//------------------------------// // She's so rock-steady. // Story: Outlet. // by Reptilicus //------------------------------// "So what's all this here about, Rarity? This yer way of apologizin'?" "Yes, I suppose it is. Would it to be safe to assume it's working?" "A bit I... guess." On the eastern edge of the main street of Ponyville was a small diner. It had been there longer than most establishments. There was nothing fancy about the place, though it looked nice with large lilacs drooping from every structure almost obscuring it from the street. The food was humble, but homemade. Cooked to order and delicious. Greasy, salty, and dirty with a sort of southern charm to it all. A guilty pleasure for someone who usually found themselves dining on meals that generally cost the same amount as a fine piece of jewelry. However it was generally agreed that no matter where a pony was from, the cuisine at the diner really hit the spot. Hence why it's name was "The Spot Hitter Cafe" which it wore proudly with a purple painted title above the entrance, which was also very hard to see amongst the lilacs. Rarity would never admit it but she loved the tiny establishment. The food was uncouth, but good. For Applejack however, it was one of her favorite places to go when she decided to eat out. Which was uncommon since she was a pretty good chef in her own right and generally saw little need to go out on the town when she could be at home, relaxing or talking to friends. To be at the cafe was a bit of a treat, even though she'd never admit it to Rarity, who of course knew better. The two were sitting at one of the metal tables that sat outside the restaurant. Almost invisible to any passerby due to all the vines and flowers. The tables and chairs were all worn iron, twisted and curled almost into a lacy look. Almost like a sort of filigree that had been re-sized to be large enough for a few horses to sit around. Had they not been so rusty and covered in moss, the rather fancy furniture would have seemed out of place in the somewhat crude establishment near the cobblestone road. Rarity was wearing one of her favorite florentine hats that she had sewn herself. Light yellow in color, almost white, with a large white rose stuck in the band. Applejack, who never dressed up for anything unless it was a requirement, came as she often did. With her blonde mane tied back in a ponytail and brown rawhide stetson atop her head. She was sitting back comfortably on her chair, eyeballing Rarity suspiciously. "May I take your order?" asked the waitress, a small lime-hued pony with a white apron on, covered in grease stains. "Oh well I would like to have the eggplant fritters. Oh and the green pepper hash as a side. And I think as an appetizer some of those fried green tomatoes with chipotle peppers I smell. We can share them." Rarity smiled sweetly at Applejack who looked briefly down at her menu. "uh...I'll have the same I guess." Applejack pushed the menu away. "And some grits." The two sat in silence until the food arrived a few minutes later. Eating was a welcome distraction from the somewhat icy silence coming from Applejack who immediately dove into her meal, chewing loudly. As expected, the fritters were delicious, particularly when dipped into the ranch dressing with olive juice they had received as a dipping sauce which Applejack mixed into the grits. Eventually the two had cleaned their plates and Rarity decided the time had once again come to approach conversation. "So......?" she asked sweetly, fluttering her long false eyelashes. "So." Applejack was pushing a few crumbs around on her plate, not looking up. "So are you going to tell me why you like to paint?" "I dunno, Rare. I started doin' it when I was a young'n and I liked it. Made me feel better." "So would you say it's an outlet for your desires, passions, pathos?" "See, this is why I don't like talking about this sort a stuff." "Why ever not?" "Because I just like makin' stuff with paint and here you are tryin' to make me seem like it's somethin' special when it ain't. It's just somethin I like to do sometimes." "Alright, I apologize let's start over." "Fine." "Applejack why do you feel you need to hide your paintings in that dank cellar of yours?" "I don't like ponies lookin' at em." "Does your family know you keep those down there?" "Of course they know, Rarity. It's their farm, too." "And they're perfectly fine with you hiding your special gifts away in the darkness?" "Yep." "Why don't you like ponies observing your paintings? I would think