Year Three: Spark And Hover
Ponyville possessed no literal book of every single possible occupation or hobby. If there was one to be found within the town, Twilight Sparkle would’ve loaned it without reservation to the Cutie Mark Crusaders. They pestered her enough to justify it.
Alas, no such tome existed. Instead, the three remaining blankflanks, with the assistance and camaraderie of their fourth member, wrote the book themselves. Metaphorically speaking.
“Cutie Mark Crusader Floral Assistants”? Check. Roseluck never asked for helpers at her stand again. “Cutie Mark Crusader Fan-Sales-Ponies?” Tried. Mr. Breezy was thoroughly unimpressed. It took the poor stallion weeks to repair those fans. And the concept of “Cutie Mark Crusader Security Guards” was a disaster from the start.
The evening after that particular failure, the four fillies returned to the clubhouse, tails both long and short tucked low between their flanks. “Mayor Mare’s gonna tell Applejack ‘bout dis, ain’t she, Bloom?” Babs sighed.
Apple Bloom sighed heavily. “Ah sure hope not… How we’re we s’posed ta know that we weren’t s’posed ta use those batons on ponies who forget their backstage passes?”
Closing the door behind them as they reached the top of their treehouse, Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “I know, right? And c’mon, we didn’t hit them that hard!”
All four of them sat in a circle, pondering their next move. It had been over two years (and the third calendar year) since Babs moved to Ponyville, sporting a cutiemark of her own. In that time, none of the other Crusaders appeared to discover their special talent. If they did, Fate mocked them, leaving them blank and bare.
With three despondent fillies stretched across the floorboards from her, Babs Seed willed a myriad of solutions into her mental tally. Hmm. What iffa dey tried… no, we did dat last week. Maybe sewin’? Nah. Rarity ain’t gonna fly wit’ dat. Been ova there only once, an’ she positively guarded dat sewin’ machine. Doubtful she’d let us try it out...
“We’ve tried everything, and we still don’t have our cutiemarks!” Sweetie Belle jolted Babs Seed back into the present. “Everything! Literally everything!”
The unicorn stomped over to the thinking spot and furrowed her brow. Sitting on her haunches with a deadpan THUD! she whined, “We’ve been crusading for over five years and nothing! This is hopeless!”
Apple Bloom offered, “Aww, c’mon, Sweetie Belle, we can’t be too far off by now. We’ve gotta be close ta findin’ our special talents. Am Ah right?”
Scootaloo shrugged. “I dunno. We’ve tried practically everything in Ponyville. Maybe even in Equestria! But…”
Her eyes suddenly grew wide with glee. “Rainbow Dash is taking me to a Wonderbolts show next week in Cloudsdale! Maybe that’ll give me some new ideas we can try!”
“Takin’ youze ta see the Wonderbolts, eh? Sounds like a date ta me.” Babs snickered.
The pegasus struggled to keep her wings glued to her side, feathers thoroughly ruffled. “It is not!” she huffed, blushing hotly. Her crimson only ignited Babs's laughter, chuckles reaching new heights. Babs began rolling on the floor.
Scootaloo countered, “Talking about dating, huh?! How about 'youze,' bad seed? When are you gonna—“
Silenced by a forehoof, Scootaloo mumbled the remainder of her protest. Stifled by a blushing filly, it was of no use.
“Annnyway, Scoots,” Apple Bloom muttered, avoiding Babs Seed's wary gaze and keeping Scootaloo silent. “Ah hope ya have fun wit’ Rainbow Dash! Hey, Sweetie, didn’t ya say Rarity’s takin’ you ta Canterlot wit’ her soon, too?”
“Yup!” Forgetting her discouragement, the unicorn grinned, hopping across the floorboards in excitement. Although she was nearly fifteen now, Sweetie relinquished none of her foalish charm. “There’s a concert she wants me to see!” she chipped. “Some sort of opera, I think. Not sure. But it’s in Canterlot, so it should be fun!”
“Sure sounds like it,” agreed Apple Bloom. She glared daggers at Scootaloo before releasing her captive at last. Scootaloo shook her muzzle and plopped back down on her haunches, muttering inaudibly to herself in annoyance.
