//------------------------------// // 9. An Evening in Ponyville (rw) // Story: Tales of the Oppressed // by Terran34 //------------------------------// Without the presence of Rarity and the fillies beside me to distract me, it’s difficult not to recall the fact that I’m still an oddity to these ponies. It’s a small town and word travels fast, but I’ve only stayed here two nights. That’s not nearly enough time for everyone to get used to me. Conversely, it’s not nearly enough time for me to get used to them. It feels like I’m walking through a realistic scaled down movie set;as though the world has shrunk by about twenty five percent. Between the smaller buildings and the ponies themselves, who on average barely come up to my chest, I feel very out of place. I chuckle dryly to myself; when it comes down to it, not much has changed between now and the past. As I’m retracing my steps back to the farm, I soon become aware of a pony keeping pace with me on my left side. A sinking feeling forms in my gut when I recognize that particular shade of pink. I can only hope that she’s not intending to… “Good morning, Seth!” Pinkie’s high pitched greeting cuts through the air, rendering my fervent internal praying an exercise in futility. I turn my head to gaze at her, but find that to be an annoyance as well. Unlike the other ponies in the streets, she’s not content to walk normally. Instead, she bounces along beside me as she usually does, such that keeping eye contact with her is extremely difficult. “Pinkie,” is my brief yet succinct response. I don’t say anything further; I’d rather not encourage a conversation with her. “I haven’t seen you since the party! What’s it like living with Scratchie? Do you know how jealous some of her admirers are right now?” I suppress a sigh as Pinkie starts to fire rapid fire questions at me. No doubt this is what she considers to be a normal conversation. More importantly, word travels fast. I’d only started living with Vinyl last night, and her fans already know? I realize a moment later that Pinkie is looking at me expectantly; those questions weren’t rhetorical, it seems. “I couldn’t care less what her fans think. Besides, it’s only been one night,” I point out to her. “I was too exhausted to do anything other than go straight to sleep.” “Well, my parties are energetic, so I can’t blame you, especially if you had fun dancing! Nice moves by the way!” Pinkie’s words remind me painfully of the party last night, along with Rainbow Dash and my moment of weakness. The same anger I felt that night rises from its slumber, burning in my subconscious like a hot flame. “I’m surprised it was Rainbow who got you out there! I thought you two were fighting!” “We were. We are. I mean… can you please stop prying? I don’t want to talk about her,” I quickly get flustered at the way this conversation has gone. The more I think about my mistake, the guiltier and angrier I feel. “Whoops! Sorry! I just got so curious because I know Lyra tried, but Rainbow was the one who...whoops, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Pinkie just giggles at herself, her mood not dampened by me in the slightest. I rub my forehead, a headache starting to form. I can’t fathom how anybody can handle this pony for more than a minute at a time. “Want a cookie?” “Pardon?” I emit, so startled by the sudden change in topic that I momentarily forget my previous anger. I look over to see Pinkie produce a chocolate chip cookie like the ones she served at the party. I don’t know where she got it from; I was staring at her the whole time, but her hoof moved in the blink of an eye, and before I knew it, the cookie was balanced on the tip of her hoof… while she’s continuing to bounce on three hooves. “Ah, no thanks.” “No?” Pinkie cocked her head at me. “Aww, I thought you liked these! You did eat over a half a plate, after all!” “I…” I flush a bit, remembering that I had eaten quite a few that night. “Okay, I’ll admit they’re good. But I shouldn’t be spending money on idle pleasures.” “Who said anything about money? This isn’t merchandise, silly!” Pinkie clicked her tongue as if she were chiding a small child. “It’s leftover from last night! They’re gonna go stale if no one eats them!” “Then why don’t you eat it?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. Pinkie giggles at that, rubbing her slightly distended belly with a hoof. It’s rather impressive to see her doing that while continuing to bounce. “I would, but I already ate twenty seven of them! So go on, take it! You’re doing me and the cookie a favor!” Pinkie insists, once again extending the cookie to me. “I suppose I can’t argue with that logic,” I remark, hesitantly accepting the cookie from her. Just before taking a bite, something about her statement causes me to do a double take. “Wait, you ate how many?” “Somepony had to do it!” Pinkie didn’t seem to grasp the fact that such a feat should be impossible for any normal individual. I glanced down at the cookie that I held, which was about as large as my hand in diameter. I can’t even fathom eating twenty seven of these. Just then, we came up to a fork in the road, and we at last parted ways. “Gotta bounce! I’ll see you later, Seth!” Pinkie waves at me as we part - a gesture I don’t bother to reciprocate. I look at the cookie again, wondering if it really was a good idea to accept this. I eventually shrug and take a bite. It’s still as good as last night, though it does feel much firmer; I can believe that she’d want to get rid of the leftovers before they went stale. As I exit the town onto the dirt road that leads to the farm, I become aware of a bright streak of rainbow soaring through the air high above me. It weaves in and out of the various cumulus clouds dotting the sky and executes various aerial maneuvers at a breakneck pace that I have difficulties keeping up with. There’s no doubt that I’m looking at Rainbow Dash. No other pony I’ve seen has a color scheme even close to hers. I admit to myself that what she’s doing looks impressive; it seems her boasts weren’t entirely without merit. That being said, I’ve no desire to meet with her; just looking at her stirs up unpleasant feelings, so I walk closer to the treeline. The rest of my return trip unfolds uneventfully, and before long I’m standing with Big MacIntosh and Applejack in front of the barn. Next to the former is a bucket in which a pile of nails, a hammer, and few other assorted tools are gathered. The latter is once again strapped to the harvesting wagon. “Hoo-ee! That storm really did a number on the farm! I’ve been picking up branches and debris all morning!!” Applejack commented, wiping her brow with a hoof. She turns to me next. “Speaking of which, you ever done any construction work, Seth?” “Can’t say that I have,” I answer, already dreading the work day to come. I’ll be working significantly longer than yesterday; considering how beat I was then, it’ll be even worse for me now. “I assume something broke?” “That’s right. The old tool shed was always a little rickety, but after that storm, poor thing just couldn’t take it. It’s still standing, but it’s in bad