//------------------------------// // On the Suitability of Certain Horticulture // Story: Sun Redacted // by daOtterGuy //------------------------------// Wallflower Blush was not the type to be caught up in the artistry of gardening. They were plants. Certainly they were beautiful and better company than any pony, but the main draw of plants was how practical they were. They stopped erosion, they provided shade, they could be used for medicine, and the list of their uses went on and on forever. However, even she could begrudgingly recognize the artistic flair of her work in the Arbour Pavilion. It was one of the three special gardens privately owned by Princess Celestia and tended to by herself. It had taken a lot to get the position, and she relished the relative ownership she had over it. Barring that, she followed the Orders. The Orders were similar to those of her coworker Mr. Green (whom she admitted was incredibly talented at what he did), but had a few extra steps involved due to the necessities of what was contained in the Arbour Pavilion. Order One. Do not ask questions. Wallflower never had any interest in asking any, so this suited her just fine. Order Two. Do not listen to anything that is told to you while in the Pavilion, including from the Princess herself. Wallflower could barely tolerate other ponies, let alone listen to them, and when it came to the Princess herself… she preferred never even seeing her. And this was where her and Mr. Green’s duties diverged. Whereas Mr. Green only needed to bury, Wallflower’s responsibilities were more involved. Order Three. Guards will periodically deliver Entities to be planted. Ensure Entities are secured in place before proceeding with further Orders. Said Guards had indeed delivered a new Entity to be planted, but had proven, once again, that they were useless. They were never the Agents that captured the Something (term stolen from Mr. Green), but the undertrained cleanup crew who were, at best, meat shields. One such meat shield got swiped by a… claw? Hook? Hand? Something, and was sent careening across the ground with several life-ending cracks. The other three were in various states of unhelpfulness. It had been completely their fault. Wallflower could have easily restrained the Something when it had been released from its cage, but they insisted that the ‘little filly’ (who was built like a brick wall) should stay out of the way of the ‘big studs’ (who had the musculature of teeangers just out of puberty. Nerdy teenagers). The earth pony ‘stallion’ of the group was screaming for their mom while latched onto the back of what Wallflower presumed was the Something’s head. Another was fanning it with his wings, which was supposed to do… something. The third was… well, ‘casting’ was a bit too strong of a word to describe what the unicorn was attempting to do. They were flinging half-baked spells at the Something, which basically amounted to a subpar light show. Wallflower knew what real spellcasting looked like. Sunset— She launched her magic into the ground and commanded the nearby trees to assist her. Twisted branches grabbed the colts and dropped them off behind her. That meant she could focus solely on the Something. An entity that, like its predecessors, was very difficult to describe. It was tall, bipedal and looked like an artist’s interpretation of what a Minotaur is. It had… Wallflower still didn’t really know what to call them. Hooks? Hooks, all over its body, even in places that didn’t make any sense. In place of an abdomen was a stove of some kind with no discernible purpose. It was also jacked in a way that showed that the artist didn’t know what functional proportions were. None of this really mattered, as any clarification would require asking questions, and she was bound by Order 1. Confirming that the Guards had been saved, she commanded the same trees with her magic to hold the Something in place. Branches darted around the Something’s limbs, binding them in place. Its furnace stomach burst into flame and began to pour out fire across its body (Wallflower now understood its purpose). However, its efforts were futile, as Wallflower ensured that all varieties of trees planted in the Pavillion were deciduous and heavily resistant to flames. Nothing short of Princess Celestia herself was going to burn down her trees. Imprisonment was all that waited for this abomination. Order Four. Once firmly rooted, plant a new sapling within the core of Entity. Use magic to rapidly grow into Stage 2 growth. Once sapling is confirmed to have been planted within the Entity, leave overnight to rest. “...Grab the sapling,” Wallflower told the unicorn colt. “You could do that this entire time?!” The unicorn exclaimed. “Why didn’t you start with that?!” Because he called her a little filly. Because he clearly wanted to be a big macho pony. Because he talked down to her. Because he was literally wasting the air around them with his breathing. Because he was incapable of following the simplest of instructions. Because he was a bed wetting, pansy, sniveling, diaper foal, IDI— “...Grab the sapling,” Wallflower repeated. The dullard blinked, then followed her command. He levitated a cherry blossom sapling from a cart and moved it toward the Something. “Now, gently—” the