//------------------------------// // Ostinato // Story: A Duet For Land And Sky // by Estee //------------------------------// Sleep was her enemy. Sleep was her ally. Applejack wasn't sure how old she'd been when she'd first started to resent sleep, and her inability to pin down an exact memory suggested she'd been very young indeed. So much of fillyhood consisted of restrictions: things you couldn't do yet, information which only adults were supposed to have, and when you tried to stay up late enough to do and learn them when nopony was watching you... that was when sleep turned into self-directed betrayal. The body shutting itself down because apparently, even it had decided she was just too young. A few more years, enough for her growing work ethic to get a word in, and then sleep had turned into a thief. There were portions of the Acres which could have been harvested all the faster if her bed had just been unnecessary. Events she could have attended (or, at that stage of her youth, tried to sneak out for), but no, she had to get some sleep. Her bedroom was taking hours away from her life, stealing time every day, and Applejack remembered exactly how old she'd been at the moment she'd sat down with an abacus and nosed along the beads which represented those hours. Multiplying the results across the expectations of a lifetime, trying to figure out exactly how much was being stolen and -- -- for earth ponies, whose endurance was somewhat greater, the percentage worked out to roughly one-quarter -- for adults in their prime. Children slept more, foals dropped off all the time, Granny could potentially begin snoring if she was completely still in a quiet room for more than thirty seconds. Measure the hours across the ages and they turned into decades, tens of years of life which had been stolen from her. Taken from just about everypony in the world (because there were those like Fluttershy, whose talents included the ability to get by on less), and the only compensation offered was... There were those who said dreams were a gift. That the journeys into the infinite possibilities of the nightscape were worth the loss of waking time. Applejack had never been entirely sure about that and if asked, would freely admit that some part of the doubt came from not remembering the vast majority of them. A few particularly vivid examples had stuck with her -- but for the most part, she knew she'd had a good dream when she woke up feeling happier than usual, and nightmares were typically registered through blankets being kicked off the bed as a startled mare tried to figure out why she was awake. (The most recent exceptions came from Luna: any dream which the alicorn walked through seemed to become fixed in the mind, to the point where what happened in the nightscape became easier to recall than events within the waking world. At least, that applied to the journeys for which Applejack knew the younger of the Diarchy had been present. She generally presumed Luna only looked in when the alicorn truly felt it was necessary, because believing that her privacy was being respected could be the only way her mind would allow her to find sleep at all.) Applejack, when confronted with sleep as the enemy, had done her best to kick back. Part of that came from a farmer's hours, the need to push on for longer than so many others, and... well, there might be a time when she could remember that one harvest without wincing, but the fresh contortion of her features had just proven it wasn't going to happen today. She'd forced herself forward, trying to draw on dedication and need and mark for strength, and it had kept her going for longer than so many others would have been able to manage -- but even if her mark had helped, that magic flowed through a living body. Magic burned calories, and that was something which recharged through food -- and rest. Ultimately, her tremendous effort had simply allowed her to discover the joys of sleep deprivation, which had in turn enabled most of the settled zone to learn about one of the greatest purely physical joys anypony could ever experience: the moment when vomiting stopped. Sleep as the enemy, and it was almost impossible to fight a foe which only needed to land a single solid kick in order to knock her unconscious. It was a battle she was always going to lose eventually: the only question became which round would see her drop. But there was another aspect. There had been a childhood wish to be awake forever, something which had never truly left the adult. And yet... there were times when she needed to stop thinking. To stop feeling, to stop remembering, to stop everything. Work could be a way of lulling the mind into a false rest -- but there were times when her body acted so automatically that no part of her thoughts was needed to direct it, and so whatever had been going through her head would just continue doing so, moving faster and faster until... Applejack had never questioned Twilight's pacing groove, because she had felt the same thing happening within. It meant she knew there were times when there were only two true means of escaping her own thoughts. And you only got to come back from one. Zecora said their word for it means 'little death'... It said something about zebras, the ways in which their settlements tended to work with the world instead of trying to change