//------------------------------// // Pinkie Speaks // Story: Of Challenges and Kisses // by RavensDagger //------------------------------// Featherweight’s saddlebags smacked against his sides, creating dull thumping noises as he slouched along, his eyes downcast. Within those bags, two tiny objects burned holes into his back. His head lifted and he looked around at the otherwise peaceful day. Ponies were talking and chatting in the open market, bartering over various wares with good-humoured quips and comebacks. His eyes wandered around, looking for a source of joy. Baby birds flitted across the sky, chirping as they played a game only they understood. A few couples sat below the wavy branches of willows, snuggling and touching hooves while attempting to ignore the glances of strangers. The sky was clear, save for a single white cloud that moved around the sun, obscuring it just enough to protect the skin of fair-furred ponies. He sighed again, feeling none of the joy that seemed so abundant. Why is everything so complicated? he wondered as he tucked himself into a cool alleyway behind an applecart selling freshly bucked apples. Amongst the almost-dirty walls and few bits of trash, he somehow felt secure. The smells of apples, rotten garbage, and warm Sugarcube Corner pie wafted by him. He ignored them, focusing on nothing but the things in his pack. So, Sweetie Belle likes me... His forehoof dug a furrow in the ground as he blushed involuntarily. But I like Scootaloo, and she’s the one... the one I want to be with. He glanced at his worn bags and at the very tip of a letter poking out from beneath one of the lapels. But Sweetie is nice, I guess. He turned his head back towards the road, focusing on the slow traffic. No, it’s Scootaloo that I like, he told himself with a firm nod. A single filly skipped by, a unicorn whose smile split her face apart as she levitated a paper bag overflowing with candy. She glanced his way, her beaming smile widening as her eyes locked with his. He looked away, stung by the memory of another, similar filly. Sweetie Belle. She... she actually likes me. No other mare would do that, w-would they? I mean, who would care about me? She must be crazy. But she is nice, and cute, sorta. He gulped and looked at the road again, letting his mind go numb as he surveyed the moving crowd. A rainbow-maned mare blew by, a large, cocky grin adorning her face which was partially hidden by a rainbow-coloured cardboard cutout. Featherweight leaned out of the alleyway, looking through the slits of the nearby cart to watch as she fluttered to a halt in front of Sugarcube Corner and barge into the gingerbread house-shaped building. Rainbow Dash, he thought before biting his lower lip. I should probably apologize; I wasn’t very nice yesterday. Putting one hoof in front of another, he stepped out of the shadowed alley and into the bright sunlight, feeling the warm beams as they heated his coat. With uncertain steps, he marched around the gathered ponies and stalls, his eyes on his candy-cane-covered goal. As the wind shifted, the thick cloying smell of fresh pie, candy, and cakes of every flavour imaginable assaulted him, making his mouth salivate and his eyes water. He approached the front door that was held ajar by an old rainboot and looked in, spotting a pink blur going from table to table. Looking around some more, he saw Rainbow Dash sitting at the counter with her arms crossed. The young pegasus froze at the doorway, shifting his weight from hoof to hoof. Hmm, maybe I should say sorry as she walks out? Or tomorrow? He hopped to one side and away from the entrance as a customer trotted out of the building, a bag held within his smiling mouth. Again, he looked at the bright interior before shying away and slinking around the shop. The side of the store was as gaudy as its front, almost as if the decorator had decided to assault the bright building with candy, cookies, cakes, and gingerbread while on a sugar high. Nearby, an open window was exhaling a thin vapour of steam, carrying with it the unique smell of gooey awsomeness native to Sugarcube Corner while two distinct voices spilled out. Featherweight’s ears perked. I shouldn’t be listening in; it’s rude, he told himself, determined to walk on. “Oh, I was at the treehouse. Scootaloo had this thing organized about me, so I figured I’d join the party,” one brash voice said as it was carried outside, dragged into the colt’s ears by the smooth wind. The shamefaced colt gulped and looked at the open window, biting his lip as he suddenly broke out into a sweat. “Aww, why didn’t she invite me? I’d have brought a cake or something!” Pinkie Pie’s distinct voice quipped. “So, how did it go?” she asked over the chinking of dishes on the glass counter. Featherweight lost his battle against his pride and slid towards the window, one of his beige ears poking above the sill. “Meh, it was okay. They were really surprised when I flew in and sat at the back. I even put one of their silly hats on. I’m telling you, their looks were priceless! You should’ve been there.” “Well, maybe I’ll go next time! Did the meeting go well?” “Uh-huh. Scootaloo knows her stuff; it’s almost creepy. I think she’s been going through my trash...” “Oh, trash picking is fun!”  