“See! There youze go!” Babs said. “Youze all jus’ gotta think outside o’ the box. O’, outside o’ Ponyville, I betcha. By day way… how’s flyin’ an’ magic goin’ fo’ youze two?”
“I can levitate objects now! Not too big yet, though. Rarity says that’ll come later when I discover my own brand of unicorn magic,” Sweetie Belle explained.
Fluttering her wings proudly, Scootaloo bragged, “I can stay up in the air for a few minutes now without stopping! Dash tells me I should be flying behind her soon. I can’t wait to race her!”
“Youze see? Things ain’t so bad. No need ta feel down.”
Unicorn and pegasus cheered their agreement, but, across from Babs Seed, the other Earth pony wasn’t so easily swept up in the optimism.
~
Babs Seed surmised through her own breed of internal logic that her cutiemark appeared only when she arrived in Ponyville because that is where she belonged. Manehatten, even in its best moments, never felt like home. Sweet Apple Acres, conversely, felt peaceful, safe, loving, accepting. There were bad days, of course, but, in the end, she belonged there, among the orchards and fields. She didn’t miss the concrete or the cobblestone.
Though she was positive the shield on her flank symbolized strength and the will to defend--and the apple slice spoke of the same sacrifice that marred her left ear forever—the meaning behind the color purple was a mystery to her. In fact, she once pestered the town librarian for a book regarding coats of arms, eager to find her answer. Twilight possessed such a book and lent it to her gladly.
Within that tome, Babs Seed discovered that purple was traditionally the color of royalty. Only certain noble or wealthy ponies throughout Equestria’s history were permitted to wear the sacred shade. Rich in heritage and of name, this explanation seemed plausible in her instance. Comin’ out o’ royalty, inta summat new. Perhaps it was the contrast of simple red apple slice against rich purple that spoke of her true and sacred heart. Maybe.
Nevertheless, Babs Seed encouraged others she loved to find their own ways, even if that meant leaving the ties of “home” behind. Home is where the heart is. An’ ma heart is heeya. An, I think, Ma’ an’ Citrus belong ta the desert. Dey sure seem ta like it there, o’, at least, dat’s what dey say in their letters.
A week after the four Crusaders vented their frustrations, Babs and Apple Bloom waved forehooves goodbye to their friends, both promising to crusade as soon as they returned from their adventures in Cloudsdale and Canterlot.
The night after the joint departure, Babs Seed turned to Apple Bloom beneath the sheets, whispering, “Youze know what would be funny?”
“What, Babs?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Iffa Sweetie an’ Scoots come back wit’ their cutiemarks.”
Narrowing her eyes, Apple Bloom rolled over and muttered, “Yeah… real funny.”
Pulling her close, Babs teased, “Aw, c’mon, Bloom, I was jus’ jokin’. Don’t be sore.”
“Ah’m not,” she lied. “Ah’m not sore. Ah jus’ don’t think that’ll happen, that’s all.” Apple Bloom turned further away from Babs Seed, soon pretending to be asleep, even as the other began waxing poetic about home and meaning and destiny.
~
Apple Bloom never gambled, never tossed dice or played cards, but if she did, she would’ve bet all her bits on Babs Seed’s hushed predictions. Beyond being physically taller, larger, and stronger than her, Babs proved to be smarter than her, as well. Or, perhaps, just luckier.
Scootaloo returned from the Wonderbolts show with Rainbow Dash a few days before Sweetie Belle’s journey home. Upon her arrival and reunion with her friends, she proudly sported her cutiemark. A violet-and-blue comet streaked across her flank, a testament to the end (or was it the beginning?) of her own adventures in self-discovery.
“Isn’t it great?!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “I finally flew with Rainbow Dash! And on our way back, I learned I could do stunts in the air, barrel rolls and dives and stuff, SUPER easy! We even had a contest of it! There’s no way I could beat the Rainbow Dash, of course,” she said, eyes sparkling with admiration, “but I came real close! And when we landed, I had my cutiemark!”
They rejoiced and planned a cute-ceañera at Sugar Cube Corner.
Soon afterwards, Sweetie Belle and Rarity caught the midnight train from Canterlot to Ponyville. The other three Crusaders patiently waited for her at the train station. Their reward was an elated filly hopping excitedly, flashing a cutiemark of her own. A musical note next to a microphone decorated Sweetie’s flank. The mark appeared after she performed a private duet with one of the Canterlot singers. The performance was heard by nopony, but demonstrated her musical talent—her special talent.
