//------------------------------// // Turning Tricks // Story: Anchor Foal: A Romantic Cringe Comedy // by Estee //------------------------------// There's strangers in the house. She'd been expecting the first party: there had been plenty of warning about Pinkie's habits, and the actual event had taken place in a public street. And the cottage had visitors all the time, with the rough minority of them being sapient. (It was easy to make a dark joke about how that still applied once you factored the animals out.) But those parties arrived by appointment, or in desperation. They never had a real chance to wander through the structure, because somepony -- or, more often, something -- would stop them. The cottage actually had fairly good security, and no small part of that came from the expectation of Intruders Will Be Pecked About The Head or, if the bear was around, It's Not A Growl: It's Thanking The Meal For Delivering Itself. But this was seeing a crowd from the top of the ramp, when she'd had reasonable expectations that the visiting veterinary students would have sorted the flow. She didn't know everypony in it: she couldn't even see the full group, not without descending somewhat more. (Which would have still been futile: as she would soon learn, the party had overflowed the sitting room and rather than have guests intrude on the cottage's privacy, Pinkie had placed some of the events on the grounds.) There were multiple strangers who had intruded on defined territory outside the hours of control, and that recognition came within a heartbeat of igniting Fleur's horn -- -- but Pinkie was already stepping forward. Coming up the ramp, with a wry little smile on the rounded cheeks. Fleur took a breath, and her horn remained dark. Looked past Pinkie to the crowd again: a gathering where she didn't know everypony in it, but... she was familiar with more names than she would have expected. A ridiculously-long rainbow-hued scarf registered quickly, and her mind took a moment to reinforce the NO. Some of them were smiling up at her. A few had to use more than the standard amount of 'up,' as there were a number of colts and fillies in the crowd. Still daylight outside, and... with sleep having restored her focus somewhat, she was almost certain that there wasn't a school day tomorrow. It gave the town's youths the chance to venture out a little more than usual. She couldn't see Fluttershy, not from her current position. But Bluestocking was there, it was easy to spot Caramel (who'd either brought a date, or the green pegasus was still hanging around), and... she still didn't know what the heavily-pregnant mare's name was. Fleur was just hoping that one wasn't going to stay long, because her current elevation still gave her a good view of the bulging belly. The mare was ready to drop. Any day, any hour, possibly at the slightest provocation, and cottage existence provided multiple opportunities for provocation to take place. The escort really didn't want to close out the day through delivering a foal. "Maybe it's not as much of a surprise as it could have been," Pinkie admitted, carefully coming closer. "I did have to ask Fluttershy to tell the animals that there would be a lot of strange ponies in the cottage, and they had to let them go into certain rooms without trying to stop them. And I meant the students and their teachers! Mostly. But Angel still glared at them the whole time. Usually from less than a body length away. A lot less. One of the teachers had to step out for a while. And then Applejack had to bring him back." Adults and children and -- that was Mr. Rich, at the rightmost edge of Fleur's vision. He had come. The pony whom, after the beautiful monster had disqualified herself, Fleur had most wanted to potentially ensnare... "And they couldn't come into certain rooms at all. Even if they heard strange noises. Like catering trays being placed, because they can kind of sizzle a little and the squirrels don't understand that. But once everypony was taken care of," the baker added, ascending a little more, "we started on this. Because there had to be a party. And I know you've got another one tomorrow!" Oh, good. It is tomorrow. ...Tartarus chain it: the Algonquin is tomorrow... "But that's a different kind of party," Pinkie decided. "The jokes are a lot faster! And quicker. And sometimes you have to bring a dictionary? It's the sort of party where you have to work for the fun. This time, somepony wanted to bring the fun to you. Both of you, I mean." Her head briefly inclined: left and down, with the indicated angle going past Fleur's sight. "Because it's the second time I've said this. And I told her the same thing. To just relax a little. For the first time in days. Relax, because everypony's been asking too much. So..." Almost right in front of Fleur now, and the bright blue eyes had their own kind of beauty. Fresh-baked bread. I should have known... "...all we're asking now is that you let us take care of you for a little while longer. Food. Company. Just saying thank you. And when you're both tired again, we'll all go home." The curls gently flounced. "Okay?" She was about to make an excuse or rather, she was about to make a choice: there was an absolute flood of reasons to not do it available, and the only trick was going to be dipping her head into the flow long enough to only pull back one. The Algonquin was the next day and they weren't ready. They both needed more sleep. If they had time free, then there were tasks around the grounds which had to be caught up on -- no, if Pinkie had somehow arranged her own schedule to set this up, just about all of those had probably been taken care of... There had to be an excuse available: one where everypony would just go home and not take a significant portion of perceived insult with them. Fleur just had to choose. But then there was a little shift, at the edge of where Pinkie's changed viewing angle had ventured. And a single exposed blue-green eye calmly looked up at her. Waiting. Fluttershy. Fluttershy is at a party. In the party. Not at the edge. Nowhere near a retreat point. Fluttershy woke up before I did, got the first version of the speech, and stayed in a crowd long enough for me to come down... ...maybe we are ready. No: that was far too optimistic. But she could think of it as a dress rehearsal. Or an undress rehearsal, because no party of Pinkie's was going to bother with formal wear. I see that waitress from the restaurant, and -- okay, no reflections of dark blue light, but she may be out of range. With purely