//------------------------------//
// Rappid, Rappid, Burning Bright, Though She's Failed Her Fated Flight... 
// Story: Rappid's Canon: To The Victor Goes The Spoil 
// by Vis-a-Viscera 
//------------------------------//

I am Rappid Fires. And my place is not in the sky.

Hard to believe, huh? Especially with these looming wings at my sides that I’ve had since birth? Alas, when I was young, I used to dream of bravely cutting across the sky with them, just like the Wonderbolt Sun Chaser. There were many who proudly flew those blue and yellow edges of elastic in the sky when the Equestria Games rolled around. And soon, I started dreaming of finding a way to conquer the sky with my own.

Dreams that came tumbling down in flames when my wing power turned out to be a measly 4.5.

Not even I could figure out what caused it: I’d burned off so much weight from my pudgy roots, probably about a dozen pounds more from my diet of hot foods (I’d always liked food with some kick, one of the other talents of my body that didn’t feel like a constant betrayal of my will.) I was a beast at takeoff, but a butterfly in the air – and not in a good way. I could dodge, strafe, twirl with an ease mares twice my age gaped at. But when it came time to pour on the speed, my cup proved full of holes.

And so that score remained. I pushed myself further, but 4.5 was all I’d push on that scale.

Eventually, I told Sun Chaser – the Sun Chaser! My idol! My hopeful flying buddy! ­– that’ I’d need time to reconsider my place in Equestria. He’d pleaded for me to stay. Surely I could work that speed up. He'd help me out personally - after all, he was retiring soon.

Mentally, I had already retired - to my fate. My heart, formerly burning with the passion to command the largest of canopies, was too full of holes to continue torturing us both with this. 

And back up north I went.

So imagine, you’re a pegasus from up north who’d given everything to roll into Cloudsdale, the wellspring of the Wonderbolts, pull yourself up from nothing to rush into their academy and have two numbers and a decimal point keep you from the sky that the entire town so easily seized as a birthright. Wait, no. Don’t imagine it. Pain’s not something I’ve ever been hard-up on envisioning for anyone, let alone me.

But that’s how I returned from Cloudsdale. Alone. Distant from the disappointed but reassuring words of my parents. From the out-of-hoof's reach but still-audible jeers of my fellow Falls citizens. From the rushing falls of spectra that seeped out from a hundred cracks in the clouds over my home, that mocked me with how natural a home the sky was for them. Natural for liquid with no aim or ambition, and alien to the pony with wings to take her there and back. At 4.5 wing power.

One time, I’d not paid attention to where I was going and a trip into the rainbow rivers got my wings drenched. Enough stuck from the washing that it started looking like my orange-to-white mane. Got the jeers to stop for a day or so. Until they found out how I got it. 

But this story isn’t about my teen years, no. It’s about how I returned to Cloudsdale.

See, it turns out that the Wonderbolt Academy wasn’t the only lot in life for a pegasus. (Though I managed to lie for several more years believing it wasn’t the best lot. I seem to do a lot of that over time, myself.) Still, it hurt. Hurt like nothing else. No spiraling through the sky for the Equestria Games, or pushing the pace for aspiring fillies in the Cloudoseum. No, my journey through the sky that so tantalizingly called to and restrained me was to bring their sights to others. 

So I became a tour guide.

Weirdly enough, this was how I ended up seeing the sights all over again. Perhaps it was for the best I hadn’t been in that Academy (lie). The world brought its way up to my face and snout like a puzzle, each piece a palette. The greens and blues of Ponyville. The white and purple brick and mortar of Canterlot, to the everywhere-in-between of Manehattan.

That’s where the next page turned for me. Because, as a tour guide – I don’t think this is well-known – but you often have to make small talk with the most immediate denizens of the town. Canterlot, especially, I soon found myself in the embrace of two ponies, who’d also looked at the sky and not thought of how much it’d hurt to not speed through it.

Royal Pin and Hoity Toity.

Those two, I struck up a good rapport with. We chatted, had drinks, talked of what could possibly bring me here of all places in Canterlot. Well, Hoity Toity? “Oh, I’ve been having trouble with Photo lately. But I’ll bounce back from this - as I do with everything.” Royal Pin was more reserved. “Suir's being... stubborn. Need time off to cool down." I didn’t… really mention my issues. Never liked remembering how a number put down what a cutie mark put up, really.

