It would have helped if she'd felt the self-blame beginning to die, but... Twilight knew it would take more than that. Rarity was right in front of her, found and safe and -- well, somewhat injured, but at least it wasn't any worse and...
...if we'd all been together, I could have just teleported most of us across that river, then levitated Applejack. But I would have had to explain the last part to Trixie. Probably something about knowing that Applejack has bad reactions to teleports. From experience. It's not even a lie: it's truth without full explanation of cause...
But she hadn't been there. And somepony else had.
Spike had tried to reassure his big sister, done everything he could to remind her of what could have happened during the teleport. Hit the lockdown: death. Fail to open a hole large enough for the group: death. The little dragon truly felt that dumping them out of the between had arguably been the only option. And perhaps he was right.
Except that there was another factor.
...I pulled Trixie into this. There's no way she ever would have wanted to be here, and now she's part of the mission.
Because I screwed up.
Rarity -- 'Faceti' for now -- was still standing in front of Twilight. Blue eyes carefully looked past the false pegasus, examined Applejack, rested on the back-mounted rolled-up ground pad for what felt like a little too long, and finally moved to Fluttershy --
-- the designer blinked. Looked at the jungle-green fur again, briefly arched her right eyebrow, and then rather visibly forced her mouth to remain shut.
"May I trot along for a time?" she asked -- and then immediately glanced back towards the soft mass groan which had just arisen from a few body lengths behind her tail. "My apologies, dears: I am not attempting to shed your company. But I do have some rough familiarity with Truedawn's newest guests."
"We'll just follow you," one of the earth pony stallions said, and the dulled violet face offered a smile. "Until you're ready to take up the tour again."
"Quite ready," Rarity calmly said. "However, when it comes to my fellow explorers... there is a single location which I truly need to learn." With a small head tilt and smile, both directed at Twilight: "I assume that Starlight is bringing you to local accommodations --"
"Correct," the lilac unicorn evenly stated.
"-- and in the event that you do not wind up on our street, it would help to see where you are staying." She paused. "We might even manage to encounter at least one of the others from my group along the way. And if we do not, then it is a necessity to have somepony who can tell them where you are. Perhaps we can all come to see you tonight, after you've settled in?"
Twilight nodded. It was amazing, really: just how calm a simple nod could appear. Especially when the true reaction was somewhat more turbulent.
They're okay. Everypony's okay. Rarity would have found a way to say something if they weren't. She's always been the best of us when it comes to words. Look at how much information she managed to pass along during the greeting.
Nopony's been hurt or -- worse.
Maybe this isn't so bad --
-- the thought was birthed into the world, was recognized as being severely premature, and promptly found itself sitting in the mental equivalent of a stasis dome. Waiting for the right time to come, and only if that moment had a true reason to exist.
'Truedawn'. She said that earlier. So that's the name of this -- 'settled zone' didn't seem to fit -- colony.
They had been invited into the fortress. There was a certain need to learn the layout, and Twilight was also dearly hoping to sense at least one of the devices involved in the shield and lockdown effects. Of course, the most likely location for such items was along the sparkling borders, but if there was any chance that there was a specimen being locally charged or repaired...
"We should keep moving," Twilight openly decided. "I don't want to take too much of Starlight's time, and I'm sure all of the residents have things to do."
"Meeting new arrivals is something to do!" called out a dull grey pegasus mare. "It's one of the most important things anypony can ever do for the community --"
"-- easy, Seti," somepony else said: a pale blue unicorn stallion with the single least styled tail Twilight had ever seen: a puff of utterly disorganized hair, roughly anchored to the dock and mostly prevented from falling away by the simple fact that gravity didn't want to deal with that mess either. "They were just out in the wild. You know what that's like. And there's always the true welcome."
"You're right," Seti reluctantly decided. "But that's for all of Truedawn. Maybe we could..." Decibels dropped into obscurity as the pair began to trot away, still talking.
It didn't matter. Twilight returned to her own group, Rarity fell into hoofstep next to her, and they all moved on together.
Together.
We'll all be back together by tonight.
We have to stay together...
As with the majority of goals, it would have been rather easy to say. The complexity involved in actually making it happen required considerably more effort.
And as with the majority of complex goals through history, it would fail.
Starlight's interest had been engaged.
It wasn't from showing them around Truedawn: the fully-clothed residents who'd accompanied their leader into the wild were hauling just about all of that social drag weight. The unicorn's current focus was somewhat more mobile, was trying to make a good first impression and in the event that the caretaker's resolve failed, also didn't know enough about the colony to have any escape routes memorized.
