Not long after Trixie has departed, the clock chimes one o’clock.
Except this time, there’s no knock at the door.
Two minutes pass, and there’s still no sound of a knock. Early as it is, you’re starting to get a feeling of deja vu from yesterday, when Mrs. Cake was running late. Could the same thing be happening today? In hindsight, you suppose this is just an indication of how used you are to prompt, on-the-dot appearances, when that’s been the norm up to this point.
However, it seems like there is someone outside the door at least. You could swear you can hear someone whispering on the other side, though you can’t catch a word.
At last, three minutes past one, there comes a knock on the door, and a rather sharp one at that. The suddenness of it makes you jump.
“Come in!” you call.
The door opens, but nopony appears. Through the gap, you can’t even see anyone on the other side, meaning they’re behind the door. You stare, puzzled, wondering what’s going on. Was your client having second thoughts? Were they feeling too shy to come in?
Now you can hear the voice from outside more distinctly, a rough female voice.
“Come on, sis, don’t keep him waiting. You’re the one who wanted to come down here.”
There’s a pause, and then comes the sound of barely-audible whispering. Even with the door open, it hardly sounds like words are being used at all, so quiet is the voice
“For Celestia’s sake,” says the first voice with a sigh. “I knew this would happen. Hang on.”
A head pokes through the open door. It belongs to an Earth pony mare with a purplish coat, a white mane with straight bangs and the back rather rigidly swept to the side, and lime-green eyes with very prominent eyebrows set into a scowl. She looks rather intimidating.
“Scuse me,” she says, brusquely. “Do you let clients come in with visitors?”
It takes you a moment or two to answer, not only due to the unexpected question, but the rough way it’s asked. This is certainly a new way of proceeding, one you hadn’t dealt with before. However, you manage to regain yourself, clear your throat, and say,
“If it makes the client feel more at ease, I have no objections.”
“Good,” says the mare. “That’ll make things a lot easier.”
She pulls her head back into the hallway.
“He says it’s ok, sis. so I’m comin’ in with you. Come on, move your rump!”
The next second, another Earth pony mare comes hurriedly into the room, quite unwillingly, as the first mare is shunting her along forcefully from behind with her head. Once both are in, the terse-spoken mare closes the door, and now you have a better look at both ponies.
The pony who was so unwilling to come in has a light-gray coat, a very voluminous dark-gray mane and tail, both streaked with lighter shades of gray, purple eyes, one of which is obscured by her mane, and a cutie mark of three purple spheres. She has a dainty, delicate appearance to her, and she’s determinedly avoiding your gaze, keeping her visible eye averted as she sits on the floor before you. She seems almost painfully afraid to be here. Even Fluttershy isn’t this timid, or at least, not since you’ve ever known her.
The other mare is still scowling, as if her eyebrows are frozen in that state. She has a fit, toned build compared to her sister, and her cutie mark resembles half of a lime over a pair of white cubes.
“Well, good afternoon,” you say, smiling. “One of you must be Marble Pie.”
The shy one looks over at the stern one.
“Don’t look at me,” she says. “He’s the one talking to you.”
Slowly, the shy one meets your gaze and nods silently.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” you say, kindly. “And you must be her sister, then,” you add, turning to the other mare.
“Limestone Pie,” she says, with a curt nod.
“And both of you are Pinkie Pie’s sisters?” you inquire. “I had an inkling when I saw the name on the appointment sheet.”
Marble says nothing, though her expression does relax slightly at the mention of Pinkie’s name. She nods.
“Yeah, that’s right,” says Limestone. “You’d probably never believe it just by looking at her, but she’s our sister. Most ponies never make the connection.”
It certainly would be hard to believe upon first glance. Pinkie is vibrant, bouncy, and energetic, whereas her sisters seem more muted and moody. Still, you can’t judge simply by appearances. Besides, you’ve known that Pinkie had sisters, just from listening to her talk for long enough, and that she came from a rock farm, the last place anyone would think to be where an exuberant party pony was born and bred. Wonders never ceased in Equestria.
“I’ve heard Pinkie mention you before,” you say. “She thinks the world of you two, as well as another sister she mentioned: Maud, I believe her name was.”
