//------------------------------// // 9. Ponyville (Stop 8) // Story: Dysphoria, Arc 5: Equestria // by thedarkprep //------------------------------// 9. Ponyville (Stop 8) “Autumn is such an ugly season.” The remark had been mumbled into the air without a particular audience in mind. As such, it lacked direction and urgency, not unlike most self-reflection, allowing the words to drift through the air without purpose or trajectory. The remark did not ask for a response – it simply existed through sound waves and space. And yet, despite all this, Dusk expected to hear a witty comeback or some comment. The comment would not come. He was alone. A sudden burst of wind flew past, causing Dusk to shrink into his suit jacket for warmth as he leaned against a nearby tree, the only form of protection on the hill on which he now stood. The wind had scattered the leaves on the ground, lifting them into the sky only for them to fall again to where they had been after the Running of the Leaves. There they would wilt and wither until they ceased to exist. “Then the ground will be bare again, much like the trees,” Dusk thought, watching as the leaves scattered and fell through the town. “Everything feels so bare.” In all other aspects Dusk had to admit the day was a rather beautiful one, almost unfittingly so, considering the circumstances. The sun shone brightly through the clear sky, courtesy of the efforts by the local weather team, and the cold was far from unbearable. And yet, everything felt empty. The sound of crunching leaves caught Dusk’s attention, growing louder as the source came closer. He took a deep sigh, but continued to stare at the land below the hill. “Are they ready for me?” he asked. “Or are changes still being made?” Behind him, Timetable shook her head, despite Dusk being unable to see her. “Pinkie and Lyra are still trying to accommodate the extra ponies that arrived,” she said. “So far we have the seating figured out for the family and friends, as well as pretty much all of the locals-“ “Good, considering they were the ones that were accounted for from the start,” Dusk said interrupting. “We have also figured out seating for the different mayors, as well some nobility, and a good amount of other ponies,” Timetable continued, paying the interruption no heed. “Still, even with their best efforts, I don’t think they’re going to be able to find a way to fit everypony showing up for the service. I think they’re looking for extra tarps and chairs right now.” Dusk shook his head. “They shouldn’t be working on this anymore,” he said. “They deserve to sit, and mourn, and relax. They were her friends, after all; they shouldn’t have to work this hard today.” “It’s their choice,” Timetable answered. “Lyra refuses to let Pinkie work by herself and Pinkie will not stop until everyone that shows up has a place to sit… she keeps going on about a promise she has to keep.” Dusk let out another deep sigh. “Very well,” he said. “If nothing else, they can stand. Sweet Apple Acres is big enough to hold everypony, even if not enough chairs are found.” Timetable nodded, but said nothing. “The interviews have all been set up, right?” Dusk asked. “The newspapers, the photographers, everything? And the publicity campaign?” “Yes, it’s all been taken care of,” Timetable said wearily. “We’ll be ready to move using the funeral’s momentum immediately after today. And before you ask, yes, the meeting with the mayors regarding the event has been confirmed. Some of them were actually quite eager to talk to you.” Dusk scoffed. “Yes, I bet,” he said. “Ringer must be quite looking forward to shoving my latest failure in my face.” “This wasn’t your fault, Dusk.” Her tone was firm, but lacked any aggression or hostility. In fact, it only barely covered up the pity she felt towards the stallion. “No, of course it wasn’t,” he responded. “I mean, I didn’t stop her from leaving the hotel in what I knew to be a very dangerous city, and I did spend the past month stirring up the wasps nest, trying to get some sort of reaction. And come to think about it, had I left her alone from the get go when she wanted nothing to do with us she’d still be here, but yes, I see how it is completely acceptable for me to sit here and believe that it is not my fault!” Silence followed Dusk’s last yell. “And even after all that, here I am, capitalizing on her death,” he said, continuing. “A funeral sponsored by the Equestrian Equality Envoy, open to the press and which I will be using for our cause in the following months. Rose would be sickened by me.” Timetable took a few awkward steps, stopping beside the stallion. “You are not to blame for the despicable actions of the intolerant,” she said. “Implying that this is all on you is a disservice to Rose, her choices, and everything she stood for. As for your actions now, the fight isn’t over just because Rose is gone. Yes, she would hate you, but this is all for the bigger picture, the one she was fighting for.” A mirthless chuckle escaped Dusk’s lips. “Yes, the larger picture,” he said. “Despicable actions and compromised morality for the sake of a larger goal. And I guess we can add her death to the things given for the larger picture, right? A sacrifice.” “Dusk, she was no