//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Nom's Mom Bomb // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// When Chalcedony was done eating, Chartreuse placed the opened letter from Sumac down upon the table for the blind filly to read. The page appeared quite blank, but Sumac used transparent ink that was thaumaturgically charged and Chalcedony could see everything just fine. There was a squeal from the crystal pony, her front hooves drummed on the table, and then, having said nothing at all, she began devouring the written page of invisible words with her eyes. It was a sight that made Chartreuse feel good about, well, everything. Sumac seemed to be an exceptional friend, having gone so far as to create the illusion of Chalcedony having a great and exaggerated family lineage, when in reality she was an orphan. The letters, which came with great frequency, always had some ridiculous name or title, something worth laughing about. Chartreuse had even saved the envelope, having opened it with great care. Chalcedony only had a few precious things that she held dear; some letters, some books written in magical ink, a magical photograph of the three of them together that she could see, and one of the broken halves of the Rainbow of Light. Chartreuse knew of the secret, and as Shining Armor’s apprentice, she was responsible for protecting it. The broken locket piece was cursed by King Sombra, consumed by shadow, and was wholly and totally invisible. It could only be touched by one capable of seeing it, and Chalcedony could see it, meaning that she could touch it. No one else in the Crystal Empire was capable of such a feat, and it seemed that not even Twilight Sparkle could catch a peek of what had once been the Moochik’s locket. What purpose it might serve was unknown, but King Sombra’s curse was thwarted by a blind filly. “I’m a failure of my species!” Nomination blurted out, startling both of his companions. Chalcedony almost fell off of her padded stool, and would have, had Nomination not caught her. Chartreuse stared at her friend and began clucking her tongue, disapproving of what he had said. Around the perimeter, silence lurked, just waiting for the right moment to strike, to settle in, and cause as much discomfort as equinely possible. “Violence makes me feel like throwing up,” Nomination continued, spilling his guts. “It’s not just Snow Dust… the idea that I might have to fight the ice orcs almost made me puke. I was so scared and jittery and I kept barfing just a little bit in my mouth. When the breeding registry finds out, I’ll be ruined. I won’t be suitable. I carry undesirable traits that are a weakness and weakness is the last thing my kind want if we are to become a viable species and not just the unstable hybrids that we are. I am completely and utterly worthless. On top of all of that, I’m gay. That alone is probably enough to get me tossed out of the breeding program. I really am a failure.” Narrowing her eyes, Chartreuse glared at her best friend and constant companion through the spotless, flawlessly clean lenses of her triangular spectacles, holding him transfixed with her gaze. Lifting her teacup to her lips, she took a sip, swallowed, and then her eyes narrowed just a little bit more while Chalcedony—who appeared quite stricken—recovered her balance. “Oh no… I’m blind, but even I can see the look on Charty’s face. Good luck, Nom.” Leaning in, Chartreuse remembered what she had learned from her book, Princess Celestia’s Guide to Moody Mares, Sullen Stares, and Glowering Glares; Now With Full-Colour Plates. Right now, she applied every advanced method she had mastered in the mirror and she projected all of it at Nomination, who cringed in response. When Chartreuse allowed her nostrils to flare, Nomination whimpered and hid behind his bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel. The sound of Nomination’s whimpering proved to be too much, which caused Chartreuse to falter; the poor colt had endured a rough day and was in need of some comfort. While there was a new regulation in place about Nomination not degrading himself, the stern filly realised that she would have to let this infraction slip. “Talk to me, mon frère.” “I’m having a lot of trouble with my self-worth right now,” Nomination confessed in the lowest of whispers, an almost inaudible hissing that required great care to hear. “I don’t deal well with rejection. It takes me to a bad place.” After a moment of squirming he added, “It started after the ice orcs. I began to doubt if I could even protect my best friend, if the need arose, and I felt so ashamed. All that happened, and then today happened, and I’m not in love with myself right now.” Armed only with her telekinesis, Chartreuse began to butter more bread while she studied her troubled friend. What might help poor Nomination—no, what Nomination needed—was some time with her former boss, Rarity. The fashionista would ply him with ice cream, work a good cry out of him, and would then do whatever it took to make the fabulousity come shining out of him, possibly even turning him into a sequined equine. Rarity was just that sort of unicorn. When Chalcedony—who had a bad case of the squirmies—let out a shrill whimper, Chartreuse buttered her nose with a pinpoint flick of telekinesis. This caused the pale filly to go still, her milky, sightless eyes crossed, no doubt trying to focus on the spot of magic that she had seen, and then she began trying to lick the dab of butter off of her snoot