"We're moving away from the mane combs," Starlight stated. "And you didn't take any from the tray."
As conversational openers with total strangers went, the soft "...um..." represented one of Fluttershy's stronger showings.
"You did show an interest," the unicorn reminded her. "You said that you're always interested in mane combs."
"...yes," Fluttershy eventually managed. "It's just that --"
"Encountering a fellow explorer created a distraction," Starlight reasoned. "There was a brief, understandable loss of focus. Under the circumstances, I hardly consider that to be offensive."
"...oh. Thank you...?"
"Fortunately," the unicorn added, "I happen to recall the prior subject of discussion." Her horn ignited, and turquoise went directly for the contents of the tray. "You found them interesting. And the best way to tell if something truly is interesting is through personal investigation. Now when it comes to your mane, the most efficient placement locations..."
Glow moved through Fluttershy's mane. Separated a few strands, folded others, and then added a few strategic touches of off-white.
The "...ow," was exceptionally soft.
"Somewhat higher and closer to the center line," Starlight considered. "In order to deal with the sheer volume of hair." Adjustments were made. "Of course, hairstyle is an entirely personal choice. As such, there is no point in trying to argue it."
"...that's nice of you to say --"
"And in your personal choice, you've picked something rather impractical," the unicorn decided. "Especially for an explorer. To move through the wild, while carrying so much which could become tangled, caught, or targeted... well, perhaps we simply found you in morning disarray. You were getting ready to pack up your camp. The mane and tail likely would have been part of that."
"...with my tail..." Fluttershy slowly began, and Twilight recognized the tone. It was the weary verbal signature of a mare who occupied the ninety-ninth percentile of tail endowment, had heard every last one of the so-called jokes during the first year of a too-early puberty, and probably would have felt somewhat better if she'd just kicked a few juvenile amateur comedians into the middle of the next century.
"A fully natural tail," Starlight observed. "No extensions or fillers. To possess such a tail is something which arises from the blood. Rare, but recognized and understood. There is no point in blaming or faulting anypony for an appearance which arises naturally." With utter neutrality, "It would be like hating a pony for being born as a pegasus, when the one experiencing that hatred is not. It makes no sense. That is your tail. You carry it well."
It was possible to hear Fluttershy blink. "...oh. Um. Thank you --"
"-- and when moving through a wild zone," their hostess stated, "you would do well to carry it as a bundle. I'll demonstrate." More glowing combs moved into position. "If you feel the tines are improperly spaced for your weight and volume, I can modify a future batch. But that sort of recommendation requires direct experience to make. Accordingly, please maintain this style for the remainder of the day. And perhaps overnight."
Twilight was now mentally comparing the unicorn to a primary school student who'd been given something to sell for a class fundraiser and unleashed upon the world without training, basic education in tactics, or the knowledge that if their sales target tried to back into an alley, they were potentially doing something wrong.
"...um..."
"After that," Starlight continued, "I would appreciate a thorough report. Don't leave out any details. Exacting reviews of the new are required for progress."
Or a first-time writer, which was worse.
Sun had been lowered. Moon had been raised. The Nightsun was nowhere to be found.
Twilight was sitting on the rough half-porch which made up the front of Applejack's assigned house, gazing up at the night sky -- something which had to be done through the shield. And on this side of the illusion...
When she'd been staring down from the edge of the tepui, she'd seen -- trees. The natural patterns of the rainforest, with Truedawn itself fully concealed. To look out, trying to examine everything from ground level...
Nothing had been visible through the canopy of the rainforest, and they'd had other concerns on the tepui. But she was outside, waiting for her friends to arrive. Something which threatened to consume her thoughts, send everything spiraling into the abyss of an unsolved mystery. And when it came to one of those friends...
She needed a distraction. The stars provided. And she'd only gotten to study the view offered by the southern hemisphere in books: that had mostly meant illustrations, added to some early and frankly inadequate photography. This was the real thing. A view she might never gain the chance to appreciate again.
It was a clear night, and the stars were very much in evidence: a hot blue there, with a soft yellow variable nearly. White flickered, and small spots of red felt as if they were getting ready to surge. Part of her longed for a telescope: the binoculars simply weren't enough.
