//------------------------------// // AND FROM THAT DAY FORWARD ANYTIME A BUNCH OF PLANTS ARE TOGETHER IN ONE PLACE IT'S CALLED A GREENHOUSE! // Story: The Market Gardener // by shortskirtsandexplosions //------------------------------// Fire red—like the scorching lustre of her billowing hair. Vibrant gold—like the elegant shimmer she brought into the room. Earthen brown—like the hue of her messenger bag: rich yet modest. Dappled flecks of white—like the shine of her teeth when she smiled. And even the stem—when shone under blue light—resembled the turquoise of her beautiful, glistening eyes. Of all the flowers Wallflower Blush grew in her garden, Tagetes patula—French merigold—was by far her absolute favorite. For during those long, lonesome afternoons spent out back behind the campus grounds of Canterlot High, tending to those delicate blooming buds gave the shy girl's eyes plenty of colors to fill the void with. But—blissfully—not for long. “Wally...?” That warm, womany voice ran along velvet aromas of floral euphoria. “Where do you want me to put these azaleas?” Wallflower looked up from where she was watering an array of fiery flower buds. Her soil-brown eyes glossed over the moment they reflected Sunset Shimmer's hourglass visage, sashaying out of the tool shed and across the springy verdant glen that marked the space between the fringes of the cozy little garden. Her lips parted with a soft breath, wanting to profess her adoration ten times over... wanting to propose... wanting to leap up from where she was squatting and tackle Sunset with an endless barrage of dew-soft-laden kisses. She chose to calmly answer her girlfriend instead: “Over there by the oak tree.” She motioned with a hand spade. “There should be some soft soil ready for planting.” Sunset Shimmer cradled the potted azaleas to her ample bosom, regarding the space in question with a curious blink. “Won't they be choked of sunlight there?” “Eh... azaleas are tough enough to handle a bit of shade.” The edge of Wallflower's lips curled up into something most would call a “smile.” It was very unbecoming of the teenage girl. Then again, so were a lot of things. “Reminds me of somebody I know,” she said. “Heh. You're the flower expert, not me,” Sunset said, shuffling over with a garden shovel of her own. “Back where I'm from, we treat flowers like midnight snacks.” “Is that a fact?” “Mmmhmmm.” Sunset's lips tightened as she struggled with a few errant grass roots while making room for the azaleas to be planted. She squatted low... attempting to imitate her significant other's grace in such poise but failing—in a charming way. “In Equestria, flowers are basically microwave tv dinners... without microwaves.” “Heh...” Wallflower stood up from her task, not bothering to brush the flecks of dirt from her baggy cargo pants or striped sweatervest. “I guess it's strangely comforting to know that tending to plants is just as lonesome a hobby over there as it is here.” “I wouldn't call it 'lonesome,'” Sunset Shimmer said, planting one azalea after another beside the oak tree. She smiled into a brisk spring wind that rippled over the lush garden. “It's just... quiet.” “Days spent gardening is very dull,” Wallflower droned with a slight roll of her eyes. “There's no need to pretend otherwise—” “Who's pretending?” Sunset's voice rolled back. The warmth in her words matched her cheeks, setting the shady spot aflame with sincerity. “It's calm. It's soothing. It's meditative. Besides... it's what you've always loved to do your whole life... and how can something that you love to do possibly be boring to me?” Within seconds, Wallflower had slumped down, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend's supple figure. She leaned in—a very bold thing—if only to do something bolder. “Muuuuah...” A long kiss to the back of the neck, followed by a kitten-like nuzzle to Sunset's ear, and then she purred: “Nothing I enjoy in life is dull or lonesome anymore... thanks to you.” Sunset took a few giggling breaths to come up from that deluge of mush. “You wouldn't be this snuggly with me if you saw and smelled what I look like on the other side of the mirror.” To that, Wallflower merely blinked. “Betch, I was raised on a DVD of Spirited Away. Freud and I had prepared well in advance for you.” Wallflower turned to face her with a smile and a sigh. The two leaned in and rubbed noses like lesbian dorks until she trilled through grinning teeth: “Speaking of which... I got the most perfect gift for you.” Wallflower arched an eyebrow, hugging Sunset tighter. “You know it's not my birthday for another few months.” “It's a special occasion every day that you're alive, ya friggin' goofus.” Sunset nudged her in the shoulder before standing up. A very sad Wallflower let her part ways—if only to watch her walk towards the shed. “I brought it with me in my purse! I didn't want you to see until after school was over!” “Why?” Wallflower asked, repositioning