//------------------------------// // Moments // Story: Clastic Glow // by Rocinante //------------------------------// Two earth ponies walked through the market with Scootaloo between them. The orange and blond stallion wore an old green canvas jacket covered in buttons and patches. His mane long and unkempt framed an unfocused and happy gaze. The mare’s coat was purple and her mane made the relationship to Scootaloo unmistakable. She was toned and walked with a confident focus, her mane styled short and slightly spiked. Each of the three ponies had saddlebags in various stages of being filled from the weekly ‘family trip to the market’. Scootaloo was still a bit irritated, but she was really trying to make the best of the day. When their foray into the market brought them near the foundry, powerful blows emanating from it begged for their attention. The three gazed curiously at the stone building, though each for a different reason. “O, Hay! That’s where you been hanging out right?” The stallion asked A sigh gave away her feelings on the subject. “Yea. Dad.” The mare perked up at the comment. “If you’re going to be hanging out with grown stallions, I want to meet them.” The matriarch declared as she made a straight line for the old building. The rest of the family followed her as if attached by strings. Scootaloo didn’t want to come right out and say she was mad at the two idiot smithies, so she had to just play along with their curiosity. As they approached the shop they all paused. Between the blows, or rather in rhyme with them, a song was echoing from inside the building. “The hammer sings, through the anvil’s sharp ring, so come boy and ring your anvil. A bellows sighs, never tells lies, and it’s breath sets embers a glowing. The iron that glows, throws sparks from you blows, so come boy and swing your hammer. Dose any colt know where Celestia’s love goes, when fire and sun both burn you. Let the sweat on your brow, hiss on your steel, so come boy work your iron.” Scootaloo and her mom traded confused looks while her dad swayed his head to the slow folksy tune. “Reminds me of a Light Hoof song. I should have brought my guitar,” he commented before opening the door. The bell interrupted the song abruptly, leaving a scene that made Scootaloo rub her eyes in disbelief. The two smithies were facing each other with the anvil between them and Quench had the massive hammer floating in the air. They were both grinning like idiots, and the shop was a wreck. It looked like a bachelor pad, work and food wrappers strewn everywhere. Swage crammed something back into the fire before addressing the family. “Hey, Scootaloo. These your parents I’ve heard so little about?” Her dad took to investigating the room while she and her mother approached the counter. “Ugh, yea. This is my mom Wild Oats and that’s my dad Granola.” “We run the Barley and Oats sweet-feed mill,” her mom interjected. Standing just across the counter from the smithy, she was examining the room with casual precision. /// Swage perked up at the comment “Really? I love your barley and sorghum breakfast blend.” “Aww, thanks dude, I worked really hard on that one.” Granola replied from the far side of the shop. He was wandering about the room like a balloon. Occasionally being waved away from something dangerous by his daughter. Swage fidgeted under the presence of Scootaloo’s mother. She took her fashion cue from the bygone punk movement. The combined hard muscle of the Earth pony and the lanky frame of her recessive Pegasus heritage, gave her a powerful presence. He bet that ten years ago she would have been called cocky, age had tempered it down to just predatory confidence. “Please tell me it is not normally this messy in here.” She said, not really a question. The Pegasus looked around as if just realizing the state of the room. “Yea, It’s normally a lot cleaner. We sorta pulled an allnighter.” The expression on Wild Oats softened a bit as she replied with an “Oh.” She seemed to take that as a perfectly acceptable excuse. He jolted as one of the many conversations Quench and he had over the night, came back to him “Mrs. Oats, I actually have something to ask you.” He received a calculating stare from her when he paused after the preface. Continuing under the glare he asked. “Would it be ok with you, if I offered your daughter a summer job. I’ll give her three bits an hour and I’d like to have her work four hours a day, with weekends off... As soon as school lets out of course.“ She turned with a playful smirk towards her daughter “Scoots, your call. You want to work the mill with you dad for your normal allowance this summer, or in here for money. Either way I’m making you do something over the summer.” The filly cocked an eyebrow at the question. “Ugh, He pays more.” “Yep.” her mother agreed “But that also means you start paying for your own entertainment and food when you’re out with your friends. Also we’re going to sit down and talk about how adults handle their money.” The smithy felt a bit bad for Granola. He looked like an abandoned puppy all of a sudden. It didn’t go unnoticed by Scootaloo ether. The two had a quiet conversation in the corner that ended with smiles and hugs. “I’m in. I’ll start next Monday,” the filly announced. Swage smiled at the answer “Great! ‘Till then, get out of here and go do something fun.” - - - “Did you turn the desk upside down and shake it!?” Scootaloo asked with indignation. It was her first day on the clock. She had decided to start with the last thing she had done, which was organize the writing desk. What she had assumed would be an easy re-straightening, was instead going to take up the first half of her day.  