An awkward silence filled the shop as customers stalled mid-meal. “What? You find all sorts of cool things!” “Um, right...” Rainbow Dash said, stretching the word out. “Anyway, some bits were weird... Pinkie, what do you know about love?” The pink mare gasped, dropping whatever she held in her hooves as she rushed towards her friend, hooves clacking against walls and ceiling. “You’re in love?” “What? Me? No! Some little colt. He likes Scootaloo or something. Anyway, I sorta promised him that I’d drop a good word for him with her.”  Pinkie Pie’s hooves clamped onto the counter, and her voice deepened. “You didn’t break a promise, did you? ‘Cause love is reallllyy important, and you should never mess with it.” “What? No! I’m just not sure if I did the right thing. Apparently, Scootaloo ‘loves’ me, or something.” “She loves you, huh?” Rainbow Dash groaned before her makeshift wig was flicked out of the window, landing with a thump on the ground. Featherweight stared at it, then grabbed it with a wing to examine it, making sure to keep his ears perked “I don’t know. She knows more about me than I do. And she says she wants to so be me when she grows up...” The party pony giggled, her musical voice tinkling out of the still-open window. “Oh, I don’t think she loves you, Rainbow. She just likes you a lot.” The pink mare snorted. “How much do you know about Soarin’, or Spitfire?” “That’s not the same,” she whined. “I like them, but I’m not obsessed with them... much.” “Right, of course you aren’t...” Her voice practically smiled for her. “What about the colt? How was he?” Featherweight cringed as Rainbow sighed. “He was really pitiful. I mean, he was crying and screaming and just really, really sad. It was sorta weird...” “Well, maybe he was heartbroken? That’s the worst kind of sad.” The mare’s voice softened, becoming almost motherly. “Not even a quick joke, some good cake, or a friend being there can help that. You need to either solve it with the one who broke your heart, or let time heal you.” She shook her head, her wild mane swishing from side to side. “So you tried to help him?” “Well, I put a good word in for him, and I talked to Scootaloo about her... ‘love’ for me. I didn’t know what to do after that, so I sorta just left.” Pinkie Pie hummed to herself. “And what did Scootaloo do?” “She looked a little confused, but then she smiled and said that as long as she could like me she was happy.” “Hmm, I see. And what do you think of all of this?” “What do I think? I don’t know. I’m not into that love stuff; I don’t need it. All I need are these awesome wings, and I’m good.” Pinkie snorted again. “Okay, what about your friends? Don’t you need those?” “Well, I guess I do, sometimes. You guys are awesome, too. But I don’t have time for love. And anyway, there isn’t a stallion out there cool enough for me.” The pink pony’s laughter filled the building. “Silly Rainbow, you don’t choose when love happens! It just happens. Did you plan on becoming friends with Twilight?” “No, I guess.” “Did you schedule having five friends that love and support you?” “Not really.” Featherweight poked an eye over the sill, watching as Pinkie Pie knowingly smiled at Rainbow Dash over a cupcake-filled glass counter. “Think about that colt. He probably didn’t plan on falling in love, but he did. Now, how would you feel if someone stepped between you and us? Not that good, huh? I think it’s much nicer to let them see if they work for each other.” “Yeah, I guess.” The rainbow-maned mare glanced at a wall-mounted clock made to look like an iced cake. “Look, I have to go; there’s a, uh, Weather Patrol thing.” The mare stood, chair scraping back as she nodded good-bye to her friend with a reddened face. Featherweight followed her out with his eyes. Hmm, I guess she isn’t so brave when it comes to that sort of thing. He opened his eyes to a gigantic pink face not an inch away from his own. “Aaah!” His hooves flayed out in every direction as he toppled onto his back. “What?” Pinkie Pie laughed, half her body spilling out of the window as she clutched at her chest. “Did I spook you? You should have seen your face!” she said from within the frame, a smile splitting her face. Sh-she knew that I was there? Uh-oh. “Since... since when did you--” “Know that you were there? The entire time, silly!” The mare leaned back, motioning towards the inside with a wave of her head. “Come on in, I’ll get you something to eat, on the house. Well, not on the house. Nopony should eat on the roof; that’d be silly!” The mare disappeared within. Blinking, Featherweight stood up, the wig still held by his wingtips as he approached the window. “You’re not supposed to come in from the window!” she chastised. Oh, uh, right. Slowly, Featherweight made his way to the front of the shop, uncertain as he tucked his head into the warmer building. Within, he was greeted by a wave of sugary air emanating from a huge oven behind a quick-hoofed pink mare. Pinkie used a wooden pole and a few years of fine-tuned experienced to handle hot pies. With a quick swipe, she deposited the round mounds of glory on a nearby table where a few customers eyed them with gluttonous eyes and salivating mouths. She served them with a big smile, winking towards Featherweight and pointing with her chin towards the same counter she was