She had to recover the voucher from the path: something which put her well behind Babs when coming back into the house. It provided enough distance to let her spot that her cousin had switched up the styling on the amaranth tail again, and Apple Bloom distractedly wondered how much bathroom time had been involved.
There also seemed to be a certain amount of makeup present. Babs had likely brought that with her. Applejack hardly ever used it, and Apple Bloom didn't have any: her salary was limited and she had very little concept of how the powders were meant to be applied. The fact that she was still paying off some small claims judgments for Crusade-related damages had added a few moons to the wait time before she could hope to pay for a learning experience.
It took a little work to put the voucher within one of Applejack's accounting ledgers, placed so that there was just a little bit of dampened edge sticking out: enough to see if you knew where it was, trigger a reminder — but otherwise, it was likely to be overlooked for a day . There was nothing which could be done with the payment on a holiday, and it was probably best off staying out of the way for a while.
Babs went into the kitchen. Apple Bloom headed for the lower-level restroom. When it came to water faucets, it had the closest ones which weren't subject to observation, and her tongue felt like paper, expensive inks, and... a hint of salt.
The door was kicked shut. She nudged one tap with her snout, got her mouth under the flow and swished the water around for a few seconds. Spit, because you could do that if you were a farm kid who had privacy and didn't need to worry about a sibling's commentary: with the social privacy offered by the Acres, it would likely be about her lack of ability to go for distance. Closed the tap again, rubbed the wet fur of her jaw against the nearest towel, and then stared into the old mirror. There was always a mirror available in a restroom, although this specimen was smaller than the one on the upper level. Any reflecting done was concentrated accordingly, and seemed to gain intensity.
Mah bow's a little off-center. Didn't get enough sleep. Wasn't payin' attention when Ah put it in. Ah should fix that.
Diamond usually would've said somethin'. Startin' with how Ah ain't got no fashion sense, but the off-center stuff would turn up eventually.
Diamond...
Weary orange eyes blinked back at her from silvered glass.
...Diamond... broke.
The blinks got a little faster.
Cried. She was cryin'.
...what?
Apple Bloom stared into her tired reflection. Then she turned around, went to the restroom door, and switched it from 'closed' to 'locked'. She felt as if she needed privacy, and that was hard to come by in the farmhouse — but a restroom had a certain amount to offer. Babs had certainly been taking advantage.
Back to the mirror. Her reflection seemed to have used their time apart to forfeit an extra two hours of sleep. The youngest Malus wasn't sure how that worked. Maybe if she found some way of getting to the mirror pool and trotting into the water, anypony who came out with her would be fighting not to fall asleep on the spot. Not getting zapped back through would mean a contest of staying awake...
Ah know Ah'm tired. That almost made sense.
She tried to focus.
Diamond doesn't break.
...she does the breakin'.
It felt as if she could remember everything the pink filly had ever said to her, and the majority still made the fringes of her ears burn: a sensation which still somehow nearly became lost when compared to feeling her tail trying to tuck itself between her hind legs. And that was just for the words Apple Bloom had received directly: Scootaloo had reported a few encounters, and Sweetie...
...she didn't want to think about Sweetie.
There were too many memories associated with Diamond, and the majority made her long for the false protection which came from being tucked deep beneath blankets. Or, just for variety and the dubious benefit granted by a more solid roof, under the bed. She'd spent a few cumulative post-Diamond hours under her own bed, and some of the wood there was probably flavored with faint traces of salt.
Too many memories. But the most recent pair had swapped out emotions: humiliation for deep confusion. First it had been the strangeness of the stable sale encounter, during which Diamond had seemed to be offering... advice.
An' also talkin' t' 'Cameo'.
Whoever that is.
And now... this.
Diamond didn't break. Diamond did the breaking. The harder material drove edged words into something softer, aiming precisely for whatever was seen as a weak point. The Crusaders had conveniently offered a minimum of two each, located close to the hips. Strike with precision, and the fracture was just about guaranteed. And, once they'd reached privacy again, the tears.
Diamond didn't cry. What did she have to cry about? She was the cause of misery in others, and she enjoyed every last minute of it —
— enjoyed.
Ain't been somethin' she does. Not lately. It's been turnin' into something she did.
It... almost seemed as if she should have felt good, seeing Diamond cry. If it was regarded as a basic hoofstep towards balancing the accounts, then the pink filly had a long way to go before the scales would be anything close to even. But...
...what was that even about?
She scrutinized her reflection for clues. It just looked tired. And also like it wasn't all that good at scrutiny.
Think.
Telling Diamond's mother.
Or Diamond could go do whatever she had to, in order t' — tell her mom herself.
What do Ah know about Diamond's mom?
When she thought about Diamond’s parents… well, of course anypony was going to picture Mr. Rich first. Diamond’s father was arguably one of the town’s foundations. A cornerstone, holding up quite a bit of the local economy. He was known to be fair, open-minded, had never gouged on any price, looked after his customers while offering fair salaries to every employee…
On the most fundamental level, he was a good pony. Apple Bloom recognized that, and did so in the same moment which found her acknowledging his two major faults: namely, that he tended to believe Diamond first and foremost on anything, and — had something of a blind spot regarding the majority of counterevidence. Anypony trying to testify against his only child generally found that the filly was effectively controlling the judge’s bench.
He treated his daughter as something precious. By contrast, Diamond tended to invoke her father as a weapon. Do this or my daddy will… well, ‘stop buying here’ could be most of it, but it was understood that a cross-continent business had to keep attorneys on retainer and Diamond had claimed to be capable of starting lawsuits against those she didn’t like. Threatening to sue for emotional damages had been common, because there was no source of lifelong trauma quite like Not Getting Her Own Way.