sacrifice,” Timetable pleaded. “She was not given, she was taken.” “AND HOW MANY HAVE TO BE TAKEN?” Dusk yelled. Timetable was shocked by outburst, but said nothing. “How many have to die because of my mistakes?” Dusk said, almost whispering. “How many under my command? And you know what’s worse? Rose died during an initiative taken to make the world safer for her. Well we certainly did a splendid job with that, didn’t we!? Awards and champagne all around!” Smack. Dusk stood there, disoriented and very aware of the pain on his check. Meanwhile, Timetable stood in front of him with tears in her eyes and anger in her features, hoof still outstretched. “Let’s get a few things straight, ok?” she said. “One, you’re not the only one hurting. I was her friend too, but right now you and I need to be strong, which brings me to point two. This was never about Rose or making her world safer. She could fight her own battles, and very often did so. This was about every other mare, stallion, colt, and filly. They’re still out there, they still need help, and they still need someone to fight for them. Rose isn’t here anymore, so it falls on us. Backing out now is nothing short of a betrayal of the friendship we had with her and I will not allow you to do so.” Dusk took a while longer to recover, but eventually he nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I would never ask anyone to carry a weight I could not, and now that she isn’t here, it’s up to us.” “They’re ready for you.” The two turned to look at the earth pony walking towards them up the hill, getting closer before speaking again. “They’ve finished setting up,” Organizer said. “Everyone’s ready and situated; I think it’s time we began.” “Very well,” Dusk said. “Lead the way.” The whisperings and murmurs stopped as Dusk approached the elevated podium set up behind the coffin. He knew they wanted him to speak, but he instead took a second to take in his surroundings. “They can wait,” he thought. The first thing he noticed was the huge number of ponies that were present. He recognized some from various stops throughout Equestria: Sunspot, the Wonderbolts, the feminist mare, and a transfilly amongst them, but they were few and far in between. Still, the majority of the ponies seemed to be in dire spirits, with tears being shed everywhere he looked. He also could not help but notice that despite the large number of ponies, it seemed like no protestors or hecklers had decided to make an appearance, being respectful enough to leave these ponies to grieve in peace. “I guess we did have some impact after all,” Dusk thought. A sudden sob turned Dusk’s attention towards the front section, where Rose’s friends had gathered. The sob had apparently come from either Applejack or Rarity, as they both seemed to be trying hard to quell their cries. Lyra, Bon Bon, and Rainbow Dash were sitting by them, trying to calm them. Their expressions did not divulge the pain they were feeling, but they could not stop the tell-tale tears falling from their eyes. Next to them sat Derpy, holding Dinky close as the filly wept into her mother’s embrace, with Pinkie and Fluttershy, who were holding up rather well, all things considered, trying to help cheer up the filly. And next to them sat Twilight. This was the pony whose reaction Dusk found most curious. She was, after all, not crying. There were no tears, and there was no reaction to the world around her. She just sat there, looking quite in shock, as if her world had shattered. Dusk was rather familiar with the expression, having seen it firsthoof on the faces of those who did not realize that death was a possibility. At every funeral there was at least one who had never considered that one of their friends or loved ones could die, and the shock seemed to overtake the pony to the point that nothing else mattered and nothing made sense. “I guess when your mentor lives forever it’s easy to forget that nopony else does,” Dusk mused. He then turned to look at the ponies standing in the backstage area, giving them a nod to signal that he was about to begin, meaning they should begin getting ready. They each nodded back in understanding. Finally, he looked down to the casket below, seeing the smiling mare with closed eyes, resting eternally. “A tragedy has befallen Equestria,” Dusk began, facing away from the coffin. “I could stand here and tell you about the death of an icon, the death of a symbol for transgender rights and one of its greatest activists, but that’s not what makes this a tragedy. That’s not what makes this a tragedy because the tragedy is not that we lost the Evening Rose the transpony activist, but that we lost the mare named Evening Rose.” Dusk felt tears begin to work their way through his eyelids, but he fought them back. “From my short time knowing her, I can tell you that Rose was many things,” he said. “She was brash, she was stubborn, and she was awkward. But I can also tell you that she was selfless, she was strong, and was happy. Yes, I know it must be hard to believe considering her life, but Evening Rose was a mare who loved to smile and who was genuinely happy of the life she lived, regardless of what it had taken to get there. And yet, the Rose I knew was burdened. She was burdened