inner irritation, Bucking Joyous. Who's that stallion over there? Note-something-or-other? And there's -- of course, we've got fillies and colts, so we've got this filly. And... A very light yellow coat, accompanied by a glimpse of glasses. ...she's back on the grounds. She came to the grounds, probably of her own free will because I don't see -- no, that's her mother over there. So maybe I don't have to -- No. She couldn't make an excuse. Fluttershy was down there, waiting. And there was at least one other pony Fleur needed to speak with. The youngest adult in the room. "Just give me a minute!" Fleur carefully called out. "I wasn't expecting company! I'm just not presentable!" Which triggered the expected amount of light laughter, and Fleur used the cover to nod at Pinkie. Softly, "Can I speak to you? Privately?" Pinkie nodded back. Fleur carefully backed up the ramp, and the baker followed her until they were both out of the herd's sight. The escort went directly for the point. "You said somepony wanted this done." Curls bobbed again. "Bluestocking. She asked me, on the same night when... everything happened. To set something up. She's paying for all of it." A little abashed, "Which includes the food, the temporary bathrooms outside, and some of the lighting for the grounds because I couldn't get everypony in here. She's not paying me. I had to turn her down on that. Three times. Oh, and Fluttershy already knows, but she got an open-access spa pass for the two of you. One deluxe session, and that's because she couldn't get Lotus and Aloe out here to do massages --" Fleur's first blink had come directly after the name. The remainder had just been looking for a chance to cut in. "-- Bluestocking." Pinkie nodded. "And she asked you on the same night?" Again. "Kori isn't healed yet," Fleur stated. "I know how she's doing because Audu sends updates every day. The fracture is mending, but rehabilitation exercises haven't started. We don't know if she's going to make a complete recovery. Shouldn't this wait until --" "-- Bluestocking wanted to celebrate what the two of you did," Pinkie calmly broke in. "No matter how it turns out. For trying, when..." The bright head briefly dipped. "...somepony else wouldn't." "But it could still go wrong," the unicorn steadily pointed out. "When you don't know what the ending is --" Pinkie looked up, and blue carefully examined grey-tinged violet. "It's funny," the baker decided. "Not funny-ha-ha, mostly. More like funny-off. But it's still funny." Fleur waited. Then she realized that Laughter wasn't going to proceed with the perceived joke until the audience had provided their half of the read. Reluctantly, "What is?" "I thought," Pinkie calmly said, "an escort would know more about taking something from the moment. Even when you don't know what the next moment is. Maybe especially when you don't know." Fleur's ears very carefully failed to go back. Almost immediately, because the speed of offense couldn't be held back any longer than it took to strip away the matching tones, "There's a difference between pleasure and happiness." "Sometimes," Pinkie agreed. "There has to be. But I think it's partially a matter of plurals." The difference between Laughter and insanity is that there's times when insanity at least pretends to make sense. Just a little too tightly, "I don't know what you mean --" "They're funny words, aren't they?" the earth pony asked. "Pleasure can be singular, or mutual. It's the same for happiness, because there's a lot of ponies who know how to be happy by themselves, at least for a while. But the plurals are just as important. And when they both get together, if the words really understand each other -- then they make an even stronger word. I've been there by myself, I know it can be done, Fleur... but I think it takes more than one pony to stay at joy." And as Fleur struggled to find anything to say in the face of whatever that had been, wondering if there was any point to speaking at all... Pinkie lightly shrugged. Smiled, turned, and went back down to join the party. The escort had to take a few minutes with her powders after that, because excuses needed to be backed up. She didn't elevate herself to the peak: that was something best reserved for truly special occasions. (Fleur's plan for the Algonquin had been to make sure Fluttershy was resting -- or, more likely, frequently twitching upon a fragile perch -- at a higher level than she. Keep the focus where it had to be.) But for this, she had to justify the extra time. She made sure everything was properly applied. She did so with expertise and grace. And at the moment she reached the actual party, she found all of her efforts wasted. Ponies approached her, because of course that was going to happen. They spoke with her. And for the most part, they did so casually. It didn't take long before she began to feel vaguely insulted. Four additional pointless interactions did a lot to put the offense into sharp relief. What was wrong with this crowd? Ponies were talking to her, yes, but they were talking about veterinary work! Some of them were attempting to make appointments, and of course she had to go fetch the most recent of the overcrowded ledgers in order to find places where they could be squeezed in... Others wanted to review what had happened with Blueblood, because they'd only heard the stories and wanted to get the eyewitness account. It started with the false Prince having been launched two body lengths backwards. Then it was four. By the time it got to twelve, she found herself trying to spot Snowflake because with any luck, that would give her somepony who was able to explain how the transfer of kinetic energy worked. Assuming anypony was willing to stick around that long, because the big pegasus had a hard time not falling back into old habits when in crowds, and it could take a lot of time to translate from the 'Yeah.' Two then complimented her on having spontaneously come up with the lie about just being there to sort out Fluttershy's dates. Her search did locate a pegasus: a mare, of the trim variety. One of the very rare vomit-propelled specimens, who still couldn't look at Fleur without having the skin beneath her fur begin to flush green. And that mare's head arced forward, she spoke to a few ponies whom she seemed to have come in with -- and those mares looked at Fleur. She'd expected that. But the nature of those gazes was more uncertain now. Most of the nausea was gone. It almost felt closer to... ...respect? With a strictly internal snort, If they wanted to