The View From The Window
Interlude: Tea with Temperance
As she returned from her morning outing to her local paint shop, The Delicate Palette, Reverie had been surprised to find a letter waiting in her mailbox. Snatching it thence and dropping it into her saddlebag to settle alongside her recently purchased painting supplies, she pushed the box shut with a hoof and locked it. With the keys still set in her teeth, she climbed the stairs up to her third floor apartment, then sorted through the set with a free hoof until she found the one needed. She clicked her teeth around the newly chosen house key and slotted it into the lock, twisting with her neck and pushing the door open with an extended wing.
Dropping her keys onto their tray on the nearby side table as she stepped inside, Reverie absent-mindedly muttered something about the dignified lifestyle of the Hooftons mare as she dug into her saddlebag for the letter, which was then also dropped onto that same table for more practical accessibility. Finally, she shrugged her bags down onto a waiting hoof and hung them up in their place on the wall.
She brushed the door closed with a wing, and set toward the kitchenette to address the far more immediately pressing need for tea. Taking the kettle handle in her teeth, she dipped it into the sink and hoofed the water on until it filled, then turned the faucet back off with its usual squeak and settled the now far heavier vessel onto the nearby stove. After then dialing the heat all the way up, Reverie was satisfied enough with her progress toward tea to give consideration to other things.
The first of these things was to raise a hoof to rub at her dully aching jaw, as it protested its handling an iron kettle full of water.
Really, it’s something of a wonder my teeth haven't all broken and chipped away, given how much they're used for. Almost enough to make me wish I were a unicorn.
The second of these things was her recently purchased paints, still settled in the saddlebags now hung on the wall near the door. With a head shake and a sigh, she stepped back toward the bags, reached up and took them down again, and brought them over to her supply shelf to rifle through them and sort the enclosed items.
Fresh tubes of blue, yellow, white, healthy helping of gesso...
She was reminded, just then, of the time when the proprietor of The Delicate Palette had thought it a lovely idea to regale her about how painters in the old days, before soy-based gesso, had to keep very quiet about how they primed their canvases, and she couldn't help but shudder. Thankfully that had not come up ever again.
Finally, with the kettle working toward a boil and her paint supplies organized, she hung her bags back on the wall and turned her attention to the letter she'd found waiting for her earlier.
It wasn't really getting a letter that had been unexpected; she got them often enough, alternating between glowing praise and vicious condemnation. What was surprising was that this letter was from her mother.
This was something of a rarity, so Reverie nipped the envelop open with a quick bite and pulled the letter free, beginning to read.
My Dearest Reverie,
Well, I suppose I ought to begin with a nostalgic recollection of how long it's been since we've seen each other, shan't I? That seems formulaic enough to start with.
Not that we don't know why that is, of course, between my constant business trips on top of your increasingly common gallery showings. Congratulations on that, by the way. I know you've earned them.
But every now and then - typically when I'm not in the middle of aggressively negotiating trade acquisitions - a mother still laments how little she sees of her daughter. And while that train of thought does terminate its route at Retirement Station, I'm not quite ready for that yet, I think.
But I've drifted from the point, dear. And that point is I'm going to be stopping by the Manehatten office for a few days. Long enough, I think, that I can sneak away for a lunch, or at least afternoon tea, at my favorite Mareford cafe?
While I understand that this is likely extremely short notice, especially given that I tend to travel faster than the mail does...
It would be lovely to see you, dear. It's been too long...again.
Well, in any case. If you should happen to be free about midday this coming Wednesday, the third, I'll be at Gia's.
With love and sincerest wishes,
Your Mother,
Temperance Dreamflight
Reverie couldn't help but chuckle. Every time her mother signed her letters...
Because obviously it's been so long that I've forgotten who my mother is.
But the moment was cut short when the kettle she'd previously set to boil water for tea was now proceeding to proclaim its shrill whistled battlecry. Stepping back over to the stove, Reverie turned the heat off, and smiled kindly at the kettle.
Sorry, but I won't be having my tea out of you after all.
With a glance at the clock hanging on the far wall - 11:37 AM - Reverie snatched her smaller purse off its hook next to the previously worn saddlebags, dropped her keys and a few spare bits inside, and pulled her forest green silk scarf off the nearby stand, tossing it around her neck.
It wouldn't do to meet her jet-setting financier mother wearing naught but her fur, after all.
