//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: The Sisterverse Social // by brokenimage321 //------------------------------// Applejack lay on her back, snoring contentedly. The stars outside her bedroom window still shone bright, and the full moon rode high in the sky. Crickets chirped, and frogs sang in the warm summer night. All was well. And yet, her bedroom door swung open, then shut again, on freshly-greased hinges. Stealthy hoofsteps crept across the floor. A moment of tense silence—then something sprang into the air and crashed down on top of her. Applejack’s eyes flew open. “Wh’ the—!” “G’MORNIN’, SIS!” bellowed a voice in her ear. “Pinks—!” Applejack groaned. She reached up and grabbed her hat where it hung on the bedpost, then started swatting her little sister with it. “Geroff me!” “Not in your dreams, sister a’ mine!” Pinks replied, with a little too much glee, as she wormed her hooves under the quilt to try to reach Applejack’s ticklish spots. “We got a big ol’ day ahead a’ us, and I’m not gonna let you sleep in one second longer than you—” Applejack finally managed to get her back hooves under Pinks, and she shoved. Pinks flopped off of her and onto the floor, where she collapsed into a giggling heap. Applejack slapped her hat on crookedly, then sat up. “Pink Pearl Apple,” she said sternly, “What in Equestria d’ya think Granny Smith would say if she knew that you were tryna wake me up at…” Applejack scooped up the alarm clock off her bedside table, then scowled at it. “...at two in the founderin’ morning?” she finished, with a fresh snarl. Pinks sat up. “That I take after Great-Grandma Dutch Apple Pie?” she said cheerfully. “And that y’all should be thankin’ me for my enthusiasm and diligence?” “Runnin’ ya out a’ town on a rail, more like,” Applejack growled, reaching for her lamp. Applejack knew what she would see before she turned the lamp on: her younger sister, Pink Pearl “Pinks” Apple, seated on the floor, staring back at her with shining eyes and a great big smile. She had inherited Mama’s mane and tail, so curly it made your eyes hurt, but she must have gotten her coloring from somewhere further back in the family tree: she had a light pink coat, and a dark pink mane, different from the oranges and reds her siblings shared. On her flank were three balloons—apple-shaped, of course—in red and green. Pink Pearl apples, in fact—not that Applejack could ever forget that, after how much fuss Pinks had made when she’d figured it out. Applejack scowled. She had to admit, she had a soft spot for her little sister—and, true, she was a hard worker—but she was also a pain. She couldn’t buck apples as fast as Big Mac or Applejack herself, so whenever the three of them worked in the orchard, they’d need to spend extra time helping Pinks finish up her rows at the end of the day. To top it off, she spent so much time telling jokes and playing pranks instead of applebucking that working with her always seemed to take twice as long. True, Pinks was a fine baker, and her wagon-wheel apple pies were the best this side of Canterlot, but baking wasn’t where Sweet Apple Acres made its money. Especially since Pinks insisted on wasting all that flour. After every harvest, she would always pick out the bruised apples, or the ones with worm spots—all the ones that they couldn’t sell, juice, or eat—and spend hours each night cleaning them, cutting them up, and baking them into pies. Pies that cost money to make. But Applejack had never figured out exactly what she did with the pies—she sure wasn’t eating them, and she didn’t seem to be selling them, either. The only thing Applejack could ever figure was that she was giving them away—but that would make less sense than the rest of Pinks put together. Of course, she tried so hard, but as far as Applejack was concerned, the whole mess was just a waste of time and money. Applejack’s scowl wavered when Pinks smiled again. “D’ya need me ta’ wake ya up again, Jackie?” she asked. “I could, y’know…” “I’m up, I’m up,” Applejack replied, rolling out of bed. She glanced at the clock again, then glared at Pinks. “And why, exactly, am I up at this time a’ mornin’?” “Because!” Pinks said brightly.”Today’s the Sisterhooves Social! And we gotta get ready!” “Pinks,” Applejack said patiently, “you’ve been preppin’ this thing for weeks. What else in Equestria is there to do?” “Oh, lotsa stuff,” she said, turning and walking towards the door. “And I wanna make absolutely sure we’re ready on time. After all,” she said, grinning back over her shoulder, “it’s not every day Sweet Apple Acres gets to hold a party!” Applejack just rolled her eyes. “Plus,” Pinks added, “I was gonna make us all my signature applesauce pancakes for breakfast…!” Applejack paused. Well. That was almost worth getting up before dawn for. She smiled to herself a little; though she liked to complain, at least to herself, Pinks did have her good points, even if she was a terrible farmpony. Now, if she could just figure out how to keep Pinks from breaking into her room so darn much... * * * “Hey, sweetie,” Night Light said. Moonlight Serenade shot her father a look with those pale green eyes of hers. She looked so much like her mother, it was almost a little scary sometimes. She had the same white coat, the same general gait--heck, her mane even curled the same way. The biggest difference between the two was their mane color; though Serenade’s mane had a purple stripe like her mother, the