it. The term was a way to think about sleep: little death. And rather than avoid thinking about it, the definition had become part of the language: a guarantee that on some level, the thought might always be there. Little death. Beliefs. Secrets. Hopes. There had been a lot of little deaths lately, and now her body was determined to deny her the one she needed most. Applejack's sigh was deliberately kept soft, for sleep had decided to be the enemy for nopony but her. Hours spent in the police station: talking to Miranda, waiting for news, waiting for -- what was coming. Hours where there had been very little to do other than think, and so she'd used that time. She had, in a very real way, written a script, at least for what her own lines were most likely to be. There remained a certain need to fill in the exact names of the antagonists, but familiarity with the character type had allowed her to sketch out most of their dialogue while blocking out a good part of the set. Scootaloo's been asleep for a while. Constant tail flicks against the flanks had stopped working once the filly had become too tired to raise her tail. Apple Bloom's out. Twilight and Spike... Back at the tree: they'd returned to the station after the second round of scrolls had been sent out -- but Spike's youth came with an increased need for rest, and Applejack had quietly asked that elder sister to take her little brother home. One to his basket, and the other to her bed. Besides, if'fin things go all the way wrong, worse than Ah wanna think 'bout... then we're gonna need Twi at her best. And Fluttershy... the caretaker needed so little sleep, something Applejack had often envied -- but as with everyone else in the world, the bill eventually came due, and so there was a tight yellow curl in one corner of the waiting room, feathers twitching in rhythm with the fears that came from dream. Everypony asleep. Everypony but Applejack, because she needed her old enemy to grant the gift of a smile and warm forelegs draped across her shoulders. A touch which would bring the little death, the chance to stop thinking for a while -- and the further gift of renewal, because every scenario where she might somehow need Twilight at that best meant Applejack herself had fallen short. She needed to recover her strength, if only for the physical -- plus one more -- because deep emotional weariness seemed to require a separate form of recovery. But she needed her old enemy to favor her, and so it had left her nearly alone within the arena. Just Applejack and her unrelenting thoughts. They're comin'. Might have stopped a few. But not all of 'em. They're comin' an'... ain't gonna be no nuzzles. Nopony glad t' see me. Nopony welcomin' me back from a long time away, an' that welcome goes deep 'cause they're tellin' me Ah'm s'pposed t' be here, s'pposed t' come home an' Ah know that everythin' Ah am came from home everythin' Ah am comes from them Ah know that in mah soul an' there had been a dual blaze of light along her flanks. Mark's the soul made visible to the world. A mark that comes from knowin' who Ah am. She was a mare who didn't have a brother waiting to welcome her home. Applejack closed her eyes. Pushed thought back as far as she could, tried to exchange it for memory. Two precious minutes when she had been nuzzled by somepony who loved her, and so she wanted to bring back every detail, over and over, because they might have been the last two minutes. The warmth of that contact suffused her, carried her down. And by the time her old enemy finally offered embrace, she had already been brought to a depth where she no longer felt her own tears. The forehoof carefully nudged her right shoulder, and Applejack opened her eyes. "I'm heading out," Miranda whispered. "To Canterlot, to speak with the prosecutor. Scootaloo's coming with me." A small nod was directed towards the little sleeping body. "After we both get cleaned up a little." "Y'look tired," was Applejack's first half-conscious observation. It brought out something which wasn't quite a smile. There was a suggestion of it, but the expression lacked most of the mirth and all of the joy. "I'm always tired," the unicorn quietly said. "How much sleep did you get?" Her bleary eyes focused on the nearest clock, and then she dearly wished for it to be lying. "Some." Not enough. Not for what was coming. "So if'fin you're goin' now, ain't been charges yet. An' no charges means no bail." Miranda slowly nodded. "And it means he has to stay in the holding cells for a while. I could have gone to the Lunar shift, but... Arraign and I know each other a little better. It might be easier. But one way or another, he'll probably be out before Sun-lowering." An' after the trial, he might jus' be goin' back in. "Can Ah leave the bail money here? Ah know you've got a safe for prisoner possessions, an' the evidence locker." "You could just take it home," noted the visibly-confused mare. "Or drop it off at the bank." "Ain't gonna be in town when the bank opens," Applejack partially explained as she took her second look at the clock: about ninety minutes before Sun-raising. Too little time remaining to try sleeping again, but... "An' Ah jus' don't feel like carryin' it right now." "You're that tired?" More that I'm gonna need all the strength Ah can get. "Might as well leave it here for now," she didn't quite