Limestone says nothing. She simply rolls her eyes and looks away, looking moodier than ever. Did you say something wrong? Perhaps you’d best not press the point.
“Well, in any case,” you say, turning back to Marble, “please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”
You gesture to the unoccupied cushion on the couch. Marble looks from it to you, then back again, biting her lip. She seems hesitant. Her eye briefly flicks in Limestone’s direction, as though asking her for directions. Perhaps she isn’t used to making decisions without input.
“Well, go on,” says Limestone, gruffly. “You heard him.”
At last, Marble tentatively steps forward, places her forehooves delicately onto the couch, and pulls herself, a bit awkwardly, up onto it, twisting about to get in a comfortable sitting position. She brushes her bangs with her hoof, blushing slightly at her momentary clumsiness.
“Help yourself to some treats as well,” you say, kindly, gesturing to the cookies.
Her gaze lingers on the plate, and you swear you hear a faint rumble come from her stomach. She leans over and takes a sniff at the cookies. Her expression brightens considerably, and for the first time, you see a smile on her face. It’s a small smile, but a cute one nonetheless. She picks one up daintily with her mouth, holding it between her hooves as she nibbles on it. There’s something adorably demure about her mannerisms, as though she had been raised to be a more refined lady. She certainly gives a different impression of manners compared to her more grumpy sister.
Speaking of whom, you look over at Limestone.
“You can have some yourself, Limestone,” you say.
She glances over at you, then at the plate. She shrugs, walks over, and picks one up. She takes an experimental bite, and though she doesn’t smile herself, her eyebrows contract a little, so that she looks less fierce.
“Not bad,” she says. “Tastes like something Pinkie would make.”
“I’m glad you like them,” you say. “She did lend me her recipe after all.”
Limestone nods appreciatively and gulps down the rest of her cookie, just as Marble finishes hers. She looks marginally more comfortable. She’s definitely looking at you more, though her visible eye keeps looking away from time to time.
“Well, then, Marble,” you begin, but Limestone interrupts.
“Hang on,” she says. “Just wanna give you a word of warning. You might’ve noticed that my sister’s not the chattiest pony. No offense, Marbs,” she adds, looking at her sister.
Marble shakes her head, as though to say ‘none taken’.
“She’s a sweet pony, but she’s quiet even at home, and she clams up something fierce around strangers,” says Limestone. “Nothin’ to do with you, just sayin’. You’ll save yourself a lot of trouble if you try sticking to yes or no questions with her.”
You look bemusedly from her to Marble, who toys with her mane shyly. Her behavior seems to confirm what Limestone has said, as she shows no sign of denying it. This is certainly the most unusual session you’ve had so far, and you had a princess as your client the previous day, and one this morning, not to mention the hour you just spent with Trixie. You’re not entirely confident you can get Marble to open up enough to speak about anything that might be troubling her, if that’s even a possibility. Still, she signed up for a session, so you have to do what you can for her. The comfort level of a client is the most essential aspect of a therapy session.
“Well, ok, then,” you say. “I’ll do my best. I hope you don’t mind answering anything she doesn’t wish to, Limestone.”
“I’m used to it,” says Limestone, shrugging.
Well, that’s settled, then. You clear your throat and turn to Marble.
“So, Marble, are you feeling well today?”
There’s a pause. Marble looks you straight in the eye. The eye of hers that you can see is quite pretty, and it feels a shame that she wants to keep one covered. Then again, Fluttershy’s mane is long enough to hide her face behind as well. It seems to be a common trend for introverted ponies.
Finally, she makes a sound.
“Mm-hmm.”
Even her voice is delicate. It’s not quite like Fluttershy’s, which tends to be barely louder than a whisper, but it’s very close. It’s quite pleasant to hear, honestly. And at the very least, you got an audible response from her. That’s progress.
“That’s good,” you say. “You and your sister work on a rock farm, correct?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I imagine it must be hard work, dealing with rocks.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Our parents own the farm,” Limestone says, “but I’m the one who keeps it running.”
She says this last part with a hint of pride, drawing herself up and puffing out her chest.
“Oh?” you ask. “Not by yourself, surely.”
