//------------------------------// // Painting the Town // Story: This Is Your Story! // by Mahayro //------------------------------// Our meddling perpetrator really is gone. So, the three of us have gathered and decided how we each would act from here to prevent this from all happening again. Berry needs to stay with her family. There can't be a soul who knows her who'd blame her. But she's shutting out everypony--including, unfortunately, us. If that lunatic was somehow behind the insanity that precipitated exactly seven weeks ago, she must be on high guard for her loved ones now. This brought me to ask, once again, why she and Colgate did not and will not live together. But both of them have become experts at dodging that question. It's personal. Too personal for me, apparently. Should I be upset? Maybe I don't want to enter that rabbit hole. I'd still love to know, though. The object of the superior mare is truth. In this quest for truth, six days since the last entry, Colgate has given me the mighty pen. I'm the only one of us with anything resembling literary writing experience. She already wanted me to learn to experience others through my writing, so this is my big chance. I somehow doubt the first-person perspective will much help me in escaping my egocentrism. I'll give it a shot, though. The superior mare makes the challenge her first interest; success only can follow. ...And writing over this old tome of IPU's is also a way for us to reassert our autonomy. All three of us now accept that he was trying to manipulate us to some unclear end; so, let this quill dance on the grave of that deed. We all have our hypotheses to the means and the end, but it would be best not to pollute this text with speculation any further. I'll just make sure to highlight any curious details as we press on. I have to find Written Script. He would know how to handle this. Oh, why did I have to pick a nomad for a mentor? As for Colgate's and my future action: We're just going to keep calm and carry on--but with our eyes wide open. Dinky Doo woke me today with a smile and a tap. Happy to see me--like I'd just come here from a faraway land. I have to stay here, but I am not a tenant; I am always a guest--and an honored guest, at that. What is it about Ditzy and her little one that challenges and exceeds the cruelty of life so much better than I? I am surely not the first pony to wonder this about them. And to be honest, if not for them, I wouldn't be wondering about much at all at this moment beyond the confines of a padded room. I had been practically inconsolable by the others before last week--but Big D and Little D could hardly even mind that my troubles existed. Theirs is a level of care that resembles professionalism but goes beyond it in some esoteric and fascinating way. This is how I reflected upon my fortune, sitting at the table, slowly pecking away breakfast cereal while my hosts tucked in and prepared for busy days. There is still a lot for this soul to learn. And perhaps I may learn something vital within these very walls. If only my interactions with these kind, simple souls didn't feel so much like condescension. (Forgive me--I spent a while trying to find the words to show my frustration without implying any lack of worth on their part.) "Whatcha wriiitin'?" Dinky inquired. And so it starts. I pretended to ignore her. I took my quill and balanced it on a hoof, then managing it to teeter on the hoof's edge. Then I quickly dropped the hoof, and the quill gently tumbled and came to point downward again. I grabbed it from the air with my clenched pastern, shaking all its dainty barbs as I raised it back to our eye levels. Then I offered it to her, silently inviting her to try the same. Simplicity means not asking so many questions and enjoying the moment--at least when there is not a pressing matter at hoof. I don't need an easily amused foal to demonstrate this for me. I just need for this crazy tale not to get any more complicated than doom and destiny shall make it. Dinky did indeed play this game; it only took her three tries to balance the quill on a hoof's edge. It took her several more to get the quill to drop cleanly; but once it did, she grabbed it on the second attempt. I smiled and clopped for her with honest glee. Happiness. Why does it seem that the better you know your company, the harder it is to feel genuinely happy with them? With a first acquaintance, anything is possible. A month later, there is tempered understanding. In a year, that is replaced with implicit expectation and the melancholy of knowing the good surprises are mostly discovered already. Beyond that, I imagine, friendship and love and all the other glories of socialization must require a sort of death/rebirth cycle for any trace of their worth to remain. (Why do I not currently think this way of Colgate and Berry? Were they never my friends to begin with, or something?) But that thought of mine didn't matter to Dinky. She returned the quill to me, her enduring smile implying a hope for more happiness from this demented mare. (I recall warmth from my own little spirit of joy in writing this. Yes, I am a mare!) It took me a moment to come up with another game. The quill wouldn't do... It's a simple enough trick, but maybe she had never tried it. I licked the cereal spoon's interior face, then stuck it on my nose. Then I said, "'Nay, ninnies!' whinnied Nanny." The nasal vibrations tickled with my spoon holding down the nostrils. I repeated it, starting low and raising to almost a shout--at which point the spoon fell off. I got to Nay Ninnies number nine. "How many can you do?" This was my challenge to her. I couldn't help but laugh a little inside on her first "Nay". She wasn't prepared for the tickling feeling, and she just squealed and giggled for a moment, dropping it all and having to start over. My goodness, she is a real sweetheart. The dissonance of the very foalish game-playing and the fact she was enjoying this at Sunny's age still grated slightly on my sensibilities. But I'm probably taking everything too seriously, am I not? She kept trying, determined to beat me. Eventually she