answer. "Comin' back later anyway. An' Ah trust nopony's gonna take any." With the faintest of smiles, "'specially since it's Twilight's money." "I'll make sure to tell the locker custodian that," Miranda gravely said. "Along with the very real possibility that she might have written down the minting year of each coin, so he shouldn't risk using them to make change. Applejack?" "What?" Still soft-voiced, but with the dark-furred body almost completely rigid. "I'm not going to pretend I understand everything that's going on, or what's been behind it. But I've heard enough to learn a few things. Like the fact that the hotels might be seeing some new bookings." "Don't think so. They won't be here that long," Applejack stated. "One way or another." "And is their visit something I have to worry about?" "No. They'll be on the Acres for a while, an' then they'll go home. Ponyville ain't involved." She'd expected the next question. "What about you?" Her lips twitched. "Not sure Ah'm ready t' be a good host on short notice. Can Ah ask a favor?" Miranda's expression, which had already been investigating the deepest mine shafts in search of extra doubt, came up a few levels and began to kick at deposits of concern. "I'll tell the prosecutor's office what you told me, Applejack. What everypony told me. I can make recommendations, but the decision isn't mine --" "-- Ah understand, Miranda." There weren't a lot of ponies who were on a first-name basis with the police chief -- but being called into the station every other week (during a slow period) to discuss Crusade activities had created a certain level of familiarity. "An' Ah ain't gonna ask for that twice. Ah jus' need three things which Ah know you've got in the station, an' Ah ain't takin 'em with me. Jus' need t' look at 'em for a few minutes." "I can't turn over private records without a court order or a signature from the Palace --" "-- weather schedule, 'cause Ah never looked too close yesterday, an' Ah need t' see that before Ah get home. Map of Equestria. An' the national train schedule. Ah might not be able t' get the whole thing at the station, not for the entire continent, an' even if Ah could, Ah need to see it before Ah leave here. But Ah know you've got one, 'cause y'use it t' track when somepony might be fleein' cross-country an' where they might go. Three things, Miranda. Any problems with seeing 'em?" There were a few police officers -- ones who didn't tend to last very long in the profession -- that had a very distinct way of regarding everypony they saw, something Applejack had seen in a few other settled zones: the half-snarl which declared that all within their view were guilty of a crime, and they were just waiting to find out what it was. Miranda wasn't like that. Her default expression was closer to 'I know something's going to happen, I'd rather it didn't, and it would be a lot easier if you'd just tell me everything right now.' The vocal end of that emerged as "Why?" "Got family comin'," Applejack shrugged. "Figured Ah'd meet the train. An' it usually kinda helps t' know the weather." Ah know you, Miranda. An' you're pretty sure y'know me, so that's why y'ain't gonna ask too many more questions. You know Honesty doesn't mean Ah gotta answer 'em. "All right," the police chief slowly said. "I'll have them put in a side room for you before I go." An' talk t' your people on the way. You're 'bout t' ask some ponies t' keep an eye on me, 'cause y'think there's more trouble comin'. An' y'ain't wrong. But there's a lot you ain't gonna learn 'bout for a while. Jus' for starters, y'don't know 'bout the Secret, an' Ah ain't changin' that today. "Thank y'kindly," Applejack politely smiled. An' Ah know your second-in-command is an earth pony. In Equestria, the weather generally arrived on schedule. The continental map, added to the full railway timetable, allowed Applejack to project a forecast. No part of the provided documentation was giving her comfort. The weather... it was going to be on the chill side, and that might help to keep her alert. However, 'heavily overcast with intermittent rain' might be good for her crops, but she was already tired and the high humidity wasn't going to be doing her any favors. (She briefly thought about acquiring some Exam Crystal, just as she had during that one harvest. And then she remembered that she still had no idea where to get it, how much it might cost, and there was that minor factor of nopony ever having been able to predict when the world's most effective illegal alertness drug was going to wear off. Falling asleep in the middle of everything seemed to be rather counterproductive.) The map, added to the timetable... She found a blank piece of paper in the room, jotted down as much as she could remember. It was a big family and while Applejack might host a reunion when the Acres' time came around, she didn't organize it. Mac had done most of that, and it was the reason he'd been able to determine who the scroll recipients would be from memory alone. Applejack could reliably rattle off ninety percent of the family tree and kept a few handy notecards hidden in the kitchen for the rest. Who everypony was. Where they were. The position of their farms in relation to the tracks which had made the continent a little smaller... ...yeah. The sigh was involuntary, but no less justified for it. Ah was afraid