The talk then turned to fashion and accessories. Soon the conversation spread to other topics, like the vibrant orange hues falling in sharp waves through the otherwise snow-white feathers upon my back. Apparently, that’s what stuck me out in the bar. It’d been the first time a stallion had said that to me. So in a maneuver on terra firms, I’d find myself regretting almost as much as I did that one in the sky, I humored them.

See, I’d gotten the idea from that fall in the river of Spectra so long ago. If I couldn’t dazzle the world with my talent, I’d at least bribe away its derision with my looks. And so, every time anyone saw me come from the sky, the waves of orange I’d dyed in the crooks of my wings made the flare in my mane seem to be never-ending as it traveled down my body. A wave of citrusy cinders, cuttingly softly through the air - that was the calling card of the new Rappid Fires. Hoity was quick to point out the ingenuity of the move - and what else such a cultured mind as mine could also attune to. Surely the talent I’d taken to my appearance could be replicated in games of chance?

Soon after, Royal and Hoity found out about another acquired trait of mine: My wonderful luck with playing cards. See, another place my job as a tour guide took me was Las Pegasus. Lots of amber waves of amber and sapphire and jade on that canvas. But my gifts were honed in the garishly decorated buildings below that skyline. That was also how I first met Hoity and Pin outside of Canterlot - well, Hoity ended up coming after Royal Pin told him. Royal Pin learned from me beating him seven times at blackjack in one night. He seemed utterly surprised at the seventh loss in a way he hadn’t the others. Gave a smile wide and bright, like a shark. Think that metaphor should have been my first hint as to why.

In case you can’t tell: yeah, I won. A lot. Not enough 7s on those slots to wash away that accursed 4.5 from my eyelids every time I woke up… but enough to set me up well in the city I’d once hoped to marvel in. Enough for the thoughts of my journey home to suffocate, in drinks as cold as it was hangover-inducing. I wish I could claim the blinding skylights were why I didn’t get much sleep. I wished for a lot of things then. But with cards in my face and wagers on the line, I found my escape. Perhaps that was what put me on the path to finding out my true calling.

After several weeks of this, I was back in Ponyville. Another tour trip, of course. But this time, Royal and Hoity had joined me. So had a long line of I.O.U’s from the games. Their luck had… not improved since our first hands, though their wagers had. Didn’t matter. I was all business today.

And where better to talk shop than in the architectural dreamscape of Café Hay? 

Really, visit it if you’ve got the time. Outside, it may look like it’s bushels of hay as far as the eye can see, but Savoir Fare’s worked magic even this town’s Element thereof could love. Beautiful chiseled pillars, magnificent polished marble tables - even the bar itself is free of even a hint of dust. Really shows what lies beneath a plain outside. What’s waiting to be beheld by those who only look.

So, I’m commanding my three-pony table again. I talked about my travels (they’re to the most exotic of locales, why wouldn’t I?) Trottingham would be a beautiful place for them to visit sometime. And that talk of that town? Family. Companionship. Belonging. 

Curse it that was ages ago my parents forgave me for failing why can’t I - and that train of thought is going right off a cliff. Back to the convo.

“... and it was in one of those wonderful locales during Hearth's Warming Eve that my charm worked!” I was giddy. No liquid courage needed to unbind my tongue this day. “I managed to bring a couple back together!”

Hoity Toity was next to speak. He was never this invested in the tales of my journeys. He was now. “Such an amazing eye for the moment! They should have sent a Photo Finish!”

“Don’t you mean poet?”

“My dear, poetry is so... paltry next to photography. A picture is worth a thousand words, after all.”

Royal Pin was next .“But we wonder – was this not just the charm of the season that propelled your success?”

No! I couldn’t lose this! Those days were behind me I was made! Happy! Lon Living life! This was a new page for me! And I let them know it. “I could have had Rarity and Blueblood before me and had them seeking wedding bells by the next night!” Shudders rang through them both – I’d reckon half of my town could have heard her hand the Prince his lapels at the Gala.

“In fact, I’ll prove it –“ And my cloven hoof swung to the door of Café Hay. “- because I’ll make the next pony who trots through that terrace a better one by the end of this week! One thousand bits to each of you if I can’t!” I had time. We all did. The couple I’d chaperoned to this village was here to visit relatives until the Running of the Leaves! Another bet tallied and triumphed by Miss Rappid Fires.

And the doors swung open to accept my clarion call. So I turned. Lo and behold, before me was –

“Goodness, Filthy, was this the best we could do on short notice? What of where we went for our last anniversary, dear?”