managed to do ten in a row--apparently figuring, and perhaps being right, that doing it faster would somehow work better. I clopped and smiled for her once more. She just giggled again at the rapid-fire nose-tickling. Big D had left for her long workday hours ago, before the dawn broke and Little D awoke; Little D was definitely used to heading to school by her lonesome. But one of Dinky's joys in having me as a guest was that it meant having a guaranteed friend to walk to school with as well. I got the impression friendship was a rather rare experience for her, so it didn't trouble me a bit. For a split second, in writing this before we left for that trip, I considered that she and I might be kindred in that aspect. It immediately seemed silly--what meaningful thing could I share in common with her ilk? But now I only feel ashamed at that unkind and uninvited knee-jerk reaction. At least I rarely have friends for a fair reason. I am a terrible friend. And my record's not going to get any better today. There is a long day planned ahead with Colgate. And at the end of it, I have to confront her. If I don't, we will lose her for good, whether she realizes it or not. Today, there are no beautiful choices. I distracted Dinky Doo from my writing, and in turn she distracted me from my plans. Kindness repaid, I wonder? On the way to school, maybe one-quarter into the mile-long trek, she spotted a cluster of butterflies and moved to pounce on them. Prune trees for the Breezies--this became my immediate concern. Not knowing what the things looked like, I panicked, considering that she just might be attacking rare intelligent creatures. I tried to stop her assault. Of course, I figured out they were just the standard-issue insects--and she didn't hurt them, anyway. Which of us is sillier for our behavior? She got a little scared by my overblown reaction. So I told her what was going on: As one of Colgate's many "missions" (read: things she and I discover someone needs help with and that aren't beyond our means), the two of us would clean up the tree branches along the path the Breezies would be taking during a sort of migration. (Though littering isn't a problem in Ponyville, other windblown detritus would need picking up as well.) She somehow wildly misinterpreted "the two of us" and thought she and I were going to do clean-up. And she started doing so, right then and there. I would not sully the moment with a facehoof, but it really called for it. The dark side of simplicity is failing to question that which really deserves it. She didn't even think if this is where the Breezies were going through. ...Wait, why is that my first argument? She didn't even know when it would be started! Or how to prune trees, or what to prune them with! And what does any of this have to do with her going to school? She decided she'd do what she could, picking up crumpled leaves and sticks on the ground. In my mild shock at her action, I just looked on and briefly ran through my head what kinds of trash would be important to pick up when it would be my turn to task in a couple hours. I told her sticks wouldn't get blown up that high, so we don't have to worry about them. Looking back, I was being a very silly pony indeed. I did snap out of it soon enough, however. I simply told her, "Hey, Dinky, we don't need to worry about that right now. Colgate and I will take care of it." She darkened for just a second, but the trot to school carried on without a hitch. Guess I haven't the heart to be stern about the reality of things to a precious and innocent child. Well, I think she's pretty innocent, anyway. With a mind like that, she might've been the coach-saboteur from a couple years back and not a soul could ever tell from her demeanor. I swear my judgmental attitude isn't a sin! But why do I keep thinking of her as a moron? Or am I just projecting? Am I the moron? Goodness, I haven't even started the day proper and I'm losing it. Anyway, my own detour came next. Going back to Colgate meant crossing by the library again, and I had business there; I know she had her own affairs with Twilight also, but I figured I'd take care of my affairs ahead of time. Twilight seems to act a bit differently when it's just me. She hardly even lets Berry in the building anymore. I imagine the Berr's shut out entirely now that she's become a nation-wide VIP--and thank goodness this hasn't come up since that coronation: royalty and pugilism should stay well away from one another. As for her and Colgate? Well, they get to talking unicorn things--carried away, even. But she's a caretaker for mundane books as well, and that's why I had shown up. I still don't feel comfortable calling her Princess, though. The title is usually inherited or received in marriage, not earned. (I'm going to assume a dynastic overthrow is not involved!) I would see her as a minister instead. This stray thought gave me a way to break the ice--my being so dreadful at initiating conversation most of the time, I needed all the help I could get. (See, Berry? My randomness isn't useless!) "Well, that's quite a scholarly way to look at things!" was her reply. Whether she was just being polite or she agreed and didn't quite know how to resolve that inconsonance herself, I could not say. (The thesaurus is quite a helpful tool, and it happened to be right there; "inconsistency" just didn't feel right.) Having Twilight's attention, I asked about Written Script. There was no doubt he'd visited...but what was on his mind? Maybe I could get hints to track him down. Here is how that conversation went. Me: "You know how I, uh...kind of like that Written Script guy, right?" (I guess I hadn't mentioned that yet already. I think he's taken, but he's never outright told me so.) Twilight: "Yes--he was just here last week! Funny you mention it--I think he was looking for you, too." (And he didn't look for me at Ditzy's??) (Twilight gives me a wink here. Weird--she normally couldn't care less about others' personal lives. And to be honest, that's one of the things I'd always liked about her: not minding my business.) Me: "Alright. Well, he must've moved on. Anything