A gray-bearded dragon-person stood over Fluttershy. That is to say, it seemed to stand over her as it stood eye-to-eye with her as she lay in the soft bed. Its eyes were of the same steel-blue as Tharur’s, but this specimen’s bumpy head was grayer than its body and had folds of scales on its forehead, cheeks, and around its eyes. The eyes stared through hers, as if analyzing a specimen located within her mind somewhere in Heaven and Hell. They were glazed over by patience.
Fluttershy jolted up respectfully, relying on her contingency of courtesy while she wiped the yellow flecks of sleep from her eyes. Then, her sense seemed to plug itself back into her capacity for fear as she ducked down under the manifold folds of blankets for cover. Dragon!
Her instincts forced her into a fetal position and closed her eyes. She shook violently. Then, she stopped and pushed away those reactions that were so common when one relied on the id. Fluttershy opened her eyes and stopped hyperventilating. No, that’s not me. That used to be me. Once more, she sat up respectfully.
A deep, creaking voice buzzed with a simple, “Greetings.” The timbre sounded complex and well-earned, like the burning sensation that trickles down a throat graced with hard liquor. In a similar manner to the way Tharur had disregarded her fall where the staircase stopped, this one disregarded her little fit. The facial expression remained impassive. “I am Narekacbor, the forty-second leader of the Borsein.”
“I’m Fluttershy. I used to live somewhere, but yester--,” she checked whether or not yesterday still counted as yesterday, “yesterday I appeared here.”
“Hm,” Nare slurped, contemplatively scratching the rough scales on his chin and neck, which were located a full meter below Fluttershy’s own chin and neck due to her position on the bed. She noticed this and hopped down onto the smooth stone floor. The soothing aura of warmth dissipated as she leapt, leaving her feeling vulnerable.
Nare concluded that further questioning into the topic of origin would procure foul emotions from the large, fuzzy thing. He changed the subject: “I heard from my son Tharur that you saved his life.
“W-well yes.”
“In that case, I wish to extend my fullest gratitude to you; you are welcome in my home and with my people for the service you have done for them,” he squelched sincerely, “Is there anything we can do for you?” He smiled with all of his sharp little teeth and sharp big teeth.
Fluttershy nervously kicked a lose pebble so lightly that it made a quarter turn in spite of its frictionless dimensions. With the same front hoof, she pawed at the ground and looked down, biting her cheek. It was not in her nature to accept someone else’s hospitality or to ask for anything. Fluttershy’s nature was to help all the little creatures and friends of hers when they needed her. In every situation, her friends made arrangements or took her to places, not making her make any accommodations for herself. Well who’s going to make the arrangements now?
Fluttershy tentatively set her hoof back in place and looked Narekacbor in the eye, which was a half-meter below her own. “Well I’m not at all familiar with this land, but I know how to cook, clean, and take care of po—people or animals who need me.”
“I’m not sure exactly what we’ll have you do, but I’m sure we’ll find a suitable place for you in our society,” Nare assured. “Welcome to your new home.”
As he said this, he extended his stubby arms and took a step back, tilting his head to either side as if he was surveying an enclosure much larger than the dormitory they were in. It seemed as if he was welcoming her into his world. Maybe he was just welcoming her into this strange edifice: a gigantic spiral staircase branching out into countless doors leading to locations unknown to the little pony.
With Fluttershy unable to formulate a coherent opinion, the kind, elderly dragon-person ended the conversation, “I’ll give you some time to get your bearings. Tharur could give you the tour of the place.” With that, Tharur, wearing a face devoid of recognizable expression, swiftly took his place next to his father. Each step, those of the elderly dragon-person’s departure and the youthful one’s entry, was punctuated by a swift and subtle scrape of claw on stone.
Tharur bowed slightly and motioned with his rough-looking arm, and they were off. He showed her the grand suite, the one reserved for the leader of the tribe, a couple of standard living quarters, the extensive underground fields that grew all sorts of crops, and the intricate plumbing network. All the while, Tharur was courteous yet distant. Hundreds of dragon-people inhabited the extensive network of rooms, houses, fields, and other spaces all centered on the central staircase. The enormity of the complex was astounding.
When one was to cook or start a fire, a chimney led out, around the room, and steadily narrowed downwards into a small pipe that led parallel to one of the steps on the staircase into the central pillar, which doubled as a grand chimney. At the very bottom, around from the Chief’s suite carved into the central smoke stack, was a wide hearth that served to provide all the needs such a place would require in terms of metallurgy, as the kind dragon-people who dwelled in this domain found enough ores every now and again in their excavations to have a few metallic luxuries.