rest of her mane was pink, not white. She must have picked that up from his side of the family. “Spike up already?” Night Light asked her. Serenade said nothing, but instead, she turned and crept away with a stealthy grace that belied her ten years--almost like that time she was convinced she was going to get her cutie mark in being a ninja. Night Light watched her go, then mentally shrugged, turned, and walked back towards the kitchen. “G’morning,” he said, pulling his chair away from the table. Twilight Velvet, already seated at the table, grunted a reply, then took a sip of her coffee. Night Light pulled the newspaper out of the pocket of his bathrobe, then shook it open. “Weather should be nice today,” he noted, taking a bite of his toast. Velvet nodded. “Good,” she said. “With everything that’s going on, it would be nice to—” Suddenly, from upstairs, came a high-pitched wail that grew louder and louder: “MommMMMM-MEEEE!” Velvet groaned again and put her face in her hooves. Night Light glanced up at the clock, then grunted. “She’s up early,” he said simply. Down the stairs, with all the subtlety of an air-raid siren, charged their oldest daughter, Radiance. She was still wearing her pink bathrobe, and her purple mane streamed behind her in a billowing wave. She, too, had a white coat like her mother, and, on her flank, three interlocking ice crystals. Night Light sighed and set down his paper as Radiance charged into the kitchen. She skidded to a stop at the head of the kitchen table, then jogged anxiously in place, an expression of practiced anguish on her face. If she had managed to put her mascara on already, it would have been running. “Mother!” she cried. “Father! T-Twiley, she—she woke up early, and! She took! My shower!” Night Light gave her a look of everlasting patience. “Radey,” he said gently, “she’s probably just excited for today.” “And thinking ahead,” Velvet muttered to herself, “knowing how long you take.” Night Light shot Velvet a warning look, but she just stared back with bleary, blood-shot eyes. Night Light sighed and turned back to Radiance. “She shouldn’t take too long,” he said. “Just a quick rinse, that’s all. And then you can—” “B-b-b-but I need it!” Radiance wailed. “There will be colts there today! And I need to look perfect! And—!” “Radiance,” Night Light said, calm but firm, “the Sisterhooves Social is a family event. Always has been, ever since your mom and I were foals. I don’t think there will be many colts your age there—and if there are, I think they’d be too interested in the apple pies to notice if you didn’t get your mane done exactly the way you wanted it, don’t you think?” Radiance started to pout, but Night Light turned back to his paper, doing his best to project that the conversation was over. “And besides,” he continued, “what if you want to participate in the obstacle race again this year? You wouldn’t want to put all that work in if you’re just going to mess it all up, wouldn’t you?” At this, Radiance’s expression switched from helpless martyrdom to righteous indignation. “I will have you know, Father,” she said haughtily, “that the Sisterhooves Social Obstacle Race is an event for fillies, whereas I am a young mare. Hence,” she growled, “why Twilight and Serenade will be running, not me. And I shall not be ready to go until I’ve had adequate time to prep—” Velvet set down her mug with a bang, making both Night Light and Radiance jump. Velvet smiled up at her daughter, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why don’t you just use the downstairs bathroom?” she asked, in a tone that made it crystal clear she wasn’t asking a question. And yet, Radiance managed to be horrified. “B-b-but that’s Shiny’s bathroom!” she cried. “I don’t want to smell like a colt—!” “Shining Armor hasn’t used it in six months,” Velvet said. “Not since he got into the Guard.” She took a gulp of her coffee. “And yes, I know it doesn’t have all the bells and whistles the girls’ bathroom does, but I’m sure you can deal.“ She stretched her lips in a brittle smile. “Besides, I don’t think Shiny will be needing it to freshen up anytime soon, do you?” Radiance looked between her father, who carefully avoided her gaze, and her mother, who had clearly used up all the pre-coffee patience she had. Radiance’s lower lip quivered the slightest bit, then she sniffed daintily. “Very well,” she said, turning dramatically away. “But, if something happens today, and I end up embarrassing myself, then I shall—” She turned a corner, and they never found out what exactly she should. Night Light turned a page in his paper. “More coffee, dear?” Velvet slumped down on the table, and held up her mug in a wavering hoof. “Yes, please,” she groaned. Night Light folded his paper, stood, took the proffered mug, and walked towards the coffee machine. He set the mug down, filled it up, and picked it back up again— “Seren-ADE!” shrieked Radiance, so loud Night Light dropped the mug back on the counter. “You get out of that bathroom this instant, young filly!Mother and Father said I could use it, and you have no right—!” Twilight Velvet buried her head in her arms. “Oh, sweet Celestia,” she murmured. Night Light picked up the coffee pot again and topped off Velvet’s mug—hesitated—then pulled a second mug from the cupboard for himself. * * * “And how’re my best ponies in the world this morning?” called Bow Hothoof grandly. All four occupants of the breakfast table—his wife, son, and