//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Imitation Diamonds // Story: To Be Human // by Bastinator //------------------------------// ”…and Anon was so awesome! He wasn’t scared at all, he was just like ‘I’ll be fine,’ and I was like ‘awesome.’ He’s just the best!” Hmm, you pay close attention to this strange cone of yours, the icy mounds upon it glistening as the sun’s heat competes for dominance. What is this runny thing? The small trace of liquid flows down the side and onto your hand, a rush of cold running down and up your arm. ”You gotta-” Rainbow Dash attempts to coach you; “You gotta lick it up before you make a mess, like this I’ll show you.” Rainbow Dash’s cone does the same but she moves her head to the side and laps up the trail before it hits her hoof. ”See, nothing to it.” She licks the white from her lips with a grin. You copy her, your tongue running from your hand, over the cone, and finally to the top of the mound of ice cream. It is quite scrumptious, that you will never deny. Vanilla, is the flavor, if the vendor is to be believed. You like this ‘vanilla.’ “I still do not see why I cannot simply bite into it. Licking feels so- unorthodox. It takes too long.” Scootaloo removes her lips from the side of her own cone, “It’s not about eating it fast. You have to savor the liquid awesomeness.” You grumble to yourself and look back at the cone, taking another lick. “It’s dilly-dallying…” You sit there and attempt to enjoy your cone of ice cream while Scootaloo recounts yesterday’s tale. In honesty, you’d rather she didn’t. It is- It was not your finest hour… ”So I take it that’s where you got those chompers?” Rainbow Dash asks pointing to your neck. “Yes,” you answer briefly, the less you talk about it the better. You’d taken off the bandages Fluttershy had applied, their purpose rather futile for something like you. They’re just an illusion after all, a façade of the living. How you crave it… When you look back you’re startled to find Rainbow Dash hovering a great deal closer, eyes glued to the marks on your neck, “Daaaang, that thing really did get you.” Upon seeing your plain face she backs off, “Sorry, just- You did a good thing helping Scootaloo like that.” No, not when you condemn others to the same fate. Death isn’t- Huh… You were about to say death isn’t justified. Death is simply a part of life, it doesn’t need justification, but you… is Death all that you are? The cycle will continue without your intervention, it already is. Maybe you can be as were before- ”Anon! You’re getting your suit all dirty.” Rainbow Dash breaks your line of thought and you find your hand almost drenched with the vanilla liquid as well as the end of your sleeve. “That is most unfortunate,” and with one bite you finish off the top of your meal, leaving the soaked cone in your hand. “There we go.” ”Whoa…” Scootaloo stares captivated as you swallow the hunk of ice, “That’s so cool!” Cold is the more accurate term, unless she is measuring how she perceives the event, then she’d be correct. The hunk of iced goodness slides down your throat, the chill spreading through you rather pleasing. ”It still doesn’t fix your sleeve,” Rainbow grumbles as she goes back to her own food. “Very true. It’s a shame that these are my only pair of clothes. I’ll simply have to ‘deal with it,’ am I using that right Rainbow Dash?” ”You could use some sunglasses, but yeah, you got it.” Most excellent. Scootaloo looks up from her cone, “But couldn’t he just go see-“ Dash gives her a quick glare, and for some reason young Scootaloo quiets down. There’s something Rainbow Dash does not want her to say, and when she turns back to you, she’s met by a glare of your own, one she knows better than to refute. You grin at Scootaloo who’s gone back to her previous activities. “You were saying dear Scootaloo?” She takes a fevered glance at Dash before gulping, “Well, I was just saying that you could always see… Uh, Miss Rarity.” Rarity? Rarity… Hmmm, that name rings a bell yet you seem to fail to connect it to a face. Dash seems to notice your confusion, “Darling.” “Oh *that* Rarity. Yes, her I remember. Quite the mane she has, and what a lovely hue at that.” ”Really? You’re impressed by *her* mane? Mine’s a freaking rainbow!” “Yes and what have you done with it? She keeps it tuned and well kempt, while you- You’re more natural, as it were, which that in itself is wonder to behold.” Her glare could cut through stone, “Nice save.” Scootaloo beckons you closer, “I thought she was going to beat you up,” she whispers. “Me? No, Ms. Dash knows better than to take action against me,” you turn to her, “Isn’t that right?” She does her best to live up to her reputation for young Scootaloo but there’s no denying the sweat building upon her cheek, “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” The two of them share a laugh and you finish chewing on the cone itself. You sit back on the bench, finished yourself, the afternoon ponies nodding their greetings to you as they pass. Even as they treat you as one of their own, you can’t help but feel- a disconnect, like you truly don’t belong. That’s because you don’t. Says who? You do, because it’s true. ”Afternoon Anon,” one stallion remarks, “Enjoying yourself?” “Most definitely,” you nod back, your phony smile doing well to convince him, but there is no deceiving yourself. Listen to yourself, what kind of thinking is this? Are you not among those who value your company? Yes, you are. Are you not free from the repetitive task that you’ve fulfilled for millennia? Yes, freedom is yours. But to be human… Curse that elusive word, wherever it festers within your mind. Should you have the power, the very name would be purged from your mind. Besides, what is a ‘human’ anyways? From the gates of light to the very darkest pits of Tartarus, you have never met a ‘human.’ Perhaps they’re without soul, like a fungus or another plant, but then why does the phrase exist at all? To be a plant? Nonsense. What does it matter, tis just a word and they- “Helloooo! Equestria to Anon! Anyone in there?” The young Pegasus is waving her hoof in front of your face, jumping and fluttering her little wings, “He’s not dead is he?” “Not in a million years.” ”Well how about it? I promise it’ll be fun!” What is she on about? Was she speaking to you? ”Ha, he wasn’t even listening. Face it Scoots, you’re gonna have to find somepony else.” It’s obvious the filly is flustered and she puffs her lip, “He was listening, I know it.” Rainbow tosses up her cone and finishes it off in one bite, “Yeah right, ten bits says he wasn’t.” ”Deal!” the filly looks back to you expectantly. So it is a wager? Interesting. Tis a shame that Ms. Dash is the victor this round… unless… “Of course I will young Scootaloo. You needn’t have asked.” Dash isn’t very happy about this, “You’ll what?” Not entirely convinced is she? You believe this is less a matter of winning bits and more about her being correct. “I will, go with Scootaloo,” you guess, “My only question is why you will not.” A counter-accusation to put her on the defense, the perfect solution. ”Because! Unlike some ponies I have work and can’t be bothered to show up to every show-and-tell their school ha-” She stops herself all too late. A ‘show-and-tell.’ You’d ponder what this activity entails although the name gives you a fairly good idea. Dash stands up from the bench in defiance, “You’re smarter than you look Anon, but I’ve got your number.” “But Ms. Dash, don’t you know? It is I who have yours…” you place emphasis on that last part, a sliver of her attitude crumbling as she remembers just what you are in relation to her. ”Whatever. I gotta go wrestle some thunderheads out by the Smokey Mountain. I’ll see you scrubs later.” ”Ahem!” Scootaloo clears her throat before she leaves, her hoof held outwards expectantly. Dash just rolls her eyes, “Put it on my tab,” and she’s off into the sky, bursting right through the last cloud in the sky leaving just the lonesome sun. ”She’s not going to pay me is she?” “I would not count on it.” Well, you’ve stayed out long enough for one day so you stand up, the tip of your sleeve now crusted over with the vanilla. You pick off one such flake and tentatively take a lick, finding it still quite delicious, but not quite the same. The texture really does play a role. Still, you might need to go see Rarity after all. You still have the marks from your first day here, and your outfit might soon be in taters should you not fix them. *creak* You flinch at the sheer sharpness, the actual tone of which you do not appreciate at all, and immediately find the source, Scootaloo’s… thing. It’s certainly a poor little thing, you saw her ride it on her way down from the school house. You can’t imagine it was pleasant to look at in the first place with its sloppy brown coat, and the rust that thoroughly coats its hinges doesn’t exactly help. It still leaves a funny taste in your mouth, not bad, but not good either. Her