respect my efforts, somepony could always start flirting. Because she was near her peak, in a crowd, and... she was being looked at. Admired. It was possible to feel the fantasies swirling in the air, and that was with her talent shut down. But nopony was making any attempt to act on them. Every tenth-bit of regard directed at her felt as if it was taking place at a distance, or through some kind of barrier. The sea of hormones seemed to be splashing against an invisible breakwall. She didn't understand what was happening. Then Fleur took what she regarded as a newly-expert guess, and really started looking for Joyous. Fuming. But she couldn't spot the metallic. She was having trouble finding Fluttershy, and she suspected it was because her charge was taking frequent breaks. The party wove in and out of the cottage: something which made it easy for its mistress to do the same. It put Fleur out on the grounds a few times, and she watched couples milling about. Some of them were playing with the younger animals, and it was also possible to see at least one bond forming as a young unicorn's hooves were licked by an eager puppy. Other ponies just took shelter near the heating units which Pinkie had found somewhere. They chatted, they caught up with each other, a few sought shadows and it didn't take an escort to tell what they were doing in there... Some of the shadows were deepening, because it was nearly winter and Sun was being lowered early. The shortest day was close now, and that meant the next major holiday on the calendar was Hearth's Warming. (She didn't really count Homecoming, because it didn't personally apply.) Fleur was anticipating needing to sort out a new round of gifts. But Hearth's Warming wasn't going to be the crush. Because about two moons after that came Hearts And Hooves Day. Gifts not of friendship with the delusion to become something more, but tokens of attempted love. Ideally, very expensive tokens... I decide. Some of those might potentially be sent by attendees at the Algonquin, and that meant she had to find Fluttershy. The ultimate stopping point on this particular party was whenever her charge felt the need to truly rest, because the true event was tomorrow and they needed to save their strength. Fleur felt somewhat restored by sleep and food, but... she didn't feel as if she was all the way back yet. Fluttershy required less before recovering, but with both of them having pushed so hard for more than a week... She was trying to find her charge, because the next day was going to be so important. But Sun dipped, the shadows lengthened as Moon closed in, and now there were devices adding lumens to the area. Lighting which wasn't quite enough, because some of the shadows seemed to have a deeper pocket within them. Darkness which moved. But she didn't look at that for too long, because she thought she knew what it was and she could disregard it. She had to find Fluttershy. She found animals. They had been asked to stay out of it -- but they were unwilling to go too far, and bright eyes watched from the trees. Movement rustled in the sod of the roof. She didn't find any music. There was no live performance at this party (nor had she seen the lyre-playing unicorn), perhaps because Pinkie had been worried about disturbing the animals. Fleur wasn't sure if Fluttershy even owned a phonograph. She found ponies. And the more she looked... "I have to come to you these days, don't I?" the smiling earth pony told her. "I wasn't even sure you noticed when I picked up Shimmy's medicine." Fleur altered her path, allowed herself to approach the tree. The stallion watched, and did so with no signs of attraction whatsoever. The green pegasus mare, however, frowned. It was a very special variety of frown: one Fleur was intimately familiar with. It came with an entire speech of unspoken words, and the core argument in the non-debate was 'I'm not sure where this is going with him yet, and I really don't need you setting up a detour.' The verbal end of this initially emerged as a rather dubious "Oh, right..." This was followed by a pause for oxygen, and the new burst of fuel allowed the mare's brain to come up with "You two know each other." A little too quickly, "How exactly do you --" "Caramel's the first friend I made in town," Fleur politely stated. "He helped me settle in. Despite the fact that I'm too tall, my tail's all wrong, and he thinks horns are the biggest turn-off in the world." With a light shrug, "I think he took a poke in the eye during his first Seven Minutes In The Wonderbolts Stable. And then he realized there weren't supposed to be any horns in the Wonderbolts Stable. So ever since..." Caramel's eyes went wide. The mare, however, abruptly giggled. Some kinds of steam engine made the most noise when their internal pressure was abruptly released.. "Good to know," she merrily decided. "No horns. Not a problem. Do you two need a minute? I was going to get some vegetable skewers from the grill." (Fleur made a note to find the grill.) "I'm fine," Caramel inexpertly lied, because those wide eyes were a little too focused on Fleur. "But if Fleur --" "Just looking for Fluttershy," the escort admitted. "Have you seen her?" "Not for about twenty minutes," the mare told her. A foreleg gesture indicated the last spotted direction. Fleur very carefully failed to sigh. Follow-up witnesses might have scattered. Probably a cold trail. Just keep hunting... The mare trotted away. Caramel immediately went into the full bewildered (and somewhat shaken) stare. "Who told you about --" "-- you never look at unicorn mares the way you look at pegasi, and when we talk, your eyes stay on mine," Fleur cheerily stated. "No higher. Unless I'm lowering my head, and then you back up. Just enough to notice. It's not exactly a hard guess, Caramel. One bad experience can sort of -- echo." With a light shrug, "Besides, there's a lot of horn pokes in dark closets. Horns get longer during puberty. It takes a while before somepony's body image changes enough to really keep track of the results." The earth pony's wince was nearly intense enough to reach his mane, which might have at least done something to change his Type. "I'm sorry..." "Don't be." He blinked. "Fleur? Another shrug, and she moved a little closer. Four brown legs did their best to tangle. Bemusedly, "And you just caught yourself backing up for the first time. Caramel, I don't mind. There's ways where not having you attracted to me just makes things easier." And you also have a piece which says you prefer to have the lights on, which