//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Magic is Hard // by Cheesypower //------------------------------// Chapter 2 Walking through town while dripping wet and carrying a faint scent of ash was not a new experience for Strange Design. Few ponies gave him more than a passing glance. Greenport seemed emptier than usual, he idly observed while trotting down the street. Then again, school was currently in session. Interesting, how different the town was when the youth weren't around. Indistinct chatter drifted lazily through the air alongside a rhythmic creaking, interspersed with occasional chimes from a bell. The familiar pandemonium of clacking skateboards, zooming pegasi, and shrieking laughter were conspicuously absent. It was nice, having things this peaceful. What few ponies that did cross his path were easy enough to step around or politely move out of their way. A silent downward tilt of the head conveyed his greeting to them all, earning quick mumbles of acknowledgement from any who noticed. The lack of traffic allowed him to cover far more ground than usual. His steps slowed upon noticing he was almost halfway through town. At this rate he'd be home in little more than an hour. Still no epiphanies on what to say when he got there. Deciding which parent to tell first would be a good place to start. And yes, it was probably better to tell them separately; both would have different ideas on what the actual issue was, and then they'd get on each other for the differences between their understandings, and the whole thing would devolve into a fight before he'd even finished explaining. Mom was more sympathetic, but a bit scatterbrained and very fond of delegating. She'd probably fixate on what she saw as the problem and give him long, complex instructions on what he needed to do to fix it. Dad had a more business-like mentality: he'd probably start asking questions to try and find out the nature, reason, and results of the issue, though he'd then probably try to take care of it himself. Neither of which really made it any easier to get across that it wasn't really something that needed to be fixed. His train of thought was derailed by the hollow, drawn-out toot of a whistle some distance ahead. A glance at a clock window confirmed what he'd already guessed. Mentally, he sighed. While the influx of ponies around the station would delay his arrival home, it also meant he'd have to wade through a small crowd. He hated crowds. Rounding a corner dragged him from his thoughts. Immediately two ponies filled his vision. Neither of them noticed him as he stepped into their path. A split-second sidestep barely averted the collision. The cold stone pressed roughly against his fur as he squeezed to get clear. The ponies passed within inches of him. It took a second for him to catch his breath. It took another for what had just happened to register. Whirling around, he glared after the oblivious couple, so lost in each others eyes that they never realized he was there. Now that he was looking, he could make out the the soft pink tinge around them both. Odds were they'd fail to notice anything short of the end of the world. Inhaling deeply, he resisted the urge to throw some strong insults after them, instead resuming his walk down the street. Seriously, how hard was it to walk on the right side of the road? At least those two had a decent excuse; young love always seemed to dull the senses. Gliding out of the way of a stallion laden with oversized luggage, he snorted to himself. Young love? Too much time around Rusty Anchor and the rest of the old-timers must be rubbing off on him. Maybe he should wear a false beard and a hawaii shirt to their next get-together to start looking like them. Moving between a pair of ponies in waders, he looked up just in time to jerk out of the way of a mare far more intent on her mane than where she was going. Glancing ahead, he noticed a cart parked diagonally on the other side of the street, forming a bottleneck for the swelling hoof traffic. "Seriously? Who parks like that?" he groaned, drawing quizzical glances from those close enough to hear. Realizing they weren't being addressed, they shrugged and went about their business. Considering that the cart's owner was nowhere in sight, he wasn't really expecting a response. He also was not expecting a mare to slam into him face-first. His surprised grunt as he tumbled backwards was easily drowned out by her startled yelp. Papers exploded from the mare's saddlebags, spraying notes and scribblings everywhere in a brilliant bloom of white. Crap. That's what he got for daydreaming in the middle of traffic. Looking up to check on the mare, he prepared to apologize but stopped. He blinked. The mare's prior fascination with her book was somewhat dampened how that it had decided to return the