device creaks and cracks as she rides it over to you, “Let’s go!” “Go where?” You had assumed she would return to the school while you were left to your own schedule. ”To… to the school. For show-and-tell? You… you really weren’t listening were you?” Sadness is evident in her tone, “It’s ok… You don’t have to come. I just- though it’d be pretty sweet, you know?” You kneel down next to the filly and her contraption, your nasal cavity assaulted by the smell of rotting wood. “I do apologize, but you must understand that I have difficulty keeping attention. There are many things that adults think about, but I am sorry.” ”So… Why’d you lie and let me win that bet?” “Because…” you smile, “I like watching her be a sore loser.” She giggles at this, “She kinda is, isn’t she?” “Indeed. Now,” you stand back up, “Which way to your school?” Her contraption shrieks back up as she chugs along, “Follow me!” The noise from her ‘thing,’ you think she called it a scooter, draws more than enough attention as ponies are forced to stick anything from plugs to mounds of dirt into their ears to escape it. Although, now that you really listen to it, it has a certain… liveliness to it. Screech screech, squawk, clunk, screech screech… It’s quite nice when you apply rhythm to it, a sort of order amidst the chaos. You bob your head along to it as the streets begin to vacate from the acoustic atrocity. ”I can’t wait to get back. Every month Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon,” she near hisses their names, “have the best stuff, but not this year. I have Anon the Brave.” “Anon the Brave? I did not know that another existed with my name.” ”I’m talking about you, you big dummy, but that’s not a very good name. How about, Anon the Daring- OH OH! Anon the Mysterious, I really like that one.” “Is ‘Anon’ not good enough?” ”I’m not taking any chances this year. You’re my ticket to the wall of fame.” “The wall of fame?” ”Come on, Anon. It’s every filly and colt’s dream to be on. It’s only for the coolest and most awesomest ponies in our grade.” Hmm, well these children must have something to aspire to. A flock of birds catch your attention, their chirping disrupting the metallic rhythms you had been captive of. What do birds aspire to be? Bigger birds? ”WHOA! Anon come here!” You look back to find her face pressed up against the store window. Richard’s Sporting Goods. This place brings back memories. You’re not sure why he decided to use that bat to probe his- his second hole, but that’s between him and his colon. You move alongside her, not quite sure what she’s looking at. “And what exactly am I coming over here to see?” She points near the back, “That!” It’s- a red scooter, but it’s a little different. ”That’s the Revmaster 1000! It’s the most cutting edge scooter this side of- of ever!” It’s certainly an improvement from hers. It has a shiny red polish, although it’s a bit bulky near the bottom. “What makes it so special? There are plenty of scooters.” ”Have you heard the adverts? It’s got a 360 degree rotating axis, double string and tempered brakes for the hardest of stops, a suspension system that’ll rock your socks off, customized handlebars for the snuggest hoofholds and the only mo- motta- Dangit, what’s it called?” “A motor?” ”YEAH!” she exclaims, bouncing around you before coming to a halt, “I don’t what that is though.” “It’s like an engine.” ”Well, what’s an engine?” You open your mouth to speak… “Well?” “I- can’t remember. It’s umm, weird.” She shrugs, not really caring that much as she smushes her face back against the window, “Iuhveiwadedid.” You pull her face back so she can actually speak, “I’ve always wanted one like this. It’s just so expensive.” The sign for it prices it at three hundred bits. That’s quite hefty indeed. “Maybe one day, if you are really really good, your parents will get you one.” She holds her hoof against the glass for a time before shaking her head and getting back on her own scooter. ”Yeah right, they don’t get me anything.” She looks back at you and forces a grin, “Come on. We’re gonna be late if you keep stopping all the time.” If you keep stopping? But she was the one- Oh, that was the joke. Very nice. The bell rings out atop the schoolhouse as you approach, an entire flock of fillies piling back in through the doors. Scootaloo parks her scooter nearby and rushes inside, nearly dragging you behind her. You glare up at the raging bell, only managing to grin once it’s silenced by an unseen force. Not you though, you’re not that omnipotent. You’re met by the intense and unpleasant bickering of the lot of children as you enter the doorway, and you’re certain if you had eyes they’d be twitching. Tartarus may have a few things to learn when it comes to torture, because this may be the death of you. Only two of which you recognize in the crowd, one being the unicorn and the other being the earth filly, the very same who formulated a plan to dispose your body rather soundly. ”Hey guys!” Scootaloo waves before looking to you. “Alright, we’re starting show-and-tell right after this so you can sit tight for now, okay?” “Sit, tight?” How exactly does one go about doing that? She rolls her eyes, “It means wait. Jeez Anon, you been living under a rock or something?” If Tartarus counts as under a rock, then perhaps. It’s not your fault that she uses these strange terms. One day perhaps you might research how they came to be, but that is ‘far down the road.’ Hmm, there are not many places for you to sit; you think as you look around, perhaps the floor- There we are, right in the front, behind that desk. You adjust your tie and- oh the seat even rolls; now this is quite the spectacle. After a minute of playing around you finally decide to sit, rolling back in. The fillies all but cease their yapping and look at you, some bewildered at your very presence. This must be one of those awkward situations you’ve heard of; the silence is a dead giveaway. Oh, you make yourself crack up. You decide to initiate contact with the group and wave your hand with a hello. Ooh! A pencil! You’ve heard of these yet you’ve never seen one yourself. It’s very smooth between your fingers. You look around, picking up another small item. You believe this to be the mythical sharpener of the pencil, but how does it work? The room stays silent as you fit the two together. Go on, sharpen. Maybe you have to turn it- Success! The wooden shavings fall off the side. Texture, the simple element can change the taste of its source, you wonder… You bring the shaving to your mouth but pause, the entire classroom locked onto you. Hmm, with a slow motion you pocket the shavings. Better save them for a more private occasion. Well, this is certainly uneventful. ”Wow, I can’t even get them this quiet.” Attention then turns to the newcomer, an earth pony with a light purple coat, a trio of flowers shown on her flank. You stand up and shake her hoof as you’ve done to others in the past, “Are you here for show-and-tell?” “Indeed, I am Mrs.…” ”Cheerilee,” she answers, “And it’s Miss.” “My apologies Ms. Cheerilee, my name is-“ ”Ah ah-” she interrupts you, “Save it for show-and-tell.” So, it is to be a surprise. Marvelous. You nod your approval and soundly move off to the side as Cheerilee sits. She takes a look at her pencil, then to you, before shaking her head. ”Good morning class.” ”Good morning, Ms. Cheerilee,” they answer in unison. Well, that isn’t creepy at all. ”How was everyone’s recess?” the teacher asks as she shuffles through her papers. ”We played jump rope!” one group says. “Oh yeah, well we raced around the school like, a hundred times,” another shouts back. Pretty soon the classroom has erupted back into chaos and you can almost feel the flesh of your metaphorical ear peeling away. ”Now children,” she attempts to calm them down, but they’re far too loud. Looks like you might have to step in. “Ahem!” you clear your throat as loud as possible, the class silencing once more and looks to you, “I believe the teacher is speaking to you.” Cheerilee nods her appreciation, “Now then, who knows what’s next on today’s schedule?” A dozen hooves shoot up, one filly blurting out, “Thow-and-tell!” ”Very good, Twist. Would you like to go first?” The red-maned filly slinks back in her seat, “No thankth.” ”There’s no pressure, anypony else? Who would like to go first?” And from the back of the room, a single trembling hoof comes up, “I-I’d like to!” she blurts out nervously. So the brave Scootaloo feels fear in the classroom, but not in the forest? Most interesting. You’d wager a matter of life or death would weigh more than simple embarrassment. Although, you can’t be embarrassed when you’re dead. Well, actually… Young Scootaloo blushes as she retracts from her seat and makes her way to the front, head lowered. When she sees you smiling back she takes a deep breath and rises up confidently, the two of you walking to the side of Cheerilee’s desk. ”Oh look, Scootaloo brought us our very own hobo,” you