you'd be proud of them." "I ain't. I make 'em cause I like 'em but that doesn't mean I feel like displayin' em or even talkin' about it. I don't even like talkin' about it with you or Granny." "But WHY, Applejack? Why are you so frightened to receive compliments on your pieces?" "Shucks, I dunno Rarity. I just don't." Applejack was uncomfortably looking out through the lilacs onto the road. Rarity sat quietly, studying her friend. "Would you like to know what I think, Applejack?" "Nope. But yer gonna tell me anyway, so go ahead and shoot." "I think you're shy." Applejack's cheeks went slightly red and she turned to look at Rarity, furrowing her brow. "I ain't shy!" "Yes you are. You're afraid if ponies know you have an artistic side, they'll stop thinking of you as the tough no-nonsense farm pony everyone knows you are. You're frightened they won't approve of you if they know you like being creative." "Th....that ain't....." Applejack fumbled quietly looking around. "You're scared you'll lose respect." "No it's just......." Applejack sighed. "I don't like artists, Rarity. And other fancy 'creative' folk." "Oh?" Rarity replied, raising her eyebrows. "why ever not, darling?" "Cause they're all stuffy and pretentious types who look for meanin' in things that don't got any. Y'all already know how I feel about the types over in Canterlot. All stuffy and stuck up." "Not ALL the artists in Equestria are like that, Applejack." "I'm sure they ain't, Rare. But most are. And I don't wanna be affiliated with em." "What are you planning on doing with your art once you run out of room?" "I dunno. I use some of it as firewood sometimes. And mulch." "That's awful, Applejack, you are wasting your talent." "Don't care, Rare." "So if I told you that I think your art is good enough to be placed on the walls of some of the most revered and respected galleries in Equestria, I assume your answer would be no?" "Actually it would be heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeck no." Applejack crossed her arms. "I already don't like the idea that you n' Pinkie know I do this. I sure as hay don't need half the country lookin' at me and my paints and judgin' me like I'm some sort of prized pig at a contest." "What if I told you that you could auction your unwanted pieces off for lots of bits." "Nah." "It wouldn't be some paltry tiny amount of bits, Jack. I'm talking hundreds of thousands of bits. The nobility in this land compete to pay a fine price for any good art they can place in their homes." "That much, eh?" Applejack's expression softened. Rarity smiled internally, she was finally getting through to her friend. "You could afford to fix your roof, Applejack. Get Granny that new false hip she needs. Hire workers so you and Big Mac don't have to run yourself ragged anymore. And ignoring the practicality of all that, why you'd be famous, dear!" "Why would I wanna be famous." "Fame means attention. Attention means ponies take notice of you. Then they find out who you are and what you do and thus it drums up more interest in you and then......" Rarity waved her arm, expecting an answer. "They'd come to the farm? And wanna buy goods?" Applejack asked, not sure if it was the answer her friend wanted. "Exactly, Applejack. On the short term you earn lots of money for auctioning off art you no longer want. In the long term you become a popular individual in the art world whom ponies will learn runs a farm where she and her family made lovely produce. Then they'll want to try it. Hopefully." "And they ain't just gonna ignore it and make fun of the food I grow like that jerk at the Grand Gallopin' Gala, right?" "I can't be sure, Applejack. But considering all the renovations you could do for Sweet Apple Acres, with all the money we could potentially earn, doesn't that seem like a risk worth taking?" Applejack looked at the floor, sweating slightly. The gears in her head were turning. On one hoof, she didn't really want to be needlessly exposed to the type of pony who generally made fun of folks like her. On the other hoof, the farm was in a pretty big state of disrepair. The land wasn't fertile as it once was. Applebloom's schooling was costly. And they weren't making nearly as much as they used to. Times were hard and would only get harder unless change happened. Maybe this was the change she needed. "I'm......I kinda want to try this Rare but......." Applejack bit her lip. "I'm kinda scared." "I'll be there to help you, Applejack. I'm your friend and I promise you I won't let you get hurt or embarrassed. I