by a responsibility to others, by the expectations of others, and by her expectations of herself. The Rose I knew was very closely tied to the activist role she played, and for her to still find happiness in that world she was forced into… it’s a truly remarkable thing. And so, as we remember her, I thought it apt to ask that we remember the pony she was, rather than what she represented. What she represented can be found again, but we will never find another Evening Rose.” Dusk grimaced as he became aware of the sound of Timetable weeping backstage. “And so, to remember her properly, I thought it best to ask others to speak. Others who have known her more, who have known her longer, and perhaps better than any of us could,” Dusk said. Dusk stepped away from the podium, standing off to the side, allowing the next speaker to make his way up. He looked over to the opposite side of the stage, where Perfect Rhyme and Summer Breeze stood, comforting each other, nodding in the direction of the podium. Slowly but surely, Perfect stepped away from Summer, making his way over to the podium. He looked down once, and closed his eyes, fighting back tears all the while. Dusk was about to go help the colt when he began to speak. “I want to thank you all for coming here today,” he began. “I know it would have meant a lot to my sister to know that so many of you cared.” His voice cracked, and he stumbled through some of the words, but he persevered, and it seemed that once he began to speak, each following sentence became easier to say. “I didn’t know much about what my sister did,” he said. “I still don’t, to be honest. I know she gave speeches and talked to ponies… but seeing you all, and seeing what she meant to so many… it makes me really proud of her. I just wish I could tell her that.” Perfect looked down at his sister’s body again. “My sister always seemed happy, even before she changed her name,” he said. “She was always there to help me and always smiled. It came as a big shock to me to find out that she was hiding so much… pain. She was smart, and funny, and caring. She was the best sister I could have asked for. I’m just happy she finally got to be happy, and even though I miss her a lot, I know she’s now somewhere where she’ll be happy forever.” He took his gaze away from her, looking back at the audience. “Now that she’s gone I keep asking myself and thinking of what I should do, what she would have wanted from me,” Perfect said. “And I guess all I can think of is that she would have wanted me to be happy, to be myself, and to try to help others, just like her. And so, I guess I’m asking that you all do that, for her, and for me, and for yourselves. Thank you.” Perfect Rhyme walked offstage, with Summer joining him. The two colts then made their way over to where Cheerilee stood, as well as a group of her students, with words of condolences ringing out from the areas that the colts passed. Once they arrived ,they were met with hugs from the Cutie Mark Crusaders, as well as with a new wave of tears and cries. Dusk watched the scene play out before some movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Turning he found Octavia and Vinyl Scratch, holding each other in a comforting embrace, before Octavia separated and began walking towards the podium. The mare, Dusk could see, had tear marks running down her cheeks, and yet, despite her tears and her bloodshot eyes, her face showed nothing but determination. “To be honest, I don’t really want to be up here talking,” Octavia said, recapturing the room’s attention. “When Dusk first asked me talk today, I really wanted to say no. I get the appeal of having me speak, seeing how I am Rose’s oldest friend, and I am probably the one that knew her best, or at least knows most of her history... But talking about her would mean accepting that she’s gone, and I’m not ready to do that… I don’t want to accept that.” Dusk noticed for the first time how hard she seemed to be trying to avoid looking down. “And yet, I feel like I have to,” she continued softly. “I have to come to terms with it and talk because I have something to say and if I don’t say it I know I will regret it for the rest of my life.” She paused as she thought about her words. “Unlike Perfect, I did get to see Rose suffer. I saw her cry, I saw her in pain, and I saw her struggle. I didn’t always understand it, but for as long as I knew her, she was unhappy. There was always something holding her back, something she was struggling against, and it hurt her. That was the pony I knew, the pony most others didn’t get to see. And then I found out about... well, her… I found out about her, and it caught me offguard, much like it did everyone else, but that’s not what struck me as weird. What did was that the chip that she always carried on her shoulder, the hatred and sadness in her eyes… it was gone,” Octavia said, her voice beginning to crack. “After years of dealing with that pain, she was finally rid of it. She was happy. Happy to be a mare, happy to be accepted… she was happy to be herself. So I guess what I want to say is thank you. Thank you for allowing her to be herself and for loving her for the mare she was. I cannot put into words how much it means to me that her