spot the filly sneering at you, a shiny- thing, on her head, “Which dumpster did you dig him-“ ”That is quite enough, Diamond Tiara!” Cheerilee sneers at her, “You may proceed, Scootaloo. Who is this fine fellow?” Fine? Well you’re no Fuller brother, but you’ll take the compliment. Scootaloo steps ahead of you, your height contrasting greatly with her small frame. “This,” she pauses, looking left and right, “is Anon. The MYSTERIOUS!” “Anon, is fine,” you wave to the classroom. ”Oh it speaks,” another filly says with a hint of disgust, a large pair of glasses held upon her nose, “I thought it peaked at mere grunts.” ”Silver Spoon, how many times-” Cheerilee starts. “Indeed, I do have the capability of speech. In fact you saw me speak to the teacher not a minute ago. Did you simply not forget or did your spectacles impair not only vision but your hearing?” Scootaloo gasps and the filly named Silver Spoon is simply appalled, “How dare you!” You’re rather shocked at her response. “My question was most legitimate. I do not see how daring has anything to do with this.” The teacher meanwhile is attempting to keep herself from giggling, if her fits are any indication, “Con- continue Scootaloo.” That was a good start, you think. ”Well uh, as I was saying. Anon’s super mysterious and he uh… He’s really cool! Rainbow Dash and me-“ ”Ah ah,” Cheerilee interrupts, “Remember. It’s Rainbow Dash and I.” ”Oh uh, sorry. Rainbow Dash and I hung out with him during recess. We had ice cream!” “It was most delicious,” you have to admit. That cone, while still keeping its own texture, melded quite well with the flavors of the Iced substance that it held. Most intriguing. Scootaloo seems to be enjoying herself after a little prodding by you, and many of the children are simply transfixed by your appearance. The filly with the thing on her head, Diamond Tiara, you believe her name is, is not so easily impressed. “Yeah, whatever. What makes him ‘Sooo Coool?’” she mocks. “He’s just some… thing.” Thing… No. You’re not just some, thing. You are someone! Your fist closes without thought, tightening into a small ball, a fist. ”Yeah!” the one called Silver Spoon adds on, “What’s so special about ‘Anon?’” You can hear Scootaloo’s gulp as she’s ‘put on the spot,’ “Well uh, he’s really- tall! See, he’s twice the size of any pony.” ”Yawn…” Diamond Tiara shows her disinterest visibly. ”What *does* makes him special?” another classmate adds on. ”He’s just-” she tries to speak. ”Go on then, tell us.” The class begins to pick up with their accusations, each one causing Scootaloo to slink further back from the front. Diamond Tiara only smirks as she effectively turned the class against Scootaloo, “Go on, blank flank, tell us.” Blank flank. That is one term you know well, all those kids who- They didn’t take it well, and so you came to take them. Scootaloo’s practically snug against your leg while Cheerilee tries, but fails, to keep order. This is one filly that will not suffer as her predecessors had. “ACHEEM!” you boom above the many voices causing each to silence. Scootaloo looks up to you, met by your encouraging smile. “The floor is clear, young Scootaloo.” She turns back to the class and raises her chest, “You want to know why Anon the mys- Why Anon’s cool? Fine, it’s because he’s just plain awesome.” ”Uhhm yeah, you already said that,” Silver Spoon throws at her, “What does he even do besides roll around in garbage?” ”You haven’t heard of Anon, have you? The one who stood up to Nightmare Moon while you were sleeping in your bed like a wittle bwaby…” Scootaloo mocks in turn, “I’m not surprised.” Well, this is quite entertaining. Scootaloo, who had been bombarded by her classmates, turning around and embarrassing those who had attacked her. Simply astounding. ”After that, he followed me into the forest and took out two Timberwolves by himself! Yeah, that’s right. Two!” The class oohs at your perceived accomplishment, though you know the truth. It was no grand feat. ”Yeah right, prove it then. Oh... you can’t, can you?” Silver Spoon questions. Your attention isn’t on her though, but more on the shift from her partner, Ms. Tiara, whose gaze has changed into a most curious one. ”He’s got the scars to prove it! Show’em Anon!” “Maybe another time.” Scootaloo sits on her flank pleadingly, looking up at you with her big eyes, “Pleeeease?” That face… You’ll do anything just to be rid of it. “Fine, just- stop making the face.” *squee* You step around her and towards Silver Spoon, the filly flinching as you tower over her. Is that fear you smell? Do emotions have a scent? It certainly seems so. Kneeling down to her you stretch your neck to the left so she can observe the scars, your gaze met by Diamond Tiara’s. ”Interesting…” she mutters under her breath while her friend examines your wound. ”That’s so gross!” Silver Spoon shrieks, her tiny hooves kicking at your chest until you finally move away, “Fine, just- Ugh, that’s so… disgusting.” “Perhaps next time you should keep your voice in your throat, instead of throwing it across the classroom, yes?” She glares back at you. You’ll take that as a yes, you think as you rejoin Scootaloo. ”Thanks,” she whispers to you, and you smile back. “My pleasure.” ”So you are *that* Anon I’ve heard about,” Cheerilee finally speaks up, “I can say that I’m not disappointed. Please give a round of applause for Scootaloo and her guest, Anon… the Mysterious.” “Actually it’s just-” You’re easily interrupted by the many children clapping their hooves together, the skin of you cheeks twitching at the noise. ”But he’s not cool because of all that.” She grins at you and looks back, “He’s cool because he’s my friend. My best friend.” F-friend? ”Hey!” you hear the two fillies shout from the back, her other friends. ”Besides you two obviously,” she laughs. “Whoa!” You easily pick her up and set her on your shoulder, Scootaloo blushing fiercely, “Show off.” You see Diamond Tiara speak up, “So how much would it cost for you to part with him?” Scootaloo snuggles up on your neck and doesn’t bat an eye, “Not for sale.” You take your place at the side of the room; Scootaloo sitting back down as well as the rest of the class gets their turn. Some have siblings with them, some with things called potato batteries, strange things, and the grandest you saw was the mouse circus brought by Silver Spoon. Of course, it would seem that even the mighty trapeze could outshine your own performance, and Cheerilee, proudly you might add, puts Scootaloo’s name on the Wall of Fame. You find yourself clapping with the others while the filly of the hour tries to hide from all the attention she’s getting. ”Congratulation Scootaloo, and with that, I think we can let class out a few minutes early. How does that sound, Scootaloo?” ”That sound smoking!” ”Alright then, have a great weekend everypony, and be sure to finish problems 1-10 in your textbooks.” The fillies droll at the knowledge of their destined assignment, merely serving to entertain you even more. How the sorrow of children makes you feel joy, you do not know. You push open the door, the lot of fillies swarming out like a flood, a few of them thanking you for showing up. ”That was certainly something,” Cheerilee moves next to you, waving her students off, “Where’d you learn to do that?” “To do what ma’am?” ”To quiet all the kids down. It’s just so hard to keep the fillies and colts in line sometimes.” Well, you’ve had a very long time to practice. “Have you ever heard of a place called Frostbite?” She shakes her head. Good, you hope she never does. “Understandable, not many have.” You and Cheerilee step outside to the roars of children and the shining sun. It is a good day. ”Scootaloo really likes you, you know. She looks up to you.” “Really? I could not tell… That was sarcasm.” ”I could tell.” Sarcasm is quite the predicament. To achieve its utmost potential it requires you to not draw attention to it, yet without it, the message is lost. Scootaloo is hopping about with her friends before making a ‘beeline’ for you. “Speak of the devil.” ”The what?” Cheerilee asks confused. “The dev- Hmm… Tell me, if you have trouble remembering something, what do you do?” ”Personally? I take a hot shower and get a good night’s sleep. That’s the best way to give my brain a little jump.” But your brain can’t- Oh, you get it. Unfortunately, this ‘sleep’ is a bit beyond you. Death doesn’t sleep. With a sigh, Cheerilee moves back to the doorway, “I hope that helps, but right now I have papers up to my ears to grade. Come back by the school sometime, I know the kids would appreciate it.” “I’ll think about it. Farewell Ms. Cheerilee.” She shakes her head and smiles, “I really do wonder where she dug you up.” What does she mean by that, you wonder? Perhaps- “Hey Anon.” “Hello once again Scootaloo, and hello friends of Scootaloo.” Scootaloo smacks herself, “How could I forget to introduce you to my friends? This is Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom.” ”Hiya,” they