//------------------------------// // 12. Lost // Story: Lost and Found // by Cloudy Skies //------------------------------// “Do you want to talk about it?” Applejack furrowed her brow as she dropped the last of the apples into the one of her saddlebags that had survived the trip so far. Fluttershy had filled hers with flowers and grasses. Her loss. “We’ve talked ‘bout lots of things,” she replied. “Gonna have to be a little more specific’n that.” “Oh. I mean, um, you just said something about your family.” Applejack let out a sigh and shook her head, though she tried to smile at Fluttershy, to tell her it was okay. The pegasus wasn’t half as fragile as most thought, she knew that, but it didn’t hurt to prevent misunderstandings. “It’s old stuff, sugarcube. It’ll keep. For now, how about we see about getting inside? Here’s hoping we won’t have to kick down the doors,” she said, though part of her wished for an excuse to make some noise. The place was too quiet. There wasn’t even any wind to rustle the leaves. As they’d eaten and gathered food, she’d hummed to herself just to keep that awful silence out. It was an unnatural thing, far removed from the tranquility of a well-earned bit of rest by a babbling brook. “Well, there are probably doors at each side,” Fluttershy said, fidgeting. “I mean, maybe we can try them all before we start, um, kicking anything?” Applejack laughed, setting off towards the closest door at a trot. “Sure.” The doors were as ostentatious as the rest of the spire. Set in the polished and painted stone walls of what was the western face of the spire—if Applejack’s nose was right—a pair of wooden doors barred their entry only until they drew near. Before Applejack could decide whether to knock or call out, the ancient wood creaked, and the doors opened. Years’ worth of ornate swirly wood-carvings swung to meet them, revealing the grand hall beyond. “Well. If Celestia and Luna ever lived here, they’ve sure turned it down a notch since,” Applejack murmured, glancing about as she stepped past the threshold. “Rarity’d have our hides if she saw us dragging our dripping hooves in here.” “Oh goodness,” was all Fluttershy said, but Applejack could hear a second echoing set of clops as the pegasus followed close by. Their steps were loud on the pristine marble floor, and Applejack could see hints of her own bedraggled reflection as they stepped into the largest hall she had ever seen in her life. The room dwarfed even Castle Canterlot’s throne room, its every surface gleaming white marble. Far above, crystal chandeliers glowed with an almost painfully bright light, but the room itself was rather bare. The center of the room was dominated by a large and still-functional fountain with more sculptures than Applejack could count, and benches were scattered about the floor. What defined the room, however, was the doors and portals that led out from it. On the ground floor and interspersed in galleries lining the walls for six stories up, doors, windows, and doorless arches led out from the hall. Next to some were signs done in filigree of precious metals and gems, many of them with images clearly offering services. Here, a bathhouse, there a jeweler’s. “This ain’t no castle, it’s a whole gol’darn city,” Applejack breathed. The closer they got to the center of the room, the dizzier she became trying to take it all in. Every inch of the stone railings of every single gallery was covered in carvings of unicorns in all manner of dresses, at work and at play, dancing and sleeping. The fountain alone sported no less than twelve layers and ten times as many small, detailed sculptures, like the world’s most elaborate wedding cake. “Do you—do you think there are more rooms like this?” Fluttershy asked, eyes wide and voice full of awe as she slowed down and spun on the spot. “There were no shortage of bridges, so if there’s a room like this for every bridge, and the place is much taller’n just this—” Applejack said, clutching her head. “If this entire thing is hollow, how in the wide world’re we gonna find out which way Brighthoof went? It’s like searching Manehatten for a plumber on a Sunday!” “Oh. I didn’t think of that,” Fluttershy admitted, any joy she might have showed sapped from her in an instant. “Well, no sense in thinking about that right now,” Applejack sighed. “How about we just wait with that until morning or whatever it’ll be after a good night’s sleep, huh?” “I guess,” Fluttershy murmured. “Maybe we can borrow a bed somewhere? Do you think there are beds? It wouldn’t be rude, would it?” Applejack rolled her jaw and scanned the nearest wall. “That’s what I was thinking. If it’s rude, who’s here to tell us? That spooky Castellan feller? He doesn’t seem to care about us much.” Fluttershy shook her head at that, sharing with her a little smile as she