//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Crystal Cotillion // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// “Mirror mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” With an almost shy sense of hesitation, Skyla peered into the mirror so that she could stare at her reflection. Of course, the mirror offered no answer, because this particular mirror wasn’t too magical. The little alicorn filly lifted up one short little leg and began to examine it while making a frustrated, unpleasant face. “It gets better,” Flurry said to her sister while her younger sibling remained fixated on her image. “A few years ago when I was your age, I hated my short legs too and then I had a growth spurt. Stop worrying over nothing.” “It’s not nothing,” Skyla huffed and she tossed her head around. “You and Mom are so leggy… Daddy keeps calling me his fuzzy little hoof rest and I hate it.” With her nostrils quivering, she turned away from the mirror and faced her bigger sister. “I want to be like you. You’re only a few years older than me but you are already as big as Sumac and Pebble and Megara and all of the others. You’re huge and I think in another year you’ll be bigger than Pebble.” “Still hung up on size?” Flurry tossed herself down upon her bed, bounced, and came to rest in a nest of pillows. She wished that she was as big as Megara. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to be so big—” “Because those who rule should also be the largest!” Skyla blurted out. “Just look at Auntie Celestia! Think about how wonderful it would be to be that big! To be able to look down upon all you survey! To be like a mother to all and to watch over them as if they were your foals.” “You haven’t heard Auntie ranting about how much it sucks to be tall. Like that time that she and Uncle Goose broke the bed. She said that they just laid down to go to sleep and the bed broke. That really sucks eggs.” Skyla hissed at her sister’s vulgarity, shook her head, and replied, “Auntie doesn’t know what she is talking about.” With a snort, the little filly with stubby legs returned her attention to the mirror, looking sad and forlorn. Blinking, she held up her foreleg again for both her and her reflection to inspect. After a moment, she began shaking her head from side to side, not liking what both her and her reflection saw. “There is no way that I’ll ever be tall and leggy.” While her sister pouted, Flurry rolled over onto her back and prepared herself to face the day. Schooling, some etiquette lessons, and the afternoon would be spent finishing her dress. That was going to be… the worst. Standing on a wooden stool while the gown was fitted to her, being stuck with pins, and having to smell Perfect Measure’s stinky old-pony garlic breath. “I’m sick of being a foal, this is awkward and unpleasant. I want this to be over.” Skyla stared into her reflection’s eyes with a pleading look and let heave yet another sigh. Both of her ears began twitching and then the very worst thing happened: her eyes went glassy with tears in the span of a single blink. “I want this to be over!” she whined, and then proceeded to have her morning meltdown. Rolling her eyes, Flurry let out a huff and made an inviting gesture with her forelegs. “Come here, Skyla, and let me make it better.” The smaller filly with stubby legs didn’t have to be told twice: she crossed the dividing line that separated the two halves of the room and lept over to her sister’s side. With another leap, a stumble, a bounce, and a little flap of her stubby wings, she launched herself into her sister’s bed. Flurry grunted when her sister cannonballed into her, but bore the rough affection without complaint. Flurry knew the coming words by heart and shushed her sister before she could say them. Skyla wanted to prove herself as an alicorn and show her potential as a princess. Flurry understood—really, she did—because the instincts were too powerful and too commanding to ignore. No matter how strong either of them might be as princesses, the instincts would be stronger still, an authority that both of them would be forced to submit to. For Skyla, the pressure was getting to her, and Flurry worried for her sister even if she hated her for being a brat sometimes. Reaching out with her magic, she opened up her music box—a gift from Sunburst and Starlight—and as the tinkly music began to play, the storm within Skyla peaked. Sighing with resignation, Flurry knew that she would be late for her lessons and would probably catch a lecture, but that was okay. With a vice-like grip, she