Day 13
As recorded on the fifteenth. Things have been more than a little crazy between the last recording and this... but I’ll still be keeping these separated by date per entry.
It was Saturday. Which usually means no mail. But, nonetheless, I received a special delivery. Two, actually, but I’ll keep this chronological if I can.
The first came at the hoof of a goat, who I’m inclined to believe isn’t the smartest bun in the breadbasket. I didn’t draw this from profiling either... it was rather the fact that he came up and knocked on my door and seemed to completely miss the fact that I was sitting not two meters away on my folding chair, sipping my tea in the crisp morning air. I just love the mornings after a rain.
“Excuse me, good sir, can I help you?”
The goat slowly swiveled his head towards me, revealing a headset to go with the tie he was wearing. He brayed and shook his head.
“Oh. Okay then.”
The goat knocked again. I would say this is pretty good affirmation of the initial appraisal.
“Sorry to interrupt again, but am I correct in assuming you are trying to contact the pony who lives here?”
Blinking once, twice, and thrice, he nodded very slowly.
“I am he.”
The goat shook his head and pointed at the door. After waiting for a few moments, he deposited the brochure he was promoting through the mail slot and left, moving on to the next house.
Whoever this is needs to reconsider whom they choose for sales representatives, I thought, getting up and going in to see what the salespony (salesgoat, perhaps?) was not-so-effectively selling. I picked up the pamphlet.
“The incredible Iron Will turns doormats into dynamos! Assertiveness seminar today, Hedgemaze Center.”
I flipped it over, but found the back blank. That’s it? No more information? This guy really needs some better PR.
Next door, Bonbon’s voice suddenly exploded into the higher end of the decibel range. “JUST WHAT ARE YOU INSINUATING?! What kind of little hayseed goes around disturbing ponies mid-breakfast to call them names? I-”
Lyra’s voice interrupted, but spoke at a normal volume, so I couldn’t make out what she said exactly. I trotted over, passing the same goat... who was at that moment enacting a hasty retreat.
I looked toward the door of the mares’ house, where Bonbon stood with legs spread, pupils dilated, and nostrils flared. This was by far the most upset I’d seen her. Lyra had her forelegs around her lover’s neck in an attempt to restrain her. She talked calmly, seamlessly, and persuasively into Bonbon’s ear, which twitched occasionally–the only visible sign that she was hearing a word the unicorn said.
Eventually, however, Lyra forced the earth pony to look into her eyes, lifting her chin with a hoof. Bonbon’s ears flopped back and her eyes avoided Lyra’s, resolve wilting. Still talking, Lyra steered Bonbon back into the house.
As she turned around to shut the door, I caught her attention via flailing my forelegs in the air. Having made eye contact, I mouthed, What was that?
Later, she mouthed back, and shut the door.
I blinked, and retreated back to the street and caught site of the door-to-door traveling goat. Most ponies replied with a simple “No, not today thanks,” (something along those lines, anyway), or merely took his paper without question and chucked it in the trash later.
From what I knew of Bonbon by now, I could tell she wasn’t a heavyweight troll by any means. Sure, she has her attitude moments just like the rest of us, but that wasn’t what I had just witnessed.
Still thoroughly confused, I shook my head and trotted off. I needed wrapping paper, and (for once) I knew exactly where to look.
The outside of the Carousel Boutique always intrigued me. The inside just plain scared me.
I take that back. Only when there are scissors flying around at dangerous speeds at the command of a fashion-obsessed unicorn.
“Uh, Rarity?” I said, wiping my hooves on the mat in the entryway, as any good guest–or anypony that knows Rarity for that matter–would do.
There was a cry of alarm from the next room, followed by flashes of magic which I could see through the doorway. “Just a second! I’m coming! No need to move anywhere!”
That did loads to dampen my curiosity. I trotted stealthily up to the frame and peeked in, but at that moment Rarity had just finished hiding whatever it was she was doing, poised innocently in the middle of the all-too-clean room with a smile pasted on her face.
“Hello, Doctor.”