at with Rainbow moments before. He stepped in, quickly moving across the brightly decorated room to the counter, hoping on the stool there and slouching his shoulders before tossing the cardboard wig onto it. Should I just leave? he wondered, giving the doorway a quick glance. His cheeks reddened. No, what do I have to lose? The last of the pies left with the snatching of customer’s hooves and the tinkling of bits in a glass bowl. Pinkie Pie waved and thanked them before excusing herself and skipping across the room, beams of light flashing from her teeth. “Hi, Feathers,” she said as she landed in front of him, not a sound coming from her hooves as they tapped the ground. The mare moved behind the counter, bending down to reach below it before reappearing with a glass cup that had strawberries printed on its side. With a thump, she placed it in front of him. “On the counter!” He blinked at the cup. “Uh, what is it?” he asked, poking at the thick substance that was far from liquid. “It’s a cup of cake!” Featherweight examined the cup before smiling sheepishly and picking up a spoon. This is... He looked at the cup, sniffing at it tentatively. The strong tang of strawberries mixed with the delicate aftertaste of vanilla. This smells great! Bending over the cup, the eager colt assaulted the cake with a ravenous appetite. The mare leaned against the tabletop, watching with glee as he tore through the meal. “So, you love Scootaloo, right?” He choked, bits of the cake sputtering all over the place as he desperately clutched at his throat. Pinkie Pie giggled before trotting away, returning a moment later with a glass of cool milk. “It’s okay,” she said. “Love can be a... difficult subject, and difficult isn’t always fun, is it?” What’s she trying to do? “No, I guess not,” he said, scepticism dripping through. He nibbled at the rest of the cup of cake, slowly savouring it. “When you see Miss Dash again, could you say sorry to her for me?” The mare smiled again. “Nope!” “Huh?” He blinked at her. She shook her head. “I’m not going to apologize for you. A responsible pony should be able to apologize for him or herself.” She leaned forward, eyeing him. “Aren’t you a responsible little colt?” “I-I guess I am.” “Good! Now, how about you tell auntie Pinkie about your problems?” Featherweight shrunk back, shoulders slumping as he eyed her warily. She slapped him on the shoulder, her warm eyes looking into his. “C’mon, talking about your feelings will only make you feel better,” she said. Hmm, maybe she’s right? I mean, it’s not like I could feel any worse. “Okay. What should I say?” “Just talk,” she encouraged, her voice gentle and soft.  “Alright. Well, um, I, euh.” He coughed, averting his eyes. Should I really talk to her? No, I won’t bother her. Maybe I can just say enough to leave? A long, low sigh escaped him. “I like Scootaloo.” She's being really kind to me, might as well play along? “I know that, silly. But why do you like her?” “I don’t know.... She’s pretty?” he said, finishing the last of the cake in the silence that ensued. “Well, do you love all the pretty mares?” Pinkie leaned in, a mischievous gleam in her blue eyes. “I’m a pretty mare; don’t you like me?” Featherweight blushed. “It’s not just that. She’s smart, too, and nice to her friends. And nice to me, too.” He looked out the window, the same one he had been eavesdropping from moments ago. “When I met her, she was just another girl in the class, but then... I don’t know.” “You had your eyes on her?” she pushed. “Yeah, I guess. And then I, uh, I started liking her. But I never did anything about it. Not until that project, I guess.” Pinkie Pie hummed to herself, tapping a hoof on her chin. “But why do you like her? Did she ever do something that made you fall for her? Or do you just like her on principle?” “Um, I-I don’t know.” Why do I like Scootaloo? That’s silly; I just like her. Isn’t that enough? “I just like her, and I have for a long time. So I told her. But she doesn’t like me. She doesn’t even care about me. All she cares about is Rainbow Dash and flying. But I like her. She has the prettiest wings, and that smile. And she thinks like a boy, which is cool. She’s the awesomest pony in the school!” “Sounds like you like her for what she is. Do you guys have fun together? Is she nice to you?” “Huh? Yeah, I guess. We had some fun together. Lot’s of fun. At the hill with that cart, and at the field, we tried to fly. That was great. Oh, and with Apple Bloom and Sweet—?” Featherweight coughed. “Anyway. She is nice to me; she’s nice to everypony.” The colt sank into a contemplative silence which Pinkie Pie promptly broke. “Does she love you?” He shook his head from side to side, examining his hooves the entire time. But I can make her love me, right? “You can’t force love, not without getting arrested. Oh, you can be her friend, and you can even like her very, very much, but if Scootaloo doesn’t love you, there’s nothing you can do about that. Not even after a million parties and a thousand fun times... What about Sweetie Belle?” Immediately, Featherweight began squirming on his seat. “Um...” “Is she nice to you?” “Well, I know that she likes me. And she is nice and... I think she gets me... but she’s not Scootaloo. Scootaloo and her pretty purple eyes, and her