you recall talking with him about? Or, lacking that, which books was he perusing?" Twilight: "Ohhh, I wish I could help there. I got called away soon after he dropped in. You can try asking Spike, but"--sheepish laughter; a shift to somewhat mocking tone--"he's not so great with those kinds of details." (She ponders for a moment, not yet calling the dragonling.) "Actually, I believe he was researching turn-of-the-century poets. And we have quite the selection in that department, including some original scrolls! Care to take a look?" Me: "Absolutely! But...could you stay with me, please?" Twilight: (She mildly blushes; her ears part tenderly.) "What was that?" Me: (I cough and turn to hide my own blushing. Stupid Carrot. Phrasing!) "I mean, could you help me with a couple other things while I find a good read for today?" Twilight: "Oh, right! Sure. It's just another quiet day in-- Oh, who am I kidding? No day is quiet around here anymore. So, let's get to it!" (We walk to the literature section and browse the poetry offerings. Twilight delivers some small talk about the influence of older poets on newer ones. Even I find this boring. The name "Caracollare" sounds pretty neat, though, and I ask to check out a book with that author. She advises me that it is written in Talonian--a language few ponies outside of the fine arts ever learn--and inadvertently patronizes me by offering something more popular by Quilland Ink. Though I am tempted to cut back at her for that, I merely take the offering so we can move on. I lead us to a table, putting away the book I won't likely read and bringing out the book--you know, this one.) Me: "I noticed you winked at the thought of me fancying my writer friend. So I think turnabout is fair play." (I grin.) "How's your life since the transition?" Twilight: "I...uh..." (She darts her eyes about.) "I don't know if that is the word I would use for it. Granted, I don't know any word I would really want to use. So that's two things about me you've managed to unravel in a matter of minutes." (Her mocking tone returns--albeit playfully.) "Try not to dissolve me into a heap of existential torment before you leave, will ya?" (The irony!) Me: (I smile daintily.) "Alright, then. How's your life since you grew a pair?" (I meant to be sarcastic about the wings, but my was that a little too close to home.) Twilight: (She turns away completely, coughing to hide her reaction.) "Oh, um..." (She eyes my book with interest.) "Say, that's quite some tome you have there!" (She notices the quill and ink I have out--the writing materials, of course.) "Wait...are you actually writing in this beautiful binding? You're not really going to mark all over such a nice specimen, are you? Or...wow--you're starting your own literature?" (She catches my smile in response.) "That's just great! But why are you writing your first draft in something as wonderful as this...?" Me: (I stammer for a few seconds, then opt for vagueness. Colgate and especially Berry don't want the Elements getting directly involved in this mystery of ours. Our lives would be torn open even further!) "We only get one draft in life, Twilight. You can alter the words, but you can't edit the past. And besides..." (I consider opening the book to the diary chapter to present a ruse, but that would lead to more questions given my first reaction. I have to leave my hoof atop it.) "Uh...it's...personal." Spike, from the floor above: "Hey! I'm having trouble finding that transformation book you got from the old castle! Are you sure you didn't shelve it already?" Twilight, shouting back: "Check in the vanity! I was trying it earlier to fix my hair!" Facing me: "Well, alright. What did you really want to talk about, then?" I have just realized that the ensuing two topics of conversation shouldn't be recorded. Certain ponies reading when they shouldn't be, might get the wrong idea about my intentions regarding them. Suffice it to say that Twilight didn't have what I was looking for, but she did point me in the right direction for one case. And no, I wasn't hitting on her. I also obtained a couple basic facts about the Breezies so I wouldn't be utterly clueless in my mission to help them indirectly. I may ask her about yet other things when I come back with Colgate--I'm still clueless regarding Written Script, after all. But for now, let's get this show on the road. The marketplace. The hub of the town's commerce; the pride of the Earth ponies' work, the fruit of their toil; easily the best place to get to know somepony new, unless you prefer bars or places of worship. Though I have read of societies that opt for much more rigid economic regimes, the gathering and bartering and haggling in this town produces a wondrous element of social integration. I may not be much a part of that equation anymore, but I've at least identified the merchants who won't try to bankrupt me out of spite for my own life choice--one that affects nopony else. (Seriously, how petty do you have to be??) Colgate's reputation impact in fouling up her city planner job was minimal, and the noble high-visibility profession of dentistry has entirely made up for that. I don't think her old life's even been brought up publicly in years. Coming off as an intelligent ditz seems to work pretty well for her in that regard. I wish it really were only ditziness. As for Berry... For the sake of protecting whatever dignity she has left, I would rather not go there. Just put it this way: Colgate helps us both a lot with picking up groceries. I was here early to snoop for possible future missions--that is to say, I was looking for ponies in a clear state of concern. If one couldn't tell from earlier, though, reaching out to others isn't one of my strong suits. But I am BG, hear me roar! (That actually sounds really dumb, but it'll be my mantra just for today.) I picked up a couple of tidbits--I don't think they'll go anywhere--but one encounter made it all worthwhile. There was a cute unicorn filly the color of a strawberry milkshake with wide-set peppy green eyes. I knew she wasn't a new face, but this was our first real acquaintance. She needed to