squeezed her sobbing sibling and held on, determined to wait out the dreadful storm that was hurricane Skyla. For now, the forecast called for a hard rain. With what could only be described as a blank stare, Flurry focused upon the wall like a helpless halfwit. If she was a superhero, she would be the Witless Wonder, or maybe the Dippy Doltish Daft Horse, with extra emphasis on the horse. She felt that stupid. Instead of paying attention to her lessons or even thinking about the cotillion, little leggy Flurry Heart was fighting mud monsters again, her literal crowning achievement, the event that had her princess potential recognised by her Auntie Twilight. Sunburst was droning on about something, but Flurry had lost track of the lesson long ago. She was so disconnected that she didn’t even notice Chartreuse and Chalcedony, her classmates in this particular lesson. Sunburst was holding up a book but Flurry failed to see what it was: in fact, Flurry failed to notice that she was failing, because there was going to be a test about this subject later. “A pony is directly a natural being. As a natural being and as a living natural being he is on the one hoof endowed with natural powers, vital powers—he is an active natural being. These forces exist in him as tendencies and abilities—as instincts. On the other hoof, as a natural, corporeal, sensuous objective being he is a suffering, conditioned and limited creature, like animals and plants. That is to say, the objects of his instincts exist outside him, as objects independent of him; yet these objects are objects that he needs—essential objects, indispensable to the manifestation and confirmation of his essential powers. To say that a pony is a corporeal, living, real, sensuous, objective being full of natural vigour is to say that he has real, sensuous objects as the object of his being or of his life, or that he can only express his life in real, sensuous objects. To be objective, natural and sensuous, and at the same time to have object, nature and sense outside oneself, or oneself to be object, nature and sense for a third party, is one and the same thing. “Hunger is a natural need; it therefore needs a nature outside itself, an object outside itself, in order to satisfy itself, to be stilled. Hunger is an acknowledged need of my body for an object existing outside it, indispensable to its integration and to the expression of its essential being. The sun is the object of the plant—an indispensable object to it, confirming its life—just as the plant is an object of the sun, being an expression of the life-awakening power of the sun, of the sun’s objective essential power. “A being which does not have its nature outside itself is not a natural being, and plays no part in the system of nature. A being which has no object outside itself is not an objective being. A being which is not itself an object for some third being has no being for its object; i.e., it is not objectively related. Its being is not objective. “A non-objective being is a non-being.” A shimmering ribbon of drool dribbled from Flurry’s chin as her glazed-over eyes failed to even blink, and she was gone, just gone, her brain having excused itself from class and taking with it her chance at a passing grade. Sunburst, noticing the vacant space for rent in his student, slammed his book down upon his desk to get her attention. The sudden bang snapped Flurry from her stupor and launched her from her seat. She was on her hooves in an instant, ready to fight, ready to go a few rounds with whatever threat had just manifested. Now, her eyes were bright and alert and her nerves telegraphed a need for action to her muscles. “Flurry… what book was I quoting?” Sunburst asked. “I dunno!” Flurry blurted out in response and she pranced in place, ready to do battle. “A Critique of Haygel…” Sunburst interrupted himself with a sigh, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. “Flurry—” “Yes?” Her eyes darted from side to side and she was ready to throw down. “I hate to ask you this, but could you please leave the class so that I might teach my more willing students?” Sunburst’s glasses were somewhat askew—which was normal—and his ears were splayed out to the sides. He sighed again, a disappointed sound, and made a gesture with his hoof at the door. “But I can pay attention! I can do good! Just give me a chance!” Flurry’s somewhat panicked voice became one of pleading. “Just give me a chance to get my head straight, I can do better, I promise—” “You promised me that just twenty-seven minutes ago,” Sunburst