Some things in this world are meant to be, but others just aren't. It's a simple fact of life really, and nothing can change that. You can love, you can adore, and you can love as a friend. But that doesn't change the fact of what is meant to be. Things happen for their own twisted reasons; some being the fault of a single pony and others being the fault of millions. It is often thought of in a complex simplicity, being able to truly understand how ones mind works and how they choose those around them. But that is never something that is fully understandable, because if it was, there wouldn't be anything new in the world to look forward to. It would all be expected, knowing how one thought and functioned. That's what makes sentience so great in the world we live in, even though it brings about the dark horrors of ones subconscious.
There is always something new. When you think you know exactly how someone thinks and how they function, it turns on you and backfires. They surprise you with a different action than that of what was predicted. It is always an endless battle to find what makes us tick, and to find that one variable that determines actions: a conscience. Without it, we are nothing more than a walking piece of meat, food for every other creature on the planet. But this thing we have developed over thousands of years has given us the ability to grasp what is happening and make decisions based upon that. And no matter how many tests that you do trying to find that one variable that actually determines the outcome, every mind interprets it differently.
Love. One aspect of life that can sway the decisions of anypony with even the smallest touch on their hearts. It's impossible to put such feelings to words, or even explain it. It comes to you as a feel rather than being audibly present. The feeling of love, from a touch to the sweet smell of someponies perfume, it is ever present in the world we live in. We see those with a glance, and claim to love them at first sight. We cling to them and adore every aspect about them, even though we may not comprehend why we do it. Sometimes it isn't love, but it is the love of a sister or a brother. When the things we know turn on us, and we find ourselves looking to someone that we see as a sister or a brother to help pull us out of the rut in life. If they can help us to aspire to be something greater, then they hold a higher standard in our hearts. They become our obsession, every little thing about them seeming greater than the next. We find them to be our idols, and try to make every aspect of our life just as theirs is.
But what is life, when we just make it to be like someone else? The fact of life is that you will always aspire to be like someone else, and no matter how hard you try to stray away from that, a part of them will always be the reason you are where you are. It is no easy matter to simply go and find what makes you who you are. With everything that is out there, there is more to mold you to the conforms of what someone wants you to be.
Feelings flow through everyone of us, but sometimes we just feel like were an empty shell without any of these. We may admire and claim to love something, but we find there to be no real emotional strings attached these words. And when we find ourselves trapped in this box of our own inadequate emotions, we seek out to find that which makes us feel something. Some get their attractions from real life objects and acts, but others find themselves looking towards other ponies. And no matter what we attach ourselves to, there always comes the day where we find something that amplifies what we feel, or crushes us entirely.
There are secrets everywhere we look, even if somepony claims there isn't. Whether we believe them or not, that is purely the decision of ones own mind. Secrets are often kept as they are to prevent pain and suffering, and we often think that they would be easier dealt with had we known about them before. It doesn't work that way, that is wishful thinking at its finest trying to create its own small reality within the one that we live. If some of them are there to keep us from pain and suffering, then what are the others there for? If there is any real purpose to what we make of them, the secrets that prevent nothing more than the sway of a vote are there to keep society in check for however the most powerful ponies want it to be seen. Secrets are only what you make them out to be, and obsessions can amplify the pain that one may hold.
The world isn't meant for ponies like us; ponies who think for themselves. It is meant for those who are easily swayed and put to actions that are not their own. But for us, what does that make us? Are we another hunk of walking meat, or another mind in an empty body, trying to find the secrets that fill the whole in our hearts?
It was what would be considered a normal day in Ponyville, the trees were swaying in the warm summer breeze. The birds were flying about, chirping at each other as they flew across the streets. Ponies walked about without a care, going about their daily business and buying their groceries for the day, just as everypony else did. Celestia's eternal sun hung high in the sky, beaming down upon all of those who were without shade. Some ponies would get terrible sunburns in this weather as they played in the fields; some of the younger ponies playing foot ball or soccer. It was normal for almost everypony, except for one sad filly who was without friends this day.
She walked the streets with her head hung low, not giving a care to anypony that came her way. Nothing seemed happy to her, and she could care less if the sun blared through her glowing orange coat and burned the skin below. The wings that she held on her back were nothing more than what a butterfly would have, which would've made most other ponies depressed if they had this issue. But she felt nothing, no sadness, depression, or even happiness. She felt nothing; the feelings that she hears everypony talk about non-existent in her own being. She always found it strange that she never felt what others did, but she couldn't fathom what would be wrong with her own mind to cause this. The name she had been given since birth, whenever that was, seemed a bit strange to her. She didn't know why ponies called her Scootaloo, but she had assumed it had to do with the scooter she rode around town.