But she was also trying to translate drawings into reality. There were times when her astronomy studies briefly grated at what seemed to be a false reading, because the sparkles of an active field were still very much present in the color-shifting shield -- and a small, bright twinkle of light could be very easy to mistake for a distant star. The little displays kept messing up her attempts to make out constellations.
And she couldn't find the Nightsun.
She shouldn't have expected to. The brightest star in the northern sky wasn't going to be in evidence here. But when you were in Equestria... you could steer by the Nightsun. Sailors had once used it as their most reliable guide, and it was still pressed into service when instruments and devices failed. A constant, utterly reliable companion...
It was unreasonable to expect it here. But she was in a place where the stars were no longer familiar. And even with friends and family found, it made her feel more lost than ever.
It's still better than looking at the streetlights.
Truedawn was playing havoc with her OCD. She kept wanting to adjust something. Anything. Everything. Simply smoothing off edges might have provided her with busywork for a lifetime. The only thing more hazardous than trying to live in some of the buildings was attempting to move within flank-grazing distance of the walls, because there was every chance that you would trot away with somewhat less flank and considerably more bloodstains. And the streetlights didn't arc properly at the upper projections, the glow needed tweaking, and she didn't understand why there was quartz at the base. The stone in the rainforest -- that had been enchanted to tell Truedawn somepony was outside the shield dome. But within the colony...
Perhaps it was a simple attempt at decoration. And like just about every other such attempt in Truedawn, it had failed. The milky facets didn't seem to know what to do with the light. Some was absorbed. Other portions wound up being repelled. The sparkles from the shield were too minor to do much of anything.
Two fully-dressed, off-hued ponies were going down the cross-street. Both paused, waved to her. She managed to get her left foreleg shifting in their general direction, and the smiling locals moved on.
Waiting...
Starlight had ultimately led the group to a fairly small side street: three residences, one of which was occupied. (Rarity had immediately noted that it was nowhere close to her own assigned quarters, and Starlight had said they were filling in gaps.) Twilight and Fluttershy had wound up in one of the uneven residences, and Applejack had technically found herself alone in the other. This had created an immediate need to meet at the farmer's temporary lodgings, because Spike had to be part of the gathering and there was very little reason for Applejack to be carrying a rolled-up ground pad everywhere she went. Not that it was the only choice: there were other disguises on the necklace, some of which might have been of use in smuggling a small dragon around Truedawn -- but it was likely best to save them for an emergency.
Rarity had promised to tell the others exactly where they were, bringing everypony by after Sun-lowering. Reluctantly headed back to her own designated portion of the colony, because somepony had to pass the word. A miniherd had followed.
And then they'd waited.
Shortly into the durance, Twilight had remembered that it was summer and waiting until after Sun-lowering was going to require something of an effort.
She'd had to force herself not to go charging across Truedawn right then and there. (For a falsely-injured pegasus, flight wasn't an option -- and when she considered that 'pegasus' really needed some qualifying quotation marks, neither was teleporting.) So it had come down to distractions. Hours of them.
Everypony had bathed, and Twilight's first encounter with the local bathtubs had left her thoroughly jealous of Applejack's current living arrangements: rooming with Spike meant the earth pony gained access to actual hot water. Then somepony had brought them food, and the recent tepid soak had immediately begun to look a lot better. Comparison to truly miserable experiences did that, and Twilight had reluctantly predicted that the barely-consumed meal was going to improve in quality once she had to deal with anything it tried to do on the way out.
She'd straightened up the house, as best she could. (A concealed horn meant she wasn't allowed to truly straighten it, and that little two-degree eastward lean was annoying her.) Spent some time searching for places where she could hide the more suspicious portions of their supplies, done what she could to get everything secured. Looked over the copied-out fragments of notes, once again contemplated whether using her trick would do any good. And now she was outside the crooked residence, beneath shield and unfamiliar stars. Waiting for the arrival of those whom she longed to see --
-- a spray of light moved across the sky: sparks, glimmers, a crest of shimmering followed by something very much like a miniature borealis: twisting ribbons of half-rainbows laced with too much white...
...Twilight blinked. Tried to bring back everything she knew about meteor showers, realized she didn't remember what was scheduled for the southern hemisphere, then considered that no meteor ever looked like that and attempted to track the source --
-- it was coming from the cliff face.
No: from a hollow within.
That's the cave, isn't it? Something's going on up there --
-- and she was down here. Trapped beneath the shield --
-- the lights stopped, and the night slipped back into stars and sparkles.
Twilight dropped her gaze.