sync up, you nodding in response. ”We’re going off to try and get our cutie marks. Wanna come?” As much as you would like to, you do not. You must go see this Rarity as soon as possible to see what can be done about your frail clothing. “I am sorry, but my clothes are in need of a patching.” ”Ok,” she says chipper as ever, “Don’t feel like you need to hang out with me. I’d never make a friend do that.” “I shall keep that in mind. Now run along, your cutie marks are not going to get themselves.” She retrieves her scooter and screeches along with her friends, the noise drawing attention for miles. Jokingly of course. You look back to the town when a thought suddenly hits you. You have no idea where Rarity works. Disappointing Anon. Now how will you get your clothes fixed? ”Excuse me sir, are you the one they call Anon?” You turn to find an older stallion, his black mane shining under the sun, a trio of money bags on his flank. He even has a tie himself, much like yours, except his has a money sign on it. “Yes sir, the last time I checked.” ”Ha, quite the joker. I can see why she’s interested in you,” he says, the bags under his eyes less from fatigue and more from work. How you know? He’s remarkably perky for a gentleman of his age. “Ahh yes, I certainly do enjoy her company. She’s a good little filly.” ”She’s my little angel after all.” This must be her father then. You didn’t think he’d be- Not like him. “You are Scootaloo’s father?” ”Oh, no no, I am the father of that little filly over there,” he points over to the group, “Diamond Tiara.” “Oh… That one…” ”So it appears we had a miscommunication. I apologize for the lack of clarity.” You smile at him regardless. He is not his daughter, and should not be treated as an extension of her. “What may I do for you sir?” ”Well, first allow me to introduce myself. I am Filthy Rich. You’ve met my little angel Diamond Tiara, of course.” “Filthy Rich,” you repeat, “What can I do for you Mr. Rich?” ”I would like to make a business proposition with you, if you were so inclined.” What does something like you need with a business proposition? Nothing, but you allow him to continue. ”Your name has been floating around the water cooler so to speak. I can’t remember another time where I’ve heard the same name as often.” “What is a water cooler sir, and why does my name float around in it? That seems very unsanitary.” A chuckle is his response, “It’s just a saying.” Of course, what were you thinking? “Please continue.” ”As this is, you have a reputation. Ponies around here know you, and if you were to do something…” Is- he asking you to steal? How unsporting of him. “I would never do such nefarious deeds sir. If I were anypony else, you may have insulted them.” ”But not you? Well, you misunderstand me nonetheless. I was merely making the point that with somepony as renowned as you are, your actions are likely restrained in order to maintain this, a sort of failsafe, if you were.” This reputation of yours seems to be a grander deal than you had led yourself to believe. Quaint. “I do not follow your logical process, but indulge me on your final proposition. I wish to continue my day in an orderly manner.” He nods understandably, “A pony of punctuality, you make it difficult for me not to like you sir.” Growing bored, you look past him and to the sky, a new pair of pegasi brining in the clouds. A simple maintenance routine about turn to turn sour. You assume the cause will be electrocution, but- You’re forced to look away, dispersing the thoughts clouding your mind. Just for once you wish you could see the world through their eyes. Living eyes. ”I love my daughter, Anon. The greatest joy a father can have is to see their daughter happy, and I am no different sir.” Is it? Shame you’ll never know. An odd thing to bring up to a stranger, unless, of course, there is something to be gained, and there is with him. He has the look, that professional smell that separates him from the common folk. Smell, now that is an area that you’ve begun to neglect, one of the simplest senses yet often unappreciated. ”So, do we have a deal?” It appears you would have missed his entire proposition. Fitting. “Would you see it fit to restate your proposition?” ”Certainly, I understand this can be quite the shock. My daughter is interested in your company. Why, I cannot say, but given your favorable reputation and her good word, I would propose you take her along with you, just for the day.” A day with Diamond Tiara. Dread is the proper expression. “Your daughter, as grand as she might be in your eyes, has not proven as much to me, and so I must decline your offer.” Surprisingly he nods, “I understand your motivation, she is… Unique, but I still wish to see her happy. I am willing to reimburse you for your time, quite well, I might add.” And what need have you of money? None. As there is nothing that you would wish to buy. That is until you hear the creaks and deafening wails from a certain filly’s scooter. You look back to see her chugging along with her friends, Scootaloo waving at you with a smile wider than the Ghastly Gorge. She sounded so excited when she saw that scooter in the window, maybe… Filthy Rich takes a moment to judge your expression, or lack thereof, “I’ll take that as a no then. It’s unfortunate that we-“ “Three hundred bits.” Mr. Rich appears to choke at your demand, “Three hundred? That’s a bit more expensive than I had anticipated.” Scootaloo’s happiness would act as an extension of your own, and that is why you are here is it not? To be happy? ”Surely you do not expect me to pay such a fee.” “I expect for you to do what you believe is right. This decision does not lie on my hands, but on your hooves.” The stallion does not agree with your price, but nods regardless, “Three hundred bits then, a small price for my daughter’s happiness.” Actually it’s a rather large price, but it is all relative. He retrieves a card from his suit pocket and passes it to you, “My address is located on the back if you have any problems. Now- My little Diamond.” The filly glances over to you with a sly smile before trotting over at her own leisure, “Yes daddy?” He explains that she is in my care, the ends of her lips curling ever so slightly. Regret. ”Now, no misbehaving missy, and I’ll see you tonight in time for supper,” he rustles her mane with a hoof teasingly. It’d almost be cute if she didn’t smack his hoof away, “No daddy, we talked about that.” He merely grins, “She hates it when I do that. Take good care of her Anon.” Mr. Rich departs, and as such leaves you towering over his daughter. You look down at her, Diamond Tiara returning your gaze. Maybe this won’t be so bad. ”You smell.” Tartarus take you. ”Like, really smell. Like, there may be something rotting on you.” Think to yourself Anon, Rarity, where would she be? *sniff sniff* ”Gross, you’d put Snips and Snails to shame with that stench.” Rarity had told you once where she worked, two days ago it was, but you simply cannot recall. The thoughts… they’re blurry yet you can almost see a building, ponies prancing around and around in a circle and riding them are- Just like that, the image disappears, but in its place is a word. Carousel. *sigh* “So are we going to do anything or what? You’re boring me.” “And bore you I shall,” you reply as you search your pockets, “Now where is that map?” Her face brightens, “Are we leaving the town? Daddy never lets me leave without him.” “No,” you respond plainly before pulling out your map of Ponyville. ”Well too bad, we’re going out.” Thankfully your Equestrian isn’t rusty and you can still read quite easily. Of course, the fact that the map looks like it was made by a filly doesn’t help much. Ms. Dash really should work on her penmanship or would it be cartography? ”Are you even listening to me?” Ahh here it is, Carousel Boutique, hopefully the map doesn’t do the actual building justice. It would be quite disappointing if it consisted of a rectangle and squiggly windows. ”Oh- ahh,” Diamond Tiara stumbles about rather oddly before falling down, “My leg, it hurts so bad.” It’s not exactly nearby of course, but neither is it out of your way. Well of course it isn’t, in fact it is the exact place you’re going to. Oh is she still speaking? ”My leg hurts Anon, please, won’t you help me?” You look down at her, plain in expression and tone as you go ahead and read those numbers above her head. “You’ll live.” Now it should be this way if the map is correct in any measure, so you begin to walk, and you’re surprised by the remarkable silence. It’s quiet, too quiet. You turn around, Diamond Tiara having gotten up, but now sitting securely on her flank. “Are you coming, or shall I leave you?” She turns her nose up to you and doesn’t say a word. Of course, this task was not going to be simple. “You’re making this artificially difficult for me,” you walk over to her. Praise the sun. Hmmm, don’t know where that came from. ”I’m not moving until you apologize,” she