“The opera-pony said I had an amazing voice! And then, POOF! the cutiemark appeared!” Sweetie gushed. “Nopony even heard me sing, except for her and Rarity, because we were in her dressing room! But now I’m gonna start practicing more, and there’s even a special school in Canterlot that might help!”
Quickly, before Pinkie Pie completed her party preparations, the Crusaders clarified that it would be a dual cute-ceañera. Pinkie Pie, of course, nearly rocketed through the ceiling in elation, and stocked up on party favors and cupcakes.
Apple Bloom asked Babs Seed the evening before the party if she’d ever considered playing the lottery. Her question was met with several of Babs’ own, to which she mumbled, “Ah, forget it,” and feigned sleep once more.
~
Everypony in Cherilee’s class was invited to the dual cute-ceañera, with the exception of two high-society fillies with metallic cutiemarks. A gaggle of teenage fillies and colts filed into Sugar Cube Corner that evening for punch, cookies, and cake.
Unfortunately, nopony bothered to warn Snails that Pinkie Pie was hiding in the cake this time around. The dim-witted colt took an enormous bite of the tempting dessert…
Snails never galloped so fast in his life. Pinkie chased him through the streets, shouting, “Come back here, you fiend!”
Other than attempted cannibalism, the party went off without a hitch. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle both received hordes of presents. Many of their classmates were just as happy to see the two Crusaders receive their marks as much as their own.
In addition to the gifts and treats, the guests played an assortment of games: “Pin The Tail On The Pony”; “Truth Or Dare”; and, for the friskier among them, “Seven Minutes In Heaven.” And some, like one filly hanging by the punch table, opted out of them entirely.
Babs Seed wandered over to the punch bowl, huge smile on her muzzle and empty cup in her forehoof. “Great party, eh, Apple Bloom?” she commented, nudging her as she retrieved a fresh scoop of punch. “I jus’ finished a game o’ pin the tail on the pony… I guess ma pony was a stallion.”
Apple Bloom giggled. “Sounds like yer havin’ fun!”
“O’ course! An’ youze?”
Stalling, Apple Bloom poured a glass of punch and chased her thirst. Not one drop of alcohol clouded the punchbowl or her judgment. She lied anyway. “Oh, yeah! Havin’ a great time! Good ta see everypony here an’ all!”
Across the room, a blindfolded Scootaloo stumbled and pinned Featherweight’s nose with the pony’s tail. Pointing and laughing, Babs said, “Guess I’m not the only one who can’t play dat game worth a horseapple!”
“Heh… yeah… Ah guess…” Apple Bloom played with the empty cup in her forehooves.
“'Ey… youze sure youze is alright?”
“Yea, Ah’m fine! Ah’m jus’ lookin’ at the time is all.” Fast on her hooves, Apple Bloom gestured to the ticking of a clock on the wall. “Applejack said befo’ we left that we should be home befo’ eleven, an’ it’s nearly ten now.”
“Oh. Alright,” Babs said, a little disappointed. “Let’s jus’ play a few mo’ games, an’ then we’ll go, alright?” An’ then maybe youze can tell me what’s really on youze mind. Youze ain’t no good liar like me, Apple Bloom.
Trotting after her, Apple Bloom forced a grin. “Okay, Babsy.”
~
Testing their curfew, Apple Bloom and Babs Seed left Sugar Cube Corner a few rounds of party games later, full of enough sugar to strike fear into the hearts of Equestria’s finest dentists. Disregarding the maladies of excessive carbohydrates, they munched on one last cookie on their journey out of town’s center. Finishing her treat, Babs Seed mused, “Horseapples, dat was a good party!”
“Babsy, don’t curse,” Apple Bloom teased, nudging her playfully in the ribs. “Yer smarter than that!”
“Pfft. No. Youze is the smarter one,” she taunted back, returning the gesture. “I see youze test papers, youze know. Top o’ the class at school. Always have been, haven’t youze? … Oh? Am I makin’ youze blush, now?”