shape. Big Mac was thinking of knocking the old one down and building a new one,” Applejack explained. “I thought maybe you could help him out while I got back to the harvest.” “I thought the reason I was here was to help with the harvest,” I ask, placing my hands in my pockets. I make sure to keep my tone from sounding combative; I don’t want her to think I’m opposed to learning something new. “You are! Usual I’d have to help Big Mac out with building the thing, but since you’re here, I can get back to harvesting and you can do that for me!” Applejack happily explains. “That, and learning something new is never a bad thing!” “I can’t argue with that,” I concede with a sigh. However, looking at the tools Big MacIntosh is bringing with him, there’s still something that concerns me. “How are we going to knock it down? I imagine that being a tool shed, it would be rather large.” “Oh, I’m bringing in extra help. She’s always down to help when I got something that needs smashing,” Applejack answered, chuckling to herself as though she’d just told a joke. She then looks a little exasperated as she turns her eyes to the sky. When she next speaks, it’s in a much louder voice. “Though she’s got a slight problem with being on time!” “Alright, alright, I hear you!” Just by the voice alone, I don’t even need to ask who the mysterious tardy pony could be. My luck takes a sudden turn for the worse and Rainbow Dash comes streaking down to the ground in a flash. However, as she’s landing, she overcompensates for her velocity and ends up tipping forward, skidding into the ground and showering Applejack with dirt. “Waaah!” When Rainbow manages to get to her hooves, she grins apologetically at the dirt covered and very unamused looking Applejack. The farmer pony shakes the dirt from her mane and glares at the awkwardly chuckling Rainbow. “Nice landing there, Dash,” Applejack deadpans. “Hehe, sorry! Anyway, you said you needed something smashed, so I’m here to…” Rainbow starts to say, but then she cuts off when she notices me for the first time, our eyes meeting. Her grin freezes on her face, and then slowly fades away. The two of us immediately avert our gazes. “H-Hey, Seth…” “...Rainbow.” I respond just as awkwardly, a million curses rushing through my head at this unforeseen complication in my day. I clench my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. Applejack blinks, looking between the two of us with confusion. The sudden change in atmosphere is palpable even to her. “Alright, hold up a sec,” she sighs, and then takes me aside, the two of us going around the other side of the barn. Once we’re safely out of earshot, she gives me a pointed look. “Just what in the hay is going on? I thought y’all two got along now?” “No, we don’t,” I grit out, resting my back against the barn. I don’t miss the look of concern that cross Applejack’s face. If I don’t play my cards right here, my image will take a hit in her eyes. I can’t afford to lose this job just yet. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “What happened at the party was a mistake.” “You seemed like you were having fun, though,” Applejack insisted, looking even more perplexed than before. “Though I’ll admit it seemed a little odd for you…” “I’d really rather not talk about it,” I assert firmly with a shake of my head. “If you’re worried that her being here will affect my ability to do my job, I assure you that it won’t.” “That’s part of it, I suppose...I’m just confused more’n anything,” Applejack expresses with a helpless shrug. She looks like she wants to ask me more questions, but thankfully decides otherwise. “Alright, I guess I won’t pry. C’mon, let’s get back to the others.” With that, the two of us walk back around the barn and rejoin Big MacIntosh and Rainbow Dash, the two of whom were waiting silently together for us. “Shall we get moving?” I prompt Big MacIntosh, pointedly avoiding Rainbow’s eyes. The larger stallion nods and picks up the bucket with his mouth. With a simple head gesture, he turns in the direction of the toolshed and leads the way at a steady pace. “Y’all work hard! I’m out to the apple orchard!” Applejack calls after us, and with that, we go our separate ways and prepare to get to work. The toolshed looks about as I’d expected. It’s an old ramshackle structure that has certainly seen better days. The paint has long since faded and the shingles have been mostly stripped from the roof likely due to the storm from last night. One of the hinges on the door is broken, and the wood is rotting and splintered. I inwardly agree with Big MacIntosh; there’s no saving this place. Rebuilding it from the ground up is the only thing I can think to do as well. “Er...alright! Guess I’ll start breaking stuff now!” Rainbow hesitantly breaks the silence that had fallen between the the three of us. She zips into the toolshed with an astonishing speed, and then I hear the sound of wood snapping, followed by a colossal crash. “...I meant to do that!” While Rainbow proceeds with her demolition, I wait patiently beside Big MacIntosh. I notice the large stallion looking at me from out of the corner of my eye, so I turn slightly and meet his gaze. For a moment, I think he’s going to ask me about Rainbow like Applejack did, but his next sentence waives those concerns. “Come and stage the wood nearby,” Big MacIntosh directs me simply, pointing me in the right direction with a slight jerk of his head. Relieved, I nod and move to do as I’m told. All the wood I assume we’re going to be building with is stacked up against a fence a few dozen meters away from the old toolshed. “I’ll be doing the building; you do the lifting.” His orders are short, simple, and direct; I have a basic idea of what I’m going to be doing just from that. I lean down and lift up one of the slabs of wood with some difficulty; it’s just as heavy as I’d expected it to be. I grunt with exertion and wince as the slowly healing wound in my side reminds me of its presence. As I’m lugging the first slab over to the shed, I take a look at the toolshed. Surprisingly enough, Rainbow is making quick work of it. The sounds of shattering wood and crashing beams echoes from within the shed for a few moments, and then the mare emerges,wheels around in midair, and deals the roof a swift, yet powerful kick with her hind leg. The roof fractures and crumbles instantly, the whole structure swaying precariously. I can’t help but shake my head as I turn away. Who needs a wrecking crew when a single mare is strong enough to shatter wood with just her hooves? By the time I’ve finished staging the wood in by the shed, Rainbow’s brought it to the ground and is standing just outside, dusting off her coat with a pleased expression on her face. She notices my presence as I stand by the fresh wood and i check my hands for splinters. I pointedly ignore her gaze and instead look around for Big MacIntosh for more orders...only to find that he’s nowhere nearby. I realize that there’s nobody here except Rainbow and myself. “So…” Rainbow attempts to break the silence between us. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. If I can just keep my cool, I should be able to get through this. When she next speaks, she does so with forced enthusiasm. “Did you see that cool flip I did when I brought the roof down?” I look at her with incredulity. Out of everything she could have said, she decided to talk about herself? I suppose I should have expected as much, coming from the self proclaimed “fastest flier in Equestria.” “I wasn’t paying attention,” I respond uncaringly, much to her dismay. Even as her face falls, I continue with a shrug. “I was focusing on doing my job.” “Oh...okay,” Rainbow peters out, looking anywhere except at me. Her silence doesn’t last long. “What about when I was flying over town? I did some pretty cool stuff then! You saw that, right?” I sigh with irritation. “Please stop trying to force a conversation.” “Wha-hey!” Rainbow reacts indignantly to that. “Who said I was forcing anything!?” “Rainbow, it became awkward the moment you got here,” I remind her. “If what you’re doing right now isn’t forced, I don’t know what is.” “I’m just making conversation! You said you were okay with that!” Rainbow retorts, venting a frustrated huff through her nose. “You’re not making conversation; you’re talking yourself up again, and I haven’t the patience,” I correct her, turning away from her, “Besides, I can’t understand why you’d bother; I made it very clear your efforts aren’t welcome.” “Yeah, only because you've got it in your head that we’re some kind of bad ponies!” Rainbow snaps back, clearly unwilling to back down. I shoot her a glare; we’re going down the exact same path we did during the party, and I won’t let that happen again. “What have we ever done to you!?” “I’m not having this conversation with you,” I tell her firmly. I don’t have a good answer for her, but it doesn’t really matter in the end. “You know I’m leaving Ponyville soon. It would be best if you pretended I didn’t exist.” “How can I ignore you when you’re a jerk to everypony you meet?!” Rainbow demands. She’s getting angrier with me the more this conversation drags on. “If you want to leave so bad, why are you even still here!?” “It’s not like I have a choice, dammit! You think I want to be here?! I’d never have come to Equestria if it was up to me!” I lose my last shred of patience and meet her furious gaze. When I realize how much I just revealed to her, I freeze, and then I force myself to calm down. Even Rainbow appears stunned by the sudden outburst. After a short silence, I exhale deeply. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gone soon enough. I already know I don’t belong here. ” “What are you talking about? I never said anything like that! You’re the one who...” Rainbow began, but then our exchange came to an abrupt halt at the sound of Big MacIntosh clearing his throat to announce his presence. Rainbow shuts her mouth immediately, flushing with embarrassment. “Oh. Uh...hey, Big Mac.” “That’s enough for the day, Rainbow. You were a big help,” Big MacIntosh says to her with a grateful smile. I notice that he’s brought a wheelbarrow filled with other tools necessary to complete the construction of the shed. “Ah, you know me. Always willing to help out if you need me!” Rainbow proclaims, pressing a hoof to her chest. Just like that, she looked as though she’d never been arguing with me in the first place. With one last glance at me, she zips into the sky, waving down at the stallion. “Catch ya later!” Rainbow is gone now, but I can’t feel relieved just yet. I’m not so dense as to miss the look Big MacIntosh is giving me. “How much of that did you hear?” I ask nervously, already cursing my lack of self-control with every fiber of my being. I don't know what it is about that mare that gets me so angry. “Enough,” is all the stallion says in response. I gulp at that, hoping I didn’t just screw myself out of a job. Surprisingly, the next thing he says has nothing to do with Rainbow. “Let’s get the rubble out of the way so we can start.” “Okay,” I turn to do as I’m told. However, before I even pick up the first piece of debris, my curiosity gets the better of me. “You’re not going to ask?” “Nope. Ain’t my business,” Big MacIntosh replies tersely, and then he gets to work without another word. I remain still for a few moments, gazing at the red stallion. He doesn’t say anything further, or even look at me. I scratch the side of my head, surprised, relieved, and a little grateful. Between Applejack and Big MacIntosh, I think I can say I lucked out with the management here. At the very least, they seem to be willing to respect my boundaries. From there, work proceeds without further interruptions. It’s slow going given how much work goes into construction. With all the lifting and moving of wood, it doesn’t take very long for my muscles to start burning again. The temperature thankfully becomes more bearable as the day stretches on, and even becomes somewhat pleasant as my body heats up and sweats from exertion. Once all the debris is out of the way, Big MacIntosh starts building the framework of the new shed. While he does most of the delicate work, he has me handling everything else, whether it be taking measurements, holding boards steady, or fetching him tools from the wheelbarrow. In the process, I pick up a little more of the Equestrian language; in this case, in order to properly take measurements, I have to learn the different numbers. Big MacIntosh is thankfully patient with me as far as that goes. Eventually, I get a breather as Big MacIntosh gets to work on the more involved tasks of construction. He has the blueprints before him and he appears to understand them well enough, but it all looks like gibberish to me, so there’s not much I can do to help. I sit down on the grass nearby and wipe the sweat off my brow. I’m starting to get hungry, but unlike before, there’s no apples for me to snack on. “Y’all working hard?” An elderly female voice calls out to the two of us from behind. I’ve heard that voice once before; yesterday, when I was collecting my pay from Applejack. I remember Apple Bloom referring to her as Granny Smith. I turn my head, and see that the name suits the pony who’s approaching us, a plate piled high with sandwiches and apples balanced on her back. “I bet y’all are hungry, so I brought lunch!” Granny Smith looks similar to what I’d expect from an aging member of this species. Her face is heavily wrinkled, her mane is grey and frizzy, and her frame is spindly. Big MacIntosh puts down his tools and stands up, perking up at those words. Applejack did say that meals were a part of the job, so I move to join him.  Upon seeing me, Granny Smith blinks in surprise. “So you must be that new worker Applejack’s been telling me about,” Granny Smith observes as she turns her body to give us easier access to the plate on her back. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen the like, and I’ve been around since before Ponyville even existed!” “You wouldn’t have. Humans have been lost for around three thousand years,” Big MacIntosh beats me to the punch, revealing that he did know precisely what humans are. He also saved me the trouble of having to explain it myself. This revelation causes Granny Smith to look at me with surprise and awe. “Really now? One of them humans that all them educated ponies keep talking about? On my farm?” Granny Smith takes a moment to look me up and down. “I have to say, you look mighty good for three thousand.” “I’m twenty one, Mrs. Smith,” I correct her misunderstanding with a slight shake of my head. “As for why I’m here, that’s a long story. Suffice to say, I need money, just like anyone else.” “Mhm, mhm. Makes sense. More importantly, what’s this ‘Mrs. Smith’ nonsense? Call me Granny like everypony else!” Granny Smith chides me. “Now, eat your lunch...Seth, was it? Don’t be shy, now!” Big MacIntosh has already taken his share from the plate, so I follow suit and take one of the sandwiches and an apple from the plate. I peer inside the sandwich to see daisies arrayed neatly atop sliced cucumber. I grimace a little; supposedly humans can eat some flowers, with daisies being one of them. I can’t say I’ve ever tried, however. “Thanks for the food, Granny,” I thank her regardless, choosing to keep my opinions on its contents to myself. “Don’t mention it, Sonny! Eat up and work hard!” Granny Smith encourages me, smiling now that I used only her first name. She turns the other direction and plods away, humming an off-key tune cheerfully. “Now to find Applejack…” I look around for a place to sit, but don’t really find one. Therefore, I sit down and join Big MacIntosh on the grass to eat. I take the first tentative bite of the sandwich and grimace; it’s rather bitter, and the texture leaves much to be desired. Despite this, I swallow without complaint. It’s better than working on an empty stomach. “You seem to know a lot about humans,” I ask Big MacIntosh after a few minutes of eating in silence. “Yup,” is the red stallion’s response. “I read the books once or twice.” “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard about these books,” I recall. Flitter spoke of them once, and I believe Lyra’s friend, Bon Bon, also did so. “Are they any good?” “Yup. Not very accurate, though,” Big MacIntosh confirms my suspicions about the books. “I’d lend you one, but you can’t read.” “I don’t have the time to learn either,” I add, taking another bite. After a nod from the stallion, we lapse back into silence, having nothing else to say. After we’re finished with lunch, we get right back to work. “Howdy there, you two!” Just as the sky starts to redden, Applejack comes to find us, the applecart presumably already stored away. She notices the unpainted, yet otherwise finished toolshed, and then she looks to me. I’m lying with my back against a nearby fence, my body damp with sweat and my muscles burning like fire. She smiles warmly. “Working hard?” “Doing the best I can,” I reply, my chest heaving and my side burning as I talk. The idea of traipsing around Ponyville after work as I’d intended now seems like torture to me. “It’s just a little...hard to breathe.” “Ha! Can’t blame you. You’ve been keeping hydrated?” Applejack asks. After I nod, she mirrors the gesture with satisfaction. “I gotta say, Seth, I didn’t expect you’d last through today. Lots of folk just ain’t cut out for farm work, and I thought you mighta been one of them.” “I’m just doing what needs to be done,” I assert, choosing my words carefully. I force myself to my feet, bracing myself on the fence. “Like I said; you don’t need to worry; I’ll do what I’m being paid to do.” “That’s some determination you got,” Applejack comments. She beckons to the two of us with her head and turns back the other way. “Cmon, Granny says y’all can be done now. Dinner’s about done.” I sigh with relief when I hear that my work day is finally over. I grab my rifle and fall in step beside Big MacIntosh as we make our way back to the barn. “You gonna eat with us today, Seth?” Applejack asks while we walk, her gaze focused forward. I suppose I am a little hungry, but the idea of eating with her family isn’t any more appealing than it was yesterday.. “No thank you. I’d rather just have a few apples, if that’s okay. I have other errands to run before it gets dark,” I answer once again, hoping that she doesn’t take offense to that. “Fair enough, I can spare a few. We’ve got a lot left to get rid of, and all,” Applejack responds amicably. Before we can talk further on the subject, however, we near the barn...where Apple Bloom and her two friends appear to have just returned from school. “Evening, Bloom! How was school today?” “It was really great!” Apple Bloom is oddly enthusiastic for some reason, as are her friends. The three of them exchange knowing looks. “Ain’t that right, Scootaloo?” “No kidding!” Scootaloo agrees, with Sweetie Belle nodding in agreement beside her. “You’ll have to tell me about it later! Anyhow, Seth, wait here while I get your pay,” Applejack bids me, and then she steps inside with Big MacIntosh, leaving me with the three fillies. “You should have seen her face!” Sweetie Belle finally breaks, unable to contain herself. Strangely enough, she seems to be directing that comment towards me. “And the things she said!” “She was so mad!” Scootaloo agrees, starting to snicker as well. Her next sentence lets me know for sure that they’re talking to me. “I thought you were a jerk, but you really showed her who was boss!” “You’re talking about Diamond Tiara,” I finally realize. With a sinking feeling, I realize that these fillies are looking at me with what is unmistakably positive emotion. It wasn’t my intention, but snapping at that rich filly who had been clearly antagonizing them appears to have put me on their good side. I suddenly regret getting involved...but it wasn’t as though I had a choice either. “Yeah, she was saying all sorts of mean things about us, but you came and helped us! Thanks, Seth!” Apple Bloom affirmed, gazing up at me with a happy smile. “You’re really nice!” “I did it because she dragged me into it, to be entirely honest,” I admit to them. I guess it doesn’t really matter if some fillies like me, but this is as far as I should let it go. “I wouldn’t thank me for that. Besides, you heard what I said to Scootaloo before.” “Well, you were just in a hurry, right? We shouldn’t have been pestering you,” Sweetie Belle reasons. I raise an eyebrow; I’d thought I was more than cold enough, but getting rid of these fillies is proving to be harder than I expected. Though, I suppose it doesn’t really matter. They’re just fillies. “Think what you want, I suppose. I’m glad you got something out of that argument, but don’t expect something like that all the time. I don’t have the time to make friends,” I explain to them as clearly as I can. All three of them tilt their heads at me, looking confused. “You said that earlier…” “Awww…” “But why not…?” All three of them pull the sad filly act on me at once, but thankfully Applejack comes to my rescue. She emerges from the house with the necks of two bags clenched in her mouth. One of them jangles with the sound of rattling bits, while the other is bulkier. She gestures to me, and I accept them from her. “There you go. A full day’s pay and a sack of apples!” Applejack