“Nah,” says Limestone. “Marble helps, but mostly with smaller stuff. She’s not weak, of course, but she doesn’t quite have the Pie Family Muscle that Maud and I have, the kind needed to farm the big rocks. Marble’s more of a thinker and a planner.”
You look from her to Marble, who gives a confirmatory nod. Certainly, Limestone looks in better shape, but it’s gratifying to hear her compliment her sister in spite of that.
“I see,” you say. “Well, do you come to Ponyville often?”
“Mm-mm,” says Marble, shaking her head.
“Pinkie invites us all the time, but it’s hard to get time away from the farm,” says Limestone. “We only have so much time in a year that we can step away and take a vacation.”
“Oh, I see,” you say, sympathetically. “Well, what inspired you to sign up for a session, Marble? Did Pinkie recommend it?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I had a feeling,” you say. “And did she invite you here to take part in it?”
Marble shakes her head.
“Mm-mm.”
“Oh?”
“Darnedest thing,” says Limestone. “Pinkie’s the one who told us about it, but Marble’s the one who made the decision to come here. It’s the first time I can remember her being so proactive. She usually waits for somepony to make a decision for her.”
Marble shoots a cold frown her way, nowhere near as intense as her sister’s scowls, but surprising to see in a mare so timid and gentle.
“Well, I mean, she did insist I come along,” says Limestone, shrugging, “but neither of us have been to Ponyville before, so it only made sense not to let her go alone.”
“Well, that was very sweet of you,” you say. “It shows how much you care for your sister.”
Marble smiles. Limestone looks taken aback. Her cheeks flush crimson, and she averts her gaze, her lips pursed. She looks as though she had actually swallowed a lime. Perhaps she’s not used to compliments.
Figuring you’re not going to get much more out of her right now, you turn to Marble.
“So, has Pinkie explained how affection therapy works?” you ask.
“Mm-hmm.”
“And where would you like to start?”
Marble ponders for a moment, then points at her ear with her hoof.
“An ear scratch? Certainly. Make yourself cozy, and we can begin. You could have it sitting as you are, or you could lay yourself down. Your session, your choice.”
Marble hesitates, cocking her head rather cutely as she mulls this over. Then, she slowly eases herself onto her stomach, so that her chin is resting on her hooves, across your knees. She looks up at you, as if to ask if this is acceptable. You smile down at her and nod, and she looks relieved.
You place your hand gently on her head, noting how smooth and silky her mane is, and begin rubbing behind her ear with your forefinger and thumb. Her visible eye starts to gradually close, and a contented smile forms on her muzzle. She softly hums to herself, her chin slipping between her hooves so that they press against her cheeks, causing her mane to spread out onto your lap. Her long tail, long enough to hang over the opposite armrest and nearly to the floor, flicks and swishes as the ear rubbing continues. All vestiges of worry and timidity have vanished completely, and she looks utterly at peace.
You look up for a moment, and can see that, despite keeping her back to you, Limestone’s watching from where she’s sitting. When she sees you looking, however, she hurriedly looks away. She really does seem to be concerned for her sister, but doesn’t appear willing to admit it or show it too much.
After a time, you move from scratching one ear to scratching the other, and Marble gives a little giggle of contented pleasure. Then you give her some scritches under the chin, making her ears flick as she tilts her head back. She looks completely enraptured.
Then, right in the middle of it, and without warning, she suddenly turns herself over onto her back, curling her hooves up to her chest. The action has swept her bangs back, so that she’s now looking cutely up at you with both eyes visible. Well, you don’t need to be a mind-reader to tell what she wants. This is the universal gesture that says ‘belly rub, please’, a request impossible to deny. It seems she’s feeling much more at ease in this session now.
Smiling, you place a hand onto her stomach and begin rubbing in slow circles. As you noted before, she’s a bit softer in build than her more toned sister, but she’s not as plump as Pinkie. Working on a rock farm must be good exercise, even if, as Limestone said, Marble’s more used to smaller tasks.
Whatever the case, Marble closes her eyes again, and snuggles herself more comfortably against you as you rub, shimmying her shoulders as she settles into the best position for herself. She lets out a low, long sigh, looking utterly relaxed. You can feel your heart melting at the sight, and can’t help but give her a little tickle on her side. She giggles squeakily, twitching her hooves adorably, before settling back again as you return to rubbing.