The only reply was the nuzzling of a cheek against her neck. Striding closer to her savior, stars above the only lights guiding them towards the orchards in the distance, Apple Bloom silently pondered a question.
A simple inquiry, it was, though had bore a weight upon her mind the entire evening, threatening to dampen their celebration. She’d suppressed that thought through the endless parade of cake and streamers. She refused to be the raincloud casting down judgment. She refused to be the thorn in everypony's side. She’d kept the question to herself, hoping it would lessen its sting throughout the night.
She was wrong. In Sugar Cube Corner that night, surrounded by friends and classmates, she felt like an outcast.
Up a steep hill the two journeyed, grass underhoof wet with dew in the caress of the night. By this time, both knew they’d broken their curfew beyond measure. Applejack would not be pleased. Reasoning that they would be in deep excrement regardless, they slowed their pace as the rounded the crest of the hill, enjoying the whisper of the wind, the voice of the night in their ears.
They approached the farthest corner of the orchards. Tucked away among rows of apple trees laid the Cutie Mark Crusaders clubhouse. True to their vows, the four Crusaders would continue their adventures, though its purpose was obsolete.
Mostly so.
“It’s beautiful out heeya ta-night,” Babs muttered, gesturing to the canvas of stars above, beacons against the blackness.
“Heh, yeah. It sure is,” Apple Bloom said quietly.
Not as beautiful as youze. “Youze know summat I liked ta do when I was in Manehatten?”
“What?”
“Watch the stars. An’ the skies. An… ceilings, too.” Still do dat a lot. Chuckling, Babs explained, “It’s weird, but what I used ta do. Ta get thinkin’. It’s how I still think. I believe, sometimes, iffa youze do dat, it makes youze… closer ta some. Ta some up there.”
“Interestin’.” Apple Bloom proposed coyly, “Do ya want ta do some thinkin’ wit’ me tonight?”
“Sure,” replied Babs Seed, grinning.
They laid on the grass, stretching and arching their backs into the carpet of green. In the heavens, a galaxy of stars and a full moon shone bright and beautiful. Cassiopeia, Draco, Orion and his belt, and the rest of the holy constellations peeked through the overwhelming black blanket of the night.
Never one for astronomy and sans telescope, Babs Seed nevertheless did her best, recalling patterns in the sky. She spelled them out to Apple Bloom, who identified Big and Little Dipper but none else. Once she’d traced all those she could remember, Babs went silent, choosing to think of higher things instead.
A thousand points o’ light. Do dey always guide home? Is dat why dey pointed me heeya, those years ago? Will dey always? I wonda what dis is like in the desert. Citrus, Brae, an’ Ma say ta visit anytime… I should take ‘em up on dat…
Soon, through their peace came a murmur. “Babs…”
Crickets chirped their accompaniment to the pause that followed. She took a deep breath, anticipating the question that was to come. “What is it, Bloom?”
Apple Bloom whispered, “Babs… why don’t Ah have ma cutiemark yet?”
Heeya it comes at last. “I don’t know, Bloom. But,” Babs began, taking a yellow forehoof between two of her orange ones, “I know youze are special. I know youze’ll find youze talent, an’ soon.”
Apple Bloom scooted closer to her. “Thanks, but…”
“But… what?”
Sighing, Apple Bloom stared straight into those emerald irises, feeling them pierce past and beyond her own. They looked unwaveringly into her own gemstones, fiery rubies this time, shining in the moonlight. A concerned, uneasy smile crept across Babs Seed’s muzzle, unspoken words ushering her to continue. In that gaze, Apple Bloom felt no need to hold back any longer.
The force of her own fears threatened to unleash a torrent and tempest of their own. She’d hidden her doubts from Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo through all their crusades. She’d hidden them from Applejack and the rest of her family, too, including Babs. Now, in this moment, delinquent and daring, she chose to confide in the filly next to her, just as that filly had done so before, nearly three years ago.
Before Apple Bloom could request it, Babs Seed wrapped her forehooves around her, pulling her close. Much too close. Muzzle-to-muzzle close. In the darkness, atmosphere lit only by the beacons above, she blushed, whispering, “Ah… Ah don’t know if Ah’m—“
Shushing her, Babs Seed countered, “Yes, youze are. Youze are special. Youze are special ta me. Always have been.”