said, remaining calm while he cut Flurry off. “I did?” “You did.” Sunburst took another deep breath to keep himself composed. “And that was already the second time this morning. Now is the third, so I must ask you to leave—” “But my father—” “Is going to be hearing about this.” Sunburst gestured at the door again. “Please, Flurry, you are taking away precious time from my other students, the ones willing to cooperate and learn.” For Flurry, her vision became blurry, and her neck grew hot with humiliation while her cheeks burned with some great inner fire. This didn’t feel very fair, not at all, and she wished to say something about that, but that would be taking away even more time from her classmates. Her father was going to be upset about this, and she had already been warned about not paying attention in class. How many times now? She had lost count. One thing was for certain, there was going to be consequences from this. Saying nothing, not even offering an apology, a dejected Flurry Heart made her way to the door, her hooves dragging, her wings sagging against her sides, and her floppy ears were limp against the sides of her burning, blushing face. A shuddering, shivery sigh escaped her and she did not turn back to look at Sunburst, Chartreuse, or Chalcedony, as she couldn’t face them. What did a warrior princess need with philosophy, anyhow? It was a morning with nothing to do, and that was fine. Sumac lay in the grass, sprawled out in his backyard, and watched as Boomer lept from tree to tree, enjoying her natural environment. The colt—a budding naturalist—thought about a pygmy tree dragon’s relationship with trees; a dragon such as Boomer’s sharp claws would open the bark often, causing sap to dribble, and this in turn would feed a multitude of insects. Boomer’s weight would snap off dead branches, keeping the tree healthy. Boomer was clearly a creature evolved to suit and serve her environment. A bee went flying past and the colt paid it little attention. Reaching down, he scratched his belly and tried to discern just how different the world was now that he had wings. Upon examination, he could see the relationship in almost everything, if he studied it long enough and hard enough. Things had connections—like looping, flowing cursive letters—and if he focused hard enough he could read the written language of the world around him. There was a clank of metal, a squeak, and then a faint creak of gate hinges that he was supposed to have oiled… a few weeks ago? He’d been busy and things just kept happening. Normally, he was a bit better on keeping up with the maintenance and upkeep around the house. The half-built gazebo in the back corner near the fence was evidence of his work ethic. Twisting his head around, he saw a tall red figure approaching. Rolling over, Sumac got to his hooves in a hurry as Big Mac approached and he greeted the approaching stallion with a grin. The big red behemoth paused for a moment, looked around, and his gaze fell upon the gazebo. After a moment, he nodded, and then began to smile. “The gate needs oiling,” Big Mac said to Sumac. “I know,” Sumac replied and he began to rub the back of his neck with his wing in an absentminded manner, an action that he wasn’t even aware that he was doing. “So, what brings you here, Mac?” “You.” Big Mac looked down at the colt. “Apple business, I reckon you could say.” “Apple business.” Sumac understood Apple business. Ears erect, the colt straightened out his glasses and paid attention to his Apple elder. Sumac was quite unaware of the eagerness on his face while his tail flicked at invisible, nonexistent flies. “I just wanted to say I’m proud of you,” Big Mac began. “For everything. You’ve done good, Sumac Apple, and you’ve exceeded everyponies’ expectations.” The big red stallion paused for a moment, looked left, looked right, and then looked back down at Sumac. “If I may, I’d like to express a somewhat political opinion… I am bothered that Princess Celestia did not recognise you as a prince after… well, whatever it was that happened.” “That’s my doing,” Sumac confessed to his elder. “Say what?” Big Mac’s eyes narrowed into paper thin slits and Sumac took a step backwards. “I don’t follow.” “My doing,” Sumac squeaked. The colt took a moment to collect himself and he gave himself a shake to sort himself out. “Celestia only did what she did and said what she said to take the pressure off of me and keep it focused on her. I don’t want to be a prince… I don’t want no part of that. I am content to be the Heir of Lulamoon Hollow for now