won't force you to do anything you don't wish to do. But I will encourage you to try new things, if you let me." A chilly wind blew through the cafe, making all the vines of lilacs swing as the rays of sunlight poured through the delicate flower petals, casting oblong lavender shadows across the cafe as the two ponies sat. One expectantly waiting for an answer, as the other sat lost in thought. "And Applejack." Rarity said quietly, putting a hoof on her friend's shoulder. "If it goes well, we can do it again and make more bits later. And if it goes poorly or you feel badly I promise you I won't ever ask you try anything like this ever again." "Why do you want me to do this so bad, Rare." "Because when I was in that cellar I was almost in tears. They may not mean much to you, Applejack, but what I saw down there was some of the most beautiful honest art I have seen in my life. Anypony would be blessed to have one of your canvases in their home, and it hurts me to know you feel ashamed of your talent. It really does, Dear. You shouldn't be frightened about being yourself." The two sat staring at each other until Applejack grinned and nodded her head. She took off her brown hat and placed it on the table. "Alright, Rare. Y'all have convinced me to give this a shot. I trust ya." "Good! Then let's shake on it!" "Sure thing!" Applejack made a deep gurgle in her throat before spitting a large loogie into her hoof and outstretching it for a handshake. Rarity frowned deeply and withdrew her hoof. "Let's shake without the spit, please." "Aw c'mon, it's tradition." "It's grotesque. I'm not touching that." "Oh fine." A few moist towelettes later, and the two finally put their hooves together and shook on it. The agreement was sealed, and now Rarity had a lot of work to do if she was planning on making Applejack's art famous amongst the nobility of Equestria. But for a high-class mare such as herself, connections were an easy thing to come by. What wouldn't be easy was trying to find a gallery willing to display art made by a completely unknown earth pony. But with luck, that would be the only major hurdle they'd have to cross. ************************************************************************* Deep underground a lone young mare sat in a dark room, her serious face illuminated by the lanterns that sat near her. She was deep in thought, trying to make sense of her own feelings. She had never been a proud pony. In fact often, when it was quiet and dark and she had nothing to distract herself, she often wondered if she was worth anything at all. Did her friends really like her? For the most part they were far more educated and aggressive than she was. Did they think of her in the same way the snobs in other towns did? Like she was some sort of amusing yokel? Funny because of her mannerisms. A sort of cosmic joke? A hillbilly? A hick? Did anyone besides her own family really enjoy her for herself, or for what she could do. What she was capable of. Her strength, her power, her reliability and her honesty. These were all good traits to have. Her parents had raised her well. But had these traits made her too private? Why did curt words from those who had been more fortunate than her make her so.....frightened. It was odd, looking at her paintings with a different perspective. Causing yet more thoughts to clash in her brain. Her friends thought the smears and splatters of dye she had placed on these canvases were beautiful. One claimed she was nearly brought to tears. Were they really that good? These silly little paintings she'd been doing ever since she'd come back to the farm as a child? These little tapestries she had slung together to help her feel less rotten about her brief stay in Manehattan, her vague cutie mark, the loss of the two ponies who had meant the most to her. Had it been an outlet? Was Rarity right? These pieces of art had made her feel so much better. Mixing the dyes herself and trying to place her feelings and thoughts on the canvas had been very therapeutic in a way. Granny had been the one to suggest it in the first place. Thought it would do her some good. So in a way Applejack had been expressing herself. Did that make her an artist? She assumed by definition it did in a way, though now as she thought of it she was being hit with a new emotion as she gazed over the large collection of paintings, some of which were crudely piled on the floor. This emotion was an odd one. It was one she had felt whenever she had finished her chores early. When she had run the swindling