Unfamiliar city sounds disrupted what would have been a peaceful dinner at the hotel restaurant patio. Yelling, galloping, and chaos set Featherweight’s body on edge. Each trot that got too close, each disembodied voice that shouted into the night, each rumble of the ground made Featherweight constantly scan the horizon.
Pipsqueak who was mostly pre-occupied by dinner, glanced up to Feather. Each time, it gave Pip an indescribable chill across his back. “Hey, Feather. You alright?”
Featherweight kept his vigilant eye focused on any possible threat.
Pipsqueak moved his hoof onto Feather’s prompting an immediate pull back from Feather and a twisted expression. That sent an equally startled response from Pip, making him feel like he had gotten hit.
“Oh, sorry. What’s up?” Featherweight asked, trying to move back to a normal position.
“You’ve barely eaten. ‘Init you say you ‘adn’t had anything to eat all day? Aren’t you starving?”
“Oh. Well, yeah. Just distracted, I guess.” Featherweight attempted to work on his food, now that Pip was watching him. A carriage came barreling past the patio. Feather tensed up, but continued to eat, every cell in his body wanting him to turn around, to be aware of the danger that was coming toward him, but he kept eating. For Pipsqueak’s sake.
The rest of the dinner went on like that, constant seizing up and resistance of the urge to jerk away. Finally, as the lamps around them turned on, and the city glowed with an electrical hue, dinner was over and they could finally take time to explore around the hotel.
The other fillies and colts rushed off to their parents to get permission for this and that, while Pip followed Featherweight to the pool. No one but them had the opportunity to relish the smell of chlorine filling their lungs as they entered the pool room.
“That’s the good thing, I guess, about not having parents on this trip. No one there to ask permission from.” Featherweight said as he walked into the pool. “Come on in, the water’s not as cold as you think,”
Pip stepped back a bit, almost hesitant to go into. He gave a wicked smile, which was a tell tale sign for only one thing.
“Pip, N-”
“Cannonball!” Pip screamed at the top of his lungs as he sprinted towards the pool.
The impact was a lot more violent than either of them expected, considering his size. Waves were formed and water soaked the top half of Featherweight, eliciting a joyous scream. Without the social pressure from others, they could be as loud and as splashy as they wanted, which they both took advantage of. Not too many ponies joined them, but soon enough they had exhausted their fun, opting to dry off and head back to their room.
The night had developed, casting long shadows through the thin curtains onto the living room. “It’s all just. So big.” Featherweight said as he walked in. “I don’t know what to do.”
Pipsqueak smiled, his fur still poofy from drying off. “Well, let’s figure that out in the mornin, alright? I’m beat” Pip sluggishly moved toward the bedroom, Featherweight in tow, “I’ll see you then, alright buddy?”
Featherweight got onto his bed, getting comfortable with the soft material, “Yeah. Sure. Sounds good to me. Night, Pip.”
“Night, Feather”
…………..
The rush of explorative excitement made the morning routine for Featherweight go by in a blink of an eye. With his camera hanging off of him, and his friend by his side, Featherweight was prepared to explore the modern steel jungle that is Vanhoover.
They walked down the sidewalks, gazing up at the magnificent structures that towered over them, occasionally stopping to take pictures. “So, right. What we have today is,” Pipsqueak went quiet for a moment, “Nothing. At least, not until late at night. These cards that Mr. Rich gave us are supposed to last us for the entire trip. Don’t forget that,” Pipsqueak said, struggling to keep up with the taller colt, “Hold up, will ya?”
Featherweight looked down, stopping for a second, “Oh, right. Sorry Pip. I’m just so excited to see what this place has in store, wanna boost?” Feather asked, squatting down.
“Ah, sure. Why not?” Pip jumped up onto Featherweight’s back. “So where do you want to go first?”
“Well, there is one place. There’s an art gallery that I wanted to go and see while we were here. Is that ok with you?” Feather asked.
“Yeah. I’m sure there’s gotta be somethin to catch our eye when we’re walking there.”