twin daughters—looked up. “My best mare...” he continued, slipping behind Windy Whistles and kissing her on the cheek, “...my best colt…” he said to Surfer Beach, who ducked out of the way as his dad tried to muss his mane, “...and my two best fillies,” he said, pulling his two daughters in for a hug. Rainbow Dash—the older of the two, by four minutes—laughed, then wiggled around in her chair and hugged him back. “Hey Pops,” she said. “Did you let the bedbugs bite?” he asked. Flyby, the younger one, grinned. “Only a little,” she said. Bow squeezed them a little tighter, then stepped back with a grin. “Them’s my girls,” he said warmly. He stepped back and looked fondly at his family, so proud he could nearly burst. The girls were beautiful; Rainbow took after him, with the same mane coloring and everything, while Flyby looked almost identical to Windy’s own mom, Grandma Merriweather, with her yellow coat and pink mane. And Surf had Bow’s own coat—or something close enough to it—a deep teal, that matched his messy blond mane perfectly. Bow sat and took a bite of the scrambled eggs on his plate. “So,” he said to the girls, “you excited for today?” Flyby gave a weak little smile. “Yeah,” she said quietly. Her mane was cut short, but she wore it in a peekaboo bang, which she brushed away from her eye. “Have been for a while,” she admitted. “That’s great,” he said, patting her on the back. “‘Cause it looks like today’s gonna be awesome flying weather.” “That’s what Howie said,” Flyby added. Bow frowned. “Howie?” he asked. “Is that one of your birds?” Bow grinned as he saw the look that his girls passed between each other. Flyby had always loved songbirds, ever since she was a little filly. That was her cutie mark, in fact—three pairs of pink bird-wings. She loved them so much, in fact, that she wanted nothing more than to be with them--and, as such, was the first of the twins to figure out how to fly reliably. Of course, competitive little Rainbow wouldn’t let that stand, so she’d worked hard, not just to figure out how to fly, but how to do it better than her sister. And she hadn’t stopped yet. That was one of his favorite stories to tell about his girls. Even if they, themselves, were starting to get tired of it. Windy cleared her throat. “So what’s this… this thing today all about?” she said, as she reached for the orange juice. “I know you said your friend Flitter told you about it, but what exactly is it?” “I-it’s, uh…” Flyby began—but she stopped, then swallowed nervously. Both her parents were too preoccupied—Pops with his eggs, Mom with her juice—to notice when she glanced at Rainbow. Somehow, she knew, even before she looked, that Rainbow was already looking back at her. Rainbow smiled, then gave her an encouraging nod. Flyby returned the smile, then took a deep breath as Rainbow, her work complete, turned back to her plate. “It’s called the Sisterhooves Social,” Flyby said, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s a family event at an apple farm down there. It sounds like it’ll be lots of fun, and there’ll be apple treats and crafts and things.” “And animals,” Rainbow added, without looking up from her plate. “Fly’s always wanted to meet some chickens.” “Uh-huh,” Flyby said, nodding. Windy let out a little squeal, and grabbed Bow’s free forehoof. “What kind of crafts?” she asked. Flyby shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. Rainbow shrugged. “Probably apple stuff. Pies, applesauce, stuff like that.” Bow leaned over and nudged Surf. “Apple pies, eh?” he said. “Sounds like it might be right up your alley, Surf…” It took Surfer Beach a moment to respond—and, when he did, he looked up, glanced around the table, and let out a little scowl. “Aw, man,” he said. “You’re gonna make me go, too?” “Of course!” Windy cried. “It’s a family event!” “But the wind is supposed to be perfect today,” he said. “And besides, these losers," he added, gesturing to Flyby and Rainbow, "...are just gonna cramp my style.” Flyby shot a quick glance at Rainbow, who sat frozen in her seat. “Now Surf,” said Bow. “I know you’re eager to go windsurfing again, but we’ve been planning this for a while now.” Surf sighed theatrically. “Only because Flyby asked,” he grumbled. “We never go to the beach when I want.” Windy looked at Bow, confused. “We just went last week, didn’t we?” she asked. Flyby looked down at Rainbow’s fork, which trembled in her grasp, then up into her face. She swallowed, but said nothing. “Anyway,” Surf continued, “I don’t exactly see the point of a brother attending a so-called—” He sniffed. “—Sisterhooves Social.” Rainbow’s fork clattered to the table. Everyone turned to look at her. Her face was twisted in an open snarl. She put her forehooves on the table, and started to stand— Gently, Flyby reached out and put a hoof on her leg. Rainbow turned to look at her, and she gently shook her head. Rainbow swallowed, and the fire went out of her eyes. Slowly, she sank back down into her seat, picked up her fork, and shoveled another bite of eggs into her mouth. “...Is everything alright, Rainbow?” Windy asked nervously. “She’s fine,” Flyby answered. “Her fork just slipped, is all.” “Oh,” Windy replied, relieved, “that’s good. I’d hate for anyone to be in a funk today, of all days…” They all ate in silence for a moment. Finally, Rainbow looked up and flashed Flyby a grateful smile. Flyby smiled a little, too, then nodded. They both went back to eating without another word.