//------------------------------// // V.IV - Gone to Waste // Story: The Broken Bond // by TheApexSovereign //------------------------------// This was going to work. It had to. This was going to work. It had to! It had to. The table was set. The friends were here. Seven hearts, however hurting, were completely open to Starlight’s, and more than willing to receive hers. No matter what lay in its scarred depths. She was their friend, all they wanted was for her to heal from whatever trauma she willfully festered in. Oh, Starlight. You poor, poor pony... Crinkling parchment nudged Twilight’s thoughts, drawing her to the floating, creasing scroll before her—the latest victim in Princess Twilight Sparkle’s compulsive need to do something with her body other than pace a hole into the floor. Her gut bottomed-out in a dreadful void. This was going to work, she had to remind herself, it had to. Success didn’t rely solely on this carefully crafted plan she was currently abusing, however. It depended on the conduct of her rather… emotive friends. “Hey, girls, let’s keep in… mind. Hm.” Twilight hesitated at the perpetual clattering beyond her unraveling scroll. Oh, now I’m being annoying— “We hear ya, Twilight. What is it?” asked Spike, her ever-present shadow. And confidence. His reassuring smile reminded her these feelings were just atypical nerves. Just perilously close to the moment of truth, is all. Everypony was on edge. “Remember,” she continued, “that no matter what Starlight shares with us, or not, Rainbow Dash—” “What? Why me?” “And Pinkie,” Twilight added, failing to suppress a smile in the way she froze mid-prance at the table, eggs benedict assembly platter on-mane, “whether or not she tells us anything, even if she tells us nothing—” “No flipping out!” they chimed together. Perhaps Twilight had laid this on a little thick. A little. “Regardless! Heh,” she continued, scroll waving the heat off her face, “I don’t want there to be any risk whatsoever of Starlight thinking we’ll be angry with her for not opening up. Okay? It’s imperative we mind Starlight when interacting with her from here on out. That means no eye-rolling, groaning, growling, grimacing—” “Or breathing?” Spike muttered. He clammed up with a single, sharp glare. “Kidding! I’m kidding.” “Well, I’m not. This is important.” One conversation. Just one where Starlight can meet my eyes again and tell the truth. And then they would debate magic theory again, they would read together, bake and cook, try different teas… talk, about everything—like they used too. “Twilight?” She lifted her eyes toward Fluttershy, hugging a pitcher of orange juice. “Is something wrong?” Her heart dropped. “There’s, uh, there’s no pulp in that OJ, is there?” “Um, no. I-I-at least, I don’t think so…” Fluttershy shook her head, almost attempting a close inspection. “I just wanna say, we all agree how important today is. But just remember, if the, um, ‘what if’ happens, and we can’t get through to S-Starlight…” Fluttershy gulped. “As her friends, we’ll have to be game to try again. And again and again.” Twilight nodded. “Of course.” Quitting on Starlight was downright unacceptable. “That’s the most important thing we can do, no matter the outcome, I think,” Fluttershy continued. “Even if we succeed, I don’t think she’ll completely change after one conversation. S-speaking from experience.” Twilight nodded, understanding, and cursing herself inside for even hoping that Starlight bent to their wishes—as if she needed the extra pressure for something she must deeply desire. “But, oh, I do hope we can help her!” whimpered Fluttershy. “At least enough for her to smile again. I really, really don’t want Starlight to keep feeling so bad about herself,” she finished with in a wispy sob. “Oh, neither do I, Fluttershy—UP! Don’t drop that now!” warned Twilight, as her friend shifted the pitcher to wipe away tear buildup. “Wow, Twilight—” Dash began. Fluttershy silenced her with a glassy-eyed glare. “Don’t blame her, Dashie. I’ve been like this all morning.” “But that doesn’t give anypony an excuse to talk ya down!” she answered, gesturing to the ground. To Twilight, who had been irritable and spastic every step of the way since awakening them at the crack of dawn. An apology bubbled up through her constricting throat— “Yes, well, your way of coping doesn’t justify lashing back at Twilight for her way, either. So, um, there,” she finished bashfully. Dash, slack-jawed, glanced apologetically to Twilight. “R-right. Right, okay. Just cool your jets, Twilight. We got this. And Starlight’s got us!” Twilight watched her assertive friend place the orange juice where she’d asked. “R-right.” And Rainbow swooped off, colors trailing behind her as she took a turn washing down the windows to a sparkling sheen. The fastest thing she’d done all morning—and no argument or nothing. How unexpected, that whole exchange. Although, not quite. Fluttershy