However, any inner agony which Diamond inflicted upon others clearly didn’t count. They’d had it coming. Besides, the primary court had already rejected those witnesses. Diamond was generally careful not to put on a full performance in front of anypony whom her father might actually find credible —
— the train station. Jus’ before Babs left for the first time.
Talked ‘bout us right in front of Applejack. She usually holds back around adults, if’fin they ain’t who she’s after —
— no. Apple Bloom had to focus.
Diamond’s father was a good stallion, and there had been times when Apple Bloom had wondered whether he even truly understood how his only child kept wielding a parent’s wealth and influence as a blunt instrument. (Not that directly telling him would have done much good, because those two faults were still in play.) But when it came to the mother…
When it came to what her parents might be willing to do on her behalf, Diamond had invoked Mr. Rich all the time.
So what’s she said ‘bout her mom?
Apple Bloom concentrated. Stared back into so many of the memories she didn’t want to have, reviewed threats both implicit and implied.
There was a certain theme.
“You don’t know what he’ll do, if he thinks I’ve been hurt.”
“He won’t believe you.”
“My daddy —“
And when she forced herself to look at all of it, going over every last moment while trying to keep phantom echoes of pain away, wondering if the old weight would press down until her collapsed body was shivering against the scrap of bathroom carpet… there was also a certain absence.
Always the father. Never the mother.
Apple Bloom had never heard Diamond invoke her mother. She couldn’t remember anypony talking about that parent. Mr. Rich was part of Ponyville, fully out in the open, a cornerstone mounted well above ground, and his spouse —
— never seen Diamond with an adult mare. Not one Ah didn’t know worked at the estate. Servant, once in a while. But without that, it’s her dad or nopony.
Mr. Rich… he’s gotta go t’ parties, right? Ah mean, Diamond says he takes her t’ some of the business stuff. Meetin’ the important ponies. But if it’s in Canterlot an’ he takes her along… she’s said that’s an air carriage. Leaves from the estate. So Ah wouldn’t see her come out the path, or gettin’ on a train.
Ah wouldn’t see who else is on the carriage.
A few servants. Maybe three. She ain’t bad with the servants. Isn’t mean to ‘em. But when she’s in Ponyville with an adult, it’s usually her dad. Jus’ her dad. And she talks ‘bout him, she swings his name with her mouth like she’s tryin’ t’ hit the world with a splinter stick an’ it’s her dad, it’s always her dad —
— Diamond existed, generally in spite of popular demand. One parent was a stallion: when it came to arranging for that existence, The Most Special Spell hadn’t been involved. She was sure there hadn’t been an adoption: Diamond didn’t look all that much like her father, but there was something in the eyes and bearing —
— and she knew.
It was like sketching out the blueprint for an invention. Something where all but one of the pieces required could be purchased at a shop or personally manufactured, while the final component wasn’t quite solid or defined. You knew that one more gear was required, but… not what it looked like. Not size or rotation speed or just where it was meant to intermesh with everything you understood. It was the recognition of vacuum.
But there was a way to close that gap. You just drew up everything you already knew. Looked at the hole in the center. And if you were lucky, if everything else was already in place and you just tried to see… then the final component would be there. Floating within the mind, superimposed upon paper. Waiting for you to sketch the outline, as the first step in making it real.
Apple Bloom had assembled everything she’d already known about her enemy. Stared into the gap. And when it came to the sophisticated gears which made Diamond’s soul turn… there was only one piece which could ever fit.
Her mom is gone.
It was a cold thought: one which sent her ears backwards as her tail trembled, and it was all the more chill for being a nearly-familiar one. All she would have needed to do for an exact replica was apply a more personal pronoun, with the additional option to go for the plural.
Her mom is gone.
And there was a moment when she found herself making a wish on her enemy’s behalf, because there were things too cruel for even Diamond to have suffered. She wished for the absence to have come from the soft options. A divorce, perhaps: Apple Bloom roughly understood those to exist, but they were fairly rare. Or… a runaway? A parent fleeing into the night, for… some reason. Something she could barely fathom, for she felt herself to know a little about the father and couldn’t truly picture anything to run from.
But she was still looking in the mirror. Looking back and inwards and everywhere else. And when she forced herself to truly think about all of it, everything Diamond had ever said while on the attack… there was a second absence.
Bein’ a farm kid. Not havin’ as much money. Needin’ t’ work every day. Chores.
Fashion sense. Lack of it, anyway.
Stupidity. Ain’t like Ah didn’t give her plenty t’ work with there.
Not having mah mark, when she manifested so early. An’ then it was still not havin’ it. Year after year.
Mah home. Mah looks. Mah hips were jus’ convenient.
Apple Bloom looked back at the Diamond-occupied portions of her life and saw pain. Deliberate cruelty. A filly who believed herself to be immune to consequences, and so would do anything as long as it made somepony hurt. Anything at all.
Except that… there had been a line. One which Diamond had hoof-scraped into the soil. This far, and no further. Something she’d never crossed.
The words she’d never said. The recognition of vacuum.
Harder material going into softer, forever seeking the chance to hurt.
But never at the weakest point.
The never-healed wound.
The place where one good verbal kick had a chance to shatter the target.
Mah parents.
The first tears began to well up.
She’s never said a word ‘bout mah parents.
They almost always did.
Diamond’s mom is dead.
But she wasn’t sure who they were for.