Well, the pearl necklace below that mare was nice, anyhow.

Regardless, I would not be deterred. I was across this restaurant in three strides, ready to help turn around my new best friend. “I’m sure I can help find a better place in this town.”

Her head tuned. Lip curled up. “Who are you, missy?”

“Rappid Fires, and you are…?”

“Spoiled Rich!” The curve in this earth pony’s crinkling snout only seemed to climb up as she beheld my vest and suit jacket, slightly crinkled from time pulling the skycar. “And if you’re one of the tour guides, I’d appreciate a ride – to Restaurant Row, and quickly!”

I turned to Royal and Hoity! Both had their hoof sweeping out, allowing me the glory of backing out and shuttling to the Ponyville treasury to write the check my flank apparently couldn’t cash.

And suddenly, that ticker was back before my eyes again. That blaring FOUR POINT FIVE – ready to send all my hopes spiraling into the abyss as it yawned open to accept them. But now I was ready.

“Right this way then, Spoiled. I feel you’ve likely got a lot to get off your chest.”

She didn’t. Wasn’t much a fan of a chatty cab driver, no matter how ‘quaint’ they were. Her word, not mine.

And so I was off on my Six-Day-Program-To-Make-A-Mare-Who-Literally-Mentioned-Her-Mansion-Four-Times-On-The-Trip-To-Canterlot-A-Better-Pony.

This ends well.

For those of you just joining us, the above is not a statement of dread: I stopped trying to make them when, “I’m sorry, but this is too little speed to keep up with another Wonderbolt” topped the charts. This is a spoiler.

The day after, I talked to Spoiled. It took her nearly slamming the door on me for Filthy to let me in. Spoiled seemed to regret it when I mentioned the tidy sum of money I made. For some reason, I’d had a feeling that money would brighten her mood. For some reason.

We talked of progress in Ponyville – well, I talked. Filthy Rich spoke of the many ponies he’d think the glory would rather go to and Spoiled opined about how much faster it’d go if she could be allowed to raise money for the operations more often. All it required was them naming something on that thing after her. We laughed. Well, Filthy laughed, I think he was trying to humor her. I just think I lost an inch of enamel that day, grinding my teeth together.

Day 2 swung by, and again I met with Spoiled. Alone this time. If this sounds like a great opportunity, well it was. I’m certain the Equestrian Book of World Records could have made a killing relaying how many times this mare’s name spilled forth from her mouth. We went for a stroll, though. She didn’t like gambling all that much. Not too many ponies with status roll with that, said she – and those that did didn’t stay high-status long. 

“Imagine maintaining anything when you’re willing to risk it all on a throw of the dice! I do this for my darling Tiara, no matter how stubbornly she refuses to realize this. But that part? They only care for the next big payout. And every other rich pony knows it too. It’s like… dragonhide to a hydra. ” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I should have said that Hotiy and Pin were different. Thought… I’m not as regretful about that missed opportunity as I was on that day.

Day 3 set upon me, and of course I did my best to try and finally get her to stop talking about something that didn’t involve her house, her daughter, or the oodles of money she was rolling in. Found a topic. It was fashion.

She did like several of the designs that wunderkind Rarity had come up. “Rarity... she always claims the best part of her dresses is the uniqueness of their designs, but I’ve seen how the stallions act around her. She could sell trash bags instead of tresses and they'll empty their purses, just for another wink from her as they're putting it on. No…. her real gift is persistence. It separates the thespians from the troglodytes. The rich of thought from the rich of purse.” And this much depths about a subject from the pony who Applejack once said “had her nose so high in the air that if it rained, she’d drown”?  

Well… I guess it would take somepony once that high in the air to know. Such a chance meeting really was a rarity.

Again with that name. Think I might be getting an allergy to repetition. Turned out it was actually the coffee we’d had before. Yeah, another thing about me – those extremes of temperatures in the meals I consume only go in one direction, too much cold food or warm drink, and I literally break out in hives. Nearly fainted again in the hospital bed when I saw she’d covered the bill. I might win this wager after all. So why did I feel like the bits were holding me back? Back from what? Money was all that got us talking to one another, right?

Day 4 came and I was cleared from the Hospital – Redheart is a credit to that place – and back to Rich’s side I went like a bite-acuda. I thanked her for the kind gesture. Thanked her for sticking around to hear of the tale of my time (second visit, of course) Cloudsdale that I’d had. Thanked her for not talking about her house today. Would've thanked her further if I could tell what part of our time together spurred this act of generosity since I didn’t recall the exact shade of flying pig that passed me by when it happened.

