//------------------------------// // Rare Breed // Story: Overgrowth // by ezra09 //------------------------------// “And that was when polka was still in style, mind you,” Mayor Motts said as they walked. “Now those were some swinging times. So where was I? Oh, right, so Muriel and I, we were going steady at that point and... oh, here we are.” “Oh, thank Celestia,” Scootaloo whispered. “This is where you will be staying,” Mayor Motts told them, gesturing. To Thistleroot’s surprise, the place didn’t look half bad. It was a blue ranch-style house with white trim. Sure, it probably could have used a fresh coat of paint, and a few of the balusters on the railing around the porch were missing, but hey, they had a porch. He took an experimental step onto the bottom of the short staircase. It squeaked as he put his weight down, but otherwise held firm. “Well, you kids make yourselves at home,” Mayor Motts said. “If you need anything else, just come on by.” “Will do. Thanks,” Thistleroot said. The mayor nodded and turned to start back down the road toward the town center. “So, guess we should go in,” Scootaloo said, jumping over the rail to get around Thistleroot, who was pushing against the bottom step, making it squeak repeatedly. “You have the keys?” “Yeah, right here.” Thistleroot opened the envelope that Mayor Motts had given him and levitated one of the keys out. Scootaloo caught it in her mouth, unlocked the door, and the three of them made their way inside. “A bit dusty,” Thistleroot said, wiping a hoof along the inside wall. There wasn’t much to say about the interior. Hardwood floors, a faded yellow paint job, and an ancient pink couch that the previous tenants had probably just abandoned. Half a wall seperated the living area and the kitchen at the back of the house. “You hear that?” Scootaloo asked. The paused, and Thistleroot could just make out voices coming from down a hall on the left. “Well, let’s go meet this partner then,” Thistleroot said, making his way in that direction. The hall was a short one, with a single door on each side and a third leading to a bathroom at the end. The voices were coming from the room on the right. “I’m feeling a bit peckish. Do we have time for an early dinner?” A brown earth pony was in the process of unpacking a suitcase onto a bed. Beside him, a white unicorn flipped through several pages on a clipboard. A quill and inkpot floated beside him, enveloped in a pink light. “It might be a bit tricky,” the unicorn said. “We need to talk to the researchers and then sometime today we should be meeting the botomancy expert.” The earth pony closed the suitcase and began straightening the pile of clothes. His coat was dark, the same shade as freshly turned earth. His mane and tail were similar, though several shades darker. His cutie mark was that of a black feline paw print. The unicorn’s mane and tail were an ugly shade of pink, and Thistleroot was reminded of the carbon copy paper that came with forms, an impression solidified by the unicorns clipboard cutie mark. He wore a grey pinstripe vest, and a looped gold chain hung from the breast pocket. “Right, the dead weight,” the earth pony said. “I almost forgot about him.” “Right,” Thistleroot said under his breath. “Let’s come back later.” “Dead weight?” Mimic asked loudly, pushing past Thistleroot. “Just what the hay is that supposed to mean?” Scootaloo asked, right behind her. “Or let’s do this now,” Thistleroot said. The earth pony looked up at them as they entered. The unicorn marked something on his clipboard. “Right, so if we bump the meeting with the botomancy expert to right now, that clears up our five o’ clock for dinner.” “Wonderful.” “Just who do you think you’re calling dead weight?” Scootaloo asked. The earth pony held a hoof up in a placating gesture. “Please, please. I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant to be a personal attack, and I wouldn’t have said it if I’d known anypony else was here.” “So you’re not sorry you said it,” Mimic said. “You’re just sorry we heard it?” The earth pony shrugged. “It was a blunt way of phrasing things, I admit. Certainly not the way I prefer to meet a new colleague.” He extended a hoof toward Scootaloo. “Let’s try again. My name is Rare Breed. I’m the zoologist selected for this job by doctor Mane Goodall. And you are?” Scootaloo gave the outstretched hoof a dubious look before shaking it. “I’m Scootaloo, but I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” “Oh?” Rare Breed said, turning toward Mimic, who shook her head. “Out here,” Thistleroot said from the hall. “Will you hurry up and get in here?” Mimic asked. “Are you crazy? There’s angry mares in there. I’m safer where I am.” “Oh, for crying out loud,” Scootaloo said before grabbing Thistleroot and dragging him into the room. He stumbled and came to a stop in front of Rare Breed. “Uh, hiya? I’m Thistleroot.” Rare Breed looked him over and offered his hoof again. Thistleroot shook it. “But really, what did you mean by dead weight?” Scootaloo asked. “Just that his presence in this venture was unnecessary,” Rare Breed answered. “No offense.” “How is that not offensive?” Mimic asked. “Because it’s not an insult, or a challenge to his credentials. I have no doubt that you are perfectly capable in your selected field, Mr. Thistleroot, but all of the creatures that fall under the Lignum Viventem classification are first and foremost animals. A botanist or even botomancist might be of some use as far as their physical makeup, but things such as behaviors and habits, diet, mental capacities, all of these things fall under the study of zoology.” Rare Breed shrugged again. “Of course you’re welcome to do what you want, but the study of these animals is sure to be a bit more