with quick lashes of her tongue. It was moments like this when Chartreuse adored Chalcedony the most. From behind his makeshift ice pack of frozen peas wrapped in a towel, Nomination managed to mumble out a few words that he had to say. “Chartreuse, Chalcedony and I, we’re not as motivated as you.” Raising her eyebrow, Chartreuse began smearing jam on the three slices of bread and was distracted by the sticky, clinging sensation detected by her telekinesis. Most unicorns used butter knives for butter and jam, but she had been forbidden by her teachers. Now, she had to harden her telekinesis enough for it to act like something solid, something like a butter knife. And she couldn’t get distracted by the tickles, the squishes, or any kind of grossness, because then what was hard would go soft with great haste. Sunburst had said that to unexpectedly go soft was to invite disaster, and then he had turned very, very orange all about the face. When asked why he was so orange, his response was to somehow turn even oranger. “Nom, maybe we should be a bit more motivated. I mean, you wanna be a chef. I have no idea what I’ll do. I don’t know what I can do. I’ll probably end up on the dole no matter what I do. That kinda kills my enthusiasm to try harder sometimes, but you don’t have an excuse. Charty just wants the best for us.” “Chalcedony, I can’t take you seriously when you say, ‘Charty.’ I just can’t. And you know why.” Shaking her head, Chartreuse served the food to her friends, cramming the slice of bread, butter and jam right into Chalcedony’s mouth when she began to say something, and placing Nomination’s down upon his plate. The pale crystal pony filly was glowing a bit brighter now, or maybe it was just a trick of the eyes. It was a neat trick that crystal ponies glowed brighter in the presence of love. Rather than eat, Nomination held his peas to his swollen eye with his his hoof while reaching out with his wings. Using this thumbs and his fleshy, grippy knuckles, he picked up the envelope, flipped it around to have a better look at the written side, and went still. After a few seconds, the envelope trembled in his grasp while his ears sank like bathtub battleships facing the mother of all waves. “I can’t open this,” Nomination said in a voice that was both dry and squeaky. “Why not?” Chartreuse asked while refilling her teacup. “Just help me, Chartreuse, okay? Whatever this is, I can’t face it. Could you…”—the colt swallowed, a hard, violent sound, and he shrank down to become as small as possible—“please open this and read it to me?” Such a strange colt… Chartreuse decided to humour her friend and snatched the letter from him. With a few well-practiced flicks of magic, one end of the envelope was opened—an end, not the top or bottom like some gallivanting, galloping anarchist like her father occasionally spoke of with great disgust—and once the envelope was opened the letter within was pulled out. Inside was a short trimmed scrap of military-grade paper, not an inch longer than it needed to be, it was the exact right size for the message it contained. Adjusting her eyeglasses, Chartreuse read the message for Nomination to hear. “Hatchling Eighty-eight, thirty-three, twenty-three, forty-four—Nomination.” That was a strange way of starting a letter. Chartreuse didn’t mean to be rude, but a pause was required at this point. Something troubled her, but she had trouble putting her hoof down upon what it was. It was… it was… this was the coldest, most impersonal opening of a letter she had ever seen. “I am coming for an inspection of both your living quarters and circumstances. Be prepared. Parental unit Eighty-eight, thirty-three, twenty-three, forty-three—the mare who laid your egg.” The message on the trimmed down piece of paper went too far outside the bounds of normalcy and Chartreuse found her brain balking at what she had just read. Even worse, the teakettle was boiling again—had she forgotten to turn off the stove? No, as it turned out, because the teakettle was sitting on the table atop a hot pad and it was Nomination who was ready to pour. Chalcedony’s ears were twitching as the sound increased in both pitch and volume, until she couldn’t take it anymore and had to cover her ears with her front hooves. Chartreuse found herself in a similar situation, was too shocked, too appalled by what she had seen in the letter—if it could even be called a letter—to do much of anything to react. Within seconds the sound was unbearable and Chartreuse began to worry for the structural integrity of the tableware. “NOM!” Chalcedony cried while her eyes flooded with tears. “Don’t make me slap the squeak out of you, Nom!” “Nomination!” Chartreuse made her voice sound as stern as possible. “Stop that at once!” Much to her surprise, Nomination did go quiet, and she wished that he hadn’t, because the silence was far more alarming than his hissing squeak of distress. It occurred to her, Nomination was terrified beyond the scope of what she could understand, and she wasn’t sure how to comfort him. Applying logic, Chartreuse knew that it stood to reason that she needed information if she was going to help her stricken friend. “Nomination”—she kept her voice as soft and soothing as possible—“this is some kind of regulation, isn’t it?” After a moment, he nodded, but made no other sound, at least no sound at a pitch that could be heard. “Something that probably looks bad to outsiders, but makes sense to you.” Hesitant, Nomination shrugged. Things began snapping into