and the Lord of Lulamoon Hollow later, but let’s face it, Mac… I want to be a mortician. That is my goal in life.” “I see.” Big Mac’s eyes un-narrowed, but did not go wide. “Well then.” The massive, muscular earth pony harrumphed once and with a turn of his head, he watched as Boomer frolicked in the trees. “Look, Mac, I know that the Apple family would love to have a prince or a princess and it would help with the shame of what my father did, and I’m real sorry—” “Don’t you be sorry!” Big Mac barked and the explosive suddenness made Sumac leap backwards while flapping his wings. The enormous earth pony closed the distance in an eyeblink and stood almost nose to nose with the much smaller colt. “You don’t be sorry, Sumac Apple! You ain’t done nothing that needs excuses and you haven’t done nothing wrong, so don’t you be sorry! You just keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll keep going on being proud of you. We’re all proud of you.” “Thank you, Big Mac.” With a huff, Sumac relaxed a little bit and tried to figure out how to unruffle his now ruffled feathers. There was still so much to learn about himself now, but that was something to think about later. Like a startled bird, he stood with his feathers in quite a mess. “I came into town to get supplies for cider making. I can’t stay long.” Big Mac shuffled on his hooves, pawed the grass a few times, and then gestured at the gate. “The gate needs oiled. See that it is done. I need to be going. Have fun at the Crystal Cotillion, Sumac.” “Sure thing, Mac.” “And Sumac?” “Remember that we love you…” Sumac moved with a smooth, fluid trot and Boomer bounced upon his back while she clung to his short cropped mane. The walk to get to Tarnish’s house was a bit of a long one and he was in a hurry to see Pebble. There was no particular reason, other than just wanting to be near to her. Since the gate was oiled, there was really nothing else to do today. “Sumac…” “Yes, Boomer?” “Been feeling a little mean lately,” the yearling-sized dragoness confessed. “Been feeling super protective of you and sometimes I wanna burn stuff and I don’t know why, but I want others to see my fires and know you are mine… to… protect?” Her head bobbed as Sumac trotted and while her facial expressions were somewhat limited, the sagging state of her spines and frills said an awful lot about the state of her mind. “Now, Boomer, you know that you can’t burn stuff down and do dragon displays—” “I know!” The little pygmy tree dragon collapsed against Sumac’s neck and rested her scaly chin on top of his head, near his horn, the place where she had spent most of her hatchlinghood. A place where she was now far too big to perch, although she still tried on occasion, with disastrous results. “It’s like an itch, Sumac, a really bad itch that won’t go away and I talked to Spike about it and he told me stuff that works for him but it isn’t working for me and I’ve been feeling the need to hoard stuff too and that’s why I keep stealing all of your airship miniatures and I’m sorry!” “I understand.” “You understand?” Boomer let out a smoky huff. “You’re not a dragon, silly. You are a weak, squishy mammal, made of food.” Grinning, Sumac pronked to give Boomer a hard bounce for what she had said. “Ever since getting these stupid wings, I’ve been absolutely overrun with new instincts. It’s driving me crazy, Boomer. And I can’t even take the time to sort all of this out, because of this stupid Crystal Cotillion that I really don’t want to go to, but I sorta hafta go because I’m the Heir of Lulamoon Hollow, and I understand how important it is, and Pebble understands how important it is, and she is really looking forward to it, but being an introvert, I just wanna hide in the corner and not be seen.” “You don’t fit into our hollow tree anymore and that sucks.” “No, Boomer, I don’t.” “I hid all of your airships in there,” she admitted. “I just wanted to keep them safe.” “It’s fine, Boomer, it’s fine.” The colt had to fix his glasses after pronking and while he set them straight Boomer sat up again, keeping her balance as a seasoned rider in much the same way Spike did. Reflecting upon what Boomer had said, Sumac thought about his own instincts and the confusing jumble of emotions that had come with them. He was deep in the throes of puberty, that was bad enough—it was horrid, really, it was—and it had been an impossible task to keep up with everything going on inside of him. The sheer number of changes had been overwhelming. But then Eternity had played her prank on him and a simple nose boop had