//------------------------------// // Chapter Eight // Story: Generosity // by Richie Richter //------------------------------// Chapter Eight The door of the orphanage clicked closed behind the exhausted, white mare. The clouds had continued to roll in and now the sky was almost completely blanketed with dull grey, growing duller in the fading light. The sun was setting behind the Canterlot Mountain, a great red sphere being pierced by the black peak of the mountain. There was a cut in the clouds that had yet to be sewn up for the night's rainstorm. The weather team had decided to hold off on the rain until nightfall and Rarity knew it. The sun coming through the cut left Canterlot in silhouette, everything from spiraling towers to the cascading waterfalls was dark. A long V-shaped shadow spread out over the entire valley.         It was strange, how the shadow looked from the hill. It was slowly creeping up on Ponyville, like a spectral arrow about to pierce right through all the trees and cottages and ponies hurrying about here and there finishing errands and hastily wrapping up conversations. The town itself was still in the sunlight. That arrow had yet to pierce it, but everything below it was in the shadows. The light filtered down through the clouds in great etherial shafts, like light running through a stained glass window, constantly shifting around as if it was alive, when really it's just the dust floating through the air. The light twinkled, ebbed, and flowed down onto the picturesque little town torn from a storybook.         Rarity shifted in place, took a deep breath, and took off at a brisk pace toward home, casting occasional glances towards the clouds. She kept her mind occupied as she walked, thinking about anything but the orphanage. Her thoughts moved from the angelic view to what she was going to do when she got home. The wind had picked up and the temperature had risen, signaling the incoming storm. The clouds were turning a bit green while the air grew hot and thick. Maybe this storm was going to be bigger than she first thought. Rarity looked around at the clouds and picked up her pace. The burning red sphere was further impaling itself onto the peak. The bleeding wound in the sky was slowly being sutured shut.         Rarity couldn't wait to get home. She was tired. She had been tired since noon and was only still standing because of all the coffee she had drank, and now, after everything, she was even more tired. She just wanted to get home and relax, and she had things all planned out. First, she would throw on a pair of long silken stockings. Striped to match her colors. Then she would slide into her little pink slippers and wrap herself in her favorite bathrobe. She would brew up a few cups of tea and unwind on her couch in front of a roaring fire. She would let her mane fall wherever it wanted and perhaps pull out a thick flannel blanket to help ward away the wind and rain. Maybe make a little progress on her latest romance novel. And Opalescence would come and curl up next to her on the couch, sharing in the warmth. And after the entire pot of tea had been finished, and she was nice and warm and full and happy, she would close her eyes and snuggle deeper into the covers ready to sleep all night and well into the morning straight through breakfast. And while the rain pecked at the roof and the wind groaned against the walls, she would throw a hoof around Silver Streak and pull her as close as she possibly could.         No         Rarity shook her head. She trudged on as the warm wind whistled through her ears and whipped at her coat and mane. The air was oppressive. The sun slipped further onto the rocky blade as the shadowy arrow creeped ever closer. The red rift in the sky was shrinking, and the Light continued to bleed down onto the little town of Ponyville.         She swallowed hard as her head fell to the ground beneath her. Her hooves clicked softly on the packed dirt of the path. After a while, she just tried to focus on putting one hoof in front of the other. It was becoming harder to do so, like her hooves were made of iron and the orphanage was some kind of magnet. Every step farther away she took, the harder it was to take the next. Her pace was slowing and she was breathing hard through the air. She just wanted to go home, but she was being drawn back to the crumbling building. No matter how hard she tried, the thoughts were starting to seep in. She ignored them, but they continued to fester at the back of her mind, growing large and bulbous like a cancerous tumor. She told herself to be rational. She told herself to think twice. She told herself to sleep on it, but how could she get any sleep when there was a tortured little soul out there crying out for help. She told herself how she had just met this filly. She told herself that she wouldn't be any good at it. She told herself she wasn't ready. She told herself that she was too young. She asked herself what her friends would think, what strangers would think, seeing someone so young with a child of her age. She asked herself what they would think of her. She told herself about how this would affect her career. She told herself that she had nothing to prove. They were all excuses. Good excuses. So many good excuses. She didn't notice that she had stopped walking. She was on the last hill outside Ponyville, below her was the village, still sparking in the last few beams of sunlight. Behind her was the orphanage, dark and clothed in shadow. When Rarity looked back towards Ponyville, the arrow had pierced it. It was working its way through the deserted streets, and it was shrouding all of the well lit little cottages that lined them. The sun was completely split now, sliced in half by the sinister spike. The bloody gash in the clouds was shrinking smaller, smaller, smaller, until it was finally sewn up nice and neat, and everything––even Ponyville––was stuck in the shadows of the rumbling green clouds. The first few drops of rain pattered against her coat. She looked up into the rain and her eyes wrenched shut.         