knew her best friend better than anypony. If Dash was able to ascertain her meaning by “your way of coping” without further snark, both knew of what was being referred. Knowing Dash, it had something to do with whatever she’d spent “practically all night pretty much” considering what she wanted to tell Starlight. When was the last time she’d devoted such time to something unrelated to flying or Daring Do? Twilight trusted her, who moved about the table, setting down plates with methodical repetition. In fact, Rainbow had been quiet all morning. It was unlike her, though, to be fair, abnormal behavior was achingly commonplace nowadays: she was unashamed to have cried just as much as Fluttershy when Twilight almost—well, when she inadvertently ruined Starlight. All the more reason to fix everything. I just hope it isn’t too late… “Oh, quit worrying, Twilight!” “AH! I didn’t say anything!” Pinkie bounded by, apple juice bouncing upon her back in rhythm. “Nope!” She plopped the pitcher down, animating alongside her words: “But you got this queasy-sickly little look on your face that was all like, ‘Oh! Ah! Starlight!’” she shrilled. “‘I sure hope you absolutely love this yummerrific breakfast feast fit for a best buddy and seven other friends who love her to itty bitty pieces and don’t want her to explode!’” Twilight had to consciously remind herself that Pinkie’s method of coping was to joke. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” “I know!” She started bouncing over. “You’ve had that look all morning, when there’s really no reason—!” “No-no-no! Pinkie! Pinkie! Pinkie.” Twilight galloped over, rolling her checklist overhead as Pinkie, impossibly statuesque, swiveled her eyes toward her approach. “The orange juice needs to be six centimeters parallel to the apple juice, not the other way around. Starlight’s going to be sitting at this end over here, so, she’ll want easy access to her favorite juice without feeling the need to ask for help, leading to a potential mess that I’d rather avoid altogether if she’s ever going to talk to me again!” Tableware clanged amidst Twilight’s panting. She had to wait the torturously long second in which Pinkie’s absurdly stretchy neck stretched, curved, and she nosed the pitcher of molten gold over with a single tap. “So, the apple juice goes here? Or there?” “Here, of course.” “Righto!” And Pinkie went back to work. Twilight sighed, at last comfortable doing so. A prismatic fountain of hair passed overhead, reminding her of a previous concern. “Rainbow Dash.” She carefully—something very un-Dash-like—set down a platter of flapjacks adjacent to the other, sandwiching the table centerpiece. “Rainbow!” Dash blinked, turning with a grin that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “‘Sup, Egghead?” Twilight gulped—that look, the rehearsed emotion in her voice. “Please don’t do this,” she uttered low, so as not to embarrass her. “Uh, do what?” “This. What you just did. The…” Twilight glanced around, as if anypony were actually around to gossip about this awful name. Sighing to herself, she finished, “The Starlightism.” “I was not doing a Starlightism!” Rainbow cried.   “Yeah, ya were!” AJ called from the kitchen. “I was not!” Rainbow asserted. “Yes, you were! Aside from being quiet all morning, you just acted like nothing’s bothering you.” Twilight flew up to Rainbow, who shrank back as she said, “And, before you say that you didn’t want to get anypony’s spirits down,” because Rainbow was that prideful and selfless, “what’s the one rule—the one rule—that I stressed up and down throughout making breakfast, trailing back to before we even left the party last night?” Rainbow was stupefied. “DASH!” Twilight clapped her hooves as she said, “Pay! Attention! PLEASE!” And the dining room fell still. A beat before Twilight snapped, before she even called out Rainbow’s name like that, the sane part of her brain, suppressed by everything that could and probably would go wrong, recognized the look preventing her from answering. It was the same look Pinkie had just given her about the juice. The same look everypony sent her way at one point, in the briefest of moments, when they thought she wasn’t looking, or when they suggested that perhaps it’d be wise to wait a day and recover before tackling the Starlight problem, which Twilight quite rudely shot down. It was that same look they all wore now as Rainbow howled, got in her face, and clapped aggressively with the words, “Twilight! You are making it. Impossible. To talk. About ANYTHING!” “I know! I know!” Twilight hit the floor, blanketing herself in her checklist. “I know that I’ve been acting like a tyrant. I know you girls know I’m going Twilynanas over this. All of you are the best for putting up with me, but I am well aware, Rainbow Dash, that it would in fact be better to wait until I have a full twelve-hour sleep! I know this, because it’s all I’ve