An air between the two stallions told her she wasn’t going to get an answer. The rest of the shop was clean but cluttered. It was the sort of clutter that spoke of a full workload that was steadily being completed. “Here’s to getting a cutie mark in bookkeeping.” she sighed as she took to putting the paperwork back in order. Swage stifled a snicker at the fillies ranting. His talent was fire and metal, not bookkeeping; that was just a necessary evil and one that he had never had to deal with till recently. - - - It had been a good first day. She was surprised how many little tasks could pile up around the shop. Her last chore of the day was to bring lunch back to the shop. She had been given five bits with directions; two double-daisy burgers and hay-fries, no drinks, and keep the change. It had come to four bits, so she just held on to the last bit. She knew the girls would want to eat when they met up in an hour. Letting herself in through the back door she placed the food on the kitchen table. “Food’s here” she announced to the room, not seeing anypony when she entered. Quench’s head appeared out of the door to the study. “Thanks! Before you head out for the day you should see this.” He motioned anxiously to her. “We’ve been working on it in the evenings.” When she entered the familiar room she was shocked into wide-eyed wonder. Swage was sitting with his eyes closed, the picture of introspected concentration. The skeletal wing was perched on his back, it mirrored the slow deliberate movements of the other wing “WOW!” she exclaimed.  The Pegasus’ eyes sprung open with a smile when he heard her. Though he gave a little wince at the sound of the apparatus hitting the ground. “Still a long way to go” he commented at the lifeless frame now crumpled on the floor. “Unfortunately I haven’t made much headway with your problem” he said looking over to Scootaloo as she browsed the room. “I’m sure you’ll think of something” she casually replied as she picked up two shining brass almost-rings off the floor, each lacked a small bit of metal from their circumference. “What are these?” she asked. “Scrap. An experiment that didn’t pan out,” Swage responded. “Can I have them?” She asked with a foal’s energy. “Sure.” Without hesitation she contorted herself with wings stretched out and gently forced the makeshift bangles onto the base of her wings. The shining yellow metal rings swung and danced on the limbs as she flexed them to test the fit. “How’s it look?” she asked “Very pretty.” Quench replied. “Sweet! Well, I’m out of here. See you tomorrow,” and with that she made quick work of leaving to go find the other crusaders. - - - “Hot date in an hour! Need to go get a shower. I’ll see you in the morning.” The Unicorn bolted out as he finished his end of the day routine. The clock had rang five just a few moments before. “If you’re late I expect a good story.” was the only response Swage gave him, he was still in the middle of shutting down for the day. “What poor mare...” he pondered out loud after the door had closed. ‘Tools up, fire cold,’ he began the final check list, ‘anvil cleaned, floors... ehh I’ll leave that for Scootaloo’ Satisfied that everything was put right, he exited the building himself. It was out for a relaxing meal, then he would spend the rest of the night working on the wing. With his meal tray in mouth he looked for a tree to sit under and enjoy his dinner. Movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Looking towards it reflexively, he saw the hulking red stallion Big Macintosh waving at him. Rainbow Dash was sitting across from him “Come sit with us.” she called. Turning in place he made his way to the large table. “Thanks” he said once the tray left his mouth. “How’s that plow treating you?” he asked looking towards the stallion. The response came from Dash in the form of a sharp laugh. “He treats the thing like a yearling. Cleans it, Oil’s it, and puts it to bed.” “What? I want to keep it nice.” Mac responded between bites of his meal. /// Rainbow Dash studied the pegasus. He smiled when he talked, his and Mac’s conversation was light hearted stallion banter. But the moments of silence where he was left to his own thoughts an air of melancholy settled around him. She had no desire to even imagine what losing a wing would be like. Though she knew he was lucky to have a special talent that had nothing to do with flying. That was probably what had kept him alive. It was about half way through the meal the she realized he always kept his head pointed down, just a little. “How come you're always looking at the ground?” she asked, the thought that it might be rude only dawning on her after the fact. “Clouds,” he meeked out between mouthfuls. “Can’t stand to look at them.” “What?” jumped out of her throat. Bringing her hooves up as if the cram the word back, she stammered “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t ask.” “It’s strange I know. But there is what I miss the most.” He pushed the scraps of his meal away and slowly looked up at a distant cloud. “I still played cloud-fort games when others my age wouldn’t be caught dead acting so silly.” “It’s like the games foals play in the deep snow.” Dash answered Mac’s unvoiced question. “But way more fun” Swage added on. “I haven’t touched one since the day of the accident.” A sigh punctuated the memory. “Really!?” retorted the Pegasus mare, only to vanished into a chromatic streak. Swage was a bit startled by the sudden disappearance, but Mac just gave him a shrug that said ‘she does that sometimes’ /// He had very nearly convinced Mac it was time for a new set of horseshoes when the earth pony gave a quizzical look to something behind him. He turned casually in his seat to see what was there. The wall of white that met him sent him tumbling out of his chair. It was then that he realized it was a cloud. Dash sat atop the white puff. “Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” she chuckled. Though, he was a little doubtful about that. Standing up he was unable to take his eyes off the cloud. He hadn't been this close to one since he last flew. He could have gotten a ride to Cloudsdale anytime, but never had. Early on he had avoided the trip because of how easy it was... to just walk off. Later he had resented everything the place stood for. Finally he had decided not to go back ‘till he could fly their himself.  