find Featherweight--somepony I already knew to be the editor for the school paper, the Foal Free Press. I perked at the thought of getting to help a fellow journalist, so we searched in tandem. I kind of forgot about everything else for a moment. Something about her just made me feel right. "It's a shame none of you guys were there for Cheese Sandwich when he first showed up." Like I said, I have to fish for things when starting chatter. I can't just start with a general greeting. It feels too dishonest. "Yeah, but we made up for it big time when the real party started!" She wasn't the slightest bit hurt. As we discussed and traded notes on the experiences there, we checked back by the arcade, but no scrawny pasty little pegasus was to be found. "Trust me, you wouldn't have wanted to see the second half anyway. Some ponies nearly got hurt with all the craziness going on. Someone like Featherweight just might have ended up with broken bones!" "Wow, really!?" she squeaked. Okay, not the best approach to skirting that topic. "Hmmm. How about I put it to you like this? If I didn't have my friends"--saying this word in reference to Berry and Colgate still stung a tad--"then I would've gotten put in the hospital by a bad buck." (Nevermind that they also got me into the mess. That wasn't the point.) Thankfully, she seemed to pick up that I didn't particularly want to talk about it. "Oh, I'm sorry. It still seems really strange, though. Cheese is a really great guy--it couldn't have been his fault." She swung back around to smiling. That smile seemed familiar, but not like déjà vu. "But you got help afterwards, right?" I got help, alright. Curses, Berry, now I'm blushing in front of some kid who was probably just asking if I'd reported it to the police. Which I hadn't. Why not? (In hindsight, I could avoid a stallion that big quite easily if I saw him in a crowd. So perhaps it's not such a big deal.) As we meandered toward the storefronts north of the market, our talk meandered to her own aspirations. Anything to keep me from rambling about myself. She confessed that working for the paper was just a convenient opportunity provided by the school; she'd been branching out and asking others about their talents--quite a natural behavior for a young reporter--and she'd dug up something cool that she was finally going to get to try. "Hey, you know Miss Rarity?" she asked. "Oh, absolutely! She helps keep me on top of things for the fashion section. Definitely the type of pony worth knowing in our trade." I kept to myself how much her personal air seemed so...utterly fake to me. Take it from me: Trying to be something you aren't, won't end well. (I wasn't actually trying to be Colgate...there's an important difference.) Maybe it's just part of her fashion motif. It'd be so tragic if she were just behaving that way for the money, though. Fame, perhaps? See, this is why I hate high society in general. "She thinks I'm old enough. I'm gonna start learning gem-enchanting magic!" Come to think of it, this filly's voice was not all that filly-like--excited, perhaps, but full-bodied. She was rather mature for such a little blank-flank. But given how destinies often pop up like pumpkin sprouts with just a little rain, I had a hopeful feeling that her day was coming quite soon. My heart smiled, and then I did. "So what all do you want to do with gems, Miss...?" It was around this time that I realized I hadn't gotten her name. It was also around this time that she caught sight of her editor and bolted. I strained to hear him call back out to her, but I still didn't get it. Oo-knee? Ubi? I turned around, mildly disappointed, and just about bumped right into Colgate. Alright, Carrot...stay positive. We're gonna get through this. "Do you know who that was?" she asked me, her eyes staring a thousand paces off. "Uh, no...could you give me a sec?" One drawback to this writing-events-as-they-happen shtick is that you actually have to write the things before you start forgetting the details. There's a lot of stop and go involved. I avoided small talk on the way to the library. Colgate's a good pony, but I was a bundle of nerves for what was going to happen this evening. It felt just the opposite of « le coup de foudre ». Rather than a bolt of thunder igniting my heart with the prospect of true love, it shorted me out, leaving me unable to enjoy anything as I contemplated hurting somepony special. Let this be over with...please, let this be over with... We hadn't even made it to that first stop of our day when I started to blubber. "Carrot...would you like my help, or not?" Her rosy and upturning voice augmented her genuine consideration--consideration that I might still not be ready to treat my companion as a real friend again. And she was right to consider that. "Don't mind me. Please...just go on and get your spells. I'll catch up soon enough." Would I feel the same way if I were trying to confront Berry about a drinking problem or something like that? I really don't think so. Even though she'd done a lot more to hurt me that terrible night, she's also gone out of her way to make up for it. While they both helped with my first clean-up, Berry stayed and double-checked that I was satisfied with the progress. Only it's not my home right now. It's not home to anything but a pile of dirt. For Fetlocrates' sake, when am I ever going to get over this!? I just curled up there for a while and wondered how I would even see tomorrow's light at all, the rate I was going. The rate we were going. Then I remembered: I am BG, hear me roar. Still crying quietly, I marched back to the library. Though the door was always open when there wasn't a sign on it, I chose to knock. Twilight answered. "Oh, welcome back..." Her ending -ck sound dragged as she saw the wreck I must have been. She didn't hesitate--she just hugged me right on the spot. What happened to you, Twilight? "I heard all about it... I'm so sorry, Carrot Top. I'm sorry I didn't know earlier already. But Colgate's gonna fix you right up. I just taught her a basic divination spell that should help you recover your possessions in no time! But now I'm wondering