idiotic waste of space slammed it into the Something’s stove torso. Wallflower reminded herself that murder was frowned upon, as was maiming. “...Stay out of the way.” The trash colt galloped twenty paces away from her along with his two idiotic compatriots. Excessive, but it suited Wallflower, as she didn’t need to deal with them anymore. Using her magic, she called to the sapling from afar, grasping it at its source. She pumped it with magic, a slow trickle that grew into a crashing wave. It grew in proportion to the rapid increase of magicked fertilizer. Roots burrowed into the Something’s body as it roared in defiance and struggled against its bonds. But it was on the lower end of monstrosities that found their way into her garden and stood no chance against her. Wallflower approached the Something. She circled it as it roared at her, checking that the sapling was firmly rooted within it. Satisfied with her work, she commanded two other trees to entangle the Something, just in case, and trotted back toward the guards. “Can we go now?” the unicorn asked. Wallflower nodded. They galloped out of the Pavilion. She rolled her eyes. They just kept getting worse. She missed when she had a competent crew to assist her. When she marginally enjoyed the company of other ponies. When Sunset— She shook her head. There was no point dwelling on that. Too sweet. Like everything served in the castle. The tea had been brewed to Celestia’s specifications, which meant it would never sate Wallflower’s more bitterly inclined palette. Of course, Wallflower knew the real reason it was so sweet. Publicly, the Princess had a massive sweet tooth, but in private, Celestia had told her that it was because poisons tended to dilute the flavour, which meant if it wasn’t sugary sweet, Celestia could immediately know if it was poisoned. She was seated in the Gardener’s Gazebo at the intersection of the special gardens: Clover, Arbour, and Cornucopia. A lovely place of perpetual sun to relax and be forced to interact with her coworkers in (though Mr. Green was an adequate conversational partner most days). It had been just the two of them for a while, but they were joined by a third that day that Wallflower couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of and instead called Gardener 3. “So. Just started today, eh?” Mr. Green asked. “Yep, and I’m super looking forward to working with all of you,” Gardener 3 said. “Please look after me well, seniors!” Wallflower gave a noncommittal grunt. Mr. Green was silent. That seemed to take some of the pep out of Gardener 3’s cheer. Good. “So, ya got yer Orders for the Cornucopia Pavilion?” Mr. Green asked. “Oh, yeah, but like, you don’t actually follow them to the letter, right?” She waved a hoof. “I’m sure you have, like, shortcuts to get the work done faster?” Wallflower and Mr. Green shared a knowing look. “...Follow the Orders,” Wallflower said. “They’re there for a reason,” Mr. Green added. “But what if I have questions about the job?” Gardener 3 inquired. “Ah, listen to this mare. Questions. Worst thing to have.” Mr. Green scoffed. “Better livin’ without any answers, lass.” Wallflower nodded. “That’s a workers’ rights violation.” Gardener 3 narrowed her eyes. “You can’t just not ask questions. Also, seriously? ‘Follow the Orders’? That’s your best advice?” Wallflower and Mr. Green both nodded. She looked at them in disgust, turned her nose up at them, then trotted out of the Gazebo. “...How long do you think she’ll last?” Wallflower asked. “We won’t even see’er tomorrow,” Mr. Green replied. She agreed with that assessment. She took another sip. Still too sweet. Order 5. Tend to the new sapling until it has fully consumed the entity. Wallflower charged the sapling with more magic as she fine-tuned the roots holding the Something in place. The Something had long since given up, having been mostly consumed by this point, and simply waited for the process to finish. The tree that had grown from its body had a reddish hue with bright pink leaves that were fully embedded into the Something’s flesh. She had called off the other trees a day ago, knowing that they weren’t needed any longer. She had come a long way from her first job in the Pavilion. She needed constant encouragement back then. Which wasn’t hard, since she had… There was no point in reminiscing. Wallflower wiped the sudden tears from her eyes and refocused her attention on the task at hoof. She had a Something to slowly kill. “It’s truly fascinating how these gardens work. I would love to study them more closely, alas—” Gardener 3, stallion edition, threw their head back with a hoof “—I am disallowed to do so. Unless somepony more experienced had  some insight…?” “Nope,” Mr Green replied. “...Don’t ask questions,” Wallflower added. “Really?” Gardener 3 asked in disbelief. “No, nagging inquiries? No thoughts on the matter? Nothing?!” “Nope,” Mr Green said. “...Order 1,” Wallflower added. Gardener 3 got up from his seat and left in a huff, stomping out of the Gazebo. “Told ya she’d last only a day,” Mr Green said. “Unsurprising,” Wallflower replied. “What happened to her?” “A Something broke her noggin’. Literally and metaphorically,” Mr Green said. “Gettin’ patched up in the hospital and should be right as rain in a few months. Course, she