final year was at least a happy one.” Tears began to fall down her cheeks. “She was my best friend,” she said, sobbing. “She was kind, and caring, and too stupid for her own good. But because of you all, she was happy. So thank you.” She then turned to look down at the casket, whispering something that no one but the ponies on the stage could hear. “Goodbye, Script.” And with that, Octavia too walked off the stage followed by Vinyl, the two sitting down next to Rich Rhyme, Ilene Rhyme, Octavia’s parents, and a few other members of the Canterlot nobility. Dusk had begun to walk towards the podium, ready to conclude the first part of the funeral, when he noticed another figure walk from the backstage area, one that was tall and white, with both wings and a horn, as well as a flowing ethereal mane. Dusk, along with the ponies in the audience dropped into a low bow. “No need for that, my little ponies,” Celestia said as she walked to the podium, causing said ponies to stand back up and listen intently. “Dusk was quite right in that Equestria has suffered a tragedy,” she said. “And as such, I hope it is alright if I say a few words despite not being formally asked to speak.” She turned to look at Dusk, who nodded. “I guess the first place to start is to say that I am responsible for the death of Evening Rose,” Celestia said. A few gasps of surprised and mumbles of confusion echoed through the air before the princess began talking again. “At least, that’s how I feel,” she continued. “I had known about the transpony plight, and I even had a conversation with Rose about my lack of involvement. In my mind, I was doing the right thing by allowing the different cities to come to their own decisions. In my mind, abstaining from action was the best action I could undertake. I had faith in you all, and I still do, but…” She paused for a second. “But faith is not enough,” she said finally. She allowed a few moments to pass as she thought about her next words. “I fully believe that if left to your own devices, acceptance and harmony will eventually prevail. I also believe that these types of social decisions should be left up to the ponies of each city, and that self-government of social issues is the correct path for a better Equestria. However, I see now that, despite those beliefs, leaving the safety and wellbeing of the minority in the hooves of the majority was a mistake, one I will make sure never happens again.” As she spoke, her tone changed from one of sadness to one of authority. “Soon I will be instituting mandatory policies that will secure the safety and wellbeing of all ponies, including those who happen to be transgender. Cities that refuse to implement these policies will suffer severe penalties. Understand that violation of these policies will be treated as royal offenses to the Throne. This is me announcing that change will come to Equestria, a change that has been far too long in coming. The death of Evening Rose is a tragedy, and I refuse for it to be a hollow one.” Celestia took one look into the casket. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, before walking away. A blanket of soft moonlight covered Applejack as she sat on her porch. She watched the full moon and the surrounding stars, wishing to be captivated by their beauty, or at the very least to be distracted from her thoughts, but it would seem that neither of these was a viable option for her at the moment. After all, to forget the situation was to forget Rose, and Applejack was not about to let that happen. She turned to look over the main field where the funeral had taken place, now empty and back to its normal condition. After the princess left, ponies had been invited to go up and speak at the podium, to say their last goodbyes or to share some memory or thought regarding the now gone mare. Many had done so. Applejack had sat and listened as ponies from throughout Equestria talked at length about what Rose had done for them, or what she had represented in their lives. A mother, for example, talked about how Rose had helped her put her aversion aside in order to keep her son in her life. Grateful ponies talked about finding bravery, or comfort, or solace in Rose’s speeches, in her story, and in talks with her. Then came the time for her close friends to talk. A sense of déjà vu overtook Applejack as she had stared at those ponies, remembering how they had all sat together in a hospital room, expecting the worst. This was slightly different, though, as back then they were afraid that Rose might die, and here… Well, that event seemed to have prepared them for this. Applejack had stood in line with the rest as they went up, sharing memories and stories about Rose’s first days in Ponyville and the good times they’d shared since. Each pony had had something to add, something to contribute, something to say to Rose and to those assembled. Each pony but Applejack. Instead, she had stayed back, unsure of what to say. She had stayed silent. After the funeral, the groups had separated in order to grieve in their own ways. Twilight, for example, was at her library with Derpy, Bon Bon, and Lyra while Rarity, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash went out to the fancy restaurant over by the