//------------------------------// // Special Spider Time // Story: The Web Untangled // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// It wasn’t Pinkie’s fault, she thought. It simply wasn’t one of her best parties. Everyone’s allowed a dud once in a while. Besides, it felt like most of Equestria showed up just to see the Princess off. It’s hardly surprising if Pinkie just happens to know those exact ponies who’d seen you at your… let’s say “least presentable”, yes? Nevertheless, she flinched at the mere memory of those faces. From her shoulders, the money spiders scuttled away. Whether through stiffness or through a pegasine hunger for wide open skies, Fluttershy finally left the sofa – checking as she rose that no spiders were crawling over her extremities – and swept out of the door and spiralled up towards the umbrella of cloud. Stretched over the cottage, the beginnings of a cloud dome loomed from the edge of the Everfree forest to the row of trees bordering her stream. Dark as it was, nothing overhead was going to rain. She’d asked Rainbow Dash specially. All the same… Fluttershy patted the edge of a cloud back into shape. If Rainbow had a fault, it was a regrettable tendency to smash clouds together any old how. Now, someone like Rarity with a keen eye for detail would’ve patched up that hole there and zipped up the gap here and maybe thickened out the cloud cover around the edge so it was an equal spread. While she fussed over the layout, she peered down at the round shadow draining her cottage and hill of colour. “Nice and cool and dark,” she said to herself. Only the stream sparkled, catching a crescent of white while the angled sunlight battered against her cloud umbrella overhead. A thought struck her. She zipped down towards the stream and hovered over the bank. “I’m coming down now,” she cooed. As one, the spiders hiding under the grass darted from blade to blade. Once the last of the scuttling legs had fanned out, she eased her hooves onto the bank and stopped flapping. Along the bridge, a row of spitting spiders fired jets of glue at the water, each trying to aim higher and further than its fellows. Tiny white flecks dipped into the surface with barely a ripple, and then floated about as bleached threads. Fluttershy shook her head, but at least it was an improvement. Last year, they’d tried hitting random minnows passing by underneath, and only the sternest of lectures had gotten them to stop. Fluttershy sat down and watched the stream trickling by. Some spiders crawled right to the edge and peered into the water. “I have had quite a week,” she said, though she wasn’t sure they were listening. “First Applejack, then Rarity, then Pinkie Pie, and last night Twilight. So much going on! Isn’t it relaxing just to watch the world go by for once?” A few nearby specimens bobbed their fronts up and down in agreement. Most were still peering into the water. I wonder if you’re still afraid of me, she thought grimly. Ever since she was a filly, bunnies and duckies had never made her blush in her attempts to talk to them, but anything smaller than her hoof and with more legs than her was a poser. Rabbits at least were furry creatures like ponies, and birds were always around pony towns and villages, singing and flying until everyone got used to them. They were… well, more like her, if she was honest. Even fish had a lot in common with her, though it had taken hundreds of attempts not to drown herself before she’d mastered underwater talking. She looked across at the spiders. It was unfair, of course. They had just as much right to enjoy a special day as the blue jays and the dogs and the walking catfish that had somehow ended up in her stream a few months back. But she sensed her butterfly cutie mark didn’t extend far into the realm of creepy-crawlies. Not the less pretty ones, anyway. Along the branches of the nearest bush, an outburst of monarch butterflies exploded, fell back in, and then settled down to watch. No amount of lectures had ever encouraged the insects to come and visit. Not on this day. Even the butterflies, her favourite insects, largely sat around and waited until the spiders had gone. Some didn’t even make it that far. She sighed as one of the monarchs lost its nerve, drifted towards the path, and flitted hither and thither, winding its way out of sight. Surrounded by the scattered fabrics of the pastel workroom of Carousel Boutique, Fluttershy focused instead on the mirror. Not that she wasn’t used to Rarity’s hidden workshop, but compared with the aisles and spirals of the clothes downstairs, this place had been savaged and thrown about. It didn’t look right. Measuring tapes snapped here and there about her. Rarity knew her measurements, but the dress only looked a little like one of her older models. The sleeves and the sash around her waist met the tape most often. “Bear with me a moment.” Rarity focused her energy, and the sleeves tightened around Fluttershy’s front legs. “There. Go ahead: take the darling for a walk. This dress