tells me that you might have a few concerns about being able to see everything coming. "So how's it going with her?" "Slowly," he reluctantly admitted. "I'm -- trying to take it slower." "Gifts?" "She likes the ocean," Caramel said. "I found that out early. But there isn't much you can do with that in Ponyville." With rising hope, "So I thought, if we can each get the same vacation period set up, it'll be the off-season for San Dineighgo -- what's wrong with your foreleg?" She lowered the limb. "Sometimes," Fleur carefully told him, "you make it really hard not to facehoof." "...Fleur?" "We're going to have a talk," she told him. "About budgeting. Also, there's something called a wave rocker." "...a... wave..." "It's a toy. A glass rectangle filled with blue fluid. It rocks back and forth, and the waves crash inside. You can get them with sand at one end. That's where you start. And she just might appreciate the gift without thinking you're going overboard and trying to get her to commit too early." "...oh." She looked at him again. The first to be rejected. He wouldn't be the last. But he owned it... "One more thing," Fleur added. "Let me guess," the dejected stallion proposed. "We're going to the bank together. And you're going to put a supervisory permission lock on my account. With you as the pony who has permission." It's not as if there's enough there to bother with. "I was watching her move just now. When she trotted away. And how a pegasus moves can... tell you a few things about them." Carefully, "So?" "If it goes that far? Start by rubbing the base of her wings. Keep it light, and stay around the coracoid." She couldn't quite make herself commit to the full smile. "Trust me there." There were children at the party, and Fleur was starting to wonder how some of them were going to be getting home: Moon was up, and it wasn't a particularly full specimen. The trail back to Ponyville was safe enough (or had been so far) -- but it was still starting out near the fringe, in the dark. Plenty of children -- but there was also one very young adult, and she had been accompanied by her mother. Fleur saw them, moving by the chicken coops. Looked at how the very small mare was examining the structures, and the search for Fluttershy was temporarily paused. Some thing were necessary. She approached slowly, making just enough noise to draw attention. Both turned, and neither tried to move away. "I'd like to speak with Zipporwhill," Fleur quietly requested, and did so when she was still three body lengths away. "Not in private." She tilted her head towards the parent. "I'd prefer if you stayed and listened the whole time. And if you don't want me to talk at all, I'll leave." The mother carefully, protectively examined Fleur, hooves to horn. "If it's something you feel can be said in front of me," the parent decided, "then it's up to her." The little mare took three slow breaths. "...it's okay." Fleur took two steps closer, and set the final boundary there. "It would be insulting," she softly began. "If I just asked if you were okay. I know it doesn't just go away like that. I wanted to ask if it was getting any better." The parent silently watched. Zipporwhill took in the cold air, gave it a little warmth before letting it go again. "There's bad nights," the little mare said, staring down at the near-frozen ground. "Bad dreams. Mom takes me to a doctor so I can tell him about the dreams. That's supposed to make them come less. I don't have them quite as often. But I'm still having them." Fleur did the world an undue courtesy and held back her opinion of the entire profession. Light green eyes came up. The little mare looked at Fleur for a while. "Do you ever have bad dreams?" (There would be so many excuses, after it was all over. That she was tired, that she hadn't been fully restored, wasn't thinking normally.) (So many lies...) Fleur nodded. "How do you make them go away?" Zipporwhill asked, and a quiet gaze begged for wisdom. I don't know. "I try to work," Fleur said. "That helps, for a while. Having something to do." The little mare was quiet for a time. "We saw Miss Fluttershy earlier. I asked her if I could come here during the summer. Work on little things. She said... it was okay. But only three days a week, because I should have lots of time to just have summer." Fleur blinked. Zipporwhill's left forehoof scraped at the cold ground. "It... doesn't have to be for very much pay. I can clean. Go get things. But I want to watch. When watching is important." Carefully, without talking down to her in any way other than the physical, "Why?" "Because..." The little mare swallowed. "I was thinking... that maybe, if I worked really hard... I could be a vet. Because... I have dreams about the pain. And no one should ever have pain like that. So I want to learn about more ways to take it away. Ones that... might help." "The doctor thinks it's a good idea," the parent said. "I gave her permission." Having her on the grounds... Things happened every day. Some of them would bring more blood. "It won't be easy," Fleur gently stated. "It never is." More slow breaths. "I'm scared. I told Mom that. And Miss Fluttershy. But I think being scared is a good thing. You're more careful, if you're scared. You'll try to do it right." Zipporwhill on the grounds... Fluttershy wouldn't have said yes unless she felt she could draw a line in front of Discord. No calling cards. So it'll be lessons. Slow, careful ones. Trying to keep her from seeing too much, too fast, even when she's already seen the worst of it. But there would be one which Fleur wouldn't have to teach her. It was about how you used the pain... Still searching, and the process was beginning to frustrate her. By Fleur's estimate, the crowd wasn't as large as it had been at her welcoming party -- but it was hard to judge, because it was also considerably more dispersed. Pinkie had posted multiple signs: Stay Out Of This Section, Leave This Area Alone and, very prominently, Don't Try To Pet The Rabbit. It still left the attendees spread out, and all she was trying to do was get one glimpse of a singular shade of yellow fur... But she was also getting cold, and had to hope that Fluttershy would have been feeling the same way: she'd never seen her charge display any skill at shifting heat. So she went back inside, and found another little gap: one which hadn't been arranged by hastily mouthwritten notice. This filly's presence was known to clear some space. Of course. It wasn't her first time to that thought. The crush was still present: Fleur