruits or other debris when frustrated. It’s just… seeing it there.. CLEAN of all filth… it’s... I can’t even come up with a decent analogy that you could personally understand. It’s like… like if your Vineyards were overrun with some manner of filthy vermin then all at once you realize they all have your FACE. “ “So… the statue of Thin Ice had an uncanny resemblance to you? Kind of to be expected; you are related. The thing is that you've proven, time and again, that you are not, and will never be, like Thin Ice.” “Deep down I know this, but we just seem to be captured in this... unending loop. For every step uphill we seem to slide back two. Everyone in the valley calls it The Curse of Thin Ice.” “And this avalanche that just happened is kind of like the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back, I take it? Now… why was her resemblance so… shocking? Could it have been our dear tragic heroine wanted something… selfish, and has been comparing herself to Thin Ice ever since?” Grapes asked, with a smirk. “Oh please! Do I look like I’m about to pull a couch from the ether and flop upon it dramatically? Er... Don’t answer that,” she quickly added in a lower tone, “But… I’m sorry. Coming face to face with… with that FACE. It was like being slapped across the head with a book entitled ‘Obligations’. And just when I met… never mind.” “Yeah, and he just happened to be one of the athletes at the Hay Bale thingie, right?” Grapes asked, with a smirk. She then added, in a sing-song voice, “News reel.” Apparently Grapes had said the right thing, the shocked expression and hard blush in her cheeks was worth a million Bits. “I… I admit nothing.” “You know you just gave yourself away, right?” Grapes said with a grin. “So… You find somepony you like, then the avalanche happens, and you beat yourself up over being selfish, as if you being a mare caused it.” “I know I shouldn't think like that… but one of our most respected citizens told me that he didn't know what they would do without me to lead them they way I had. You can’t help but feel personally responsible when you find that others have that sort of faith in you.” Queenie was quiet a moment while she poked at her grits with the spoon. “The whole bloody thing felt like some kind of terrible omen. Thou shalt not be happy unless all others under thy charge are happy first!” “Or it could have been, you know, a terrible accident, with no bearing on how you felt, or who you were pursuing,” Grapes observed, “but you with your overactive sense of responsibility and self-sacrifice decided to take it as such.” “I don’t know… I truly don’t. I suspect any leader worth their metal must feel like this at some point in their reign. Sweet sun and stars above, can you imagine how somepony as… ancient as Celestia must feel when things like this happen to her?” “She probably has some form of coping mechanisms, or somepony to talk to about all this,” Grapes replied. “It’s hard to imagine anypony being able to speak with her on such a personal level. Until now… I pray her sister’s return has brought her some relief. I never was never as close to my sister as I wished to be.” “You've got a sister?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hide her from you or anything. It’s just she doesn't come up in conversation often because she’s more ‘on-the-go’ than even I. She chose to follow her heart… and her heart lies on the stage. She’s quite the Thespian.” “So your sister’s a star of the stage? She followed her heart, and you’re here berating yourself for having one,” Grapes observed thoughtfully. “Hope you and the object of your affections parted on good terms, at least.” “Yes. At least,” she said quietly. “What did you do?” Grapes asked after a pause. “Because that doesn't sound like you and they parted on good terms. Or even adequate terms.” “Mother insisted that I leave… abruptly so I would not have the chance to say anything I might regret. We BOTH might regret. So… I left like a thief in the night.” “Well that was rather thoughtful of her. Gives you a chance to cool off,” Grapes observed, thoughtfully, with a nod. “Good call on your mother’s part.” “Didn't stop me from over-tippling. They had an assortment of International imports… I believe I went once around the world before arriving in Ponyville. Wouldn't have made it here were it not for a certain gentlecolt whom lives across from us.” “Good old Big Mac,” Grapes said with a smile. “That colt’s going to make somemare very happy, someday,” Grapes observed. “Happier than I,” she said quietly before looking across the table at her friend. “Vacation or not, I’m not accustomed to simply sitting on my hooves. At the same time I do not wish to be under yours either. I need someplace I can go and be useful for a few hours… maybe with pay, each day. It’s either that or you may find your yard looking far more… abstract.” “Abstract?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “What, exactly, do you mean?” Queenie blinked in thought then got up. “Take a look out of your back window.” Grapes got up, and went to her back door, and looked out, obviously curious. Through the window, Grapes could see what happened to all of the ice that had been in the barrels, and troughs. Every icicle and scrap of frozen water was all laid out there in the snow, sorted by size. In the early morning light the sun glittered on them, creating a rather strange effect that was uncharacteristically beautiful. Like a great garden of ice popped up overnight. “I didn't want to waste them. I had plans to use them later on. You know. Just… letting my muse guide me, but it happens that I do take requests. Is there anything you would like to see immortalized in ice?” “You are aware that is a marketable skill, right?” Grapes asked, turning to Queenie, eyebrow raised. “Ice sculpting, I mean. I know, for certain, Pinkie would use any of your sculptures at her parties. Never mind Rarity would use them for fashion shows, and the like.” “Really? I just did it as a hobby. Makes me feel better chipping away at a nice large block until it becomes something nice.” She was silent a moment before speaking in a quieter tone. “You really think ice sculpting could be a sideline for me?” “Yes, I do,” Grapes said with a nod. “I could help you with some fliers, or just ask Pinkie Pie, and Rarity. In the meantime, I’ll go and check the mail. I may have gotten a card or something.” If anything came out of this, Grapes could be certain that any mailpony wouldn't have any problem delivering to her home today. Queenie made certain of that. She stepped out on her front porch and looked down the perfectly clean driveway to the far end where her mailbox was. Looked like Derpy Hooves had arrived already… and then she blinked. There she was, and there right in front of her was Earshot. She took a deep breath and hoped Earshot wasn't going to say something untactful about her eyes. It was a little unfair how other ponies treated her at times just because she had ‘derpy’ eyes and was at times somewhat… goofy. She knew that there wasn't an ounce of malice in the young Night Pony but in his innocence he might say something that could hurt her. Moments passed as dialogue too far for her to hear was exchanged. Then the most amazing thing happened. The Gray mare hugged Earshot and he hugged her back. Grapes smiled, her concerns now proven unfounded allowed her to relax and watch the little Gray and Purple near-pegasus trot back to where she stood with a few letters in his mouth. He placed them on the railing of her porch and smiled. “Heya, Miss Grapes.” “Heya, Earshot. You meet Derpy Hooves, I take it?” Grapes asked with a smile. “Oh yes. I like her. She’s really nice. She told me that she knows what it’s like to be judged by your appearance, just because you’re a little different,” Earshot said with a smile. “Yeah. She would know. Thanks for getting the mail,” Grapes said, picking it up, and sorting it, as best she could with horn and hooves. She stopped at one envelope, obviously recognizing the hornwriting. Grapes opened the envelope with a sigh. “Well here’s the letter I was anticipating*. Let’s see how bad it is, inside. It’s cold, out here, and there’s breakfast, inside.” “Ooh nice. What is it?” he asked “Fried potatoes? Oatmeal? Or maybe that new cereal, Elements of Flavorosity?” “Grits and cheese,” Grapes replied, laughing. “Seriously, they named a cereal that?” “Yeah. I saw it on the shelves the other day in town. It looked very colorful.” “Probably mostly sugar. Betcha Pinkie Pie loves that stuff,” Grapes quipped cheerfully. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll make cinnamon rolls.” “That sounds good. I like cinnamon. I noticed you got a lot of ice behind your home. Is Queenie gonna make statues?” “I think so. She may even get into doing it professionally, for various gatherings and parties around town,” Grapes replied, as they sat at the table, and Grapes spooned him some of the cheesy-buttery concoction. She opened her letter, and began to read. “I hope other ponies like them as much as I do. They’re so pretty. Like ponies who happen to glitter and be kinda see-through. They even SOUND interesting.” “Oh. Grapes has talked to you about what may be a sideline for me this winter, yes?” Queenie asked their young charge. “MmmHmmph,” Earshot agreed through a mouthful of breakfast. “You make ice statues really good, Queenie.” “Why thank you, Earshot.” “Oh… Well this is about what I anticipated,” Grapes uttered, as she read her letter. “What is, Miss Grapes?” Grapes gestured for Earshot to come over to her side and read the letter. “You remember what we were talking about, in the theater?” Grapes asked. “It gets… complicated. Really really complicated.” The young pony’s eyes flitted from the piece of paper to the pony holding it and back again. “Ohhhhhh. So everything you thought might happen is gonna happen?” “And then some. Look who my erstwhile cousin just happened to fall head-over-horn for,” Grapes replied. “Who?” he asked craning his neck to see if he could read the letter. Grapes held it so Earshot could read it. “Just don’t read it out loud,” Grapes said, very quietly. He took the letter from her and she watched as his eyes moved back and forth, line by line. Occasionally he would go back and re-read something over to be certain but in the end he said something softly in the odd phonetics of Night-Pony language. “Who could have seen THAT?” “And it seems to be mutual,” Grapes murmured, eyes shifting to the subject of speculation. “So… Yeah, my cousin is going to be here in the spring,” Grapes said out loud. Queenie looked up from her mostly-finished breakfast and smiled. “Really? Well now isn't that nice. Is it a social call or more business than pleasure?” she asked. “More business than pleasure. He’s got a grandparent who’s keen on getting him married off, and he wants none of it. Mainly due to his grandma’s choice of spouses, than commitment issues,” Grapes replied, folding up the letter and putting it back in its envelope. “Busted his leg, so he’s going to be on light duty, but he’ll be working his flank off, once he’s healed up.” “Sounds like he’s a tough pony to keep down. Offhoof, you don’t normally speak positively about your family, outside your parents or uncle. Must be something good to this cousin of yours.” “He’s got a good heart. Sometimes too good. That’s why he’s coming here for a working recovery,” Grapes replied. “Gave all his money to a charitable cause.” “Well then I suppose the other workers and I shall just have to do our best to make him feel welcome,” Queenie finished emptying her bowl and got up to move the used dishes to the sink. “Say, What are you doing tomorrow night?” “What I usually do on Tuesday nights, try to take over… Wait… Do you even know what Ogres and Oubliettes is? Nevermind, I’m probably doing my usual reading binge, why?” Grapes replied. “We-e-e-ell…” the glittery pegasus began with a smile, “About once a week the others and I head into town down to this quaint little pub. As Firestormer would say ‘kick back, knock back a few and sing our hearts out’.” “It’s got Carry Oak Leaves!” Earshot added gleefully. “That’s a Sirrocoism for karaoke isn't it?” Grapes asked. “Sorry, Grapes. It’s a wonder the two of them get basic pony straight with them swapping dialects the way they sometimes do. But yes. They have a live band and a long list of songs that any tipsy reprobate may get up onstage to sing. And by ‘tipsy reprobate’ I of course mean myself and the others. Earshot is truly quite vocally talented, you have not lived until you’you've heard him do his rendition of… well.. ANYTHING.” “Aw, Queenie…” he said with a blush. “It’s true. If only I had vocal chords as flexible as his, I could have my pick of record contracts,” Queenie declared. “Well, there’s a sideline for your folks, right there, Earshot,” Grapes said with a grin. “Be that as it may, I believe I am well within my rights to invite you along on our next pub crawl,” Queenie said with a flash of her pearly whites. “Eh, why not? Can’t be worse than my usual Saturday Night thing,” Grapes observed. “I’ll tag along, and be the designated trotter in case somepony overindulges..” “WON-derful!” Queenie laughed, clopping her hooves together. “And I promise not to over-tipple this time.” “I’m taking the proper precautions, anyhow, Queenie,” Grapes said with a slight smirk. “Just in case.” > Hearth's Warming Hearts > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grapes woke up at her usual time, Tuesday morning, slowly getting up, stretching, and going around to see if Queenie had beaten her to her morning chores, again. The paths were still clear of snow but that wasn’t really telling. They could just STILL be clear. She started down to the troughs and found them… empty. Not filled but vacant of the water that had been put into them yesterday. Queenie had, no doubt, already been by, but other than taking the ice from the troughs, she had done nothing else. That left her the empty troughs to refill so she had something to do. In fact nothing else had been done other than the missing ice. Sour Grapes was able to busy herself with all the little pre-breakfast chores she had been denied the other day before heading back to her home… and hearing a chipping sound from her barn. Moving over to the door she carefully tugged at it, letting it slowly open from it’s own weight and what she saw took her breath away. Sunlight streamed in through the windows illuminating the interior in golden light, and yet fluffy snow gently fell from no discernable source. And there in the middle of it all were gorgeous statues carved from ice. She had never seen such detail in ice before, and the way the light refracted both off and within them made them shine like cold white fire. These were more than just the product of great talent, they were labors of love. She saw animals and plants and even ponies rendered in the icy medium. In the middle of it all she saw Queenie working away at one block with her hooves, her impeccable trotters flashing with great motion, at the slab, sending up gouts of flaked ice into the air and transforming the block into a life-sized statue of Rainbow Dash. She moved forwards cautiously, through the mini-snowstorm and nearly tripped over the prone form of Thistledown. He sat there on the floor, wrapped-up in winter wear, half-covered in the faux-snow, surrounded by sketchbooks and drawing utensils… drawing away at the pad on the floor. “Woah! Hey! Careful there, Sour Grapes. I know some stallions like it when mares walk all over them but I’m not that kinda guy.” “You’d rather have a handsome stallion walk all over you, hm?” Grapes quipped, then looked back at Queenie. “That’s… amazing. And she does this for a hobby? Wait until Dash gets a load of that. She’d definitely pay bits for it.” “We got a commission to do the whole set,” he said with a smile. “You know… all six members of her merry little band. Granted she had to come up with something ‘special’ for the Element-Bearers.” He motioned over to the workbench next to him where some buckets sat on top. Grapes moved over and peered into them and found each tin receptacle was full of ice… Colored ice. “My partner and I came up with the idea that their Elemental-barding should really stand out. Some of the colors double-up saving us time and effort for the gems.” “... Okay, who commissioned Queenie for statues of those six?” Grapes asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean we only talked about this yesterday… And if you say Princess Celestia, I’m going to freak, because I haven’t sent the letter yet..” “Well she did a piece the other day and showed it to some ponies in town and it got her a few jobs… including a big one from a certain Librarian… wink wink.” “Twilight commissioned ice statues?” Grapes said sounding quite surprised. “How can she afford ice statues? Have you seen the prices that professional carvers charge in Canterlot? And Queenie could double that, because her statues are works of art.” “I think Queenie just isn’t sure what to charge at this stage. She’s an unknown with good talent but they don’t know if she can keep a schedule. Of course that’s gonna change once she finishes her rendition of the Element-Bearers.” “Oh you better believe that,” Grapes said with a nod. “Her work is better than a lot of Canterlot professionals.” “I wanted her to do Rainbow Dash’s hair in all the colors but she insisted that would be overkill and we should stick to the Gems.” “Hm… I think she’s right. Anyway sculpting each stripe would be very time and labor intensive,” Grapes observed. “And be really messy and unflattering when it starts to melt. Ice is a fickle medium.” he smiled at Grapes and stood up. “She may or may not be aware of us right now. She’s in that ‘zone’ artists achieve when the muse pulls them in all the way. I hope you don’t mind us taking advantage of the barn’s space. We agreed that while doing this outside here would be nice, it’s better to do it where conditions can be controlled.” “I’m all for controlled conditions. Especially when the art is perishable,” Grapes asserted with a nod. “I was a little surprised when I got dragged into this. Well, dragged is a hard word but she came to me with this idea and asked if I could help her in the design phase. It’s hard to judge what can and cannot be done with ice, but as we work together I’m getting a better understanding. Sometimes a leg or a wing has to be adjusted so it takes the weight better but I think she and I are really starting to ‘get’ one another’s limitations and strengths for the first time.” “So… you design the statues, and she carves them?” Grapes asked, tilting her head. “That actually sounds like a good plan. Do you guys need any supplies? The troughs seem to supply an adequate amount of ice, and you merge them easily. More troughs, maybe?” “More troughs sound good actually. Maybe ask our neighbors if they want a convenient place to ‘lose’ the ice they find in theirs.” “Could always ask AJ,” Grapes murmured, thoughtfully. “Anyway, I should get breakfast started. Any requests? Aside from something warm?” He tugged at the fuzzy scarf around his neck and chuckled. “That obvious, huh? I don’t know how she does it. She must have liquid antifreeze for blood. Uh. Strong tea, and maybe fried tomato wedges then?” “Fried tomato wedges?” Grapes asked. “Feelin’ a wee bit homesick, laddy?” she continued in a fair imitation of the brogue. He laughed and dusted himself off, letting the flakes of ice settle to the floor. “Well not me exactly. Good guess though. Mom and dad came from the Highlands and lowlands of S’coltland. Brought some of the food preparations with them. When I’m away I tend to get a little homesick for the food.” “My parents visited Edenburro, one winter, before I was born, checking out the distilleries, and learning all they could about it. Not quite sure how one would do a wort with carrots, but considering that Applejack seems determined to outdo Golden Harvest, next year, even though carrots ARE her special talent… I think that may be my next wager,” Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. “Could prove interesting. A twenty-four carrot hootch.” “... It’ll take more than twenty-four carrots to make a proper wort,” Grapes said with a roll of her eyes at the pun. “Still, groan.” “Hey, could be worth it’s weight in gold.” “Could also be a nice gold color, too. Never can tell,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Can’t really make wine with citrus, because it would be too acidic, unless you find a way to cut it… So going into other methods may be a good idea, the way this keeps going. Coconut wine, and pineapple wine turned out pretty good, too. Mix them, and you have piña colada wine.” “Oh! Nice. I like Piña Coladas… and being caught in the rain. But that’s just me,” Thistledown said cheerfully. Grapes just chuckled, as they headed into the bunkhouse. She made a beeline to the kitchen, and pulled some tomatoes out of the icebox and started cutting them into wedges. “Fried tomato wedges. Anything else?” Grapes asked. “Don’t have any S’coltish oats, and I don’t know how to make scones,” Grapes queried. “Scones aren’t that hard to make. They’re just biscuits without all the fancy in them.” he kicked off his boots and followed. “Any hot cereal will be fine right now. Heck, pour hot milk over some Elements of Flavourosity and I’d probably be fine with that right now.” “We don’t have any Elements of Flavourosity. I’m not going to be bringing air-puffed boxed sugar into this house any time soon. Actually, I think I said I’d make cinnamon rolls, yesterday. I’ll get on that,” Grapes said, with a nod, pulling out the ingredients. “Sounds good to me.” He agreed putting his coat on the rack. “I’m amazed at her energy. It’s astonishing. Like a mare driven.” “She’s a workaholic of the first order,” Grapes chuckled. “She just didn’t feel right about just… taking a vacation, after that avalanche that happened back at her home.” “Oh yeah… I saw the news reel the other day. Wow. I give her a few days to find a slower pace though. Something she can keep up over a long time rather than just hammering away with the energy of a madmare.” “Well, hopefully she won’t be too tired for tonight’s festivities,” Grapes observed. “Being hauled off to the karaoke bar, with you lot. Should be interesting.” “You were always welcome to join, we just thought you might not care to mingle. You know… you see so much of us already, you deserve some ‘personal time’ too.” “Well yeah, but you guys are friends, too. And I wasn’t about to intrude on your personal time, either,” Grapes replied, as she carefully rolled up the dough. “After all, you see, and hear, so much of me, too, any given day…” “Hopefully you’ll have fun one way or the other. Everypony has a favorite they just HAVE to sing at some point. Firestormer does a great, ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’. Summer Squall does great justice to the song ‘I’m Not As Good As I Once Was’. And Earshot has been known to do a few Operatic numbers… and is pretty darn good at it.” “And… the proprietor just lets an underage colt into a bar?” Grapes asked, with a raised eyebrow. Thistledown stared at her for a moment then began to laugh. “OH! Oh, that DOES sound bad, doesn’t it? No, no, no. He never actually goes IN. Berry Punch had a nice little patio built after the first few times he showed up and sang along as he waited outside. He tends to draw a little crowd when he does, so I guess it’s clever advertising in action. Right now there’s a big heater for him too so he’s not uncomfortable.” “That was thoughtful of her,” Grapes observed. “As long as the little guy’s ok with it, I’m ok with it. She also gives him free refills on hot cocoa so that takes the sting out of not being at his friend’s sides. Funny thing… he said that bars were an unknown thing where he comes from. You know… saving one building in town for a place to drink alcohol and getting salted.” “Well… It’s.. that, yes… Well… It’s not just a single building in town that’s for drinking alcohol and getting salted. It’s a specific building in town that’s for drinking alcohol and getting salted in a social setting… Huh. I guess I’ll have to explain the concept to him,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “Well it’s not like he doesn’t know what alcohol is. He’s mentioned some of the stuff from his home on occasion… they got one made from some kind of mushroom if you can believe it. Maybe they’re such a close-knit community they never needed a central ‘watering hole’. You know, everypony has a bottle in the… house? Shack? Cave? ...Home and so they don’t need to go far to share.” “I know, but… It’s… The idea is that it’s not drinking at home. Kind of a way to get out, and meet new ponies. Maybe even be a neutral ground to meet, you know? This way you’re not in somepony’s house,” Grapes observed. “Wow, the concept’s harder to explain than I thought. Less formal than a meeting hall, more adult than a place where foals would gather to play games, but there can be games, and karaoke and other activities, and even food. Heck, bar food even has its own category.” Sour Grapes finished her breakfast and did some puttering around the house. Mainly going into her own attic to drag out the Hearth’s Warming decorations. It was always a chore in the past but for some reason it wasn’t so bad this time around. Maybe because she wanted Earshot to see the whole thing up close rather than… what? Through windows at night? She would have to ask him a little more about how his kin interacted with these mysterious ‘Villagers’. She came back down, carrying the box, carefully, and saw Earshot coming back from Ponyville, saddlebag full of toothbrushes. Toothbrushes? "Hey, Earshot. Where'd you get all the toothbrushes from?" Grapes asked, going out onto her porch to greet the Night Pony. "The nice mare with the blue and white mane gave them to me while I was in town earlier. I went there to see if I had any mail in… couldn’t wait," Earshot replied "Oh. So you met Minuette, huh?" Grapes asked. "Yeah. That’s her name. Minuette. She's real nice. We bumped into one another on the street and got all excited when I smiled. She's got this neat office all full of shiny metal and ceramic things with a big chair and stuff that smells and tastes like peppermint." "... Well, she's a dentist." "That's what she called it. A healer of teeth. She was so interested in mine. She says they were very unusual. Both meat-eater and plant-eater teeth in one mouth. She was also surprised I don't use a toothbrush,” the night pony observed. "Well yeah... she would," Grapes quipped, casually. "Yeah. I mean the idea of someone who watches out for the health of your teeth alone is kinda new to me. Especially one with so many tools to work with. Usually when a tooth goes bad for a Night Pony we just get rid of it. Red Chisel is actually pretty good at that sort of thing... But Miss Minuette kinda cringed when I told her about that." "Ah Yeah," Grapes said, cringing herself. “I can imagine why. That’s very… old school, so to speak.” “Well it’s not like he had to do it a lot. His real job is a wood smith. Very good at carving wood and other similar things. But he’s very precise and trusted by everypony to only hit that one tooth you want gone.” “Well that’s good,” Grapes said, doing a full-body cringe, still. “But the whole point of dentistry is… well to keep teeth healthy, and make extraction when needed as painless as possible.” “That’s how she explained it. Then she asked me that if I had never owned a toothbrush before, how I could have kept my teeth so clean. To be honest we’ve FOUND toothbrushes in the heap before.. but never knew they were meant for cleaning teeth. We thought they were small cleaning brushes for scrubbing small things. Probably would have been kinda gross if we put things from somepony else’s mouth into ours, huh?” Earshot said, cheerfully. “Probably. Unless you, like, boiled the heck out of them first to sterilize them,” Grapes said, rubbing a hoof against her chin. “Well, thinking about why my teeth were as clean as they are, I guess it’s probably because we use Gnawlings.” “What’s a ‘gnawling’?” “Oh. It’s a short length of nice thick branch with really chewy bark on it. You know, the kind that you can just sink your teeth into and gnaw at for hours if you feel like it. It’s a very satisfying feeling.” “So… you gnawed pine branches,” Grapes asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Fascinating.” “Yeah. Back home there’s this Sweet-bristle Pine that really left your mouth all tingly and nice-smelling. Mom and dad would always have a Gnawling of it waiting for me when I came home for the winter.” He smiled wistfully for a moment before giggling. “Guess toothbrushes are why I haven’t seen Gnawlings for sale out here.” “You’re right. Wonder how your folks would like toothbrushes?” Grapes asked thoughtfully. "I don’t know, but she was impressed by me not having a lot of something she called 'tartar' on my teeth. Or them being in such good shape for not being properly introduced to a toothbrush before. We talked a bit and she figured out that it had to do a lot with my diet and gnawing habits. Also, we don’t have sugar, back home. And she showed me tooth floss and how to properly use it so I don't injure my gums. It's a wonder nopony thought to show me this stuff before." "Well your teeth didn't look horrible,” Grapes said, with a shrug. “So I guess everypony assumed you were taking good care of them.” "Yeah. She even showed me what my teeth look like on the inside with this neat camera. Did she ever do that for you?" Earshot inquired. "Yes. Right before I had to have a cavity filled," Grapes replied. "She was very nice too. Did you know she was once a guard at the palace?" "Really? I didn’t know that,” Grapes mused. "Oh yeah. You know that big wall of pictures and stuff on her wall? I saw a picture of her in armor at the main gate. She told me she joined because she needed the bits to put her through dental school. She was pretty good at it, too. She became a Colonel for her work at the main gate. Guess that's why the note at the bottom says ‘Col. Gate’,” Earshot continued, merrily. Grapes raised an eyebrow. “So that’s how she came to be called ‘Colgate’,” Grapes observed. “I thought it was after the toothpaste brand…” “Oh, while I was down in town I got you today’s paper. No sense in it being a trip just for me. I didn’t get anything from home, but somepony sent me a package.” He pulled out a small box wrapped up in what looked to Grapes to be Vellum and tied with a silver string. The hoofwriting on it was elegant in it’s preciseness. Each word a perfectly formed and almost supernaturally legible series of letters in a dark red ink. He began to pluck at the knot with hooves and teeth. “I wonder who it’s from.” “I wonder who that could be from?” Grapes asked, obviously curious. The silver knot fell loose and the young Night Pony undid the wrapping to reveal a small box made of a wood so red it looked black, save where the sunlight bounced off of it. He examined it a moment before finding a hidden latch and opening it. Inside was a sheet of paper covering something below and above that a folded letter bearing a green wax seal that displayed a cloak and dagger cutie mark. Earshot opened the letter and read aloud. “Young Earshot. It is my understanding that this year you have chosen to enjoy Hearth’s Warming in the company of the Daylight Ponies rather than return to your kin in parts unknown. I wish you good times during our most joyous of holidays and that you return to your homeland a glowing report of it all. Enclosed is my own contribution to your grand experiment. I know how much you enjoy these and so consider this the official Hearth’s Warming Gift to you from the throne and those of us who serve it. Happy Hearth’s Warming to you Earshot. As ever, Royal Vizier Guaranty.” “That was very nice of him. I wonder what he sent?” Earshot said after a moment of letting it all sink in. He lifted the paper below it and within were a series of paper compartments, each occupied by a golden, gleaming insect. It took Sour grapes a moment to realise what kind, but Earshot beat her to it. “Oh WOW! Honeyed Crickets! He remembered!” “Heh. That’s Guaranty for you,” Grapes chuckled. “Nice of him to remember. I should send him a card.” “Yeah. I should too. Not a lot of ponies say anything but bad stuff about him but he didn’t seem all that bad when the Storm Riders make their yearly report to him,” Earshot said putting the lid back on the box. “The second time I saw him Honeyed Crickets were added to the buffet table. He seemed to be watching me as I ate them.” “His role,” Grapes said very quietly, “is to be hated. And you can’t tell anypony about that. It’s a state secret.” “To be hated? But why? He’s the Princess’ helper. Shouldn’t he be better at his job if he was liked? Wouldn’t he…” Earshot trailed off, lost in thought for a moment. “He makes her look better. Doesn’t he?” “That’s right. She needs to be seen as a kind, benevolent ruler, but sometimes, for the greater good, she has to make a decision that has long-term benefits, but short-term consequences,” Grapes said, quietly, still keeping this on the down low. “So Guaranty’s job is to take the blame for the short-term consequences.” “That’s so sad. He must love her very much to do that.” “Her, and all of Equestria. But then he has a lot of fun doing his job, so he does have benefits. Still will send him a card, and let him know one of his friends is pulling for him,” Grapes murmured with a smile. “I’ll send him a card too. He should get nice cards from ponies too. And he was nice enough to send me my favorite snack.” The rest of the passed quietly, Grapes herself, actually taking the time to start writing up her response to her play-by-mail O&O game. She then began yet another friendship letter to Princess Celestia, catching her up on Earshot’s pals, going to the movies, the care package she’s sending to Earshot’s folks. She was just getting to the part about being invited to karaoke night when she realized she was going to be late. Grapes got up, quickly dressed in her cold weather duds, and trotted out the door. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grapes walked down the street, the hoof-deep snow not making any effect on her legs through her nice warm boots. She didn’t often come into town on a winter evening, now she was wondering why. It was so beautiful with the lights and decorations against the snow. It was all so beautiful and surprisingly quiet at this time of night. Then again it was a weeknight. Despite being a producer of wine, she had never gone to Berry Punch’s tavern before. Heck, she didn’t even KNOW she had a tavern. Probably why there were so many rumors about her being a drunk was floating about. She hoped that she didn’t make a habit out of over-drinking. If there was one thing she definitely knew it was that you never give the fox the keys to the henhouse. She wandered down a sidestreet or two she normally didn’t and found a rather inviting looking two-story building with a patio and a sign that said simply “Hoofed and Plowed”. She smirked at the slang terms for drunkenness and the pony-themed pun and as she approached she could hear music playing. She must be in the right place. Looking up on the patio she saw Earshot seated at a colt-sized table made from a functioning Charcoal heater. He had the most passive look on his face she could imagine, then she noticed that across the creatively constructed table was another young pony. Around the same age as him the neon green pegasus sat with his face bearing a more aggressive expression. Where Earshot was dressed in a nice white coat and a scarlet scarf, this other pony was… Uh oh. Grapes recognised the shade of blue on the parka that Earshot’s drinking partner was wearing… and more importantly she recognised the yellow lightning bolt pattern it was trimmed with. Earshot sipped at his mug of what Grapes hoped was hot cocoa and smiled enigmatically. “Heya Miss Grapes,” he said without averting his gaze from the pint-sized Wonderbolt. “Glad you could make it.” “Sorry about being late. Who’s this?” Grapes asked, with obvious apprehension. “Oh this is Outside Loop. He came with some friends not long ago. Like with me he can’t go in either.” “Somepony’s gotta keep an eye on you, shrimp.” “He’s what Queenie calls, ‘interesting company’. He’s supposed to be the Wonderbolt’s ‘mascot’. He can’t be a full Wonderbolt for the same reason he can’t go into the tavern.” “Hey I AM a Wonderbolt!” Outside Loop retorted. “Do you perform with them?” Earshot asked. “No.” “Do you practice with them?” “Well, no.” “What do you do?” “I… cheer them on. AND I bring them water and snacks when they need it.” “Ah. Not exactly like how I fly with the Storm Riders, Buck Storms at their side and use my ability to see the world in zero visibility situations to keep them alive, is it?” Earshot observed. “Aw shaddap, you freak of nature.” “Excuse me, you little punk, but he’s just as pony as you are. Obviously he’s even more so, since he’s still remembering his manners,” Grapes quipped. “Thank you, Miss Grapes. The other Storm-Riders have had time to do a few songs before the Wonderbolts arrived. I think they like one another less than my new friend likes me.” Earshot said. It was curious how calm and mature he was sounding at this time. Normally he went out of his way to be likable but here, he was trying hard to be grown-up. From inside of the tavern there was a sound like heavy canvass being struck with a baseball bat causing Earshot to raise an eyebrow and make a hissing sound. “That was mister Blue Streak taking a swing at Mister Squall… not a good thing.” “GIVE THEM BLOOD AND THUNDER, ‘RIDERS!” “WONDERBOLTS! ATTACK!” From the noises within Sour Grapes was certain the tavern should be rocking back and forth like something from a comedic film. She was about to go in when Outside Loop stood up and she realised what was on his little brain. “You hear that? My team needs me! I’m gonna go in there and you ain’t gonna stop me! You hear? I’ve coughed up scarier things than you! I am NOT scared of you!” She watched the two colts looking at one another but the most surprising thing happened. Earshot didn’t so much as twitch an ear. He just placidly looked at the other colt and spoke softly. “Is that so?” Outside Loop’s face went white and he slowly sank back into his seat. “Y-Yeah. So I’m going… right after I finish my Hot Cocoa.” “If that is what you wish.” “It is.” “It’s all right if you want to go in, Miss Grapes. We’re going to finish our Hot Cocoa, together. Like Grown-up ponies would,” Earshot said with a nod. “Well I’d better go in, before they decide to slaughter one another,” Grapes uttered, nosing open the door, and expecting the worst. Even expecting the worst she was unprepared for this. She had seen bar fights in movies and read about them in books before but this was unlike them all. The analytical part of her brain slowed the world down, taking it all in and sorting it out. Instead of one big slugfest it was a series of segmented battles between individuals, each with a different ‘look’ to it. She could see the very personalities of the ponies she had come to know and love as they fought this batch of strangers. Firestormer attacked with a series of short jabs and quick rabbit punches, using his speed to power through his opponent's defences. Sirocco seemed to dance in a twirling motion between the tables, deftly striking with wide arching swings of legs and tail. Queenie on the other hoof seemed to slide backwards in short motions, staying just out of reach of her foe’s attempts, moving along one wall until there was a short sideways motion where the attacker was between her and the wall… then with a brutal shove, she brought her whole body forwards, body-checking her into the boards with the ruthless efficiency of a hockey player (figures). It took Grapes a moment to locate Stormfront, she couldn’t see him on the floor where several Wonderbolts had dog-piled him… it was only when his powerful tornado-bucking wings ‘exploded’ outwards sending them into the air did she realise what had happened. Summer Squall was in the middle of it all, a bright cobalt blue pegasi in wonderbolts colors was fighting with him… although fighting was a charitable word for it. In spite of his youth, and vitality, strength and speed, the Wonderbolt she assumed was ‘Blue Streak’ was getting his clock cleaned. Every punch countered, every opening painfully exploited. Sour Grapes had seen ponies playing chess in the park, and saw masters who were able to play entire games measured in heartbeats because they could think twelve or more moves in advance. This reminded her of one of those Chess Masters fighting a rank novice. “Come on Lad! I’m probably three times your age! You started this, show me some backbone!” Grapes could see over by the bar, Berry Punch and a server calmly cleaning glasses while a yellow pegasus in mirrorshades watched from her stool along with a baby blue pegasus mare, and a light blue pegasus stallion. Honestly, he was the one who was looking concerned. The band played on, safely behind what looked like a chicken wire cage that had descended from the ceiling. She let her mind have those moments it wanted to size the entire scene up, then she let her common sense dictate to her sense of action on what to do about it all. Then she decided common sense could take a back seat. This was going to throw her out of whack for a few days, but… Something needed to be done. “All right,” Grapes uttered, her golden magic lighting up the bar, as she allowed her balance to teeter dangerously close to “fully unicorn.” As her magic clamped down on the brawl, the two groups of ponies suddenly ceased their fighting while they were forcibly hauled into mid-air. “You are stopping this RIGHT NOW!” This wasn’t her dangerously sweet voice. This was full on “I am PISSED” voice, something that she rarely used. The band went silent at hearing her shout, Berry gulped, and ducked down a little behind the bar. There was a stunned silence from most of the pegasi in the bar as they dangled in her magical grasp like kittens picked up by their mother. "I think... it's best we take her advice to heart, lads and lasses," Squall said quietly. “Wow… Don’t wanna see that again…” Berry muttered, eyes wide. “Sour Grapes is scary when she’s pissed off…” “Well… that was effective,” the fiery colored pegasus mare uttered, lowering her mirror shades. “So much for the ‘teachable moment’ for the rookies, Spitfire,” quipped the baby blue pegasus. “Oh, I don’t know. Being hauled into the air by a pissed off unicorn can be pretty teachable, Fleetfoot,” the first mare replied. “I am going to put you all down, and then you had better head to your respective homes, and sleep it the hay off, or else I’ll buck all of your flanks so hard, you’ll be walking on your forehooves for a week. Get me?!” Grapes growled. The dangling pegasi all gulped at that statement, but nothing else was said. The sound of the door being swung forcefully open broke the silence followed by a sharp "What's going on here?" She turned her head to see five of Celestia's Royal Guard standing there, their golden armor gleaming in the warm light of the tavern. The commander, a dark gray pegasus looked at the room with a steely and yet... surprised gaze. Grapes then looked around, broken furniture, shattered bottles with their drinks were all over the place, bruised and battered ponies hung helplessly in her magical field... and she... she was in the middle of it all unharmed and looking rather... suspicious. "Ahem... Well. I was stopping a bar fight, before it evolved into a full-on brawl," Grapes explained. “Berry is a friend of my mother’s, and I’m sure she’d prefer to keep the damages, especially from those who are in my employ spring through fall, to a minimum.” The commander slowly surveyed the room again, taking it all in and obviously not jumping to any conclusions before speaking. "Can anypony back up your claims, Ma'am?" Berry raised a hoof. “I was here, the whole time, Iron Wing. All she did was lift the pegasi into the air to keep them from continuing their fight.” “We can too,” Spitfire said, raising a hoof, along with her two cohorts. “And the Wonderbolts will be reimbursing Miss Punch for all damages, since it was our rookies that started the fight.” “And why, pray tell, did you not stop the fight, Captain Spitfire?” Iron Wing asked. “Figured the rookies needed a lesson on when NOT to start a fight. These other ponies looked like they could handle themselves and I figured getting their flanks kicked by them would bring that lesson home, for the rookies.” Spitfire said with a smirk. Grapes just rolled her eyes. "Aye, I can vouch for her, too," said a rather abashed Summer Squall from his place in mid air. "Things were said, broadsides exchanged but she was the one putting her hoof down." "I see. Very well then. When we take the rest of the ponies in to dry out, I'll be needing some statements from you, Miss," he said evenly before there was a snort from Blue Streak. "What for? She doesn't get us Pegasi, she won't understand our reasons. She's just another clay-brained Dust-licker." The pain in Sour Grapes’ head was sharp and sudden as Stormfront broke free of her magical grip and slammed Blue Streak against the wall with a ferocity she had never seen in him before. During the fight he had looked more determined than angry, but this was like someone filled his veins with tiger's blood. His eyes bored into the Wonderbolt with a fury so great that didn't care he was doing this in front of the Princess' guards. "You TAKE THAT BACK! Take it back or I swear to the sun, the moon and the stars above I WILL pluck you bald and leave you in the highest tree in the Everfree forest!" The others fell to the floor with a thud, and Grapes curled into a ball, rubbing her horn. "Ooooow...." "Stormfront! Stand down!" shouted Summer Squall. The grey pegasus hesitated but stared into Bluestreak's frightened eyes before letting him drop and turning to see Grapes. "Oh no... I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..." Stormfront uttered, looking at Grapes with the utmost concern. "It's ok lad. Just... give her some breathing space. Commander, we'll come quietly if you..." "Understood. Sargent, see to the young mare. The rest of you, line up, single file. On the principal of the thing we're pulling out restraints. Any complaints?" Neither Storm Riders nor Wonderbolts disagreed and as a guard assisted Grapes to a chair, a unicorn guard restrained all the wings on the brawlers. Grapes groaned, holding her head. "Will you be all right ma'am?” the sergeant asked, with obvious concern. "I'm not used to doing that. I'm usually balanced between earth sense, and unicorn magic... Ow... And he broke free..." Grapes uttered. "Yeah... Must've been a lot of backlash there. Will you need a doctor?" the sergeant asked, a unicorn himself. Berry came over, and gently put an ice pack on Grapes’ head. "I'll make sure she gets home," she said before looking over at Spitfire. "I'm sure I'll have help too." Spitfire, in the meantime, was glaring at Blue Streak. “That was out of line, Rookie,” she said, sounding angry, then turned to Grapes with a frown. The groups were led out of the doorway and Grapes could see Squall turn to Earshot as he walked past the two foals who sat at the heater out on the patio. "One moment officers. Now Lad... I don't want you to think what we just did was normal or in any way good and decent," Squall started. "I understand," was the reply, but Grapes could see the small smile of pride on the Night Pony's muzzle. She at first thought 'Foals', then she realised that out of two entire teams of ponies, he was the only one who kept his own counterpart in line without resorting to violence. “I apologize for Blue Streak’s rather… crass comment,” Spitfire said shaking her head. “I thought he’d gotten over that whole ‘Down-Looker’ thing, when he went through the Academy.” “I’ve been called worse,” Grapes uttered with a pained smile. “After being called a ‘dirt fornicating spawn of a clod’, everything else just sounds so… juvenile.” This caused dropped jaws around the room. “Who in the HAY would call you that?!” The sergeant asked, sounding stunned. “Prince Blueblood,” Grapes replied. Everypony blinked upon hearing that name, and moments later they all replied with a very sympathetic, "Oh, him," and shook their heads slightly. Sadly, nopony was surprised at that. In the meantime Berry had gone back behind the counter, and came back with a cup. “Drink it quick. It’s got more than a couple of drops of willowbark extract in it,” the magenta mare uttered. Grapes took it and slugged it quick, making a face at the taste. “You’d think they’d make willowbark extract taste better,” she uttered. “And I thought pegasi had nasty names they called other tribes,” Fleetfoot uttered quietly. “Anyway, we need to collect Outside Loop, and head back to the motel.” “I’ll make sure… Uh… what’s your name, anyway?” Spitfire asked, looking at Grapes. “Sour Grapes, Captain Spitfire,” came the reply. “Nice to meet you,” Spitfire said with a nod. “Uh… those were really the Storm Riders, huh?” “Yes, Captain, they really were the Storm Riders,” Grapes replied, as the fiery yellow pegasus helped her to her hooves. Soarin and Fleetfoot let out low whistles at that information, and followed them out. The two blue pegasi collected the mascot, and sent him off to the one hotel in Ponyville while they escorted Grapes to her home. “Heading home, Earshot,” Grapes said, still sounding pained. “This is Captain Spitfire. Apparently she thinks bar brawls are educational.” “Lesson being don’t piss off unicorns named Sour Grapes,” Spitfire said jokingly. “But seriously, those two were trying to take credit for the Storm Riders’ work. Never mind they had their flanks saved by them. Figured they could use a lesson in humility.” “And you planned on reimbursing Berry Punch for the damages,” Grapes added. “Sure did. Figured it’d be worth it, especially when most of it will come out of Blue Streak’s salary,” Spitfire said with a sage nod. “In a way it makes sense… In another way, I really want to kick your flank so hard you’re walking on your forehooves for two weeks. But that’s just the headache talking,” Grapes uttered. “Ah.. heh… Let’s get you two home,” Spitfire said nervously. In the big picture Grapes was glad that “The Mascot” was sent to the hotel on his own. Without him around, Earshot relaxed from his ‘grown-up’ act and was back to his usual likeable colt-self. She wanted the Wonderbolts to see him the way everyone else in Ponyville did: just another kind of pony. “Will you be okay miss Grapes?” he began. “I swear I could almost hear your magic snapping in there.” “Stormfront broke free of my levitation,” Grapes uttered. “Got a bit of backlash from it, and I need to reassert my balance. I’m dangerously close to losing my earth sense.” “Well if you need me remember I’m only at the bunkhouse. I’ll hear you if you call.” “Wait… You have a speaking tube set up on your farm?” Soarin asked Grapes in surprise. “No, his hearing is just that good,” Grapes replied. They soon reached the farm. “So how DID you keep Outside Loop from coming… inside during the fight? He’s got a lot of spunk. It’s not easy to keep him from reacting in an extreme to things,” Spitfire asked. “Easy… I didn’t move,” Earshot replied. “I don’t understand.” “To me, Loop looked like the kind of pony that lives in constant motion. I figured that the only thing that could scare him into staying put was a complete LACK of motion. He just didn’t have a clue how to handle somepony who wasn’t doing anything obvious.” Spitfire stared at Earshot a moment then pressed her hoof to the bridge of her muzzle. That sounded a LOT like a certain hepta chromatic-maned pegasus mare. “Why you little bugger. I never would have thought of that… At least now I know how to handle him in the future.” “Welcome to Grapevine Hills. Sorry I’m not up to giving you two the tour,” Grapes uttered. “Gotcha. I’ll probably see you sometime tomorrow, when we bail out or respective teams,” Spitfire said with a nod. “About noonish?” “Sounds good,” Grapes said with a smirk. “May feel a bit more like showing you around, then, too. Don’t get many celebrity guests.” “Maybe Mister Squall will even give Blue Streak back his teeth instead of adding them to his collection,” Earshot said with a mischievous smile. “Eh, he’s earned ‘em,” Spitfire said waving a hoof, and with a final wave they Wonderbolts left. Grapes then did something that confused Earshot. She went into the Bunkhouse. “You don’t have to walk me inside, Miss Grapes. I’m pretty good and you need your rest more than me right now.” “I’m not,” Grapes said, from the basement stairs, before she went down. Earshot followed her, and found her sitting in the unfinished part of the basement, that was still raw earth, and support beams. “Want to know what I’m doing? I’ll tell you.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and seemed to be meditating, shifting her hooves into the clean earth of the excavated basement. Earshot watched for a moment then closed his eyes for a better ‘look’ at what she was doing. “It is through the hooves, that an Earth Pony’s power flows,” Grapes said, meditatively. “It is how the Earth Pony connects to the earth, and its strength. It’s through their hooves that they are connected to the flow of the seasons, the rhythm of life… the Heart of the World.” Then, as if it was being conducted through Grapes’ very bone and blood, Earshot heard it. Thump thump. For one brief moment he could hear… a heartbeat. Earshot opened his eyes, and saw Grapes smiling. Apparently she had reconnected to her Earth Pony half. “I heard it! For a moment it was there… It was like an undertone. It sounded like.. deep caverns, roots and soil so rich it could wriggle under your hooves.” Grapes chuckled, and smiled at him. “So you heard the Heart of the World, hm? That’s one of the meditations I learned from Starswirl’s book ‘On the Confluence of Magics’,” she explained. “And now I feel a lot better. I’ll have to do that a few more times to get myself back to where I was, but I really needed to get that started before I went to bed, or else I’d lose it entirely.” “All right. Thank you for showing me that, Miss Grapes. Good night, and if you need me you know who to call for.” “That I do,” Grapes said with a smile, as she got up, and went to her house. Tomorrow would be interesting to say the least. The next day Grapes was feeling much better, but the farm seemed echoingly empty, even with Earshot there. She went to the Bunkhouse to collect Earshot. He was sleeping in more often these days. Then again he did mention that his kin did quasi-hibernate during the winter so she wasn’t going to fault him for wanting an extra hour or two. She was however surprised to find Thistledown at the Bunkhouse stove frying something up that smelled… delicious. “Well, well, well. Welcome to my parlor, Sour Grapes,” he said with a laugh. “Earshot’s not awake yet but I’m sure this will bring him down soon. Care for some? I made plenty.” “You’ll excuse my caution in asking what it is, exactly, before I commit myself, right?” Grapes asked with a raised eyebrow. “A friend of mine once introduced me to the joys of Tofu. This is what happens when you scramble it all up with an assortment of diced veggies and cheese, before you fry it up and serve it up all bundled in a roll of flatbread.” “So… fermented soybean curd, cooked with veggies and cheese. You get protein, and the curd absorbs the flavorings you add to it,” Grapes mused. “Neighpanese import, if I recall correctly. Slowly catching on, though.” “It’s interesting and oddly versatile.” “Apparently it can also mimic the flavor and texture of some meats, to give us vegetarians a taste of what we’re missing, without any nasty side-effects,” Grapes added. “Or at least that’s what I read. Despite being acquainted with several individuals of the porcine variety, I have been rather curious about something called bacon… Maybe this could be a way to actually try it, without having to worry about… well… possibly knowing who... er… donated it.” “Well that’s a thought. I also have Scones with Devonshire Crême if you want something different. You mentioned scones the other day and it got me wanting them. Interestingly enough I had to show Pinkie Pie how to make them.” “You bake?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a stallion of many talents, Thistle.” “Why thank you. Yeah, somepony had to bake at ‘The Sandwich Shop’. That’s a lot of bread, buns and other related things you can put fillings between.” He smiled and rolled up another batch of ‘Scrambled Tofu’ in a flatbread. “Mom and dad gave me some skills to work with and it’d a shame to not use them.” “...Well… I have to admit your family has a flair for the utilitarian, when it comes to naming, but I’m pretty sure it stands out among the sea of clever, and not-so-clever sandwich puns,” Grapes observed. “Glad you didn’t get caught up on the high spirits of last night, by the way.” “Well to be honest I don’t so much drink alcohol as rent it. Goes right though, so I was in the little pony’s room when the clock struck Twelve O’Brawl. I did stay behind to help clean up… the band are a friendly lot.” “Nice to see you making new friends,” Grapes said as she ate a scrambled tofu wrap. “Glad you’re one of them when you’re not my boss. You got quite the set of pipes on you.” He placed a batch of scones on the table along with a large bowl of some sort of whipped cream. "Would you have REALLY kicked all their flanks?" “Yes. Yes I would have,” Grapes said, spreading some cream on her scone, carefully. “I don’t suffer fools gladly. Especially when they’re being particularly foolish. And anypony who lets the alcohol do the decision-making is a first-rate fool. You’ll recall that some of the temps got fired over that, before we brought on the Riders. Mind you, I won’t be doing that to the Riders. I’m sure they’re mature enough for the lesson to stick, and I am allowing for provocation.” “Yeah. Just glad it was the Wonderbolts instead of some group like Celestia’s Royal Guard. Can you imagine two branches of ‘Royal’ response teams getting into a fight? Oh SUCH scandal!” “That reminds me, I need to head into town to meet Captain Spitfire, to spring the two teams, soon. She said around noon-ish, and it takes time to get there. I also don’t want to have to gallop,” Grapes said, getting up, putting on her winter boots, and wrapping her scarf around her neck. “Spitfire? Oh yes. Their leader. Glad to see somepony can make their bail.” “I don’t think bail is needed. They were in the drunk tank, and I don’t think Berry’s pressing charges,” Grapes said, as she headed out the door. “Make sure Earshot gets fed, would you, and does his over-the-holidays homework. Not sure how long this will take.” “Not a problem. But if he comes downstairs walking on the ceiling I might scream like a little filly.” He looked at her expression and frowned. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to mop a ceiling?” “That’s why you tell him to mop the ceiling,” Grapes said as she headed with that she started out for Ponyville proper, trotting briskly, with plenty of time to make it to the Tanty around “noonish”. At the edge of town she came across a familiar yellow pony in mirrorshades waiting by the side of the road, enjoying an apple. She saw her approach and finished it off quickly. “Glad to see you’re doing okay. I’d have gone to your front door but I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate a half-stranger just appearing there. Plus it’s easier to wait for you than to chance missing you between here and there.” “Well I appreciate that, Captain,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “And you were munching an apple from my cousin, Applejack.” “You’re related to the apple pony in the square? He seems nice. Big, but nice.” “That’s Big Macintosh,” Grapes said with a smile. “Good to know. One of my team has an eye for him,” Spitfire said, moving to match Grapes’ easy pace. “So what’s this Mister Applejack like, so I know if I see him.” “She is an orange pony with a stetson. Very rough-and-tumble, speaks with a country accent. You probably saw her at the Best Young Flyer competition rooting for Rainbow Dash.” “That was her? Yeah, I remember. We don’t get a lot of non-pegasi up in the clouds. Probably friends with miss Butterfly-wings too.” Grapes chuckled. “That was Rarity. I don’t think she’s going to try flying again any time soon,” Grapes observed, as they trotted through town toward the Tanty. “But yeah, she and Applejack are friends, along with the other four.” “I have to admit that their friend, Rainbow Dash, is a good flier. Heck a damn good one. That’s the kind of spark you’re hoping to see when you go to those events.” “Well she is quite the big fan, and is looking to join you all, someday,” Grapes mentioned casually. “Well if she keeps doing what she’s doing, she’s got more than half a chance. Hey… wild guess… is THAT where we’re headed?” The Tanty was known by the foals in town as ‘The Iron Tower’, as it was once a military outpost: a small two-story building with a tower-like structure attached for Pegasi landing and sending light-signals to be seen by Canterlot or the next nearest outpost. When it was constructed it was made with a heavy stone, deep foundations and heavy oak doors banded with iron. Although these days it had been given stucco and a brighter paintjob, there was no disguising the thick, riveted ironwork that wrapped around the tower like hoops on a barrel. It was a guard tower built to take on the heaviest siege a group of locals could throw at it… These days however it served more as emergency storage of fruits and vegetables and occasionally storing rowdy ponies until they cooled off. The only time Ponyville actually even GOT guard ponies any more was when the ‘Local Colts Who Made Good™’ came down from Canterlot for the holidays. Or when local colts and fillies decided that Ponyville would be a nice place to retire from active service, and raise a family. “Pretty much,” Grapes said with a slight smirk. “Well,” she said, dusting off the front of her uniform and getting the wrinkles out “Here’s where we see if our colts and fillies have dried out enough to be let out again. I still can’t believe that those were the Storm-Riders. My dad told me stories about them growing up.” “Really? Kind of wild. From what they've been telling me, they’re kind of an unknown, for the most part. But then, it goes to show that they’re doing their job really well,” Grapes observed. “Dad says the same thing. That the only time ponies are aware of them is when they appear to fix one of those Rogue Storms, then before it has time to sink in, they leave.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Dad was one of them. Used to handle heat-based phenomenon under the name Brushfire. Course this was back when he took orders from a pony named Lady Weathervain.” “That’s the boss lady from what I’ve heard. Haven’t met her, yet, but she sounds like a pistol,” Grapes chuckles. “Yeah, that’d be her then. She must be ancient by now, Dad had fond memories of that mare. Believe it or not I actually wanted to BE one of the Storm-Riders. Make the old coot proud of me. I had good skills but I lacked the right mindset. In nearly all other jobs you either lead, follow, or get out of the way… with them you lead AND follow. It’s just a matter of when each happens. Me? I’m a leader, it’s what I do and it’s part of who I am. It takes a better pony than me to be able to turn it on and off like a faucet.” “So you chose the Wonderbolts, who most pegasi look up to, and the Storm Riders consider a waste of time, resources, and uniforms,” Grapes observed. “Nevermind they having to save a couple of your teammates from their own showboating at Mount Ashbringer.” “You don’t pull any punches, do you?” Spitfire uttered, giving Grapes a flat look. “No. No I don’t,” Grapes quipped with a smirk. “What can I say, I’m getting a kick out of letting you know that your cute little flight team isn’t universally loved. Schadenfreude is a bit of a thing with me.” “Good thing that neither do I. I’ll go and grab the recruits,” Spitfire said, heading into the Tanty, with an amused Grapes following. She let the guard know why she was there, and they went into the cell block to let the Wonderbolts out. Spitfire held up a hoof to prevent the guard from letting them out, just yet, then stood a bit to the side, and indicated the Riders. "Ladies, they may look like a mismatched group of misfits, but let me tell you something, this group of pegasi do more good for Equestria than we can hope to in a YEAR. May I introduce to you the Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team, also known as the Storm Riders. They handle the weather that the normal weather teams can't. And you decided it was a good idea pick a fight with pegasi who buck tornadoes, wrestle hurricanes, and prevent lava flows and ash-falls from volcanoes from completely obliterating a town,” Spitfire said, the last bit directly at Blue Streak and Contrail. “My father, Brushfire, was on that team. And I’ll be bucked sideways before I hear you all disrespecting them again. Get me?” The Wonderbolts all looked mortified, then looked down, murmuring something that sounded like an ashamed: “Yes ma’am.” “Sound off like you’ve got a pair of wings, maggots!” Spitfire barked. “MA’AM! YES MA’AM!” “Everybody out, and form up in front of the Tanty! Don’t even THINK this drying out time was your punishment detail. You will be working so hard, you’ll be BEGGING to come back! Oh, and Blue Streak, congratulations on your new job as assistant Mascot. MOVE, maggots!” “Ah, nothing like the good-old drill sergeant vibe to put the hustle into their feathers,” Grapes said, as the guard let the Riders out. “Don’t think I can do it, though. Don’t quite have the lung-power, or the attitude. All right. Come on. Walk of shame time, ponies.” The Storm Riders left their cell and one by one passed by Grapes on the way out. The Gray ‘captain’ of the vacationing guard watched with interest and gave Grapes a respectful nod. Grapes followed the Storm Riders out to see Spitfire eyeing Firestormer with a half-smile on her face. She casually sauntered up behind him, and gave his flank a sharp slap. “Hey, cute-stuff, look me up next time you’re in Cloudsdale,” she said, before trotting back to her team, and ordering them to double-time it back to the hotel. Grapes smirked, then looked at the very stunned face of Firestormer. “That… that just happened. Didn’t it?” he said, his eyes apparently stuck on ‘way open’. "That enough 'love' for you, Firestormer?” Grapes quipped with a smirk. "After all, if the Captain of the Wonderbolts thinks that a member of the Storm Riders has a nice flank, you must be doing something right." “Ma’am, yes ma’am,” he managed to squeak out. "Also..." Grapes started, then went into that dangerously sweet voice, "I hope you've all learned your lesson." “Aye… we have, miss.” Squall said quietly, acting as the voice of the group. “It’s easy to forget that we’re not just responsible for our actions but also our bad behavior reflects badly on you as well.” “Very good. Even if it’s the ‘off’ season, you are still known for working for me, locally. Let’s head back, and try to move forward. Maybe next week, I’ll actually get to sing. As it is, I’ll be working on regaining my balance for at least that long,” Grapes uttered, as they trotted back through town. “So…” Stormfront began. “I didn’t see Thistledown in there. He’s back at the farm?” “Yup. He was in the washroom when you guys started your epic throwdown,” Grapes replied. “So he came back to the vineyard.” “Good to hear. He’s probably making Earshot lunch right now.” He paused then hung his head low and slowed his pace, letting the others go on ahead without him or Grapes. “ I can’t tell you how sorry I am for doing that last night. It’s just… what he called you was so WRONG.” “I’ve been called worse,” Grapes said, looking up at Stormfront. “By a unicorn, no less. I mean, seriously, to me that just sounded like something some school-yard foal would say.” “Yeah. Down here it would,” he said with more than a little apprehension. “Culturally speaking it was really, really bad. Pegasi live up in the air, we don’t just walk on clouds, we sculpt them as if they were solid. Just for a moment, think of the culture you get from that being normal… then try to think of what the opposite of air would be like to a pegasus.” “Earth, I get it. But still, I was called a ‘dirt fornicating spawn of a clod’, so the whole anti-earth thing isn’t just a pegasi phenomenon,” Grapes observed. “Ah. Yeah that’s a unicorn slur isn’t it? Kind of an old one too. That one would go way back to the idea of… well… ‘Station’. Where everypony should ‘know their place’. Pegasi are flighty airheads who are better off out of sight pushing around the clouds, and the Earth Ponies are slow and clumsy who should remain grubbing about in the dirt while their Unicorn overlords keep ruling over them with their awesome magic powers.” He stopped when he saw her surprised expression and he shrugged. “When you’re born with wings like mine you take a lot of abuse from everypony. I wound up learning more about insults than most ponies realise is there.” “Yeah? Well, you know how a lot unicorns can be all about ‘station’,” Grapes observed a bit sourly. “Not all unicorns. Many are really quite… good when you take the time to know them.” “I know I know. But being something of an outcast among unicorns… Well… I’m a bit bitter about that,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Just don’t let it make you too bitter. I like you better when you’re just being just… Sour.” he chuckled and leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You think…” Grapes started, as she turned look at Stormfront at just the wrong or, depending on how you look at this sort of thing, the right time. Lips met, and time didn’t so much as stand still but stretched like taffy, a heartbeat becoming an eternity in the span of a kiss. A million things went through Sour Grapes’ mind all at once, some of which were “Are we really surrounded by doves?”, “Am I really hearing a swelling orchestral accompaniment?”, “Why I am seeing fireworks?” (Although later it was discovered that the Cutie Mark Crusaders had accidentally set a wagon load of fireworks off in town which ended up breaking the window on a nearby pet store releasing their special of the month while Octavia and her friends were practicing at a nearby outdoor cafe.) At the end of it, though, Grapes just… froze, as if her mind were a computer, and it had just experienced a hard crash. Stormfront covered his muzzle with his hooves and stammered out an apology but it petered out fairly quickly when he realised something was amiss. “OH! Oh, Sorry! I just wanted to give you a kiss on the cheek and then… uh… Grapes? Grapes are you ok? Are you…?” He waved a hoof in front of her face. “Oh Fewmits. I broke Grapes.” “No, you didn’t. She just needs to come to terms with what just happened,” came the rather amused voice of Champagne Grapes. “Not sure if your jaw will be safe, though. The last time some colt kissed her, she gave them a hard left-hook. Though that was back in elementary school.” Stormy turned to face Grapes’ father, to find that they were both there. “Honestly, I think it’s about time she admitted she likes you, personally,” Champagne Diamond-Grapes observed with a smile toward her daughter. “I swear, I think she’s had a bit of a crush on you, ever since she talked to you that first time.” “Mister Champagne, Missus Champagne! I, ah… am pleased to see you back in town. Had a good time on your extended leave?” “Yes, dear, retirement is suiting us quite well,” Cham said with a smile. “Give her a few, I’m sure she’ll come around. Poor dear just had her first kiss, after all, and she had resigned herself to being forever alone.” Just then Grapes started to blink, rapidly, and then closed her eyes, shaking her head, as if to free herself from cobwebs. “Wha… I… How… Did… Did that just happen?!” Grapes sputtered, looking shocked. “I… I… Oh… Oh wow…” she added blushing. “It, did. I’m sorry!” Stormfront confessed, his wings reflexively moving in front of his muzzle to protect it from violent reprisal. “It was supposed to be just on the cheek. Just a friendly peck.” “That’s… still considerably more affectionate than… well… usual,” Grapes observed, still blushing. “Of course Mom would go and mention… that… I… Look, I haven’t had friends, until you. You were the very first. I… I was kind of worried about losing that... And I never thought that you’d ever… like me in that way… I’m a lot of too’s. Too snarky, too sour, too independent, too unladylike, too smart for her own good...” “But that’s part of who you ARE,” he said gently as he peeked out between some parted feathers. “Makes you interesting. Mom always told me that perfect is unbearable, but it’s the little imperfections that really make a pony. You know… like a quilt.” “So… you find all my little quirks… comforting?” Grapes asked, tilting her head, curiously. “Well… yes. Friends know when to sugar coat the truth. Good friends know when to lay it out, no matter how ugly the truth is. Without you telling me what was what, I probably would STILL be wrapped up under that horse blanket and belt and totally earthbound.” “And… you like me, that way?” Grapes asked, rubbing the back of her head with a hoof. “Ah… I… hope you don’t mind if we take this, you know, slowly. I have no experience, what-so-ever, with romance. And… I’m pretty sure I’m going to mess up, here and there.” “I understand. And I’m good with that. I’m… quite the fledgling with that, myself.” “Well, Raisinette, you’ve already got an important part of that down,” Champ said with a smile. “You two are friends. Couples should be friends, before they get… involved.” “I agree wholeheartedly,” Cham said with a nod. “C’mon. Everypony’s waiting on you two, you know.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was the day of Hearth’s Warming Eve and Grapes was for a change, standing back and watching her mother work the kitchen with Thistledown as her helper. Between the two of them the kitchen was a swirl of activity and every window in the house was covered in steam. Firestormer’s own parents, Big Shot and Hot Spur, had arrived shortly after the cooking began with their own assortment of casseroles and the like brought all the way from their home in Upper Taisu Town. Mostly things that were good served cold or reheated. It was good to just stand back and let things happen, the house was decorated inside and out. Queenie had even included some beautiful Ice Sculpture for the yard. She had a trio of ponies, a Unicorn, a Pegasus and an Earth Pony, each resembling Clover the Clever, Private Pansy and Smart Cookie respectively. She was impressed by the fact each had a red-coloured hollow in the back to the core, where a tea candle would be placed creating a symbolic flickering glow. The veritable ‘Fires of Friendship’. Grapes, of course, had contributed to the decoration with the eager help of Earshot, all the while explaining the significance and symbolism of each one. Feeling slightly like a third wheel on a two-wheel cart she tossed on her winter wear and headed over to the Bunkhouse and found Twilight just stepping up onto their porch with an ambulatory pile of gifts behind her that MUST be Spike. The magical mare glanced over and waved. “Hi, Grapes. Caught me dropping gifts off. Figured since I had ones for Applejack and her family I might as well bring some for you and the others... well, especially Earshot. I got the astrological information he asked for. I might have gone a little overboard with it but I figured the context of how the two Solstices blend with Equestria’s magical forces might be good information for his kin to have. “Why doesn’t that surprise me, Twilight?” Grapes asked, with a chuckle. “Your holiday been good so far?” “Oh really good. Mom and Dad are taking advantage of both their children being out and about this Eve and going out for a romantic dinner in Canterlot. This… this is gonna be my first one away from them, or the Princess.” her voice softening and losing a little of it’s cheer. “I have Spike, and of course my new friends. It’s a wonderful experience I wouldn’t give up… I just… you know.” “Yeah, I hear you. You… you wanna meet my parents?” Grapes asked. "You think our relationship is THAT serious already?" Twilight asked, obviously joking. "Wait... Are you saying you like me in that fashion? Really? But we hardly know one another! True, it's hard to find somepony who could possibly be equal yet different in intellect, in order to keep conversations interesting, but... Huh. I didn't know you swung that way, either. Not that I judge or anything, or have a particularly closed mind. But... this is all so sudden!" Twilight blinked in surprise at Grapes’ rather over-the-top delivery, then chuckled ruefully. "I'd... have to get up pretty early in the morning to try and out-snark you, huh?" she asked. "More like you'd have to do an all-night cram session, then come forward, while fighting exhaustion," Grapes quipped back. "Even then, you probably wouldn't be able to," Spike added with a smirk. "Thank you, Spike," Twilight uttered sarcastically, then looked thoughtful. "Well I know where to get this special wake-up tea..." "Then you'd be seeing the universe, again, and we all know how well THAT went. It was rather nice having Spike here, though,” Grapes retorted. “Fantastic cook, that Spike.” “To answer the original question, sure. Just let me get these out of the way first.” Twilight knocked on the door and Earshot opened it for her. “Hello Earshot.” “Heya Miss Sparkle! Heard you and Miss Grapes out here. Come on in. The others are just getting things ready.” “Yeah. Kind of a small party for everypony here. Invited the Apples, of course, and you’re welcome to drop by, too. Just not sure about the others. I’m sure they’d rather spend their holiday with their families,” Grapes added, as they went in. “Well we can stop by for a bit. I brought you that information on Solstices, Earshot. I did my best to keep it comprehensive even if it gets technical at times.” “Thank you, Miss Sparkle!” Earshot exclaimed as he received a large ledger along with several astrogational charts. “Miss Indigo Gleam will absolutely love these. She’s always looking into expanding our library.” “And here is my gift to you, Earshot. You can open it now if you want.” Twilight smiled as she handed over a rectangular package wrapped in bright red and green paper. Grapes refrained from rolling her eyes, Twilight had become notorious for giving books as gifts to everypony. Not a bad gift in her opinion but you need to ‘mix it up’ a little now and again or it just gets repetitive. The young pony tore into the wrapping and pulled out a curiously Charcoal-gray book with Purple highlights and Earshot’s Cutiemark on the cover. He opened it up and found a gold pen inside. “You like it? I got it specially made for you, seeing as it’s your first Hearth’s Warming.” “It’s wonderful, Miss Sparkle! What happened to the words though?” Earshot asked, examining the blank pages. “What happened…? Oh! Oh it’s a Journal! You add the words yourself. I thought that you might want to write your observations of Hearth’s Warming as they happen.” “Thank you, Miss Sparkle! I really needed this!” “That’s rather a thoughtful gift,” Grapes observed with a smile. “Kind of nice that you thought about Earshot wanting to write down his observations.” “Yeah. Just don’t be surprised with what everyone else gets,” came a familiar voice from under the pile of presents. “She’s got one for you in here too.” “Yes, THANK you, Spike. I can take it from here,” Twilight said picking up another parcel from his pile and giving it to Grapes. “Hope you like it. One advantage to the… compact size of your personal library is that it’s easy to tell what you don’t have.” “Never mind you got a good look at it, while you were here, ill, right?” Grapes said with a grin. “C’mon, Spike, let’s excavate you from the pile, shall we?” Grapes lifted the pile off of the young dragon and placed it on a nearby table. “There. That should help. And a book. What a surprise. You’re quite infamous for your… lack of variety in gifting, Twilight.” “What do you mean ‘lack of variety’?” she protested. “I never give the same book twice!” “True. But it’s still an obvious lack of variety in the items of your gifting. You consistently give books, or book-like items. Just the least little bit of a rut, there, Twilight. Mind you, I don’t fault you for attempting to get more ponies to read, but your approach lacks subtlety,” Grapes observed. “Though, you did give me a book I’d never heard of for my birthday, and it turned out quite good. So kudos for that.” “... Told ya…” “THANK YOU, Spike,” Twilight said, almost grinding her teeth. “Blame it on upbringing… and you can probably guess what my parents gave me every year.” “Ah. I see. Well… On one hoof, I have to admit, that a lot of time you do choose books related to the ponies to whom you are gifting them. Not sure if Applejack actually read that book on modern farming techniques… But I am sure it probably got used in some fashion.” “Hopefully she’ll use a few improvements on cider production next cider season. Still, I’ve received a FEW suggestions on adding ‘variety’ to my gifts… it didn’t go over very well,” the purple mare glared at her assistant. “Hey, what’s wrong with giving gemstones?” he protested. Twilight just face-hooved. “Nothing if you’re a dragon, but I’m sure you were hoping to get the ones that ponies didn’t want, hm?” Grapes asked smirking down at Spike. “After all, you’d do anything for your friends, including taking unwanted gems, and/or ice cream off their hooves.” “Can Spike have one of MY cookies?” Earshot asked. “Not sure if eating gems means he won’t have the same reaction to my cookies that Tiara and Spoon did.” “One of… Oh yeah. I heard about that. Go ahead Earshot, Spike should be good.” Twilight acknowledged before dropping her voice slightly and glancing at Grapes “He was able to stomach those baked bads of AJ’s as easily as shards of diamond. Dragons must be born with cast-iron stomachs.” With Spike and Earshot distracted by the contents of Earshot’s cookie jar, Grapes and Twilight set about exchanging Twilight’s gifts for the Storm-Riders… who definitely had Twilight pegged with their gifts for her. Firestormer got a book on mundane techniques for dealing with magical fire spells. He in turn gave her a Phoenix feather bookmark. When asked where he got it, he confessed he found one under Philomina’s perch when last at the Palace and he helpfully ‘cleaned up’ the area for Celestia. Twilight got Sirocco an appropriate as well as useful gift.. a Thesaurus, although Grapes could only wonder how many NEW words she would mangle as her vocabulary grew. Sirocco one-upped Twilight with a book of Poetry she had brought with her from Saddle Arabia. No doubt Twilight was already going through her mental list of library books hoping to find books that would allow her to translate this new prize. Stormfront wound up giving Twilight a Day-planner. Apparently he had heard how organised she was and thought “One more day-planner would no doubt be useful to you.” Twilight agreed and gave him a book on baking, in hopes that his would improve. (She had once eaten some cake he had made and spent the rest of the evening just wanting to lie down and digest instead of staying on schedule.) To Queenie, Twilight found a copy of “The Practical Ice-Sculptor” which detailed various techniques used by masters of the frozen medium to achieve their artistic visions. Something that would be of great use to the self-taught Queenie. With great gratitude, the pegasus gave Twilight an Illuminated scroll that extended to her an open invitation to Avalanche Valley and complete access to the Royal Archives of the town. It was the first time Grapes had seen Twilight spontaneously hug anypony of royal bearing… or be hugged back by one. Summer Squall was rather pleased to open his gift and find a book on the latest Sea Shanties. (He confessed since becoming landlocked he had fallen a wee bit behind.) In return he gave her a wooden box filled with small compartments bearing mementos of his many adventures. Although confused at first, the more she and Squall discussed them, the more excited she became at the prospect of studying exotic materials as Memory-bark from the Canterandcarry Islands, fragments from an antarctic Pony-guin’s egg and Rope woven from the hair of a Mermare’s mane. At least once she got him to swear that while he might exaggerate on his adventures, they are all well-founded in honest truth. Earshot’s gift to her was a little different than the others. He sat down at the table and with his new journal and let her watch him write out his first observations in the script of the Night Ponies while he narrated out loud. Twilight was spellbound as the words took shape in that strange, almost otherworldly script. When it was over she thanked him and she and Grapes headed back to the main house on the property. “His use of grammar and sentence structure is astonishingly archaic. Even though the words and lettering looked more like music to me, the way he explained it reminded me of some of the older tomes in the Canterlot Royal Library. You know, real pre-Nightmare Moon stuff. It was like seeing a forgotten slice of history laid out. I wonder if he really is part of a ‘lost culture’, and if so how does an entire subspecies of a pony tribe just… go missing from the records? Then again if we forgot about them then nopony would be LOOKING for them, would they? I’m going to have to add this to the list of things to look for at the palace on my next Canterlot visit.” “Well, considering the fact that his tribe is nocturnal, and it just might look like they would benefit from ‘eternal night’...” Grapes started, then trailed off, leaving Twilight to draw her own conclusions. “Ouch… I hope Princess Luna doesn't think of how many ponies she might have hurt with the fallout of her downfall.” “Thing is, according to Double Helix’s Guide to Magically Created Species, Earshot’s tribe has to have been in existence long before the Luna’s fall,” Grapes observed. “But yeah, the Night Ponies showed some great foresight in thinking that the ‘daylighters’ may decide to turn on them because they look like they just may have allied themselves with Nightmare Moon, when all they happened to be is just nocturnal. Never mind what has occurred with Nightmare Night. It is the victors, or at least those who are riding the tail of the victor in this case, who write history.” “I’ve read some of Double Helix’s papers. He makes for compelling arguments. I’m guessing you read his book for more… personal reasons?” “Well he is a definitive expert on magically created species, and how long they take to be properly established without throwbacks to the creatures that were used to create said new species. So I guess it was a personal reason,” Grapes replied. “I mean, helping a little kid feel a bit better about his heritage is a personal reason, right?” “I can’t think of a more noble use for it than that, although I was implying more along the idea of… well… if your own breeding will be a ‘balance’ in your progeny or if they’ll do as it usually does and just, go either way.” “But… I’m not exactly a magically created species,” Grapes observed. “You’re a snarky blend of unicorn and earth pony who has managed to keep up a balance between her two halves. I don’t know about you, but that’s pretty magical to me.” “Yeah, giving up half my unicorn magic, in order to have some limited form of earth sense,” Grapes said. “And it’s a meditation that anypony, willing to give up a portion of their inherent magic, can do. I’m not ‘magically’ able to do both Earth Pony and unicorn stuff. My levitation is VERY limited, unless I tip my balance away from Earth Pony. It’s also affected by how I perceive things, because unless I tip my balance I can only lift one thing at the time. And my earth sense is very limited, unless I tip my balance toward Earth Pony. And we’ve already had the discussion about hooking me up to your infernal machines. I am NOT going anywhere NEAR anything that Redline you built while on that ‘special wake-up tea’.” “Aw… please? It’s for science.” “No, and that’s final. Pinkie Pie’s one pony, but I need all my brain cells intact, thank you very much,” Grapes said flatly. “Oh poop… I - I mean Darn! Don’t tell Celestia I said ‘poop’.” “Secret’s safe with me,” Grapes uttered looking amused. “Though I stopped saying ‘poop’ when I was about thirteen, and graduated to ‘horseapples’, ‘fewmits’, and assorted other words meaning fecal matter that often can impact rotating blades.” “Well, yeah but you’re not the Princess’ personal protege. Sometimes I feel like she’s almost grooming me for something other than magic. But that’s the paranoia talking.” “Paranoia? Really? Never would have guessed,” Grapes quipped with a slight smirk, as she opened her present. “Huh. ‘The Practical Guide to Distilling and Brewing’. You’ve heard me talking about expanding my line, thanks to Applejack’s wagers, hm?” “Yep. Thought you might like any edge you could get. AJ’s my friend but I’m interested in the chemistry behind fermentation techniques.” “Thanks, Twilight,” Grapes said, sounding truly grateful. Grapes turned her head for just a moment then turned back to find Twilight measuring her cranium with calipers. She frowned and reasserted her last statement: “NO, means no, Twilight.” To make sure that Twilight got the message, she yoinked the calipers out of Twi’s grip, and using her earth-powered magical strength, crushed them into a ball. CRUNCH Spike blinked then held up a single claw. “Uhhhh… those were your OTHER gift, Sour Grapes.” “Then why was she using them to measure my cranium?” Grapes asked, looking at the now crunched calipers. “Because Little Miss ‘For Science’, here, should have known that would tick me off.” “Well… now you have a new and very interesting paperweight for your desk,” Twilight said smiling weakly. “Sorry… it’s hard for me to let go of stuff. You also seem to have quite the grip.” “Yeah. I have a little bleed-over. Earth Pony strength and stamina makes my levitation stronger than normal, as long as it’s one-thing-at-a-time,” Grapes said casually. “Also gives it good ‘crushing strength’, as you observed.” However, she did wonder why Twilight thought that she would need such an accurate measuring device like a set of calipers... The two left the Bunkhouse and made a beeline to Grapes’ home. “You really have done really well out here. I like the Hearth’s Warming sculptures out front. I was able to get a commission from Queenie while she was still affordable to a pony on a librarian’s salary.” “So… no royal stipend, then? Or any kind of danger pay? Or even royalties for your cutie mark in the Elements of Flavorousity cereal? I would think that as a field researcher for Princess Celestia, and a national hero, undersung as you may be, you’d get a little something from the royal treasury,” Grapes observed. “Oh… you heard about that, did you? Funny thing about that… you see… the thing is…” “She spent this month’s allowance on books and equipment for her lab,” Spike said flatly. “If I hadn’t gotten Celestia so send a portion of it to ME as the grocery budget, she’d be grazing in the snow right now.” “Somehow I am not surprised at all,” Grapes said giggling. “OKAY! I’ve never actually had to budget out my own money until Ponyville! I GET it! I’ll use Stormfront’s gift to help me plan out my expenditures! Happy?” “Look up Fiscal Plan’s ‘Budgeting For Beginners’, too, when you get home,” Grapes advised. “Has lots of helpful tips to make creating a personal budget easy. Believe it or not, it’s how I was able to manage the vineyard’s finances. At least until tax time. Then Sirocco shared her numerical acumen with me, and that’s gone a lot easier, too. Also if you ask her nicely, I’m sure she’d be willing to lend you a hoof with your financial dilemma.” “So, any warning about your parents before I exchange pleasantries? Are they as quick witted as you?” “Had to have gotten it from somewhere,” Grapes quipped with a smirk. “I’m sure they’ll go easy on you, though.” “Here’s hoping.” As far as introductions go, they went rather smoothly, and Twilight had a surprisingly enjoyable time meeting The Grapes’ and Firestormer’s parents. Twilight left, pleading a previous engagement with her friends, and that’s when the rather sedate Hearth’s Warming party got underway. The Riders chatted with Cham, Champ, Hot Spur, and Big Shot with the politeness you give the parents of someone you don’t want to hurt. The parents, on the other hand, were all for speaking on embarrassing instances of their children’s lives. Firestormer was often reminded of instances of shenanigans he got into with his friends while Grapes wound up being lovingly chided about the “Glue and Gold Dust” incident of so long ago. Grapes thought she was through the worst when her mother pulled the picture out of a drawer to show it off. There, on an 11 by 8 sheet of white paper was… Princess Twinkle-Butt. Perhaps the most… flamboyant princess ever. With a curved horn, curly hair, butterfly wings in all the colors of the rainbow and leaving a glittery golden trail in her wake. Princess… Twinkle-Butt was everything that only a little filly could imagine a magical princess to be. Grapes groaned, covering her face with her hooves, and faceplanting on the wood surface in complete and utter shame. “In my defense, I was four,” Grapes uttered. While everypony was laughing over it, she felt Stormy next to her, his body shaking as he tried to not give in to his own mirth. “Don’t feel so bad, boss… how many foals can say the value of their childhood drawings have actually gone UP over the years?” “I would guess somewhere in the vicinity of diddly and squat,” Grapes quipped, “but then most foals, not even the richest, and brattiest, ever get to use gold dust as a medium.” “There you go. You should be thankful your parents saved this one rather than scrape it back into the bag. It means somewhere along the line they forgave you… or planned on this being your retirement fund. I dunno.” “You’re just a wellspring of positive thoughts, aren’t you, Stormy?” Grapes snarked good naturedly. “That's me! Your friendly neighborhood tornado bucker, just FULL of sunshine and rainbows! ...Although after seeing your picture it looks like pooping Golden Glitter is a whole other department.” Grapes blinked a couple of times at the big gray pegasus, and simply started laughing. “Blast it all,” she said between giggles. “She’s NOT pooping gold glitter! Oh… Gracious… You’re getting good at Snarky, Stormy.” “What can I say… I keep good company.” “Well… you DO know that the longer a couple is together, the more traits they share. And you two have been in one another’s company for… quite some time.” Queenie said in her best matter-of-factual voice. “Let’s hope you don’t start getting nearsighted,” Grapes uttered, drolly. “Though, you would look good in a pair of wire-frames.” For a moment Stormy looked surprised, then he blushed and smiled. “High praise indeed.” “It’s true. They’d make you look very studious,” Grapes said with a smirk. Queenie giggled in a conspiratorial fashion and patted the bespectacled pony on the shoulder. “I’m guessing that he never told you, mmm?” “Told me what, exactly?” Grapes asked an eyebrow raised. Queenie looked up at Stormy who in turn glanced to his left and right apparently hoping for some avenue of escape when there was a sudden wash of cold air across Grapes’ spine. She heard the front door click shut and a pleasant laugh accompanied by a warm female voice. “Why… that my little colt has a… a ‘thing’ for fillies in glasses of course.” Grapes turned, an eyebrow raised, obviously curious about who THIS could be. Behind her, was a matronly pegasus mare with a cloud-gray body and a powder blue curly mane. A quick glance at her indicated that while she wasn’t really any older than her own parents, the result of a hard life had worn grooves into her face. But as far as she could tell she had both laugh lines as well as those caused by worry. The mare folded up her pink scarf and moved over to Stormfront and it was like seeing a transformation over him. His grand figure may have made hers seem diminutive as he seemed to suddenly become a child once more, his wings swinging forwards, to embrace her as he rested upon her shoulder. “Ma… you came. I was gonna come to your cruise ship and…” “Oh, hush now, child. I know what you planned to do but I wasn’t about to let my baby spend half his holiday in trying to rush back and forth just to make me happy. And don’t fret, neither. The ship had to be repaired. While we were in port, some sea serpent needed something to scratch an itch and put a hole in the side. Purely accidental, poor thing kept apologising. So we were given a chance to travel anywhere we wished while it was in dry dock. I chose to come here where my son and his friends were.” “Oh, Ma.” “So… You’re Stormfront’s mother. Not sure if you’ve heard of me or not.” “Oh, yes I have, my dearie. Yes I have.” The older mare moved over to her and smiled up at her, letting Grapes see where Stormy got those big blue eyes from, “You may call me Stormbound and you must be Sour Grapes. My colt’s told me so much about you. Your steely will, your sharp tongue and razor wit… it’s easy to see why he thinks so highly of you. That and he did love a filly in glasses.” “Really now? Most colts found them to be a deterrent. The whole ‘colts don’t make passes at fillies in glasses’ shtick… My response was always ‘Good. I wouldn’t want a little colt, anyway, when I can find a stallion who’ll look beyond the surface’,” Grapes responded. “Oh yes, well a pretty thing in glasses was kind to little Flopsy once and it sort-of took.” “‘Flopsy’?” Grapes asked, grinning. “For the wings, right? They can be a little… flopsy.” There were, of course, giggles all around the table, much to Stormfront’s consternation. “Maaaa...” he groaned before apparently realising something. “Do… do you have a place to stay?” “Oh. Well I thought I’d find myself a nice hotel and…” “They’re booked solid, Ma. It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve and there is no room at the inn. Look, I can let you sleep in my room over at the bunkhouse. It’s warm, cozy and I can always hunker down in the Recreation room.” “Well, if you insist, Flopsy.” “You promised!” he hissed under his breath, which got a clucking sound from his mother. “I did nothing of the kind. I said I wouldn’t call you anything embarrassing in front of others and I am not yet embarrassed.” “Ah… Ma’am?” Grapes said, having overheard, “I think ‘Flopsy’ meant that he would be the one being embarrassed, not you. Though, do, by all means, continue. It’s always good to see how well a stallion can handle under pressure.” The pleading expression on his face was nothing short of adorable, and to the giggles of those he called friends he put his mother’s scarf back on her and grabbing her suitcase sped her out the door to lead her to the bunkhouse. But just before the door shut Grapes overheard her get in one last thing. “I LIKE her, Flopsy. She’s a keeper. I can tell.” “MA!” Grapes blinked, then rested her head on a forelimb, laughing. “Oh stars,” she gasped. “Don’t ANYPONY tell Applejack. She’ll be riding me about when the wedding is going to be, for MONTHS.” The party wrapped up with an exchange of gifts. Grapes giving rather cute, and thought-out, gifts to her farmhooves. Firestormer got a planter and an array of hot pepper seeds. For Queenie, she simply hoofed over a receipt for the Summer Chapeau, marked “paid in full”. Summer Squall got a book on the history of scrimshaw carving, beautifully illustrated. The reason why Grapes got that particular book was that it included works by Squall’s father, and she thought she’d appreciate seeing Scrimshaw’s scrimshaws. Grapes gave a book on Equestrian sayings idioms and turns of phrases to Sirocco, hoping that she’d enjoy it, and it help her understand some of the more obscure ones that were still in use. Grapes gave Earshot a record of Octavia’s performances, including some remixes by her dear friend Vinyl Scratch. Grapes wasn’t about to start explaining alternative lifestyles until AFTER the “where little foals come from” talk. Stormfront found himself in possession of a nice quad of dancing slippers. “So you can practice down to earth dancing with scuffing the floors,” Grapes explained with a grin. “This is… this is very nice of you. I didn’t realise you remembered that stuff.” “I have very good retention,” Grapes said with a smile. “Like I remembered that Firestormer likes hot peppers, that Queenie was still paying for her favorite hat, the name of Squall’s father, and how much Earshot likes classical music, as well as opera. I don’t think anypony can forget how much trouble Sirocco has with Equestrian idioms, though.” “I do not make that many mistakes with my idioms, do I?” Sirocco protested before drawing herself up “I have a mind like the steel clap!” “Steel trap, Sirocco,” Grapes corrected with a smile. “It’s ‘I have a mind like a steel trap’.” The Saddle Arabian mare looked at the book before her and pursed her lips. “Very well… I shall make use of your gift. I am grateful. Thank you.” “Also, you may find the origins of the sayings to be quite amusing,” Grapes added with a smile. “Ah yes… Hm… ‘Rule of Thumb’. What IS a thumb?” “It apparently came from creatures with prehensile digits...'fingers'...in their forehooves--dragons, diamonddogs, griffons, and minotaurs among them,” Grapes replied. “The thumb is the shortest finger placed in such a position that it can stick out....but I'm not sure how the phrase came to be in common use, though. So… Hope you all enjoy,” she added with a smile. “Just… little things to let you all know that you… You’re an important part of this vineyard, and I couldn’t do half as well without you.” “Grapes…” Sour Grapes looked over to where Stormfront, lifted a wing to reveal a bright green and red package hidden very well beneath it (although as far as she could tell he could hide a small community under wings like those). With a slightly embarrassed smile he passed the gift over to her and nodded. “I figured that it being Hearth’s Warming and everything I should… you know… “ “Oh… You didn’t have to…” Grapes said, taking the box. “Though… It’s nice that you did. I mean… You know…” Grapes opened the box and parted the tissue paper to find a tan pruning vest with beautiful yellow stitching. She lifted it from the box to see the Grapevine Hills logo on the breast pocket and… She had to blink twice more to be sure what she was seeing. A series of small but practical tools were in small pockets in the vest. They were identical to the ones she used, only the handles were a shiny white material and the metal well-polished brass. It was, in truth, the sort of thing you would wear when visiting the royal palace in Canterlot if you wanted everypony there to know you were a professional and damn good at it. Grapes grinned. “Oh… My… GOSH! This is the most amazing thing, EVER!” she exclaimed, hugging Stormy, then impulsively giving him a rather chaste peck on the lips for good measure. “Thank you! Thank you so much. I had all but given up on Rarity… But… She was totally stalling, wasn’t she?” “Uh… I ah…” he stammered, as she gave his brain it’s own kiss-induced momentary lapse. “YES! *Cough* I mean yes. It DID take her some time to come up with some finished ideas but when I came in and made a request, plus some ideas of my own, she was willing to take some blame for the sake of a good Hearth’s Warming Surprise. I hope you like the tools… those were my idea. That’s real Erinoid there.” “Whoa… Really? That’s kinda rare… Ponies would rather drink their milk than make handles out of it,” Grapes said with a half-smile. “And if I had any doubts you liked me that way… This pretty much obliterates them… Erinoid’s expensive stuff…” “A little, yeah. But in the words of mister Redline, surprisingly simple to synthesize. And before you protest, no, he was NOT the one to make it, but instead explain it. It was a nice chemist pony named Pony 238 in town who made use of that information, apparently somepony gave Redline the idea to set up shop properly and has little time for side projects like that. Saved a lot of bits having it done locally, actually. And the cow donating the milk was surprised her product could be a permanent thing of beauty.” “May inspire more cows to donate to it,” Grapes observed with a grin. “The whole permanent thing of beauty idea may catch on… And seriously? ‘Pony 238’?” “Yeah. It’s more of a nickname apparently. It’s the number on his chemist’s license and it’s up on his wall… and most ponies can’t read the handwriting that states his real name so…” He left a pause and shrugged to indicate how some ponies can be. “His real name is Chemical Reaction.” “Cute,” Grapes chuckled. “Also… Thanks. Thanks again.” “Hey, what can I say. You’re worth it. Good bosses are hard to find and good to hang onto and good friends even rarer.” “Even when the good friend could become something a bit more than a friend?” Grapes asked with a half-grin. “Well, time will tell, and some things are worth waiting for,” Stormfront replied. > A Long Dark To A New Year > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grapes woke up at her usual early hour the day after Hearth’s Warming, while her parents, who had been on their happily retired schedule, slept in. She put on her cold weather gear, and got ready to do her morning chores, which didn’t stop on any day, when she heard the oddest buzzing sound. "The... hey?" Grapes said, looking over the fields to see where the noise was coming from. The buzzing sound grew louder and louder when she noticed a large cloud of snow rising up over one of the snow-covered hills... then there was a magnificent explosion of white as a large sled flew over it! At a glance she recognized the colors of Ponyville's resident mad inventor in the front seat with his sister, Moondust, at his side, both laughing gleefully as they moved at unsafe speeds. Grapes blinked. The brightly colored sled wasn't being pulled by anything, instead it was apparently being propelled by some manner of giant fan-like apparatus on the back. It crackled with the rich colonial blue magical energy that she recognized as his while it literally blew them forwards. The surprise at the sudden appearance of the contraption meant it took a moment for her to notice the third passenger, despite the noise it was making. "SPAAAAAACE! SO. MUCH. SPAAAAAAAACE!" "Oh fewmits, he took the head out for a ride..." Grapes uttered, facehoofing. “Seriously, Redline can’t get off that tea quick enough.” She went through her pre-breakfast chores, as usual, and headed back inside. As she sat there sipping her tea and eating her breakfast, occasionally she swore she heard that… sled noise and the laughter of it’s riders off in the distance. She should be far more upset at the potential danger they could be in, or Ponyville might be in with such a wacky magical machine moving about it’s perimeter at high speed, but it was strangely touching to see Redline spending time with his sister. And… to be honest… part of her wondered HOW he was able to build these amazing machines. She knew he was TECHNICALLY a genius on par with Twilight Sparkle, and yet… well there were reasons that Equestria was considered a pre-industrial age. With magic they had no NEED to create any more machines than what was actually necessary. Redline seemed to be THE go-to pony for Ponyville when they needed something weird, wonderful and wacky. She thought back to that strange whirlygig device she once saw Pinkie Pie riding across the Ponyville skyline and sighed. That had ‘Redline’ written all over it. She still wasn’t going to be hooked up to Twilight Sparkle’s machine, though. That’s just good common sense, right there. Of course she was curious what the readings would be, but there was always the risk it would ‘Redline’ her brain. Glancing over at the papers sitting on the table and the interesting paperweight that held them down. She levitated the twisted ball of brass and smirked. It really DID make an neat paperweight, she might lament the loss of a nice pair of calipers but this was definitely more useful to her. She never really used calipers for much. And she could always use something to hold down stray notes. Everypony seemed to be sleeping in, except for Sour Grapes. Yesterday had been wonderful, to be honest. So there she sat alone, as she finished her breakfast. She then got up, went to the living room, and settled herself in the chair closest to the fireplace, and started to read the paper. Honestly it felt like old times. She had time to relax and even do the crossword puzzle. She was in the middle of jotting down a ten letter word that meant “the emotions or conduct of camaraderie” starting with “F” when she heard a noise from upstairs. The disturbing sounds of ponies about twenty years older than her, being amorous. She knew in theory it was cute but they were her parents. She gave a slight shudder and downed her coffee, determined to leave the house for an hour or so so they could get it out of their system. Honestly, Sour Grapes could never understand the enjoyment that ponies derived from such activities. She may find out, eventually, should things go well with Stormfront, but she really didn’t want to listen in on her parents personal time. Grapes ended up wandering in the general direction of Ponyville, and found herself by the library, which was, fortunately, open by the time she got there, and Twilight was out sweeping off her walk to keep tracking to a minimum. Even though it was just the day after Hearth’s Warming, Twilight was ever hopeful. “Hey, Grapes, what brings you by, so early?” Twilight asked, spotting Grapes as she meandered along. "Not much, really. My parents were playing noisy adult games in my guest room." "And you teased me about being flustered for saying 'poop'?" "Yes. Yes I did. What would YOU have called it, Miss Sparkle? Do enlighten me." "Enjoying mutual stimulation of the Labium oris?" "... And once again you've earned the title of 'biggest nerd in Ponyville’." "A title I wear with pride, along with 'egghead'," Twilight asserted. Somewhere off in the far-off distance they heard Rainbow Dash shout out "Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerd!" "At least we're not dumb jocks!" Grapes shouted back. “HEY!” was apparently the best retort in Dash’s repertoire before Twilight and Grapes went inside to avoid further ‘witty’ banter with the pegasus. “You know she didn’t really mean it, don’t you?” Twilight asked, sounding a touch apprehensive. “Of course I do, but she doesn’t have to play it cool, all the time. It gets tiresome,” Grapes replied. “Good point. So… care for a drink? I don’t have a wine cellar but I have a broad selection of teas from a nice unicorn who has a shop near Sugarcube Corner. He’s apparently Redline’s supplier and swears he never knew his product was being abused so… artfully.” “Really. Good to know. I will have to refrain from persuading Stormfront to let a tornado stray over his shop, since he had no knowledge of Redline’s unique blend made from his offerings,” Grapes observed. “The temptation arose when you mentioned he was Redline’s supplier. Though he should put warning labels on his more caffeinated offerings. ‘Do not mix’ would be a good one.” “Well, he really is a master at mixing them himself. I suppose he never considered such abuse was possible… especially intentionally. Or that the flavors had been preserved so well. Would you like some tea biscuits with it?” “Sure, why not,” Grapes chuckled. Twilight led her into the kitchen where there were several parts of a science experiment going on. Rather than work around it, Twilight filled a teapot and put it on one of the bunsen burners before filling a tea ball with something from a tea tin. “So, Earshot seemed to be taking the whole Hearths Warming in stride. I can’t imagine how I would ever be able to handle it all if the same thing happened to me.” “So you wouldn’t be fascinated with a holiday that decorates up the whole town, where friends and loved ones get together exchange gifts, sing songs, and enjoy good food, and lots of sweet things?” Grapes asked, an eyebrow raised. “Well, yes I would, but I’ve lived through over a dozen since I was able to remember things. This is like… like the ignition of a coal, sulfur and saltpeter compound. BOOM! Right in the middle of his life… Second one this year too, considering he never heard of Nightmare Night until he came here.” “Well… Usually he goes home. So he knew about it, but had never experienced it. Nightmare Night may have been like black power going BOOM in his face, because the Stormriders kind of hid it from him. They thought it would upset him, because his people revere Luna,” Grapes explained. “Honestly, they should have started with the candy.” “Oh yes. Candy was always MY first Nightmare Night thought, growing up. So how did last night’s Hearth’s Warming Dinner turn out? Your parents, the Storm Riders, their parents that showed up, you and Stormy getting together? ...oops. Said that last one out loud, didn’t I?” “What about me and Stormy?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “I heard that... Well, under good authority... It’s been mentioned… Okay: Rarity’s a gossip.” “No. Really? I would have never guessed,” Grapes deadpanned. “Well she mentioned to me, told me actually, that you and Stormfront shared a very public kiss that knocked you on your haunches and left him a stuttering wreck. I’m not really one to judge romantic situations but that DOES sound like a heck of a kiss.” “Well considering that I had never, ever been kissed before, and never expected to be kissed, is it any wonder I got knocked on my haunches? And I wonder who told Rarity? Because it was just me, the Storm Riders and my parents, there… Oh. Queenie,” Grapes uttered. “I don’t suppose Queenie shared that she, and the Storm Riders spent the night in the drunk tank for getting into a fight with the Wonderbolts?” “Well Rarity did mention that she heard it from her sister who was present in the area when you two… locked braces, so-to-speak. And Applejack heard it from hers, and Dash heard it from Scootaloo… which kinda makes sense because there was a lot of damage in the area at that time and so one plus one plus one equals Cutie Mark Crusaders, if you get my algebra. Wait… the Wonderbolts and your Farmhooves were in the drunk tank?” “And again any prank-styled revenge has been completely and utterly aborted, and you no longer have permission to share the juicy drunk tank gossip with Rarity. Of course it had to be the Terrible Trio that saw and reported,” Grapes uttered with a sigh. “And again, in my defense, never been kissed, never expected to be kissed, so when I got kissed, which was originally aimed for my cheek by the way, it was very unexpected and startling.” “Okay okay... So it was just a sign of endearment that went horribly right?” Twilight asked, sounding a tad disappointed about not being able to one-up Rarity in the gossip department. “I guess you could use that turn of phrase, yes,” Grapes said chuckling. “Also, we are, due to both of our inexperience in the realm of romantic relations, taking things slow.” “Slow? Slow is good. When treading on new scientific ground caution is always good, so understandably applying that to affection can also be sound reasoning. Although it’s hard to say if Rarity would agree,” Twilight said, thoughtfully. “Well Rarity reads romance novels, so her expectations about relationships are rather unrealistic, extremely skewed, and based upon fantasy,” Grapes observed. “So how is Earshot doing? He experienced Hearth’s Warming last night, I expect lots of notes on it in that notebook I gave him.” “I think he forgot his own discovery of ‘Too much of a good thing’ from Nightmare Night. When I last saw Earshot he was on his back, slowly digesting five helpings of Hearth's Warming dinner, three plates of cookies, one Elderberry Pie, a full jug of cider and most of the roof of one Gingerbread house,” Grapes listed with a small eyeroll. "That’s our little glutton. But seriously, he must have one heck of a metabolism to survive that much Hearth's Warming in one go." “I think he was trying to experience as much as possible for his Kinsponies,” Grapes commented. “But, honestly, he really shouldn’t be so willing to experience the stomachache.” “If he manages to digest all of that and be up for more today, I’m going to have to hook HIM up in my Science Dungeon to see what makes that little guy so resilient.” “No… And… did you just call your basement a ‘science dungeon’?” “Sorry. Pinkie Pie called it that once and the name kinda stuck in my head. Say… What if I get Doctor Crabapple to do it for me?” “That machine was STILL built by Redline, and in a way I am responsible for the little guy. So no way in Tartarus.” “I meant have him do the examination. You might be responsible for them but I don’t remember any of them talking about the medical exams you’re supposed to be supplying your Farmshooves with.” “Considering I do it every summer on the dot, of course they won’t be worrying about the examination until then,” Grapes replied. It’s a yearly thing, and I always get Doc Crabapple to do them.” “I know. I found out about the whole medical thing from the Mayor when I took over the library. Turns out as a paid employee of Ponyville’s government I get the same ‘free’ medical examinations… although I never got Dr. Crabapple like your ponies.” “Oh? Really? Who’d you get saddled with?” Grapes asked. “You ever meet Dr. Coldhoof?” “Once,” Grapes said flatly. “Yeah. MY evaluation of him is that he’s competent, professional, and very intelligent. Oh yes… as compassionate as a frozen block of spinach… and hooves about the same temperature.” “I think you can request a change of doctor,” Grapes observed. “That or they didn’t want to tick off the wine supplier. I had the same opinion of the chilled doctor, and very humbly requested Doctor Crabapple.” “I should. From the information I’ve been getting he sounds like a great general practitioner.” “He’s also yet another cousin from the Apple side. And while a touch gruff, still quite skilled, and knows how to get somepony to take their medicine,” Grapes observed. “Good to know. I fuzzily remember his involvement during that… Tea episode.” Twilight paused a moment then frowned, “I STILL Can’t read the notes I made… I get the feeling like I’m missing out on something that’s in them.” “I’d rather not find out what else you saw when you were looking at the universe,” Grapes deadpanned. “It may be for the best, really. If you’ve read anything by that writer Non-Euclidean Geometry, things that lurk beyond the universe are really really scary, and hungry, and not friendly at all.” “Oh yes… You may have a point. So did you have fun last night? I know I did. Spent time with the whole group at the Jade Stable. Even met a nice Griffon there.” “Really? Old fellow, kind of gruff?” Grapes asked. “Oh yes. Looked like he wasn’t just over the hill but dug right through it. He had a very broad variety of subjects he knew about, but he seemed to find it most entertaining to hear what we had to say about our friendship and bizarre adventures.” “I bet that was interesting,” Grapes observed. “But yeah, we had a lot of fun. The tag team of my Mom, Mrs. Hotspur, and even Mrs. Stormbound came up with some amazing food. Ah Mrs. Stormbound is Stormfront’s mom by the way… And so help me if you even mention ‘parental approval’... Though the company is clearing out soon. Firestormer’s family still has a business to run, and Mrs. Stormbound will be getting back on her year-long cruise she won from the lottery.” “The lottery? Oh yes, she must have been the one to win the Royal Equestria Lottery. When I was younger I wished I could have won and gone on that trip to so many fascinating places… but it would have looked SO bad for the Princess’ personal pupil to do that.” “Well you could have claimed it as a year-long sabbatical to get some real-world experience,” Grapes suggested with a grin. “Yeah, but there would be a lot of ponies who would equate the ‘royal’ part of the lottery with some kind of nepotism if I won it. Also I was always more comfortable in libraries.” “I noticed,” Grapes said with a smile. “Of course I don’t know if Celestia would have let me take the trip anyways… I hate to say it but… Every so often, I can’t help but look at my coming here with just a shade of paranoia. When I discover a terrible prediction of planetary proportions, I’m packed up and shipped to just the right location for that threat to appear and it’s solution is also nearby… relatively speaking. I’m scheduled to meet just the right ponies, find just the right reference book and be in the right location at the right time with said right ponies to somehow miraculously work out how to use the Elements of Harmony by discovering the magic of friendship. It all sounds as romantically contrived as a storybook tale, doesn’t it?” “Possibly. But Princess Celestia has wielded the Elements of Harmony, before, so it’s possible that she has some manner of resonance with them to know who could use them in the future. Again there are a lot of unknowns we can’t account for.” “Yeah. She might have hoped I’d learn how to make friends so I COULD harness the elements but for a plan as complex her pre-planning everything… the smallest deviation could have DERAILED everything. Heck I could have just as easily ditched my duties and sent Spike around to check everything while I went straight to the library. The world could have been a very different place then. ….Hmf. Probably best we don’t think too deeply on that.” “Maybe for the best,” Grapes said with a nod. “Applejack would have befriended you, because that’s just the way she is. Pinkie too. She likes to be friends with everypony.” “Oh yeah… If there was a big button that would allow Pinkie Pie to just, I dunno… ‘Friend’ everypony at once I think she would be constantly pressing it.” “I know, right?” Grapes said, with a laugh. “She’d find a way to spread smiles everywhere she could.” “So… you got to meet his mom, huh? Hope your future… friend...ship… with her is good. Is she nice?” “Yes, but she’s fond of embarrassing nicknames for poor Stormy,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “Ah just like every other parent out there. So what’s Stormfront’s?” “Well since my parents, Firestormer’s parents, and the Storm Riders know…” Grapes started and sighed. “Flopsy. It’s Flopsy. Mine’s Raisinette. So what’s yours?” “Uhhhh… would you believe me if I told you I didn't have one?” “No,” Grapes said, flatly. “Well.. my parent’s name for me was Sparky.” “That’s cute,” Grapes said with a grin. “Yeah… cute until you realize my first spells kinda were as impressive as static electricity. Sure they were a big deal to me as a foal but…” Twilight paused a moment then grinned, “Now that I think about it, they WERE kinda cute. I think I can live with Sparky.” “I can think of worse ones,” Grapes said with a grin. “You doing anything on the Solstice? We’re celebrating a Night Pony holiday, and I thought you’d like to observe.” “Really? A Night Pony holiday? I’d LOVE to…” she stopped and glanced around nervously. “Does… Pinkie Pie know about this?” “She will. And I will be sure to tell her it’s Earshot’s celebration, and she’d need to learn about it, before she throws a party for it,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Well, okay. She means well, but sometimes her enthusiasm is just so… overpowering.” “I am well aware of that, yes,” Grapes said, dully. “That’s why she’s easier to take in small, controlled doses. Maybe I should go and take care of that while I’m thinking about it…” “Good plan. So when is this happening?” “...The...winter...solstice…” Grapes said slowly, as if it should have been quite obvious. “Wait… so THAT’S why he wanted all that information on it? I thought it was just… you know… him trying to get the most out of his nocturnal nature. ...or is it diurnal now?” “There’s a Night Pony holiday on the winter solstice called ‘Long Dark’. It’s a commemoration of the struggles that Earshot’s people went through, when they were seeking refuge from the day ponies vengeance for Nightmare Moon,” Grapes said with a shrug. “And… I think he adjusts to whenever suits.” “So… it’s a holiday of observance? Informing Pinkie in advance WOULD be a good idea. Oh… Tea’s ready.” Twilight poured each of them a cup and led her into the actual library, motioning for her to have a seat on the couch while she took the comfy chair. “This will be fascinating, he answered quite a few questions before but apologized that he wasn’t allowed to answer them all because of promises to his kin. I can’t imagine how hard that must be for somepony so naturally outgoing.” Grapes sipped her tea, and nodded. “I know. But we were working on getting permission, because of my sending a package full of Hearth’s Warming stuff to them.” “I hope you got some photographs of the whole thing for him. Some of what happens really needs to be seen to be believed.” she thought about it a moment then smiled “I’m going to have to remember to bring my camera for Long Dark, this should be documented in as many ways as possible.” Grapes just chuckled. “We did get some pictures. And I’m going to be getting some scrap-booking stuff for them, so Earshot will have something to send back home. Made sure to get some pictures of the decorations around town, too,” Grapes said. “I think the Cakes may be taking today off… do you know where else I could find a certain pink pony during the winter season?” “Well, you could just stick your head out a window and say ‘I need a party’ and that might be enough, but if you want something more serious you could head down to the pond. Pinkie mentioned she was going to head down there today for a while.” “All right. I’ll go and look for her, there. Thanks for the tea and refuge, Twilight,” Grapes said, finishing said tea, and getting up, and putting on her scarf. “It’s always good to have another bibliophile to talk to around here. At times I wish I knew somepony like you back at CSFGU, might have made things even MORE interesting.” “If I had an Earth Pony sibling, I might have ended up there,” Grapes said with a grin. “Anyway, I’d better go and catch a hyper pink pony before she gets tired of practicing her skating.” ___________________________________________________________ Grapes watched as Pinkie Pie glided across the ice and felt a little envy. She could bust a good move or two on land but Pinkie had a gift for ice skating. She was about to call out to her when there was motion above in the form of the glittering form of Queenie, clad in just a bright blue scarf, descending to the surface of the pond. “Ah. Pinkie Pie. I thought that was you. From above it’s hard to mistake that shade of pink for anypony else,” Queenie said with a smile. “Hi, Queenie! You here to ice skate too?” Pinkie inquired cheerfully. “I hadn’t planned on it but you make it look so inviting. I had no idea you were an accomplished skater.” “Thanks, Queenie! I’ve been doing this since I was an itty-bitty, little, little, twinkie Pinkie. It just comes naturally.” “You know, I think I shall join you. It’s been a while since I’ve just… enjoyed winter and it’s bounties`.” “Well you better get your skates then. You won’t get far ice skating without ice skates.” “Where I come from… you don’t need skates. Well you often do, but those ponies who have the knack for it, don’t. ” Queenie stepped out on the ice, and gently pushed off with one hind leg, sending herself gliding gracefully towards Pinkie, then curving around her in a wide circle. It was amazing to see her accomplish such smooth motion without any blades upon her hooves. “Wow… how are you doing that?” “Just a little trick I picked up… that and I always did have an affinity for ice and snow.” “Oh yeah! Twilight said you made those super-duper statues of us for her party the other day. I loved them, although it was strange to see me in ice. I mean is my hair really that big?” “It’s possible that the hair was made a bit bigger to compensate for any balance issues,” Grapes said from the sidelines. “Any sculpture has to be carefully balanced to keep it from collapsing under its own weight. A lot of sculptures, especially those that are made with a solid medium sometimes have armatures to help support them. Ice, though, is translucent, and quasi transparent, so other measures have to be taken.” The pink and blue ponies turned to locate the source of the new voice, before Pinkie waved a friendly hoof. “Hey, It’s Grapesie!!! Hiiiiiieeeeee!!!” “Oh, hello Grapes. Didn’t see you there. Come to get in some skating practice?” Queenie asked with a smile. “No, actually. I don’t know the first thing about skating,” Grapes replied. “And I’m not about to faceplant into a hard cold surface for your personal amusement. I was stopping by to invite Pinkie to the Long Dark celebration, on the solstice.” “A celebration? WHOOHOO! I… wait… Long Dark? What is that? Sounds kinda spooky? *GASP!