absolutely must be comfortable as well as classy.” Fluttershy turned her head, one eye focusing on the puffed velvet around her shoulders, the other taking in the crinkled folds bulging around her haunches. It did have a green princess look, but she found her gaze drawn to the comparative featurelessness of her mane and face. Trotting, she drew back from the mirror and then came towards it, not entirely trusting the face of her reflection to stay blank. “It… seems OK,” she said. Rarity groaned. “‘OK’? ‘OK’? Is that all? I can’t afford it to be ‘OK’. You need ‘magnificent’! ‘Graceful’! And above all: ‘breathable’!” “No, no. I love it. It’s pretty. I like the sash. And I can breathe fine in it.” “Excellent! Ha! Those Hair-Splitters may have a critical eye for manners and customs, but just you let them gain a gander of my artisanship.” Fluttershy frowned. “But isn’t Twilight the one going to see them? What about her dress?” “Naturellement,” said Rarity, summoning ruler and compass to her design board, “yet the secret to a spectacular seamstress’s pièce de résistance is to work through a succession of major pieces. The appetizer whets the creative spirit, the wholesome main course serves as the ambitious centrepiece, and finally we reach our creative crescendo in the sweet temptations and delights of the dessert. That’s why I’m saving Twilight’s dress for last.” Oh, so I’m an appetizer now? thought Fluttershy. However, she shook the thought out of her head. There was no future in questioning the workings of Rarity’s mind, even though she occasionally came up with strange ways to, as she said, appease her muse. Once, Fluttershy had walked in on her hanging upside-down from a raised bar, apparently to encourage blood flow to the brain but more apparently turning her face bright red. Besides, the dress was classy. “Try it with this,” said Rarity. The rose, trimmed of its thorny stem, zipped across and placed itself with the ceremony of a medal, hovering before her chest and then pinning itself to the lapels of her dress. Squealing with delight, Rarity clapped her hooves together. “Inspired! A revelation of beauty! I thought we were going for an emerald elegance, but no! There it is, the botanical style, manifested most modestly in haute couture. I knew it!” How can you not know what you were going for? Fluttershy tilted her head. “Come, come! You see it? Oh, do tell! What do you think?” said Rarity breathlessly. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot. “It’s…” A frown flitted across her face. It was a nice rose. It was pinned to her nice dress. Somewhere between the two, there was supposed to be a burst of magic, but nothing dawned. What’s got Rarity so excited? “It’s nice. I like it.” Rarity’s lip curled for a moment. “Nice? Oh, don’t you see it at all?” Another look. Another lack of fireworks. “See what? Is it meant to be an accent?” “An accent!?” “I mean it’s a red accessory against mostly green. That stands out, but I’m not sure it’s supposed to, is it?” “Look, let me take it off.” The rose vanished behind a flash. “There. You see what was there now it’s gone?” What? No. No, I don’t see it. Of course I don’t see it! Because it’s gone! “I think so?” “Now I’ll put it back. See it yet?” Fluttershy shrugged helplessly. The green dress with a rose, the green dress without a rose… what did one bit of red matter? Not that she didn’t understand what Rarity was getting at; dresses with the small details tweaked could be more than the sum of their parts, and all that. But this one barely went past basic arithmetic in the mathematics of style. “You can leave it in, if you think it’ll help,” she said. Rarity shook her head sadly. “I suppose.” “This looks nice, though.” Although she’d just caught it out of the corner of her eye, Fluttershy rounded on the white cloth at once. Perhaps some kind of mane accessory was what she needed. She placed it on her head, throwing back the tissue-like fabric until it draped along her curling pink hairs. That white band looks lovely. Look at all those embroidered flower designs! Now that’s a dash of colour! “Really, Fluttershy?” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I think it tops the ensemble wonderfully.” Fluttershy batted her eyelashes. No, too dainty. Try sassy. Twitching, her one eyelid lowered and she accompanied it with a half-smile. Now that’s a knowing sassy look. “Fluttershy,” said Rarity in the tones of one talking to a filly, “it is a bridal veil.” “I like it.” Fluttershy fought against the sizzling on her cheeks, and saw the pink blushes in the mirror. “It reminds me of a garland.” “You are not wearing a bridal veil out in public as a mere common accessory. The idea of it! Besides, the fabric’s from Hair-Splitter territory. Do you know how much this material’s worth at the moment? I’m sorry, but I can’t just give it away. Sassy Saddles says the Canterlot line is selling like hotcakes.” “But the veil’s lovely. Can’t I get it on credit? I’ll pay you back over the next month.” Rarity sighed and levitated it off