tomboyishness...” Pinkie Pie got up, her eyes surveying a new batch of customers trotting into the shop with flaring noses and greedy eyes. “Oh, more ponies! I’m sorry, Featherweight, but I have work to do. Just think about this: your heart will tell you who is right for you. You have to listen to it. But a couple is made up of two parts, just like ice cream. Without the ice, it’s all warm and iky. Without the cream, all you have is a brain freeze in the making. You need to listen to her heart, too.” With that, the mare hopped away, greeting her customers with squeals of delight and wide-eyed enthusiasm. Featherweight pushed the cup across the counter before leaning his chin on it. Hmm, what did she mean? I understand the bit about Scootaloo maybe not liking me. And I guess the bit with Sweet-- No, I don’t have time for doubt. The colt slammed a hoof on the counter, the cup bouncing and rattling as the tabletop shivered. I have to try, one last time. I’m going to ask her out!  Reaching around, he unclasped the lapels of his saddlebags and pulled out the two gold-and-blue tickets, staring at them before shoving them back into the bag. Turning, he picked up the rainbow-wig, holding it in his mouth as he pushed away from the display case. With a confident stride and straight back, the colt trotted to the entrance of the building and into the sun, his coat glowing as he moved forward. His brows furrowed as he looked around the area, past the jovial crowds, and towards the snakey little roads that lead out of town. With a huff, Featherweight hopped out of the store and trotted away, heading towards the woods at the edge of town. Ponies passed him on either side, including more and more foals, many of whom were heading home with broad smiles and ridiculous rainbow wigs. He followed the tide to its source, ignoring the inviting smiles and happy cheers as he exited the town. The colourful buildings were quickly replaced with a pastoral countryside. The air was still and warm, yet not suffocating, allowing birds to flutter freely across the bluer than blue sky while the colt trotted across the plain, following a well trodden path. Almost there, he told himself as he rounded the final corner, the trees and bushes parting to give him a clear view of the treehouse. The rickety building stood proud in the centre of its clearing, framed by a thick blanket of springtime flowers and the fresh blooms of the apple tree it was built on. In front of it, a ramp angled upwards and into the salmon pink building, one of its white pickets dangling from a single rusty nail. A filly was climbing down the ramp, a beaming smile on her face as she waved behind her. “See you later, Scoots!” she called before hopping down the last few steps and running off. She’s still there! he thought in jubilation as he ran ahead, his saddlebags banging while the wig flopped up and down. With sure steps, the colt ran up the ramp and into the room, almost tripping over the dozen stools that littered the wooden floor. At the far end of the room, Scootaloo was waving her her tail around, swishing it from side to side as she dusted off a blackboard. Featherweight struggled not to notice her flanks as they followed the same movement. Any and all determination the colt had welled up died in one fell swoop as she turned towards him, a beaming and welcoming smile on her small-ish face and a lock of her purple mane sliding in front of her bright eyes. Those eyes widened in surprise and a quick blush spread across her cheeks. “Featherweight?” “Um, euh...hi, Scootaloo,” he said, cotton filling his mouth as he droped the wig. “H-how’re you doing?” “I’m okay,” she said, slowly sitting down in the centre of a beam of sunlight pouring in from a nearby window. Her gaze shifted to the wig at his hooves. “Is that one of ours?” He looked down at the object, glad to divert his eyes from her stare. “Oh, it’s yours, yeah. Rainbow forgot it at Sugarcube Corner.” He picked up the rainbow-coloured piece of folded cardboard and placed it on a nearby stool. “So, uh...” “Yes?” “I was, wondering, if, um...” “Yes?” Swallowing hard, Featherweight twisted around and flicked his bags open, carefully pulling out the two tickets with his buckteeth. “Ah wash wadharing if you’d want to go wich me?” He spat the tickets on the ground in front of him. “To the airshow. If you want. Maybe.” With a deep blush, the colt turned away and clasped his eyes shut. At least I tried. The room became suffocatingly warm as the seconds ticked by in silence. I guess that’s a no? he thought, releasing a breath he was unaware of holding. “Okay, I guess. But none of that mushy stuff, all right?” she said while one of her forehooves spun in a tight circle on the plank floor. Blinking dumbly, Featherweight’s jaw hit the floor. Sh-she said... yes? “I-I’ll see you there? I guess, I hope. Yeah.” Swooping down, the reddening colt grabbed the topmost ticket, spun around, and flew out of the building, a huge grin on his face as he somersaulted to a landing. I did it! She said yes! I did the right thing... His brows furrowed as another thought crossed his baffled mind. Slowly, he looked back at the receding treehouse. Right? Edited by: -StapleCactus -Your Antagonist -Cpl Hooves -Fredrick the Saiyan Did I muck up the Mane Six this time?