* Do we get to wear costumes and tell spoooky stories and eat candy and…?” “No. Pinkie. It’s a Night Pony holiday commemorating the hardship they went through escaping persecution after the whole Nightmare Moon debacle,” Grapes explained. “We’re celebrating it with Earshot, since I sent his people some stuff about Hearth’s Warming. You can learn about the holiday, and if you think you can effectively throw a party for it, next year, you can try, but THIS year you’re ONLY observing and participating.” “Oh… Well that’s good. A whole new reason to throw a party is always a good reason to throw a party. And it’s on the solstice too? That’s the longest night of the year… *GASP!* Maybe THAT’S why it’s called Long Dark. We’ll be pulling the longest all-nighter of the year!” “Brilliant. She figured it out,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “Hm. Maybe I should head to Rarity’s since I’m closer to town than to Applejack’s… Give Rarity her invitation, while I’m out and about. See you on the solstice, Pinkie.” Grapes made her exit but cast a glance back to catch a final glimpse of the two ice-skating ponies. Queenie demonstrating a figure eight, and Pinkie doing a one-up on her with a figure sixteen. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes trotted back into town, humming cheerfully, as she made her way to the Carousel Boutique and she stopped a moment. There was a a little wooden sign at the front of the path, sunk into the ground. It simply read “Closed for Inventory. Try again tomorrow”. That didn’t make much sense. Rarity had come to her farm to cherry pick the best wine she had in stock. Not most expensive… BEST wine. Mind you, it happened to be the most expensive, but somehow Grapes seemed to just have the touch needed to get Sun’s Spring Glory grapes to cooperate. She had told her it was specifically for her biggest client, (not counting Oneton, the sumo pony). The dither she had been in showed a certain frantic energy and urgency to have everything ‘perfect’ in time for her/his arrival. All that just to close up for inventory? It seemed highly unlikely. She moved down the neatly cleaned sidewalk to the door and raised a hoof to knock but stopped when she heard music playing from within. It sounded like good old-fashioned swing and… conversation too. Rarity’s voice and a male’s. She slipped around to the side where heavy velvet drapes had parted enough to allow JUST a crack of light to escape. She really shouldn’t, but… Grapes sidled over, and took a peek into the boutique. “Are you enjoying the wine, your grace?” “Ah Rarity, your choice of wine, like everything else, is superb. I’m especially pleased at the way it complements the assortment of cakes you’ve supplied.” “Yes, well I have found it helps to take the advice of the Wine’s creator when looking for accompaniment. I have some sandwiches for later should you grow tired of sweets, my lord.” “Oh Rarity, please. I am not here in any true… official capacity. Here in the privacy of your workspace you may refer to me by my given name.” “Well… if it gives you pleasure… Guaranty.” “Oh believe me, your craftsmareship is worth a touch of familiarity.” “Guaranty?” Grapes asked herself, an eyebrow raised, then shook her head, chuckling. “Makes sense…” She peeked a little closer and caught a glimpse of the kind of body a self-conscious stallion would want covered in thick robes. Yep… that was Guaranty all right. She remembered Equestria’s one and only ‘sinister’ Royal Vizier from her trip to Canterlot and how she found out he was somewhat LESS than sinister. With a smile she trotted over to the front door and knocked upon it with a slight bit of flourish. There was a moment of silence from the duo and then a hurried trotting to the door which cracked open just enough for Rarity to peer out. “OH! Why, Sour Grapes! How nice to see you… so suddenly… after hours and I have a sign up and everything,” Rarity said, sounding quite flustered. “Oh, I thought I’d stop by and say ‘hello’ to your guest, and see how well he’s enjoying the wine,” Grapes replied with a smile. “Oh… well… he’s here… and enjoying it very much, but he’s terribly… shy. Yes. Shy. Not comfortable in the presence of strangers so… “ “Why Rarity… is that Sour Grapes, of the Grapevine Hills Vineyards? By all means, let her in. She and I met at the castle during her last Canterlot visit.” Grapes casually grinned, and made the universal “after you” gesture. Rarity bit her lower lip and seemed in a moment of pure indecision before opening the door the rest of the way and allowing Grape into her home and business. Inside and on the other side of the drapes that blocked off her inspiration room from the rest of the first floor, Grapes found Guaranty. He was up on a small platform, reading a newspaper that sat on a music stand and sipping a glass of her wine… in the nude. She had never seen ALL of him like this before when last they met, but now she could see just how boney his physique was. No doubt he was one of those ponies doomed to look not just thin, but gaunt. She was certain the word for that was Ectomorphic. He looked away from his paper and smiled at her, those bone-yellow yet sharp-looking teeth. “Good to see you again Sour Grapes. I had forgotten this was your hometown, but I should have recognized the fine vintage Rarity provided.” “I honestly should have known your robes were Rarity’s work,” Grapes said as she settled into a chair. “How’s things in stuck-up central?” “Oh, same old, same old. The usual plots, intrigue, and bureaucratic tedium that is palace life…” “So no luck with Impertinence, still, I take it?” Grapes asked, with a chuckle. “Not yet.” he said with that curiously twisted smirk, “But I have my hopes. You seem to have caught me in the middle of my yearly fitting and wearing little more than my birthday suit. Which is somewhat appropriate I suppose.” “What? Is today your birthday or something?” Grapes asked with a chuckle. “Actually Yes. I enjoy taking a little ‘me time’ on my birthday, come down here for my fitting, enjoy a meal at a real restaurant… The Jade Stable is really nice, you should try their Tofu Balls. You know… the usual.” “I just realized something,” Grapes said. “And what would that be?” he asked, levitating a newspaper up before himself and perusing the news within. “I shouldn’t have said that out loud…” “No, darling, you really shouldn’t have,” Rarity said, making a face. “Why shouldn’t she have said WHAT out loud?” Guaranty asked, curiously. Pinkie Pie burst forth from an armoire in an explosion of silver confetti, streamers and green balloons. With a large platter of cake balanced on her head and an accordion in between her hooves she began to play it vigorously while dancing a jig. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh… Happy Birthday Royal Vizier I know it’ll be a Hoot! Happy Birthday Royal Vizier I see you’re in your birthday suit! (And boy does it need ironing) So Happy Happy Birthday You don’t have to be mean So have yourself a slice of cake And a big bowl of ice-cream!” “That’s why,” Grapes deadpanned. There was a moment of total silence as Guaranty looked coolly at the pink pony on bended knee before him with the cake upon her head bearing a single lit candle. He then inhaled and blew softly, extinguishing it. He then extended a hoof and tasted the icing. “Mmmm. I do believe it is pineapple. How did you know?” “You just seemed like a pineapple kind of guy, Mister Vizier.” “Hey, Pinkie, could you go to the Vineyard, and ask Stormfront for a bottle of Colada Carnaval?” Grapes asked. “Oh! Okie Dokie Lokie!” She sang putting the cake down on a nearby table next to a big bucket of Ice Cream that mysteriously appeared there. Pinkie then dove back into the armoire. “Don’t ask,” Grapes cautioned Guaranty. “Seriously, don’t. It causes headaches, concussions, contusions, and assorted other injuries. Just ask Twilight Sparkle.” “Oh believe me I’ve studied the reports, but of all the things I’d only wish to know how she knew it was my birthday. Cakes take time to prepare, even if one were to keep other party paraphernalia stored around Ponyville in case of emergencies.” “I wouldn’t be surprised if she does,” Grapes said with a sigh. Just then Pinkie popped back into the room, this time out of a nearby cabinet, holding a bottle full of a glorious golden yellow liquid. “Thank you, Pinkie. And for your birthday, Guaranty, I present to you my Pineapple wine, Colada Carnaval.” “Why thank you, Sour Grapes. Oh… and although it’s my birthday I have a gift for you, Pinkie Pie.” “Oh really? What is it? What is it?” Guaranty straightened himself up and looking right at her, smiled. His lips pulling back to show all his teeth in a broad, warm grin. “You made me smile.” Pinkie tilted her head to the side for a moment, then squeed. “Yay! I’m glad to have made you smile, Royal Vizier,” she said gleefully. “And my job here is done! Gotta go, my ponies need me!” With that, Pinkie dove.. into the mirror, much to the three unicorns perplexity. “But how… that’s… Ugh… I’m getting a headache, and I haven’t even touched the ice cream,” Grapes uttered. The Royal Vizier walked over to the table and cut a slice of cake and put it onto a plate and added a scoop of ice cream to it. “Then let us remedy that, Sour Grapes. As for Miss Pinkamina Diane Pie’s shenanigans, let’s just say, she is Pinkie Pie, and let it rest at that.” Grapes took the cake and ice cream with a nod. “All right. Also, friends call me ‘Grapes’... Mainly because only family can get away with calling me sour to my face.” Rarity accepted her helping of cake and ice cream graciously and watched as Sour Grapes poured out the drink she had retrieved. “It’s… strangely golden. What is it?” Rarity queried, curiously. “I said this already… It’s called Colada Carnival, and it’s pineapple wine,” Grapes replied. “Pineapple wine? You can do that?” Rarity asked, sounding surprised. “Grapes can make wine from nearly any fruit or vegetable. Why, her Broccoli based wine is actually quite popular right now in higher circles. Especially at the Cheese and Wine parties.” “I sell it to Princess Celestia for Blue...blood’s birthday present, and all of the sudden, I need to make MORE of the stuff, because he shared it with his friends,” Grapes said laughing. “It tastes quite terrible but curiously enough you can sell bad taste to the rich as long as they think it’s trendy.” “Oh! That’s… a terrible thing to say. But… I suppose it’s true, after a fashion. I remember last month’s hemline was so… two months ago.” “It tastes better with a good, sharp, Trottingham cheddar,” Grapes observed. “But it’s helped me keep ahead of the game, in some areas. So I have to do limited editions of the broccoli wine until the next new thing comes along.” Grapes then observed Rarity’s demeanor. Despite the interlude provided by Pinkie, the fashionista was still, obviously, wary of the Royal Vizier. “She hasn’t figured it out, has she?” Grapes asked with a smirk. “She has an eye for detail, and knows how to harmonize form, and function; but she just hasn’t seen it. On the other hoof, all I had to do was take one look at you…” “Well you are far more genre savvy than she is. Her gift is in the art of the dress. By the way, Miss Rarity, what wizardry of fabric and thread have you to bring before me today?” “Ah, well your grace… I have gotten ahold of a new synthetic fabric that has some remarkable properties to it, when in the correct hooves of course. Slick, shiny and it looks like it’s been made of thousands of tiny scales under the right light. With it your royal court vestige of this season will, no doubt, send chills down everypony’s spine.” She paused for dramatic effect while dropping her voice to a stage whisper, “I call it… The Black Mambaaaaaaaaaa.” Grapes sniggered a bit, obviously amused by the theatrics. “She names a robe after a particularly deadly snake from Zebrica… Rarity either knows subconsciously, or is getting a kick out of thinking she’s the tailor for a super villain.” “A SUPER villain? M’yesss, I would love to be considered a SUPER villain, it means you’re better than just a mere villain. You have class, you have STYLE! You have a far better tailor. Mmm… and I have a delicious cake.” “Never mind a flair for the dramatic. So… How many plays did you try out for when you were in school?” Grapes casually asked, smirking “Oh quite a few. Usually cast as a heavy. The lead roles always eluded me. I was usually passed over for the ‘pretty faces’, unless you count the CSFGU’s presentation of ‘Happily Ever Laughter’ where I played an emperor who traded his heart for gold or believed he did. More ponies preferred the role of the hero played by our resident Western Hoofball champion Long Bomb. The fool kept tripping over his sword and they STILL loved him. The audience thought it was deliberate comic relief.” Grapes just grinned at him. “Something about you just screamed ‘frustrated actor’,” she said with a laugh. “Oh, Earshot enjoyed Hearth’s Warming, and the present you sent him. Did you get our cards?” “Yes. Yes I did. I appreciated them greatly. For some reason nopony ever sends me one. Curious isn’t it?” Grapes glanced over at Rarity who was biting her lower lip in an attempt to not comment on the conversation as she sorted out fabric samples and designs. “Can I tell her? It’s probably driving her nuts to see us have a friendly conversation, like this,” Grapes said with a laugh. “After all you are so very obviously a dangerous pony, who should not be treated so casually. Why… it’s almost like we’re friends.” “What? Evil ponies aren’t allowed to have friends? I am SO shocked! Truly aghast. Oh wait… I’m not supposed to admit I’m evil openly. I’m going to have to lace her food with milk of amnesia later. FAR better than the alternatives I used to use. Oh, those stains in the dungeon were so difficult to get out.” Rarity’s eyes widened in a strange combination of terror and confusion and she gave a very quiet whimper. Grapes sighed. “We’re horrible, aren’t we?” asked with a slight chuckle. “Yes. Yes we are. FINE, in the same sense that one cannot hide baldness from their barber we really should let my seamstress in on the whole diabolical plot...you do it.” “Rarity, about the Vizier’s diabolical plot, Mainly the fact that there is no diabolical plot, unless it belongs to some succubus in Tartarus. Sorry, bad joke, and a play on the word ‘diabolical’ (which used to mean ‘having to do with demons’). My dear Rarity, if you’ve read any good literature, you’ll have probably noticed how subtle that evil can be, correct?” Grapes said with a grin. “Which is why I am so shocked that you haven’t noticed how obvious Royal Vizier Guaranty is being.” “O -Obvious? Oh, you mean how ur, FLAMBOYANT he is. Oh yes. His desire to… to dress differently than everypony else in the throne room. Everypony else dresses in colors that blaze or gleam and so to be unique Mister Guaranty ah… goes the OPPOSITE direction,” She said, her voice frantically trying to sound as if she didn’t just hear him admit he was evil, “What better thing to do to stand out when standing next to the sun than… to be… a shadow?” “Rarity? Remember what I said about the complete and utter lack of diabolical plots, unless some nut at the CSFGU was dabbling in demonology? I meant it, really. Even so the pieces are all there. Frustrated actor with a flair for the dramatic, and looks that would have him typecast as either some evil villain or another. He comes to you so he can dress the part of the obvious villain in style, and panache, probably giving you a nice tax break for doing him the favor…” “Well… he IS exempting me from taxes as payment,” she admitted with a tinge of a blush in her cheeks. “It’s not illegal. Really.” “And, of course, the old trope of the least trustworthy pony in any court of nobility being the ever scheming vizier,” Grapes concluded with a smirk. “Never mind the vizier in question is the right hoof of an immortal ruler, who has for centuries been a paragon of goodness, even though there had to have been decisions that would have long-term benefits, but short-term hardships. I imagine such decisions are how Equestria has become the mostly peaceful land it is, today. I say ‘mostly peaceful’, because the Everfree Forest is right there.” Grapes smirked, then did a very credible imitation of Rarity’s usual accent. “You’ve got a brain, darling, use it.” “But… but he’s spoken of… things,” she whispered. “Things I am not at liberty to discuss but they are…” “Sometimes necessary, yes Dear Rarity,” Guaranty said with obvious pride. “While much of what I am is window dressing, I work my hooves to the knuckles to keep so many forces in check in this nation it’s exhausting. Mostly this can be done by playing troublemakers against one another so they simply trip themselves up. Sometimes it’s letting their own ambitions cause them to stumble and in some cases, well it’s really a full-time job keeping Equestria safe from plots and threats both ancient and new.” “And do you, honestly, think that Princess Celestia doesn’t know?” Grapes asked. “I… I had thought it was a matter of friends and enemies and closeness.” “Sometimes you can’t keep your enemies closer,” Grapes said sagely. “Sometimes you just have to know where they are at any given time. And sometimes somepony has to take the blame for decisions that would be scandalous if they came directly from our beloved solar diarch.” “Decisions? What manner of decisions could possibly make anyone dislike our Princess?” “Well, You’ve often heard them in the news. Remember that forest that I ‘insisted’ be razed. Forty acres of prime woodland and animal habitat put to the torch,” Guaranty said bluntly before continuing. “Long story short, somepony made carnivorous plants that were magic-proof. They didn’t even mean to, but there it was… and these were large enough to eat full grown ponies. So a decision was made to handle things before they spread out of control. And next thing you know I have a summer cottage in a sprawling estate on the ashes. At least as far as anypony knows.” “So that was a ruse? Just so ponies wouldn’t think less of Princess Celestia?” “That, and so they wouldn’t panic about giant pony-eating plants,” Grapes added with a grin. “And keep said plants out of the hooves of ponies that would love to use them against their enemies.” “I am SO sorry. I had no idea that you were… so indispensable to her image,” Rarity uttered apologetically. “I am happy to serve her in this capacity. I’m surprised she didn’t have a ‘Vizier’ sooner, then again she would have to find just the right kind of mind for it. The sort of pony who can be hated and despised but still do things for the greater good. Not to toot my own curly horn but she had an eye on me for this through all my time at the magic university. Why, I’m even helping out in choosing my lunar counterpart just so our newly restored Princess Luna won’t be left behind.” “A vizier...for Princess Luna?” Rarity asked shocked. “Yes, she’s already getting a lot of flak from the nobles, a vizier will help in pulling some of that away from her. But that’s our job.” “And now you can be his friend, as well as a seamstress,” Grapes said with a nod. “Also… Are you doing anything on the solstice, Rarity? We’re celebrating a Night Pony holiday with Earshot, and I thought you’d be interested in coming.” “Really? Well, I don’t have anything particularly pressing and Sweetie Belle would no doubt like to go. Offhand I suspect she’s fascinated by your young colt.” “Nice to know the feeling is mutual,” Grapes quipped with a grin. “He seems to be equally fascinated by her, and her singing voice. I’ll let you two get back to your fitting, and I’ll look forward to seeing you on the solstice. It was nice to see you, again, Guaranty. Keep up the good work, and good luck with Purty.” “Why thank you, Sour Grapes. Maybe I’ll send her flowers again and hope they aren’t turned into wastepaper basket filler once more.” With that, Grapes took her leave, and trotted back toward the farmlands of Ponyville. Applejack should be done with her winter chores, about now. Should be easy to catch her, and let her know about Long Dark. All in all it had been a fairly good day. She’d bid a fond farewell to her parents, tomorrow, and Stormy probably got a whole, uninterrupted day, with his mother. Hotspur and Big Shot had to leave, today. They still had a business to run, and it opened back up after the weekend, and Stormbound had to get back to the airship. The company had been nice, but it would still feel quite good to get back to relative normalcy. Grapes had to smirk at that thought. Ponyville was not exactly the poster child of normalcy to begin with, being so close to the Everfree Forest and all. However the arrival of Twilight and her friendship with the others seemed to turn town into a weirdness magnet just about once a week. Fortunately things tended to turn out all right more often than not. Even her own property had gathered a stable of instability. But… it was a good kind. She stopped by Sweet Apple Acres, and paused to see if she could hear the characteristic drawl of her dear cousin, or any other sounds of work being done. “Oh th’ sunnnn shahns braght on mah old Equestrian hoooooome. T’is winterrrrr and the clouds are all grayyyyyy.” That was Applejack all right, and it sounded like she already had a drink or two of hard cider. There she was, shoveling a path out to one of the trees while Winona patiently waited for her chance to add to the local color. “Hey, cuz, how’s it going?” Grapes called, trotting into the yard. “Oh hey there, cuz. How y’all doin there?” “Oh you know. The usual. Got a bit of a thing going to be happening on the solstice. Would you like to come?” Grapes asked. “Really? Well, sure I’d love ta come to yer shindig. Got more time to spare durin’ the winter so ah’m always open to ways to fill it. Should I bring the family?” “I don’t know… How good are they at handling fairly exotic food. Earshot’s sharing a Night Pony holiday with us because I decided to see about sharing Hearth’s Warming with his folks. Sent them a big care package of Hearth’s Warming stuff, including a couple of history books about the holiday,” Grapes explained. “Though I’m pretty sure any dishes will not have uh… extra protein, if you know what I mean.” “Ah yeah…” AJ chuckled. “Ah’m sure the little guy’s gonna give us an advance warnin’ on that sort of thing, especially if we ask him nicely.” “He is a good little colt,” Grapes said nodding. “So… ask who wants to come along, and bring them with.” “Can do, sugarcube.” “Wurf.” “Oh! Pardon me. Ah gotta get back to makin’ sure Winona can reach her favorite tree.” “Oh yes… Celestia forbid the poor dog have to choose a different tree to widdle upon,” Grapes quipped, with obvious amusement. “Ah know we spoil her but hey, she’s family. Say, you aughta head up to the house for one of Granny’s heated, hard ciders. She’s done pulled out a barrel over the holidays and we’ve been taking a cup here and there to keep off the chill. Hmm… maybe we should bring it over on the Solstice with us.” “Don’t forget that Earshot’s a little colt,” Grapes said. “He’s too young to drink anything potent. Well… Not much. Maybe a little cup, but nothing like an adult would drink.” “Well of course,” she agreed, taking another shovel full of snow. “To be honest he’s such a nice little fellar ah’d hate to see what he’d be like with a pint or two in him. Some folks get real… different when they’ve got a snootfull.” “I know,” Grapes said, nodding. “Still, it’ll be good to have you.” “Thanks, Cousin. Tell the little guy ah’d love to come and I’ll let him know about the others later on.” “Looking forward to seeing you, cuz,” Grapes said. “I’ll be heading home. See you ‘round, Applejack.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The next day brought fond goodbyes from the Hearth’s Warming guests, as they left for their own homes. Cham and Champ teasing Grapes for fleeing the sounds of ponies in love, as they left. Stormbound embarrassing Stormfront one last time, and casually wishing Sour Grapes good luck. Grapes found herself wondering if Stormbound was anxious to have her and Stormy married, so she could start pestering them for grandfoals. Then again she had heard nightmare stories of mother-in-laws and had to admit she could do a LOT worse than Stormbound. Not that there was any reason to rush into marriage, of course. After all they’ve barely kissed one another for the first time. Plenty of time to dance around the issue of marriage, and Grapes was a fantastic dancer… Great… Now she was thinking about the process that made grandfoals… Okay! That’s quite enough of that! Sour Grapes decided to see about… something else. She went to finish any little chores around the vineyard that needed doing, just to get herself thinking of something else. ANYTHING else. She then noticed that the little red flag on the mailbox was up. That meant mail. Mail was a welcome diversion. But it turned out it wasn’t that big of a diversion. It was a small card from the Pony Express letting Earshot know that a parcel arrived at the main office for him and he should decide whether to pick it up or have it shipped to the vineyard. It took her a moment to consider the options for him. If they didn’t just drop it right off then it must be fairly large, so unless Earshot wanted to pay extra for the short distance it would be better to just help him get it here. Probably wasn’t TOO big, just too big to put in a carrier’s bag. Still… maybe she could give him the small sledge to get it. And maybe she’d go along with him to keep him company. “Hey, Earshot, your package is at the Post Office,” she called. “I’ll come with, and bring the sledge wagon, just in case, okay?” His head poked out of the upper window at the bunkhouse --upside-down-- and he waved down to her. “Okie dokie hokey pokey!” “We really should limit your exposure to Pinkie Pie,” Grapes uttered, with a roll of her eyes, as she hitched herself up to the small sledge. “Though should be a nice walk. The weather’s crisp yet clear.” It was surprising how quickly Earshot could get ready when motivated. No doubt it was all the practice from his Storm Rider duties. Once again he was clad in his motley assortment of brightly colored (and mismatched) winter wear. But as long as he was warm who was she to point out his outfit was so loud it could cause hearing damage. “Thought we’d go and get it, rather than have the mailmares bring it here. Save them a bit of back and wing sprain, and you a bit or two to go into the rainy day fund,” Grapes said, as they set out for town. “It’s nice to have something for when it rains,” he giggled as he kept pace with her. “Not exactly what that means,” Grapes observed, casually. “I know. But that could ALSO be what it means too. I mean I know you save it for when you might need it but when you might need it could be when it rains.” “Yeah, because sometimes rains cause floods, and you need money for repairs… That sorta thing,” Grapes observed. “So you enjoy Hearth’s Warming?” “Oh YES I did! Oh so much to see and do and.. I’m so glad Miss Sparkle gave me that journal or I might have forgotten things. And I have to thank you for taking those pictures. Sometime more can be explained with a picture than words.” “Sure can. I’m getting extra prints made, so we can send a scrapbook to your folks,” Grapes said with a smile. “I thought they’d like to see you enjoying yourself.” “I know they would. They worry about me when I’m so far away. ‘Be careful of the daylighters’ is something all foals hear in the cove. Not out of anger but really because we know we’re not always welcome… well not MOSTLY welcome. I’m so glad I found Ponyville. It’s the closest thing to home I’ve known without several thousand tons of rock over my head.” Grapes smiled and give Earshot a one-legged hug, and then proceeded with a smile. Once they got to the post office they were in for a surprise. The size of the box was quite unexpected. "What did they do? Send your big brother?" "Oh that's just silly... I only got a big sister." "You've got a big sister?" Grapes asked. "Oh yes! Lightning Stripe is so amazing. She's a little like Miss Dash but more sisterly..." The wood seemed strange to Grapes. The grain was faint and the wood bleached to the point of looking a pale off-white. The texture felt... odd, almost unreal and when she tapped it with her hoof it sounded quiet. Like tapping a plank of wood on top of a pillow. "She's one of the Cove's best Air-pushers, you know." "Air Pusher?" Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah... oh. Well you know we kinda forgot how to manipulate weather, but some of us have a talent. There are shafts going down to the main caverns and Air-pushers will stand at the entrance of those and send fresh air down to the main colony. We have decent ventilation the rest of the time but the air pushers help things along." "You know that may be your innate weather manipulation ability coming out in a different way." "It could be. You did say that maybe we just need to relearn it, so maybe she's one of those prosodies." "Prodigy," Grapes corrected. "Yeah! One of those. She's amazing. I hope she realizes how much I wanna make her proud of me." Grapes grinned. "She's also one of our best fliers. Everypony knows how good she is at tunnel-racing. Speed isn't enough down there, you gotta be agile too. Nopony wants a face full of Stalactite or stalagmite. Really. Just ask Hognose." “Why do I get the feeling that name is appropriate?” Grapes observed, casually. “Yeah... If there is a re-unification he might want to look at something I found out about called a nose-job. They called it rhino-plasty but it has to do with muzzles and not rhinos.” “‘Rhino’ is an ancient word for nose," Grapes explained. "Rhinoceros means, in that ancient tongue, nose horn." "Ohhhh... Okay. Yeah that makes sense." Grapes smirked a bit. "Yeah... Kind of funny how that works out." Earshot helped Grapes to get the crate on the sledge before smiling at her. "Thanks for doing this Miss Grapes. I thought the package would be a whole LOT smaller. I never thought I'd need a wagon." "Well we DID ask for the whole Long Dark experience." “I can't imagine how much this would have been for them to mail. Probably it's weight in silver." “Oh... dear... And considering how wonderfully .... inhospitable that village you've told me about has been..." "I never really realized that I was treated all that badly by the townsponies until I left home. Now, out here, I found out that there are good ponies, bad ponies and a lot of in between... just like home." "A lot of places are like that, "Grapes said with a nod. "I hope it's good stuff... I'd hate to open this to find they sent just dirt." "Why would they send dirt?" "I dunno... I'm not them, am I?" "Not who, exactly?" Grapes asked raising an eyebrow. "You know... Mom, dad, Grandma, Lightning Stripe, Uncle Fluster, everypony at the cove. It's hard to say what they'd send to us as something to celebrate Long Dark. What I thought was cool or important might not be the same as what they think." "I don't think 'dirt' would be 'cool' or 'important', though," Grapes said thoughtfully. "I mean, from what you've told me dirt isn't exactly a part of the celebration." Earshot thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah that WOULD be really silly, wouldn't it? I guess there's only one real way to find out what's inside, isn't there?" "Yup. Guess we'd better get this back home." It was actually kinda cute the way Earshot tried his best to pull the sledge along. Straining against the harness he was actually making headway in a plodding sort of way, but once she got behind it and pushed did they get up to speed. By the time they got to the vineyard it was nearly noon and she was surprised to see a duet of bright white unicorns on her porch… and Earshot’s wings flared a moment before Grapes quietly informed him of his ‘Sweetie Belle’ reaction giving him the chance to fold them back into position. “Ah. Hello Sour Grapes! I hope we are not too early. My work from… the other day went faster than expected and I thought we could come and give you and your young charge some assistance in setting up.” “That’s rather nice of you, Rarity,” Grapes said with a grin. “Your shipment from the seed of the month club?” Rarity guessed, motioning with her hoof at the crate. “Nope. This is the shipment that Earshot was expecting for Long Dark, so we can have the genuine Night-Pony Long Dark experience.” “Wow, Earshot!” Sweetie Belle squeaked. “You have the biggest package I’ve ever seen!” It was all Grapes could do to keep from laughing herself sick. Rarity had blushed so badly she looked as if she were pink from horn to hoof as she quickly scooted her sister into the house. “AHEM! Come along, Sweetie Belle. We must not linger in the path of ponies moving something so… that is, we don’t wish to be an obstruction.” “What? He really does have the biggest--” “...OBSTRUCTION!” Rarity insisted, pushing her sister into the house. Grapes kept giggling, as they moved the box to the porch, and moved it into the common room of the bunkhouse. “Package,” she sniggered. “Oh from the mouths of foals… And before you ask, Earshot, standard answer number one.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Despite the abundant presence of unicorn magic in the living room, Earshot insisted that he open the crate manually. Grapes couldn’t deny him the right of opening his own mail and supplied him with a crowbar and stood back with Rarity and Sweetie Belle as he did the comical equivalent of chin-ups prying it open. She poured her guests some sweet-tea while they waited. She had to admit that normally when nails of that length were pulled from wood there was usually a horrendous creaking sound, but for some reason it was remarkably quiet. The noise was there of course, just… muted somehow. Finally Earshot’s hard efforts were rewarded with the crate giving up it’s deathgrip on the lid and it falling to the floor with a fairly soft thud. Grapes moved it to the side quickly so that nopony would get injured stepping on all the nails sticking out of it and noted that each nail was square-ish in nature like a horseshoe nail. She filed this away in her head to ask about later and watched as he pulled green fluffy packing material from the Pony-sized crate. “Hey! They used Tuftmoss as package stuffing. Nice to see they found a practical use for a taste of home.” he giggled before stuffing a mouthful into his muzzle and chewing a moment with a dreamy look on his face. “Mmmmph… thash the shtuff.” “Wait… what?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh… sorry,” he said swallowing. “Tuftmoss is one of the staples of the Night Pony… diet? Is diet the right word?” “Yes, that is the correct word,” Grapes replied, nodding. “Yeah, well we grow a lot of it for the bulk of our diet. When you dry it out it can be stored for long periods of time or, as you can see, be used to keep things from rattling against one another. It tastes really nice too, which is a plus. I think I’ll have this on the table as the salad.” Rarity tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen and a large salad bowl came floating in on a bed of violet magic for Earshot’s first course. “Moss as a salad? I knew this would be a very non-traditional dinner Earshot, however I must confess that I never would have thought of moss as a main dish.” “Well this is a Night Pony dinner, Rarity,” Grapes said with a smile. “It’s going to be very unconventional.” Next out of the box was a folded-up piece of purpleish cloth. The colt took it to an unused section of floor and carefully opened it up revealing what might have been an ancient tapestry bearing the stylised image of Princess Luna and Princess Celestia circling one another around the icons of the sun and the moon. That is it might be an ancient tapestry if the materials have of looked… older. But the style of the weave and the rough quality of the fabric did make it look old. Grapes was gently nudged aside as Rarity’s fabric-themed instincts drew her over to the item like a magnet. “Oh my… My, my, my. What is this fascinating item?” “This? Oh this is the tablecloth we will be using. I’m sorry it’s not as fancy or as good as the ones I’ve seen out here in the sunlit lands but our clothsmiths… uh… tailors and seamstresses have done their best.” “You mean to say that the Night Ponies MADE this on their own? With no unicorn magics to assist?” “Well, yes. We did. I know you could do so much better but…” “Earshot. Darling,” she said flatly, putting a hoof on his shoulder and straightening herself up. “Do your kindred a favor and do NOT apologize for the craftsmareship in this. Sour Grapes informed me of how they have been… shortchanged by the local--urm--‘Daylighters’ and given their castoffs instead of the quality materials they deserve. There is nothing here to be embarrassed about. Yes the fabric is lower-end but it is still sturdy and artfully put together. As for the talent, I am genuinely impressed at what was done by those who were self-taught and without the benefit of unicorn magic. You look at what was done by those with all the advantages and felt uncertain of your own kin’s work, while I see what was done with so little. You may tell them that I felt privileged to eat at a table adorned so beautifully.” “I… I will. Thank you, Miss Rarity.” “Your welcome, Earshot. Now fold that up until we need it and let us see what else you have in here.” Moments after putting the tablecloth aside, Earshot found jars with various greenish-yellow fluids holding a variety of vegetable items in them. Fortunately the ponies recognized pickled veggies when they saw them, but when he pulled out a burlap sack from within and opened it even Sour Grapes had to blink. She had never seen or even imagined that potatoes came is such a wide variety of colors before. “It’s a rainbow of potatoes,” Grapes observed, looking amused. “Why are there so many?” “We found out that what kills off one kind of vegetable won’t always affect a similar kind so we grow as many kinds of potatoes as we can at once.” “How astonishingly clever… Oh, I could certainly liven up an evening meal with such a cornucopia of potatoes. What do you think, Sweetie Belle?” Rarity asked with a smile, looking at her younger sister. “The blue potatoes look weird, Rarity.” “Mmm… they do seem odd but I’m certain a potato is a potato,” Rarity observed “Ooh… can somepony give me some help with this?” Earshot said struggling with something in the box. “I think this is a job for unicorn floaty-magic lights.” “All righty. Unicorn floaty magic lights coming up,” Grapes said with a grin, and lifting up the item with her stronger lift magic. If she was any judge of weight this felt like a twenty-five pounder of… well… whatever it was. The mass was a large blue-black elliptical material. She couldn’t quite explain the feeling she had seen something like this before and yet she KNEW she had never seen anything even remotely like it. It looked somehow organic, and the odor it had wasn’t unpleasing, reminding her instead of the scent of good rich dark soil that had been freshly turned. Sweetie Belle was the first to give voice to the obvious question. “Wow… what is it?” “This… wow, they actually sent one along. This is what we call the Long-Dark Carve. What you’re looking at is the cap of a Titan Mushroom stuffed with a mashed up mix of local vegetables and certain spices. It’s the main course of the Long-Dark dinner and after we bake it for a while we cut slices of it for each pony present like a gigantic loaf of bread.” “So they really did send the full Long Dark Experience,” Grapes observed. “Is there a letter, or something?” “Maybe… um… Lemmie see.” He stuck his head into the box again, but it was the little unicorn filly that pointed at the inside of the lid where a large envelope was stuck. “Is that it?” Sweetie asked, pointing to the envelope. “That must be it, Sweetie Belle.” Earshot unattached the 8 by 11 envelope from the lid and opened it and found a small assortment of smaller letters within. Each labeled to a different pony. He sorted through them before handing one to his gracious keeper. “Wow… looks like Grandmother’s been busy. Here’s one for you, Miss Grapes.” “For me?” Grapes said, taking the envelope. “Wow. She wrote back. Cool.” “There’s one here for Mister Summer Squall, must be about the guardianship thing. Oh hey… this one is Mister Guaranty.” “A letter for Guaranty? Wonder why she’d write to him?” Grapes asked, thoughtfully, as she opened her envelope, and read her letter. Dear Sour Grapes I write to you on this occasion to thank you for your generosity. Your Hearth’s Warming decorations and gifts were well received by the denizens of our community. I assure you that they have been put to good use over the indicated holiday span, in what is best called our “town square”. The brilliant colors have added a wonderful festive spirit that all have enjoyed. Also the tomes you have seen fit to include are indeed a very welcome addition to our communal library and made our chief scribe, Indigo Gleam, quite giddy. Nopony have ever thought to present to our fair community the gift of brand new reading material until now. I swear that I have never seen Indigo so happy before. She was truly dancing on the cavern ceiling for the better part of an hour. We are also deeply humbled that in return for kindly inviting one of our own kin to experience your jolly holiday, you asked about our own holiday, Long-Dark. I must admit that it proved an interesting experience for us to attempt to return the favor of your gift in kind, attempting to put the sum of our time of yearly observance into a single container. Some of the finest minds, the boldest spirits and biggest hearts in the Cove came together to put in their own suggestions. Some items, would simply not be Long-Dark without them, such as the Carve or Tuftmoss. Others were offers from prominent citizens, Gleaming Geode hopes that her hard work in the tablecloth will hold it’s own among the finery of the Daylight world. Indigo Gleam was kind enough to include a list of everything within and contributors, I am confident that young Earshot will be able to explain the significance of each item to you. On a personal note, I would very much like to thank you for the part you have played in my grandcolt’s life in the outside world. You first welcomed him with kindness and understanding, and now treat him as you would any other foal his age. You make him do his chores, show him wonders of everyday life, send him to a place of learning and chide him or apply appropriate punishment when he has done wrong. It warms my heart to not only know my grandcolt has a safe haven not only in your vineyard and Ponyville in general, but also that there is hope that others may be as broad-minded as you and the ponies of Ponyville and may one day let my kin step back into the light. Sincerely... Moonlight Sonata Post-scriptum: Might I ask what is “Standard answer number one”? “You didn’t tell her what ‘standard answer number one’ was?” Grapes asked with a giggle. “It never occurred for me to. I just mentioned it now and again,” Earshot replied with a shrug. Sweetie Belle blinked. “What’s standard answer number one?” “‘I’ll tell you when you’re older’,” Grapes replied. “Huh? When will I be old enough to know what standard answer number one is? Earshot isn’t that much older than me and HE knows.” “Sweetie, ‘standard answer number one’ means ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older’,” Grapes explained. “I came up with a short-hoof version, because it’s something that Earshot hears a lot… And ‘older’ means sometime around thirteen or so, after the ‘where little foals come from’ talk.” “Ohhhhhhh,” she said looking back at her older sister “So that means that box at the back of your closet is a Standard answer number one. Right?” “Ah… not exactly, Sweetie… It means that explaining what’s in the box comes under Standard Answer Number One,” Rarity explained, a light blush gracing her cheeks. “And, honestly, I’d really rather you not mention it, or explore it further.” “Might as well. I mean I can’t explore it at ALL with that lock you got on it. It’s big enough to keep Big Macintosh out.” “So… Is that everything, Earshot,” Grapes said, putting up her letter. “Oh there’s still some good stuff in here… like candles and holders for them. Little mantle idols. Notes on songs and traditions. Things like that,” Earshot said, pulling out the items as he mentioned them. “What’s that big jar for?” Sweetie Belle asked, poking a fairly massive dark purple-filled, glass container with a sealed lid. Earshot carefully extracted it and opened the lid he sniffed the contents and gave a chuckling groan. “Oh, Mooooom! What did you go and send this for?” “What did your mom send that’s causing you to moan so?” Grapes asked with a raised eyebrow. “I’m… gonna need a bowl here,” he said carrying the jar to the kitchen. “A large one.” Earshot carefully poured the contents of the large mason jar into the mixing bowl while Grapes, Sweetie Belle and Rarity watched. The slimy-looking off-purple goop almost slid out of the container with a surprisingly disgusting ease. “And what…” Rarity inquired quietly with a waver in her voice that suggested total revulsion, “...would this be?” “This… is what saved my kin from a terrible death by starvation in the lean years,” Earshot said quietly. “We call it ‘Smooze’.” His audience looked into the bowl where the mass seemed to swirl about of it’s own accord, occasionally a bubble breaking it’s surface. Sweetie Belle prodded at it with a spoon while the conversation continued. “Smooze. Huh. Please forgive me if I say that the name does not really suggest an appealing dining experience. But if this truly was all you had to eat in the, ah, ‘lean years’, then…” Rarity observed, making a face. “It’s all right, Miss Rarity. It really is as disgusting as it sounds… and looks… and tastes. Smooze is more or less a slime-mold. We can easily grow it in large vats in the same way I’ve seen ponies growing yeast. I won’t lie to you. While I was in my first few weeks of being out in the world I once ate part of a pizza box. While the cheese and sauce stuck to it were good, the taste of the cardboard reminded me of Smooze” “You… ate a pizza box?” Rarity said, a look of astonishment and pity on her face. “Yes. I was new and trying to avoid contact with daylighters unless necessary. Some less-than-tidy ponies left their stuff behind at a picnic site. I thought I should try something new and... sorry, I’m depressing you, aren’t I?” “Oh no. Not at all. I just never would have thought of the idea of eating the container. It’s paper so, no harm would come to us. So ‘Smooze’ tastes like cardboard?” “Yeah. Wet, slimy-yet-sticky, purple cardboard. And yet it’s REALLY good for you. A cupful of this a day and you have all the nutrition you need to live for that day. It saved so many lives… it’s why it’s always on the holiday table next to everything else. A reminder that not everything that’s bad is always as bad as it seems.” he dropped his voice to a hushed whisper to the two mares. “It also helps to… um… well… Mister Squall says it helps keep your pipes clear.” “It’s a laxative?” Grapes asked with a raised eyebrow “If that means it helps you poop, yeah. A cupful or less and you’re fine. Two cups or more and you get the trots,” Earshot admitted before giggling. “One of the silly songs foals sing about it is: ‘Nothing can stop the Smooze!’.” “How… quaint,” Rarity said, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. “I dunno about stopping it, but I think it ate my spoon,” Sweetie said, looking at the mass apprehensively. “Oh, Sweetie Belle.” Grapes chuckled before using salad tongs to fish out the cutlery. “Wow… you’re right. This stuff really does have a firm grip. Hmm… so who wants the first taste?” There was a long pause as Grapes now used the rescued spoon to put a teaspoon of Smooze into several small custard bowls. Finally, Rarity squared her shoulders and levitated the bowl over to her face. “Fine… I shall be the gracious guest and risk my palate. Please have some water ready.” She put the bowl to her lips and tilted it back, letting the purple goop wash across her tongue. Her face screwed up in a mask of genteel effort as she forced herself to swallow the offending material. Finally, she set the bowl down and graciously accepted the glass of water offered by Grapes and rinsed and swallowed. “It’s… it is… very…” “Nutritious?” Earshot provided to her very adamant approval. “Yes. Nutritious. Thank you, Earshot. That is the world I shall stay with,” Rarity uttered. “It’s all right, Miss Rarity. I won’t be offended if you said it was awful. Which it is.” “Thank you, Earshot, but let us stay with the word Nutritious. It both makes it sound better as well as it warns other ponies to the potential culinary dangers.” Sour Grapes tried her portion next and grimaced. “One thing’s for sure… if you have this at the beginning of a meal, it puts everything else in proper perspective.” “My sister, Lightning Stripe, says that Smooze kept our kin going because we would find strength to keep looking for something better to eat other than the Smooze in our packs.” “Ugh… I want to eat the cardboard box instead of this,” Sweetie Belle shuddered after her helping before smirking. “I can’t wait to see Applebloom and Scootaloo trying it out.” “Well now. I’ve measured out a helping for everypony who will be arriving for the dinner. Three teaspoons in each bowl will be MORE than enough, I think,” Sour Grapes mused before tossing the spoon into the sink. “That leaves us with three quarters of a mixing bowl full. That leaves us with a LOT of leftover Smooze.” “Hmm. Quite. I wonder how you will give away the rest?” Rarity mused, thoughtfully. “Give away the rest? The rest of what?” Came a perky voice from the next room followed by a door shutting and a pink pony happily entering the kitchen. Pinkie Pie was looking rather cheery as she tossed her scarf over a chair and walked over to the table where the Smooze sat in all the custard bowls and the large mixing bowl. “This stuff. Earshot’s grandma sent us more than enough for the party and we were wondering who would want to eat the rest of the…” Sweetie Belle didn’t have a chance to finish. Pinkie Pie’s eyes lit up and she scooped up the mixing bowl in her hooves. “Purple Custard! What a great idea for Long Dark! It’s a little depressing-looking but I’ll help you out!” The ponies in the room raised their hooves and tried to warn Pinkie Pie but it was too late. The bowl was at her lips as she upended the vessel and poured the Smooze into her mouth. They could only stare on in horror as her cheeks bulged full of cold slimy goop and her eyes went from conveying “thank you for the surprise” to “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot did I just put in my mouth?” She stood there, frozen as good manners fought with her desire to spit everything back into the bowl. Manners won out and she forced herself to swallow several times to get the contents of her cheeks into her gullet. She experienced a full-body shudder of revulsion that started at her ears and worked it’s way to the tip of her tail before she managed to say something. “That… wasn’t dark depressing custard. Was it?” “No, Pinkie. No, it wasn’t.” Grapes deadpanned. “What did I just…” “Smooze, darling. An edible slime mold from Earshot’s homeland,” Rarity said matter-of-factually “On the plus side… it’s very nutritious.” “Oh. It… tasted ‘nutritious’,” Pinkie observed, looking positively grossed out. “Yes. But there’s a side effect,” Earshot said, trying to break the news to Pinkie as gently as possible “A side effect?” Pinkie said, looking understandably worried. “Oh yes. It… how can I put this? You might be somewhat random at times, but right now you are about to become Equestria’s most REGULAR pony.” “Regular...? You mean…?” Her stomach made a gurgling sound and she tentatively placed her hooves on her abdomen in discomfort. “Ohhhhh… not good.” “Earshot, please show Pinkie Pie out to the outhouses and make sure she’s stocked up with T.P.,” Grapes requested with a long sigh. “Yes, Miss Grapes.” “Oh. And maybe while you’re out there you should teach her that song. Something tells me she’s going to have some serious time to practice it,” Grapes observed with a chuckle. The sky was just starting to darken when the other guests arrived. At the bequest of Earshot Sour Grapes had put her dining room table’s leaves in, then pushed her kitchen table and spare card table together to add extra length. The eating surface now extended from her dining room well into the living room and utilised all the chairs that could comfortably seat a pony. The assortment of plates and dishes surprised her at first, it was as if no two matched but apparently Earshot had gone out of his way to visit the local thrift shop to get such an eclectic assortment. He pointed out that this was very much what a typical Long-Dark table wound up looking like. Sour Grapes had to admit that it certainly added an interesting variety to the table, and they somehow seemed ‘right’ for sitting on the beautiful tablecloth provided. The air was filled with wonderful, delicious smells as edible items from the box were heated, fluffed up or (in the case of the Carve) baked. With the strange decorations around, it was like an odd shadow-version of Hearth’s Warming. Soon the guests started arriving. Applejack brought Big Mac, Applebloom, and Granny Smith. The elder pony was seated close to the fireplace to warm her old bones. Twilight Sparkle came soon after, accompanied by Spike. Rainbow Dash came in with Fluttershy, to make sure her best friend wasn’t walking alone in the dark, and Scootaloo, since the other two thirds of the Cutie Mark Crusaders were here.. Finally there were Earshot’s classmates from the advanced classes at the school: Brass Horn, Stonewall, and Sky Hook. The first surprise happened after the last guest expected arrived and Earshot asked that the candles now be lit. They looked like your average candles and despite having a yellowish tinge to the wax and set in some rather interestingly ‘lunar-themed’ candle holders nothing seemed odd about them. Until the wicks were ignited that is. “Earshot… This is.. weird,” Grapes said eying the candles. “They’re burning with some kind of weird green light.” “Yes. Yes they are,” Earshot said as he lit a few more, these ones flickering with violet and red tinted flames. “I noticed that candles out here are more yellow than anything else. I thought it was the same reason that you had such beautiful cloth here. You know… you could afford to make expensive things. Now that I know a little better I don’t know why our candles do this. But they sure are pretty.” “The wicks are treated or tainted with different metallic salts that make them burn with different colors… Ugh, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that, right off the bat,” Grapes uttered, shaking her head. “You actually know about that stuff?” Firestormer asked looking at the various colored flames. “I thought I was one of the few ponies who actually cared about the secrets behind pyro-parlor tricks like that.” “I may have mentioned this before, but I read. A lot. Especially during the winter months,” Grapes said, drolly. “So why all the different dishes?” asked Rainbow Dash “Probably the best answer for that is ‘practicality’. Really, it’s kinda based on the fact that nearly everything we have is second-hoof. Back home a great deal of Night Pony items are castoffs from the nearby town that we’ve picked up, cleaned, repaired and put to use. It’s seldom you’ll find a full set of dishes on a family table, much less a full spread like this. Look around and you’ll see how many of the decorations my kin sent are recycled and repurposed items,” Earshot held up the large carving knife sitting in front of his place and everyone could see from the curious curved style of the handle that once upon a time that knife was a horseshoe. He smiled meekly to them all and continued. “I guess that sums up the nature of my kindred… Night Pony lives are cobbled together from the fragments of the lives of Daylighters.” “Dude, that is SO unfair! You deserve new stuff just as much as anypony else!” Dash uttered, stomping a hoof. “We’re just beginning to figure that out,” he admitted before looking out at the ponies up and down the table. “Until I came out here I… and my kin were unsure if we deserved our fate or not. Imagine looking at yourself in the mirror every day, and seeing evidence that leans in favor of maybe one of your bloodline making a deal with the Nightmare Moon to live comfortably in a world of darkness. A world untouched by sunlight. Now imagine that it’s been so long since that time that nopony even remembers if we DID surrender to her or not. All you know for certain about your ancestors is that they KNEW that if they didn’t run and hide, the daylighters would turn all that anger they felt towards the midnight tyrant against their very mortal hides… Well, that kinda explains why there’s no real information on us beyond myths, legends and old mare’s tales. Maybe there were those who felt guilty and covered it all up. Of course whatever happened in the way-back time, it’s what finally resulted in me being here, with all of you, sharing your culture and me sharing mine. So… it can’t be all bad. Right?” Rainbow dash looked back at her own feathered wings and for a moment the expression on her face betrayed her imagining herself with bat wings and realizing just what Earshot was getting at. She then turned her attention back to him and gave a short chuckle. “You’re a glass half-full kinda guy, aren’t you?” Dash asked with a cocky grin. “I guess I am,” Earshot replied with a shrug. “So… there is no deep meaning behind these dishes other than you doing the best with what life gave you?” Rainbow asked. “Not really, no,” Earshot replied. Dash chuckled. “Then can I trade mine with Twilight? Her’s is a lot cooler.” “Well… Sure! If anypony else wants to swap plates then go ahead. I don’t mind.” The resulting kerfuffle lasted about two minutes, the guests all passing plates around the table as they tried to decide which ones they thought were prettiest or suited them the most. Sour Grapes couldn’t help but make a mental note that in it’s own way this was a kinda fun way to start the new holiday off. “This switching plate thing could be fun,” Grapes observed. “Sort of encourages folks to get to know their tablemates, or at least talk to them. Now, everypony, you’ll notice that you’ve got some custard cups of an interesting purple substance. I would suggest that when you eat it, you try to taste it as little as possible. Pinkie Pie got an overdose, which is why, exactly, she isn’t here with us right now.” “Hey, you’re right,” Twilight Sparkle noted from behind her writing pad where notes were being copiously scribbled down. “Pinkie Pie is usually in the middle of anything even remotely looking like a party. What exactly did this… ‘overdose’ do to her?” “We-e-e-e-ell…” Earshot began, apparently weighing his words carefully. “She had about twenty or thirty times the recommended dose of Smooze, which is what’s in your bowls. And at the moment she’s kinda… sorta… stuck out back christening the new outhouse we dug the other day. She’ll be okay… eventually.” There was a long awkward pause as the guests exchanged pained glances with one another. Then their expressions changed to apprehension as they did as Earshot did and raise their custard cups to their lips and tilt them backwards for the contents. This of course resulted in expressions of total disgust and sudden lunges for their drinking glasses for something to wash the offending Smooze down. Earshot recovered quickest and explained. “I know it tastes awful but it is really, really good for you. According to the stories it was more of a blessing than a curse to my ancestors. Keep in mind in the beginning we had no idea other than the obvious stuff what was edible and what wasn’t. We probably knew what an apple was but had no idea how to grow a tree or when to pick one. We have stories… that out of desperation things were eaten we discovered shouldn’t. Like… soup made from Rhubarb leaves.” Sour Grapes didn’t need any expansion on that tidbit to guess what happened to those that tried the soup. In the past she had occasionally boiled Rhubarb leaves to create an organic insecticide. While the Rhubarb stalk itself was tart but very tasty, the leaves were rather toxic. Looking around the table she saw from the looks on Twilight’s and the Apple Family’s faces that she was not alone in guessing how many of Earshot’s kin might have been lost in ‘the lean times’ to costly mistakes like that. “That’s called learning the hard way. Though it does suggest that you didn’t have any agriculturally inclined ponies tagging along with you,” Grapes stated. “Almost makes a case for the folks who fled being either military or nobility, because one is fed by the country that retains them, and the other… Well… Let’s just say they’re not fond of getting their hooves dirty, and leave it at that.” “That’s a good point, actually,” Rainbow Dash said slipping into a surprisingly deep-thinking mode. “I mean you remember this stuff from Hearth’s Warming pageants where those of us with wings attached felt really justified in looking down on ground ponies. The whole ‘lording on high’ thing and in general being total jerks about being masters of the sky and stuff. Maybe some of that was kept by guys with bat-wings. ...uh… I mean… no offense but…” “No… no… that’s another thought I never thought of before,” Earshot said quietly. “So we might have just been jerks. Not really evil or anything just, it made it easier for others to believe we were.” This line of reasoning caused Sky Hook to frown, briefly, at Rainbow Dash. This went unnoticed by almost everybody. “Surprisingly deep thought from you, Rainbow Dash,” Grapes quipped with a grin. “Can’t be all about rainbows and dashing,” Rainbow Dash quipped right back with a smirk. “Wouldn’t be a very good weather worker if I was.” Earshot coughed and put a large earthenware jug on the table and worked loose the wax-sealed lid from it. “Now… my kin thought long and hard on the things to send, especially keeping in mind that you wouldn’t be able to eat many things that we can so if you see me with something on my plate that you don’t have, don’t take it personally. One thing that they were all certain you’d enjoy is this. It’s… well… Wine.” With his forelegs wrapped around the heavy jug he carefully poured some into a glass. It was a very thick and very dark liquid and after he put the jug down he gave the glass to Sour Grapes. “Miss Grapes? You probably know more about wine than the rest of us here put together. Would you please let me know what you think of Luna’s Tears?” Grapes levitated her glass, sniffing it, then taking a sip, swirling it around in her mouth, obviously tasting it thoroughly. It was obvious that Grapes was an accomplished wine taster, but she did swallow the sip, rather than spit it out, like professional wine tasters did. “It’s thicker than I’m used to, with a pleasant natural sweetness, very earthy notes of fertile soil, a touch of peat, and a… slightly mushroomy finish,” Grapes said, finally. The young Night Pony smiled and nodded to her. “I noticed that the processes you make wine with are more… complicated than we have. I think that helps with the thickness. That and the grapes we use are… special. They remind me of volcanic glass. All black and shiny. They grow down below in a sunless chamber near the great Crystal Forest where the heat seems to be more than enough to make them grow. They taste nice enough as grapes but as wine… Mom and Dad say you get into the right frame of mind for Long Dark after a few sips.” “I can imagine,” Grapes observed. “This… I think there is a market for this. This stuff makes me want to sit down and contemplate things.” “And that is a big part of Long-Dark,” Earshot stated as he painstakingly poured an equal amount of the nearly-black wine into a glass for each pony at the table. “It is a celebration of those who are with us, a hoping for those we have yet-to-meet, and a remembrance for those-whom-have-gone-on-ahead.” “Gone on ahead? You mean the ponies who…,” Applebloom began before Granny Smith put her hoof on her shoulder and nodded to her. “Oh. I get it. That’s… a real nice way to say that.” “Ah appreciate yew doin’ yer best to show us the ropes around yer late-night holiday and such,” Granny smith began, looking around the table. “But while ah don’t rightly know how yer kinfolk handle wine and young’uns but in these parts we try to keep them apart. Or just a sip rather than a whole glass, if’n you get my meaning.” “What? OH! Oh, heheh. Sorry. I got caught up in trying to be fair with the portions I forgot foals need foal-sized portions. Um. Ok. I guess we pour some back into the jug.” “Well, some of us adult ponies COULD always jest… help out the young’uns by takin’ some from their glasses into our own.” “Granny,” Applejack warned resulting in the weathered pony trying and failing to look innocent. “Jest sayin’, that’s all,” Granny said with a shrug. Once Earshot was finished pouring, the libations were readjusted to a few teaspoons for those who were as of yet ‘underage’ and despite Granny’s offer, she only got one glass. Grapes found that Granny’s obviously wanting more. With the wine and other beverages poured and waiting, The foods were brought forth from the kitchen. Salad made from dried Tuftmoss proved popular as did various pickled, salted and dried delicacies (although Grapes noted that the pickled eggs only landed on Earshot’s and Spike’s plates). The multicolored potatoes were a rousing success, prompting much discussion on the variety and in general ‘exoticness’ the hues gave such a humble vegetable. Once the lesser foods found their ways to the guests’ plates did the Carve make an entrance. Nopony had ever seen anything quite like it. Even Granny was impressed and even more so when Earshot proceeded to cut everypony a slice, revealing it’s stuffed nature. At his bequest everypony linked hooves and took a moment of silence to think of loved ones before digging in. After that it was very much like any large family dinner Grapes could think of. There was loads of conversations going back and forth on things of past year and plans for the upcoming year. The six friends were obviously looking forward to the upcoming Grand Galloping Gala. A party of that magnitude always did take a while to plan, and supply. Grapes knew it was pointless to try and dissuade her friends about the event. It wouldn’t take anyone ‘great’ and/or ‘powerful’ to predict a lot of disillusionment on the horizon. This was why she invited the group to visit her place, after the Gala. She figured they’d need some commiseration after their disappointment. The food was good, the conversation was grand, and everybody was generally having a wonderful time. Then Skyhook spoke. “So… Earshot. Other than the obvious stuff, what makes you bat-winged fre… uh… Ponies really special? You know. Deep down. What is it YOU believe in?” Grapes refrained from cuffing Skyhook up the back of the head for nearly calling Earshot a ‘Freak’ in front of everypony there. At least it SEEMED as if her sudden self-edit had gone unnoticed by the others, or was politely ignored. All eyes turned to where he was in the middle of a mouthful of tuftmoss salad. The little bat-winged pony swallowed, cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “From what I’ve seen, the Night Ponies are very much like the ponies of Ponyville. Sometimes they’re best of friends, next thing you know they’re at odds with one another, or we get on each other’s nerves, other times we do just fine. There are times where you wonder how we survived all cooped up together for a thousand years… and then there are the times that you see the intense sense of community spirit we have. It’s hard to say if there’s one all-purpose statement that really sums up the Night Ponies as a whole. Unless…” He paused a moment getting a far-off look in his eyes. “I remember when I was two years old, my father took me topside for the first time. It was during a New-Moon when he brought me to an outcropping of stone that allowed me to see the whole countryside. He then said to me, he said ‘Son, I want you to remember there is no shame in living in the shadows, because it is only when it is dark enough that you can finally see the stars.’ And true enough I looked up at the nighttime sky and there, shining like salt crystals on a black blanket, were the stars.” The expressions on the guests said it all. Yes, Grapes had earlier jokingly thought of the expression “From the mouths of foals” but here and now he had said something truly profound to everypony. Something that seemed to put the Night Pony civilization in perspective. In spite of the indignities they had endured for a thousand years on some level they felt that even in the darkest moments, there was something there to look up to. Even Skyhook seemed to be seriously mulling over Earshot’s words. From here the conversation turned to questions about his home, the mysterious Stygian Cove. He was more open on the topic this evening than previous. No doubt he had been given permission from the mysterious group he called the “Dark Council” whom he described as the most influential, most learned or ‘successful’ ponies in the cove. They often spoke in ‘the cavern of privacy’ away from (most) prying ears and wore heavy hooded robes. Indigo Gleam was often present to act as stenographer. His family unit was fairly strong, he spoke glowingly of his sister, he had great pride in his Grandmother, spoke warmly of his parents and quite humorously when describing the antics of his curiously eccentric Uncle who seemed to come and go on a whim on adventures in the deepest caves. Grapes found herself wanting to meet these ponies. After dinner, Earshot lead them outside, carrying some sheaves of paper. Pinkie sort of oozed out of the outhouse she had been in, most of the night, saw her friends coming outside, and made her way over, looking… somewhat worse for wear. “Nothing like learning a lesson the hard way, eh, Pinkie?” Grapes asked with a slight smirk. “That’s one I could have done without, honestly… Ooogle… Now I know how a tube of toothpaste feels,” Pinkie uttered, sitting by her friends. Grapes casually raise an eyebrow. “You’re acquainted with toothpaste, Pinkie?” Grapes quipped. “Well duh! Colgate would get on my case if I wasn’t!” Pinkie retorted. Rarity looked up at the sky and said quietly to Sweetie Belle, “He’s right you know. It does look like grains of salt on black fabric.” “But, Rarity, you used to describe them as looking like gemstones on black velvet,” Sweetie whispered back. “Yes… Well…” Rarity hemmed, uncertainly. “That’s because I grew up with gems, darling. To him salt must be far more available. I am willing to be shown another way of looking at the world though.” “Must be really different, ya bein’ out here, rather than back home, in yer caves, huh?” Applebloom asked. “It is, but I like it out here. Sometimes I like to turn my face to the heavens and just listen to the songs that the stars sing,” Twilight blinked and leaned forwards, staring at Earshot in new-found wonder. “Wait… Are you trying to tell me you can actually HEAR the stars?” “Well… yeah. I guess because my special talent is listening I get to hear things nopony else can. It’s a little sad that I’ll never be able to share some of these experiences with anypony else, but maybe it’s enough they have an audience of one.” “I’m sorry but as much as I know that your hearing is unusually well developed but.. STARS? I mean REALLY? What do they sound like?” Twilight asked. “Well to be honest it’s hard to put into words for ponies that can’t hear it. Think of it like an acapella version of a choir. You have your Sopranos and Mezzo Sopranos, the Altos, the Tenors and the Bassists, these ones that seem to keep the beat… OH! And then there’s Black Michell,” Earshot replied. “Black Michell?” “Sorry… that’s the name I gave him. It sounds about right to me. He’s like… the greatest Bass I’ve ever heard. I once tried to count the octaves and it’s more or less around 57 below middle C,” was Earshot’s response to Twilight’s query. Twilight’s eyes somehow got wider. “I think… I think you might be talking about a Black Hole. Princess Celestia and I discussed them and how they MIGHT exist. To all intents and purposes a dead star that fell in on itself and is like a great hole in the fabric of the universe… But it’s theories, never been proven. And the ones you say ‘keep the beat’? That sounds suspiciously like Pulsars. Do you hear these sorts of things all the time?” “Yeah, but like with you walking through a room full of ponies you never seem to be aware of them all until you actually pay attention… or one catches your attention. Maybe for star-gazing you need to make something for your ears that works in the same way your telescope does for your eyes… or… is that dumb?” Earshot observed, thoughtfully. “No… no it’s not. It will require a little thought, some research into the matter would certainly be rewarding. Maybe Redline can help me work something out,” she mused before realizing everyone was staring at her. “Uh. Later. Much later. Tonight is your night Earshot. So are we out here to admire the nighttime sky?” Twilight asked, after keeping herself from getting too distracted. “That too. It has always been our tradition that on the longest night of the year we all step outside our home at High-Moon and sing. Of course we usually do it in our special vocal range so I guess this year for the sakes of my friends I’ll tone it down a little into a register you can hear and sing along with.” “Actually, I suspected something like this may happen and it reminded me of a spell I once found,” Twilight said turning to spike who held up an open book to her. “It was created by Fruitcake the Odd so he could find out if there were indeed bats in his belfry. This spell not only adjusts a pony’s ears to hear in the same Ethereal Sound range you can, it will also adjust our own voices to let us speak, or in this case sing, in it as well.” “Wow. So we’ll be talking like bats?” Rainbow Dash asked “Well… yes and no. We’ll still be speaking Equestrian, just in a higher pitch. Like when Pinkie Pie sucks down the contents of a helium balloon. Maybe later I can work in a Night Pony/Equestrian translation spell. Think that will be good, Earshot?” “Yeah! I did get a whole batch of sheet music from home so that you could sing along, but we realized you wouldn’t know the words so we have both a rough translation and a Pho-Net-Ick spelling in Equestrian so you could fake it if you want.” “All right then. You hand them out and I’ll cast the spell.” Everypony received their little songbook, while Twilight’s spell fell gently upon everypony present. It was strange, singing in a tone you were unused to. But the ponies present quickly got used to it, pronouncing words you didn’t understand though was a little harder. Grapes was reminded of Opera, where many could sing the songs but not have a clue what it meant. Still, the subtitles below the words helped a great deal. Twilight seemed to pronounce it a lot smoother than most, but it would figure the little token ‘bookworm’ would probably be fluent in the classic tongues. Still, the songs were simple, catchy and most importantly you could ‘FEEL’ their meaning. They actually sounded like they were calling out to the moon above which hung like a great sad eye in the darkness. Five songs later they took a breather agreeing that although this was on the cold side it was indeed fun. Firestormer made a well-received suggestion that maybe next year they might want to consider making a bonfire to sing around seeing as they didn’t have to do this as clandestinely as his little buddy’s kin. Earshot liked the idea, both the bonfire AND the notion that this would not be a one-time only. Granny went in and came out with a tray of hot cider for everypony and while they took the lull to take the chill out of their bones, Skyhook wandered over to Earshot and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Dork.” Earshot turned to Skyhook who without warning pressed her lips against his. His wings *POOMPHED* for a moment before relaxing at the end of the kiss. “I… What was that for?” Skyhook wiped her lips off on her foreleg and chuffed quietly. “Mom and Dad taught me that the beginning of the year should be started with a kiss to set the mood right. Don’t look into it any deeper than just it being for luck. It was either you or Stonewall, and have you seen what that guy’s been eating? Eugh… Alfalfa.” “Oh. Well. OK. Thank you for the luck then.” “Your welcome… and put the wings away. You look like a sailboat like that,” Skyhook said with a smirk. “Aw for the love of… WHY does this keep happening to me?” There was good-natured chuckling at Earshot’s misfortunate wings and shortly after a few more lively and upbeat-sounding songs everypony went home, feeling in high spirits and optimistic towards the new year. It was the general consensus that Long-Dark could actually catch on as a way to ring in the new year. ---------------------------------------------------------------Epilogue:---------------------------------------------------------------- Far off (and upwards) in Canterlot, a solitary figure looked out from her snow-covered balcony, standing a lonely vigil over the night. Princess Luna was only peripherally aware of the ankle-deep snow in which she stood, her deep melancholy far more prominent in her mind. It had been a full half-year since she returned from the moon, a full six months since she had finally been excised of the caustic personality that was Nightmare Moon. Summer Solstice to Winter Solstice had been more than adequate enough time to realize just how… redundant she was now. In her… absence all of her old duties had been taken over by her sister, raising the moon, keeping watch over the night creatures and reigning over Equestria. All of it worked so well now, even now that she was back to resume them she couldn’t help but feel all she was doing was just… making her sister’s life a little easier. The world had changed so much in the last thousand years. New Music, New Fashions… new ideas. The ponies of this land were so independent from when she last remembered. And with the invention of public lighting there was actually ponies enjoying her beautiful night. It was a small comfort as she was coming to grips the hard, sad truth that she was an Anachronism. A forgotten piece of the past that probably was no longer truly needed or even wanted. Nopony recalled Princess Luna, more remembered the tale of the Mare in the moon, and THAT was an old mare’s tale. What was that new word she heard from young advancement-savvy ponies? Ah yes… Now she remembered. She had become “obsolete”. Maybe she should have just stayed on the moon. Out of sight, out of mind. At least there she wouldn’t have constant reminders as to how… forgotten she was. She was prepared to just head down to the kitchens and devour all the chocolate in stock to ease her heavy heart when something teased her ears. Her head turned towards the unfamiliar sound and she blinked in surprise. It was coming from the Ethereal Sound registers, as a creature of the night she shared many traits with other beings that lived in it, bats being one of them, and as such was able to hear along those wavelengths. Yes. Yes she was definitely hearing something on that ultra-high band. It sounded like… singing? Her jaw dropped open as she craned her head to listen in on what sounded like the voices of ponies singing in old-Equestrian. Ponies singing about how they wanted to see her again, how they pleaded with the Nightmare Moon to release her from her terrible grip so she may be loved once more. She recognized old Fruitcake’s spell in action… oh poor Fruitcake, there was something affably ‘wrong’ about that unicorn. Obsessing about the silliest things and coming up with the most amusingly strange spells. You couldn’t help but LIKE somepony like that. Let Celestia praise Starswirl all she wanted, she liked Fruitcake better. And now… after so many years one of his spells had brought her a gift that only she could hear and appreciate. Bless that crazy unicorn, and… and bless whomever was singing down there. It was proof she was NOT forgotten. Proof that somepony genuinely missed her and wanted her back in their lives. She placed a hoof against her chest and inhaled deeply, feeling her once heavy heart lighten for the first time in months. She wanted to do something, now. The world seemed to be not so bad. Maybe she should get out more. Actually go forth and patrol the night like she once did. She heard there had been a holiday dedicated to her darker self,when the autumn came about she really should look into that. OH! She once considered herself to be the guardian of the dreams of the young (had it truely been a thousand years?) Maybe she should start taking that seriously again, perhaps surrounding herself with youth would revitalize her outlook on this strange new world. She smiled and spread her wings, taking to the skies. It was a brand new year, and she would make the best of it, one way or another. > Life is What Happens When You're Buying Plants > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes arose shortly after the sun. She looked out the window to the east and smiled, wondering if Celestia took a quick nap after the first big task of the day. She’d have to ask some time, but for now she had chores to do. Some she did not relish. She feared to see what the remains of Long-Dark would be like after a night of settling in. She would have cleaned it up then but it WAS a very late night and all she wanted to do after all of the excitement was sleep. She did her morning toilette at the washbasin, cleaning her face and teeth before running a brush through her thick curly hair before heading downstairs to find… A surprisingly tidy household. Sure, the tables and chairs were all in place but somepony had cleaned up all of the pots, pans and dishes. Sure, they were all stacked on the table but they were clean and stacked neatly. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. This had the names Earshot and Stormfront written all over it. No doubt at least they snuck back in to clean up some, leaving just enough for her to do to keep her feeling wanted. She took a moment in the silence of the house to really look at the amazing assortment of decorations the populace of Stygian Cove had sent. As alien as many seemed to her, they all had an innate beauty and powerful meaning behind them. She paused at the one item she personally thought held the strongest one of all. Earshot had called it the Three-reasons candle. It was a simple Candelabra crafted from the same weird white wood that the crate had been made from. It had Luna’s cutiemark crafted on the front and held three candles. When she lit each one the previous night he spoke softly in Night Pony speech and translated for her and the others. The first candle was for the Friends and family one had. To cherish and hold close. The Second was for the souls you had yet to meet, who would help define you in ways you had yet to know. The third was lit in memory of the family and friends who had departed from this world and how their lives had touched and changed your own. It was such an endearing concept, it was hard not to see how simple and yet wonderful a way it was to count your blessings. She straightened it’s position on the mantle and set about putting everything away. Setting aside Earshot’s motley plates for storage until next time and made a mental note of taking his Tablecloth into town for a professional cleaning. It really was beautiful and deserved to be cared for. Heirlooms often emerged from less than this. Heading outside for the more property-related chores she found more evidence of the previous night. Lots of pony prints on the ground, a yellowed melted patch of snow where hot cider was spilt (at least she HOPED it was cider), a solitary sheet of songbook caught in the branches of one of her rosebushes and Queenie snoring blissfully in a snowbank. Grapes blinked at that, trotted over, and nudged the sleeping mare awake. “Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty. You’ve said you were cold resistant, but I never figured you could sleep, comfortably, in snow,” Grapes said teasingly. “Uh? Wha? Oh!” She muttered before waking up to her situation. “OH! Oh, so sorry… Am I ever beside myself. Ah yes… well I am built for cold-weather resistance… but I suspect Firestormer has been ‘cranking’ the heater in the Bunkhouse to levels of heat I’d rather not be in while I have grown my wintertime coat in. I must have stepped outside to cool off and just found a nice soft bank of snow to settle down in.” She pulled herself out of the snow and shook herself off, her glittering body and golden hair looking as perfect as if she just stepped out of a salon. Some mares have all the luck, and Grapes was certain that Rarity would be green with envy if she were to ever see this display. “Nice. Your hair’s naturally like that, I take it?” Grapes posited. “It wouldn’t just… go back into place, if it wasn’t. I would also presume that your coat is water and snow resistant.” “Mmm? Oh yes, that. Sorry, I keep forgetting not everypony has this mixed blessing. I’m built to take the cold in so many ways but Celestia forbid I should ever want a different manestyle. Then this blessing becomes a stubborn mass of sculpted wire refusing to budge one iota.” She then giggled and shrugged. “I once tried to make my hair straight by ironing it. Even that didn’t work. Well. I suppose finding me asleep on your lawn is better than finding me passed out drunk on it.” “I’ll have to agree with you on that one,” Grapes observed. “Still… When we renovate the bunkhouse, fully, we’ll see about making sure your room has plenty of ventilation. This original pass was just to make it bearable for winter. When spring comes, we can see about some customization.” “I’ll settle for us finding a way to keep Firestormer’s hooves off of the boiler. We can’t exactly sever them… pity. I’d love to be the one to shout, ‘Off with his hooves’.” “... Funny,” Grapes observed, with a roll of her eyes. “Ever get the feeling you should have been born in a different era?” “A little. But I think I’d rather be me than some cruel, heartless… vain… soulless…” She trailed off a moment with a very disturbed expression on her face before coughing into her hoof and forcing a smile. “YES! Happy to be me!” “You are not her, you know,” Grapes said, looking right at Queenie. “You are not your ancestor. Your every action, every thought, and everything you do proves that you are not her.” “Thank you, Grapes. Sometimes I need to be reminded that. So… What is in your itinerary for today? Or should I say this new year?” “Well I plan on getting the tablecloth professionally cleaned,” Grapes said. “Winter Wrap-Up is in a few days, so we should get prepped for that, though there’s no real rush. It’s always late.” “Winter Wrap-Up?” she asked, pausing a moment to think. “Ah yes. that’s right. Out here you save all your effort for one big push. In Avalanche Valley we can’t afford to let winter run completely willy-nilly like that and take care of it in small increments as winter progresses. Far more efficient.” “Old Earth Pony Tradition,” Grapes said, shrugging. “And the town was founded by Earth Ponies, so the only thing that’s used is pegasi abilities, and muscle and hard work. Yet another tradition kept for tradition’s sake, and it seems silly to me.” “Sounds slightly TOO traditional, if it’s always late. Perhaps I SHOULD be the conquering tyrant type. First place to benefit from my icy hoof would be the hamlet of Ponyville… to be benevolently renamed Queenie Town.” “You’d have to deal with my cousins. And I have a lot of Apple cousins,” Grapes observed with a smirk. “Ah yes. The noble house of Apple. To be honest I’d rather fight a raging blizzard than lock horns with Granny Smith. Still, I wouldn’t interrupt the normal day-to-day issues but rather take the reigns during events such as Winter Wrap-up. I suspect it would take a very detail-oriented pony to keep things under control.” “I… honestly don’t think that would help… They wouldn’t appreciate the input of somepony who’s still considered an ‘outsider’,” Grapes observed. “Outsider? Bah. Some good old-fashioned Annexing will fix that.” she winked. “Avalanche Valley is a bit far away to annex Ponyville,” Grapes observed. “Unwritten Constitution, Sour Grapes. I’d be able to do it if I truly wished,” Queenie laughed before seeing Sour Grapes’ blank expression. “Ah… Sorry. Not many nobles these days know about Equestria’s Unwritten Constitution, much less the public. Think of them as a series of laws created by the Equestrian Nobles of old. My father summed them up thusly… *AHEM* It all comes down to if there is either a pre-existing precedent to support what you’re doing OR nopony who is important, ie: the rich and/or powerful, bothers to make a fuss about what you’re doing. Father’s big about us knowing about the rights afforded to our family as titled nobility. Of course there’s knowing your rights, and then there’s knowing which ones the citizens allow you to get away with. Our belief of ‘Total Impunity’ ended in Avalanche Valley towards the end of Thin Ice’s reign.” “Naturally. And I’m sure the citizens of Ponyville, and of course the Apples, would stop you from the attempt at annexing the town,” Grapes observed. “Even if I make a better ruler?” “Ponyville doesn’t have a ruler, except Princess Celestia. There’s a mayor, though. You could try running for office,” Grapes said with a grin. “Mayor Ice Storm… mmmph. Then I’d have to put up with the bizarre disasters rather than merely the plausible ones.” “Yes. But you’d handle it with aplomb, and class,” Grapes observed with a grin. “Ah yes. At least everypony would know that I have great experience in dealing with disasters. My own personal life included…” she muttered quietly on the last line before taking a breath. “I should find out more about how Winter Wrap-up is done in these parts. See if I can ‘chip-in’.” Grapes raised an eyebrow at that one. “Still down on yourself for being a little selfish?” Grapes asked with a raised eyebrow. “It’s not a crime. It’s not your fault the avalanche happened. Also, I don’t believe in curses, just so you know. I mean, she would have had to have been something like an Angel from the ancient Project Exemplar for any kind of curse to take, and all your ancestor did was pave the road to Tartarus.. After all, apparently you met somepony who liked you for you, and not your title. You’re allowed to dream a little.” “Project Exemplar? I cannot say I’m familiar with that one.” “Ancient pre-Celestian period history. Something that happened during the war with the gryphons, way back during the reign of Prince Nebula,” Grapes explained. “It was a way to make ‘exemplars’ of each pony tribe for them to rally around during that bloody conflict. The pegasus version of an exemplar was called an Angel. Unicorns were called Sidhe, and Earth Ponies were called Giants. Also by being exemplars they were more connected with the magic of the land, than ordinary ponies.” “Ahhh… so that’s where those terms came from. Well, yes I see your point. I’m still not happy about the events but it’s not as great of a bitter pill to swallow when you explain it as you have,” Queenie observed. “So quit kicking yourself in the flank about it. Somepony carelessly loaded the cannon, and an obvious idiot rigged himself with fireworks. It was just an unfortunate series of events, that had the snowboarder in question not taken measures to save himself, would have ended with the poor guy a bloody mess on the brass decorations,” Grapes stated quite bluntly. “You truly are as blunt as a sack of soap,” she said smirking at the bespectacled unicorn. “But sometimes that’s what one is needed. So… care for some company in town?” “Eh, sure, why not?” Grapes said with a shrug. “Got to stop by the steam cleaners, and maybe pick up some extra provisions, and see if the seeds are in at the market. Got to prepare for the upcoming season…. Then… ugh… I’ve got to see the weather guild about scheduling a spring of sunny days, and the rainfall occurring at night… This spring’s going to be a doozie…” “It certainly will be interesting. Normally I do not see the lowlands during spring, save in area where there’s severe flooding. Ah, story of the life of a Storm-Rider. Travel to new locales, meet interesting ponies, but only during crises. As Summer Squall would say in his quaint yet crude nautical vernacular, ‘There and gone like flatulence in a gale’. I’m paraphrasing of course.” “Of course,” Grapes said with a smirk, briefly going inside, and coming out with the tablecloth draped on her back. “Though there are ponies that remember you, I’m sure. Heck, the father of a Wonderbolt was one of you guys.” “Father of a… oh! The young lady who picked them up from prison, correct? She looks the spitting image of old Brushfire. He was Firestormer’s predecessor, a stoic and determined figure if the wall of silent heroes does not lie. One of the few to retire from the Storm Riders on his own volition.” “Probably had to think of his family,” Grapes said, as they trotted along. “I doubt he wanted to be a statistic, before his daughter had the chance to settle down and have little colts and fillies of her own.” The door on the third outhouse from the left opened and Earshot wandered out. He didn’t looks his usual spry self but considering how long he had been awake the previous day it was only natural that he be a little less than up to par. “Oh heya Miss Grapes--*cough*-- Heya Queenie. Where you off to?” “Oh we’re headed into town on some errands. Care to come with us?” “*Cough*--No thank you Queenie. I’m not feeling too hot right now. My throat feels kinda scratchy.” “Sounds like you might be coming down with something. Note to self, get orange juice, and chamomile tea, and some lozenges,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “Do you want me to send Doc Crabapple over, to check you out?” “I dunno… it’s just a scratchy throat,” he said furrowing his brow. “Don’t wanna bother a doctor over it. Maybe we should give it a day and see what happens?” “All right. If you say so, Earshot. Going to see about some broth, too. It’s good comfort food,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Oh… and you might want to bring back some air freshener. Miss Pinkie kinda left the new outhouse in a bad way. I keep hearing about how ‘Rank has it’s privileges’ but I don’t think that’s the kind of Rank they mean.” “Ah… no. No it’s not,” Grapes observed with a chuckle. “Okay… Who’s on fewmits duty this week… Hmmm… It’s not you, Queenie, I know that much. We’re going to have to start that up again. We’ve only been shoveling out enough to keep it from really piling up. We’re going to need to start up the compost pile, we did save the leaves from fall...” Firestormer trotted down the path, a newspaper under one wing. “Morning, Ladies, just out for my morning constitutional,” he said before opening the door on outhouse number one… then shutting it immediately. The odor wafted over to Grapes and Queenie. “OH! Oh for the love of Celestia! What DIED in there?” “That’s the one Miss Pinkie Pie used,” Earshot said coughing. “Oh, my EYES are on fire. Sweet Luna’s inexplicable kneesocks, that’s awful!” Firestormer said trying to wave the smell away with his wings. “We’re gonna have to call her STINKY Pie from now on!” “Firestormer, that’s horrible… But then so’s the stench. You know who’s on fewmits duty, this week? Tell them to bring a respirator,” Grapes said blinking rapidly, and coughing a bit. “Can do,” Firestormer said nodding going to the far end of the row of outhouses. “I think it’s Summer Squall next. His fire-gear might help, goggles and the breath filter and all. Where you headed so early?” “Steam cleaners, seed shopping, getting ready to grow the grapes that are an ancient love letter to Princess Celestia,” Grapes stated with a roll of her eyes. “Sun’s Spring Glory… What fun.” “Well if you can wait a few minutes I’ll join you. I have to send a letter to my OTHER boss-filly, Lady Weathervain. Might as well make a day of it.” “Oooh, goodie, bonding,” Grapes said with a laugh. “The last time I spent a day shopping with two of you guys, it was Sirocco and Earshot. That was fun.” “Great. I won’t be long…” He ducked inside and true to his word didn’t take all that long. Ponyville was in good spirits that day. Despite the winter chill there were a lot of it’s personalities running about the snow-covered streets. Steam Clean’s Chineighs laundry was the first stop. He made a fair estimate for the cleaning of the tablecloth and promised to take extra care with it. The trip to the post office was simple enough and over with in less than five minutes. Turns out Firestormer was sending his letter first class ‘Royal’ mail, which meant it was insured to arrive. He confessed he didn’t have to but for some reason while he might play it fast and loose with most ponies he always felt obligated to show Lady Weathervain a great deal of respect, even when sending her mail. Heading down Narrowway Street they came across a familiar figure unloading a large box from a cart in front of DJ P0n3’s house. The DJ in question was there, grinning like crazy while Redline finished and gave her the clipboard. “Okay, Vinyl Scratch, just scribble the name of your choice there and accept your brand-new Speaker of Mass Wub-Struction.” “AWESOME!” she laughed scribbling something on the offered paper before Redline noticed the group approaching. “Sour Grapes! Pleased to see you. I took up on your suggestion and got an in-town office and some staff to keep me on track. Work’s never been steadier.” “Great, but you just gave something that could cause massive property damage to a mare who’s well-known for loving loud noises,” Grapes observed, with an eyeroll, then looked over at Vinyl. “I don’t suppose your filly-friend knows about this? After all, that can’t have been cheap.” “Massive property damage? I just bought a dishwasher from Redline. The dude is a freakin’ wizard with this stuff!” she said running her hooves over the gleaming white metal box. “She’ll LOVE this. It cleans dishes… with Wubs. Heck yeah! I crank the bass up to eleven and it scours dishes clean on a microscopic level. Well worth the price of admission.” “But… Isn’t Octavia more fond of, you know, classical music? I don’t think she’d appreciate a wub-based sonic dishwasher,” Grapes said, flicking an ear back. “Queenie? Add ear plugs for Earshot to the shopping list. I am SO glad we live out of town.” “Aw come on! It’s not like I asked Redline to make me some sort of… Bass Cannon!” Vinyl protested before leaning towards him and saying quietly, “We’re still good on that one, right?” “I’m waiting on some parts but all systems are go,” he replied in the same theatrically low-key manner. “RIGHTEOUS!” “Redline,” Grapes said, glaring at him, having obviously overheard the stage whispers, “for the sake of Equestria, your insurance rates, your health, and your personal freedom, I would strongly suggest you give Miss Scratch a refund. Unless, of course, you’re licensed for weapons of mass destruction, Vinyl. And I don’t think you can get that, unless you’re a high-ranking member of the army… or a Bearer of the Elements of Harmony.” Redline and Vinyl bowed their heads and nodded like little children caught in the act of being naughty. Queenie however was smirking and trying not to laugh. “You, young filly, would no doubt have fit in perfectly at the last sporting extravaganza in Avalanche Valley. They were putting out all manner of loud, bass-rich music for the powder trash.” “Woah! You were actually there at the Haybale Competition? I would have given my eye teeth for a gig like that,” Vinyl said, closing the distance between Queenie and herself in a heartbeat. “What was it like? What music did they play? OOH! What did Dusty groove to?” “Ah yes… Dusty,” Queenie said flatly. “Well… his first act of snowboarding shenanigans was to some song about how things would suffer a temperature drop by a factor of One-Fifth.” “Oh yeah! Twenty Percent Cooler is an awesome song for shaking your tail to,” Vinyl laughed clopping her hooves on the ground. “I often lead with that one at raves. You said his first act, what was the other one?” “Oh that. Yes… He had a very different act for that one.” This time Queenie seemed to stare off into the distance as she recalled the event. “It was like looking at a marionette being puppeteered to the most curious song. It was all about a spell that invoked ‘Wanting it’ and ‘Needing it’. It was hauntingly beautiful, almost mesmerising and yet so disturbing at the same time. A spell so terrible as to manipulate a pony’s very being couldn’t possibly exist… could it?” Grapes and Vinyl looked at each other, both looking a bit perturbed. “The Want-It Need-It Spell…” Grapes started. “Works every time,” Vinyl continued the quote. “Somepony made a SONG about it?!” Grapes asked sounding a bit angry. Redline chuckled and nodded. “They did. I wasn’t aware you knew of that spell, Sour Grapes. At the old CSFGU they would cite that old spell as the closest thing to an actual ‘Curse’, curses, of course, being pure nonsensical superstition for those who don’t really understand how magic works.” “It’s real?” Queenie gasped. “And they actually TEACH you how to cast it? How horrid!” “Oh, no, Queenie. They would NEVER actually teach us how to cast that one. Though somepony always tries to recreate it from scratch.” Redline said leaning against his cart. “They use anecdotes of it as an example of how magic can run rampant and completely out of control if you don’t exercise some wisdom. A prime example of a ‘Fractal Contagion’ spell matrix. You cast it on something or somepony and EVERYpony who lays eyes upon them has only the all consuming desire to possess the object or pony on which the spell was cast,” Redline explained. “In unicorn circles, it’s used as a metaphor for obsession,” Vinyl added. “And the song is… kinda about the metaphor… Somepony claiming that they were hit by a Want-It Need-It spell, when they’re really obsessed with somepony…” “Really… obsessed…?” Queenie said quietly before realising all eyes had turned to her. Firestormer broke the moment. “Wow… sounds like the poor shmoe really fell for somepony, BAD.” Grapes smirked at Firestormer, then casually rocked back and forth on her hooves, whistling innocently. “Yes… yes the poor fellow. Let us hope he gets over her,” Queenie said quickly before giving her wings a slight flutter. “All in all, the cannon incident aside, the whole event was fairly well executed, music and all.” “Except for the idiot with the fireworks strapped to his body,” Grapes quipped. “But… I don’t think the poor guy will be getting over the filly any time soon,” she added with a smirk. “After all she’s one-of-a-kind. Anyway, we’re burning daylight, my dear pegasi. And I’ll be watching you two… And I’m going to let Octavia know about the bass cannon, so she can help keep you two out of the tanty.” “Hey, don’t knock it unless you’ve tried it,” Vinyl said with a laugh. “The Iron Tower rules, it has killer acoustics.” “Yes, but I would still prefer to keep my eardrums, and most of Ponyville and its surrounding areas, intact, thank you,” Grapes said, as she trotted along. The trio of ponies headed to what qualified as an urban core in Ponyville for some light shopping. Seedy Soil’s Seed Sanctum was open for business and fairly busy. It being so close to Winter Wrap-Up he was receiving all manner of orders from the local ponies and having to deal with the deliveries. Still Seedy Soil VI saw Sour Grapes coming and putting on a smile he saved for a member of a family that were among his oldest and best customers. The exchanges were brief but warm and friendly, ending with a large box being passed across the counter to Sour Grapes. All the seeds that she would need for Summerstart Rush were there, ready to go. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any Sun’s Spring Glory in?” Grapes asked with a sigh. “Oh, and I’m going to need watermelon, and broccoli. I’m anticipating and… interesting order-list, this year.” “Hmm… Watermelon is easy enough, Broccoli is a little scarce this year. Turns out some wiseacre foals have been buying up my stock in an attempt to preemptively remove it from their dinners later,” he said, before quietly saying, “Wish I had thought of that when I was their age. I can give you names if you wanna buy some off of them rather than wait.” “Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “No… Wait… They’re not… Oh… Oh no… Don’t tell me… Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, right?” “Believe it or not, no. In fact I was really surprised that those two colts had enough brain power between them to come up with this plan in the first place.” “You’re telling me Snips and Snails bought up the broccoli?” Grapes asked in utter disbelief. “How in the hoary horseradished hay did they get the money?” “When I asked them, they said something about having a couch-cleaning business and keeping anything they found in the cushions as a ‘tip’. As I said, it surprised the hay out of me they pulled this off. Still, money’s money and as long as they didn’t outright steal the stuff..” “Couch cleaning… Clever. Very clever. Must have taken them a while to get up the money, ‘cause ponies don’t usually wear garments with pockets in which they could store loose change. Must have concentrated upon the richer citizens, because they tend to use clothing as a status symbol,” Grapes observed. “I just… shudder to think what those two would do with even more money… Because I would feel obliged to pay them what they paid you…” “Well credit where it’s due. Maybe you could trade them the monetary equivalent in candy or something to keep that from happening. I’m still surprised at the whole thing. The little so-and-so’s must have used up a whole year of cleverness for this gambit.” “Too bad Earshot sent his Nightmare Night candy home… I guess I could try that. But then, since it’s the Canterlot Dandies wanting it, waiting would give me a good excuse to jack up the price,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “Anyways… Hmm… Sun Spring’s Glory. Not a lot of call for that. It’s hard to find a plant that’s even more picky than them.” The dirt-brown earth pony tapped his chin before smiling. “I think I have some in the back. Yes. Yes I’m sure I do. I remember somepony misordered some last summer when they really wanted Morning Glories.” “Well that’s fine. I’ll take ‘em,” Grapes said with a shrug. “My family’s been able to grow them, and make them into a really good wine. And I think I’ll wait on the broccoli seeds. After all if the more idiotic nobles of Canterlot are wanting broccoli wine, they can both afford to wait, and afford to pay more.” “Right. One section’s worth of Sun Spring’s Glory seeds coming right up.” He went into the back for a moment then came back out with another large box, this one with the stylised image of a sun rising over melting fields of snow. Bits were exchanged and the group took one step outside when Sour Grapes found herself nearly nose-to-nose with a blue and white pony. “Brushie, Brushie, Brushie.” Minuette chuckled. “Fancy meeting you in town, Sour Grapes.” “Hello, Minuette, how are you? Hear you’ve encountered Earshot.” “Oh yes. The Night Pony. I like him, and not just because he has such a unique set of chompers. I’ve never met any pony who was genuinely impressed by me sticking things into his mouth. He told me about the… barbaric dental care of his home,” she shuddered. “Imagine how bad it is when you need a guy named Red Chisel to remove the offending tooth.” Grapes gave a full-body shudder at that particular memory. Minuette turned to Firestormer and her expression darkened as she put one hoof under his chin and tilted his worried face upwards. “And you… I STILL wanna break your jaw.” “Wait… what? Okay, Firestormer, what did you do?” Grapes said rounding upon the hapless Storm Rider. “N-Nothing,” he stammered, looking nervously at Grapes. “Nothing? MISTER Firestormer, It would give me no greater pleasure at this time of my life to be the one responsible wiping that cocky grin right off of your face,” Minuette said with a rather sinister gleam in her eye. “You have ten seconds to explain this, before I get really really cross,” Grapes said, going into deadly sweet voice mode. “It’s not what you think!” he protested, as Grapes stared him down. Minuette laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. Guess that sounded terrible on your end, Grapes.” “Gee? Ya THINK?!” Grapes asked, sarcastically. “Oh, wow. Yeah that did sound like I was personally P.O.’ed at him. No. Firestormer here once suffered a severe facial injury that due to monetary concerns was healed on a practical level rather than an aesthetic one,” She made a show of peeling down Firestormer’s lower lip showing the poor condition his lower teeth had grown in. Not that they were yellowed or rotting, but instead of being in a neat row they were in some rather awkward placements, “He can eat and talk with no difficulty, and his upper and lower teeth fit together, but there are problems. You can see the obvious one with his lower teeth. What you CAN’T see is how some of the musculature in his face has fused incorrectly. When he smiles they pull at odd angles giving him this… cocky grin. It’s a shame, really. I bet the guy’s got a sweet smile under all this damage.” “Doctor Minuette has offered to reset my jaw for me at a reduced price, when I have time for it. Which brings me to the letter I sent to Lady Weathervain. It’s hard to give instructions to my teammates when my mouth is wired shut, so I need to let her know in advance my situation so we can come up with a workaround. Maybe bring in a temp or something in case a fire emergency pops up.” “I’ll soak the cost if he lets me write up a paper on his condition and my work to fix it,” Minuette said proudly. “Imagine, nearly a decade has passed since his initial injury. While it’s extremely feasible to do this, it has no modern precedent. This is gonna be a fairly big chapter in the annals of dental history. Hope your grand pooh-bah lets you have the time off. This is the sort of thing that helps really make a name for you in dental circles.” “Oh. Just thought Cassanova, here, had gotten himself into trouble… He’s had some near-misses, since he’s been in my employ,” Grapes observed, casually. “Really? You know, I can see that. He’s got those dashing roguish looks that some fillies just love. Not really my thing, no offence, Firestormer.” Minuette said with a smirk. “Uh, none taken? I’ll admit that I’ve finally started enjoying myself a little more lately but I’m not about to ruin my life or somepony else’s by being less than a gentlecolt in the most important respects,” Firestormer admitted with his trademark cocky smile. “Besides, Mom and Dad told me if I got a mare in trouble she’d OWN my yellow tail until the foal was fully grown up.” Grapes smirked, sniggering. “I like your parents’ style, Firestormer.” “When it comes time to break Firestormer’s face, would you mind if I watched? Perhaps even assisted?” Queenie giggled, looking more than a little in touch with her inner schadenfreude. “Sorry Miss. Unless you’re actually genetically or legally family I cannot allow you to be any closer than a waiting room.” Minuette said with a sly smirk. “Let me guess… Annoying co-worker?” “And he acts very much like the brother I never would have wanted.” “Ah. Still no. Sorry.” Minuette gave a shrug, before giving her a toothbrush. “Thanks for playing but here’s your consolation prize.” Grapes laughed out loud at that. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Minuette.” “Anyways, Lady Weathervain will probably get back to us soon enough,” Firestormer continued. “She usually has a contingency plan or two in case one of us is incapacitated… or, you know. Killed in the line of duty. It’s happened before, we might not get called in often but when we’re out there the possibility is really up there. You should see the insurance premiums we’d have if we weren’t under the command of the Crown…. Tiara… Headwear thing Celestia wears. I’ve never been entirely certain on that one.” “Oh that’s easy,” Queenie said offhandedly. “While technically it’s a Tiara, it’s referred to as a Crown (Capital C, mind you) out of the respect that she is the Crowned head of our nation.” “Queenie’s right on that one,” Grapes said with a nod, then looked at Minuette. “Just wished you had decided to do this a month ago.” “Oh really? Any reason why?