We don't know much of anything about this area. That could be natural wild magic. Something the local stones just do every so often. She could check with Pinkie. It might not mean anything. And even if it does, dealing with that means we need to be capable of leaving --
-- which was when light blue forelegs skirted the edge of the streetlight's radiance, stepped across the quartz and turned towards the house...
No hat.
It stood out, just as much as the lack of cape. Trixie had a signature Look: something which identified a traveling performer. A hat could be something of a detriment to a casting unicorn, which was why Trixie spent most of her shows wearing an elaborate illusion. But the hat and cape were just about always there, and this was just... Trixie.
With the exceptions of some professions which required protective gear, (scheduled) bad weather, and the fringe outliers known as 'clothists', nudity was the default for just about everypony. It was what you expected, and it made the constant coverage in Truedawn stand out all the more. But with Trixie...
Something about having the whole of the mare's fur and mane out in the open made Trixie look oddly -- unnatural. Almost exposed...
Gradiated purple eyes focused on Twilight.
"Faceti would probably say something like 'Fancy meeting you here'," Trixie wearily decided. "I don't really have a line for the occasion. I'm just... glad to see you."
"I'm --" Twilight tried, and the rest should have been glad to see you too --
-- but it was her fault.
Trixie's head tilted slightly to the left, and light blue ears cupped forward. Waiting.
"I'm glad you're okay," the false pegasus offered, because they were still out in the open and ponies occasionally passed by. There was only so much which could be said at normal volume, and...
...Rarity was the best with words. Not Twilight, not when they were being spoken. Maybe that was another part of why she was having so much trouble finding the designer's aspect within herself.
"'Okay' is relative," Trixie said. "In this job, we usually just settle for 'intact'."
"...yes," Twilight inexpertly Fluttershied.
The mares looked at each other for a few seconds.
She's here.
She shouldn't be here. She's not a Bearer. Nopony asked her to do this. She shouldn't have to --
-- they were all supposed to come together --
"Where's --" Twilight began.
"-- there's a lot of ponies moving around at night. Trotting, talking. Doing things. We passed a small outdoor concert..." The blue ears briefly flattened themselves against the skull. "...never mind about the concert. But they kept stopping us. Wanting to chat. I just got away first." A slight shrug. "The others will catch up."
She moved forward, turned again, began to trot down the uneven approach path to the house. Twilight carefully watched, waited until the mare was within a single body length. And then she spoke again, much more softly, with decibels dragged down by secrecy and pain.
"...I'm sorry."
Trixie stopped moving. Mere hoofwidths away, just short of the little ramp.
Twilight was on the porch. Something which wasn't as high off the ground as it should have been (and she couldn't do anything about that either), and she was sitting. Factor in Trixie's greater height, and it meant their gazes should have been meeting on a level plane.
Should have. A certain amount of emotional gravity kept trying to pull Twilight's attention towards the ground.
"I know," the performer softly said.
"I didn't mean to bring you," Twilight half-whispered. "I..."
"It's something of an accomplishment, when you think about it," Trixie quietly offered. "You were freaked out because you hadn't formally tested for six. And you managed seven." Paused. "I don't know if the license fees even go up to seven. Based on how much it costs to test for six, they might have cut it off just because the math was threatening to run out of digits --"
"-- I kept telling myself that I was trying to bring everypony." It felt as if she could barely hear herself. "All of my friends..."
Perhaps silence was the most painful answer possible. It had to be, because the void of words kept echoing into the southern night and Twilight couldn't imagine any response more agonizing --
"I can think of somepony who'd call that unnecessary flattery," the performer considered, with the tone somewhat distant -- but the streaked tail flicked. "Along with being a really bad judgment call. So, just to cut that off before the first kick -- don't tell her. It'll save a lot of yelling."
Almost desperate now -- no, she was desperate: she was just straining to keep it from reaching the cross-street, the budding tears had to be visible as reflections of lamplight... "I'm sorry..."
The sigh was exceptionally soft.
"It already happened," the performer said. "I'm here. That can't be taken back." Volume dropped. "If there was a way to reverse it, affect the past..." Her head slowly shook. "I don't want to think about that. If that existed, then somepony would have tried to use it. The Princess, at the very least. And... it feels like it would be worse than the Amulet."
"...I didn't mean to..." The tears were coming, there didn't seem to be any way of stopping them this time and she didn't know what to do, words were all she had and she was repeating herself because words didn't work. "...I'm --"
The taller mare took a tiny hoofstep forward. Just enough to place a rim of keratin on the ramp.