proclaims. “Thanks again for working so hard. See you bright and early the next morning?” “I’ll be here,” I assure her. With nothing else to be said, I seize the opportunity to retreat from the three fillies before they can push the subject. Thankfully Applejack is there to keep them in check, so I manage to get on the path that leads back to town without issue. Once I’m alone, I inhale deeply and then exhale audibly in an attempt to unwind. I have a short time to relax while I walk, but now is also a good time to mentally go through my list of things to do today. First, I need to visit the boutique so I can get Rarity to affix this guitar strap to my rifle. It’s a simple task, so it shouldn’t cost me too much. Second, I told Twilight that I’d visit her again sometime this evening. I shouldn’t rely on her help, but it may be worth seeing what she’s learned. With that settled, I take a moment to take account of my current savings. With today’s earnings, I now possess a total of twenty four bits. That isn’t bad. At this rate, I’ll be able to make enough to pay my rent in four days. Therefore, I can spend this current money how I please. I allow myself a small smirk of satisfaction; at this rate, I’ll be on my way north by the end of the second week, if not sooner. I’ll keep my word to Applejack, but after that I’m leaving. Once I return to town, it hits me that I don’t know where the boutique is. I should have thought to ask before now, but there’s no helping it. I then proceed to freak out the closest pony by asking her for directions. After she finishes whimpering, I learn that the boutique is southwest of the town hall. While it’s possible to reach it directly from the square, I learn there is a faster way, if I cut through a small park not far from here. Liking the idea of a faster route, I adjust my path accordingly until I reach the river. Just as I locate the nearest bridge and move to cross, my ears catch the faintest trace of music. I pause despite myself, straining my hearing. I’m not imagining it; I can hear a soft and slow tune coming from across the river. If I had to guess, it’s coming from a stringed instrument like a harp, but the sound is just different enough to make me uncertain. The music is pleasant to my ears. Even though I know I have other things to do, I find myself following the music to its source. In the middle of the small park is a small clearing, in which a stone fountain carved to resemble a rearing pony is situated. The clearing is framed by neatly trimmed hedges, and around the fountain are multiple benches, though the majority of them are vacant. The music is coming from a lone mare standing at the base of the fountain. A golden lyre wrapped in a similarly colored telekinetic aura hangs in the air beside her, the strings seemingly plucking themselves to produce the melody I’m hearing. I recognize her as Lyra easily, despite how different she seems while she’s performing. Lyra is sitting on her haunches, her eyes closed and her head gently swaying to the slow beat of the song. Despite how skillfully she’s playing or how hard she must be concentration, none of the strain shows on her completely serene expression. From one musician to another, it isn’t hard for me to feel the passion in her performance. Her melody and skill is enrapturing. I know I need to be going to see Rarity, but I can’t bring myself to leave before the end of this song. As I move closer to find a bench to sit on, I note that I’m not the only one who feels this way. There are a handful of other ponies sitting on the ground or on the benches, each of them watching and listening to Lyra’s music intently. Ignoring them, I sit down on the nearest bench beside a rose colored mare. At first, the other mare is startled and seems like she’s going to flee, but once she realizes that I’m there for the same reason she is, she relaxes. As for Lyra, she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that I’m here. As the song goes on, I lean back on the bench and close my eyes, letting the sound wash away the world around me. Just this once, I allow myself to relax and lose myself in the melody. The song is soft and beautiful, yet at the same time, it feels mournful. It causes me to recall memories of good times past. Before I can stop myself, thoughts and memories of those I’ve lost return to me in a flood. One particular memory comes to me first; it was a long time ago, when I was still but a child unaware of the world around me. I can remember clearly the light of the sun gleaming off of the rails of the towering roller coasters in the first amusement park I ever visited. I remember having to be coerced to try any of the rides by my brother, Adam. It was one of the last good memories I had before my life fell apart. The melody shifts in key, and with the shift comes another memory. It was still during college, when I felt as though my life was steadily coming together. I still remember Amaryllis and I taking time away from school one year, on a weekend, to go and visit the beach. It was still early in our friendship, when I still held her at arm’s length, and she did likewise. Yet something changed that day. It’s difficult to this day to put it into words, but I felt as though I was walking with someone more than human. She was angry, yet happy. Introverted, yet outgoing. Ruthless, yet kind. She was a walking mass of contradictions that defied all classification, a brightly shining star among a thick sea of black. Beside such brilliance, I could only feel awe. I felt content just walking by her side and sharing in that light. I come to my senses with a start when the song comes to an end, and the ponies around me start to stomp on the ground with their hooves in what I assume to be the pony version of applause. I can’t bring myself to clap, however. The song was beautiful, but it makes me aware of the feeling of deep loss that has nestled itself deep inside of me.  The ones who helped me forge the few good memories I had are gone now, leaving me with nothing but emptiness. That strange pressure once again forms in my sternum as a familiar burning rage makes itself known inside of me. I hold a hand to my chest and grit my teeth; it’s not as though this is anything new to me. I know full well whose fault this is. The image of his baleful shadowy eyes forms in my mind, and the pressure gets worse. I finally exhale and open my eyes to see the other ponies conversing with Lyra as they left the park one by one. Without a word, I rise from the bench and continue on my way to the boutique as if nothing had happened. After a few moments, I hear the sound of hooves clopping on the path behind me. “Hey, wait up,” Lyra calls to me from behind in a soft voice as she walks to catch up with me. I pause and turn just enough so that I can see her out of one eye. “Are you alright?” “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask in a surprisingly calm voice. “I saw you sitting and watching me, but you left with a scary look on your face,” Lyra explained as she came to a halt beside me. “Did you not like the song? Did I upset you?” “No. The song