of that. Ah know when Mac sent the letters, and now Ah can see when they would've left, if'fin they took the first chance they had. An' with them... yeah. If there weren't any problems on the line, then they're gonna be first. So now she could fill in some of the names for her script's cast, and most of their dialogue had effectively been set in stone. Any hope for seeing a degree of improvised reactions from that end had simply been buried. So it's jus' 'bout the worst-case scenario. The closest, an' the most likely t' ignore Granny's scroll, are the ponies Ah'm gonna have t'... Well -- singular. There would be multiple ponies arriving, but when it came to the inevitable, she could keep it down to one. Choose her own explosive. But that meant needing somepony who was just about looking to explode, and the single best candidate for that -- -- can't stay too long. Ah'll have t' try an' get wake-up juice on the way t' the station. An' it'll have t' be today: Ah could use the extra rest, but -- longer Ah wait, more ponies there's gonna be. Gotta try an' settle this before Sun gets lowered 'cause once it's over, everypony else has t' abide by the results. So she knew who. When. 'Where' had never been an issue. But the outcome... ...this ain't guaranteed. If Ah'd slept, had more time t' plan, it still wouldn't be any kind of bettin' odds. But it's the only thing they'll honor. Bitterly, Not respect. Ain't ever gonna get that no matter what happens, 'specially if'fin Ah win. There was a price for winning. There was a price for losing. There was a price... Her right hind leg gently pushed the door closed behind her as she stepped into the station's empty hallway (although she could hear hooffalls, fairly close ones). There were only a few minutes left before she had to leave, especially if the first act was going to start on her schedule. Not enough time to ask if she could visit the cells and see her brother, especially since the things she wanted to say to him would quickly overflow a clock before threatening to flood a calendar. (In her opinion, that which he might hear could potentially be better measured by a stopwatch.) Enough time to wake Apple Bloom, because there was no way she was going to leave her sister behind. A few seconds to brief her on the plan's most basic outline, and -- to ask a question. Because Apple Bloom had a voice and in this case, the only way anything was going to happen at all was if she also got a vote. It wasn't just about Applejack. It never had been, and believing that she could keep the consequences limited to herself had been one of the first mistakes. Everything had echoed out through sound and fire, and now the vibrations were coming back to her, conducted by unstoppable steel and steam. So it was all about her little sister now, because there was more than one future at stake. Ah should have thought of that from the start. But Ah wanted t' get it done, 'cause... Ah was afraid. That if Ah stopped for so much as a second... The walls had begun to build from the moment she'd first understood speech. It had taken the kick of a lifetime to disperse the bricks, and... part of her wanted them back. Because if she hadn't acted, if she hadn't spoken, if she hadn't been through the mission, if she -- "-- Applejack?" The turn of her head was automatic: somepony had addressed her, and so ears and gaze naturally rotated towards that direction. The shock manifested as a small, sad upwards curl at the right corner of her mouth. A half-smile for something which didn't seem funny at all. "So that's what you sound like," she quietly noted. "Always wondered what it would be like, when it was more than jus' the one word. An' Fluttershy's told me 'bout your voice, but -- Ah still figured you'd be louder." The huge white stallion took a hesitant step forward, and a little piece of dried blood fell away from the recently-exposed ear. "This is my fault." It was a fairly deep voice: that was only to be expected. But it was also surprisingly soft, and there was a little hesitation built into every syllable. A stallion who didn't talk much and was never sure what to say: an easy pattern to recognize, especially after spending so much time around its mare equivalent. But the words themselves almost made her want to laugh. "And how d'you figure that?" "I said yes." This time, the left side of her mouth quirked. "Well, technically..." They were about six body lengths apart, a distance lit by devices and the fast-fading scant moonlight which came in through the windows. It was an overqualified description for the little panels of reinforced glass set almost flush against the top of the wall. Nowhere near large enough to allow escape, at exactly the wrong height for any kind of view. Just a reminder that some kind of outside world might still exist. The words were desperate now, and self-blame saturated every letter. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't said --" "-- Ah was kind of wondering how you'd turn me down," she softly interrupted. The red eyes blinked. Stunted wings briefly trembled. "I --" "-- what with the one word an' all," she added. "Ah mean, as words go, yours ain't that great for denial. So Ah kind of figured you'd jus' stand there for a while, lookin' all awkward an' shufflin' your hooves, not sayin' anything at all. 