//------------------------------// // Cotton Candicorn // Story: Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// It was too hot for snuggles, too tropical for cuddles, and yet Shining Armor had to endure. Stuffed into a hammock, sprawled on his back, he had a daughter on either side of him. To his left was Flurry, and the sheer hardness of her spine threatened to bruise his ribs. She just had to lay in the worst way possible, with her boniest, hardest places pressing into him. On his right was Skyla, who insisted on clinging to him no matter how muggy it was, and had wrapped her forelegs around his own. Both of his miserable offspring were napping, and Shining Armor wanted some sleep himself, but it was too hot. How hot was it? It was hot enough to melt the hinges off the gate to Tartarus. Birds needed potholders to pull out earthworms. Hot enough that fire hydrants would whistle at passing dogs. The cows only had evapourated milk to offer. Potatoes came up out of the ground baked. Chickens laid hard boiled eggs. It was just that damn hot. At least the hammock was in the shade. After what felt like hours, exhaustion began to overpower misery, and Shining Armor’s eyelids began to grow heavy. The only cool spot on his body was the place on his right foreleg where Skyla had been drooling—the evapourating liquid felt marvellous. Flurry snorted, her tummy rumbled, and her eyelids fluttered, but did not open. At long last, after so much suffering, Shining Armor finally succumbed to sleep. The rain was a hot shower that suffocated the will to live. In Equestria, in the Crystal Empire, it was the dead of winter. Here on Depot Island, it was the rainy season. But this… this wasn’t rain. Shining Armor had never seen anything quite like it, it was rain that you could drown in, and when standing in it one had to breathe between one’s teeth while trying to keep the flood out, because breathing through the nose was impossible. The grass hut was really just a facade, and beneath the wicker and grass construction was military grade concrete. It was the sort of building that Shining Armor trusted. He sat inside, dry, secure, eating a shaved ice cone flavoured with fruity syrups. It was just the sort of thing he needed after his ordeal, with the ice hydrating and the fruity syrup sugary. Skyla seemed to be in a much better mood, but Flurry was still a miserable mess. For once, Skyla’s telekinesis was willing to cooperate, and she was able to eat her sno-cone without too much trouble. Cadance’s work was nowhere to be seen, and she kept glancing in the direction of the tiny, cramped kitchen, because she was impatient, waiting for the barbecued kebabs they had ordered. “I took pictures,” Cadance said while staring off into space. Flurry groaned and collapsed against the worn wooden table. “Mom… no.” In her collapsed state, she made halfhearted licks and appeared as though she might die at any moment. “Can I get one for my album?” Skyla asked. After a moment, she remembered to be polite and added, “Please?” “Sure thing, Sproglodyte.” “Not you too,” the filly said to her mother, her words a huff of disappointment. “We talked about that.” “Nothing was ever agreed upon.” The sound and the presence of the rain came in through the open front of the hut, the open bar where customers sat outside in the front and were served. Warm humid air was all that could be had and the smell of rain was strong. Shining Armor yawned, still sleepy, and found that he was rather enjoying himself. This was just the sort of suck that he happened to like, just the right amount of misery to make everything feel right. Shining Armor was a connoisseur of fine misery and was at his best when the situation around him was at its worst. “We need to find a suitable activity for the afternoon,” Cadance said to her family. “The military museum has a program that showcases the history of Depot Island!” Skyla, though rather quiet, was brimming with enthusiasm, with her eyes turning bright and cheerful. “I wonder if it goes into the historic accord that Equestria made with Zebrabwe… if it did, that’d be neat.” “Ugh, no.” Flurry let out a groan of protest, followed by another. “But this is soldier stuff,” Skyla said to her sister, confused. “I like fighting.” Flurry gave her sno-cone a sideways lick before she continued, “The history part of it puts me right to sleep.” “But… but… but… Depot Island is the result of the Treaty of Zebrabwe.” Skyla was almost sputtering and stuttering with each word. “We protect their islands and their shipping lanes, and they supply us with medicines and goods. It is one of the most prosperous treaties ever signed, with economic benefits in the high millions each year—” “Don’t care.” Flurry didn’t seem bothered that she had interrupted her sister. “Fighting pirates, that’d be fun. That’d be awesome. But learning all this other gobbledygook? What a snoozefest.” Shining Armor, who had said nothing up to this point, became aware that Cadance was studying their daughters. In fact, her intense scrutiny left him wondering what Cadance was thinking. The differences between Skyla and Flurry were like night and