You hear a soft chuckle nearby. Looking up, you see Limestone watching again, and there’s actually a smile on her face. This time, she doesn’t look away at your gaze, and in fact, has twisted herself around so that she doesn’t have her back to you.
“Look at her,” she says, quietly, and with a fond tone in her rough voice. “I’ve never seen her look so peaceful. She’s like putty in your…well, not hooves, but, you know what I mean.”
You smile.
“I’ve found that the one thing ponies tend to love more than ear scratches is belly rubs,” you say.
Limestone says nothing. She simply watches Marble doze as you continue to rub her stomach.
“She really doesn’t have any problems going on at home, does she?” you ask, delicately.
“Well, no,” says Limestone, after a pause. “Like I said, she’s one of the nicest ponies you could ever meet, and we all love her. She’s just really shy, and it’s hard getting her to try new things, even when it’s something we know she’d like, like this. I hate having to be forceful about it, but sometimes she needs a little push to get her motivated.”
“Right. I see,” you say.
That was certainly the impression you got the more Limestone talked. She might be a bit rough, but it’s evident that she’s protective of her sister and wants the best for her.
“She’s kinda been that way ever since Pinkie left home to live in Ponyville.”
You pause in surprise. Then, realizing you’d stopped belly-rubbing, you catch yourself and continue, hoping Marble didn’t notice. Limestone herself looks surprised at what she said, as though she felt she said too much.
“Is that right?” you ask.
Limestone remains silent, looking wary. This feels like you’re treading in delicate territory, and you don’t want to destroy any goodwill you’ve garnered up to this point.
“It’s ok if you don’t want to elaborate, Limestone,” you say, kindly. “I won’t force you. I just want you to know that, should you wish to, what you say won’t be repeated outside this office. You have my word on that.”
Limestone looks hesitant, keeping her eyes anywhere but on you. You can tell she’s doing some deep thinking about this; those eyebrows of hers are working furiously. Something tells you that she has things she wants to get off her chest, but perhaps she isn’t used to being so open, at least around others outside her family. You keep your silence as she thinks.
Finally, she lets out a deep sigh, stands up, and walks over to sit beside you, next to the couch. Marble continues to doze, oblivious to all that’s going on.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Limestone says. “None of us blame Pinkie for leaving. She’s meant to make ponies smile and throw parties, and she can’t do that by hanging around a rock farm. She changed our lives and gave us all a reason to smile, but it would’ve been selfish to keep her from living up to what she was meant to do. She still comes by to visit, and she even started a tradition of taking each of us on day trips once a year, but we still miss her.”
“I see,” you say, sympathetically.
“It’s not just her, either,” Limestone continues. “Maud doesn’t hang around the rock farm much anymore. She’s studying to earn her rocktorate and become a geologist.”
A ‘rocktorate’? That’s certainly something you’ve never heard of before. Of course, it sounds like the sort of thing that a pony who works with rocks would go for.
“Is that so?” you ask.
“Yeah,” says Limestone. “She’s been traveling about, conducting studies on different rocks in different parts of Equestria, so she’s able to get away from the rock farm more than the two of us can. She’s also been able to visit Pinkie more often, even more than we have our yearly travel days. The two of them have always been really close, while Marble’s always stuck by me.”
“Ohh, I see,” you say.
“And it’s the same thing with Pinkie,” Limestone continues, sounding as though she’s trying to make a point perfectly clear. “I don’t have anything against Maud doing what she’s doing. We’re all happy that she’s getting her rocktorate. It’ll be really neat having a certified geologist in the family. It’s just that…”
She pauses and looks away. For the first time, you can see a hint of sadness in her normally-scowling face.
“You wish you could do more than work on the farm?” you supply, gently.
Limestone nods.
“It just feels like my sisters are leaving me behind,” she mutters. “It’s a stupid thing to worry about, but I mean...Pinkie’s here in Ponyville, Maud’s doing field study...Even Marble’s thinking about going away for school…”
You look down at Marble in some surprise. Was that true? As the pony herself is still in a state of belly rub euphoria, she’s in no state to provide an answer, and she seems unconscious of the discussion in any case. Limestone continues.
