//------------------------------// // Domain // Story: Glimmer // by Estee //------------------------------// Really, it was just a question of which possibility would perish first. And Rarity, who was currently doing her best to keep in rough hoofstep with the apparent leader of the -- 'community' -- had taken a little time to review the options. To some degree, 'coincidence' seemed to have slipped out of the stable. To locate a self-described community of ponies, this far from Equestria -- well, yes, there was probably room for that on a probability chart, and she didn't doubt that Twilight would experience something far too close to fun in trying to pin the exact number down. Where is Twilight? Somewhat more to the immediate point: where is Spike? ...she had to make sure her teeth didn't grind against each other, or somepony might wonder what was wrong -- -- well, at any rate, there was certainly a chance to find a random, minor settled zone: one which would be fully unrelated to the reason for Bearer presence. In theory. But Rarity had a rather exacting memory for color and hue. She'd seen Spike's picture of the device fragment, taken at the moment before it had briefly slipped into the between. Starlight's corona matched. For that matter, it also perfectly overlapped with that which had been displayed by the crackling wall stretching across the void. ...which still left the stable door just barely open enough for coincidence to try slipping back in. There were only so many colors in the world and, presumably, enough unicorns about to create a few duplicate coronas. But the door really didn't have to be open all that much, because Rarity believed the odds to be rather thin. A coincidental community. Why here? And Starlight's corona matched. If she created that effect... it implies some amount of knowledge. Even if a device is responsible, it is potentially working on principles which the Gifted School does not recognize, or Twilight would have understood more about how to defeat it. And should she be the creator -- then unless this is her specific trick, it's rather safe to presume that she has strength. Perhaps in considerable quantity. If Twilight was here... ...if I wasn't so weak... (Average. Rarity's field strength was average. But just about anypony who was being directly compared to Twilight tended to look weak.) Twelve ponies accompanying the clear leader, and -- they were wearing... well, as a virtue, Generosity had some overlap with charity, so if she was going to offer more of that secondary aspect in a single attempt than she'd ever channeled in her life, Rarity supposed she could temporarily refer to it as 'clothing'. Do not criticize the 'clothing'. ...do not... I am a gemologist. I should not possess sufficient expertise in the field to offer detailed suggestions for revisions. 'I have a sibling who works in the fashion industry --' "Your clothing is -- interesting," Rarity said. The lilac unicorn, steadily pushing forward through the greenery as every possible stain refused to adhere to her coat, didn't glance to the side. "I'm not wearing clothing," she calmly said. "That of the group," Rarity hastily clarified. "It's interesting." "I made some of it!" came from somewhere behind her. "I was trying out clothing for a while. To see what it was like. I'm glad you think it's interesting!" The virtue strained. Generosity reached out for extra strength, and wound up borrowing a portion from Pure Technicality. "Yes." And once we dismiss the blatant tubing and blindfolded color choices, the most interesting aspect would be the way it serves to fully cover twelve pairs of hips. Part of the herd had slipped behind the Bearers and their burden. It could viewed as an attempt to cut off potential retreat. At the moment, however, it was mostly serving to allow a degree of casual conversation. Such as it was. "Don't your wings get tired?" one of their escorts asked: the dark green pegasus mare. "Hovering all the time?" There was a pause. "No," Rainbow forced out. "Because I hover a lot." "But nopony else is hovering," the mare said. Immediately, "They can if they want to. Look, I'm already dirty. Maybe I don't hate it as much as --" the hesitation was barely noticeable "-- Faceti does, but all of the green stuff is just getting thicker. I'd rather not pick up too many fresh stains before we reach the bath." A little more quickly, "Do you have anything for groups? Like a full bathhouse? And how's the hot water supply? Because there's a lot of water around here, but I don't know if it's hot and I've gotta tell you, I just might wind up using most of it --" "Some ponies can't hover at all," the mare cut in. "They have to get dirtier, when you don't. I'm on the ground. Going through the same thing as everypony else, with everypony else. Because that's what friends do." A small portion of wind backblast bounced off the soil, rippled Rarity's stained outfit. At a guess, Rainbow's hover had momentarily dipped. "Some ponies can't lift things by wishing for it," the weather coordinator -- surveyor? Should that be their lie for Rainbow? Somepony who charted the natural patterns? -- huffed. "Others can't grow plants really fast. I'm in both of those clubs. I'm friends with ponies who can do the other stuff. I hover." Eventually, "All