“Hmph. You’re… welcome, Rappid.” It’s not that often that ponies that aren’t my husband see my gestures in that light?” For a minute, a brief minute, the twinkle in her eyes matched the light of the sun eons behind us both, as Celestia slowly brought it down over the horizon. For a moment, I imagined my cutie marks on it,  my testament to the groundswell of joy I felt at this. Even the bet faded away. For me the earth pony that had… finally opened up to me was the center of my time here in Ponyville. I… would be overjoyed to call her a friend, despite any infamy that’d bring me.

And of course, of freakin’ course, it was because my kid was in the same school as hers and it’d be uncouth for the head of the Board to get sued. Signed, Spoiled. I could feel Hoity and Royal laughing out their lungs a town across. Not like they wouldn’t be able to get new ones, I’d be shelling out so much to them that I’d have to go crawling back home all over again!

On the fifth day, I broke.

I don’t know what caused it, really. Was it the utter incorrigibility of Spoiled Rich as she wondered if she’d need to take me to Restaurant Row someday as if Zesty Gourmand’s picky tastes hadn’t made every dish on that place inedible tripe? Was it the “If you’re going to keep following me like a lapdog, you could at least tell me how those… two, Hoity and Royal, are doing,” in a tone that would soon show even more of my ignorance by the venom in it that I thought was directed to me. Or may it was the unending barrage of me, me, me, talk of her accomplished, her luck, her prowess, falling like the notes of an Octavia Melody recital...

I snapped.

With fury twisting my muzzle, I told her that I didn’t know what I was thinking, burning all this time away in hopes she could do anything for someone besides herself for once. Told her the only reason I’d stayed around past her fiftieth mention of this accursed mansion was that I’d been trying to settle a bit with Hoity and Royal that no mare the mare, mindset or motions in life, I could make anypony I met better since I clearly couldn’t be. Told her I couldn’t believe a mare with all the fortune and fame as she could be so vain and thoughtless and–

Wait.

Did I even mention that I had a son before this meeting with Spoiled? Goddess, no I hadn’t.

I… I have a family! I’d never stopped in my travels for a husband, but when I returned to Cloudsdale, I wanted a son so desperately I adopted one. A pegasus, just like me. I’d bought up that big-but-not-too big house in the clouds for them, and got the best tutors, and let him attend the Ponyville School, and….

At that moment, I asked Spoiled what school events she’d attended of her daughter Diamond Tiara. Every response she rattled off - that this mare I’d thought could care less for anyone not named Spoiled - hit like daggers to the heart.

“Student Council. Foal Free Press worker - though it still escapes me how those ruffian Crusaders upset her position there! The acting club - Miss Play Write said her next song will do wonders should I be able to hear her sing it.” Her brow creased. “And I will, around the next time of the class president elections. For all you’ve… said of me, I will overlook. But Tiara is my whole life. And I will see her excel at it, no matter what slings and barbs fall on me.”

My mind reeled at this. How?! How did Spoiled, of all ponies, know of the talent show! The race! The elections for class president, the Foal Free Press, everything!

She knew, and I didn’t…

…because I’d never cared to.

Spoiled Rich was overbearing, but she was there for her child! And I, with almost all the time, places and resources in Equestria to do that and more for my filly… didn’t.

I’d always been denied the place where I’d wanted to be because of my body, and now I was denying it to my child – the one I’d sought! – because all that apparently mattered to me was pretending the sky could never handle me to begin with. Funny, the blasted sky never had to drink out half a day of Las Pegasus profit in cider and empty it into a lamp just to face another day.

Spoiled started asking what was wrong. “You’ve never been like this, Miss Fires! All those times you’d been staring at the walls, was that about…” I stopped her. Quickly, I apologized to her for the outburst. Said she was a good parent. That she always would be. Even if she didn’t always show it.

Because unlike her, and like my son, I was a featherweight. An utter, intellectual featherweight. Who was I kidding? - I wasn’t good enough to cut it, in the sky or on the soil. I left that house and Miss Rich with an “I’m… sorry, Spoiled,” convinced I’d shamble back to my other home in the Falls. Even that name fit for me; I’d never felt more fallen in my life.