“Mom and Dad are getting older, so they can’t break and farm rocks as easily as they used to, and of course, Marble can only do so much. It’s mostly up to me to make sure things run smoothly, keep the crystal mine in working order, and make sure nothing happens to Holder’s Boulder.”
So rocks aren’t the only thing on the Pie family farm. They also apparently have a mine and something called Holder’s Boulder, whatever that is.
“So you have a lot of responsibility on your shoulders,” you say.
She nods. That does go a good way to partially explain her sour mood: stress from managing so much by herself.
“Sometimes I just feel trapped, you know? Like the farm’s all I’m ever gonna have. I know I shouldn’t be ashamed of being a good rock farmer. I come from a long and proud family of rock farming ponies, and Pa never gets tired of saying I’m doing his grandponies proud, but when I see my sisters moving on to bigger and better things, away from the farm, it...it makes me wonder if there’s something I’m missing. I can’t help but wonder if they even look up to me anymore. It makes me wonder if what I do matters to anypony anymore.”
There are no tears in Limestone’s eyes, and indeed, she hardly seems like the type of pony to cry, but she’s no longer scowling. She avoids your eyes and looks down at her own hooves. It hurts your heart to hear her speak like this. For a pony so tough and self-assured, you had no idea she was harboring such feelings of self-doubt. It must have taken a lot of effort for her to be willing to open up to you like this.
Almost instinctively, you reach down and place your free hand gently on Limestone’s head. She doesn’t duck away from it, or even try to swat it away, as you might have expected her to. She’s clearly too glum to muster up the energy to. Taking a chance, you start gently rubbing at the base of her ear. She gives a barely perceptible start, but then, very slowly, her eyelids start drooping, until her eyes are completely closed. Her rigidity melts away completely, and she leans over so that she’s actually resting against the armrest of the couch. You adjust your hand so that it’s in between the couch and her face, and her cheek is soon resting in your palm as you keep scratching. Both her scowl and her gloomy look have disappeared completely, and she looks blissfully calm and peaceful. Even with how ponies normally relax as they get their ear scratches, the effects seem to have taken a much more instantaneous effect than usual. It’s also not easy concentrating on rubbing the belly of one pony and scratching the ear of another, but somehow, you manage for a little bit.
After a time, Limestone gives another start. She opens her eyes, and looks surprised at the position she’s in. She turns her head so that her chin is now in her palm, and she looks up at you. You smile down at her, and she blushes, pulling her head away and fiddling with her mane.
“Silly of me,” she mumbles.
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” you say. “You looked like you really needed that.”
She glances at you, then looks away, still pink in the face.
“I’m sorry you feel the way you do, Limestone,” you say, gently. “I know it can feel difficult seeing your friends and family moving on, and feeling like you’re being left behind. I kinda know what that feels like. There’s only so much that a human can do in a world of ponies.”
Limestone’s eyes rove over you, taking in your non-pony self, but she says nothing.
“But it’s like you said,” you continue. “Ponies like Pinkie and Maud were born to do more than spend their lives on a rock farm. Pinkie’s meant to spread laughter and smiles wherever she can. From what you described of Maud, it’s her destiny to discover what can be found in rocks found all over Equestria. Even Marble, as you’ve said, is more suited to smaller but no-less-important tasks on the farm. It’s what they were born to do, and only they can do those things.”
Limestone nods, looking as though she’s wondering where you’re going with this.
“But you, Limestone Pie,” you continue, tapping her nose, and making her muzzle scrunch up in the process, “from what you’ve told me, your talent lies in keeping the traditions of your family’s rock farm strong and alive. It’s an important job that’s made for a pony like you. I know it might seem like other ponies don’t place as much value in rock-farming as your family does, and to be honest, if I hadn’t been told about it, I wouldn’t even know rock-farming was a thing. Still, it’s clearly something that’s important enough to have endured and prospered for generations, and you’re doing your part to keep it going. It might not seem as flashy or grand as being a party pony like Pinkie, or as beneficial as being a geologist like Maud, but it’s still an important job, and it’s what you were born to do.”