Featherweight nodded, “Right. Hey, could you grab the map out of my saddle bag?”
“Uh, sure.” Pipsqueak said, rummaging through the bag and pulling out the heavily marked parchment. He felt a small tremor beneath him, making him wobble a bit. “Here, you go. A-are you shaking?”
Featherweight grabbed the map and set it on his camera, “Am i? I don’t know why I would be. Anyway, we are,” He took one last establishing look around, “about a 15 minute walk from it. We are bound to find something that catches our eye, right?”
“Right!” Pip confirmed ecstatically.
Featherweight trekked on, toward the exhibit, taking moments to admire architecture amongst other things with Pip laying happily on his back, watching the world go by. There were few things that caught their attention, one being a laser tag arena, the other being a fancy looking place to go eat lunch.
The entrance to the art exhibit differed from all the other building entrances, being that it was so open and free spaced. Arches and long halls made the design stand out more compared to the more straight and cut modern look of the rest of the city. A giddy and uncontrollable excitement welled up within Featherweight. “There it is,” He said breathlessly.
The gallery was huge, open and expansive enough for the many various photos taken by Henry Bisson, though few ponies were there to observe when they got there. Pipsqueak got off of Feather’s back, wanting to go exploring on his own in the exhibit. “I will catch you round in, say, an hour. Sound good?”
“Yep! We’ll meet back here,” Featherweight began to move toward a particularly interesting photograph, sitting down in front of it, trying to take in as much of it as possible before the next caught his eye.
Pipsqueak rolled his eyes and walked over to a completely different section, trying to find some kind of meaning behind the pictures than them just being pictures.
Each photo was taken differently, some unimaginably impossible to have been taken in the first place. They had their own summaries by Henri, explaining what he did to take the photo and why he decided to take it in the first place. That knowledge, to Featherweight, was indispensable. When he crossed into the next room, the photos changed from landscapes and macro shots, to ponies paired together, be it by hip or by mouth.
Now entering the hall of captured happiness, what a weird name. Feather thought, walking in. There were ponies of every domain in there, fillies, colts, mares, stallions, some from Saddle Arabia, some from the Crystal empire, all sharing the same thing. Love. There were always two ponies in the picture, of all sexualities. Featherweight blushed as he walked through this hall, feeling out of place and almost unworthy to be in the presence of these ponies sharing such an intimate time with one another. It disturbed him, his imagination running wild with the thoughts being in this hall. Who would I be with? Would I be kissing hi-HER! Her, would I be kissing her? The ponies in the pictures looked happy, their significant other bringing them comfort and support so they could stand in front of a camera, unabashed by the love they shared with another pony. Featherweight turned his eyes away, unable to look at it anymore as images of him kissing Pipsqueak burned their way into his head, heating up his cheeks. You love him. Look at these ponies who have admitted their love. Look at how happy they are. Why are you keeping yourself from ha- Featherweight quickly turned his camera on himself, charging the flash, and releasing. A magnesium white seared his eyes, making his entire vision dance with stars and oversaturation of the world, flash burn covering sections of his field of view. It hurt, but it kept him from thinking, at least for now.
Making his way out of that hall, he meandered through the rest of the exhibit finding another hall of an entirely new breed of photos taken. They were all labelled “results of the hall of reflection.” Hall of reflection? Feather thought. The photos were of ponies, some laughing, some frowning, some just...shocked. What kind of place is that? Feather went further into the hall, not sure about what to make of the photos that were displayed in front of him. Then he saw it. Enter the hall of reflection the sign read leading into a dark room. Featherweight walked toward it, cautious, but curious. A small sign was there to explain what the room was. The hall of reflection is a magically enhanced room of mirrors. What one sees in those mirrors is based off of what they believe they see in themselves. During this time, there will be random points during the walkthrough of the room when cameras behind the mirrors take pictures of the reactions that ponies have to their reflections. If you are epileptic, yeah, yeah yeah. Ok. So that’s what this is. Featherweight thought as he walked into the room.