'cause that's how y'force me t' make the next move, right? Y'ain't sayin' anythin', so Ah've gotta step in with somethin' like 'Y'don't wanna do it, do you?' and then you could jus' look at the ground, 'cause y'couldn't look at me, an' you'd say 'Yeah...'" He didn't seem to know how to deal with that, and so changed the subject. "Fluttershy never should have asked you to --" "-- Fluttershy? What's 'Shy got t' do with this?" Another blink. "She asked you. To ask me out." It was strange, listening to those soft words, and the emergence of those words now took second place to what had just happened within their tones. She'd never heard anypony successfully get belief and denial into the same sentences before. "Y'think that?" There was a part of her which desperately wanted to laugh now. To find Pinkie and tell her oldest friend among the Bearers that comedy could be found in the strangest of places. "Nopony tells me who t' date: Ah want t' settle that right now, even if it's jus' with you. Ah made up mah own mind. Ah asked y'out for one reason: 'cause Ah wanted t' go out with you." His legs only seemed thin when compared to the bulk possessed by the torso: regarded individually, each was powerful, more than capable of bearing his weight, and so the hind pair had no legitimate physical reason to collapse. There was even less excuse for the jaw to fall slightly open, and the next sentence seemed to emerge without his being aware of its existence. "You can't..." "Pretty sure the town would put up an argument," she dryly stated. "Seein' as how Ah did it. Twilight told me once that in terms of science -- jus' science, not morals -- the only unnatural act is the one y'can't do. Since Ah asked y'out, Ah proved Ah could do that. An' since Ah told you that Ah did it 'cause Ah wanted to, then Ah think we can safely say that Ah jus' told you the truth." With fast-narrowing eyes, "Unless you're callin' me a liar?" She worked out most of the rapid-fire expressions as they flitted across his rough-hewn features. That he hadn't meant to insult her in any way. The need to make things right somehow. A complete lack of ability to reconcile anything she'd said with what had actually happened, and that last was the one which almost settled in before worry took its place. "Mac and I talked. In the cells." "Oh, good." The sarcasm seemed justified. "So not only are you two talkin', but you're doing that instead of what put y'both down there. Ah call that progress." More urgently, "He told me about sending messages to your family." "An' the how of it, Ah imagine." "I knew about Spike --" "-- really?" It wasn't a secret of any kind, but it wasn't fully common knowledge either -- and there were still new arrivals in the settled zone who galloped for the hills whenever a scroll publicly came in. A number also went to the police, but that had reached the point where the front desk just silently nosed over an illustrated pamphlet. "Fluttershy's gotten messages at the cottage before this: she had to explain the first one. And he's sent a few scrolls to the tent when missions start, asking if I'm available to take over before she ever reaches me. Applejack, we can stop this right now." "Stop what, exactly?" Mostly because she wanted to hear how he would say it, what he'd taken away from the conversation in the cells. And just a little bit because... If somepony didn't know you at'tall, then your voice would be your best feature, wouldn't it? Fluttershy told me that. How y'could anchor the low end of any chorus, but you're too shy t' sing. An' all y'say most of the time is the one thing, 'cause y'don't even let that part of you come out. If they didn't know you. Ah hoped Ah did. Jus' a little. Ah wanted to... "They'll be angry," he helplessly said. "About your going out with me: I got that much. Angry enough to make things bad for a long time. All you have to do is tell them you changed your mind. I can back that up. Once they know it's over, everything should go back to normal --" "Normal." It emerged as a snort, and most of the punctuation came from her right forehoof stomping into the floor. "Ah'm a Bearer an' you're a hybrid." The powerful rib cage froze in mid-breath. "Tell me what's s'pposed t' be normal for us," she challenged him. "Y'had 'normal' this morning, didn't you? An' then Fluttershy told you. Ah know somethin' 'bout what she went through when she got the news. Ah watched Pinkie deal with every second of it, an' then Ah had t' pull her back from the cliff. Y'know what brought her back at the end? When Ah told her that her kids would be loved, no matter what they were. That's what's normal: a Mommy loves her foals. A father too, come t' that, an' not gettin' that part of 'normal' is what started everything. But the way Ah see it, Ah'm a Bearer, an' you're a hybrid. We're both different. An' that means normal is what we make it." It took a moment before he started breathing again. All that strength, and every last tenth-bit of it was required just to shift the smallest amount of air. "...you know." "Ah was there, remember?" she jabbed directly at the shield of his shock. "Six ponies an' a dragon, same mission. Wanna know which picture he used when he presented you? Ah'm guessin' you posed for it. Ah'm also guessin' you're a little camera-shy an' outside of your parents, he's the only pony y'would have ever done it for. 