“How can Ah be, though?” She ran a forehoof through Babs's mane, ruffling it in her distraction. “Ah’ve tried everythin’, Babs. Even on ma own, without Sweetie o’ Scoots, an’ nothin’. An’ everypony tells me, over an’ over, that Ah just hafta wait. That it takes time. Applejack told me, Twilight told me, Zecora told me… Ah never learn. Ah don’t listen.”
Mindless in her movements, Apple Bloom moved the one strand of mane in front of Babs Seed’s eyes back and forth out of her vision. “Ah don’t know why. It’s not ‘cuz Ah don’t trust ‘em. It’s jus’… Ah guess…. Ah guess Ah jus’ worry that Ah’m not special. That ponies like Diamond Tiara are right.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout her, Ap—“
“It’s not jus’ her, Babs!” she huffed. “There's a bunch o' ponies who think that way. That Ah shoulda gotten it by now. What if Ah never do? What if Ah grow up an’ Ah’m not good at anythin’? What if Ah jus’ live here on Sweet Apple Acres, gettin’ fed by Applejack an’ Big Mac until they move on? What if Ah have ta leave? Nopony would hire a blankflank… nopony would… even…”
Her forehooves froze, releasing Babs Seed’s mane.
Babs stared at her. “Nopony would even…?”
Stammering, Apple Bloom replied, “A-Ah don’t… it’s s-s-stupid…”
“No, I’m the stupid one, rememba?”
“No, yer not!”
“Oh, I’m not? Well, maybe, I’m the silly one,” Babs shot back. She ruffled Apple Bloom's mane and began to nibble on her ear, prompting a wave of giggles from her victim.
“Babs! Stop it!”
“Not until youze take it back!”
“T-t-take what b-back?” Apple Bloom stuttered, fighting her laughter. Babs Seed continued to tickle her ear, unrelenting, muzzle split with an enormous grin.
“Don’t call youzeself stupid,” she ordered, breathing hotly into her victim’s ear before continuing her onslaught.
“Okay! Okay! Ah t-take it b-back! Jus’ stop ticklin’ me!”
Laughing, Babs Seed finally obeyed, releasing her. Once she caught her breath, she asked, “So... what were youze gonna say? ‘Nopony would even’…?”
Apple Bloom dismissed her with a forehoof. “Oh, forget it. It’s nothin’.”
“Where I come from, ‘nothin’ is a whole lot o’ summat, Apple Bloom. No. Please tell me.”
“… Maybe when yer older.”
“We’re the same age!”
Apple Bloom laughed. “Alright, maybe when we’re older, Ah'll tell ya.”
“Deal. Hey,” Babs said, smiling, “youze know what I think ‘bout all dis?”
“What, Babs?”
Locking eyes with Apple Bloom, Babs Seed said, “I think dat when we hafta wait fo’ our marks, it makes ‘em mo’ special. Like we really earned ‘em. An’ youze? Youze is smart, kind, funny, creative. Talented. The things youze can do, an’ the things youze tried ta do, dey outnumba mine. Youze can build things, an’ fix things, an’ take care o’ things. Youze is talented in youze own right. Me? I jus’ kick flanks. I’m jus’ a brute, youze see." She laughed.
“No,” Apple Bloom said softly. “No, yer not a brute. Yer a hero. Ma hero.”
Apple Bloom gestured to the nick in the Babs's left ear, gently caressing the cartilage with a forehoof. Apple Bloom, don’t… Her touch sent a chill down Babs Seed’s spine.
“See this?” she muttered, voice sultry and smooth. She lowered her gaze as she declared, “This, here, is you. This is you savin’ me.”
Smiling back, Babs said, “An’ this is how youze saved me,” and kissed her.
It was not their first kiss since Manehatten gave way to Ponyville, Orange becoming an Apple. It would not be their last. But, here, under the stars and moonlight, in the dew-covered grass, it was their first that felt electric, a tango of fire and ice, a surge of one soul passing through another.
I… I think…
Breaking their connection with a small smile, Apple Bloom asked gently, “An’ how did Ah save you?”
“Youze were the first pony I told the truth ta,” Babs replied, nuzzling her. “An’ dat made me a lil’ braver. Like I could do bigger things. Scarier things. An’ I did. Took me a while, but… I did. An’ youze are partially ta thank fo’ dat.