ain’t keepin’ her position here. I expect that stallion to follow after her soon enough.” “Hm,” she sipped tea. “I also expect that.” “Honestly, wish I knew how these fools kept gettin’ past the screening.” “...Same way the cleanup crew do. Anypony can fake it enough to get through the interview. It's the follow through they crash and burn on.” “That sounds like somethin’ ya learned from the fiery lass.” Wallflower slammed the table, rattling the cups. She wasn’t sure what her expression was at that moment, but Mr. Green’s made her think it wasn’t good. “Er, not?” Mr. Green said. He tapped his cup nervously. “I didn’t mean to insult ya or anythin’. Didn’t realize you didn’t want to talk about her.” Her mind was blank, unable to find a way out of the conversational rut Mr. Green had accidentally brought them into. In lieu of a proper response, Wallflower relied on an old technique she employed back in school. She left. Wallflower believed in practicality. Though plants could be pretty, it was their use that made them great. But even Wallflower’s callous heart had to admit— It was beautiful. A towering sakura blossom, burning redder than the brightest flames. Petals like dancing embers amongst its branches. The Something’s form twisted and bent into the wood grain, a portrait of agony and pain. There was an artistry to it, a difficult-to-describe feeling that came from the presentation of its figure. More importantly, though, within the central knot of the tree was a fiery red pomegranate. The last residue of the Something to be destroyed before it was properly, wholly contained, or it would be able to reform outside of its new prison. Unfortunately for Wallflower, her least-favourite Princess was required for that step. Order 6. Once the tree has blossomed and bears fruit, send for the Princess to dispose of it. “Good morning, Wallflower.” Wallflower did not return the greeting. The Princess stopped right next to her. She was as radiant as ever, which was to say as annoying as the harsh glare of the sun. “I see another fruit has grown,” Celestia remarked. “Always a pleasure to see the results of your hoofwork.” Don’t answer. “Will you stay silent once again? I remember that we used to have tons of meaningful conversations in the past.” Don’t. Answer. “Is there really nothing you would like to talk about? Perhaps something mundane like the weather or the state of the garden?” Don’t. Answer. “...Are you still mad at me about what I said to Sunset?” Furious. Livid. Seething. No one word could describe the sheer rage Wallflower felt toward Celestia. She tried to bury it, tried to keep the memories out, but one word from that horrid mare and she was back reliving that conversation again. She’d been there. In the shadows, listening in concern for her closest friend who had become more and more withdrawn over the last few weeks. This heartless mare, this so-called Princess with the grace of a rock being thrown at a glass house, had told her, someone she had once said she cared about more than life itself, that she would never be good enough. That nothing she could ever do would let her achieve her ambitions. It was the last straw. The final wound against a myriad of scars. Wallflower never saw Sunset again. She’d left. Disappeared overnight. Questions were met with vague responses that did nothing to bring closure to her. Sunset was gone and Wallflower was never going to see her again. The only thing that made things okay, the one hope Wallflower held onto… was that she was alive and happy somewhere. That she’d run away and found a life that brought her unending joy. She wanted to ask— no, demand where she was, but Celestia only appeared to her in these moments. Order 1. Do not ask questions. Order 2. Do not listen to anything that is told to you while in the Pavilion, including from the Princess herself. She couldn’t ask a question. She couldn’t provide an answer. But a knife wound wasn’t either of those. “...You’ll never be good enough to be a real mother.” In a rare instance, Wallflower watched the regality of Princess Celestia fall and reveal the fragility of pony Celestia. The misery. The heartache. The devastation that hung about her. The part of her she hid from the rest of the world. Then, just as suddenly as it came, the walls were back up. “...I believe we’ve spent enough time on pleasantries,” Celestia announced. Her horn lit up. Flames consumed the pomegranate. It melted, releasing screeches and hisses as the very core of the entity burned alive. After a few moments, the Something was officially trapped. It was now a Nothing. “Thank you for your continued service,” Celestia said. Professional. Slightly uplifting. A small, neutral smile. The kind of response Celestia gave to her subjects to keep the distance between them. Just as Wallflower preferred. Celestia left, leaving Wallflower alone. She regarded her latest work. It was one in a pattern that had recently emerged amongst her recent entrapments. A tree on fire. A monument to flames. The burnings of ambition and a confidence she found endearing. Fiery mane. Bright eyes. The image of a mare glowing like the sunrise… just before it was snuffed out by the horizon. Wallflower wiped the tears from her eyes and left. She had work to do. And remembering was pointless.