been thinking about since we got back here! But waiting even so much as a day puts Starlight’s soul at greater a risk of being unsalvageable, and there is nothing—I repeat, nothing—that’ll convince me that this in any way a sane idea!” Rainbow crossed her forelegs, glowering under furrowed brows. “Well, how do you even know she’d wanna eat with us?” “I don’t!” “Can’t we get along for one hour without going at each other’s throats?!” Fluttershy shrilled. “Starlight would be devastated if she knew we were fighting over her!” “Eh, this is about what I expected, honestly.” Dash went stiff as a board, as did Twilight and Fluttershy. The shuffling and clamoring froze as well. As one they snapped their gaze below, to the doorway, where Starlight Glimmer stood with one leg holding it open instead of her magic. Messy-mane, bemused, for half a second Twilight’s heart soared—it was just like any other day, with “Zombie Glimmer” having just rolled out of bed, until that painful reminder tangled in her forelock signaled the reality. That she left Maud’s, alone, which solved the “later problem” of getting her to come home. Up until now, in moments of doubt, Twilight wondered if she was so uncomfortable that Starlight couldn’t even stand being under the same roof as her. That wasn’t the case, apparently. Thankfully. But Twilight’s heart twinged, uncertainty now eating her once again. “St-Starlight, lovely to see you!” As Rarity trotted around the table, carrying with her a tray of pastries, Twilight teleported herself out of the bundle of checklist to the doorway, putting on a warm, totally-not-stressed-or-tired smile. “Would you like a donut, darling? You look famished.” “We’re just about to have breakfast,” Twilight added. “All that partying last night had us too beat to go home, so we decided to make it an occasion.” “W-we’d love it if you stayed!” Fluttershy called from the back. “And tried my breakfast pastries!” Pinkie chimed in, singing, “I whipped up a platter of lemon meringue danishes with your name on it!” Applejack and Rainbow smiled reassuringly, warmly. Not a single pony looked as exhausted, nervous, or sad as they felt. This was going to work. It had to. This was going to work, it had to! And then Twilight looked back, and was met with a soulless smirk. “A random occasion where the table centerpiece is the eight of us at the last Gala?” She nodded to it: all of them, smiling wide in a huddle, dolled up and without a care in the world. Twilight balked. There was this meaningful friendship-speech she was planning to give at Maud’s, but now, well, she didn’t expect Starlight to have come home willfully! Which was just an awful thing to presume— “Starlight, my dear, have a donut!” Rarity said, a little too loud—only, it was just crushingly silent. “You must be ready to eat the crystal, you look so skinny. I-in a good way, of course!” Starlight eyed the platter, then Rarity’s straining smile. “Now how’m I supposed to hold these?” she asked flatly. “Uh, w-well—I mean, you could, ah, you-your teeth—” “I don’t have a horn anymore to carry extras,” Starlight explained. “I guess that’s another silver lining. I won’t get fat anymore, since it’s not worth the effort.” She tittered softly. Rarity followed half a second after Starlight's petered out, her laughter high and frantic and awkwardly forlorn until it cut abruptly short. Now they were with two blushing unicorns. “Eating is al-ways worth the effort,” Pinkie cheered. “It’s delicious and fulfilling and it makes you happy and healthy!” “An’ I don’t recall you eatin’ much at the Gourd Fest with me,” said Applejack. “Why don’t you take a load off, have a bite? We got plenty!” “Thanks, but in that case, I’ll pick later. I’m not really hungry.” Starlight rubbed her forehead, eyes screwed shut. Her horn must have hurt. “Would you like me to cast the nerve-nullification spell?” Twilight moved to touch her cheek— Starlight yanked away, eyes wide, and walloping her friend in the heart. “Uh, no! Thanks. Yesterday’s not, uh, worn off yet…” “So you don’t want to eat, and you don’t want to sit with us, clearly. You’re not even here because you’re doubled-over in pain.” Rainbow Dash landed beside Twilight and Rarity, solemn of face. “Why’d you come over, Starlight?” Her wings weren’t even flared. Pain did cross Starlight’s face, but it was a brief, fleeting thing she probably forgot instantly. “Well,” she began, smiling feebly, “I was still beat from last night, and I wanted to sleep in my own bed. And think about stuff… Anyway, I heard arguing from the entrance hall, so...” Nopony said anything. How could they? Honesty would only hurt Starlight, not that she didn’t know the argument’s contents from Fluttershy. “I’m sorry,” blurted Twilight. “You must not have wanted to hear that right now.” “Frankly,” Applejack said, approaching, “this ain’t exactly the attitude we’ve expected from ya, Starlight. Ya seem… I dunno, gray. Grayer