had done nothing to encourage it -- but she couldn't do anything to make it go away either. And if there was a social event on a night when the filly wasn't grounded, with her parents knowing that she was just going somewhere they probably regarded as safe -- I haven't seen her parents. -- then Sweetie was going to make the trip, just for the chance to be around Fleur a little more. Not necessarily saying anything, because the little unicorn was shy. Just watching, whenever she could. And perhaps the views would create their own dreams... It's not my fault. You couldn't do anything about crushes, other than not doing anything about those which had already bloomed. Sweetie's presence wasn't enough to clear out this particular party. But her friends didn't seem to have come. (Fleur had almost expected to get older and younger siblings as a set, but Applejack had gone home and she hadn't spotted Apple Bloom all night.) She didn't know who Sweetie thought of as a family friend, and she hadn't seen the filly's parents... ...I have to find out if she came by herself. Her father's probably on the road again. (Fleur didn't think much of the mother.) Somepony has to make sure she gets home safely. If there's no other choice, then that's me. Her house is close to the rental. I can take her back. I just hope it doesn't form any more associations. The filly had cleared some space in the sitting room simply by existing, with reputation constantly sweeping the floor. And she was sitting on the wood, just barely sitting because the hind legs were down, the two-tone tail was splayed, and the forelegs looked as if they were about to buckle. She hadn't seen Fleur, because she was mostly staring at the floor. The animals had been asked to stay back, she didn't really know the other children and some of them had already gone home, there was no one she could talk to, no one to play with, and it was just a stupid adult party with nothing to do. She looked so miserable as to radiate the agony of loneliness, and Fleur's first desire in the presence of that pain was to find some means of taking it away. But she was the last mare who should ever approach, and she didn't understand why nopony else was going to Sweetie. You couldn't see that pain and not want to make it stop -- The sparkle reached her eyes, and did so ahead of the approaching, gently smiling pony. That was how reflections worked. The light went ahead. The new arrival looked down. Comforting words were offered. Sweetie hesitantly said something back. Then there were more words, and the filly found a smile because at least somepony was talking to her, there was company in exile and Fleur watched the visual end of the little ongoing exchange, absently noted how the gap had cleared out enough ponies to negate any possibility of sensory overload and where will I go? who will I be? what might my mark whisper to me? she was in the hallway which led to the kitchen, and that was as far as she'd gone. It had been just a few hoofsteps to cross that distance, and Fleur felt that she must have crossed them normally because she was using that position to watch the sitting room. There were other guests, and it was possible to check on them for a split-second each. None of them seemed to be regarding her with any degree of confusion. A split-second each. Nothing more was available. Because nopony could ever know how much time they had. ...perhaps there was one pony. Fleur could at least theorize that as a possibility. That there might be a pony whose talent it was to know. And she wondered what that would be like, to look at somepony and just recognize how much time they had left. How would you interact with the world, when you understood exactly when every thinking part of it would just -- stop? What would that do to the pony who bore the gift? The curse. Or... the talent might only apply to themselves. A clock which started running at the moment of manifest, with no way not to hear it ticking. Constantly knowing exactly when the last gear would break. Fleur had no way to know how much time she'd possessed. She'd worked so hard to gain whatever benefit she could, with the most limited resource there could ever be... It couldn't be said that she made a decision in that moment. A decision implied choice. There was none. Because all the little clues were coming together in her head, all the things she should have seen before that one moment. It had been there, right at the very start. The words, fully out in the open, and she'd missed it. She didn't know how much had taken place between that moment and now. Nopony ever knew how much time they had. Time's up. It was a rather calm thought. It didn't really have a reason not to be. When? I may not be able to leave the grounds in time. Even if somepony shows up to take her home... That's the plan, isn't it? To take her home. There can't be a tomorrow. Always be ready to react. One opportunity. There were ways in which she felt the world existed as something which desired to bring pain, and so it served up a much lesser stab: something she barely noticed. She'd just spotted Mr. Rich. He was alone, he clearly hadn't brought a date, he looked exactly like a pony who would at least relish a chance at honest conversation, and... it didn't matter. Just a little thorn of irony, easily disregarded. A sort of numbness seemed to be spreading through her limbs. She had an odd awareness of the tip of her horn. Both had to be fought back. One opportunity. And afterwards... ...she raised her right foreleg, angled it, regarded the circlet with some bemusement. She supposed she could try, but... the most reasonable expectation was that the titanium had a few other effects lurking in wait. Things which would only trigger if she tried to remove it. Knocking her unconscious on the spot was simply practical, while sending a giant signal flare to the palace would have been mandatory. As concepts went, 'afterwards' was pointless. It didn't matter. Time's up. They were still talking. She watched. And she heard the hoofsteps coming up behind her, because it had been the kitchen. Of course it had been the kitchen. It was so easy to identify those hoofsteps, after you'd listened to them for a couple of moons. When somepony hardly ever flew, when even their movement came with little hesitations... It normally would have made her shut down her talent, but it seemed she'd already done that. She didn't need it any more. "...Fleur?" She didn't move. "So tell me, Fleur... do you upset her?" Yes. Very soon now. For moons. Maybe for years... "...I'm