“Hello...” I drew it out, making no attempt to hide my suspicion. “So what have you been up to?” I consider that a perfectly natural, valid, and convenient conversation topic.
“Oh nothing much, really.”
“I thought you’d be a better liar, Rarity.”
“I’m not sure if I should take that as a complement to my character, or an insult to yours.”
“Whatever gets you your beauty sleep, darling.”
We stared each other down for about ten seconds, before I decided it wasn’t worth it to try to crack her.
“Fine, keep your precious secrets. They don’t concern me.” I hope. “I just came here to see if I could obtain paper.”
“Paper?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, paper. But something more like wrapping paper; surely you have something around here for delivering dresses?”
“Oh! Yes, of course. I’ll just be a second.”
She went and disappeared into a walk-in storage closet, and returned momentarily with a roll of shiny green paper with silver swirls on it. Generic, but better than the leftover holiday-themed stuff I had. Using her magic, she casually rolled out a meter or two for me and sliced it with a pair of scissors.
“So,” she said, trying to sound informal. “What’s it for? Just out of curiosity.”
“Not a chance, mare.”
“Aww,” she pouted. “Please? Pleasepleaseplease?”
Don’t look at the face. Don’t look at the face. I looked at her face.
“Ugh, fine. But it’s nothing scandalous like your thinking.” If she only knew how much I was lying...
“You’re lying, aren’t you.”
I snapped up the paper and ran for the door. She let me go, manic laughter fading as I distanced the fashion designer’s home.
Doesn’t take a good liar to tell a bad one, I thought, thinking back to the project I wasn’t supposed to know about. Ah, well, it’s probably some trashy secret-ish gossip I don’t want to know about anyway.
I looked around to see where my hooves had taken me.
Colgate’s apartment complex. I do believe I’m worried about her.
Well, I was there. Might as well call. I skirted around an exiting gray stallion as I trotted up the steps to the buzzer box, where I tapped Colgate’s. Just as the day before, there was no reply. I was about to depress it again, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Starting back in surprise, I turned to find myself looking at the same gray stallion that had just passed me.
He looked strikingly similar to me, actually. While having the same mane and tail cut, his colors (or actually, lack thereof) were different; light and dark cool grays, as opposed to my tans and browns. A lighter shade of blue made up his irises, and three four-leaf clovers for a cutie mark.
“Sorry, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re ringing Colgate’s apartment.”
“Yes...?”
“Are you her friend?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Ah...” he said, glancing to each side and lowering his tone. “Look, I know you probably mean well, but if you care about her, she’ll heal faster if you just leave her alone.”
“What the hay are you-”
“Trust me, I’ve seen her break up with quite a few over the time she’s been my neighbor here-”
“I’m not that kind of friend. Just a friend.”
“Oh... so sorry. How do you know her?”
I looked back at my cutie mark. “Long story. Suffice to say we have a strange relationship.” Where are my manners? Living in Ponyville is going to turn me into a redneck. “My name is Whooves. Doctor Whooves.”
“Name’s Lucky. I live across the hall.”
“So... now what?”
“Well, if you’re not her latest dump, then I don’t know. Usually she gets over breakups pretty quickly... certainly has the practice. Goes out and hits the cider with Berry Punch.”
I pretended to know who that was. “So, you’re saying there wasn’t anybody that you know of?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Same.”
“I... suppose it’s possible there was someone neither of us knew about.”
I paused. “Is it weird that we’re talking about this and we don’t know each other?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “But the more I find out, the more I’m thinking about somepony else.”
“I couldn’t get an answer yesterday, either.”
“From what I’ve seen and heard, she hasn’t left.”
“Hmm... she seemed in-touch with reality last time I saw her.”
“Huh.”
“Two more days?”
“Two more days.”
I turned to leave.
“Hey, uh...”
“Oh, right.” I produced my address for him, which he took with a nod.
“See you later then?”
“Probably.”
Back at my apartment, I busied myself wrapping the gifts right away, trying not to think too much about Colgate. With the lifestyle she lives, it’s probably normal.
With the gift wrapping done all too quickly, I decided it was high time to locate some mid-day sustenance.