place for Chartreuse, little details that she could look back upon and examine in hindsight. It was her father’s gift, and some of it had rubbed off on her after his many hours of patient instruction. She had been raised in a semi-militaristic home, with her father part of the Day Watch, and she had endured a rigid foalhood with a great deal of reinforcement. “This is the breeding program, the means that you came about.” A soft sigh escaped Nomination, and he nodded. “I’m sure that it is very complicated. I shall not cast judgments, Nomination. But if your mother is coming, we should prepare. Though I’m not keen on somepony coming into my home, inspecting it by their standards, and projecting those same standards upon my living space. I’ll not tolerate it. I’ve left home and embarked upon my career as a working wizard. I’ll not have some random adult come about and berate everything I’ve worked so hard for. If she is rude, she will be given a good what for and shown the door.” Another shrill squeak of terror escaped Nomination and he shook his head from side to side. After a moment, he found his missing tongue. “One does not simply show the Major the door. I’m pretty sure that’s against regulations.” “I am Chartreuse Le Feu, of House Le Feu, Bearer of the Flame of Chantico, I am Damoiselle Despoillier! My house, my regulations!” “Yeah!” Chalcedony began pumping her hoof in the air and after a moment, she paused when nopony else seemed to be quite as stoked as she was. “Oh… my bad… I thought we had reached the point where we’re all cheered up and excited again. Sorry, I can wait.” “At least my mother was affectionate in her message. That’s comforting.” “What?” Chartreuse lifted the letter, if it could be called a letter, and gave it a once over. “I see nothing resembling affection here. This is the coldest, most impersonal message I have ever seen, and I’ve taken Shining Armor’s dictation for aristocratic houses that he doesn’t like. Help me, Nomination.” “She used my name and she gave me a reminder that she laid my egg. That was sweet. It really stands out so it means a lot.” Try as she might, Chartreuse didn’t see it. What she did see was her friends difficulty with affection. Nomination struggled with Chalcedony’s constant cuddling, groping, and other physical forms of affection. If a tiny reminder that his mother had laid his egg was sweet, then poor Nomination must be drowning in the affection shown to him by Chalcedony. Even worse, what did this mean for Nomination’s love life, a life that now, with this new knowledge, he seemed ill-prepared for? Chartreuse now had a valuable understanding of her friend. “Nom…” Chartreuse didn’t realise that she was using her friend’s nickname even as she said it. “Nom, this is why you’re so keen on studying the Twilight curriculum, isn’t it? You’ve had to learn to connect to ponies—to the others around you. A lot of things now make sense, Nom.” “I am the first of my kind to be sent to a school not our own,” Nomination whispered and he pulled his ice pack away so that he might speak better. “At least, as far as I know. It made the Command angry that such a thing would even be suggested, because it is not our way. I’ve probably said too much already. My mother didn’t agree with me either, she opposed it, she thought it was a terrible idea, but she also engaged the Command in a battle so that I could be here. My mother put her own future on the line for a cause that she didn’t believe in. And so here I am. Please, keep that in mind when the Major comes.” In stunned silence, Chartreuse nodded, but had no idea of how else to respond. “I’m confused.” Chalcedony, her face sticky with jam, reached out for her companion with cautious, hesitant hooves. “I can’t see what is going on so I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling. This feels complicated.” “Finish your tea, both of you. We’re going out. We need to purchase tea while it is on sale, and maybe some coffee too. In fact, we have shopping to do, and errands. We could all use a walk to sort us out and we can chat while we’re getting stuff done. Nomination, we’ll prepare for your mother’s visit and do our best to see you through it. All the more reason to make sure our home is in order.” An unpleasant heaviness settled onto Chartreuse’s withers and she wondered how she was going to help her friend. All sorts of anxiety began to creep in, such as the dreadful idea of what if Nomination was taken away? What if this fight, this altercation, ended up having disproportionate consequences? She began to understand why her dear friend clung to his regulations with every action he did, his every breath. Nomination existed in a precarious position that she had trouble understanding—but now she had an inkling. Each violation of the regulations represented potential loss, a loss of everything he had, everything he held dear to him. An infraction of the regulations may very well represent the loss of his freedom, a truly awful thought. If somepony came to collect poor Nomination, to take him from House Le Feu, he would not be relinquished without a fight. He belonged here and served as Chalcedony’s eyes. The ice orcs too, had threatened House Le Feu, and Chartreuse had been forced to step outside of her front door to deal with them, to protect her tower and the dear, treasured things held within. Chantico demanded that precious things be protected and Chartreuse had risen to face the challenge. No, Chartreuse decided in silence, Nomination would not be taken.