town’s lemon tree. Pinkie, on the other hoof, had decided to stay with Perfect and Summer, looking after the two colts while sharing funny stories about Rose and the various mishaps that had occurred in Ponyville. The only one that had chosen to mourn alone was Applejack. She had, or course, been invited to be a part of all those meetings but had chosen to be on her own instead. And so she sat, searching for the words she could not say before, the words that Rose deserved to hear. “Why is this so hard?” Applejack mumbled as she once again failed to find the right words for how she felt. She was no longer crying and, while sad, sadness was no longer the strongest feeling she had. There was loss, yes, but something else as well. A sudden flash of movement in her peripherals caused her to turn her attention to the road leading to Ponyville, where she saw a critter running through. Her gaze, however, stayed rooted on the spot where she had first met Rose. If she squinted, she could almost make out the figure of the pony, crawling towards Ponyville in the mud and rain. She remembered almost ignoring the figure, going towards it, and seeing the bloody mess struggling for life. She remembered saving him. New tears formed in Applejack’s eyes as the memories resurfaced. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you this time,” Applejack cried in the night silence, finally finding the words for what she had been struggling with. She remembered carrying Script into her home through the largest thunderstorm of the year. She remembered barging into Granite’s home. She remembered sitting at Rose’s bedside in the hospital. She had always been there. “I should have been there,” she cried, breaking down on the porch. “It was Manehattan, my family was there! I could have gone… I could have stayed!” Her breaths began coming out in hurried spurts. “I could have saved you,” she stammered. “I should have saved you.” And so she continued her lament, her cries fading into the night. Ponyville was in mourning, its various voices, cries, and whispers meshing together into a blanket of noise that permeated the air. It was a noise that barely registered in the ears of Vinyl Scratch. Normally she would have been able to pinpoint and identify each incoming wavelength after years of practice sitting in the middle of town and listening. Her abilities with sound control and sound magic had of course helped her manipulate sound in ways one could hardly imagine, but such abilities were nothing without a trained ear with which to listen. And yet, the world was silent as far as Vinyl was concerned, all mute except for the noises from the house previously owned by Evening Rose. “Who’s there!?” she exclaimed, hearing a creak coming from the kitchen, walking over to examine the area and finding the kitchen to be empty. “Wow, you’re really starting to lose it…” “Vinyl? Are you ok down there?” Vinyl walked back into the main room, stopping by the staircase before responding. “Yeah. Are you almost done, Octi?” Vinyl asked, hearing movement coming from the second floor. “I might be a bit longer. I’m having a hard time finding what I need,” Octavia responded. Vinyl took a deep breath, ears twitching at every creak and groan emitted by the house. “Could you please hurry?” she pleaded. “I really don’t want to spend any more time here than I have to.” She waited for any type of response, but the only sounds to make their way down the stairs were those of Octavia rummaging through Rose’s bedroom. Vinyl took another look around the living room, a room she had been in many times but currently creeped her out beyond belief. She looked as each photograph of Rose stared at her from the surrounding walls, once precious mementos, now only reminders of what was gone. “It really feels different without her here,” Vinyl thought to herself. Vinyl tried to juxtapose the room she was in with the one in her memories, but they were too different. This one lacked all the color and warmth that Rose’s home had always had. It lacked the inviting aura and the sense of peace that so many had partaken in. It lacked life. A sob began to form in Vinyl’s throat, but she fought it back. “No, not know,” she told herself. “There’ll be time to cry later, but right now we have a job to do.” “Found it!” Octavia exclaimed from upstairs. Vinyl’s heart rate skyrocketed at the news, and she rushed to the bottom of the stairs to await Octavia. However, it was a few minutes before Octavia descended down the steps with two saddlebags filled to brim. “Got everything you needed?” Vinyl asked. Octavia shook her head. “Not everything I need,” she said. “But enough. I have everything that I was going to find at this house in any case. I need to talk to a few ponies before I leave, and that will help some. Then I can go to Canterlot; I’m sure I can find the rest of what I need there.” Vinyl nodded, walking towards the exit with Octavia following closely behind. However, Octavia allowed herself one final look into Rose’s home before closing the door and walking away. She felt pain and sadness, much like what was expected, but she also felt a cold determination. “I won’t let you down, Script,” she muttered as she walked behind Vinyl. “I will not let you down.”