why it's taken so long for you to come around to ask for others' help--or do anything significant to get your house back in order. Have you..." She dropped down to nearly a whisper--probing, but not harsh. Her eyes were so terribly sincere. "Have you been in denial?" Can she be real? The situational irony of all of this... I sobbed once more. I then noticed Colgate, off by the far wall of the room, looking over her shoulder back at me, her face all worry. Of course she was worried. She must've acted like it was the first time I even asked for help. This isn't about me! I'm trying to get over me! I have to be able to care about something other than me!! Just let me already!!! "Just take the hug, Carrot. I can see you struggling. This isn't just about your home, or anything else out there. You need to feel right. Please...if you can't take it from me, take it from her." "What about the Seeing Eye ward? Doesn't that matter more?" I was squirming loose. Since Twilight wasn't a skilled or aggressive hugger, I managed to escape. Twilight looked a little taken aback from my effort to get away. "Well, I'm not gonna fight it, Carrot Top. You know I'll always listen to you whenever I'm here. Even if I'm not...oh, how do I put this?" She glanced to the sky beyond the door for just a moment. "Even if I can't be everything you need, I'll help when I can and your friends and your therapists can't." "My therapists are garbage! They don't even listen to me anymore! This is ridiculous! My whole life is ridiculous!! Oh, can't someone just tell me why this is happening? Someone! Anyone!" Colgate came slightly closer, approaching along the wall and not straight on. "Carrot. Listen to me. One of the most important ponies we know is willing to take time out of their day. Time to help you. You, personally. Please, just...just take it, for Celestia's sake! F-for her sake!" The genuineness in her plea sliced into me a half-dozen different ways. I don't want to be here right now. I don't want to live through this day. But do I have to? Of course I do. Of course I will. Princess Twilight Sparkle. One of the most reluctant and humblest of leaders. Yet she is a leader. I didn't have to see most of her epic struggles or even to read about them (let alone write about them!) to know that. But to recap: She accepted the virtues of her newfound acquaintances at great personal risk, before she even recognized that doing so was a reciprocation of friendship--a sentiment made manifest in Nightmare Moon's undoing. She not only assisted those friends through lesser struggles, she meditated on the lessons therein--and that, along with Celestia's grace, bested that crazy draconequus's trick. The alicorn I saw before me today would not exist if not for her thorough understanding of who they were--what made them tick--that allowed her to restore them from fundamentally altered states. (Or at least, that's what I gleaned from an explanation from Pinkie a while back. Why does nopony else remember that?) I held this impression of her dearly, even when Berry chose to dwell on the negatives. (I'm guessing that Cole's pretty neutral on the matter.) Leaders provide their wisdom by example so that followers may execute right action rather than merely abide by orders--and she would not only do this, but she would remind her friends of their own inner wisdom as well. Leaders show their compassion to identify with their followers--and she did this through diligence and through faith and through self-sacrifice. And there is no reason even to question this leader's courage. So, she is not just a leader; she is a moral leader. I must be...humble. It doesn't matter if I'm right. I do need some kind of help, don't I? And if I can't take it from Colgate...then I will take it from her. I will learn how to be better than myself from this leader. Perhaps I wasn't crying anymore, but I couldn't immediately recall the last time I'd had a real hug before that one--not counting the few from Ditzy and Dinky, which were nice and very important early on but which lacked that deep meaningful character. I couldn't fight it anymore. My body was calling out and my mind could not protest. I laid myself prostrate just inside the door and submitted to her. Twilight didn't go overboard with the hugging. She just made sure I knew she was right there, slipping right next to me, putting a hoof over me whenever another sob snuck out. She told me what little she knew about Written Script--nothing I didn't already know, of course--adding her own well wishes to my hopes of investigating that romantic prospect. And she tried joking with me about some of the lamer poems in that Quilland Ink book she stuck me with. "Who that much anastrophe thought they would, and hope with it to get away they could?" She was trying really hard to connect with me. It was kind of pathetic, but that just made it all the harder to ignore. She didn't know me that well, and she didn't have that much reason to care about me in particular...but she knew that I was romantic and analytical and a bit cynical and was learning about various types of writing, and she tried to use that to console me. She did this for twenty whole minutes, I believe. Colgate pretended not to watch, but I know she was listening. This was her consolation of me just as much as it was Twilight's. She set this up. Even an emotional stranger can make a difference. And she did. I felt better. I felt as if I belonged in the world again. Maybe I'm pathetic too; but if Twilight can touch someone like this, so can I. Thank you, princess. I can use this. I can use this today. I am not proud. What happened with me that late morning is exactly as I described it. Colgate got what she needed and we moved along. She didn't trust herself with a severing spell, so the standard shears would have to do. Those were soon acquired from my old horticulture shop. Then we got to work. Normally, she worked with a maniacal fervor at her task. You could hardly interrupt her once she set up all her plans (of which this task had very few) and got moving. Today, however, she seemed relatively distracted or maybe tired, taking breaks