Flim-Flam Brothers out of town. When she had received an accolade from the Princess of the dynasty herself, for converting and defeating her evil twin sister. When she had helped mend the broken trust between Rarity and her sister Sweetie-Belle. When she had managed to lift Rainbow Dash's spirits after her tryouts for an acrobatics team had failed. When she had managed to buck down all the apples for a season by herself, received a trophy from the mayor, and helped rescue the town from the clutches of a trickster god. Every one of these events, these memories, had always triggered this emotion in the back of her head. It made her shiver slightly, a pleasant tingle that ran up from her haunches across her spine and to her brain, making her grin slightly. They made her feel good about herself. Like she was worth something, like she was special. Was it......pride? It was, wasn't it? She was proud. She was proud that she had managed to get this far with so little help. She was proud of her independence, her strength, her reliability, her honesty. And for the first time ever in her life she was proud of her art. Her art meant something to ponies other than herself. And as she dwelled on it, she came to realize that meant a lot to her. She WAS shy. She was scared of her friends disapproving of her activity. But now that they had said it was beautiful.......she couldn't help but feel happy. It meant the world to her. "Figured you wuz down here, honey." Granny Smith came wobbling into the cellar, her wrinkled but muscular legs carrying her ancient sagging body along. True to her name, her fur was a light green color like the apple of the same monicker. She was very old and had pretty much raised Applejack and Applebloom all on her own. And nobody could argue she hadn't done an excellent job. "Oh hey Granny." Applejack mumbled, distracted. "Is supper ready?" "Yep, sher is. Din' see ya in the orchard and ya din' leave a note so I came down here. I'm like a super sleuth ya see. Followed the clues and have solved the mystery!" Applejack giggled a bit. "Alright I'll come up in a bit, Gran." "Whatcha been thinkin' about, honey? I don't normally see ya in here just sittin' around. Must be something on yer mind to keep yeh all cooped up." The old mare sat down next to her granddaughter, her old joints creaking audibly. Applejack leaned over and rested her head on her grandma's bony old shoulder, glad to have company. "I might be goin' on a trip soon, Granny." "Oh ho ho? Where to?" "Don't know yet. It was Rarity's idea." "Oh she's that unicorn with the big curls o' hair aint she? What sort o' trips all this then?" "Well......Rare and Pinkie got into the cellar earlier and saw all of my....stuff." "MMmm hmmm. They liked it din' they?" "Yeh. They liked it alot, Gran." "Told ya, weren't nothin' to fret about. Yer friends will love ya no matter what ya do." "You were right as usual." Applejack planted a small kiss on her grandmother's cheek. "Rarity wants me to put some of my ol' art in a gallery I guess." "Ooh! Now that sound's awful fancy!" "Yeah but it might mean going to a place fulla.....ya know. Ponies like Uncle and Auntie. I'm still not sure I even wanna go." "Yer goin' whether you like it or not." "Not gonna give me a choice then, huh?" Applejack grinned. "Nope. Ya can't let one bad experience put y'all off of seein' the world, AJ. Ain't right for you and Mac to be sittin on this old farm all day." "I like sittin' on this farm, Granny." "Theres a whole world out there for ya, honey. There's a whole big beautiful adventure outside this here town and it's been passin ya by. Yer too young to be like me. Sittin around workin' all day. Yeh should go out and see it. I wish I could get Mac to take a vacation sometimes. That fool brother of yers is stubborn as a mule." "Alright, I'll go." "Good. Now git on upstairs. Supper's gettin cold! I made somethin' new tonight. Radish souffle. I don't quite know what a souffle is but it sounded awful fancy and the picture looked pretty good in the cookbook. And these old hands managed to get it lookin just like the picture, too. Mac's probably already eaten half o' it by now." And with that the lantern was snuffed, and the two mares made their way out of the cellar, locking the door behind them. True to her word, Granny's souffle was one of the best meals they'd ever had. And soon the dinner conversation was full of laughter and questions about Applejack's day with Rarity and the paintings in the cellar. Things always seemed to turn out alright on the apple farm.