was beautiful. You’re very skilled,” I compliment her honestly, such that she looks visibly surprised. I clench my right hand into a fist. “It just...reminded me of what I’m here to do.” “Huh? What do you mean by that?” Lyra cocks her head, clearly confused. I shake my head, realizing that I’ve already said too much. “Don’t worry about it,” I say dismissively. Lyra doesn’t look satisfied with that, so I change the topic. “More importantly, I didn’t figure you to be the serene musician type.” “I can be serene if I wanna be.” Lyra looks a little smug at that, the mare lifting a hoof to her chin. She then angles her flank at me to display her cutie mark. “My cutie mark is a lyre for a reason, silly.” “I realize that, thank you,” I avert my gaze and cross my arms in annoyance. I should have known that would be a stupid thing to say; I did suspect her to be a musician before. “Pardon me if I don’t spend too much time staring at a pony’s flank.” “Oh really? And why not?” Lyra’s smile widens, the smugness seeming to grow. She proceeds to walk around me in such a way that accentuates the movements of her flank. I look at her odd walk in confusion, but then a moment later, a sinking feeling comes over me. This cannot be happening. “Does it make you uncomfortable? Or...maybe you see something you like?” “You can’t be serious,” I state flatly, no longer turning to watch her walk. I’d suspected it before when I was at the party, but this makes it as clear as day. Ever since I met her, Lyra has been flirting with me. I’ve been trying to ignore it up until now, hoping that I was misreading her, but this doesn’t leave much room for interpretation. I’m putting an end to this right now. I turn on my heel and stride away from Lyra with finality in my step.  “I’m through with this conversation… and I’m through with you.” “Okay, I’m sorry, but you pretty much set me up for that one,” Lyra laughs at first, but her mirthful expression dies on her face when I don’t stop moving or even look back at her. “Wait, you’re not kidding, are you? Seth? Come on, I was only teasing! Seth, come back!” I leave the distraught Lyra behind without a second glance and make my way to the boutique, which I easily recognize from both the descriptions I’ve heard as well as its distinctive appearance. It’s a large circular building decorated with various frills, statues, pillars, and colors mostly registering in the cooler end of the color spectrum. It’s a tall building, easily reaching two stories. I’m behind the structure, so I make my way around the side, passing a tree and a line of laundry on the way to the front door. As per usual, the door is constructed with ponies in mind, such that my head nearly reaches the top of the door frame. Without further ado, I briskly knock on the door’s surface and wait patiently for a response. “Comiiing!” I hear Rarity trill from within. A few moments later, the door opens to reveal the well groomed unicorn gazing directly at my chest. She quickly realizes that she isn’t looking at a pony, and her gaze travels up to my eyes. “Ah, Seth! Do come in; I was just finishing up for the day.” I obediently follow her inside, immediately shuddering at the change of temperature inside the building. As Rarity closes the door behind me, I take a cursory look over the interior. On either side of the door are two wide circular windows shaded by yellow curtains. On the left wall, I note several protruding alcoves containing racks and racks of different sets of clothing. Each of these alcoves is shaded by thick rose curtains held open by lace colored a lighter pink. Further up that wall are more alcoves, though these are shallower and consist  only of mirrors and vanities; I assume they’re makeshift fitting rooms. At the far end of the wall is a doorway through which I can see a set of stairs that spiral up and out of sight. On the right wall is a small circular stage surrounded by mirrors and framed by the curvature of the wall. Set in that same wall is a small door. Lastly, around the room are multiple shelves, cupboards, and mannequins. However, the mannequins are in the shape of ponies, so I suppose the term ‘mannequin’ hardly applies. “Welcome to the Carousel Boutique!” Rarity greets me formally, even dipping her head somewhat in what I think is supposed to be a curtsy. “Would you care for some tea before we get down to business?” “No thank you. I’m hoping to be in and out of here. I have somewhere else to be not long after this,” I explain to her. “But of course! I shall endeavour to make your visit swift then, if you wish it,” Rarity takes my refusal with good grace, answering me with flowery and proper speech. “I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered my offer for new clothes?” “I haven’t the money. I’m here for something far simpler,” I respond. As she watches curiously, I unwrap the guitar strap from my waist and hold it and my rifle out for her to see. “I’d like this strap fixed to my rifle, so I don’t have to hold onto it all the time.” “Well. Simple is certainly correct.” Rarity seems taken aback, as well as a little disappointed by the request. She obligingly grasps both the strap and the rifle in a light blue telekinetic field and takes them from me. “No matter, I have recently restocked my stores of adhesive, so you’re in luck!” A drawer opens on the other side of the room and a small bottle flies through the air to join the rifle and strap in Rarity’s magical aura. The bottle proceeds to unscrew itself to reveal a small brush coated with an odd fluid attached to the underside of the cap. Rarity checks the tip of the brush briefly, and then she brings the rifle towards her. “What an odd contraption. Hm. It’s most certainly seen better days,” Rarity notes the sorry shape of the weapon with a cursory glance. She wrinkles her nose at the excess of rust, dust, and cobwebs still coating the metal. She turns it over multiple times, even looking down the barrel at one point. It’s a good thing the weapon has long since been defunct. “Where should the ends of the strap be attached? Pardon me, but I can’t make heads nor tails of this.” “It would be scary if you could,” I remark dryly. I’m curious as to what weapons these ponies actually use; despite their seemingly early-industrial to modern tech, my rifle seems utterly unfamiliar to them. However, those are thoughts for another time. “Here, let me show you.” I reach my hands over to the rifle and indicate two particular places on its surface. I’m almost completely unfamiliar with the makes and models of different guns, but I know just enough to direct Rarity to the proper places: on the side of the muzzle by the forward sights, and at the base of the stock. Rarity dabs the specified places with the tip of the brush, leaving behind a small amount of the clear substance on the metal. Once she’s done so, she telekinetically presses the tips of the strap to either place, and then she releases both gun and strap into my waiting grip. “Done!” Rarity announces, screwing the cap back on the bottle and returning it to its drawer. She watches as I grasp the rifle by the strap to test its