right..." We are wearing clothing in order to cover our marks, in case word of the Bearers has spread this far. Rather more detailed word than the usual, to include so much -- but as a protective measure. Something we have had to maintain in this oppressive heat and humidity, regardless of cost. (She didn't include the performer in that. Their burden was no part of the true group and in any case, she was sure that a wandering caravan-puller, even while nude, was effectively anonymous.) A... rather unpleasant experience, to remain clothed in these conditions. But we had no choice. We needed to conceal our marks. They may be dressed to conceal the fact that something has happened to their marks. A switch wasn't likely to be hidden. It could have been a distortion. Discoloration. Some sort of warp... ...absence... ...this could still be a medical colony. Trying to treat a condition. And given that we have not been warned away or given protection, it's rather unlikely to be contagious. She had to keep telling herself that. Gather information. Learn what we can. If it is a medical condition, then they may need help from the palace, and have simply been afraid to seek it. To let the Diarchy know that this state can even exist, from fear that simple illness would be attacked. And if it's a weapon... She wished for Twilight to appear. For Applejack, Fluttershy, and very much for Spike. Because Spike should have been with them, should have been with her at that very moment, and the performer had chosen to isolate -- -- Rarity had heard his breathing, she knew her dearest one was trying to be brave, but she had also been fully aware of what the climate had been doing to him -- -- the little brother she'd never had, and that created a perpetual obligation to make sure he was all right... ...there was likely an argument to be made for his not walking into danger, but it still left him alone in a wild zone while sick and that choice had apparently been made by... ...not yet... The greenery was getting thicker, and there was no true path through it. Simply places where ponies could try to push through. It was rather obvious that nopony was coming this way very often. But perhaps the true approach path was along a different angle -- -- her ears perked. Lifted, tilted left. Is that the waterfall? She was definitely starting to hear something -- -- Pinkie was talking. Casually, with the usual geniality, but -- for those who truly knew Pinkie, it was easy to pick up on the caution in her words. "This is a really pretty place to live, isn't it? If you can make enough space for a house." "We did," a proud-sounding stallion declared. "More than one." "And there's so many beautiful things to look at! Like the birds. So many bright colors!" "I... guess," the stallion finally decided. "We don't really see the birds." (Rarity automatically filed that away.) "How long have you lived here?" It was a rather long pause. "A while." "A while a while, or...?" "...a few years, I guess. I don't really keep track." "Why not? If you don't look at a calendar, then you'll never know when somepony's birthday is! Unless you just memorize them. All of them. But that's a lot to ask for most ponies." "Well... you know how days seem to go faster when you're having a lot of fun?" "Yeah!" "It's like that all the time!" There was a rather noticeable pause. "You smile a lot." Something which, when coming from Pinkie, qualified as an unusual statement. "Of course I do!" "...are you happy?" (And the hesitation before speaking had been more suited to Fluttershy.) "Why wouldn't I be?" the stallion asked. "I'm alive. And I'm free." Rarity presumed somepony was speaking with the performer. There were vague hints of syllables drifting forward from that area, and she reluctantly allowed that poor soul to make their mistake because there was no current means of warning them. She couldn't truly hear anything beyond that. In particular, there were no aural indicators of a small scale-covered form trying to slip through tall plants. Gather information... Sun forced its way through the tiny gaps in the canopy, briefly dappled a lilac coat. And be careful. There are monsters who wear pony skins. There's a rather prominent example somewhere behind my tail -- -- it had to wait. There was somepony whom Rarity could try to converse with. But Starlight was... well, Rarity had been paying close attention when the mare had first stepped forward. 'Socially awkward' would have been a rather generous description, and so of course it fit perfectly here. Well, so was Twilight. At the start, and for a significant amount of time beyond. Still, on a bad day. There just weren't as many of those now. Make some small talk... And there was a subject which just about everypony on the planet was always willing to discuss. "I've never seen your mark before," Rarity admitted. Two hoofsteps passed. A branch did its best to snag the stained dress, and Rarity had to yank herself free. "We hadn't met," Starlight stated. "So you wouldn't have." Unique? Quite possibly. There were a few such icons out there in the world, for every generation. Marks which appeared solely upon one pair of hips. "It's rather stylish," Rarity noted. "Abstract, almost." The lilac unicorn's ribs shifted a few times. She had a