sentiment, intently scrutinizing her facial features with unwavering vigilance. Not even her frantic tugging at the bindings could sway the stalwart script from its self-appointed task. The fact it was now impaled quite firmly on her horn had certainly helped, but the true adhesive was determination, an unfailing sense of duty, a drive to catalogue every feature of this mare's - hmn, was that a mole or an inkstain. Was it smudging the pa - inkstain, definitely an inkstain. Seeing the mare tugging at the book currently getting quite intimate with her face was enough to elicit an amused snort, followed by a wince when his head began to throb. The mare had really been booking it - his head throbbed for a different reason - when she ran into him. "Sorry!" a muffled voice fretted from behind the tome. "Oh jeez, I'm sorry! I don't know what happened, I didn't see you! Are you alright?" Suddenly, she froze, he hoof shooting to her saddlebags. "Horseapples, my notes!" "I'm fine," he replied as casually as he could, gently massaging his temples. "Looks like you could use some help, though." "I'm fine! I can do this!" she responded a little too hastily. Her tugging at the book paused. "Though, uh... would you mind trying to gather up my notes while I get this thing off? I'd appreciate it." He nodded and turned toward the notes. ...Oh, right. "Sure thing," he called over his shoulder. Unfortunately, the notes had already begun to scatter across the street. How to grab them all quickly... Ah! Paper liked electricity, right? At least, it did in that one magic class where the teacher's hair had gotten all frizzy. Electricity, electricity... what did he need to make electricity? Carpet? No - friction! That was one! Okay, friction and... something about good and bad... Ooh! Positive and Negative energy! Two kinds of energy - that made three things total! Wait... no, the two energies were interchangeable, so... Ground! That was the third thing! Well, plenty of that around. Scooping up some sand, he pressed it between his hooves and began to rub furiously, focusing on the magic in the grains. Or at least tried to. The tiny, slippery little balls of constantly-shifting color were moving to fast for him to latch on. Maybe if he just pulled from the general area? Okay, that worked; the familiar tingle in the hooves was confirmed it. Pulling as much as possible out, he focused on separating the colors. The diagrams in the books always marked the two energies as red or blue, so maybe... The grit between his hooves exploded with a loud, forceful pop. Owowow ow JEEZ that hurt... Flailing his hooves frantically failed to cool the burning; sucking on them filled his mouth with sand. Spitting in disgust, he could say with confidence that red was not the right energy. The second time went faster now that he knew how to get the energy. Now to try the blue... There was no blue. Darn. Yellow maybe? A small jolt zapped between his hooves. OW OW OW OUCH oh-KAY there we go... Gritting his teeth as he dug his hooves into the sand, he pulled as much Yellow (yes, he would call it Yellow for now. Shut up.) into himself as he could. Shaking slightly, he experimentally threw some of it towards the papers. The wall of texts bowled him over, clinging to him wherever they touched. He rustled loudly as he sat up, wiping a half-complete thesis on wind patterns from his eyes. Not a single loose sheet of paper remained on the street, much to the chagrin of the paper salesman who would return moments later to find that his wares had disappeared. "Got the notes," he called, mentally making a note to remember that trick. "Great, great," the mare grumbled, growing ever more frantic in her struggles. "ARGH! WHY WON'T THIS STUPID BOOK COME OFF!?!" "Uh..." he coughed loudly and cleared his throat, shooting her a disarming smile, pointless though the gesture was. "Do you need some help?" "No, I..." she sighed in resignation, falling back on her tail with a thump. "Yes please." Reaching to grab hold, his hooves accidentally bumped into hers. Both ponies yelped at the sudden jolt that shot through them. "Ow!" the mare pouted, rubbing her hooves tenderly. "Sorry." Grabbing hold of the volume with both hooves, he gave it a hard yank. The mare yelped as she was jerked forward. "Hey!" "Sorry," he grunted again, leaning backwards for leverage. "This thing really likes your face." "Well, be more careful!" she scolded him, another jolt making them both flinch as her hooves bumped into his while seeking a good hold. "I don't want... ugh!... to explain to the nurse... how I broke my neck... with a book!" "Maybe we need to amputate." She glared at hi- oh right, book-face. "What!?!" "I mean, I know you're rather attached to this book," he continued, thoughtfully stroking his paper-beard, "but it's only going to cause problems. It might be better to just-" "I am NOT going to damage one of my newest books just because it's not coming off fast enough for you!" "You drilled a hole in it with your horn, and you're talking about ME damaging it?" "Would you just - we NEED to work together on this in order to get it off!" "Alright, you grab the corners, and I'll grab the binding." "Okay, got it. You ready?" "Yep. Now pull on three; one, two - actually, you're pushing, not pulling, so-" A feral growl rustled the book's pages. "-On three. One, two, THREE!