says without looking at you. You apologize? Surely she jests. “And for what exactly did I do to wrong you?” ”If you have to ask, you never really cared in the first place.” “You’re assuming that did at all.” Her expression sours further, “I don’t know what Scootaloo saw in you, all I see is a big dummy.” She’s left in your care, so you simply can’t leave her here, no matter how long the list of benefits may be. So, you sigh. “I apologize.” And there’s the smile, not sincere, but deceitful. ”You apologize for…” If you had any less expression on your face it would likely vanish. ”Go on.” You think this may be the first pony in all of creation to cause a feeling of… loathing. “I, apologize, for not-” You’ll enjoy taking her when the time comes, “showing you, adequate, attention.” Should it be possible you wish to wipe that smirk off her face, maybe the entire mouth piece as well. ”Good, I accept your apology,” she holds her hooves out to you, “Now carry me.” Twelve thousand eight hundred and forty-two days to go Anon. ”Ugh, you smell even worse up close,” she complains as she holds onto the side of your head. You don’t respond of course, no sense feeding that attention horse. Language Anon, watch it. If this map is any way accurate, then you should turn the corner and it’ll be right, there. Huh, you expected it to be blockier. Turns out your previous assertion was correct. ”Carousel Boutique? What are you, a poo pusher?” You don’t need to know what that means, to know what she meant. “I’m sure your father wouldn’t appreciate you saying that.” ”And who would tell him, you? Like that would work. I’m his little angel.” “Of course. It’s not like he’s ever caught you lying before. Sarcasm intended.” Wait. Oh my could this be- Listen close children, it’s silence. Good, that’s what you thought. You enjoy the time while you can and walk over to the building, catching her sly smile come back for a second round. As you take another step she rams her entire body against your neck, a feat that would cause significant injury should you have been living. ”Oops,” she hides her intentions behind her smile, “My bad.” You do the polite thing and smile back. You’re a gentlecolt after all. Oh look at this children, a puddle of mud. Oh no! There’s a dip in the road! You sure hope nothing bad could go wrong. You purposely lose your footing, nearly falling into the puddle yourself although you catch yourself at the last second. Of course, somepony isn’t as lucky. With a plunk Ms. Tiara is plunged headfirst into the ocean of mud, her tiny form nearly invisible amidst the layers caked over her. “Oops,” you respond with a coy smile, “My bad.” ”T-th-t” she tries to speak, but a rush of mud fills her mouth and silences her with a gurgle. How wonderful. Of course, you can’t have her choking to death on liquefied dirt now can you? Well… You grab her by the tail and tug, the mud clinging desperately to her before she’s yanked out with a plunk, Diamond Tiara gasping for air. Maybe you overdid it a little. Her piercing eyes look your way, and you’re just waiting for her to scream. ”You- did that on purpose.” “Me? I said ‘oops’ did I not?” You were to understand that saying that absolves you of any blame. She wiggles out of your grasp before landing on the ground, the mud splashing around on and off her body. ”Do you have *any* idea how long this is going to take to wash off? Days probably. Guh, stupid Anon.” You rub the grim between your fingers, memorizing that coarse texture as it rubs against your skin, yet also glides with its liquid quality. ”You’re not even paying attention are you?” Placing your pointer finger in your mouth you wring the mud out and begin to savor the taste. Disgusting? Quite notably, but there’s always the texture. Gritty, the few grains that retain their solid nature despite overwhelming adversary. Has no one documented the poetic nature of mud? You look to find Ms. Tiara’s mouth agape, “Why would you do that? That’s so gross!” Experience, although the concept might simply glide over her pampered head. Her eyes relax as she continues her gaze, “I can do gross.” And with a single turn of her head she licks up a sizeable glob of mud running down her leg. *gulp* You stand there in silence, partly stunned and partly utterly confused. “That- might be the grossest thing I have seen in a long while.” And your job isn’t pretty. She proceeds with another strip, eyes glossed over with a hazy quality, “Does this get you excited?” Excitement isn’t really the proper word seeing as you had already described it as gross. Does everyone see you this way? That might explain the weird looks you received from those kind ponies in that alleyway. Huh, that makes sense actually. You might have to go and apologize for the mess you made. How were you to know their trash bag had a hole? Turning back you find Diamond Tiara’s expression now one of annoyance, “Stop ignoring me!” “Hmm, well with that attitude…” you turn away and knock at the front door. ”Pay attention to me.” If you were to say, no, would that be giving her attention? You’d rather not find out. Your filly companion moves besides the door, hoof punching your leg for attention, “You can’t ignore me. Daddy said so.” No, in fact he didn’t. She sure has a wild mind. From inside the house you can hear the sound of hooves approaching, a sweet fragrance coming along with it, “I am terribly sorry, but we’re closed today.” “Ah, I do apologize,” you reply through the door, “Ms. Dash did not inform me of the hours. Forgive-“ ”Anon? Is that you?” You can’t help but smile at the recognition. It feels… good. “Your memory remains youthful Miss Rarity, but alas, I shall not intrude.” ”Nonsense,” she unbolts the locks on her door and swings it open to greet you, “I would never-“ She holds a hoof to her mouth as she views your suit, “Oh dear, what have you done to yourself? Did Rainbow do this to you or was it Applejack? I swear, those two haven’t the simplest notion of decency regarding fashion.” Those two certainly have different priorities in their lives, everyone does after all. ”Anon,” Ms. Tiara groans audibly, “Can I bathe yet?” Rarity smiles and opens the door wider to see her, “Now who’s your little- *gasp* You didn’t think your suit was that bad. Before you can say a word, Rarity’s already levitated Diamond Tiara up and inside her house, charging upstairs in a flurry. A door slams shut so you poke your head through the open doorway, the mat below you asking you to wipe your hooves. Of course, small inanimate rug, I shall wipe my hooves, or feet in this case. You shuffle back and forth until your shoes are as clean as before they got dirt on them, only a few smudges of mud still resting on the tips. This is a rather pleasant place, though- Is that…? You shut the door and make your way across the room, a variety of fabrics lining the walls as light pours in from the towering windows. No, what interests you is not the chest of jewels sparkling in the corner, nor the cat in the corner who hisses at the sight of you. You come to the plain being, skin pale and bland. You reach out to touch it but stop yourself. It is polite to introduce yourself. “Excuse me,” you keep your voice firm as to show your authority, “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t respond, or is it a she? It has feminine curves, but is ultimately expressionless and plain. This is no place for one such as them, the damned. “How long have you been out? Was Cerberus asleep again?” The deceased still refuses to respond, looking away from you and over to the- What is this? Two more? By Tartarus how could so many have escaped? You place a hand on its head and drag it back to whence it came. No soul can escape your- “What are you doing to my mannequin?” You whip your head around to Rarity as she- Is she a fool?! Does she think she can stay the evil of which she wields?! Acting fast you bound around and up the stairs, snatching the body out of her telekinetic grasp. ”Excuse me! That is most impolite to go around running and grabbing things that don’t belong to you.” “I am attempting to save your life. Do you- Do…” you run your finger across its neck, inspecting the bumps and threads that run alongside it, neither cold nor warmth radiating from within, “What is this?” ”This,” she pulls it from your grasp with a humph, “is a mannequin, and the only things in need of saving here are that filly’s mane and your manners.” You were trying- Pause. She doesn’t know, and if you try to explain it… You’d rather this be a misunderstanding. ”I- I apologize. I may have overreacted,” you straighten your tie which had gotten loose from your day’s work. ”That’s most certainly an understatement. This is the sort of behavior I’d expect from my dear Sweetie Belle,” she steps down past you. “Are you her mother?” Rarity stops, head slowly turning to meet you, “How old do you think I am?” Hmm, well she has her own place and apparently her own business that is marginally