rather... regulated way of breathing. Exactingly paced, with no apparent regard for the humidity. "Abstract." "Well, yes. In an artistic sense. I apologize if that came across as offensive --" "-- I don't study art. So perception of the abstract doesn't matter." Twilight hadn't been this bad. "Is it a mark for cleaning?" Rarity asked. "As your spell is working so perfectly!" Hastily, "And again, I do not mean to offend. It is a simple inquiry." Three hoofsteps. Five. Eight, as the lilac mare put in some visible consideration. And then a flare of turquoise opened a saddlebag lid. "Mark iconography can be a very complicated subject," she thoughtfully said, and the quill made a note. "And you're the first pony to suggest that interpretation." You couldn't really make small talk with Starlight: something Rarity would learn in time. But it was certainly possible to engage her interest on certain subjects. The designer had unknowingly come very close to the core -- "I may want to come back to that," Starlight calmly added. "But it'll have to wait for a time. We're almost at the border. I have to bring us inside." "Understood," Rarity offered. "When you're ready, then." Seventeen ponies moved forward for a while. The greenery continued to thicken, because their host was a practical mare. The shield would turn out to be the primary defense, and it had so many ways of operating -- but as long as the vegetation was present, then there was very little need not to let it grow wild outside the community. One more way of keeping everypony in. Abruptly, without truly looking at Rarity: all of Starlight's attention was focused forward, and the corona was starting to build around the horn. "Is this all of you?" The designer scrambled. If all is well, then the others are on the approach. Trying to meet us at the waterfall, and that appears to be our current direction. They may stumble across us. Spike could send a scroll off. Tell them that we were met, arrange a rendezvous, and come in with their group. (It was the best case. But he was sick...) I don't know how she found us in the first place. A pegasus scout, flying over the canopy and looking down at just the right time? An earth pony somehow sensing our passage across the soil at such a range, and suggesting that a patrol coincidentally move in our direction? She wasn't exactly surprised to see us. That suggests some advance knowledge. Possibly from a spell. And a working which detected our approach would also pick up on that of the others. Unless Twilight managed to both feel and counter... Negating a spell could potentially send a signal to the caster. It all depended on how the working had been formulated, and whether Twilight spotted that as well. The second group might have already been detected. Could be on the way in, under separate escort. They won't know my false name, or whether we used the fur dye. I could claim surname. Coincidence. Hardly the only 'Rarity' in Equestria, ironic as that might be -- -- I'm taking too long to answer. She just looked at me. Or 'towards'. But there was something rather odd about the intensity of that gaze, and it was amplified by the corona light. Something about her features... How old is she? Rarity couldn't tell, and she couldn't see any signs of cosmetics. The local mud, when not caked around individual strands of fur, clearly had the potential to be exquisite. "There was a second team of explorers sent in at the same time we were," Rarity said. "However, they were going to start through covering a different face of the mountain's slope. We haven't had any contact with them. It's not impossible to have them potentially approach your community. But I can't predict that with any certainty." There. We no longer have to explain the coincidence of a second group appearing. And if the community does attempt to bring them in, we'll all be together again. And if there was an attack... the other three could take care of themselves. Possibly four. It had to be four. I have to trust them -- -- she's going to ask who sent us in -- "How many in that team?" Starlight placidly asked. The corona intensified. "Three ponies." Because she didn't know what Spike's disguise was supposed to be, and now she had the option to claim that she'd just omitted whatever-he-turned-up-as under an inadvertent category exclusion. "Understood," the lilac unicorn decided, with the glowing notebook smoothly slipping back into the saddlebag. "You should hope that they find us. Or that we find them. They'll be safer once they're here." Rarity briefly pictured the results of an angry Twilight deciding to make things safe. "Rather." And that was the end of the small talk. They're not acting as if we're being taken prisoner. They seem happy to see us. ...the rest of them seem happy to... ...go into their 'community'. Learn what we can. If this somehow is the purest of coincidence, use the opportunity to take a bath. Let it be a bath. At the very least, see if Starlight will demonstrate the casting of her dirt-shielding spell. And hope for our own marks not to vanish. There's a space between vine-draped tree trunks, just wide enough for two ponies to pass through together or, if one of them happens to be Rainbow, to grumble her way into a brief landing because for those who insist