…………..
As Featherweight had entertained himself with the way the pictures were made, Pipsqueak drew amusement from the pictures themselves, laughing at some of them, mimicking the pose that the pony had taken in them, or just making funny faces at them. The more he went through the gallery, the more he toned down, starting to just glance at each photo, admiring what was right in front of him. Very quickly, Pipsqueak reached the hall of captured happiness, wide eyed when he got there. What in Equestria is all this? Pipsqueak scanned the room, seeing all the smiles, all the couples.
“Kind of weird, don’t you think?” A male voice popped up behind Pip.
“I don’t know what to make of it. What is this?”
“I’m not quite sure what you mean. It’s love, plain as day.” The pony said, walking up next to Pip.
“Love?” Pipsqueak felt that growing ache pang against the inside of his chest, pleading to get out. “But,” He stared at the mares kissing mares, stallions kissing stallions. “Wha-”
“Love can come in many forms. Many factors can define love for one pony and completely different factors can define love a different way for another. Only a few ponies know how to truly describe it, but sadly I’m not one of them.” The stallion said, taking a look at the description for the picture of two mares looking into each other’s eyes as they kissed. “Looky here. These two met at a hospital. One was in, the other was visiting a friend. Just a chance encounter and look at them.”
Pipsqueak still stared at the picture, perplexed by it. He rarely saw his parents share this kind of affection, if only just a small peck on the cheek.
“And look at this one,” The stallion pointed to one in the corner, a small photo compared to the rest, but one that held the most definition. “Friends. These two were once childhood friends, happy to pass the time. They would go to the ends of the world for one another. One day, as they grew up together, they realized everyone around them was getting a special somepony. They tried, too. Tried. No matter who they dated, it never felt right. Then, on one special year, one special month, one special day, one special time, the one on the left asked the one on the right if he would be his special somepony. The answer was yes. Upon reflection, neither of them had any idea why they didn’t think of it sooner. They cared for each other, inseperable to one another, they loved each other. Even in the face of scrutiny, they laughed. They laughed together, unabashed, not out of spite. They had one another, and that’s what mattered to them. Even now, look at them. Smiling and happy to be next to one another, wrapped up in each other’s embrace.” The stallion described, now behind Pipsqueak.
Pipsqueak skimmed over the description, reading only a fraction of what the stallion had just said. “How do you know so much about these two?” Pipsqueak looked back to see a familiar sight.
“Well, I would like to think my memory isn’t that bad.” The stallion said, an older version of the pony in the right of the picture stood before him. “That was the first picture I took in this project. Inspired by the wish of my now-husband to ‘capture happiness.’” The stallion smiled as he reminisced.
“So, you’re Henri Bisson?” Pipsqueak asked, looking back between the photo and the real deal.
“Indeed I am. I take it you’re a fan of my work?” Henri said, looking at the curious colt.
“No, actually. My friend is, though. I think he’d love to meet you, if that’s alright.”
“I don’t see why not. I’d be happy to meet him. What’s his name? And well, What’s yours?”
“Oh, well I’m Pipsqueak. His name is Featherweight. I think he’s down at the other exhibits. I told him I’d meet with him back in the lobby in an hour and that was,” Pipsqueak looked at a clock, “Twenty minutes ago. I have time to kill. I’d really like to understand what exactly you mean by these other forms of love, like what you have with your husband. If that’s ok with you.”
“Of course, Pipsqueak. It would be my pleasure”
…………..