and even sometimes skipping a branch or two (at least temporarily--she is nothing if not thorough). Maybe she understood already. That would make this talk a lot easier. I took some deep breaths and managed to elevate my own spirits. Tasks like picking up loose articles are ridiculously easier for a decently able unicorn to do, so I just stuck to hauling the trash bags. It's nothing I haven't done a hundred times before. It gave me time to take in the distinctive smell of sap and the plushy feel of early-summer leaves. Good memories. "This is the life, Cole." She panted in her reply. "Yeah." "Hey, don't overwork yourself there. We're not training for the Equestria Games or anything." I felt myself at somewhat of a loss, not really understanding the correlation between the use of telekinesis and muscular exertion. I know that the effort works the heart and quickens the breath, and that's about all I know. The sun moved, and so did we. There were a couple of miles to cover, and we had made it most of the way out of the town limits--over halfway to the end--when time stopped. "Buck the Breezies." She chucked the shears with her magic such that they stuck straight into the ground, handles up. She collapsed at once. I shot over to help. I tapped her forehooves. Oh, she was fine--just wanting to snooze, it seemed. Or, at least, that was what I thought at first. It made enough sense. Maybe she was being like Applejack was a few years ago, pushing far beyond a healthy state and taking twice as long to do the given job--usually quite incorrectly--as a result. (I will never forget those muffins as long as I live!) And Colgate had almost pushed herself to passing-out exhaustion for the Ponytones platform, but Berry forcefully took that over. I recall quite a string of profanities coming from her at the thought of her Cole(???) hurting herself for no good reason. Also, this was only the second time I'd ever heard Colgate swear. This did not bode well at all. A part of me feared that perhaps I wasn't the only emotionally broken BG anymore. I wasn't given to swearing either. But I was going to start trying Twilight's approach right then and there. You can't always have the stage perfectly set up for your plans. Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches. "Yeah, buck the Breezies. Buck 'em with the wrong end of a flyswatter." That phrase came to me too easily. I hang out too much with Berry, don't I? But which end is the right end? That invasive thought made me laugh right then, already throwing off what I was trying to do. Not trying. Doing. You know deep down inside that she is still your friend. Do it for her. "Hey, what's going on?" I said meekly. No words came in reply. I noticed her heaving of breath was rather quick and heavy. I contemplated other causes of this symptom. Dehydration can make one abnormally easy to tire. It's also a natural consequence of blood loss, but I'm sure I would've noticed something of that nature by now. Bother. Maybe I had gone to the School of Hard Knocks, but I skipped physiology. "You're breathing heavy, Cole." (Shortened her name...) "Did you pull another all-nighter last night or something?" She grunted as if under internal pain. Her head was still covered beneath forehooves, and she would not open her eyes. Did she need real medical help?? I decided to try my own help first. This was going to be weird after my pushing her away so long. I rested a forehoof at the base of her neck. The way the mane's stripes parted to it brought back more invasive thoughts, but I pushed past them this time. I think she really needs my help! "Please, say something. Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention? You're a medical pony. Tell me what you need and I'll fetch it right away." She sniffled wetly. "Sure, I'm a medical pony. I'm a bridge-builder. I'm a care-taker. I'm a friend, I'm a counselor, I'm whatever you need me to be. Unless you need me to be..." Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear. This could be her delayed reaction to Berry's absence. It's finally caught up to her. Maybe this is more than I can handle. She finally said it. "Happy." What? No! She's lying to herself now! Besides Pinkie, she's the happiest pony I know! Lemon and sugar to wash away the blues, right? Right? ...Or is that how her mind's gotten this bad? Gears turned in my head. This picture was getting uglier by the minute. I had to connect with her. Doing missions was what made her happy, of course. That's how she'd gone so many weeks without collapsing in public already. This one was just breaking her in a moment of weakness. I knew that she just needed to feel right for a minute, and then the inertia would keep her going. That was almost certainly how she operated and why she preferred working for such long hours. "Come on, Cole, up with you." I rustled her a few times, then wheeled the cart full of leaves and leaf-like bric-a-brac over to her. "Get in. It's time for your next mission. This is an easy one--won't hurt a bit. It'll feel great. Then you'll be all fired up for the rest of the day!" A minute later, she struggled to get on her hooves. She raised her fores to buckle against the earth and hold her head up somewhat. She still would not open her eyes. I decided she was weak with something internally but not in immediate risk of danger. I drew upon my Earth pony strength and hefted her into the cart. She was positively torn with something. But even a torn Cole could help me find music, right? I'd never been a musical sort until pretty recently, so perhaps it isn't unusual that this paid town-snooper hadn't ever actually set hoof in Toe-Tapper's Tintinnabulatorium. (Wow, catchy name there.) It was a two-sided joint: Endless vinyl records on one side, arrays of instruments and accessories on the other. Within these walls, a pony would find tunes of nearly every genre (except, to my marked chagrin, electronic dance music) as well as the means to play them (unless you needed EDM DJ equipment). The place sought to serve the rich and the poor, the traditional and the...semi-modern, the refined and the relaxed. So where did the sheet