on staying off the ground as much as possible, active wingspan is going to occasionally become an issue. And if you look through that space, it's possible to see a thin, rather even gap carved into the soil. And to look above it is to see the colorlessness of rain forest air -- and faint sparkles flickering in and out, suspended without surrounding hue. The soil gap denotes the line. Nothing crosses it. The few branches which still reach out in that direction -- some of them have long-healed wounds terminating that portion of the bark. Tiny shavings of freshly-cut grass have fallen into the tiny chasm, resting among the remnants of severed roots. The lilac unicorn focuses her corona, and the sparkles briefly vanish. Seventeen ponies move across the line. (The designer manages to look back just before she crosses, and there are no signs that they were followed.) Twelve of the ones who claim to be part of a community... at the exact moment they cross the border, they visibly relax. Why shouldn't they? They're not out in the wild any more. They're home. And with the temporary shield gap closed, they can stay there. It takes a little while before the travelers begin to see the differences between wild and 'home'. This is eventually followed by the ones which separate 'home' from 'everywhere else'. And once they start, it becomes almost impossible to stop. For the wild... in their first few minutes across the border, not much changes. Many of the plants are still clustered somewhat too tightly. A wide bush with sharp-ending branches has to be dodged. It's hard to push through. Pinkie can be overheard asking somepony about it, and is told that a certain amount of land is essentially being protected in advance. Just in case the community needs to expand. Again. So it's expanded before? Well... yes. It's happened a few times... Eventually, paths begin to appear. Hard-trampled gaps display signs of hoof passage. The air starts to dry out. Subtly at first, and then the process accelerates. Breathing becomes easier. And then nearly all of the trees vanish. A community needs farmland. When you reach the farming section, the curving partial arc of tilled soil which borders the community everywhere that mountain and water do not -- that's where It's finally possible to look up and see the sky. Rainbow immediately indulges, with her hover moving ever-higher as the claustrophobia finally gets a chance to truly lift. Her altitude quickly reaches the point where Starlight calmly calls out a warning, because a shield that can't be clearly seen is still going to protect and nopony wants to see the visitor hit it. Rainbow descends. Somewhat, muttering to herself all the way down. Worked land. Crops, and this is summer. Here's how pineapples grow, and did you know it was just one to a plant? They're surprisingly close to the ground, easy to harvest. Snap beans are available, along with rows of sweet corn. There's peppers everywhere, and this is what an avocado looks like. Tomatillos are pointed out to the visitors, and there's some muskmelons... There are ponies working those fields. (They're all dressed. Overalls denote the minimum, and no hips have gone uncovered.) Only about a third of them possess the natural magic for doing so. Pegasi are among the crops, unicorns push their way through the corn stalks, and they're all so surprised to see the visitors. They call out greetings on instinct, joyous exclamations of welcome. A number leave their duties, try to get closer and offer a more personal moment -- -- but they're asked to turn back, at least for now. There's always an official chance to meet the new, Starlight reminds them. And -- her voice takes on odd pauses, so noticeable after the last words were so smooth -- this group didn't arrive via... the usual route. Give them a chance to clean up, at the very least. Starlight will let the community know when it's time for a true welcome. The happy ponies agree. Go back to their crop tending, although not without a few glances back at the travelers. And those who are new to land and hemisphere and community look out across the farmland and see that... ...the land is being worked. That's exactly what's happening. It's being worked. Applejack... had she been present at that moment, she would have spotted it all the faster. She would have felt it. But when it comes to the eternal song of earth pony magic, something which should once again be sounding in civilized territory... Pinkie is effectively a deaf-mute. It can take hundreds of earth ponies doing their part in the transition to spring before she might register the faintest of echoes. And when it comes to the music... once. Exactly once, and when the changeable mare known by the nickname of 'Tish' sings a note of purest panic, the average earth pony wishes for that inner sense to briefly stop working. That improvised composition comes at a volume level which brings pain, makes singers long for temporary deafness -- and it turned out to be just loud enough for the deaf to hear. There is nopony among the travelers who can tell just what sort of orchestra may be echoing within the soil. But when it comes to Applejack... her little sister clearly isn't on track for a farming mark. Apple Bloom is going to leave the Acres someday, Granny is in