A blue illumination covered the mirror maze, lighting the path for Featherweight to cautiously guide himself through. What they see inside themselves? What is that supposed to mean? Featherweight looked past each mirror, trying to find the right way out. When he found a dead end, he turned around only to find a mirror placed before him What? I thought I just came through this way. That is when he began to look at what was in the mirror rather than what was past it. It was him. The same tall lanky colt, but different somehow. He looked more tired. Swaying, in pain, almost like he were about to fall over at any second, kept up by sheer will alone. He was shaking, shifting and antsy, unable to keep still without looking around for something. Here we are. This must be us, trying our best to recover from the accident. Why does it look like we’re struggling? The concussion has healed. I’m back to normal, right? In the background of the mirror was a small plume of dust picking up, alerting Feather to turn back, finding nothing but a different mirror. That mirror held an even worse off version. He looked far more rugged, limb bones visible and ribs poking out from the crater that was his stomach. It was hard to look at himself in such a state, though he wore a smile. Why is this here? What is this supposed to show? We’re fine. I’m fine. I’m ok. I don’t look like that. I’m handling things fine by myself. Featherweight glanced around the mirrors, finding that most of them wore his telltale smile. He opted to look at the next one. Immediately backing up from his own image, Featherweight went wide eyed at the abomination that faced him. It was him, perfectly healthy, not about to drop from exhaustion, but wearing a bow. A singular pink bow in his hair. Don’t we look good in it? Pipsqueak would love to see us in this, wouldn’t he? Featherweight rubbed his eyes, looking at it more, his body had taken a more effeminate pose, opting to hold one forehoof up, limp and swaying. The Featherweight before him was happy, his eyes holding no fear or anxiety back. This is...Oh no. It’s not right. It shouldn’t be right. That isn’t me. I don’t love him. I can’t. We can and we do. You know this. That’s why this is here. It’s showing you what you want to become. Growling, Feather reached up to his hair, where the bow was and grasped at air. It was all still just an illusion. Some twisted fantasy that was hidden in the mirrors. He took a look at the next. It was him, but...better. What is this one supposed to be? I just look normal. Happy? What is it? A quick flash blinded him momentarily, having him blink rapidly, the mirror in front of him mimicking him. He shook the rest of the flash out of his eyes, turning to the second to last one. Here we are again. It’s me. My eyes are kind of sunken in, I’m not smiling. On that face, anything other than this would look weird. What is this trying to tell me? Featherweight looked away from it to the last mirror. It held the same colt, though more slim than what he thought was there. Its body trembled, looking skittish and fearful. Its eyes were darkened and reddened from a lack of sleep. It’s hard to look at this one. Kind of like the second one. What is this one supposed to represent? Me before all this happened? Featherweight took a closer look at it, eying every last detail of it, even though it made him uncomfortable.
“Are we really that sick?” All the other mirrors asked in unison.
“Wah!” Featherweight pulled back from the mirror, looking at all his copies staring back.
“Are we that bad? Don’t you see? That’s you. Just you. No enchantment. Only you,” The mirrors stared at the one that was still mimicking Featherweight.
“What? No! That isn’t me. I don’t look that bad! See,” Featherweight walked in a circle addressing the rest of himself. “I’m fine!” He then went back to the unenchanted mirror. “See?!” Featherweight pointed to his mirror, trying to convince himself that he was ok. A flash came from nowhere once again, leaving him dazed and even angrier. “I’m healthy, I’m better. I’m f-”
“Fine?” The mirrors interrupted. “You are sick. You need help,” The mirrors pleaded.
Featherweight growled again, stomping his hoof down, “You’re wrong! This,” He pressed his hoof up against the mirror, “Is not,” He wound up his hoof, “Me!” He smashed his hoof into the mirror, wincing in pain. That just went to fuel more of his anger. Strike after strike, Featherweight hit harder and harder, completely ignoring the pleas from himself to stop and the pain in his hoof growing. Breathing erratic and heavy, heart beating rapidly, ears ringing with rage, eyes wild with pain, Featherweight hit the mirror one last time, hearing a crack come from the impact. He gave a relieved smile as he lifted it to see the damage done. There was none. The crack hadn’t come from the mirror. The mirror finally fell into the ground, and Feather got up. Stinging and aching accompanied him during his walk to the exit, tears threatening to burst from his eyes. He skipped the booth that showed him his pictures, still angry at the exhibit and himself.