indicated a nearby doorway that stood rather more alone than most. “Okay, how about that one? I think those are pillows painted on the sign.” “Good enough for me. I don’t care if it’s a furniture shop or a flophouse,” Applejack grinned, motioning for her to lead the way. If it was a furniture store of any kind, it was the strangest one Applejack had ever seen, but then, it didn’t look like an inn either. Fluttershy was quick to comment that if the unicorns had everything they needed in the spire, and if the city was closed back then too, then they wouldn’t have much use for a traveller’s tavern. Her words made a lot of sense, but they didn’t fully explain the strange place that was something between a bar and a giant living room. Past the threshold, the ponies were greeted by an inviting warmth, and entirely too much time passed as they simply absorbed the entirety of the one large room. The ground floor sported a grand fireplace and many sitting areas plush with pillows, and a broad staircase described an elegant arc up to a gallery above where more pillows awaited along with a small bar. There were no other exits, neither rooms nor a proper kitchen offered by the place. “I guess this was some sort of common meeting place? A café?” Applejack suggested, taking a few tentative steps forwards. “Why the hay is the fireplace burning?” “It doesn’t look like it’s burning wood,” Fluttershy said, bolder than Applejack this once as she trotted closer with easy steps, leaving a trail of snowmelt as she went. At her suggestion, Applejack of course realized she had the right of it; the fireplace was wide and low but had no shaft, and there was no smoke. “A magical fire, then,” Applejack said, too thankful by far to even pretend at contempt. “Didn’t think those were supposed to be hot.” “Twilight can do it,” Fluttershy said, slipping between two rather too tall stacks of soft fluffy pillows to sit at the polished stone floor in front of the dancing flames. “She said it’s difficult and different, and usually takes a lot of magic.” “Hate to think what it’d take to keep one burning forever, then,” Applejack replied, poking at a red silken pillow as she passed it by. “Ain’t even dust here. I half expect ponies to pop out of the stonework any moment.” No sooner had she said it than did Applejack feel compelled to give the room a second look. The pristine condition of everything, the way things were perfect and neat, it was more than a little creepy, and she had to resist the urge to check up on the little balcony overhead. This didn’t feel like a city that had been abandoned due to some great crisis. It was as if everypony had simply decided to leave, or disappeared. “Yep, ain’t gonna get used to this,” Applejack muttered. “I wish they would,” Fluttershy said. The pegasus sat completely still staring into the incandescent oranges and yellows as she thawed, water running from her mane and pooling around the tail that lay flat behind her. “Sorry, what’s that?” Applejack asked, edging closer to the flames and slipping out of her saddlebags to place her precious fruity cargo on a pillow. Fluttershy gave a little squeak and shook her head as if though she’d been startled awake, a faint blush on her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just mean I almost wish they would come, um, crawling out of the stonework, like you said.” Fluttershy puffed out her cheeks and sighed, wringing the worst of the wet out of her mane as she spoke. “It’s just all so big, and that just makes it even more lonely.” That last word was spoken with an infinite weight, and Applejack could only nod as she saw the room in a new light. It must have been a very cozy place indeed when ponies filled the place, talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company. “Wonder why time hasn’t touched this place. Doubt there’s magic strong enough for that,” Applejack mused. “Maybe time forgot, too,” Fluttershy said, sounding unusually morose. Applejack snorted at the thought and shook her head. She couldn’t think of what to say to that, anyway. It was bordering on the philosophical, and she didn’t much want to go there. Not now. For a while, she merely sat there relishing feeling warm again. “Not much tired either?” Applejack finally asked. She wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed in the unchanging light of the room’s single chandelier and the fireplace both. It was hard to tell. Their breathing and the steadily slowing drip of water from their manes was the only noise in the room. Though they had both eaten and drunk their fill, the idea of sleep didn’t feel quite right, and Fluttershy apparently shared that thought; her only reply was a wan smile, and she didn’t even look up to meet Applejack’s gaze. “Didn’t mean what I said,” Applejack muttered. “I know. It’s okay,” Fluttershy said, lying