"I pushed you," Trixie told her, and the gradiated eyes were weary. "Hard and fast. You were scared, you'd never done anything on that scale before and that made it easier for resonance to get in..." Slowly, the streaked tail swayed. "It's done, Twilight. All we can do is see where it goes from here --"
"-- I'll get you home."
It had been a statement, and Twilight briefly considered hating herself for that. Stating things just because you wanted them to be true... that was somepony else --
Trixie was looking at her again. Waiting.
-- no. Not a statement. A promise.
"No matter what happens," Twilight told her. "I'll do everything I can to bring you back. I swear."
"Home," the performer thoughtfully said.
"Yes --"
"-- so you figured out where that is?" inquired a vaguely bemused voice. "Good. I always wanted to know. Maybe you could tell me sometime."
Twilight blinked. Trixie sighed.
"How is he?"
There were certain benefits to having a single male in the group. For starters, the pronoun generally sufficed.
"She didn't tell you?" Twilight had thought that Rarity would have --
"She said a few things. Like that I should consider myself lucky. And not count on that holding up. It didn't exactly provide a lot of details."
"Recovering." Twilight paused. "I know why you took the chance. And if you hadn't... we might not have figured out what happened..."
But it had still left her little brother alone in the wilderness. Isolated and ill --
"You would have come around the mountain and gotten in range of the shield eventually," Trixie quietly considered. "The most I did was speed things up. And I know it could have been a lot worse. I tried to tell her that he was the deadliest thing in the rainforest, but..."
She stopped. Looked past Twilight, towards the uneven door on its poorly-mounted hinges.
"I'm going inside," the performer told her. "If I'm going to have a chance at saying anything to him, then it has to be before she gets here."
A little too carefully, "You'll stay for the meeting?"
Wryly, "Do I have a choice?"
Rarity seemed to believe that a choice had been available and based on the way she kept glaring at Trixie, she rather visibly felt that Twilight had made the wrong one.
The reunions had come in two stages: understated awkwardness outside, followed by gentle nuzzles within the house. Pinkie had caught Twilight examining the sturdy form for injuries, pointedly asked her to stop, and then just about ordered her to stop blaming herself. Rainbow --
-- the pegasus seemed... bleary. There was a certain lack of focus in the eyes, and some of her feathers needed preening. But when it came to making comments about how Twilight could have at least done something about a better split in the supplies, she had strength to spare. Plus from now on, they had to carry two tents. Daring Do absolutely would have carried two tents. Possibly even while traveling alone, just in case she had to set up a fake campsite as a distraction.
Rarity, once inside, went directly for Spike. Nuzzled his crests while he hugged her forelegs, and then turned her head to glare at Trixie.
That had been the pre-meeting glare. There had also been the 'She's really going to stay here while we talk?' glare, followed shortly by the 'this living room is not meant to hold eight sapients' jaw clench. It wasn't a particularly large house, the ill-made furniture could accommodate four ponies at best (or five if anypony was willing to get their fur trapped by extruded springs), and even the floor space was getting crowded -- something made all the worse by the fact that as far as Truedawn was concerned, Spike wasn't supposed to be there.
"Well away from the windows," Rarity told him. "No direct sight lines. And if we hear anypony approach, or should somepony knock, use the corridor we provided to go directly into the kitchen. Hide there until they leave."
"You could spread out more if you wanted to," the little dragon pointed out. "I don't need that much room to move --"
"-- directly into the kitchen," Rarity crossly said. "No arguments. I would rather not give a certain somepony the opportunity to consider how else she might hide you." Which was followed by a slightly-adjusted flavor of glare, and Trixie silently absorbed the hit.
There had been a reunion. (They didn't really have enough space for a ponypile, and Twilight didn't know what anypony would have done about the newest presence.) Apologies had been offered, with some accepted and others refused because there was clearly no need to apologize at all. But now they needed to have a conference.
Eight forms carefully arranged themselves around the small space, with Pinkie risking a full-body drape over the back of the half-couch. And then they began to talk.
They'd just finished comparing notes: something which had taken about half an hour. The floor was effectively open.
"Thoughts?" Twilight asked from her position on that slightly-tilted floor. (She hadn't felt right about taking chair or couch.) "Anything which didn't come up." And waited.
"I don't think she was thrilled about the numbers," a maintained-for-practice Manehattan accent decided.