- Keep going, keep going-! I think it's working! Almost- ow!" "GAH! Get your hind hoof off my chest!" "I need the leverage!" "I don't care, I want it off me!" "That is the general idea. Come on, keep go-" "WHO ARE YOU?" With a concluding 'pop,' the tome was torn from it's impromptu investigations of the mare's face. The sudden disappearance of resistance sent it and the young stallion tumbling backwards. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he looked back into a pair of glaring orange eyes. "Call me Strange," he chirped, giving her a friendly grin. "Everypony else does." The mare blinked. Slowly, her eyes drifted up and down the papers clinging to every inch of his body, he mouth slightly ajar as she examined him. She looked him in the eyes, then back at the papers. Her mouth closed, then opened, then closed again. "...I can certainly see why," she finally ventured. "Yeah, me too," he admitted, rustling loudly as he presented her with the book, now bearing a symmetrical bite through the center of the binding. "What's your name?" "...Amber Glow," she replied slowly, her eyes never leaving him as she stuffed the book into her saddlebags. "...are those my notes?" "Yep! ...At least, most of them are. Then there are all these blank pages:" he nodded towards a conspicuously empty page, "I have no idea where those came from." Frowning, he pulled at the page in question, only to have it stick to his hoof while others slid to take it's place. "And I have no idea how to get them off." It occurred to him that the street had gotten very quiet. Looking around, he realized ponies all around the street were staring at them, most of the observers slack-jawed and wide-eyed. They showed no signs of going back to their own business anytime soon. Well, he knew how to fix that. Taking a few deep breaths, he inhaled deeply and concentrated. "WHUT'RE YEW AULL LOUKIN' AT!?!" he bellowed in a drawl thick as pea soup. Ponies went back to their own business so fast they filled the street with dust clouds. Strange chuckled to himself. If only Rusty Anchor could have seen that, he would have been so proud of his pupil. He'd learned well from the old-timers, and he was proud of it, too. An orange bolt of magic smacked into him. The world went black and white as what felt like ten lightning strikes coursed through him. It only lasted a moment, but it felt like hours. When he stopped seeing stars, he glared at Am... Mary... the mare. "What was that for?" he yelled, rubbing the back of his head. Morgan - Mal - the mare was looking at him like he'd announced that Celestia was a whorse. "One, why did you just make a scene like that? Two, you've scuffed up most of my notes, so I'm going to need to copy them all, and three, I needed to dispel the gargantuan levels of static electricity affixing my notes to your body." He was indeed free of the notes, which were now being levitated into her saddlebags. "How in the world did you get that strong of a static charge anyway?" He shrugged. "Too much Yellow." The mare - WHY couldn't he remember her name? - opened her mouth, then thought better of whatever response she was about to give. "You know what? Could you just direct me to the local library? I need reference material, and probably some supplies for repairing documents." "The library... let's see..." Strange scrunched his nose, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "Alright, right now we're on Station Street, so you need to go straight 'till you get to Clover Street, turn right, go 'till you reach the piers, turn left, go under the bridge, take a left, then another left, then you-" He paused, glancing at his audience. The mare's face spoke of untold agony and torment at the prospect of getting lost in the twisting streets of a small port town. Remembering that he still had to go home and inform his parents of the fact that he had dropped out, it occurred to him that he still didn't know how to tell them. It also occurred to him that the library was in the other direction from his home. It also occurred to him that she really was a pretty cute mare. "You know what?" He decided. "It'd probably be better if I just showed you." She gave him a wide-eyed look of trepidation. "You're not going to turn out to be some bad-luck charm I can never get rid of, are you?" Strange shrugged. "No promises."