durability. Sure enough, the strap is holding fast to the rifle, easily withstanding the pull of gravity. “Not bad. I guess Vinyl wasn’t kidding about this Liquid Rock stuff,” I observe, lightly tugging on the strap. Pleased, I sling the rifle over my bare shoulders. It feels freeing to finally have both hands free when I’m moving from place to place. I reach into my bag of bits and withdraw a single coin. “Now, for your payment.” “Payment?” Rarity echoes, looking nonplussed. She telekinetically catches the coin out of reflex after I toss it to her. When she realizes what she’s holding, her gaze turns noticeably incredulous. A moment later, and the bit lands back in my hands. “Darling, you can’t be serious. Helping you with your...whatever that is...was no trouble at all! I wouldn’t dream of charging you!” “Payment given for services rendered. That’s how things work.” I stubbornly flick the coin back to her. Rarity catches it once more, but instead of giving it back, she sets it on a nearby countertop and gazes at me with an unforeseen stubbornness in her gaze. “Keep that. What you do with it after I’m gone doesn’t matter to me.” “Seth, I’ve been keeping quiet out of respect for your boundaries, but I feel I must say something,” Rarity finally says, using my name and looking into my eyes. “This is the second time you’ve chosen expense over honest generosity. And, from what I’ve heard, I’m not the only one you’ve done this to.” “So much for that apology,” I mutter under my breath. I could just turn around and leave; I’ve already gotten for what I came. However, if she’s heard something about me from others, she’s likely friends with Rainbow or Pinkie. I already know she’s friends with Applejack. “Let’s say you’re right. What’s your point?” “I don’t understand why you’re deliberately choosing to make things harder for yourself. For example, when I offered you a new wardrobe, not only were you turning down free clothes, but also a means of keeping warm for when winter arrives,” Rarity explains. So far, everything she’s saying has been true, so I don’t say anything. “I noticed you shivering early this morning; you’re clearly in need of such clothing. Is it just because you believe I don’t have what it takes to make human clothing? Or perhaps it seems I only make clothing for mares?” “It’s because I don’t trust you,” I cut her off flatly, choosing to be completely honest. Rarity’s mouth drops open slightly in surprise. I don’t miss the change in her expression; she’s offended. “So far, one after another, I’ve been accosted by you ponies with offers of kindness and generosity. I’d have to be stupid to believe that any of you mean it.” “Whatever are you talking about? Surely you don’t believe that I’d use my generosity as a means to extract favors from you in the future?” Rarity hits the nail right on the head, somehow managing to understand exactly what it is I’m trying to tell her. “That’s exactly what it is. I’m a complete stranger who happens to be a human, a precursor race to your kind. You could all have any number of reasons for wanting me on your good side,” I return, crossing my arms. “If you understand, then accept my payment so I can be on my way.” “Hm…” Rarity muses for a moment; she appears to have taken my words very seriously. Eventually, her stubborn expression returns. “No, I don’t think I will. In fact, I’ll take it a step further.” “You’ll do what?” I demand, but Rarity is already moving. She wastes no time in rifling through her drawers until she finds what she’s looking for; a tape measure. “Rarity, what the hell are you doing?” “Proving a point,” Rarity replies enigmatically. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to make a few sets of clothing for you; a few for casual wear, a few for work, and one for the cold weather.” “Did you not hear a word I’ve said? I will eventually want those clothes, yes, but not until I can pay for them. I won’t let you give them to me…” I start to protest. “...for free? Yes, I did hear you. You’re concerned I have another motive for doing this,” Rarity finishes my sentence for me. Her next response takes me by surprise. “You would be right, of course.” “You’re… just going to admit it?” Is all I can say. After that argument, I hadn’t expected her to turn around and render my argument justified. “Then what’s the point of arguing with me?” “I haven’t finished explaining yet. I want you to hear me out first. If you still decide I’m untrustworthy, I won’t press the issue.” Rarity expresses. She and I stare at each other in silence for a few moments as I mull her words over in my head.  “How does that sound?” “I’m listening…” I answer after a short pause. Though I’ve no intention of accepting her offer, I find myself curious exactly what kind of argument she plans to give me. I doubt it’ll be something I haven’t heard before. “Excellent. How familiar are you with art, Seth?” Rarity asks. I blink at the sudden change of subject. “Art?” “That’s right. I’m not just referring to painting, but also music, literature, sculptures, and the like. I noticed you working with that DJ the other night, so I imagined you’d have some interest,” Rarity elaborates. “You’d be right. I was a musician of sorts once upon a time,” I answer hesitantly. “Where are you going with this?” “A musician! Wonderful; then you’d most certainly understand. Wouldn’t you say that the purpose of art is to be admired by others?” Rarity presents with a smile. I nod, finding that to be common sense. “What is a musician, without an audience? What is a writer, without readers? Furthermore, what is a fashionista, without anyone to wear her work? For you see, I am also an artist….and this is my art!” Rarity opens the curtains around the circumference of the room, revealing multitudes of fancy dresses of various colors and designs hanging from racks. Even as I glance over them, I suddenly understand the point she’s trying to make. “You’re trying to say that you making clothes for me would be the same as a musician performing for an audience,” I realize. Rarity beams, telling me without words that I’m right. I narrow my eyes skeptically. “A solid comparison, but you forget that musicians don’t present their work for free. The same goes for writers. Musicians hold concerts, and writers sell their books.” “Why yes, of course, but would a musician charge another for listening to them practice? Would a writer sell their first draft?” Rarity shoots back cleverly. “No...we’d show it to a few select others for feedback so we can improve,” I grudgingly admit. I can’t argue with that logic. “So what you’re saying is…” “I want to try something new, Seth! I want to make clothing for one of your kind. Just like a painter would want to be the first to paint a new landscape, I want to be the first pony to make human clothing!” Rarity explains for me, looking particularly pleased with herself. “So you see, I do have what you’d call an ulterior motive, but that’s not always a bad thing. So what do you say? Will you kindly grant me that opportunity?” I stare back at her, the wheels in my mind turning. Just out of principle, I want to refuse her, but the