"Starlight?" Twilight asked, and Applejack nodded. "You mean having so many of us here? That bothered her?" If she'd missed something...
The blonde head slowly shook. "She didn't look..." Paused. "She doesn't look like a lot of things. But I don't mean she wasn't happy about getting this many arrivals, Twilight. She sort of hesitated a little just before she put me in here. And I think it's because as far as she knows, I'm alone. Everypony else got paired off."
Rarity slowly nodded. "Double-occupancy residences, double occupants," the designer observed. "She was rather insistent on that."
It got her a nod back. "Yeah. And I don't know if it means anything, but -- Spike and I were looking around. Trying to figure out what could be seen from the street through the windows, and where. This place has been used. The closets got cleaned out --" the farmer paused, softly snorted "-- and with everything we've been seeing, the locals really need their closets -- and somepony cleared the kitchen. But there's other signs. I'm sure somepony was living here before we arrived. Left a couple of weeks ago, tops."
"Maybe they just got married?" Pinkie asked. "And they moved in with their special somepony. There's a lot of couples."
"...or it's a sickness," Fluttershy softly proposed. "Everything we're seeing is an illness, and -- the last stage..."
"I wanted to check with everypony on something," an unusually-still Rainbow yawned. "I wasn't about to try it, but -- I've been thinking about it."
"Thinking about...?" Twilight cautiously checked, because the only thing more terrifying than a Rainbow who wasn't thinking was a pegasus who was.
"Going direct," Rainbow declared. "We could just ask them what's going on -- look, you can all stop staring at me, okay? It might shut them up all the way or get us kicked out: I know that! But trying to sneak around, figuring things out on our own -- that could take forever. If we just confronted --"
"-- I would expect that from our... guest," Rarity harshly stated. "Even for you, Rainbow, I feel this may be going somewhat too far. 'Are you all deathly ill, and should we be worried about ourselves?' has a certain awkwardness to it. Additionally, I can just about guarantee that unless the world provides us with a rather strong reason to ask, our cover story would be ruined." A soft snort. "I am still trying to come up with a polite means of inquiring about their rather dubious collective 'taste' in fashion."
"But if it's taking too long --"
"-- then we will still need somepony whose answers we can trust," the designer countered. "And you have your skills, dear -- but interrogation is not one of them." Which was when the accent shifted, gained altitude and took on heavy notes of pure brashness. "'I know you're doing something weird with marks: own up!' Your typical results are less than exemplary -- Rainbow?"
It wasn't easy to get a "What?" out in the middle of a yawn, but Rainbow managed the feat.
Openly concerned, "You don't look well."
"We talked about this," Rainbow irritably declared. "With the stuff about how the vouchers are being sent. If ponies are sick, then it's not from breath: I get that. I haven't touched anypony's blood, I sure haven't picked out anypony else's bed to share, and while the food around here can make you sick, I'm pretty sure --"
"-- you look tired," Twilight cut her off.
Defensively, "I'm not gonna nap while we're talking strategy, okay? Plans usually aren't that boring --"
"Rainbow," Pinkie softly said. "Talk to us. Please..."
A basic sigh, emerging from Rainbow, could have the power of an electric jolt. "I've been flying around a lot. Because... I'm the only one who's flying at all. Maybe if it's a sickness, then they can't fly. And I don't want to make anypony feel bad about that. But the way they talk..." Slowly, "It's like they don't fly because nopony else does. Not 'can't'. 'Won't'. So I thought... if I flew, if I reminded the pegasi here what it's like... then maybe I could get somepony up in the air. So I kept going around today. Offering to help with stuff, anywhere flying would make it easier. Everypony gets that? Trying to inspire."
"Helping out," Applejack carefully repeated. Most of the raw disbelief had been kept out.
"Hey, you know me! 'Assistance' is my middle name! Rainbow Assistance Dash -- Spike, I know you're snickering, you didn't get your hand in front of your mouth that fast --"
"-- you don't have a middle name," the little dragon giggled. "Hardly anypony --"
"-- Roemer."
There were now seven sapients staring at her.
"...Roemer," Fluttershy softly said. "Really? Because when Softtread introduced us at the party..."