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “He works for me, too. Though I’m sure he could work with a jaw wired shut… It may make things a little difficult, while he’s in recovery,” Grapes observed. “Sorry. I didn’t know him until recently. He only came into my office a week or so ago for a polishing. Needless to say I gave him a thorough examination and decided to make it my mission to fix his smile.” The dentist said with a smile of her own. “Well you are nothing, if not dedicated,” Grapes observed. “I’m sure the sub would not mind putting in some hours on the grape fields a as a team building exercise.” “Yeah. I can’t help but wonder what Lady Weathervain really thinks about us all working together here. You know, after all that convenience of us being in one place.” “I’m sure we’ll find out, eventually,” Grapes observed. “All right. Hm… What else do we need to do, here? Oh… antioxidants, and cough syrup, and anything else that could help Earshot. He may just need something like chickpea soup, but… I’d rather have that stuff on hoof should things progress from just a cold to the mother of all colds. It’ll be handy for everypony else.” “Yeah. Probably good to be prepared,” Firestormer agreed. “He might just have caught a chill from being outside last night. But being sick is no fun for anypony. It was nice seeing you again, Minuette. Lady Weathervain will probably get back to me inside of the week. She’s good about that sort of thing.” “Right. I’ll see what times are flexible in my calendar,” Minuette replied before looking at Queenie and Grapes. “As for you two, you might wanna make your checkups soon too. Dental hygiene is for everypony.” “Right. I’ll work it into my schedule,” Grapes said with a sigh. “As will I,” Queenie said with a smile. “I should have stopped by Gleaming Bicuspid’s office while I was home but… conditions were hardly ideal. I shall drop by next week to make an appointment, Miss Minuette.” “Let’s finish up and head home, ponies,” Grapes said with a smile. “Hopefully Stormy’s been kept well away from any baking. Anything that you two need while or want while we’re here?” “Mmm. Maybe a light lunch while we’re out and about. Nothing serious, perhaps some sandwiches from that Sandwich shop I saw in the craftspony quarter. I believe it had the very direct name ‘The Sandwich Shop’.” Queenie said before pausing, her attention focused on something past Grape’s shoulder. Staring straight ahead she walked past Sour Grapes, over to a bulletin board off to one side and stared at one of the items on it. “Oh… oh my… my, my, my.” “What?” Grapes asked, looking at the bulletin board, searching for what had attracted Queenie’s attention. It was small, perhaps your standard 8” by 11” sheet of paper and printed in black and white. But the words that were emblazoned on it tended to draw the eye. The Royal Equestrian Air Farce proudly presents the runaway underground hit The Tyrant Celestia Variety Show Come one come all and witness the cruel whims of the mad Solar diarch. She sings! She dances! She LUSTS! For the mere price of admission see her twisted history with her sister come to a final climax. Witness her diabolical machinations put into motion. Thrill to the infamous ‘Banana’ sketch. Do not miss this one, ponies! To be shown in Ponyville’s ‘Underground Theatre’ at the usual time. Be there or be a rectangular thing! “Interesting. One would assume from the name of the troupe that it’s biting political satire,” Grapes observed. “I’d go just to check it out, if I knew where Ponyville’s underground theater happened to be.” “Yes…...” Queenie said distractedly, looking at the small ad. “She did always enjoy them turning social commentary on it’s ear. And still using small adverts too, very clever using word-of-mouth to their advantage. Only those genuinely interested would pass this along, if even just to go and feel outraged by it.” “Who is this ‘she’ you’re talking about?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “She? Did I say ‘She’? “ she said suddenly coming out of her stupor. “Why that’s absolutely redic… Fine. She’s my sister, Glacial Ice. She’s part of this particular troupe of theatrical ponies.” “Thank you for being honest with me, I appreciate it,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Though that does mean you may get to see your sister, when the troupe comes to town, which would be a perk for you, I think.” “It’s been some time since we’ve been face to face. I love my sister dearly but she followed her heart which led her to the stage, and that means she travels greatly. She prefers the underground circuit. Non-mainstream theatres that flaunt the normal laws of society and convention, truly avant-garde… when they get it right. The problem with performing away from the social mores more often than not material can become base and crude rather than clever..” Queenie sighed and smiled gently. “Fortunately they are a very competent group who realise that above all else they MUST be entertaining, even if they become insulting.” “Princess Celestia herself would not have such a thing banned, or the performers arrested; though many ponies of the nobility would dearly love to have them silenced, because they value their precious little balloon-like egos. On the other hoof, Princess Celestia seems to have the rare quality of being able to laugh at herself. All in all, though, for the material to remain clever, one must have good writers who are willing to not cater to the lowest common denominator,” Grapes observed. “Well…” Queenie said tapping her chin with her hoof. “If memory serves me, Spear Shaker had catered to the lowest common denominator in his plays. My father called him a master of the art of writing all ‘Artsy-Fartsy’. That is to say, if you write ‘Artsy’ for the highbrow ponies, then you must also write ‘Fartsy’ for the lowbrow, that way there is something for everypony. I have to agree with him on that one. Even Summer Squall has enjoyed some of Spear Shaker’s works, often sniggering away at some of the more lurid puns. ‘Get thee to a Nunnery’ indeed.” “My dear Queenie, that’s not writing to the lowest common denominator. That’s being all-inclusive. Writing to the lowest common denominator would be humor at it’s most puerile, AND unintelligent. Spear Shaker may have written inclusively, but he was always smart, and sprinkled the more ribald moments like a very spicy seasoning. Enough to add some zang, and not overwhelm the rest of the elements present in his narrative,” Grapes explained. “For an example of ‘catering to the lowest common denominator’ check out some of the more popular bits of sequential art that’s featured in some of the newspapers. They often use the same gag over and over again, because that’s what the majority of their audience finds funny. To me, it’s just repetitive, and uncreative.” “Really? I would have given the same thought to those plays those Way-Land Brothers have done as of late. Hardly any wit or creativity to speak of. All of it dependant upon pure ridicule of already existing entertainments.” “Oh, I know. I’ve had to read one of Mom’s letters about her and Dad wasting their money on one, because one of her new friends at Seaside recommended it,” Grapes said, with a roll of her eyes. “Hm… I guess I’m going to have to grit my teeth, and ask the most likely pony to know where an ‘underground theatre’ would be in Ponyville.” Firestormer nodded. “And who would that be? Pinkie Pie is bad at keeping secrets, Rarity might know because it could be Avant Garde but also may not go in case the material is too... you know… low. Twilight isn’t the type, neither is A.J. or Fluttershy… Maybe Rainbow Dash?” “Actually, Pinkie is great at keeping secrets, Firestormer,” Grapes corrected him. “If she promised not to tell, she won’t, because betraying a friend’s trust is the worst thing you could possibly do. You could even lose a friend.” “Fooooor-EEEEEEV-eeeeeeeeer!” Pinkie said ominously, popping behind them, from inside a nearby rain barrel. “GAH!” Grapes yelped, jumping a bit. Queenie and Firestormer just stared in shock at the pink pony in the barrel. A silence it took a moment for Queenie to break. “Were this any other township in the world I would be a good deal MORE surprised than I currently am. How long do you stay fresh in that receptacle?” “Four to six weeks depending upon weather conditions and temperature,” Pinkie replied merrily. “Oh, and if I have air holes. Got to have air holes.” “OH yeah. You GOT to have fresh air…” Firestormer sniggered. “I’ve been in that outhouse you left behind last night, Pinkie.” “So have I. Peeee eeeew! And I was in there for hours! Not fun at all, but at least I got to sing with everypony! Aaaaanyway, had the Pinky Sense that somepony wanted to talk to me, so here I am!” Pinkie said with a giggle. “Yeah. I can’t imagine why you ate so much of that stuff. I only got a few teaspoons that that was enough for me,” Firestormer said with a chuckle. “And we are glad you got better in time to sing. A party of any kind just wouldn’t be the same without good old Stinky Pie… I mean Pinky Pie.” “It looked like custard, with food coloring, honest!” Pinkie said in her defense as she crawled out of the barrel. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have eaten it, but it looked like custard, and I was trying to help my pal, Earshot, so he wouldn’t have leftovers. Some leftovers are fine, like cake, and cookies, but custard gets all hard and gunky in the refrigerator, and then it’s no good at all. Then you have to decide if you wanna eat it anyway or throw it out, but if you throw it out, you end up feeling like you’ve wasted food, and that’s never a good feeling at all. Heck, even the Cakes crumble up the stale bread for Fluttershy so she can feed the ducks with it, and then it’s not wasted.” “Good thinking.” He agreed before chuckling. “Still, hope you’re a little more cautious from now on. I’d hate to be the one to drag you to the hospital one day. I’m a fire marshall, not a stretcher bearer.” “Pardon me for asking this, Pinkamina,” Queenie started, her head tilting slightly to the side. “Have you… lost weight?” “Have I?” the pink pony began prodding herself all over with her hooves, giving the others in the group a chance to get in a good look themselves. It genuinely had looked like she lost weight. Not a massive amount but enough that it was as if she were somehow less… fluffy than she was in the winter. She finished her self-examination and turned back to the others. “Yeah, I have. That Smooze must have completely cleaned out my system. I felt so TIRED afterwards but today I feel… sorta healthy? Like you do after going on a diet for a while. Like you finally got all your vitamins back.” “Good for you, Pinkie,” Grapes observed. “I guess you needed that. Though, maybe, next time, you should have a slightly smaller dosage, hm?” “Oh yeah… definitely.” she nodded sadly, her pink forelock bobbing up and down with the motion. “I heard that there can be too much of a good thing and now I know that there can also be too much of a good-for-you thing.” “You know what they say,” Grapes said with a grin. “Everything in moderation, including moderation.” “Well. I’m off now. Mister and Mrs Cake got a big order for a wedding and those cakes aren’t gonna bake themselves!” Pinkie stopped a moment and giggled. “It’ll take both Cakes to bake all those cakes!” “And a Pinkie,” Grapes quipped. “Oh, Pinkie? Do you know where the underground theatre would be? Thought I’d go and check out the show that’s coming to town.” “Hmmmmmm.” Pinky, thought hard, her brow furrowing cutely before she came to a conclusion. “I haven’t been there or anything but I hear it really IS underground. You know. Like a cellar or something. Mmmm…. OH! When all else fails, follow the snacks! I’m sure even underground theatre-goers like to nibble on something while they watch.” “Follow the snacks. At least you were only moderately vague, Pinkie. Thank you,” Grapes said shaking her head, chuckling. Walking back through town Sour Grapes could have sworn she heard children singing a song she had never quite heard from them before. It took a few lines but she realised that it was that song Earshot had mentioned the previous night. All the foals present at the dinner, and Pinkie Pie, must have taught it to them. She had to admit that with the bouncy tune and easily rememberable lyrics it was insidiously catchy, annoyingly hummable… and that was bad news for Ponyville. It meant that no matter what the stallions and mares would try, the foals would be singing it ad-nauseum for weeks. She chuckled to herself. In more ways than one, nothing would stop the Smooze. The Vineyard was fairly quiet on their return. She took note of Stormfront sitting on the bunkhouse porch with Big Macintosh sipping steaming hot cider in perfect silence. It was interesting to see the two ponies just savoring the day like that. They made an interesting pair of friends, but then again despite coming from different tribes both were very much the workhorses of their groups. Stormfront noticed their arrival and waved. “Hey there, Grapes. Macintosh dropped by and we had a long chat over some hot cider. He’s very introspective when you let him get a word in edgewise.” “Well it’s often said that still waters run deep,” Grapes said with a nod. “I know for a fact that farm work leaves you a lot of time for introspection.” “Eeyup.” “Well said, brother.” Stormfront said with a smirk. “Don’t suppose you’ve been keeping an eye on Earshot? He wasn’t feeling so hot when we left. Going to whip up some chickpea soup. Might help him feel better,” Grapes said, as Queenie and Firestormer carried the various purchases to their respective places. “Oh yeah. He did mention that. He didn’t look all that good either. He drank a quart of apple juice after complaining of a scratchy throat and feeling all hot. He took a shower and lay down on the sofa in the basement for a bit. Probably is still there right now. Says being down there feels like home.” “I’ll fix that soup, then. Got him some throat lozenges, too, along with a whole array of stuff to help with all kinds of sneezes and sniffles. The weather change-over can lead to colds,” Grapes said, as she went inside. Sour Grapes entered the warm homey bunkhouse and set up the soup on the stove before pulling up the trap door to the recreational room. After checking to see if the lights were on she descended into the basement. It was on the cool side as one would expect a cellar to be during the winter, and it was very quiet. The lights may have been on but she didn’t see Earshot anywhere. She was about to check behind the proto-minibar when she heard a soft coughing from the couch. It took her a moment to realise that Earshot had burrowed into the couch so much that he had nearly gone completely between the heavy seat cushions. “Hey, Earshot,” Grapes said, going to the couch, smiling a bit. “You a bit cold?” He opened his eyes ever so slightly and smiled up at her. “Heya, Miss Grapes. A little. [*Cough*] I just came down here for a nap and it felt so good to me on the couch I kinda kept going.” “I’m fixing you some chickpea soup, hon. That will warm you up, and make you feel a lot better, I hope,” Grapes said smiling warmly at him. “I think I’d like that a lot right now,” the little gray colt said slowly unfolding himself from his makeshift nest. “I really should eat something, I haven’t had anything since breakfast. I just feel more thirsty than hungry.” “I’ve got you some orange juice, too, sweetie. Has some good vitamins that will help your immune system,” Grapes said, kindly, and helped him up. “I like Orange Juice. It tastes like sunshine in a glass.” he managed to giggle before plodding up the stairs. “How was your day, Miss Grapes?” “It was all right, Earshot,” Grapes said as they walked up the stairs. “Had a nice time shopping with Firestormer and Queenie. I should go on shopping excursions with everypony from the Riders sometime. Might be nice.” “It probably would be nice. I think it would be nice to have you at Carry-oak leaves too. Stormfront was very disappointed that you never had a chance to sing at the last time.” “Karaoke, Earshot.” “I know,” he chuckled before coughing again. “I just kinda like saying it that way. You really do have a nice voice, Miss Grapes. I occasionally hear you singing in the shower and I think Stormfront would like to hear you sing too. Maybe when my throat stops feeling like I’ve been swallowing tree bark we can try another night?” “I’ve got you some lozenges, so that will help your throat a bit,” Grapes observed with a nod. “We’ll work hard to make sure you get better.” “Thank you very much,” he said, slowly climbing into his seat at the kitchen table. “Being sick is really icky, isn’t it?” “Yes, Earshot, yes it is,” Grapes agreed. Grapes noted that the soup and lozenges seemed to perk Earshot up, and afterwards just to be sure she sent him to bed early to let nature take it’s course. She remembered being sick as a child and how just a little attention was often enough to take the sting out of everything. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -Next morning- Sour Grapes went upstairs and knocked on the bright yellow door with his cutiemark emblazoned on it in purple. Her nose twitched at a strange odor tickling it. “Earshot? Earshot you in there? It’s time to get up. Holidays are over and Cheerilee is gonna wanna see you in class later. She tried the handle, and finding the door unlocked, opened it with a gentle push. The smell hit her full-force now. The whole room stank like vinegar, a piercing acidic smell that stabbed deep in her nose and made her eyes water. His bed was in a shambles, completely unmade. The sheets draped off on the far side. She heard a faint groan and moving to the other side of the bed was caught off guard by what was there to greet her eyes. Earshot lay on the floor, next to his chamberpot. His shivering body gleaming with what looked like golden perspiration which had formed a small pool around him. The chamberpot contained what looked like what her mother had always simply called “sick”. It looked as if he had made a supreme effort dragging himself to the basin to not foul his own bed with the contents of his stomach. Instantly Sour Grape’s horn flickered to life, surrounding Earshot’s young frame in it’s golden glow and lifting him upwards. She felt a wave of nausea when she realised that whatever he was sweating might smell like vinegar but had the thick consistency of honey. Long thread-like ribbons of it hung off of his body, still connecting him to where he had lay on the floor. As she fought the urge to freak out he moaned in her ponykinetic grip, his ears weakly turning in her direction. “M-miss Grapes…” he said weakly. “...could you please tell Miss Cheerilee I might be late today?” “I don’t think you’ll be attending class, today, Earshot. Come on, let me get you cleaned up,” Grapes said, kindly, as she carried him to the bathroom, and used her hooves to start a nice warm bath. “Also, I’m about to get rather loud, so cover your ears, if you can.” His ears seemed to fold flat over themselves in acquiescence to her request. there was something both impressive and yet pitiable about how he was able to do this and yet not lift his own hooves over them. Grapes then took a deep breath, and bellowed: “EMERGENCY! We have a COLT DOWN! Firestomer, get Doc Crabapple! Everypony else stay AWAY from Earshot’s room! I’ve already been exposed, but let’s keep this contained as much as possible! Also, somepony needs to stop by the schoolhouse and let Cheerilee know that Earshot’s sick!” She could hear the sounds of the bunkhouse coming to life. Hooves hitting the floor, moving up and down stairs and one set heading out the front door. If there was one thing the Storm Riders were good at it was mobilising in a crisis. She turned the shower on the gray colt to wash the excretions from his body, adjusting the temperature to a comfortable level. The irony was not lost on her that the last time she did this with him it was more of a punishment for staying up too late. Now, it was hopefully a comfort for him. She slipped her hoof into a wash-sock and began wiping the goo from his face, speaking words of comfort to him. “We’re going to make sure you get better, honey,” Sour Grapes said gently. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you get the best care you can.” It took a surprisingly short time for. Dr Crabapple to arrive. Of all things he and Firestormer came over the rise in Redline’s high-speed sleigh invention. It’s loud buzzing heralding their arrival. She supposed it made more sense for Crabby to make the journey this way, she certainly didn’t expect Firestormer to carry him here, plus whatever gear he would have brought with him. She watched from Earshot’s window as her cousin shakily disembarked from the sleigh and collected his medical bags before coming into the bunkhouse. She peered down the stairs to the main floor where Crabapple staggered in and tossed his scarf over the coatrack. He grumbled to nopony in particular. “What a frightening way to travel. How does that maniac come up with stuff so unsafe and yet so useful at the same time? Worst part is I actually want to try that again.” “It does look fun,” Grapes observed with a chuckle. “Come on, Crabby, you’ve got to check him out. This is beyond anything I’ve ever seen.” The green earth pony followed her back up to the top floor. When he got to Earshot’s door she realised she had made the right choice in calling him. He actually recoiled at the sight and odor within, before fixing his expression to one of stern confidence. He cared about others, but also was going to do what had to be done, his own emotions be darned. He put his medical bags down next to Earshot’s bed and stared down at him. “Sweet merciful Celestia… it’s true. We really have a Night Pony in town. I thought…” He took a deep breath before opening his bags and pulling out his various tools. “It doesn’t matter. How long has he been like this? Not him being a Night Pony, the sickness… unless he just became a Night Pony recently too.” Grapes sighed. “Night Ponies are NOT vampires, Crabby,” Grapes said sounding irate. “They are a subtribe of pegasus, built to be nocturnal. And he started being like this today. Yesterday, the symptoms he had was coughing, sore throat, chills, fever, severe thirst, and itchiness.” “All right. That’s at least somewhere to begin,” he grumbled poking a tongue depressor into Earshot’s mouth and lowering his reflector into place to peer down his throat. “Pronounced canines... He has fangs. Fine. You’re certainly no dummy, Sour, so I’ll take your word on him being more normal than his looks would suggest. Heck, it’s not as if he’s drinking blood and eating meat, right?” “He has been repeatedly exposed to sunlight, and has exhibited no inclination toward sangovorism,” Grapes said casually. “Though he can eat normal food, quite easily, he can, and often enjoys insects, and insects added to his food. I’ve made him cookies using weevil infested flour.” “Really? I mean… really? That’s, that’s…” he recomposed himself again and put his stethoscope into his ears and peeled back the sticky blanket from Earshot’s chest so he could listen to his heart. “How long have you had him? Why was I never asked to do a physical? You’re not usually this… sloppy, Grapes. Was he just that new to your farm?” “He’s been here through the winter. I was going to call you for the spring physicals, as usual,” Grapes said with a sigh. He turned Earshot’s head to the left and stuck a thermometer into his ear to take his temperature, causing the colt to wince, even in his unconscious state. “Sensitive ears, aren’t they? Are they just for keeping his hat from covering his eyes or do they actually do what they look like they do?” “Probably. They’re good enough that he can hear stars,” Grapes said. “He’s heard Pinkie tell a joke at Sugarcube Corner from my front yard. I don’t let this get out, because ponies will assume the worst, but he’s always careful about what he hears.” “That’s some good hearing, Don’t worry. I’ll file this under the doctor/patient confidentiality thing. All right?” he agreed before carefully opening Earshot’s eyelid and getting a good look at the yellow slitted orbs behind them. “Cat-eyes. Cheese and crackers, life around here can’t be easy for a colt who is this far out of what we see as normal.” “It’s not easy, but he hasn’t had as bad a time. It helps that he’s a cute little colt,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “I’ll take your word on that one. Maybe later when he’s not oozing goo and whatnot I’ll see it too. Look, I’m gonna be here for a bit. If you want to take a break that’s fine. I’m beginning to suspect there may be more under his skin than what we might take for granted here.” Sour Grapes knew what the unspoken “I can’t work with you breathing down my neck” request was. Crabapple might be the cranky old general practitioner with others but he always showed some patience with her. Never insulting her and certainly his rudeness always softened. She knew he would call it “You’re one of the few ponies I can stand”, but it was more of a “you’re family” thing. Grapes nodded, and backed off, watching him work, and occasionally giving him one of the containers from his kit for a sample. This took a while, because Crabapple tended to be very thorough. Occasionally he would ask about his young charge and Grapes would answer as best she could, every little factoid she told him seemed to impress the earth pony greatly. When they were finished, they went back downstairs. “Sour Grapes, I’m going to need these samples sent to Dr Coldhoof post-haste. Do you think your friend Redline and his crazy zoom-machine could…” Crabapple stopped cold, his forest green eyes meeting the teal gaze of the zebra who had been laying her various jars and fetishes out on the dining room table. Looking over at where Sirocco stood next to her it made sense to Grapes that the dusky mare had sought aid from a tribal wise-mare, and brought her here post-haste. A noble gesture, but one that could go badly. It was a moment that stretched out in a heavy silence as the two seemed to sum one another up. Crabapple in his white coat, stethoscope and head mirror and her in her jewelry and wicker saddle bags surrounded by exotic materials. It was a case of folk remedy meeting modern medicine. Mystic healing coming face to face with Logical healing. Grapes steeled herself for quick, decisive and, if need be, very LOUD intervention when Crabapple spoke. “Miss, there’s a sick young pony upstairs who’s suffering from something I have never seen before… and he’s a breed of pony I’ve never thought existed. Are you here to help or just get underhoof?” "I am here, as griffons say, to lend a hand with the nocturnal pony from a distant land. I am Zecora. Please make no redress, but I have cured many kinds of illness. And you, sir, with your robe of white, are a fellow healer who has come this night?" “I am, yes. Name’s Doctor Crabapple and to be completely honest, Zecora, I will take any genuine help I can right now. As long as you have the experience to back up your claims… welcome aboard.” “I promise no miracles but I can evoke that I have even cured poison joke. My remedies come from simpler times, from distant lands and exotic climes. I have no great magic, but I will attest, for Earshot’s sake, I will do my best,” Zecora said solemnly. The green and gray pony seemed satisfied with this and giving a nod gave the box of sample jars to Sour Grapes. “Fair enough. So, back on track. Here are some samples I got of Earshot’s various… well, what they are isn’t important. Just that we get them to Dr. Coldhoof so he can run tests on them. He’s the best darn lab jockey in the region. The more we know about what’s going on with him, the better a chance we have of helping him.” “I presume they’re Earshot’s excretions, and bodily fluids?” Grapes observed. “All right. I’ll see if Redline’s still there… But… I’ve been exposed. It’s not exactly safe for me to… well… go out. We don’t know how this is transmitted.” “Right. I dunno... maybe leave it on the driveway for pickup? Look If Redline’s half as clever as he seems then he’ll probably figure something out.” “Or I could use the old lungpower, and let them know, before shoving it out the door,” Grapes observed, as she went to the door. “We need this taken to the clinic, TEN MINUTES AGO, ponies! And be careful with it! It’s medical samples!” With that she put it on the porch table. “I never assume, especially with Redline. He was making hands for Lyra, the other day… Never mind that blasted toaster...” A minute later she heard the buzzing of that propeller-propelled sleigh approaching and coming to a halt. Looking through the window she saw the strangest thing. Because it was strange it HAD to be Redline. A pony-shaped mass of yellow stepped off of the mechanised marvel. The outfit he wore was an all-encompassing covering made from a slick yellow material and had a window-like section on the face as well as carried some manner of machinery upon his back. A familiar colonial blue glow flickered across the item and two long arms extended from it, each ending in an ape-like metal hand. They gingerly took the sample case in their grasp, lifted it and placed it into a large trunk on the back covered in warning labels before closing and sealing it. “...He made more hands… Lyra must have asked for those. I think the Haz-Mat suit’s a bit much though… I guess he’s not taking any chances,” Grapes observed with a sigh. He sat down at the controls and the fan began to rev up again, kicking up a cloud of snow behind the machine. It began taxiing past the Bunkhouse when a tiny Hazmat suit popped up in the seat next to Redline’s and waved cheerfully to Sour Grapes as it began pulling away. Grapes chuckled, waving back. “It’s on its way,” she reported. “Great,” Crabapple admitted as he and Zecora were ascending the stairs. “Let’s put the foal into a cool bath for the moment. The fever might be the body’s way of fighting off a sickness but it’s not gonna help if it cooks him alive.” “I’ll get that started,” Grapes said starting toward the stairs. “If you would stray from your path, I have some herbs to put into his bath. They will help his breathing, for a while, and help clean his coat of that gunk and bile,” Zecora said hoofing her a packet of herbs. “Thanks,” Grapes said, nodding, and trotting up the stairs. The water was eventually decided to be on the warm side of cool and once Zecora added the herbs, mixing it to a pale shade of blue they carefully lowered Earshot’s unresisting body into it. Even now Grapes could see Crabapple marveling over the night pony’s form, taking the moment he was assisting in washing him to get a good look at him. “I know you’re my cousin, but I wish you would quit looking at him like he’s some kind of specimen,” Grapes uttered, sounding cross. “He. Is. A. Pony. Just as much as you are, and a lot more than some ponies I’ve had the misfortune of meeting. Just because he’s different isn’t a reason for you to dissect him with your eyes, Crabapple.” “Sour Grapes, understand I HAVE to look at him like that. Any pony who enters my care has to be scrutinised, examined and otherwise appraised,” he grumbled as he gently extended one bat-like wing and ran a wash-sock over it. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t. Now more than ever. I know he’s probably just a sub-breed of pegasus but if what you say is true, that his people have adapted to some fairly different conditions for a thousand years that let them see with sound, see in the dark, eat meat, hibernate, that means there’s probably a whole barrel load of things that make him different other than just his wings and eyes. I have to be careful what treatments I use, there’s no telling what might help and what might harm him further.” “Well Rainbow Dash was able to eat worms in her foalhood. I’m sure any of us could eat meat, if we wanted. We’ve never tested the hypothesis,” Grapes observed. “But he can eat and digest regular food just fine. Honestly, if I wasn’t so worried about the fact that REDLINE built most of her scientific equipment, I might have let Twilight Sparkle run some tests on him… Even then, I’d have been wary. He’s a guest, out here, and something of an ambassador for his tribe. They want to be able to come out, and that one village they live close to believes all the tripe about Night Ponies so they feel morally obligated to make life, out here, seem as horrible as possible to ‘keep them contained’. So you can see where I’m coming from in this.” “Remind me to send Dr Coldhoof to that village then. Sounds like they deserve his particular brand of tender mercy.” Crabapple washed Earshot’s back before smirking. “As for the meat thing, I can tell you that we can digest meat… Just not a lot. Our bodies can only handle so much before we get sick, and that amount changes from pony to pony. It’s like how with dogs a little chocolate gives them digestive problems but a lot can kill them.” “Makes sense,” Grapes said with a nod, as she finished washing his back. “Thankfully I’ve got a lot of old sheets to help with this. I’m sure he’ll start… er… sweating, when we pull him out…” “Well if nothing else this will give him a bit of relief and a little time on some clean sheets. Comfort can do a lot for a pony’s state of mind when sick,” Crabapple said, washing a foreleg. “We’ll just… keep doing what we can,” Grapes said quietly. They tucked him in a bed with fresh clean sheets and Zecora and Crabapple went downstairs to begin brainstorming on causes and treatments, giving Grapes a moment alone with Earshot. He stirred slightly and his ears twitched in that odd way they did when he heard something, but oddly enough despite his predicament he smiled as if meeting a friend. “Hullo Mister Hollow…” he rasped dryly. “I didn’t know you were passing by. How are you? Oh. Same old, same old, huh? Thanks for taking time to see me. I always like talking to you. You’re… interesting.” He trailed off and Grapes left him to speak with his imaginary friend. It worried her that he had become so delusional that he was talking to air. She tucked him in under a light sheet so he wouldn’t overheat and headed downstairs to the main floor where Crabapple and Zecora discussed possibilities at the dining table. It was a very civil conversation and rather rapid-fire as they bounced experience and knowledge back and forth so rather than interrupt she moved herself to the small kitchen area where Sirocco was, boiling water for tea. The Saddle-Arabian mare looked over from the stove and smiled politely, but Grapes could see the concern in her eyes. “Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fries. I cannot rest easy in this situation, Sour Grapes, so I decided to be useful and brew some tea. How would you like yours?” “Lemon and sugar. Also how many spiders do you know eat fries, Sirocco?” Grapes replied with a slight smile. “Not many, if any. I wondered if I had gotten that one right,” she admitted slicing up a lemon and arranging the wedges on a plate before pulling the sugar bowl from the bottom shelf under the sink. She looked at Grape’s expression on the sugar’s location and shrugged. “With pegasi one does not hide the sweets on the top shelf. You must think bass-ackwards when being sneaky in that respect. Especially when one of us walks on ceilings.” “Good point,” Grapes observed, tapping her chin, then she sat down with a heavy sigh. “I’m worried about him, Sirocco. He was talking to somepony ” “Really? I have seen ponies who have taken too much sun babble to non-present old friends, family and even memories of enemies. Perhaps it was a very good thing for you and the others to bathe him to cool him down. Who was he speaking with? Sweetie Belle?” “He called him Mister Hollow,” Grapes replied. The clatter of the spoon hitting the table was surprisingly loud in the confined space, it was also astonishingly surprising how quickly the mare had come to Grapes’ side of the kitchen table. Sirocco’s eyes were wide with worry as she stared into Grapes’. “Mister Hollow? You say he spoke to Mister Hollow?” “That’s what he said,” Grapes said quietly. Sour Grape had seen Sirocco take bad news before but she looked totally shaken, her body trembling as she took a seat and stared into space a moment before speaking. “Oh no… no no no… please no.” “... That sounds bad. Please tell me who this Mister Hollow would happen to be?” Grapes asked. “From what I understand, every pony culture knows of Mister Hollow but by many names. Mostly titles. The Hoofed Harvester, The Grim Galloper, Bill Door, In my own culture we believe this one to be female and refer to her as the Reaper Mare-” “Great flaming fewmits!” Grapes uttered, getting back up, and galloping up the stairs. She burst into Earshot’s room and found him sleeping fitfully, yet still very much alive in his bed. She became aware that Sirocco was next to her, no doubt she followed her up very closely. “Calm yourself, Sour Grapes. It is very worrying that he is here, but we may not yet have to panic. This may be just… a courtesy call on his part.” “Courtesy call or not, the thought of the Pale Rider coming for a visit is… scary as Tartarus,” Grapes said, her eyes a bit glassy, even through her glasses. “I know. And yet… Earshot’s relationship with him is unique.” She swallowed deeply and continued. “We Storm Riders would occasionally go to crises and despite our best efforts there would always be some casualties. One day we saw Earshot speaking to an empty bench. At first we thought him simply playing amid all the devastation, but the things he related to us later… You already know Earshot can hear stars, or conversations on the other side of the farm, but he also hears beings that are supernormal. I suppose you would call them creatures of magic, and no, unicorns do not count.” “I get what you mean. Creatures who are magical, not just those that use magic,” Grapes replied. “Not sure how that would leak into Death ponysonafied, but I guess it’s a job like any other. Must be Tartarus on the home life, though.” “Well, from what Earshot says, The Pale Rider need not actually be present for every cessation of life but comes to stand watch over those who are somehow important in the grand scope. Did you know that Earshot hears such magical beings with a sort of ‘extra’ sound to them? He calls it an ‘Under-Tone’. He hears their very nature in the way they talk. His description of Princess Celestia is MOST glowing, but he describes Mister Hollow as the loneliest soul he has ever heard. And so when he hears him nearby, Earshot goes out of his way to greet and speak to him. This is why I hold hope this is merely Mister Hollow having a… a ‘Near-Earshot Experience’. This may be him watching a vigil over a good friend. I can only have faith that this is so.” “I hope so. I’ll be down in a few minutes, Sirocco,” Grapes said. “You’ll probably want to reheat the tea.” “I shall keep it warm for you,” The other mare said before quietly leaving the room and Sour Grapes. Grapes glanced around the room with a touch of apprehension. You don’t live on or near a farm and simply not know about death, and she suspected the same could be applied about Earshot’s own community. It was very unnerving to know that the very being that represented it might be sharing the same room with you at that time. She didn’t feel a terrifying chill or an oppressive atmosphere or any such stereotypical sensation, and yet something deep within her told her that Mister Hollow was still there. She had met Celestia and seen Luna in person, both avatars of powerful forces in nature, this was perhaps not all that different. Many cultures believed Death was grim, some thought of him as a passive force, popular culture brought up the notion that death was reasonable and fair to the point he gave ponies a fighting chance in the form of a competition of some sort. The question was what did she believe Death to be like? Perhaps Death was just another tradespony, doing their job as best they could and genuinely caring about the quality of their work, and like any professional they cared about their clients as well. With this belief held close to her heart she took a calming breath and spoke softly. "I can't see you or hear you... but I know you're there. He's close isn't he? I mean to have a near... you experience like this means you have to visit in person, right? I have a feeling you've pretty much heard it all in situations like this. 'He's too young.’ ‘It's not fair.’ ‘He doesn't deserve this.’ ‘He's a good colt.' I can't think of a single fresh reason for you to not do your job that nopony else has already used on you. I can only ask you from one professional to another, please. I'd rather you didn't take him right now." Grapes sat there a moment in the quiet of the room uncertain if anything she said even helped, then she felt something. It was a cool weight on her one shoulder that reminded her of the kind of reassuring pat done by someone who didn't give comfort often and awkwardly-yet-sincerely was making the effort to. She smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Come what may... I won't hold a grudge against you. I just feel better for speaking my piece, and thanks for listening." > My Little Plague-Bearer > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The day seemed to crawl by for Sour grapes. She dared not leave the bunkhouse for fear she might carry a contagion to the rest of Ponyville, and yet she really wished she could. On a basic level she felt the Earth Pony desire to get out and do something, and she tried her best to forget it… and the fact that poor little Earshot was upstairs deathly ill. She counted herself very fortunate to have two of the best healers (in her humble opinion) in Equestria under the roof at the moment. They were taking turns in watching him and discussing treatments and causes of the mysterious malady. It was astonishing how well the two were working together. Crabapple and Zecora were about as dissimilar as one could imagine two healers to be, and yet they just accepted the differences of approach and powered on. She did count her lucky stars that it had not been Dr. Coldhoof who came to assist rather than Crabapple. The stallion was brilliant, clever and competent, but as cold as his stethoscope. There was no telling how that unicorn would have reacted to Zecora. She crawled out of the bed in the spare Bunkhouse room where she had, at times, managed to get up to five minutes of sleep between fits of worry. The small pile of donated reading material sat on the dresser mostly untouched. It was hard to distract herself, she kept re-reading entire paragraphs three or four times or growing impatient with the plot. That was an anomaly for the self-professed bibliophile. She had thought about asking Zecora or Crabapple for some manner of sleeping aid but felt it was best not to distract them from more important things than her own insomnia. They had a young colt to care for, and they did not need her underhoof, unless it was to help with bathing, or something else. But the sheer amount of worry she had for Earshot showed how much the little fellow had grown on her. He was like the little brother she would have had, if her Mom could still bear children. She wasn’t quite sure what Firestormer would be, but he had something of a “brotherly” feel to him, too. Maybe Queenie’s designation of “brother I never wanted” would work, though he could be quite supportive and even entertaining at times. He just had a similar level of tact as Rainbow Dash. Maybe just the least little bit more than the polychromatic maned pegasus, but not much. Grapes clopped downstairs to get some food, and was considering warm milk. She was certain by this point that if Earshot’s condition was contagious then everypony in the building had it and so they mingled fairly freely. The Storm Riders were scattered about the main floor reading or playing games to keep themselves occupied. She noted Crabapple in the armchair dozing with a book on his chest, no doubt he fell asleep while cross-referencing exotic diseases while Zecora tended to their patient. She went to the icebox and began rooting through the various leftovers but became aware of a faint noise. It reminded her of what you heard when Vinyl Scratch was playing music in her home. All you really got was the beat moving through the walls. Her curiosity piqued, she focused a little more on the sound. It was an irregular thumping with bursts of rhythm. She couldn’t help but wonder where it was coming from. The mare walked slowly out of the kitchen area into the living space, following it, chasing it down with a slow walk, then she noticed the handle to the cellar trap door was rattling in time to the beat. Her horn flickered to life and opened the passage that permitted her to go downstairs. Grapes went into the basement to find Squall working out with the bucking bag with a level of manic energy that she had not seen in the older stallion. She remembered how he looked fighting with Blue Streak, his body filled with a graceful brutality that belied the terrifying ruthlessness that his experience earned. This… there was no grace in it. No real focus or reason other than to punish the canvass tube with his hooves over and over again. His body was gleaming with a sheen of sweat (normal horse sweat, thank heavens) as his wrapped forehooves slammed into the bag hard and fast. He seemed to have worn himself out doing so, to the point where when he stopped he actually clutched at the bag, hugging it to steady himself as he sucked in air in greedy gulps. “What’s eating you?” Grapes asked. He clung to the bag a moment longer before looking over at her and releasing it. The older pony walked to where a jug of water waited for him on a table and took a deep drink right from the spout. “Sorry, Grapes. Didn’t hear you come down there. I’ve been busy… NOT thinking about many things.” “Could you explain, please?” Grapes asked. “He’s up there. Earshot, that is. He’s laying in his bed, sick from Celestia-knows-what and there’s bloody squat I can do about it.” He put the jug down a little harder than he needed to but continued. “Decades of experiences from across this world and I’m as big of a loss as the professionals up there. One of my teammate is dying and I can’t do a blessed thing about it.” He moved the jug to the side and picked up a piece of paper that had been under it, showing it to her. “J’a know what this is, lass? It’s a kindly worded letter from that colt’s family. His mother and his father wrote me on how proud they are that somepony so used to the unusual has taken personal responsibility for their son. A personal letter, mind you. Two ponies to one. Miss Wishful Thinking told me she could think of no other daylighter to be a role model for him, and Mister Positive Outlook has encouraged me to show his son how to defend himself should the need arise, and to make certain he knows right from wrong… even if I have to be a terrible warning myself. Like when I was arrested.” Summer Squall chuckled mirthlessly and sat down on the sofa, his body sagging under it’s own weight. Grapes had seen this elderly pony look vital enough to fight manticores bare-hoofed and now… now he looked so… old. “They trust me with their son, Grapes. His entire family trusts me, but most importantly his parents trust me to be his guardian. I’ve never been responsible for much more than meself all this time. Yes, as a Captain you have your ship and yer crew but that and the crew is an extension of yourself. This… this is so much more personal.” “You’re feeling helpless,” Grapes said, with a nod. “Most of your experience has been with something you could, to some extent, physically fight. Instead we’re having to hope that Earshot can pull through with the help of two good equines who are experts in their field. However, there is something you can do. You can let him know you’re here for him. Let him know that you’re rooting for him, and that he should not give up, because you are not going to give up on him. He could be dying, but he’s not dead. He could still pull through. And our support, and hope, and being there for him may not help him make it, but it is possible that it could. And when he does pull through, we’ll have to be there to help him get better, and regain his full health. If he doesn’t, we will have to be there for each other, and we’ll have to offer all the support we can to his family, but we won’t be thinking in those terms, yet. To do so, now, would amount to giving up, and I’m not ready to give up.” “You’re right. I can’t give up on him. Not now,” Summer Squall raised his head and looked upwards at the ceiling (and more or less Earshot’s direction on the top floor) “The lad certainly wouldn’t give up on us. It’s not in his nature to give up easily. He’s three feet of pony and six feet of heart. If it comes down to will alone he’ll fight this every step of the way.” “So it behooves us to help in every way we can,” Grapes said with a stern nod. “It’s the least we can do, now, because I’m sure the hard work will come later.” Redline had become THE go-between for Sour Grapes and company. His Snow Skimmer was capable of rapid transit of ponies and materials across the gap between Ponyville and the Vineyard’s bunkhouse. Also he felt safe approaching the bunkhouse in his old Haz-Mat suit. It had been quite some time since he wore it with any seriousness. It was one of the few mementos from his times at CSFGU that he treasured, granted it had a thaumic dampening rating of 12 and so reduced his own horn-output. He had to use the digit-manipulator arms prototype he had created for the Lyra job to handle anything outside the suit. They were surprisingly useful and he would have to thank Lyra Heartstrings for asking him to build them. He glanced over at where his little sister pulled a small sleigh across the yard from Sour Grapes’ house. She looked sharp in her own yellow suit and he smiled. He might play it fast and loose with his own safety at times but he never took Moondust’s for granted. She was surprisingly grown-up in her observations despite still a child. She had offered to bring items from Sour Grapes’ home to the Bunkhouse in case they were short things like food, clothing, medicine and through the glass window on the porch Grapes gave her a short list of things that were well within her reach. And now she dutifully and cheerfully brought them to the door. Redline for a moment mentally “tried on” a future as a nurse or a doctor on the filly, and then chuckled. It was too early in her life to shoehorn her into an occupation. He would be happiest that whatever she becomes it would be something that made HER happy. He left her in charge of supplying… supplies and headed into town. The ponies of Ponyville watched him as he peeled out of the suit and went into the hospital where he got the results of the tests from Dr. Coldhoof. So far they were inconclusive but they had yet to try all of their tests. On the way back to his sleigh the town dentist approached him and handed a file from her office. Earshot had just visited earlier in the month and she had taken X-rays and wrote up a fresh file on him. She had heard from Cheerilee that he had been stricken seriously ill and thought that any medical information on the strange little pony was better than none. Redline graciously accepted the file, re donned his suit and revving up the engine returned to the Vineyard… unaware that from the shadows he had been observed the entire time. The two files were happily and yet disappointedly accepted by Crabapple who poured through them and shared them with Zecora. “Nothing… not a trace of anything that would explain this condition.” he growled at each page. “Red cells, normal. Platelets normal. Sugar levels on the high side but no more for child his age during the holidays. Other than his body acting like it’s fighting off a major infection there’s nothing truly ABnormal about this. Damnation! If I were a religious stallion I’d be shouting out ‘Give me a sign!’ right now.” Zecora calmly flipped through the pages from Minuette’s office and nodded sagely. “The dentist says dear Earshot was perfectly well, but his current illness, not even she could foretell.” “That’s easy for you to say. Really. I can’t rhyme worth beans,” Crabapple managed to half-joke before putting the folder down. “But seriously. I appreciate you putting up with a cranky old pony like me like this. It’s good to see somepony else willing to put themselves at risk for a foal’s sake. That and your herbal treatments, while not curing him, are at least helping to alleviate some of his symptoms.” He stretched slowly, pops and cracks coming from his joints before looking across at all of the jars and bundles of herbs on the table between them. “This is making me feel as old as I act. If it weren’t for Coldhoof still running tests out there and you in here with me I’d probably feel useless,” the green and gray pony confessed to the zebra. “No pony’s efforts are without use. I am just glad that we could call a truce. Not many doctors, with their logical airs would have given much credence to my wares,” Zecora said with a nod. “You fooled me naught, by the way. Even with your mane of gray. You are far too nimble, and far too spry. You can’t be much older than I.” “Well. As far as I can tell we have him stabilized. Thank Celestia for small miracles. Should we should draw straws to see who gets the night watch?” Sour Grapes cleared her throat noisily to catch their attention. “I’m more than happy to do it. Worry’s been keeping me up nights, anyhow,” Grapes said with a huge sigh. Sour Grapes changed Earshot’s fouled sheets, and after putting them into a large bag for washing later, settled into the large comfortable armchair in Earshot’s room. It was no different than her being in the spare room (now occupied by Crabapple and Zecora), only this time she felt more in control. She could read entire pages of the books before checking on him. The close proximity to the suffering colt was comforting to her, that should he need her she was right there to help. Grapes felt she was beginning to understand what it must be to be a Storm Rider. Yes, the events around you seemed huge, but at least you were THERE to act upon them even if in small ways. The little clock on his dresser ticked the seconds away, into minutes, and minutes into hours. The window showed a beautiful view of the sky turning various colors until it grew dark in the twilight time and the moon began to rise over the horizon. She stared at it a moment, admiring it’s beauty and wondering if Earshot chose this room just for the view of the rising sun and moon. She then became aware of the pressure in her abdomen. The urgent pressure indicating a need to relive one’s bladder or suffer the consequences. She glanced down at Earshot’s now empty chamberpot then guiltily at the foal in his bed. Modesty informed her that while a natural process, doing her business in his presence was a social faux pas. Even in Ponyville there were “Privacy Hedges” in locations with public defecation facilities. She didn’t want to leave the room but… Well she would only be down the hall for a moment or two. If trouble arose she would be able to get back rapidly. She huffed to herself and trotted out the door to the washroom where a spare chamberpot had been stashed and took the opportunity to make good use of it. Once relieved she slid it into a corner where it wouldn’t be accidentally upset and quietly returned to Earshot’s room… and stopped. The door was closed. She did NOT close the door when she left. She deliberately left it open to keep an ear on his laboured breathing or hear any faint cry for help. This didn’t give her a bad feeling but there was a definite wrongness about this. She approached silently, felt a cool draft coming from under the door, and from the other side she heard a faint sobbing. “I’m so sorry…” the voice said, it’s cracking tone sounding young and female. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I never… I… oh Celestia help me this isn’t what I WANTED!” Sour Grapes opened the door; being surprisingly light on her hooves can be an asset. She came up, silently, behind the sobbing pegasus, leaned closed and said in a very ominous voice: “What in Tartarus are YOU doing here?” One thing about pegasi was that when they were surprised, they could REALLY jump very high. Sour Grapes was ALMOST impressed at how Skyhook had managed to clear the room and flatten herself into the far corner on top of Earshot’s dresser. She stared down wild-eyed at the mare like some manner of fluffy gargoyle and swallowed deeply. “Well?” Grapes asked, looking at her impassively. “It’s more than obvious that you’ve got a guilty conscience, and they do say confession can be good for the soul.” “I… I’m…” She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath before crawling down from her perch. “He’s really sick… isn’t he?” “In both senses of the word, yes,” Grapes grumbled. “He is both genuinely sick, and seriously ill…” Grapes seemed to do some mental calculations then crossed the room in a flash, eyes glaring into Skyhook’s own. “What. Did. You. Do. You. Little. Piece. Of. SHITE!?” “It wasn’t supposed to BE like this!” she said, her rear legs buckling so her rear half now rested on her knees. “You gotta believe me! I didn’t want him to be like… like THIS!” “What. Did. You. Give. Him?” Grapes asked, obviously wanting to do something to her, but knowing that any physical harm brought to Skyhook could very well be blamed on Grapes, and not on Skyhook’s stupidity. The Night Pony in the bed next to them groaned pitifully, making Skyhook stare at him a moment before bowing her head in such shame it nearly touched the floor. “The other night… when I kissed him… I was just… I mean...” she trailed off mumbling. “I thought that seemed… unusually affectionate of you. Spit. It. OUT, Skyhook, or so help me, I will get permission from your parents to pluck out your feathers and use them for dusters,” Grapes growled. “Cl… Cloppox,” she whimpered before looking up at her accuser. Sour Grapes could tell the tears were genuine, the remorse was real but then again so was her anger at the filly in front of her. “I had Cloppox over the holiday and thought… He shouldn’t be sick like THIS! It’s a foal’s sickness! We all got shots! He… he should have just gotten itchy and dizzy and… and…” “It’s a foal’s sickness NOW... Oh buck me… I forgot the fall quarterlies... At least we won’t have to worry about carrying some unknown plague to the populace of Ponyville. That’s a relief. But you, deliberately, exposed a tribe of pony that hasn’t been out in the world for over a thousand years, to a disease that he, OBVIOUSLY, doesn’t have the built-up immunity to! You’ll be lucky to get community service for this, you little idiot. You could very well be sentenced to spend the rest of your childhood in Altai-Traz for ponyslaughter.” “I didn’t KNOW! It was supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be a joke.” she sobbed. “I thought he was… like… like me.” Her voice trailed off again, a terrible ironic lesson sinking in past the layers of bigotry that had been laid by pro-pegasus tribalism. Grapes could practically hear the realisation that Earshot and other ponies weren’t all that different from herself finally waking up in that pea-sized brain of hers. Just the timing was really bad. “A joke. Kid, you have a, very literally, sick sense of humor. You did this as a joke, huh? You want to know what the funniest thing is, about all this? This is the part that will make you laugh. If he gets better, if he recovers all of his faculties, that little pony would still be willing to call you a FRIEND,” Grapes said bluntly. “And you’re the last pony that deserves Earshot’s friendship, in my not-so-humble opinion.” “I know,” she croaked, her gaze returning to the floor. “If there was anything I could do to take this back… but I can’t. I’m sorry.” “Since it’s highly probable that everypony here has had Cloppox, I’m sure we’ll be more than happy to get out and be able to do things for ourselves. When Doctor Crabapple wakes up I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to know what’s going on with Earshot. Your parents live in Cloudsdale, right?” Grapes uttered, as she gathered up the soiled sheets. “Who’ve you been staying with, during your sojourn with the ground-bound?” “M… My godfather Coldhoof.” she sniffled. “He said I’d have to fend for myself tonight because he was processing samples from a very sick bat pony. That’s how I found out it all went bad.” “Oh, the irony… Sweetheart, we’re going to see your Godfather, tomorrow, and send a message to your parents, detailing exactly what you did, and I’m going to ask them, politely, to turn you over to my tender mercies,” Grapes said with that sweet, sweet tone that was pretty darned scary. “It’s also said that suffering is good for the soul and, honey, by the time I’m through with you, you’re going to be a bucking saint.” “Yes m’m.” “In the meantime,” Grapes said, then ponykinetically shoved the wad of soiled sheets into Skyhook’s hooves. “You’re on laundry duty. You get to see, first-hoof, the ancient symptoms of Cloppox.” Skyhook clutched the oversized bag of soiled sheets in her forehooves, the unmistakable funk of fewmets blending with the terrible vinegar smell of his unnatural sweat-discharge assaulting her nose. She closed her eyes and nodded, not saying a word because she knew that this would be the least she deserved at this particular time. When Skyhook got back, Grapes handed her a sealed envelope. “Do me a favor and take this to Doctor Coldhoof. This is telling him to check for Clopox in Earshot’s samples. And it details your complicity in Earshot catching said Clopox, and the request to have your parents put you into my care for a bit of small-area community service,” Grapes said. “He’s your Godfather. He should know.” “Yes m’m,” she said quietly. It was odd seeing the brash and outspoken filly acting so submissive, but considering what she did to Earshot it did make sense that all the bluster had left her sails. She took the envelope and left via the front porch, flying off into the moonlit night. It only took her an hour to return, and when she landed she had the most haunted expression: eyes wide and nearly expressionless as she walked into the bunkhouse. “Godfather told me to thank you for this ‘unknown quantity’ and he will adjust his tests accordingly,” she swallowed deeply and continued. “He also says to let you know that he is extremely disappointed in me and that he took time to show me old medical journal illustrations and photos of what Clopox can do to a pony who isn’t immunised.” “Looked awfully familiar, didn’t it?” Grapes said with a smirk. “Like I said, it’s a foals disease, now. Once upon a time, though, it was obviously a lot worse. Also very fatal. Want to know something else that is often said, Skyhook? It’s one of my mother’s favorite sayings.” “What is it?” “‘Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it’,” Grapes quoted. “I’ve heard that before…” she whispered. “Mom always said that when referring to Grandma Pave,” Grapes observed. “Let’s just say your little clique of pegasi supremacists aren’t the only ones who are tribalists. Just glad we have an idea of what’s going on. I am partially responsible for this, as is Redline… Stupid caffeinated calamity…” “What… I’m sorry but what exactly IS the ‘Caffeinated Calamity’?” “Get comfy, kid, it’s a long story,” Grapes said, and told the story of how a stray pot of tea caused crazy shenanigans one day, that last Autumn. The story helped pass the time, and made Skyhook giggle a bit. There was a pause for the young mare to check on the sheets, but the story had just ended when Crabapple came into Earshot’s room. “‘Morning.” he said scratching his unruly mane “I’m trusting Earshot didn’t get any worse last night… who the blazes is this?” “This is Skyhook. Skyhook this is Doctor Crabapple. Crabby, this young mare gave Earshot Cloppox,” Grapes said quite casually. “Cloppox?” Crabapple said quietly before frowning. “Cloppox. You know… I DO remember this from my lessons. How before immunisation came along, there were tons of diseases that were potentially lethal. My… word… It was only about two or three hundred years ago that we began doing that. This colt’s tribe has been in isolation for more than three times that.” “Eeyup,” Grapes said, with a nod. “And they’re wanting to come out of isolation. Obviously… they need some preparation. So, in some kind of backward way, Skyhook, you may have saved the Night Pony from extinction. Doesn’t let you off the hook, though.” Skyhook seemed to shrink under the gaze of the two adults even though Dr. Crabapple didn’t seem upset, just distracted. “You… I recognise you now. You’re Coldhoof’s foal… the one in his care I mean. His niece or cousin or…” “Goddaughter. Yes sir.” “That’s right. Goddaughter,” he paused a long moment before sighing. “Then you SHOULD have known better. I can see now what you did. Thought it would be cute to make the new ‘kid’ sick, am I right?” “Yes sir.” “Sour Grapes, does her Godfather know about this?” “Sure does, Crabby. He even took the time to show her some wonderful pictures from medical journals depicting pre-immunization period ponies with Cloppox,” Grapes replied. “Good fellow. We might wind up needing those if this is exactly what it is. If I know him he’s probably running the tests as we speak.” He glanced out of the window where the sun was still rising, casting golden rays across the landscape. “I should ask Zecora if she’s had her shots too. Probably has but better safe than sorry.” “I did get my shot, please to not fret, and I have not started itching yet. Zebras are nomadic, something they say with pride. If they all lived in one place, they may well have died,” Zecora observed with a slight chuckle. “Knowing exactly what is the disease will make treating its symptoms a bit of a breeze.” “Yeah. But that’s the symptoms. Colt’s gonna still have to do the hard work. It’s a little late to give him an immunisation shot so all we can do is try to tilt the odds in his favor as his body figures out how to fight this off. Oh my land, this is gonna be another long shift for everypony.” “At least we’re not all confined to the house,” Grapes observed with a smirk. “That should be a relief. C’mon, Skyhook. We’re making breakfast. Then taking a nap. Because of... reasons. Very good reasons… That I will think up after I’ve had a nap.” It is said that a rumor can get halfway around the world before a substantiated truth can get it’s boots on. By the time breakfast was done, there were a lot of cold stares at Skyhook as she worked nervously at the kitchen counter. “And I thought Earshot was the only one with amazing hearing,” Grapes said tiredly. “The little featherbrain wasn’t exactly quiet when she came in this morning,” Firestormer said bluntly. “It’s hard to sleep when you know one of your own is on death’s door, it takes very little to get you up.” “Were we in Avalanche Valley I would personally take her on a tour of the undergallery… possibly even make an exhibit of her,” Queenie said icily. “It depends on what mood struck me at the time.” “Glad we’re in Ponyville, then. Seriously, Skyhook, here, came of her own accord, and I’m having her help with Earshot, so she gets a good idea of exactly what she did, by making a stupid assumption. And that’s, really, all she did. She assumed he had gotten the immunization shot. Heck, I probably assumed he had gotten the immunization shot. He works for the government, when he’s not here, and because of the tea incident, I totally forgot the fall quarterlies,” Grapes said, sternly. “I will have no more talk of any sort of disproportionate retribution. Skyhook’s going to be doing a LOT of community service, true, but without her, Crabby and Zecora would still be fumbling around in the dark. Now we’re going to take a nap, because we were both up all night watching Earshot, and my brain is about to shut down.” “Do you need help getting up to the spare room,” Stormfront asked “or can you manage on your own?” “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Stormy. C’mon, kid. Not trusting some of these guys to act rationally, right now, ‘cause… reasons…” Grapes said, going toward the stairs. Skyhook followed Grapes dutifully, casting only a single glance backwards and the accusing eyes that followed. “They all see Earshot as something like a little brother,” Grapes explained, as they entered the spare room, and she set things up to where the opening of the door would wake her up, first. “And the fact there was a deliberate cause for his being so sick isn’t sitting too well with them.” Grapes curled up now that things were set up to her liking. “There. This should reduce the possibility for nasty surprises for you.” The filly lowered herself to the rug on the floor and curled up. Her face was to the door but she looked over at where Grapes was settling in. “Thank you.” she said with uncharacteristic softness. “I know I don’t really deserve this but… thank you.” Sour Grapes was uncertain how long she slept, she felt so wrung out with deprivation and emotional rollercoastering that oblivion took her the moment her head had hit the pillow. She only came to when the front door of the Bunkhouse slammed shut and Doc Crabapple knocked on her door. “Hey! Cousin! Coldhoof just sent us the results. Your little bat-pony really IS sick with the Cloppox. We may not be out of the woods but at least we can see the sun through the branches!” “He is rated with Cloppox, Level Six. That’s bad but we still have some tricks.” “Darn right, Zecora. You start brewing and I’ll see what I got in my own magic bag.” “Good. Okay. Time for caring for a colt with ancient style Cloppox, lesson two…” Grapes said, yawning. “Shall we, Skyhook?” Skyhook nodded silently, the knock at the door no doubt awoke her immediately with concerns of being dragged off to be plucked, then tarred and feathered with her own feathers. “Earshot probably needs a bath, and clean sheets,” Grapes said, as they went down the hallway. “Going to be a busy day, kiddo. You up for it?” “Yes. Yes I am…” Skyhook said with a little more firmness. “This is my fault. I have to.. do… something. Anything.” “And I’m going to keep the Riders from taking their worry out on your hide. I’m one that thinks that stupidity doesn’t deserve a death sentence,” Grapes said as they started their day. “They… they really hate me. Don’t they?” “Hm… I wouldn’t say that, exactly. See, me and Squall know the whole story, because I’m helping Squall navigate the prickly path of guardianship. It can be like being an employer. All they’ve heard is… Probably Earshot mentioning that you were being particularly… tribalist. Especially when you failed a test or something,” Grapes explained. “They don’t know you, they know Earshot, and consider him as close as a brother. So they’re painting the event with you as a tribalist. Not as some stupid kid who thought it’d be fun to prank their classmate. Most other foals your age would thank you for the vacation. But then, most other foals your age has had the proper immunization.” “They… a brother? I never realised...” “Do you even know what the Storm Riders are?” Grapes asked. “Not really. Earshot said they do government work. He said it’s weather management stuff, nothing that other pegasi couldn’t do,” she paused looking at Grapes’ expression and shrinking slightly. “There’s more to it that what he told us, isn’t there?” “Oh.. Yeah. Earshot doesn’t brag, but the Storm Riders DO take care of the stuff that other pegasi can’t. Hurricanes, tornadoes, avalanches, and volcanoes,” Grapes explained. “Even forest fires so big that they kick up their own weather patterns. Being in that kind of danger forges strong bonds. That’s why Earshot and his team are so close.” “And… what did... does he do?” “Good girl. Anyway, you did notice those bat-like features, hm? He does have form of echolocation, and really really good hearing. So he’s their low-visibility expert. They’re all specialists in their fields. Stormfront handles tornadoes and thunderstorms; Firestormer handles all fire-related weather patterns; Queenie handles all cold-weather situations; Sirocco handles all sandstorms, and wind-related situations; and Squall handles any storms that are born on the sea,” Grapes said, in a rather lecturing tone. She could almost hear Skyhook’s paradigm shifting without a clutch. The filly groaned and thumped her head against the bedpost on purpose. “I’m an idiot…” “Thankfully, at this stage, it is a reversible condition,” Grapes quipped with a smile. “But admitting that you do have a problem is the first step. Hope he pulls through, though… Not quite sure how Princess Celestia would react to losing a member of her Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team… much less Princess Luna to losing one of her night ponies… Kind of busy to send either of them a letter.” “P-Princess Celestia… and Luna? *squeek*” “They are called the Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team for a reason,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Hmm.. If the worst does happen, I wouldn’t recommend that you be banished to the moon, though… After all, you are reforming into a tolerable young mare. You might even be likeable.” “Th-thank you.” “Thinking more along the lines of your former gang-mates,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “After all, they are spreading ignorance, and lies, and not even bothering to study their own history… Might do the pegasi community good to get rid of that little cancer cell, before it spreads.” “In... in the movies there’s something called ‘Turning Crown’s evidence’. Is that real?” “You saying you want to testify against them, Skyhook?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “If it helps?” she admitted “That’s very brave of you. And, honestly, Equestria could use fewer ponies like those featherbrains. I know it’s a slur, but… really, what else can you call pegasi with attitudes like that? Especially since they don’t even bother to study their own history and culture,” Grapes said with shaking her head. “I’m beginning to… see that.” “Good. Now just have to keep someponies from taking retribution, so the lesson will keep sticking,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “C’mon. Let’s get the worst part of our day over with. This honey-sweat is nasty…” Sour Grapes took a bit of perverse pleasure in slowly drawing back Earshot’s sheet for Skyhook. The faint “shrrrrrippp” sound along was disgusting enough, but the sight of it tipped it in the favor of the “You did this” camp for the filly. Fortunately the chamberpot was empty and more than large enough for Skyhook’s case of the heaves. When she was finally running on empty she got to hooves and unsteadily assisted Sour Grapes in carrying him to the bathroom and cleansing the goo from his body. Grapes added the herbs that Zecora supplied to the bath water, and she and Skyhook cleaned him up. Grapes sent Skyhook to change the sheets, while she finished getting the honey-sweat off Earshot. She was pleased how easy it was to get Skyhook to obey. No doubt guilt was a great motivator, and there may have been a little bit of trying to prove to herself that she wasn’t as bad as the Storm Riders no doubt perceived her right now. Grapes brought back into his room, after having dried him off, looking to see if Skyhook had finished changed the sheets. Fortunately, Sour Grapes had left a pile of the old sheets in Earshot’s closet for easy access… although by the looks of it the filly had never changed her own bed in her life. She was still trying to work out how to stuff the pillow into it’s pillowcase. Grapes smiled at her mother’s sage observation “The only reason we have chins… is so we may put on pillow cases by ourselves.” “There’s one reason why we have chins, kiddo,” Grapes quoted as she lay him on the bed, straightening the sheets. “It’s so we can put the pillowcases on, by ourselves.” “What? oh...” Skyhook said as Sour Grapes ponykinetically put the pillow case under her chin and demonstrated the technique that required no magic. “That… that actually makes so much sense.” “Common sense isn’t so common, sometimes,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “It’s still a useful skill to have.” “Do you think the others hate me less today?” “I don’t know. We’ll see,” Grapes said quietly. “Maybe if I explain why I’m not being vengeful. That’s why I’ve been keeping an eye on you. See I’m trying to do is what’s right, not what would feel good. It’d feel good to rip you a new one, but it would not be right.” “R.. Rip me a new what?” “I’ve never been sure, to be honest,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “It would be interesting to find out, sometime.” Skyhook squeaked and nodded slowly. Feeling that she had made Skyhook’s position with herself and Earshot’s friends crystal clear Grapes put her hoof on her back and nudged her towards the door. “Now it’s time to clean the chamber pots. Guess who drew the short straw?” Grapes said with a grin. “Me?” “Eeyup,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “I’m sure you’ll do a good job, hon.” She watched carefully from a distance as Skyhook went door to door collecting the chamber pots from each of the Storm Riders, in turn. The remaining five Riders plus their guests meant Skyhook would be busy for the morning. Plus it made the Storm Riders feel as if Skyhook were being punished for her “crime”, although she did find it in poor taste for Firestormer to make certain that his was full before giving it to her. No doubt she would have to keep an eye on him for retaliatory behavior, then again, he was the most “hot-blooded” of the group. She left Skyhook to her current unpleasant task when she heard a knocking at the front door. “Wierd. I thought everypony would be staying away from the farm,” Grapes said as she opened the door, and was nearly knocked off of her hooves by what was on the otherside. "Cutiemark Crusaders Candystripers, YAAAAAY!" "No... just... no," Sour Grapes uttered, facehoofing at the sight of three little fillies in candystriper uniforms--obviously made with a LOT of haste at the Carousel Boutique, and most likely without Rarity’s knowledge--on her front porch. "Seriously, if you haven't gotten a cutiemark in nursing, you're not going to get a cutiemark in nursing. Also, have any of you had Cloppox?" "Sure!" Sweetie Belle said cheerfully "Yeah!" Scootaloo asserted, with a nod. "Ah had mine during tha summer," Applebloom stated with a nod. "Just checking. Also... You would be really really grossed out, because it’s a really old version of Cloppox from before widespread immunization. It’s really gross, and icky,” Grapes explained. "Oh... um..." "Plan B, Cutiemark Crusaders." "Right," Sweetie Belle said, then reached into Scootaloo’s saddlebag and pulled out a record and held it up to Grapes. "Then can you play this for him?" "We heard Earshot likes opera an’ asked tha best musician in town if she had any we could use," Applebloom said with a smile. “That was nice of you. But… Who, in your opinion, is the best musician in town?" Grapes asked cautiously, taking the record. All three shouted at the same time: "DJ Pon-3!" Grapes sighed, and looked at the label. It did indeed have names of operatic songs she did recognise. It also had the term "Old school meets Sonic Symphony" as part of the title. "... I think I'll save this until he's better able to appreciate this," Grapes said, with a warm smile. “I appreciate the thought, however, but I doubt he’ll feel up to listening to dubstep remixes of opera, just yet. I’m sure he’ll love it when he’s feeling better… Unless Vinyl wants her record back...” The trio certainly looked pleased at this turn when a little nagging detail arose in Grapes’ mind. “Uh… Why aren't you three in school, by the way?” “Oh…” “Um…” “Well…” “Y’know. Thet’s ex-AKT-ly what Ah’d like t’know.” The three little fillies turned around to look up into the stern wrinkled face of Granny Smith. Then at Applejack and Big Macintosh who stood behind her as backup. “In their defence, they were trying to help a sick friend, Granny Smith,” Grapes said, holding up a hoof. “Noted,” Granny said with a nod before making a motion with her head. “But don’t yew fillies think we ain’t gonna tell yer folks yew wuz playin’ hooky, good reason or none. Now if’n you young’uns hurry you can get to school in time for Cheerilee to give you your homework.” “Be sure to tell Miss Cheerilee that Skyhook may not be there, because we don’t want her to carry Cloppox back to the school,” Grapes called after Granny. “Okay. Now to have a little chat with some pegasi.” She went back inside, and stomped on the floor. “Staff meeting, everypony!” One by one the healthy members of the Storm Riders came to the main room, taking up positions in whatever chairs happened to be available. She noted that nopony talked when they came in, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was out of respect for her as the “leader” of the Vineyard or if it was because Lady Weathervain had them that well trained. She waited until they had settled, then casually gazed at them with a slightly disapproving look, waiting for the fidgets, and small looks of worry. “I’ve noticed how some of you have been acting toward our guest. Honestly, I can not blame you. Earshot is a good comrade, and like a brother to you all. However, I think something hasn’t been made clear. What happened was a stupid foalish mistake, made from an assumption. And everypony here knows what making assumptions do for you,” Grapes said, as she paced in front of them. “Thing is, she made the assumption that, like every other pony in her class, he had had his shots. She thought he was just like her, in other words. Hardly the thoughts of a tribalist. There was no, and I do mean absolutely no, real malice in her actions. Merely a misplaced plan for a contagion vacation. She came to us of her own accord, bearing the guilt for her actions, and wished to make amends. Had she not, we would not even know that Earshot had Cloppox, and still be searching for exotic diseases. So there is some good to this situation. Also, under my supervision, she is being punished for her actions in the toughest, yet fairest way possible. So there will be no retribution. There will be no taking of vengeance. Are we clear?” “Are you certain?” Of all the ponies of the group, it was Sirocco who spoke. “I know the punishments of my homeland are somewhat TOO harsh, but I believe that Queenie and Firestormer had some rather interesting suggestions on how to handle Skyhook. Shaving off one’s feathers seems extreme but the concept of the stocks seems reasonable in comparison.” “What I’m doing is making sure the lesson sticks. Far too many ponies are thinking about vengeance, when they are talking about punishment, but revenge only perpetuates a vicious cycle. Revenge begets resentment, which in turn begets retaliation,” Grapes explained. “The retaliation becomes cause for revenge, and the cycle starts anew. Punishment shouldn’t be about getting back at the one who did you wrong. It should be about the wrongdoer undergoing penance. They should come to understand what they did wrong, then try to do their best to make the lesson stick, then start doing right by those they wronged. “That’s why I get so… upset when I read about the oh-so-high-and-mighty unicorn nobility saying that Princess Celestia is ‘soft on crime’. The ones who say that are usually tribalists, and have had stories ‘lovingly’ passed down to them of the ancient unicorn kingdoms where the lower classes were naught but their playthings, and long for a return to those days. Apparently they miss the windigos. Princess Celestia understands the cycle of revenge, resentment, and retaliation, and does her best to prevent it. She makes sure punishment is penance, and not vengeance. The victim of the crime may want vengeance, but most of the time they do leave it to the courts. This is why Equestria has so few crimes, and those that had become criminals come out of the prison system better ponies than they went in. “That’s what I’m trying to replicate here. It may feel good to get back at her. To do things like shave off her feathers, or lock her in a set of stocks to be humiliated. But ask yourselves this: Will she come out of the experience a better pony than when she went in? If the answer is ‘No, she’ll probably resent the treatment’, then you’re not thinking about punishment and penance. You’re thinking about revenge. What I am doing isn’t what feels good. It isn’t what’s easy. It’s what’s right.” “Fine,” Queenie said flatly looking disappointed. “Pity… I would have LOVED to have seen mother’s face when she got a letter asking her to send some of the items from the undergallery here.” “You could send it anyway, making sure it arrives on Springtime Follies Day,” Grapes said with a smirk. “I suppose that will suffice.” Queenie smirked before looking at Firestormer. “Sour Grapes is being as fair with Skyhook as she has been with us. We can hardly ask for her to have a double-standard, can we?” “I guess not,” he grumbled before sighing. “At least we know she’s not playing favorites.” “Not my style, and you know it,” Grapes said with a nod. “I was just… making sure she wasn’t the recipient of some misplaced ire, before the air was cleared. Believe me, she’s getting it full in the face that she did wrong. Having to clean Earshot’s sheets will do that. Also, she’s not my foal, nor is she in my employ. I’d have to explain to both her Godfather, and her parents why she was lacking feathers. Anyway, it’s not like the idea of a forced vacation due to contagious disease never entered any of YOUR minds, during your school years. I could never get away with it, because my Grandpa Grapes was still here. He believed in ‘sweating out’ a disease. So guess what I would have been doing.” --------------------------------- As they watched him laying there they saw his wings slowly extend then drop to the mattress below them. *Flop* "What was that?" "I think it's a wing-boner when you're sick." Grapes looked at Skyhook and smirked. "That's not very ladylike… but probably accurate. Sweetie Belle must be singing somewhere, not sure what she has to sing about. She’s in as much trouble as Applebloom and Scootaloo.” “Ever hear of chain-gang songs?” Skyhook asked. “Oh yeah. Your parents work in a prison, don’t they?” “Yes they do. It’s how they got a restraining collar so easily. Wait… why would… Hey! Are you saying Earshot has a crush on that unicorn filly?” “Yes. Why do you ask?” Grapes queried, turning back to Skyhook with a raised eyebrow. “'Cause… reasons? Um… sorry.. tribal thoughts. Wings and horns and stuff,” Skyhook replied with shifty eyes and scrunchy mouth. “Ooooooooh, I seeeeee,” Grapes said with a huge smirking grin. “Wh-what?” “You do know I’m related to the Apples, right?” Grapes said with a smirk. “And it’s always hard to lie to an Apple, even an Apple cousin who’s a Grapes. So… Somepony’s got a crush of their own, do they?” “I-I d-don’t know what you’re…” Skyhook started, blushing furiously. “Nnnnf… Miss Grapes? What’s going on? I thought I heard… oh heya Skyhook.” Earshot slowly opened his eyes and blinked blearily at the two females next to his bed. “Hey Earshot…” Skyhook’s head lowered in an attempt to hide her blush as she spoke quietly. “Um… you smell like vinegar.” “Yeah.. I do sorta stink, don’t I?” he admitted with a weak chuckle and a cough. “Being sick munches, big time.” “We’ve been trying to keep you clean as possible, Earshot,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “Anything we can get you while you’re conscious?” “Something to drink would be nice.” Earshot said touching his throat. “I feel so dry, like old paper.” “Well you’ve been sweating up a storm. Anything else?” Grapes asked. “I dunno… something easy to digest. I’m not sure I wanna eat a lot at the moment. Maybe broth? Something like that?” “Well, broth would also provide much-needed moisture, so that’s a good idea. We’ll be right back. I’m sure some others will come up and see you while you’re awake,” Grapes said, as they left the room. While Grapes made the morning broth, Earshot was able to talk to Crabapple, and Zecora. They agreed that a conscious patient was preferable to one unable to respond and were doing their best to take advantage of his moment of lucidity, well aware that the illness would get worse before he got better. They came down in time to oversee the broth reach it’s boil and as Zecora gathered some of her concoctions Crabapple rummaged through his bag.. “It’s too late to give him anything preventative but I can give him some vitamin pills and a general antibiotic to help him fight this off. The problem lies with the actual fight is going to be all him. Either he wins or he doesn’t.” he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “He’s got a good spirit in him. I’ve learned that from talking to the others. He’s not going to go down easily.” Zecora smiled and patted him on the back. A wealth of understanding between healers passed in the sharing of the simple gesture and the kind smile that went with it. She then carried a bottle over to the kitchen table and set it next to the broth bowl before going to the cupboard to get a jug and fill it with water. “So… you mentioned having something that could help the young colt as well, Zecora?” Crabapple asked watching her sprinkle the powder into the water. “What do you have there?” “A powder made from a brightly colored fruit that when placed in water will reconstitute.” she gave the water a stir with a long wooden spoon, turning it a beautiful shade of orange. “Food for the soul, you know it is good, I believe you would call it 'Comfort food'?" “I’m all for ‘comfort food’. Right now we’ve got to make sure he gets some comfort from what food we can give him that he can keep down,” Grapes said with a nod. “I also have some herbs that can mix well with the broth you serve. Cooking will make them taste better than they deserve. They should keep his skin from being itchy, because he may be too weak to be all scritchy.” Sour Grapes was more than willing to let her include her additives to the broth, although after pouring a bowl full she was cautious enough to tie a dishtowel to the handle of the pot just so the others would think before helping themselves. She added a note to the fridge saying dinner will be ready, soon, and not to touch the broth because it has Zecora’s herbs in it for Earshot. With Earshot’s meal carried between them, the three returned upstairs where they were greeted by a mostly heartwarming sight. Their little night pony patient was propped up against the headboard, eyes squinched shut as he opened wide for the spoonful of purple goo that Sirocco was feeding him. “And here is the squirrel returning to his knothole…” Earshot made funny faces as he made the effort to force the Smooze down. “Ahhhhh… guh. This squirrel tastes like wet slimy cardboard.” “Oh, do not be that way, Earshot. This was after all your own idea,” Sirocco admonished. “I know. If anything can kill this sickness it’s a dose of Smooze. Good thing Mom sent an extra jar along.” “When he’s talking about the squirrel, he doesn’t mean he’s eaten squirrel. Right?” Crabapple asked as they entered the room. “He does digest a wider range of protein than we, normally, do, so it’s possible, but he could be talking about the feeding technique used by Sirocco,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Just to keep us in the loop,” Zecora said approaching the bed “What exactly would be this goop?” “This is something from Earshot’s homeland. An edible slime mould they call smooze,” Sirocco explained as Earshot choked down another spoonful. “It’s as nutritious as it is disgusting. And before you ask, it’s mostly harmless. Pinkie Pie consumed nearly a gallon the other day and other than it cleaning her system out she seems to be doing well. It’s good old-fashioned Discomfort Food.” “I’m hoping I can keep this down right now,” Earshot confessed, taking a sip of Zecora’s instant juice to kill the taste. “The last thing I really remember before this was throwing up… and to be honest I think I need all the nutritionals I can get right now.” “Well. As long as it’s actually good for you.” Crabapple said cautiously, eyeing the material in the small jar. “As you can tell we have some other... food for you. It’s important you eat now while you have a little respite.” “As long as he doesn’t eat too much. One of my outhouses is now a toxic waste dump thanks to Pinkie Pie’s having a serious case of the trots,” Grapes observed with a smirk. “Ok, ok… I’ve had enough smooze.” he said turning his head away from the next spoonfull. “Really… a few spoonfuls are all I can handle normally anyways. I don’t want to lose my lunch when it smells so… good.” “Well you have not eaten anything else for a whole day. Or drank anything,” Sirocco observed, as she changed from spoon-feeding smooze to soup. “I know what dehydration does to a pony… it is not pretty.” “Horrible way to go, I imagine,” Grapes said with a nod. “Well there’s more downstairs. I can heat it up, when you need it.” Grapes levitated the jar of Smooze, and looked at Crabapple. “Got any thing that you can carry samples? I’m sure you both want some to poke and prod at.” “Definitely. Yeah I should have some small sample jars that will do the job.” He gave the medication to Earshot and gave him a rare smile. “All right now. Wash these down with your drink and hopefully you’ll keep them down long enough for them to do some good.. otherwise we’re going to have to consider the other end.” “Other end?” Earshot asked, his ears starting to droop. “When one opening is closed, another is free. I think the term is ‘suppository’,” Zecora said with a slight chuckle. Grapes blinked, then gave Crabapple this look. “Seriously?” she deadpanned. “I know. It seems extreme but if he suffers from a bout of nausea again we’re going to have to be practical about it. Not like I want to do it but I didn’t bring any intravenous materials with me when I got here. But… pills of all kinds are easy to pack and bring along.” the Doctor looked over at Earshot and nodded. “Long story short, I have pills you swallow and some that get put where the sun never shines. For the sake of comfort try to keep what you got down.” “I’ve got places where the sun never shines in my home town… but I’m very certain I get the jist of what you’re getting at.” Earshot said quietly. “I’ll try to stay calm and focus on digesting properly.” “Next great ‘keep calm’ poster, right there,” Grapes quipped with a smirk. Earshot stared at the pills balanced on his hoof before popping them in his mouth and washing them down. Obviously he was determined to get better if for no other reason than to NOT get his medication through a suppository. “Okay. And here’s some more broth for you. Should help you regain some fluids and vitamins and minerals. If I knew I could cook with Smooze, without it losing its nutritional content, I would,” Grapes said, handing the bowl to Sirocco. “If for nothing else to make it a bit more palatable. And in the meantime I’ll go and fix everpony else some dinner” “Thank you very much, Miss Grapes. For taking care of me and the others.” Earshot said as Sirocco set about spoon-feeding him the broth “Seems to be a thing I do,” Grapes said, as she headed out the door, casually ponyhandling Skyhook out of the room. “C’mon, you. You need food, too, ya silly besmitten pony.” “BeWHATten? BUT I’m not… oh forget it,” the little pegasus began to protest before giving up. No doubt aware that fighting it would just make it worse. The rest of the day went relatively smoothly, and soon night descended, with everypony sleeping a bit better for having chatted with Earshot during the day. ---------------------------- The next morning, though, brought a new source of worry. “Guys? Guys? Can somepony come up here?” Firestormer called downstairs. It was his turn on watch and he was sounding slightly panicked. “I got him some of that special drink of Zecora’s from the icebox and when I went to give him some he’s… He’s not waking up.” Grapes followed Crabapple and Zecora upstairs, everypony else following after. The two healers looked him over; Zecora looking the most concerned. “This stupor is more than it would seem. Earshot has slipped into a fever dream. His will to live battles an enemy most dire, and if he should lose… he could expire,” Zecora solemnly explained. “Okay. Firestormer, keep watch here, and call down when you need a break. We’ll go back downstairs. We don’t all need to hover over him, like this,” Grapes ordered, with a nod. They all nodded, then went back downstairs. Skyhook followed, glancing backwards toward Earshot’s room. The news was given quietely and without drama to the others . On the whole they seemed to accept what was going on. Squall on the other hand got a very disturbed look on his face, lifted the trap door to the Bunkhouse cellar and gave a side glance to the pegasus filly. “You. Skyhook. Trot with me, talk with me.” “Look, I know you’re older and wiser, but I’m still coming along. You’re a rough old salt, and I worry that even you would be lured by the thought of retribution,” Grapes said. “Anyway, in a sense, I’m responsible for her, so…” “Then shut the door behind you on your way down.” Squall said as he descended the stairs with Skyhook reluctantly following. “This is going to be grown-up talk.” At the bottom of the stairs he motioned to the large sofa and waited for Skyhook to have a seat. With the filly settled on the couch looking scared as hell, and Grapes standing to the side he walked over to the minibar and pulled a bottle out from behind it and looked at it. “Been a while since I’ve actually felt like I needed a drink. Don’t get me wrong, I like a belt now and again, sometimes when the mood strikes me I’ll even go on a bender with some friends, but it takes a lot to make me NEED a drink. And right now I need one so bad I’m just going to... put this bottle back down, because the last thing you want in this house is an angry drunk stallion.” The bottle made a heavy dull “clunk” when he put it back down, but Grapes noticed that Skyhook eyed it very cautiously before looking back at Squall who now paced back and forth. “I grew up along the coast in and around boats. Me father always said the ponies of our family had seawater in our veins. This of course also means that the learning curve is sharper and less forgiving. On a boat you tend to be given less slack because your actions can cause trouble for others. So. to keep order, the punishments are usually severe. Anything from swabbing the deck to getting the lash was fair game. Thanks to some skilled healers you may not be able to see them right now but I got the scars to prove I had been on the receiving end of the lash more than once in my lifetime.” “Sailors have a very unforgiving view of the world, because their world is the ship on which they’re on,”Grapes observed. “It’s a tiny tiny world, and anybody who would put that world in jeopardy is seen as a liability.” Grapes looked at Earshot and smiled a bit. “It may have been mentioned, before, but I read. A lot. My mother was a great believer in history, and hated anypony who tried to revise or whitewash it. So I’ve read a lot of history books.” “And a good mare she is for doing jest that, Miss Grapes,” Squall agreed. “I have a lifetime of experiences to call upon… and a lifetime of terrible trials that haunt me in the middle of the night. Or the few times I’ve had been struck down with the fever like little Earshot. Terrible things come at you in a Fever Dream. Like the Kraken your greatest struggles and darkest moments rise up from beneath all them happy thoughts you wrap yerself up in and try to drag you down. And the worst part is… even if you won before…” His voice dropped to a hush as he leaned in close. “...You can still lose. And you only need to lose once in there and your will to live is broken.” “But… Earshot’s just a colt. He’s the same age as me,” Skyhook pleaded, looking up at the old stallion. “Even fighting storms like you said he does, what memory could he possibly be dreaming about that would be so terrible?” Squall closed his eyes sadly and took a shaky breath. “You would be surprised, lass. You truly would. That colt has faced things that go beyond the storms you know of. Things that the Princess has asked us to not elaborate upon for fear of the panic it could cause among the public.” “Things?” “Aye. Things… with a capital ‘TH’.” “As you all did, I would presume,” Grapes said with a shrug. “I’m sure you’d tell me about them, if you wanted to share.” “Aye.” Squall said before looking at the filly and mare in front of him, and smirking grimly. “T’is a curious thing. All me life I’ve been only responsible for myself or other adult ponies who are usually serving as my crew. Never once was I responsible for anypony who was close to being a child before. Truth be told, I never before thought I COULD be anything like a good father until Earshot came into my life. The lad just… grows on you after a while. At first he was just a fellow Storm-Rider, a tad young perhaps but no less mature when the time called for it. Now that I’ve officially become his legal guardian.. WITH his parents’ blessings, I feel truly responsible for him.” Squall’s face began to twist, his eyes darkening with anger. “It would have been one thing to see him hurt badly or even DIE fighting a storm. He would have gone down doing what he chose to, protecting others, but this... THIS! To be laid low by a mere foal’s illness… How can I go and tell his family that a lad with such a heart so big was laid low by something so small?” “It’s small, now, Squall. But just a hundred years ago, the ‘foal illness’ was not small at all, and was fatal,” Grapes said. “It’s only through modern medicine, and vaccinations that it’s become something that’s, now, seen as trivial. Earshot’s people haven’t had that benefit, and… Well… If you think about it, this may be a good thing, because they now know that they should get some form of vaccinations, because there are diseases out here that could kill them…” He closed his eyes and nodded before taking a deep breath, the deep lines that his anger had gouged in his features fading as he returned to a more peaceful yet stern expression. "You probably think I brought you down here to give you a good hiding, Skyhook. I’ll be honest with you… a large part of me wants to do jest that,” Squall made his point by slamming his left forehoof into the bucking bag with enough force to punch a hole in it, letting the sand run out onto the floor. He looked at Skyhook’s terrified expression and then shook his head. “But that really ain’t why I brought you here. I want you to know that I ain’t gonna stay mad at’cha. What you did was stupid... but doing dumb things is all part of growin’ up.” “R-really, sir?” Skyhook asked, looking a bit relieved. “On my word of honor, t’is true. We all make stupid mistakes, some of us more than others. Nothing like screwing up to build character in a pony,” he trailed off a moment then muttered under his breath “Land help me, I certainly pulled some huge boners when I was yer age." "Uh... Squall? 'Boner' doesn't mean... whatever it meant in the context in which you are using it, now," Grapes said, then pointed to Skyhook. "As evidenced by the giggling filly struggling to not laugh while being lectured." Grapes sidled up to Squall, and informed him, exactly, what “boner” meant in the modern vernacular​. He facehoofed and nodded. "And there's a fresh boner for the heap." "I take it the old meaning was 'blunder', or 'goof-up'?​" Grapes asked. “Aye. It meant that.” "I also take it that Skyhook is all too aware of the other, more boorish, current meaning." "Oh aye. I keep forgetting how far the old mother tongue has been mangled over the years. I still have to watch myself when I have the urge to call Blueblood the gayest pony in Canterlot.​" "Oh, go ahead. It might be true in every meaning you can think of... Oh look, we set her off again," Grapes uttered, deadpan. “Skyhook, cut it out, you’re going to bust a spleen from laughing so hard.” "See? I'm still learning. But the message I'm trying to get across is this. You either learn from yer mistakes and go on to make new ones... or you keep on doing the same old stupid ones until they get ye a one-way trip to the boneyard." “Better than the ‘boner’ yard,” Skyhook giggled. Grapes just gave the filly this look. “Really?” she asked. then blinked. “Oh… great…” she sniggered, trying not to burst into laughter. Then Grapes blushed, her eyes going wide. The mare shook her head, rapidly trying to get some vivid imagery out of her head. “Argh…Curse you brain. Stopit, stopit, stopit, stopit… Mind out of gutter…” “All right. We’ve had our moment of laughter here. But seriously, Skyhook, we never stop doing dumb things… ever. We do however do less and less dumb things if we’re willing to learn from our mistakes. You savvy?” “Yes sir,” Skyhook said with a nod. “Good Lass. Let’s hope this lesson doesn’t go out with the bilgewater,” Squall uttered. The rest of the day was pretty much uneventful, everypony taking their watches, as the day seemed to move with sluggish slowness. Crabapple had slipped a tube into Earshot’s lungs to drain any liquid that built up in them. In one of his legs was an IV, leading to a bag of saline solution to help combat more fluid loss from his sweating. Night came, and Grapes and Skyhook too up the evening watch as they had been doing, both mares being unable to sleep, while Earshot was ill. Now they lounged on the floor, playing cards, as they kept their vigil on the feaverish pony. It had been a very quiet night, with only the sound of shuffling and moving cards to break the silence. “LUNA!” Earshot shouted. “GAH!” Grapes and Skyhook yelped in stereo, the cards flying into the air when they both started from the disruption of the silence. The pasteboard floated slowly down, as they both stared at the Night Pony who stared back at them. "I thought..." Earshot gasped blinking and panting as he tried to orient himself. "For a moment I thought the Moon Princess was with me." "Well she has been back for a while, now. Was guarding dreams in her portfolio?" Grapes asked, as Skyhook started every card-player's least favorite game. "Just when I was about to get a full house..." Skyhook grumbled, as she picked up the cards. "I... I'm not sure. I think so," he said softly. He looked over at Sour Grapes and Skyhook and blinked. "Were you two watching over me all night?" "I haven't been getting much sleep, when I try, so..." Grapes said with a shrug. “So yeah. I have been.” “Well… Originally it was for my own protection, because your pals weren’t so happy with me…” Skyhook said. “But… Well… Just… seemed the thing to do, y’know?” "Thank you very much. It really means a lot to me you did that." Earshot paused a moment and looked down at the sticky sweat-soaked sheets and blushed. "I think... I wet my bed." "You've been sweating like crazy, and have been too weak to use the chamber pot," Grapes said with a shrug. "Oh, and smelling like vinegar." "Yeah. It's ok though," Skyhook said scuffing her hoof on the floor. "Miss Grapes found some old sheets and we've been changing and washing them. Everything's cool." "The words thank-you really don't seem to cover what I'm feeling right now," Earshot said with an embarrassed smile. "You're a part of my crazy Vineyard family, Earshot,” Grapes said with a nod. The door to Earshots' room opened wide revealing the sleepy but urgent faces of Crabapple and Zecora. "What is it? Is everything alright?" Crabapple asked. Grapes simply smirked, and stepped aside to reveal the rather alert Earshot. “See for yourself,” she said simply. Zecora was next to Earshot before Crabapple. Looking into his eyes and checking his forehead she visibly relaxed, giving the others a comforting smile. “He is awake, and his fever is broke. Now healing starts, and it won’t be a joke,” Zecora observed. “Weight he will be needing to regain… Though from the looks of things that won’t be much of a strain…” “Thank goodness for holiday binging,” Grapes observed with a chuckle. “I presume he’ll need some physical therapy to get back some muscle tone, as well?” “Probably not as much as you’d think,” Crabapple said sticking a thermometer into Earshot’s mouth. “Don’t bite on that. He looks like he was in pretty good shape to begin with… other than the winter-weight he gained. But yeah, all those helpings of pie probably gave him enough extra mass the fever could burn off.” “Huh’d hyu knuh ih wuh pah?” “Wild guess, Earshot. You look like the kind of colt who enjoys holiday pie. Try not to talk with the thermometer in there,” Crabapple slipped his stethoscope into his ears and began listening to Earshot’s heart. "Pulse, 110, Temperature 99, 10 breaths per minute… taking for granted his vitals are identical to any normal healthy ten-year-old pegasus colt then I’d agree with Zecora and declare him stable.” “Kind of a given, since he is a normal ten-year-old pegasus colt,” Grapes said looking a touch cross. “Just because he’s got bat wings doesn’t mean he’s NOT normal.” “Until I meet more night ponies and get a good cross section on the vitals of his breed, I can only accept common sense on the matter, Grapes,” he said with a sigh. “And that brings up another detail. Earshot, next time you’re sending mail to them let them know that, like you, they’re all going to have to get their shots. It’s a miracle that you haven’t caught anything this bad before, but luck always runs out. So best to take preventative measures.” “Shots? You mean like a drink? Because I’m not sure I’m old enough for that.” “No Earshot. Not those kinds of shots… you’re going to have to take a few needles for your own good,” Crabapple said sternly. “What he means is that you’re getting vaccinated, like a normal daylighter pony, so you won’t get so sick, ever again,” Grapes explained. “You… had a very close call, there. And knowing that you don’t have all your vaccinations… Well we have Skyhook to thank for that, and for knowing that your people will need the vaccinations, too, before they venture out.” Earshot smiled at Skyhook and reached out to try to hug her, but settled for patting her on the shoulders when she didn’t reciprocate. “You mean she may have saved my kindred from a terrible, debilitating demise? Thank you Skyhook… I know being sick like this wasn’t fun at all but… this is the sort of thing we needed to know about. Thank you.” “Doesn’t excuse her for getting you sick in the first place, but the result will end up being good for the Night Ponies,” Grapes said smiling, then she turned to Skyhook with a smirk. “Just be glad he pulled through, squirt, he’s got parents, and a big sister.” She turned back to Crabapple. “So he’s out of the woods? No need to hold a vigil, and after he’s got some clean sheets, he should be good for the rest of the night?” The Earth Pony and Zebra glanced at one another and nodded. “Well I’d say let him get some bed rest, avoid solids for a day or two to get him back up to speed… oh yes and LOTS of fluids. We had to give them to you intravenously at the end there you were sweating so badly. Other than that… I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” “Great,” Grapes sighed. “Skyhook, grab the other set of sheets. We’ll get those changed, and I can catch up on my lost sleep. Winter Wrap-Up is supposed to start tomorrow morning, and I outlined a list of things to do, to get it at least ready, for whenever they actually get spring sprung. Don't know why I bother though. They're always running around like a chicken missing it's head, it's no wonder they're always late. You stay in bed, Earshot. You’ve got to recover, still. Though, Skyhook, if you’re asked to help, do so. You’d be a good fill-in for Earshot, here, for that at least. Get Thistle to take a watch to get Earshot his food and fluids. He’ll be back from his folks’ tomorrow morning.” The sheets were changed, quickly, leaving Earshot on a nice, fresh-smelling bed. Zecora brought him up some of the fruit drink she had made the day before to get the Night Pony started on replenishing his fluids. Skyhook took off to a spare bunk to get in some sleep before being put to work, in the morning. Grapes trudged back to the actual Farmhouse, barely getting her glasses off, before falling into a deep sleep in her own bed, for the first time in days. > Guess Who's Coming to Fodder > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grapes mumbled something, absently kicking off the comforter, and turned back over to sleep some more. Then this nagging little thought started to trickle into her brain. Why was it so… warm? She sat up, bleary-eyed, noticing that she was somewhat sweaty. A quick check of her temperature let her know she didn’t have a fever, so she got up, put on her glasses, and looked out her bedroom window. Much to Grapes’ surprise there was a lot of brown, and green, a field of freshly-planted grapevines stood in the sunniest part of the vineyard. Grapes went downstairs to see what the hay was going on. Spring usually wasn’t… well… on TIME! Grapes trotted around her yard, noticing that her plan for the Wrap-Up had been followed almost to the letter. The occasional improvements, probably implemented by Queenie, on the original plan were easily spotted. She just wasn’t expecting for winter to have been wrapped up so quickly. Usually the Ponyville crew was, at least, a day late. It was hard to admit it but she was strangely… disappointed. Now she had very little to complain about the organization and timeliness of Winter Wrap-up. “Great. There goes my usual spring-time gripe. What am I supposed to complain about, now?” Grapes grouched. “Welp. Y’all could just keep on pointin’ out ponies’ flaws in general,” came a familiar drawl from behind her. Turning about she saw Applejack standing next to one of the sheds with smirk. “Ah remember hearing the other night from you that one of yer farmhooves was feelin’ awfully sick so I figured Ah should check up on ya. How y’all doin’, cuz?” “Earshot caught Cloppox, and it turned out bad, because he hadn’t had his shots,” Grapes said. “But he’s much better now. I’ve caught up on my sleep and Spring’s on time for the first time in years.” “Yeah. Funny thing there. We had a whole heap of trouble this year ‘cause Twilight was fittin’ in like a square peg in a round hole. Nothin’ seemed to be doin’ her any good, and she weren’t doin’ any good in anything in turn. Next thing we know she takes the reins and gets this whole herd of cats goin’ in the same direction. Guess she picked SOMETHIN’ up from the Princess,” Applejack explained with a shrug. “So… Twilight’s obsession with organization got Spring sprung on time?” Grapes asked. “How ‘bout that? Good thing I put in my custom weather order, when I decided to actually grow Sun’s Spring Glory grapes this year.” “Ain’t those the ones that make you cuss like a one-eyed carpenter? Thought you said it’d take the devil himself to make you grow them again.” “I know, I know, but I’m down to my last couple of barrels, and I do, actually, have ponies who… well… pony up the bits for that stuff. Also, it helped out Seedy Soil, because he got them in by mistake,” Grapes explained. “How anypony could confuse Morning Glories with Sun’s Spring Glory is beyond me.” “Well don’t be too confused about it, Sugarcube. Ah know the feelin’ when Ah went to buy broccoli seeds from Seedy he said they were out and the price of the next batch would go up because of scarcity… Scarcity… sounds like a relative of Rarity, don’t it?” “Snips and Snails decided to corner the market on broccoli. Now if only they’d do the same for alfalfa… And yeah, kind of, but don’t let her hear you say so,” Grapes quipped. “So… why are you thinking about Rarity, all of the sudden? Talking about the broccoli shortage, and your mind wanders to a certain marshmallow white unicorn when you mention a word that means something similar to her name...” “Oh, now don’t you start none of that, missy,” AJ began, in a warning tone. “Not when ah came bearin’ gifts for yer sick foal.” Grapes held up her hooves in a mollifying gesture. “Okay okay. I’m sure Earshot will appreciate them. Need any help getting them inside?” “Naw. It ain’t that big,” she said giving Grapes a small narrow sealed jar. “Ah remember the little guy talkin’ about how his folks always liked chewing on things, so ah figured Winona could share some of her rawhide chewies and biscuits. Heck, if’n he likes them we might wind up with somethin’ we could trade with his folks for when they get out of… well, their caves.” “Hm. I think he’ll enjoy having something to gnaw on,” Grapes observed looking at the chewies. “Thanks, Applejack.” “Hope the li’l fellar’s feeling better. Ah cain’t help but noticed that Crabby and Zecora left earlier. Must’ve been serious to have both of them there at once.” “He’s feeling much better, thanks. And yeah, it was pretty serious. Pre-immunization cloppox is no joke,” Grapes observed. “Anyway, looking forward to the Gala? That’s soon, now that the season’s turned.” “Sure as sugar. Granted Ah ain’t much for all the sissified, frou-frou, waltzin’ to long-maned music that Rarity likes but Ah figure that’ll make what Ah bring stand out with it’s simple down-home charm. But enough about that,” Applejack said dismissively. “Ah wanted to apologise for Applebloom and her friends botherin’ you the way they did the other day. Rarity is fit to be tied for their uniforms.” “They had good intentions,” Grapes said with a nod. “And Earshot’s enjoying the record they brought over. So that’s a good thing. I know the road to Tartarus is paved with good intentions, but they genuinely meant well, so I can’t hold it against them, really.” “And let’s not forget that at least THIS time, their efforts didn’t exactly end in disaster. Well, not disastrous as most of their other tries. Like their infamous Cutiemark Crusader Hooficure Experts event? Ah hear they still haven’t gotten the glitter off of the mayor’s office ceiling.” “... Oh good heavens…” Grapes uttered, rubbing her forehead. “I’m glad I headed that off before they actually attempted any patient care.” “Ah’m jest glad you won’t be seein’ them showin up on yer doorstep claimin’ to be Cutiemark Crusader Morticians. That’d be the last thing you’d need.” “No kidding,” Grapes sighed. “Anyway, thanks for stopping by, AJ… Er… You remember Dusty?” “Dusty? Oh yeah. The fellar from Canterlot who likes hittin’ the slopes. Right? You mentioned him gettin’ into an accident at that big wintertime shindig. What about him?” “He’s coming here to recuperate. Not sure if Earshot will be able to hear him, but keep an eye out for him, would you? If you notice him before we do, give him a lift to the vineyard. It wouldn’t be good for him to be walking on a broken leg,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Right. Don’t you worry none. I’ll spread the word to keep an eye out. We ain’t about to let yer kin go galloping over hill and dale on a broken leg. That wouldn’t be neighborly.” “Just don’t tell Queenie… She’s… less than friendly to Dusty, right now, okay?” Grapes said. “We’re going to try and keep their interaction as minimal as possible.” “As long as she don’t ask Ah won’t tell. You know how avoidin’ truth makes mah skin itch.” “Same here. Just… Trying to prevent friction, before she’s calmed down a bit,” Grapes said with a sigh. “She knows I’ve got a cousin coming to recuperate. She just doesn’t know he also happens to be a certain unicorn who’s famous for being able to quote fly unquote that she encountered at a certain ill-fated winter sports competition. And what’s worse… Poor Dusty’s utterly smitten with her.” Applejack let out a low whistle followed by a good-natured chuckle. “Boy sets his sights high, don’t he? Gal has a lot to offer. Land, good looks, good manners… even when she’s had a snootfull. Did she tell ya that Mac carted her here from the station? Said she was the most ‘pleasant’ drunk he ever had to do that with.” “She was funny, when she got to the Bunkhouse, too. One of the first things she did was make sure Earshot knew that her behavior wasn’t appropriate,” Grapes said, chuckling. “Anyway, with Earshot kind of down for now, we haven’t got a way to hear him when he gets here. So I appreciate your keeping an eye out.” “Welp.. Ah’ve been scoutin’ out a new location for the apple stand for spring. Maybe ah should set up around the train station. You know.. to catch the new arrivals as they come lookin’ fer work.” “Why would you want to move?” Grapes asked, looking innocent. “Oh, now don’t you start that, y’hear? It’s jest if you don’t try a few new things now and again you’ll never know if’n there’s somethin’ a little better. Also Rarity has asked me to move for a while… Filly says mah treats are too temptin’ and she’s gained a few pounds. Ah don’t see the fuss, really,” Applejack replied. Grapes just grinned. “Too tempting, hm? Interesting,” she observed, grin still in place. “I do wonder what she’s being tempted by… I do admit your fritters are fantastic. And your pies, and apple jam… And the apple brown betty… Uh. Yeah. I can understand why she’d want you to move. Also… If she has to walk farther for the treat, it’ll get worked off.” “Ah’ll admit havin’ Rare as a constant customer is nice but she DID ask nicely, and it ain’t a BAD request neither. So Ah figure, why not?” “Okay. Just hope you get some good hooves out of it. Unfortunately there don’t seem to be other rogue storm teams you could enlist,” Grapes said teasingly. “That’s a pity. If Ah had a barnfull of ponies like the ones you got Ah’d be livin’ like a queen,” she paused a moment then laughed. “And be bored as a two-bah-four.” “Well thanks for stopping by, AJ. I’m sure you’ve got your scouting to do. I’m going to give these to Earshot, and see what all everypony’s done, so far,” Grapes said, looking back over the vineyard. “I’m still in awe at how one unicorn’s obsession with organization could get something done that… is practically traditionally late. I mean the lateness is practically a tradition.” “Well, Ah get a feelin’ that Twilight is one of them obsessive-compulsive types… take that from an expert on the thing. Still, she kicked up a whole mess of trouble tryin’ to find a place to fit in. Durn fool used magic with her plow.. on MAH farm! You know how serious Ah am about doin’ it all proper. Ah mean, usin’ Unicorn Magic on mah farm durin’ Winter Wrap-up! Can you imagine what the all the other ponies would say?” “Well I’m pretty sure Twilight didn’t mean to put you in a spot like that.” Grapes observed. “She doesn’t have the same strength as an Earth Pony or even the experience in knowing how best to throw her own weight around, like yours truly.” “It’s a good thing Big Macintosh didn’t see her. It was HIS plow she was using… oh! No wonder she had to use magic to move it! It was adjusted for HIM, not a little unicorn mare! Anyway, Ah’m glad he didn’t see the ruckus she caused, otherwise he might have given her an even BIGGER earful than Ah did, Celestia’s student or not. He was kinda fumin’ when he came back, Ah wonder if someone managed to tell him after all. Good thing she ran off when she did…” “Heh. It takes a lot to get Mac to say more than two words,” Grapes observed, with a grin. “I’ll see you later, Cuz. I’ve got to check on everything. It looks like they followed my plan, but I’d better check.” “Catch y’all later. and don’t you fret. Ah’ll keep an eye open fer your other cousin.” “Thanks, AJ,” Grapes said, waving, then she went and checked over the fields, making sure everything was as she would set it up herself. She had planned everything out, carefully, to maximise efficiency, and make sure that everything drained well, and did not cause problems with the ground water. And it looked like some improvements had been made there as well. She wasn’t about to complain, though. She did note somepony else was as restless as her. More than once she saw a pair of ears poking above the windowsill in Earshot’s room. As exhausting as his ordeal had been like any foal his age he probably wanted to be outside playing, or maybe working… she got the feeling that for him they were pretty much interchangeable. A lot of things she took for granted was pretty new to him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A couple of days later, a great gleaming cherry-red carriage pulled by a gray and black Unicorn stallion and a gray and black Earth Pony mare, came down the front driveway, its gold filigree gleaming in the noonday sun. Sour Grapes was uncertain who this could be, not many ponies she knew could afford a ride like that. It certainly wasn’t her grandmother’s style to “slum” in a place like Ponyville, and her uncle Cabochon was more of the “less is more” camp for carriages. The carriage pulled up in front of her home and it took her a moment to recognise the coat-of-arms on the side. In fact, she had seen it on the scarves that the Storm Riders wore. Upon a gold shield was a dark brown pegasus riding a storm cloud that was shooting lightning. Apparently an official, a high-ranking official, had come to check on the Storm Riders. Grapes sighed, and prepared herself for the animosity that’s normal for Canterlot Nobility. Moments after it came to a stop,the unicorn in the front unhitched himself and quickly moved to the side door where he flipped down a short set of stairs before opening the door. The smoked-glass windows had prevented Grapes from seeing inside before but she was impressed by the plush green velvet seats within, then a long leg appeared from the shadows, then another. She emerged as if rising up from a dark pool, a lean mare of an indeterminate but still well-preserved age, with a smalt-coloured body and a gorgeous mane of cattleya-coloured hair that somehow seemed to suit her. She wore a stylish white traveling cloak and bonnet which seemed to almost burn in the sunlight as she descended the short flight of stairs to the gravel road. Her dark eyes calmly surveyed the landscape before she turned to Grapes where she gave a shallow bow. “Good afternoon. May I make the leap of logic here and come to the conclusion I am addressing Miss Sour Grapes of the Grapevine Hills Vineyard and Winery?” Her bonnet flickered with a light gray shimmer, rising from her head and moving over to the pony next to her who immediately put it into an appropriate hat box, and revealing the elegant upcurved horn upon her brow. This caused Grapes to raise an eyebrow. Honestly, she had been expecting a pegasus, and the last thing she expected was that “bow of equals”. “That is a most excellent, logical, and correct deduction on your part, ma’am,” Grapes observed, with a small bow of her own. “And I presume that you would be Lady Weathervaine?” “Ah, just as quick as my Storm-Riders said. Yes. Yes I am Lady Weathervain. I cannot begin to say how wonderful it is to finally meet the pony who has kept my Storm-Riders out of trouble for an entire year,” the older mare said with a pleasant smile before she brought up one hoof to gently but firmly turn Sour Grapes’ head from side to side. “Here, let’s have a look at you then.” “Oh… kay…” Grapes said, obviously taken aback. This was not what she was expecting at all, to be honest. She seemed quite friendly, even… well… grandmotherly in a fashion she’d never received from Pave Diamond. Unfortunately she never met her Grandmother Grapes, she having gone on to the Great Green Fields, leaving the ornery Grandpa Grapes behind. Eyes as dark as obsidian scrutinised her, as if she were a piece of fine art. Then Lady Weathervain smiled in a curiously “amused” manner. “Ah there it is. Definitely of the Diamond family heritage. It’s all in the eyes-to-nose region. Sturdy features one could put in a portrait, not to mention I see IN those eyes that diamond-hard will that borders on stubbornness that comes with the bloodline. Just like the stubbornness Pave Diamond has… how is old Diamond-face doing these days? I haven’t had the time to attend the same balls as her.. or rather I should say I can hardly be BOTHERED to attend any of the balls she attends. As far as I’m concerned she has no balls worth speaking of.” “I wouldn’t know, ma’am, I haven’t seen her since I was sixteen, and stomping out of the Grand Galloping Gala, after being insulted the whole night… And… I could make a very inappropriate joke, here, but I’m sure Earshot is listening, and he’s way too young to hear such, just yet,” Grapes quipped. For a moment, Grapes was uncertain what manner of reaction she may get from this woman, who was no doubt well-connected and accustomed to finer things. In fact for a heartbeat because of the way Weathervain was looking at her, she worried her comment might have gone a step too far… then the mare threw her head back and laughed, long, loud and with total abandon. “OH! Oh Well done, Grapes. Well done, you picked up my straight line right away and used it while showing restraint for the sake of young Earshot. You are turning out to be everything I have been told.” “He can hear stars, ma’am, and has probably heard worse in Ponyville, since he can hear Pinkie Pie telling a joke at Sugarcube Corner, but the less I have to use ‘standard answer number one’ the less I have to explain when he comes of age,” Grapes replied with a slight smirk. “I’m sure he’s been keeping a record of everything that has to be explained when he’s older… So yeah… ‘The Talk’ may end up being dry and scholarly, especially if I’m the one doing it, but he’ll get the facts straight, and won’t have to take a cold shower, after.” “Scholarly may be the best way to go for the initial talk. When I married my dear husband Freight Broker, may he rest in peace, I was quite the trophy wife. The ‘right’ finishing schools, the ‘right’ charm classes and the ‘right’… Answer Number One Classes.