As for her birth, she didn't remember where her parents were, if she actually had any. There was nothing in her mind that gave her any ideas of where they could have been. The only thing she ever remembers was waking in Ponyville, under a large oak tree...
The sky was darkened by the large clouds that hovered over the town of Ponyville, a torrential downpour coming in their immediate future. Ponies all around ran for cover as the winds picked picked up speed, breaking branches off of trees and tossing them around as if it was a piece of paper. Leaves skidded across the ground, rustling as they flew through the streets. It was dark enough from the oncoming storm that some of the street lamps flickered on, giving the town an eerie feel. There were no ponies out on the street or going between their homes. Windows were boarded over to avoid having to replace any that may break from tree limbs crashing through. Some ponies had boarded their doors over, expecting the very worst from the weather teams. It was to be expected though, considering their reputation for violent storms.
Flashes of lightning shone through the town, the rumbling of the thunder echoing seconds later. Droplets of rain began to patter on the cobbled streets, the stones changing hues as they became saturated. One drop after another, the rain fell from the skies. It started as a simple sprinkle, but slowly escalated to a downpour as the number of droplets increased by the seconds. Soon, water was flowing freely through the streets and down storm drains, some flooding from the excess of leaves clogging the drainage pipes. Lightning flickered through the town once again, followed closely by the sharp and sudden thumping of the thunder, shaking windows in their frames.
One pony lay asleep as the copious amounts of rain fell around her, the only means of protection being the large oak tree that shielded her from the fury of the storm. She slept in a near hibernation state, ignoring the chilling winds that bit at the barren orange flank and frayed the once neatly kept purple mane. The tree that offered her protection stood tall, the branches extending over twenty feet at its greatest point. Its trunk was at least four feet wide, and it had to have been there for quite a while in order to grow to its current size. Leaves hung thick on the branches, blocking out any sunlight during the day and redirecting a great portion of the rain away from the base of the tree. Some of it however ran down the slope and towards the base, leaving a streak behind where it washed away some of the loose dirt.
The miniature stream held a steady flow as the rain fed it, passing under the bright orange pony. She didn't wake for a matter of minutes, but after a short amount of time she had come to her senses. Why is it wet? She came to ask herself. And why is it so cold?
Her eyes flicked open, suddenly realizing that she was somewhere... somewhere she had never seen before. The deep purple eyes searched for something that she might remember, but they found nothing that registered as important. On one horizon was a rather large forest, spanning as far as the eye could see. On the other, a small town covered where the horizon would be, various multicolored buildings jutting up above others. It was weird for her, this place. Where ever she was, this wasn't the last place that she remembered being. The last place that her mind was able to go back to was... nothing. There was nothing else, but what lay in front of her. An empty field, a small town , a forest, and a large tree protecting her from the rain. Next to her propped up against the tree was a scooter, one that seemed ever so familiar, even though it made little sense to her why it did.
Slowly standing from her former position, Scootaloo brushed the dirt that stuck to her body back to the ground where it belonged. She didn't know what to do in this world she knew little about, or for that matter, remembered. It was so much to take in at one time, and she felt like she should have some sort of feeling running through her mind. But there was nothing; just the vast emptiness of a mind that knew nothing. The town ahead of her was the best bet for any knowledge of her past, or if anypony even knew who she was. Scootaloo wanted answers about what was going on, and it would even be a bit of consolation if some other pony had no idea what was going on. In the back of her mind, however, there was a nagging sense that they would know at least something even if they said they didn't.
She walked out from under the cover of the tree, standing in the rain and looking to the sky as if it would give her an answer to the questions she sought to be answered. Eyes locked to the dull gloomy skies, a cyan dot flying in the horizon drew her attention from the things she wondered so much about. It was interesting to see such color contrasting against the dark skies. It was interesting to watch somepony else fly through the skies at high speeds, performing barrel rolls and various other tricks. This pony only stayed on the horizon though, and she could do no more than just watch as she flew about happily doing what she did.
The little orange flaps on her back began to flutter, trying to get her own body into the air. Scootaloo pushed every bit of energy into the wings in her back, putting her mind to work and blocking out any other noises from reality. Only one sound echoed in her mind, and that was the rhythmic patter of the rain drops falling upon her skull. Her wings picked up some momentum, vibrating and stirring up a small gust of wind just behind her. The deep purple eyes became covered, orange eyelids falling down over them as she fell into a deeper concentration. Teeth started to grind in her mouth as her wings started to beat at speeds that she had never been used to. Well, 'used to' was a very loose term for somepony who didn't remember anything. A strange sensation came over her body, and luckily for her it was just when her wings began to tire. It was unexplainable... could it be flight? Her eyes burst open, hoping to see the ground hundreds of feet below her, but it was the same as it had always been. Sticky, wet, and muddy. All that had happened was a bit or forward push, the mud collecting around the front of her hooves as they dug into the ground.