complicated than you're used to. I just don’t see how you’ll be able to contribute.” “Well,” Thistleroot started. “You will once he gets started,” Scootaloo said. “Thistleroot here was hoof picked by Princess Celestia herself.” Rare Breed arched an eyebrow at that. “Really?” “It’s not really that—” “Yes,” Mimic said. “He knows more about plants than anyone.” “I wouldn’t go that far,” Thistleroot said. “And he—” Scootaloo started. “You never introduced us to your friend,” Thistleroot said, talking over her. “This is Mimic, by the way.” “My name is Triplicate,” the unicorn said. “And that makes for an excellently timed segue. Rare, we need to meet with the SEA Researcher who first discovered Lignum Viventum-006-1 in twelve minutes. From here the center is a nine and a half minute walk.” “Well, okay. Will you be coming too, Thistleroot?” Thistleroot’s stomach squirmed. “Uheh, um, I guess I should. You girls want to stay here?” “No,” Mimic said. “We’ll go with you.” “You sure?” Thistleroot asked. She nodded. “Eleven and a half minutes,” Triplicate said, checking a pocket watch. “Right, everypony, follow me then,” Rare Breed said as he strode out of the room. ***** “Oh, come on. Look at how much more put together they look,” Thistleroot said. “I don’t care,” Scootaloo said. “I’m not carrying around a clipboard.” “It doesn’t have to have anything on it. Think about how official you’ll feel. No one questions a pony with a clipboard.” “No.” Thistleroot pouted, then looked to his other side. “No,” Mimic said. Thistleroot sighed. “What kind of researcher would I be if I have to carry my own clipboard?” “Thistleroot, for once, just stop talking,” Mimic said. “Sorry, nervous habit.” Thistleroot swallowed against the lump forming in his throat as the SEA Research Center came into view. “Oh man. What do you think the chances are that they’ll just attack on sight?” “They’re not going to attack us,” Scootaloo said. “I agree,” Mimic said. “It would make more sense to come for us in our sleep, once they know we’re here.” Scootaloo sighed. “Though technically they haven’t seen me looking like this,” Mimic added. “They might not do anything to me.” “It would be appreciated if you three could walk faster,” Triplicate called back toward them. “My schedule only allows for a ten and a half minute walk.” “Sorry,” Scootaloo called out, rolling her eyes. The research center hadn’t changed in the past year. A sterile white waiting room greeted them just inside the doors. Rare Breed strode forward toward the vacant reception desk and rang the bell. Several seconds passed. Triplicate pulled his watch from his vest pocket and clicked his tongue impatiently. A light brown earth pony with a gray mane entered through a door behind the counter. “Afternoon.” He faltered as his gaze fell on Thistleroot and Scootaloo. “Good afternoon,” Rare Breed said, drawing the earth pony’s attention. “I have a meeting with a pony named Midlight.” The earth pony grunted, gaze flickering back to Thistleroot and Scootaloo, though there was no anger in his expression, just vague recognition. Thistleroot was sure he’d place them soon enough. “I’ll go get him,” the pony finally said before turning back to the door. Thistleroot’s stomach twisted in panic as the next few minutes passed. He shifted from one side to the other. Mimic stood unmoving by the door. Scootaloo sat beside her, trying to look unfazed, but her ears twitched in agitation every so often. Finally, hoofsteps came from the back door. A moment later, a pegasus entered. His coat was the dark blue of the night sky, accented by a well kept silver mane. As he entered, Thistleroot could just make out a bit of silver on his flank, and knew if the pony turned he’d see a cutie mark in the shape of a crescent moon. Midlight’s gaze passed over each pony before focusing on Rare Breed. Thistleroot’s heart skipped a beat in the moment his gaze met Midlight’s, and he spent the next few seconds as Rare Breed introducing himself silently hyperventilating. There hadn’t been so much as a shred of recognition or surprise in Midlight’s expression, but it was only a matter of time before somepony realized who he was. Why had he come here? What was he thinking? What was the princess thinking? The moment these ponies realized who he, Scootaloo, and Mimic were, they would be tying them to a stake and— “A pleasure to meet you, Rare Breed, Triplicate,” Midlight said. “And Thistleroot. The princess notified us that you would be arriving as well, though I wasn’t aware Scootaloo and Mimic would be joining you.” Or that. “Um, yes. Hi again.” “All of the details of Star Charmer’s encounter are included in the write-ups we sent the university,” Midlight said, attention shifting back to Rare Breed. “Of course,” Rare Breed answered. “This meeting was more to make introductions than to gather more information.” Midlight nodded. “The SEA facilities are at your disposal should you need them.” Without another word, he turned and exited, leaving Rare Breed blinking in surprise. “Huh. Abrupt fellow, isn’t he?” Thistleroot fell back to his haunches and took a long, steadying breath. Rare Breed and Triplicate turned toward him. Rare Breed arched an eyebrow. “You okay?” “He’s fine,” Scootaloo said. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” “I think I’m going to be sick,” Thistleroot said. “That was so much worse than I thought it was going to be. Did you see that indifferent, uncaring stare?” Scootaloo rolled her eyes and turned toward Mimic. “Dinner?” “Sure.” Mimic looked uncertainly at Thistleroot as he dropped forward and covered his head with his hooves. “Uh, are we just going to leave him like that, or...” Scootaloo sighed before biting down on Thistleroot’s tail and dragging him out the door.