~~~~~
As her mother was likely to have already arrived, Reverie couldn't really walk the Mareford roads downtown. This worked out neatly, in the end, as more and more often recently she'd craved the wind under her wings.
She hadn't even left her apartment through the door. She'd just thrown open the wide main window and sprung out onto the warm afternoon air, currents tugging at her braided mane and feathers singing of the autumn breeze.
It just wasn't done in the Hooftons, of course, a pegasus mare jumping out her apartment windows and skimming the rooftops through town. But given that everyone had already committed to either loving or hating her, Reverie had long since ceased to care about those pettier social mores.
She was reminded of earlier days, those less suffused with petulant snobbery, when her destination came into view. Cafe Gia Istallian Light Cuisine and Refreshments was a Mareford fixture, having been widely renowned since before she was even old enough to fly on her own. It was also, relatedly, one of the few businesses in the city that maintained a pegasus landing space aside the rooftop patio. It was there that Reverie flew, dipping her right primaries to dig into the air and pull her into a lazy curve before flaring the secondaries low to drag and scoop the air for a gentle landing. And then she ran a hoof through her mane, breathed deeply of the fresh air tinged with a hint of ocean salt, and trotted down the nearby stairs to the cafe interior wearing a smile and pointedly ignoring the handful of irritated glares that had been levelled toward her.
Contrary to most places in Mareford, she felt welcomed, at home here. Memories of years gone by flickered through her mind as she turned from the stairs and walked alongside the serving counter, behind which stood the original proprietor of the cafe. Gia Bello, a deep green-coated and scarlet-maned earth pony mare, her hair tinged with silver; she still carried herself with every bit of the confidence she'd had over the past twenty years or more. Ancora Bello, her gray-coated, wheat-blonde-maned unicorn son, was at the moment managing the register.
"Reveranza!" the elder Bello exclaimed upon sight of her, bringing Reverie out of her dip into memory. Coming out from behind the counter, the lively Istallian mare almost tackled her with a hug, planting greeting kisses on her cheeks.
"It has been near to a week since I have seen you, child. I was beginning to worry."
Reverie smiled, leaning in to lightly nuzzle Gia, who could easily be called an aunt or even godmother, so long a family friend she'd been.
"Scuse, Mamma Bello. I was working on a new painting, you know how I am."
Gia laughed, quiet but hearty, and prodded the younger mare with a good-natured nudge.
"Mamma Bello, she says to me. Temperanza waits for you, there, in the corner."
She gestured over to the far corner of the cafe beyond the central counter, and Reverie could indeed see wispings of pale green fur and steely blue hair. And then she jumped, as she felt a hoof prodding her flank.
"Go, Reveranza. She has already waited too long to see you, yes? I will send tea."
"Per favore," she called after Gia, as the elder mare was already disappearing behind the counter and into the kitchen. Reverie set her hooves moving again, pausing briefly at the far side of the counter to say "Salve, Ancora," to the young stallion, only a few years her junior, who she'd played with as a child.
He favored her with a nod and smile, and she continued the last few steps until she poked her head around the corner of the last little booth, and saw herself.
Well, herself in twenty or thirty years.
Temperance was in almost every respect her daughter's mother. Same slender pegasus build, same teal coat, same cobalt-steel mane, though it was trending more towards the steel than the cobalt these days. Only her eyes were different; compared to Reverie's own harsh icy blue, her mothers were a soft and rich hazel.
Those eyes were currently fixed onto what looked to be some manner of financial report, which was about par for the course.
"Ciao, Temperanza. I hope I'm not interrupting?"
The elder pegasus mare perked up immediately, her gaze sweeping up from charts and figures to find her smiling daughter a hoof's reach away.
"Reverie!"
The report she'd been reading fell forgotten to the table, and Temperance immediately swept her daughter into a long hug.
"I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten my letter."
Reverie sighed contentedly, accepting the hug foisted upon her.
"Hello, mother. And yes, I got your letter - about twenty minutes ago."
The pair shared a quiet laugh.
"Yes, well, when I say I travel faster than the mail, it's not idly."
They parted with exchanged nuzzles, and Temperance took a moment to look over her daughter.
"...You're looking well, Reverie. I'm glad to see it. Please, sit! It's been months since we've talked."