sorry I didn't find you earlier," wafted against white ears. "I just... I woke up first, and I came down before Pinkie really saw me, so I actually helped set up part of the party because the animals weren't sure what to do about having one here." With open pride, "...I was setting up a party! It's... kind of strange. Especially when it's just a party for ponies. You haven't been here for the ones which are just for the cottage. Maybe the next time..." "-- of course I'm here! Where else am I ever going to be? I'm here until the job is complete, until you're happy and I can't do anything about --" I didn't know I was lying. "...you're very quiet," her charge decided. "I know a lot about being quiet. You're usually not --" "-- you gave up your bed." It felt like a strange way to start the last conversation they would ever have. "...you needed it more than I did." "You're not Generosity." It was a rather plain statement. The pegasus took another step forward. They were right next to each other now, in near-perfect alignment. It was enough to let Fleur see a little of her charge through peripheral vision alone. The only option... But the mane was just about always falling to one side. Obscuring. And this time, it was on Fleur's side. I can't see you. I never really saw you at all, did I? There didn't seem to be much of anything attached to that thought. Or the weight had been too great to dredge up. "...each of us is a little like the others. In some ways." There was some light amusement to it. "I did tell you that." "So how are you like Rainbow?" Silence. "...we both think about... what we're going to leave behind. Rainbow... she wants ponies to remember her. To always know she was there. And when Applejack started dating, I realized... that it was only my pony friends who would tell their children about me. The animals... they don't think that way. They'll know when I'm gone, and some of them will mourn. They do mourn, Fleur, in their own ways. I..." Fleur listened to the slow breath. "...I know I'm going to die. I accept that." Just a little more quickly, while retaining an odd degree of calm, "I don't want it to be today, or tomorrow. I want to live for as long as my life can still mean something. And when I die... I'll find out what happens next. But I started to think about how there was nopony I could tell the stories. And then..." It was possible to hear the first tear fall. "...I realized I was lonely. That even with everyone at the cottage around me all the time, I was just so lonely. I wanted somepony to remember me. I wanted to be loved. I wanted my children to tell their foals the stories I'd told them..." A single sharp breath. Fighting back the little gasp, and almost winning. There might have been ponies watching them, from the milling, shifting heart of the party. It didn't seem to matter. Fleur was watching the only two whom she could still truly see. Listening to the last one who mattered. "...I thought about that for a long time. And then... I asked the palace for help..." Fleur silently nodded. "...I'm sorry." Placidly, because the surface of the deepest waters could appear still. "Don't be." I wish... ...no. Wishes are for children. Nothing hears you. Nothing answers. And if something happens anyway, if you somehow get even one wish and it's not the one you wanted most... ...that's when you find out that even miracles have their price. And innocence dies. You're not innocent. You haven't been for a long time. You're naive, but it's not the same thing. ...they're going to ask you so many questions, and the best answer you can have to every last one is 'I never knew.' You're strong. You have to be strong enough to get through it. I don't want you to hate me. "...I was talking to ponies," Fluttershy said. "Before you came down. And a little after. I... hardly ever talk to ponies this much..." They're going to move. At some point, they will shift out of sight. It's the only way it can happen. As soon as they move... "I may head home," Fleur calmly stated. "I'm not sure I got enough sleep. And it's been a lot of rough days." It set off another moment of quiet. "...so you can be ready for the Algonquin," Fluttershy decided. "...I understand..." Perhaps just about everypony was watching them: all but two. It didn't matter. She kept her eyes focused straight ahead, her ears trained towards Fluttershy. Because there was no point to looking, and the words were all there was. "Would you go by yourself?" "...what?" "If I was sick. If I didn't wake up in time. Would you still go?" The blink was audible, even through the fall of hair. "...we need a little more review time. I was hoping we could do that tomorrow. I'm not sure I'm ready..." "Overpreparation is real. You can go too far with it. You don't need to know everypony's favorite snacks just yet." "...I'd be scared to go..." A little more strongly, "You could do it if you had to." "...I..." She heard the little gulp. "...I wanted to go with you..." So there would be somepony to sort the catch. ...so there would be somepony to guard you. That's what having a charge means. You guard them. But you teach them at the same time, so they can reach the point where they don't need you any more. Did I teach you -- -- I didn't. There wasn't enough time. Can you move forward on your own? Can you keep doing this without me? I can't go on without her. Her/not her. I went on... time's up With open, almost desperate concern, "...do you feel all right? I know it's been hard on you, Fleur. If you're getting sick --" "-- I'm tired," Fleur quietly answered. "Just... tired." It felt like there was something pressing down on her skin. The air. Her fur. The powders. Makeup might not come across as weighing anything, but when you applied enough layers... A wingtip gently brushed against the length of her flank, then withdrew. "...you don't feel hot. Just... tense. Your muscles are all tight." Thoughtfully, "Can you use your --" "-- if I do get sick tomorrow --" Her charge stopped. Waited. I have to trust you. You're strong enough. You would have won. "-- then it's your decision as to whether you go," Fleur finished. "If you decide that you're not up to it, then -- that's what happens. But I hope you go. Because in order to look, you... need to be somewhere that you can get a view. Don't stop looking." She took a breath. Noticed the actions of her lungs. The background scent of the cottage. The non-scent of the pegasus at her side. "You know what this is really about?" Fleur placidly asked the world. "Taking chances. You don't find love unless