Dash watched the smithy from atop the cloud, it was about twice the size of a wagon. She couldn’t help but grin when she saw the smile on his face and wing flutter. He placed a hoof on it a concentrated a bit, soon the cloud gave way and started reshaping to his will. He was a natural cloud handler. She was a little jealous that she didn’t have him on her weather team. A moment later his head popped out of the cloud near her hooves. His grin reminded her a bit too much of the one she wielded right before a prank... The cloud beneath her opened like a mouth and closed again just as fast, leaving just her head sticking out of the cloud. They both snickered like foals for a moment before Dash extracted herself. Flying back to the ground she rejoined Mac. “Have fun, Don’t get it higher than you’re willing to fall. We’ve got errands, but I’ll see you around.” and with that the two left him with his cloud. ‘Hmm cloud surfing. I hadn’t even thought of that.’ He gave his wing a hard flap; the first one in years. His flight muscles burned with the effort, the cloud moved just a bit, he smiled a death’s-head grin. - - - Scootaloo had spent the afternoon with the girls planting trees. Applebloom’s sister’s idea of getting a cutie mark in arbory had sounded good, but she suspected that they had just been tricked into farm work. She was about halfway home when something cool and moist struck her hard enough to knock her over. It was like she had bit hit with a cold pillow. Standing back up she found a mysterious cloud floating just a few meters above the ground. Another white puff ball flew out of the cloud at her.  She managed to dodge that one. Suddenly rolling laughter bellowed out from the center of the cloud. She almost fell over again when Swage appeared on top of the thing. “How’d you...” Scootaloo stammered. “Rainbow Dash pulled it down for me” He answered the half finished question. With a lopsided flutter he pushed the cloud to the ground. “Hop on!” he beckoned. “Uhh, how?” she hesitated. Swage was honestly stumped by the question. “You just press into it...” There was a bit more than that to cloud shaping, but for the life of him he could find no words for it. He watched as the filly tentatively touched the cloud then leaned into it. It was an elastic but firm barrier that thwarted her best efforts to climb its sheer sides. “You've never shaped clouds either have you?” “I play with fog and the little ones that wander low sometimes...” Swage stomped on the cloud sending shards of vapor into the evening sky, quickly making a ramp for her to get to the top of the cloud. /// Scootaloo was surprised at how firm the cloud felt. After she had gotten on top, Swage had pushed it back into the air, if not by just a few meters. “This is so cool!” she exclaimed. “Remember how I got you to feel the wind?” Swage asked. “Sorta do the same thing with the cloud.” She watched him run his hoof into the vapor and pull the surface into an abstract shape. Following suit she jabbed her hoof at the cloud, trying to pierce the surface but found it solid. “You're moving a cloud, not squashing a spider; move slow, think fluffy thoughts” the elder Pegasus lectured. Trying again she laid a hoof on the surface and imagined it being enveloped; to her surprise that’s exactly what happened. Once she had immersed into the vapor, she found it like shaping pudding. “Very good,” Swage congratulated her. - - - She had just started to really get the hang of shaping the cloud when she realized the sun was setting. “Pony feathers! I need to get home.” She blurted out with a mildly frantic look. “It’s going to be dark before I get to the house.” “Why, it’s just a few kilometers isn’t it”? He asked in earnest. “It’ll take me half an hour to walk that!” Swage pushed a lump of cloud towards her “Cloud surf” While she hadn’t heard the term before she knew what he was suggesting. She had seen Rainbow Dash drive clouds around when she was too tired to actually fly. She supposed it wouldn’t be much different than her scooter. Leaping onto the torn free chunk of cloud he had offered, she buzzed her wings. The thing took off with a streak and seemingly indiscriminate in its direction; reflexively she clutched at the vapor, startled by her own acceleration. With a few wild starts she finally got the hang of aiming the thing. After that it only took a few minutes to get to her doorstep, the sun had not yet disappeared from the sky. /// Swage watched with something of a father’s pride as the filly careened into the dusky night. The rings she had put on her wings rang wildly as they beat against each other. The staccato beat stirred something in the depths of his mind. He had an idea and just maybe the answer to her problem. But, he would work on that tomorrow. Till then he was going to enjoy his toy while it lasted, it would be gone soon enough. With easy lopsided flaps he guided his plaything back towards the shop. He was going to sleep on a cloud tonight.