her senior years, and... two ponies, offering up the magic from their Cornucopia Effect to so much land -- they won't be enough. It's left Applejack studying the decidedly-foreign science of agronomy, because the Acres are going to need some help. Twilight's been bringing in the books, and the farmer has occasionally taken some time to tell the others about exactly what she's been learning. Illustrations have gotten involved. So ultimately, Pinkie is the first to spot it. Because she lacks that magic -- but she's lived within its results for the whole of her life. Always present on the dance floor, while unable to recognize the music. And when you look at the farming... Glance over to the left. Those corn stalks are clearly diseased: green gone to brown, with drooping leaves displaying rotted holes. They're being pulled up, taken away from the healthy so that the condition won't spread -- but the illness still had a chance to work its way in. Other examples among the fruits and vegetables are healthy enough, but... they have odd shapes. Irregularities. The soil has been tilled. Those rows are somewhat uneven: some of them have to curve around large pieces of milky quartz. Ponies can be seen dragging stinking sacks of brown about, and here's where we start to see why the air is losing moisture. It's being collected. There are tall wooden poles all over the farmland, and at the top of each is an inverted crystal cone. The top is open to the sky, and the refractive walls funnel towards the upside-down apex because that's where the flexible tube is attached. Water beads around the upper rim, then runs down to where it can irrigate the land. (There should be copper around those rims, because dealing with humidity is a pegasus domain. Perhaps there is, and the travelers just don't have the angle to spot it.) With earth pony magic in play... you would still need moisture, along with Sun. Appleloosa uses irrigation systems: there's no other choice. But if you can stop insects, then the results would be large and healthy and perfect. Putting the Effect into play negates most of the need for fertilizer, and there are ponies of the three major Equestrian species in these farmlands hauling sacks of... ...Rarity tries not to look. Almost manages not to gag. The farmland is being worked. And the soil is visibly producing -- but the results are imperfect. It's as if the Effect doesn't matter here, or... it may not be present at all. And when the group moves further in... The oldest settled zones were based in defensible positions. (It could be argued that Ponyville's primary defense used to be the proximity of the capital.) This one has a shield dome covering the whole of the community: something which creates a number of currently-unvoiced questions, because it generally takes a mark talent to make one that large hold for any true duration -- and even then, Shining Armor's commitment to defending his nation nearly put him into a coma. A truly permanent shield would imply a device. One more advanced than anything Canterlot knows, especially with the way the creator's natural corona hue doesn't distort the light. And it would need to be self-charging, because... how else is it going to stay intact? Or it could be an active casting. But if that's the case, then the strength of the unicorn involved -- -- there's a shield dome, and that's clearly the primary defense. But the community has its collective back against the mountain. A moss-covered brown cliff forms the rear border. Greenery drips down the mountain, stopping about eight Celests above the ground: below that, it's bare rock. Keep looking up, and it's possible to catch a glimpse of a different type of sparkle. Reflections from a quartz cave. There appears to be some kind of trail working up the cliff face, winding back and forth, but... it's narrow. Treacherous. It would take a very cautious pony to navigate any part of it on hoof, and a single mistake would mean returning to start at significant speed. Once. And you'd have to open the shield just to make a true attempt. Which also means that if you went high enough before slipping, you might not reach the ground. And to the left... It's the tallest waterfall anypony among the group has ever seen. Relatively narrow, but... it plummets in tiers, hitting little extensions of rock on the way down, and that means there's whitewater foam present well before it reaches the bottom. The near-explosive liquid impact against the resulting lake is both spectacular and inaccessible, because it's happening on the other side of the shield. This seems to be muffling the sound, and the noise produced drops to background awareness rather quickly. The shield cuts through the little lake, doesn't touch any part of the river that flows away from the community. There's enough water within the domed section to potentially allow for swimming (not that anypony's indulging right now), but -- that's about it. And the surface of that section ripples slightly as it approaches the shore. Mountain, lake, and shield. At first glance, the community would appear to be exceptionally well-defended. But that's a presumption. One which assumes that the usual conditions apply, and the true danger would come from without. It's wrong. The twelve other ponies who brought