successful. “Thirty… two. No, Thirty three. That sounds about right. She looks like she’s going to cry, but she keeps a fiery tongue, “Never, I repeat, never try to guess a mare’s age. You brute…” You shrug your shoulders. “You asked.” ”Thirty three,” she groans, setting down the ‘mannequin’ and looking at herself in the mirror, “Have I lost my looks so soon?” She inspects every inch of her reflection, the eyes, hips, belly, and neck. You don’t really see why she’s so upset. You thought it was a compliment. Surely maturity ranks higher than the physical shell that accompanies it. “I was signifying your level of maturity; I did not mean to imply that you looked that age.” You hear a sniff before she smiles, “How sweet, but if we were going by looks…” Remember why you’re here Anon. Remember that- “Wait, where is Diamond Tiara?” Rarity nods to the next level, “She’s washing up. A nice scented bath and some relaxation can wash away any problem.” For some reason you can’t help but feel strange when you imagine a filly in the bath. Huh anyways… ”But since you asked me a question, it’s only fair if I do the same. Wouldn’t you agree?” She doesn’t bother waiting for a reply, “Why might you have stopped by? Surely it’s because you missed the company of a true lady.” For somepony who prides themselves on being ladylike, she is most egocentric. Quite unladylike. “It had come to my attention that you were quite skilled in the art of the cloth.” She nods in agreement, eyes lowering in defeat, “Of course. What else am I good for?” You cock your head in confusion. “What might you mean by that?” Rarity shakes her head, that same smile, the façade of happiness, reappearing, “It’s nothing. Just a little mare talk. Now, I think I can help you after all.” You’re still suspicious of her dismissal, but, she’s also helping you. She trots over to her closet and drags out another of these ‘mannequins,’ this one shaped as a Minotaur. You can’t help but reminisce of time’s passed with those creatures. A disgusting lot, skin patched together with the black threads of Sin Valley. Sin… A peculiar term. You never gave it much thought the few times you went pruning the rabble within. “What does ‘sin’ mean madam Rarity?” ”Sin? What brings this up?” She hovers over a tape measure along with a few rolls of fabric. “Just a thought is all. Do you know?” ”Sin is… It’s a tad hard to explain, darling.” She fiddles with her tools before coming to her senses, “Think of it as a wrongdoing.” “Oh, like stealing.” ”Not exactly, no. It’s more… basic than that. Aha, greed.” “Greed?” ”Greed is a sin, if my times at the chapel are recounted correctly, and you just happen to be looking at its opposite, generosity.” You’re not quite sure she explained it properly, but it does help you get an idea. These ‘sins’ can be seen as opposites to the Elements of Harmony. Interesting. Rarity trots over, tape measure at the ready, “But enough about that darling. If I’m going to make you some new clothing then I simply need measurements.” You remember seeing something like this before. Fortunately she’s not going to sink her scissors into your esophagus, you hope. That would be most unwise of her. ”Now, off off off. Those pesky clothes always get into the way.” “Yes ma’am,” you strip easily and lay them flat on the floor. ”You’re remarkably calm about being exposed,” she notes as the cold metal touches your skin. “Are all other creatures of this land not exposed as well? Actually… Yes, I only recall Saddle Arabian ponies actively wearing attire.” ”You’ve been to Saddle Arabia?!” her eyes nearly ‘popping out of her head.’ You nod. “I’ve always wished to visit. It’s so exotic, and they have simply some of the most intricate techniques in the world. I could learn so much.” “I didn’t do much visiting. I was there strictly on business.” She smirks and moves to another leg, “Oh right… How long were you there for that you couldn’t find time to do some exploring?” You scratch your chin, Rarity instantly moving them back, “Well, considering time off and on, I would clock in my time there in… roughly ten to fifteen years.” ”Fift- * cough*” she begins choking on air it seems, “Fifteen? How old are you?” You can’t exactly tell her the truth, now can you? “Now now, asking someone’s age isn’t very ladylike now is it?” ”It doesn’t work that way, Anon.” “Of course it does. You can continue now.” The metal returns to your skin, Rarity not realizing in her haste that she had stopped, “Fifteen… Well if you’re going to be so uptight about it, what were you doing? What was your job?” And you trade one compromising question for another. “It was nothing. It is ‘safe to say’ that I am no longer working there, that is why I am now visiting your lovely town.” Her voice is ‘green with envy’ as she shrugs, “I so miss the uptown life in the cities. The glare from the night lights in Manehattan…” The city’s glamour must obviously shield the threat that they hold. It is a dangerous city, even for places other than Equestria. Poor memories. She reaches your undergarments suspiciously, “You wear clothes under your clothes?” You never really paid it much thought. “Yes, I have worn them ever since…” aaaand you lost it. Shame that. “Since a long time.” ”Well, regardless of your companionship with them, they’re easily blocking my work. So,” her horn lights up and you can feel her tugging at your underpants, “off.” The sudden coolness of the room causes you to perk right up, your lower half tingling all over. Yes, you’ll most certainly be wearing those at all times. ”There’s no need to be embarrassed, darling. I have done this plenty of times, just not with… somepony like you.” The tips of your fingers tremble at the sensitive touch of your… area. She does her work quick and smiles, “See? Easy as that. You may pull them up now.” “Thank you. I can’t help but have a feeling of exposure. A very intimate feeling.” ”Like I said, there is no need to feel embarrassed. I do this for a living.” She most certainly fits her title as the Element of Generosity. Without wasting more time, Rarity goes about taking more measurements, “You’re no minotaur, that’s for sure. Taller but not as bulky. I admire your build, slim yet strong. A true gentlecolt’s build.” “I am thankful for your compliment. It could be why I attract so much attention.” ”I don’t know, Anon. It might be more that you’re basically a celebrity. Stand up to Nightmare Moon and suddenly you’re a bigshot. Of course, yours truly isn’t a celebrity, and she’s one of the ones who stopped her.” Rarity and her friends needn’t know of your involvement. It could have been so much more difficult. But you’ll let them think they won. They need to think that. ”But that brings up a question I’ve been holding back. Why is Diamond Tiara following you, and more importantly, why is she covered in mud?” That isn’t too bad of a question you’d think. Curiosity could kill the cat, as the phrase goes, but not everyone could simply resurrect the cat. “She took a stumble off my shoulder when I ‘lost my footing,’” you put in air quotes, “And fell into that puddle outside of your home.” ”Why did you put that in quotes?” “I simply do not know what you’re talking about.” She does her best not to laugh, “And why was she on your shoulder?” Miss Rarity’s questioning rivals even that of Miss Twilight. Most unfortunate. “Her father paid me to be a companion to his daughter. It was not my finest hour when I accepted.” Her expression turns to one of curiosity, “So... You’re an escort? Was that your job in Saddle Arabia?” Well you are indeed escorting Mr. Rich’s daughter, and saying yes would get rid of both questions… “I guess you could say that, yes.” ”I’ve never met a male escort myself, certainly not one as… endowed, as you.” You’re not quite sure what she means, but you’ll take the compliment again. “I am hoping to purchase a gift with the money I make from this job.” ”Oooh,” she coos as he moves onto your neck, “And who is the lucky mare?” You make sure to inform her that telling would ruin the surprise, and she seems content at this. Scootaloo is going to be so happy. She wraps the tape around your neck, silently eying your scars before she pulls back, pulling the tape closed. ”All done. That wasn’t so much of a chore now was it?” “You must certainly be the star of Ponyville.” She coughs rather abruptly and holds her chest, “Yes… of course…” There’s that tone again. A sadness that lingers in her voice. What is it? “How much will these Grade A clothes cost me, madam?” She turns her back to you as she stores her tools, “No charge… I’ll have them ready in a bit. *sniff* A perk of having some spare clothes for Minotaurs…” You remember faintly that placing your hand on her back might calm her down. Might, being the key word. “Rarity, what is on your mind?” you ask her, hand idly rubbing her upper back and up to her neck. ”Would… would you like to go to a party with me tomorrow? It’s really small, just Twilight, Applejack and I. I’d… really like it if you came.” All this… for a party? Mares, you’ll never understand them. “As much as I’d like to I…” you pause as she shuts her eyes, the traces of tears building up at the edges. ”It’s okay… I just… This is one of the few times I can escape my work. ‘Rarity can you make me this. Rarity would this look good that.’ It’s tiring- *sniff* you know?” No. Not at all. ”I just want to be with my friends again…” Rainbow Dash painted her out as… You’re not quite sure, but looking at her, you can’t help but feel bad for her. You can have a successful business, or you can have time to spend with your friends. You never had either. “What time?” you smile back at her, Rarity turning around, eyes full of hope. ”R-really? You’ll go?” “Of course,” you nod, “I can move things around in my schedule. Just for you, Rarity.” She wraps you in a hug, as much as she can given the height difference, “Thank you so much Anon.” “So… are you going to tell me your age?” ”Not on your life,” she whispers jokingly. Indeed. Rarity does a few alterations to her current suits, and in minutes has a new one waiting for you. She helps you slip it on and watches as you walk around, admiring the crisp new feel of them. ”Don’t go sliding down cliffs with this one alright? It’s the only one I had ready, but I’ll get working on some new ones for you. Oh, you’ll need some pajamas.” ”Pajamas? What are those?” “Sleeping attire. It’s a slumber party.” Sleep, and you can just guess where the party is being held. Twilight’s house. That sneaky mare must be going out of her way to do this. She’s likely the one who orchestrated the event, but you will not ruin Rarity’s happiness. ”How about you go check up on our guest? She’ll be upstairs. Take a left down the hall and it’s the last door on the right.” You follow her instructions, hand running alongside the wall, detecting the small imperfections therein. The smell of shampoo is more concentrated the further you get and you slowly knock at the door, “Come in.” Opening the door you find Diamond Tiara wrapped up in a filly-sized robe, mane wrapped in a towel as she paces around what you think is the spare bedroom. ”About time you got here. I’ve been waiting for hours.” “It’s only been half that, and you likely spent most of it bathing.” ”Don’t get smart with me.” She barks before taking a calming breathe and leaps onto the bed, “Come now, sit.” You look at her suspiciously before taking a seat beside her, a shot of nostalgia running through you as the bed absorbs your weight. “So, what are we going to do on the bed Diamond Tiara?” She smiles and licks her lips, “This.” Your face turns to one of horror when the small filly tackles into your upper body, her body a lot stronger than you would’ve expected. “That’s not very ni-” you’re interrupted as she starts to lick your face. You keep your mouth shut, the one thing you’re not intent on tasting is her saliva. Even you won’t go that far. She halts her licking abruptly and stares down at you, “Come on, I’m doing all the work here.” “And just what is it you’re trying to do exactly?” ”Are you stupid or just an imbecile?” “Aren’t those the same-” you’re interrupted a second time, this time by her pressing her face over yours. It’s only as she tries to force her tongue into your mouth do you realize that you are currently being raped. You do not see what the big deal is. But when a drip of saliva finds its way into your mouth you shove her off of you with ease and spit out the sweet trickle that crept inside. ”What’s wrong with you?! I’m practically throwing myself at you.” “Quite literally. Yes I noticed,” you reply before standing up so she doesn’t try it again. She stays on the bed to limit the height difference, but you’re still a good deal higher than she is. ”It’s that blank flank isn’t it? What’s so special about her, huh? I can give you anything you want.” You cringe when she says that word, blank flank. Anger, a rage she’d best not provoke. “I did wonder what your true motivation for this trip, and now I know. It was about Scootaloo. You were jealous of her. Quite ironic.” ”Jealous?” she chortles rather angrily, “I’d never be jealous of some flightless blank flank like her.” Once again, you grimace, fist returning to your hand. “Don’t say that.” Her conniving smile returns, “I’m not making you angry am I? What’s that you don’t want me to say? Blank flank?” Your fist shakes as you struggle to contain yourself, your emotional harmony cracking under the pressure. ”That’s it, isn’t it?” she moves forward, “You don’t like me saying… Blank flank.” Silence her Anon. Do it. No, she’s a filly. She doesn’t know- Yes she does. She’s not stupid. “I am warning you, please stop saying that word.” She looks you up and down with a scowl, “You’re kind of a blank flank yourself. No eyes, no ears, just a weird mouth.” Kill her now. Silence! ”You blank flanks all get along wonderfully don’t you?” Your fingers clench at the fabric of your pants, your mind still debating whether to end her miserable life. Give her a taste Anon, let her see who you are. No, I can’t… “You have my attention, young one. Is that not enough?” ”No,” she answers matter-of-factly, “It isn’t. You’re not going to so much as look at those blank flanks, ever again.” Unreasonable. Of course she is, that’s why you must set your own terms, death. You can’t… can you? “If… if you say that word- if you say it one more time, I will not be responsible for-“ ”Blank flank.” You can almost hear something snap as you lay one hand on her, a white haze falling over her eyes. Tick tock goes the clock, lying on the darkened wall. Silent cries goes the sun, the filly twitching as it falls. Time is different in the land of the dead; a minute here could be hours there. You look over to the clock, fifteen seconds having past. “I warned you to stop,” you whisper as her lips quiver and muscles shake, “but you had to push and push and push…” You move a strand of hair out from her face, her skin soft to the touch though you dare not linger. Forty seconds. Time sure flies in this realm. Sin valley, that was her destination if you recall. Mannequins… Their resemblance to those souls is rather startling, and you’re sure she’ll find they are quite different. Of course, no harm shall come to her. Physically anyways, her mind… it shall survive. Children are so easily frightened, but they always recover... somewhat. The last hand ticks along signaling the one minute mark and with another touch, her consciousness returns, her soul settling back behind her eyes, the doorway, they’ve been called. She doesn’t say anything, but when she looks at you in horror, an absolute horror that you are so accustomed to, you can’t help but feel sickened. Not by your actions, no, but by this… filly. This… mortal monster. “I gave you a warning,” you grab her by the scruff of the neck, “But souls like you never learn, never heed the advice that could save you. I have had enough of your ‘company’ for one day. No more.” Her voice is that of a croak as she tries to speak, yet despite the resilience of her youthful form, she cannot. You pull out the card and look to the address before putting it away and inspecting your map. Not too far, you’ll have her there by sunset. What’s left of her anyways. Keeping her held as you have you quickly head down the stairs, Rarity eyeing you with interest, “Going so soon?” “This one has been misbehaving, and along with her tiring company, I am taking her home.” ”Well take care then, Anon, and don’t let me catch you shoving any more fillies into mud,” this time she says it to Diamond Tiara, but her eyes have been fixed to the mannequin across the room. ”Is… is she alright? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost, darling.” You can barely hear her jumbled mutters beneath her breath, hearing her speak of peeling skin and seas of sorrow. Home sweet home. ”What’s she saying?” she asks you, her ears not so tuned as yours. “She is trying to get attention. Surely you must know how fillies are.” ”Ugh, tell me about it. My sister drives me simply batty.” “Batty? I seem to have missed something.” She nods, “Loopy, nuts, crazy. Twilight told me you were somewhat behind on these.” So she had been talking to Twilight. Your suspicions may not be confirmed, but they are growing higher in likelihood. ”They- so innocent…” Oh dear, it appears she’s coming out of her stupor. No time like the present, your… someone had said… “It appears I must take my leave, dear Rarity. Allow us to meet once again tomorrow for this slumber party.” She presents her hoof and, imitating what you have seen during your few upscale city visits, giver it a light peck with your lips. A sign of respect between genders. ”Until then. Have a good night’s rest Anon.” Rest? That is so third century. ~~~ The streets grow desolate as the sun continues to descend beyond the horizon, no pony paying mind to the filly in your grasp. The few that do see you and smile before going on their way. They do seem to trust you as Filthy Rich had said. You find yourself at his address and have to stand back just to take in his house, quite the sight indeed. Those planks are polished to a shine, the hue surely of an exotic location, and if you look at the yard it’s received a stone finish to keep his garden at bay, the colors mismatched yet strangely unified. It would take no small fortune to maintain this house, “H-home?” “Yes, you are home.” You walk to the doorway and knock; Diamond Tiara freeing herself and as soon as the door cracks open she’s already wedged through it, her tiara falling off her head. Filthy Rich is bewildered by her behavior but puts on a reluctant smile when you hand him the jeweled headdress, “Anon. Pleasure to see you.” “Likewise sir. I have returned you daughter as requested.” ”Yes…” he draws on that word before looking to his daughter hiding behind him, “And in such a state.” He suspects you had something to do with it. Well, he wouldn’t be wrong. ”Is there a story behind this or is my daughter simply acting up again?” ”N-no I’m not! I’d never!” “Sir,” you make sure to keep your smile pure, “I took your daughter to Ms. Rarity’s boutique to get a change of clothes, as you can see. She had fallen in some mud on our way there, though she bathed. Afterwards-“ ”He- he touched me!” the filly declares earning a stern look from her father. Kids these days do not even have the decency to keep their mouths shut. A quick glance at you and her eyes are back to staring at her father’s hooves. ”Is this true?” “Of course sir, she asked me to carry her. I had already experienced a filly leaping upon my back and it was not pleasant.” You speak the truth, and it’s as if Filthy Rich can see it, although he is not entirely convinced. ”Tiara, where did Anon touch you?” At this point her next words could ruin your entire- “Here!” Nobody speaks after her quick assertion, Filthy Rich sighing and looking to you, “I’m terribly sorry about her. She has a habit of this.” ”B-but daddy! He touched me! I saw things,” her eyes begin to well up with tears, “Please daddy you have to believe me.” She’s hugging tightly to his leg but he doesn’t relent, “That’s quite enough, Tiara. Go back to your room.” Out of all the places she could’ve put her hoof on, she had to touch her head. Silly filly. You hear her door slam shut inside and Filthy Rich steps outside with you, “I’ve never seen her cry like that before. A father knows when his child is being genuine, but I also know when an honest pony is as well.” “You still suspect me,” you recite his thoughts, the stallion nodding. ”I’m going to ask you this once, and I want the truth. Did you hurt my daughter?” Ahh, the final question. His daughter, on one side, you on the other, honesty… “Applejack is the element of honesty, is she not?” He doesn’t respond. “I guess, to pay my respects to her, I would have to answer as such.” Such a shame about Ms. Tiara. If only she’d listened. With a smile still on your face you shake your head. “No sir, I did not harm your daughter.” Tartarus did. Filthy Rich stares at your face, as he cannot do so into your eyes. “You have quite the poker face, Anon, but I’ll have you know that I’ve gambled with the best.” “I speak the truth, whether you believe me or not, that is up to you.” ”Yes, yes it is, and I know you’re telling me the truth.” Filthy Rich turns back to his house, looking at one of the upstairs windows. Does he think of his daughter? Of how she has behaved? A lingering doubt in his mind? “Now, about our deal…” ”I am conflicted Anon. Two halves battling over what is right. Does this sound familiar to you?” “Why yes sir. Indeed it does.” He sighs, a hoof held against the door, “The professional side of me wishes to honor our agreement. Surely you do as well, but my other side, the side in which I am a father, tells me that I cannot justly pay the one who had caused my daughter to be in such a state.” You… You are confused. He believes you, but he thinks you to be the cause. Intuition is his ally. ”But as a pony, I know that a compromise is in order. I will pay you for your work, Anon, but I cannot in good conscience pay you the full amount you desire.” Two halves battling for control. A compromise to solve the battle. It appears you had already done so in regards to his daughter. “I understand sir. Disappointed, but understood.” Why are you doing this Anon? You need that money- I caused a filly harm, not physically, but her mind is not the same. You will take his offer. Filthy Rich moves inside to gather your bits; the sun almost completely vanished over the trees. One last stop… You just hope they’re still open. ~~~ Later… You hide the parcel behind some bushes as you approach the house, not nearly as grand as Mr. Rich’s, but it fits their needs. You’d gotten the address from the shopkeeper, who had known Scootaloo since she was smaller than she is now. A voice mocks you, doubting and teasing you over your ‘gift.’ She’ll never like it. She’ll hate you for it. It- It is the thought that counts. A friend once told you this, but from a time forgotten. *knock knock* ”Scootaloo!” you hear a voice holler from inside, “Get off your flank and answer the door!” Her father, not as pleasant as you’d hoped. “But daaad.” ”You’ve got till the count of five, or else you can make your own supper.” The mother, equally unpleasant by her tone. This proves… disheartening. Scootaloo’s exasperated sigh catches your ear and you swiftly perk back up. The door opens a notch, “Hello?” “Acheem,” you clear your throat, her eyes wandering up to meet you. ”ANON!” she yells, her hoof covering her mouth in a flash. ”Who’s at the door now?” Scootaloo’s father hollers once again followed by a fit of coughs. ”No one dad, just someone needing directions.” She does an impression of hanging herself, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Well give the stallion some help. By Celestia, I couldn’t get a colt…” “What does that mean?” you ask, Scootaloo’s ears drooped low. ”Nothing, let’s just talk outside okay.” No arguments there. Her house smells of that strange yellow substance you found in the alley. The door clicks shut and Scootaloo forces a smile, “What’re you doing out so late?” The anticipation is almost killing you… hehe. “Actually I came to see you. I have something I wanted to give you.” ”A gift? OOH Anon you’re the best! Did you… No. You couldn’t have. You had me babbling all over it today. Anon you didn’t! You’re so cool! Where is it?” She’s already begun the search before you can explain yourself, and it’s only a few moments before she finds the package and tears it open. …She doesn’t say a word as she stares at her gift, a simple scooter with an even blue finish and red wheels. You walk behind her, already feeling saddened by your failure. “I wanted to get you a gift. I really wanted to get you the Rivmaster-“ ”Revmaster,” she sniffs, “The Revmaster 1000.” You kneel down next to her, hand hovering just over her back, unsure if it’s alright to do so. “I wanted to get that for you, but I could not obtain the money for it. I got the best one I could… I guess it did not meet your expectations.” You failed her Anon. You’re useless, utterly and completely worthless. Shut up… ”Anon…” she wipes a tear from her cheek, “You’re such an idiot…” “E- What?” She turns back to you with a quivering smile, “I don’t care about the scooter you big dolt.” With a leap she wrapped her hooves around you and is smothering you in a hug, “I’m just happy you care about me.” Your hand pats her on the back as a few more tears escape her. “Of course I care about you Scootaloo, you are my friend.” ”Scoots,” she pulls back for a second, “You can call me Scoots.” “Alright then Ms. Scoots.” She shoves you off with a laugh and hops onboard her new scooter, rolling back and forth in silence, “It’s so quiet.” “I thought you might like it if it didn’t sound like you were grinding metal all the time.” She pushes off with a hoof and rides it around you in a circle before coming to a sharp stop, “I love it.” Phew! That’s right, you did well this time Anon. You did well. “Well, I better let you get to bed. You’re going to need some rest if you want to ride this tomorrow.” You’re halfway turned to leave when Scootaloo stops you, “Do… Do you have to?” She wishes for you to stay? “You can’t stay up forever, Scoots. That’s my job.” ”Oh oh I know, but… Can we hang out just for a few more minutes? I can show you some moves I’ve been wanting to try out!” Looking down at the filly so filled with excitement on her new scooter… How are you supposed to say no? “Go on then, show me these moves that you have been practicing.” ”You won’t regret it Anon, I promise.” You find a nearby bench to sit at as Scootaloo prepares for her stunt, “Hey, uh, Anon?” You look up to see her standing on the bench next to you. “Ye-” she hugs you again, tighter than anything you’ve felt since you’ve arrived. ”Thanks.” You smile as she releases you and set herself up for her run. Today… today was good.