'course Ah know." He didn't seem to know how to deal with that. (She thought about just how much he would have been dealing with, over the last day. Thought about Pinkie within that cold cell's chains, with the pink coat steadily darkening, and almost wished for everypony to have such an indicator of what was happening within.) "So we tell them," he urgently said, apparently having seen her statement as a reinforcement of his point. "That it's called off." Softly, "An' what does that do?" "It calms them down --" "-- does it take back the fight?" It was almost a whisper. "What mah brother did an' said? What Ah said? Tell me how it makes time go backwards, 'cause that's something Twilight needs t' hear. One of the biggest mysteries of magic, an' you've got the key. Jus' a few words an' whole days are like a film projector runnin' the reel backwards..." "It keeps things from getting worse," he desperately insisted. "Applejack, please --" "-- stop talkin'." The powerful jaw slammed shut. "You're good at bein' quiet," she reminded him. "Too good, maybe. But Ah need that for a minute, 'cause a minute's all Ah have. Gotta go meet some ponies. So let me talk, the way you let too many ponies talk when you should have said somethin' -- but this time, Ah need you t' listen." She took three steps forward. He didn't move. "Crusade's over for mah sister: y'know that. Meant she an' Ah had a long talk 'bout it the other night, t' go with a bunch of other subjects. An' she told me somethin' 'bout why it kept goin' all those years." With a slight sigh, "Best talk we've had in a while, even given what it took t' set it off. Ah... missed that. Ah missed havin' a sister Ah could jus' talk to an' -- that's hard, t' be her sister, when Ah've gotta be so much else too. But she's growin' up. It's made her a little smarter than she used t' be. An' she said, with the Crusade... that it was partially 'bout what she'd already done. That as soon as she stopped, everything that came before, all the bad stuff, it was jus' a waste. An' the longer it went on? More t' get kicked on the compost heap. But find her mark, an' it's jus' some stories y'tell. The stuff which happened before she won. The price she paid. So that meant it also had t' be 'bout the next thing. That would make it all worth it." His tail was vibrating. "Ah already paid mah price," she forced out. "No matter what happens, Ah paid: she told me that. An' Ah didn't even know how much Ah'd paid when she said it. Argued with Mac, he wound up chargin' you -- he goes t' prison an' part of the price is one brother. Can't take that back, can't take any of it back..." The red eyes were shifting now, with his horrified gaze moving down her face. She wondered what he was looking at, and then she felt the first hot tear soak into her fur. "Ah paid," she declared as a thin trail darkened, absorbing misery without doing the same for pain. "Y'understand that? An' Ah don't even know what we are t' each other, what we could be! Ah don't know if this is worth it, an' Ah still paid! 'cause Ah wanted t' take the chance, Ah wanted that, jus' me, nopony but me, an' --" When had she drawn so close? It was almost at the point where she would be able to touch him. But he was pulling back without truly moving, retreating into his own haunches -- (Had they ever touched?) (He was so careful about not making contact.) (As if anything he did could hurt somepony.) (As if everything he did might hurt.) -- but it meant that after she adjusted her angle (with her hat automatically shifting to suit), the next words could be spoken directly into his face. "-- she told me that for her, it was 'bout the next thing working, the thing which made it all worth it. Already paid, an' Ah could keep payin' an' payin'... but Ah can't take back what happened. 'cause y'let the walls come back up, y'tell yourself it's safe an' comfortable in there, an' y'stay inside forever because prison's safer than freedom, ain't it? Prison is everypony else tellin' you what t' do an' freedom is responsibility for yourself, so freedom's what's scary. Ah asked you out! Ah took that chance! So we finally understood each other, Apple Bloom an' Ah: why the Crusade kept goin' at all. Ah understand, because that's in me too, that same determination. An' now Ah've got a next thing: somethin' which has t' happen, one more price t' pay, 'cause it feels like that if Ah've come this far, then maybe Ah shouldn't stop!" The new angle also allowed tears to slip across saturated fur. "Apple Bloom paid, an' it cost her three years, three years of bein' hated by so many ponies -- but now she's got her chance. Ah paid, an' you know what? Ah can't take it back. Neither can you, not words or magic or --" the last word was spat "-- prayer. So Ah'm gonna ask mah sister what she thinks an' if she says what Ah think she will, then Ah'm gonna keep goin', jus' a little longer." And in fury, rage, and pain, the accent dropped away. "Because I really want to know if the next thing works. I want to find out what I paid for." She snorted, and the heat of her anger blasted through white fur. Turned and marched away, with the patter of teardrops matching the beat of her hooves. It meant she never saw his reaction to the final words she would speak to him within the station. (There would be more words.) (They would only come after everything had changed again.) "I want to know if you're worth it."