Limestone stares up at you, struck by what you’ve just said. Once again, affection therapy has an unusual power of loosening your tongue and opening up the floodgates of eloquence, even when it’s based primarily on information you’ve only just learned. Not that you begrudge it, of course, as it always seems to come when it’s needed.
“And as for your sisters,” you add, gently, “I’m perfectly sure they value and love you just the same because of that. Working hard to keep the family farm going, while still being supportive of their own destinies and ambitions...They must feel pretty lucky to have a sister like you.”
Limestone’s cheeks flush, and her mouth quivers. She doesn’t seem sure of what to say.
“Mm-hmm!”
You both jump, and you look down. You haven’t realized you’d paused in your belly rubbing, but sure enough, your hand has paused, resting on Marble’s stomach. The mare herself has opened her eyes, and is smiling up at the pair of you. With a squeaky yawn and a stretch, she sits up, so that she’s sitting with her rump in your lap. Limestone looks flustered.
“Did...Did you hear all of that, Marbs?” she asks.
“Mm-hmm.”
Limestone’s blush deepens. She clearly wasn’t expecting anyone else to hear. Her brows lower as she looks suspiciously at her smiling sister.
“...Did you know I wanted to say all that?” she asks, shrewdly.
At this, Marble’s smile becomes startlingly sly.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And that’s why you wanted me to come with you?” asks Limestone, her brows rising.
“Mmm-hmm!” says Marble, looking quite proud of herself.
You stare from her to Limestone, who looks both surprised and outraged. You would never have imagined a pony so shy and quiet could be so devious. Marble evidently is smarter than she lets on.
Limestone’s mouth works soundlessly, as she’s clearly at a loss for words. You start to worry that she’s about to explode with fury at the deception. Even Marble’s smile falters a little. However, as the blush fades, Limestone shakes her head, and then chuckles.
“You sneaky little stinker,” she says. “I never would’ve imagined it.”
Marble puts a hoof to her muzzle and giggles. You let out a breath of relief, glad an explosion has been averted.
“Well, I’m glad that both of you got something out of this session,” you say, “even if Marble was the one who signed up for it.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” says Limestone, before looking more serious. “You did say you wouldn’t tell anypony else about this, right?”
“Cross my heart,” you say, solemnly. “Client confidentiality is a key requisite of being a therapist, after all.”
Limestone’s expression relaxes.
“Good,” she says. “I just don’t want Pinkie worrying about me, if she hears that I’ve been thinking stuff like that.”
“She won’t hear it from me,” you say. “I’ll leave it to you, should you feel the time’s right.”
Limestone nods gratefully. You turn to Marble.
“Well, Marble, I hope you feel more relaxed.”
“Mm-hmm,” she says, smiling.
“I’m glad to hear,” you say, smiling back.
Marble opens up her forelegs. Taking the hint, you allow her to give you a warm hug, which you gladly return. She gives you a nuzzle on the cheek, then you release each other, and she hops down onto the floor. You turn to Limestone.
“I’m not that big on hugging myself,” she says, “so this’ll have to do.”
She holds out her hoof and gives you a grin. Smiling back, you bump your knuckles against it. Then, Marble walks up beside her and gives her a tender nuzzle. Limestone rolls her eyes, but smiles.
“Aw, Marbs,” she mutters.
She returns the nuzzle all the same.
“Thanks, sis,” she says, quietly.
She then looks up at you.
“And thank you for, well...you know.”
“Mm-hmm,” says Marble, nodding.
“You’re welcome,” you say, warmly. “I hope you two will be able to come by Ponyville more often.”
“Can’t make any promises, but we can try,” says Limestone.
“Mm-hmm,” says Marble.
“Well, take care,” you say.
“So long,” says Limestone.
Marble inclines her head politely, and the two Pie sisters take their leave out the door.
Now this had to be the most unusual affection therapy session you’d ever undertaken. Pinkie’s introverted sister freely signing up for a session, bringing her rougher and grumpier sister along as a chaperone and partial translator, all the while banking on her feeling comfortable enough to open up about what she was going through, so she could take part in the therapy as well? It doesn’t seem likely that you’ll see the like of such well-intentioned slyness again.