them in... they're just about all talking now. Telling the travelers about their community, and how wonderful it is. The words emerge in happy gushes, and can take a very long time to reach anything resembling a comma. Rarity tries to break through the flow, directs her words to the near-silent leader, and simply says how pleasant it all looks. The response (which takes a few seconds to assemble) is to tell her that 'We've come this far'. And there's no real pride in the basic observation. This is how far they've come, and there's still a long way to go. (It's just a community. The most advanced trial of its kind, but -- still merely a community. And the lilac unicorn is trying to save the world.) But if you get close enough to truly see the waterfall... then you're in a position to view so much else... There are so many friendly welcomes as the travelers are brought through the streets, and it's very much a plural in all aspects. Ponies keep trying to approach, and Starlight turns them away with a few careful sentences. The same sentences each time, and that speech is becoming rather practiced. Those who come up always understand, and provide some space. The entire population has apparently gotten dressed up for the occasion. They smile, when they see the travelers. Smiles which, even to Rarity and Rainbow, are starting to feel somewhat... wide. Not so much forced as unmoderated. Everypony is happy, and can occasionally be caught looking at each other to make sure the state is universal. Just about constant. And when it comes to the streets... How large is the community? Considerably smaller than Ponyville, because the Bearers come from a true settled zone. It started as one of the least-populated ones (although nowhere near the minimal levels of Drayton), but -- ever since the Elements were rediscovered, ponies have been steadily moving to their home. A fair estimate would be that Ponyville is approaching eight thousand residents, and the construction never stops. Given the presence of the Bearers, neither do the repairs. It'll take some time before the travelers get to truly explore what they've found, and the buildings make the community look somewhat larger than it truly is. There's a number which are still being put together, in various stages of build -- but some are simply empty. Waiting for new residents to arrive. (One structure was recently vacated.) The rough majority are double-occupancy, because this is a community and everypony supports each other. Having another pair of hooves present at just about all times is the best way to press back with equal force. Some of the residents are traveling in pairs. Different combinations of gender and species. One pony stands out: a white specimen, but -- that quality is almost too much so. As if everything else had been washed away. There are pegasi, and none of them are flying. The unicorns aren't using their fields. So many of the earth ponies have their ears flattened. And they smile, they laugh, they chat with each other, they're happy, they range in age from very young adults to those just creeping up on their senior years... (Trixie initially spots it, because she's used to evaluating an audience. The first to see one of the many things which are missing. To hear a crucial silence, because there are voices calling out greetings and the pitches only exist within a certain range.) How many ponies live here? Call it... the actual count will require some time, but it's something under two hundred. Not that they're all here right now. One house is, at best, intermittently occupied. It's waiting for a pair of ponies to return. There's a garden present, but it's clearly been untended for a while. A lot of ponies are trying out gardens. However, once you get away from the houses... the plant life is fairly controlled. These are the shade trees, and they've been spaced with precision. Narrow strips of grass along the roads instruct ponies to Snack Here. There are some lampposts about, placed for maximum elimination of shadows. Milky quartz stones support the base. And then there's the buildings. The homes, and the businesses -- oh, you do have a few businesses. (For what's probably obvious reasons, there are no hotels.) Ponies turn their hooves towards retail. Crafts. Cookery. Some write and self-publish. There's money being used here, but it doesn't operate with the usual range of purpose. Everypony has food, water, and a place to live. None of that ever has to be paid for, and it means that actual funds turn into a rather basic way of keeping score. (Not that you have to pay for everything that's been created. There's an elevated tray of what appears (at least from a distance) to be poorly-worked ivory mane combs, and the rigorously-lettered sign attached to the front edge reads FREE. But the tray is relatively full. Maybe they need some more time to catch on.) Let's look at the buildings. Closely. In Equestria... If a building is being erected (and that structure isn't a barn that's essentially doomed to be replaced four times per season), then it's usually going to be put together by experts. The construction crew understands their jobs on the level of the icons, the architect knew what she was meant to do from the moment her hips shone, and the results are going to be