She also told herself that she would never forget.         Her legs gave out and she crumbled to the ground. That day, every time tears had threatened to pour out, something had saved her. After Rainbow Dash had spoken her harsh words, it had been the coffee machine that stopped them. When she came into the orphanage to find the foals lined up with their signs, it had been those same foals charging at her that had stopped her tears. When she had thought about the foals while sitting in that chair in front of the fire, she had been saved by Tenderhoof calling out that dinner was ready. And when she had held Silver Streak in her arms, it had been the filly pleading with her not to cry. And when the filly had gone to sleep she held back the sobs in exchange for less fulfilling silent tears. And after she had kissed the filly good night, she promised herself not to cry, even silently, until she was in the safety of her bed. But now, there was nothing to save her. She was on a hill outside Ponyville, all alone as the clouds were closed up and the rain came pouring down.         So she wept. She broke down and cried. There was no one around to hear, but no one around to comfort as she sobbed. She turned over on the pathway that was turning from dirt to mud in the rain. Her hair clung to her body in wet clumps and her coat was brown and clotted with mud. Her face was black and white again, alternating stripes from the rain and the tears. So many tears that a milky black puddle was forming around her head. The designer hoofbag was soaked, but she didn't care. She cried heavy tears with the heavy rain. Cries that ran out into the storm, but were snuffed out by the storm. They were tears that couldn't be wiped away because a thousand more would soon replace them. She rose back to her hooves, still crying. Now that she had started, like a dam that had burst, there was no stopping the flow. The rain pummeled her like a volley of gunfire. She turned back to the dark form of the orphanage and stared up the path through bleary, tear clouded eyes. She took a step, tripped, and fell into the mud. She got up again, her coat heavy from the filth and the rain. And took another step, only to fall again into the slop of the path. The mud was deep. Walking was like wading through a swamp. She grit her teeth and rose again. She cried out in the grey of the rainstorm and took off down the path in the direction of the orphanage.         She would not forget.         She was running now, running as fast as her hooves could carry her through the knee-high mud. Her hoofsteps flung slop from the path into her still crying face, but she wiped it away and pressed on. The handbag was choking her, it being so drenched with water and muck. Without breaking her eyes from the orphanage, she yanked at it with her magic and the buckle snapped from the purse with a glorious ping. The golden buckle flipped off and away into the mud, the sound ringing and spinning with it all the way. She held the bag in front of her and tore it and all of its unnecessary expense into a pile of faux-leather scraps. She tossed them into the air and let them flutter down around her as she pressed on faster through the slough.         She was coming to get her. She was coming to take her home to that home that she had been promised those many months ago by somepony who would lie and then cry and then forget. She might have lied, and she might have cried, but she would not forget. She was going to make up for all the times she had hurt her. She was close now, close to holding her in her arms, close to kissing her mane, close to rocking her to sleep at night, and close to watching her smile. Really smile. Close to taking her away from this place, close to feeding her something that didn't always taste the same, close to letting her live someplace that wasn't tearing itself apart at the seams, close to giving her somewhere warm to sleep and watching her leap down the stairs in the morning excited to be alive, and close to watching her be happy. Really be happy. Close to watching her grow up, close to watching her become just like herself, close to standing up and applauding her, close to always being there for her, close to watching the stars with her, close to watching saturday morning cartoons with her, close to playing dress up with her, and close to going on a thousand-and-one adventures with her. Both big and small. Close to watching over her when she was sick, close to cheering her up when she was down, close to getting her ready for school every morning, close to reading her a story every night before she slept, close to letting her cuddle up with her in bed when she woken up by a thunderstorm, and close to loving her with every last inch of her generous heart. Close to being her mother. So close. Rarity smiled through her tears as she approached the door of the orphanage.         She was going to tell her why everything was going to be alright.         No.         She was going to show her why everything was going to be alright.         