In the fields, which were in the upper levels because of the abundance of fertile soil, were all sorts of different crops. They comprised various forms of fungus, but they served the same purpose as their surface-counterparts. There were cereal crops, root crops, legume-like crops, vine-like crops, and more.
The technology and cultural advances were on par with Equestria, more or less. The people were not religious for the most part and did not pay respects to more than one or two patron-deities, whom they rarely spoke of. In fact, for them, it was an age of enlightenment. They had invented their own flying shuttle and fire extinguishers and although they still had torches in the main staircase, many employed well-crafted lanterns within their own homes.
For Fluttershy, who had spent her entire life knowing exactly what she was good at— even had it magically appear on her side—a sense of worthlessness set in. She could not handle crops or become an apprentice in metallurgy; there were enough field hands and apprentices for those.
* * *
When she was shown to her living quarters, a nice space with a bed, a lantern, simple furnishings, and a mirror, she lay down on her bed and grumbled. What do I do? I’m useless to these people. They might cast me out, and I wouldn’t blame them. Lying there, she found that what she was laying on was extremely plush, much to her liking.
Tharur entered the room and sat down in a chair, scraping against the seat. This single, legato stroke of scale on seat seemed to hang in the air a long while. At the first creak of the door, Fluttershy executed a superb rolling backflip in time to sit upright and face the door just as Tharur entered. The sight of his long, scaled tail frightened her at first as it lay limp on the ground, but she forced herself to stop such nonsense. “Um—thank you again for the… erm… tour you gave me. I really appreciate it,” characteristically whispered Fluttershy, tense.
Tharur nodded and looked around the room. The tail twitched up a bit, coiled, and then lay limp once more. His eyes seemed brooding, but as far as Fluttershy could tell, there was not much he could be upset about. A tangible sense of the possibility of that assumption rose up and her gut was certain for a few moments that his arrangement of facial features was facilitating serious brooding. Between them seemed to sit something more than distance and deep thought. After that sense faded into equilibrium with the other potential reasons for the brooding and distance, a short sigh emanated from the chair’s occupant.
Tharur looked up, having summed up his thoughts. “You’re welcome,” he began, clicking softly, “Anything I can do to repay my debt to you. It may take a while for you to find something you can pitch in with. Don’t worry—we’re not going to cast you out or anything preposterous. Here, drawn-out existential elucidation is perfectly normal.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of his people throwing out an esteemed guest of theirs.
Fluttershy calmed down and slouched a little. So I guess they still want me. Still, I should find something I’m good at. They don’t seem to have many pets here. While she thought, her eyes absentmindedly focused upon a red-brown splotch on her towel. Tharur, not knowing what course of action to take or the significance the towel and the splotch held, shifted slightly. He could not have been blamed for not understanding how vital the barbecue-flavored stain the splotch comprised could be in a tight situation or how poorly the wheat germ that comprised another stain on the towel tasted.
“Well as the Chief’s heir apparent, it is my current occupation’s designation to assist him in his administration and be an advisor to him,” he conversed, trying to put warmth into his words rekindle the conversation.
Fluttershy, confronted by an opportunity to either be bold enough to contribute to the conversation or falter, wilted. Her feelings manifested into a single thought. Why can’t you be brave now, Fluttershy? All she could muster was to present herself as if she was really interested while she dealt with the nagging internal strife. She let out a “hm” and tilted her head to the side interestedly to be safe.
Tharur, seeing his chance to explain what nobody wanted to listen to, obliged. He spoke about the fundamentals, then the basic tasks, and then it seemed, to himself. All the while, an internal dialogue was raging a meter away. Why can’t I be brave? My friends make being outgoing seem so easy! I mean all I have to do is say hello and ask a few questions…
Tharur looked up, fortuitously catching Fluttershy’s attentive demeanor at the right moment, “…which is a normal day, but on the days when we have a festival or it’s time to harvest, it’s necessary to organize and keep track of all the numbers, which is where I come in…” He was so utterly absorbed in his monologue that almost nothing could prevent him from yammering on. From his disposition at first glance, long monologues did not seem his cup of something almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea.
…But what if I mess up and they don’t like me? What if I offend them? What if they hurt me?
“…which is something anydragon can agree on, right?” Tharur chuckled and looked up to find two glazed-over eyes attached to a yellow face nestled into yellow hooves. Between them sat a creamy pink pillar of hair that dwindled and snaked about lifelessly on the floor. Behind all of this lay a shivering slump of yellow wrapped in pink. Suddenly, the eyes regained focus and the shivering stopped.