The younger mare sat on the empty cushion opposite her mother, and her eyes were caught by a steaming cup of tea floating over, wrapped in a slate-gray aura, which set down on the table. She cast an appreciative smile over to Ancora in thanks, before turning to her tea and breathing in the heady aroma of chocolate and peppermint atop the soft backing of oolong.
She sipped her tea, savoring the soft melding of flavors, and then smiled nervously as she noticed her mother watching her.
"...What?"
"You and your tea. I'd forgotten," said Temperance, smiling. "But yes, you really are looking well, dear. Everything in order, I imagine? No...financial concerns?"
Reverie giggled, sipping at her tea again.
"No, mother, no troubles. Between my paintings sales and the not inconsiderable investment portfolio you insisted on setting up for me? I'm doing fine. Although..."
She leaned in, glancing about furtively and dropping her voice to a hushed whisper.
"I did splurge on a new dress recently."
Temperance snickered, arching a brow in amusement.
"Clearly, the pinnacle of fiscal irresponsibility."
The pair paused for a moment of tea sipping, almost forming a mirrored image.
"...Now, you had a showing recently, didn't you, dear? How did that go?"
Reverie blinked, surprised.
"Er, well, it went fine. But you've been out of the city for weeks, how did you—"
"I have my assistant watch the social pages, dear. You didn't think I would be going through all my requisite stuffy social functions without being able to mention that my daughter is a rising star in the art world, did you?"
Temperance just smiled, matter of fact, as though this should have been obvious to her daughter for years.
"...Well," Reverie began with a nervous smile, "It went fine. Just the same as they usually go, really. Everypony alternately gushes in praise or gasps in shock at the dreamscapes, and my other paintings are more or less ignored. But I get my fee and publicity for future showings and sales, so I can't complain all that much."
"You would prefer, though, that all your work was appreciated, rather than only the more shocking side of it."
Another pause, and sipping of tea.
"Well, yes, of course, but it’s certainly better than no showings at all. And what about you, mother? What manner of exotic locales and high-stakes negotiations have you tackled recently?"
The elder mare giggled, and rested her head on a supporting hoof as she pondered.
"Well, I don't know that Fillydelphia can really be described as exotic...but high-stakes, certainly. I've recently considered just setting up a permanent office there, so long as these latest deals have taken. Weeks, Reverie, to settle such matters as the redirection of local apple exports to Canterlot. I'd not have thought that fruit sales were such serious business."
The younger mare perked a brow in curiosity.
"Tensions running high over fruit?"
Temperance nodded, waving her hoof dismissively.
"Something about which orchard was chosen to supply the royal kitchen next year, accusations of favoritism toward Ponyville, the usual silliness of supposedly grown-up ponies putting pride before business. Tantruming foals, more like...still, it makes them easy to handle at the table."
Tea was further sipped, and idle chatter exchanged about recent events in each other's lives: Temperance's business travels, manifold investment negotiations, and acquisition deals; Reverie's recent paintings, gallery appearances, and adventures in train exhaust. All the while, though, the daughter was waiting until the question was asked.
"So, dear. Have you...had any dreams lately?"
Reverie chuckled grimly, suppressing the urge to sigh. Here it was at last, the alicorn in the room.
"Why, yes, mother, I had one just last night. As I do every night, actually. Don't you?"
"Reverie, you know what I mean."
She set free the held-back sigh, raising a hoof to her forehead, trying to press back the oncoming headache.
"Yes, mother, I know what you mean. And we've talked about this. We always talk about this. Yes, I have bizarre dreams occasionally. No, I'm not crazy."
Temperance frowned, raising her hooves plaintively.
"I've never said that, dear. I just...worry, you know that. I'm your mother, it's what I do."
Reverie sighed, now resigned to bearing the headache.
"Yes, I know. I also know that you don't have to. I've been having these dreams for years, mother, remember? If I were going to go crazy, I would have gotten around to it by now."
Temperance joined her daughter both in sigh and headache, regretting bringing up the subject just as surely as she'd known she would inevitably raise it.
"I know, dear. You're right, of course. You're a strong young mare, and plenty capable of taking care of yourself. I just – I don't know, I wish you didn't have to bear this. Is there no – now, I use this word only because I haven't much other choice, but is there no...therapy, or something, that could help? Surely somepony knows about things like this?"
Reverie found herself torn, just then, between her conflicting desires to slump to the table and groan, to just shake her head in disbelief and walk out, or the old favorite of wishing she could just scream up at the sky. Somewhat difficult, that last one, given she was inside a cafe, but still.