“An’ anotha thing… Because o’ youze tellin’ Applejack what happened ta me, she told Citrus an’ Ma. Because I was weak, an' couldn't tell 'em maself. An’ it’s because youze told her, dat I’m heeya. Iffa youze didn’t? Probably wouldn’t be.
“So, youze is ma hero, Apple Bloom, an’ iffa I know anythin’—an’ I don’t know much—it’s dat I know youze will get youze mark, an’ it’ll be beautiful.”
Both lost for words, they could only smile and watch the stars for seconds, minutes, hours. They laid there, tangled in the forehooves of the other, extending their sentence in their truancy. Applejack would be furious once they rose to their hooves and trotted home. It would be worth it.
When they finally ended their stargazing and turned in for the night, Apple Bloom felt her foalish optimism return. She knew that, at the very least, one pony would accept her, no matter how long or arduous her own journey. The destination, whether it was tomorrow or a year from today, waited patiently, Babs Seed by her side in her conquest.
Maybe, Apple Bloom was wrong, and somepony could love a blankflank.
~
“Can you believe it, Silver Spoon?!” Diamond Tiara scowled. “Those Cutie Mark Crusaders invited everypony but us to their cute-ceañera! Everypony but us! And we even invited them to ours!”
Silver Spoon said with a roll of her eyes, “They’re sooooo lame.”
Both fillies trotted through the streets, grumbling as they passed Sugar Cube Corner. Obscenely loud music blared through the bakery’s windows. The scent of countless fresh pies, cakes, and cookies wafted through the streets, teasing their nostrils.
“This is ridiculous! Just wait until Daddy hears about this.” Tiara groaned. “Ooh, Sugar Cube Corner won’t be getting our business for a while!”
Suddenly, the clip-clop of hooves against the unpaved roads silenced their complaints. Silver Spoon hissed, pointing a ways up the dimly lit street, “Look, over there!”
Beyond them, the last blankflank in their class and a bully from the East strode towards Sweet Apple Acres. The two fillies walked closely together, tails swishing and entwining their strands.
Yet, these were not only two fillies behaving in such an intimate manner (which was strange enough). Compounding the confusion, they were two cousins, one-eighth of the other reflecting in themselves. And their companionship went far beyond the boundaries of friendship, the tension between them palpable even at a distance.
Diamond Tiara yanked Silver Spoon’s braid, dragging them both into an alleyway. “Ow! Diamond Tiara!” she yelped, only to be shushed by a rough forehoof.
“Quiet! They’ll see us!”
Gently removing the hoof, Silver said, “Yes, I know, but... why are we—“
“Not now, Silver Spoon!” Diamond snarled. Clasping her hooves together in excitement, a wicked grin spreading across her muzzle, she said, “This is just… too perfect.”
Silver Spoon raised a confused eyebrow. “I… I don’t understand. I thought you hated them. Don’t you?”
“Of course I do!” Diamond snapped, keeping her voice low. “And this is the perfect opportunity to get back at that bad seed! Daddy’s sent letter after letter to that awful filly’s father, but still she doesn’t get it! She still doesn’t respect me!”
Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon kept a wary distance from the Cutie Mark Crusaders, especially when Babs was guarding them. Babs Seed never returned their favor by bullying them directly. However, Diamond Tiara still held a grudge against the filly who humiliated her, cast aside her friendship, and refused her peace offering.
Watching as Apple Bloom and Babs Seed interacted in this twisted way, despicable, defiling, nauseating, she knew she found the upper hoof at last. “Oh, this is too good, just too good.”
“… I thought they were cousins…” Silver Spoon mumbled, her eyes wide in utter disbelief.
“They are. Which makes it so much better,” replied her best and only friend. “Not just fillyfoolers… incestuous fillyfoolers.”
Both fillies were amazed at their fortune, rolling in the alley in waves of laughter, plans resurrected. Diamond Tiara long wished to put that wretched filly in her place. Thorns in her side, the both of them would soon be plucked, and cast before the fold, exposed for the filth they were.
Then, and only then, would she have her revenge, pushing her tormentor down into the mud with the pigs, where she belonged.