It’s strange that Ponyville has so many little shops and cafes. It’s lucky for me, since my Canterlot tastes still tell me most of them are unworthy, but still something worth a moment’s consideration nonetheless.
As I contemplated this, walking down the street between the aforementioned food-providers, a familiar voice interrupted and caused me to look around for the source.
“Over here.”
Lyra was sitting in her unnatural pose in a chair at a raised round table. It took me a second to locate her because the entire thing was on a wooden deck, with a rail around the edge and potted plants on each post.
I trotted around to the stairs and crossed the restaurant's deck to Lyra’s particular table, which was against the side of the building and enjoyed the shade of an awning attached to said building.
“Have you eaten?” she asked as I took a chair opposite her.
I shook my head.
“Good. I think we might have some stuff to talk about.”
I made no objection. It’s not often somepony tells me something without me having to drag it out of them.
“Shoot.”
“I suppose you’re wondering about Bonbon...” She looked at me for affirmation. “...unless you already have some theories.”
“I do, but facts are always preferable to hypotheses. Please, continue.”
“Okay... where to start?”
“At the beginning, obviously.”
Lyra shot me a look, before continuing. “After Bonbon and I had been going for a while, we hit a little snag...”
“Parents?”
Lyra nodded. “I decided it would be easiest just to not tell mine. I had already been away for a few years by then, and I didn’t get back that way to see them much. So I just never mentioned her in my letters. And that’s about how it’s going now.
I sipped my iced tea, conveniently provided by a discrete waitress.
“Bonbon though... she’s not as carefree as I am. She wanted to tell them, so we did. Together.” She scratched her head behind an ear. “Telling them was easy. Bonbon did most of the talking, obviously. When she finished, there was silence for a bit. Definitely one of the more awkward experiences of my life. Even more so than the first time Bonbon and I had se-”
I nearly spat my straw across the deck.
“Oh, sorry. I was getting a little off topic there I guess.” She blushed. “Anyway, her dad just got up and walked out. Her mom shook her head and mumbled something about a ‘corruptive influence’ and that it wasn’t welcome in their house.
“Bonbon got up and put her hoof on her mom’s shoulder, as she too was walking away. ‘Mom...’
“Her mom paused. ‘You’re not the mare we raised,’ she said, in one of those sad yet condescending voices.”
Lyra took a breath, looking down at her own beverage. “She cried for two days and nights, and wouldn’t eat for another three after that.
“Up to then, her parents had been... well, ideal. She was her daddy’s little filly; she shares her talent with her mom. To have that life... and then get thrown out on the doormat with a ‘come back when you’ve ditched the love of your life’ basically.”
The unicorn mare shook her head. “Fortunately, we were far enough along that it didn’t even occur to her to leave. Still...”
The waitress hoofed us two menus in passing.
“...nopony should have to go through something like that. And nopony can without coming through with some damage.”
Browsing the sandwich section, I replied, “How much pressure does it take for her to react differently?”
“It’s not so much quantity of pressure as it is the specific traits of the trigger, at least from what I’ve determined...”
The waitress appeared, apologetic look on her face for interrupting. She took our orders hurriedly and left as quickly as she had appeared.
“What was it this morning?”
“I’m not actually entirely sure this time. Might have been something to do with the Hedgemaze Center; I think I remember hearing that name come up a long time ago, before we told her parents.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t the assertiveness thing?”
“She’s never seemed to have a problem making her opinion known before. I just don’t see how that subject would relate.”
“Well, I guess that lead is better than nothing.”
“Lead...?”
“You... I... Aren’t we going to fix this?”
“Doc... a complete severing of biological relationships isn’t something you can fix... with your specialty, even you must know that these things are very deeply ingrained.”
“Of course, but pretending they don’t exist is hardly the right option.”
“Believe me when I say, her reaction today was relatively minor compared to some of the ones in the past. I’ve been nailing down these specific stimuli for... uh, I mean, about four or five years now. With each one I can get out in the open, the farther and farther between episodes. It’d been almost a year before this morning.”