her. “I’m afraid I must put my hoof down. Please trust my judgement on this one, please? I’d be doing you an incalculable favour. A faux pas of that magnitude would sink your reputation like lead in a fountain.” “Oh, all right.” Yet as the drawer of the dresser gaped, Fluttershy watched the veil’s descent with hungry eyes. “Splendid. Oh, I am looking forward to seeing you show it off at Pinkie Pie's party tomorrow! Such an occasion it shall be! Let me just make a few more modifications.” After several dull hours of standing still for a dozen more stitch-sized adjustments, Fluttershy’s smiles and admiring glances at her reflection drained to dead lips and glazed stares. Every now and again, she wondered whether the Hair-Splitters were worth all the effort. Even the tempting drawer was losing its charm, despite her gaze occasionally drifting towards it. Later, Rarity relented enough to give her a white ribbon, but it just wasn’t the same. Plops of water broke her reverie apart. Looking down, she saw the silver abdomens drifting like mercury drops under the trickle, each with waving lines of legs rowing it across the pebbles. Diving bell spiders. As she peered closer, it was possible to make out the tiny coat of bubbles under their body hairs. Any one spider twitched and jerked at random, but taken as a whole, they suggested a complex swirling dance. She’d seen shapes like those before, watching flocks of starlings undulate as a cloud against a sunset sky. “Maybe I should go,” she murmured, more to herself than to the spiders. “I mean, it’s a lot of books, but I don’t have to let Twilight read them all. And even if I can’t help her that way, I could go along and give her some everyday moral support. But still… those Hair-Splitters could be mean. Or worse, dangerous! Even if Twilight holds her own against them, it could be a disaster. I don’t know whether going along would ever help with that.” She turned to the leftmost spots along the bank. “What do you think?” A chattering of tiny fangs broke out around her. She glanced up at the ridge opposite the bank, where the trees shaded the path winding its way to her cottage. White blurs rolled down the slope. “Ah,” she said with a sigh, but a smile sneaked along her muzzle. “They’re always so late.” The blurs snapped their legs taut, and the desert spiders tumbled and landed on all eights with barely a bend in their joints. As one, they scuttled over to the bank opposite, waving their front pedipalps. She waved back, as did a few spiders around her. “My goodness,” she said. “Where have you been?” Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “Not getting into trouble again, I hope?” Unlike the other spiders, the desert ones clicked and waved in a complex imitation of semaphore. Fluttershy beamed at their efforts. Desert species always had the most patience for her lessons; in a vast sandy range with nothing to do, they learned to occupy themselves fast. “Yes, I know you’ve come a very long way.” She nodded, still smiling. “And I’m always grateful that you take the time out to come see me. I didn’t mean anything nasty by it. It’s just that we’re not so ‘wild west’ this far north, if you see what I mean.” For one thing, we don’t try and kick the rabbits out of their burrows. However, she listened politely while they clicked on, and watched their pedipalps as new swipes and jerky angles snapped to attention. Her brow furrowed. “New friends? Well, of course, but whatever do you mean?” The three nearest desert spiders turned and scuttled back up to the ridge. All the spiders on her side of the bank glanced up at her, waiting for the next hint. She herself chewed her lip. It’s Special Spider Time, she thought. I’ve checked, and they’re all here that should be. Who else could possibly want to join them? Even the birds get scared by all the tarantulas. Three surprises scuttled down the ridge, followed by the three desert spiders who were acting as escorts. A line of pincers jutted straight forwards. Long segments were stiff over fumbling legs, and occasionally they paused as though doubtful. Tails curled over backs, poised with bulbous-based stings. One was orange, two were black, but all of them, she realized as her heart rose and her smile widened, were scorpions. “Aw,” she cooed. “How sweet of you! I never thought about inviting your distant cousins. That’s very considerate of you.” Spiders drew back from the stream. Even the diving bell spiders clustered under the wavering shade of her hooves hanging over the water. On the opposite bank, more creatures scuttled down the ridge to join the scorpions. Despite most of them looking like burnt scrap metal on legs, they all drew gracious nods and wide smiles. “And you brought the whip spiders! Nice to meet you. Oh, is that – are you a harvestman? My, my, your legs are very long, aren’t they? And” – she gasped, flapped up and over the stream, and held one of the newcomers aloft – “a vinegaroon! I think I’ve only ever seen your picture. It’s so amazing to meet you in real life!” The