you take a chance on putting yourself forward. A chance on getting hurt. On rejection, on pain, on... everything. And I know it hurts, when it feels like all you can do is lose. But you don't win unless you keep playing. Unless you go back out there, over and over again, because you hardly ever find love on the first try. Just... keep taking chances." The replying silence felt timeless, in its way. An illusion, and very nearly the last one. "...you should rest. So you don't get sick. It's... okay if you go home." I can't go home. "What about you?" "...I'm not tired yet, and... I don't want to send everypony home so soon. Not when they nearly all had to come so far. I'm just going to... go use the restroom. And you can go home, Fleur. It's more important that you're here tomorrow." The pegasus started to move past her. Hesitated, when all Fleur could see was the shy flow of coral. "...you'll come back tomorrow?" The unicorn had told thousands of lies. (Sometimes it felt as if the first one was the second word.) The unicorn was silent. The pegasus left. And then there was a party, and there were presumably ponies milling around it. For as much as it mattered to Fleur, all but two of them could have been shadows. She was thinking about shadows, on the deepest levels. About being overshadowed. It seemed to be helping her focus. A special sort of tunnel vision: see only what she truly needed to... (She thought about shadows.) (She didn't think about the right one.) One opportunity. Fleur stepped forward. Then there was another step. Planting her hooves a little more solidly than she normally would. Creating enough sound to draw notice on its own, and she was watching for the exact moment that notice occurred. Directly on track for them, and she hated what she had to do next because it would only be a few hours until every dream was corrupted, but there was only one way to make it work, she got closer still and planted her hooves, the only important heads began to turn and Fleur's hips shifted. It was, in all ways, a masterpiece. A private display which had still been made in front of a public audience (and she could finally hear ponies going into each other): one which, in her opinion, made Joyous look like a rank amateur. It came with a tiny smile and half-lidded eyes. Her hooves ceased to impact the wood: they glided. The tail swayed, her shoulders danced, and she told the world that she was in charge. The only illusion retained was that they had the right to say no. But she had already decided that there would be no such response. There couldn't be. She had decided everything... The filly's eyes went so wide as to make it seem that they would never close again. The other pony... It was a curious expression, if you had the chance to take it in. To Fleur, it put her in mind of somepony who'd briefly studied a foreign language, somehow found themselves teleported to that country, and had just realized that their lives depended on putting together one coherent sentence. But it was only there for a moment. And then the stallion swallowed. She smiled at him. For him, and he alone. Moved past the filly as if the little unicorn didn't exist, flicked her tail towards him... ...and he didn't have a choice. It was the signal. It was every signal, all of the flags flying at once and even for someone who didn't understand that part of the dance, the sheer volume of the call had forced him to acknowledge the existence of the music. She could hear ponies stumbling about, there were murmurs starting, rumors would be flying at any second, she didn't have much time and time was running out and it was the only way, the only chance... She kept moving, heading towards the front exit. And after an eternal second, she heard a new set of hoofsteps begin to follow. "...I don't like it when ponies follow me." This was an exception. It was an interesting sort of hunt, with her acting as the lure. She had to move away from ponies (all but one) and at the same time, she had to keep them in sight for as long as possible. Because the signal had been given, in a way nopony could pretend not to understand. She was a mare who had, just for a moment, existed as a shout of I WANT. And he... ...she'd been lucky, in a way. The audience would eventually work against her: she understood that. But they had told him how he was supposed to respond to the signal. How just about anypony would have answered, and that meant he needed to do exactly that -- for as long as there was an audience. There was a certain image to maintain. He couldn't push her away, not under those conditions. Not while there were others watching as she led with little flicks of tail and adjustments of hips, summoning him to a rendezvous. And there were still ponies watching because some part of the party was taking up the cold world, he had to follow... ...as long as I stay alert. As long as I stay focused. As long as I'm not afr -- She knew where she was taking him. The place he would have to follow, and the one where nopony else had gone. At one point, she glanced back. Smiled again. She wasn't sure whose makeup was the better. There was nothing really exceptional about the unicorn stallion's looks: perhaps a decade older than she, and a little overweight. He'd styled the toffee-hued mane for the night, and the eyes were still so pink as to make her think about cotton candy. There could have been something done with the dark eyebrows, thick enough to come across as arcing lines of licorice. But the makeup... It was the way he had dusted himself with the tiny specks of glitter. Every breath he took under Moon's scant light was a dance of spun sugar, and she admired that. It was its own kind of performance art. You had to think carefully, when it was makeup. About what you wanted the world to see instead of you. You pay on the back end... In this case, it was more toward the back of the cottage. She led him hoofstep by hoofstep, and knew the eyes were dropping away. That it was only so far and no further, because he could only reassert himself when there were no witnesses to the act. But she knew where she was taking him, and... ...then they were there. She turned her head to look back at him. Inclined it slightly to the left, smiled, and then recentered as her body turned. It took a little work, to do that smoothly. Her hooves had to deal with the presence of the graves. Fleur stood among the marker stones, as did he. Regarding him. There isn't much time. I'm about to lose him... "Miss Fleur..." It was awkward. It came with a touch of hoof shuffle, and