professional. In fact, just about everything is professional. Expert. Nearly all of the time. Going to a restaurant? You're probably about to meet a true chef. If you're dining alone and decide to read a novel while you wait -- well, the odds are pretty good that it was composed by a marked author. Yes, you're mostly eating out tonight because your kitchen is being repaired, but you can take comfort in knowing the work is being done by a pony who understands water flow on the level of his soul. Ponies indulge in hobbies. They have side interests, and the results from what those might produce aren't always perfect. The same can be said for that which comes from those who are marked for their occupations, because ponies do get distracted. Tired. They slip. Mistakes are made, but -- rarely. There are a few exceptions, and a surprising number live in Ponyville. Take Mr. Flankington and despite the fact that he's an absolute gentlepony of both kindness and manners, quite a few residents would like to take him beyond the settled zone's borders. Preferably while towing the full contents of his mostly-homemade laboratory. He runs a restaurant. Just about nopony ever eats there more than once, because the owner's mark is for something called food chemistry and a stallion who can make anything edible still hasn't figured out how to render it tasty. And you could include Twilight Sparkle in that group, because she doesn't have the instinct for being a librarian. Just the desire, and the resulting errors tend to be entertaining -- when viewed from a distance. In the temporal sense, that's usually at least three moons. But in Equestria, the default is professionalism. Because most professions are occupied by those with a mark for the work. We're not in Equestria any more. The buildings are Do-It-Yourself. By committee. Somepony opened a book on construction. Instructions were read out. A basic blueprint pattern went on display. And then those who had taken at least a temporary interest got to work. There's a few different styles on display -- or rather, they tried to get in some different styles at the very start. This was probably intended to reflect Trottingham, another structure initially began as a takeoff on a Manehattan brownstone, and then the results inevitably shifted towards Box With Door And Not Quite Level Windows. Mostly in brown. And black. There's some black. Because the builders made things according to a plan. And the plan can't do the actual thinking. The results are just about solid. Serviceable, at least in the short term. But there's no personal touches. It's Amateur Hour everywhere. There's quite a bit of patchwork, inexpertly covered. And in the best case... a wall is a wall, because that's all it's been told to be. There's no art. Good luck finding a subtle curve, and those seeking stucco to rub up against at shoulder level should just give up right now. The streets themselves? Some are dirt. Somepony's been experimenting with paving stones. Possibly a lot of ponies. And the alignment isn't quite right, you have to be careful not to catch a hoof in the deeper hollows, too much moisture and the dirt is going to become a mud wallow... Ponies are trying things out, and do so everywhere you look. This mare is painting -- well, there's paint being applied to a canvas, so let's give her the benefit of the doubt. Another is working on a garden. There's a variety of manestyles on display, and just about all of them are either truly basic or waiting for the right moment to collapse. A few might explode. It could be said that the outfits vary, but they're all variants on the concept of Stitched-Together Tubing and after seeing well over a hundred ponies... 'dressed'... that way, Rarity really needs a hot bath. The residents smile as they trot down their inexpert streets. Hum to themselves, because a work song makes home patching go all the faster. Some of them laugh, and then check to make sure that others are laughing too. They move through a world that's nailed together according to blueprints and documents and rendered without anything in the way of truest love. They're happy. And they're perfectly content to move about an environment which, when compared to what exists in the northern hemisphere, could potentially be described as -- -- imperfect. Incomplete. Ill. Diseased. None of them seem to have noticed that last part. Only the travelers can see it, and -- none of them know how to express what they're seeing. What they can say, or whether anything should be said at all. They certainly can't truly talk until they reach privacy, and obviously there's one pony who won't play any part in that... There's another pony coming up to the travelers now, because everypony wants to greet the new. A young adult unicorn mare with a half-deflated magenta mane and tail: the natural curls are rather subdued. She smiles, because there are new arrivals in her community and she wants to make sure they're happy. Starlight doesn't see her approach, and that lets her get all the way to the group. Bright cerise eyes gaze upon Rarity's face. "Welcome! Welcome to Truedawn!" The designer doesn't reply quickly enough, and the local's smile almost falters. "You do feel welcome," she carefully asks, and does so with open concern. "Don't you?"