"Rainbow Roemer Dash," the pegasus yawned. "I just didn't tell him. Twilight can ask for a copy of my birth paperwork from the Herdbook Registry if you don't believe me. Just remember that the next time anypony trots out 'Pinkamena Diane Pie', it's a tie." Wings wearily stretched to full extension, folded back to the rest position. "Anyway, I tried. But they just kept bringing out portable ramps. And they've got these platforms which sort of extend up. You turn a mouth crank, and the whole thing unfolds. Vertically. Neat stuff. Ratchette would probably love it. If we get to bring back a blueprint --"
"-- and that's why you're this tired?" Twilight asked. "Just from flying? You always catch up with naps --"
"-- she's been having bad dreams."
Twilight's stare jolted itself towards the northwest corner of the room. It had plenty of company.
The performer didn't flinch. Rainbow's eyes slowly closed.
"That is not your place to say," Rarity's soft anger declared. "It should be her choice. Not yours."
"We're sharing the same bedroom," Trixie evenly observed. "I can see the way she moves. She keeps waking up --"
"-- bad dreams?" Twilight cut in, because the situation needed to be defused and interrupting might buy time to figure out how. "What kind?"
Rainbow was silent. Quiet and -- still.
"The kind I don't want to think about while I'm awake," the pegasus finally said. "Maybe my brain is just trying to see if it can come up with something strong enough to get Luna down here." The prismatic tail twitched. "An awesomely bad nightmare..."
"...we're out of her range," Fluttershy softly said. "Twilight talked about that. If she could reach us, she would have."
"Figures..." Rainbow grumbled. "Okay, then I'll tell my subconscious to shut up. Anything else?"
"Yeah," Spike carefully said. "We've got to remember how this started."
"With an earth pony teleporting into Canterlot and dying on the spot," Twilight quietly offered. "I'm not going to forget any time soon, Spike. I keep hoping that if we hear from the palace, they'll have his name --"
"-- with Scootaloo," the little dragon firmly broke in. "That's the first time I saw that field color. When the lockdown bounced the scroll back and destroyed it. The message for her parents. And maybe they're under another shield somewhere else, one she cast --" it was almost a mutter "-- and I know somepony's probably going to say something about there only being so many colors -- but what if they're here?"
Six ponies thought about it. The light blue unicorn took a slow breath.
"Scootaloo?" Trixie asked. "Who's --"
"-- not your concern," Rarity immediately interrupted.
I think my blood pressure just surged.
Or maybe it's a normal headache coming in.
...migraine?
Say something...
Applejack shook her head. "Everything's our concern right now," the farmer said. "Here's the short version --"
"-- it is a family matter," Rarity snapped. "She is not --"
"-- she's one more pair of eyes keeping a lookout," Applejack countered. "We need as many of those as we can get."
Rarity silently fumed. Applejack looked directly at Trixie. "I'll keep the charge line fast and straight. Scootaloo's a filly, little younger than my sister. They're in the same class. And she lived alone for years. Her parents sent in prepaid vouchers so she could keep up on the mortgage and pay her own way, but nopony ever saw them."
Slowly, Trixie nodded. "And when Spike tried to contact them for her..."
"Yeah," Applejack told the unicorn. "So the theory we've got right now is that they might be around here somewhere. Best case is they're sick and didn't want to come back until the cure came in. And even that's going to take some explaining. But if we can find them, and we tell them that their daughter's living with me right now, wants to know they're okay, needs them to come home... then maybe those are the ponies we can trust." Darkly, "And if they've got a different reason for being here, they could be the first ones we kick."
"It might not stop with kicks," Rainbow immediately stated.
Nopony said anything for ten long seconds.
"Applejack," Twilight finally broke the silence, "I should have asked you this moons ago. What do they look like?"
It made the farmer's lips twitch. "Can't have a search party without knowing who you're searching for... Okay. Scootaloo had pictures. Miranda showed me a couple, and Rainbow's seen one. So... her father's an earth pony. Big stallion, close to Mac's size. Brown fur: just about Mr. Rich's shade, maybe a little lighter. Mane and tail... that's more like Scootaloo, but darker. Same for the eyes. Snout's a little short, and his cheek fur is on the rough side. Uneven grain. The mark is a camera with an unfolded map off to one side. Not that it might mean much around here, but..."
Twilight nodded. "And her mother?"
"Just about the same height," Applejack immediately said. "So she's really gonna stand out in a crowd. She's one of those ponies who's sixty percent legs and twenty percent wings."
"...pegasus," Fluttershy quietly noted. "What else?"