Checker was there, standing in the middle of the room with the orphanage keys in her mouth ready to lock up for the night when Rarity burst through the door. She jumped back a step and dropped the keys from her mouth. A mud and rain slathered Rarity came slithering up to Checkers hooves, sobbing but smiling, looking up at the elder through the wet mess of her mane. "Rarity?" Checker said, bending down to her. Rarity threw her messy hooves around her neck. "Rarity, what happened, are you alright?"         "Checker!" she shouted for the whole orphanage to hear, "I want to adopt! Please!"         "Rarity, slow down," she soothed, "what are you saying?" Checker said. Tenderhoof came flying around the corner. His eyes bulged and he took off back down the hall, returning a few moments later with a stack bath towels. He ran to Rarity and knelt down next to her, throwing the first around her torso, he swept her mane back with the next. The door was hanging wide open, a warm wind was blowing through. Tenderhoof stood up and swung the door shut. A puddle of water had followed Rarity in, and it was now pooling around her drenched, shivering form. She took her other hoof, and wrapped it around Tenderhoof as he knelt back down beside her. She was smiling now, big and wide with a black, dirty face full of tears. Tenderhoof used his last towel to gently clean her face of the mascara, mud, and tears. “Oh, Checker! Tenderhoof! You both. You have to understand. I... I want to adopt!” “We understand, Rarity,” Tenderhoof said, “just calm down for us, okay?” With concern in his eyes he looked down upon the shivering white unicorn. “Are you going to be alright? Want me to fetch more towels? A blanket? Some tea, coff-” “No, no. I’m fine. I just want to...to make sure she’s alright.” “She?” Checker said. Rarity nodded in response. “Tenderhoof, honey? L-let’s do this right now, okay? Um, I’ll get the papers.” standing up and shuffling around to her desk. She returned with a short stack and a pen. “It’s a pretty huge responsibility, Rarity. Are you sure you understand what you’re about to do?” “Of course I do!” Tenderhoof hugged Rarity a little tighter, drawing her eyes back to him. “It’s very noble, Rarity. I always had a hunch that you might eventually choose to adopt. Ever since that first Sunday you walked in. Something in your eyes. Though I have to say, I never thought it would go like this.” A clattering from upstairs drew their attention. “Wonder what-” “For god's sake! Just tell me she’s alright!” “Who, Rarity? Who is she?” As Checker said this, the small white form of a foal appeared at the top of the stairs, a little brown bear tucked underneath her leg, eyes straining against the light. “Silver!” A few other foals joined Silver Streak on the stairs, peering through the wooden supports of the handrail, gripping them like the steel bars on a prison door. “Rarity?” the foal said in a tired voice “What are you-” At that point Silver Streak must have seen the seen the papers in Checker’s hooves, because her eyes went wide and she took off down the stairs. Rarity shoved Tenderhoof and Checker aside, and rushed to meet Silver. They met at the bottom of the stairs, and the foal leapt into Rarity’s arms. They embraced, twirling at the foot of the stairs. Neither cared that Rarity was still dripping with water and smeared with dirt. Tears came to both their eyes, but only a few. Even though these were of joy, too many had already been shed that day. A few tears ran down the cheeks of Checker and Tenderhoof as they watched. When Rarity could no longer stand, she sat, still hugging, kissing, and nuzzling, with the filly doing the same back to her. With her muzzle pressed hard against Rarity’s shoulder, she spoke. “Rarity? Are you actually?” “Yes, Silver. I am... I am. I am. I am.” “But...before today, all you knew about me was my name. Even now, we know so little about each other. And now this? So suddenly? I don’t understand.” “Oh, sweetie.” Rarity combed through the filly’s hair. “I don't need to know you to know how much pain you have to live with every day of your life. It’s unfair. I-I was burning and twisting up on the inside after you told me all those awful things. I felt sick. Sick and angry and confused and hurt. Just like you. And I may never know what it feels like to be so alone. To feel so utterly abandoned by the world. I may never know, but all I want to do is make sure you never ever ever have to feel like that ever again, okay? Okay sweetie? Oh, Silver! It would have been a crime for me not to do this.” They pulled away and gazed into each other’s eyes. Both bleary, tired, but so completely filled with love. “Thank you. I think...I think it’s going to be alright.” Silver nodded and smiled. A huge, honest, happy smile. Grinning from ear to ear. She giggled through the last of her tears and latched back onto Rarity’s warm chest, burrowing deep into her coat. The weight that had been pulling at her for so long had been lifted. Ever since she had first started coming to the orphanage the weight had been there, growing larger and heavier as time dragged on. And now the black pit deep within her stomach––within her soul––was gone. She breathed deep. She was free, and so was Silver Streak. She wiped away the last of her tears, and then the last tears of the filly. Here she was. Her foal. Her beautiful, beautiful foal. Rarity smiled, cradling her, rocking gently back and forth on the floor. “There, there, darling. No more tears. No more Pain. No more Sadness or sleepless nights. No more lies. No more guilt. No more forgetting. No more. No more... Everything is going to be alright, sweetie. I’m absolutely sure of it.” And this time, she wasn't lying, wasn't crying, and she definitely wasn't forgetting.