down to rest her head on her forelegs. “About, well, you not wanting to get home and stuff,” Applejack added. “I know. You already said so,” Fluttershy repeated, smiling up at Applejack. The warmth was seeping into her, the final piece to something that slowly approached contentedness. Gone were all the dangers, and the fear for Applejack’s life and her own, too. She was still worried and scared. They didn’t know what they would find here in the Dreamspire. Worse than that, they didn’t know if they would find anything at all, but gone were the good excuses to put off the real questions, and the answers that weren’t. “I could have told them,” Fluttershy said. The orange mare raised a brow and tilted her head, but a mere second later a look of dawning comprehension crossed her face. “Your parents,” she replied. “About Dash.” Fluttershy nodded grabbed a nearby pillow. She was dry enough by now that she wouldn’t ruin it, she figured, and dragged it over to sit on. “You’re right. I could have told them at any time. Admitted I had, um, well, not quite lied, but that it was a—a misunderstanding. No, not a misunderstanding. I don’t know what to call it, but not that,” she said staring a hole in the floor as she fumbled about for the right word, but there probably wasn’t one. “I didn’t mean to say nothing,” Applejack murmured, her voice sympathetic though her next words were less sugar-coated. “But living a lie for years on end? I’d rather take the sting of admitting I got it wrong, personally.” “But that’s just the thing,” Fluttershy said, leaning on her forelegs, a little closer to Applejack. “That would be an even bigger lie! The more I thought about it, the more I felt I didn’t get it wrong! I mean, I—” And there it was again. That huge lump in her throat, heavy as lead and solid as steel. Fluttershy pressed against it with all her might until she thought she would burst, she could feel her face heating up, but nothing came of it. “You could tell your folks, but that doesn’t change what you want if you reckon’ you fancy Rainbow Dash?” Applejack supplied, and Fluttershy nodded at that, slumping. “I could, but I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “It feels like giving up.” Applejack smiled then. Fluttershy couldn’t imagine why, but her friend calmly smiled as she gathered a small pile of pillows for herself, covering up the puddle of water and adding a few more for good measure before she replied. “Only one thing I know of that could make somepony as clever as you do something so silly as that. I reckon you really do love her, you strange and sweet little thing,” Applejack said, shaking her head from side to side. “It ain’t really all that weird. Love works like that, don’t it?” Fluttershy sank down on the pillow until it would yield no more, curling so she could rest her head on her tail. Her eyes fell on small puddle of water in front of her where the mirrored flames danced on. Applejack spoke so frankly of what had consumed her for so long, something that had been slowly burning in the depths of her mind—what was today a roaring bonfire. “She makes me feel safe. Everytime I see her, I feel a little better. Happier,” Fluttershy said, not quite sure if the words were for Applejack or herself. “She doesn’t hide her annoyance when I disappoint her, but she’s never looked down on me, I think. Not really. She just wants me to be the best I can be,” she murmured. She remembered well the sting of Dash’s words during that trek up the mountain to deal with the dragon all that time ago. Applejack merely inclined her head at that. Fluttershy raised her head as she remembered something her friend had said. It was a little rude, perhaps, to drag up what had probably been meant as a compliment, but the words had stuck. “You said I was strong.” It sounded strange, ridiculous even, but Applejack didn’t so much as smile. “I mean, that was just to make me feel better, right? I don’t—I don’t feel it. I don’t see it.” “You wouldn’t,” Applejack said. In short order, she rose to stand, stretched, and trotted over to the nearby staircase. “Um, where are you going?” Fluttershy called, the cold tendrils of fear brushing her heart by in that all too familiar manner. Had she said something wrong? From above came a creak followed by the soft clink of glass. Was she in the bar? “Applejack?” Fluttershy tried anew, a little louder. There was a pop, a rather loud “Eugh, no,” then another pop. A second later, hoofsteps preceded Applejack’s return, the farmpony trotting down the stairs with a bottle in her mouth. “Smells alright, this,” she said once she’d put the bottle between them and taken her seat again. “My nose ain’t never failed me before, and this here is good cider. Not the fermented stuff, though, but it’s bubbly.” “Okay?” Fluttershy asked, more than a little bewildered. “I