than the calm before the storm. Did something happen at Maud’s, by any chance?” Thank Celestia Applejack didn’t mention Tempest, or what she’d told them. Means she remembered Starlight wouldn’t want to dive into that right off the bat. “Nothing happened at Maud’s, except that I was finally honest with myself. For the first time in days, actually.” “Really?” Twilight breathed. A little too emotionally—Starlight grimaced, exhaling sharp enough for Twilight to wince at her own stupidity. “Okay, look,” Starlight began, regarding Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Spike, and those in the back, “I can see you girls went through a lot of trouble, once again, into doing something nice for me. And I really, really, really appreciate the efforts. I mean that,” she added, touching her heart. Her smile dropped, as did her eyelids, ears, her muzzle. “But girls, I… just don’t want to talk right now. Ever, really, about last night. Whatever you heard or what you might think, know that I’m not going anywhere.” It must have been easy to say that to the floor, Twilight thought. “Starlight, am I going to find your room empty later tonight?” Starlight’s glazed look hardened into a glare. “No.” “Could… could you look me in the eye when you say that? Please?” “Could you trust me enough to believe that? Please?” It wasn’t trust, it’s just… Twilight only wanted her friend back. But she couldn’t guilt her like that, which was the maddening thing! “Oh, I cannot stand this!" Rarity stamped. "Starlight, my dear, you’ve avoided everypony’s gaze every chance you could! Why in Equestria is that?” “Rarity,” Rainbow hissed, but it was already out there. Wincing, Starlight softly uttered, “You think about how I’ve been acting, and you wouldn’t wanna look anybody in the eye, ether.” “Starlight Glimmer,” said Twilight, “there isn’t a soul in Equestria who thinks ill of you. They just want you—” “Yeah, yeah, ‘to be happy again,’ I get it! Well, here’s my opinion on what will make me happy again, just in case you were curious.” Starlight waved toward the buffet. “Eat this nice breakfast you prepared for yourselves, and enjoy it, by yourselves. And the next time we see each other, don’t ask me how I’m feeling, don’t ask about the last week, or bring up anything about my horn. And last night especially, don’t! ...Say. Anything!” she piped up as Twilight inhaled, ready to object about the healthiness of this venture. “Don’t even start with me. Please, Twilight. If you really think I’m game to talk about any of that? Especially first thing in the morning?” She scoffed, and Twilight realized she was only staring at her own eye-level—her stupid, fish-like mouth. “I don’t even know what to say. Honestly.” That Twilight was an awful friend who forgot one of the earliest quirks she'd recalled about her friend. That being she was not a morning pony. “I understand how horrible this must have been for you, Twilight. Believe me—it’s what I spend most of my time thinking about.” “Seriously?” Not about her injury, not even her own pain… but what Twilight felt throughout it all, through every mistake Starlight had believed she’d made since it happened, her mind has prioritized Twilight’s behavior, indicating her own sentiments on the matter… Starlight really didn't care. It had been them, hasn't it? “Truly?” Twilight whimpered, essentially repeating herself. “Starlight, this past week, I—” “It’s fine,” Starlight cut in, raising a hoof, “Twilight. You do what you have to do. I’ve not minded.” You saved my life and this is my fourth time speaking with you since. Fifth if Starlight's horrific breakdown upon realizing what she'd lost counted, but they didn't exactly speak then. Twilight ached for the days when they'd spend hours together. “Please, please don’t shut me out, Starlight.” But her eyes drew shut with a pitying Starlight-smile. “It’s nothing personal, Twilight. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have ever talked about this stuff, and if I was gonna, well…” A shrug. “It’s too little, too late for me.” Twilight didn’t know what to say. What could she, and would Starlight care by this point? They couldn’t force anything on her, that wouldn’t be helpful for any one of their souls, least of all Starlight's. But letting her go like this shouldn't even be considered! Yet they couldn’t pounce on her and force her to spill her honest feelings either. The reality was just as Starlight said: it's too little a gesture for the scope of her problems, and Twilight was far, far too late to suddenly act like she cared about her well-being. “I’ll catch you girls later. I’m… I’m sorry,” Starlight mumbled, turning, and dropping her smile before the door closed fully. “M-me too,” Pinkie choked. Rainbow, feeling the same, smashed the plate of donuts out of Rarity’s magical grasp. What proceeded after was without a doubt the ugliest, loudest, most tearful fight they ever had.