I thought about that for a moment. It was actually a pretty good course of action, for not having any education on the issue.
“She’s lucky to have you, you know.”
“Me? No... I mean, you’d have been handling it better for sure. Hay, you’re qualified.”
“Naw, ‘cause I would have tried to buck some sense into her parents. Don’t give me their address.”
Lyra chuckled. “It’s been half a decade. Celestia knows what could have happened to Celestia knows who.”
A pause developed, which was conveniently timed with the arrival of our food.
After a period of chewing, I asked, “So, do you need to spend tonight alone with her...?”
“What? No! It’ll be good to get her around ponies. Don’t want her to brood about it, y’know.”
I took a finishing bite of my House Salad. “Well, if there’s anything I can help with, you know where I live. Thanks for the... insight.”
“Thanks for listening.”
I nodded, chucked some bits on the table and trotted off the deck.
Lyra’s talk had stretched lunch a bit longer than I expected; with nothing else specific to do, I turned to head towards home. Not ten steps along, yet again a familiar voice caught my attention. It was a very serious case of deja vu.
I looked around, but to no avail. There was nopony I knew in sight, besides Lyra, and the voice definitely wasn’t hers.
“Up here.”
Looking up, I saw Ditzy descending in a rough spiral and landing abruptly next to me, allowing a few steps to absorb some of the impact.
“Ditzy,” I acknowledged.
“Whooves.” She shuffled a hoof, and then looked up at me looked up at me with hopeful eyes. “Hug?”
“I, uh... here?” I replied, looking from side to side.
She held the eyes.
“Aw, ponyfeathers. Get over here you silly filly.”
She fluttered into my waiting forelegs, an embrace which we held for a few seconds.
“I missed you already,” she said.
“Yeah, me too,” I replied quietly. Hmm... An idea began forming in my head.
“Can you get away later?”
Looking up at me, curoius, she asked, “Like for dinner?”
“Um, actually I have plans for dinner; it would have to be a bit after that. If that’s okay.”
“Oh, of course. Um, sometime around...?”
“Seven?” Did I really just finish her sentence? I hope we’re not turning into one of those cloud-nine couples.
“Okay!” she returned cheerfully. “I guess I should go now...”
“See you tonight.”
She smiled and lumbered off through the air, dodging a shop’s sign and swerving out of sight around a rooftop.
Now I just wanted to get home without seeing somepony I knew. Or worse, somepony that knew me.
Fortunately, my trip home was unhindered.
In the shade of my apartment, I sagged against the door. I do believe the weather is warming up. I should really check out the AC unit on this place.
But that would have to wait. I trotted over to the icebox and retrieved a Sarsaparilla, twisting the top off the glass bottle with my teeth (darned unicorns...) and plopped down in a seat. A swig sent relaxing coolness down my throat...
...FFFFFZZT! A flash of bright light appeared and winked out as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a scroll that dropped to the floor. My second special delivery.
After I had finished coughing the soft drink out of my windpipe, I cautiously examined the scroll. It had the royal seal on it, and seemed to be made like all the others I had received. So why send this one specially?
Shrugging it off, I popped the seal and got my answer.
Because it is the end of the week and we-, I am bored.
That is why I sent this to you via my own teleport. The post doesn’t run on ‘weekends’ apparently.
Concerning thy- your obviously very relevant question, it works about the same, actually. Among the higher classes and more prestigious, at any rate. Much more pomp and circumstance. If you meant royal marriage, then... well, the last one was our parents. But that is not a story told lightly.
I’m more interested in talking about you. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what goes on in Ponyville (to some extent). How does modern dating work? How long does it last? Does it interfere with what you want to do? It sounds so much faster and more exciting.
Luna
I set it down. Celestia help us if Luna manages to communicate with Twilight.
There are some things that shouldn’t be dwelt on, especially when mares like Twilight (and apparently, by the tone of her writing, Luna too) are involved. I know both can pull their weight, and relative to some others I know, would be considered rock-solid.
Unfortunately, Twilight has a history of obsessive study habits. I need to play my cards right come my interview–give enough to satisfy, but not a word more.