Before I knew it, I was back at Café Hay. The sun hung low over the restaurant as a pulsing pendulum. Of course, Hoity and Pin were before me again. The day after today would feature the Running of the Leaves. I’d called them this time - after noticing I’d done that for a lot of our previous engagements then they had me. Couldn’t focus on that, though. Not with my newest, greatest failure. They’d taken in the sights of Ponyville too, they said “But what are you doing here so early?” asked Royal Pin. “Surely you couldn’t have made a benevolent equine out of Spoiled Rich this fast.” 

So I opened my maw. Ready to give them their first W. My resignation from the touring business. My last missive before I returned to the Falls, and stayed there 'till I was under it. And again the doors flew open. And again, Spoiled Rich was there. And the next thirty minutes nearly sent my jaw plummeting right to Tartarus.

She bought a round of drinks for everypony there. She asked Savoir how his day went. She was… nice! Without prompting, even! And most of all, she was all too happy to talk me up to Hoity Toity and Royal Pin. Actually using my name this time, not ‘you there’ or ‘hey you’. You’d have thought it was a cockatrice and not the richest mare in Ponyville waxing poetic about pathetic ol’ me, the way their faces were frozen. After they excused themselves – either to collect the money or to check the color of the grass and sky in Ponyville, I don’t know - I was about to follow suit.

Then Miss Rich decided to let me in on something. Namely that Hoity and Royal had been bragging at the La Ti Da Spa about how badly I’d crash and burn.The two stallions I’d shared drinks, secrets, triumphs in a life so rarely blessed with them. And they’d wanted to see me fail. And the second she’d overheard – and seen me bare my bleeding heart the day after - she’d put two and two together. As only a spendthrift could do. So Spoiled played along in the final stretch – enough to ensure I’d be two thousand bits richer for the fall I’d been set up for.

Mares in the position we were, we have to stick together, she’d said. She’d been annoyed by me, but there was a line between that and delighting in destitution. And that time I’d snapped at her… she’d just wanted to know the truth from the horse’s mouth about Hoity and Pin. My outburst had finalized her decision. She’d changed - for me, a puffed-up patsy of a pegasus, Spoiled had changed and went out of her way to help another pony.

And if I ever implied that money was the only reason anypony would be around her, in public, I'd be back in the Falls the hard way. I was no fool, though. I could hear the emphasis on the words in public. Despite my nod, the smile never left my face. 

So yes, on the net – one friend shorter. 

But Spoiled Rich, of all ponies, became the first friend I made in Ponyville. Still talks a bit too long about that house… but she at least asks of mine whenever I visit as well. I still fondly remember the smile she gave when I told her of Featherweight. “You make sure he’s successful. I don’t mind Tiara playing second to a son of yours.” Her smirk returned. “But not for long.”

I visit a bit less often though since duty calls constantly in Cloudsdale Tours. It also helps with the distancing from Hoity and Pin, since that incident. Maybe I should shoot for a less time-consuming area in this city, like politics. Least there, being slow and steady is par for the course. But it was on that fifth day after meeting Spoiled, bags jostling with bits and the town of Ponyville fading beneath me with every beat of my painted wings, that I came to my own conclusion about my calling.

See, my cutie mark – it’s a pair of hooves, stamped in the middle of a pillar of flames. I got it shortly after putting out a fire in my town, at the Traders Exchange. Somepony had apparently started it for the money and it spread. I’d shot down from the sky and put it out. Again, not the fastest, but my wings were great for snuffing out embers. At first, I thought it meant my moment in life would be as the ponies at that scene had called me – a pair of hooves, behind a streak of scorching red, splitting the sky like a plow through fruited plains. But I was looking at it from the wrong direction – literally.

The reason I continue to fly despite not being bedecked in blue and yellow like Spitfire is today, leading those Wonderbolts…

…the reason why I do this, despite that 4.5. still stabbing into my eyes every time I close them…

… is to be that guiding light for everypony I meet.

Since then, I’ve never lost my faith in the hope of a better way, never seen that fire in me that crackled for the hope of a new beginning burn out. If a mare like Spoiled can push aside that Mount-Everhoof-sized ego for somepony she’d only spent a hundred hours and change with, I can push through my shortcomings and be a better mare for it. Be there for those who need the helping hoof such as the two on each of my flanks. Like that couple in Trottingham, for example. I’ll swing by and see next Hearth’s Warming. With my son, so he can see just what my job brings me in contact with, and what I hope he’ll see as he grows up.

I am Rappid Fires. And my place is not in the sky.

But I’ve found my own way to light it up anyway.