been his undoing. She had secured the future that he wanted for himself, but at such a dreadful cost. Of course, she was dying anyway, and just as he wanted to have a choice, a say in his own future, she wanted a choice in how she died. The lunatic old mare had died laughing and bleeding ink. “Incoming!” Boomer cried as she flung herself from Sumac’s back. She let out a honk of terror, then tucked and rolled so that she could crash into the dirt road unharmed. Sumac looked right when he should have looked left, and when he did look left, it was too late. Silver Lining plowed into him full force and knocked him from his hooves. The horizon took a tumble and pitched around, leaving Sumac confused, dizzy, and disoriented. At some point, he came to a skidding halt on his back and when he did, a crushing weight slammed down on top of him, knocking the wind out of his lungs. The impact had knocked his spectacles from his face. Blinking, Sumac looked up at the blurry outline of the griffoness sitting on top of him. Suddenly, everything was aye-okay because there was a griffoness sitting on top of him, straddling him. Yes, this was good, even if he couldn’t breathe and was being crushed to death beneath her. It took him a moment to realise that his new alicorn body structure was quite a bit more durable, and he strained to fill his lungs with air. Boomer collected his glasses and stood nearby, holding them. “I got a job!” Silver Lining bounced up and down on top of Sumac and it was simultaneously the greatest thing ever and the worst thing ever. Parts of her jiggled in the most delightful way imaginable and she settled in for a good sit atop the colt. “Last night, after you and Pebble left, Mister Davenport from Quills and Sofas sent a messenger over saying that he was willing to take me on as an apprentice clerk! Indoor work at a desk! He was impressed by my cursive writing!” Reaching down with her talons, she smoothed over Sumac’s floofy chest scruffle. “That’s wonderful—” “I KNOW!” Silver Lining bounced up and down with even more enthusiasm and each time she did, she worked free a grunt from the colt pinned beneath her. Clapping her talons together, she failed to notice his straining, bulging eyes, his red face, or his wheezing grunts as his ribs creaked. A lesser pony might have been pulped at this point, but Sumac’s new alicorn frame endured the unspeakable abuse being done. “My parents were so happy for me… not just the cotillion, but getting a job and you and Pebble and yesterday might have been the best day of my life and my mother and I hugged each other a whole lot and we had a very grown up talk and—AAAAAAAAAAIEEEEE! Something just poked me in my bottom!” With a shrieking squawk, the griffoness lept into the air and bounced away. She landed, catlike, her tail tucked between her legs, and every feather on her body fluffed out in alarm. Sumac rolled over, got his hooves beneath him, and stood up, still wheezing, but also laughing while also trying to squeeze his hind legs together. Boomer stood, bipedal, and she squeezed her eyes shut, wanting no part of this, while also holding out Sumac’s eyeglasses. Now, the griffoness began to giggle and she went over to help Sumac out. With a wing, she began dusting him off, knocking away the dirt from the road from his pale pelt, and then she stopped laughing when she saw the condition of his wings. She took a few swipes in an attempt to clean them, but it was an impossible task. “You don’t groom your wings very well,” she said and was unable to hide the disapproval in her voice. “I don’t know what I’m doing and it is so awkward to ask for help,” he replied. He blinked and a fierce blush overtook his cheeks. “The pegasus ponies see it as some kind of sexy thing I guess and when I asked Rainbow Dash to help me, she said that doing so would be like foal molestation and then she flew away like she was embarrassed or something.” The colt paused for a moment and then added, “It might explain why Fluttershy fainted when I asked her for help. This has been really super awkward. I’m too afraid to even ask Twilight, because she’s my aunt, and if things are the way that Rainbow says they are, that would make things weird and as an introvert, I don’t want weird between me and my aunt.” “Fine then,” Silver Lining said to Sumac in a low voice that was about half a growl. “It falls on me to sort you out. But we gotta go somewhere first where nopony can see us because this is private and not something we can do in public. Now, we just need to find a private birdbath or something…”