I was really starting to dread that interview.
Looking at the clock, I filed Luna’s letter; after all, while she can send me as many magic-impregnated scrolls as she wants, I have to wait till Monday, like everypony else. Not that I was complaining. I needed to write Princess Celestia a status update come next week too... that was going to be fun to write. Talk about trotting in the tulips.
But I don’t need to think about that yet.
After cleaning up, I went and examined my wardrobe, but berated myself quickly. No, as far as they know, I know nothing. Just do what you would normally do. I paused, almost expecting myself to reply. What would that be?
I looked at the clock. Show up early and help with dinner, of course.
I retrieved the gift-wrapped item, popping it on my back, and trotted over to Bonbon and Lyra’s.
Lyra answered. “Hey Whooves! You’re earl- um... what is that?”
With a shock, I realized I had completely overlooked the fact that I had trotted up to the front door with a present that didn’t have an explanation balanced on my back. “Uh... just a little something to cheer up Bonbon. Don’t say anything, okay? Please?” Hey, that was actually pretty good.
“Oh, I see. That’s really nice, Whooves.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
She laughed a little, taking my comment as sarcasm. “So, Bonbon’s in the kitchen...”
I nodded, depositing the gift on the entryway floor and followed her.
Upon reaching the kitchen, Bonbon looked up from her work. “Who was at the... oh, hi Whooves. Come on in!”
She seemed in good enough spirits.
“Since you’re here, would you mind starting the steamed carrots?”
Conversation buzzed while we worked on the noticeably more extravagant meal. Lyra was in a good mood; I was in a good mood, and as for Bonbon, she seemed to be doing just fine, as long as we kept her engaged. She drifted into a daydream once, while stirring a pot, but other than that, nothing noticeable to an outsider surfaced.
During the meal, I specifically avoided talking about the goats and Iron Will’s spam mail. Letting Lyra do more of the talking and encouraging Bonbon when she did, I eventually slipped into a observational silence. Quite a few new stories came up as time ticked on.
And speaking of, I looked to the wall and found 6:46 PM displayed on their timepiece. Lyra caught me looking and asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yes! It’s perfect.” I got up and left the table, returning with the shiny green article.
“Happy fifth,” I said, winking at Lyra, and walked out. Gotta love dramatic entrances and exits. I really didn’t need to be there anymore; after all, they would be busy experimenting with their new device soon enough.
Dusk was settling as I emerged into the open air, pausing for a breath in the small distance between the houses. I looked to the black horizon, cast in shadow by the fire-orange skyline. Black rooftops and trees, and the sound of pegasus wings...
“Hey, Ditzy.”
“Hi,” she said, dropping to the ground. “So... what are we doing tonight?”
“Well, for one thing, I sorted my records... heh.”
She threw her head back and laughed. Most would call that overdoing it, but I wasn’t going to complain.
Her laugh faded, the silence stretched, and the sun sank. She shivered.
“Look at us, standing out here in the dark like a bunch of owls. Come on, let’s get you inside.”
She followed me in.
I stopped a few paces in, feeling around in the dark for the light switch. Not having been here for even two weeks yet didn’t help me in my search as I stumbled around. Ditzy, not aware that I had stopped, bumped into me–which consequently caused me smack into a bookcase, sending a shower of unidentified flying objects to the floor.
“Oh! Sorry.”
“‘S’okay. Feel around for a light switch. Rectangular plastic- Oh! Found it!”
I flipped it on, setting the glass bulb glowing and shining a yellow light on the interior of my house.
“Um, Whooves? What’s this?”
“What’s-” I began as I turned around. “Oh, that.” Well, no time like the present. “That’s yours.”
The package had fallen off its (admittedly lame) hiding place on top of the bookshelf when I was forced into it.
“Are you sure? I don’t remember seeing it before.”
“Heh... no. It’s for you. A gift. From me, to you.”
“Oh...” She looked from it to me. “...was I not supposed to find it?”
“Ditzy...” I pushed it toward her. “Open it.” I turned and started to trot to the next room.
“Where are you going?” she asked, still seemingly worried she had done something wrong.