music come into play? (Oh, come on, brain, this wasn't the best time for puns!) Several seconds into beginning my dual mission in earnest, I heard Colgate get up from the cart. The pony inside me gained a spring in her step at the thought that today might end normally--or if I were being honest with myself, not quite totally disastrous. Then she stepped inside. Her vacant, pained expression arrested that inner pony like a newspaper on the head of a misbehaving dog. This wasn't the Colgate I knew. This wasn't even the Colgate after the Colgate I thought I no longer knew. This, my trusty muse of random inspiration told me, must be ex-having-lifelong friends Colgate. Yes. I can connect with her. I will! I had been standing in front of the register for over a minute while all these thoughts came to me. Toe-Tapper, that lean and broad-snouted stallion with an unassuming grin, had started living up to his name well before I mentally returned to the spot. Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated. Too true, Clopfucius. "Hello! This is my first time here! I'm Carrot Top, and this is Colgate. Maybe you remember me from the Q&A after the pet charity playing?" The shop-owner stallion the color of frost-touched blueberries whinnied, looking past me. "Colgate! You're the one who built our traveling stage! It was just perfect! It gave just the right amount of presence and attention without being flashy, so our sound could carry through. You might say it...amped up our show!" (Not more puns!) This hadn't been the first time my contributions to her missions had been overlooked. We'd agreed over time to just let her handle the matter--so I let her. Her mouth opened, but it took her a while to speak. "...Oh...yes...we did finish that, didn't we? And by 'we', I also mean my good friend Carrot here. C'mon hun, take a bow." Her old glory returned in a flash. Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we? Well, I bowed. I gave Colgate a moment to orient herself and chat with Toe-Tapper while I took in this instrument chamber--making some notes in my notebook for articles as well as here. I'm pretty sure classical and stringed instruments aren't part of my calling, but there's always that chance... The unusual shamisen caught my attention, though I knew I didn't have the lifetime needed to learn to play it with the proper character and atmosphere. Maybe if it were the only thing between me and riches beyond my wildest dreams... But otherwise, I'd fancy a lyre instead. There was a fair selection of the latter, telling me the possibility of a market for them (and other local players--music section ideas!) Otherwise, Berry can keep her instrument of choice; Colgate, hers--though I hardly feel like maracas warrant the full status. I just about laughed out loud at the thought of any of us playing the giant bongo drum set hanging on the center wall, though. Colgate didn't have that kind of rhythm, and Berry would probably just bring the house down. (Ohhhhhhh...I didn't write that on purpose.) I cleared my throat, finding that the only way to enter a conversation to which I hadn't been paying the slightest attention. "Yes, how goes? Say, where's the sheet music?" Toe-Tapper flipped open a drawer facing behind the counter, below the display cases. Duh. "Which instrument are you looking for, Miss Carrot?" I beamed. Some little pleasures never truly die. "Oh, just some flute music, nothing too challenging...and I might look at the piano ones, if it wouldn't take too long." But that was polite talk; there really was no such thing as "too long" to waste here, in my mind. We spent half the afternoon discussing our choices as we made them, wandering into topics of music history and the varied and magical ways that artists can inspire other artists (inspired by the earlier chat with Twilight). That talk would clutter this journal-story-thing, but the good bits landed in my notes. Just as I'd hoped, Colgate continued to act herself again. One stop left. I will never be Colgate. I can never match her empathy. I can only hope to aspire to show an ounce of her serenity. I would in good times seek nothing more than to know what fuels her dawn-to-dusk dedication. And it's just as well, because now I don't want to be her anymore. If this is the price minds pay for peace, then sign me up for war. But enough symbolic banter. I am just...I'm only meagerly bracing myself for this, aren't I? Or maybe it's just an avoidance mechanism. I don't even want to think about this again! After we left the music shop, Colgate was the one to "remind" me of our last objective: cleaning up the possessions at my place. I realized I didn't have any way whatsoever to set up the conversation I wanted to happen. It was going to have to happen right as we got there. And guess what? I'm comically bad at pacing! Any surprise there, Dear Reader!? (I mean, knowing your shortcoming is the first step to making a See, this is just fluff. This is useless. AND THIS IS JUST ME PUTTING OFF WHAT HAS TO BE DONE! So anyway, we were partway there, still not far from downtown, and she asks me about the future. Oh Lusitano Jigoro of the Gentle Way, reveal my strength, I pleaded internally. My replies were generic--half-probing, half-informing. They had to be. This had to come gently. "We never really talked about what your plans are after your house is all fixed up. I mean, big plans. What do you wanna do?" "Well, you know about, uh...you know about how I've really gotten to enjoy these days working with you?" "Come on now, don't be coy with me! Tell ole Cole what's up!" Okay, that was too generic. "Oh, well, haha! How about--you know how I like that Written Script guy?" "Well yes--but you said he might be taken." "Well, sure I did. But, you know how he knows a lot of ponies around the world, and he could help me find someone?" "Around the world? But you're just setting up base here! Pinkie's your girl for matchmaking around here, and you know it!" Sod it all! This isn't going anywhere! "Well--oh yes, good point. You know how there's a lot of stuff going on in Equestria lately, though--turbulent times and all that..." "Carrot, hun, you