day… chocolate and vanilla… salty and sweet… Shining Armor wasn’t good with comparisons, but he was clever enough to keep trying even if he sounded like a dork. Skyla would be right at home with her Auntie Twilight in the military museum. However, if his sister was in the middle of one of her infamous scraps, Flurry Heart would have the time of her life with her Auntie Twilight. Shining Armor felt some strange emotion that he couldn’t register, a keen sort of regret, because he knew that a broad scope of interests could be found in just one pony; Twilight was a perfect example of that. But his daughters? He needed more comparisons for just how different they were. Getting them to do something together was a challenge. “Order up!” the cook called out. It seemed as though lunch was ready… The rain was gone, no doubt off to find a nice parade or a picnic, but the oppressive mugginess lingered on. Steam rose from the ground, the sand, and the cobblestone streets. Even the zebras, natives to a warm homeland with tropical temperatures, seemed beaten down by the sticky, clingy, sweaty heat. No afternoon activity had been decided upon, not yet, though Shining Armor had a few ideas. Compromise was an ideal activity. His own parents, Night Light and Twilight Velvet, those two were big fans of compromise and looking back—even more so now that he was a parent—Shining Armor could see just how much effort his mother and father had put into teaching their foals compromise. It worked too. Shining Armor could see it plain as day. Little Twily had grown up and was now a princess. He was the Emperor of the Crystal Empire. So clearly, his parents careful planning had paid off. The end results were undeniable. Shining Armor—with great enthusiasm and verve—had made two wonderful daughters, alicorns both of them, but now he had the responsibility of making them worthy princesses. This was no easy task and there were times when their differences almost seemed as insurmountable as Celestia and Luna’s. Making his daughters had been fun—making them princesses was a chore. “How about the arcade?” Flurry suggested while she pointed with her wing. “It’s indoors and has ice-cold air. The sign says so.” Shining Armor’s eyes darted in Cadance’s direction and his ears pricked. He could sense that Cadance had glanced in his direction, and for a moment, he was certain that some kind of odd psychic twingle had just broadcasted maternal hope. Cadance loved the arcade and truth be told, he rather liked arcades himself. Something fuzzy brushed up against his right foreleg, and when he looked down, he saw Skyla peering up at him, her glasses all fogged over from the humidity. Her pleading eyes told him everything; while she liked the arcade, she loved history even more, and her little heart was set upon the museum. Shining Armor suspected that one of two things was about to happen; Skyla would reluctantly acquiesce and into the arcade they would go; or she would hold her ground and the family would have to split up to keep the peace. If she agreed to go into the arcade for the sake of keeping the peace, he knew that he would have to do something nice for her later; it was just the right thing to do. But a third option presented itself from a most unlikely source: Flurry Heart—who still looked a bit queasy—said, “Skyla… how about we go into the arcade, get cooled off, and I give you all of my tickets. After about an hour or so, we’ll go to the museum.” Again, Shining Armor could feel his wife glancing at him. “You’ll give me your tickets?” Skyla seemed dubious. Since when were big sisters nice? “You have trouble winning and I know how frustrated you get. When you can’t win, you don’t have fun. If I give you my tickets—” Here, Flurry paused, she seemed rather winded, but then made herself better with a huge belch that scared the monkeys out of the nearby trees. Off they went, hooting and hollering, which left Flurry distracted for a few seconds. “Like I was saying… if you don’t have to worry about winning, you’ll have more fun. Right?” “It’s not about winning,” Skyla said to her sister in response. “I just hate feeling like I’ve wasted my time. I’m no good at this stuff and I get mad when I can’t get anything done. It’s like I could be doing something better with my time.” “Oh.” Flurry, queasy as she was, was slow to make a connection, but a state of understanding was reached. “Oh, hey, I… you know what, we have something in common.” “We do?” “Uh-huh.” Flurry nodded, let out another windy belch, and pounded on her barrel with her hoof. “If I think I can’t do something, I don’t even bother trying.” “Hmm.” Stepping away from her father, Skyla stood beside her sister and then clapped Flurry on the back with her wing. After a few good hard slaps, Flurry belched again and Skyla looked pleased with her efforts. “Everything tastes like barbeque,” Flurry remarked, “and not in a good way. Blech!” “I wouldn’t mind having a new doll to take home,” Skyla said to her sister. Shining Armor had to struggle to contain his pride—little Skyla was appealing to Flurry’s mercenary nature! Sidestepping, he bumped into Cadance, and his wife