“ Grapes raised an eyebrow at that particular bit of information. Of course Weathervain saw her eyebrow and matched it with one of her own. “I come from a long line of ponies who specialise in marrying into the ‘right’ families. It sounds archaic to some but ‘breeder’ ponies were and still sometimes are quite the norm in my line.” “So… they had to be familiar with… Uh… Jiggery Pokery, so to speak?” Grapes asked, then paused, and said to the air. “Yes, this is Standard Answer Number One. But for future reference it is part of a set of linguistic acrobatics that confuses Sirocco called ‘euphemisms’. Saying something innocuous to mean something less than innocuous especially around younger ponies who shouldn’t be listening in to private conversations… Earshot. I know you’re bored, but you’re still on bedrest until Crabby says different… Note to self: Check out the Daring Do novels...” “Oh yes. I highly recommend those. Daring is a very stimulating writer and SUCH a charming young filly when she puts her mind to it.” You could almost hear Grapes’ mental record scratch. “She actually exists?! Wait. No. Why wouldn’t she exist? I live in a town where six ponies ended up saving the world from eternal night, and they even save the town itself from time to time, and nopony really knows who they are, so it shouldn’t be too big of a stretch for the leading character of a popular young ponies’ novel series to actually exist…” “Good girl. Yes she is real, yes those books are based off of her real adventures but some of the names have been changed for the sake of the privacy of some ponies.” “Oh good gravy, I always knew Squall seemed familiar…” Grapes muttered. “Summer Squall is Captain Hammock! Great flaming fewmits… Daring Do and the Secret of Scarlet Island was one of my favorites.” “OH! I’m surprised you caught that so quickly once you had the right key. Yes my dear, Summer Squall is indeed the hot-blooded sailor that appears irregularly in the series,” Weathervain said rather soberly. “She did me a favour when she dragged him into that adventure. No doubt in the book you read about him hitting a low point in his life when they met. When she asked me if I knew any seagoing ponies capable of piloting a small ship I had already been scouting Squall for some time and I sincerely hoped that if there was any life left in that poor rum-soaked wreck, an adventure would bring it out. Fortunately it worked and here we are.” “I’m sure he’ll tell me about it, eventually, when he feels like it. I seem to be something of a counselor-slash-den mother for this crazy crew. Oh, and my cousin, the doctor, is planning on visiting Earshot’s clan, sometime,” Grapes added casually. “Though I’m pretty sure Earshot’s recent illness is the reason why you’ve graced my humble vineyard with your presence. Unless you’re here for the wine sampler.” “Wine would be graciously accepted, if you’re offering,” she said with a wink. “Just don’t be surprised if I start dancing on tables. But yes, I came to check upon one of my best possible investments. To hear we nearly lost him to such a casual and easily avoidable illness… one that I should have foreseen or at least dealt with myself. I’ve always left their medical care to them, giving them a medical stipend to see to their own health matters and in the past it has always worked… I neglected to realise that Earshot’s clan are somewhat behind the times.” her eyes dropped as she whispered, “It should not have had to come to us nearly losing him.” “I keep bringing up the simple fact that vaccination has made Cloppox into the nuisance it is today. And that is a very, in the grand scale of things, recent innovation happening within the last century,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Also, despite Earshot acting rather mature, he’s still a young colt. And what young colt enjoys the thought of getting shots? Also… There’s that village that’s near his home. I’m sure that the initial impression that they have left upon him did not help him be trusting toward anypony in a position of authority, especially a doctor.” “That’s a possibility. The world has not always been good to him, a mix of both fortune and folly. Who knows what that ghastly town has given him in the way of pre-conceived notions.” “That well-made ordinary goods are prohibitively expensive, for one, but I showed him that the selfish ponies were short-changing his kin. I have a plan for how to get ponies wanting the Night Ponies to rejoin greater Pony Society. And it involves trade goods. Get ponies wanting the things Night Ponies make, and soon, you’ll get them wanting to meet the actual Night Ponies… Speaking of! There is a wine you should try. I made sure to save some. Just a little bit, before you go and visit our favorite little eavesdropper,” Grapes said going into the bunkhouse, and pulling out the jar of Luna’s Tears, and pouring Lady Weathervain a snort. “They make wine, too. But it’s different from how I do it.” Lady Weathervain went through the usual rigamarole of wine-tasting. Checking color, odor and the like before sipping at it and letting it wash across her tongue for maximum effect. “Very nice. And you say they made this on their own?” “Makes me think of ancient Roanan winemaking, actually, with its particular flavor, and texture,” Grapes observed. “Earshot said they’ve had to do a lot of stuff without the benefits that we ‘Daylighters’ have, and I’d say they’ve done quite well,” Grapes observed. “But can you imagine having this at your next soiree? The elite would be clamoring for it, because it’s new, and different, and nopony else has it. Kind of like a peculiar green vintage that’s sure to become something of a fad this coming season… I can neither confirm nor deny that Princess Celestia may have paid a nice sum for an interesting vintage of wine made from broccoli for her particularly odious nephew’s birthday this past year.” “That was you? Oh dear. That has actually become quite trendy at his new cheese-tasting parties that are starting to become popular. I always suspected they’d pay well for bad taste.” “And just my luck, a pair of enterprising foals have bought up the initial broccoli seed shipment. So any broccoli wine I make will be all the more expensive. It does taste much better, by the way, with a really good sharp Trottingham cheddar. Anything else doesn’t seem to work as well,” Grapes added with a chuckle. “Well here’s to your new endeavour,” the noble said taking another sip of the dark wine. “This really is a lovely wine. It has a dark beauty about its flavor. It would be nice to see it on the open market. One cannot help but imagine vines with midnight-colored fruits growing in some deep dark cavern somewhere.” “Make ponies want it, without the use of a certain notorious spell, and the rest will be history,” Grapes observed, putting up the jar. “Though, for some reason, I think you’d enjoy the watermelon wine, too… Anyway, before we do you a wine sampler, so you can add my wines to your cellars, let’s go and see mister antsy pants.” “Ah yes. Let’s. Will there be stairs?” “Do you need help ascending?” Grapes asked, politely. “Because, yes, yes there will be stairs. I can always give you a lift, as it were. I’ve got particularly strong levitation.” “Well I only ask because my pole-dancing days have come and gone. And while hardly infirm I have to take them slowly these days,” the older mare said before giving Grapes a gentle nudge. “Although I wouldn’t say no to a body next to mine as I go up, just in case.” “That can be taken so luridly. It really can,” Grapes deadpanned, with a smirk. “I know. Always remember that a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste,” she laughed as the two entered the bunkhouse. “It will be nice to see Earshot again; he is by far the youngest acquisition I have yet to recruit into my operation. He was… let me see… seven, when he first came to my attention.” “Where did you find him?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “If you can believe it, Canterlot,” she said matter-of-factly as they slowly began the climb up the stairs. “That’s… quite the long way from Germaney,” Grapes observed, thoughtfully. “Oh yes. His accent was rather thick back then, a little Germane, some influence from the Clopathian region. I try not to pry, some of us have earned our little secrets.” “Of course,” Grapes said with a smile. “Still, I’ve always been good at putting things together, and making rather stunning leaps of logic.” “I remember it was mid-summer, a Tuesday, and I was out in the market square looking for good bargains--I may be well-off but spending money frivolously has never been my style--I was looking over some fresh pomegranates when I could not help but see the most curious little thing. A small gray colt was counting out his change at one of the fruit stands; normally that is not quite a strange thing in itself but he wore a large hat, had on a saddle-blanket despite it being warm day and wore large green-glass goggles. He got some odd looks, I can tell you, but the ponies all probably assumed he was yet another tourist. What’s the old expression? Country-comes-to-town.” “Country bumpkin, I believe,” Grapes supplied. “Most simply actively ignored him. After all he wasn’t harming anypony else, nor was he obnoxious enough to call undue attention to himself, even then he was so polite. I did find it odd that he spoke so CAREFULLY. As if opening his mouth too much would be considered rude. Although my talent is in seeing trends and patterns, I suspect I have a natural talent for finding… the unusual talents that could benefit my operation, and when I looked at this young colt I could almost feel it prodding me with the ‘look at this’ schtick. That’s when it happened.” “Okay. I’ll bite. What happened?” Grapes asked. “He stepped to the left, a heartbeat before part of a gargoyle on the old bank smashed to the cobblestones where he had been standing. Everypony was relieved that he hadn’t been hurt, and called him lucky. I, however, saw that the motion was deliberate. He somehow was AWARE of the falling masonry. So… I followed him.” Grapes smiled. “He heard when the gargoyle broke free.” “Oh yes. Bless those early-warning systems on his head, although sometimes he can be.. too distracted to be paying attention. When I found him at the back of that blind alley he was gorging himself on Star fruit. Probably was half-starved because of how costly things in Canterlot were, or maybe he just liked the exotic flavor of their gooey centre. He nearly leapt out of his skin when I approached. If his wings were not tucked away under that blanket he might have ‘flown the coop’, so to speak,” she chuckled before sighing deeply. “It took a lot of gentle coaxing and my whole basket of strawberries to get him to come out from behind those rubbish cans. It was there in that back alley amid the debris and shadows I got him to show me what allowed him to avoid an unpleasant fate. It was then and there that I realised I had been led to something truly unique under the sun. I gave him my business card and said if he needed a job I could make good use of those ears of his, and even be his sponsor in the ‘Daylight Lands’. Oh, I love how he says that. It makes everything we know feel so exotic.” “I know. Thankfully, I gave him a job in Ponyville. This place can be very accepting,” Grapes observed with a smile. “And it helps that he’s a cute little colt. The Night Pony-slash-vampony stories both help and hinder his case. Our local animal expert totally fangirled over his being a Night Pony; she being rather fond of the literature. Conversely, the vampony literature and legends had our local school teacher somewhat afraid of him… Until she saw he was a cute little colt who was far more polite than most colts in her classes.” “Ah yes. There is that. He’ll no doubt grow up into the sort of stallion who could break hearts if he were so inclined. I have never had reason to believe he actually would, there’s just so much ‘goodness’ in that one. It’s no wonder his kin sent him forth as a scout. Sometimes change is a sledgehammer blow.. but the most lasting change is like watching a river slowly carve and change the landscape over the course of years. Earshot already has one entire town that has a statue built to him… oh wait. Perhaps I shouldn't mention that.” “A… town… Oh nevermind… That sounds like a very long story,” Grapes observed. “Let’s get you up to his room, and you can visit mister antsy pants. May distract him from being quite so… bored with bedrest.” “I suspect that if he couldn’t ‘listen in’ on the region he might he far more bored. Still, I recommend some nice classical music and some Daring Do novels.” “He’s been listening to an Opera remix album by DJ Pon3, that some friends of his sent over,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “He seems to be enjoying it, so far. But when I’ve got to snag somepony to keep an eye on him, while I’m in town grabbing the books.” They reached the handing, then went into Earshot’s room to find the colt sitting up, and looking anxiously at their visitor. The elderly mare lowered herself onto the edge of the bed and smiled at the colt. “Hello Earshot. I hear you had a close call,” Lady Weathervain said with a warm smile. “Yes Ma’am. But Mister Crabapple says I’ll make a full recovery,” Earshot replied. “Doctor Crabapple,” Grapes corrected. “He’s Doctor Crabapple. He went to school, and everything.” “Yes Miss Grapes. Doctor Crabapple was so nice, he’s not at all like Mister… Doctor Vivisection back home said Doctors out here would be like,” Earshot observed. Grapes watched as Weathervain reached out to brush some of Earshot’s mane from his eyes and smiled gently. "Is Doctor Vivisection from Stygian Cove?" Grapes asked, lowering her eyebrows, with a thunderous frown. “Because I thought… Wait. He’s from that village, isn’t he? Earshot, honey, you know how that village thinks of your people. Do you, honestly, think they’d tell you the truth about how ponies would react to you?” "Oh no. We don't have doctors in the cove. Only a few healers. Doctor Vivisection is from the village. He warned me about how 'learned ponies' out here like Doctors would want to lock me up and take me apart to see what made me the abom..." Earshot paused and then coughed gently, changing the word. "I mean made me the Night Pony I am. Since I came out here many of my… preconceptions have been challenged. Preconception! Miss Cheerilee taught me that word.” “And it is a good word to know, little one,” Weathervain said with a laugh. “We all have them, and often it is good to challenge them, to see if they are true or not. Such as now. What do you think of ‘learned ponies’ now?” “I think… there are good ones and bad ones? Just like everypony else,” Earshot observed. “A wise conclusion, my little Earshot,” Lady Weathervain said warmly. “Also, you learned that anypony who called you an ‘abomination’ is not to be trusted,” Grapes said sternly. “You are not, and you will never will be an abomination.” He blinked at her, golden eyes glittering in the light from the window before smiling. “Thank you very much Miss Grapes. I will remember that.” ------------------------------------------------------- A couple of days after Lady Weathervain’s visit, a lone limping figure slowly made his way off the afternoon train. He carefully made his way down the stairs, and out of the way of the other passengers, before sitting down, head hung low, breathing hard, the occasional hiss of pain escaping his muzzle. “You look like you’ve traveled down some hard roads there, fellah,” Said a voice next to him. Looking up he saw an orange mare with freckles and a blond mane and hat smiling at him. The tan pony did a double-take at her, and her accent, and looked thoughtful. “Don’t suppose you started from a place called Avalanche Valley, did ya?” “Yeah,” he said quietly, a tired smile on his face. “I did. It wasn’t easy, but I made it. I don’t understand why we have stairs, though. Totally. Are we, like, masochistic, or something?” “Somethin’ like that… ‘Course you COULD have used the ramp over yonder but guess you had other plans.” “Isn’t that, for, like, luggage? I didn’t want to get in anypony’s why who was hauling a load of stuff, y’know?” the blond stallion replied with a shrug. The mare smiled and gently tapped the brace on his leg. “Somethin’ tells me yer already haulin’ a load. OH! Musta let mah manners in mah cart. Name’s Applejack, Ah run Sweet Apple Acres which Ah think is jest across from where you wanna be.” “Oh! Hey! Grapes talked about you. You’re the cousin from Uncle Champ’s side of the family. It’s awesome to finally meet you. I’m Dusty,” he said, offering a hoof to shake. “Pleased ta meet you, Dusty!” she said, gripping his offered hoof and at first starting to pump it vigorously before realising the shaking was causing him some discomfort in his injured leg. “Oops. Sorry about that. Well it’s always good to meet family, no matter how distant. You came to help out Sour Grapes for her spring work at the vineyard, right?” “Well… Doing what I can with this busted leg. I’m sure I can do some things… Not a lot, until I’m fully healed,” Dusty replied with a smile. “But I don’t want to be a total freeloader, though.” “Oh heck, if you got any of the blood in Sour Grapes’ veins in yers then you ain’t gonna freeload her. Besides she ain’t got time for lazy ponies on her farm. Ah’ve seen her toss a right old big fellar over the fence for eatin’ more produce than he was pickin’.” “Well I got the unicorn blood,” Dusty said, chuckling. “But yeah. I’ll help out when I can. I’ve got to earn some bits, since I gave all of mine to Avalanche Valley… So… How do I hitch a ride out there?” “Oh you can jest hop up on the wagon and Ah’ll haul ya there,” she said with a laugh. “Hey Mac! Ah’m headdin’ back to the farm. Can you an’ Applebloom keep an eye on things here?” “Eeyup,” a large red Stallion uttered loquaciously. “Are you… like… saving up for a new wagon or somethin’?” Dusty asked, as he looked in askance at the little foal’s wagon that was by the stand. “What? OH!” Applejack laughed and shook her head. “Oh that there’s mah little sister’s wagon. Good fer haulin’ small stuff an’ sturdy enough to hold the weight of two ponies but you’d look aweful silly sittin’ in it all that way, wouldn’t ya?” “I… probably would,” Dusty said with a chuckle, as he carefully got into the larger wagon that Applejack indicated. “Thanks, by the way… It’d probably be painful, if I tried walking out there.” “Ah bet you might get to the outskirts of town. You certainly had gumption enough to walk on that leg without the contraption in the newsreels. Not exactly OVERLY bright, mind you, but you had yer heart in the right spot,” Applejack said, hitching herself up. “I know, I know,” Dusty said with a sigh. “But I couldn’t just… lay there, you know?” “Ah know what you mean,” Applejack began to pull the cart down the street with a laugh. “A little while ago Ah nearly worked mahself into an early grave because Ah couldn’t stop mahself from jest… doin’ what had to be done. Got plumb carried away, bitin’ off more than Ah could chew.” “Good to know you understand. Also… I… kind of felt responsible for the whole thing, so… I had to do something,” Dusty commented. “After all… I did set off the cannon…” “Cain’t say Ah blame ya for wantin’ to settle up like that. Question is, when should a pony stop buckin’ themselves over a mistake?” “That’s… a really good question, Applejack,” Dusty observed. “I… honestly don’t know.” “Well nothin’ like farm work to help give you the time to think about stuff like that. Mah brother Macintosh may not seem the sharpest tool in the shed at first, but believe you-me, he thinks real deep. Probably why he don’t say much. Feels he don’t need to use a dictionary when one word is enough.” “He knows how to make a point with one word, huh?” Dusty asked, with a smile. “That’s a skill more ponies need, honestly. Ugh…” “Well it ain’t always so bad. Mah friends Rarity and Twilight can use ten-bit words without even thinkin’ about it. With Rarity it makes her sound all proper and fancy while Twilight… well Twilight is jest plain smart so maybe she deserves the right to use them words.” “Kind of like Sour Grapes? She’s very smart,” Dusty said, thoughtfully. “But I think Grapes is more of a historian. She knows stuff about old cultures, and how things came to be, and that sort of thing. But then Aunt Cham was big on history… Real history, where Grandma was all over revisionist history, ‘cause she’s a total tribalist.” “Oh. One of THEM. Yeah folks who want to stand on the backs of others tend to wanna rewrite history so they come out on top. No matter how hard we try to get past those old feelin’s somepony pops up tryin’ to tell is it’s how the world is.” Applejack was silent a moment before dredging up an old bit of doggerel from the corner of her head. “Ah remember it now... ‘The rich pony in his castle, The poor pony at his gate, They were made high and lowly, An’ ordered their estate.’ Boy them old lessons stick with ya, don’t they?” “Yeah. They do,” Dusty said quietly, then looked at the road. “The classics are the best, after all.” “Well at least yer gonna be in good company durin’ yer stay. Sour’s got herself a whole heap of workers this season. To give you an idea how good they are, they stayed on her property from LAST season. Right friendly bunch, if’n you’re willin’ to leave some ideas ‘at the gate’.” “Cool. I like bucking conventions. Hey, I’m a unicorn that can fly. Sorta. For short periods of time. It may be considered more like falling with style, but I’m called ‘the flying unicorn’,” Dusty said with a chuckle. “Ah saw that. Ah don’t usually go to the movies but Applebloom really wanted to see this one that was playin’ and Ah caught the newsreels. You got some moves, Ah can see that. Might make Rainbow Dash jealous.” “Or make her a fan. I have a lot of pegasus fans, strangely enough,” Dusty said with a smile, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Well she’s already a fierce fan of the Wonderbolts, hard to say if she’s got room for one more in there.” “That devoted, huh?” he asked with a chuckle. “It’s good to have dreams. Though they don’t always turn out how you like.” “That’s the funny thing about dreams. If’n one don’t come true, you still got a chance to make a new one,” she said positively. “Sometimes you never know what that new dream will be neither.” “I hear that,” Dusty said, with quiet fervor. “I… I think I may have found one of those… Only to have it crushed under an avalanche.” “Hey, Applejack,” Grapes said cheerfully, as they reached the Vineyard gate. “Thanks for bringing Dusty over. I’m sure we both appreciate it.” “No problem, Grapes. Ah had to come back this way for some more vittles anyways. Turns out there was a whole heap of fresh guard recruits on leave from the Canterlot trainin’ facility on the one-fifteen. Turns out Rare had a good idea in askin’ me to move shop.” “Hm. I wonder if she put a bug in your ear so you could get the extra business? She can be like that, you know,” Grapes observed thoughtfully. “And Dusty, I’ll set you to pruning the vines, and have some of the guys keep an eye on you so you don’t strain your leg, trying to wheel yourself on the cart. I’ll go and grab you a nice sunhat, too… Just don’t take any teasing too seriously…” “Wonder why she thinks I’ll get teased?” Dusty asked, as he slowly eased himself out of the cart. “Aw don’t worry yer head about it, Dusty. Ah’m sure it’ll be fine. Grapes’ll have you to work as soon as you get your things tucked away. Just be glad they fixed up that old shack that she called a bunkhouse. Thing had more wind passin’ through it than a harmonica in a hurricane.” “So I heard,” Dusty said with a chuckle. “And you should go and get the vittles. I’m sure those guard recruits will want something for the train ride back to Counter-Plot.” “If’n the bouncer at that tea shop hasn’t put some dents in their armor for bein’ too rowdy.” she laughed. “See y’all later.” “See ya, Applejack,” Dusty said, with a brief wave. He slowly turned, and hobbled his way toward the renovated bunkhouse. His saddlebags were light, he having sold most of his winter possessions to help with a certain rebuilding project, but Dusty had a few toiletries. He intended to stow those in the smallest room he could find, and get to pruning, using whatever conveyance that Grapes had planned for him. He carefully eased himself onto the porch, and went inside, trying to take it easy on his busted leg as he could. There was something odd about the design of the building. The curvature of the roof, the swell of the walls and the shape of the windows put him in the mind of it resembling an upside-down boat. Oddly handy if it floods, though probably a nightmare for the personal possessions. The carpenter must have been a frustrated shipwright, Dusty thought in passing, as he entered the building. Nice to know it’ll be waterproof, during the spring rains. Entering the building he found it oddly… cosy looking. There was no paint on the walls yet but the wood was definitely beautifully cared-for. The natural tones brought out by some manner of varnish… maybe beeswax. He ran a hoof across the doorframe, admiring the amount of craft put into it when he heard a soft rumbling from what looked like the living room area. Turning his attention in that direction he noticed a few cloud-gray legs sticking out at awkward angles from the sofa that sat with it’s back to him. “Uh… Hello?” Dusty asked, carefully limping into the living room area. The snoring stopped and up popped a large head the same color as the legs. Dusty estimated that if the size of the head and shoulders and legs were to be taken as a whole, then this stallion must be in around the same size as the red fellow at the train station… Macintosh was it? Blue eyes blinked in his direction for a moment before they focused. “Oh. Hello there. Sorry you caught me catching a nap in before the afternoon workload. I’m guessing you’re here to round out the workload here?” “Kinda. I’m Dusty,” he replied. “Well a good shower will fix that,” the stallion said before chuckling. “Wait… no, sorry. That’s your name isn’t it? Sorry, it takes me a moment to get up to speed from a dead sleep. At least outside of a crisis, pleased to meet you. I’m Stormfront.” “So you’re the mysterious ‘Stormy’,” Dusty said with a half smile, then he looked him over critically, and nodded. “You’ll probably be good for her, if you can get Grapes to move faster than a glacier, when it comes to… interpersonal things, if you know what I mean.” “Tell me about it… not that I was much better. She’s an amazing mare and I felt… intimidated by it. She was smart, and funny and very open when dealing with others. It was kinda hard for me to get my own feelings out in the open about her. Kinda happened by accident too. You know the feeling, like that moment you leap and you don’t know if you’re gonna fly or fall,” He rolled off the sofa onto his hooves and slowly stretched, displaying a pair of wings that all but stunned Dusty with the sight of their size. “Dude, those are some big wings,” Dusty uttered staring. “Anyway. I should find a nice room, and stow my bags.. And for the record I’m totally not going to ask about the whole pegasi with big wings thing...” “And don’t think that I don’t appreciate that. Fortunately for you, Summer Squall did think ahead when he renovated this place to be all-year habitable. I only have the biggest room out of necessity, but we got enough for all the current farmhooves and a spare… and there is one more floor he hasn’t even finished yet. Right now it’s functioning as spare storage. Oh yes… and the recreation room is through the trapdoor in the floor there. That’s still a work in progress.” “Ah. Okay. I’ll find the spare room,” Dusty said with a smile. “And Grapes is going to put me on pruning.” “Good idea. That’s something you can take at your own pace. I’d recommend you wear one of the communal hats though. Looks like Dash has it set up to be a pretty warm day today. Oh… and try not to make too much noise upstairs. Earshot’s sleeping, or rather he SHOULD be sleeping. Little guy’s been sick and is getting his strength back.” Dusty nodded, and carefully made his way up the stairs. “Sounds like a good idea,” he said, as he went. “I think I’m going to be wheeled around on a cart or something…” He found the spare room, stowing his bag there, and he made his way back down the hall, carefully, hissing in pain, every now and again. On the way back towards the stairs he felt as if he were being watched. There was something to be said for instincts honed from hurtling one’s self down the slope of a mountain at high speeds or balancing the curl of a wave large enough to smash you to pieces on submerged rocks. You got sharper-than-normal awareness of the world around you, even if you didn’t always consciously know what you were seeing. He turned his head to the side enough to see a narrow crack between a bright yellow door and it’s frame. For an instant he saw a glittering golden eye peering out from the darkness within before a child’s voice came from the other side of the portal. “Hullo.” “Hey, lil dude,” Dusty replied with a smile. “You’re Dusty, aren’t you? I saw you in the newsreels. Miss Grapes was worried about you but said you’d probably come here.” “Yeah. She was right. She’s willing to put up with me, while I’m recovering,” Dusty said nodding. “You’re Earshot, right? Stormfront said you’re s’posed to be sleeping.” “I know. I just heard you arrive and wanted to say hi.” He paused a moment as if weighing his next words, a surprisingly grown-up mannerism from one who seemed so young. “And I guess I wanted to get this next part over with as soon as I could too. You did say you like ‘bucking convention’ so I’m hoping you can accept this as easily as Miss Grapes did.” Dusty tilted his head, curiously. “Okay…” “All right. And just so you know… everypony else here and in town has already seen this. And Miss Grapes can fill you in on the details. I AM supposed to be sleeping at the moment.” The door was opened with a deliberate slowness, the well-oiled hinges hardly making a sound as it swung inwards. There in the light from the hallway was a little gray colt with a dark purple mane. At first Dusty couldn’t see why Earshot was making such a deal about this, then those instincts began to draw his eyes to the important details. Large pointy ears that would have looked more appropriate on a flying mammal, large golden eyes that could have come from any number of felines he could name, and then he noticed the two black ‘patches’ on his sides opening slightly, displaying their true nature as a pair of leathery-looking bat wings. Dusty had seen some strange ponies in his life, ones who did all manner of strange things to their own bodies like having enough tattoos to look like they were wearing clothing or enough body piercings to always point towards magnetic north but this… something inside of him acknowledged that this pony was the real deal. And his brain told him that he had enough courtesy to give him the truth in a straightforward manner, just as Sour Grapes would no doubt have suggested. “Lil dude, I’ve seen stranger,” Dusty said honestly with a kind smile. “Although, gotta admit I’ve never seen anything quite like you before. You just look like a little pegasus with bat wings. Nothing really wrong with it, just different.” Earshot smiled, little fangs glinting in the light, looking more cute than menacing. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how many ponies I’ve met that have had trouble with how I look.” “Ponies can be cruel,” Dusty said quietly, with a nod. “Yeah. But they can be kind too. The first two daylighters I met had almost nothing to call their own, but they shared it with me. There are a lot of good ponies out there who just need a little time to… accept things,” Earshot gave him a curious smile and looked over at the stairs with an expression of concern. “Uh oh. Miss Grapes is coming. It was nice meeting you, I hope to work with you soon, Mister Dusty.” "Awesome to meet you, too, lil dude," he said extending his hoof for a friendly hoof-bump… or bro-hoof depending on who you asked. Earshot looked at it in a confused manner for a moment before Dusty realised what was going on. “Oh, sorry, lil dude. It’s a Bro-hoof. You just bump your hoof against mine.” “Oh! Oh ok,” the colt said, catching on and tapping his own hoof against Dusty’s. “Be hearing you later.” “Sure thing, lil dude. Catch you later,” he said, going to the stairs, and very carefully making his way down. “I take it you met Earshot,” Grapes observed with a smile. “Yeah. He’s pretty cool,” Dusty replied. “Well I’ve set you up with a barrel cart. Whistle when you’re ready to move to a different row. As long as you don’t overexert yourself, you should be fine,” Grapes said, as she lead him out. He sat down, carefully arranging himself on the cart, and Grapes maneuvered him to the first row. She then helped him put on a sun-faded vest. “Be sure you use your good legs to push yourself. That’ll be your uniform, and here’s your sunhat.” With that she plopped a nice large sunhat on Dusty’s head. “Always prepared, huh, Grapes?” Dusty asked, levitating a set of pruning shears. “Eeyup,” Grapes said with a grin. “Getting settled in?” Stormfront asked trotting up. “Ah good, you’re wearing the Vineyard colours. You’ll fit right in.” “That’s what I’m tryin’ to do, big guy,” Dusty said tapping his hat with his free hoof. “Good to hear. Now it’s kinda obvious you’re not gonna be doing a lot of heavy lifting with that,” Stormy said motioning at Dusty’s leg. “So if it comes to that, don’t hesitate to ask, M’kay? Believe me when I say I know what it’s like to not be able to use a few limbs for a while.” “Will do, big guy. And thanks. Any help’s appreciated, while the leg’s healing up,” Dusty said with a nod. “Also don’t hesitate to ask for water, and the like,” Grapes added. “I do not let my workers get dehydrated.” With that they went to check on some other things. Stormy walked with Grapes a moment before dropping his voice “So that’s him? He seems ok enough. On the whole it takes a lot to get under Queenie’s skin, I can’t even imagine what happened that got her angry enough to hold that sort of grudge… speaking of which do we have a contingency plan for when she inevitably finds out he’s breathing the same air as her?” “Well the plan is to evoke the nepotism, and ‘I’m the boss’ cards, initially,” Grapes said with a sigh. “She knew I had a cousin coming here to recuperate. She just didn’t know that my cousin and the object of her ire are the same pony. Though I’m pretty sure that Dusty will be doing his best to avoid her at all costs, when he discovers her here. He tends to take statements like ‘I never want to see you again’ pretty seriously.” “If that’s what she said then she probably believes she meant it. Note I said ‘believes’, one thing about Queenie is that she tries to never doubt herself, she feels it makes her a stronger leader. If it turns out she’s wrong then she’ll admit it, but at least she moved with certainty at the time. It can make her stubborn at times though.” “Well. That’s always a good thing. Dusty… Well… He can be smart, and dumb at the same time, and he’s so generous it’s a fault,” Grapes observed. “I’m sure the folks at Avalanche Valley are singing his praises for he giving all his prize money, and savings to the rebuilding effort, but… well… He had to depend on his fandom to get him here. He’s also probably working on ways to get Avalanche Valley back to the state of being ‘in the black’ it would have been before the avalanche. Like I said, so generous it’s a fault. And he probably doesn’t even care if she wants to talk to him again or not. He figures that’s blown, but doing what he can to reverse the Valley’s fortunes is the least he could do for her.” “Good luck with that. From what I understand from Queenies long.. LONG historical lectures on her homeland they’ve been on the edge of absolute bankruptcy for generations. That’s gonna take more than a single act of heroism to undo. You know… unless gold rains from the sky or something,” Stormfront replied doubtfully. “I’m sure Dusty’s got a plan or two… He does have his father’s business savvy, after all, believe it or not,” Grapes replied. “And if worse comes to worse… He’s willing to give up his freedom. He’s that badly smitten.” “Wow. You really think they… you know… ‘zinged’?” “If I could get a copy of that newsreel, you’d see it for yourself, Stormy,” Grapes replied. “And I could show you Dusty’s letter he wrote… He’s head-over-hooves. “All right. Sounds like fun… Uhm… speaking of which. Are you… busy later tonight? Maybe ten-ish?” Stormy asked, tentatively. “I usually wash my mane by six… I should be free by then,” Grapes quipped with an amused smile. “Well there’s something I wanted to share with you later, but it’s a surprise.” “Sounds intriguing,” Grapes observed. “I’ll look forward to tonight.” “I’ll be waiting.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Although not a scorcher the sun was very warm and Dusty was very glad his cousin had given him a vest and a hat. He was far more used to situations where he could depend on his environment to keep him from overheating. The spray of the water or just opening his jacket up for mountain air. Here among the rows he had to defer to common sense to not get sunstroke. Take short breaks, wear protective covering and… “You have been out here for some time, sir. Seeing as you are no camel, I must tell you that it is unwise to risk the sun’s wrath without water nearby.” Dusty looked up… and up. Wow this mare was tall. The color of desert sand, with a mane and tail as black as ink, with a shininess that would make many other mares jealous. “Oh. Yeah. But with this leg it’s kinda hard for me to go and get some. I’d appreciate it if you’d grab me some, miss, if it’s no trouble.” Dusty said with a warm smile. He had never seen such an exotic-looking pegasus, her feathery wings folded neatly at her sides. She nodded and with a slight smile went out of sight around the bend in the rows. Dusty had a little time to think, this one would make three Pegasai he’s seen today, counting the little bat-winged one of course. Normally Grapes (and the rest of every farm he had ever heard of) had Earth-ponies working it. Had she brought in some manner of equal-opportunity rule… or was there something more at work here? The mare returned, carrying a large wooden bucket with a ladle in it. She set it at his feet and nodded. “I believe I can presume you are not lame of horn as much as you are lame of leg, yes? I can trust you to be able to drink easily?” “Yes, I can, miss,” Dusty said, using his magic to dip some out, and sip it down, slowly, obviously savoring the water’s taste. “Thanks again. I’m called Dusty.” “An auspicious name to be certain. From dust we came and dust we go. I am Sirocco, as you may have guessed I am quite new to these western lands.” “Nice to meet you, Sirocco,” Dusty replied with a nod. “Uh… I hope you don’t find my question rude, but… Well it’s just totally odd to see pegasi working a farm, and…” “Oh I do not find it rude at all. The truth is, this is not my usual line of work. I am… moonfighting, yes? My usual job of working with storms does not happen as often, and so at the recommendation of Stormfront and the willingness of Sour Grapes I find myself here, doing an honest day’s shirk for an honest day’s play.” “Uh… the term’s ‘moonlighting’. From when folks would work after dark, in the moonlight. Usually doing illegal stuff,” Dusty explained. “And the other term is ‘an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. And… Yeah that sounds like Grapes.” “Really?” she asked before pulling a book from under her wing and looking through it. “Ah yes. Sorry. You are correct. Equestrian idioms have always given me trouble.” “Sometimes they give me trouble, and I speak the language,” Dusty chuckled. “But then… There are specialized idioms. Snowboarders don’t use the same slang as surfers, and beach bums don’t use the same slang as snow bunnies… Uh… Beach bums are kind of obvious. They’re folks who hang out on the beach. And snow bunnies are often mares who visit ski resorts. A surfer is a pony who rides a board on the waves at a beach, and a snowboarder is a pony who rides a board down a slope at a ski resort. The only thing they have in common is riding a type of board, but that’s about it. Even the boards are different, because they have different functions, and different mediums they have to work with. Snow isn’t the same as sea water after all.” “Ah. Good to know. Hmm… I wonder what manner of board one would need to slide down a sand dune?” Dusty sat there looking thoughtful, tapping a hoof against his chin. “Hmmmm… Something with the lack of a steering fin and hoof-straps of a snowboard, but with the curvature of a surfboard, and lacquered enough to withstand silica abrasion,” he said thoughtfully. “Or maybe just a windsurf board with all-terrain wheels or sand-skids.” “Very possible. Perhaps mister Redline would be willing to make such conveyances. He lives in the north field with his little sister and he is very much the kind of inventor who likes thinking upside the box.” “Outside,” Dusty corrected. “The box being another way of saying ‘convention’. So a pony who thinks ‘outside of the box’ is somebody who sees things differently, and can make connections that others don’t.” “Ah. I see. Then I can honestly say that mister Redline is very far out of the box. Almost dangerously so. No I tell a lie. He is very much dangerously so. But he at least means well, and if you keep him busy he is far LESS dangerous.” “Ah. Right. Less time to think like a mad scientist out of a Daring Do book… But yeah… There’s a reason why it’s said that the road to Tartarus is paved with good intentions,” Dusty uttered with a shake of his head. “Anyway… I should get back to pruning… I know Grapes doesn’t have me on a quota, but I really shouldn’t be sitting here chatting, either. Still, it was totally awesome to meet you, Legs.” “Legs?” “Yes ma’am. It’s a nickname. ‘Cause you’ve got legs for miles… Which is a way of saying you’ve got some nice long legs,” Dusty said, and quickly explained. “Legs for miles…” she said examining herself for a moment before smiling. “That is an idiom I can stand behind.” “Or at least stand on,” Dusty said jokingly, as he went back to pruning. “I wonder if Grapes wants to make stuffed grape leaves?” he pondered, then began to set aside some nice-looking specimens. “Perhaps you should mention it when next you see her. I shall leave the bucket here for you. Kindly remember to keep hydrated. You will find it far easier to sweat when you have moisture to sweat with,” Sirocco cautioned. “Thanks. I’ll remember that,” he said waving as she trotted off. Work progressed slowly but steadily. Dusty had to admit it had been a while since he had to do this sort of manual labor, not really hard work but prolonged. He absentmindedly lifted the ladle to his lips again, Sirocco had good advice in keeping hydrated, he had been far more productive without being distracted by thirst… at least until now. The ladle was dry and a quick glance down to the bucket revealed he had drunk all the water in it. Had he really been out here that long? He had gone a fair way down the row as well, the cart had really made things more tolerable as far as his leg went. But it was a fair distance to… where WAS the well in this place anyways? Probably closer to the buildings but totally not next to the outhouses… even he could see that would have been a bad idea. And speaking of outhouses, not ALL of that water was sweated away. He sighed, looking around, and kind of reluctant to call somepony away from their own work, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. “Hello?” he called. “Anypony out here?” There was a flapping sound from somewhere to the east and a moment later a bright orange streak surged past… then it came around for a slower approach. Not many ponies had such a vivid shade of orange, and the bright yellow mane seemed to give the pegasus above him the impression that he was made of fire. He looked down at Dusty then smiled the same kind of smile he often saw on the slopes, that cocky grin of somepony who not only thought he was good… but knew he had the skills to pay the bills. “Dude, nice entrance,” Dusty said with smile of his own. “Thanks. New guy, huh? Must’ve just arrived today for Grapes to put you to work out here.” The young stallion stopped flapping and gracefully glided to the ground next to him. He rubbed a hoof against his chest before extending it for a hoofshake, Dusty caught the lingering scent of burnt grass lingering about him. “Name’s Firestormer. Good to meet another wage-slave around here.” “Dusty,” he said, shaking his hoof. “And yeah… Yet another wage slave, but… it’s more of a working recovery. Grapes an’ I go back a ways, and if you ask her, she’ll give ya an earful about my being too generous, but if I’ve got the bits, and they could use ‘em, what’s the point of keeping ‘em? I’ve developed a taste for grass, so I think it’s better if the bits go to a good cause, because ponies can survive on grass and river water.” “Don’t suppose you like the taste of Blackgrass, huh? Sorry, nopony likes Blackgrass. Just got back from Amber Waves’ farm and she has the stuff in a bad way. One of the few natural plants that has developed a resistance to major herbicides and even most common anti-weed magics. About the only ‘easy’ methods of dealing with it are surface cultivation after the harvest and a good old fashioned stubble-burning. I’m not usually for it but if it works then it works, and it’s my job to try to help keep that sort of thing under control.” “Stubble burning huh? That explains why you smell like a barbeque,” Dusty observed with a chuckle, he then sighed. “I hate being so helpless, but this leg… It’s best if I try to stay off it as much as I can, you know what I’m sayin’?” “Well here… met me give you a wing, then.” he grinned before zipping behind the cart and bracing his forehooves against it. Dusty’s instincts instantly went on high alert as Firestormer began pushing. “Please keep all legs and horns inside the vehicle at all times and do not attempt to disembark until we have reached a complete stop.” “Sure thing, Sparky,” Dusty said holding on as best he could. Dusty was glad he was used to going at high speeds and as the rows became a blur of green and white it was actually pretty refreshing to experience it again. He had a feeling that Firestormer could probably go even faster than he was currently going at but was holding back because he didn’t want to risk causing property damage. Still they got out of the rows rather quickly and he was propelled into the main “courtyard” of buildings where they came to a fairly abrupt stop in front of a green pony with a shock of purple mane which reminded him of a thistle, and wearing a yellow vest. “For me? Why, Firestormer, how did you ever know I had a thing for blondes?” the green pony uttered, grinning. “Easy, Thistledown, he’s an employee,” Firestormer said rolling his eyes. “Aw darn.” “Don’t swing that way, anyhow, dude,” Dusty said shaking his head. “And my dad may be a bit old for you.” “Story of my life,” he chuckled before taking Dusty’s hoof and shaking it vigorously. “Name’s Thistledown, in charge of artistic concerns at Grapevine Hills. You know… labels, posters, icons on the sides of crates. When I’m not sketching my life away I’m also working the fields with the rest of the flock. You’ve already met my hot-blooded buddy Firestormer. Don’t worry, he’s that ‘token’ straight friend we’re all allowed to have.” “Uh… Right. You seem to making another ‘token’ straight friend, dude,” Dusty said with a chuckle. “Anyway… Is this a break or something? What time is it?” “Call it your cider break,” Firestormer said with a shrug. “If I know Grapes you’ve been working since you got here.. actually I could see you got pretty far with that row so she won’t object to you getting up, stretching a little or taking a few minutes load off, grabbing more water for your bucket or just draining the euphemism.” “I did stow my bags, meet the Lil’ Dude, get the vest and hat… But, yeah I’ve been working since I got here,” Dusty observed, rubbing the back of his neck with his unbraced hoof. “Well then. You got fifteen coming to you then,” Firestormer agreed. “Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll take you right back.” “Thanks, dudes,” Dusty said with a smile. “Got some nice grape leaves, too. Maybe Grapes will make her stuffed grape leaves. You ever have it? They’re pretty good.” “Not yet,” the orange pony said “Keep in mind she’s gotta make food in bulk for us. Sometimes that means she’s gotten something from town and sometimes it means a good stew or soup. Still good though.” “Well the recipe tends to be specific. Only use leaves from spring. Guess summer grape leaves are too tough, and fall leaves would be too dry,” Dusty observed. “Well, if we’re nice maybe she’ll make some,” Thistledown said with a smile. “That’s why I’ve been saving good-lookin’ grape leaves,” Dusty said with a grin. “Because the dish is pretty amazing, and it can be made in a nice big batch, if she has helps rolling the grape leaf packets.” Firestormer glanced over at Sour Grapes’ home and then back to Dusty. “If we linger here too long all we’ll be getting a serving of is harsh words. Tell you what, I’ll refill your bucket for you while you make use of the outhouses and whatever else you need to do for your break… and maybe suggest to her that as a dinner option. I have to admit I’m intrigued by it.” “Okay, Sparky. Wheel me close to the outhouse, if you would, please and thank you?” Dusty requested. It certainly was a load off of Dusty’s mind (and bladder) to use the outhouse, he hadn’t even realised how badly he needed it until he started. He was just glad help had been nearby at the time, he wasn’t certain if he would have found his way out of the rows without… well… watering the grapes. Still Thistledown and Firestormer were pretty cool and naturally friendly, certainly a huge change from the teammates his promoter/agent liked to team him up with and his usual fans. Not that he would want to speak ill of his fans. If it weren’t for them he probably wouldn’t have gotten all the way from the Icebreaker Memorial Hospital to Ponyville completely “off the grid”. It was important that his grandmother not be able to locate him or she would take his injury as a weakness she could exploit to lever him into a loveless Canterlot marriage. (Sometimes he wondered if his grandfather was really dead or just hiding from his grandmother.) So with the assistance of the doctors and some loyal fans he, ironically enough, “Couch-Surfed” his way here. All it really cost him was a long line of posing with fans for photos and answering the same questions for them, again and again. Oh yes.. and the occasional marriage proposal. But he always declined graciously, and politely, wishing for them to find their true love. True love meant a lot to Dusty. In fact it was due to the one encounters that he actually had with his now-wayward (or deceased) grandfather that he discovered there was such a thing. He was sick in bed, and his grandfather read The Princess Bride to him. To this day, that is his favorite book, especially now he understands all the wry humor and wonderful wit that Morganstern put into it. He had the chance for true love, and ended up blowing it thanks to his flankhole teammates. Now he was going to do everything in his power to make sure Queenie, wherever she is, gets the chance to find her own True Love. Even if it’s not him, giving her the freedom to find her own… Well that was worth anything. Now he was back pruning the vines, humming a happy little tune. He has water, he’s been to the loo, and he’s dividing up grape leaves into nice specimens to be eaten once filled with a delicious stuffing. Well… he had water. Afternoon had gotten warmer, and after the break, he had been quite industrious. “Uh… Hello? Could somebody lend me a hoof, please?” Dusty called. He heard a set of hooves from behind him, and a soft inhale of air. Definitely somepony was there, but before he could turn in their direction a voice spoke, one that he had heard in his dreams every night since Avalanche Valley. “What have we here? A new scarecrow for the vineyard, or is he here just looking for a brain?” Dusty froze, trying to hide under his hat. “C-can’t afford a brain,” he stuttered trying hard to make his voice sound different. “Flying monkeys broke my stick, and now I’m having to work to even afford straw to stuff myself with…” His eyes flicked downwards seeing the mare’s shadow on the ground as she approached. Oh, sweet Celestia, even her shadow was gorgeous. She entered his line of sight; if she looked beautiful amid the fields of snow and ice of her homeland, then here, juxtaposed with the greens and browns she was positively radiant. Even the neutral expression on her face looked graceful and worthy of being immortalised in stone. “And… what have I done to warrant a visit from an angel?” Dusty whispered quietly. Queenie blinked in a surprised manner before blessing him with a thin but wry smile. “I see your tongue and wit are still intact. Then again, you only kept walking about on a broken leg.” Dusty looked at the leg brace. “And boy am I paying for that. Oh well. I couldn’t just lay there, when ponies needed help. So… This is the agricultural concern you mentioned?” “Obviously. It makes for a nice change of scenery from the valley, and in it’s own way has become a home away from home. I find I am learning a great deal here and may set about attempting to grow grapes for an ice wine next year. The extra revenue would come in handy for my countrymares and stallions. Miss Sour Grapes has been most understanding and a fair employer. She even said that her cousin would be dropping by sometime this spring and asked me as a personal favour to be nice to… oh, fewmets, it’s you, isn’t it?” she said the reality suddenly clicking in. “And SHE is the ‘outspoken’ mare you mentioned, isn’t she?” “Guilty as charged,” Dusty said sheepishly. “And you’re right, but then, that is a pretty good description of Grapes, you have to admit.” “Certainly more accurate than my own suggestion your cousin might be ‘troublesome’. If anything she has a way of ending trouble, or containing it,” She was silent a moment before tossing her golden tresses to the side in a well-practiced motion that made his heart skip a beat. “Fine. She must have guessed the stallion I met was you and tricked me into promising to be nice. I have my pride, I will NOT go back on my word. But make no mistake, sir. I have not forgotten things by a long shot. Now… fellow.. employee. You asked for assistance.” “Yes’m. If it would not be too much trouble, could I please have a refill on my water bucket, if you would be so kind?” Dusty asked. “And… I… did write about you… You… you were a fairly big part of that trip… Also, the avalanche made all the newsreels… One thing Grapes has been good at is putting things together.” “That she is,” Queenie said, picking up the bucket and hanging it off of a little hook on her vest, and started to walk away. “Infuriatingly so.” Dusty watched her turn and prepare to leave, before resolutely going back to pruning the vines. That ship dashed itself pieces on a giant brass cannon. He would treat her with the respect that a fellow co-worker should have, but he would not do anything more. If they become friends, then so-be-it, but… Best not to pine for what was lost, but he will make sure she finds something for herself. He continued pruning away, not paying attention to her absence, and just… trying to soothe the ache in his heart. May as well get used to it. She will find somepony else… And he may have to accept the shackles he’s been avoiding for so long. She was if nothing else, fair about her agreement with her employer. She did bring back the bucket and it was full of water, and he was certain that she didn’t even spit in it or anything… not that he felt she actually WOULD. Such an act of contempt somehow seemed so… beneath her. The water was cool and refreshing, it actually felt glacially cold going down his throat. He wondered if she got it from the icebox or if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. “Thank you,” he said, sounding grateful. “I appreciate the refill.” “It would be remiss of me to allow one of Sour Grapes’ workers to shrivel up like a raisin in the sun. Do you need anything else? I have chores of my own to attend to.” “Nothing at this moment, ma’am,” Dusty said quietly. “And I’m sure there will be others around who can lend a hoof, when I do. You just got the luck of the rotation, I guess. I will try not to bother you again.” She gave him a nod and walked back down the row to whatever task she had been doing before. Dusty stared for a moment, remembering a line from one of Rodeo Flip’s favorite songs “We hate to see her go but LOVE to watch her leave”. He then suddenly had a facehoof moment. Now he knew who Applejack was reminding him of. She had very similar looks and mannerisms to his ex-teammate Rodeo Flip… only she was nicer, better behaved, less crass… If Queenie had met Applejack before arriving at the contest then no wonder Rodeo Flip disturbed her so. It was like seeing a good friend’s warped reflection in a funhouse mirror. Thankfully he would never have to worry about those two ever again. That manager had been fired, and he had sicced his father on the blackguard. Dusty was sure there was some underhanded dealings going on, and his Dad strangely enough trusted his son’s instincts. “So how have you been doing, Dusty?” Grapes asked several hours later, when she came to check up on him. “Looks like you’ve been making good progress.” “Yeah,” Dusty said, absently as he pruned more leaves. “Okay. Something’s eating at you, and you apparently want me to make stuffed grape leaves in the near future.” “You were always good at deduction, cuz,” Dusty replied with a chuckle. “It’s just… I saw somepony I wasn’t expecting to see…” “Oh yeah. Queenie already got onto me about my tricking her into accepting my blatant nepotism,” Grapes chuckled. “But I figured with you in a leg brace, there was no way you could avoid her without doing yourself serious injury.” “Oh… Good point,” Dusty said, scratching the back of his neck. “Also I hear you’ve been giving nicknames to everypony,” Grapes said sounding amused. “You know me,” Dusty said sheepishly. “Sirocco seems especially taken with hers,” Grapes observed. “Gotta admit, she does have legs for miles,” Dusty said with a grin. “That she does. Oh well. Just glad to see you getting along with everypony here for the most part,” Grapes said. “You’ll be able to stop soon, and get some rest.” “Thanks, cuz. And thanks for letting me come here,” Dusty said with a warm smile. “Better than being paraded like a stud stallion in Canterlot, I bet,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Any day of the week, Grapes, any day of the week,” Dusty asserted, going back to work. The sun was starting to get lower and lower towards the horizon. It might no longer be winter but it was still some time before the long days of summer. Dusty “propelled” his cart back towards the main buildings and felt the dull ache of a long day’s work in his muscles. Had he actually been bedridden that much after his injury? Then again, as an athlete it took so little for him to feel like he was getting out of shape. He rolled his little cart towards where Grapes had earlier pointed out the dining table for the communal meals, when he noted a steady scraping sound from the barn. Diverting himself ever so slightly from his course he felt he could afford to sate his curiosity a little. The doors were open and the interior was lit with the warm golden glow of hurricane lamps. And there in the middle was an older pegasus stallion, hard to say how old he really was, but he was dressed in a red and white striped shirt, a wide belt and a funny little captain’s hat. He was currently occupied by a task of his own, repeatedly pushing a wood plane across a long plank suspended on a pair of sawhorses. He seemed so content and absorbed in his task, each long stroke sending a golden curl to the floor. After a minute of watching this, the pegasus ceased his activity to test the wood’s smoothness and without even turning around to see him, addressed his presence. “Aye? Is dinner ready?” “I totally wouldn’t know, Cap’n,” Dusty replied. “I just rolled in from the field.” NOW the pegasus turned around, no doubt he didn’t realise that Dusty wasn’t one of the others. For a moment Dusty had the very… uncomfortable sensation of being sized up. To be honest, he knew the feeling very well; he always got it from fellow competitors. That moment where they look at you for weaknesses to exploit or what strengths you had that would make you a threat. Tartarus, he found himself doing the same right now with the pony in front of him, he just… wasn’t finding a lot of weaknesses. This guy reminded him of leather, he had seen how age could often toughen that particular substance and he saw it in him. He also felt painfully aware of his own gimpy leg at the moment, wishing he was at least not half in a little wagon. The stallion gave him a smirk and nodded. “New lad, eh? The fact yer blonde, in good shape and have that thar contraption on yer leg tells me that you must be Sour Grapes’ cousin. She said you’d be droppin’ by for the season. Name’s Summer Squall, or jest Squall if you’d be needin a shorter name, but I ain’t adverse to being called Cap’n neither. It’s more accurate than you probably first suspected.” “I tend to give ponies nicknames, Cap’n,” Dusty said saluting. “And you kinda talk like a pirate, so…” He noticed that Squall smiled a little wider at that comment. “Aye. Fair enough, fair enough. Probably is time for dinner, and I’m at a point in me work where stopping here isn’t interrupting anything. I have to confess, I’ve made more use of me father’s lessons here than I have in the last few years. On any farm, a carpenter of any sort is always welcome.” “I imagine so… So… you built the bunkhouse, huh?” Dusty asked, as he wheeled himself back towards it. “Not so much built, but renovated. It’s easier that way, but aye. She’s shipshape and bristol fashioned.” “And she’s also shaped like a ship, and you look like a sailor. Your dad’s a shipwright, right?” Dusty asked with a grin, as he slowly levered himself off the cart, and eased his way up the stairs. “Aye. One of the finest you could ever hope to have as part of the construction crew for a vessel. Even these days he keeps a hoof in, you seen those new airships that roll out of the hangers these days? Chances are you’ve seen his craft in them.” “Yeah. It’s… possible,” Dusty murmured evasively. “Well, there you are then. All in all he’s adapted to the new shipbuilding industry pretty well. I’m guessing Grapes has already given you the Picayune-tour of the bunkhouse?” “Well, I kind of wandered around on my own. Just to the room I’m staying in, and back. I’m not exactly up for a lot of walking, as you can tell,” Dusty replied. “I’m sure you’ll get an earful about me, from another pony, later… Guess she’ll need something to complain about…” “Ah. You’re the Powder-trash she met back in the mountains.” “... I… Is that what she’s been calling me?” Dusty asked, then hung his head. “Man… She… She must really hate me… Don’t blame her…” The older pony’s expression didn’t really change, he just looked at him through the side of his eyes before giving a shrug. “Maybe she does hate you, maybe she doesn’t. I’ve seen sailors filled with impotent rage when their ships were dashed to pieces. They spend a long time just… hating anypony and anything that seemed remotely involved. Anything from the Captain to a cabincolt can be the target of their venom. It’s ok to feel guilty lad, it means you actually give a bucket of bilgewater for what happened, just don’t beat yerself up TOO much. Queenie saw her home buried in snow and ice, she probably needs just a little time to get used to you being around here. That’s all.” “I’m the one who set off the cannon,” Dusty said quietly. “So… I think she has reason.” The mariner extinguished the lamps and led Dusty out of the barn. “Fine, it’s easier to blame you than normal, but I have a suspicion she doesn’t hate you as badly as you think.” “She sounded pretty sincere when she told me she never wanted to see me again, Cap’n,” Dusty observed, as they made their way to the dining area. “What makes you think she doesn’t hate me that badly?” There was a white blur from his left and a soft, wet, COLD impact on the side of his face. He stood there a moment, completely stunned by the event, uncertain HOW to react to what happened. He could feel the cold combination of ice and water trickling down his collar before looking where it came from, and there to the left was the object of his discussion, giving him a smug smirk. “If you want to be fed, better get into gear, ‘wheels’. Nopony is gonna sit around waiting for you to catch up.” “As you wish,” Dusty said, with a bob of his head, and he limped to an empty seat… Away from the object of his affection. At the words “as you wish”, Grapes looked up, and gazed speculatively at Dusty, then smirked, as if she had gotten an inside joke. “And there’s yer proof, Lad. If she TRULY hated you, that would have been solid ice and you’d probably be lookin’ fer yer teeth amid the mashed potatoes. There’s forgiveness in there... somewhere. Just be patient,” Squall said, then blinked as if remembering something. “Eat up, Dusty. Good Work, Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill ye in the mornin’.” Dusty, and Grapes both looked at Squall in surprise. Dusty just grinned, and held his hoof out to Squall for him to bump, and found the offer accepted with a light bump from the elder pony. “Squall,” Grapes said as she served everypony, “you have excellent taste in books.” “What can I say, Miss Grapes? It had pirates. How could I NOT read it?” “... Great I’m probably going to have to read it to Earshot now, I bet,” Grapes muttered. “Pirates, sword fights, adventure, a beautiful princess, true love…” “Don’t you mean ‘Twoo wuvv’?” Stormy snickered. “What? You too?” Grapes asked, grinning, as she sat down, getting ready to eat. “Dude! I knew you were awesome, Big Guy!” Dusty said laughing. “... Obviously I’m not getting what’s being referenced,” Queenie said sounding annoyed. “You and me both, sister,” Firestormer said, taking advantage of the distraction by seizing the lion’s share of the salad. “But it sounds interesting. Is it the kind of story you’d read to Earshot?” “It’s a very good book. Written by a stallion named Morganstern,” Grapes said with a smile. “Cuz, I am totally doing the ‘mawwage’ speech at your wedding, whenever you have one,” Dusty said with a grin. “What? Seriously? Way to make sure I postpone anything until you forget, wiseguy,” Grapes said shaking a hoof at him. “C’mon, Cuz, it’d be a great way to lighten the mood!” Dusty said with a grin. He then cleared his throat, and did a very impressive imitation of the one actor that sort of codified the play into having the speech given just as he had, thanks to his speech impediment. “Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder today. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam…” Grapes blinked, then laughed. And she found a fair number of ponies joining her. “That…” Firestorm said as he laughed, “just made me wanna see if the town library carried that one.” “I’ve got a copy that I’m going to be using to read it to Earshot,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “Dusty may lend you his, though.” “Just be sure to give it back, Sparky,” Dusty said with a smile. “It’s my favorite book.” Queenie just stared around the table, and huffed in annoyance. “This… This is utterly inconceivable,” she grumbled, causing a snigger from Dusty and Grapes, and a chuckle from Squall. “You keep using that word,” Stormfront laughed. “I do not think it means what you think it means.” “I just walked RIGHT into another quote, didn't I?” Queenie uttered with a sigh. “Maybe you should read the book to Earshot, Queenie,” Grapes suggested. “Then you’ll both be experiencing it for the first time.” The blue and blonde mare looked down her nose at Grapes for a moment before nodding with a smile. “So be it. If for no other reason than it will keep Earshot put for a while… knowing what the hay you are referencing will be just a pleasant plus.” “You’ve been missing out,” Dusty said as he ate. “It’s a really good book.” Queenie GLARED at the bane of her existence, which made him flatten his ears against his skull, look away, and shut up. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stormfront led her away from the warm glow of the buildings into the forest on the side of her property. She got a strange feeling of déjà vu from this, it wasn’t that long ago that she followed him late one summer night to an open field in the woods… and… here it was. She looked around the clearing, the starlit sky was cloudless and stretched out above like a great dome. He smiled back at her, his cloud gray coat looking somewhat white under the pale light of the moon. Part of her remembered that he told her that he wanted to “show her something” and she suppressed an impish giggle. “Why, here we are, all alone beneath the stars. Are your intentions honourable, good sir?” Grapes asked, batting her eyelashes cutely. “Always.” “Of all the rotten luck,” Grapes said jokingly, smiling warmly at Stormfront. He smiled back that winning smile that always made her heart add an extra beat in before he shook his shoulders from side to side as if limbering up. “I think you said you already saw this before, but I really wanted to share the experience with you. See where my wings connect with my back? I want you to do as you probably did as a filly and just… imagine having wings extending from there.” “This reminds me of the ‘Breath of the World’ meditation,” Grapes observed, closing her eyes, and doing as she was asked. It was, strangely, easy to imagine wings. She thought it would be harder, thanks to her being a ground-bound pony, but apparently her reading had allowed her imagination to grow. But then it helped that she didn’t limit her reading to Earth Pony and Unicorn authors. “Okay. Now why am I doing this?” “Well, it’s because I’d like to take you flying but you do have a problem with anything higher than a stepladder,” he said to her she could hear the sound of him opening his own wings before whispering into her ear. “Ah. Here it comes. Turn a little to the east and wait for it.” Grapes turned a little to the east, and waited. “I only have a problem when I look down,” she observed. “But then… I doubt you’d find having somepony vomiting on you during a flight to be a pleasant experience.” “I think you’d have to be one weird pony to enjoy that. But trust me… this you’re going to enjoy,” she heard the rustle of trees from the east, then grass joined in and finally she felt a strong breeze rushing over her, tousling her mane and tickling her face. “Now… open your wings and let the wind lift you.” “Just hope my imagination doesn’t get air sick,” Grapes quipped, as she imagined herself… soaring. “Right. Idealized. I wouldn’t be afraid of heights if I had wings, because I have wings. And if all else fails I can fall with style.” “We’re going to keep fairly low, You and I. Just skimming the fields and the treetops. Big bushy trees passing below us like great green poofy clouds, just barely high enough to tickle your hooves as we soar past.” Grapes smiled, as she imagined flying with Stormy… Strangely she envisioned herself as an alicorn. Guess she was too used to having a horn. Even so, she was enjoying the experience, immensely. “Keep the beat slow and steady. Like the gentle beat of a drum. That’s right,” he directed. “We’re just going to crest the next hill and… look… Ponyville! You can see the town hall from here.” “You can see Town Hall from a lot of places. Hey, I can see Sugarcube Corner from here,” Grapes observed. “That’s right. If you inhale deeply, you can just catch on the wind the smell of tomorrow’s sugar cookies being baked. Mmm… I should remember to get some.” Sour Grapes had to admit, she was really getting into this. She really could smell those sugar cookies from up here. “Please do. Not to belittle your baking efforts… Well… Let’s just say nopony feels like doing anything after they’ve tried your treats,” Sour Grapes observed. “Gently turn into the wind and we’ll bank around the Town hall and swoop past Rarity’s place. Hopefully she’ll have her curtains shut this time. Last thing we need to see is her in her hopelessly frilly sleepwear.” “I did not need that mental image, Stormy,” Grapes groused. “Though it would fit with what we know about her. Still, WTMI.” “Well, to be honest I’ve never actively looked. She just seems the type, you know? I mean I work with one of those kinds of ponies. Although she doesn't seem to make a big deal about us seeing her in that stuff.” “True. And Queenie tends to look positively comfortable in such things,” Grapes observed. “And before you ask… no. No I do not have anything like that.” “Aw, darn.” “Stormfront, you know I’m a practical pony,” Grapes said, amused. “Can you imagine me in frilly stuff? Wait… don’t answer that. Of course you can. And you probably think I’d look good in it.” “Wait! How did you guess?” “You’re male,” Grapes said, as if that should be blatantly obvious. “Oh. Ok, well to be honest you probably wouldn’t look BAD in it, that’s for sure,” he chuckled. “Not that I’m going to buy you any at this time. I don’t think we’ve gotten anyplace near that level in our relationship yet.” “Brains as well as big wings. My good Stormfront, you could positively sweep a mare off her hooves,” Grapes quipped. “I think we’ve turned back, and are heading home. It feels like it’s getting late, and we do still have to get up fairly early.” “Yep. Hey, look at that… You can see Golden Harvest’s spread from this angle. Never really understood the carrot motif. I can’t help but feel it’s more than just pride in her main product. Almost a fetish.” “Yeah yeah… Just don’t peek in her windows,” Grapes said, as they flew back. “Ok. The clearings just up ahead, gotta clear the bunkhouse… aw for the love of.. Earshot! Get off the roof and back into bed! You’re still recovering!” “Sorry, Stormfront!” came the faint voice of Earshot. “Ok… here’s the fun part, Grapes. Tilt your wings ever so gently back to slow your gliding down, that’s right. And we’re slowing down, getting closer to the ground and… perfect landing on the first try. So gentle you didn’t even feel your hooves coming into contact with the ground.” Grapes smirked at the comment, but refrained from commenting, herself. “Well? Was it as good for you?” Stormy asked. From the smirk that Grapes was wearing, it was obvious that her earthy sense of humor had gotten the better of her, just then. “What? What’s so funny?” He asked her in the most badly innocent tone she ever heard in her life. “Well it was good… Needed a better… climax, though,” she said still smirking. “Ah. You’’re baiting me. I’m afraid I’m just a novice and nowhere the MASTER baiter you are.” “I trotted right into that one,” Grapes observed with a chuckle. She then stepped close, and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, silly pony.” Stormy stared straight ahead a moment before smiling and nodding. His brain didn’t exactly freeze the way hers did on that first kiss but it did pause a moment, enjoying the moment. “Good night, Grapes. See you for tomorrow’s chores.” “You too, Stormy. Let’s hope Miss Prissy Tail isn’t too hard on the boy,” Grapes said as she trotted to her house. Climbing the stairs, she stopped and noticed a paper bag sitting right on her welcome mat. Knowing all too well some of the rural humor involving paper bags on doorsteps she approached with caution, and using her magic to open the bag and peer within. “Aw... Shhhhugarcookies.” Yep. That pretty much summed it all up. She felt like giggling; somehow Stormy planned out the “flight past” Sugarcube Corner and no doubt waggled a cookie under her nose to add to the realism. Really nice of him to give her the rest though. She sighed, and smiled, taking the cookies inside. As first dates go… It wasn’t half bad. > The Gala and Other Happenings > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dusty was with Firestormer and Thistledown behind the barn, knocking back ciders and orange drinks. Essentially they were adding one more to the “just hanging out” club. “So,” Dusty said halfway through his first cider, “I’m not complaining or anything, dude, but is there a reason it’s just us colts back here?” “Well, being honest we haven’t exactly gone OUT of our way to exclude fillies from this. We got an open invitation for them, they just haven’t picked up on it yet.” Firestormer said with a chuckle. “This sort of thing really isn’t Queenie’s bag, Miss Grapes seems to enjoy watching us more than joining in and Sirocco… She admitted she’d like to join in but maybe we deserve ‘one final bastion of masculinity’ to retreat to. Actually I’m mostly certain she meant ‘bastion’, the word she used was similar but suggested our fathers were bachelors.” Dusty snorted, then laughed. “Poor filly just has so much trouble with Equish, doesn’t she?” he asked. “Well, I’m sure I’d have just as much trouble with her language if I were serious about learning it,” the orange pegasus confessed. “Well actually I do. She giggles when I try, says it’s a good attempt but I sound ‘provincial’ and speak it through my nose. Surprisingly enough, Squall is pretty good at it. Sirocco says he can cuss fluently in four dialects.” “So, why isn’t the Cap’n here with us, Dude?” “Oh, Squall saves his drinking for when we hit the bar on karaoke night.” Firestormer paused a moment before leaning in close and lowering his voice. “Word to the wise… do NOT get into a drinking contest with him. The stallion has the constitution of a pirate and the bladder of a titan.” “Don’t do drinking contests, anyway, Sparky,” Dusty said with a chuckle. “I tend to be very moderate when it comes to alcohol, much to the disappointment of fans and fellow competitors alike.” “In that case, don’t get into a whizzing match with him neither. That bladder thing applies there too.” “Dude, that’s gross,” Dusty uttered, making a face. “I mean.. once upon a time, we would, like, see who could do our initials… But I’d like to think I’ve grown beyond that.” “Welcome to the wonderful world of team camaraderie and bonding rituals,” Firestormer laughed before downing the rest of the bottle and tossing it to the side. “Set me up with another one, Dusty.” “Sure, Sparky,” Dusty said pulling out a bottle of cider. “Here ya go.” Firestormer started to open it when he stopped. He stared longingly at the ice-cold bottle of cider before putting it back into the tub of ice. “Sorry pal. S’not really my brand. Oh how I wish it were but... I can’t handle apples,” he confessed woefully. “Allergies.” “Oh. Sorry, Sparky, I didn’t know,” Dusty said. "It really sucks too. I really love the TASTE of apples but they make my throat swell up so much I can hardly breathe." "Anaphylactic shock is no joke, dude," Dusty said in his best supportive tone. "Tell me about it,” Firestormer sighed. “I'm probably the only pony in the region who looks across the road at Sweet Apple Acres and sees fields of potential death." "Sorry bout your luck, Sparky. That's gotta suck,” Dusty said shaking his head. “Eh. At least it’s helping keep the fruit drink and ‘alternate’ cider industries alive. I personally endorse Knee-High’s various drink products whenever I can.” Firestormer confessed. “Their pear cider really isn’t half bad once you give it a chance.” “Never been too fond of pears,” Dusty confessed. “I can never find a properly ripe one. They’re either like a rock or they’re mush. And I like satsumas more than oranges. Even with horn-power, oranges are hard to peel. Satsumas, though, it’s almost like a free round at the juice bar. Peel comes of lickety split, and you’ve got a bunch of nice little segments.” “Ever have pomelos?” Firestormer asked, popping the top on another orange drink. “Got a hide thicker than Smudge’s but they taste like a mild and sweet grapefruit.” “I think I had some in Coltifornia,” Dusty observed. “Or was it Flora in Tallahorsie… Wait. Were you guys in Coltifornia, a while back? I’m remembering a bunch of pegasi who helped divert a hurricane from Malibuck.” “Yeah. Yeah I think that was right. Couldn’t stay long though… Bloody shame. Those were some really nice beaches,” the orange and yellow pegasus reminisced. “Even covered in debris that white sand looked so comfortable to just lounge on.” “Excellent waves, too. The hurricane, though, totally made the waves scary,” Dusty said shaking his head. “Yeah yeah yeah! You guys were there long enough to get the clean-up started, an’ Lil Dude was wearing a big old sunhat, and Legs was confused because I called her moves ‘gnarly’.” “Yeah. Back then Earshot was still pretty careful about ponies seeing his true nature up close. You know how they can get, one sight of bat wings and they start freaking out. It’s not like he needed the hat and beach robe to you know… NOT melt in the sun.” “They would have wondered who cast the spell to transform the wings, in Coltifornia, Sparky,” Dusty laughed. “That’s where you see the strangest ponies, ever. There was this one dude I saw who had so many piercings, it’s a wonder he didn’t point towards the north pole.” “Reminds me of something my Mom used to tell me,” Thistledown snickered. “That the best nuts come from Coltifornia.” Dusty chuckled, shaking his head, as he drank his cider. “There do seem to be quite a few of them, out there,” he observed. “Just wish I knew how to make Queenie not be so mad at me… I mean I know I’m to blame for that avalanche, but wouldn’t going months wearing this doohicky be punishment enough?” “I think she’s mostly mad at herself on all of that. She takes a lot of what happens in her country very personally, has these self-delusions of being the tragic heroine. Trust me. If you're that worried about her then keep your head down and just be… how would she say it? Sounds like ‘accordion’. Uh… CORDIAL! That’s it,” Firestormer said with pride of his recollection. “Believe me on that. We used to get along like fire and ice… big surprise there. Now, she considers me the brother she was glad she never had. ” “Dude, how is that an improvement?” Dusty asked. “Because that means instead of a rival or a nemesis she now thinks of me as a brother,” the orange pegasus said with a smirk. “That she’s never wanted,” Dusty amended. “That doesn’t sound like an improvement to me. More like a back-hoofed compliment. But then, I guess I didn’t know her as well as I thought. I could be more than a little wrong, like I usually am...” “OK. It’s not exactly sterling I’ll admit, but the Storm Riders are a fairly tight-knit group. When the cards are dealt and the stakes are very literally life-and-death all we have to get us through is faith and each other. That kind of trust in one another is right up there with being a family. Oh, Celestia knows that you can’t pick family but sometimes you get a… sounds like ‘solid’... SOLIDARITY with them in a crisis even if you can be at each other’s throats the rest of the time. We’re just lucky that in this case… we got the option to choose to be family. Queenie may be the annoyingly ‘mature’ sister I never wanted and I was the annoyingly ‘spirited’ brother she never wanted, but in the end we’ll always have one another’s back.” “When you put it like that, it actually sounds like a good deal for you and the others. With it were a standard option for everypony. By the stars if I could have, I would not have picked my Grandma,” Dusty uttered. “That bad, huh? Same one that the boss-filly gripes about?” Thistledown asked, popping the top on a fresh cider. Dusty’s eyes went to pinpricks. “Don’t tell Queenie! Please, Thistle, do not tell Queenie,” Dusty said, looking pleadingly at the green stallion. “Hmm… How should I put this so you'll understand,” Thistledown said to the blonde unicorn before dropping into a faux-moondoggie accent. “Duuuude. That old nag’s such a downer I’d never admit to being part of her posse.” “Thanks, dude,” Dusty said looking relieved. Firestormer watched the exchange between the two for a moment before pressing his hoof to his face and giggling madly. “What, Sparky?” Dusty asked. “Dude, share the joke.” “Oh wow. Seriously? I mean Grapes did SAY she was related to someone who went to the Galas that was pretty much famous for being… really… Pave Diamond, and she did say you were her cousin but it took me until now to realise that you would probably be part of that ‘noble’ bloodline too.” Firestormer managed to get out between giggles. “She’s my grandma. Grapes’ Mom is my aunt. Just… I don’t want anypony… Look, who would you rather be out here, chugging soda with? Diamond Dust, or Dusty?” Dusty asked. “From my point of view?” the orange pony said before reaching into the ice chest and tossing Dusty a fresh bottle. “As far as I can tell both Dusty and mister Double Dee are decent stallions. If you wanna be Dusty, then ok. That’s your thing. I’ve been going by a different name for a few years too. Also I’ve been to the Gala once or twice with Miss Weathervain, I’ve SEEN ‘Diamond-face’ in action. If you wanna hide from her… count me in.” “Thanks, Sparky. You don’t know what that means to me. I… I just don’t want Queenie to know. I never told her, and I don’t want her to think of me any differently. And no, I can’t just use my money to help. Grandma’s seen to that,” Dusty said bitterly. “I don’t have access unless I marry some noble mare.” “Well, Dusty. You got a lot of time to think about it, and you got some of the best… What did you call us, Thistledown?” “Lateral thinkers, Firestormer.” “Yeah. Right. Thanks, Thistledown. Lateral thinkers in Equestria around these parts.” Firestormer said with a laugh. “We’re bound to come up with at least a FEW ideas that might work.” “Thanks again,” Dusty said humbly. “Not a problem, ‘dude’.” said Firestormer before leaning back against the barn with a smug smirk on his face. “Besides, I’ll bet you’re probably not the only pony on this farm who earned a few well-kept secrets.” “Yeah. Probably not,” Dusty observed. “Just… hate the idea of Queenie seeing me as some kinda… no-good, rich dilettante. She already sees me as ‘powder trash’.” Dusty found himself being half-hugged and half-noogied by Thistledown. “Don’t worry handsome.” the green pony chuckled “You may be filthy rich in Canterlot but here you’ll only get filthy. Now drink your cider. It’s good for you.” “Yes, Mama Hen,” Dusty said, sniggering, and drinking his Cider. ------- Around the middle of April, Sour Grapes was trotting along the Ponyville streets, when she saw Twilight Sparkle transform an apple into a rather spiffy looking carriage. This caused her to pause for a moment, gazing at the beautiful fruit-themed conveyance curiously. “Why do they need such a…” Grapes asked herself then paused, thinking about the date. “Oh. Right. That.” Problem solved, she trotted back to her home, carrying the supplies. It really wasn’t that long of a trip from the Carousel Boutique area to her home but she was in a good mood and opted for the more scenic route. In fact, despite her misgivings about Twilight and her friends’ impending night at the Galloping Gala, Sour Grapes had found her “not my problem” state of mind about it and just enjoyed the walk through the springtime countryside. She never quite understood the desire for so many stallions and mares to head to the fun and sunny resorts like Panamare City, Flora; Cantercun and Aplacapulco, Mexhayco; or Maretigo Bay, Jamheyica when there were so many nice local places nearby. (Then again it could be getting as far away from home as possible before you made an ass of yourself in public… no offence.){None taken.}(Wait, what? Oh, nevermind.) Though on the upside, those nice local places didn’t have to deal with Spring Breakers acting like idiots, and generally leaving… And suddenly Grapes could understand a lot of Queenie’s attitude concerning her dutchy. Speaking of Queenie, she had taken off to attend the Gala as well. Searching for a rich pony who would be interested in her title to help her homeland. Grapes came to a stop in front of the bunkhouse with a stunned look on her face, as a realization came over her. Unaware of her surroundings, and the ponies coming to unload her cart, while she stood there in shock, as she followed her train of thought to its station. “They don’t know,” She said, aloud. “Great flaming fewmits, they don’t know…” “Who doesn’t know what?” Stormfront asked as he paused in mid-reach for one of her parcels. “You’ve probably figured out that Dusty is from the unicorn side of my family, right, from Canterlot,” Grapes said to Stormy, unhitching herself, and turning to him. “Namely the Diamond Family.” “Well his butt does have diamond-like sparkly dealies on it as part of his cutie mark, soooo… it did kinda come to mind,” Stormy confessed. “Funny thing, his name is Diamond Dust,” Grapes said with a grin. “But I bet Dusty doesn’t want that getting back to Queenie, because of one important fact.” “Ah. I get it.” the gray pegasus said quietly. “It’s bad enough being ‘Powder Trash’ in her eyes but he doesn’t want her thinking he’s ‘RICH powder trash’. Sort of that whole idle rich thing?” “That’s only partially the reason. You see, Dusty met Queenie while she was working at Avalanche Valley, as a chambermaid. I imagine the fact that she’s the Duke’s daughter wouldn’t come up in casual conversation,” Grapes observed. “He doesn’t know that Queenie is Lady Ice Storm of Avalanche Valley. And Queenie doesn’t know that HE’s Diamond Dust of the Canterlot Diamonds.” “Oh wow… I think we have a regular comedy of errors going on right in front of our very eyes.” Thistledown sniggered, adding his own two bits in. “Mind if I take notes while this goes on?” “It would make a good play,” Grapes observed with a laugh, “if we can find the right playwright. I, for one, am not going to give it away. It would truncate the plot, and spoil the ending. If Queenie knew… And if she tried… Oh wow… This could turn into one of those silly over-done, too-full-of-pathos, overacted sequential dramas the soap companies have been sponsoring lately.” “Oh yeah. Complex as an opera and yet easy to get sucked into.” Stormfront observed about the dramas. “And it really does make you wanna buy their product just to find out if Bad Road really will try to take the place of his twin Good Road so he can marry Ruby Facet for her family gem mine.” “They’re like… watching gossip,” Grapes said, shaking her head. “It’s juicy, racy, full of purple prose… It’s as if you’re watching one of Rarity’s tales of what’s been going on in town. And like Rarity’s tawdry tales, they’re rather addictive. Stormy, WHY did you take me to one of those! They’re like those fried potato slices that that one food stall started selling! Thank goodness they only happen in the evening. We’d never get any work done, otherwise. Digression aside, our little drama’s going to be interesting to see play out.” “Our little self-loathing Romeo has already sworn me and Firestormer to secrecy on the whole Diamond thing,” Thistledown confessed. “And I think it’s for the best we let them patch this part up without money getting involved. Or at least US being the ones to mention the money.” “Yeah. Especially with Grandmother Pave having a condition on Dusty’s inheritance. He can’t touch it unless he marries a mare from a noble family,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Which would be impetus for Queenie to propose to him, even while she still, apparently, loathed him. I’d rather they decide they wanted to make up because they have forgiven each other. I can’t wait until Queenie realizes that Dusty’s playing West Lea to her Buttercup.” “Speaking of The Princess Bride and the ponies experiencing it for the first time, Earshot’s doing pretty good at the moment. We’re trying to get him back into the game again with some light pest control,” Stormfront said, bringing Grapes into the loop. “No flying above six inches until he’s done some more wing exercises. The little guy lost some of the necessary muscle mass when he was sick so we don’t want him losing power at cloud level.” “Who’s overseeing his physical therapy?” Grapes asked, concerned. “I’d like to be assured that whoever’s doing it knows what they’re doing. I mean, you, Stormy, knowing what you do about aero-dance, would be a good candidate, and would probably not let him overwork himself.” “You’re closer to the truth than you’d think, Grapes,” Stormy admitted. “Doctor Coldhoof forwarded us some self-physiotherapy instructions with Skyhook. They’re really well written-out for a pony without wings, I figured I could do them with Earshot so he has somepony who’s keeping him on a regular schedule.” “That’s a good thing,” Grapes said with a nod. “Any problems?” “Well…” Stormy began in a manner that practically “red flagged” him trying to sugar coat information, “he keeps on insisting that he can fly, because besides losing muscle, he also lost a lot of fat, too, so apparently he can 'compensate' because he weighs less..." “Did you explain that losing muscle means less strength TO fly, whereas losing fat means he lost a layer of thermal protection to keep him from getting cold at a higher altitude?” Grapes asked. "Chalk it up to him going stir-crazy after being bedridden for so long." Stormy said with a shrug. “Gotta remember with pegasi we usually think of flight as our primary form of getting around. It’d be like… well… Dusty in that little wagon of his. Going from total freedom to something that barely qualifies.” “Well yeah. And Dusty has got to think about his leg. Otherwise, he’d be tearing around on that thing like a madstallion,” Grapes observed. “Want me to explain it to him? I’ve got anatomy charts, and everything. Sometimes you just need visual aids.” "Wait... why do you have pegasus anatomy charts?" Stormy asked before blushing and crossing his rear legs self-consciously. "Never mind...." “I had an ambition, when I was younger, to be a teacher during the winter… Why are you standing like that?” Grapes asked, tilting her head. “Just…” Stormy began before giggling nervously. “Well for a species that seldom wears clothing, all of a sudden I feel kinda naked.” “Uh… Why? I mean it’s not like we’re ready for that sort of thing,” Grapes said, with a shrug. “Yeah, but after studying charts like that you probably know more about my anatomy than I do.” Stormy admitted. “Technical stuff, yeah, like how the muscles in your back and sides help you control your wings, and why losing muscle mass in your sides and back would make you a weaker flier. But honestly, you’re a unique specimen, and while I would have a general idea of how your body works, I wouldn’t know how your body works. It’s not like I’m looking at your x-rays, or *ahem* lewd pictures of… Yeah… That escalated quickly...” Grapes uttered blushing. “It certainly did. Sorry about that. Uh, but yeah. Maybe you should make a short lecture out of it,” the pegasus stallion said trying to shake off the bout of awkwardness. “If nothing else, it’ll make for an interesting school project for him. I heard from Twilight that Cheerilee has started pulling a few books from the library on ‘disastrous’ first-contact situations with species unprepared for new diseases.” “So she’s trying to help Earshot make an argument for my cousin Crabby to be welcomed in his homeland?” Grapes asked, obviously happy for the subject change. “Well he’s written out the letter for it but he’s in the seventh editing of it,” Stormfront straightened up and looked around at the horizon. “He’s worried that it’s one thing to ask to stay here for the holidays but it’s an entirely a different one to hand a brand-new stranger a roadmap to his well-hidden home. He wants them to understand that Doctor Crabapple means well and will not be anything like the people in that village he talks about,” “Okay. Lecture and proofreading,” Grapes said, heading into her farm house. “I’ll be back. Getting my charts.” It took more time than Sour Grapes had expected to make all the necessary materials portable but once she was satisfied she took a step out the door and saw Earshot coming up the road from the frames. He was walking at a brisk pace but kept looking back where he had come from with the most puzzled look on his face. “What’s up, Earshot?” Grapes asked. “Oh hi, Miss Grapes. I was just coming to get you,” the little colt said, giving another glance back at the frames. “Uh. I just met the strangest ponies in the frames. They’re nibbling on some of the grapes back there and well… I don’t know if they’re taking me seriously when I’m asking them to leave.” “Let’s go and see these ponies, then,” Grapes said frowning. “I mean most ponies know that these aren’t eating grapes, and that I don’t appreciate trespassers.” “Yeah. But they’re really weird… and coming from the only pony in the area with bat-wings… I think I’m qualified to say that.” Earshot added, looking up at her. The grapevines hung off the pristine white frames. Their tender young leaves and freshly forming grapes displayed themselves in a tantalising manner to anypony who passed close enough for a good look. This was perhaps more than what a quartet of very… tall ponies could resist. Sour Grapes had to admit that Earshot had a good point when he claimed they were odd. First of all, they were very tall and nowhere as stocky as the average pony. Second, their beautiful blonde manes and tails were so tightly curled that even Queenie would have turned green with envy. Third was that their ivory white bodies were clad in the most showpony-esque harnesses she had ever seen. They were royal purple with golden filigree, glittering in the sun, and each pony bore a feather-like plume rising up from their brows. It was as if they had strutted directly from a Las Pegasus stage onto her land. They were so stunningly out-of-place among her frames where they nibbled her produce that it took her longer than it should to see the one detail that she should have noticed right off. There was something about their faces that looked so absolutely… wrong for anypony. The contours, the basic skull structure, the eyes, much less the buck teeth and whiskers, all screamed to Sour Grapes: “I’m a mouse that just happens to look a lot like a horse”. Then one rose it’s head up, chewing daintily before emitting a high-pitched squeak before going back to it’s foraging. “Mice. Twitchy Switcher’s Timed Transmogrification,” Grapes said frowning at the creatures. Thank Celestia, Luna and any other benevolent alicorns that happened to exist, they were NOT eating the Sun’s Spring Glory. “Let’s get these over-sized squeakers into an enclosed area, away from the grapes. And I think I know, exactly, who to blame for this. After all, who ELSE would cast transformation magic without considering what would happen if they got loose?” “Well…” Earshot said, thinking on Grapes’ rhetorical question. “There WAS that show pony who came by town and didn’t think anypony would call her on that whole Ursa Major thing. I think that was an Ursa Minor though. It was kinda on the small side.” “Yes, that was a Minor. You do NOT want to meet a Major,” Grapes observed. “Also, one, she galloped out of town like her tail was on fire; two, I seriously doubt that she has the capacity and/or power to cast Timed Trasmog; and three, I already saw Twilight pulling a Fairy Godmother with an apple-into-carriage trick, so it kind of fits she’d go the whole way and do the mice-into-horses-thing for their trip to the… ugh… Gala.” “So, they’re mice? That actually explains a lot of stuff, like them not really understanding me and why they sound so mouse-like.” The Night Pony sat there looking at them a moment before cocking his head to the side. “Seems kinda mean to turn one species into something so… different. I mean it’s not like turning a pegasus into a night pony because you keep telling me basically we’re pegasuses… pegasi who are just made to fly in the dark. They made these mice so… BIG!” “I agree. Never mind Rarity could probably sweet-talk any number of the stallions in town to pull the carriage for them,” Grapes observed, as she used her levitation to lead the rather compliant mice away from her crops. “Okay. We’ll get these creatures corralled, and I’ll find Dusty. The reversal for Timed Trasmog isn’t that high a level spell, but I doubt I could do it. Also I’d rather not have to deal with these critters until midnight.” “Midnight? Why midnight, Miss Grapes?” “You’ve never read Cinderella?” Grapes asked. “Or the ‘Little Cinder Filly’?” “It sounds familiar.” Earshot admitted, following close behind. “I think maybe I saw it up on one of our shelves in the archives when Miss Indigo Gleam was teaching me how to read Dayli… Equestrian. Was midnight important in it?” “Yeah. That’s when the Fairy Godmother’s spell ended, and all the magically transformed items turned back into their mundane counterparts. The carriage was a pumpkin, the horses, carriage driver, and hoof-stallion were mice, and Cinderella’s gown turned back into her work-a-day threadbare clothes. Never understood why the crystal slippers stayed the same, though, except as a way for the Prince in the story to find Cinderella,” Grapes observed. “One of those silly stories with a sappy happy ending. Long story short is that along with a couple of magical reasons for it, Midnight is mainly an EASY time for ponies to remember.” “Do you have that book too, Miss Grapes?” “Yes, Earshot, I have that book, too. I’ll let you borrow it later,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “I’m going to be looking up how to reverse this spell, though. Better they eat mouse-sized portions, rather than pony-sized portions.” “Oh yeah. Because if they shrink with a full pony-sized stomach they’ll look like little furry balloons, won’t they?” “I think the spell was revised to take that into account,” Grapes said, as they led the horse-mice to a paddock, so they wouldn’t get back into this year’s crop. “Still wouldn’t hurt to check. Keep an eye on them, would you, Earshot?” “Okie-doke!” Earshot said, giving her a smart salute that came off looking more cute than professional. ……………………………………….. Sour Grapes walked outside and inhaled the fresh night air. It was nice to get so much done today; it put her in a good mood. She noticed Earshot up on the roof of the barn, his head turning left and right like a weathervane. She had earlier got him to promise no “REAL” flying about, but knowing his curious way of sleeping he could just as easily have walked up there. “Hear anything good?” she asked, half-jokingly. No doubt Earshot heard a lot that he might think was good or interesting. “The town’s pretty quiet tonight. Guess it’s not the same without Miss Twilight and her friends.” he answered, fluttering to the ground next to her. (She chose to let that short flight slide on account of it being a little more like a controlled glide.) “Although I could have sworn I heard ‘The Pokey Pony’ being played over in Canterlot for a moment. Guess the wind was at the right direction to carry it this way.” “Mmmhmm. Sounds like Pinkie Pie’s hoof at work. Well, nothing we can do about it,” Sour Grapes observed before patting Earshot on the back. “Or as Uncle Cabby would say ‘Not my monkey, not my circus’. I’m going to recommend you head to bed early tonight. No doubt Cheerilee’s got some good stuff for you to learn tomorrow. I hear she’s been looking at some specific things in the library that are relevant to your bout with the Cloppox.” “Oh! Okay. That’s the whole ‘Early to bed, early to rise’ thing? Right?” “Something like that,” Grapes said with a smile. “But it’s always a good idea for young colts and fillies to get plenty of sleep. Its good for the development.” “Right. Good night, Miss Grapes. See you in the morning.” Sour Grapes looked off at Mount Canter, where Canterlot clung to it’s rocky spires like an obsessive lover. The Palace grounds glowed with bright colors, the various towers reaching upwards to stand against the dark skies behind it. She stared at it a moment, imagining the superfluous ball that was no doubt playing out its own dramas, now having to withstand something new under its roof. The Element Bearers were unlike anything the average Canterlot fops had to deal with before, well maybe excluding Rarity, but she would learn that the IDEA of Canterlot would be very different from the reality. Offhand, she could think of nopony else she would love to inflict upon those stuffy, stuck-up, self-absorbed Canterlot twits. She just hoped Twilight’s friends could handle their idealistic dreams being… crushed. She began to turn away when she started to giggle. “The Pokey Pony? Really? Oh, Pinkie Pie… you’re so random.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Queenie… no, strike that. Duchess Ice Storm, heir apparent of the Duchy of Avalanche Valley had come to the Galloping Gala with all the usual determination she normally did. Arriving by taxi she had the full intention to mix, mingle, network, converse, chat up and otherwise hobnob with the nobility of Canterlot and quietly hunt for a suitable wealthy mate. She knew there was a contemporary word for such action among the more average ponies, and she had no illusions to the truth that she was indeed “golddigging”. It was her hope that she would meet somepony here who would be willing to trade their fiscal stability for her royal title. She arrived in one of Rarity’s creations and at first made a great impression with the other nobles. But as the evening progressed she grew weary of the events. Also after some discreet inquiries she discovered that the ideal stallions who had come this year were either married or engaged to be married… and Rarity, who had arrived had attached herself to Prince Blueblood’s side was now following him about curtailing any ideas of Queenie trying to do so. She considered it rather rude that when one was on the prowl, to try to wedge one’s self between another mare and her own stallion “prey”. She gave Rarity a respectful nod which the fashionista returned and she silently wished Rarity the best of luck with that noble yet ignoble royal. Quietly excusing herself she slipped away to the one place she felt far more comfortable in the palace. Slipping down into the servant’s levels she passed by many of their occupants, each merely smiled and nodded to her as she passed. She had been coming to the Galas long enough that they recognised her as an honorary “one of their own”. Her attitude towards them was different from most nobelity. Never condescending nor caustic, they had long since found her to be just a servant of another kind. She entered the kitchens, and moving gracefully through the flurry of activity, sat at the large wooden table in the middle where in moments a cup of tea had found it’s way in front of her. Mrs. Bittersweet smiled at her as she sat down across from her. She and her husband Mr. Umami had the main task of preparing breakfasts for Princess Celestia and later Princess Luna. The aged ponies were very much the epitome of the venerable, wise and happily married “grandparenty” couple. A pony who had never met them before would find themselves treated like age old friends or family, and in turn you couldn’t help but open up to them. “Rough night, Dearie?” Mrs. Bittersweet said with a sympathetic smile. “You usually only come down from the party when something is bothering you.” “Thank you, Mrs. Bittersweet. Well, yes. I’m just not in the mood tonight I suppose.” “Well, there are those young mares from Ponyville shaking things up, after all. At least as far as all of the canterlot ‘nobles’ present are concerned. To be honest the other servants and I don’t see them doing anything wrong, different yes, but wrong? No. Oh yes, the punch ladler has mentioned overhearing that ‘Lady’ Pave Diamond has been complaining about losing her grandson. Not in the ‘dead and gone’ sort of losing, but rather she cannot find him. He’s very adept at evading her.” “Ah yes. Pave Diamond. If she wished to marry off her bloodline to other nobles she should have taken advice from dear Lady Weathervain.” Queenie sighed with a dismissive motion of her hoof. “At least she’s honest about it, and Weathervain’s own family always provides a quality… ‘product’. As for Pave’s grandchild, I shudder to think what sort of sapling might have developed from the seed of that twisted old fruit.” “Oh, they’re not all that bad Ice Storm, Mister Cabochon is always quite nice,” Mrs. Bittersweet observed. “As was Miss Champaign. Mister Diamond Dust only has been here only the couple of times. Such a nice young stallion, but it’s obvious he’d rather go and visit with the sports stars and other such in the VIP area, rather than being paraded around like a show horse.” “Ah yes. I remember Mister Cabochon now. It’s so easy to forget that he’s a Diamond, no doubt because his mother tends to overshadow him so.” “Miss Champaign’s daughter is so very different than her sweet self. Though she was one to speak her mind, Miss Champaign was, but she did it with more diplomacy…” Bittersweet said remonessing. “But even I will admit that Prince Blueblood needed telling off. ‘Biggest nothing in the principality’ indeed.” “Indeed. If only Blueblood would use his influence for good instead of… well…” Queenie hesitated, thinking about it a moment. “...what exactly DOES he use his influence for? I don’t think I know of anything he’s done for good or for ill. His place in the history books for this era will be little more than an asterisk next to Princess Celestia’s name.” “Being Blueblood, as far as I can tell, dearie,” Mrs. Bittersweet said. “Ah yes. I will confess though, if anypony can put reins on Blueblood, it would be Rarity. the mare has a singular will when she is steeled for it. I just hope she hasn’t built up this whole scene in her head.” “Depends on how much of a romantic she is… Never mind Blueblood’s never been fond of either commoners or social climbers,” Bittersweet said with a sigh. Firm believer in ‘knowing one’s place’ that Blueblood. Never mind terribly tacky. So few real Nobles, nowadays.” “Is it any wonder I feel so much more at ease down here.” She examined her hooves and sighed. “I am the little cinder filly in reverse.” “Too bad all the handsome princes tend to be toads in personality,” Bittersweet observed. “A truth that I know all too well,” came a voice from behind Queenie. Mrs. Bittersweet smiled and rose enough to give a respectful bow to Equestria’s Royal Vizier. “Humble apologies for interrupting your discussion, ladies. I came to see how things were going down here in the kitchens when I saw your little… drama playing out.” “Good evening, Royal Vizier. I did not intend to intrude on the time of these good ponies,” Queenie said turning to speak with the intensely unpleasant-looking Vizier, her entire body braced to deal with his presence. “I apologise if I’ve disrupted any plans you may have had.” “Disrupted? Oh no. No of COURSE not.” he chortled, flashing her a mouthful of sharp yellowing teeth. “I believe I can honestly say that your presence down below is without a doubt the LEAST disrupting thing this entire evening. Why what with the horseplay of the Element-Bearers and all. Those six mares will no doubt keep the Canterlot tongues wagging for MONTHS! It’s a delicious bedlam up there.” “What? Twilight Sparkle and her friends? But they’re so harmless.” “Please keep in mind, my dear Ice Storm, that those ‘harmless’ fillies have stopped Nightmare Moon, evicted dragons and even dealt with an ursa minor.” Guaranty corrected Queenie with a smile. “They are many things, but I would NEVER classify them as harmless.” “Oh dear…” Bittersweet uttered. “Oh yes. And I have the curious suspicion it’s all about to come to a head any moment now,” the bone-white stallion pushed a greasy lock of mane aside and looked up at the ceiling with his ruby-red eyes. “If one hurries one may arrive just in time for what seem like very separate events to achieve a sort of… critical mass, as it were.” “Hm… Should I?” Queenie asked thoughtfully. “I can only say what I would do, Dutchess,” The Vizier replied enigmatically. “And if I hurry in my rounds down here, I shouldn’t miss much.” Queenie shuddered as Guaranty laughed maniacally and vanished into the sea of kitchen activity. She watched him go even if for no other reason than she never liked turning her back on him, before Mrs. Bittersweet spoke. “Go ahead, dearie. However anypony feels about Lord Guaranty, if his instincts say something is going to happen, then you can bet all of your bits that it will. He has a nose for that sort of thing. Besides, this is the Gala. You should get some sort of enjoyment out of it, even if it’s schadenfreude.” “Thank you Mrs Bittersweet. Say hello to your husband Mister Umami for me.” “I will. Now you go enjoy yourself, dearie,” Bittersweet said with a smile. Queenie made her way back upstairs to see the ballroom in a shambles, and the nobility in disarray. “AFRAID to get DIRTY?!” Rarity snarled, obviously quite enraged. Queenie didn’t regret her choice to return to the party. It was well worth it to see Blueblood’s face contorted in horror as globs of cake spattered his pristine body. Oh the Royal Vizier was right, things had suddenly reached a head. Pinkie Pie was a major disruption in her efforts to liven things up, Rarity had humiliated the Prince in the most laughably public manner, Fluttershy had made a grand entrance more appropriate for an enraged nature goddess and Rainbow Dash was… wrestling with the scenery. (There was probably a good reason for that.) As it was she stuffed her hoofkerchief into her muzzle and allowed herself to laugh at the insanity Twilight and her friends had brought down upon this house of cards. She laughed as everything the pompous and self-important nobles came crashing down about their ears. Well worth the trip, even if she came up empty on the eligible bachelor front. She would even stay the extra night just to read how such SCANDAL would be reported in the newspapers in the morning. She knew very well the Dewdrop Inn would always find room for a pony looking for affordable rooms while visiting Canterlot, and she had brought a fashionable scarf and her favorite bonnet so she didn’t have to walk about town in her Gala outfit. She had to muffle a second bout of laughter after seeing Rarity smash her own shoe to smithereens in total defiance of the old Little Cinder Filly story. She couldn’t blame her for wanting to leave a certain prince in the dust. She COULD have moved in now and soothed his fragile ego, and easily endeared Blueblood to her, but she sighed and shook her head with a quieter giggle. His ego needed some deflating while his pride deserved some bruising, and perhaps in the long run it just may help him grow as an individual. Not that she would hold her breath or anything, but maybe, just maybe he might. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The day after the Gala, Grapes collected the mice, and trotted out to Fluttershy’s house. Such tame little squeakers had to have come from there. She cautiously knocked on the door, with a slight frown. The lower half of the door slowly opened inwards, indicating that Fluttershy wasn’t answering but her little pain-in-the-tail bunny sidekick, “Angel”. Grapes looked down at the bunny who now tapped his foot and stared up expectantly at her silently reminding her of just how ironic his name really was. “Is Fluttershy receiving visitors?” Grapes asked. “I think I found some friends of hers at my vineyard.” The mute little long-eared rodent looked over at the basket she had, bearing the four former equines then he nodded, gesturing for her to enter. Grapes opened the upper half of the door, and went in. “Hey, Fluttershy?” she called. “Found some mice at my vineyard, who were the victims of a transmogrification spell… I thought you’d like them to be returned, both safe and sound as well as soon as possible.” A yellow and pink figure slowly crept from the kitchen, timidly looking over at her from across the room. Sour Grapes couldn’t help but notice she was wearing her bathrobe and some fuzzy bunny slippers… and had telltale hints of her favorite ice cream clinging around her muzzle. Grapes glanced off to the side to see where a dress that probably had at one time been quite stunning, lay in a twig and leaf tangled shambles on her sofa. It wasn’t hard to guess that her evening in Canterlot had been less than ideal. “Oh. Thank you so much, Sour Grapes,” Fluttershy said, sniffling and trying to sound emotionally stable, or at least as stable as she was normally. “In all of the fuss, yesterday, I had nearly forgotten them. At least somepony was keeping an eye on them.” “Want to talk about it?” Grapes asked, setting the basket down, so the mice could go home. To her credit Fluttershy put on a brave face for a few moments before breaking down and sobbing into Sour Grapes’ shoulder. It took less than a minute for the winemaker to take her into the kitchen and get a pot of tea brewing, another two for a spare bucket of Rocky Rhodes ice cream to be found in the icebox and be split between them. Then little by little Grapes managed to coax the story out of Fluttershy. Of all the ponies she would have thought would have had a decent night, Fluttershy was devastated that the exotic animals in the gardens had spurned her outright. Her talent for dealing with animals had, for the first time since she was a filly, outright failed her. “They didn’t want anything to do with me! They didn’t even want to give me a chance!” “Well, they are from a completely different town than you are, Fluttershy,” Grapes said consolingly. “It’s not like the critters, here, are particularly migratory. Also I think the gardens are a sanctuary to some abused animals… So… They’re going to be wary anyway, and no creature, there, would know you, and know that you are a friend to all animals.” “I just wanted them to know I was their friend. That I could be TRUSTED! “ she sniffled, before sipping at the fresh tea. “Fluttershy, hon, you should have gotten, like, a local gardener to introduce you to the creatures. This way you would be vouched for by somepony the creatures knew,” Grapes said gently. “Maybe I should’ve. They DID have a gardener there that night… but he was busy. Maybe I should have gotten one of my animal friends to introduce us.” Angel tapped one paw against the other, a motion that Sour Grapes had seen Summer Squall do. No doubt he was suggesting he should be allowed to go to the garden to teach the inhabitants some manners. It was almost touching how protective he was of Fluttershy if Sour Grapes didn’t know already how often Angel took advantage of her. “No, Angel,” Grapes said gazing at the bunny. “They do have meat-eaters there too, and Fluttershy needs you here to keep the others in line. But yeah… The creatures, here, know you. The creatures at Canterlot don’t, and… well, you weren’t acting yourself, towards the end, there.” “I’m very embarrassed about that. It was like that thing with Mister Redline’s tea all over again.” She said quietly. “And I ruined poor Rarity’s hard work on my dress. I’ll be fixing it for days before I feel comfortable showing it to her again.” “I imagine she’ll be designing next year’s… If you’re going to go back. I hated going to the Gala myself,” Grapes observed. “Oh yes. You did warn us that you had a terrible experience there and we might too. Maybe we should have listened a little harder.” Grapes shrugged. “I tried to warn you, yes. Canterlot parties are not Pinkie parties. They suck out all the fun, for one thing,” she quipped. “Think I should see the others, and see how their times went? And are you feeling a bit better?” “Yes. Thank you for staying to talk to me. I know you didn’t have to but it really helped to talk to somepony about it all.” “That’s what friends are for, Fluttershy,” Grapes said with a smile. “Oh, I’d better go and see AJ…” “Oh yes. I think she might like you visiting.” “That bad, huh?” Grapes asked with a frown. “Well. I heard there was a very… unlikable pony who called her food ‘carnival food’. Rarity could tell you better.” “Oh. THAT would be Prince Blueballs… er… Blueblood,” Grapes uttered shaking her head. “Okay, first AJ then Rarity. I tried to warn her, I really really did… I tried warning both of them, but… Why is it nopony listens to me?” “Maybe sometimes we have to make our own mistakes?” Fluttershy asked. “I guess. I was trying to save you all some… Yeeeeah. Heading to Sweet Apple Acres, now,” Grapes uttered, heading out the door. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grapes trotted as quickly as she could to the Sweet Apple Acres stall at the market, remembering that Applejack would be THERE at this time of day, rather than the orchard. She had told Applejack that she would be competing with a free fully catered buffet. Why her cousin thought she’d be able to SELL treats in competition with a FREE buffet, she did not know. Nevermind at a party for the Canterlot Nobility, who… Let’s face it, they wouldn’t know good food, if it hit them in the face. “Hey, AJ,” Grapes said as she trotted up. “Oh hey, Grapes,” Applejack said, looking up from her position behind the stall. the fact she called her Grapes instead of “Sour” suggested she was still a “mite perturbed” by the previous night. “Bad night?” Grapes asked, leaning against the stall. “Hold that thought for a second, sugarcube,” Applejack said, turning around to pull a stool out from behind the stall and making a little show of dusting the seat off and plunking herself down on it she sat at attention, looking up at Sour Grapes. “What are you doing?” “Well, Ah figured this is the part where you start with the whole ’Ah told ya so’ thing, and me bein’ the pony who’s supposed to be the Element of Honesty, Ah’m gonna be doing a lot of noddin’ and sayin’ that you were right about the whole thing. So Ah figured the best thing Ah could do is get comfortable an’take mah medicine like a good filly.” Grapes chuckled, and shook her head. “What I was going to say was ‘I tried to warn you’,” Grapes clarified. “Poor Fluttershy is getting over a case of Cutie Mark Failure Syndrome… I think talking it out helped. And she told me about how your treats were insulted by Blueballs. I bet Rarity’s in her lavish bed wallowing in self-pity over her prince turning into a toad. I tried to warn all of you, because I’ve been to the Gala, and I HATED it.” “Ain’t surprised none,” Applejack said. “You were never the sort for fripperies an’ fancy doin’s.” “And it was the intention of my grandmother, who took me, for me to hate it. She didn’t want me to get any ‘airs’, and think I was as good as Canterlotians, because my mother was from the oh-so-important Diamond Family. Spent the whole night being insulted, because I was half Earth Pony,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Ended up telling off Blueblood, and leaving.” “Ya told off that stuck-up…” Applejack started, then stopped, fuming, and taking some deep breaths to calm down, noticing a family with foals nearby. She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Ah just ain’t in tha mood fer waitin’ on ponies, but Mac…” “Is coming up now, with the next load of treats,” Grapes said, spotting the hard-to-miss Macintosh. “Thank Celestia,” Applejack uttered. “Hey, Mac, couldja take over fer a spell? Ah’m still perturbed from last night, an’ it may be hurtin’ sales.” “Eeyup,” Mac said, with his usual verbosity. “So you’re taking over, or is she hurting sales?” Grapes asked with a grin. “Jus’ git,” Mac uttered, gazing deadpan at Grapes. She saluted, smirking. “So, where are we going, cousin of mine?” Grapes asked, trotting along with Applejack. “Ta see Rarity. Ah figure she’d like ta hear yer story about tellin’ off ole Bluebritches, an’ this way you won’ have ta repeat yer story,” AJ replied. “You were always the very model of efficiency, dear cousin,” Grapes said cheerfully. “An’ DON’T START!” “I said nothing,” Grapes asserted. “Yer THINKIN’ it,” Applejack grumbled. “I wasn’t! I swear!” Grapes asserted, earning a glare from the orange pony. “Okay, maybe I was, but I wasn’t about to say…” They soon reached the Carousel Boutique, after their brisk trot across the town square. “She ain’t into mares, anyhow,” Applejack observed. “She MIGHT be, after Blueballs,” Grapes said rolling her eyes. Applejack stood there blinking for a moment. Then she collapsed, laughing her flank off. Well, not LITERALLY but she was laughing long, loud, and with total abandon. The laughter was, apparently, loud enough to be heard inside, because soon after Applejack started busting a gut, the boutique door opened, framing a concerned-looking Rarity. “My goodness, what is going on out here?” she asked, looking from AJ who was still in hysterics to Sour Grapes who was watching her cousin with a bemused look on her face. “I made a funny,” Grapes explained. “Oh?” the pristine white and purple unicorn asked, her curiosity obviously intrigued. “Anything that a lady can hear?” “Heck no, but a friend would laugh anyways, Rare.” Applejack chortled. “Long story short: Sour here suggested that any gal who met Prince Blueblood in person would have a long hard look at… which side of the fence she sits on.” “Which side of the… OH!” Rarity’s face registered a shock tinged with a mischievous smirk. “Darn tootin’. An’ darned if’n that didn’t put certain pictures in mah own head. Darn right silly ones too.” “Oh… you!” Rarity chided Applejack playfully. “While I must admit MISTER Bluebood may have fallen greatly short of my masculine ideal, I have yet to see any reason to mmm… learn to ride side saddle, so-to-speak?” “Even if the grass is greener, so to speak?” Grapes said in a kidding tone. “Anyway, I was telling AJ of my own Gala disaster, and she decided you’d want to hear the part where I told off Blueballs.” “Oh, you did that too? OH, thank HEAVENS!” Rarity said fanning herself with a hoof. “My last tinge of worry was that there wasn’t any manner of precedent to my outburst. That is certainly a weight off my concern for my social standing.” “Well, my grandmother had brought me there to show me that I HAD no social standing, so…” Grapes started. “Yeah, I hated it. The ponies were boring and stuffy, there was no life to the party at all, and I swear they wouldn’t know good food if it hit them square in the face.” “Boy ain’t THAT the truth.” Applejack said, wiping her feet on the welcome mat before walking into Rarity’s shop. “Carnival Fare mah Aunt Fanny!” “Yeah, she was always a fun one, wasn’t she?” Grapes observed, as she repeated the ritual, and followed Applejack inside. The shop looked as it always had, clothing on display and wonderful comforts available for potential customers. What did surprise Grapes was that Rarity was dressed as she normally did when sewing.The pincushion on her foreleg, her gorgeous mane tied up and out of the way, the horn-rimmed glasses perched upon the end of her muzzle. No bags under her eyes from lost sleep, no running mascara from endless weeping, no robe, or slippers or curlers indicating a lack of desire to get out of bed. In short, Rarity looked like… Rarity. She even brought them into the kitchen where a pot of tea sat on the stove steeping. She offered them a cup with the comforting addendum, “Redline has been expressly forbidden to suggest any blends other than base components to me. The dear is indispensable for keeping my sewing machine properly tuned up but his choice of beverages leave much to be desired.” “I am in agreement with that assessment, Rarity. You… Okay, you do not seem as disappointed as I thought you would be. Your prince turned into a toad, and… you’ve apparently moved on,” Grapes said sounding pleasantly surprised. “I know,” she said, sounding as surprised as Sour Grapes. “It’s astonishing but I actually feel relieved that he wasn’t my special somepony. Not for the final reasons though. No, I suppose it really hit home that a prince would be a far too high-maintenance coltfriend for me. I mean, a lady is expected to keep her husband in line some of the time, but it should not be a twenty-four hour a day chore.” “Well he IS the biggest nothing in the Principality,” Grapes observed. “And he got told that to his face by a sixteen-year-old filly. You see, my grandmother, Pave Diamond, took me to the Gala to keep me from getting any ideas that I’m a part of that world, because of my Mother. Naturally it was horrible. Not only was the party as lifeless as stagnant water, the food bland and unappealing, and the music banal and forgettable; I spent the whole night being insulted by everypony my Grandmother could drag close, because of my mixed heritage.” “Well. She may have a pedigree and a title but she’s certainly no lady then. Of all the gall to do that to one’s own flesh and blood,” Rarity uttered. “The final contestant was Prince Blueblood himself. And, of course, he joins the chorus of stuffy Canterlot unicorns calling me a half-breed. By that time, of course, I was sick and tired of it, and had had enough. I looked him in the eye and said: ‘I may be a half-breed, but at least I’m not the biggest nothing in the Principality’,” Grapes continued her story, even altering her voice into an approximation of how she sounded when she was sixteen. She was hardly an actress of stage and screen but she did hold Rarity and Applejack’s attention so she must have been doing SOMETHING right. “He said: ‘What did you call me, you little creaton?!’ I got right up in his face, and then I said: ‘You are NOTHING, ‘Prince’ Blueblood. You contribute nothing to the greater good, you care nothing for those beneath you, and you offer nothing to Equestria as a whole. As far as I am concerned, the only thing you are good for are the bits you use to buy trinkets you think are important from ‘low born rabble’ like me!’ And with that I turned and stormed out of the Gala.” “Bravah, dear Sour Grapes. Bravah to you on that.” Rarity said, applauding, that is, stomping her forehooves lightly on the ground. “I daresay I caught a glimpse of the expression you left on his face last night when I told that self absorbed, cowardly, primping, preening, popinjay where he could put that cake wreck he saddled me with.” Grapes looked at Applejack, then back at Rarity. “Let me guess. That was Applejack’s attempt at having a fancy treat at the gala, and it got ruined? Why do I think that, somehow, a certain poly-chromatic mare is responsible?” “It’s possible. I’m afraid I wasn’t keeping track of my friends at the time. Mercy me, I was nearly as bad as Blueblood in being self-absorbed.” “Yeah… Ah ain’t too proud of mahself on that note. Ah was kinda self-absorbed, as well…” Applejack said quietly. She then quickly changed the subject. “So, since you ain’t gonna land yerself Prince Blueblood what’s yer new plan, Rarity?” “Plan, dear Applejack?” Rarity asked. “Please. If there’s one thing ah know about you, it’s that you always have a plan B for these here things. So what’s the Blueblood plan B?” Applejack replied. “Oh. Well, it’s to find a pony of substance who would be at a lower level of standing, although no less important. Perhaps a duke, a count or even a knight. Classically speaking, any ‘landed’ pony can be granted a title by the highest royals in the land, this of course being Princess Celestia or Luna. Why… I’m certain even you could gain one if you asked politely. You ARE after all a national heroine, a bearer of an Element of Harmony, not to mention that your family has a vast expanse of property at their disposal. I believe that in square acreage you outstrip the majority of ‘rich’ ponies in town.” “Hmm… Countess Applejack.” The earth pony said, trying the title out for size before laughing and shaking her head. “Nope. Sorry. Ah jest ain’t seein it.” “Ser Applejack of the Acres,” Grapes deadpanned. “What are ya talkin’ about?” Applejack asked, glaring at Grapes. “You don’t seem to be the ‘dame’ sort, AJ,” Grapes quipped with a grin. “‘Ser’ is a gender neutral form of the old ‘sir’ title for knights. Usually female knights are called ‘dame’, but the title doesn’t seem to fit you, cuz.” “Hmm. SER Applejack. Land sakes, Ah’d have to find mahself some fancy armor with liver on it.” “Livery, Applejack dear.” Rarity corrected, making a face. “Or just some fancy barding, with a nice apple motif. I bet you could come up with something appropriate, Rarity,” Grapes suggested casually. “It would certainly give Big Macintosh something to feel jealous of his little sister about.” Rarity tittered before looking over one of her projects. “If you want, later on I’ll do some designs we can look over and share a laugh over. Just some sketches, naturally. No fittings of ANY sort. At all.” This last bit was said, with Rarity staring right at Grapes, who was looking back with a raised eyebrow. “What?” Grapes asked, looking amused. “I didn’t say a word.” “Sour Grapes, DAHling.” the white unicorn said, overly stressing the first syllable of the word to make it more sarcastic. “If there’s one thing you share with your cousin, Big Macintosh it’s that your silence often speaks volumes.” “Oh, what a day, I’m being slandered by my friend, and my own cousin, and after I come all the way from Fluttershy’s, concerned about how you were taking your Gala-letdowns…” Grapes uttered dramatically. “Fluttershy’s was a Cutie Mark Failure Syndrome, from her not connecting with the animals in a city where NO creature would know her. Applejack was trying to sell treats at an event that had a free catered buffet, which I KNEW about because I sold the caterers wine…” “... and without a vendor’s licence.” Rarity added with a smirk. “And not only is that city full of stuck-up stuffy nobles who wouldn’t know good food if it smacked them in the face, which it came close to doing, apparently, it’s also full of bureaucrats. Mostly ponies who are doing their jobs, but some of them can be real pains in the flank,” Grapes concluded. “Get stuck with a fine, AJ, or did they let you off with a warning?” Applejack removed her hat and let out an annoyed and very horse-like escape of air. “Princess Celestia gave me a short lecture on proper channels and the need for food regulation inside of Canterlot’s walls. Then she gave me a bag o’ hush money to keep the whole thing quiet. You know… on account of it lookin’ bad if it got out that a ‘street vendor’ had her produce destroyed bah a ‘random and deliberate act o’ vandalism bah a pony or ponies unidentified’.” “Rainbow Dash and Blueballs?” Grapes asked with a smirk. “Got it in one, sugarcube.” Applejack nodded. “So. Long story short… at least Ah broke even. Cart and vittles all that bought and paid fer.” Grapes sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, AJ.” “Eh. Sometimes you get a few bad apples in with a bushel, Sour.” She said, putting her hat back on. “Besides, before Ah left Ah managed to get Twi’ wrangle me a whole heap of paperwork for any future ‘visits’. Yessiree. Next time Ah pull somethin’ like this Ah’ll be ready for it.” “Nothing like a thinking for the future,” Grapes said with a grin. “Okay. Got you and Rarity, Fluttershy… Not sure how Twilight’s going to be acting. The only other worst case I can think of would be Pinkie. Because it was a Canterlot ‘Party’, and I swear a lot of Canterlot Ponies are fun-vampires. They SUCK it all out of any possible event, leaving it flat and lifeless. I’d better check on her. I’m sure Mac will want to see you back at the stand… Unless you’ve got something, or somepony else to occupy your time.” Rarity rolled her eyes and seized a length of fabric from a table and “snapped” it playfully at the heels of her friends, herding them towards the door. “That is QUITE enough of that, Sour Grapes. You and Applejack had your moment to check up on me and to give her a mental respite from her own distraction. Now ‘shoo’. ‘Shoo’ to both of you. I have work to do and so do you, Applejack. Oh, and do tell Summer Squall his athletics bag is ready, Sour Grapes.” With that, Rarity flounced a quick about-face, and closed her door. “Ha-UMPH!” Grapes found herself with a mouthful of Earth Pony hoof. “Jus’ go an’ see Pinkie, already,” Applejack uttered, before removing said hoof. Grapes made a face, before turning toward Sugarcube Corner. “Spoilsport,” she grumbled, good-naturedly, as she left. “And wash your hooves, they taste terrible.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pinkie was laying on her big pink fuzzy shag carpet, holding her head in her hooves as her eyes ran back and forth along the lines of the page. She was so completely oblivious that Sour Grapes had entered her room on the top floor of Sugarcube Corner without her noticing. Grapes peeked over Pinkie’s shoulder, curiously. She had been sent upstairs by the Cakes, because Pinkie had been kind of off since last night. The bargain bin was full to overflowing with proof of this. All of them were edible, of course; the Cakes wouldn’t sell any of their product if it wasn’t. No, they were just not as aesthetically pleasing as normal, or the flavor mixes were just strange. Sour Grapes bit into her chocolate raisin Muffin and let the way it contrasted with the bright purple lemon icing dance on her tongue. Well it was different, she had to admit. It wasn’t bad, as such, just different. The book certainly wasn’t what Sour Grapes expected. First of all there weren’t any color pictures, and there was a lot of small print. Grapes admitted it was a great disservice to Pinkie Pie to assume she was a mental lightweight and that chances are Pinkie was probably every bit as smart her friends. Just a little… less focused. Grapes’ own eyes moved to the top of the page to see where the title of the chapter rested. “Cutlery Placement.” Huh. Well that was a thing. A thing that Sour Grapes probably would NEVER have guessed she’d see Pinkie reading about. She noticed her little pink ears twitching and suddenly the pink pony’s head slowly rotated 180 degrees to look back at her. “Oh! Hi Grapes! I didn’t expect to see you here, or anypony really. I just really got into a new book.” “About cutlery placement?” Grapes asked with a raised eyebrow. “Oh no, silly! That’s only part of it.” Pinkie closed the book and flipped it over to show the cover to her visitor. “See? ‘Gallopgher‘s Guide to Parties and Celebrations in a Formal Setting’. Reading it is a lot like eating tortilla chips without any dip but it’s interesting in its own way. I had no idea that there are some ponies who really like dull, drab, and predictable parties. They eat small strange snacks or eat little pieces of food on very large plates while drinking drinks that everypony else agrees is good because they’re very expensive while they all talk about small boring things. Apparently its like an excuse to go to work without actually being ‘at work’.” “And me, I would just say that the Canterlot snobs are fun-vampires. They suck all the fun out of everything they touch, and leave it lifeless and dull,” Grapes quipped, before going “bleh”, and showing off a purple tongue and slightly stained teeth, obviously trying for the ‘movie vampire’ sound, rather than commenting on the taste of the cupcake.. The pink mare burst out laughing and raised herself up onto her hooves. “You found my ‘factory seconds’ huh? How are they? I wasn’t paying attention that much when I was making them… I just really got so INTO this book that I got some of the ingredients or cooking instructions all mixed up.” “They’re… interesting,” Grapes observed. “Not bad, just really different. Seriously, though, you shouldn’t worry about Canterlot Dandies.” “I know I shouldn’t. I mean they’re them and I’m me. At least I think I’m me.” Pinkie Pie quickly prodded her own face before smiling “Yeah. I’m me. After how weird things were last night, it’s easy to forget.” Grapes smiled, and booped Pinkie on the nose with the frosting of her cupcake. “You’re one-of-a-kind Pinkie Pie. It’s not their fault they’ve lost the ability to appreciate it.” “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn some new tricks. That’s why I got this book from Twilight,” Pinkie replied, before deftly licking the frosting from the end of her muzzle. “Well… You’ll know the kinds of touches Rarity is bound to enjoy at her next birthday party,” Grapes observed. “Exactly! This book is full of ideas for new kinds of parties. I might think that they may be a little dull, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make them a little more fun. Right?” “Of course you can. Just not sure if the fun-pires of Canterlot would appreciate your efforts, but anypony in Ponyville would love seeing your innovations in partying,” Grapes said with a grin. “Good to see you’ve come through the Gala just fine, Pinkie. I was worried about all of you.” “Oh Grapesie!” Pinkie said, throwing herself against her with a big bearhug. “We’re not made of glass slippers you know. Sure we stumble, fall down and go boom but best thing to do is get up, dust ourselves off and get right back on the bicycle and ride.” “I know I know… It’s just that you guys seemed to put a lot on that night, is all,” Grapes said, hugging Pinkie back. “So how’s little miss ‘I can see the universe’ doing?” “Pretty good. I mean she did have Celestia come to the doughnut shop afterwards and let us all know that everything was okay.” She pulled Grapes a little closer and dropped her voice to a stage whisper “Turns out, Celestia thinks the Galloping Gala was a dull party too and hoped our being there would liven things up. Who knew?” “News to me. But then Princess Celestia does seem more practical than the Canterlot Dandies that have taken over the party,” Grapes said with a grin. “And a lot more down to earth.” “Yeah. Even Dashie seems a little better now that she knows the Wonderbolts actually know her by name.” “Well… We can only hope that dream turns out to be all she hopes,” Grapes observed with a nod. “Not all dreams turn out how we want them.” “Eh. She’ll be okay. One thing about Dashie is that she might hit the ground hard but she bounces right back… well not RIGHT back, but… you know what I mean.” “Right. Sounds good,” Grapes said with a nod. “Guess I’ll head back home. Did talk to Fluttershy. She could use some reassurance.” “Okie dokie lokie! Have fun Grapes. Let the Cakes know I’ll have my mind on my job better tomorrow after I finish my book. Ooooh. Doilies.” “Will do, Pinkie,” Grapes said as she trotted downstairs. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barn on the Grapevine Hills property was certainly not the largest nor the most impressive in ponyville. In fact in the grand scheme of things it was a very plain and ordinary-looking barn. Two-floors, filled with hay and tools, covered in blistered red paint (appropriately called “Barn Red”) and highlighted with white edging. So one could easily say that there was little to set it apart from any other barn in the world. However, one foal had hei own view of the barn. In everypony else’s eyes it was a building unlike any other. To Skyhook, who currently was staring up at the structure, it outright LOOMED over her, and pretty much anypony else who was her comparatively diminutive size. She stared up at it’s high peak, then over at the small pile of paint cans and brushes that sat to the side. She then looked up at the barn again, her eyes wide with a hint of overwhelming worry at the connotations of why her “warden” Sour Grapes had led her to this area. Sour Grapes took a little schadenfreude in seeing Skyhook’s expression as it slowly sank in that she intended to have the filly paint her barn. “You realise I can’t fly over a certain height or I’ll get zapped. Right?” Skyhook said rather hastily, no doubt hoping to appeal to Sour Grapes’ logic. “Yes. Yes you would. But there’s a reason somepony invented ladders you know,” Sour Grapes replied with a smirk. “Thanks to your godfather I was able to read up on the statistics and features of those inhibitor collars. They only go off when the pegasus in question is supplying the ‘lift’. The not-so-subtle act of using pegasus magic basically activates them.” “Pegasus magic? But only unicorns have magic… don’t they?” “You walk on clouds, manipulate the weather and technically speaking unless you could flap your wings as fast as a hummingbird’s you should be as land-locked as any other pony,” the better read pony stated with a slightly smug expression “If that’s not magical, then nothing a unicorn does counts either. This type of magic is called ‘innate’ magic, as opposed to a unicorn’s ‘overt’ magics. Earth Ponies have something similar. It’s what makes them stronger, have more endurance, and able to do more work. Never mind an Earth Pony’s earth sense, that helps them keep in rhythm with the seasons and in some cases ‘synchronise’ with them.” “I… I didn’t know that. I just thought that only unicorns had the thingie needed to cast magic.” “They do, but unicorn magic is overt. It directly controls things. The innate magic of pegasi and Earth Ponies affect their bodies, and how they interact with the world. Unicorns, on the other hoof, use their magic to interact with the world, directly,” Grapes explained. “That might explain a lot,” Skyhook admitted, examining her own hooves as if never really noticing them before. “So do any ponies have a way of ‘changing up’ those magical gifts?” “You could say I do,” Grapes said. “But it helps to have a heritage that is from multiple tribes. Me, I’m half Earth Pony, so I have connection to the innate magics of the Earth. I may be getting a slight connection to air magic, but my significant other has been taking me on imaginary flights that resemble the meditation for pegasi. Though there is only the very slightest connection, because I have no connection to the air other than him. Mostly I balance the overt magic of unicorns with the innate magic of Earth Ponies, which has some interesting bleed-over.” “Wow… So, you want me to paint the whole barn?” “Well I’d like you to get a start. You’ll not be alone. You’ve been offered help, but you’re to start on your own, and think about what you’ve done,” Grapes said patting Skyhook’s back. “Later, your help will come, and you will have the chance to get the socialization you sorely lacked with your previous locations.” “Well.. okay.” The filly said quietly, her head a little lower. “At least I don’t have to do the whole thing by myself.” “Well. Yes. But I was enjoying how adorably pathetic you looked when you thought you had to do so,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “But you know, I couldn’t just let you think so for so very long. I’m not that cruel.” Skyhook glared at her for a brief moment but it faltered and crumbled away revealing somepony who realised that she probably would have liked pulling the same thing on somepony else. Without a word she got to work, giving Sour Grapes a chance to head down to her home where Earshot was looking at a large textbook on the meal table out front. Judging by his expression, this was probably one of the ones Cheerilee had selected to show how simple illnesses could affect cultures unprepared for them. That would no doubt make this next part easier. “Heya, Miss Grapes. I never realised how many things were out there that could kill a pony with a poor immune system,” he said with a hint of horror in his voice. “Did you know an entire tribe of Zebras were wiped out because of one called Scarlet Fever? It says here it led directly to an old bad joke that starts with the question ‘What’s black and white and red all over?’” “I know. I’ve read some of this, remember?” Grapes said, kindly. “And… I’ve got bad news.” “You… you do?” he asked, his little bat-ears drooping in preparation for hearing bad news. “You’ve got to go to the doctor. Going for a mandatory battery of tests, to follow-up your illness,” Grapes said with a nod. “Sorry, hon, but it’s necessary.” His head hung so low that it looked like his neck had somehow retracted. No doubt his experiences with Dr. Crabapple had yet to completely erase the lies that the mysterious “Doktor Vivisection” had filled his noggin with. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t resist going to the hospital with her, or even fight the doctors, but he might worry himself sick again. “Come on, Earshot, I’ll be with you. We’ll leave if anything makes you feel really uncomfortable,” Grapes said reassuringly. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Earshot glanced nervously around the examination room. He had been asked to ‘“go ahead and have a seat on the table” while Sour Grapes filled out some forms in the waiting room. The room was fairly large and filled with cabinets with many drawers, with strange alien-looking silver tools of unknown purpose sitting in trays on the counter. Everything was a frighteningly odd shade of white, too. He swallowed deeply, feeling terribly conspicuous in that cold chamber. Like a shadow in the middle of the desert at midday. And then there was the smell. He had never smelled any place so clean in his life. It wasn’t even the normal kind of clean, it was a… a CHEMICAL cleanliness that cemented this room as being the philosophical and literal opposite of his home in the caverns of Stygian Cove. He was so lost in thought that he nearly didn’t notice the door open and a unicorn in a lab coat enter. He was tall and his features were long and angular. He had a sort of pale greenish-cream tone to his body while his mane was black and cut so precisely it might have been done with a bowl as a template. He wore a blue shirt of some sort under the white coat, and his face was… inscrutable. The unicorn locked gazes with Earshot and nodded. “Good morning, Earshot. I am Doctor Coldhoof. You probably know me through my goddaughter, Skyhook. I would like to begin by apologizing for her actions during the holidays; it was very irresponsible of her to try to deliberately expose anypony to an illness, especially as a joke.” “S’okay.” the night pony said, his voice refusing to rise past a meek squeak. “Good. Now. I am pleased to see that you are taking your health seriously enough to come for a proper examination. I assure you that I will be taking this very seriously and will be conducting myself in as professional a manner as possible.” Dr. Coldhoof set up a small wax-cylinder recorder, and made certain the springs were wound tight before clicking the switch on it into the “on” position. The little black tube began to rotate and the little needle suspended above it meticulously carved a tiny groove into it as it recorded all sound in the region for posterity. He turned to the apprehensive young colt on the examination table and spoke clearly. “This device will make an audio record of all the events transpiring during your examination. Do you have any objections to this, Earshot?” “I... um… no? So that thing is like the opposite of a record player? “It’s operation is not that dissimilar, yes. Now, let’s begin.” Coldhoof cleared his throat and spoke clearly towards the open cone on the device. “This is Doctor Coldhoof, chief medical researcher of the Ponyville Hospital. I am currently about to begin the examination of subject 8472, given name ‘Earshot’. Subject is a ‘variant’ pegasus colt in around ten years of age, some uncertainty on this issue as he lacks a viable birth certificate. Body colour is a light charcoal gray with a dark purple mane and tail, both thick and healthy. Cutiemark has manifested as a bat-like ear receiving three sound waves.The term ‘variant’ is to be noted that Earshot has divergent physiognomy from the garden-variety pegasus, taking the form of bat-like features such as wings, ears, and fangs, as well as gold-coloured eyes that are similar in appearance to feline eyes. All further notations of the subject’s species will be referred to by the colloquial designation ‘Night Pony’.” He paused a moment to consider any further observations. “Subject has indicated a lack of large-scale social interaction of his subspecies with normal ponies during the last one thousand years. This means they never received any of the immunisation treatments developed during the last 300 years. The details of which can be found in the attached file 1138 co-written by Doctor Crabapple and one Zecora, a Zebra healer living in the nearby region of the Everfree Forest. The purpose of this examination is to determine the overall health of the subject and to identify any and all variations he possesses that differ him from the average pegasus colt.” “You… you’re not going to take me apart, are you?” “Take you apart? Ah. You mean are my intentions to dissect you and examine the sum of your parts? The answer is no. While disassembling something is an efficient way of discovering how it works, it is not always the only or even the best of techniques. As we only have one of your breed to examine, I would rather not do anything that would result in harming, making you resentful or terminating your life. I trust we are in agreement on that point.” “Yes sir. Very much.” “There’s also the ‘Hippocratic Oath’ that all doctors in Equestria have to take, harkening back to one of the first doctors, by the name of Hippocrates, considered the ‘father of modern medicine. ‘First of all, do no harm in the practice of my art’,” Grapes said, with a smile. “Well said, Miss Sour Grapes,” Coldhoof observed while Grapes entered the room. “Note: Third voice on recording will be civilian observer Sour Grapes, who is here on behalf of Earshot’s legal guardian one Captain Summer Squall.” “Probably will be a source of historical anecdotes to help keep Earshot’s mind at ease, during the examinations, and procedures,” Grapes added. “Along with other random bits of information to help assuage the young colt’s curiosity.” Coldhoof looked levelly at his guest before turning back to Earshot. “Well then, that’s an added advantage to your presence, Miss Grapes. Now, let us begin with the basics.” He opened a drawer and began pulling out instruments. “Thanks to my best efforts we have access to some of the latest medical techniques and equipment here at the Ponyville hospital. We may not be anywhere near the same level as the Canterlot Medical Centre but our own resources are nothing to sneeze at.” “Even an ultrasound machine. I’m impressed, Doctor,” Grapes observed. “It wasn’t easy to obtain. With magic being so prevalent, any manner of technology is usually casually dismissed by the status quo. Doctor Crabapple has stated that I’d have gotten the funding easier if the ultrasound machine were a crystal ball,” Coldhoof uttered. Grapes sighed, shaking her head. “Scrying is less accurate, especially for checking out internal organs, and the proper workings of a living body. May as well be trying to read tea leaves, or throwing bones,” she uttered with an eyeroll. “I know it’s pretty easy to dismiss technology, but it is like magic: A tool. Some unicorns seem to forget that, with their magic-centric view, but the use of technology only helps make life easier, and more safe in a lot of instances, including boosting the power of medical professionals so they can treat ponies with more accuracy. It also helps pegasi and earth pony doctors know more of what they're doing, never mind allowing earth ponies and pegasi to actually become doctors. Machines that use electricity to power them, or have magically charged energy sources, rather than depending upon a unicorn’s overt magic to help make the diagnosis.” "How do you know all this?" Coldhoof asked. "Oh, she reads a lot of stuff. She's got a lot of bookshelves in her house, and has even filled the bunkhouse bookcases with books she's collected," Earshot replied with a smile. "Skyhook mentioned that you were something of an amature historian, but I had no idea your breadth of knowledge covered magic, and technology,” Coldhoof stated. "Being only half unicorn makes me aware of my limitations, so I search for ways to work more efficiently, and make use of the magic pool I have," Grapes replied. Coldhoof raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating. Well I’d better get to the examination.” Sour Grapes had her misgivings when Crabapple had recommended that Coldhoof be the one to do the examination, but now seeing him move quickly and efficiently through the various tests she was beginning to understand why he was nominated. Her original experiences with him and his complete lack of bedside manner had somewhat blinded her to the fact that he was highly intelligent and a complete professional. Pulse, temperature, reflexes, blood, eyes, nose, throat. He sped through them all with an astonishing swiftness and a running dialogue to the recording device. Earshot took it all like a trooper, only hesitating to ask questions on a method or item before consenting to allow it, even when asked for fresh blood samples he bit his lower lip and only winced a little when the needle pierced his skin. The only moment that seemed to have any major reaction was when Dr. Coldhoof decided to take a good look inside of Earshot’s frame with the ultrasound device. “I am applying the ultrasound wand now and…” “Uh? Woah!” *THUD* Coldhoof glanced down at where the stunned colt lay on the floor. “Are you all right? You fell right off of the examination table.” “I did?” Earshot said confusedly before realising he was sprawled on the floor. “Sorry… It’s just… the world got all blurry and spinny when you pointed that... thing at me, Doctor Coldhoof.” Coldhoof looked at the wand and disengaged its spell for a moment and assisted Earshot back up onto the table. “Curious. So your perception of the world just distorted? No other discomfort other than hitting the floor?” “No. None at all than some bruises.” “Let’s begin again. I am beginning the ultrasound once more, it appears that the ultrasound has an unexpected side effect upon the subject’s broad hearing range. The effect may be similar to experiencing blurred vision or even vertigo. This time I will attempt to repeat the procedure…” Coldhoof paused a moment before gently pushing Earshot down on the table. “...after the subject lays back on the table instead of sitting on its edge. This will prevent him from simply falling off onto the floor a second time.” “What? Oh, right. Good idea, Doctor.” “I am repeating the action again. Are you in any discomfort Earshot? Pain, disorientation, nausea?” “I’m… feeling kinda funny here.” Earshot said, raising his voice. “My eyes are okay but I have this noise in my ears that’s making the world all funny-looking.” Grapes chuckled. “Believe it or not, a lot of the mechanisms that govern balance are located in the ear, specifically the inner ear.” “I’m guessing that his raising his voice indicates he’s also perceiving the subsonic sound as being very loud. We’re getting some very clear images. Heart seems fine, as are the lungs and other organs. All somewhat normal and to be expected for a pegasus colt his age bracket. Still I’d like to get him down to the X-ray room and get some permanent shots of his body while we have him here.” “Checking out his bone structure, while he’s here?” Grapes asked, curiously. “Definitely. To be honest I’d like to some bone and deep-tissue samples as well, however those would be somewhat painful. We do have a new gastrointestinal probe that may prove some insights into his digestive nature but again, that would cause him some discomfort, and I would rather have him return for more tests at a later time instead of traumatize him.” “I think that’s an excellent decision. The last thing you need is to confirm the false idea given by a disgrace to the medical profession that he had encountered in a village close to his home,” Grapes said with a nod. “After all, you may call him a ‘unique specimen’, but I doubt you’d ever call him an ‘abomination’.” “An abomination? Curious,” Coldhoof said in his usual even tone. It was always hard to guess what was going on behind those half-lidded eyes of his. “He is certainly unusual among the more multichromatic Pegasi but so far I have yet to see anything that would make him any more than an oddity. Would this ‘disgrace’ to the medical profession happen to have a name?” “D- His name is herr Doktor Vivisection.” Earshot spoke up, apparently hesitant to say something while the ‘big ponies’ were talking. “He’s the doctor in the village closest to my home. Also the mortician. I’ve heard him say that it saves time.” “Mmm. How efficient of him.” Coldhoof mumbled as he jotted the name down on a notepad. “The name does not bring anypony I know to mind but calling anypony an abomination without genuine empirical proof is irresponsible. I’ll see if I can learn more about the ‘Doktor’ at a later time. For now my attention is focused upon you, Mister Earshot.” “This village seems to have quite the… prejudice against Earshot’s kind, Doctor,” Grapes said frowning. “I’ve never been fond of tribalists, of any tribe, to be honest.” “The social sciences were never my strong suit, Miss Sour Grapes. Now… where was I? Ah yes. Attached to Subject’s file is File 42, courtesy of one Doctor Minuette D.D.S. Enclosed are x-rays and other dental records of subject. While dental surgery is not my specialty, upon review of the attached file I am in agreement with Doctor Minuette that Earshot’s teeth, while built to allow the consuming of both plant and animal tissue, are in a state of remarkable health for one who has never used a toothbrush until recently. Note to self, procure one such ‘gnawling’ for personal examination at later date.” “They’re really pretty good. Like if you get chillwood. It has a nice aftertaste that’s kinda like stuffing your mouth full of snow.” “I’ll leave it to you to bring me some for analysis later, Earshot,” Coldhoof directed. “Wait… You’ve got a gnawling that tastes like wintergreen, or peppermint?” Grapes asked. “Oh, right, you haven’t had many mints… Note to self, get some mints of each flavor.” Coldhoof examined the dental x-ray for a moment before turning to the little colt. “I am sending the subject to radiology where technician Celluloid Negative will take several images of Earshot’s various bodily portions. Rather than be in the way of the technician, Miss Sour Grapes and myself will remain here until the procedure is complete. You will be in good hooves Earshot. Celluloid Negative has dealt with ponies your age in the past and has been briefed on your appearance. There should be no awkwardness between you two.” “Oh. Um… thank you?” “Your welcome, Earshot,” Coldhoof replied. He led Earshot to the door where a pony who had a curious resemblance to an x-ray of the equine body, took him away. Coldhoof then turned off the recorder and pulled out a different wax-cylinder device, and turned it on. A soft but discordant sound filled the air, sounding like heavy rain accompanied by windchimes and random pan flutes. “Counter-eavesdropping measures. In a world where magic cantrips allow for ponies to listen in, it helps to have ways to keep doctor/patient confidentiality nearby. It works on various eavesdropping mundane and magical techniques, and I see no reason it shouldn’t work on a pony with exceptional hearing.” “Was there something you wished to discuss with me, Doctor?” Grapes asked, tilting her head, curiously. “Yes, there is.” he said taking a seat behind the small desk in the room and motioning to the chair on the other side. “It concerns my goddaughter.” “Skyhook? What’s going on with her? She seemed to be fine, last time I saw her,” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow, as she sat down in the indicated chair. “I wanted to thank you for taking command of the situation the way you did. I also would like to thank you for taking control of Skyhook’s punishment. When her parents sent her into my care it was intended to be an abject lesson in tolerance of others and loving thy NEIGH bor…” he coughed into his hoof and shrugged. Grapes blinked. “Doctor, did you just make a pun? Astonishing: you do have a sense of humor.” “My genetic family may make a practice of setting personal displays of emotion aside but I do assure you still waters do run deep. Unfortunately that practice has become a habit for me and now I find it difficult to provide to Skyhook what she needs most. That is to say, a non-pegasus role model with the same feelings and flaws that anypony can identify with.” He turned slightly to look at the clock on the wall, its second hand clicking away with the same perfection he probably led his own life. “Skyhook’s presence has made me very aware of such shortcomings in my personal philosophies, which is why it… it pleases me that she seems to be finding that role model in you, Miss Sour Grapes.” Grapes sat there looking astonished. “Wait… You’re saying that Skyhook… looks up to me? I… I honestly don’t know what to say. I’ve never been a role model, before.” “You are no doubt one of the better ones available. Intelligent, well-read, strong-willed and forceful when called upon.” He paused a moment for what was no doubt dramatic effect before continuing. “And yet for all those features you also show a good deal of compassion and a surprising level-headedness. You could have gone the easy route and taken Skyhook out for... how would my colleague, Dr. Crabapple, say it? Ah yes, a ‘good old-fashioned horse-whipping’. Instead your first act was to keep her close to the subject… Earshot, and to give her chores revolving around cleaning up the mess she herself made. You forced her to witness the results of her mistake so she would learn from it, and see where senseless tribalism often takes a pony.” “Never mind keeping Earshot’s compatriots from exerting vengeance upon her person,” Grapes added. “But if I allowed that to happen, then there would go my reputation for being tough but fair. It would have done no good to either Skyhook or Earshot to allow her to be seriously injured due to her mistake. Earshot would have felt guilty, as would the other Storm Riders. Also, Skyhook is young enough to be salvageable, so that is to her credit. Just had to show her the results of her mistake, her assumption, so the lesson could be hammered home.” “Then on that part we are in agreement. Skyhook is my goddaughter and it does alarm me that she took her attempts at tribalism that far. According to her parents, she was lured into the circle of the Down-Lookers Organisation by a charismatic and handsome leader by the name of Inclined Doctrinaire.” He took a moment to ponder on that one. “I suspect it’s a false name but still rather prophetic. How many similar groups have arisen because one pony had a smile and the right thing to say at the right time when nopony was willing to apply reason and accountability to them?” “That’s why they’re so successful,” Grapes said with a shrug. “They don’t appeal to reason, and logic, but to emotion, and pride.” “And this is why my family practices the control of emotion in favor of reason. However, as I mentioned before, sometimes it is not always the advantage it seems to be. I would like to ask a personal favor of you, Sour Grapes.” “I’d like to hear it, first, before I agree to anything,” Grapes said. “Understood. I would like to ask you to continue what it is you are doing with Skyhook. While it may not be her parents’ original intention, perhaps the presence of more pegasi would be appropriate for her to learn tolerance. They work for you, who are either earth pony or unicorn depending on your mood, and their main source of work is definitely very un-pegasus-like in nature. I also understand they come from a broad variety of backgrounds, and yet have come to respect and even celebrate one another’s differences. It may turn out that your vineyard is the stepping stone necessary for her to grow as an individual.” “That is something I’d be happy to do, Doctor Coldhoof,” Grapes replied, with a nod. “Nevermind more exposure to her own classmates, including Earshot, will help in that regard, as well. “As a point of order,” he said standing up and switching the little noisemaker off. “I would very much like to test Earshot for allergies. Doctor Crabapple can be the one to apply immunisation shots as Earshot seems to trust him, but I’m better qualified for identifying if he will have any future issues with bodily reactions.” “I think that would be a good idea, as long as he will come through said testing with little to no injury,” Grapes asserted. “A standard skin prick test should cause no more discomfort than a scraped knee or a paper cut.” he took a moment to glance at Sour Grapes before opening the door. “He hasn’t shown any any previous reactions to anything you can remember?” “None that I’ve observed,” Grapes said, after a moment’s thought. “Excellent. I believe we have given your young charge enough time to riddle the radiology personnel with questions about the equipment. Shall we go see how well he takes a photo?” “Sure, why not,” Grapes said, as she got up, and followed the doctor to Radiology. ------------------ Earshot carefully balanced himself on the silk cushion provided by Rarity as he dug into his ice cream. He hadn’t been too thrilled with the location of the immunisation shots he had received the previous day and was still rather… sore on the point. He commented that he was glad that he had the option of sleeping hanging upside down so he wouldn’t have a rude awakening when rolling over. Still, he didn’t complain about all the ice cream he got as compensation for being so brave in the face of his shots, although he quietly admitted he would have been happy with an ice pack. Sour Grapes was impressed by the functionality of the cushion. It was the same gray and purple as its owner but the shape seemed to indicate it was created specifically for Earshot’s experience with the needles. “Rarity does good work, doesn’t she?” Grapes asked. “Yes Miss Grapes. She does very good work,” Earshot said, licking the lemon flavoured goop from his muzzle. “And so fast too. I mentioned I needed something really soft to sit on because I got my shots and next thing I know she was already running the silk through the sewing machine.” “I didn’t know she could do such sturdy things as a bucking bag or speedbag,” Grapes observed. “Oh, yes. What did she mean by enjoying the challenge? It wasn’t like her other things, you know. All sparkly and frilly. You’d think it would have been easy in comparison to a dress or a suit.” “Yeah, but she does dresses and suits all the time,” Grapes observed. “She’s not used to making things that can take a beating.” “Oh. I see. Yes her clothes are so beautiful but when I was wearing my suit I was always so worried I might damage it. I guess it would be a challenge to make Mister Squall’s equipment.” Earshot’s head suddenly turned to the direction of the frames and blinked. “We just got a message from Lady Weathervain, actually it’s just Firestormer. Which is kinda weird. Usually we all get one more or less at once.” “Well, Firestormer was waiting on a message. You see, he’s getting some kind of corrective surgery,” Grapes explained. “Correct-ive?” he asked tilting his head to the side. “Like when Miss Cheerilee corrects my homework?” “Kind of. But you know how his jaw was broken, when he was a colt? It was never set correctly. Minuette thinks it’ll help his teeth mesh correctly,” Grapes explained. “Ohhh. So that’s why he never seems to really smile nice in photos? It always comes out like he knows something we don’t… which he probably does but doesn’t mean to look like it.” “Exactly,” Grapes said with a nod. “Well he’s coming this way now, and Mister Dusty is coming with him.” Earshot’s right ear twitched cutely. “And it sounds like his left rear wheel needs some grease.” “He probably knows, Earshot,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “If there’s one thing I know about Dusty, it’s that he knows how to take good care of his equipment.” The two ponies came into view. Dusty pushing his little cart along with his hind legs while Firestormer sat astride his back, looking dramatic as he commanded him in a playfully authoritative voice. “Forward, noble steed! Mush! Mush! Onward to our gracious leader!” “Dude. Why do I feel the ‘noble steed’ gets the raw end of the deal here,” Dusty said looking back at Firestormer with a smirk. “I dunno. Because I’m making you do all the pushing?” Firestormer said with a chuckle. “Honestly, I’m doing this for your own good. Lets you get in some more exercise when nopony’s looking.” “Lucky me. Oh. Hey Grapes.” “You KNOW you aren’t supposed to be straining that leg, Dusty,” Grapes said with a frown. “Sorry Grapes, but in Dusty’s favor he is still just pushing with his back half here. You know, plot power and all that.” Firestormer said, climbing down from his perch. “On an unrelated note I got a letter from Lady Weathervain. She’s sending us an intern to help out while my ability to communicate is… hindered.” “Right. Figured that had to be the reason. Doesn’t excuse you from using Dusty’s hindquarters for pedal power,” Grapes said admonishingly. “Oh don’t be such a spoilsport, dear Grapes,” Queenie said approaching from the bunkhouse. “It’s nice to see the scarecrow pulling his weight for a change.” “He can’t pull his own weight, unless you want him to lose his leg,” Grapes quipped. “Hello Queenie.” Dusty said, with a slight blush in his cheeks. “Hello, Dusty,” Queenie replied, turning away from his adoring eyes to look at her bright orange associate. “On the more important topic though, when will your assistant be arriving, Firestormer?” Firestormer checked the scroll and sighed. “You’re not gonna believe this.” “Try us,” Grapes said, deadpan. “Well boss, Lady Weathervain is notorious with us Storm Riders for having a… a motherly sense of humor.” the fire specialist said rubbing the back of his neck. “You know. The ‘let you know they’re sending a family member to your place moments before they arrive’ sort of sense of humor.” “He’s right behind us, isn’t he?” Grapes asked. “Well not RIGHT behind you, right behind you if that’s what you mean. But he’s at the end of the driveway there. Looks like he took a cab with Checkers,” Firestormer said. “Well let’s go and pick up the little nooblet,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Should be fun breaking him in.” “Oh geeze… Grapes’ got that look in her eye,” Dusty uttered watching as she trotted down the driveway. “New dude’s totally going to get fewmits duty.” The pony in question was a pegasus (big surprise there) stallion with a light blue body and a cobalt blue mane and tail trimmed to a utilitarian length. He had just finished paying Checkers and hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder when he saw them approaching. He quickly checked what looked like a photograph before dropping his bag and smartly snapping to attention. Hooves “clicked” together and he held his head up high, looking straight ahead at the horizon. “So you’re the new guy?” Grapes asked. “MA’AM, YES MA’AM!” the newcomer said, in not quite a shout but definitely with good strong lungs. “FRIENDLY FIRE MA’AM! SENT BY LADY WEATHERVAIN TO ASSIST FIRESTORMER, MA’AM!” He stopped and Sour Grapes had to take a moment to recover before addressing him once more. “I’m not a drill sergeant, kid. No need to deafen me,” Grapes said with a snort. “Dude needs fewmits duty to take off some of the spit and polish,” Dusty whispered to those nearest. Dusty’s comment caused Queenie to titter just a bit, before she remembered herself. “MA’AM, SORRY, MA’AM! I WAS RAISED TO RESPECT AUTHORITY, MA’AM!” Grapes sighed and wondered how best to get to Friendly Fire when Summer Squall placed his hoof on her shoulder in a kind manner. "Pardon me, Miss Grapes. Would you mind if'n I were to have a word with the cadet?" "Go RIGHt ahead," Grapes uttered, stepping aside. The older stallion coughed into his hoof, adjusted his hat, then faster than Grapes could be aware of, had somehow moved the dozen or so feet between himself and Friendly Fire, his muzzle so close to the younger pony's that there was hardly even room enough to put a piece of paper. “CAPTAIN ON DECK, you no-good, hoof-draggin', barnacle-suckin', land-lubbin' featherduster!" His voice BOOMED in a tone that caused the already militaristic pony to somehow straighten up even further and display a look of abject terror. "I see it in yer eyes, you wanna be in the military so bad yer teeth ache. No doubt ye've been training for it your whole life but somethin' never panned out fer ya. Now you got yerself a chance to be part of something important and you wanna make a good impression. Well you've made an impression and it's tellin' me you need to lose a little bit of the spit and polish off of ya. This ain't the Royal Guard, lad, this is more 'special forces'. Bein' a Storm Rider is more than jest followin' orders. It's about usin' yer head for more than a place to hang a helmet. It's about flexibility and teamwork. It's about knowin' when to follow and when to lead. You might already know how to be a soldier but here, we're goin't to teach you how to be a civilian, if for no other reasons at all than they are the reason we do all of this. While on this property you will defer to Miss Grapes here as your superior. You may still refer to her as 'Ma'am' if you're comfortable with it but, take a hint from Gramophones and dial down yer volume control. She deserves respect but not a busted eardrum. Now, if after your first week you STILL want to play soldier, I can oblige ya. You won't so much as eat, sleep or scratch your BUM without my say-so. Do I make myself clear?" "Crystal Clear... S-sir," Friendly Fire said at a somewhat lessened volume. "Good, Now... Parrrrade REST!" "He's all yers, Miss Grapes." Dusty sniggered. "You showed him, Cap'in." Squall smiled at Dusty and gave him a salute. "Just gotta know how to speak their language." "Now... First and foremost, which is your sername?" "Why not call him Fence? 'Cause he was as straight as a fencepost, before," suggested Dusty, with a chuckle. "Congratulations, you've gotten your Dusty-issue nickname. Everypony, except myself and Queenie has one, apparently, now you do, too." "FRIEND... *COUGH* I'm called Friendly Fire Ma'am." he managed to get out after a moment of adjusting his vocal output. "I'm aware of that. Which one is your first name?" Grapes asked. "I need something yellable, Mister Spit and Polish." "Friendly, Ma'am. I come from a long line of Friendly ponies." "Thank Celestia for small miracles, I could only imagine the issues with having to yell out ‘FIRE’ every time I had to get your attention. Kay, Friendly, you probably think you're here for teambuilding, and getting to know your teammates. Which is fine. You can still do that. What you're here for, however, is to work for me," Grapes said in her authoritative tone. "I'm touted at 'tough but fair', and right now, you're going to see the tough part. But then you've got to show yourself able to pull your weight. Right now we're composting, fertilizing, pruning, and generally doing what we can to get ready for the summer harvest season. And since you're the low pony on the totem... You get everybody's favorite pastime." "May I ask what that is, Ma'am?" "You may," Grapes said snarkily. "And I'll be only TOO glad to answer." She simply turned him to face the row of outhouses. "I suggest wearing a respirator for Outhouse One." "Ohhh maaaan. Latrine Duty." "I should not laugh. I really shouldn't," Dusty murmured, obviously fighting his face. "We call it 'fewmits duty' here, Mister Spit and Polish. You'll also be stirring the compost pile," Grapes said, casually. "Yes Ma'am," Friendly said, in a tone that suggested he knew there was no getting out of this. "Buck up, kiddo, it'll build character. Or that's what my father always told me, when I had to do it," Grapes said patting him on the back. "BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" Dusty bust out laughing. "You channeled Uncle Champ like a pro, Cuz! Hooo... Yeah... Sorry, dude, but... Hey, sucks to be you. I'm sure I'll get a turn, when the thingamabob comes off," Dusty said gesturing to his leg brace, still chuckling. “Thanks for volunteering in advance, Dusty,” Grapes said with a grin. “Oh fewmits,” the blonde stallion muttered. > Discord Datcord > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes had gone into town for some errands, and decided to stop by the local tea shop to pick up some lunch. She just wasn’t in the mood deal with Pinkie Pie, today, so she chose to visit To A Tea. However, when she entered, her ears were bombarded by the sound of Doctor Crabapple’s ire. “Now listen here you pointy-headed unicorn. This is a foal’s well-being we’re talking about!” Grapes quietly glanced around the room to the expressions of the other patrons and found none had reacted to Crabapple’s comment. In a way she was glad, to anypony who didn’t know Crabapple his statement might have sounded tribalist, but in fact it showed the familiarity between himself and his less emotional contemporary. True to form, Coldhoof wasn’t even shaken by the mild insult and spoke in his usual even tone. “This is true, however I was merely pointing out that samples of Earshot’s tissue, bone and marrow would prove most advantageous to learning more about his breed. You are the one who is acting as if I would take such painfully procured samples by force.” “Ah Sour Grapes, hello and good morning to you. Come join us, our conversation is not yet through.” Zecora called out to Sour Grapes, diverting everypony from the topic at hoof. “And what are you intellectual giants wrangling about this time, hm? I’m hardly the pony to put in a word about medical matters,” Grapes uttered, trotting over. “Oh. This,” Crabapple said, pulling a letter with the remains of a dark purple wax seal on it. “This is an official consultation of my peers. I got an invitation from Earshot’s ‘Dark Council’ to go and get their health in order… you know, just in case. So I gathered a group of some of the smartest ponies I know to help me get ready to treat a batch of Night Ponies… only ONE of us can’t get it through his pointy head that we can’t just take core samples from Earshot like he’s a tree.” “An exaggerated but not wholly inaccurate summary,” Coldhoof said sipping his tea calmly. “I was merely ‘putting it on the table’ as it were, that the more we know about Earshot the less Dr. Crabapple will have to guess at later.” “He is going to the Night Ponies? To offer vaccinations, and generally put their health in order? Do you, honestly, think they would object to his taking samples from willing volunteers, once he is there? I imagine if you wrote to Princess Luna, specifically, about the health and well being of her particular subjects, Crabby, you would find yourself kitted out with the very best in portable laboratory equipment the crown could buy.” “Well… yes. I suppose she would… That is to say…” Crabapple began before muttering under his breath “Dangit. Why didn’t I think of that?” “Because it’s obvious?” Grapes observed snarkily. “FINE!” He agreed before pulling the notepad in the middle of the table over to his side and scribbled hastily on it. “Write letter to Princess Luna. Heck it’s worth a shot.” “She IS the princess of the Night, and the Night Ponies do revere her,” Grapes observed. “Couldn’t hurt, and it would save Earshot a lot of prodding and poking. I’m sure Rarity’s generosity for comfort items would only extend so far… I’d say about as far as her patience with you, Doctor Coldhoof. I take it Doctor Goodall is here because of his bat-like qualities? I also note a distinct absence of the town pediatrician. Guess it is that time of year for little foals’ mishaps. He has his hooves full with a certain trio of mischief-makers...” “Oh yes. Dr Top is busy with some kind of ‘Sap-related incident’ but promises to give us a list of his recommendations,” Goodall said with smile. “Truth is he’s a little jealous that he never had a chance to be the first to look this ‘new’ breed of pony foal over but he said he’d get over it. But yeah. You’re right, Sour Grapes. I was called in because in the same way that various kinds of pegasi have commonalities to different kinds of birds, Coldhoof, Crabapple and Zecora figured Earshot might have biological analogues with bats.” “Considering the bat-like features, I’m not all that surprised by the supposition,” Grapes observed. “Actually I found it amazing to get a good look at him. Sure, bring me a dog, I got it diagnosed in seconds. A snake even faster, but to be honest, never seen a real live Night Pony before. I hardly knew where to begin.” The silver-haired Earth Pony chuckled and shrugged. “Fortunately he didn’t put up a fuss when I wound up going with the tried and true methods of veterinary medicine. And he liked the dog treats I keep on hand. At first I thought because of his quasi-carnivorous diet he might be related to more protein-hungry bats like Myotis vivesi or Vampire Bats. Then I did a little research. You wanna know what I found?” “I’m all a-flutter,” Grapes uttered, deadpan. The mare pulled a large book out from her bag and put on the table, flipping to a marked page which bore a rather frightening-looking image of a bat, with it’s wings outstretched and sharp teeth bared in a ferocious manner. “Say hello to the common Vampire Fruit Bat. Don’t be fooled by the photo, they just caught this cute fellow in mid-yawn.” Goodall chortled and flipped to the next few pages that went into detail on organs and habits. “They can be a pest to fruit farmers but they’re mostly harmless, and perhaps most importantly… vegetarians. Earshot’s kin may have adapted to a wider diet but my professional opinion is, a thousand years ago, natural Night-Ponies were never anywhere near the threat that popular culture thinks they have.” “History is written by the victors, Doctor Goodall, or at least those what were left behind to write it. And those who were left behind to write the history, and later folklore, had just been through the Nightmare Moon Insurrection,” Grapes said with a sad smile. “So it would only natural to turn perfectly harmless ponies who just happened to look a bit scary, and be quite different into monsters.” “It is true that history is seldom fair. Some call me witch-doctor instead of Medicine Mare.” Zecora added with a slight smirk. “We fear what we do not understand, it seems to be the rule of any land.” “If not a rule, an all too common practice that can be nipped in the bud with education, and understanding along with the much vaunted love and tolerance,” Grapes uttered. “Love and tolerance, though, only comes after it’s been pounded, forcibly, into hard heads that ‘the other’ are often not so different from ourselves. Even then some heads are just too darned hard.” “Pity we can’t just have Twilight and her friends rainbow-blast the ‘stupid’ out of everypony in Equestria.” Crabapple chuckled. “Bet that’d take way too long.” “Assuming that the Elements of Harmony can only affect one pony at a time, and have unlimited uses then by my calculations that would take so long that by the time you finish one generation, you would have a new one at adult levels.” Coldhoof said scribbling out some figures on the sheet and showing them to the others. “In the end it’s a noble, yet futile and possibly unethical endeavor to ‘blast the stupid’ out of others.” “And we don’t even know if they could ‘blast the stupid’ out of ponies. Ignorance is bliss, and bliss can be a fine source of harmony,” Grapes uttered, obviously in a fine cynical mood. “You know, this is getting kinda dark. Let’s focus on our original problem here,” Goodall pointed out. “Now I know you’re a general practitioner, Crabapple, so I’ll give you some of my veterinary journals to take with you. Be on the watchout for rabies and fungal infections. Bat colonies can be very susceptible to them.” “Hm… Good to know,” Grapes observed. “But remember these are ponies. They’re bound to practice basic hygiene…” Coldhoof nodded and flipped the page over on the notebook. “Perhaps my best contribution will be creating a list of equipment that you will need to be efficient in your task. “ “Well the more you know, the better, and easier the trip will be,” Grapes said. “About what to pack, not about trying to take core samples of a ten-year-old colt. Just saying.” “Your advice is noted and appreciated.” Coldhoof said, scribbling away. His writing looking oddly “blocky” and precise rather than the usual illegible “Medical Scrawl” the average pony would expect from a doctor. “One can only hope that your high expectations of the Moon Princess is duly placed. While limited resources would no doubt produce a challenge, they also can hinder such an operation as this.” “I wish I could go with you. The plants there, I would wish to view. They would have properties I had never seen, and would make my potions extra keen,” Zecora said, then eyed Crabapple. “Now when you visit, you are sure to find ponies who are similar in kind to a zebra mare on which you took a chance. Be sure to give their ways a glance. ” The green earth pony blinked then smiled at Zecora. “Of course. Thanks for reminding me to do more than just try to ‘civilise’ them, Zecora. If Earshot is any kind of indication, I’m probably gonna learn as much from them as they will from me.” “Oh, look, he is learning,” Grapes snarked with a grin. Everypony at the table laughed, even Coldhoof gave a slight turn of corner of his mouth in response to the joke. Grapes however noticed a raised newspaper at a corner table shake before being brought down abruptly. She instantly recognised Nurse Dearheart, even out of uniform. The unicorn mare seemed to glare at the table of healers for a moment before she calmed down, stood up, tossed a few bits on the table before heading out the door. “You know she’s got a crush on you, right?” Grapes said, nodding to the exiting form of Nurse Dearheart. “What? Who?” Coldhoof said turning his head to see the last of Dearheart leaving. “Oh. You are mistaken. Nurse Dearheart and I only share a professional relationship.” “Right. Like she’s not totally jealous of Zecora,” Grapes observed. “And I wasn’t talking to YOU, Coldhoof....” “Ah. Well, my statement still stands. And besides, it is obvious that she’s infatuated with Dr. Crabapple.” “WHAT!” Crabapple said, instantly on his feet, staring at Coldhoof. “Who was the pony I was actually addressing,” Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. “But… but… but…” Crabapple stammered trying to get his mind around the new information. “She... LIKES me?” ”This appears to be universally true, that the female notices attraction well before the males do,” Zecora observed. “But she’s… she’s… DEARHEART! She’s never… I mean she’s so…” he took a deep breath and spoke in an almost pleading tone. “Just look at me. Why me?” Grapes very visibly facehoofed. “I would presume she’s gotten to know you, and more than just the grouchy mask you wear. She knows you’ve got a good heart, and are very dedicated to your craft and your patients. What nurse would NOT be attracted to that?” Crabapple looked at Grapes a moment before looking at his peers around the table. He then slowly lowered himself back into his chair looking confused and a little sad, as if he had just thrown away something he probably would have really wanted. The group was quiet a moment before Zecora stood up and sighed. “Come with me, Sour Grapes. We have moments before she escapes.” “Oh… Kay…” Grapes said following the zebra out the door. The two mares exited the shop and found the usual crowd of Ponyville traffic. “Our quarry cannot have gone far,” Zecora said scanning the immediate area. “There! Dearheart! Stop where you are!” “Oh. You.” The nurse said with a touch of venom. “What do you want?” “Spare me your ire, spare me your woe, there are just some things we need to know,” Zecora replied. “Like what?” “First off, Dearheart, I wish you to speak true. In your own words tell me, what’s gotten into you?” “Nothing! Nothing’s gotten into me! THAT’S the problem!” Nurse Dearheart’s hooves went up in a heartbeat to cover her mouth as a fierce blush rose up to colour her cheeks. Grapes blinked, then started laughing hard. “I presume you’re wanting the good Doctor Crabapple to… probe you deeply?” Poor Dearheart seemed too mortified at her own words to do much more than give a tiny nod worthy of Fluttershy herself. Zecora smiled and gave an amused shake of her head. “You wish the good doctor was your mate, so why am I the target of your hate?” “He… he likes you so much, Zecora. He spends so much time with you. You two are so alike, that you get along so well and both want to help others and, and… and I don’t have a chance with him.” Dearheart managed to get out. “He appreciates my company, and my art, but I do not hold his heart,” Zecora replied. “I am a friend, and a professional peer, and it was on a medical matter he wished to bend my ear. You’ve got a chance with him, any old day. I.. uh… well I do not swing that way. And also, any other doubts this should solve, I am already happily involved.” “Honestly, Crabby was positively shocked at the thought that anypony would find him romantically desirable,” Grapes chimed in. “He…? Oh, Crabby. You poor, dedicated doofus.” Dearheart said shaking her head with a chuckle. “I thought I was being so obvious.” “Dearheart, he’s a stallion. You practically have to hit him over the head to get him to notice anything romantic,” Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. “So c’mon, let’s go bash you a stallion-noggin.” They trotted back to the teashop to find all of the patrons in the middle of a rather enthusiastic performance. "...On the Mooooooooooon!" "... What?" Everyone in the Teashop turned to stare at Sour Grapes, then quickly sat back down as if nothing happened. "Am I missing something?" Grapes asked. "Uhhhhh..." Goodall began, looking a little uncomfortable. "We just...were trying to cheer up Crabapple and were quoting… some lines. Just from some silly show we like. That's all." "Really. Okay." "Yes. Amusing but frivolous and of no true concern." Coldhoof said, suddenly sounding out-of-characteristically evasive Grapes pursed her lips, thoughtfully. "'The Tyrant Celestia Variety Show'?" Everyone in the teashop uncomfortably shifted in their seats. Coldhoof nodded to Grapes and took a breath. "It feels like treason to pay and watch it in it's entirety, and yet... you cannot help but be pulled into the performance." "I'll reserve judgment until I actually see it." "I have seen this play as well. It is quite good, from what I tell." Zecora said, guiding Dearheart into the seat next to Crabapple. "Dr. Crabapple should risk a dare, and take miss Dearheart to a performance there." "What? Me? I... I mean..." he stopped and looked into Dearheart's eyes and smiled weakly. "I'd be delighted to." "So would I, Crabapple." "Uh... there's a performance tomorrow." "What time?" "Around eight." "I'll meet you at Sugarcube Corner at seven. How should I dress?" "Uh... casual. They're pretty low-key." "Right." Grapes smirked. "I'll be sure to check it out. A relative of one of my farmhooves is part of the troupe. Might be a good second date with Stormfront, too. He chose last time." ----------------------------------------------------------------- Some days later, Sour Grapes had followed her crew into town for the Summer Sun Celebration. It was strange to say it but staying home tonight without anypony else on the property would have felt...lonely. Also she knew if she didn’t come out of her own volition, Applejack probably would have wrangled her to Ponyville anyways. Besides, it was that time of year again to put up a posting for farmshooves for the Vineyard. Might as well deal with two chores at once, right? What did surprise her though was when the sun set and the moon rose, the streets of Ponyville lit up like a beacon in the night. Everywhere there was all manner of lanterns and lights. Their combined golden glow becoming an amazingly beautiful incandescence that highlighted the countless ponies that trotted happily though the streets. She was transfixed by the sight for a moment, long enough for a purple presence to appear beside her. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Twilight Sparkle shared with Grapes, a small notebook floated in front of her as she wrote down notes. “Everywhere else in Equestria, the night before the Summer Sun Festival has always been a little more of an... afterthought for the whole beginning of summer. Apparently this is a new tradition unique to Ponyville.” “Lanterns? Why lanterns?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “So yeah, we had a nightmare abomination hold the sun hostage, and try to shroud Equestria in Eternal Night… However, like another holiday I’m only fond of due to chocolate being half price the day after, that’s no reason to create a holiday.” “Well it’s not really a NEW holiday but rather an extension of an existing one. I mean everypony was already staying up all night long to see the sunrise… now they have another reason… The Night of a Thousand Lanterns. The mayor said that last year when we had… Nightmare Moon’s return, somepony suggested that to keep ponies from panicking they should light every light in town and bring them into the streets.” The purple unicorn checked her notes as if verifying what she said before continuing. “Now a year later some of the city council members suggested that the city should make it a regular part of the Summer Sun Festival… although the cynical part of me wants to say it’s an excuse to sell lanterns, it really is a neat and fun event.” “Well this cynical pony agrees with your cynical side,” Grapes observed with a smirk. “It’s a gimmick to sell lanterns, and oil. Though, you’ve got to admit, this is a neat way to do the whole ‘stay up until the sunrise’ thing.” “Oh definitely! You know, it’s actually so FASCINATING to see this… sociological mutation on the Celebration as it happens. May be worth a note in some of the papers written on the topic. Oooh. Caramels in the shape of the sun and moon interlocked. How clever,” Twilight said, suddenly distracted by a candy hawker’s wares. Grapes shook her head, amused, and looked around There was laughter and a lot of chatter going on. Not quite what one would call outright “frivolity”, but definitely there was a lot of fun happening, and anticipation of the dawn. She caught a fleeting glimpse of the Cutiemark Crusaders dashing past, wearing capes and… the darndest headpieces. “The hay are those things?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “What things?” Twilight asked, her mouth full of freshly purchased caramel. Her eyes then fell on the hats in question. “OH! You haven’t seen the deely bobbers yet?” “The what?” Grapes asked, looking straight at Twilight. “Look, I don’t get out, much, and you live right in the middle of the town, so…” “Well I don’t know if they’re REALLY called Deely bobbers but that’s what a lot of ponies are calling them. They’re so neat.” She pulled one out of her saddlebags and held it out for her to examine. It was a simple headband with a long springie bit that extended from the forehead with a brightly glowing ball that bobbed about in the most distracting manner. It reminded her of some deep-sea fish that Summer Squall had described to her at one point. “The ball has a simple light-storage spell in it, like a sun-crystal but it’s cheaper. A synthetic material that only stores it for a few hours at a time. Not sure who invented it but it’s really quite clever.” “But they look so silly,” Grapes said tilting her head, as she examined it. “I know!” Twilight laughed, watching Pinkie Pie bounce past, her deely bobber bouncing wildly about as she did so. “Sometimes you need something silly in your life. Lets other ponies know there’s some life in you somewhere….” she then lowered her voice to a bit of a growl, “That reminds me… Thank you OH so much for sending that Twilight-shaped balloon to Princess Celestia. She still teases me about it.” “You’re welcome,” Grapes said with a happy smile. “I thought it would make her day. Turned out I was right.” “It’s still floating there, tied to the coatrack in her observatory… staring at me.“ Grapes blinked, and giggled. “It’s a balloon, Twilight. It’s not staring at you, despite what you may think,” she said, patting the learned unicorn on the back, gently. “It’s just an optical illusion. I don’t think Redline would put that kind of enchantment on a balloon that’s intended to go to the Princess. That would get him locked up quicker than you can say deely bobber.” “I know. But it’s so… embarrassing. I keep getting flashbacks to floating about like that… and this strange memory of being a child’s plaything.” she trailed off a moment before chuckling “I’m not really mad at you just… embarrassed.” “Ah. Right. Moondust,” Grapes said making a face. “Sorry about that. Moondust thought you floating around like a balloon was amusing.” “Well. I guess that’s ok. I mean I can’t stay mad at Moondust for something like that, right?” “Exactly. She’s just a kid. She thought it was funny,” Grapes said with a sigh. “So, aside from a way for the local vendors to sell kvetchy knickknacks… There’s no real purpose to this holiday aside from making staying up for the sunrise a little more of an event?” “Well, they were going to stay up anyways. Might as well make it more fun.” Twilight looked over at the winemaker and smirked impishly. “Try it on.” “What?” Grapes asked gazing at Twilight flatly. “Oh come on. You know you wanna see what it’s like.” Twilight teased. “It’s goofy, it’s dumb but at the same time it’s clever. Admit it. You wanna try the deely bobber on.” Grapes issued a long-suffering sigh. “Fi-i-i-i-i-i-ne,” she uttered, putting the ridiculous thing on. The headband slipped snugly around her forehead and she felt a slight tingle as the magic took effect. The rubber-like bobble glowed softly at the tip, forming a moving bright spot in her field of vision. Every time she made even the slightest head motion, it bobbed about in the silliest way. It WAS silly, she FELT silly… so silly she wanted to giggle. So she did, a bit, then cleared her throat, then looked at Twilight. “I’m wearing it. It looks positively silly.” “You’re having fun. Aren’t you, Sour Grapes?” “You couldn’t make me admit that with Tinhorn’s Truth Telling Cantrip.” “Thought so.” “Oh, shut up, Sparkle,” Grapes groused good-naturedly. “You know,” Twilight giggled. “Rainbow Dash said the same thing to me when I got her to wear one.” “Oh shut up, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash said, walking past with a multi-coloured deely bobber on her head. “And yet, Dash is STILL wearing hers,” Twilight giggled. “Probably because she thinks she can make it ‘cool’, somehow,” Grapes observed, not bothering to take her’s off. “Yeah. I’m going to send one to Princess Celestia. Most ponies underestimate her sense of humor. I can only imagine her wearing one at the next civic council meeting.” “I didn’t,” Grapes said with a smirk. “And I like the fact that she has one. Makes her more pony and less plaster saint.” “Plaster saint,” the purple unicorn said with a smile. “It’s nice to talk to you. My other friends are great but sometimes it’s wonderful to hear a pony talking at the same level as me.” “That’s what I’m here for. Intelligent conversation, and weapons grade snark,” Grapes quipped. “I’m going to go and get some more of those caramels before they run out. Wanna meet up later and swap notes?” “I wasn’t intending to taking notes, but I guess I could…” Grapes observed. “Well in your case it would probably be more like ‘snarky observations’.” “You’ll get those. Trust me,” Grapes said with a smirk. As Grapes wandered around she noticed a familiar face with another familiar face in tow. The brightly hued Spitfire of the Wonderbolts walked over with the equally brightly coloured Firestormer right beside her. “Didn’t expect to see you at our little shindig, Spitfire. Taking a break from your busy holiday schedule?” Grapes asked. “Yeah. Thought I’d visit mister hottie, here, and ended up sending the day with him,” she replied. “He’s SUCH a good listener.” “You do realise that’s mainly because his jaw is wired shut, right?” Grapes quipped with a smirk. “Let me have my delusions.” Firestormer managed a smile and despite the braces-like setup inside of his mouth he seemed to be conveying he was having a decent time. “Of course his hardware there means he’s limited to what he can and can’t eat. Mostly smoothies, boy he’s gonna lose weight,” Spitfire observed. “We’ve had more than one Wonderbolt have to have the same thing done after a severe faceplant. Hope this isn’t gonna hurt his job any.” “Well he’s a conflagratory weather pattern expert, not a stunt flier. Though I’ll be sure to have plenty of nice, solid, filling food waiting for his jaw to be unwired, so he can get back up to a good flying weight,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Never mind him celebrating being off the smoothie diet.” “That’s good. While most girls I know like a guy lean and mean, it’s usually sad when they start getting ribsey on you.” “Emaciation is never a good look,” Grapes agreed, with a nod, her deely bobber… well… bobbing. Firestormer’s eyes bounced along with the little bobbing light and he snickered behind his metal-laced grin. It was hard to say where Spitfire’s eyes were behind those aviator’s glasses but she seemed unphased by the obvious distraction. “Tell me about it. Still, I notice he’s got an apprentice right now.” Spitfire’s voice dropped low and quiet as she leaned in closer to Grapes. “Be very careful with Friendly Fire. He’s a good kid but… things happen around him.” “I’ve been warned,” Grapes deadpanned. “Yeah. The damage to the Dizzitron… and the damage it caused when it came loose from it’s moorings, was really… it wasn’t his fault and yet it was. Do you know what I’m saying?” She stopped, pressed her hoof to the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Sorry. I’m not saying he’s a walking disaster but for some reason when he’s around, his own side suffers.” “I appreciate the warning, Spitfire. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Thanks. I do mean it when I say he’s a good kid. Strong military upbringing, level head on his shoulders most of the time. Maybe this is his big shot to make his old mare proud.” “We’ll see. Hopefully we won’t have any eldritch abominations at the morning festivities, this year,” Grapes said, as she trotted off to find the others. “Seriously we could do with some relative normalicy for a while.” ---------------------------- The balmy days of spring had given over to the more sultry days of summer, and with the change of season came the plumping of the grapes, and the harvesting of the Sun’s Spring Glory. Even though the Storm Riders were fantastic workers, there was quite a lot of work, even for them. So Grapes put up the notice, and hired on some extra hooves. She noticed one very different change this time. Instead of strictly earth pony prospects showing up on her doorstep this time she was seeing a wider variety of ponies. Yes, most were earth ponies but there were some pegasi and even a few unicorns in the mix. No doubt the presence of the Storm Riders had caused stories of her being an equal-opportunity employer to spread. Not that she was going to complain. She saw some ponies who were probably doing this out of curiosity, some because they did serious work, some who were doing summer jobs because they were TOLD to and then… there were an obviously married unicorn couple who looked like life had very recently forced them to take whatever work they could. She shook off the wave of sympathy she felt looking at those two and forced herself to do her “Welcome to MY vineyard” speech. She did notice that when she hadn’t been looking, her “permanent” residents had quietly slipped into the lineup. No doubt they didn’t want it to look like there was any favoritism, clever ponies they were. Even Dusty and Thistledown were in there. Grapes paced in front of them, for a moment, then spotted Redline standing off to the side, looking at the unicorn couple. She looked from the inventor to the couple, and back, then turned to him. “Redline, do you know these ponies?” she asked, curiously. The look on his face was unusually stern and focused. She could see his gaze met by each of the two unicorns in turn. The colonial blue stallion with a white mane, and the white mare with a shockingly red mane each stared at him as if desperate to say something, anything in that moment. Redline however spoke first in a clear voice with a definite edge to it. “I thought I knew those two, Miss Grapes. I honestly did, but it seems I was mistaken,” he turned his back on them and began to walk away. “It turns out I don’t know them at all.” Sour Grapes heard a soft muffled sob from the mare as the stallion hugged her close. She wasn’t certain who it was but one of the ponies present muttered “Woah… harsh.” Grapes had to agree, but it was something she had to deal with later. “Alright, everypony, some of you may have to share. Our obvious couple would make things easier, of course, but anypony who doesn’t mind having a bunkmate find somepony tolerable,” Grapes said. “Most of you will be starting on those fully ripe rows, there. The bright red grapes already have a work detail assigned. You are being paid by the weight, not by the hour, unless you’re on latrine duty, because I don’t put fertilizer on the scales. I will be supervising, and making sure you do not overwork, or get overheated. Any questions?” Nopony seemed to have any additional questions. Grapes set them to work, assigning the Storm Riders to the Sun’s Spring Glory. Well most of them. Queenie got back to her usual job of deseeding and destemming. “Say, Queenie? I hope you don’t mind being saddled with a helper,” Grapes said, casually pushing Dusty in on the cart he’d been using to get around the fields. Dusty was shaking his head, and waving his good right forehoof in an effort to try and dissuade her, but was quite unsuccessful. “What? Oh. Him,” she said flatly before sighing. “Well, beggars cannot be choosers, and those who wish to be employed cannot argue with their employer’s wishes. Am I correct?” “Well he’s done a lot of other things, honestly. He’s already got all the bottles labeled, for the next ten batches of wine… I ran out of bottles, and I won’t need any more until those are used. Then he’s taken care of the pruning for all the rows, and even my garden plants, planted the watermelon for the Summer Sunrise wine, harvested some lighter things around the vineyard. But if you wouldn’t feel comfortable with him in here, he could just be hanging out,” Grapes explained. “But if I don’t work I don’t get paid, and I can’t send any bits to those nice ponies that helped me out,” Dusty said quietly. “Have you been saving anything?” Grapes asked exasperated. “A little,” Dusty said looking meek. “But you’ve been sending most of… Dusty,” Grapes groaned. “Just trying to do the right thing,” Dusty uttered, looking mullish. “Please. I beg you. Try to stand him, so I don’t wring his neck,” Grapes uttered, leaving him there, and stalking out begging Celestia to save her from the stupidly generous. “Well… That would be one way to get rid of me, but I don’t think the courts would see it as justifiable equicide,” Dusty joked weakly. “Fine,” Queenie said, getting behind the cart and pushing Dusty towards the deseeding shed. “This way to the Emerald City, Scarecrow. Let’s hope we can get you a brain soon.” “I know, right? Brainless antics only amuse for the first five minutes. Then they get grating,” Dusty observed with a chuckle. He then sat up, and looked at the work surface intently. “All right. Teach me, o mistress of the deseeding shed. I await your wisdom and guidance.” “It’s simple enough. With the added advantage of a horn you should be able to pick it up rather quickly,” Queenie admitted. “I shall watch and learn, so I may do a good job,” Dusty said, watching as she plucked a bunch of grapes, and deftly destemmed them, and efficiently deseeded them. He blinked, then looked at her then looked at the finished product. “Whoa. You’re good.” "I have a great deal of practice in wielding a blade. You remember meeting my mother back at the manse? She would be mortified if I couldn't prepare foodstuffs in any capacity." "Your... The cook is your Mom?" Dusty asked, remembering the last good night he had at Avalanche Valley. “Well don’t sound too surprised. My family has a long tradition of… public service. And in the valley, everypony pulls their weight.” “‘The greatest of distinctions is service to others’,” Dusty quoted, smiling in reminiscence. "Well... yes. Yes it certainly is." Queenie said with a slight blush. "So where did you learn that?" "Oh, I met this rather smart mare at a winter sports event. I found her to be as wise as she was beautiful," Dusty said with a half-smile. "Funny... All I met at one of those was a charming young stallion with a good heart." "That's a combo that can be hard to find, nowadays," Dusty observed picking up a bunch of grapes, and carefully copied Queenie’s destemming and deseeding technique somewhat slower than she did it. "A lot of the charming ones either have dark hearts, or at least moderately naughty." "I can live with naughty, if it were playfully so... It's the dark hearts that would frighten me. Far too many selfish, cruel souls in the world today. " “I know,” Dusty said quietly. "I've always tried not to be one.” Queenie was silent a moment before coughing awkwardly. “Yes. Well, let’s see how you do with the deseeding process. I find it rather relaxing to do a repetitive and fairly easy task such as this. It lets one have time to think of other things.” “Not a bad thing,” Dusty said as he moved on to the next bunch. “I’m sure it’ll take me a while to attain to your level of flair, but I’ll work at it.” “Good. Oh.. One more thing,” she said moving to the back of the shed and pulling a drop cloth off of a gramophone. “I hope you don’t mind but I enjoy a little music while working. Helps build a rhythm.” Dusty grinned and nodded. “I think I’d work better to music, anyway,” he said chuckling. “After all music is a big part of what I do on the slopes.” “Oh yes, silly me to forget. Now let me see,” she muttered flipping through an assortment of vinyl records before selecting one and setting it on the turntable. She gave the handle a crank and a moment later some surprisingly lively swing began to play. “Ah, there we go. Keeps the mood refreshingly light.” “Nice,” Dusty observed, then began to work, his knife in rhythm with the music. “There you go. Let the music guide your pace, If you feel rushed then don’t go by every beat but rather every other beat,” Queenie instructed. “I think I can handle it,” Dusty said, distractedly, as he worked, seeming to go into a meditative state, his work speeding up slightly. It was easy to get into the swing of things. the shed was small but cozy and cut out outside distractions. The music had a decent pace to it and the company… once she was in the groove, as it were, her body subtly bounced to the beat of the record. Funny, he had never thought what sort of music she might be into before but now that he saw her like this, swing actually seemed to suit her. He smiled a bit, deciding to check the local music store. There may be some things he liked that she may, too. One never could tell. He often lamented the lack of a truly portable music system. That would be one way to while away the hours spent traveling. Or at least block out all the bloody distractions of ponies chattering away while he tried to read. Dusty then paused. Something was starting to feel wrong, somehow. Dusty looked over at Queenie, looking at her, with some concern. “Queenie? Do you feel like something’s… off?” The blonde mare glanced over at him, then opened a cupboard and pulled out a large glass jug filled with ice water. She gave it a swirl and frowned at the way the ice sank to the bottom of the jug. “You… you feel it too?” “Yeah. Kind of like that feeling I get when I just know a run is going to go bad,” Dusty said shaking his head. “You feel something similar?” “Yes. Summer Squall says that when you specialise with a certain… element of nature as we do in the Storm Riders, it gets under your skin. You begin to get attuned to it in a way most other ponies never bother to achieve,” She put the jug down and looked out the window. “I can feel something going… wrong in mine.” “This is kind of distracting…” Dusty murmured. “Look, I know I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but isn’t ice supposed to float in water?” “It’s supposed to. Something is truly wrong, and it seems to be affecting the world on the level of it’s natural laws.” “This does not bode well,” Dusty said quietly. “So… What should we do to be ready for this storm?” The blonde stallion, eased himself off the cart, standing up with a small wince of pain, and a lot of clicking of gears and gyros. He turned to her, a determined expression on his face, ready to receive instructions. “Well… we need to get everypony together on this,” she said taking her mane-net off followed by the smock. She then glanced down at the new clockwork brace that ran up and down his leg. “Are you comfortable enough with your new leg-brace to do this?” “I’m fine. It’s not as bad as the other brace,” Dusty asserted. “Ah yes. Getting all those pins removed must have been excruciating. Especially with Dr. Coldhoof doing it… efficient yes but the comfort he provides is the cold variety.” She coughed into her hoof and opened the door to the shed. “After you. Gather as many of the others as you can and we’ll rendezvous at the bunkhouse and prepare as best we can.” “Will do,” Dusty said, limping out. He turned back to her, giving her a rather soulful look. “Be careful, and… watch what you say. There’s something about this… Feels like what you say could go horribly wrong, if you let it.” A confused look flickered across her face before she nodded to him and took flight towards the fields where the farmhooves were. Soon they were all gathered by the bunkhouse, Grapes at the head of the group, she looking as disquieted as the rest. “All right. We’re all getting a feeling of foreboding, I take it?” Grapes asked, looking at everypony there. “A feeling that something isn’t ‘right’ in the world, and we’re about to be smacked in the face with it?” “Aye, lass,” Summer Squall said from his rocking chair. “There’s something wrong with the tides. I can feel it in me blood.” The other ponies around the room, even the ones who didn’t know Squall that well at least recognised a pony who knew what he was talking about. Sirocco held up an hourglass and tapped the side. “Something has awoken, Sour Grapes. Something strange. Never before have I seen sand in an hourglass flow both ways at the same time.” “There are black flames in the fireplace.” Firestormer stated, sounding almost angry. “Even with chemicals or magic I’ve never seen THAT before.” Stormfront rose up and held up a large pink fluffy glob for all to see. “I felt something wrong in the wind so I went up to take a look…” He took a bite out of it and chewed thoughtfully. “Clouds should REMIND us of cotton candy… not actually be MADE of it.” “Okay then… Things are chaotic… Chaotic? Wait…” Grapes said frowning, scuffing a hoof on the floor, and feeling something there, as well. “Chaotic… I remember reading something about chaos. Before the Nightmare Moon Insurrection, but after the founding of Equestria. Brace yourselves, everypony, it’s only going to get…” There was a faint whimper off by the front door. All heads turned to see Earshot staring out the open door at the landscape beyond, his ears lowered into the “I am SO freaked out right now” position. “Earshot? What’s going on, what do you hear?” Grapes asked, concerned. “I just heard somepony… someONE laughing…” he said quietly. “And they had an ‘under-tone’.” Grapes was immediately on guard. She had heard Earshot speak of ‘Under-tones’ before. Where when inherently magical beings like Princess Celestia spoke, to him they sounded like they had a strange “background noise”. (in her case he described it as sounding like picnics on the beach, and dancing through tall grass on a hot summer day ) If this pony… no, he didn’t even use the word pony. He referred to this laugh as coming from a someONE. That was a big-old warning bell right there. “What does this being sound like?” Grapes asked, frowning. “It… He sounds like… like…” Everypony in the room was silent when Earshot turned his head back to look up at Sour Grapes. His golden eyes wide in fear and astonishment. “...EVERYTHING.” There was a low rumble outside as if to punctuate Earshot’s statement with a little drama. Rain began to fall and everyone seemed to relax a little until Dusty noticed a little detail about the rain hitting the windows. Dusty frowned, then limped closer. “Brown? Why is the rain brown?” he asked, curiously, stocking his head out from under the porch. He ducked back under, drenched in what-ever the clouds were raining, and licked his lips. “Chocolate. Hey, Storm Rider dudes? Have you ever had chocolate rain, before?” The group all looked at one another before all eyes turned to Summer Squall, the pony who probably had the “Been there done that” T-Shirt somewhere in his closet. He tasted the rain, then thought about it a moment before shaking his head. “Never. I’ve seen weather patterns pick up strange things before including the flaming-manure storm of ‘75, lad, but never honest to goodness chocolate milk before.” “Suggestions, Storm Riders?” Grapes asked, looking around at everypony there. They all looked at one another a moment before Sirocco spoke in an almost apologetic manner. “We tell Twilight Sparkle? I am sorry, but she has direct contact with Princess Celestia. If anypony should be informed, it should be her.” “If they’ve noticed everything we have, I’m sure that she’s already been made aware of the situation, and has been in contact with Princess Celestia,” Grapes said with a slight smile. “The suggestions I was looking for was how to ‘batten down the hatches’ so to speak, so we can weather this fairly intact.” “Uh… Be careful what you may say?” Dusty suggested. “I told this to Queenie, but… something in the air feels like it’s just waiting for us to say the wrong thing so it can be twisted to its own ends.” “This from all the times you’ve dealt with agents, Dusty?” Grapes asked with a smirk. “What can I say? Good agents are like… like humans. Mythical beings that you only hear about but have never seen for yourself,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “Best I can suggest is… try to somehow minimize the damage as best you can. This can be written off as a bad year, and I do have some bits saved up in chase of a stormy season, so to speak, and hopefully… Well… we’ll see if the wine in the aging caves makes it through this catastrophe,” Grapes said with authority. “If you new folks would rather go home, and help your families deal with this latest threat as best as you can, I won’t stand in your way. And no, staying on won’t earn you double pay.” This of course earned some sour looks from the ones that were being forced into the summer work, but Grapes was quick to return the sour looks. “Look, I’m not made of money, and you very obviously don’t want to be here. So go home, and be with your families,” Grapes said sternly. “And hope our undersung heroes can save the day.” Some of the temps nodded, and left. The older unicorn couple just looked at each other sadly, and stayed on, along with some others. Grapes sighed. “Honestly, I think it’d be safer if you guys went into the ‘Friendship Shelter’, I’ll explain why we call it that later. The Storm Riders are trained professionals. You guys, to be frank, aren’t. There’s food and drink down there. So just hang out, down there, until Twilight and her pals can fix this mess.” The temps who stayed all nodded, and went downstairs, murmuring quietly as they went. Dusty turned and looked at Queenie, since she seemed to be the “boss” of the department in which he was currently working. She stared back at him for a moment before sighing. “Right, right. Ah... Sour Grapes is right about ‘Battening down the Hatches’.” She said with as much authority as she could muster. “We must do a quick run around the property to be certain everything has been tied down, covered over or locked up. The standard twister drill.” “Right… Maybe I should just… go into the shelter too,” Dusty said with a heavy sigh, after taking a long look at his braced leg, obviously hating the feel of being useless. “Not exactly going to ‘run around’ the vineyard, like this.” “Oh you won’t get off that easily, Dusty.” Queeny chided giving him a push from behind. “You will go from room to room in the Bunkhouse and main house to be certain every window is shut and every shutter barred. You’re limited, not infirm.” “GUH! As you wish, ma’am,” Dusty uttered, after being pushed, and quickly keeping himself from falling on his face. He glared at her retreating back, briefly, before going upstairs to take care of his assignment. Queenie stepped outside and almost felt bad for giving Dusty such a good shove like that. But then again he was getting into a self-pitying mood and that wasn’t about to help anypony. Truth be told she hated when others did that in a crisis. She suspected she could get fairly self-pitying at times but she at least TRIED to have some dignity when doing it. At least making Dusty know he could still contribute would let him feel less… less like a disaster. She sighed and headed over to the eastern field. She KNEW he wasn’t that bad of a guy, but she wanted to stay mad at him for contributing to what was now known as the “Ponythirst Fiasco”. It would make it easier for her to go through with “Plan B”, AKA: marrying into money. The last thing she needed was to be reminded how a troublesome bundle of powder trash was one of the kindest, nicest, handsomest most gentleponyish stallions she had ever met. But… she had a kingdom to think of… or actually a duchy, but that was just semantics. They desperately needed money and she might be their only way of getting enough of it to get out from under their cloud of debt. Queenie deliberately *BONKED* her head against the side of one of the frames in frustration. “Why isn’t there ever an easy way out of these things?” “Why indeed?” said a voice from the ether. It was masculine, but not particularly deep. “Though, your solution is close at hoof, but you keep the poor boy at leg’s length.” Queenie turned around scanning the area for some manner of source. “Pardon me? Is somepony there?” “Well… some PONY isn’t here… I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for little old me,” came that rather urbane voice, again, its accent sounding rather cultured, yet mischievous. “Would you… kindly show yourself?” she asked cautiously, a little wary at making any sort of demand to voices in the air. “I’m a little at a loss to speak to voices without faces.” “Can’t have anypony thinking you mad, now can we,” chuckled the voice, and before her floated a small… something. It had a long, snake-like body, with an eagle’s claw and a lion’s paw as forelimbs, the head of… she guessed a pony, but with one large fang, and a mismatched horns: One from a deer, and one she thought possibly from a goat. “Now, my dear, you seem to be in a conundrum. I’m not normally known for helping those in need, quite the opposite, actually, but… well, it can’t be said I don’t relish a challenge.” “Oh my,” she murmured, looking the being, that was before her, over. Fortunately, years of good manners guided her tongue without her thinking of it. “You’re perhaps the most… unique individual I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. And yes… yes I am in somewhat of a… as you put it… a conundrum.” “And you were wanting an easy way out of it?” he asked, giving her a sly look. “Don’t we all? One simply cannot ‘wish’ such things as a region-wide debt away. Such things take planning, effort, hard work… and even suffering.” She giggled nervously before becoming more serious. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be burdening a completely strange… uh… TOTAL STRANGER with my problems.” “Planning, effort, hard work, and suffering. Eugh… Such egregious self-sacrifice, and practicality. What if you could, perhaps, wish away your debt? Well, it couldn’t be wished away completely. There would need to be hard work and suffering, but not on the part of your poor countryponies...” “An interesting thought. However I’ve looked it over and short of my meeting somepony who had, if you’ll pardon the vulgarity, ‘Money coming out the wazoo’ then my citizens would be continuing with a long slow crawl out of our debit.” “Oh, you don’t have to meet somepony who has money coming out the wazoo, my dear,” the being said, with a malicious smirk, and a snap of his fingers. “Because that pony is now you. Ta ta!” And with that the creature disappeared. The blonde pegasus stood there staring at the spot where the creature had been just a moment ago. Something about this left her with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, or maybe it was the bran muffin she had with her breakfast. She blinked and shook it off, returning to her duties around the farm, hoping whatever just transpired wasn’t about to come back and bite her in the butt. As she went on trying to do her part her stomach gave a lurch, and gave off an ominous gurgle... Dusty had finished latching the storm shutters, and closing the windows of both the bunkhouse the main farmhouse. The activity had been rather a lot after being practically an invalid, but so far the new brace was helping him move much better than the other one that was there merely to keep his leg from slipping out of alignment. Even so, it was quite heavy to lug around. Once it was off, he was going to have work to get his muscles balanced again… Or would he? Doctor Coldhoof said that the clockwork brace was designed to help him regain the strength in his formerly broken leg. The blonde unicorn stood on the porch, looking around at the vineyard, wondering what could be causing all the problems. None of this made any sense. Cotton candy clouds that rained chocolate, woodland critters sprouting legs like deer and running around like crazy. Ballet dancing buffalo. That last one caused Dusty to pause and do a double-take. Yup. It was a ballet dancing buffalo. Pink tutu and everything. “Now I’ve seen everything,” Dusty uttered. “Have you really?” asked a mischievous voice, causing Dusty to turn toward it with a start. Before him was a creature that could be described as a mish-mash of different animals, because calling such a thing a chimera would confuse ponies who were talking about the actual animal. Yes, there are chimeras. yes they are made up of the unholy merging of feline, caprinæ, and serpent. “Okay. NOW I’ve seen everything. So you’re behind all this… chaos?” Dusty asked. “Indeed I am! Some of my finest work, if I do say so myself,” the creature laughed, leaning on Dusty in an almost debonair pose. “Your friends, here, have proven to be almost as amusing as Princess Celestia’s precious champions. Who knew listening to a pony’s deepest desires could be the cause of so much chaos in and of itself?” “You won’t get any such amusement out of me. I’m good. Thanks,” Dusty said, his voice losing his Coltifornia drawl, and taking on an almost Canterlotian air. “Oh COME now, there has to be desires lurking in that passionate heart of yours,” the creature said dramatically, then reached into Dusty’s ear. “I know your list of mere wants is at least three miles long.” With that, the amalgam pulled a list right out of Dusty’s ear. “Wanting something is just that. Wanting something. It doesn’t mean I want it to be granted to me by some… stranger,” Dusty said, keeping his voice neutral. “Oh come now, where’s the fun in that? Now let’s see… Stay out of the hooves of overbearing grandmother. Achieve success, despite overbearing grandmother. Oh, and here’s a doozy! To have the forgiveness of that wonderful filly you met at the Extreme Winter Sports Extravaganza!” “The first two, I would rather do for myself,” Dusty said, still in that stern, almost Canterlotian tone. “The last is not up to me. If she forgives me or not, that is Queenie’s decision to make, not mine. I make no wishes, I beg no boons, I ask no favors. Especially from one such as you.” “Fine then. This was getting dull, anyway,” the creature huffed, and disappeared in a flash of light... With a great heave, Summer Squall forced the doors to the barn shut and slid the heavy bolt into place. He took a moment to recover his breath. It bothered him that he was starting to feel his age now. Every day he felt some old injury complaining to him, or some new ache that he never felt before. As spry as he was for a fellow his age, he had trouble facing the truth that he wasn’t getting any younger. Mopping his brow with his hooferchief he turned and found himself eye-to-eye with a face that was both unknown and yet strangely familiar at the same time. Something he and a crew faced once on a dark isle with fiercely tribal ponies that worshipped a strange figure. “What’s the matter, Captain Squall? Feeling your age, my little pony? I think I can… help with that. And what delightful chaos it will cause, too.” “You…. I know you. On the island of Bedlam they worshipped that face in their temples,” Squall drew himself up as best he could, puffing his chest out in challenge. “They called you the spirit of anarchy, the god of chaos… Discord given form.” “Oh my my, you’ve guessed my moniker! And worshippers? Really? How droll. Perhaps I’ll visit them to see just how they handle the real thing, as opposed to idle idols. And as a reward, my dear captain… Something about that just sounds… deliciously familiar when I say that… Hmmm… Well my dear captain, your youth was MISspent, let us see how well you manage it a second time,” Discord declared, snapping his fingers with a malicious grin. Squall felt his heart lurch in his chest, along with more than half of his other bodily organs. Fear struck him in the moment he realised that he had no idea what was happening to him. He only knew one thing, that he had to warn the others. No matter what happened next he had to somehow give Sour Grapes and his teammates the information as to what was causing all of this chaos… Sour Grapes was trotting around, trying to contain the situation as best she could. This… this was not going to be a good year at all. She hated when things became chaotic. It just irked her to no end. She wasn’t as great a fanatic about organization as Twilight could be, but farm life demanded enough order to offset the chaos that often came from working with natural elements. The landscape was changing in ways that went far past the visual. As much as checkerboard fields and floating islands of real estate disturbed her she could feel this “imbalance” penetrating deep into the world itself. The pungent stink of burning vegetation caught her attention. Rushing to it’s source she found what looked like a long trail of smoldering ash starting from near her frames . What possibly could have caused such intense heat that it incinerated everything to the point there was almost nothing left to sustain the fire? Her hoof then struck something metallic, and she looked down. At first it looked like just a piece of half-melted metal laying in the ash. She then nudged it with her hoof and in the twisted alloy structure she saw a familiar shape. It looked a lot like the metal headwear that helped Firestormer with his cosmetic surgery. “Oh bother… I have a bad feeling about this.. But then what else is new? I’ve been having a bad feeling about everything, today,” Grapes uttered, as she continued to follow the trail. As she grew closer to the end of the trail she could now hear a terrible screaming. Not one of agony but of a deep-seated terror. Cresting the hill overlooking the pond she looked down and saw Firestormer. At least she was mostly certain it was him. A pony of heat, flame and light staggered unsteadily across the landscape. Each step causing soil to melt beneath his hooves as he seemed to be trying to find his way to the lake. What was probably his head turned to look up at her a pair of holes in the flickering mass indicating where his eyes must be. “GRAPES!” He called out, his voice sounding as if he were speaking through a fan. “Keep back! I can’t stop it… I can’t stop burning!” “That’s because you’ve been turned into a being of living flame, Firestormer. If you dunk yourself in the pond you’ll… Let’s just say your fire will go out in the most permanent way possible,” Grapes uttered. “Now, I know you usually keep a cool head when there’s a conflagration, so show me what you’ve got, Storm Rider! Use that brain of yours!” It… He looked back at the pond then at the swath of destruction he had already caused. Even though there wasn’t much of a face to read she could tell he was doing the mental calculations of whether snuffing himself out was a better option than being a living threat to all life around him. “Don’t take the expedient way out, either,” Grapes ordered. “You can, and will, get through this with the help of your friends, just like always. Assume that this condition is only temporary. I imagine actually dying will be much more permanent, even if everything else reverts to normal.” “Yes… yes.. of course. You’re right as always….” he groaned. “I need… containment… somewhere to be where I won’t… won’t hurt anypony else. Somewhere without anything flammable.” “I can’t believe you forgot about the barbeque,” Grapes uttered. “Considering you were roasting potatoes and marshmallows on it, Long Dark. Goes to show you that panicking is never a good way to solve any problems, hm?” “You don’t know… how much this scares me,” he said starting to head in the direction of the barbecue. “All my life, ever since that day, I’ve been trying to beat my fears. You helped me past my fear of failing my friends, my guilt for what I did to my family… but fire… fire always has that special place in my head. When he asked if I would do anything to overcome it , is it any wonder I said yes?” “Oh… great… something’s going around granting wishes? Wonderful… FRIENDLY!” she yelled. “FRIENDLY FIRE, where are you?! Argh.. Something just waiting on us to say the wrong thing and twist it to their whim. You remember that being said, right? Geeze, WHY can’t ponies read stories about wish-granters properly?!” “Coming, Ma’am! On my way!” came the earnest voice of Friendly Fire, she saw his blue form rise above the treeline before he stopped and hovered over the area, watching Firestormer. “Oh… my… land. What is… wait… Firestormer?” “Would you be a sweetheart, and take the metal grate off the barbeque, and make sure nothing flammable is inside it, please? Firestormer, here, ran afoul a wish-granter,” Grapes explained. “Yes Ma’am! Right away!” he said with a smart salute and a flap of his wings that sent him in in the right direction. “Come on, Firestormer. Don’t mind the plants. Plants are replaceable. Ponies are not,” Grapes said, as she escorted him to the barbeque. She could understand why he had considered self-snuffing, even at the “safe” distance she was keeping she swore she could feel her hair curling from the sheer heat rolling off of him. “Here we are. Hop in, and you should be nicely contained.” “Thank… thank you Grapes.” Firestormer said, entering the brick and steel structure. The ceramic walls were built well-enough to take the heat of using it as a makeshift forge at times, and the ground around it had been cleared of all flammable items long-ago, and covered with a thick layer of sand and gravel. She suspected he may reduce some of it to a layer of molten glass but at least any further damage would be curtailed. “Well, Friendly, you appear to have escaped unscathed. Have you met the instigator of this little fiasco?” Grapes inquired. “Hard to say, Ma’am.” The blue pegasus said as he stomped out the still burning bits of Firestormer’s trail. “I was trying to get this morning’s harvest into the deseeding shed where I thought it’d be safe when a little bird began talking to me… in a big voice.” “Uh huh. I take it you didn’t quite trust what the little bird with the big voice said?” Grapes asked “Well… uh. It suggested that maybe my life hadn’t turned out as I planned, Ma’am. That I had wanted so bad to be in the military like my Mom and Dad, and all their moms and dads before them, and somehow things just never… worked out for me.. The way he said it, I felt like he was offering something.” “But, somehow, you knew that accepting it could turn out to be a monkey’s paw, I take it?” Grapes asked. “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll be honest, I probably could have gotten what I wanted any number of easy ways. My family has enough money I could have slipped the right ponies a bribe, or bought a few spells to make me better. Maybe I could have banked on just on my family name alone, but I wanted to be recognised for my own merits instead of being a ring-knocker.” “Could somepony explain the whole ‘monkey’s paw’ thing?” Firestormer asked. Grapes cleared her throat and took a deep breath: “Look, there are two types of stories about wishes coming true. Wish fulfillment stories, and stories about wishes being granted. Wish fulfillment stories are puerile little fantasies where one's every desire is achieved with little to no effort. A wish-granter story is a story where a powerful magic being or object grants a pony's wishes. These are usually parables about trying to find a way out of the hard work one needs to achieve one's goals, the evils of greed for greed's sake, or trying to hammer home the lesson that everything comes at a price,” Grapes explained. “The wishes are granted one of four ways. First is idiot interpreter. The pony gets exactly what they wished for to the letter. This is usually done by either a wish-granter who is ignorant of the language or idioms being used or when the wish-maker is using slang. The second is malicious literalism. Kind of like the first but the granter knows exactly what the maker wants, and decides to be literal anyway, because it is of a malicious nature. Next is malicious figurativism, the opposite of malicious literalism. The wish-granter is deliberately twisting the wish-maker's words to the most malevolent way possible. The last is ‘give the wish-maker what they want but at the great cost to somebody the wish-maker cares about, or knows’. This one is usually used with the wish-granting artifact. The most famous story about such a thing involving a monkey's paw,” Grapes finished explaining, displaying her rather dangerous amount of genre savvy. “And here I thought the offer was just not sitting well in my stomach,” Friendly added, rubbing his belly. “My Mom always told me to pay attention to my instincts when they were trying to tell me something.” “You knew that being granted your wish would mean somepony would probably have to suffer, usually the pony in the position you were wanting,” Grapes said with a smile. “Most times, the wish, as offered by the wish-granter, is a booby trap and only offered in limited quantity. Once the wishes have run out, then wish-maker has to deal with the consequences of their actions. All right. You good for now, Firestormer? I’d offer you reading material, but you’d burn or melt anything I give you.” “I’ll… keep.” he sighed, the dark pits that were his eyes turning to the increasingly bizarre horizon. “Besides, things look like they’re getting more interesting by the moment.” “Yeah. And ‘may you live in interesting times’ is an old Chineighs curse,” Grapes uttered, heading back toward the farm. “C’mon, Friendly, let’s assess damages, and try and find the others.” “Yes, Ma’am,” Friendly said, then “I’ve been thinking, Ma’am. We need to establish a perimeter. A clear area that we can easily confirm any changes at a moment’s notice,” Friendly advised. “I know this isn’t a fort or a military base but the more we know about our surroundings, the less we’ll have to worry about.” “It’s called a property line, Friendly,” Grapes said, simply. “There’s already a perimeter. It’s called a fence. Honestly, it’s been my home ever since I was born. So I should know what’s been changed.” “Yes, Ma’am. But I was just meaning we should confirm that’s the distance we all agree on as being what we watch the most for trouble. I’m getting the feeling that the way things are hitting the fan today that it could pop up at any time and any place.” Friendly stepped past the barn’s corner and with a resounding *POW!