The shift in lighting gave Featherweight a small headache, making him squint as he looked at the clock. It was time for him to leave. He held his head down on his trek back to the main hall to keep others from paying attention to him.
When he entered the main hall, he saw Pipsqueak, and smiled, if only for a brief second before remembering the third mirror. He walked up to him, “So were you able to have fun here?” He asked, not paying attention to the pony next to them.
“Oh yeah. Did’ya see that one exhibit with all the ponies kissin? I really liked that one! At first I didn’t get it, but somepony came by and explained it to me. Isn’t love weird?” Pip jabbered on ecstatically.
“Yeah, wait. Who the heck could explain that stuff to you?” Feather asked
“Well, I tried my best.” The pony who had turned his back to Pipsqueak turned around, revealing himself to a wide eyed Featherweight.
“H-Henri Bisson? You got Henri Bisson to explain an exhibit to you?”
“To the best of my abilties,” Henri Chuckled, amused by the expression on Featherweight’s face.
“I, uh, it, um, I really like your work,” Featherweight stuttered, blushing harder the more he stammered.
“I can tell. Pipsqueak here has been telling me all about you. It seems you’ve acquired a mighty big portfolio already. That’s good.”
“T-thank you, Mr. Bisson,” Featherweight waivered a smile, a flurry of emotions hitting him all at once.
“Oh, looks like you broke your camera.” Henri said, looking at the damaged machine around Feather’s neck.
“Eh, yeah. I broke it during a…..an event. It’s only cracked down the lens, so I can still make some use out of it, have some interesting shots with the crack in the middle,” Featherweight rubbed the back of his head, wincing as his damaged hoof touched the scarred skin.
“Are you sure about that? It looks a lot more beat up than just a crack,” Henri picked up the camera from Feather’s neck, showing it to him.
Feather’s smile vanished within a second of seeing the state of the camera now. It’s lens was spiderwebbed in the cracks it had now, the sides of the lens housing scuffed and dented. The main camera fared slightly better with only some damage to the flash. “Oh.”
“Hey, don’t get too down about it. Cameras break. It happens. I know I’ve had a couple break in my time. It still looks repairable, so you’ve got that going for you, right?” Henri chuckled again, trying to keep an upbeat tone.
Featherweight shook his head, bringing back his smile, “Right! I can get it fixed. It isn’t any problem,” He looked over to Pipsqueak, who shared Henri’s expression of unease. “Hey, I’ve been keeping my friend waiting for lunch, so I think we should get going.”
Pipsqueak’s mouth dropped in shock, “What? No, I’m fine. You can keep talking wi-”
“No, no. It’s fine. It was really nice meeting you, Henri. I hope I can speak with you again sometime soon,” Featherweight held up his hoof to shake Henri’s.
Henri held still for a moment, surprised by the sudden shift, “Um, Yes. It was...nice. If you’d like, I can give you my business card. We can mail each other from time to time,” Henri put Feather’s camera back around him and shook his hoof. “A shame you have to go, but here,” He pulled out a card, and gave it to Feather.
Feather took it, smiling, “Yeah. Sorry. It was really nice meeting you, though.” Feather stored the card in his bag, “Come on Pipsqueak, let’s go to that one restaurant that we passed by earlier, ok?”
Pipsqueak was still processing what was going on. “S-sure,” He said, jumping onto Feather’s back, hearing a hiss of discomfort come from Feather.
Feather grit down his teeth, but kept his smile. “Bye, Mr. Bisson,”
Henri waved at the colts, “Goodbye, I hope you liked the exhibit,” So that’s Featherweight? I guess I know what Pipsqueak is worried about now. It’s a shame I wasn’t able to really see the qualities that Pipsqueak loves in him. So it goes.
Featherweight lightly limped toward the entrance, getting adjusted to the new shadow placements and bright spots. The smell and sounds of the city returning as they got closer.
Pipsqueak sat still on Feather’s back, stunned, mind reeling, W-What just happened?