Tharur fumbled in finding footing in this new conversational terrain and saw that he had reached an impasse. “Er—I was boorish, wasn’t I? I didn’t notice how cold it is in here.” Fluttershy noted that in a manner uncharacteristic of cold-blooded creatures, he fumbled out of the chair, fumbled into a cabinet, fumbled a blanket out, and fumbled it open over her. To her dismay, he had embarrassed himself twice, making her feel like the embarrassment was her own out of sheer empathy. She laid still all the while, too bewildered and frightened from the ignominy. The blanket was spread unevenly such that her hind legs and rear stuck out whereas her midsection to the top of her head was covered. She shook her head, and the static cling wrested its grip on her head. The blanket slid down to a much less ridiculous position.
“Er—er—,” Tharur’s articulation was out to lunch; he was in trouble. She had to do something. If not, she would feel too heavy a dose of empathy for her to bear. She would regret it if she were to not do something.
Say something. Say something. SAY SOMETHING, FLUTTERSHY! It’s your chance, but what if you say something dumb or something that belittles him or yourself or something mean or maybe if it’s something th—
“Well that was a Comedy of Errors from me,” following a palm to the face, a sigh, and an unconvincing smile, Tharur regained his cool, or so it appeared. Continuing, he looked straight into her eyes and voiced a superbly eloquent yet hastily delivered monologue. “Ugh. How do you put up with the droning? I’m the only one interested in what I’m interested in, it seems, so I have to find different people to drone at until one finds it interesting, you see. You seemed somewhat interested, so I saw a chance. It’s okay. I won’t do it next time. I’m pretty good at letting it out in short bursts. M-mostly.” He stopped himself from going any further, coming to the realization that he was in the process of repeating the same mistake. His eyes had long since fled to the floor. Fluttershy had tears welling up in her eyes. They were bitter with lost opportunity.
“Well... I’ve talked your ear off for quite long enough, giving the tour and going through my responsibilities and the like.” He trailed off, the façade of nonchalance chipping away and giving into more embarrassment. Sighing and looking back at her, he conceded “I grow weary of stating my own interests as you likely have. Thanks for putting up with me. I try not to be quite so much a bore… Anyways, I sincerely appreciate my rescue at your hands and welcome you as one of us.”
He was losing avenues of conversation fast but did not seem to want to leave. With no proverbial intersection to turn to, he made his way toward the door, seemingly shrinking to his actual height as his personality grew more distant. Fluttershy was damming her unhappy thoughts up, but could not help thinking, I failed. I failed to be brave or outgoing or to take part at all in the conversation. I didn’t even talk today during the tour. It was just listening and watching, like I always do. Fluttershy, the Good Listener. My little epithet. I wish I could change that, but how? I’m not a great communicator.
He opened the portal and summed up his wits for his grand finale: meticulously planned a few seconds prior to be sincere and snappy, but at the same time dramatic in that it was to be spoken over the shoulder and without any eye contact. In a voice that finally matched his figure with its hint of forlornness and regret, Tharur murmured, “Well… night.” The door closed very gradually and gently without the diminutive reptilian figure showing at all during the process of cessation. Relieved that in the whole space of time he did not care to look at her, she allowed the already flowing tears to take their course.
Outside, a pebble careened down the spiral, its original location just outside the door. Each resounding crack it generated on its way down resounded softer and softer until it could no long be heard. Beyond this, the only sound was the oceanic scuffle of claws upon the ebb and flow of rectilinear stone.
All she felt was self-pity and embarrassment, which disgusted Fluttershy. The corners of her mind were in perilous tumult. Enough of these dramatics. Straighten out! Is it really necessary to cry over this? He just wanted to talk, not to listen. Maybe he would have listened if you had managed it right, but he got on that roll, and there was nothing to do about it. There was the chance though, the one where he was floundering. It made me look mean to just sit there.
How was I brave the other day? How did I jump over that waterfall or fend off that creature or simply keep walking? It’s everyone else who does those things. I’m just Fluttershy. I don’t do that stuff. I’m just Fluttershy. In this pit of despair, she found a miniscule tidbit of beating courage that expanded at an exponential rate. The sound of her thoughts crescendoed as she gained confidence. Here I don’t have to be shy. Here I can make a new me and see what it’s like to be outgoing and fend for myself! I can learn what it really means to have courage. I just have to try. Rubbing the tears away, she was filled with ambition. She would be a new pony here. I will find the courage to be engaging and outgoing and make friends. I will do it on my own. She shivered at the prospect. It was a shiver of both fear and anticipation.