remember talking to Applebloom about something like this earlier this summer. What is it now, early fall? I don’t even know any more,” she admitted with a shrug, leaning over to take a sip from the slim glass bottle. Fluttershy sat upright and made a noncommittal little noise. “You’re already doin’ something silly. You’re trying to change who you are for somepony else. I don’t know about you, but to me that sounds like mighty bad business,” Applejack continued. She carefully put the bottle down on the hard floor and levelled an even harder look Fluttershy’s way. The pegasus shrank back, nodding without thinking. “But she just wants me to be more assertive, just like you girls do,” Fluttershy protested, her wings sagging. “Can’t speak for everypony,” Applejack said, poking her cheek with her tongue. “What I want, and what I think the others want, is for you to be happy being you. There’s a huge difference there. But Rainbow? Rainbow I can’t read. Maybe she’s always had your measure where I had to see it for myself. She knows how strong you are, she just wants you to act it, perhaps,” she hummed, and Fluttershy felt her cheeks light up while Applejack reached for the bottle again. Again, Fluttershy thought back to that one ball of memories, to this year’s reservoir hurricane effort. She knew Rainbow Dash cared about her, but before that day, she could pretend she didn’t believe it, even if it made her feel wretched; there was an odd mixture of pain and relief in telling herself that she wasn’t as important to Dash as Dash was to her. That day, she’d lost that option. “And strength?” Applejack asked, her drawl pulling her back to the present. “It’s just a word, but sure, I’ll play.” “It’s okay,” Fluttershy muttered, looking away. “I’m really tired, we don’t have to—” “Oh no you don’t,” Applejack snapped, reaching out to poke her on the snout. “You’re gonna sit very still and listen, and if you want to tell me how I got it all wrong, you do so afterwards, but right now, I’m talking.” Fluttershy rubbed her snout and nodded. “I ain’t no philosopher, sugar. Wouldn’t want to be. What I do know is that there are many types of strength, and I ain’t talking about what gets the apple out of the tree here. Some of us, we’re better touting what we can do like if it were market day,” she said. “Rainbow Dash and me, might be we’re better at that’n most. Louder, anyway,” she added, chewing her tongue and dragging her foreleg across her snout. Fluttershy stifled a giggle, but Applejack merely inched closer until she could put a hoof to Fluttershy’s chest, resting it over her heart. Licking her lips, the pegasus perked her ears. “You? You’ll be the first to tell everypony you’re weak. That you have limits. You still give it your best, but you freely admit you have your failings. Well, guess what? We all have weaknesses. Deep down, we’re all the same. You step up every time it truly matters. You ain’t weak. Might be you’re about the shyest pony I ever laid eyes on, yeah,” Applejack said taking a deep breath. “But sugar? That’s who you are. Nopony wants to change that. Maybe what you need to do ain’t to stop being shy, but to want to be yourself, ‘cause that’s what the rest of us want. We want Fluttershy.” Fluttershy sniffled and nodded. She wasn’t quite sure why her nose was running, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. Closing the small gap between herself and Applejack, she pulled her into a hug, resting her head on her withers. “I just don’t know if I can tell her,” Fluttershy whispered. “If I’m not weak, then why can’t I bear the thought of telling her?” Even saying just that was stretching her limits. Her throat tightened as she spoke. “I still don’t think she could like me, not like that.” Applejack hrmphed, a wordless noise that shook her body. “Cart before the pony, sugar, and we’ve been through this before. You ain’t told her nothing. Don’t you dare worry about her part in this. First, we need to get home.” “If we do get home,” Fluttershy murmured. She could feel Applejack slump and her grip on her slacken. They were the terrible words they both tried to neither think nor speak, their perpetual elephant companion, and she had given it voice. Reminded them. Before long, the two ponies were curled up around each other. The place was warm enough even without blankets, and their much-abused cloaks were drying on the floor, but Applejack soon rested her head on Fluttershy’s flank, and the pegasus responded in kind. It took a while before Fluttershy found sleep with all these big thoughts bouncing around in her head. Perhaps she was happier with who she was, now. It could be what had sparked all this. She just wished she’d come to that conclusion during a quiet evening in her own cottage rather than in an abandoned mountain city who-knew how far away from home.