It took a long moment, and more than a few calming breaths to put that aside, and this was something her mother did not fail to notice. Cringing, Temperance reached out a halting, hesitant hoof toward her daughter, speaking in a remorseful whisper.
"I'm sorry, dear, I...I shouldn't have said such a thing. I ought to know better. Again, I'm sorry, and...well, I'll just hush up now."
Her sixth calming breath releasing in a long sigh, Reverie finally felt more or less herself again. She raised her eyes to find her mother's own gaze fixed firmly on the table in front of her, her hooves pulled in close to her chest and fidgeting nervously.
It was the double-edged blade of motherhood, of course. Reverie knew that her mother loved her dearly, that she always had and always would, and so in addition to being fiercely proud of her, Temperance also couldn't help but anxiously hover over her, jumping at any shadow she saw.
This was regardless of the fact that Reverie was now plenty capable of jumping at those shadows herself. But even for the attached aggravation, it was still far more endearing than anything else that her mother so sincerely cared.
Reverie reached out across the table and took her mother's restless hooves into her own, and Temperance's eyes looked a touch misted when they rose in turn.
"To answer your first question, yes, I had a dream recently. A little under two weeks ago."
Her mother sniffled quietly, her lips creasing with concern.
"Was it...was it bad?"
"Well, I don't know that I would call any of them good, but it wasn't one of the harsher ones, no. The usual fare, scandalous fantasy, that sort. Though...well, there was one thing about it..."
She gently tugged with her hooves, pulling her mother in close for a conspiratorial whisper.
"It was two mares."
Temperance gasped, her eyes going wide in utter shock! ...Except that she was smiling and not quite holding in a giggle.
"Anyone I know?"
"I wouldn't say know, but somepony you would definitely recognize."
They shared a quiet laugh, the previous tension now almost entirely banished.
"And...as for seeing a specialist—"
Her mother shook her head.
"It was a silly idea. Forget I ever said anything."
"...I already have."
The elder mare really wanted to say something to that, Reverie could tell, but apparently it wasn't working out so well.
"Last year, when I took that vacation to Baltimare, spent two weeks out around Horseshoe Bay? Since I was far enough away to go unnoticed...well, I had a long chat with a nice unicorn psychiatrist. Suffice to say that he had never heard of, let alone previously seen, anything like my dreams."
She probably could have left it at that, Reverie knew. And part of her wanted to, the same part she'd had to fight past that year before.
"...But because I asked for it, he gave me a full examination and mental evaluation. He found no discernable physical ailments, and after a lengthy interview session declared me 'surprisingly well adjusted'. All the more so, he said, given the dreams."
Temperance raised a hoof to her daughter's face, stroking her cheek softly.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. And also proud of you, Reverie, for telling me...and being brave enough to see someone in the first place. I know it can't have been easy for you to ask those questions of yourself."
Reverie smiled, leaning her head into the comforting touch.
"Just...don't tell anyone, please? I have enough ponies calling me crazy without it being common knowledge I've seen a therapist."
"Not a word, dear."
They shared a quiet moment, mother and daughter, with no lingering worries.
"...Now, on the subject of not talking to people, have you spoken to your father at all lately?"
Reverie nickered, and rolled her eyes.
"Not since I shouted 'goodbye' up at his window when I moved out seven years ago. What about you? You haven't split up, so I assume you still manage not to attack each other on sight."
Temperance laughed, her lips parting into a genuine smile.
"You know, it's strange? We get along so well with me being away on business for most of the year."
The younger mare smiled deviously, and prodded her mother with a playful hoof.
"And what about that? Spending all your time away from your husband on business trips, handling tense negotiations? Any salacious gossip?"
The elder feigned shock, with a touch of affront.
"Why, I would never! Honestly, that you would imply such a thing...though now that I think about it, you know, maybe that's not such a bad idea, dear. It's not like I'm starved for prospects, after all, and what with your father probably rolling around in bed with two mares half his age..."
"Not an image I want in my head, mother. I've had to put enough sordid fantasies on canvas already."
Temperance laughed again, and took a moment to attend to her neglected tea, prompting Reverie to do the same. She took up her cup, once again breathing deep of the chocolate scent, and savored the revitalizing flavor as the mint hit her tongue.
"So tell me, Reverie. Are you seeing anyone?"