she resisted the urge to stomp out a final round of applause upon the sounding board of the dead. "I... I didn't know what to say back there. I wasn't sure how to say it, especially when you made it so... clear." He winced a little, and that too was art. "I'm flattered. I truly am. But... I'm so sorry for this, and I hope you believe me..." There was a touch of light coming from the windows on this side of the cottage. Just a bit more from Moon. Enough to find him in the shadows, and little more. "...but --" And he even thought to kick in a sigh. "-- you're just... not my type..." And Fleur laughed. He stared at her, and it was the laughter which did that. It was a helpless sort of mirth, the sort of thing which could only appear when the punchline to what had been a private joke had somehow manifested in the mouth of another. Her head tossed, all four knees nearly buckled, and she almost wondered what it sounded like to his ears, because nopony could truly hear their own voice as others knew it and she hadn't laughed so much for a very long time. But she had to laugh. There was nothing else left. "I know!" Fleur gasped through the peals. "Believe me, I know! I'm not your type --" Her head snapped up, and did so at the same moment her horn ignited. "-- any more." They were stark words. They fell onto the stone, and each served as its own fresh grave. Perhaps it was that which told him. Which made the stallion start to turn, legs already beginning to push. But her field lanced forward, surrounded every hoofwidth and hoofheight of him, got him off the ground before he could bring true force against the earth. And he did the sensible thing in the presence of those stark words and fresh glow, igniting his own horn, starting to push -- -- but she was the stronger. Of course she was the stronger. He had to look weak until the moment came to stop, and then he was still so weak -- -- he was pushing, fighting back, trying to counter her -- and then there was a moment when the intensity of his corona paused in its surge, even as hers pushed on through a full single layer and began to approach double. An instant within the brief battle when his part of the fight held at its current level, and a new sort of confusion appeared on his face. She thought she understood why. He had likely just noticed the sensation of being within her energies. Not the tingle of limbs falling asleep, as would have been expected. It would have been soft, because hers was a trick with two facets and she had been holding back the second one for what felt very much like a lifetime. But time was up. Her projected corona shivered. There was a sound now, a low hum, and tiny waves of light coruscated along the inner surface because she'd never practiced this with a hidden field, couldn't trust it to work properly through the distortions. It was fully visible, and so she watched as lumens vibrated. His face went strange. Purest confusion, almost childlike. He didn't understand what was happening, and that lack of comprehension was added to a certain petulance. An underlying demand that somepony explain, and then discard that reasoning in favor of making the world what he wanted it to be. He didn't understand. So she showed him. A secondary inner loop of her energies clamped his jaw, held tight. And the waves of light began to move faster, a closely-wrapped field bubble pressing into his fur as everything reached his skin and the low hum got faster, a little louder, transitioning into more of a high-pitched whine -- -- she rotated him a little just then, at the moment she saw that horrible recognition begin to dawn. Turned him so that she could see his face through her light, and remember it for the portion which remained of what had never been forever. As all of the glitter fell from his body. As the first tooth cracked. As his tail twisted against itself, the bones breaking in three directions at once. The vibrations became faster, were driven deeper into his body, and he was shaking within the wrapping as it became tighter still, deliberately-clashing energies rushing through his body and where they collided, flesh would have no choice but to shake apart. And the corona around her horn was doubled, she had to do this at two layers in order to make it work at all, and she could see him trying to scream so she just clamped his jaw all the harder and watched as his pupils jittered and two hooves split and it was oddly peaceful, watching it happen. It had to be peaceful because she couldn't identify any other emotion within herself. It didn't feel like much of anything. She'd thought it would feel better -- -- hundreds of graves behind the cottage, and plenty of room for another. But it made avoiding the markers difficult. There was always one more body, and one more stone. She heard the new hoof hit the marker. It skidded slightly. She turned just enough to see and all she saw was shadow, a shadow which had now given up on stealth to start the charge and that told her what was happening, she had to keep pushing but she also knew what the mare was going to do, the only thing the training would tell the police chief to do -- -- it was instinct, and she cursed it at the moment she realized what was happening: somepony was closing in while she was at a double corona so she had to drop it, but she couldn't wink it out because she had to finish, there was only one chance with time running out and his time had to end -- -- but it took a moment before she realized what instinct had done. A corona, which, for an instant, was dropping. Caught on the border between double and single, at the moment the dark mare jumped and the density of the right forehoof went directly into Fleur's horn. She tried to fight it off, because it was the only chance she would ever have. The lone opportunity. She did everything she could to keep casting, to maintain through the disruption, and there was a single heartbeat where she almost succeeded. And then her field twisted. The energies were pulled away from his body, surrounded her own. The backlash pushed into her, and she felt muscles burn as her blood roared in her ears and she kept fighting, trying to stay on her hooves if nothing else, because it was too soon and she needed one more second one more one more one more one more -- -- but her time was up. She lost all sensation from her hooves. Legs. Her flanks were gone. Sight ended, all at once. But hearing... that remained, if only for a single moment more. The world fell away, and the agonized scream of her failure carried her down into the dark.