herself on the grass so that she resembled a Bond girl resting atop an invisible piano. Spending the last few months paired up with Sunset had grown her a spine, among other things, and she looked forward to each and every new way she could surprise the former Fall Formal Princess with how many ways she could break her past coquettish mold. “Is it NSFPW?” “NSFPW?” Sunset Shimmer's voice echoed as she entered the shed. “What's that—?” “Not Safe For Principal Woona!” Laughter rippled across the garden. “If you're gonna boldly acronym, at least make it worth my ears!” “Well, if they were fuzzier and longer then I wouldn't have to work so hard!” Wallflower smiled. Silence. “Get it?” She blinked. More silence. “Horse joke!” Crickets. “Cuz horse girl?” All that returned was a loud and resounding: “Starswirl on a bike!” Just like that, Wallflower Blush's blood ran cold, turning her pale green face even paler. When her flawless and beautiful beloved pronounced Equestrian exclamations, that could only mean things had gotten more serious than burnt placentas. She breathlessly leapt to her feet and jogged into the shed. Once there—haloed by dangling tools and seedling bags—she approached a very frazzled and panicking Sunset. “What's the matter?!” Wallflower gnashed her teeth. Starting to tremble. “What's wrong? Is it Equestrian magic?” “Worse!” Sunset Shimmer spun, hyperventilating. Her forearms lifted instinctively up, wrists dangling like a limp donkey's. She looked like she was experiencing a waking nightmare—a night terror for horses—and Wallflower wanted to cuddle her instantly. Instead, she listened as Sunset sputtered: “My purse! It's gone!” “Your purse is gone?!” “My cellphone! My textbooks! Princess Twilight's journal—Oh Wally!—Your gift!” She sniffled, eyes watering. “I can't believe you misplaced it!” “I can't either...” Wallflower blinked. “It's not like you!” “Wally!” Sunset stomped her foot, frowning. “No fair! I'm really really freaking out right now—!” Wallflower shook her palms, wincing. “Wh-wh-what I mean is... something must have happened to it while we were gardening—” She paused in mid-speech, for her eyes were reflecting a sheen of sunlight. Her girlfriend saw it. Sunset spun around, squinting. The opposite end of the shed had been opened, its double doors stretched wide with a broken padlock dangling. Beyond the exit, the two girls could see the open streets of Canterlot... ...and a male figure in dark gray running down the sidewalk. He had a familiar brown messenger bag dangling loosely over his bobbing shoulders. “That... that man...!” Sunset Shimmer pointed a shaky finger. “He stole my purse...” Her lower lip quivered. “...my belongings!” In the meantime... ...two brown eyes floating a few inches from Sunset's fair shoulder turned amber, then flickered with the fiery passion of a thousand angrily burning suns. They were accompanied by a snarling breath that rivaled an army of dragons... or in this case a flock of bald eagles ready to shriek into the event horizon of glorious annihilation. “Wait right here, my love,” issued a voice—thick and gravelly—and smelling ever so slightly of gun powder and apple pie. “You got your cell phone? You should probably call Rainbow Dash and Twilight so they can—” Sunset heard a metallic cocking sound. “Huh?” She turned to look over her shoulder. The teenage girl who was once Wallflower Blush had vanished behind a thick brown bulletproof trenchcoat being draped over angry shoulders. The figure in question stood before a tall metal locker with double doors—one showing a red cross and the other an emblem of bullets. From this container, Wallflower grabbed a thick pair of steel-toed boots which she quickly donned, followed by a three-starred army helmet—one size too small—which she planted briskly over her emerald scalp. Off a nearby table, she swiped a folded field shovel. Then—last but not least—she reached one last time into the locker with both arms and pulled out—not one, but—two enormous rocket launchers complete with a surplus of fragmentary bazookas. “Wall...” Sunset stammered, stumbling backwards with a pallid expression across her face. “...Wallflower? What... what's all this...?” “Last one alive lock the door...” Grumbled a gruff voice... or a feminine teenage voice trying to be “gruff,” but no less laced with a tangible layer of homicidal menace. “Huh?” What proceeded next was louder than thunder, and issued in three separate salvos that formed into one, created by Wallflower's storming exit from the shed—upon which she fired two rockets point blank into the ground—thusly propelling her body skyward in an act of flight that defied all reason and pacifism and anything else vaguely French. “SCREAMIN EAGLES!!!" The valkyrie botanist hollered, vanishing like a fired flare into the urban miasma. And Sunset Shimmer clung to a stack of pots, knocked back in the acrid backdraft, alone with her undergarments. Thoroughly soaked.