stocky-pincered, whip-tailed monstrosity reared its front half as though sticking its nose up into the air. One front limb patted her on the frog in a haughty, slightly patronizing manner. “I never even thought about asking you all. Oh my, how rude of me. Where can I put my face?” Gently, she stretched her forelimbs down to the opposite bank, allowing the vinegaroon to scuttle off and join the massing ranks. “Still, you’re all here now. Welcome to my humble cottage. Is there anything I can do for you?” Behind her, the spiders clumped together, shivering in a ball of legs and shiny black eyes. She glanced over her shoulder at them. “Oh, don’t be scared,” she said. “You’ll find our new friends and you spiders have much in common. They could be friendly if you just get to know them. Watch.” Then again, how much do they have in common? She shot over the grass and up the hill to the side of the cottage. It would be interesting to find out. A sack of orange grains lay slumped against the hedges. On its front was printed a symbol of a generic spider the size of a pony head. Five tarantulas were already helping themselves via the slit in the top. “Pardon me,” she said, scooping up a hoofful. “I hope you’re sharing that stuff fairly.” All five tarantulas saluted, then they hefted thimbles full of grains onto their backs and marched down the sloping sack. Making sure they took the flattened grass to the front door, she scooped another hoofful of grains and flapped past. On the opposite bank, some of the diving bell spiders were reaching out of the water, tentatively tapping the legs of the whip spiders. A few on both sides drew back when she shadowed them. “You must be hungry after your long trip. Here you go.” She offered both hooffuls. “I made this myself for the other spiders. It’s nutritionally balanced for all your arachnid dietary needs, and I flavoured it with a little fly pheromone.” One scorpion tapped the grains, and then drew back its pincer. None of the other newcomers came closer. By contrast, the desert spiders leaped on the two hooves and started pressing their heads against the grains, munching vigorously. “I know it’s not the same as what you’re used to at home,” she said, and now she added a stern edge to her voice, “but things are different near Ponyville, and I have lots of animal friends I need to think about too. At least try it. I’ve done what I can to make it tasty, at least.” Two whip spiders unfolded their long pedipalps. Toothed spoons curled out over the offerings, and their fangs rubbed together and nibbled the scooped grains. Soon, a vinegaroon ploughed over the pair and shoved its front half into the pile. Five scorpions nudged the desert spiders, who drew back to let them have a turn. Within a minute, every arachnid piled on in a squeaking, shining, writhing scrum. “See?” she said brightly. “I knew you’d like it. So where did you all come from?” The desert spiders chattered. Fluttershy’s face hardened. “Oh, really! The Manehattan Zoo? Again? Look, you know you’re not supposed to help them break out of their homes just to see me. You could cause a panic. Not every pony thinks you’re harmless.” Yet they slumped so pathetically under her words that she softened her eyes at least. “All right, they can stay for now,” she said. One of the scorpions tried to hug her leg, but the pincers jabbed her skin so sharply she twitched and grimaced, and it backed off at once. “Ow! OK! OK!” Fluttershy watched while the scorpion rubbed her pastern until it stopped stinging. “Thank you. But I’ll have to take you back and explain what you did to the zookeeper, you understand? And you” – the desert spiders quivered with guilt – “have to say sorry to them. Agreed?” A click of fangs. Spiders, scorpions, and relatives carried off the last grains and flowed as one chitinous mass over to the bridge. Below her, the diving bell spiders flipped over and swam to the bank again. From her fringe, a jumping spider dangled down on a thread. She watched it waving its pedipalps and legs patiently. Of course, jumping spiders tended to be the ones that tried their luck the most, but she still had to hold her breath from blowing the blurred dot about until it had finished. “It’s that time already?” She flicked her gaze to the lowering sun overhead. “My gosh, you’re right. I think it’s time to get inside. Lessons are about to start, aren’t they?” The blur vibrated before rising out of sight. Only then did Fluttershy sigh. Lessons were always embarrassing, and not just because they were the spiders’ one concession to any kind of formal planning. Further ahead of her rising form, the new arachnids curled around the cottage towards the bag of treats. Tarantulas ahead of them raised their legs warningly. “They’re for sharing!” she shouted, and the curling blob drew back and waited next to the trail while the caravan of tarantulas marched in and out. Lessons, lessons, lessons. Hopefully, it’ll stick this time, she thought, and once more she glanced up at the umbrella of grey towering over her home.