“Relax, I’m not going anywhere.”
I slipped through the doorway, whereupon I located my record changer. Double checking each, I slid a stack of records on and set the needle. I trotted back into the other room, where I found Ditzy had removed the paper and was opening the box.
She blinked and refocused her wide eyes, pupils dilating slightly. She looked at me, and then back in the box.
This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. “Is... everything okay?”
“I... um... didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”
“Well, knowing you, I figure you’ll use it quite a bit.
Her wings lifted from her back, as she turned away, hiding a cautiously slight smile behind a lifted hoof. Is she blushing?
“Whooves, I... I don’t know what to think... and I’m not really sure what you want me to do either.”
Now I was confused. “You can... think whatever you want. As for what to do, well... I hope you use it. Wasn’t made to be put on the shelf and looked at.”
Her wings were now fully extended. At the time, this seemed slightly strange, but I easily overlooked it in favor of the conversation at hand.
“If you feel that way... I’m okay with that. And I wouldn’t do it with anypony else.”
“‘With’? What are you-”
My mouth stopped as she lifted it out of the box. I think my brain stopped too.
Ditzy was looking at me, earnestly yet innocently, with a riding crop in her mouth.
My first thought was, Holy bucking Celestia. My second, How could I be such an idiot? Using the same paper for both? And thirdly, Somewhere, right now, there’s two mares trying to figure out why I gave them bubble bath.
After that, I started subconsciously going over the conversation again, with a bit more of the picture this time.
Ditzy apparently saw me freeze as my own mental activity took priority. “I’m sorry. I’m doing something wrong.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m just trying to process–for the first time–that I accidentally asked my marefriend to... do something... with me... and also the fact that she seems to have said yes.”
Ditzy put the riding crop down. “I’m confused.”
“Me too.”
After another moment of thinking, I said, “Look, if that trips your trigger,” I looked at her fanned out wings. That makes more sense now. “Then I’m... not opposed. But this wasn’t really my idea. I know it’s not much to go on, but it’s a really long and complicated story otherwise.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
And silence ensued. This one definitely counted as awkward.
I sat down opposite her. “Now what?” After what had just been said, I wasn’t going to pretend things were going to go as they would have otherwise gone this evening.
“Well... if that isn’t your thing, what is?”
I wasn’t expecting that. “I... don’t have any special fetishes.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.”
“What?”
“I can think of one.”
“Uh... and that is?”
“You have a thing for blonde wingbone-ing pegasi,” she giggled.
It was my turn to blush. “T-that’s not t-true!” I stuttered.
She took a step closer.
“Maybe just this one in particular,” I admitted. I mirrored her movement.
Crossed eyes half lidded, she leaned forward to close the last remaining inches between our muzzles.
And at the last second, I locked. Muscles tensed; spine stiffened.
Ditzy noticed, drawing back and focusing on me. “Whooves? Are you sure you want to do this?”
Internally, I forced down the resistance... an irrationality that up until that moment I had thought had been subdued completely. No. This isn’t going to get messed up just because of some not-phobia. Still, my mind fought. This was more than a hug.
“Just do it before my heart listens to my brain.”
Her soft lips gently, testingly touched mine. My eyes opened, which till then I had been cringed shut, I realized.
Ditzy.
My Ditzy.
Walls of mental opposition fell away like reeds in front of stampede. With them went the awkward feelings, the worries, and all passage of time.
I pushed back.
Ditzy’s eyes snicked open at the change, meeting mine. Those big, round, amber eyes.
We sat, still locked in the kiss, and closed our eyes again. There was no need to break it; neither of us had anything to say.
It’s occurred to me since, that if a picture is worth a thousand words, then a touch is worth a thousand pictures.
The night wore on. At the stroke of two, I woke and found myself curled up on the couch, Ditzy sleeping soundly between my hooves. She stirred slightly, giving one of my forehooves a light squeeze with her own.
I smiled and kissed her on the brow.
As I drifted back into my pleasant dreams, a single thought stuck in my head: I’m a whole lot better off when my brain listens to my heart.