point she just made is a very good one. I’d never charge someone for listening to me while I practiced piano, but I’d certainly want someone to listen so I’d know where I can improve. Rarity is saying this situation is the same for her...and I really do need clothes to head up north with. It seems like she’s being honest with me about her motivations, but there’s still that niggling doubt. “Alright. I’ll let you make me some clothes,” I finally relent, hoping that I won’t regret this later. I feel a sense of dread come over me, as though I’d just made a huge mistake. I rub my forehead, and then I glare at her, even as her smile grows wider. “But if this is your motive, I won’t accept you trying to pull something in the future.” “Trust me, you needn’t worry. You’ve already made me plenty happy!” Rarity exults, looking as though she’s hardly able to contain just how excited she’s become. She happily trots over to the circular stage surrounded by mirrors. “If you’ll come with me? This’ll take just a moment.” “What are you going to do?” I follow her hesitantly. “I’ll need your measurements if I’m to make you clothing,” Rarity explained. She tapped the surface of the stage with her hoof. “Up here, if you please. I’ll also need you to remove your pants, so I can get better measurements.” “Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen.” I deny immediately, every mental block in my mind going up at once. Rarity pauses, looking perplexed at my fervent denial. I flush in embarrassment a moment later when I remember that clothing is a commodity rather than a necessity for ponies. “I’m not like you; I can’t just go without clothes. Especially not in front of a girl.” “Oh. I see…” Rarity responds with a light blush coloring her face, the mare understanding my underlying meaning easily. The tape measure swirls through the air towards me as I climb up on the stage. “Pardon my ignorance, then. I shall simply have to compensate. Remain still, if you please.” I stand still on the stage as the tape measure slithers up and around my body, taking quick measurements of my inseam, waist, hips, arms, and other such lengths necessary for making properly fitting clothes. To compensate for the width of the pants I’m wearing, the tip of the tape measure slips inside just enough for her to take the width of both my pants and my underwear, causing me to fidget uncomfortably. I need clothes, so there’s nothing for me to do except suffer in silence. At long last, after what seems like an endless amount of measurements, the tape slides back into the receptacle with a click. Rarity places the tape measurement aside and proceeds to write down a series of what look to be numbers, some of which I recognize from my work on the farm. “That’s that! Thank you so much, darling. I’ll get to work on this right away!” Rarity’s excitement becomes more palpable with every word that comes out of her mouth. Already, she seems to be sketching different potential designs on the same parchment as before. “If you’ll come see me first thing in the morning, I’ll have several outfits ready for you to try!” “That soon?” I comment as I hastily hop down from the stage. I’ve never seen how clothes are made, but I do know that after ordering some, it typically took about three to five days for them to come in. “You don’t understand; it’s been so long since I’ve had something so new and so fresh to work with! It’s not like designing clothes for a pony; the colors in which a particular pony will look good are partly determined by their coat color. For example, a pony with a yellow coat simply would not look good wearing an ensemble with a violet motif,” Rarity explains eagerly. “But you’re different. You are a unique shade I don’t often see on ponies; this opens up a whole world of different color possibilities that I’ve never had the opportunity to experiment with! I’m positively giddy! I can’t wait another moment to get started!” It’s not hard for me to see just how passionate she seems to be about her work. It’s not something I’m used to seeing. I have my own passions, of course, but I’ve never really felt comfortable sharing them as much as Rarity is. For a moment, I feel a hint of jealousy towards her. That she’s so passionate about her work she’s willing to lose sleep...it’s a luxury I won’t get the chance to experience for myself again. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I have other places to be,” I say, putting those thoughts out of my mind. I turn around with my rifle slung over my back and head for the door. “I won’t be here in the morning; I still have to work. But I’ll be by later.” “Glad to hear it! I’ll see you then!” Rarity calls after me as I open  up the door. “Thanks again for the opportunity! I greatly appreciate it!” “Whatever,” is all I can think of to say before I close the door. The first thing I notice is that it’s gotten much darker than before. It’s close to winter, so it’s going to get darker sooner day by day, I imagine. My thoughts return to Rarity. I hope that following with her logic won’t come back to bite me. The fact that she’s willing to make so many clothes for me including the winter clothes that I so desperately need will greatly accelerate my plans to leave Ponyville. However, I’ve learned that if something seems too good to be true, it usually is. I curse beneath my breath, an untenable anxiety making its home in my chest. I force myself to take a deep breath. I still have to visit Twilight, and I can’t walk in there feeling like this. After my heartbeat returns to normal, I make my way back to the street, choosing the direct route now rather than walk back through the park. I’m starting to remember the paths I need to take to get from place to place, thanks to the many memorable landmarks the town posessess. Thus, it’s not hard for me to find the way back to Twilight’s library. The lights are still on, so I assume she’s still home. Upon reaching the front door, I knock firmly to announce my presence. I hear her moving about inside for several seconds, but it isn’t for a full minute that the door opens. It only takes one look at Twilight’s face for me to realize that something is wrong. Twilight meets my gaze for only a brief moment, and then she looks down at the ground. Her tail is tucked close between her hind legs, and her front hooves are shuffling ever so slightly on the ground. “You said you wanted me to come back, so here I am.” She doesn’t seem like she’s going to say anything, so I start the conversation, my suspicions rising slowly. “What’s wrong with you?” “I...” Twilight starts to say, then she cuts off, as if she doesn’t quite know how to explain what’s on her mind. She heaves a sigh, and then she dips her head and beckons me inside. “Come inside, and I’ll explain. I...have a confession to make.” I follow Twilight inside, wondering what could have happened to cause such a drastic shift in her usual attitude. Once I’m inside, I notice Spike standing beside a nearby bookshelf, watching the two of us with worry evident in his eyes. Between Spike’s expression and Twilight’s demeanor, I have a very bad feeling about this.