"Sort of a peach color on the fur," the earth pony continued. "Blonde, but lighter than me. She's got some streaks in her hair which get close to white. Long eyelashes. She looks like Rarity might if that one could get some decent fakes and binding glue which held up for more than two hours --"
"-- noted," the designer cut in, and did so with a slight smile. "Anything else?"
Applejack nodded. "She's got Scootaloo's eyes, or vice-versa. Strong chin, ears are a little big for her head. Mark is a compass, and what I'm guessing is a stylized wind gust near the tail side."
"What are their names?" Pinkie asked.
"Snap Shutter and Mane Allgood," Applejack promptly said. "Oh, and if you ever wondered: it's Scootaloo Allgood." With a soft chuckle, "Took moons before she admitted that. I saw the name on the bank account, but she'll only use it for official stuff. She loves her mother, but she hates the name."
The farmer stopped. Green eyes closed, slowly opened again.
"She... loves her mother," Applejack repeated. "Or maybe she loves the idea of her mother, because it's been years and... most of what she's got are memories and ideas. Of what her parents were, and what they should be. I'm -- really hoping she's right."
"So if we see them --" Spike began.
Applejack raised her right forehoof: wait. "-- I don't know what we do if we see them. Tell the rest of the group, let us know you found them. And maybe stop there until we can all talk again. They might be the ponies we take a chance with first, Spike, but -- it's still been years. I want to hear a reason for those years." With a long sigh, "And I don't even know if we can call out to them by name. Not with what we've heard around here. Because they might have changed those too."
Eight sapients. Three long breaths of total silence.
"The names are so strange here," Pinkie finally observed. "They don't say anything about who a pony is, or what they look like, or -- anything. They're just sounds. Sounds which mean -- the pony who makes them. And nothing else..."
"...I think," Fluttershy carefully said, "the names --" and stopped. Her head tilted forward, and the one visible eye vanished behind manefall as feathers sagged towards the floor.
"Fluttershy?" Twilight quickly checked. "What's --"
"-- this is... hard," the caretaker's pained voice declared. "It's... from him. And I still have to say it, because it might be important..."
"From Doctor Gentle," Pinkie readily guessed --
-- check on her.
Curls are still there. Tail drooped, but the shade didn't change. Eyes are normal --
"-- and that makes it hard to think about," the baker carefully continued. "Worse to say. I know, Fluttershy. But if it can help..."
"Everypony here," Rarity began -- then glared at Trixie again. "Well, nearly everypony here is aware of his nature. But as was roughly said in Trotter's Falls regarding a certain -- stone -- the fact that the source of an idea is... distasteful... does not automatically make the idea itself invalid." More gently, "We are here, Fluttershy. It's safe."
Slowly, the hybrid nodded.
"...we've talked about... the idea that this was being done on purpose," Fluttershy reminded them. "That there might be ponies who wanted to get rid of their marks, try new ones. I... sort of understand that. Because I had a mark which told me that I needed to be on the ground, and..." Her head came up, and just enough manefall slipped backwards to reveal the faint, wry smile. "...let's just say that most of Stratuston didn't approve. But the mark is destiny, and -- there's ponies who feel the same way about names. He did. It's part of why changing your name is such a big deal. That you have to be really bold, or -- really dumb, because a lot of ponies think you're tampering with destiny..."
"And the ponies of Truedawn," Rarity carefully took over, "claim to have names which mean -- themselves. Nothing else. No associations -- Pinkie? You are rather visibly thinking about something."
"One of the ponies in the herd which brought us in," Pinkie told them, and the curly tail protectively moved in to cover the right hip. "I asked him if he was happy. And he said he was alive, and -- free. Free from what? Free from his mark, free from a name..."
"Starlight," Rarity cautiously told them, "said they were exploring a better way of life..."
"No destiny," Twilight slowly breathed. "Are they trying to go that far?"
A life without guidance.
...no. Try it another way.
...no impulses rising from within.
Nothing softer than a whisper.
When we were up on the tepui. My mark wanted to work out the effects built into the shield spell, as much as I wanted to find Spike. My mark.
'Sparkle' -- that suggests magic and casting, doesn't it? Because there's always those little twinkles of light in an active field. So maybe that's the first push onto the path. And if the name is shed...
...if the mark changes, vanishes, becomes something else...
Flank-brain doesn't exist. There's nothing there which can try to think for me, even for a second.
...it would be my thoughts.
Constantly.
Every decision becomes mine, and mine alone.
...what would that be like?
She thought about it.
There was a single instant when she wanted it.
And then she hated herself again.