* was sent sprawling to the ground. A sea-green pony stepped out, forehooves raised in challenge and a face bearing a wild expression that said he was more interested in fighting than talking. His eyes turned on Sour Grapes and he took a step forwards, his intent very clear. “Now now, none of that,” Grapes uttered, throwing a shield around the pugilistic pegasus, and getting a close look at him. “Wait… you look just like, oh. Just wonderful… they got you too, Squall.” she uttered sounding less than pleased. “I’ll beat you both apart!” The young stallion said, hammering against the shield. “I’ll take you both together!” Grapes effortlessly lifted the now young Summer Squall, and slowly brought the walls in around him to stop his antics. “You will note how… effortlessly I’m lifting you, and now holding you in place. I suggest you calm down, before I start to squeeze some civility into you.” “Who are you? Are we enemies? Why am I in the air? Where’s the Buttercup?” Sour Grapes blinked looking him over, she had to admit one thing about Summer Squall’s younger self… he was bloody handsome back then. Not that she was feeling all a-flutter about him or anything, but he had that rugged, good-looking Rebel Without A Cause thing going on that would have no doubt drawn mares in by the cartload. “I am Sour Grapes. That depends on you. I’m exceptionally strong. And I don’t know,” Grapes replied. “Let me explain… no, there is too much. Let me sum up. Apparently some being is going around causing chaos, and being a malicious wish-granter. You are a victim of said wish-granter.” He grinned a cocky smile and pressed his face against the magical field’s surface. “The name’s ‘Swordless’ Squall, scourge of the seas, and… proud member of the pirate ship Buttercup. Long story there but it’s unimportant. What’s really important is that moments ago my crewmates and I were in the middle of a fight with Princess Sunbutt’s navy and I need to get back. There’s a lot of ‘uniforms’ there that need a good hoof-pressin’.” “So this is you when you were a pirate, hm? Not quite as ‘proud’ as you say. Your shipmates do some truly scurvy things, and they leave you a tad uneasy?” Grapes asked with a smirk. “You really turned yourself around from this rebel without a clue, didn’t you?” “Turned meself around? What are you gettin’ at? And sure I’m proud… very… proud. We’re all wanted by the authorities of twelve coasts. Nearly any ship that sees us either runs or gives up. Me own bounty is over Five THOUSAND bits. I’m worth that much.” he trailed off a moment, eyes looking somewhat uncertain of his own words. “I’m worth something, blast it.” “I notice things, Summer Squall,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Your morality is beginning to kick in, again, isn’t it? The novelty of being a burly bruiser losing its shine. The thought of being wanted by the authorities beginning to weigh upon you, because someday you may want to actually settle down, and you’ll need someplace that will welcome you openly.” “How… how did you know me name?” He stammered, his face suddenly ashen. “What witchcraft is transpirin’ here?” “You told me,” Grapes said, poking the shield. “You, Summer Squall, are in the future. And the Squall I know is a vast improvement over you, my fine young scaliwag. Your older self apparently wished for his youth back, and that was exactly what he got. He got taken back to his younger days, when he was still immature and idiotic. Yet another example of how wishes and the creatures who grant them, need to be treated like con artists.” “Wait. Wait a moment… I… I’m ALIVE long enough to wish I was young again?” “Oh. Of course. You think you’re going to live fast and die young,and leave a pretty corpse don’t you? Luckily, or unluckily you may think, you do live long enough to be the most experienced pony that I know. Your life is at a crossroads, sailor, and you can choose to be something better than you are, and become the great stallion I’ve come to know… Or you can continue to be a thug, and end up strung up on a gallows,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Your choice.” “I become… great?” he asked, all the sturm and bluster draining from him. “Oh yes. You’re given the opportunity to turn your life around. My advice is to grab that opportunity with your jaw, wings, and all four hooves. The pony who gives you the opportunity saw the makings of greatness in you. Now, young Squall, why don’t you show me that you’ve got that spark of greatness. I need a helper with a steady eye, nerves of steel, and gonads of brass to handle this. Think you're up for it, sailor?” Grapes asked with a grin. He took a moment to take it all in, weighing his options before a slow smile spread across his muzzle. “Aye. Aye. I’m sure I can be up to it.” “Good lad,” she said, letting him go. “Now see about rounding up the wildlife, and herding them where they’ll do the least damage. We’re going to find more casualties, and see what we can do to help them out.” “Yes, ma’am!” the young Squall uttered, saluting… enthusiastically at least. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stormfront calmly looked up at the patchwork creature before him. The ozone-like smell around him suggested to the pegasus that he was the eye of this particular storm. That and the large throne he sat casually upon as things flickered in and out of existence around him… like the amazingly lifelike rendering of Equestria that he made appear between them with a snap of his fingers. “So what exactly is it that you’re trying to tell me mister Discord, was it?” Stormfront asked, playing it cool. “I’m not used to working with magic of this scale often.” “It’s simple really, Stormfront. As you can see from my simiraculum here more is happening than just the local change of scenery. Some of which are Storm-Rider business. Which brings us to a little problem only you can handle.” Discord gestured to the mini-equestria model that showed a green tornado approaching Trottingham. "You have a choice to make Stormfront. You can stay here and rescue your fillyfriend Sour Grapes or..." "Trottingham." "Wha... uh. Yes. That is..." "No. I mean there's no contest. I choose Trottingham." "Woah. Wait. Are you sure? I mean you only JUST got past the drama around you two dancing around your feelings. Shouldn't you at least take a moment to think about it?" "You obviously don't know Sour Grapes, Discord. If she needs saving, she'll tell me so. And if there's one thing about her, she'll never be the damsel in distress. Heck... she'll probably fold you up in her Bit-bag and spend you on cheap labour." "Well... that was completely unexpected." Discord said to himself as he watched Stormfront fly off to Trottingham. "And because of that, YOU get a pass MISTER Stormfront." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was all Grapes could do not to panic when she was finally confronted by the spirit that had been tormenting Equestria, and turning the landscape topsy-turvy. Panicking would do her no good, and she had to keep her wits about her, if this was the creature waiting eagerly to twist her very words. Strangely enough, he just floated beside her as she trotted along. He was, apparently, looking at something off in the distance. "Well, Miss Sour Grapes, your coltfriend has flown the coop,” he said, finally, in that mischievously cultured voice of his "Probably a weather emergency perpetrated by you," Grapes observed casually, keeping as calm as she could, having a mix-and-match creature suddenly materialize as she was checking the damage. "Oh Sour Grapes, such distrust! I'd feel offended if I didn't work hard to earn such a reputation." "Well, considering you've been perpetrating everything else that's been going wrong, today, why not attribute one more?" "Hmm. You know you remind me of somepony I knew a long time ago. She didn't have much of a sense of humor either, although her sunny disposition often made up for it." "I remind you of Princess Celestia?" "Does that surprise you? Warm to her friends but so absolutely focused on her work. She never fully appreciated my attempts to loosen her up." "Yes, actually it does. Never expected you to be one to give compliments." "I give credit where it's due. Sometimes a little TOO freely. Oh that Twilight Sparkle. I'd have thought she would have worked out my riddle by now. It's always the same, sprinkle a few obstacles in the path of your opponents and they forget to keep their eyes on the prize." "Twilight's problem is that she overthinks things, and will latch onto the most obvious clue before she will get the actual meaning." "That's the problem with obsessive compulsive types. You ought to see what her friends became because of their own obsessions." "So instead of twisting their desires, you twisted their personalities? Oh... Of course you did. You had to, so the Elements of Harmony would not work." "My my my... I wonder how many even suspect that inside that humble agrarian lies a rather substantial piece of gray matter," Discord chortled holding up a brain in one claw to make his point. "Who knows? If things had've been a little different for you might have set the academic world on fire, instead of making sure the nobles finish their broccoli." "True. But things aren't a little different. And they aren't going to be a little different," Grapes asserted. "I ask you no favors, I beg you no boons, and I make no wishes." "Spoilsport... You know I COULD just forcibly 'discord' you. Transfigure your essence in reverse. See what Sour Grapes is on the other side of the coin..." he made a gesture with a single digit of his paw implying he could do so with a mere touch. "...But I've already done that trick once today. I try not to make a habit of touching stubborn ponies. " "And doing the same thing twice would be boring." “Well it takes all the FUN out of it, you know what I'm saying? While I got impatient once today I'd rather give ponies... well... ANYONE all the rope they want, just to see how much it takes for them to hang themselves." "Seems like you've been doing quite the good job. If you were an Element of Harmony, you'd be the Element of Surprise." Discord opened his mouth as if to say something, and yet nothing quite came out. The pose was held for a few seconds before he relaxed and chuckled. "Well played. Stormfront really did have a point when he spoke of you." "If he said I’m not a damsel in distress, he was right. I can never find one to fit me..." "Hmm... Tell you what. I've already tossed enough Chaos into the pot, I think it will be interesting just to see how you try to bring a little order while it stews in it's own juices." "Have fun storming the castle," Grapes deadpanned. "I just want you to feel you’re doing well. I hate for people to die embarrassed." “You seem a decent fellow,” Grapes replied, affecting a Trottingham accent. “I hate to die.” “Oh. Really. I didn’t come here just to be insulted.” “Where do you normally GO to be insulted?” Grapes asked raising an eyebrow. “Must be absolutely fascinating, if they can do it with style and panache.” “Ugh. Inconceivable!” Discord huffed, before winking elsewhere. "He keeps using that word. I don’t think it means what he thinks it means… How in the hay did he know those quotes, though… I saw a statue that looked an awful lot like him in the castle gardens, and… Hm… I’ll have to ask Princess Celestia if they’ve ever had a performance of The Princess Bride in the gardens… This just gets even more confusing. All right. Let's see what we can do... wait..." Grapes uttered, diverting her path to the porch of the bunkhouse where that older unicorn couple sat, holding Moondust close, as they wept. "Sour Grapes... Thank Celestia you're here," Streamline said upon noticing her. "It's... it's horrible." "Something happened to Redline, didn't it?" He nodded and his wife Cherry Red spoke past her sobs. "We saw it all. We were worried about him and Moondust and when we went to check on him we saw it. That beastly fiend was standing over him and he was shielding Moondust from him. Redline knew him by name, pleading for Moondust's life, swearing to do as he wanted if only she were spared..." Grapes sighed. "Dedicated... So. You're Redline's parents, I take it?" They nodded and Streamline answered "We're not proud of what we did... but what Redline just did made us realise what we lost in running. He's a better parent to Moondust than we ever were." "Not sure how you two are going to make it up to him, either. That's between you and Redline... So... Let me guess... He's over there, building something out of a bunch of junk, and was ignoring Moondust?" "Discord put a funnel in his mouth and poured something from a teapot down his throat." Cherry Red groaned. "He turned gray and he just started building like he was possessed. Then that thing picked up Moondust and handed her over to us and said that 'a bargain’s a bargain’.” "She would not be harmed... But Redline was... altered." "It was as if his gift turned inwards." Streamline explained. "His special talent, you probably think it's his creativity, his ability with devices both magical and mundane... but it's not. His ability is to push things to their very limits, often to the breaking point. I think he's being 'redlined' as we speak." Grapes sighed. "I hope he comes through this, okay..." The frantic sound of flapping filled the air, as if a pegasus were trying to fly faster than their body would permit. She turned to the sound and saw the sandy brown form of Sirrocco urgently heading her way. “Miss Grapes! Miss Sour Grapes! We are upon the harms of a dilemma!” “Should hurt less than the horns,” Grapes uttered, with a small smile. “You do not understand. There is a sinister force is in Equestria.” Despite being short of breath, she landed gracefully next to Grapes. “There is a D’jinn on the loose.” “Were you needing a tonic to take care of it?” Grapes asked. “No wait… Sorry… I’m making bad puns as a coping mechanism. I think he’s more of an embodiment of chaos than a genie, Sirocco.” “It was only my upbringing that gave me any kind of warning to his nature, Sour Grapes. I was raised upon stories of all manner of terrible creatures of myth. The water stealing Dust-Devils, the terrible fiends of the night the Shadow-Raiders and of course the treacherous wish granting D’Jinn.” Sirocco glanced nervously to the left and right as if worried that just mentioning them they may appear. “I tried to wash my tongue around him when he appeared before me.” “You tried to watch your tongue. Because I doubt you’d want to wash your tongue when chatting with this guy, no matter how much he makes you want to curse,” Grapes said. “Yes, yes. One should never trust anything any D’jinn say they can grant you.. Whatever they may offer you is all a complete lack of pies.” “... I think you transposed the letters on that one, Sirocco. It’s supposed to be ‘pack of lies’,” Grapes said. “I know. I know… when I am upset my language suffers, and this… creature of discord disturbs me greatly. With such creatures, nothing is more dangerous than a half-warmed fish.” “‘Half-formed wish’, and I know all about that. I’ve read a lot of stories about wish-granting creatures, and objects.” “You know,” Friendly fire interjected, holding a hoof over his muzzle. “I know I should be taking his seriously but I want to laugh SO badly right now I can taste it.” “And I imagine you’d be just as linguistically clumsy if you attempted to speak in Siroccos’s native tongue,” Grapes chided. “That bowel feast came to me and started offering me things, or rather suggesting I should ask for them.” “Foul beast,” Grapes corrected, casually, getting into the swing of it. “And it’s a good thing you didn’t. I think he enjoys malicious literalism.” “That would seem to be the case. I should have addressed him in Saddle Arabian instead of Equish. As it was it seemed to be… throwing… him… off?” Sirroco said, slowing down to try to be more accurate in her speech. “That one you got right,” Grapes said with a nod. “And maybe it’s a good thing you spooning in speenerisms, I means speaking in spoonerisms… Good gravy you’re contagious...” “That… may be so,” she said sounding surprised by the revelation. “He seemed confused and checked a list. He said something very much like ‘have I already been here?’ before telling me that I was amusing enough to not bother with. I may be picnicking here but should I feel relieved or offended at this?” “Relieved. Definitely relieved. Firestormer’s in the barbeque, a pony of living flame, Squall’s been… taken back to his misspent youth, Stormy is off saving someplace or another, and Redline’s been redlined. I haven’t seen Dusty, Queenie, or Earshot, and that worries me,” Grapes summarized. “And Friendly Fire seems about as genre savvy as we are.” “My life’s a mess… but it’s my mess. I’m not letting this ’Discord’ take that away from me.” Friendly stated firmly. “So what do we do, Ma’am? Curse the tomatoes and full speed ahead?” Grapes could appreciate the obscure reference to the great vegetable riots of ‘21 and gave him a wry smile. “Indeed, Friendly. And hope that our local heroes can do what they do best,” Grapes replied with a nod. > Everything is gonna turn out O-Chaos > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes stood next to Friendly Fire, watching the latest in the wide variety of madness that was happening in Ponyville. She had sometimes wondered what Summer Squall was like in his prime, and to be honest she was still wondering because the adolescent pony that they were watching was more pre-prime than prime. Still, his actions belied that life at sea and as a member of a pirate crew had caused him to grow up rather tough. Yes, it WAS indeed a tribal stereotype that pegasi were ‘brutes’, emphasising their aggressive natures as if they were born with the sensibilities of a bird of prey, however seeing Summer Squall’s younger self wrestling with the giant squid that normally was content to stay at the bottom of the nearby lake made her think that maybe there was some truth behind the generalisation. Then again Squall was probably the prototype for the ‘angry youth’ image. Fortunately he took orders well, especially when they were ‘fun’, which in this case was her telling him to “Get that wriggly sea-creature out of the town square and back into the lake.” Well… It seemed like the least she could do. And the poor thing was something of a small-time tourist attraction. Still, it HAD been menacing the locals ever since it was supplied with… feet, and the big polished scarlet dance shoe it had on each one. (Interestingly enough it was all left feet. Go figure.) Despite being a tap-dancing squid, it was no Ginger Trotters and it looked a lot as if it had been trying to go out of it’s way to step on ponies (missing fortunately) and was doing a significant amount of property damage. So Grapes wasn’t feeling too guilty in letting Squall do a little showing off here. Added benefit of allowing Squall to blow off some steam, so it was a win-win all around. “I know this was kind of beyond the perimeter, Friendly, but Squall needed something to do,” Grapes said with a small smile. “Understood, Ma’am.” he agreed, wincing as Squall performed some wrestling moves that certainly were not regulation. “It’s strange to see the Captain like this. I only knew he was a naval stallion and is now a well-respected and even decorated pony. This is… it makes me feel better about myself. Do you know what I mean, ma’am?” “You feel better about your past, because of Squall’s piratical past?” Grapes asked tilting her head. “Yes Ma’am. I know it sounds like schadenfreude in action but really. It’s not. More like… if he could pull himself together, maybe I can too.” “That’s not schadenfreude, it’s more like you have an example,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “Good to know, ma’am.” he agreed. “He’s doing really well ma’am. He’s got that squid halfway there. .” “Looks like we can head back,” Grapes said, beginning to look a bit tired. “Yes Ma’am. He’ll have ‘Ginger’ back at the lake in no time.” Grapes chuckled a bit, sighing. “I wish they would hurry up. This is… tiring.” “I know, Ma’am. It’s a little like fighting a forest fire. You can’t do a lot about the big burn but you can just do your best to put out the small fires and try to keep it from spreading towards ponies.” He smiled, giving her a look that was probably admiration. “Being honest Ma’am, you’ve been nothing short of amazing. I’ve met officers in the three branches that wouldn’t have handled all of this as well as you did. I have no idea how you manage to keep a level head in the middle of all of this chaos Ma’am.” “Well we farmers have to deal with all sorts of chaos,” Grapes said with a wan smile. “Bugs, wildlife, the fallout from stormy weather. ‘No sense in yelling at the pegasi if you can’t keep up with the weather schedule’, my dad always told me. Having the weather controlled is a boon, but we ponies can’t control everything. This level of chaos is tiring, though.” “I can only say Ma’am, seeing you this brave in the face of it all is helping me get through it. I can only hope when all is said and done and it’s my turn to lead that I can be half as brave as you.” “I’m saving all my freaking out for after this is over. Mother always said: ‘Never show the help you’re afraid, because you have to be an example for them’.,” Grapes said with a slight grin. “So… I may be kind of isolated for a while.” “Understood, Ma’am.” “All right. Let’s get back to our perimeter. I think Squall’s got the squid well in hoof,” Grapes said, looking around at the floating buildings, and despondent citizens. “C’mon, Twilight,” she whispered, “you really need to lick this before it goes too far.” “*BARK*” The barking sound was completely unexpected, although not nearly as unexpected as Big Macintosh appearing along with the sound, and dragging his broad, wet tongue up the side of her face. He barked again and ran off chasing after a rainbow-coloured squirrel that left sparkles in it’s wake, leaving Grapes and Friendly completely stunned. “What just happened?” Grapes asked, looking a little perturbed. “The big red pony licked you like a dog and ran off ...Ma’am.” Friendly said sounding rather lost. “I wonder what the magic guy granted HIM that he wound up like that.” “It could have been just random, too,” Grapes said, shaking her head, then rubbing her cheek. “And my ancestors just had to put their vineyard right across from their Apple cousins… That was Big Macintosh, and he’s been turned into a big puppy. Ugh. C’mon.” “Ma'am.. I know you're a professional and all so... Didn't you go and close those doors to the wine cave there?" “We need to grab a lantern,” Grapes said, nodding at the open cave door. “It’s pitch dark in there.” “I’m on it, Ma’am.” Friendly said fetching one of the Copper-mesh ones best used when entering an area that may have large quantities of alcohol vapor in the air. Now armed with a source of steady light and a heavy mallet (the closest thing they had to a weapon) they descended into the inky darkness. Sour Grapes had been down here so many times it was all routine, she probably could have done this blindfolded but there was a problem. With all of the strangeness assaulting the local landscape the familiar confines of the aging cavern felt… eerie and confining. And there was something else down here. She could hear it fairly clearly. It sounded like high-pitched rapid breathing so noisy it was more like a rapid gasping. It reminded Grapes of the time she caught a rabbit in a box trap and it cowered in the corner, hyperventilating. Rows of casks, barrels and bottles were each in turn illuminated by their passing. The lamp casting a warm yellow glow upon them. It was then something glimmered in the dark. For a moment she thought the lamp had caught some brass fitting or something but then she took a step back to let the light shine in that direction again, making two wide golden eyes reflect the light back. She only knew of one creature, pony or animal, in this region that had eyes like those. It was then when they found Earshot pressed into the furthest corner of her aging cave, eyes wide, darting about the room in mortal terror. Grapes approached him with a look of concern on her face. "Muh... Messs Graapess," he moaned, his words terribly hollow and slurred. Sour Grapes' blood went cold as she slowly realised that even Earshot didn't escape Discord unscathed. "Halllp meh. Plays... hallp meh." Grapes walked closer to him, and tucked his head under her chin. "I'm here, Earshot. I'm here. Calm down." She gently pulled him from that space between the casks and the corner of the room. She cradled his body against hers when Friendly Fire gasped, "Good gravy! What happened to his ears?" With Earshot so close now, Sour Grapes could finally get a good look at him and his new affliction. Where two large bat-like ears would normally stand out proudly from either side of his thick purple mane, now his skull was smooth as a drum. Not believing the sight, she gently touched the spots that once upon a time had ears and found no trace of them. No ear canal, no scarring; just fur, skin, and bone, as if they had never even existed. Earshot had been stricken deaf by powerful magic, and only one being had that level of power right now. "This... bloody creature..." Grapes uttered, blinking rapidly. "This MONSTER maimed a little colt for his OWN TWISTED AMUSEMENT!” “More than that, Ma’am.” Friendly said, reaching out to touch Earshot, and causing the colt to flinch. “I remember reading in his file that he doesn’t think of his eyes as his main way of seeing the world. Most of his perception is his ears. This would be like your or me going blind and having to resort to our other senses to get around. My word, no wonder he was all crammed into that corner. His eyes may work in low-light but not in no-light. Poor guy must have been too scared to even TRY to look for the way out.” Grapes gently lifted Earshot in her levitation, cuddling him, as she carried him out, still obviously fighting tears. She never felt hate for any creature, before, but she felt it now. Grapes hated Discord with a passion, because he would dare attack the most innocent of foals. Getting him back to the Bunkhouse he was quickly made comfortable by the remaining workers and supplied with writing materials to get a better idea of what happened to him. Earshot had apparently been overwhelmed by a lot of the background noise in the area. He described some of the sonic phenomena as things like ‘False Echoes’ and ‘Feedback’ while mostly it was just the sounds of the strangeness and ponies suffering that made him retreat to the cave-like familiarity of the Wine Cave. It was down there in the dark that he met Discord. He had trouble explaining how his ears ‘saw’ him. He could describe his shape, and his vocal “undertone” but he seemed to be “flickering” in the sound in the same way a candle flame flickers in a breeze. He was most confused at how this draconequus (which was how Discord apparently described himself) knew so much about him. ------------------------ “Why, how can I NOT know about you, Earshot? You’re the only Night Pony under the sun. The ears of the Storm-Riders. Celestia’s Shadow. You’ve lived more in ten years than some ponies do in a lifetime.” “But who are you, Mister?” “Me? Oh just your friendly neighborhood draconequus, out on the town after a thousand year hiatus and having a little fun with my new neighbors.” “There’s a lot of ponies out there who don’t sound like they’re having fun,” Earshot observed. “Well, I HAVE been known to be hard on my toys now and again. Still it’s mainly those who… shall we say ‘catch my attention’ that become my favorites for some personal time on my part. Which is where we come to you.” “Me?” “Yes, you, little Earshot. My… it can’t be easy can it? You have the most remarkable hearing. So much so you hear EVERYthing. Whether you want to or not.” “I’m not always aware of it all. It’s just…” Earshot said nervously “I know, I know. You never deliberately eavesdrop, but sometimes you can’t help it. You like hearing new things. You love sounds you have never experienced before, don’t you?” Discord asked with a sly grin. “Yes sir. I do.” “I can give you a gift Earshot. I can grant you the opportunity to hear a sound that’s NOTHING like anything you’ve heard before. Or will again.” ------------------------------- Grapes’ stomach churned with bile at the wording. If she could trust anypony to accurately remember the exact words of another, it was Earshot. She could see the way the sentence was formed and the trap laid there like a set of spring-loaded steel jaws. Earshot was indeed hearing a sound that was NOTHING like anything he heard before. In fact with ears like his this was perhaps his first experience with total, and absolute silence. She frowned, growling, scraping her hooves against the floor. Grapes shook her head, and sighed. She could console herself with the fact that the remaining workers were very supportive of Earshot. Giving him a chair with his back to one of the corners so nopony could surprise him from behind, and doing their best to distract him from his current situation. by pulling some board games from the entertainment cupboard. She still wanted to flay the fur and scales from that monster’s body. One more for the post return-to-normal-freakout. Grapes just wished it wasn’t taking so blasted long for Twilight and her friends to take care of the problem. Dusty really didn’t want to leave the relative safety of the bunkhouse’s basement, but he had to. Not because of the worried look on Sour Grapes’ face, or the fact that looking at an earless Earshot made his veins feel like they were filled with ice water. No. No it was far more simple than that. He had to use the outhouse pretty badly and he felt too self-conscious to use a chamberpot right now. Not to mention his new leg brace wasn’t quite built to let him kneel down enough to do it properly. Nope. It was the outhouse or blowing out a kidney. Dusty sighed, and carefully trotted out of the bunkhouse. He looked out the door, then made his way out to the outhouses. He knocked on the door of the first one, because of common courtesy. When there was no response he took a deep breath and ducked inside. He had heard stories about this outhouse. Something to do with that pink party mare in town and her overindulging during the winter holidays. Even though he wasn’t breathing the atmosphere inside was making his eyes water, so he did his business as quickly as his body would allow and got out just in time for his desperate need for oxygen became too much to bear. Why was that outhouse STILL smelling so BAD?! “*GASP*! What did that party mare DO in there?!” Dusty asked, gulping down fresh, if oddly scented, air. “Note to self… Avoid Outhouse Number One.” He gave himself a big shake as if to hope it would get the last lingering bits of stank off of him when he heard a heavy thud from the next outhouse in line. He was silent a moment, uncertain if he heard it for real or a trick of his ears. He heard the heavy thud again accompanied by a feminine groan of pain. Dusty knocked on the door. “Are you all right?” There was a whimper on the other side of the door and the sound of somepony apparently rechecking the latch. “Dust… Dusty? What are you doing out here?” came Queenie’s voice from inside the outhouse. “It’s not.. nnnf… not safe.” “I kind of had to go,” Dusty replied, sounding obviously embarrassed. “Ah. I see. Well. So you’ve… ‘gone’? Yes? Then you can…” Queenie gave off a wordless cry of pain accompanied by the sound of jingling hitting the bottom of a bucket. “...oh, buck me.” “Uh… I… don’t know you well enough,” Dusty said blushing. “I’d at least ask you out to dinner, several times, and out to the cinema, and assorted other things, before that would even begin to consider crossing my mind…” “Uh what? Oh. OH! Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.. AH!” again the jingling noise, this time accompanied by not just a strangled whimper but also a flatulent outburst. “...didn’t… didn’t mean to say that out loud. I’m just… I’m in a bad way right now.” “You encountered some kind of weird creature, and you made a wish, didn’t you?” Dusty asked. “No,” she said sounding almost as if pleading. “We just… talked. We talked and I may have said something in passing, but it was not really a wish.” “Can you give me a hint what you may or may not have said to this creature?” “I... I may have alluded to the plight of my homeland.” She said tentatively, as if not wanting to admit she had been gulled so easily. “I MAY also have used an unfortunate expression I picked up from Firestormer. One involving monetary units and one’s… ah… ‘wazoo’.” “I did tell you to be careful about what you say,” Dusty said with a quiet sigh. “Hang on, Queenie. I’ll be right back.” Queenie heard him limp off, while she was enduring her own personal Tartarus. Then she heard him come back. “Brought you an ice pack. Thought it may help.” “Oh, thank you. Oh, Celestia bless you,” she whispered, unlatching the door and pushing it open a crack. Dusty caught a glimpse of one of her gorgeous ice blue eyes in the darkness beyond. “I… I have a favour to ask. An additional one actually, considering you bringing me the ice pack is a very welcome favour.” “What can I do for you?” Dusty asked with a kind smile. The door opened a little wider and out was pushed a tin bucket full to the brim with golden bits. Dusty’s eyes widened at the sight of them. He had taken the idea of having money coming out the “wazoo” as on the humorous side but seeing them right there in front of him, now cemented the fact that it would be a very uncomfortable experience. The bucket was also followed by a fairly large potato bag behind it, the mass jingling in a way that only reinforced his sympathy for her. “Would you… be so kind as to put these somewhere secure and… and bring me more containers?” The formerly forceful and confident mare’s voice sounded so small and uncertain right now. This was definitely a humbling experience for her. “I know I’m hoping against hope that these will remain when everything is said and done but it being a gamble or not, I have to hope all this wasn’t for nothing.” “I’ll bag them up, and put them by the compost pile,” Dusty said poking the coins. “That creature made Earshot deaf, and I don’t trust these to stay bits.” “EARSHOT?” she shouted, her face now pressed against the opening between the door and the jamb. “Is he alright? No, of course he isn’t. You said he made him deaf. What did he do? Oh, heavens, there are so many ways to deafen a pony…” “That creature stole Earshot’s ears. Lil’ Dude’s doing as best he can, though,” Dusty said with a quiet sigh. “I’ll be back. You need something to eat, or drink?” “I thought I was distressed before but now… I’m sorry. Earshot is very dear to us, he’s the little brother I would have adored having. To know he needs me and I’m… not so much trapped as I am…” She groaned and the jingling sound occurred again, this time on wood. “...SON of a BACHELOR! Er… you never heard me say that. Where was I? Oh yes… As I am indisposed. Please give him my warm regards and… and… yes… some water would be appreciated. Thank you.” Dusty chuckled at hearing her cursing, and trotted off again. It was, honestly, rather nice to see her unbend a little, though this was a unique situation. Dusty trotted back to the bunkhouse, and picked up some water, and made her a daisy sandwich. “Where are you going, Dusty?” Grapes asked. “Taking Queenie some water and something to eat. She… has a seriously upset stomach…” Dusty replied, as he gathered some bags, and some buckets. “The monster got her, too, I take it?” Grapes said frowning. “Yeah,” Dusty replied, as he along, carrying the containers. “He did… in the end.” “Oh… Oh boy…” Grapes uttered, facehoofing. “Malicious literalism?” “Oh. Yeah. Big time,” Dusty replied. He limped outside. “I hope it didn’t have anything to do with monkeys,” Grapes uttered, rolling her eyes. From outside, came Dusty’s panicked exclamation of surprise. “HOLY BUCKING FEWMITS!” “Oh, what NOW?!” Grapes uttered, getting up, and going outside to see… the sun and moon rapidly changing places. “Ah. I see…” She huddled close to the porch’s boards, staring wide-eyed at the sky’s spastic acrobatics. Dusty was huddling close to the outhouse that Queenie was occupying, as he stared at the sun and moon’s rapid switcheroo. “This… this is… totally scary… That means that dude is more powerful than the princesses…” “This would explain a great deal,” Sirrocco said stepping along side of Sour Grapes. “I cannot tell how much time has passed because of this D’Jinn’s toying with natural forces. If the sun and moon are mere playthings then my instincts are easily mislead… as is my watch.” Sirocco held up her pocket watch for the ponies to see, it’s normally circular form melting before their eyes like a Dali painting. “We may have been under his reign for anything between hours to days and we would still be lost.” Grapes sighed. “Wonderful… This is absolutely wonderful. We have no idea how long this has been going on, our sense of day and night has been disoriented, and if this isn’t taken care of, soon, we’re probably all going to go crazy… Or it could just be me. I don’t know.” “Right about now, I’m glad I can’t see what’s going on out there.” came the muffled voice of Queenie, followed by more jingling and a soft unladylike curse. “No… no I lie. I’d trade watching all the crazy in Equestria right now if only this would just stop… or at least a tube of hemorrhoid cream.” “You wouldn’t mind seeing Grapes going totally spastic?” Dusty asked, with a quiet chuckle. “And… I don’t know if we’ve got any of that… and it’s not safe to go into town to get any… Oh, I got your water, and a daisy sandwich.” “Th-thank you.” Queenie said opening the door ever so slightly to accept the offering. “No problem. Figured you’d be ready for a snack, and it’s not a good idea for you to get dehydrated,” Dusty said with a smile toward that single blue eye that was showing. She reached out and took the small meal, her hooves brushing his ever so gently before she spoke softly. “I appreciate you doing this, Dusty. I know I have not always been… fair when dealing with you. Thank you for being such a… a gentlecolt.” “It’s all right. I understand your point of view…” Dusty replied with a small smile. “You… HAVE been storing the currency in question someplace safe and yet someplace where it will not pose an issue should it become true that all that glitters is not gold?” “Just in sacks right by the compost pile. Figured it would save a trip. And if they stay bits, we’ll move them to the aging cave,” Dusty said with a chuckle. “Ah. Yes. That location should dissuade anypony from getting too curious. I would hate to see some pony with sticky hooves to leave more than a tip to some unfortunate business in town.” “And, again, don’t trust that creature’s magic, anyway… Even if they stayed bits, I wouldn’t recommend using them… They’re tainted by that creature’s magic,” Dusty observed quietly. “No telling what sorts of disasters they could cause, in a pony’s bit bag…” Queenie went quiet after that. Except for, of course, the quiet groans of pain. The landscape continued to be surreal, with flying pigs, and cotton candy clouds. Suddenly, as Sour Grapes was surveying any further damage… *SPLAT* She got a facefull of random pie from the heavens, causing her to issue a long-suffering sigh. It wasn’t alone. There seemed to be a small shower of pies falling on the vineyard, right then. Sirocco looked at them and blinked. "Have we entered the pie of the storm, Miss Grapes?" "... Did you just make a pun?" Grapes asked, as she extracted her muzzle from the ballistic pastry. "Yes... yes I did. ...was it funny?" the Saddle Arabian asked. "Yes, it was. You just surprised me,” Grapes replied, licking some of the filling off her muzzle. “Huh. Raisin.” "I have discovered that I am... infamous for ruining Equestrian and so have started to read up on humor involving wordplay to help me overcome this.. or at least be amusing in doing so," Sirocco said with a small smile. “That’s rather clever of you, Sirocco,” Grapes said, trying to scrape the pie bits off her face with the pan. Suddenly something else captured their attention. There was a low rumble from the heart of town, it must be something big to hear it all the way out here past the town limits. Sour Grapes and the others all looked towards the source of the noise and were shocked when a great rainbow began to rise up towards the heavens. The Prismatic beam arced high above Ponyville before making a rapid descent downwards. An anguished voice that seemed to embody everything wrong in the world cried out in surprise with a long drawn-out “Nooo…!!!” before it was silenced. The rainbow, however, hung there in the air, its seven colors shining like a beacon of hope above the blighted landscape. It then split in two, forming a dome over Ponyville, then it seemed to explode outwards with a light that briefly blinded everypony that happened to be outside at the time. "It's stopped... It's STOPPED! Yah hah HAH!... Oh fewmits..." Queenie uttered, at first jubilantly, then sounding much more irritated. "What? What is it?" Sirocco asked , looking worried. Queenie slammed open the door, GLARING at Dusty. "What'd I do?!" Dusty asked cringing. "The bucket in the Outhouse needs to be emptied," she said coolly before looking past Dusty towards the compost heap. "And cleaned. Please take care of it while I go check on something." "As you wish," Dusty said quietly, his ears laid back. Queenie walked past him and the others with as much dignity as anypony could with a large ice pack tied to their rump. Grapes and Dusty shrugged at each other; Dusty levitating out the bucket. They glanced into it and stared at the contents a moment, it wasn’t every day you saw “that” material in the perfect shape of coinage. Their grotesque fascination with the not-bits-at-all was interrupted by the front door to the Bunkhouse suddenly bursting open and Earshot stumbling out. “Miss Grapes! Miss Grapes! I can HEAR again!” Grapes turned to see Earshot’s restored face, and beamed. “That’s wonderful, Earshot!” The night pony ran up and nuzzled her briefly before looking around the restored landscape. “I hear… I hear… nothing out of the ordinary! All clear! Clear Skies ahead! Whoohoo!” “Twilight and her pals finally got it together. That’s good to know. Guess we ought to see if Firestormer’s better,” Grapes said, sounding relieved. “Uh. Miss Grapes?” Earshot said, sniffing the air. “What smells like dung?” “Exactly what it smells like, Earshot,” Grapes replied with a small smirk. “It’s exactly what it smells like. What a pony says can often hurt them in the… end.” Everypony began coming out of hiding and began the process of tallying the damage. On the surface it seemed as if nearly everything during Discord’s reign of strangeness had been undone (save the lingering memories). Damaged property had self-repaired, the upheaval of the landscape had reset, off behavior dissipated and all seemed to be correcting itself. Stormfront was still absent but he had gone all the way to Trottingham and wouldn’t be back until late tomorrow at the earliest. Confident that everything was now all under control, Sour Grapes entered her home. She locked the door, had a drink of water, walked slowly up to her room, locked that door, drew the blinds, put on a record with some loud music and crawled into bed to let her patented “Snark Armor” down. Her defensive mechanism of ridiculing adversity or stupidity had served her well in the past, but at the end of the day, and she was alone with her thoughts, the full scope of things always hit home. She hugged a pillow, and just started to shake tears streaming from her face. The strong facade she had put up came crashing down. She lay curled up, hugging her pillow for… she didn’t know how long. “Discord. That… loathsome perverted creature,” she grumbled, as she stared up at the ceiling some time later. Grapes then sighed. “And Stormfront’s more loyal to his duties… Makes sense… Who are you fooling, Grapes? No stallion’s going to want to be with you for the long haul, so you may as well get used to that idea… Stormfront will find somebody who’s more so’s than too’s, and he’ll let you down easy. Ugh. And during that, I was thinking about keeping the Riders from freaking out, because I didn’t want to lose my employees. Not because I was worried about my friends… well… except for Earshot. Yay, I do have maternal instincts.” After that small monolog, Grapes cuddled under her comforter, and hugged her pillow, gazing morosely at the dresser her parents left her. This whole ordeal was making her wish she had not packed her Smarty Pants doll up on the attic. She’d probably hug the stuffing out of it, and talk to it about her problems. Finally, she slept fitfully, still curled around her pillow. Which was a poor substitute for a stuffed animal, or a certain gray-coated pegasus stallion… No. No don’t think that. That’s the road to hope, then heartbreak. Stormfront could do a lot better than her. However, she would fight that mish-mashed monstrosity before he even considered doing worse. The next morning, Grapes still haven’t come out of the farmhouse. “Okay… This is totally new,” Dusty observed, looking at the farmhouse door. “Seriously. I’ve never known Grapes to not be up before the roosters.” He became aware of a smell like burnt hair and charcoal next to him, he glanced over to see Firestorm struggling with dragging a brush through his now curly mane. “Tell me about it. A lot of us set our watches to the boss-mare.” The bright orange pegasus grit his teeth and managed with a large yank to remove a big knot of hair out. “AH! FEWMITS! I’m not gonna complain about my jaw miraculously healing during my time as fire but my mane is more singed now than it’s ever been. Gonna take a serious haircut to fix this.” “You could check in with the spa. They, like, do everything there. Doc sent me there for massages,” Dusty observed. “They probably could do something about the smell, too.” “The smell?” “Yeah. You smell like ash, dude.” “I smell like… oh…” Firestormer smirked and chuckled. “Cute surfer-boy. Very cute.” “Got to have something positive,” Dusty replied with a chuckle. “I… I… don’t know what to do for Grapes...” “I think she’s just overwhelmed by everything that happened yesterday. I’ve seen it before in the Storm-Riders. Heck we’ve all been there at some point or another. Storm is over, you survey the damage and realise just how little of an impact you had on the whole. That’s when you get a bad case of the If-Only’s and those are not good to have, let me tell you-me.” “I know all about those… Most of my ‘if only’s’... are about me being skewered on the brass fittings of an overlarge cannon, or paralyzed from the head down,” Dusty murmured quietly. “‘If only I had done something different’... But I would have been worse off… No real loss, in the greater scheme of things, if you think about it.” “You just went somewhere pretty dark, buddy,” Firestormer said, frowning. “Remind me to talk to you about that later on. Right now we should check up on Sour Grapes and make sure she’s okay.” Dusty limped up to the door, and tried the handle. Finding it locked, he lifted up the welcome mat, pulled out the spare key, and unlocked the door, swinging it open. “Grapes?” Dusty called, as he looked around. The dishes lay in the sink, undone. Very uncharacteristic for Sour Grapes to let them just sit there like that. He slowly went up the stairs to find the door to her room locked as well. Fortunately one key fit all around here. “What do you want? I… I’m not feeling like work, today,” Grapes said, from beneath her comforter. “Hey, Grapes, you don’t let me get away with wallowing in… What is it you wallow in? Self pity? Yeah, that sounds about right. You’d tell me not to wallow in self-pity, an’ get out there and do my work, an’ get better,” Dusty said poking the mound earning him a glare from beneath the comforter. “What makes you so special that you can do it and I can’t?” “Your boss,” Grapes griped. “I’m also family,” Dusty said with a smirk. “Family is supposed to stand by ya, and give you that kick in the rear, when you need it. You can’t pull the ‘boss’ card on me, ‘cause I’ve got the family card to pull on you. So there. Heck, I can get Applejack, Macintosh, and even Granny Smith to come and nag at ya too. I’ll even bring in Doctor Coldhoof for a consult.” Grapes groaned. “Fine. Fine. I’ll get up,” she uttered, slowly getting out of bed, and out from under the comforter. “They’re all worried about you, you know,” Dusty said with a smirk. “Right… I’m not the greatest friend, though,” Grapes said, as they trotted down the steps. “You’re still new at the whole ‘friend’ thing,” Dusty said with a grin. “Ugh… I feel like someone stuffed me into a cement mixer full of rocks then wrung me out like a dish rag. I don’t even want to get washed up right now.” “We could drag you out into the yard and hose you down,” Dusty suggested. “Pass.” “Be quick, easy…” Dusty persisted. “And humiliating, yet refreshing,” Grapes added. “Now for the ‘fun’ part. We get to see what problems we have today.” “Well, the buildings are still standing. That’s a plus. Everypony has a head and four hooves so we’re all alive and healthy. Heck, Firestormer’s jaw is fully healed. Guess being turned into fire and back finished the job that dentist did… bet she’d still wanna write a paper on it or something.” “Good to know, Dusty… Oh my. I guess… I’ll have to live, learn, and move on,” Grapes said sarcastically, as they exited the farmhouse. “So… I hear you all were worried about me?” “Aye. That we were, lass.” Summer Squall said stepping forward from the group. “I don’t really remember much of yesterday but I get the impression that I... owe you me life.” Grapes blinked, tilting her head. “You owe me your life?” “Aye. I did say it was fuzzy. Did you do or… say anything that helped me out, lass?” “I said a bunch of stuff to get a younger you to stop acting like scaliwag, and a rebel without a clue, and actually be a productive member of society,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Told him that he had the spark of greatness in him, and he had to show it to me.” “You… you did, did you…” Squall said tapping the side of his head in thought. “I remember… I remember now. I said something similar to… oh, for the love of the sea.” Summer Squall began to laugh, a deep belly laugh that caused him to have to lean on Sirocco to not fall over. “Oh! When that chaos god sent me back, I thought it was his way of lettin’ me relive me youth… literally. I was sent back to me last day on me old pirate ship, the Buttercup!” “And he switched you with your younger self,” Grapes said with a shake of her head. “I thought it strange too… until I realised that was the exact moment me and Admiral… oh wait… She was CAPTAIN Diamond Blade back then. Back to the exact moment I had been singling her out.” He looked off towards the horizon and sighed. “Do you know why they called me ‘Swordless’ Squall on the wanted posters?” “Honestly, I didn’t care, at the time. Though, I would assume that your fondness of hooficuffs would play into it,” Grapes replied with a wan smile. “Oh, very much so. On the Buttercup there was a proud tradition that a pirate could only carry a sword that they ‘earned’. You fought another crew and took someone’s sword, bingo bango bongo, you’re armed and dangerous… only I realised I liked the hitting ponies part more than swingin’ swords about. Became rather good at it, and infamous FOR it.” he examined his hooves and smiled. “Started my teeth collection back then. Figured that the famous Captain Diamond Blade’s teeth would make a fine prize… although by then the novelty of puttin’ the hurt on other ponies was gettin’ kinda… kinda… empty.” “Isn’t one of our ancestors…” Dusty asked, raising an eyebrow. “More yours than mine, Dusty,” Grapes quipped. “Yeah, but you do look like that old portrait in Grandma’s hallway,” Dusty observed. “I do?” Grapes asked, raising her eyebrows. “I look like Diamond Blade?” “You’re related to her?” Squall said, tilting his head to the side. “Colors are all different and you wear your mane non-regulation but now that I think of it, yeah. There is some of her in there.” “Well yeah, I’m half Earth Pony. My colors would be different. Grandfather is where Dusty, and his dad, get their tan coloration,” Grapes asserted. “Well you take more after Captain Diamond Blade than her sister, if that’s any consolation,” the old sailor chuckled. “She was stunned by the fact that a young buck turned into an old codger right before her eyes, but only for a moment. Then she attacked and well… I disarmed her and we had a brief chat.” “Diamond Blade had a sister?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yes. She often used her as a bad example.” Squall said. “Pretty but stuck-up thing that put too much emphasis on bloodlines than family.” “Wow, that sounds familiar,” Dusty observed with an eyeroll. “All except for the ‘pretty’ part, Dusty.” Grapes commented. “I can’t imagine that wrinkled old nag ever being pretty… inside OR out. then again I’m biased.” “Boy is that the truth,” Dusty murmured, his eyes flicking to Queenie. “Aye. You’d have liked Diamond Blade. She was far more open-minded. She accepted an inexperienced young pirate transforming into a far more dangerous old mariner to be some manner of outside influence.” ---------------------------------------------------------------- “You want me to WHAT?” shouted Captain Diamond Blade over the din of the battle. It was madness, right in the middle of one of the biggest missions of her military career and one of the ponies that she had been ordered to capture, by NAME, had become an old salt who disarmed her with the ease of a parent pulling a dangerous tool from the grasp of a child. Then he expected her to accept that he was the same pony, just decades older and gave her a glimpse of the future… that was hard to swallow. “Offer him a way out, Ad… I mean Captain.” Squall corrected himself, trying to keep his mind in the here and now… which was the past. “I got me a feeling that this change ain’t going to last forever so this here advice is important to know. Swordless Squall is just going through the motions these days. He’s a pirate because he can’t think of anything else to be. His world view is too tiny for his potential. He needs to see that there’s another future out there for him. One that doesn’t mean he HAS to beat ponies up for a living.” “So assuming what you’re saying is true, and I’m not saying it is, what am I supposed to do?” Diamond Blade gave a derisive snort. “Draft him into her highness' royal navy?” The sea-foam green pony arched an eyebrow and smirked at her, causing the captain of the HHS Nonesuch to facehoof. “Oh, for the love of Celestia…” “You always were quick on the uptake… ADMIRAL.” The way he said that title was completely without sarcasm or irony. “You mean I actually live long enough to become an admiral?” “Aye. Same as ‘Swordless’ may live long enough to become a captain. I’m not asking for you to pull the sun and moon from the sky, Diamond Blade. Give him a chance… let him turn the princess’ evidence against the others and arrange his… penance to be a stint in the Navy. You got so much to gain, and very little to lose.” The unicorn was rather surprised that the fighters around them hadn’t noticed that two ponies had stopped to have a brief discussion right in the middle of a boarding party. She looked the surprise visitor from the future over. She had studied the wanted posters of The Buttercup’s villainous crew; she could see a lot of living in the leathery face of the pony across from her, but it was still Swordless Squall under there. He made a good point, offering his younger self a way out would cost her nothing but a breath. If he refused, she’d take him down good and hard. But.. if he accepted. If he gave testimony against his own crewmates at the trial it would be a major coup for her and justice in general. If she could make an honest pony out of one of the more infamous pirates out here then it would validate her life in general. If he put everything he learned as a pirate towards a life serving her highness… there was no telling how far he could go. She looked the old pegasus stallion in the eyes and returned his smirk. “Do I get to live long enough to see you make captain?” “Oh yes, ma’am,” he said with a laugh. “You told… will tell me that you wouldn’t have missed it for all the tea in the Chineigh’s empire.” “Fine. One chance. But if you… he screws up…” “...Then, Captain,” Squall said giving her a smart salute. “you have my permission for you to break his wings and use him for pillow stuffing.” ------------------------------------------------------------ “I have a question,” Grapes said. “Why ‘Buttercup’?” “Why…?” Squall stared at Grapes for a moment before breaking out laughing. “OH! Oh, you mean why is the name of the most dreaded pirate ship to sail the six seas ‘Buttercup’? Oh… because WE never named her. When Captain Dreadbeard first got her, he stole it from a Baltimare shipyard. She was one of only two of her kind. Pleasure ships meant to ferry the rich about to exotic places and survive whatever the sea may throw at it. He made sure there were only two out there by making a point of destroying her blueprints while he was there. However there was one problem… she was already christened by her intended owner.” “Well why didn’t they just rename it?” Earshot asked. “Because lad, it’s bad luck to name a ship twice. One of the worst kinds too. So the captain decided it would be interesting to make such a fancy name one that ponies only whispered in fear.” “And later you find out that ‘Buttercup’ is the name of the Princess Bride,” Grapes said with a small smile. “Funny how life turns out, ain’t it lass?” Squall asked. “Indeed, it is,” Grapes replied. “All right. Let’s see what we can salvage.” ----------------------------- “Well sugarcube. How ya holdin’ up?” “Just taking it one day at the time,” Grapes replied. “Best way to do it.” Applejack said, in her sweet southern drawl. “Can Ah show ya somethin’? Ah’m sure you and yer fancy magic book learnin’ will jest LOVE it all.” “You sure you don’t want to show this to Twilight first? The only ‘magic book learning’ I got was from Mom’s collection she brought from Canterlot,” Grapes asked, as they trotted along. “Twi has a lot on her plate right now. Turns out there’s a whole heap of paperwork around puttin’ an ‘enemy of the realm’ in any kind of prison.” Sour Grapes stiffened for a moment when she heard that phrase, but quickly composed herself. “Ah jest want you to let me know if it’s worth draggin’ her flank out to mah farm before Ah actually do it.” AJ led her into the apple family orchard and after about five minutes of walking in silence she glanced over at Sour Grapes. “Notice anything peculiar, Cousin?” “Aside from there not being any apples in these particular trees, nothing much,” Grapes replied before she took a closer look at the trees. “No clue what you’re going to do with all the coconuts, though.” "Got it in one, sugarcube. A whole quarter of mah trees are full of these here cow-nuts. Ah found out about them when Ah bucked one tree and woke up an hour later with a whopper of a headache and a dent in mah hat. What in tarnation am Ah supposed to do with hundreds of these here bearded bowling balls?" It was at this moment when a confusion of orange, yellow, and white burst onto the scene accompanied by the high pitched twanging of a ukulele. "Cutiemark Crusaders Hula Dancers! YAAAAY!" "Now that there is just plain WRONG! Applebloom! You get that there grass skirt and cow-nut thing off this instant!" "Applejack. They're called coconuts," Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. "Well ain't Ah sayin’ just that? Ah mean I know a cow-nut when Ah see one.” "No, you're saying 'cow-nut'." "Really? Cain't figure why Ah'd say it like that." Applejack said, picking up a coconut and cracking it open, before offering half to Grapes. "Have some milk. It'll do ya good." "...Oh... That's why you call it a..." Grapes observed, taking a sip. “Though they are edible. You can make cream pies, and cakes with them… Though I’d use the proper name of ‘coconut cream pie’, and ‘coconut cake’. Calling them cow-nut pie and/or cake would, A. confuse ponies, and B. might get the bovine community upset. Gryphon cowherds, a long time ago, used to geld bulls to ‘calm them down’.” Applejack and three small fillies all cringed at the same time before Applebloom looked up at her sister. “What’s geldin’, and why does it sound bad?” “Standard answer number one,” Grapes said before Applejack could answer. “Go an’ ask Granny?” Applebloom asked. “We’ll explain when you are older,” Grapes clarified. “That works too,” Applejack agreed before looking at the CMC. “When yer a little older we’ll explain it.” “I think Earshot’s keeping a list,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “I’m going to have a lot to explain when he’s older.” “So what do y’all think about the trees? Worth askin’ Twi to come take a look-see?” “Well I sure as hay don’t know why your apples have turned into coconuts,” Grapes replied. “Other than that monster that altered the landscape a few days ago being responsible for it.” “Yeah. Ah thought about that too. Ah wonder if it’s like the time these here troublemakers tried to use Big Mac as a dress dummy for a cutie mark in dressmakin’. Stretched the fabric so bad it never did go back to normal.” “That makes sense, actually,” Grapes said with a nod. “It does?” “You remember how the landscape was warped, altered, and generally stretched all out of proportion,” Grapes replied. “That would leave some… threads here and there.” “Why am Ah suddenly thinkin’ of Rarity darning holes in socks?” “Why are you thinking of Rarity at all?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or even socks, for that matter…” “Now don’t you start!” Applejack growled at Grapes before looking at the Cutiemark Crusaders and their inquisitive glances. “Answer Number One! Okay?” “Don’t you three have some ridiculously life-threatening plan to find your cutie marks that somehow, tangentially, involves tree sap to get back to?” Grapes asked. “Wellll....” Applebloom said slowly, glancing over at her sister. “We were thinking of seeing if we could get our cutiemarks in running a tiki bar.” “A tiki bar?” Grapes asked. “Do you even know what a tiki bar is?” “We asked around town what we could do with a lot of cow-nuts… I mean coconuts.” Sweetie Belle happily explained. “We got a lot of advice, and Miss Berry Punch suggested we try running a tiki bar.” “Yeah! She even gave us a few recipes for virgil tiki drinks,” Scootaloo added. “Virgil… And you went to Berry Punch…” Grapes said with a sigh. “Ladies, no. Just no.” “Well she came by the family stall and Ah was askin’ everypony about it so…” Applebloom started before Applejack pressed a hoof to her lips. “Applebloom. When yer shoulder deep, best you jest stop shovelin’.” “Yeff Abblejab.” “That’s a good young’un. Now the three of you run along. Maybe… get yer cutiemarks in homework doin’ fer a change.” “Coconuts. I think I can do something with coconuts. Or at least the milk. They can be sold, too. We don’t often see fresh coconuts in this part of Equestria,” Grapes observed. “It’s all usually pre-shredded, and magically sealed.” “That’d be interesting. Oh! Speakin’ of which… Ah got an invite to the palace in a few days. Some sorta ceremony Celestia wants to give me and the gals,” Applejack said with shrug. “Really? You’re going actually going to get some recognition for being a hero? About darned time,” Grapes said with a huff. “Who else do you think’s going to be there?” “Dunno. When the Princess says show up, Ah don’t stand around jawin’ about it. Ah jest show up. Figure she’ll tell us the guest list if she feels it’s important enough.” “Fine. Have fun visiting the castle,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “I’ve got to get back to the vineyard, and find out what’s going on--” “Say… You wouldn’t happen to wanna drop by and watch me get a fancy award and all, would ya? Rest of the family’s comin’ along fer the ride t’cheer me on.” “Yeah. That may be an interesting,” Grapes said, looking thoughtful. “That’s where that statue is, right? The one of that beast?” “Yeah. I’ll bet the Princess put Discord right back up on that pedestal where she can keep an eye on his smug stone carcass. Bet that’s what they mean by that whole thing with closeness and yer friends and enemies,” said Applejack. “Don’t call that beast by a name. It doesn’t deserve one. That monster doesn’t deserve anything!” Grapes uttered with a growl. “Except to be destroyed.” “Woah there, Sour. Easy girl,” Applejack said, holding her hooves up defensively. “We all got bad memories from yesterday, some of us more than others. But gettin’ all riled up ain’t gonna solve nothin’.” “That evil creature maimed a foal for its own sick, perverted, twisted, depraved amusement,” Grapes asserted. “It is a monster, and should be thought of as such.” “Maimed? Who was it?” “Earshot,” Grapes said. “It stole his ears.” “Shoulda guessed. Discord took Dash and Fluttershy’s wings and Twi and Rarity’s horns back in the maze to make it a ‘fair’ contest. Takin’ the ears off a colt who can hear a horsefly poot in Trotsylvania from here only seems appropriate for his bad sense of humor.” “Only a monster would attack a foal,” Grapes uttered with a growl. “Probably scared him out of a few years’ growth, that’s for certain. Applebloom got off lucky in comparison. All mister jigsaw puzzle did to Applebloom was make her think she was a tree,” She said with a smirk. “Buried herself up to her neck in topsoil… probably a good thing Big Mac never found her while he thought he was a dog.” “Yeah. I met him while he was thinking he was a dog. That was… weird,” Grapes uttered. “He licked me.” “He licked Twilight too.” Applejack chuckled. “When Ah asked him if he remembered that he just winked at me and said ‘Enope’.” Grapes sighed. “Well… I’ll head home, and pack… And see what’s going on with my vineyard. If your apples were altered I’m sure my grapes have been changed, too.” “Probably. Look, Sour, I know all of that stuff got yer dander all up. It’s why Ah’m invitin’ you along fer the show. A change of scenery will do ya good, even if it’s fer a day or two.” She paused and rubbed the back of her neck. “Don’t suppose you know any place that would put up with puttin’ up Granny, Mac and Applebloom fer a day or two in Canterlot, would ya?” “If Celestia didn’t already provide accommodations for your whole family in the castle proper, you can try the Dewdrop Inn,” Grapes said with a smile. “They’ve got the best wheatgrass smoothies, and they’re not expensive at all.” “Easy on the bitbag, eh? Granny will love that. Okay.” Applejack gave Grapes an envelope with Celestia’s crest on it. “This’ll get you past any cranky guards. Careful you don’t lose it though, only the Princess knows how to make these here invitations.” “Awesome,” Grapes said with a smile, looking at the invitation. “I’ll be there.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Okay. Why are you all here?” Dusty asked, as he looked from Thistledown, to Firestormer, as the duo came into his room. “Well, ‘Stormer here mentioned that you were having some personal problems.” Thistledown began. “Problems that may make you jump to conclusions or make a rash decision. I’ve had rashes from bad decisions and believe me, they’re not fun at all.” “Jump to conclusions?” Dusty asked. “What are you talking about?” “Earlier you were considering some things that you normally wouldn't Dusty.” Firestormer said looking the athlete in the eye. “Now, normally I wouldn’t put a lot of stock in that but I’ve been chased by that particular dog before and you do NOT wanna go there.” “Firestormer… When I screw up, it’s usually only me that’s hurt. This time I ruined the finances of a whole town, and made Queenie hate me, because I hurt her homeland,” Dusty said quietly. “I usually love what I do, performing for the crowds, and making them happy. This time, though, all I did was bring pain.” “Buddy, seriously. You need to let go of that. What’s done is done, and sometimes there’s nothing that you can do about it even when it’s happening.” Firestormer implored. “There are some things I’ve put into motion, to try and make them some money… I’ve also been sending my salary there,” Dusty said quietly “Sending your… oh man.” Firestormer said with a gentle facehoof. “You really are guilt-wracked. Look… Dusty. You can’t keep kicking yourself over this. I know how it feels to look around at a disaster and think that you could have done more. That somehow things may have been different if you tried something else. It’s a sick heavy feeling that doesn’t wanna leave you but you gotta realise that we’re mortal. No matter what gifts we have, that won’t change, and there’s only so much we can change things. ...buck, I’m rambling, aren’t I?” “You talk like you’ve been there, Sparky,” Dusty said with a wry smile. “Storms of all kinds can be fierce but mix fire in there and it’s as if it’s taking things personally.” The orange pegasus said quietly. “More than once I’ve stood in the middle of a field of ash that was once a town and looked at what a forest fire or lava or what-have you has erased it off the face of Equestria. We saved the citizens but when they come back hoping something is left… and you just don’t have the right words to… to…” “Yeah, but that’s a volcano, or a forest fire… I set off the cannon, Sparky. Sure I didn’t load it, but I set it off… And Queenie hates me. She does. She was warming up, then the temperature went right back down to sub-frigid… But then, I suggested the money she’d been… making could be tainted by chaos and using it to help her homeland could cause more harm than good...” Dusty uttered with a sigh. “She takes matters of her homeland very personally,” Firestormer agreed. “If the town weren’t a monarchy she’d make a great mayor.” “Yeah…” Dusty said quietly. “‘The greatest distinction is service to others’. She said that...” “Yeah, Queenie’s got a few priorities right.” Firestormer smiled, before noticing Thistledown scribbling away in his notebook. “What are you doing, Thistledown?” “Me? Oh... ah... Just getting a few quick… sketches in. Don’t mind me. Carry on.” “What makes you say that I’m jumping to conclusions, though?” Dusty asked. “Because I’ve seen what’s in those fields out there.” Firestormer turned around and gestured out Dusty’s window to the white frames stretching off as far as the eye could see, each adorned with green grape vines and yet… no grapes. Wherever a cluster of grapes should have been, was a cluster of shriveled up raisins. “Whatever that long-faced freak of nature did had a lingering effect on Sour Grapes’ crops.. Can’t exactly squeeze wine from a rasin. At least I’m pretty sure you can’t. Anyways it means the source of your income has… ah… shriveled up?” “Yeah… I can’t make any money to send to the Valley, if I can’t work,” Dusty said quietly. “By the way, that pun was awful.” “Sorry. Those one liners can sometimes flop.” “Like a landed herring, dude,” Dusty said with a chuckle. “Look. In all seriousness Dusty… I know I haven’t known you all THAT long but I’m pretty sure I know you well enough to know what your next action is gonna be.” “And what do you think that is, Sparky?” Dusty asked with a chuckle. “It’s not going to be self-destructive, if that’s what you suspect. Unless you count exposure to idiocy as self-destructive.” “Thought as much,” Firestormer said with a sigh. “You’re gonna go back to Pave Diamond and let her auction you off to the highest bidder.” “Only way to get my inheritance. Give up my freedom, so Queenie can have some of her own,” Dusty said with a sigh. “She should be free to find true love.” “That is one of the most noble things I’ve ever heard…” said Summer Squall as he entered Dusty’s room, squeezing himself through the open window. “And by ‘noble’, of course I mean ‘foolhardy, short sighted, and foalish’. Sorry to barge in boys, but I couldn’t help but overhear you when you chose to talk right next to an open window that was next to the tree I was taken me nap in.” “What is it with pegasi and sleeping in trees?” Dusty asked. “It’s like you guys are, like, part bird or something.” “Fancy that,” Squall said, giving his wings a little shake before folding them against his flanks. “And so here we are. Me finally have’n gotten a big clue as to how me own past came to be, and you… well, jest look at you.” “Pathetic, ain’t I?” Dusty said with a chuckle. “Aye. But then again so was I, once upon a time.” Squall moved alongside Dusty and extended a wing over his shoulders. At first Dusty wasn’t sure what was going on but then he realised he was being herded away from the others. “Come lad. Walk with me, talk with me.” “Okay,” Dusty said, getting up, and walking along with Squall out of the bunkhouse. “So… what are we going to talk about?” “About yer intended long walk off that short pier… so to speak,” the mariner said patiently. “Look, lad. Yer not the only pony out there who had a thing or two they’d do anything in the world to undo. I may not be the wisest of elders but I’d like to think I got a thing or two in me noggin to share when it’s needed.” “You’re going to share with me?” “Of course. You’ll forgive me if I don’t go into a long rambling yarn about me mispent youth as a pirate with over FIVE Thousand bits on his head.” Squall said with a wink. “Still got the wanted posters. Was actually quite proud of them, they really got me good side.” “I think I saw you as a younger stallion, a bit ago,” Dusty said with a smile. “You just may have. Back on topic, they say idle hooves are mischief's workshop, I also found that long lulls give me far too much time to live in me own head. Reviewing me life, picking out all the things I regret and examining them… and believe me. I got a lot of regrets.” Squall sighed and leaned on the fence looking across the road at the Apple property. “Trust me… what you did ain’t nothin’ compared to a few things I’ve pulled. But this ain’t about comparin’ apples and oranges. This is about you. One reason I like workin’ here is the labour at least gives me something to do while I take a hard look at my past and what my future has. You and me are the same like that, lad. We’re ponies of action. We don’t like being idle for long, even if the work we do is boring and repetitive we enjoy it more than doing buck-all.” “Yeah. That sounds like it.” “And right now, Miss Grapes ain’t got much in the way of work for any of us, so it’s making you think that gettin’ hitched into a loveless marriage is the best idea you got. That there’s the desperation talkin’, lad.” “My Dad’s having that snake of a manager investigated, so something may come out of that,” Dusty observed with a wan smile. “Glad to hear that, lad. One less thing hangin’ over yer head.” “Yeah. That’s one thing,” Dusty said with a smile. “Look lad... Dusty. You remind me a lot of me as a colt. Less angry at the world, but just as headstrong and just as foalish at times, but I can see you got a good heart in there. You want to do right, you want to be good. And right now we need to get you someplace you can do some honest labor and clear your head enough to take a hard look at yer options.” “Sounds good, Cap’in. What do you have in mind?” Dusty asked. “You ever really think about that there mark of yers?” Squall said poking Dusty’s with his hoof. “I mean REALLY think about it? Do you really believe that it’s limited to just snowboards and surfboards?” “Of course not. I’d be good at anything that sends up a spray that can glitter in the sun. Water or snow,” Dusty replied. “You ever think that part of that may actually involve a life AT sea?” “Actually… no. Never thought about it that way. Never thought of going off to sea at all… Why have I never thought about that? Grandma would NEVER be able to find me,” Dusty said with a grin. “Aye. Go under another name and as far as she would know ye’d be lost at sea. How about Rusty? Sounds enough like Dusty to be comfortable fer ya. Rusty... Nails sounds like a good name. Trim yer mane a mite so it don’t catch on the rigging, change yer parka fer some sailing garb. Even yer own father may have trouble recognisin’ ya.” “Sounds like an idea. I’m all for that. I’m sure it’ll take time to make the arrangements, and I’ve got to get this brace off, before I go to sea. Supposed to see the Doc, in a few days,” Dusty observed. “And maybe check out the military surplus store.” “You’ll look sharp in a Dixie Cup hat,” Squall said with a chuckle. “A what kind of hat?” Dusty asked. “A Dixie Cup Hat… You know… the little white hat you see sailors wear.” “A sailor hat. Why do you call it a ‘Dixie Cup hat’?” Dusty asked. “Cause… that’s what it’s called. I don’t have all the answers, lad,” Squall asserted with a roll of his eyes. “Right. Well, I need to see about this brace, and check in with Dad… Tell Grapes, Firestormer and Thistle where I’m going…” Dusty said obviously making a mental checklist. “Military surplus store for a go bag, and maybe a mess kit, and some other sundries… Knot-tying manual…” “I think I got a few of them manuals from my navel days. A little time at sea will help sort you out, of that I’m sure. You’ll find out very quickly if you take to it or not, you’ll learn new skills, see new locations, if nothin’ else lad, you’ll be making a few more bits while you get yer fewmits together on this issue.” “Sounds like a good plan. And Avalanche Valley could use the bits…” Dusty observed with a nod. “Let me see that manual, okay? Maybe get a head start on the knots.” “Right. And after that I’ll send a letter to me friends. I’m sure one of them will need an extra quad of hooves. Maybe Captain Bermudan Rig. Commands a Kelp-fisher, it’s long hours but life on any boat is a full-time job.” “Sounds good. How long do you think I should stay aboard?” Dusty asked. “The full circle of their fishing route?” “Well unless you got wings and can tirelessly navigate over thousands of miles of featureless ocean, or gills to swim the distance… I’d say yes. No sense in doing things half-measures, Lad.” “Will do, Cap’n,” Dusty said, saluting. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Okay, everypony, pack for all weathers. It’s going to be a big shindig, but not fancy-shmancy, so no need for suit and tie, but DO bring something formal, in case we stumble upon something fancy-shmancy, or somepony decides to invite us to a formal affair,” Grapes said, as they gathered in the common room of the bunkhouse. “Anybody see Dusty?” “He had to go into town, Miss Grapes,” Streamline said as he passed through “It’s not Black Tie, is it?” Firestormer asked. “I always feel weird in those monkey suits no matter what mom says.” “Relax, Firestormer,” Stormfront chuckled. “Since when do the Storm-Riders show up in that sort of thing? Make sure what you wear is clean, pressed and better than anything made from denim.” “Non perishable snacks, drinks that are good chilled or not, and plenty of bits,” Grapes said nodding. “We’re going to be at the mercy of trains their schedules and their on-board commissary, so we need to be able to get nourishment easily, and inexpensively. Also, be sure whatever you bring won’t try to grow legs and make a run for it. That of course is directed at you, Earshot, but I’m also talking about valuables, that are small and pocketable.” “Yes, Miss Grapes. I can go all-vegetarian for a few days.” “Thanks, Earshot,” Grapes said with a smile. “Dusty’s in town for a bit… Actually I don’t understand what’s taking him so long.” “Oh, hey…” Dusty said, coming into the bunkhouse. “Y’all going to Canterlot? I’ve… made other arrangements… I can’t really go to Canterlot.” “I understand, Dusty,” Grapes said with a nod. “You guys have fun,” the blonde unicorn said with a smile, turning to head upstairs. Dusty pulled out a “Dixie Cup” hat, an envelope stuck in its cuff. He opened the letter, reading the instructions. Dusty pulled out the sea bag he picked up at the military surplus store, and started packing his meager possessions. ________________________ A couple of days later, they were at the palace in Canterlot. The big celebration was set for later that week, and Sour Grapes and the Storm Riders had been left to their own devices for the most part. Sour Grapes was wandering around, checking out the castle. To be honest she was a little surprised at how much freedom she and the Storm Riders were given to move about the grounds. Of course the Storm Riders did have an official ‘Royal’ in their official designation which probably came with some above-average freedoms. As for herself, there was the possibility that both the Princess and the Royal Vizier had some say in a certain snarky winemaker being given some slack with the royal guards. Never mind the possibility of being something of an unofficial Royal Winemaker. She had brought a few more bottles with her just to make certain that her visit wouldn’t just be her enjoying herself exclusively. If she did she’d be busy trying to find something to do, at least this way once the selection was added to the wine cellar, she would feel as if her task was already done and she could enjoy the ceremony. Still, something was making her skin itch every time she looked at the maze in the garden. So Grapes decided to go and investigate, and see what was causing that irritation. The Maze was surprisingly complex, although not impossible to navigate… or escape (whoever was in charge of the topiary around here saw fit to give it multiple exit points). Sour Grapes approached her time in it with the left-hoof method. Always keeping one wall to her left side and following it. It was one of the most efficient ways to transverse a maze without getting lost. It wasn’t long before she came across a clearing within, and in it she saw the statue she remembered from last time. The same Draconequis, but his position has changed. Before, he had looked amused, now his face held an expression of terror. Could that be… “Where’s a sledgehammer when I need one,” Grapes muttered to herself. Sour Grapes approached, frowning at the statue, her hackles raised at the very sight of him. Her focus was so much on the fiend and his state of stone slumber that she nearly tripped over the small Night Pony colt who was standing in front of it. She blinked, and now that she was aware of him, recognised Earshot. She wondered what made him gravitate to the beast that did him such harm just a few days ago. “Hello Miss Grapes. Sorry I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t hear you coming.” “So… What brings you here, Earshot?” Grapes asked. “The others are all doing things and I kinda got bored, so I asked the guards if there was anything to do and Mister Tarnished Barding, he’s the Captain of the guard, he’s a friend of Mister Squall, anyways Mister Tarnished Barding suggested I try out the hedge maze without flying.” He paused to take a breath. “It’s fun, reminds me a little of Stygian Cove’s passages only… greener. Anyways I found my way here. And here is where HE is.” Earshot pointed at the statue and smiled. The fact that Earshot referred to a statue as a ‘he’ meant only that this was indeed the real deal cast in stone. Applejack had a point about this being Celestia’s way of keeping an eye on him. This part of the maze was probably visible from half the windows in the palace. “I know your ears are good, Earshot. Can you hear anything from this worthless lump?” “Kinda. Does ‘Oil Can’ mean anything to you?” “That abomination must have gotten it from somewhere,” Grapes observed. “Please don’t call him a… an ‘abomination’ Miss Grapes. He has a name.” “That beast doesn’t deserve to have a name.” “Maybe… but it wasn’t that long ago you found out about a pony who likes to call ME an ‘Abomination’. You told me that it was wrong then, is it any different now?” “Well… Wouldn’t you say that monster is an abomination? You are a type of pony, Earshot, plain and simple. That beast is a mish-mash of animals conglomerated together, and made into a discordant mess, who wants to make everypony suffer,” Grapes replied. “He stole your ears. Only monsters hurt foals, deliberately. Only the most abominable of creatures could thrive on pain and suffering.” “Miss Grapes. I once was cornered by a Cryscorpion in a side tunnel. They’re small things, pretty as coloured glass but their stings hurt like fire in your veins. My father was there and he told me to give it a name, because the moment you give a name to something it defines them, gives them shape, steals some of their power and makes them part of your world instead of you being part of theirs. I wound up giving it the name Mister Tinkles because of the sound it made moving across the rocks. Somehow being able to call it by name made things better for me and I felt a little less afraid of it.” “So what happened?” “I was able to be brave enough to inch past it and to my Dad. He was right. There are power in names.” “So what do you wanna call him?” Grapes asked, gesturing at the statue. “Stinky?” “No.” Earshot said giggling. “I think his name was fine the way it was. Discord. Sound that failed to become music. He’s the opposite of harmony, so he’s just... noise. Kinda feel sorry for him though.” “You feel sorry for him? Oh wait, of course you do.You wouldn’t be you if you couldn’t feel sorry for something that tried to hurt you. So, tell me. Why would you feel sorry for… ‘Discord’?” “Because unless he learns how to get along with others, he’ll always be alone in the world.” Grapes was about to leave with Earshot before she looked back at the statue and smirked. “I hope you are alone for a very, very long time… Discord.” > Great Expectations, and Unwanted Ones Too > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The after-awards celebration was going pretty well. It was nice to finally see her friends get their due, and it did her heart good to watch the Storm-Riders enjoying themselves with the small group of ponies who had come to the ceremony. Twilight’s parents were nice ponies very willing to talk about their daughter, her accomplishments, her flaws, her relationship with her brother in the military. (Grapes had to arch an eyebrow at that one. Twilight never talked about the stallion who was supposedly her “big brother best friend forever”, although in her defence nopony ever did actually ASK about her family relationships and Twilight being Twilight… well, she most likely just forgot to bring up the topic.) Some members of the other mane six’s families were in attendance. Rarity’s mom and dad where there (Boy did THAT apple fall far from the tree), she had a chance to meet Rainbow Dash’s brothers (they were a little body building centric but their hearts were definitely in the right place) and of course no matter where you went there were Apples present. At the end of the evening she had found herself a nice quiet table in the corner of the hall and just pony-watched for a bit. She liked just observing how the various ponies interacted with one another. They were from so many walks of life and yet united through the pride of the accomplishments of Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie,Twilight, Rainbow Dash and Rarity. It felt good to be part of this and yet far enough out of the limelight she could afford to be just a little bit antisocial. Still… that statue of that ‘Discord’ irked her. It was hard to stop hating someone like that, and to see him in stone form, unable to move made her wish she had a shovel to dig a very deep hole to drop him into, or concrete to permanently smother his shape in a large stone block or...or... It was then that a very large and heavy stonemason’s hammer dropped on the table in front of her. "I think you were wanting something like this earlier, Miss Sour Grapes." She looked up and saw Basashi... in really sinister-looking green and silver armor... possibly of the leather variety. Basashi was the sort of pony that when he moved, muscles had to move out of the way to make room for other muscles. And it wasn’t even like Bulk Biceps’ kind of musculature. Bisashi was BORN to be huge; he looked like he could shoulder-check even Celestia herself through a wall. But fortunately he wasn’t that sort of pony, in truth he greatly feared Celestia and had not too long ago been imprisoned for snacking on her roses. "Basashi? Is that you under all of that? Oh wow, it IS you! How have you been?" "Much better these days, Miss Sour Grapes. After a little more time doing... my time, I was given an option to do some service to the crown to round it all out. And so... here I am." The immensely muscled pony drew himself up his face seemed to darken into a steely humourless expression. "I am now the personal Left Hoof of the Royal Vizier." "Good for you, Basashi." "Thank you, Miss Sour Grapes. Thanks to your very kind letter I am now on his Brute Squad." "Brute Squad, huh?" Grapes asked with a slight smirk. "Any good at rhyming?" "I haven't tried in a long time. Why do you ask? "Read The Princess Bride," Grapes smirked. "So you ARE the Brute Squad. But then... You're big enough for two ponies." He chuckled and nodded. "It's surprisingly easy to be his 'brute'. All I have to do is be kind of the opposite of THOSE guys," he said giving a slight motion of his head to indicate the Royal Guards standing in alcoves around the room. "I look big, bad, and give a snarl, a growl or a sneer and grunt whenever I can use that as a response instead of words. Not all that different than what I was doing as a freerunner and playing to our stereotypes. "Normally I'd be walking about on my rounds, making the guards feel really... small by just standing next to one for a while but a mutual friend asked me to bring you to him." "Guaranty?" "Got it in one, Miss Sour Grapes. Now if you'll kindly look worried as you follow me, I can take you straight to him." "Right oh. Following you, big guy." Inside of his big spiky helm his face suddenly got very serious and he somehow made himself look even bigger than before. He grunted, and began moving towards the door, each leg moving to a new position as if it took no less than three to keep his bulk supported. Grapes had to admit, Basashi really was playing the role of the Royal Vizier's Brute to the hilt. She followed along, admiring the acting job...and the flanks in front of her. It was funny how everypony instinctively got out of his way. Servants moved to the walls and stayed still when he passed by, and guards... they didn't budge an inch but their eyes tracked him in the same way one would keep an eye on a dangerous predator when you were hiding in their territory. It was more than just his size in action, or his perceived strength and mood. They knew that Basashi was “Guaranty's guy”, and you didn't mess with Guaranty. Grapes trotted behind the large creature. He took her down a hallway to what looked like a blind end with a beautiful statue. It was of an alicorn whom she didn't recognise, but the statue style itself she recognised as one of Micro Angle's works (no doubt an original). Bashashi moved over to it, and it moved to one side of its own accord, revealing a flight of stairs leading down into a chamber. "Nice statue." "Beautiful, isn’t it?" came a familiar voice from the gloom as they descended into it. "Micro Angle really could eke the most out of marble, could he not?" "Oh, naturally." The statue moved back into place above them and now lights began to slowly brighten, filling the darkness and illuminating it until she could see... a rather homey room with a dart board, a pool table, a large card table, a large shelving unit filled with all manner of games and puzzles, and a minibar. Guaranty was at the pool table playing a game of 8-ball against a pony who was keeping her back to her. All in all, this looked like it had more in common with the Bunkhouse Recreational Room than some secret chamber in the palace. "Hm... I see you've got yourself a nice little stallion cave here." "Sometimes you need a place away from all of the glamour and elegance where you and some of the other second bananas of nations can go and get some REAL work done," he chuckled sinking a solid. "Many, many agreements have been agreed upon down here over the most casual of pastimes." "Poker?" “Sometimes. I have found that a variety of games have often kept it from feeling too much like an inclusive club.” Again, Guaranty sank another solid, and gave her a quirky smile. “Some of us are better at certain games than others. I swear that Medicine Wheel, Chief Thunderhooves’ head shaman, gets his skillful poker playing using his magic. Then again it’s not often a newcomer to the table is so astonishingly good, so that may be my own embarrassment at being ‘taken to the cleaners’ talking.” “So… you guys gamble about the future of nations, here?” Grapes asked with a smirk. “Mmm? Oh no! No, we have a strict rule about that down here. Nothing but the most frivolous of items will ever be decided upon by the outcome of a game,” Guaranty said with a derisive snort. “It’s why you will find the border between Griffonia and Equestria marked not only with proper markers but also a very long line of Saskatoon bushes.” “Saskatoon bushes?” “Oh yes. Turns out they like the taste of Saskatoons. Go figure.” “Huh. How about that. So why are we talking about Griffonia?” “Mmm? Oh yes,” he said, playing his shot and missing, before stepping aside to let his companion play. “Your turn. Ah, well, it could be just me making pleasant conversation or it could be that I have use for one such as yourself, Miss Grapes. Which… would you prefer?” “Well, since I seem to have the free time, considering my crop’s been turned into raisins, and I would rather be doing something useful rather than sitting around the farm waiting for the magical fallout to be cleaned up, bored to absolute TEARS… nevermind wallowing in self pity and doubt..” “I think it’s safe to inform you ahead of time that the reason it took a few days to honor the Element Bearers was that there was an emergency summit of the various heads of state surrounding the current… ‘Discord Crisis’.” “Did you just make quotation marks with your hooves, Guaranty?” “I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Grapes. Back on topic, this emergency summit was to discuss the problems we will be experiencing from the chaos magic residue that is currently causing spots of trouble here and there. Even with competent clean-up crews across the world, it will take time to deal with all of the, well, the word that’s being used is ‘fallout’.” “You did it again.” “Did not. And so upon a unilateral agreement a new calendrical phenomenon has been brought into being. Every thousand years an extra month of summer comes into being, like a leap year only in a more millennial fashion.” “A leap eon?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe. So far the working title for it is a Chaos-Year. In short, Sour Grapes… you now have an extra month to… squander while your property and various other locations in Ponyville’s area are cleaned up by a local independant contractor.” “A local independant… It’s Redline, isn’t it?” “Oh, you know him?” Guaranty said, watching the other pony sink a striped ball. “He rents from me. I recently convinced him to cut back his caffeine intake,” Grapes said. “Ah, good. Then you know him to be a very magically gifted individual who is more than capable of leading the cleanup operation in the region,” Guaranty asserted, before noticing his opponent missed a shot. “Oh, bad luck there, sport.” The pony stepped aside out of Guaranty’s way while he took a shot sinking a solid into the corner pocket. “Bravo,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Thank you. Anyways my… well, let us call a spade a spade, Mister Nopony here is my newest acquisition. He is my first true spy in my information network. He actively goes into regions, assesses problems and then reports back with his findings.” “Nopony” turned, and with a slight bow of his head, tipped his hat to Sour Grapes… it was only then that she realised that Mister Nopony was lacking something vital… a face. Instead of eyes, a mouth, and nostrils, what was in their place was a sort-of fuzziness that seemed to fail to form any sort of facial topography. The effect was rather unnerving. “And now I know where the Slendermane story comes from,” Grapes observed wryly while doing her best to keep her skin from crawling at the sight of his blank face. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget what the effect is like up close,” Nopony chuckled and replaced his hat. “I assure you that I’m not usually this… strange. Just… forgettable.” “Nopony has the most remarkable talent I have yet to see in any pony,” Guaranty said lining up his next shot. “Utter anonymity. From what I understand, as a child he was teased for his small horn size and wound up doing his best to be unnoticeable to avoid ridicule. This developed into his current talent. I only mention this to you because while there are many things you could ridicule about a pony, you never stoop to something like a pony’s attribute size unless it’s genuinely pertinent. Am I right, Sour Grapes?” “You just had to bring up attribute size…” Grapes grouched. “Ah, yes. Your hopeful romantic partner. A good case in point.” The ball was sent into the side pocket and Guaranty looked over at Sour Grapes with a smirk. “Now… Mister Nopony here has been to the Griffon Empire and found something that needs to be rectified. Not a lot really, just some trade issues, but considering all of the political maneuvering that goes on in their government, I feel the best offence is a good defence. You, Miss Sour Grapes, and your astonishingly strong honest streak is the best defence I can think of in this matter.” “Honest streak? Are you sure you’re speaking to the right pony?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “After all, my cousin, Applejack, is the bearer of the Element of Honesty…” “True, but I don’t need somepony who is honest to a fault. I need somepony who is honest but just jaded enough that she won’t assume everypony else is the same.” Guaranty smiled his trademark grin full of sharp yellow teeth at her. “And to be ‘honest’, the Chamberlain will recognise the Element of Honesty a mile away. She’s very well informed.” “Ooooh. Makes sense,” Grapes said with a nod. “I should warn you, while a very pleasant griffon, the Royal Chamberlain Golden Wingspan, is very… very… wicked.” He let the words hang in the air for a moment, to impress them upon Sour Grapes. “She just has standards. In her position as the left claw of the emperor himself, she has nearly all the power of the empire at her disposal, but refuses to treat it like some manner of piggy bank to be plundered at a whim. The garbage gets picked up, children go to school, hospitals are staffed with competent healers, paper gets pushed and the trains run on time. They have a high employment rate and a 90% literacy rate. In short… she wants everygriff to know that they owe their impressive standard of living to her.” “Everygriff? Seriously?” “As if ‘everypony’ was truly all-encompassing considering how many species are capable of speech.” “Point taken.” “So… I can get you on the next train to Maneland which can get you a connecting airship to the border crossing station… don’t worry about your airsickness. You won’t even notice the height unless you deliberately go to a window or over the side. Then from there--” "Now wait just a Celestia-d​arned minute. I have yet to agree to going on this errand of yours. Shriveled up produce or not, I can’t just run off. I have to supervise things, maintenance to perform, I have farmhooves who need the work and the money that comes with it…” she took a deep breath and mumbled, “Not to mention I can’t knowingly leave Redline unsupervised messing around with my property.” “Redline will be hiring on your farmhooves as unskilled labour in the decontamination efforts, also I am certain that you can leave a list of basic chores for them to do in maintaining your property.” He paused to lean on his pool cue and arch an eyebrow at the winemaker. “Honestly, Sour Grapes, you make Redline sound like he’s a walking disaster area. Celestia did have him earmarked as a reserve Element Bearer for a reason, you know.” “That’s because he IS a walking disaster area. He cast the intelligent animation spell on a toaster, and the head of an automaton! And… wait… Element bearer? Redline? There’s an Element of Chaos now?” “To be honest I doubt there is an Element of Chaos, however, he was scouted out by Princess Celestia as a possible Element of Magic. Then he dropped out of the public eye to raise his sister and so Celestia decided he would be put on the ‘reserve list’. Just in case Twilight Sparkle put Two and Two together and got Twenty-Two instead.” “Yeah… That is a possibility… Twilight can be a bit… interesting,” Grapes observed. “Celestia may have spent a thousand years setting up the Harmony Gambit, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t have a few Plan B’s in reserve. Multiple possible bearers, secret groups ready to preserve ponykind in the onset of an eternal night, not to mention me.” “Well, of course. You can’t exactly put your eggs all in one basket, and hope the one pony you’ve poured your hopes into will actually follow through,” Grapes observed. “Especially a pony who’s as neurotic and obsessed with order and schedules as Twilight.” “True. Sometimes brilliance has a tradeoff… you see it with Twilight, you see it in Redline. In one of her more candid moments, Celestia did mention that had I been born a little later I could have been a contender for the elements as well. I hardly see that in myself. Fortune favours the beautiful, you know… and my face can stop a clock at thirty paces.” “You’re not that bad. Also looks aren’t everything. At least not with me,” Grapes observed. “And yet, the young stallion seems to find something in you worth pursuing.” he said with a chortle. “That reminds me, you should take the Storm Riders with you. Griffons are big on titles and having an honour guard with ‘Royal’ in their job description will impress them. Captain Summer Squall has been there before a decade or two back so he’ll be useful… oh yes, and Earshot will no doubt find the whole thing an education.” “I don’t suppose I could wrangle the title of ‘Royal Winemaker’...” Grapes asked with a smile. “I don’t see why not. After all, yours is the first wine that I’ve ever seen the Princess enjoy for the sake of a glass of wine on her patio while reading the next chapter of her favorite novel. I’ll draw up some paperwork to verify… no, I’m lying to you. Impertanance will be the one to draw up the paperwork for that. I’ll be the one to obtain a royal seal that will let Emperor Farsight know you have the Princess’ trust.” “Have you stallioned up and actually told Impertinence you like her?” Grapes asked with a smirk. “Ah… moving along. Moving along. We have much to get you ready to go. Many things.” “I’ll take that as a ‘no,” Grapes said with a chuckle. She turned to leave when something occurred to her. “So… while I’m taking this ‘working vacation’ what will you be doing?” “We have some border issues with several tribes of Bighorn Sheep in some of our more western mountain ranges. Bashashi and I will be heading there to renegotiate passage agreements, and the harvesting of steel wool.” Basashi stepped into the light again and Sour Grapes looked up at the new helmet he was wearing. It was a solid-looking western hoofball helmet, bearing the royal crest upon it. There was a moment of knowing there was a reason for this change in headgear if she could just figure out what it was, then she smiled. “Off to butt heads with the butt-heads. Am I right?” “Got it in one, Sour Grapes,” Guaranty laughed. “Basashi will handle the physical side of things while I handle the more linguistic negotiations.” “Well… Some species do need a good knock to the noggin before their ears start working,” Grapes observed with more than a touch of wry. “Though a trip to Griffonia right out of the blue like this.That’s too much, too fast to just… I’m going to go for a walk to consider things, okay?” Grapes walked outside, her hooves clopping on the paved paths of the castle. This was quite the request that the Vizier had put to her. Going all the way to Griffonia… It was a huge deal, especially going to visit a mostly carnivorous species. Honestly, Sour Grapes was considering stubbornly not going, mainly because Guaranty assumed she’d just… go. Never mind her… more personal concerns. She adored Stormfront, but… She also wanted better for him. Grapes knew she was no fine filly. Sour Grapes wandered aimlessly around Canterlot, still thinking things through, when she found herself outside the much-vaunted alabaster walls of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. She stared at the walls for a long time, brought face-to-face with “what might have been”. Had things been different, had she a younger Earth Pony sibling, she’d have gone here for her education. "’Ev'ry so often we long to steal, To the land of what-might-have-been’," Grapes found herself quoting, as she looked up at the school, then turned, and trotted back to the castle, her hooves a little bit lighter. She then sped up, to a fast canter to catch Guaranty before he went to butt heads with the Bighorns. “All right,” she panted, when she finally returned to Guaranty. “I’ll do it.” Guaranty blinked, wide-eyed at her a moment at his carriage before setting his expression into a more neutral one. “That is good news, Sour Grapes. May I ask what brought you to such a sudden and dramatic affirmation of accepting my mission?” “Simple, really. I didn’t want to look back on this moment, and say to myself: ‘Why didn’t I go?’ It’s an opportunity I wouldn’t normally have, and I should take advantage of it,” Grapes said with a nod. The pony with the twisted horn smiled and patted her on the back. “This is marvelous, Sour Grapes. I am proud of you taking this opportunity. Yes, I suppose I had assumed you would out of… I don’t know. Mis-applied sense of duty, blind patriotism, curiosity… take your pick, but the desire to not miss out on such an experience is one of the best possible answers I could ask to hear from you.” “Well considering I was thinking of being stubborn and not going at all, because I can be a jerk, like that… Speaking of ‘opportunities’... Grow up, and act like a stallion, and not a naughty school-colt,” Grapes added with a smirk. “Anyway, I’ve got to tell the Riders we’re going to be enjoying a longer sabbatical than expected. We DID think to bring quasi-formal yet easy-care outfits for special occasions…” “Yes, well when you departed I realised that I may have been far too forward in my pre-planning your departure and so I revised them somewhat.” He smiled and looked out over the landscape that lay far below Canterlot. “You may begin your journey from Ponyville. This will allow you to gather what you may see fit to travel in. I have sent ahead a generous quantity of bits to act as your allowance when abroad. Also I asked Rarity to make certain you and your honor-guard are attired in something appropriate. I believe the current descriptor is ‘business casual’.” “Thank the stars you specified. I don’t do well in fancy-smancy gowns,” Grapes uttered, with an eyeroll. “And that’s EXACTLY what Rarity would have given me.” “Well Griffonia has different fashion sensibilities than Equestria. No doubt Rarity would have tried to put you in some Equestrian-tainted kimono or perhaps some decorative armor. Her talent is remarkable but sometimes her muse is too enthusiastic.” “Well I think Neighponese fashion would have been acceptable, the island being between mainland Equestria and Griffonia,” Grapes observed. “Strong warrior tradition, like Griffonia, but mostly ponies, really odd-looking dragons, and a type of hybrid called a kirin.” “True. But this above all, to thine own self be true. I recommend bringing your ‘good’ vest with the implements. Nothing seems to truly sum up your raison d'être than it can and does.” “I did bring it. That’s about as formal as I like to get, most days,” Grapes quipped. “Ah good. But still your journey begins in Ponyville. Your tickets are at the station window and can be used at any time there’s a train to Maneland… which I believe is Stormfront’s hometown. Perhaps he’ll give you a personal tour.” He gave Grapes a wink before turning his attention back to where luggage was being put on the carriage roof. “Your papers will also be waiting for you at home. The special courier has probably reached the halfway point by now and will leave them for you and the others at the Post Office. Say hello to Derpy for me, won’t you?” “Of course, Guaranty. I’d better get back, before the others start to think I’ve been tossed in the dungeons,” Grapes said with a slightly wan smile, before heading back inside the palace. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deep in the Canterlot Palace a lone figure trotted with purpose through the halls, although an erratic sort of purpose. “Blistering Barnacles, how hard can it be to find a watercloset in this place?” Summer Squall cussed under his breath. “I should have just gone outside in the royal gardens like a civilised pony.” He trotted more urgently along, trying to ignore the pressure in his bladder as he opened door after door in search of a place to relieve himself. “Figures the one time you genuinely need a Palace Guard to give you directions you can’t find one. Oh! This looks promising.” He pushed on a door that had an image of a pony in brass in the middle, letting him inside of what looked like a large bath chamber. It looked as if it had been years since anypony had used it properly, everything was covered in white dust sheets but there was the comfortingly welcome shape of a commode in the corner. It took about two minutes for Summer Squall to finish putting it to good use but once he was done he was more prepared to let his curiosity get ahold of him. He pulled the dust covers off of everything one at a time and came to the conclusion that this location was perhaps a guest bath chamber at one point. It had a shower in the corner, sinks, a full armoire full of bath towels all in protective sleeves, a medicine cabinet filled with toiletries and a bathtub large enough for him to swim in. He was about to leave when he noticed a large shape in the corner. One that had a soft light coming from under the covering. Squall knew all about the old adage of cats and curiosity but he was a pony of adventure, and had the scars to prove it. He reached out and with a tug, pulled the covering off revealing… a mirror. It was large enough for Celestia to see herself in, and the outer frame reminded himself of a large ornate horseshoe. At first he saw nothing unusual about it, then taking another look he realised it wasn’t reflecting the room. Instead was a grayish swirling mist instead of the bath chamber. He took a step forwards, transfixed by the strangeness of it when he realised a shape was also on the other side of the glass. He stepped forwards and saw… someTHING there. It was taller than him, hairless for the most part save a thick batch of white and blue hair on the top of it’s head and some graying stubble on his chin, but it’s shape reminded him of his friend the Kapre. It was dressed in a Shirt and jacket, very much like his, a similar captain’s hat, a pair of those ‘breeches’ about it’s nethers and a good solid pair of boots. Across it’s one shoulder was a large saddle bag-like bag filled with maps and navigational tools. He stared at it. It stared at him. He approached slowly, appraising the creature, and it did the same with him. The two sizing one another up. He realised after a moment that it was… aping his motions as best as a two-legged beast could a four-legged one without getting down to the ground. With more than a little amusement they took the time to move a little more animatedly, turning from left to right to get a better look at one another. Then the Two-legger paused and made a motion with it’s hand, gesturing in a manner that suggesting it was pointing at him. Squall was confused for a moment then focusing at WHERE it was pointing did he realise he was motioning at his Cutie Mark. He smiled at the Two-legger and nodded to it… then the Two-legger did something odd. It grinned like a monkey and rolled up a sleeve, displaying the image of a large Anchor with wings on his forearm. The exact shape that Summer Squall had on his buttocks. It all came together now, and Summer Squall smiled back at it… in time to hear a gentle but firm *COUGH*. The kind somepony would use to get somepony’s attention. He turned and saw the disapproving gaze of Celestia in the doorway and he quickly stepped away from the mirror. “Ah, Princess. Forgive me fer intruding upon yer private bath here. I was in a bad way and got a bit turned around. After takin’ care of business I got a little carried away with me primping and preening there, so to speak.” She actually sniffed the air, and wrinkling her nose (which he thought was adorable on her) she seemed to relax. “Ah yes… we can’t fake that sort of usage, can we? I recommend you cut back on the asparagus, Captain Squall.” she then levitated the covers back on each item in turn, leaving the large mirror for last (which he recognised as her way of trying to downplay its importance). “Yes, Princess,” he agreed straightening his jacket. “I suppose I should be headin’ back to the party. I hear Pinkie Pie is going to shoot off her Party Cannon soon.” He turned to leave when he heard Celestia’s hooves shift ever so slightly on the marble and her take a breath, as if trying to decide what to say. “Captain?” “Aye, Princess?” “When… When you looked into the mirror…” she said hesitantly. “What was it that you saw?” Summer Squall thought about it a moment before looking over his shoulder and in a voice dripping with ersatz-innocence answered her. “Why Celly… What SHOULD I have seen when I look into an old mirror?” he gave her a wink and a more cocky smile than any stallion ever should give to a Princess. “I saw… meself.” He turned back to the doorway and trotted out, whistling a merry tune, leaving her dumbstruck for a moment… but as he continued down the halls hopefully back to the party, he heard her laugh in the most incredulous manner. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ They spent the night at the Dewdrop Inn before heading back into town on the morning train. Other than Queenie having an embarrassing moment when the bartender in the tavern car recognised her, the journey was pretty uneventful. By the time they got back to Ponyville, the Storm-Riders had been brought up to speed on their “mission” to the Griffon Empire and for the most part everypony was fairly enthusiastic. She made a brief stop at the Ponyville station main window to pick up her tickets for later before the group headed back to the vineyard. She knew that Guaranty was one of those ponies who were “Crazy-prepared” and no doubt she would find almost all the other details involving her trip to be awaiting her no matter where she went. Part of her shuddered at just what Rarity was probably planning for them when she and the others dropped by. Of course there was no time like the present, was there? No sooner did she enter the Carousel Boutique did the white fashionista seize her and her compatriots and put them all up on raised blocks to be transformed into clothes horses. Sour Grapes herself found a nice beige blouse upon her back with a rather fancy if tasteful, yellow cravat below her chin. “Oh, Sour Grapes, Darling. How I wish I could go with you,” Rarity gushed as she made rapid-adjustments with an alarming number of magically manipulated pins. “I would simply love to see the fashions of such a different culture as the Griffons. It would no doubt be a VERY inspiring experience. An education in how form and function operate under a different mindset.” Grapes just stood in the maelstrom of adjustments, trying to keep very still. “Never mind a completely different body type. After all, their wings are bigger, and they do have foreclaws,” she observed. The seamstress examined a stitch before moving over to where Earshot stood equally stock-still and began trying another white suit on him. “Oh, of COURSE, darling. Of course. Starting with a different model would very likely start you off on a completely different line of design. I understand that they have a strong militaristic mindset as well, so there could be overtones for that in the upper classes.” She experimentally tucked some shoulder pads into the suit and stood back a moment to examine the effect. “White is definitely your color, Earshot. Still, I think you and your team could benefit from something that suggests you and your teammates are… more team-like than just matching scarves. I’m loathe to give you anything TOO uniform-like, though. A guardspony I once dated told me that they are expressly forbidden to socialise in uniform, for fear somepony might think themselves tough to pick a fight with them, and heaven forbid I should ever squeeze the lot of you into the carnival outfits the Wonderbolts wear. Great for flying and showing off, however forgive me for saying this but… they just aren’t the sort of thing that says ‘Storm Riders’. ” “Thank Celestia for that,” Squall muttered. “At my age wearing clothing tighter than me skin is more indecent than impressive.” “Why not something that combines their scarves, with the vests they wear when they’re working for me?” Grapes suggested. “It isn’t too ‘uniformy’, but still suggests that they’re a team.” Sour Grapes could have sworn that Rarity’s face could have lit up the room with the flash of inspiration that hit her. Instantly the white unicorn had snatched up bolts of cloth the same tan color as their scarves and was moving around the room at breakneck speed trying them on each member. “Yes! Yes that would be ideal! I can whip up a plethora of vests in just a few hours, and I can stitch each one in turn with thread matching your individual coloring to personalise them. Perhaps name tags on the chest pocket to further the uniform-look.” She paused a moment before calling upstairs. “Sweetie Belle? Would you bring down my box of embroidered patches? I believe I left it behind my swooning couch.” “Okay, Rarity!” came her sister’s reply and Rarity had to duck rather quickly when Earshot’s wings sprung to attention rather suddenly. “OH! Earshot, darling. Would you be a dear and please, try not to move while I’m working on your new unit uniform?” “Sorry, Miss Rarity,” he apologised. “It just… happens at times. I didn’t mean to…” “It just… oh. How embarassing for you,” Rarity said with a titter of understanding. “It’s all right dear. It happens to all pegasi, I’ll just take advantage of your reaction to make certain your vest won’t restrict you during flight then.” Grapes just whistled innocently, as she waited for Sweetie Belle to return. The little unicorn came through the curtain with a decent-sized box balanced upon her back. She brought it over to where Rarity was working on Earshot and looked up at him with a twinkle in her green eyes. “Here you go, Rarity… hi, Earshot.” “Hello, Sweetie Belle,” he answered, smiling back at her with a bit of a blush. The box was accepted by Rarity and opened up to show to all present it was filled with what looked like more embroidered patches than all of Celestia’s military could use. She began sorting through them with her magic until she came across some with the Storm-Riders icon upon them. “Some time ago, back when I first met her, Rainbow Dash had me make some Wonderbolt patches for her so she could pretend to be one of them. Since then I’ve made a hobby of making them for any pony or organisation that struck my fancy. A bit silly but sometimes nothing is quite as fun as just embroidering a little patch. I suppose it’s the ship-in-a-bottle of sewing. Anyways when I saw your scarves I wound up making a few based upon them. I think… I may have enough for this project. YES! Yes I have enough,” Rarity said triumphantly as she held the Storm-Rider ones aloft. “These will complete the look of the vests for you, and your trip to the Griffin Empire will not be held up on account of it.” "Rarity, any reason this apple is heart-shaped? Or is this a way to show that all Apple produce is 'grown with love'?" Grapes asked, quick to pick out one particular patch. "Ur... Well. I was trying to come up with a patch that really gets the spirit of Sweet Apple acres. So I suppose my muse was trying to convey that notion,” Rarity explained, but Grapes notices a brief look of "I made it look like a HEART?!" on Rarity's face. “Perhaps... Doctor Crabapple could use it as part of an 'Apple a day' campaign for ponies to eat more healthily?" "Maybe, but it's already got AJ's name on it," Grapes observed looking the patch over. "All nice and curly, too. You did this one up all fancy-like." "Well you know me. Once I start fancying up something it's hard to stop," Rarity said, hastily "Mmhm.. Still enjoying Neighypt, I see," Grapes said to herself "I have a pincushion full of needles, Sour Grapes and I am unafraid to utilise them,” Rarity said with a reproachful glare Grapes stiffened. "Okay, point taken. I'll shut up now before you decide to make a counterpoint. Sorry to be such a prick.” "I swear I should stick a pin in you for that pile of puns, Sour Grapes," Rarity grumbled. "However I suppose one of us had to be the pointmare of such wordplay." "Now you're just needling me,” Grapes griped. “But it’s good you have those patches ready. I don’t want our trip to the Griffon Empire to be delayed any longer than necessary.” “Wait… Earshot’s leaving?” Sweetie Belle squeaked in surprise, causing Earshot’s wings to vibrate like a tuning fork in response. “Why would he have to go to the Gibbon Empire?” “Griffin Empire, darling. Like Rainbow Dash’s estranged friend?” Rarity corrected. “You pulled a Siroccoism.” “Oh. What did I say?” “Gibbon. Which is a type of ape or monkey,” Grapes replied. Sweetie Belle giggled, an act that made Earshot’s ears twitch and a blush enter his cheeks. “Can you imagine whole land ruled by a monkey-ish people? That would be silly,” The little unicorn pondered “What’s this Griffin land like? They can’t all be as mean as Rainbow Dash’s friend.” “We’re going to find out soon enough,” Earshot said trying to stay calm and still while Rarity finished his fitting. He was doing fine until Sweetiebelle began nuzzling the night pony’s wings. “Did you ever notice that Earshot’s wings feel like Velour, Rarity? They’re really soft.” “Sweetiebelle, do we have to have another talk about personal boundaries?” Rarity said before pausing and gently prodding a wing with a hoof. “Really? Velour? Well now, that’s an interesting comparison. I shall have to make a note of that.” All the observers tried their best not to react to Earshot’s discomfort but fortunately Rarity noticed and finished up as quickly as she could. “All done Earshot. Why don’t you go outside and say goodbye to Sweetiebelle and your friends while I continue the fittings for your teammates and Employer. Mmm?” “Th-thank you Miss Rarity.” he stammered gratefully before he left the room with Sweetie in tow. “I am tempted to corrupt an adage and say that love is a foal’s game,” Rarity tittered moving over to work on Firestormer’s outfit. “A foals game?” Grapes asked, raising her eyebrow. “Well the correct term is Fools Game but seeing a foal’s first crush is so adorable it’s easy to think of it as something… special. Simple. Pure.” Rarity sighed before shaking her head and getting back to work. “That’s not to say that experience doesn’t have it’s place. Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. In my case I’m thinking of leaving the crush I had on Blueblood VERY lost.” “I agree. But then, better to lose that loser, than to be stuck with him.” “True enough. On the original topic though, I am confident that it is currently beyond Earshot’s ability to hurt Sweetie Belle’s feelings. I find it difficult to imagine him being the love-em-and-leave-em kind of pony.” She paused, thinking about it before smirking. “At least not right now. He has the potential for it later. I suspect he will grow to be rather handsome.” “Even then, he’s not that type of colt,” Grapes asserted with a shake of her head. “So, do remember to keep in touch when abroad. In fact I have some tour books you may wish to take with you. They’ll let you know where some of the best ‘must-see’ tourist traps are.” She paused and giggled excitedly. “And photographs! take lots of photographs! I want a full record of everything. ...I wonder what the Griffonian palace staff are wearing this season?” “My guess is… feathers and fur?” Firestormer groused while being trussed up with measuring tape. “Oh hush now, Firestormer. I am in the ‘Zone’ as it were. And aren’t you supposed to be mute right now? Where’s your face-cage?” “Discord’s meddling sped up the healing process, Rarity.” Firestormer explained. “Guess that’s part of the residue chaos thing. Kinda like why you got a big-flank rock sitting out in your OWCH!” “We do NOT discuss Tom...ur.. the rock, thank you very much. Now hold still please. We wouldn’t want you to get jabbed again, would we?” “Yes ma’am.” Grapes looked amused, and privately glad to not be the center of attention just now. The rest of the fitting was mercifully short. It helped that Rarity did the group as a whole rather than one at a time. While they promised to not ask about the mysterious boulder in her yard, Sour Grapes did ponder about it… and why part of Rarity’s home/workplace had plywood hammered over one section of it. Possibly she lacked the funds for proper repairs, or the magical might to do so herself. Most likely she had been too busy fussing about her invitation to Canterlot for the awards ceremony that it took second place in her thoughts. Either way, it was possible that it would be fixed by next week by very latest. The repair ponies of Ponyville, long inured to the disasters that happened on a fairly regular basis in the town were just that good. She wondered momentarily if the true export of Ponyville was contractors, then shrugged it off and returned to the farm with the others. ----------------------------- “Well… might as well get this over with.” Sour Grapes muttered to nopony in particular as she went down the path to the north field where Redline’s home was. It was actually looking pretty nice. She could tell that Moondust had been busy with her paintbrush, as every rock, stump and root had been given fresh coats of paint, and the path itself now had edging to define it, in the form of two long lines of stones, each one painted vibrant colors. As she approached the small ranch-styled home she had built for Redline and Moondust she began to become aware of the massive clockwork contraption looming off to the side of the big shed that served as Redline’s workshop. To call it strange was an understatement. It almost defied architecture like an M.C. Eicher drawing. It however stood dormant even as a unicorn in a Haz-Mat suit pointed the business end of a thaumometer at its base. He examined the results then looked up to take notice of her and trotted over close enough for her to see Redline’s face behind the protective faceplate. “Oh, hello, Miss Grapes. What brings you to this end of the property?” “You’re going to be cleaning things up, I hear?” Grapes asked. “Thought I should let you know I’m going on a trip to get out of your mane while you’re doing so…” “Oh. Thank you for the heads up,” he said removing the helmet and giving his scarlet mane a shake. “Yeah, I was kinda surprised when I got a royal request to help deal with residue chaos magic in the area. I mean I know I did my first-year thesis on it but seriously… A royal commission is something big to put on my resumé.” “Oh, of course. That would make Moondust VERY proud of her big brother.” “I know.” He said with a smile. “I have been provided with a modest stipend for materials and quite a bit of freedom to hire on help. I hope you don’t mind me employing your farmhooves while you’re away. And I managed to find a few ponies in the region who have the letters to their name to understand what I’m doing. I had no idea that the hermit who lives way outside of town is a CSFGU alumnus.” Sour Grapes thought for a moment. “The hermit who liv… wait, him, really? Oh, he certainly doesn’t flaunt it. Well, except for his cutie mark. Not many algebra-based cutie marks out there… and just so you know,” she glared lightly at Redline, “he’s NOT a hermit. He just has a different schedule than the rest of us. And from what I hear from Applejack, he’s a good friend of Big Macintosh, too. That’s probably why he decided to help out in cleaning the farm...” “He is? Okay, my mistake. Anyways, although Chaos-Magic theory was still pretty young when he got his degree it’s still good to have somepony who can double-check my calculations so I don’t mess this up. But all in all, things are looking up.” “Good thing for you, I would presume. ANYway, about that rather surprisingly nice unicorn couple I have working for me…” Grapes added seemingly at random. “They seem to be related to you.” He was silent a moment then hung his head with a heavy sigh. “They’re my Mom and Dad. The ones who are running from the law right now.” “Were running from the law,” Grapes corrected. “I think they ended up paying their debt… Hence the need to work at my vineyard. They also seemed to want to… reconnect with the son and daughter they foolishly threw away in their haste to avoid the tax mare.” “I know… and I am very grateful that they took care of Moondust while I was… on one of my ‘ozone expeditions’,” he said looking back at the monolithic contraption. “I still have so much anger right now but, at least I know there’s something in them that may be worth… worth… well ‘reconnecting’ was a good word for it, I’ll use that.” “Good to know. They’ll be good for foal-sitting Moondust while you’re cleaning up,” Grapes observed. “Anyway, we’ve got to pack for our trip. I thought you’d like to know.” “Thank you. I certainly have my work cut out for me. The effects are few and far between but still very strange. Applejack has been pressuring me to clear her orchard first. She says no pony warned Big Macintosh when he went applebucking and round up looking like he lost a fight with a gang of toughs,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t laugh, I really shouldn’t but in my mind I can almost hear the xylophone-like sound of all those coconuts falling on him.” Grapes chuckled, shaking her head. “Poor Mac. At least all I got was raisins,” she said. “I should have those back to plump and juicy grapes by the time you come back. You’ll have to be the one to inform me if they are up to par though. I’m a genius, not an agrarian.” He again gave a wary look back to the contraption in the yard. “And I know I’ll feel a lot better when I know what THAT thing does. All I know is that it’s real, and not just something Discord whipped up. The parts are all from the dump but real work went into it… I just… I just wasn’t in a stable frame of mind when I built it.” “No kidding,” Grapes uttered. “I’m not really sure I like thinking about the experience all that much,” Redline said, checking the readouts on the thaumometer before putting it into the suit’s saddle bags. “It wasn’t so much that he ‘discorded’ me, or even that he did it in a way that reflected on my caffeine addiction. It’s… I only know one definite thing about being like that.” “Oh dear. What would that be?” Grapes asked apprehensively. “I liked it.” He quietly bowed his head and shuffled his way back to his home, leaving Grapes to ponder his last words. “Thank you, you mish-mash monstrosity, you’ve probably did the most to make Redline completely and utterly backslide,” Grapes grumbled to herself. “Maybe it’s a good thing his parents came back.” She trotted back to the farm to continue packing when she was unexpectedly intercepted. "He's GONE! He's GONE, Sour Grapes!" Queenie uttered, shaking Grapes in her frantic agitation. “I was just in Dusty’s room to get his lazy bones out of bed when I discovered both Dusty and his personal effects are missing!” "You don't seem happy about it," Grapes observed. "It's just so... sudden. Rather left us in the lurch, as it were," Queenie uttered, gesturing toward the vineyard. "How so? We're not exactly going to be, you know, present," Grapes said with a shrug. "Well yes, but we didn't KNOW that until a few hours ago. Did we?" "Yesterday," Grapes corrected. Queenie sighed and looked at Grapes with half a smile. "Look. I admit that I was finally getting used to him. I can't say I wasn't still angry just... it was getting too hard to stay angry at him." "I think he went to find himself," Grapes observed. "He'll be back when he has," Grapes said, with a shrug. "Firestormer, Thistledown, and Squall all reported that Dusty was being a major depressor or was majorly depressed... Something like that, and they were helping him with it." "Really? I didn't realise he was feeling that low," Queenie said furrowing her brow. "I hope he'll find some manner of peace, wherever it is he's gone then... and maybe that he drop us a line now and again." "Oh he'll be back," Grapes said with assurance. "OH? I mean... Oh? That is good, then." "... You'd rather he not?" Grapes asked snarkily. "Well... I never said that. Just... good he'll be coming back. He's one of the few family members you can stand, is he not?" "True. He is," Grapes said with a nod. "Then so long as he's safe I will be happy for you." "You know... There is another reason why he'll be back." "There is?" Queenie asked, sounding surprised. "Yeah. There's this mare he's utterly besotted with," Grapes said with a sidelong glance at Queenie. "Oh... really? How... interesting." "He even found a way to tell her that he loved her without her noticing it." "That's... rather sweet. Isn't it?" Queenie said hesitantly. "She didn't even notice, even after she read the book," Grapes said with a snigger. "'Every time you said “Farm boy do this” you thought I was answering “As you wish”, but that's only because you were hearing wrong'." "That... That's so... sweet," Queenie mumbled before getting up. "I have to... do... things." "Things?" Grapes asked. "Yes. Yes, things." “What kind of ‘things’?” Grapes asked. “Oh you know… thingy things of a thingy variety. Those sort of things.” “Well that was perfectly vague,” Grapes laughed. “Do you want to try to be even more obscure or do you think you’ve achieved the clarity of mud?” “I’m certain I can be more obtuse if I put my mind to it,” she said quietly. “Look, we’re about to head out on a major journey and we each have a laundry list of thing… tasks to perform. Clothes to choose, luggage to pack, and in your case I recommend a trip to the druggist for some stomach settler for your airsickness.” “Good point. Just don’t go bonking your head against the wall,” Grapes said, with a slight smirk. “Now… Airsickness medicine. Good idea… Though I will be good if I don’t go near any windows… Still good to have. Maybe some train snacks, airship snacks, more train snacks…” > A Journey of Thousand Smiles > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes poured through her closet looking for things to wear. In addition to what Rarity was making it was best to be prepared… travel on an airship really sounded… breezy. She remembered what it was like flying on a pegasus-pulled chariot and hoped that airships had lots of passenger space down below. True, she was fine, as long as she didn’t look down, but she didn’t relish the thought of tossing her cookies, or having a panic attack en route. She picked up a clipboard and made a note for stomach-settling remedies from the apothecary. No sense in courting disaster needlessly. If she had it she would probably not need it. If she didn’t have it, then she WOULD need it. A soft cough turned her attention to the door where the town’s resident librarian stood with an absolutely adorkable awkward smile on her face. “Sorry. I knocked but the door was open and nopony answered so…” She shrugged helplessly before holding up a small booklet that looked homemade. “I heard you were heading to the Griffon Kingdom and thought that maybe… you might want some cheat-sheets to smooth things a little?” Grapes raised an eyebrow. “Griffon Kingdom?” Grapes asked, tilting her head, taking the book, curiously. “You made this yourself, huh? Might come in handy, even so, thanks, Twilight.” “Weeeeell, after Gilda's visit I got really curious about her homeland and got Bygone Griffons of Greatness. There was a LOT of amazing history in there… although it’s not what we would call current reading. Kinda ends abruptly but I’m sure a lot of this will still be relevant. Just a warning though. Equestria doesn’t have an embassy in griffon lands, so you’ll be pretty much a the mercy of the local courts and laws.” Twilight looked at the clipboard safely in the crook of Grapes’ elbow and smiled. “Nice to know you’re taking this so seriously. Being sent on a mission by the Vizier can’t always be… what it seems.” “Originally I was going to totally wing it, but then I realized I wasn’t a pegasus, and figured I’d fail, horribly,” Grapes deadpanned. “Oh, that’s a good one. Very nice wordplay. I can totally appreciate good wordplay... “ Twilight said before glancing slightly towards the door. “Even if it’s by Sirocco. I know she doesn’t mean it but some of the things that come out of her mouth are… they make me think she does them on purpose.” “Why, because some of them make more sense than the original saying?” Grapes asked with a raised eyebrow. “Uh… sometimes. Look, be prepared, have fun and take lots of pictures, okay? ...Ooh socks. I didn’t know you wore socks.” “Why not? They’re practical for colder climates, and fit well inside of overlarge boots,” Grapes observed, as she packed the socks. “You act like they’re fetish gear or something.” “You start hanging around Rainbow Dash and you learn things you never wanted to,” she said quietly. “So some pervert has sullied the perfectly innocent and practical sock into something not so innocent? Shame on them. Sure a pony can seem more… well… alluring clothed, when one goes about in just one’s coat all the time, but that’s no reason to make a perfectly practical tube of knitted wool into something completely naughty,” Grapes said, with a roll of her eyes. “I KNOW!” Twilight said with a tone of astonished agreement. “And basic farm tack is also in all of that too. I never knew so many ordinary things could be fetishised.” “Ponies are weird,” Grapes said, nodding. “I think Rarity is just ‘into’ multiple layers of clothing. She seems to get a lot of… enjoyment out of putting more and more layers on ponies. It’s like reverse-nudity.” “Well when actual nudity is pretty much every-day wear…” Grapes uttered with an eyeroll. “Yet again reaffirming the weirdness quotient of ponies. Makes a pony wonder why they even leave the house, some days don’t it? But then… life was much more empty when all one had was books.” Grapes casually poked Twilight in the side with a smirk. “Oh, I’m not talking about you. Well. Not just you. I’m including myself in there too.” “I guess it’s true. We, meaning you, other bookish ponies, and I, are rather sheltered. Books can only tell us so much. It’s why I want you to tell me what it’s like there. I know you aren’t going anywhere near the original city but please write me some details to expand my database upon.” “I’ll do my best, Twilight,” Grapes said with a smile. “I’ll make sure to bring plenty of film for the camera, too. I think that’s somewhere on this checklist… that or the checklist with whoever it is I sent to town for supplies.” “Who’d you send? Hopefully not Earshot. He might buy the fanciest and most expensive cameras and film because he thought they were the best,” she chuckled and shook her head. “Wonderful colt but he buys things like a colt would… which is appropriate I suppose.” “I sent Queenie,” Grapes said with a nod. “She’s as frugal and practical as I am.” “Good to know. Um… do you need any help packing?” “I think I’ve just about got it. Something quasi formal, warm clothes should we need them in the mountains, plenty of bits for expenses, current passport, identification as the Royal Winemaker to Princess Celestia,” Grapes said as she ticked off entries on her list. “Did Guaranty give you an expense account? From what I read, Griffins like individuals who aren’t afraid to spread the wealth.” “Hm… I should have asked about that,” Grapes said looking thoughtful. “Well if I know Guaranty he’s probably thought of that.” Twilight shuddered as she remembered her personal experiences with the royal vizier. “Do you know he was the one who taught me my illusionary magics… or at least the basics?” “Really? Why do I get the feeling you haven’t had the best experience?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “My first lesson involved a burning library. You know how I feel about books, and when the Royal Canterlot Library was engulfed in flames with no way out for me… it was terrifying on multiple levels.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to steady herself. “Next thing I knew, there he was. Next to me asking why I was so frightened. When I told him he said *Cough* ‘I guess you’re not as bright as Celestia claims you are.’” “Good imitation. However… He wasn’t making allowances for panic, even though it could possibly be obvious that the fire wasn’t exactly real. No heat, or smoke, for example,” Grapes observed. “That was actually the point of the exercise. Once he told me to stop, slow down, and listen to my OTHER senses did I begin to realise that other than the sight of smoke and flame, and the crackling sound of fire consuming paper and wood… My lungs were clear, my eyes were not watering, and I was feeling very… uncooked. It was my first lesson in using all my senses in objective observation rather than going with the obvious.” She stopped and narrowed her eyes in quiet hatred of her unwanted mentor. “When he told me Celestia had sent him to teach me about ‘deceptive magics’ I thought I had angered her somehow.” “And had you?” Grapes asked with a slight grin. “I think… I think that Celestia let him loose at me because I was getting a little big for my britches. Reading too far ahead in the books, trying spells way above my ability…That sort of thing. There are few ponies who can MAKE you know just how small you are like Guaranty. He always had a subtle cutting remark, or a backhanded compliment at the right moment to knock me on my flank. I DESPISE admitting it but I learned most of my observational skills from him. If you weren’t observant around Guaranty you were asking for trouble.” “You describe him like he’s some kind of mad dog that Princess Celestia keeps on a leash, and lets loose to cut down ponies she thinks are getting out of hoof,” Grapes observed wryly. “You really need more literature in your life. Either that or a book on tropes.” “Your description of him actually makes a little sense. It does explain why Celestia would keep him around. If you run a nation sometimes you need someone who has that particular ‘nasty’ streak, even if to handle other ponies who also have a nasty streak. I mean It can’t ALL be sunshine and rainbows. Right?” “Right,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Look up ‘lampshading’. You know, one day Twilight, when you become a princess, you'll probably want a Vizier all your own.” "Me? A Princess? That’s just ridiculous, I mean can you imagine? Princess Twilight Sparkle… Equestria’s Princess of… of... of what? Princess of Books? Princess of Friendship?” “Better than being the Princess of Uranus. I hear that celestial body is still unclaimed,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Oooh. Yeah. that would be bad, wouldn’t it? I have yet to hear back from the Royal Equestrian Association of Astronomers on my petition to rename that planet... so that we don’t have to listen to that dumb joke any more.” “Poor Uranus. The butt of everypony’s jokes,” Grapes quipped, casually. “Et tu, Sour Grapes?” “Here I am, bemoaning a poor planet’s fate, and you think I’m joking,” Grapes said with an eyeroll, as she marehandled her suitcase into the floor. “So it’s all of you… well not ALL of all of you. Just you and the Storm-Riders. I hope Griffonia is still standing when you’re done.” “You act like we’re a wrecking crew, Twilight Sparkle. You should know, by now, that’s you and your friends’ schtick,” Grapes said with a smirk. “I’m sure they’re still talking about your appearance at the Gala.” Twilight rolled her eyes “Please don’t remind me. I was so CERTAIN I would be offered the once in a lifetime chance to study lunar minerals up close and personal. I’m just glad Princess Celestia actually WANTED us to liven things up.” “Well… Considering the nobility has sucked all the fun out of everything they touch,” Grapes quipped, as she carried her bag downstairs. “Fun-vampires, the lot of ‘em.” “It’ll be interesting to see what the next big function will be like. Provided the nobles don’t succeed in some kind of petition to keep us out,” Twilight giggled. “Then again considering the last Gala, we’ll probably be better behaved this time.” “You do tend to being Pinkie, and Rainbow Dash…” Grapes said with a slight smirk. “I trust Rarity and Applejack to behave themselves, as well as you, and Fluttershy would would be too timid to cause a scene.” “You’d be surprised about Fluttershy. When she chased those animals into the ballroom she looked like a scorned nature goddess, and you know what they say about mares and being scorned.” “I know about that. She was trying to make friends with the animals in the garden, but she neglected to think that the animals wouldn’t trust her, because she wasn’t local,” Grapes explained. “Cutie mark failure syndrome on her part.” “Yeah. It happens to the best of us at some point.” Twilight said rather soberly. “You sorta expect it to happen when you’re old though.” “Yeah. Anyway… Thanks for the notes. Anything else I can do for you while you’re here?” “Not really. I’m just… a little envious that’s all. The Griffon Homeland sounds like an amazing place.” “I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures for you, Twilight,” Grapes said with a grin. “Thanks. I’ll be looking forward to them.” Grapes and Twilight finished up and then headed across to the Bunkhouse, expecting a flurry of packing but instead finding the Storm-Riders all sitting at the dinner table looking over a series of forms and little books. all six of them were scrutinising the forms and cross referencing with the little books so intensely that they seemed unaware of the two ponies who just came in. “I need the yellow circular Four Seven B,” Queenie muttered, peering at her booklet through a pair of horn-rimmed reading glasses so perfectly suited for her that if Dusty were there he would have keeled over from the hotness. “Does anypony have the yellow circular four seven B?” “What’s this? Go Fish in triplicate?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or does it really take so much paperwork for you guys to head over the border?” “Something like that,” Squall said as he slid a yellow form over to Queenie’s side of the table. “As a squadron with the ‘royal’ title attached to us, we get a wee bit more paperwork for cross-border work than the usual suspects.” “Mostly a formality Miss Grapes, but the Bureau Rats do enjoy crossing their eyes and being dotty during tea,” Sirocco expanded for Grapes’ sake. “But you’re not exactly going as the ‘Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team’. You’re going as the retinue of the Royal Winemaker to the Their Majesties the Princesses of Equestria. And it’s ‘crossing their teas and dotting their eyes, Sirocco. A reference to checking for proper letter formation when scribing a lot of official documents,” Grapes explained. “Also, ‘bureaucrats’. Not bureau rats. I’m sure the hard working ponies of the Equestrian Immigration and Naturalization Bureau wouldn’t appreciate being called rats one finds in one’s dresser.” “Done.” Earshot chirped, putting his small pile of paper into an envelope and closing the small booklet in front of him. It was then that Grapes noticed that it was gray with a purple border and his cutie mark on the front. It’s odd appearance made it take a few moments for her to come to the realisation that this was his passport. It was then she glanced around the table looking at the little booklets each of the other ponies had and coming to the conclusion that despite each was VERY different and bore both their personal colors and cutie marks, each one was a passport. She thought about the standard-issue black one in her travel bag that bore the golden icon of the Equestrian government, the new one, updated shortly after Princess Luna’s return. She guessed that being a member of any Royal Equestrian “Yaddah-Yaddah-Yaddah” meant you got to have a personalised passport. “Kid gets the short-form,” Firestormer explained before closing his own Orange and Yellow Passport before putting his paperwork into his own manilla envelope. “And it’s mainly that we’re considered a quasi-military group that we try to let the paper-pushers know when we all go as a group to a location that’s not involving an emergency. Lady Weathervain’s options as to what to classify us were somewhat limited when she applied to the government for status as an actual body. The Royal Vizier said he’ll see what he can do about ‘rectifying’ that.” “The weather ponies aren’t considered a quasi-military group,” Grapes observed. “Oddly enough I thought you’d be affiliated with them, rather than, like, the Royal Guard.” “Well the Weather Ponies proper are an independant organisation, and as such are not directly funded by your tax dollars.” Sirocco elaborated in a surprisingly direct and flub-free manner. “Individual ponies or more often entire regions pay this privatised association an honorarium to manage the airspace above their land. We storm-riders are more like the postal department, in which our salaries come from the tax dollars of the whole country, and therefore we fall into a very narrow classification of how we fit into it. The Royal Vizier says that the system is just begging for an overhaul.” “Strange… One would think there would be governmental oversight over such an important commodity as the weather…” Grapes observed. “Especially when some weather ponies can charge you a pair of legs for the right weather you need. Maybe that’s why Guaranty said the system was begging for an overhaul, when the individual weather offices could easily be bribed, or coerced into doing things by wealth or intimidation...” “Yes. Even under wise Celestia’s rule various forms of corruption may seep in. It is good she has such an expert in the wicked deed at her command to keep such villains under her hoof. Ah! Done!” Sirocco said, putting her paperwork away and examining the small sand-colored book in front of her. “I finally have a passport of my own. When I first came to Equestria I was an alien… and somewhat illegal as well, but thanks to the patience of Lady Weathervain I became a citizen, and thanks to mister Royal Vizier Guaranty I am now permitted to come and go across our border.” “And I’m honestly happy to have you here, Sirocco,” Grapes said with a nod. “I suppose you’ve all already packed?” “We’re usually always ready with a go-to bag there, Lass. Sometimes it takes extra-long to deal with a rogue storm so it’s best to be prepared,” said Squall as he carefully closed his rather thick and old-looking passport, putting rubber-bands on it to hold it together. “I am aware of that, yes. But I’m sure you’d want to take more than the bare-bones traveling basics, this being a full-on planned-out trip rather than an emergency call to action,” Grapes observed. “The little comforts you leave behind for the sake of portability, and weight restriction can actually be packed this time,” Grapes replied. “Nevermind actually taking your go-bags along, in case of weather emergency.” “AND we’ll be FLYING in a BOAT!” Earshot shouted before quickly calming down. “Sorry. But it’s true. Because we won’t have to carry our stuff all that way we can take a larger amount of clothing and stuff. Because we’ll be on a big flying boat!” “Don’t remind me,” Grapes uttered, flatly. Firestormer scooped Earshot into a one-hoofed hug and applied a brotherly noogie. “The squirt’s got a lot to be excited about though. I checked it up and we’ll be flying on a Grey Goose class airship. Good and sturdy for long-distance travel. You’ll hardly be aware of any distance between us and the world, Sour Grapes.” “Which is why I’ll be staying away from any windows that have a view of ‘down’,” Grapes said with a sigh. “That just about covers the whole ship.” “The whole ship has floor to ceiling windows?” Grapes asked. “Those kinds of windows you can’t help but look down. Not just out at the horizon, but DOWN.” “That’s pretty unlikely, Sour Grapes,” Twilight observed as she looked over Queenie’s shoulder to her paperwork. “An airship with nothing but glass windows for a hull would be structurally unsound and without a plethora of cost-prohibitive anti-breakage spells, would never be approved for lift-off. By the way, you have REALLY nice cursive, Queenie.” “Thank you, Twilight. From a scholar of your fussiness I take that as a compliment.” “Hm… I should check my passport,” Grapes said, trotting out of the bunkhouse. “That… would be a good idea.” Twilight said turning her attention to Grapes, causing her to pause. “Now that you’re getting a position with the government you may have a few more little boxes to tick off on the travel forms. Town Hall should have what you need. Just head down Corridor B and third door on the left is where Dotted Line’s office is. He should be able to set you up.” “Thanks, Twilight,” Grapes said with a nod, before heading to her house to look for her paperwork. It took time to head into town and back, but thanks to Twilight’s advice she was able to get in and out of town hall in what she considered record time. She had enough time to get all her “detail shopping” done before the shops closed for the day. By the time Sour Grapes got back to her property she was feeling downright productive, considering she had spent a day without dealing with any farm-related work. She opened her mailbox to check to see if anything had arrived when she heard a soft cough from behind her. She turned to see an ash-gray pegasus with hair so yellow it could have been used as a signal flare. Completing his ensemble, he wore a black travel harness, black saddlebags and a black pillbox hat with a small visor. He smiled awkwardly and nodded. “Sorry to interrupt, but are you Sour Grapes?” “Yes, I am,” Grapes said cautiously. “How can I help you?” “Special delivery for Sour Grapes of Grapevine Hills.” He turned away for a moment and rummaged through his black saddlebags and pulled out a small package, bound in a shiny-black paper with a silver string and a big yellow wax seal. Immediately he gave it to her and then moved a pitch black and silver clipboard in front of her; its payload a very short stack of black paper covered in silver script. “Would you kindly sign here, here, here, here, initial here, sign here, and here?" Grapes did so, grumbling about bureaucracy, while marveling at the rather nifty pen. “Everything to order?” Grapes asked. “Yes. This seems to be completely in order.” the pegasus said, checking over where her gold-colored ink shone upon the ebon stationary. “Between you and me, the ‘Starless Courier’ runs always creep me out but at least it pays well.” “‘Starless Courier’?” Grapes asked raising an eyebrow. “Is the Grand Vizier somehow involved in that?” “The rules expressly say that I can neither confirm nor deny the hoof of any specific high-level member of the Royal Court is involved in this delivery. However I will say that when you have to sign black paper for a black package then you know that it came from up on high and positively, absolutely HAD to be in your care by yesterday.” “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. The whole thing is so very dramatic, it just screams ‘Guaranty’,” Grapes observed drolly. “Good day to you, kind sir, and thank you for your prompt service.” “You're very welcome,” he replied before pushing a small gem on his harness and instantly vanishing in a surprisingly muted flash of teleportation. “Twilight probably hates that enchantment,” Grapes observed, and trotted back to the bunkhouse. “Hello, ponies, I got my papers updated, and a nifty package. Apparently it needed to be in my hooves yesterday, because it was sent to me via a very dramatic courier service with a stealthy teleportation gem.” “Ooooh.” Queenie cooed, looking at the package. “That’s a Starless Courier package. You get one of those you KNOW it can only be ignored at your own peril.” “Yeah, yeah. Very dramatic,” Grapes said looking at the seal, then prying it open with hoof and magic to see what the package contained. “Don’t know what makes me so special to get such a package.” “Be thankful you are special. If anypony else tried opening one of those…” Queenie trailed off and then made a short huff of air. “One of our guest rooms has been permanently designated a smoking suite because we never got the smell of charr from the air.” Grapes raised an eyebrow at that, then eyed the package again, and finished opening the package. Inside was a small box that contained a letter, several scrolls made from a silvery gray paper, a necklace with a large ring attached, a number of curious metallic discs she had never seen before and a new passport, this one bearing her colors, cutie mark and the marks of the two royal sisters. “Dear Sour Grapes. I have been informed by our royal vizier that you now bear the title of Royal Winemaker to the Thrones and need proof to present to the Griffon Empire. Therefore it falls to me to drop every - important - thing I was doing beforehand and deal with the finalities of paperwork and all else attached to your new titles. So, on behalf of Princess Celestia the Undimmed and Princess Luna the Enshrouded, it is my pleasure to send into your capable hooves the following: One Royal passport, complete with all your previous travel records pre-transferred over. Thank you for simplifying my task here by not really going anywhere before this point. One Royal seal, wearable either upon your horn or about your neck with the necklace provided. Either way, bearing this gives you the authority to speak as the voice of either Princess Celestia or Princess Luna on matters within your field of expertise. Ten Combustionite Scrolls, that will allow you to, almost instantly, send a message from anyplace you may be, directly to my desk by simply setting them ablaze. I trust you will not abuse such a medium that is costly in both money and magic, for anything but the most important of missives. Seven of the very rare ‘Two-Sister coins’ that date back to the last great change in the government in our nation. These will allow you to cover many ‘big’ costs that may occur, however please keep in mind that I will be confirming such ‘official’ purchases. Remember to save all your receipts. It also falls to me to remind you that Griffonia has no Equestrian embassy. Once there the government may regard you as a very important guest, but still under their laws. I recommend you and your entourage not abuse their hospitality. Sincerely: Impertanance.” “Say, Twilight, can I borrow Spike for this trip?” Grapes asked with a smirk. Twilight exited the kitchen where she had been busy and spoke, “Sour Grapes, Spike is not a personal possession that I can just ‘loan out’ in the same manner I can loan a book or a... a... a different book. He’s got a life of his own.” “I know that, you’re his caretaker, and guardian. And you CAN loan other things than books, Twilight. Pens, pencils, quills, sweaters, saddlebags, boots…” Grapes said casually listing alternatives. “But I was wanting to bug Purty, but she sent me super expensive stationary that’s only used for emergencies. Anyway, I think he’d love annoying her, cause she’s such a stick-in-the-mud. I should send her a letter to confirm that I got the package at least.” Grapes went to a nearby desk, and pulled out some letterhead with which she kept the bunkhouse supplied, just in case. “Okay… ‘Dear Purty, Why hello! It's nice to see you haven't managed to dislodge that stick from your rectum. You simply wouldn't be you without it. You, of course, have my deepest sympathies. I’m sure the ponies sitting in the waiting room were simply devastated that you weren’t there to intimidate them into proper behavior. Never mind all those missives that simply had to be sent with your special touch to put the fear of your ever so scary disapproval into the recipient. How ever would the nobles fall in line without your iron hoof? I do have to ask, however, where you got your flair for drama? Sending the accoutrements of my new position via Starless Courier was oh, so very dramatic. I was both suitably impressed, and surprised to be hearing from you, because the Starless Courier service just screams Guaranty. I shall be sure to send you plenty of reports via regular mail to keep you up to date on things that are going on while I’m there. We’ll be pen-pals. Doesn’t that sound fun? Have fun intimidating the plebs! And do, please, give my regards to your lovely Royal Vizier for me. Sincerely, Sour Grapes’.” Grapes giggled when she finished her letter. “Now I know why Guaranty loves to tweak her nose. It’s FUN.” Twilight just gawked at Grapes for a moment before giggling. “Oh. Oh, you’re not gonna actually… OH! Oh, this is gonna be… Just a moment… SPIKE! Please come in here a moment!” “I’m coming. I’m coming.” The little dragon entered the room and looked up at Twilight before his eyes moved to the black ‘Starless Courier’ packaging sitting on the table. “Oh. One of THOSE.” “This is going to be fun,” Grapes said as she rolled up the letter, using her new signant to seal it, then as an afterthought added on a tag saying: “To Impertinence: Royal Secretary to Their Royal Highnesses, Princess Celestia and Luna” “Good thing you remembered that. These go straight to Princess Celestia herself. Give or take three feet,” Spike said accepting the letter from Grapes. “At least she won’t read somepony else’s mail by accident.” He took a shallow breath, then gently exhaled his green flame on the paper, transforming it to a swirling mass of green and purple magic that found it’s way up the chimney and towards Canterlot. “Dear Impertinence does need to get that stick out of her rump. I think I may be the only ordinary pony who refuses to be intimidated by her,” Grapes said with a giggle, putting the necklace around her neck. She became aware of a large presence next to her, she glanced up and there was Stormfront looking down at her with a smirk. “It looks good on you.” “Heh. Thanks, Stormy,” Grapes said with a chuckle. She closed her box of paraphernalia, and put it into her saddlebags. “So…” he said with a little touch of the dramatic. “I guess this means you are now the boss of us on a federal level.” “Riiiight,” Grapes snerked. “Of course I am. Not sure how ‘Royal Winemaker’ may outrank ‘Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team’.” “Hey. YOU’RE the one with the royal seal of approval. Not us. We just have a mere title.” Stormy chuckled. “I’ve met Impertanance… you’re pretty brave to give her nose a tweak.” “I’ve met her, too. My opinion of her needing to get the stick out of her colon still stands,” Grapes replied with a grin. “Same here… although I won’t say it out loud. I’m scared she might find out.” confessed Twilight. “Considering I just said as much, kind of, to her face, it’s obvious I don’t care. She doesn’t intimidate me. She’s just a secretary with an overhigh opinion of herself,” Grapes replied. “She once stared at me so hard I thought my head was gonna turtle into my spines,” Spike admitted. “She’s just got this… LOOK that makes you feel so small.” “No matter HOW big you start off as,” Stormy added. “Don’t be so intimidated. She’s just got a big head from having all that power,” Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve got updated papers, identification, emergency cash, emergency correspondence, a nifty new necklace with a signet ring, and my luggage. Hm. Grab the spare daytimer from the desk, over there, would you, Stormy? I want something to keep receipts in. Also, I’ll need one of those new refillable pens so I don’t risk spilling ink everywhere when I write stuff on the airship, and maybe a stationary set. I’ll be buying those, because they’re not an emergency.” “Oooh! I can recommend a good travel stationery set. It’s the latest version available from Quills and Sofas. It uses something they call a ‘Fountain Pen’.” Twilight gushed at the opportunity to add her two bits worth. “That was the ‘refillable pen’ I was talking about,” Grapes observed with a wry smile. “But the stationary set should come in handy for my reports to Purty.” “You’re really going to go through with that? You weren’t just making her think she would have to surrender time from her schedule to dedicate to keeping tabs on your journey?” Twilight asked, sounding surprised. “I wasn’t just kidding. I figure I may as well try to be as professional as I possibly can. Though I will try and make them enjoyable to read. Just because it’s a report doesn’t mean it has to be boring,” Grapes replied with a nod. “Just so long as you don’t use those combustionite scrolls for them.” The purple unicorn nodded. “Those are too expensive to use for just casual correspondence. Probably best to keep them on hand in case… I dunno… Mister Squall picks a fight with their emperor or something.” “Impertinence said that those were for emergencies only, so they’re for emergencies only. That’s why I’m getting the stationary set,” Grapes explained. “I can only wonder what she thought when she read your opening line.” Twilight mused before giggling. “I do NOT wanna be the ponies who are sitting in that room with her.” “Neither do I, honestly,” Grapes said with a giggle. “Alright, fillies and gentlecolts, you all need to get your packing done, and be sure to bring your go-bags in case of weather emergency. Be sure to pack a very light jacket, because I believe the capital is in a mountainous region, and the nights may be cool. Additionally, everypony needs to prepare snack bags for the train trip. Any and all insectoids should be either deceased, already processed into other food items or left behind. Earshot.” “That’s ok, Miss Grapes.” Earshot said. “I think I’m just going to take lunch box of my special cookies along… and maybe a box of honeyed crickets.” “Somepony help him bring healthy snacks along, too, would you? Just so he’s not rotting his teeth with all the sweets?” Grapes pleaded. Sirocco gave a smirk as she leaned down and spoke softly into Earshot’s ear. “I will make certain he has a nice jar of Smooze to take on his journey. No doubt his mother would want him to have a regular dose each day while in a stranger strange land.” “Ewwww! Sirocco!” “I’m sure she would, but I don’t think it would be popular with the customs ponies,” Grapes observed with a smirk. “It is a good thing he does not mind compressed bran bars or other such treats. If there is one thing we can say about our little nocturnal brother is that he is not a picky eater,” Sirocco nuzzled him a moment before giggling. “If Sweetie Belle gave him a mud-pie he would no doubt give it a try.” “Are they good? ...Oh wait. You mean it would be really made of mud. Right?” “Yes Earshot. That is exactly what I meant,” Sirocco said with a nod. “I’m not that bad about eating things… am I?” Earshot asked. “You can be, sometimes,” Grapes said. “All right. Keep all snacks non perishable, and all drinks non-carbonated. It is summer, after all, and carbonated drinks do not travel well in hot weather. The last thing we need on the train are nasty smells, sticky stains, or exploding bottles.” “Don’t forget to pack money. According to my research, Griffons like those who don’t hesitate to spread the wealth around,” Twilight added. “...Oh celestial bodies… Sirocco, you are in charge of Earshot’s souvenir spending to keep him from spending all his bits on tchotkes,” Grapes said pointing to the mare in question. “Queenie, you’re to help.” “That we can do,” Queenie said with a nod. “No doubt if left to his own devices he would have a layer of ablative armor made up of trinkets, gewgaws and knicknacks.” “Now you know why I gave you two that assignment,” Grapes said with a nod. “I am sure everypony here will be frugal and prudent in their spending. Any items you get that may have ‘official’ connotations to our particular trip, save the receipt. I have some VERY special coins for emergencies, or for large purchases, again, having to do with our trip. If there is an emergency or a large expense, we will need to keep the receipt and/or invoice.” “If you wish, I will be the bearer of such slips, Miss Grapes.” Sirocco volunteered. “You have commented to me that I am very much the part of my sums.” Grapes blinked, chuckled, and nodded. “I will appreciate it, Sirocco. Keep up with the expenses, keep up with the receipts, and if there is anything that actually pertains to the object of our trip, keep it separate and we’ll remit it to Impertinence. The other ones we may be able to deduct on the tax forms. All right, ponies, you have your assignments, you have your directives. You have packing to do. Chop chop.” It did her proud to see everypony jump to action. No doubt it was inspiring for them to see her taking the travel so seriously. After all this was a group of travelers, each with a long list of locations they had visited under their saddles, but they had always packed light and traveled with only the purpose of rescue in mind… well except for maybe Squall. Now, they were going to a place where they would be tourists and she was the one with a definite goal. “Don’t forget something quasi-formal!” Grapes yelled upstairs. “We are going to be visiting the Royal Court, after all. We don’t want to look like a crowd of hooligans at any function we get coer-uh-persuaded to attend! And the vests don’t count!” -------------------------------- Grapes came back from the Train station window with the new tickets. The plan was that they were going to travel from Ponyville to Stormfront’s hometown of Maneland and catch their airship from there. She checked the train routes and found that some did indeed enter Griffonian territory but for some reason Guaranty had made certain that they were going by airship. Probably fewer stops along the way or, knowing the royal vizier, them traveling by airship was mainly meant as a way of adding to their prestige. Either way it was good to finally get moving. She didn’t want to start regretting things now and stop the momentum of her enthusiasm. She went to the platform where the others were waiting for her and saw Brass Horn, Stonewall, and Skyhook saying their goodbyes to Earshot. “Don’t get yourself killed, okay, bait-breath?” Stonewall said, pulling Earshot into a friendly-ish noogie that you really had to be an earth pony to appreciate (or at least be wearing a helmet). “Ack! I won’t, brick-brain.” “That’s the spirit!” “Now, you will remember to come back to us, won’t you, Earshot?” Brass Horn inquired. “You do know that Skyhook just won’t be the same tribalist jerk without you to complete our team diversity.” “Stuff it, Brass Horn,” muttered Skyhook. “See? She either hates you or may harbor a burgeoning crush. We’re not certain which yet but once again, not the same without you.” “Okay, Brass Horn. I’ll try to come back in one piece,” Earshot said giving her a hug before glancing over at Skyhook with a smirk, “For Skyhook’s sake. Celestia knows I wouldn’t want her life to get boring.” “Aw shaddap, Earshot.” the pegasus filly muttered, with just a little redness in her cheeks. “So there is a sweet mare in there… Somewhere… Buried very deep down,” Grapes quipped with a grin. She let the young ponies get their goodbyes in and then proceeded to hand out the tickets just as the train entered the station. Of course they still wound up waiting a bit while the train’s passengers disembarked, collected their luggage and headed off. Then a little longer as their own luggage was put on board by the porters and they filed on to find their compartments. Grapes settled into her seat, sure that some of the Riders would join her. She liked train travel, well enough, but it could get tedious if she was by herself. Fortunately she didn’t have to wait long. The door slid open and in came Summer Squall. He tipped his hat to her and tossed his carry on up into the luggage rack before sitting across from her. “Ahoy, lass. All settled for the next few hours I see.” “So it would seem. Kind of interesting having you sitting here,” Grapes observed. “Aye. I may be used to traveling freight but I do enjoy a window seat on a train,” Squall chuckled before giving a stage whisper. “Oh and we have Sirocco watching Queenie so she don’t ‘tipple’ the tavern car dry this trip.” “ONE TIME!” came Queenie’s voice from the other side of the wall. “It was JUST one time!” “Just ONE time is all it takes, Queenie,” Grapes retorted, smirking. “Earshot is with Firestormer taking a look at the engine and Stormfront is taking a little time in the observation car to watch the world go past without having to flap.” The old mariner continued. “Any plans for yerself? I brought a book. One hundred and one new cuss words. Being away from other sailors I feel I have to catch up now and again.” “You have to catch up in swearwords, huh?” Grapes asked sounding amused. “Oh aye.. You know how embarrassing it can be to use outdated cusses when you let’r rip? Then again I suppose not. You’ve never had a need for more than some basic ones, but let me tell you it’s a little like trying to act cool when your slang is out of date.” “I never cared about acting cool. Seemed like a foolish pursuit to me,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Fads are foolish.” “Maybe, but when you get into them you tend to go all the way.” He opened the book and blinked. “Oh this is a good one. ‘Grack’. Best used when you have something gritty in between your leg and groin slowly grinding the skin raw.” Grapes blinked and taking the book into her ponykinetic grasp, looked over the contents. “Wow. Itemised, classified by intensity and recommended situational usage. This is surprisingly comprehensive for a book of swears.” A thought then crossed Grapes’ mind. “Let’s never let this fall into Twilight Sparkle’s hooves. Shall we?” “Agreed.” Squall said watching Grapes flip through the pages. “Last thing we need is to enhance the town librarian’s vocabulary in that sort of respect.” “Well. I admit it’s quite fascinating,” Grapes said with a nod. “I never knew swears went beyond the basics. I always thought they were the resort of the less imaginative. And in a way I was right, because the less imaginative won’t expand their vocabulary.” “Ah but I’ve found that while some words are absent or overabundant in various tongues… I mean look at the Pon-guins. A hundred and two words for snow but nary a single one for cactus. Ah… where was I… oh yes. While some are absent or overabundant, the one thing we can count on to be universal is that every culture has words that demand to be said in anger, frustration and pain.” Squall explained with a smirk. “In fact you can learn more about a culture from their cuss words than polite conversation. Then again most cuss words are invented by ordinary ponies like you and me. Bet you’ve invented one or two out in the rows.” “One or two, probably,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “So. Looking forward to the trip, Lass?” “A bit. I’m nervous, of course but I am looking forward to it. It’s someplace I’ve never been to, so it’s kind of an adventure,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Should have at least one, in one’s lifetime.” “This from the pony who lives in adventure central,” he chuckled. “Since I started living in Ponyville I noticed that we seem to get some kind of adventure going on at least once a week, and that’s right in the streets.” “Yeah, but they’re happening to other ponies. Usually Ponyville’s undersung heroes,” Grapes quipped in response. “Fair enough. Still you and everypony else tend to get dragged into them quite a lot. I actually have come to enjoy it. Keeps me from getting bored.” “Dragged into them, or made into collateral damage?” Grapes retorted with an eyeroll. “Depends on the pony. Still, stepping outside yer stompin’ grounds tends to broaden yer horizons. I remember how it felt the first time me father took me out to sea with him,” Squall said with a smirk. “That was when I started realising just how big the world really was.” “Yeah, I hear you. And taking that first step is kind of scary,” Grapes observed. “I had the advantage of being an angry youth. I wasn’t about to let something like the world stop me from going out there. You got the advantage of that big brain of yers… well that and yer clever tongue. Snarkiness has it’s way of adding a protective layer.” “I know. Can be a prickly layer, sometimes,” Grapes observed with a chuckle. “I’m still pleasantly surprised that Stormy was able to get past the prickles.” “He’s got a good heart that one,” Squall agreed. “He really has takin’ a shine to you, prickles and all. Maybe he likes them prickles.” “I like him, a great deal, too,” Grapes said, a seldom-seen tender smile on her face. “You probably know how much I like him, too, considering, but… This whole relationship thing is as much an adventure for me as this trip.” “He really has been wantin’ to spend some of his ‘personal time’ with you. ‘Course things being what they are he hasn’t had too big of a chance to do that as much as he wanted,” Squall nodded. “When the paperwork on this trip is done, maybe I’ll find some way to keep the others busy while you and Stormy find somethin’ to do.” “Well we might find something to do, together. I’m sure there are some nice cultural things that are better experienced as a couple,” Grapes observed thoughtfully. “Maybe after all the important stuff I probably need to do. Not quite sure what I need to do, per se, but I’m sure to find out when I get there.” “Ye never got instructions? That don’t sound like Guaranty, and it really doesn’t sound like Impertanence.” “I’ll check the package, again, when I get to my stateroom on the airship,” Grapes said with a nod. “Just to make sure, and check what I need to do.” “Good plan. Nothin’ attracts attention quite like black wrapping paper.” “No kidding,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “I swear that Starless Courier was created by Guaranty. It fits with his sense of drama.” “Maybe. It’s been around long before that, though. When I was young, some old Naval Officers mentioned dreading seeing THEIR captains getting a Starless Courier message or package,” Squall recollected. “You never knew what that was about other than it was very important and should be ignored at yer peril. Although, come to think of it, they never mentioned the black paper wrapper. That might well have been Guaranty.” Grapes nodded, chuckling. “Any changes to make it more dramatic, and give it more panache, that would be Guaranty’s thing.” “I guess it does make sense. ‘Starless’ is another way of saying ‘black’, so he would have such messages wrapped up in black paper.” “So I was surprised to hear from Impertinence. I did pick up a stationary set, so I will be doing up reports for her. She may find it annoying, or she may enjoy them, and appreciate my being so professional. We won’t know until we get back,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Hard to say with that one. She doesn’t seem the type to want anypony to get close. Maybe she… nah.” “Maybe she what?” Grapes asked, tilting her head. “Well,” Squall continued, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I’m wondering if she had been hurt long ago and is just having some difficulty letting others get too close.” “So she’s like me, kind of? I was hurt at the Grand Galloping Gala that one time,” Grapes said. “But it does kind of make sense about her attitude.” “She might be. Than again I could be really wrong and she just always was like that. Not every pony has a deep tragic backstory.” At that Grapes laughed. “Could be how she was raised for all we know. Like Coldhoof being raised to be coldly logical.” “Ah, you’ve met his family too then? Bright bunch, but like polished steel they’re a wee bit on the chilly side.” “Well… I haven’t met his family, but he said he suppressing his emotions was a family tradition,” Grapes said nodding. “And he seems to be a completely honest and candid pony. His only problem seems to be relating to his goddaughter.” “Oh, aye, Skyhook. She’s gotten better since she nearly went too far. Good on her for that.” “Want to hear something scary? Coldhoof said that I’ve become a role model for her,” Grapes said, looking apprehensive. “Me. A role model. I’m the last pony anyone would consider a role model, but Skyhook has chosen me, apparently.” “And what’s so scary about that? Yer a good solid member of the community, you have a strong business, you get to boss others around. To be honest with ya lass, there’s a lot worse role models than you to be found. Would you stick that poor filly with the likes of yer grandmother?” “Oh, STARS, no! My grandmother would put the poor filly in military school. But then the way I treated her when she revealed she was responsible for Earshot’s illness… I tried to be like I usually am, tough but fair. I tried to show her the consequences of her actions, so she can learn from her mistake,” Grapes said with a nod. “So… That may be why she looks up to me.” “Sounds about right to me. Often in life we idolise the wrong souls. Athletes and actors get praised when we should give more to teachers, doctors and rescue workers.” The semiaquatic pegasus looked at her and gave a smirk. “Even the good-old-fashioned hard working sorts really need to have their time in the sun.” “Well. I saw that she could be salvaged, and brought around. And yes, I kept you guys from shaving off her feathers, putting her into torture devices, and tanning her hide, because all that would be doing is taking revenge. Vengeance is never the way to turn a pony around. All it does is perpetuates a vicious cycle. I didn’t want that, because I saw potential for good in that little frightened pegasus,” Grapes said. “I don’t think I would have hurt her. It’s one thing to put the lash to a full-grown stallion or mare, but not a foal. True, I once saw a cabin colt take six of the best when he was caught stealing from the coffers but that was because he wanted to show he wasn’t afraid of takin’ his licks when he did wrong. If I had’ve started with a cat o’nine tails on that filly…” he paused a moment to shake his head. “Never pick up the lash when yer mad, lass. You ferget the difference between punishment and abuse.” Grapes nodded, a wry smile on her face. “Now you know why I took charge of her, while you were all still very angry. Anger can cause a pony to lose sight of when to stop, when one has gone too far.” “I did get a wee bit more enjoyment than I should’ve punching a hole in that bag in front of her, though.” He said with a wicked smile. “Better the bag than her skull, Squall,” Grapes said with a nod. “True that, Lass. True that. Not to mention that it was funny to see how big her eyes got when I did that. Made me feel a little better about how I was so powerless to help Earshot.” “Nothing like a little schadenfreude,” Grapes observed. -------------------------------------------------------------------- A little later, anypony wandering the train would have come upon an interesting scene. "I bet... Two Licorice Buttons." "I'll see your Licorice Buttons and raise you a peppermint stick." "I'll see your peppermint stick and raise you a chocolate bon bon,” Grapes said, tossing the candy on the pile, as she looked over her cards. The ponies all matched the bon bon but none went higher. "This is nice. We ought to do this more often," Squall admitted before he dropped two cards and replaced them with fresh ones. "Indeed." Agreed Queenie with a chuckle. "Although the REAL winner would be Bon-Bon." "We could have used the chocolate poker chips,” Grapes observed casually. "We could've," Firestormer observed before putting his cards face-down on the table. "I mean they're just a novelty to Bon-Bon but they could be a fun thing, but there's something to variety. Isn't there?" "I suppose. I didn't know we'd end up in a poker match, en route." "Maybe, Miss Grapes, but you were the one smart enough to bring a pack of cards." Sirocco pointed out as she rearranged her cards in a manner that suited her. "Although Squall has a set, it has circled the rock a few times." "... 'Circled the rock'?" Squall chuckled "She may mean either that it's traveled with me as I sailed around this world's land masses OR... she messed up 'Around the block'." "I dunno. I kinda like 'Circled the Rock'," Earshot admitted, eyeing the candy pile with the look any ten year old would. "Sounds kinda neat. I'm also good with this hand if anyone else wants to play theirs." Grapes looked thoughtful, as she examined her cards. "Okay..." Grapes said with a mild smirk. "Anybody calling?" "I'll call." Queenie said with a smirk. "Ice may be my element but these cards are sizzling." "All right. You go first." Grapes expression was rather impassive. Queenie fanned her cards out on the table before her, glittering hooves displaying a combination of the Nine and Five of Clovers, the Six of Gems, and the Seven and Eight of Hearts. "I have a Straight." “Two pairs, and three of a kind," Grapes said fanning out her cards. "What is that? A full house?" "Oh, drat." Queenie giggled. Firestormer tossed his on the table showing three princesses. "That beats my Three of a Kind here. Anypony else?" "I am merely feeling flushed." Sirocco admitted showing her hand made of various Horseshoe cards. "Ah. I've been bluffin' with just a pair." Squall admitted, showing his deuces of clovers and gems. All eyes turned to Earshot who sheepishly put his cards on the table. "I only got four ones." "Ffffffff...." Grapes uttered facehoofing. "Fudge." Sirocco smirked and pushed the winnings to Earshot's side of the table. "A fine hand, Earshot. You collected four of a kind. Even if they are ones, that is still a win." "Of course he'd get Four of a Kind," Grapes grumbled. "Earshot, they're aces." Firestormer scooped up the cards and began some impressive shuffling for a pony without magic. "I wonder if he cheated. Probably can hear what each card sounds like," the orange pony teased. "Like how much ink each card has?" Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or just the tone each has scraping against one another," Sirocco giggled before Firestormer began flipping out the cards again. "No, I think that even a blind squirrel can find a few butts, and Earshot just got a lucky hand." "Sirocco, I think you mean 'a blind squirrel can find a few nuts'," Grapes corrected. The group chuckled and got two more games in before they opted for heading to catch a few hours of sleep before they got to Maneland. Grapes had to admire any pony who could sleep just about any place you stuck them. As she stretched out on the little padded couch that was on the one side of the compartment she smirked at the already slumbering form across from her where Queenie was gently snoring. She then glanced up at the luggage rack where a dangling, dark purple tail was the only clue that a certain Night Pony had found a place ideal for his breed. Grapes sighed, chuckling at how easily he can find a place to sleep, and tried to make herself comfortable to get a few winks in. The trip up to the city of Maneland resulted in her ears popping several times. When Stormy had told her it was halfway up the side of a mountain she never realised how far ‘up’ that ‘halfway’ was. On the plus side she was still very much on the ground, it was only that the ground was higher up that the ground she was normally on. Grapes took her turn in the observation car to check out the town of Maneland, as they pulled into the station. She had been curious about Stormfront’s home town. The place seemed quite homey, and rather similar to Ponyville, but it had a bit more of an “alpine” air to it, with steeper roofs and cobbled streets. She remembered what Stormy said about it and she had to agree. Ponies from the “upper set” would no doubt think they were ‘roughing it’ even though there were enough modern amenities such as shops and hotels that they were in no way actually doing so. “And that’s the hotel where Mom works,” Stormfront pointed out. It was a very beautiful-looking location, with rather wealthy clientele coming and going. “She’s finally worked her way up to head housekeeper. I’m really proud of her.” “‘Housekeeper’, huh? Hope those folks are good-hearted and understanding about her taking a year off because she won the lottery,” Grapes observed, thoughtfully. “Though if she’s frugal with the rather generous food and entertainment budget they give as part of the lottery, she MAY be able to retire.” “Oh, if there’s one thing Mom can do it’s stretch out a bit,” Stormfront said with quite a bit of pride. “She’s had to raise me by herself ever since Dad… uhm… well.. flapped out on us.” “Oh… I’m… sorry to have reopened old wounds… Sometimes I forget that I’m fortunate, in the family department,” Grapes murmured, her ears going back, as she looked up at Stormfront. “And I didn’t know, because I didn’t want to invade your privacy… Though, strangely enough our parents have already met us, and each other…” “Yeah, they have, and it’s okay about you ‘invading’ my privacy. He was gone long before I ever had a chance to meet him. Pretty much it’s an old story. Hotel guest shows a housemaid a good time, the share a few laughs, whirlwind romance and he leaves her with something more than fond memories to remember him by.” “So do you think you’ll ever meet him?” Grapes asked, tilting her head. “I dunno. Never really thought of it too much,” he admitted to Grapes. “I don’t even know what would happen if I DID meet him. Knocking him on his backside doesn’t seem like my style, maybe just… let him know he missed out on a good life. Only thing I’d have wanted to do with a dad is play some baseball.” “Baseball? You mean, like, catch?” Grapes asked. “I’ve done that with my Dad. Usually during, like, fall, or winter… Yeah, farming life doesn’t lend a lot of time for recreation.” “Mom did her best to raise me by herself, bless her. She was limited in the time she could spend with me, so we made that time count.” “Nice to know that she thinks I’m a ‘keeper’,” Grapes commented with a smile. The larger pony smiled and gently nuzzled her while the train finally came to a stop. “Mother always did know best. I’m certainly not gonna let you just slip through my pin feathers.” Grapes sighed, blushing a bit. “I’m not going to let you slip away, either… But it’s time to transfer to the airship. Let’s get everybody motivated.” “You know,” he said, getting his luggage from the overhead. “This seemed weird at first but I’m actually looking forward to this.” “Me too. I’m going on an adventure, and you and the other Riders are getting the chance to play tourist-slash-entourage,” Grapes observed with a smile, as she carefully maneuvered her luggage from its place in the overhead. “I’m sure the sheer novelty of traveling without having to worry about a disaster at the end of the trip is something you and the others will enjoy.” “Well, yes. there is that. Mainly I’m talking about the air travel part. I’m used to flying by wing. This is going to be a rare pleasure letting something bigger than even MY wings do all the work, leaving me to just sit back… or stand back, and enjoy the ride.” “And me, I’ll be fighting air sickness… Joy…” Grapes grumped. “I’m fine as long as I don’t look directly down. But even so, I may still have some slight vertigo. So… have a bucket handy.” “Pinkie Pie offered her ‘Lucky Bucket’ from the Baked Bads incident but I figured we should have something more portable. Picked up a watertight bag from the travel store for similar issues.” “It pays to be prepared,” Grapes said with a nod. “Now let’s get the herd moving.” The Storm Riders were ready to go the moment Grapes gathered them. Their bug-out bags were over their barrels and each had a baggage claim ticket for their own “vacation” luggage. “Okay, ponies, let’s do our transition from pleb to patrician in a neat, and orderly fashion so we will have plenty of time to be processed, and our luggage stowed,” Grapes said nodding to everypony. “Stormy, should we take some manner of conveyance in order to make the transition easier, so we won’t be carrying large bags through the town?” “Oh yeah. The snap-trolleys are always good. Nice little powered wagons on rails that go through the city. As regular a schedule as you can please. We could also just take a few cabs if you wanna look even more posh.” “We may be envoys to the crowns, but we’re still on a budget. Let’s find a snap-trolley, so we can all go in one trip, and trolley,” Grapes asserted. She then looked back at Stormy, her brow furrowed. "So... what IS a snap-trolley anyways?" A few minutes later her questions were answered, and she wished she had brought a hat. Not because a snap-trolley was by any means FAST. Oh no. It was because it was a large open cage cart with an electrical engine on the back powered by a great glass “bottle” filled with what she found out were “twittermites”. She had seen models of electrical engines in Ponyville, mostly a curiosity at the toy shops. Nopony ever took them that seriously at all, after all once you got past a certain size the idea of a chemical battery big enough to push one around seemed ludicrous. However it seemed somepony had skipped a step by providing a self-renewing power source in the form of a dangerous pest. She had never actually seen a twittermite before, photographs of them usually came out overexposed from their energy output but now she was getting a really good look at them… and they were making everypony’s hair stand up on end as the trolley made it’s way down main street with a snapping and popping sound (hence their catchy nickname). She glanced over to where Earshot sat next to her. He had donned that weird old jacket that, in passing, had a resemblance to the Wonderbolt outfits. He had put it on over his wings, then donned a tasteful yet large straw hat and slipped his goggles on over his eyes. To anypony else he looked like an eccentric little colt of indistinguishable tribe out on vacation. He seemed comfortable like this and watched the twittermites flitting about in their glass cage with the keen interest any ten-year-old colt would have. (Although Grapes felt it was an educated guess that he was wondering what they would taste like.) “I wouldn’t recommend it, Earshot,” Grapes said quietly. “Considering that those things are powering a cart, I imagine eating one would cause all your fur and hair to stand on end, and quite possibly overload your nervous system.” “Yeah. In the first week of my time out in the sun I was hit by lightning… might have died if it weren’t for the kindness of strangers. Maybe this is one thing I should resist tasting.” “Yeah. Not a good idea to eat a literal lightning bug,” Grapes said nodding. “So… You seem to have gone under cover.” “Sometimes I do that, yes. Mister Dusty mentioned seeing me once when we did some stuff at a beach resort where he was,” Earshot explained. “It’s not that I’m… ashamed of who I am but sometimes it’s just easier this way. I get more freedom when ponies aren’t gawking at me, staring and pointing and crowding. I won’t hesitate to lose the disguise when I’m needed but… sometimes it’s easier to look… normal. you know?” “Well… I think you look normal, but I’m used to you being you,” Grapes said with a sigh. “But yeah, this will go quicker with nopony gawking at the ‘weird-looking’ pony,” she added with air quotes. “Thank you Miss Grapes,” he glanced back at the twittermites again before giggling. “A cart that runs on bugs. I can hardly wait to write my kin at home about this.” “Well they may as well be put to some use,” Grapes said as they reached their destination, and were soon met with porters seeking to take their luggage. “Oh, wow. Looks like we’re expected. Purty’s been busy, hasn’t she? Alright, everypony, let’s find the queue.” “I love those Trolleys.” Stormfront admitted. There’s just something neat about them, of course we didn’t always have them. They only came into use a year or two back.” “... A year or two back?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. The old Trolley system had a series of bicycle pedals below each seat. Passengers could add to the speed of the trolley with their own steam but mostly it was just four guys all day long. These bright shiny Snap-Trolleys came in pretty quickly. Everypony is really proud of them even if it’s weird to see a conveyance powered by insects.” “... Who came up with this, I wonder?” Grapes mused thoughtfully. “I dunno. Excuse me? Sir?” Stormfront caught the attention of the driver. A skinny beige earth pony in a green jacket with a green pillbox hat with a visor. “Do you know who came up with the Snap-Trolley?” “Can’t really say that I do.” He said thinking about it before going to the motor and searching around. “I do recall seeing a little plate back here with writing on it. Think it’s a manufacturer’s label. Ahha! There it is.” Grapes and Stromfront took a look and the four-inch long brass plate that was bolted to the motor. Grapes suddenly felt a little less safe than she had five minutes ago. On the plate was written simply “Pat. Pending Redline Innovations.:. “... I should have known… A bug powered trolley is SO Redline,” Grapes grumbled. “And this was invented BEFORE he came off that bloody tea, too. But it must have come before he got it as strong as it was, before the Caffeinated Calamity.” “We’re going to have to ask him about these when we get back. I mean… he must have sold these to Maneland. What did he do with the money? I don’t see him at bars or the liquor stores, or tobacconists and I don’t hear about him going gamboling or making use of… mares of the evening. He doesn’t have a lot of vices, does he?” “Inventing. His vice is inventing, and making sure his sister has a good life,” Grapes said with a nod. “Taking care of family is about the best kind of habit I can think of,” Stormfront said while he and Grapes entered the big Airship terminal where the others were queued up at the ticket counter. “He mentioned to me once he was like Twilight growing up, only more popular. A big stallion on campus at Unicorn U.” “It’s a long story. And I shouldn’t tell you, really,” Grapes said, with a sigh. “Because that’s HIS story, not mine.” “Remind me to ask him, I’d like to know how he wound up going from magical prodgedy to surrogate father when his parents are very much alive. Must be a doozy of a story.” “It is,” Grape said sadly, as they got their tickets and boarded the ship. > Defying Gravity and Cavities > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Defying Gravity and Cavities The THS Nonesuch was a gorgeous work of craftsmareship as far as Sour Grapes was concerned. The interior was decorated with rich bluenut wood paneling with gold scrollwork. Floors bore golden mahogany tiles (in at least the public areas) and Saddle Arabian rugs in private rooms. She noted that while tables in the dining room were exquisitely carved from oak, they were discretely bolted to the floors in case of turbulence. Yes, as bad as falling from the sky and crashing could be, she had to confess that having several tons of wooden tables falling on you would only make the situation worse. She did note that there were paintings fastened on the walls that looked like ones she was certain were only shown in museums. When asked about them, the porter proudly asserted that while they were indeed fakes they were created by the greatest forger in all of Equestria, Faux Bristles. This infamous stallion, after being caught and jailed, now made a legitimate and comfortable living creating top tier art for the collectors that could afford his paintbrush. “Funny thing about it, Miss,” the porter said putting her luggage into her room. “He was arrested on the belief he was selling Equestrian National Treasures, the kind of stuff that could get a pony arrested for treason. He had to paint a fresh forgery in front of witnesses to prove his innocence of the accusation. He spent one year in prison and was released.” “And now he’s a ‘legitimate’ forger. Or is the proper term ‘reproduction artist’?” Grapes deadpanned. “Every so often, crime actually does pay. Better than banishment, or do they still send traitors to the knackers?” “Knackers?!” Sirocco said with a gasp. “Why would you send him to a place where they make undergarments?” “...Sirocco, you’re thinking of knickers. Which can mean ‘undergarments’, or knee-length loose-fitting pants,” Grapes explained. “Knackers are…” she started, then looked at Earshot, sighed hugely, and decided to be honest, even if he was a kid. “They’re, in essence, executioners. They aren’t used often these days, but the office exists. Unfortunately, there are ponies in the world whose special talent happens to be killing other ponies. Some go into the military, some become private assassins, some become depraved individuals that prey on others and some become knackers.” “That’s a strange talent to have,” Earshot observed, his brow furrowing in thought. “But I guess it has to happen somewhere. I’ve seen sigils… I mean cutiemarks for nearly everything out here.” “Thank the stars it’s ‘nearly’ everything,” Grapes observed. “There ARE special talents that fall under Standard Answer Number One.” “I wish I could afford Mister Faux Bristle,” Queenie said admiring the picture of ‘Jester and Child’ that graced the wall. “There are a number of pictures in the Manse gallery I would hope to have a spare made of… you know… in case of tourism.” “You mean like that ‘Rodeo’ witch and her, ahem, hips?” Grapes asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Oh yes. Her. Definitely,” Queenie said with a low growl. “Should I see her out here, where she will no doubt not recognise me out of uniform… I would sorely be tempted to reset her jaw for her.” Grapes smirked, sidling up to Queenie and murmured quietly: “Just push her off the deck, with no witnesses. You won’t have to deal with an assault charge, and you’d be improving the gene pool of Earth Ponies by removing a large quantity of ‘stupid’.” “I would do the same to her cohort Roman were it not for the fear that his impact would leave a charred crater where he detonated,” the blonde pegasus snorted. “What kind of madness makes one don fireworks?” “The kind that’s usually prefaced by the phrase: ‘Hold my cold-one and watch this’,” Grapes quipped with a smirk, going into a slightly slurred sounding accent that was close to her cousin’s but not quite. “Now THAT phrase I understand!” Earshot said proudly. “... I wish you didn’t, Earshot, I really do. Please, enlighten me as to where you heard that before?” Grapes asked. “Well… every once in awhile we go to a storm and while we’re trying to do our job there is almost always ONE pony who does something dumb. Sometimes it can be blamed on alcohol. Other times… they're just dumb,” Earshot explained. “Ah. Good. At least you know that’s the phrase of the dangerously stupid. Whenever somepony says that, you know to retreat far far away,” Grapes said nodding. “I remember this one mare who had made a giant kite made of tin foil, a lot of copper wire and a hyooooge copper kettle of popping corn. She was flying it in this hurricane and…” “Oh sweet Celestia on a pogo stick…” Grapes uttered, face hoofing. “Hey, look, Miss Grapes!” Earshot said, losing his train of thought upon finding a cozy closet. “They even got a place for me, here.” The porter glanced sideways at Grapes for a moment, a rather suspicious expression flickering across his face before it was replaced by his previous “pleasant” one. “Earshot, you’re sharing a stateroom with Stormy. You’re not going to be stuck in some random closet,” Grapes said with a sigh. “I’m sure you could use the closet in the stateroom for a sleeping nook if you wanted to, but you’re not being stuck in a supplies closet in the hallway. You’d probably startle the cleaning staff.” “Yes, Miss Grapes.” “Come along, Earshot,” Stormfront said with a chuckle. “Somepony paid for perfectly good beds for us, I think it would only be polite of us to make use of them. I think we’re across the room from Grapes.” “I could have shared with Sirocco, and Queenie, but no I’m stuck in a room by myself,” Grapes uttered. “Rank having privileges, and all that. Oh well. Maybe we’ll have a common room, over here, and we can play cards, when we’re really bored. I’ll have to see if this ship has a sweets shop.” “Oh, yes, Miss, we do,” the porter clarified. “You can purchase them from the gift shop in the common room or while in the dining area.” “As long as the common room, or the dining area doesn’t have panoramic windows, I should be fine,” Grapes said with a sigh. She then turned to the porter and smiled, offering him ten bits for a tip. “You’ve been a good sport, my good stallion. I’m sure you’ve had your share of eccentrics on board. Uhm… I don’t suppose the rooms are equipped to handle airsickness and/or panic attacks?” “Beside most chairs there is a small pocket with a little paper bag for sudden bouts of nausea and/or a requirement to breathe repeatedly into one. We also have a licensed doctor on staff should things get too rough.” “Oh. Good. Apparently I’m not the only pony afraid of heights who’s been aboard,” Grapes observed with a nod. “Thank you again for all your help, and putting up with this merry band of misfits.” “That’s all right, Miss. I better get the rest of them squared away. You have a nice flight now.” Grapes closed her door and pulled out her stationery set, filling the fountain pen and making sure it was writing well with no blotches or streaks. She then sat down at the desk in her stateroom, pulling out a piece of stationery, and setting it into the special holder for those ponies who did not have magic (or in Grapes’ case not as much magic as most unicorns). To: Personal Assistant to the Crowned Thrones of Equestria, Chief Correspondent, and Mistress of Waiting Chamber Discipline: Impertinence, As of this letter, the Storm Riders and I have made it to the THS Nonesuch safe and sound. I thought you would appreciate this little update as to our travel status, and be relieved in knowing that we are well on our way to do the job for which we were recruited. We have been watching our buckles on the way here, which I’m sure will come as a surprise. I know Guaranty was kind enough to send me an expense account, nevermind the emergency fund you so generously supplied. However, I do not see having the money to be extravagant as a reason to be extravagant. Maybe the occasional treat, here and there, but I know at the end of the day I’m still just a farmer from Ponyville. I’m not some Canterlot Noble who has to be pampered every mile of the way to the Griffon Empire. You knew this, too, and yet I still got a room by myself, instead of sharing with the two female members of the Storm Riders. This could have saved some on the royal budget, but I digress. All in all the trip was relatively smooth, with no real problems to hinder our progress. Thanks to the documentation you were so kind to procure for me, I am sure the border crossing will prove no problem. If there is a problem, that is what the emergency scrolls are for, aren’t they? Please give my regards to Guaranty. I know that will be the highlight of your day. Have fun scaring the plebs. I’ll write again, soon. Sincerely: Sour Grapes; Royal Winemaker to the Dual Thrones of Equestria. After re-reading her letter and making sure there were no serious errors or smudges, she pulled out an envelope. She addressed the envelope, and after making sure the ink was dry, folded the letter and put it in. The envelope was sealed with her new signant, and Grapes got up and put it into the correspondence basket beside her door. The postage would be billed to her stateroom, and paid at the border crossing. The porter came out of the room across the hall from her own looking positively wrung out. Grapes sighed, rummaging in her bit bag before calling out to the poor stallion. “Hey, there,” she said, hefting a five bit piece in her hoof. Once she was sure he was paying attention she tossed it to him. “Catch.” “What’s this for?” the porter asked. “Putting up with a ten-year-old colt’s questions,” Grapes replied. “Oh… Thank you, Miss,” the porter said, then trotted over to the letter basket. “I’ll take care of that, too, since I’m on my way out.” He looked at the address, an eyebrow raising at it going to Canterlot Castle. Then he turned it over, and noticed the seal. When he saw that, he took off like a shot. “Who put a burr in his saddle?” Grapes mused as she watched the rapidly retreating stallion. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sour Grapes later in the day, found herself in the dining area of the airship. She stayed in the middle of the dining room, as far away from the row of windows at the far end of the room as possible. Guaranty had a point that modern airships were stable enough that you would barely notice you were up in the air. However that only helped as long as you could forget the fact you were thousands of feet above the landscape, and that was like becoming aware of your tongue. The more you try to forget it, the more it becomes obvious to you. And being half earth pony, the loss of the physical connection with the earth was quite unnerving, too. She had no idea how her relatives from Applejack’s side managed to fly their own airships. Maybe after each trip they all had a good roll in the dirt. Perhaps she should try that, after this trip was over, and on a leyline, too... The others had gone topside to enjoy the novelty of flying without having to do any work, and she was more than happy to let them. No sense in her nervous mood spoiling the journey for them all. She sighed and poked at her meal, the waiter had assured her that the light peppermint-flavoured mousse that stood in a small pink peak in her bowl was excellent for calming “nervous stomachs”. She had yet to take a spoonful, and really should. The crew was so understanding. No doubt they had seen this from ponies a thousand times before and would a thousand times after her. She toyed with her spoon a little more when she became aware of a shape looming over her. “Pardon me, young miss, may an old soldier have a seat to rest his weary bones?” She instantly looked up to the familiar, ancient-sounding voice and smiled at the elderly griffon standing beside her table, smiling oh-so pleasantly. “Robin? Well, this is an unexpected surprise,” Grapes said gesturing to the free seat. “I wish I could say the same, however, after Discord’s newest attack I chose to check up on my favorite little pony and discovered you were being sent on a mission to the Griffon Empire. Naturally I just HAD to come and join your adventuring party. As they used to say in my day… It’s dangerous to go alone. Take this... my hand in friendship of course.” Robin chortled, slowly lowering himself into the chair across from her. “My goodness, we got off lightly this time, didn’t we? Discord must have been busy playing with somepony to have not put his full attention on the world at large.” “That would probably be Twilight Sparkle and her friends,” Grapes observed. “The new Bearers of Harmony, so naturally he’d wish to toy with them.” “Ah, yes. That would explain it then. Still, there’s always a mess to clean up. Say what you will about chaos but it’s a terrible houseguest.” “Never mind blind to the jokes being flat,” Grapes observed with a roll of her eyes. “Indeed. I see that whomever in the palace hierarchy saw fit to send you this way certainly wasn’t tight-fisted with a bit. Oh, sorry. I mean tight-reined.” “I get your meaning. Some of turns of phrase have crossed the borders,” Grapes observed. “Oh yes. That is true. I remember how many new words and phrases crossed our borders when pony and griffon were at one another’s throats. Dark days indeed, but a curious sort of cross-culture exchange happened during and afterwards.” He chuckled and nodded gratefully to the waiter that placed a steaming bowl of red broth before him. “Thank you, Armonde. We have some time before we arrive, a few days really. I must say that normally it’s difficult to be allowed into the ‘Inner City’ grounds where the Palace is situated. Some wind up having to make appointments years in advance to get through the bureaucracy.” “It may be the ‘royal’ in the nomenclature,” Grapes observed. “Bureaucracy loves their adjectives.” “All too true. Fortunately you having a griffonic national hero in your employ is more than enough to cut a great deal of red tape. It’s one reason many griffons go out of their way to be ‘good friends’ with famous personalities. Nothing greases the wheels of government than a little of the good old ‘It’s not who you are, it’s who you know’.” “Ah. That would be you, hm?” Grapes asked, finally tasting the mousse. “Oh, as much as working for you would no doubt be a pip, I wasn’t speaking about myself. I was merely reminding you how big Summer Squall is in griffon circles. His presence will open many doors for you.” “Summer Squall? Huh. I did not know that. But then again, I don’t pry,” Grapes said with a nod. “It’s better for somepony to tell their story of their own accord, rather than to pry it out of him.” “Believe me, it’s a good one… but it is deeply personal for him as well. It’s why he’s an Immortal now.” “An immortal? As far as I know the only immortals are the Princesses,” Grapes observed. “Unless you’re talking about another form?” “Oh! Sorry. I should clarify. To a pony, immortality is a matter of eternal youth or possessing a life span that extends across the centuries, or rarely, being unkillable. To griffons, immortality is something very different.” He had a few mouthfulls of soup before continuing. “Perhaps in it’s simplest of definitions, immortality is achieving a certain level of fame… for good or for ill. So much that your very name enters the language becoming a word unto itself.” “Really? That’s actually pretty interesting,” Grapes uttered. “Yes, yes. For example, during our original unification wars, where our first Emperor was trying to unify our war-torn land by conquering all the city-states, King Pyrrhus was a long-time holdout. Unfortunately, that came at a great price. He had lost a good deal of his army in the process and most of his leaders and friends. In short, his ‘victory’ was almost as bad as a defeat. Hence his name transformed into the term…” “...‘Pyrrhic victory’. So that’s where that expression originated.” Grapes said carefully raised her eyebrows, tilting her head. “Well, well, well. I just learned something new.” “New knowledge should always be welcomed. Keeps our lives interesting.” “Well I didn’t say that was a bad thing, to learn something new,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Just remember while visiting that for good or for bad, your name can live forever as a word in the language.” He noticed the expression she was giving him and he shrugged in a surprisingly bashful way. “Ah. My name never quite reached ‘Immortal’ status. I’m historically famous for not getting killed but I never had that... singular thing to be famous for.” “Are griffons known for century-spanning lifespans?” Grapes asked, casually. “Uh… Actually… no. No we are not,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “I know what the books on magic say about curses not being ‘real’ but to be honest I have no other word to describe an act of direct magical malice that has caused me to outlive generation after generation. And it was direct, make no bones about it.” “A curse?” Grapes asked. “Do you know who cursed you?” “OF COURSE! Definitely and without a doubt. How can I put this to make it very… clear? Back at the end of the war, once a peace had been decided upon by those who ruled, we discovered very quickly that as bad as war was, in some ways the clean-up afterwards was even worse.” Robin sighed and leaned back in his chair in a manner that made him look every bit as old as he was. “War does things to us. Sometimes you find depths of strength in you that surprise even yourself. The same goes with our flaws. Imagine it. Some… one that you’ve known in civilian life, who is pleasant, well-adjusted and butter wouldn’t melt in their mouth… suddenly is doing things like putting the torch to buildings full of non-combatants, or using blatant torture on prisoners who obviously have no tactical information. When all was said and done, there was a lot of politically embarrassing clean-up that involved finding these souls and bringing them to justice. No matter whether they had beaks… or hooves” “Ah… I see. Latent sociopathic tendencies,” Grapes observed thoughtfully. “Exactly. Fortunately I was one of the ones that did the cleaning-up. I’d have truly hated to have been one of those who gave our world the term ‘War Criminal’,” He sighed and prodded his soup with his spoon. “The ones that were desperate to explain their actions were easy. All you really had to do was get them to understand that the trial would be fair and balanced, taking all things into consideration… The OTHERS on the other hand… They interpreted the term ‘Dead or Alive’ as them being alive and their hunters being dead.” “Ah. That sounds typical of a sociopath,” Grapes observed. “Very true. One of the last ones we found was hard to bring in, but he wasn’t suicidal. When we cornered him, he gave up and let us bring him to trial. Glad he didn’t make it too big of a fight… that giant had a reputation that actually made you DREAD facing him..” “Wonder who he was?” Grapes mused, thoughtfully. “A rather imposing figure known to all by the name, ‘Poison Apple’.” Sour Grapes sputtered. She was related to the Apple clan and while having the word “Apple” as part of your name was no guarantee that you were family, it was a bit dumbfounding to even have the passing thought that one of them had been a war criminal. “‘Poison Apple’? Earth pony, by any chance?” Grapes asked then looked a touch troubled. “Wearing a black cloak and top hat?” “Why, yes. Yes he was very fond of dressing every part the gentlepony. His cutiemark should have been a red flag, though, looked like a skull-shaped apple. He had a mastery of earth-based magic that was truly disturbing. Imagine your regiment marching through a forest at night, the wind moaning through the trees… then as the sun rose you realised that the moaning wasn’t the wind but that there were griffons in the trees.” he paused a moment, eyes narrowing. “Not hanging from the branches, oh no. When I say in the trees, I mean IN the trees. Nearly completely enveloped inside the living wood and left there.” “That’s scary… And reminds me of Big Macintosh’s go-to Nightmare Night costume… Always said it was a pony of the clan who was more of a black sheep…” Grapes uttered. “Really? Is he related to Twilight Sparkle’s friend, Applejack?” “Yeah. Mac is AJ’s big brother,” Grapes replied. “I wonder if that would count as some part of the universe trying to balance itself out? The descendant of Poison Apple becoming an Element of Harmony. Ah, I’m becoming sidetracked. Must be getting old in my old age. Where was I?” “Talking about Poison Apple being taken in for war crimes,” Grapes reminded him. “Right. At the trials he accepted all the accusations, often correcting them when facts where they got a detail wrong. He was cordial and polite while up on the stand, and chillingly open with what he did. He never made any apologies for his crimes, he was as close to pure evil as I have ever seen in a pony. When they passed sentence on him he got this look in his eyes, like it was a personal affront. I was the only Hunter present when he was taken to the gallows. He looked me square in the eye and said that I would live to see all I held dear crumble to dust before my eyes.” Robin closed his eyes and sagged in his seat. “At the time I felt something pass through me, something... cold but I dismissed it as just nerves. Now… now I’m not so certain.” “Considering how long ago the Pony-Griffon War was, I believe that could have been the curse. He cursed you with long life. And you’ve probably have seen everything you hold dear crumble before your eyes. From extreme old age.” “I won’t complain that I haven’t had made the best of it. I have always tried to observe that the greatest revenge of all... is living well. And so, to spite that... bad apple, I keep moving, keep meeting new souls and seeing as much of this world as I can. Even after almost a full TWO thousand years, I find myself still being surprised by what this big old world tosses in my path.” “I hate to interrupt your conversation, sir and miss, but something has come up,” said the steward, who had quietly slipped in close while they were speaking. “You wouldn’t happen to be the keeper of a little gray colt with a purple mane, wearing a blue jacket, straw hat and goggles, miss?” “Yes, sir. What happened?” Grapes said with a tone of resignation. “Well, he’s not really doing anything… WRONG. I wish to be clear on that point. He’s just… drawing a crowd.” Grapes could tell that the steward was doing his best to explain a strange situation without offending a child’s guardian. “We are no strangers to pegasi feeling cooped up on board, and often going topside for a short flight. In fact we have special pegasus tethers so that they do not accidentally get ‘left behind’. We are however… unused to ponies of any tribe going out for a walk.” “You’re saying that Earshot went out for a walk,” Grapes stated frowning. “Yes Miss. A walk. He’s walking around the hull of the ship. Sideways and at times upside-down, examining it. I understand a colt’s fascination with how an airship is put together, but we are a little out of our depth with one that can stride on the keel like a spider up a wall. Now we are not angry or upset, just a little scared he may… trip and take a very long tumble. Would you be so kind as to convince him to wear a pegasus tether if he should decide to continue this excursion, or repeat it?” “I will as soon as he comes back on board. I have a rather severe aversion to heights.” “Thank you very much, Miss.” The steward returned to his duties and Grapes turned to see a rather amused griffon looking at her from across the table. “You’re traveling with a colt? You and Mister Stormfront work fast, don’t you?” Grapes simply gave the old griffon a flat look. “Oh come now. Old folk are allowed to tease the young about such things… Although considering my age I could get away with teasing Celestia and Luna,” he chuckled before taking another spoonful of soup and continuing. “Anyways, What’s the fledgling’s name? He must have quite a lot of magical potential to cast a cliff-scaler spell like that. I didn’t think any unicorns knew that old griffon trick.” “His name is Earshot. He’s not so much a unicorn as he is a night pony,” Grapes replied. “He’s also part of the Storm Riders.” Robin the Red-breasted stared at Sour Grapes a moment with the most incredulous look on his face. “A Night Pony? Really?” “Yes, really. I may not bear the Element of Honesty, but I don’t lie,” Grapes quipped. “You wouldn’t be pulling my leg, would you?” “And risk getting clawed?” Grapes asked with a raised eyebrow. “With bat-wings and everything?” “No, he had magical alteration to have them changed to feathers. Of course with bat wings and everything.” “My goodness. My WORD! My, my, my…” “Are you going to get to the point, or are we going to continue this rather snarky dance?” Grapes asked. “Oh, I am so sorry. It’s not really that. It’s just that I haven’t seen a single night pony in nigh onto a thousand years!” He frowned and gave a helpless shrug. “Well, to be honest I always thought they had been wiped out during the great razing of Nocturnia.” “‘Nocturnia’? What’s Nocturnia?” the chocolate colored unicorn asked tilting her head. “You know. Nocturnia? The night pony capital. The city of shade, the Black Opal in Equestria’s crown. Night-Weather Central… Wait… You don’t know, do you?” “No, but then again Earshot did say that the ‘Daylighters’ were quite eager to eradicate any trace of his culture,” Grapes observed. “My word, the erasures were far more thorough than we thought.” “Well obviously. How do you know about it?” Grapes asked. “Honestly? We griffons saw it happening across the border, it was something we took great interest in. The three tribes all united in a great and very quiet movement of ‘this never happened’. Our scholars believe that after the initial need to let all that impotent rage loose after Nightmare Moon was vanquished, there came a collective shame that they had wiped an entire race off the face of Equestria. And so before Celestia could recover from her battle and find out what they did, they systematically removed and destroyed every mention of the night ponies from their culture.” “Not everything. There were the old stories about Nightmare Moon’s minions,” Grapes said with a sigh. “Well, yes. I guess the old mares’ tales and the legends and myths were part of the effort. Turning a real group into something later ponies could laugh off as being merely fiction. Then again, they could have been history’s way of keeping them from burying the truth completely.” “Possibly. The night ponies themselves didn’t get to take much of their history with them when they fled. They’re recovering bits and pieces, but they don’t know everything. Probably won’t know everything. Maybe you could help him with what you know?” Grapes asked. “It’s a terrible thing when we don’t know where we came from. Well, I was far from an expert but I would be very happy to give him SOME clarity. I owe history that much for it putting up with my presence for so long.” Robin smiled gently and turned his attention back to his soup. “Besides, how can I possibly refuse the first chance to meet a night pony in a thousand years?” “Haven’t the foggiest. Actually you could do me a favor and go out and persuade him to use the pegasus tether,” Grapes observed. “OH! Yes, I can certainly do that for you. It gives me an opportunity to meet this young Buckshot.” “Earshot,” Grapes corrected. “His name is Earshot.” “Thank you. It would be best to get that right and be thought a friend than not and have him suspicious of a stranger coming up to him on a ship and asking him to wear a funny restraint.” He gave her a gravely chortle. “That could prove rather disastrous, couldn’t it?” “Only mildly, yes. But then considering that village close to his homeland… Let’s just say they’ve done a lot to halt, hinder, and destroy any possibility of Daylighter/Nightpony cooperation.” “So I see,” the elderly griffon said as he lifted the bowl to his beak and drained half the contents. “Do they do it out of spite or are they actually getting something out of the bargain? ...The villagers I mean, not the Night Ponies.” “Well, they believe they are keeping the ancient minions of Nightmare Moon and/or possibly vamponies at bay. They do get pest control from the Night Ponies, though,” Grapes observed with a sigh, finally taking a bite of her mousse. “Pest control? There’s a story there waiting to be told,” Robin said with a raised eyebrow before finishing off his soup with another long draught. “All right. You sit tight here where it’s warm and comfortable and I’ll go and coax a little pony off of the hull.” “Good luck with that,” Grapes said, as Robin departed, waving to him as he went. It felt sort of nice to have somepony… or someONE else deal with the little bit of strangeness in her life for a change. She had to admit, ever since the last Summer Sun Festival her life had become rather… weird. Normally that kind of strangeness was something she had usually attributed to other ponies, but now.... now she was getting used to getting at least a little oddness sprinkled on her oat-flakes in the morning. Pegasai working on a half-earth pony’s farm, along with a night pony. Her cousin becoming an “Element of Harmony”... she really needed to find out more about what that entailed one day. She felt like there really had to be more than just rainbow-blasting baddies into submission. She heard Applejack mention that they found a reference guide for that in the town library. Maybe she should check that out sometime. That was a thought for when she got back to Ponyville. In the meantime, she had mousse to eat, and porters to pester about there possibly being a library on board this vessel. Trade negotiations should not be entered into blind. It took a shorter time that she expected for Robin to return with Earshot in tow. The appearance reminded her of an excitable grandchild with his patiently amused grandfather. “So the armor you’re wearing is over a thousand years old, Mister Robin?” “Oh, somewhat older than that, Earshot. Call me a softie but I wore this breastplate through so many adventures that I could never just… toss it aside. Many places I’ve been, many sights I’ve seen, many souls I have met.” “He even met Night Ponies, during some of them,” Grapes mentioned casually as she pulled the remains of her “Starrless Courier” package from her satchel to investigate. “REALLY?” Earshot cried before remembering to use his indoor voice. “I mean... really?” “Yes, Earshot, I have,” the griffon unstopped his ear for a moment. “Not recently, of course, but a long time ago they were common enough that I could identify them on sight.” Grapes smiled to herself, knowing that Robin was soon to be pelted by Earshot’s questions, leaving Grapes herself free to reread her instructions. While Earshot and Robin spoke of everything under the sun (or under the moon, from the night pony’s perspective) she went through the contents piece by piece. There was the letter, the seal, the scrolls… everything was pretty straightforward. She examined the letter, looking closely at both sides, then the box it came in, carefully searching for something as dramatic as a false bottom. She then took a look at the black wrapping paper it came in, and while it was interesting and very nice it didn’t give up any clues either. Grapes clopped her hoof on the table and gave a huge sigh. She then reread the letter… and counted the scrolls, just in case. Yep. All eleven combustionite scrolls were there just like before… she then paused and recounted them. Eleven scrolls. She reread the letter then facehoofed. There were only supposed to be ten combustionite scrolls. The odd one out must be her instructions. She felt positively remedial right now but kept it to herself as she looked over the scrolls for the one that didn’t match the others, and upon finding it, she unrolled it and found the missing missive. She immediately recognised the elegant flowing script of the Royal Vizier Guaranty. Dear Sour Grapes, Royal Winemaker to the princesses, so on and so forth… By now you’re no doubt on your way to the Griffon Empire with your merry motley crew in tow. How delightful. I expect to see many pictures from you and the others. It’s been a dog’s age since my own last journey. While this is fairly serious, there is no reason why you can’t enjoy yourself out there. So please enjoy yourself on this vacat… I mean, important diplomatic mission. Now down to brass tacks, as it were. As of late, the Griffon Empire has been buying more and more grain from Equestria’s farmers and well… I think the farmers are starting to get a little greedy. I have been bribed been able to convince them to agree on the necessity of one straightforward universal price rather than Griffon merchants having to barter with anypony with a silo. Your job will be to speak to the current leader, Emperor Farsight, to discuss this action and then use your hard-won bartering skills to nail the claws of the Griffonian Merchant’s Guild to the floor on a good, and above all FAIR price that lets the grainmongers think they are getting a great deal while we are not threatening to beggar our well-armed and proudly militant neighbors. I hope Impertinence has supplied you with everything you will be needing outside of what you could obtain on your own. I can always count on her to be able to pick up the slack on events like these. So try to enjoy yourself, see the sights, press hooves, chat up the locals, buy souvenirs and just soak up a culture you have yet to enjoy… oh and if anyone calls you ‘bisashi’, no they are not mistaking you for my Brute Squad, yes it is an insult and I recommend you laugh it off and inform them that you have your name for a reason. TTFN Guaranty: Royal Vizier to Princess Celestia the Undimmed “Okay then. Now to see if there’s a library, or at least a newspaper on board, so I can check commodities prices… I’ll still need the library to get a general idea of the current economy of Griffonia,” Grapes mused, as she got up, and went searching for a steward. “Excuse me,” she said, when she finally found one, “where could I find the most current newspaper? And is there a library on board? I’m sure you’ve had trade dignitaries traveling on board, before, and probably keep the current economic news of Equestria and the surrounding kingdoms on hoof for research purposes, correct?” “Oh yes. Yes, we have a number of current periodicals on board for those who like to peruse the news. As for a library, well, we’re a large ship but not truly a titanic one. Our ‘library’ is more of a few bookshelves in the common area. You may have dismissed them as they have doors on them to keep books from falling out should turbulance happen,” the steward admitted. “Am I remiss in presuming that they are mostly light fiction, fit for a vacationer’s reading list, but not for anypony wanting to check into the current economic status of the Griffon Empire?” Grapes asked with a huge sigh. “Actually, you may be surprised. Our reading materials are surprisingly diverse, thanks to ponies who leave books behind while on their way to parts unknown. You just may find what you’re looking for.” “Here’s hoping,” Grapes said cheerfully. “Now I’ll take that current newspaper, if you’d be so kind?” Newspaper in saddlebag, Grapes proceeded to the common room, and started checking through the shelves, hoping for something current to work with. Then, quite to her surprise, she found Financial Friendships: Penny Pincher's Guide to Equestrian Economies and How They Affect Its Closest Allies. Grapes put the book into her saddlebag, with the current newspapers for both Equestria and an Equish translation of the Griffonian Times. Hopefully these will give her a base from which to launch negotiations. She fully intended to find a happy medium, and not cause some manner of diplomatic incident. If nothing else, it will be something to keep her occupied until the reach the border crossing. She fully intended to do a proper job of this, even if it will be the one and only time she would act as some manner of trade envoy. The book was surprisingly interesting reading considering its apparently dull topic. Penny Pincher was, astonishingly enough, a very funny pony who not only opened with a little joke but also used many appropriate quotes and events to punctuate his observations. Sour Grapes spent a pleasant few hours going through the book and newspapers before taking a break just before bed. She chose to join in on the fresh poker game that broke out between the Storm Riders and Robin the red-breasted, who was more than willing to risk his secret stash of humbugs against their own confectionaries. It was high noon the next day when the THS Nonesuch came in at the border crossing station that bridged Equestria and Griffonia. Passengers disembarked and stood in queue, the line being long enough for Sour Grapes to take in the station. From the outside it was rather unimpressive, large gray box-shaped buildings made up the terminal and offices while several more similar boxes acted as hotels, restaurants and duty-free shops for those who had a few hours (or days) to spare. Looking at it on approach made it look like a very uninspired little town. Once disembarked and sending their luggage to be “processed” (re: searched for contraband) Sour Grapes and the others were able to see the inside was a little more interesting. The Equestria side had the familiar armor-clad royal guards as well as many banners bearing both the white and gold of Celestia’s rule and the recently added blue and purple of Luna’s. The Griffonian side of the room was painted a pale bluish gray with a gold and black border circumventing the room. She saw the griffon guards were surprisingly NOT in armor like their pony counterparts, but rather comparatively comfortable golden yellow uniforms with ebony highlights. Of course, from the way they stood at attention with those polearms, Sour Grapes could see that they had no need to play up their militaristic skill with heavy metal. She had been smart enough to bring her book on the economy for this part, in fact ALL the Storm Riders had brought books. She made a mental note to thank Twilight Sparkle for her recommendations, because they were all significantly distracted enough that the passage of time was easily forgotten. Stepping up to the clerk at the booth she noted that he, too, wore the same uniform that all the other “official” guards did. He adjusted the nez-pince glasses on his beak and spoke in a monotone. "Merchant, citizen, pilgrim, or...?” “Royal envoy, I suppose. My name is Sour Grapes, winemaker to Princess Celestia, accompanied by the Royal Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team.” He seemed to brighten up a little, his bored expression just a little more alert while he quickly scribbled things down with an ebony and gold fountain pen. “I see. We don’t see too many envoys from the Equestrian Court coming through here. Only one or two each year on routine business. May I see your passport and the passports of your companions as well as your credentials?” Grapes hoofed over her passport and credentials, privately glad that she had thought to get them together beforehoof. She turned to the others. “Passports, front and center, everypony,” she said with authority. Each pony in turn stepped up to the counter, pushing their passports under the window. Grapes had to smile at the clerk’s reaction to the wide variety of booklets. The clerk to his credit examined her credentials first, asking questions like “Anything to declare?” and “Length of visit?”