//------------------------------// // Sunday Afternoon // Story: The Waters of March // by Bandy //------------------------------// They found the guitarist, a younger mare with her mane pulled back in a single braid, on the front porch of the bar. She played guitar in the traditional earth pony way, leaning on a stool with one rear leg jutting out for support while the other strummed and the two front legs moved over the fretboard. She leaned her head back and sang as she played. It was truly a strange sight--if Dash didn’t know this was just music, she might have been concerned for the poor mare’s health. “That looks so uncomfortable,” Dash whispered to Rarity as they approached. “Just listen though. Isn’t it pretty?” “I guess.” A few chords went by, full of color and warmth. “It could use drums,” Dash said. Rarity just shushed her. Maybe Dash just didn’t get it. The chords sounded funny and the lyrics were in another language. What was there to get? She turned to pull Rarity away back towards the fun parts of town, but stopped when she felt a hoof on hers. Rarity was squeezing her with a grip she didn’t know the fashionista possessed. The look on her face was strange. Blue eyes half closed. Tiny wrinkles in her forehead. Something else, something else... there was something else there. Dash felt something she couldn’t quite explain tugging at her heart. She couldn’t tell if it was the music or the look on her friend’s face--her friend, her, oh, what was the point anymore. The chords all sounded funny and the words made no sense. Profound ideas in a language she couldn’t understand played across her ears. It was like a word of hope on the tip of her tongue, or an almost-complete thought playing across her mind. Almost spoken. Almost thought. But then a bug buzzed in her ear, and she forgot. She shooed the bug off and missed the last chords. As the crowd applauded, Rarity moved towards the musician and threw a bit into her jar. The musician smiled and spoke a few words. Rarity smiled and said something in the same language. As she walked back into the crowd, the musician waved the can high in the air and shook it around. Laughter echoed up the street, right through the forests and down to the beach. Something about the little scene jarred Dash. Rarity didn’t know how to speak any other languages. She couldn’t have known what the musician was saying. She just couldn’t have. When Rarity found Dash at the edge of the crowd, she said, “Did you like the music?” Dash replied, “I dunno. It sounded kinda funny.” “When you listen to nothing but rock, I suppose they would,” Rarity laughed. “Whatever. How do you know that song, anyway?” The music resumed, more distant than before. Rarity touched Dash’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I was just making fun.” “I know. I’m not a little kid.” “I know.” More music floated past them. The whole street seemed to pause and lean towards the bar. “So how do you know that song?” “That’s a long story. Let’s walk to the beach and I’ll tell you about it.” “Everything’s a road to a beach for you.” “Life is a road to a beach, Dash. Do you want to hear the story or not?” Rainbow blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes, but when Rarity started walking towards the northeast beach, she followed dutifully. “The last time I heard that song must have been nearly ten years ago,” Rarity said. “I was still young--well, younger--traveling the world in search of inspiration and cheap fabric. This was way before I ever established myself in Ponyville, mind you. I had no store, no budget, no clue how to make it. I had a dream and raw talent, and nothing else. I was doing odd jobs for whoever was vaguely connected to the industry. At one point I wound up traveling across the Eastern Ocean to Espanaro to collect special dyes local to the region.” “I didn’t know you liked to travel.” Rarity gave Dash a bemused look before continuing. “I met a stallion there, a furniture maker twice as talented and twice as poor as I was. I fell madly in love with him, and it took some convincing but eventually he returned my feelings. He had the most wonderful face, a little soft around the edges but glowing. Just glowing. It’s always sunny in Espanaro, they say. I know it’s true because he’s still there.” Dash peeled off the road to fake vomit in the ditch. “Digressing, I extended my stay as long as I could, but work demanded my return and my money ran out. I had to return to Equestria. We wrote often, and he even scraped up the money to visit once, but it was no use. We were too tied to our homes to leave without killing our dreams. That’s what he said in his last letter, anyway.” “I’m sorry,” Dash said. “I’m sorry too. I could have made waves in the Eastern markets. I guess he didn’t believe in me enough and I believed him too much. That made both of us wrong.” A moment of silence passed between them before Rarity continued. “Anyway, he lived with his family, and one of his brothers played guitar in the traditional way. The whole family would sit outside on clear evenings and smoke fruity-smelling cigars, which I just hated, but you can’t change some ponies, and we’d all goad his brother on until he set up his guitar and played a few tunes for us. Usually they were simple ones we could all sing along with. I never really learned the Espanaran language, but I could keep up for the most part, even though I never knew what I was singing. But sometimes he’d play more sophisticated songs.” “What’s the song about?” “A lot of things. Mostly life. The lyrics are all fragments of daily living, and they're written so it feels like the song is flowing around you. Everything’s centered around the waters of March--that’s where the song gets its name. In Espanaro, March is a month of rain signaling the end of summer. All the words blur together, until they’re cascading over you. It’s more of an experience--the words themselves aren’t too important.” “That’s dumb. Words should mean something.” “How they should,” Rarity replied. “Have you ever been in love before?” “Uh.” “Sorry,” Rarity chuckled, “bad question. I always wind up with my hoof in my mouth when I talk about romance.” “No--sorry, you just caught me off guard.” “So--” “So yeah, I was in love once.” “You? Rainbow Dash? In love?” “Yeah. Kinda hard to believe it, right?” “I should say.” “Yeah, well, you don’t have to say it. We were weather academy sweethearts. She lived with me for a year or so after I graduated and then dumped me. Never really gave a reason why.” “Being pegasi is reason enough I guess. You’re all so flighty.” She coughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” “Thanks, but it’s whatever. It was a long time ago.” Rarity leaned in closer. The way she was walking made her hips move with this wonderful rhythm. “It’s not whatever,” Rarity said, “it’s your heart. You deserve to be happy.” “I thought I was. Look, this was all a really long time ago. Like, back when I lived in Cloudsdale long ago.” “Still.” Dash grunted and looked at the ground. “What was her name?” Dash hesitated. “Misty Waters. She was a great weatherpony. Good with air currents. Never cared for cities. I think she would have liked working in Ponyville.” “Did you ever find out where she wound up?” A small smile crossed Dash’s face. “They assigned her right in the heart of Manehatten.” Shade gave way to warm bright light. Shielding her eyes, Dash saw they had arrived at the beach. “It’s funny,” Rarity said as she made her way towards the water. “In Esparano, their summer ends in March. The waters of March symbolize the end of life. In Equestria, the only water in March is melting snow. The song means rebirth in our hemisphere and death in theirs.” Rainbow Dash considered these things carefully, until she arrived at the ocean’s edge. With nothing else to say, she shrugged and dove in. Thinking back on the last few days, she decided it wasn’t too hard to accept the fact that a word could mean many things all at once.