The miniscule wings attached to her back ceased to move at all, and from this moment on she told herself that she would never be able to fly; not knowing it was as simple as just believing. She wanted to drop to her knees and feel sad, but there was nothing to feel sad about. It didn't make sense why she couldn't feel sad, but she brushed it off as she looked towards the sky, watching as that same cyan pony flew with her mane in the wind.
There were always things that intrigued her mind, and often found herself walking around thinking to herself. And right now that was just what she found herself doing, walking. She didn't know why it felt right to walk, but it just did. Very seldom was she ever actually stopped while walking, but every so often some older pony would ask if she was alright. The general response never fooled anypony, they always knew that something was wrong. Even though she told them that she was alright, Scootaloo truly felt that way more or less. There was nothing wrong, but there wasn't actually anything that was right. The state she hovered in, a state of serenity without emotion, it was one sought after by ponies who attempted to meditate. It wasn't like she knew any of this, and most of the ponies just took her as a filly who had just fought with a friend, or somepony who had been told that their crush didn't like them.
It was different feeling the way she did though. There wasn't anything that actually fed her with the feelings that she desired. She felt so empty, even though she sought to feel something other than nothing. Sleep was a necessity that everypony else needed, but drowsiness had never fallen over Scootaloo even though she did sleep at times. It wasn't much of sleep, but rather closing your eyes, and opening them the next moment to see a bright world in front of you.
A few months later...
Days passed just as they always had, but now it actually had feeling. Now there were ponies in her life that she had come to love and cry for. It was a nice feeling for Scootaloo to actually be able to feel something other than an empty shell around her mind. She had grown accustomed to her friends, and they were one of the only things that made her life all worth while; with an exception being Rainbow Dash. That one pony that she saw flying through the air so many months... or years... or even weeks, she couldn't remember. The days were all beginning to blend together into a jumbled mess of memories. Rainbow Dash, the best flier in all of Equestria, and she was even the most talented pony in Scootaloo's eyes. She was the all around best pony: fast, smart, awesome, and even had the greatest cutie mark that anypony could have.
It wasn't always that she admired and adored Rainbow Dash, at first it was more of a fascination than anything else. The mindset of those days were more along the line of being curious about why she held herself so high. In everything Rainbow Dash did, she claimed to be the very best. No matter if anypony claimed to be better than her, it was dismissed without a doubt that she was the very best at anything there could be. What other ponies said never mattered much, usually just reflecting off of her thick skull. Facts about her great speed and the predetermined awesomeness was all that she needed to claim to be the greatest, even if she wasn't. Rainbow, however, was not just any showoff pony that had no backing to anything she said. Everything that she said, she would put to actions if somepony claimed that she was lying. Actions speak louder than words, especially if those actions change the lives of a certain group of little fillies.
These fillies, who call each other affectionately the 'Cutie Mark Crusaders', are the best of friends. They are inseparable, and they do everything together on the hunt for their fabled cutie marks, even though their true talents are blatantly in their faces with each try for it. There was a time, when even these fillies had no idea that the other existed. They were all alone once, walking about with few friends to speak of and being the general outcasts. Scootaloo was the greatest outcast of them all, not having a proper home or even parents to talk to.
Sometimes, when Scootaloo looked upon Rainbow Dash, she felt something deep inside of her heart ring. It was what some ponies would tell her true love would be, but it didn't feel right to call Dash that special somepony. It just didn't feel right to say that to her, even though she did feel a genuine love for her. Feelings weren't often her forte, as she didn't usually feel much to begin with. She had never felt much as far back as she could remember, even though that was only a few months ago. That was something she wished that she could understand, feelings. They always had to be so confusing and distort everything in one way or another. But in the reality of things, they clarified what she thought about. She had thought about Rainbow Dash as more than just a friend, and rather as a special somepony at one point. Now with what she felt, it was obvious that what they weren't meant for each other.
It almost felt like what Applejack and Apple Bloom had for each other, although there was no way to really know what they had felt like. It was what she would have thought it would feel like to have a sister, and to love as a sister. It wouldn't make any sense though for her to actually be her sister, they were so different in so many ways. To start, she couldn't even fly and Dash was the best flier in all of Equestria, and to top it off, they were totally different colors. It could make sense, but that much of a difference between a bright orange coat and cyan wasn't often seen in a family. They usually followed the same scheme as their parents or siblings. Something else became a bit more clarified for Scootaloo: Why did they both have an uncanny obsession for flight?
That could mean that they were part of the same family tree at one point, or it could just be a random coincidence. In any case though, that still brought up the question as to why she felt this love for Rainbow Dash. Even though it was very unlikely that they were related in any way, she wanted answers even if it meant not being related to who she called the greatest pony in all of Equestria.
What if?