. Such things were expected but she was asked to walk through a strange archway that buzzed the moment she stepped through. A pair of rather dour-faced griffon guards came over with a small tray. “Kindly place any metal and/or magical items into the tray and try the arch again, Miss.” She didn’t really have much in the way of magical items, so in went her keys, her bit-bag, her glasses and lastly her royal seal. She stepped back through the portal again and this time it was silent. They returned her items to her and the clerk handed back her passport and papers. “Sorry about the security measures. Somegriff thought we should be doing more than just standing around picking our tailfeathers. Next.” One by one they were questioned and stepped through the arch. Those with metal items like Friendly Fire’s jacket having brass buttons or the clasp on Sirocco’s traveling cloak were offered up to the tray BEFORE they went through. Earshot was given a little extra grilling because he was dressed so strangely and hesitant to surrender his brass goggles. It was only with Sour Grapes and Summer Squall’s urgings did he consent to remove his hat, goggles and jacket, letting them see the oddity beneath. Their shocked expressions gave Grapes a touch of schadenfreude but fortunately the clerk recovered quickly and handed over Earshot’s freshly stamped passport. “Oh! So THAT’S what they meant by ‘Night Pony’. Well, paperwork’s in order… let him pass.” With Earshot done, the rest went through rather quickly… until Summer Squall. His mariner’s coat was filed with all manner of odd items. Bits, fishing hooks and line, a lockspike knife, hurricane matches, compass, a belaying pin, a bosun’s whistle, a collapsable nautical telescope, A small sextant and… oh Celestia forgive her for not punching out that mariner for carrying a pair of brass hooves around with him. “Pardon me sir…” the clerk began before Squall interrupted. “...Ur, Captain, if you will lad.” “I see. Captain, then. Would you kindly explain what all of these items are for?” “Oh, well, lad, I thought you working a border with ships comin’ and goin’, even those of the flying variety, would recognise the tools of a mariner’s life.” “I’m afraid we don’t get to really look hard at the boats themselves in here,” the clerk said stepping out from his desk to sort through the astonishing items in the tray. “Still, my father was in our navy for a while. I know enough to recognise a lot of this. Just why were you, as a passenger, carrying them?” “Mostly habit. I’m a former naval stallion meself and feel somewhat naked without at least a few familiar items. Truth be told maybe I overdid it but still…” “I understand. My father, to this day still can’t go outside without his saber so I can let most of this pass. But these…” he reached out and picked up one of the gleaming brass hooves, turning it over in his claws. “These are concealed weapons sir. If you really wanted to bring them along you really should have locked them in your luggage below.” “Aye. I see yer point. Guess I was takin’ my role as Miss Grapes’ honor guard a mite too seriously.” “Brass hooves are not quite honorable weapons, Captain. I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate these.” “Ah… I see. Any chance I can have those back on the return trip then? They have a touch of sentimental value to this old sailor.” “Sentimental? Really?” The clerk stared blankly at Squall for a moment before sighing in surrender. “Fine. Seeing as you are part of a diplomatic envoy I will make an exception. Your easily concealable weapons will be temporarily confiscated with a note indicating that they are to be returned to your Equestrian place of origin. When you return to Equestria from your trip they should be waiting for you in your mailbox.” “Yer too kind, sir.” “I know,” the clerk muttered, picking up his pen and dabbing it against his tongue prepared to write. “We will need your address.” “Grapevine Hills Winery, Bunkhouse 2, Ponyville, Equestria.” “Right. And you would be Captain…?” “Captain Summer Squall of Celestia’s Royal Equestrian Solar Navy.” The pen slipped from the clerk’s hands, and the two guards beside Squall seemed to suddenly lose a full peg’s worth of swagger. “I… I… wh...what was your name again… sir?” “Summer Squall. I know it sounds feminine to some but…” “It’s… it’s not that, sir. It’s… Just a moment.” The clerk stammered as he reached across his desk to where Summer Squall’s unopened passport lay. It was an ancient thing that was thick as a diary, patched with travel stamps and held together with rubber bands. He turned it over curiously in his claws, examining the exterior before removing the rubber bands and flipping through page after page of information on the impressive myriad of locations that the mariner had come from and gone to. He made many notations of this on one of the forms before flipping back to the front where Summer Squall’s original youthful face stood side by side with his current one. His talon trailed down to where his personal information lay and suddenly the clerk’s face went ashen. “Blood and thunder… it’s you. It really IS you.” He glanced up at Squall then back at the passport before quickly stamping it and handing it and all of Summer Squall’s personals back. “Pleasecontinuedownthehallwaytotheleftandoutthedoubledoorstothelandingplatformsevenfourseven.Thankyouandhaveaniceday.” “What was that all about?” Grapes asked, as they proceeded. “Ah… that would probably be me, lass.” Squall said, quietly. “I may not have been here in a while but it’s not me first time here, neither. I kind-of...sort-of...made an impression last time.” “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it when you’re ready,” Grapes observed, as they made their way to the platform. “Aye… I just may do that,” he admitted. The platform was already beginning to fill with ponies, griffons and even a few dog-like creatures that Sour Grapes believed might be diamond dogs. She knew the ship was no doubt being gone over with a fine-tooth comb by the border guards of both countries. “I wonder if those canine creatures are diamond dogs.” Grapes mused, as they waited. “Those ones, over there? Yes, you would be correct in your guess that those are ‘diamond dogs’, Sour Grapes.” Sirocco said with a smile. “Some are good dogs and some are bad dogs but all share a great appreciation for gemstones of all kinds. Back home nearly every merchant caravan has a diamond dog among them to handle the purchasing and selling of gems and jewelry. I could never afford their wares but they seemed to take great delight in impressing me with their craft. Laying each item out on a great roll of black velvet… so beautiful.” “Oh… Right. I’ve heard of diamond dogs… Rarity encountered a tribe of them, and they tried to make her dig up gemstones for them,” Grape observed, as they made their way to the conveyance. “Guess those canines were kind of outcasts, since they were trying to enslave a pony.” “I should hope so. They would never get any trust in this world if they were all bad dogs. Am I a bad pony for feeling as if I would pay good bits to see Rarity digging in the dirt like that?” asked Sirocco. “From what I heard, she didn’t do any actual digging,” Grapes replied. “She whined at the dogs until they started working for her, and treating her like a queen… The worst she got was a slap in the rump.” “I would have paid to see THAT…” chorused Sirocco and Firestormer. They then took a moment to laugh at the coincidental harmony of their thoughts. “STINKS! You owe me a soda, Firestormer.” “The word is ‘jinx’, and yes… yes I do, Sirocco.” One of the diamond dogs glanced up and gave them a pleasant enough smile, though the carnivore teeth made a few of them a bit nervous.. “We hear of the diamond dogs you speak of, Miss Pony,” he said, adjusting his luggage straps. “Bad news, bad dogs, sorry it happened to the white pony. But makes funny story too. Greedy bandit dogs brought low by white pony’s whining. They are now laughingstock of diamond dog society. Not many punishments bigger than everydog laughing at you like hyenas.” “Ah, that is good to hear,” Sirocco agreed with the diamond dog. “In the end the greatest deterrent to the unjust is humiliation. Laughter is the bitterest medicine!” “It can also be the best medicine, when you’re laughing with someone, and not at someone,” Grapes observed casually. “Wise words, ponies. Wise words. Pardon me… HEY! Fido! Get that out of your mouth! You don’t know where it’s been!” The diamond dog agreed before becoming distracted by the shenanigans of his compatriots. It was around this time that Robin the Red-breasted finally caught up. “Oh, good. I didn’t miss the boat,” the griffon said, finding a bench to rest on. “While some of my most interesting stories begin with me missing my travel arrangements, it is always good to actually have things go as planned.” “Glad you could make it, Robin,” Grapes said with a smile. “I always get a little extra attention from the border guards these days. They refer to me as something they call a ‘security risk’. Some manner of malarky that involves me being a possible target for enemies. Such nonsense,” he said waving his claw in a dismissive manner. “The vast majority of anyone who would wish me harm are… well I pretty much outlived the lot of them.” “Your curse can be a blessing at times,” Grapes observed wryly. “Tell me about it,” Robin agreed checking his pocket watch. “We’re actually doing fairly good for time. Something must really have motivated the border guards today.” “Well, I guess we should move in,” Grapes said as the queue moved. The second leg of the journey was smoother than the first, at least as far as Sour Grapes was concerned. She was starting to get used to the idea of air travel. At least on something as big and stable as an airship. At Summer Squall’s request, she and the good captain took a tour of the ship’s workings and the bridge. Although she kept from looking too hard out of any windows, she appreciated all of the ship’s many safety features as the steward pointed them out. Apparently there was a great deal more to an airship than a boat with a large gas-bag attached. During the next three days, it became a regular occurrence for the Riders and Grapes to finish their day with one of their candy-centric poker games. Each night they found more and more players from the passengers and even the crew (the ones who were off-duty, of course) were joining in or forming small poker games of their own at neighboring tables. Grapes noticed that the use of candy and other treats as a currency seemed to take a lot of the adversarial nature out of the games. The individual players appeared to leave their “serious” natures behind, fully aware you would look like a fool if you “dominated” others over a big pile of sugar. Grapes was privately sure that there was one individual in all of Equestria who wouldn't care if she looked like a fool if she dominated others over a big pile of sugar. But then, Pinkie Pie still went trick-or-treating every Nightmare Night. On the final approach to the capital Sour Grapes took a deep breath, and risking vertigo and air-sickness, forced herself to look out the dining room’s bow window. What lay before her took away any kind of “high anxiety”, replacing it with pure awe. Laid out below, stretching out for far wider than Manehatten, was the capital city of Griffonia. The vast array of buildings that were both ornate and practical spread out like a great wheel and were surrounded by a mighty wall as tall as Canterlot’s royal palace. This cemented in her mind just why this city had the nickname name “The Gilded Cage”. “Wow… And we ponies think we can build cities…” The airship captain’s voice came on over the ornate brass speakers in the walls in a ship-wide public address. “Next stop, The Griffonia Capital City. I repeat. Capital City. All passengers for Capital City please gather your carry-on luggage and have your personal papers ready for processing. Landing in ten minutes. Once again. We will be landing in Capital City in TEN minutes. Thank you for flying the THS Nonesuch and have a wonderful stay.” “Well… All of the sudden I’m nervous. Here I am, a not-so-simple farmer from Equestria… representing the country. This may be a disaster,” Grapes uttered, looking queasy. “Now, lass, let's not put the cart before us, eh?” Squall said, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. “You’ve handled some pretty big things in the past, you’ll do jest fine here.” “Thanks for the reassurance,” Grapes said as she set her jaw and squared her shoulders. “Right! Now let’s see what trouble we can get into, shall we?” Summer Squall smiled and gave her a casual salute before letting her descend the stairs to the main areas of the ship where they could gather their personals for the upcoming adventure. > Dances With Griffons > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grapes and the others did as the Captain had requested over the speakers and gathered their belongings and prepared to disembark. The landing was smooth but the passengers disembarked a little slowly for Grapes’ taste. She didn’t really understand what was slowing the line down so much… then she got to the hatch and looked out. The station was enormous… large enough to house several dirigibles, and it looked like it had been cast from marble. It had to have been larger than Canterlot Palace. It took her a moment to realise she had been standing gobsmacked at the whole thing, and embarrassedly trotted out of the way of the other passengers. “Great,” she mumbled to nopony in particular. “Ten seconds on arrival and I’ve established myself as another bloody tourist. Way to represent the home team, Grapes.” “Don’t feel so bad,” a guard said from his post. “Everygriff has that reaction the first time. Not many buildings are large enough to fly around in like this. By the way, yes, anygriff with a pair of wings IS allowed to fly in here. Just so long as they do it in an orderly fashion that follows the main routes.” “That makes sense. Even visitors have to follow the local traffic laws,” Grapes observed, as she made her way to the queue. “Okay, everypony, do I have to emphasize how important it is to remain together as we make our way to the palace, or will I have to bust out the leashes?” "You heard the lass. We're on the clock right now and there will be time fer sightseein' later," Squall said making a motion with his hoof, and causing the team to line-up as if they were getting ready to pull a cart. “Right… all fallen in then? Good. Lead on, Lass.” “Let’s move on then. Like Squall said, we’re on the clock, and should present ourselves at the palace in a timely manner. In other words, I don’t have time to go wandering around a city I’ll get lost in looking for you all,” Grapes said, as they trotted along. They followed the colored lines on the floor traveling across the terminal to the luggage desk where they turned in their chits for their personals. They stepped out from the line of traffic to a wall and slipped on their new uniforms. Grapes was now feeling a bit more “official” with her uniform vest, along with her seal on her chain. They then proceeded toward the palace, Grapes making use of a map she had procured. “Huh… it’s been a while…” Squall mused as he surveyed their surroundings as they traveled. “Can’t say that I know exactly where I am here, lass. I’m used to arriving at the docks and working me way from there. Still… when yer city’s shaped like a dart-board it’s jest common sense where to go to reach the middle.” “They built the city shaped like a dart board?” Grapes asked. “Dart board, wheel, big circle, it’s all good lass.” Squall said looking up at a sign near a small shelter-like structure outside the terminal. “Found a taxi stop. Wanna walk or let a local get us there?” “Let’s take a cab,” Grapes sighed. “This is a lot larger than Ponyville.” “Right. So it shouldn’t cost that much. They used to have competitive rates for the various taxi companies,” Squall began before a large cart-like vehicle pulled up in front of them. The gold and black conveyance was being hauled by a massive lizard-like creature and controlled by a rather military-looking griffon in ornate armor. Behind him was a far more… feminine griffon in long red robes highlighted with golden designs. She leaned casually on the side of the cart and arching an eyebrow held up a small hand-made sign that read “Sour Grapes and Equestrian Diplomatic Party” in the manner Grapes had seen ponies do at the train station. “Good afternoon, Sour Grapes. Your royal vizier informed me of your approach and I felt that it was my duty to bring you straight to the palace.” She paused and ran her immaculate talons through the thick crest of black feathers that sat on top of her head like a manestyle. “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Golden Wingspan, Royal Chamberlain to Emperor Farsight although ‘Goldie’ will suffice in a pinch.” “Hello, Your Grace. Thanks for coming for us. What is that contraption, if I may ask?” Grapes asked. “Oh this?” Golden said with a smirk. “It’s a military transport usually used for earthbound operations. It was repurposed for use in military parades for extremely aged members whom it would be rather... embarrassing to ask to march or soar for long periods at a time. I figured since you had a moderate sized honor guard that I should at least give you room to stretch your legs… all of them.” “Much obliged, yer grace.” Squall said with a tip of his hat. “We appreciate you stepping off yer busy schedule long enough to make certain we don’t get lost in yer beautiful city.” “Mmmhmm. And this must be the indomitable Captain Squall. Welcome back to Capitol City, sir,” the chamberlain said before pulling a lever resulting in a short set of stairs to fold down from the back. “Now, if you’ll step lively, ponies, we’ll be taking a direct and yet scenic route to the palace. It will be best if we present you to his eminence as quickly as possible so that the rest of your mission can move at a more leisurely pace.” “I appreciate this, greatly, Your Grace,” Sour Grapes said, as she trotted up the stairs. One by one the Storm Riders followed, finding places to sit on the wide padded benches in the war-cart. The eight pony group was then followed by a ninth figure, when Robin began to ascend behind them. “Straight to the palace, eh? I’ll just come along then…” The driver turned and was instantly pressing his buggy-whip against the elderly Griffon’s chestplate with a growl. “Forget it, grandpa. This is a Vee-Aye-Pea shuttle, step down before I am forced to make you step down.” There was a moment of silence as Robin looked down at the whip with an air of near-disinterest before he leaned forwards a little and smirked. “Try me.” There was a moment of motion, the driver apparently getting ready to do something but never quite making it. Sour Grapes couldn’t quite figure out what happened but one moment the driver was in the cart and the next he was laying in the street and Robin was climbing into the driver’s seat next to Golden Wingspan. “Nice to see you again, Miss Wingspan. Taking good care of my empire I trust?” “You… oh. Robin the Red Breasted. I didn’t know you were coming back to Capitol City. Had I but known I’d have baked you a cake… one with hemlock seasoning but still, it’s the thought that counts.” “Miss Wingspan here has always been ready to offer me an ‘easy way out’ of my longevity. She’s very thoughtful that way.” “It’s a curse, Your Grace. I’m pretty sure he would not be allowed an ‘easy way out’,” Grapes observed, settling in, and smiling at Golden Wingspan. “He would be in constant, chronic, agonizing pain, but he would probably not die.” “It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” she smirked before turning back to Robin. “Do you still remember how to drive one of these things, old one?” “It’s like a bicycle. You never forget… although you’re always a little wobbly at first.” The guard groaned and managed to climb back up into the cart, wisely taking a position at the back and letting Robin take the reins. He made a clucking sound and the lizard lunged forwards, starting the cart in motion. The trip was a leisurely one. Neither too slow or too fast, it gave the ponies time to get used to their surroundings. Often they found themselves being looked at by pedestrians as much as they were looking at everything else. Sour Grapes was glad that they donned their “uniforms” before exiting the terminal. It at least made them look as if they actually belonged in the war-cart along with the High Chamberlain and Robin the Red Breasted. Grapes sighed a bit, watching the city go by as they traveled to the palace. It was surprising how quickly they found themselves in front of it. It was as if they turned a corner and it just… appeared. A massive edifice of ornate carvings in a wall that stretched out as far as they could see in either direction. Grapes was surprised, and was mentally comparing the palace here with the palace in Canterlot. There were a lot of differences, of course, the most obvious being the more martial theme of the edifice. Also, the main gate back home didn’t look so well-fortified. She wasn’t an engineer but she recognised banded oak when she saw it, and it looked like a whole grove gave its existence to this pair of doors. Golden Wingspan made a motion to the guards who opened the gates… eventually. Gates that large required a lot of momentum to start opening. It was still very impressive and the view beyond was even more impressive. The palace was still a distance away from the gates, the courtyard was like a small landscape unto itself. Including an artificial river (complete with bridges) and ornate gardens. Armed guards patrolled the property just like in Canterlot, only the sight of gold and black uniforms really seemed to make them stand out. “Well. This is pleasant,” Grapes observed. “I should hope so,” Golden said with a rather wry smile. “You would be surprised at just how many of our citizens are employed it its upkeep.” “Sounds a bit like Canterlot,” Grapes observed, as they trotted across the courtyard. “Wonder how stuck-up your nobles are about it? Martial or not, there are bound to be somegriffs who are fond of looking down on the little griff.” “Of course. What’s the point of having authority unless you have somegriff you can push around?” She paused to give a withering glance to a suddenly nervous gardener before continuing. “The best kind of ‘pushing around’ is done without words. Lets them work out on their own what they did wrong.” Grapes rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. Just have to not let it go to your head, though. Authority can be as bad as any addictive substance.” “Of course it is, Lady Grapes. That’s what makes it so… intoxicating.” Goldie paused and giggled. “But I usually prefer to operate with a clear head.” “That’s very intelligent of you, your Grace,” Grapes asked, then smirked. “And, uh… ‘Lady’ Grapes?” “An honorific that is easily enough applied to you, Sour Grapes. You have land, you have an honor guard or fairly well distinguished ponies and you carry with you the seal of your Princess who is trusting you to speak on her behalf. That means the title of ‘Lady’ is perhaps the least we can offer you that you would be comfortable with.” “Okay. I guess that would make the nobles less antzy. A title means I’m a nob, and not some commoner,” Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. “They can be such sticklers.” “Well here we are. The main gates to the palace, proper,” Goldie announced as Robin pulled them up close. “So does anyone need a little time to prepare? Hair and hooves all done? Wonderful. Follow the red carpet in and wait in the antechamber with the emperor’s personal secretary. She will usher you in at the right moment.” ------------------------------ The doors did not swing open but rather rolled aside to reveal the long chamber that was without a doubt, the throne room of the Empire. One of the first things Sour Grapes noticed was that while Celestia had a habit of immortalising historical moments in stained glass, this monarch seemed to be infatuated with tapestries. Many “heroic” moments were displayed between the windows in full (and often gorey) color. Celestia’s throne room was white with pastels but the Emperor’s throne room was all absolutes. Black marble floors, bright red walls with golden filigree, a ceiling of midnight black with gold chandeliers hanging from them… and on a daïs at the far end… the grand throne of the emperor. It looked as if someone had hammered it from the broken weapons of his fallen enemies and then gilded it… then as an afterthought added a cushion or two for comfort. She actually had to blink and adjust her glasses because she could have SWORN there was a skull or two in that throne’s design. To the left and the right of the long red carpet that led from the door to the throne were all manner of griffon courtiers, dignitaries and hangers-on. Each in finery that could have fed entire households for at least a month. She then looked ahead again to the ruler of this empire. He was younger than she would have thought. Maybe middle-aged but he was certainly no ordinary griffon. She had assumed that all griffons were a basic lion with an eagle, but that generalisation proved false. Fluttershy had once given her a basic primer on the kinds of birds in Equestria and other nations and Emperor Farsight looked like his bird half was a Martial Eagle. A black head and beak with dark wings and a white speckled chest. The way his piercing green eyes stared out from the dark feathers it put her in mind of an executioner’s hood. His nether-half was unmistakably from a tiger: it was hard to really deny the white fur with black stripes its due. He wore a simple militaristic jacket of black with silver adornments, but upon his head he wore an impressive crown which looked like a cross between a prince’s crown and a bejeweled circular saw blade. Beautiful and yet it belied the emperor’s willingness to snatch it from his own brow in an emergency and apply it with lethal effect. It was one final sobering reminder that she was not in Equestria anymore. The guard at the doorway brought the butt of his spear loudly down twice on the cold black marble and spoke in a clear tone of decent yet not obnoxiously loud volume. “Presenting Lady Sour Grapes of Equestria. Royal Winemaker to the Princess Celestia, Titled Landowner, Representative of the United Agricultural Growers of Equestria and First Minister of… ur... Snark.” Sour Grapes had to blink at the last four words of her full title and utter quietly under her breath, “Really, Guaranty? Really?” “Accompanied by her personal watch, the Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Rapid Response Team, otherwise known colloquially as the ‘Storm-Riders’. “Firestormer, master of the fiery tempests, recipient of the Equestrian Medal of Heroism and accompanied by his understudy Friendly Fire. “Lady Ice Storm, royal heiress to the Duchy of Avalanche Valley and commander of winter winds. “Sirocco, mistress of the scouring desert sands and certified public accountant. “Stormfront, descendant of the Angel General Stormfront and tamer of tornados. “Earshot, Celestia’s shadow, zero visibility specialist and Ambassador of Stygian Cove and the Night Pony Breed. “Captain Summer Squall of Celestia’s Royal Navy. Formally ‘Swordless’ Squall the Pirate. Currently swashbuckler, seasoned brawler, perpetual student of life, habitual globetrotter, casual fortune-hunter and Immortal adventurer.” There were quiet murmurs from the dignitaries present as they seemed to quietly-yet-excitedly discuss amongst themselves the ponies in their midst. It was a moment later the guard checked his list and spoke with a little less certainty. “Also presenting Thistledown… Professional Tourist? ...One can be a professional tourist?” “It’s all in how much trouble you get in when traveling, hot stuff,” Thistledown said to the guard, giving him a wink and a gentle nudge as he strode into the throne room as if he owned it. Grapes seemed a bit startled to see him at first, then shook her head, looking amused. “He... followed us all the way from Equestria to Griffonia, and we kept him,” Grapes uttered with a slight smirk. “Seemed a safer thing to do, than to unleash him upon your innocent sidesaddle male population.” “I shall make certain that the 181st legion is duly warned,” the Chamberlain said dryly. Grapes looked at Thistle’s gleeful visage, then back at the Chamberlain. “That wasn’t so very smart of you. It really wasn’t.” “We shall see, Lady Grapes. We shall see.” The addition of Thistledown, the ‘“Professional Tourist” title seemed to relax the mood of the court very much. In truth, his Hawaiian shirt and tilley hat made him stand out in this formal setting as much as a drunken clog dancer at a ballet recital. “Also presenting Robin the Red-Breasted, Air Commander of the Fourth Generation Phalanx of His Eternal Glory, Emperor Abattoir The Second, and Seasoned Warmancer of the Seventh Tier… retired in good standing. Also known as Robin the Undying…” The guard halted a moment when Robin leant over and spoke softly to him. There was a momentary exchange between them before the guard nodded and turned back to the room. “I beg your pardon. The good Air Commander prefers the title of ‘Robin the not-yet-dead’ over ‘Robin the Undying’.” “Thank you,” the elderly griffon thanked the guard. The Emperor made a motion for them to approach. Grapes and the others approached with all due caution. Once within a few feet of the throne did he make a grand sweeping motion with one hand. “I bid you all welcome to my glorious empire. Of all the countries that we have relations with, I am pleased by the relaxed state that Griffonia shares with Equestria. So, I insist that while you are here on your official business with the representatives of the Griffonian Merchant Guild that you and your entourage consider yourselves my guests. Rooms have been set aside for each of you within these walls.” He made a subtler “come hither” motion to Golden Wingspan who gracefully came over with an iron box the size of a large book. She opened it to reveal a series of small ribbon-necklaces, each bearing a blue-black metal medallion. “During your stay I insist you wear the official ‘Guest of the Emperor’ markers. While they will not exclude you from repercussions of any questionable actions as would true ‘diplomatic immunity’, they serve as a warning to the people of Griffonia, that any action on their bearers… will attract my very personal attention.” The medallions were handed out to each of the ponies… save Thistledown but he got a smirk and a raised eyebrow from Golden Wingspan instead. “You… are an unexpected quantity.” she said in an amused tone. “We’ll find something for you later.” “He’s a tourist, Your Grace. True, he’s also an employee of mine, but I will be discussing his rather… sudden appearance with him, later,” Grapes observed looking bemusedly at Thistledown. “Also I appreciate the small protection these medallions offer. I am, however, glad to not have full diplomatic immunity. For one, I’m no diplomat. For another, it may, but I can not guarantee, keep my merry crew of miscreants out of trouble knowing that they’ll have to pay all fines and damages they may incur. Never mind having said fines and damages taken out of their pay packets.” Emperor Farsight smirked ever so slightly before nodding to the Chamberlain. “I leave our esteemed guests… and their tag-along in your capable talons, Royal Chamberlain.” “So mote it be, Emperor,” Golden Wingspan said with a respectful bow before turning to the others. “Follow me and we shall get you and yours settled into your rooms… and the Tagalong.” “Since he is a tourist, shouldn’t he find his own accommodations in the tourist district of the city?” Grapes asked with the most innocent look on her face. “He has somehow arrived under his own mobility, slipped past some of the most secure defences in the nation and stood in the same room with what is arguably the most powerful griffon in the world…” Goldie said as she lead them out of the throne room. “I feel that I should do everything in my power to keep him where I can see him.” “You make an excellent point. Thistle, how did you slip past the guards?” Grapes asked, eyeing her sidesaddle friend in his rather flamboyant garb. “I dunno,” he admitted, snapping the occasional photo of the palace halls. “I saw you guys go on in, the doors were wide open so I figured that if I wasn’t supposed to go in there the guards would just stop me. I walked right between them and they just gave me a funny look but didn’t say a word.” The procession came to a sudden stop as Golden Wingspan facepalmed. “You were confident, obvious and eccentric. Of course you weren’t stopped… you acted as if you were supposed to be here,” she grumbled “I shall have to make some new protocols because of this.” “So I guess we will have to keep him,” Grapes said amused as they continued to the “diplomatic” wing. “I presume, from your earlier statements, your 181st Legion is mostly or completely made up of sidesaddle, or in other words, homosexual, griffons?” “Yes. Yes, it is,” she said starting up the procession again. “It’s a practical solution to socialisation issues between them and the ‘straight’ personnel.” “Ah. You have intolerant sorts here, too, I see. Unsurprising. I imagine they would be considered, by some, abhorrent, and need to be--ahem--disposed of to quote ‘purify the bloodlines’ so to speak,” Grapes observed with a quiet sigh. “And griffons being a predator species, the quote ‘purification’ end quote would be a good deal more proactive.” “I see them as an aberration, but just because I don’t really understand them is hardly a reason for me to go out of my way to persecute them,” Golden Wingspan said frankly. “They are not a drain on our resources nor are they deficient in their given tasks. They simply have an attraction to their own gender. It’s not as if they will pass this trait on to any offspring, so their existence is a non-issue that would result in a waste of energy and resources to… attack.” “I honestly wish that some ponies had your practicality, your Grace,” Grapes observed with a roll of her eyes. “Some of the more… virulent opponents to their very existence do not see it as a waste of energy and resources, as long as they poison as many minds as possible. I tend to say that life is strange and love is even stranger. And while I prefer males I would not have minded a female companion should we have been compatible and had the ability to get along well.” They came down a long hallway with a series of doors on the one side. Waiting attendants opened each one and held out keys to each of the ponies in turn. “I trust that due to the megre needs of your team these quarters are more than satisfactory,” the Chamberlain said letting them enter. “We will be having a luncheon in a half hour. Your dietary needs have been observed and compensated for. Your current outfits will be adequate... save yours, Mister Tagalong. Please find something less… jarring to wear. Keep in mind this will be a private luncheon with you, the Emperor and a few other visiting officials. He is looking forwards to meeting ‘working class’ ponies such as yourself and your entourage.” “You heard the lady, Thistledown,” Grapes said looking amused. “Also the quarters are… very impressive. I’d even say palatial.” “Good. If you need anything simply show your marker to a servant and they’ll be happy to arrange anything reasonable. See you for luncheon,” replied Golden Wingspan before she left for other parts of the palace. “Very well. Alright, ladies and gentlecolts, quick luggage check, and toiletry settlement, before we make our way back. And, Thistle, please change into something less tacky chic,” Grapes suggested, before going into her room to take care of her own toiletries. “Oh… all right.” Thistledown said, sounding well-chided. “But only because you asked so nicely.” Entering her room Grapes glanced around. It was large. She was more used to closeness in quarters. This was apparently meant to house visitors who would be a variety of sizes but to her, she felt the high ceiling with the draped silks was a little much. She noticed the area by the entrance was actual tile while the room had a hardwood floor. She was at first uncertain what that was about until she realised she was hearing a trickling of water nearby. To her right was washbasin as part of the wall complete with taps, toiletry shelf, and mirror. Beyond that was a door leading into a chamber with facilities best used in private such as a flushing commode and bathtub. She then looked for the source of the sound, and saw that between the door to the water closet and the sink, there was a depression in the floor. A ceramic basin only a few inches deep but fairly wide. In it water swirled from unseen jets and down a small drain. She was unsure about it’s purpose (as the toilet was in the next area) when she heard a soft cough from behind her. “T’is a hoof-basin, lass.” Squall said from his position at the door. “What’s the point of this contraption?” Grapes asked, looking at it. “Well. Not every… one likes to walk right on into their living space with dirty feet. So…” he motioned with a hoof at a small towel rack at knee-level next to it. “Ye step into it, maybe scrub yer hooves with some soap or just let the warm water do it’s trick, then put one of them drying mats on the floor and shuffle them dry. Feels kind of nice to slip into bed with freshly washed hooves.” “... So it’s a fancy welcome mat,” Grapes observed with a sigh. “Just to show off, a bit, but it does have a fairly practical use. Just seems a bit… over lavish.” “That’s only because you haven’t walked around the city yet.” he smirked. “At least in pony towns they have privacy hedges and individuals paid to walk around the city with a shovel and a cart cleaning up any errant ‘daylights’ left on the road. Here… they’re not as organised… and griffons being part bird… well… Ye ever finish cleaning yer cart when a big bird passes by overhead?” “Oh, good heavens,” Grapes uttered, shuddering. “I get the idea.” “Well there IS a reason they call Main Street the ‘Great White Way’, and it’s NOT because of the lighting.” “Wonderful,” Grapes observed with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, I don’t know if we’re going to be escorted or if we’re going to be tested on our senses of direction.” “Hard to say, lass.” Squall looked around the room. “This is an improvement from the last time I was here. Me last room was by the docks and was a step-up from a flophouse. Course most sailors don’t care about the condition of the room they’re sleepin’ in. Just that the door locks so you don’t get rolled while yer three sheets to the wind.” Grapes nodded. “Makes sense. Now… Let’s hope we things don’t get too complicated.” “Aye. Good thing we don’t have to dress up too much. I left me dress uniform back home, though knowing the Vizier, the scoundrel has probably sent it on ahead without me knowing.” “It would be something Guaranty would do,” Grapes said looking amused. “After all, we may have to go to some kind of grand ball, for all we know. Anyhow, I hope we can get through this, and head home within a reasonable amount of time.” “Really? Forgot yer camera and Hawaiian shirt then? No tourist time for Miss Grapes?” “We’re here on business, Squall. Sure it’s nice to see someplace different, but I’ve still got this business hanging over my head… I guess we could do some sight-seeing later… Maybe it’s just being tired from all the traveling,” Grapes observed with a sigh. “Fair enough. I’m curious if any of the bars I used to frequent are still here…” He turned to leave. “I’m gonna grab a short nap before lunch. Be a dear and knock on the door, will ya?” “Sure thing. I’m going to set up my toiletries,” Grapes said nodding. Closing the door behind him, Squall let himself out and left Grapes to her own devices. She moved across the heated floor to the massive bed and flopped back on it… and into it. It was so soft that she sank down into it like a huge cloud. It felt sinfully decadent. She stared up at the great sky blue ceiling and squinted at the shutters on every window. They looked like they were steel painted to look like delicate porcelain, which made sense. The palace did seem a lot like a military fortification in formal wear. She also noticed each shutter had a crank handle attached to it, no doubt such things required a level of practicality, and no one wanted to be unable to open a window on a hot day. Grapes swam out of the bed, not wanting to accidently fall asleep and miss the luncheon. She also had things to do before that time. Such a soft bed would be fairly practical for creatures who were born with wings, Grapes mused as she set up her tooth powder and toothbrush, and assorted other things she had brought from home. After all, it would be supportive, and not crush the wings under the body. It’s probably why pegasai slept on clouds. “Hey, Queenie!” came Firestormer’s voice through a wall, once they were settled in. “Check it out… A place for my stuff!” “Will you EVER grow tired of referencing that comic’s routine, Firestormer?” “Nope.” “Well then, all MY dross is stuff and all YOUR stuff is dross.” “You have learned well.” Grapes leaned her forehead against the bedpost and giggled. Even here, on a serious mission in the heart of a nation filled with carnivorous beings who were proud of a militant heritage the Storm Riders were relaxed and joking. She privately hoped one day she would learn that skill from them. For now she would simply have to rely on her impressive snark-making skills… which reminded her of something. She went to where she had laid out her stationary set and began to write a note to Impertinence indicating her arrival, the first meeting with the royals and… a detail or two she wished to elaborate on. Dear Impertanance, I thought I’d let you know that we have arrived safely, and have settled into the Royal Palace of Griffonia. We met, briefly, with the Emperor, before we were sent to our rooms to put up our stuff. We were introduced at court, which had quite a surprise for me in the title department. Mind you, I’m sure most of it is Guaranty’s fault. Most of it. She took a moment to collect her thoughts. She knew it had to be Guaranty who came up with her unique title, but she found it hard to believe that Impertinence was ignorant of it being included alongside of “Royal Winemaker”. She was just too.. professional to simply NOT notice such a detail, therefore it was most likely a willful act of… well, “vengance” was too hard a word, maybe just a sharp jab back at her being immune to her position and higher-than-thou attitude, made more sense. Somehow I simply can’t believe this slipped beneath your notice. You’re too much the consummate professional. So, in return and as a slight jab at Guaranty, I thought I should share a wonderful detail that I am aware of that you have let slip your notice. Guaranty is madly in love with you. However, his wooing ability has not progressed beyond schoolyard teasing. You know, pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes? Anyway, I thought I should let you know about this, along with our safe arrival at Griffon City. If you decide to go on a date with Guaranty, do let me know how it goes. I’m sure it’ll be better than you think. Sincerely yours, Sour Grapes Royal Winemaker to the Diarchy First Minister of Snark She had just sealed the envelope with the Equestrian seal of the two sisters she was carrying when there was a knock at the door. She could see the silhouette of one of the guards through the frosted glass in it. “Lady Sour Grapes. I have been instructed to guide you and your entourage to the dining hall.” “Oh. Thank you,” Grapes said coming out of her room. “Where would I find a post office?” “Ah. You have a missive?” asked the young Griffon Guard. “Yes. I was sending reports back to the personal assistant to Princess Celestia, letting her know that I’m alright, have arrived safely. That sort of thing,” Grapes observed with a smirk. “Understood. We have messengers on staff who will run such things to the postal office for visiting dignitaries such as yourselves. I will inform them that you wish to have your missive delivered and they will approach you after the luncheon for it.” “Thanks for the information,” Grapes said with a nod, putting the letter in her room. “Now let’s see about getting everybody.” One by one doors were knocked upon and their occupants stepped forth, polished, preened and looking rather sharp in their vests and scarfs. Once gathered, the guard led them through a series of corridors to a long room with an equally long table. Grapes glanced at the place settings and was grateful there was a minimum of cutlery. More than a fork a knife and a spoon made her feel anxious. She was equally grateful there were names on little cards on the backs of each chair, indicating who sat where. She was uncertain what the protocol was for seating at such events, after all wars were often started because the wrong minister sat next to the wrong muckety-muck. Grapes sat down, looking around at the other people. She was guessing that this was as small as a formal luncheon got with the Emperor. Just him, her, her entourage and a dozen other griffons in various uniforms and outfits. She felt some comfort in the presence of Summer Squall next to her, and that Earshot was on the other side of the table where she could keep an eye on him… However across from Squall and next to Earshot was a well weathered Griffon in what to her looked like a naval uniform. She could be wrong, but it did remind her of something you could wear when captaining a vessel. He looked at Squall out from underneath a pair of eyebrows that you could hide a family of four in and he chortled. “Captain Summer Squall, I presume,” he said in a thick gravelly tone. “Aye. That’s me… my name sir. And you would be Admiral…?” “Gator. Admiral Gator. I never thought I would ever get a chance to meet you, sir.” “Gator?” Squall asked, smirking as something dawned on him. “As in the Gator-Freighter?” “One and the same, Captain Squall.” “Sour Grapes, do you realise who that is?” Squall asked, happily motioning to the Admiral. “This here is Admiral Gator, he dragged amphibious warfare with the griffon navy into the modern times. Before him, the general consensus of the officers was that they didn’t give a fiddler’s pluck about the marines. Just kicked their tails into a rowboat, washing their hands of their well being.” “Really? That sounds like a very interesting bit of history,” Grapes said sounding fascinated. “Well, I was inspired by the fact my own brother was a marine and he often complained that the officers only cared about what went on at sea and not on the land.” Admiral Gator admitted. “So I swore to do my best to make sure that the marines would at least get to where they were needed. Which, strangely enough, turned me into an immortal.” “Aye. He was so famed for delivering marines to their targets safely that nearly all of them kept requesting to be delivered upon the ‘Gator-Freighter’. When the higher-ups noticed this high standard he set down, they changed naval policy to make many of his ideas specs. Of course by then the name ‘Gator-Freighter’ had caught on, and any vessel that the marines traveled on became known as just that…” “And so, I live on forever.” the Admiral beamed. “Although I must admit that I wish you and I meeting like this had have happened when you and I were in our prime, Captain… or maybe twenty years ago at the worst.” “Aye. I know what you mean, Admiral.” Squall nodded. “We could still get into a fight now but it wouldn’t quite be as fun as it once was… and I believe it may be rude to swap swordplay in the middle of the entree.” “Not until between courses, at least. You and the good Admiral could be the entertainment,” Grapes quipped casually. The two old warhorses both stroked their chins thoughtfully for a moment as if genuinely considering a mid-meal duel. Fortunately Grapes wasn’t so naïve to believe they were going to go through with it. A gentle-sounding gong was sounded and the Griffons all rose to their feet. Taking the cue, Sour Grapes and the other ponies did the same. The Emperor entered from somewhere beyond the head of the table and took his place. He glanced to the left and the right before his eyes came to an empty chair that sat right next to his. They lingered there a moment, eventually lifting away and back to his guests. “The Princess appears to be tardy tonight. We shall not wait on her,” he spoke in a tone as flat and hard as a slab of lead. “Please be seated.” “There’s a princess?” Grapes murmured in sotto voice, with raised eyebrow. “Oh. Oh yes. Yes there is.” Farsight acknowledged, as trolleys of food were brought out on either side of the table. “My daughter Princess Gail, is my heir to the throne, the light of my life and almost always late to important functions. It happens enough that the protocol for this event is simply to begin without her. So please… by all means eat and enjoy. I understand that the chef is apparently overjoyed with preparing meals for herbivorous dignitaries.” Bowls of hot brown liquid were placed in front of the pony delegation and the delicious odor wafted up to tickle Sour Grapes’ nostrils and make her mouth water. She knew barley soup when she smelled it, and this was like the most amazing smelling barley soul she could imagine. She glanced around at everyone at the table who was watching the Emperor. He had a bowl of soup of his own, red in color but soup none-the-less. He dipped his spoon, lifted it to his beak and had the first sip. It was only when he swallowed and nodded his approval did everyone else try their own. An interesting tradition, it seemed that at a formal diner, the Emperor got the first taste. Grapes mentally shrugged. She had never been at a formal dinner with Princess Celestia, so she didn’t know if this was the norm, but she knew better than to question the traditions of a country of predators. She simply levitated her spoon, and took a cautious taste of her soup. She didn’t know who the chef was but the barley soup put even her mother’s to shame. There was a wholesomeness to it that carried many other flavors on it’s back. She took a moment to force herself to savor the first spoonful before going onto the next. The first course was uneventful, the various griffons at the table making light conversation on various topics. Sour Grapes listened in politely, taking advantage of this moment to pick up what she could of the climate around the city and empire. When the topic turned to the weather the Storm Riders were more than happy to discuss how pegasai dealt with it, as opposed to the more “let it happen unless it starts to get bad” methods of the Empire. It seemed that they had no official “weather bureau”. Instead they had self-employed wizardly specialists who got involved when things got hairy. When the bowls were emptied and taken away, the next course was brought in. She noticed that again she and the ponies got an obviously vegetarian dish, in this case an expertly cooked meal of small boiled red potatoes in butter, sauteed portabella mushrooms with what appeared to her to be a sizable slice of vegetarian lasagna as the centrepiece… All served on a woven bed of what could be kelp. A quick glance at the others at the table seemed to indicate that their meals were nearly identical. Potatoes, mushrooms, kelp were all there. However each had a meat of some manner in place of the lasagna. Seafood dominated the substitution and while it was odd to see it, she observed with interest in the variety available. The Admiral himself had a great red… creature on his plate. Something with beady black eyes, legs and a pair of pincer-like claws. She noted Earshot staring at the item with the interest of one so young. The Admiral was quick to notice the colt’s awe. “Ah. Bet you haven’t seen anything quite like this, have you young one?” “No, sir,” Earshot admitted. “It looks like an oversized crayfish,” Grape observed. “The lady has a good eye on her,” Gator noted before tapping his dinner’s head with the tip of a claw. “This delicacy is known as a lobster, and they are indeed related to the crayfish. They have a surprisingly hard shell but well worth the effort to get at what is within… not to upset herbivorous sensibilities of course.” “Wow,” Earshot said, fascinated. “Is it really that good?” “Well… They’re quite delicious to many Griffons who can afford it. I’m not sure how I would describe the taste to a pony though.” “Oh. So where could I buy one so I can try it?” There was a small rustle of polite laughter from the griffons as their attention was now on the little exchange. The Admiral smiled and shook his head. “I could tell you of a place on the docks but uh… it would be irresponsible of me to let a pony make themselves sick eating meat.” “I don’t mind. I like meat.” The room got very quiet. “Perhaps I wasn’t being clear, little one. This is, or rather WAS a living creature. Pony bodies don’t have the right bits to digest stuff like this without you getting very, very sick.” “But I don’t get sick from eating meat,” Earshot said, sounding confused. “Doctor Coldhoof says that I have ‘the most fascinating gut florals’ that he has ever seen in a pony.” “Flora, Earshot, but I’m not sure that Doctor Coldhoof was using the correct word for microbes, considering flora refers to plants, I thought,” Grapes said with a shrug. “As for Earshot, he has the ability to digest more in the way of protein that most ponies, he being of a more nocturnal nature than the rest of us.” Earshot self-consciously pulled his goggles off, letting them dangle around his neck so that everyone at the table could see his wide golden cat-eyes. He then mustered a smile, showing off his combination of herbivorous teeth and the impressive fangs that gave him an advantage to consuming meat. There were soft gasps and quiet discussion between the griffons before the Admiral, furrowing his brow for a moment then took ahold of one pincer and with a loud crunch, wrenched it free from its owner and placed it on Earshot’s plate. “If you’d be so kind as to crack the shell a bit for him, to lessen any mess that Earshot’s attempts would make, good Admiral, I’d appreciate it,” Grapes requested politely. “The last thing we need is our young guest making a spectacle out of himself, he already being a curiosity.” “Oh yes. Of course.” The Admiral agreed, pulling out a pincer-like steel tool that reminded her of a bare-bones nutcracker, and cracked open the bright red claw for Earshot. “This… should prove quite interesting.” “Thank you, sir, you are a gentlegriff as well as an officer,” Grapes said, as she ate her own meal with the utmost decorum. She watched the faces of the Griffons as Earshot tried the Lobster, he didn’t just gobble it but nibbled a little to try the taste. Then at the Admiral’s advice, dipped pieces into melted butter before tasting them again and finding them delicious. Sour Grapes felt a little guilty, she didn’t want Earshot to be stared at like some oddity, and yet while there was astonishment there was no accusing glares, no disgust or harsh judgement from the griffons. They were just fascinated, as if they had seen one of their own, in a different shape. “It’s… good,” Earshot proclaimed, and popped another piece of the butter-dipped white meat into his mouth. “This is really nice.” A tall griffon female across from Queenie leaned forward enough to address Earshot. “Pardon me, Ambassador Earshot?” Grapes was surprised anyone remembered that when they were introduced in the throne room that Earshot was declared an ambassador to Stygian Cove and his kin. “Have you ever tasted calamari?” “No. No I have not.” he admitted. Almost instantly the lady placed something onto her teacup saucer that looked… ‘tentacle-ly’, and got a servant to take it to Earshot. “Then by all means, try some of mine. Trust me when say that you are in for a treat.” This curious exchange continued through the meal. One by one, the other dignitaries around the table inquired Earshot if he had ever had eaten what they had in their own plates, and if he answered no, they surrendered a portion for his experimentation. It was during the third and final course that the doors behind the Emperor opened and the sound of light footfalls came. Grapes at first could not see who it was until a small crown-like item appeared at table-level next to the Emperor. He did not look at its wearer but simply addressed it. “Princess Gail. How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence, and just in time for the dessert to be served. How fortuitous.” “Father, please,” spoke a voice that had far more dignity in it that should be rationed out to a foal.. Or would that be fledgling here? “A princess may arrive fashionably late, provided that she does not miss the event entirely. I hope I did not keep you or our guests waiting long.” “Well, my dear princess, I believe you have went beyond ‘fashionably’ late, which is usually ten to fifteen minutes after the event has started; to being truly late. I have an acquaintance who is well aware of the decorum of fashionable lateness, and she did teach me about this,” Grapes said with just as much dignity as the princess displayed. “However I do agree with your father about your showing up just in time for dessert. It is obvious that you, like many a youngster, is using an excuse to not eat the icky vegetables. And for that I would not be surprised that your father decided to send you to bed without dinner.” The little crown and the ivory brow it sat upon rose upwards over the lip of the table, revealing the death-glare of a fledgling female with “classic” griffon looks and coloring. She looked like she was about to make some manner of statement involving heads and a tumbling locomotion of said cranium when the Emperor tilted his head back and chortled. “Well spoken, Equestrian First Minister of Snark. I now see why Princess Celestia has bestowed such a position upon you. May I introduce you to my daughter, Princess Gail. Gail, kindly greet the good Minister Sour Grapes, would you?” Princess Gail cast a sideways grump to her father before moving around to the side of the table where she could see Sour Grapes in person and give a surprisingly dignified bow. Grapes looked her over. Rather than any kind of dress, she wore an indigo uniform jacket with a high collar and white piping and buttons. It reminded her of her father’s own dress uniform jacket but without all the pomp and circumstance. “Greetings to you, Sour Grapes, Equestrian First Minister of Snark. I am Princess Gail, daughter of Emperor Farsight and I am very... honored to make your acquaintance.” “It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Princess Gail,” Grapes said getting up, and bowing to Gail in return. “I do hope I haven’t gotten off on the wrong hoof, to use a pony idiom, with you.” “I have never met a pony in person before,” she admitted, peering up at her with narrowed eyes. “You’re… bigger than I suspected.” “Well, we do come in quite a few sizes, and we do start off small and get bigger, just like griffons,” Grapes said with a kind smile, and offering her a hoof to shake. Gail reached out, and her claws encircled the hoof in a surprisingly strong grip. It was like a well-practiced ritual the way she shook the appendage, once, twice and a third time before releasing. Grapes recognised etiquette training when it happened to her. “You missed quite an interesting dinner course, your highness. My young companion, here, got to try a variety of seafoods he hasn’t had the opportunity to, before,” Grapes said, indicating Earshot. “Never mind the outstanding vegetarian lasagna. However I have to suspect you have already acquired nourishment, elsewhere, that would be more to your taste, and have only brought your sweet tooth, so to speak, to this luncheon.” The last was said with a cheerful smile, and a twinkle in Grapes’ eye that let the princess know she was gently teasing. “Also it would not be advisable to get huffy with me, your highness. I am the Minister of Snark. Being snarky is part of my job description, and puncturing egos is a speciality of mine. Right now, I’m merely teasing a young lady that may or may not become a new friend.” With that Grapes bowed again, and sat down. “I… may have had a light, early lunch with some classmates,” she admitted cautiously. “And so was in no great hurry to return to the palace. You… speak rather directly. I am not accustomed to that from visiting dignitaries.” “Yes. Yes I do. I’m well-known for being rather blunt, and quite brutally honest,” Grapes replied. “You also seem to be quite the intelligent young woman, so I speak to you as such. I’m sure you’ve had enough dignitaries to casually talk down to you as if you’re younger than your actual age. I’m sure you’ve found it to be incredibly annoying.” “Yes. I have,” The Princess agreed before her eye caught something. She craned her head up enough to look over at where Earshot sat. Bright green eyes locked on him as he nibbled away at the contents of his plate. “Father… why is that pony eating a tentacle? It was my understanding that their stomachs were too weak to handle flesh.” “That is Earshot. He’s a Night Pony who’s never had squid tentacle before,” Grapes explained. “And his kind has… become quite an interesting variant of pegasus, being mostly nocturnal, and somewhat bat-like.” The Emperor cleared his throat and nodded to Earshot. “Young Ambassador. Would you be so kind as to… make your nature more obvious to my daughter?” Earshot blinked, then chewed and swallowed his mouthful of squid before opening his mouth to display his teeth, and extending his wings to show off their leathery nature. The princess quietly circled the table to where he sat. She moved to his left, then the right, getting a good look at him there in his Storm Rider uniform before looking back at her father. “Father. I want to take the Night Pony to school for show and tell.” Grapes, shocked at the brazenness of the princess’ demand, was about to interject when the Emperor beat her to it. “You ask much of me, Daughter. It would be far easier for you to ask the young Ambassador of Stygian Cove, yourself,” Farsight replied, steepling his talons. Princess Gail turned to Earshot and seemed uncertain for a brief moment before giving a sigh and curtseying to him. “AMBASSADOR Night Pony colt. Can I take you for show-and-tell at my school?” “May I,” corrected the Emperor before adding “And Please.” “MAY I PLEASE take you for show and tell at my school? I doubt that they’ve ever seen a living ‘Night Pony’ before.” Earshot stared at her a moment before glancing over at Grapes as if asking what to do. Sour Grapes merely shrugged and made a motion with her hoof as if to say, “What are you asking ME for? YOU’RE the Night Pony Ambassador.” He looked back at the princess and smiled a big toothy grin to her. “If you can promise me that I’ll be there as much as a student as a… curiosity, then Yes. Yes I would be happy to.” He then said in a quieter tone, “I’ve never been to a griffin school before. I’m wondering how different it is from a Daylight Pony school.” “Oh… oh then you are in for a treat, Ambassador… uh… can I call you by a real name. It feels kinda... dumb talking to another kid by a title.” “Sure. My name’s Earshot. Can I use yours too, Princess?” “Fine. You can call me Gail but only when we’re not around the servants.” “Are the servants sticklers for propriety?” Grapes asked with a raised eyebrow. Then she allowed a little disdain to enter into her voice. “Or is it you have a reputation to maintain?” “With servants one must be friendly but never familiar,” the little griffin said with an attempted “adult tone” that was more adorable on her than authoritative, “As the current Royalty we have standards to uphold. Come, Ambassador Earshot. I shall have you equipped with what you will need for a day at Griffin School.” “You could at least let the poor colt have his dessert,” Grapes quipped with an amused tone. “Or are you too full of seafood to even have any, kiddo?” “I don’t know. What is for dessert?” Earshot asked. The trolley came out one final time, this time with an assortment of bowls filled with brightly colored crystalline cubes that wobbled about. Grapes smiled and recognised fruit-flavored gelatin when she saw it. Apparently Earshot did as well. “OH! Gelatin! There’s ALWAYS room for gelatin!” Earshot said happily, causing some of the griffons to laugh in response to his enthusiasm. Even Gail seemed to rethink her own plans. “Gelatin…” Gail said, smacking her beak in anticipation. “I suppose I can be patient. For the sake of dinner propriety of course.” “And for the sake of delicious fruit flavored wobble-cubes,” Grapes added, teasingly. “Yes… for the sake of the wobble-cubes too,” Gail muttered, caught in her own gluttony and returning to her father’s side where she took her seat. “I trust there are lime-flavored ones?” A bowl of green gelatin was placed before her and her mood immediately improved. After dessert was savored all around the table and the conversations petered out somewhat, Farsight held up his hand to indicate he wanted everyone’s attention. “Thank you everygriff, and everypony for a pleasant luncheon. Unfortunately the duties of the crown are many and my day is only half done, and so I must leave you to your own devices. Daughter, I trust you will explain to the Ambassador what he needs to know about his first time at a Griffon school.” Fasrsight looked over at Sour Grapes and nodded. “Lady Grapes. I look forward to seeing you and your entourage at breakfast tomorrow as my evening is already full. Please, by all means take advantage of your time here and do not hesitate to experience my nation as best you can. I leave you to the tender mercies of my High Chamberlain.” Rising from his chair the Emperor bowed slightly at the neck and, performed a subtle flex of his muscles under his uniform to loosen them up. “Until we meet again, a good afternoon to you all,” Farsight concluded “Have fun storming the castle,” Grapes said with a small smile. “Think it will work?” Golden Wingspan asked quietly as she appeared next to Grapes.. “It’ll take a miracle,” Grapes replied with a smirk, amusement obvious in her eyes. Griffonia’s High Chamberlain and the Equestria’s First Minister of Snark exchanged a knowing glance from the brief reference to a surprising common interest. The Storm Riders smiled knowingly, recognising the in-joke. The other dignitaries… just felt lost and confused. > How to Herd Pegasai... Or Not... > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Golden Wingspan, Royal Chamberlain, first adviser to the Emperor of Griffonia and “honestly” diabolical mistress of all she surveyed, led the Equestrian dignitary Lady Sour Grapes of Ponyville, First Equestrian Minister of Snark and Royal Winemaker to the Diarchy of Equestria, down the hallway towards one of the palace’s many courtyards. She moved briskly enough to make it seem as if the destination was important and yet slowly enough that the pony had time to see the grandeur of the palace as she was paraded past it all. “I’m certain that you will find the books you seek out in the merchant’s quarter of the city. I could give you full access to the palace library but tonight the Emperor has to do research on some previously made laws that may or may not change the context of one currently in the parliamentary queue.” “Hm. Even emperors have to do their research,” Grapes observed as she trotted along behind Goldie. “His eminence takes his role in our nation very seriously,” she agreed, leading her past a room filled with expensive-looking pottery. “So, I am to understand that as the Royal Winemaker you are actually qualified to discern the quality of potables.” “I do have a discerning palate, yes,” Grapes said with a nod. “As a winemaker, and not just the Royal Winemaker, I have to make sure that the wine I produce is potable, and delicious. I take pride in my product, because it is my family’s business, and intend for it to continue to supply fine wines.” “Good to know. We have a variety of wines and spirits here in the empire and I am looking forward to hearing a qualified outsider’s perspective would be of them. We normally only get those who feign knowledge in favor of a price tag,” Goldie explained with a tone of disdain. “Probably intermediaries to the various liquor sellers around the Empire, I would imagine. Their commissions hinging upon the price of the wine or spirit you purchase from the merchant or family business they’re representing,” Grapes observed thoughtfully. “Many are nobles who cannot tell the difference between water fresh from a glacial spring in Yakyakistan and water taken from a drinking fountain in the public schools in our lower-end district,” the griffon said with a rather malicious smirk. “You would be amused by how many praise the fountain-water when in an incorrectly labeled bottle.” “Oh, greatly. I’ve seen it done with wine, too,” Grapes observed. “If I’m selling to certain nobility I just get fancier bottles, have my staff artist design something appropriately ‘fancy’, and up the price by fifty percent. It helps keep the payroll solvent.” “Your… design artist?” Goldie paused a moment, before smirking. “Ah yes… the poofy-haired tagalong. His presence had me recheck my notes on you. I never planned on meeting any more of your employees than merely your honor-guard. Do I have to worry about Mister Dusty making an encore to the Griffonian Slopes?” “I was about to ask you how you knew that Thistledown was my staff artist. As for Dusty, he’s off on a kelp fisher in the ocean, somewhere, trying to find himself,” Grapes replied. “Certain events in Ponyville left him a bit rattled; and he needed some time at sea, doing honest work, to clear his head.” “A most curious thing for such a high-profile individual to do, however the whims of nobility are often hard to discern or predict.” Goldie observed as she paused before a guard and tapped an unbuttoned collar with her claw before continuing, leaving him to correct the faux-pas. “Also as an heir to the Diamond family title he has his overbearing grandmother to deal with. I do hope that the middle of the ocean is far enough away from Pave Diamond that he can have his moment of ‘finding himself’, he already has TWO temporary versions of himself to deal with.” “... Wait, what?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Dusty’s got two what to deal with?” “Temporary versions of himself. He is simultaneously Dusty The World-Class Athlete, and Diamond Dust The Noble. He is both and yet he is neither… otherwise he wouldn’t be ‘looking’ for his real self, would he?” The Chamberlain pointed out. “Well… The whole ‘finding himself’ was to really give himself time to think. Apparently he very nearly did something stupid for the sake of love,” Grapes replied. “Namely go and turn himself in to Grandmother Pave. Charming woman. She doesn’t have an arrangement with the Griffon Empire. I think that’s a good thing, because she’d surely give the poor soul who ate her indigestion. Grandma Pave, probably in an effort to punish Dusty, would have shackled him with the most lack-witted, air-headed, and genuinely selfish unicorn ” “Yes, but when he finishes thinking, I believe he may come back with a new self. I understand from Admiral Gator that life at sea is transformative,” she concluded, leading Grapes into the courtyard where the Storm Riders were admiring how the dark metal of their new empirical markers stood out against their vests. “And here we are. I see our Princess has freed up the young ambassador to join you on your little shopping spree.” Earshot was off to one side of the group reading a short list, his lips moving as he sounded out various items. “...one cauldron: standard size 2, one set of glass or crystal vials, one telescope, one set of brass scale-mail…” the night pony took a moment to consider the list. “Do I really need all of this for one day?” “You may be going for more than one day, Earshot,” Grapes said. “After all, you shouldn’t let an opportunity for learning more about a different culture pass you by. Additionally, you may get lessons in things that Miss Cheerilee doesn’t teach back home… Are you sure that’s not supposed to be scales? You know like for weighing stuff? Though the scalemail would not surprise me.” “It is scale-mail, Lady Grapes,” came a rather sturdy-sounding voice to her left. She turned and saw the light gray griffon in a uniform approaching. “Did I forget to pronounce a hyphen or something?” “Somewhat. It’s just an odd inflection to pronounce that manner of armor as one word instead of two. More of a nit-picking between civilians and military. Also I was clarifying that his school list does indeed request he bring some armor rather than a device for measuring,” the gray griffon explained. “Lady Sour Grapes, May I present to you your… ‘handler’.” Goldie said with a rather sly smirk. “Captain Garrison of the Griffonian Marine Corps. Talon-picked by me from a short list offered by the oh-so-gracious Admiral Gator.” “So… You’re our chaperone, and we appear to all be going shopping at the same time,” Grapes said looking amused. “You have my condolences.” “Condolences?” Garrison asked before Goldie interrupted. “Well now. You have your bit-bags? Good. Your lists? Good. Wonderful. Now off with the lot of you. The last thing you wish to do is be caught out in the streets after dark… it’s already ‘interesting’ enough during the daylight hours.” She took a moment to look at the sudden presence of Thistledown and chuckled. “Behave yourself, Tagalong. You’re STILL an unexpected quantity.” “I do my best,” he replied with a little salute. “Okay. Let’s get this disaster started,” Grapes said with a chuckle. Garrison got them all into the lizard-driven transport once more and a few blocks later they found themselves in the fringes of an area that was a hive of activity. Shops and restaurants lined the walls of the main and second floors of buildings while stalls of all kinds squatted up and down the streets, many with Griffons crying out the declarations of their wares. Vivid colors, loud sounds and unique smells all assaulted her senses in an attempt to establish dominance. It was a far cry from the merchants of ponyville that was for certain. “All right ponies, welcome to the Grand Bazaar, that’s spelt with a capital G and a capital B,” Captain Garrison said letting them off the transport. “Clothing. Weapons. Magic. Food. If it exists in the empire this is your best shot at where you can get your uh, hooves on it.” Grapes looked amused. Garrison just continued. “Now I understand that pony merchant districts are fairly organised. Not so much here. You will find little rhyme and reason to this place, there is no ‘eatery district’ or a ‘metalworker’s district’ but there are spots where a family has passed down a shop or a stall slot for generations so those are good to navigate by, and the best to barter with. Don’t count on your ‘Imperial Markers’ to get you better deals, just maybe more honest ones if anything. If we Griffons know anything it’s the value of a bit and we have the predatory instinct to get as many of them out of a tourist as we can.” “Mister Garrison, sir?” Earshot interrupted “Would you be able to help me get the things on my list that I need?” “Certainly Ambassador Earshot, and it’s either Garrison or Captain, thank you.” “Yes, Captain.” “Where was I? Oh yes… Now I know that you all think that this is all fun and a new experience but remember this.” Garrison continued, leading them towards the big archway that read “Grand Bazaar”. “You are visitors here, there are a lot of griffons that will see you as easy marks, and some who will drag you into an alley only for your exact weight in ground meat to appear in a seedy stall later. We try our best to keep black market meat from reaching tables but to be honest even the city guard are not infallible. So keep close, don’t wander off and…” “You know they’ve already scattered to the four winds, right?” Grapes observed drolly. “What? SON-OF-A-BEACHBALL!” He cried out when he saw his audience had been reduced to two… Sour Grapes and Earshot. “I only took my eyes off of them for a moment! How did they vanish like that?” “I wish I knew,” Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. “Now you know why I gave you my condolences. If I had been notified of this excursion earlier, I would have warned the organizers that we should not all go out as a flock, because trying to keep them together on a shopping trip is like attempting to herd felines. You may have heard me jokingly mention leashes a time or two. It’s because of incidents like this one. I’ve learned that I can only take them out in small, easily controlled groups of two to three.” “Noted. Duly noted, my Lady.” Garrison acknowledged before smoothing down his ruffled feathers and squaring his shoulders. “So… my orders are to aid the Ambassador in fulfilling his school list and…?” “I guess keeping me from being kidnapped by shady black market meat dealers,” Grapes quipped amusedly. “Also keep an eye out for stray pegasai. They’re grown-ups and can take care of themselves. They may come back a little worse for wear, but I’m sure they’ll have interesting stories of their adventures. Next time we’ll bring the leashes and inhibitor collars.” “Inhibitor collars? Do ponies have those as well, Lady Grapes?” “Got to keep pegasai prisoners doing their jail time somehow, Captain Garrison,” Grapes replied with a smirk. “A prison isn’t very effective if an inmate can just fly over the walls, now is it?” “Very true. Most of our prisons have large skylights with iron bars over them. Apparently it’s demoralising to show them the freedom they cast aside when they went against the law.” Garrison said leading Earshot and Grapes through the crowds. “The collars are usually saved for our worst prisoners. The ones that are too dangerous to even execute.” “So they have some kind of magical power that allows them to cheat death, and come back for a repeat performance?” Grapes asked raising an eyebrow. “Actually there are some villainous griffons that are too feared or well connected for capital punishment. The well-connected are obvious but the ones that are feared… let’s just say that there are a lot of Griffons that still believe that evil is a real, tangible thing, and that it ‘pools’ in some living creatures more than others.” Garrison explained before noticing Earshot motioning in the direction of a second-hand shop, nodding to him Garrison lead them to its doorway. “They fear that ending the life of somegriff who is unnaturally evil you ‘free’ all that wickedness to go and find its way to somegriff else. Better the wicked you know than one you do not.” “An interesting way to put it, but I won’t argue. Maybe in the future we can let you use Tartarus for those particularly evil griffons. They’d have a hard time getting past a three-headed dog, and out of a pocket dimension,” Grapes observed. “Huh. An interesting premise. I’ll leave a note for the Chamberlain so the logistics become her problem and not mine,” the marine said holding the door open for them. Sour Grapes’ understanding of the Griffon language was rather limited but she did recognise Equestrian when she read it. The sign above the door simply said “Curious Goods”. The interior of the shop was darker and cooler and blissfully quieter than the outside world… and even more cluttered. There was what looked like an endless supply of used items everywhere. Boxes and stacks of items stood in strangely assembled piles that may or may not have had furniture beneath them while paths appeared to be carved around and through them allowing one to walk freely about to browse without so much as brushing up against anything. “Well, that’s one way to make hoarding profitable,” Grapes quipped, as she looked around the store. One of the piles shifted ever so slightly and part of it that had looked like a drape of carpet with a western hat on top peeled away from it, revealing a surprisingly young griffon in a paisley cloak and… of course wearing a hat that would not have been out of place in Sweet Apple Acres. “Oh dear, ambulatory junk. Should we call the… Oh wait, it’s just a griffon. Nevermind,” Grapes said in casual deadpan, with an amused look on her face. “Oh, Hey. Customers… and ponies too!” He said before striding up to them and smiling. “I believe the proper greeting is… Howdy there buckaroos! Welcome to Curious Goods, where clutter is king!” “Your boss has a theme in place, I take it?” Grapes asked raising an eyebrow. “‘Western huckster’ isn’t going to get you many sales from Equestrians, I should warn you.” “My father always told me that unless you’re in show business you’re not in any business.” the griffon said bowing with a sweep of his hat. “Unless you can grab their attention from the start you can’t hope to make the sale. My name is Gallagher and I’ll willingly take free advice when it crosses my palms.” “My good griffon, there is a time for flamboyance, and a time for showing off the quality of your goods. It depends on the customer. If you have somebody who is looking for expensive stuff, for the sake of having expensive stuff, then yes put on a show. If you’ve got a customer who’s looking for quality goods at a good price, then you should let the goods speak for themselves,” Grapes said with a nod. “Social climbers looking for stuff to show off aren’t the smartest, so a little flash and dazzle will sell them anything, if you can put a good story on it. The smart customers, though, will not be fooled by flash and dazzle. I believe the griffon phrase is ‘selling the sizzle and not the steak’.” “Good point there Ma’am.” he said as he put the cloak aside revealing some rather Equestrian-looking western garb beneath. It looked a lot like… no, it was EXACTLY like the clothing that Braeburn had sent her pictures of from Appleloosa. She was no Rarity but either it was genuine belt, boots and vest or someone here was an excellent producer of knockoffs. “So, welcome, have a browse, I got hot coffee if you need a drink while you peruse the wares or is there something in particular I can do you for?” “Well my young friend, here, is getting ready for an excursion to Griffon School, as sort of an exchange student, and needs to be properly supplied,” Grapes replied, indicating Earshot who stood close by. “Also, I was wondering if you’ve ever been to Appleloosa.” “That I can help you with, ma’am.” Gallagher said as Earshot handed him his list. Looking it over he lead them through an archway of cookware into another section of the store. “Anyways yes, I vacation there. Visited one year because there was an auction of a pony estate with some items I was look’n for and well, I jest fell in love with the place. Heard they had some trouble with the locals… sorry I missed that. Always up fer a scrap m’self.” “You probably met Appleloosa’s main spokespony, I bet,” Grapes chuckled. “You mean the self-appointed spokespony.” he chuckled. “I was no sooner all four legs off the stagecoach when this big smiling face was in MY face talking about all the wonders of AAAAAAAAAAAPLE-LOOOSA! I think I would have been more comfortable if it had've been the sheriff giving me a warning about not toleratin’ any troublemakers, nere-do-wells or rabble-rousers in town. Still… wonderful place, fun to just sit on a patio with some cider and watch Braeburn do the same thing on other visitors.” Grapes chuckled with a smile. “He’s a fun pony, honestly. Over-enthusiastic, but still fun,” she replied with a smile. “Now could you please see to Earshot’s school list, please? You may find him pretty interesting.” “Well I’m accustomed to ponies… at least the kinds you find around Appleloosa. I’m guessing you don’t all dress and speak like they do… do you?” Gallagher said looking Earshot over and for a moment, he got the strangest look on his face, then it was gone. “Huh… a pegasus built for night-flying. If that don’t beat all.” “No, we all don’t all talk like they do in Appleloosa. I’m from Ponyville,” Grapes said with a smile. “My cousin, Applejack, does have a southern accent. Braeburn is more western.” “Duly noted.” The Griffon said as he perused Earshot’s list. “Well son, you’ve come to the right place. Let’s see… writing utensils yep, got those over here. Telescopes, plenty of those, The cauldron’s a little harder… fledglings these days really put those through their paces in class but I should be able to scrounge a few number twos. Oh… right. You’re gonna need some armor. This way please.” With more confidence than you'd expect from a griffon in a cowboy hat he let them through the topography of well-loved items to a small forest of armor and barding. Solid pieces stood up on tailor’s dummies while “soft” armor like chain and scale mail hung on clothes racks. He began looking through them, occasionally glancing over at Earshot, mentally measuring him up before going back to the rack again. Finally he pulled out a smallish amount and held it out to the night pony. “Here you go, young’un. Try that on, belonged to about three or four generations before you but it’s sturdy and any damaged parts have been fixed.” “That suit… WILL protect him in physical education class, will it not?” Garrison asked, his voice coming out awfully serious. Gallagher looked at him as if seeing him for the first time and then managing to recover rather quickly. “Sir… everything I sell here will do it’s job under the situations they’re meant to endure. I wouldn’t sell any of it otherwise.” “Tried and true as opposed to new and flashy,” Grapes observed with a nod. “A time where the quality of the goods is selling itself, rather than the salesgriff trying to sell the sizzle.” While the grownups talked, Earshot wrestled his slight build into the armor, legs finding their proper sheaths easily enough and his head finally popping up out of the neck hole almost as a finale. He blinked a moment as his mane settled back down. “Did I get it right?” Earshot asked before Garrison moved alongside of him to help his wings find their way out of the proper openings. “You’re doing better than most first-year cadets I’ve met,” the captain muttered before looking him over. “Isn’t there supposed to be a chain-mail hood with that?” “A coif would be the correct term, I think,” Grapes said. “You are both correct,” Gallagher relented before looking around the base of the clothes rack. “Sometimes they don’t stay together… there’s also a helm but many schools have their own so I normally sell them as a separate item. Ah… here you are…” The shopkeeper helped Earshot worm his head into the coif before standing back to admire the look. “Tell me about the fit. Are you comfortable in that?” Gallagher asked. “How do you feel?” “Heavy, like… carrying-grapes-to-the-presses heavy, but all over.” Earshot observed before examining his metal-clad forelegs. “These scales look pretty tough...I’m beginning to get an idea what Spike probably feels like.” “He probably doesn’t feel like he’s wearing armor, Earshot,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “Considering he was born with the scales, and isn’t wearing anything over them.” She then eyed the armor critically. “Tried and true, but has had some repairs. Probably done by a professional, because nobody wants shoddy armor, except war profiteers…” Grapes leaned close, looking at the scales. “Give yourself a shake, Earshot.” Earshot took a step away from the adults and did as he told. On an auditory level it sounded like Filthy Rich was jingling ALL of his pocket change. On a visual level the dull brass scales shimmied and shook a half-second out of synch with Earshot’s motions. She glanced over where there were scratches and dents in the armor, and some scales were shinier than others indicating replacement but it all seemed sturdy enough. Grapes watched, and listened intently, then nodded satisfied. “No loose scales, and none sound ‘off’ which would indicate rust,” Grapes assessed, then turned to Gallagher, and slipped into her bartering stance, which seemed almost like a swordsgriff moving into their fighting pose. “Fifty bits.” From this start, a spirited bartering session started. Gallagher insisting she was robbing him, and Grapes saying that the repairs were probably not as strong as the original armor. Both bemoaning how the other was trying to cheat them in typical bartering histrionics. Finally it got down to the two yelling a price at each other. “Seventy-five!” Grapes insisted. “One-hundred!” Gallagher countered. “Seventy-five!” “One-hundred!” “Seventy-five!” “One-hundred!” “One-hundred!” “Seventy-five!” “Fine fine. You drive a hard bargain, Mister Gallagher, but if you insist, I’ll pay seventy-five bits,” Grapes said finally. “I am so glad that the bit pays so well around these here parts.” Gallagher chuckled as he jotted the final price on a clipboard. “So we’ve guaranteed that you’ll survive Phys-Ed. Let’s gather up everything else you’ll need. So what makes a… pony such as yourself want to go to a griffon school?” “Well Princess Gail says she wants to show me off to her class.” Earshot answered as he peered up at the various helms displayed on the wall. “I agreed but only if I got to really experience her school while I’m here.” “You… you know the princess?” Gallagher asked, a little dumbfounded. He glanced over at Garrison who made a motion that suggested a necklace. The businessgriff then looked over at Earshot and Grapes, his eyes dropping to the imperial markers worn around their necks. “Well now… at least now I know you’re not pulling my leg.” Grapes grinned. “Lady Sour Grapes, Royal Winemaker to the Diarchary of Equestria… and apparently the First Minister of Snark, at your service, Mister Gallagher.” “And I’m an Ambassador! Or at least that’s what everypony keeps saying I am,” Earshot clarified with a self conscious smile. “It’s a long story but it’s got lots of fun stuff.” “Pleased to meet you then, young Ambassador.” Gallagher said with a smile. “I shall make certain that you are equipped very well to meet your first day at a griffon school.” --------------------------------------------------------------- Stormfront moved through the crowd with a surprising grace for a pony of his stature. It probably also helped that a fair number of griffons were polite enough to not walk into him. He had been a little concerned, like many ponies he had heard stories of how confrontational griffons were and had been on his guard since he got to the bazaar but now he realised most just wanted to do their shopping and go home. That was a sentiment he could endorse. He was painfully aware that he was a stranger in a strange land. He felt like he stood out like an orange in an apple bushel and that everyone around him was tolerating him as long as he didn’t make a scene. He then paused in thought for a moment and wondered if this was how Sirocco felt all the time. He blinked when he realised he was thinking of his teammates and looked around seeing they were nowhere to be found. “Aw nuts.” He had inadvertently gotten separated from the group. He was currently a herd of one… and in a city of creatures who were half predatory animal and half ANOTHER predatory animal, that might not be such a great thing. If only he hadn’t had gotten distracted by trinkets he thought might be appropriate for Grapes. Now that they were “officially” a couple, he wanted to get her something nice. Something she would like… but portable and… well, not a book. He knew that she would love books on most topics but that would be far too predictable… and too ‘Twilight Sparkle’. Now THAT was a mare who loved her books. There was even a joke floating around ponyville that Spike wasn’t really a dragon but a magically resurrected ancient dinosaur called the Thesaurus Rex. Taking himself back to his problem at hand, Stormfront was unaware of where he was and didn’t know anyone around him. He started to panic when he realised that earlier, Squall had mentioned that the Central City streets were laid out like a wheel, with the palace at the middle. He felt a wave of relief when he realised that all he had to do to get back to his room at the palace was take to the air… possibly landing AT the gates before entering. Unlike the city he never saw any griffons flying directly over Palace airspace. He had a strong feeling that doing so would be… ill advised. "And here I thought ponies were herd animals," said the familiar voice of Robin the Red-Breasted. Stormfront turned to see him next to a fruit stand, slicing off chunks of apple and popping them into his beak. “Wandering off from your tour guide and your teammates is not wise in a foreign city. Trust me on that, Stormfront.” "Well... I got distracted," Stormfront admitted. "And now I'm in a hostile environment. I'm totally unprepared. And I'm surrounded by a bunch of guys who probably want to kick my butt... it's like being back in up-high school.” “That’s a bit of an exaggeration. The griffonian people are not as aggressive as we once were,” Robin assured his friend as he tossed a bit to the fruit stand owner. “So what has you so ‘distracted’?” “Sour Grapes. I think while we’re here I should get her something. Unfortunately picking out a gift for her is kinda difficult. I mean what do you get for the girl who doesn't need 'everything'." “She IS a mare content with what life has given her, that’s for certain,” Robin observed putting a talon on Stormy’s back and leading him through the crowd. “Let’s start with keeping her from worrying about you by leading you to where she currently is.” “You can do that?” Stormfront asked, curiously. “Son, in my day I could track a sparrow by it’s shadow on a sunless day. Finding Grapes, Earshot and Garrison will be child’s play.” “Wait… That’s only three.” The pegasus said, the arithmetic dawning on him. “The others also wandered off, didn’t they?” “Oh, don’t worry about them,” the elderly griffon said in a reassuring manner. “I suspect they’ll have a series of exciting and amusing adventures on their own… or if they somehow die they’ll take a good sized chunk of the city with them. Either way, that will make for some great stories later on.” “Are you sure about that, Robin?” “Trust me, Stormfront my lad. I’m an old hand at this sort of thing. Certainly not MY first time to the rodeo.” They walked through the crowd to where Garrison was leading Grapes and a great helm-wearing Earshot out of a shop. Robin smiled and waved to the small group. “Hello there. Did you happen to lose something, Lady Grapes?” “Oh look, you found Stormy,” Grapes said looking at Robin with a smile. "I kinda figured you'd be the first to show back up, Stormy... Though I would have gotten worried if it had taken you until after dinner time." “Sorry to make you worry, Grapes.” Stormy said pawing the ground. “I got a little distracted.” “Well since you’re safely reunited we can... why what have we here?” Robin commented as he approached Earshot, looking at his new, impressive headwear. “My, oh my. Guess they had to go a size up to accommodate your ears, there son. Still you look rather sharp in that. Safe too.” “Hello, Mister Robin.” Earshot’s voice came from within the metallic shell, the acoustics making it sound hollow and deeper than normal. “It is you, isn’t it? I’m having some trouble hearing the world properly with this on. Glad I’ve been practicing looking at things with my eyes since my ears vanished that one day.” “Your ears… vanished?” Robin looked up at Sour Grapes with an inquisitive expression. “Ever hear of a creature called Discord?” Grapes asked. “Ah. Say no more.” Robin said with a nod. “The previous time he was running loose he made all of my feathers vanish… Seeing as I was already a thousand years or so old at the time I can tell you that my birthday suit was in need of some ironing. Although it was nice to air out the tattoos for a bit.” “... I did not need to know that,” Grapes uttered deadpan. “Anyway… Where should we go next?” “I can make a few suggestions. But first we need to deal with your little nocturnal friend here. Let me just..." Robin reached out to make some small adjustments that allowed the entire facial region of Earshot’s helmet to come free revealing the colt’s astonished face beneath it. "Little known fact. Most helmets around here are modular. There isn't a griffon alive who doesn't enjoy feeling the wind on his beak." “Wow… that is SO much better. Less reverb and everything,” Earshot said with a smile. “Thank you, Mister Robin.” “You’re welcome, child. Now… you just ate at the palace so no need to look for an eatery.” Robin said with a smile before leaning on Garrison’s shoulder a little. “What is on the itinerary, Captain?” “Well… sir.” Garrison began, a little uncertain how to proceed with the new presence in his little circle. “We have gotten everything on the Ambassador’s list in one shot, so we’re looking for book stores that deal in nonfiction, for Lady Sour Grapes.” “Books it is!” Robin exclaimed. “Would you be interested in buying or borrowing? While there are lots of stores here, the book exchange is just two blocks east of here.” “I’d rather buy them, honestly. For one I can make notes in the margins. For another, I can take them home and add them to my library for rereading,” Grapes replied. “I enjoy having books from other cultures.” “I know just the place to start looking then.” Robin lead them through the throngs of griffons. “Part bookstore and part teashop. Very nice when all you want is some peace and quiet to sit and sip while you flip through pages.” “I’m doing serious research for the negotiations I’m going to be engaging in later. While peace and quiet would be appreciated, I doubt a teashop-slash-bookstore would have the books on griffon economics I would need,” Grapes observed. “You’d be surprised. Behold, my little pony...” Robin said, gesturing to a sign that hung over the door of a shop that was almost hidden between the placement of two colorful tent kiosks. It read “Dead Trees”. “A true haven for some of the most serious intellectuals and literate students in the city. Ask and they either have it… or know where to get it.” One by one the small group ducked into the dark doorway with Sour Grapes being the last. She glanced over at the kiosk to the left and noticed an odd mask for sale. It was a little off-putting. It was a vivid blue and one could say the features were very pony-like but those features were exaggerated to almost grotesque proportions. Bulging eyes, the wideness of the smile plus the teeth were all sharp and tusk-like. She stared at it a moment before remembering just who “won” the Pony-Griffon war. Such a caricature of the pony face might be no more than a final rude gesture from a sore loser. She was just glad Earshot didn’t notice it… the mask could have frightened even HIM. Grapes rolled her eyes, and trotted into the place, looking around curiously. Every wall was… books. Shelves covered nearly every surface, nearly every square inch of those shelves were CRAMMED with books. Were they not so well-placed she might have accused this store being the literary equivalent of Gallagher's shop. There were small tables and soft couches around, and a LOT of beanbag chairs, most of them occupied by studious griffons and some who were in black turtlenecks. She noticed the counter itself had been adorned with bookshelves in such a manner that for a moment one would have thought that IT in itself was made of books. An almost ostrich-like Griffon was behind the counter reading… it looked like Starswirl’s Treatise on Fancy Headwear and their psychological boost upon magic users. Grapes had always felt that “Haunted Haberdasheries and other Headwear” was less a serious study and more of a way for Starswirl to justify his ridiculous hat. “Excuse me, but I’m looking for treatises on the current economic status of the Griffon Empire, please,” Grapes queried of the griffon behind the counter. The griffon blinked and came to life, smiling as she used a feather as a bookmark and set the book down to give her full attention to the pony before her. “Certainly, and welcome to Dead Trees, our little haven away from the closed-minded and the anti-intellectualism that is infecting our society today.” She stepped out from behind the counter and began tracing a claw along a high shelf until she found a book and absentmindedly handed it off to Grapes. “I hope you are enjoying your trip to our fair city… you’ll need ‘Gregor’s Guide to Gold Grifting’. It’s a good primer for understanding the socio-economics of our city-state culture. Hmm… maybe ‘A Brief History of the Merchant’s Guild and Their Rise to Importance’. Always a classic.” “Considering I’m going to be negotiating with them, having some history on how they came to be would be useful,” Grapes observed. “Knowing how the person across the table thinks is always a good tool to have in one’s bag. Mind you, most merchants tend to have the same mindset, namely expecting the person negotiating with them to try and cheat them, but still it would be a good thing to know more about the illustrious guild.” “Very smart of you. In that case I am going to also recommend the most recent issue of ‘Who’s Who and How Much?’, an excellent source of the faces you might be… well… facing.” She placed several more books into Grapes’ hooves, enough that Garrison took them from her and placed them by the till on the counter. “So what WILL you be negotiating with them? Bits for Steel? Always a demand for Griffonian steel in the world. Or maybe something more mundane like access to our historical sites?” “I am not sure if I am at liberty to say, miss,” Grapes said with a small bow. “But it is an exchange of resources between our two countries that is required. That is all I can share for now.” The Griffon looked at her with an expression that Grapes herself was SURE she had herself used on occasion, before the bibliophilic griffon smiled again. “Fair enough. Just so long as our own transaction is fair. We accept books-for-books, Equestrian Bits and of course gold is always good no matter where you go.” “Of course,” Grapes said paying bits for the books. “And thank you for your knowledge and recommendations. They are greatly appreciated.” “That’s my Gretta. She’s always been big into books.” Robin said with a smirk. Gretta’s face suddenly lit up as she embraced him. “Uncle Robin! When did you get here? I’m sorry I didn’t see you right away when you came in I was…” “...Dealing with a paying customer. I know, I know.” Robin said with a smile hugging her back. “Sour Grapes, meet my great-great-whatever-removed-niece Gretta. Gretta, this is Sour Grapes, a winemaker of no small talent who provides wine to the princesses of Equestria and quite possibly one of the few ponies who could listen to you talk and add to your conversation.” Grapes smiled and bowed a bit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gretta.” “Any pony who is a friend of my ‘great-great-whatever-removed’ uncle is a friend of mine.” Gretta said bowing to Grapes. “And won’t get overcharged for tea and scones like the rest of these layabouts.” “You love us and you know it, Gretta.” said a random griffon from somewhere at the back of the shop, making Gretta roll her eyes comically. “Heh. You have a very nice shop, here, Miss Gretta. Now to enjoy some of your delicious tea, while I do my research. Thank you again,” Grapes said sitting down at a table with her pile. “Right.” Gretta said with a smile before tallying up the books on the cash register and pouring her customer a fresh cup of tea. “Will the rest of your friends be needing anything, Uncle Robin?” “We’ll need a copy of the ‘Big Book of Buckles and Bracers’. The young ambassador here will require a primer on how to put armor on properly before he goes to griffon school.” Greta blinked at the colt before chuckling. “Where DO you find these friends, Uncle Robin? I swear last time it was a Minotaur, this week it’s pony pegasai. What’s next week?” “I’m not sure. Maybe I could get the Emperor himself to visit your shop?” “If you succeed in that I’ll eat my copy of ‘Monarchs and Monsters’,” Gretta smirked at Robin before plucking a large “Children’s Book” that seemed to focus on armor and melee weapons and handing it to Earshot. “Here you go, fledgling. This should help you work out what goes where.” “Thank you, Miss Gretta.” Earshot said with a broad grin. “I really like your store!” “And you look rather handsome in your helmet and… and you have teeth.” Greta said with no small amount of surprise. “Uncle, I suspect that your threat of bringing the Emperor here may be more plausible right now.” “What can I say, Gretta. I run with a strange crowd. Always have and always will.” “If he doesn’t bring the Emperor here, I just might,” Grapes quipped with a smirk. After counting out some bits for the tea and books she settled in to read the material at hand. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the others do the same in their own ways. Earshot paid for his book and sat with Robin who used it as a reference on how best to don and make use of his “brand-new antique armor”, Stormfront browsed the shelves apparently looking for something he wasn’t even certain of. Garrison simply found a nice straight-backed chair by the door and accepting a cup of tea, kept watch on the group, apparently unwilling to let the few still in his charge to leave his sight. Dead Trees was such an amazingly comfortable place to sit and read that she wasn’t even aware of the passage of time… or how much tea she had drunk. Her bladder reminded her that she should head back to the palace soon. She packed up her books and nodded to the others who all got ready to go. Thanking Gretta and promising to visit again the group left the bookstore. Of course, Sour Grapes smiled to herself that her first day in a strange city and she had instinctively gravitated to the familiar comfort of a bookstore. She promised to herself that when the icky business of international trade was over and done with that she would try to enjoy herself. She was in an exotic far-off land and she should take full advantage of it. Looking around she saw the various tents, stores and kiosks all closing up for the night, while a few others seemed to open for a night shift. She could tell that this city was one of those that never slept, although it might relax a little when the sun went down. They moved down the street when suddenly Captain Garrison’s wing moved in front of her, blocking her from approaching an alley. She looked up at his alert face, keen eyes peering at the opening as he drew his sword from its sheath. Robin put his one claw on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture while he motioned to her to remain quiet as Garrison approached the mouth of the alley. “Well well well,” The Captain said with a rather evil glint in his eye. “What do we have here?” ------------------------------------------------- Thistledown gazed about in wonderment at the streets of Central City. So many new sights, so many new sounds. He counted out the exposures available in his camera, he had been out on the streets for a couple of house so far and the last thing he wanted to do was run out at the worst time. Sometimes a lifetime could happen while you swapped out film rolls. He paused a moment to catch a quick picture of a meal kiosk that featured roast lizard on a stick. He had to admit those lizards had such the surprised expression on their faces. With the vendor’s permission he took a picture of their culinary layout and after buying a drink from them in payment continued on his way. He might not be a carnivore but he could admire the sheer creativity and enthusiasm they had for foodstuffs. He sipped at his drink and slowly trotted down the street just… well… drinking in the culture when suddenly everything went sideways. In a quite literal manner. He felt something or someONE seize him, jerking him into the dark and relatively quieter alley where he found himself pinned against a wall with a sickle-like blade gently grazing his throat. “A pony?” game a gruff feminine voice from behind and to the right. “You got a pony?” “Shut up,” said a softer but more masculine voice from directly behind him. “Okay, pony. Your money or your meat.” “I b-beg your pardon?” Thistledown asked before he could stop himself. He heard a groan of disbelief from the female before she responded. “We can’t make it more simple, captain color-blind.” She grunted. “Hand over your bits or we chop YOU up into bits. The bite-sized kind. Got it?” Thistledown’s mind raced like crazy. Many thoughts surging up and down his neurons sizing up his situation. He wasn’t going to wrestle himself free easily, not with such a sharp blade at his throat. That left him having to do the one thing he always good at. Use his gift of the gab to get himself out of trouble before he lost his head. Turning his head just enough to look backwards he could see the two griffons behind him. The first thing that struck him was that they didn’t look as bulky as the griffons he had seen in the palace. They were more slender, or rather leaner… they had a hungry look about them that suggested they hadn’t have had three meals a day in a while. Their feathers looked ragged and clumpy while their fur showed signs of matting and their clothes... well, far be it from him to be a fashion plate himself but they wore Jacobite shirts that hadn’t seen a good wash in a while. Put that together with the bags around their eyes and he came to the conclusion that these were griffons who were (as Rarity would put it) “downwardly mobile”. They had the hint of desperation around them that suggested to him that he would have to be careful. This was not a time for rash actions. Thistledown forced his panic down into his barrel and slowly lifted his drink enough that he could take a long sip from the straw. An action of “pure calm” that bewildered the duo enough that he could get a word in edgewise. “Is it really this bad here?” the pony said softly. “Have you two become this desperate that you have taken to being highwaymares? Ur… Highwaygriffs?” There was a moment of confused silence before the female spoke. “Uh, yes? YES! Yes, we are DESPERATE griffons. So don’t toy with us, pony.” She said, trying to recapture the mood that made her appear to be a threat. “We’ll give you a chance to pony up your bits… forgive the slang, or else.” “Graspah, aren’t you laying it on a bit thick?” the male hissed back at his partner. “Don’t use my name, Garotte!” “Graspah” squaked at the male in response. “I told you to NEVER use our names.” “But... “ Garotte replied, “You just did.” Yep, this was pure amateur night, and Thistledown began to feel the moment slipping away from both them and him. If he didn’t seize ahold of the reins of this situation now, he might get gutted by these two out of sheer panic. He took a deliberately loud gurgling sip from his drink, feigning it being empty and sighing. “I don’t know about you two but, I could murder a bag of fried dough sticks. Care to join me?” Thistledown said in his most casual tone of voice, with the add-on of, “...My treat?” What followed was a long silence, he could practically hear them looking at one another in wordless conversation. Ten minutes after this the trio sat in the alleyway, backs against the filthy stained brick wall. Thistledown had a fresh drink and a bag of fried dough sticks that he was dipping into a little paper cup filled with sea salt with each bite. Garotte and Graspah were sinking their curved beaks into their lizard on a stick and taking deep draughts of the iced teas as if they hadn’t eaten in days. Thistledown’s eye drifted to the blade at Garotte’s belt, and while it was a stereotype that all side-saddle ponys liked “antiquing” he did recognise good craftsmareship when he saw it. “So…” he said between bites. “I’m guessing that you two have had a rough time of it. You’re obviously desperate but I can see you’re proud too.” “What makes you say that?” Graspah asked. “Your associate’s knife. It looks like it would be worth quite a few bits but I’m guessing it has enough sentimental value that selling it would be like cutting your claw off.” “Yeah.” Garotte said as he looked at his blade then at his own claw in contemplation. “Family heirloom… T’s all we got left really. Family used to be a big mover and shaker then a few bad investments and next thing we know it all came down.” “That was a generation ago. Parents were poor up until they died and now my idiot brother and I are all we really got.” Graspah said with a grunt. “T’s life I guess. We’ve been living claw-to-beak for a while now. Wasn’t always bad though... T’s gotten worse the last year or two since food prices started going up. Now t’s everygriff for themselves.” “And yet you two haven’t given up on each other, have you?” Thistledown said with a smile. “Blood is thicker than water, even among griffons it seems.” “Yeah. She’s my sister. I can’t bail and sail on her. Wouldn’t be right.” Garotte admitted. Thistledown noticed the glance his sister gave him, one of sincere gratitude. “So… where do we go from here?” “Look you two aren’t BAD as far as I can tell. Just life’s kicked you in the pinfeathers a few times,” the earth pony said, sizing up the situation. “I can tell you really don’t wanna be criminals but you feel like you’ve been painted into a corner here.” “Well what else can we do?” Garotte said standing up and holding out his weapon. “We haven’t gone to a proper school, we’re from a fallen family. As far as society is concerned we’re just bad griffs from a bad part of town. No griff is gonna give us a chance.” “Well, well, well,” said a voice from the mouth of the alley. “What do we have here?” All eyes turned to see Captain Garrison standing there. Silhouetted by the red rays of the setting sun, his own gaze upon Garotte and Graspah as they stood over the seated pony, one of them brandishing a weapon in a rather threatening manner. “If it isn’t my favorite street-crows, Garotte and Graspah. Oh… and it seems you’ve been moving up in the world haven’t you?” Garrison said slowly approaching with an evil grin. “Armed robbery is bad enough but when the some… pony you’re threatening is considered a guest of the Emperor. Well now, you know just how Chamberlain Golden Wingspan LOVES IT when somegriff gets a little too… ambitious. Am I right?” The two griffons were trembling, eyes wide as saucers as they prepared to beg and plead for their very lives. It was then that Thistledown cleared his throat and spoke. “Why, CAPTAIN Garrison! So good to see you again. Sorry I got lost earlier but these two young griffons offered to keep me company until you found me once more.” He slowly got to his hooves and crumpled up his now empty fried dough bag into a ball. “Mister Garotte and his sister Miss Graspah have even offered to be my personal guides to the streets of the Capital City… for a modest fee of course. They tell me they were born on the streets and thus know more about it than anygriff else.” Garrison looked at Thistledown, an eyebrow arched as if asking “Oh really?” Thistledown merely returned a lopsided smirk and a slight tilt of his head as he shrugged as if replying “I think they deserve a break”. The Marine glanced over at the brother and sister who would gladly accept any bone tossed their way right about now. “Tour guides. Is that so? Well then, I have to get MISTER Thistledown back to the palace right now but I expect to see you two waiting outside the front gate in the morning, all ready to take Equestria’s official Professional Tourist on his first official day of seeing the sights of our grand city.” Garrison took a moment to let that sink into Garotte and Graspah’s heads before continuing. “During this time you two will be held completely responsible for his well-being. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” “Yes.. Yes Captain Garrison,” squawked Graspah. “Clear as glass, sir.” “Excellent. Now that that’s been cleared up.” Thistledown said as he counted out some bits before handing them over to the duo. “Here is your advance. I’ll be seeing you two in the morning.” He dropped his voice to a quieter and far more subtle tone. “Go get a good meal or two in and clean yourselves up a little. M’kay? I mean you’re gonna be at the front gate of the palace tomorrow.” “This… this feels like the set up to a horrible joke,” Graspah admitted in an equally low tone. “If it is, then just enjoy getting paid for carrying the punchline,” Thistledown said before patting them on the shoulders. “See you both in the morning, bright and early. Tah tah!” "So... Are names with a hard 'G' the usual naming convention among modern griffons?" Grapes asked casually as they made their way back to the palace. “Because I know this not-so-modern griffon named ‘Robin’, and the proliferation of g-names made me curious.” Garrison and Robin glanced at one another resulting in both laughing at the same time. “My dear,” Robin said with a smile. “It’s more of a social trend than anything else. Griffons go through… well... ‘naming phases’.” “Oh yes. A few years back we had an epidemic where it seemed nearly every boy was named ‘Jason’ and every girl was named ‘Brittney’.” Garrison laughed. “My generation wound up with a big upsurge of hard ‘G’ names.” “While mine, was big on naming children after birds.” Robin said patting his crimson-painted breastplate. “Always felt bad for General Chickenwing. Wasn’t his fault that he was born with… malformation of the wings. Still, it drove him to become the greatest ground-warfare tactician in history.” “Ah. Fascinating. Well I’m sure we’ll find the others eventually,” Grapes said as they walked along. The trip back to the palace was uneventful and as Robin had predicted, the missing ponies had found their way back on their own in time for dinner. The evening meal was somewhat less formal, and with only the ponies at the table to enjoy a rather simple but delicious meal of steamed rice and vegetables served with a variety of sauces on a trolley. The tasty plainness of the meal was a welcome experience for Grapes. It allowed her and the others to decompress from their day out and to discuss their plans for the next day. Some hoped to do more exploration, Earshot was looking forwards to a full day at the Griffonian School and Grapes herself was determined to return to the bookstore for more research time. Despite being so far from home, it was wonderfully comfortable. It reminded her so much of the Golden Oaks Library. Warm, wise and welcoming. She also wondered what advice she might be able to eke from the students and intellectuals there. No doubt many of them would no doubt be willing to share their expertise (or lack thereof) with her if asked. After dinner, Grapes retired to her room, and got ready for bed. It had been a long, interesting day, and she was looking forward to relaxing for the night. She snuggled into the comfy bed, book in hoof ready to read, relax, and drift off into dreamland. Tomorrow was another day, with other adventures, and she would be ready for them when they came. Well… as ready as can be expected.