let out a stifled whinny. His daughters were reaching an agreement, an accord, an understanding, and they were doing so on their own, without his coaching. He could feel Cadance trembling beside him and her feathers tickled his side. “A doll?” Flurry belched yet again while rolling her eyes. “That’ll be easy to do even with how I’m feeling right now. Foal’s play.” She made a dismissive wave with her hoof while smacking her lips together. “I don’t get it.” Skyla took a moment to fix her crooked glasses, but still couldn’t see out of them because they were so fogged over. “I’m getting to go to the museum and get a doll. I’m getting everything I want out of this. What are you getting?” “A solid hour or so to wreck the arcade and show off how perfect I am.” Extending one foreleg, Flurry flexed her muscles and struck a pose. This didn’t last long however, as she was overcome by gas from her upset stomach. “Might want to stand away! Flurry, the horn of the Crystal Empire is about to blow—” “Eew!” Flapping her wings, Skyla half-ran half-flew away from her sibling, but she didn’t flee too far, because she knew better. “Gross!” The afternoon, it seemed, had been decided upon. Nothing ever quite worked out as planned. Shining Armor, proud father that he was, loved his daughters a great deal. The arcade hadn’t quite turned out as expected, but rather than have a meltdown, Skyla had handled the debacle with grace, and Flurry held true to her word. This was extraordinary circumstances, to be sure. The arcade was here for soldiers—not foals. As such, there were no dolls to be had. There were however, pipes, tobacco, matches, hoof-trimming kits, prophylactics, bottles of beer, bottles of rum, magazines of questionable content, magazines of outright pornographic content, disposable dates, and a variety of other sundries. But Skyla did not leave empty-hoofed, no. Flurry—who dominated the arcade with her physicality—earned enough tickets to get her sister a full-colour touristy map of Depot Island, something that Skyla was so happy to receive that she had cried, which had left Flurry all embarrassed. Said map was now on the yacht, magicked away by Cadance so it wouldn’t be set down someplace and forgotten about. With both of his daughters in such remarkable moods, in such fine spirits, Shining Armor wasn’t sure how to act. A part of him wanted to run around in the most foalish manner imaginable, bucking, kicking, and clicking his hooves together while pronking about madly. Just as Shining Armor was about to say something, a shadow passed overhead. “Holy guacamole!” Flurry shouted while craning her head upward. A single monstrous ship blocked out the sun. Long, terrifying, it bristled with guns and its dull matte metal plates failed to gleam impressively in the sunlight. It was an Impossible class ship and Shining Armor knew this type well, having studied the schematics sent by King Modesto, of Istanbull. “How does it float?” Skyla asked while peering up like her sister. “It doesn’t have a floaty thing that airships are supposed to have. That’s just the boat part.” “All of that is internal,” Shining Armor replied. “Inside of the vessel are tanks of compressed Celestium. They’re big spheres, armored, and under exceptionally high pressure.” Squinting, he took a moment to study the profile of the ship. “Electrical current flowing through the Celestium causes it to rise. This represents a new era in warfare, the Impossible Battleship. At least, I think it is a battleship. I can’t remember which type of ship was to be gifted to Equestria from Istanbull as a gesture of goodwill. If that’s a destroyer or a cruiser…” “It’s terrifying,” Cadance whispered. “It is,” Shining Armor agreed, “but it is also flawed.” “How?” Cadance did nothing to appear dignified while she gawked at the ship passing above. “The power required to keep it afloat is immense. That hull is over a foot thick in some places and the weight of the ship is like nothing else before it. It is essentially a seafaring vessel lifted and made skyworthy. Istanbull is trusting us with this new design, and hoping that our scientists can come up with a solution for the power issues.” “Daddy, I want an airship—” “No way, Flurry.” “Aww.” Others too, were watching as the impressive ship passed overhead, its airscrews thrumming. Some of the pegasus ponies on the street took to the air to have a closer look. Both Flurry and Skyla stood near to one another, little mouths agape, and their father, Shining Armor, had no doubt that his daughters were smart enough to understand the importance of this moment. It was Flurry who tore her gaze away first. “We should go to the museum before it gets any later. Skyla has her heart set on it.” “Right. The museum.” Cadance too, tore her gaze away and looked down at her daughter. “I’m proud of you, Flurry.” “Don’t be, I’m just doing the right thing.” “Come on, Shiny… we have a history program to attend.” “Sure thing, my big fluffy Cotton Candicorn—” “Shining Armor, we talked about this!” “We talked, yes, but I don’t recall agreeing to anything.” Grinning, Shining Armor led his family down the street, off to the museum.