keep using that phrase. I don't think it means what you think it means." A brief but embarrassing silence followed. "Seriously, what's up? Can't you hold a friendly little conversation--about your hopes and dreams, of all things?" She suddenly bit her lip. "Oh--that came out a bit harsh. My apologies." Too late--the attack had been made. My head was consumed in frustration. But the spell broke rather quickly as I remembered the day's mantra once more. A tiger from within roared for dominance--for a chance to play the bigger mare, pacing or no pacing. "Colgate! Please, today isn't about me--it's about you!" Her look was the very one I had feared all day--smirking incredulity. This just didn't happen. I was the quirky and problematic one. I wasn't the alpha, or even the beta. I was also a full decade younger than she--a fact that played in my favor far too rarely. "I-- Of course you don't believe me. You don't have to. Just...give me a chance, will you? Please?" I stopped abruptly, but the inertia of the debris wagon behind me was just enough to cause me to stumble; as the harness's traces buckled against me, I overcompensated with my forelegs and threw my butt up in the air. I nearly ate dirt, but I hopped up again to correct and landed still. Carrot Top, master of drama and presence. Behold! "If this is about what happened earlier--don't worry, I already plan to talk with Berry about it. I know I've been slipping a lot lately." I acted oblivious to this revelation of hers, knowing the slippage to be more of a downhill free-falling tumble. I pushed past the sudden mental image of Colgate as a rolling block of cheese and showed her a stronger sincerity. I pleaded with my eyes--pleaded as one would if they were called from daily life to rescue a relative from throwing themself off of Town Hall. She hesitated, looking down at her hooves. "I don't know, Carrot. If this is how it's gonna go--" But I was no stranger to indignation. This moment called for something more. I felt that something coming hot and fast. (Oh my, how my lack of tact even bleeds into my writing!) "You don't know how it goes, alright! But that's all gonna change in a moment. Keep walking with me." Well, that solved one problem well enough. We stayed silent for the rest of that walk. Then we got there. Her eyes widened. This is it. "Oh, it looks like you cleaned up all your belongings already! You've even gotten most of the dirt cleared out! This must've taken you ages without a unicorn's help!" I decided to go with a little self-deprecating humor to start--give and take, or what have you. "You know how I don't usually get too excited about drinking these days?" As she chuckled not quite modestly, I unhitched my wagon and moved toward one of the covered wagons containing the salvaged booze. "You were just going to drag me out here to take a shot with you, to celebrate your work? Now I really don't know what's gotten into you." I had made sure the two glasses I'd selected were clean in advance. To each of them I added a healthy dose of name-brand buffalo bourbon. I carefully walked on hind hooves as I carried them back. (This reminds me--IPU was totally mistaken in Chapter 7, as plenty of non-pony species love their distilled goods.) "Look--I'm kind of a busy mare, and I'm still catching up on lessons with Dr. Horsythe after all these weeks. Maybe we could do this some other time?" She had even lost her excitability and her desire to celebrate the little things? This would require something drastic. Control the conversation. "I love you, Colgate." Well, that blinking did it. She shut right up. "You've helped me through thick and thin. You helped guide me. You helped give me grounding as I made the biggest decision of my life to date. And you continue to inspire me to this day." "Yes?" She was still in mild shock--good... "I've never let any of the little faults about you bother me too much in that. We all have our little issues. One issue you had bugged me for a while, but Berry assured me time and again that it was under control. Whatever it was." "Wait--she and I agreed this wasn't your business!" "And I've respected that...for a long, long time, I've respected that. Won't you join me? Please?" I plopped down by a collapsed edge of the dome, forehooves dangling over, facing the home wreckage to which I'd become well acquainted, whiskey at my side. But she didn't budge. I had to be the cheerleader for her this time. I approached her again, breathing deeply, searching for a smile in every available index and finally finding one in "Hope". "Thanks so much for being honest with Twilight earlier. It must've taken you some courage to do that, even though you knew it would help a friend. And sure--I, uh, it's been difficult for me to act like we are still friends. But we are." I suddenly recalled something she'd said a while back--a thought she'd never completed--and offered my spin on it. "And I know it to be true, because after all the times I've come to you for aid, it's finally time for you to come to me. I'm ready, and I want to help. All I ask is that you accept it." "Could you just cut the horse apples and get on with it?" Ouch. But I wouldn't fly off the handle today. It was far too important. I kept my strength in gentleness. "Okay. I only ask one thing. Let me give you the hug this time." So I did. We stood up tall a few paces from my home, my fores about her, hers drooped down. Her face still showed very little engagement in this stunt of mine...but I had somehow at least coaxed her this far. Victory was within reach. It was time. "Colgate...dear Cole--you, who made it possible for me to stand here today, to even earn the means to build this house in the first place--" "Yes?" She didn't sound offended or impatient this time--just mild and polite. Polite again. She was giving me one more chance. Yes, the time was now. "Cole, this isn't the first time you've come to help me with my house. I did have a unicorn helping me. That unicorn was you. You've helped me twice, actually!" "...Oh...right... I have, haven't I?" This must be her learned response to confrontation on the subject of forgetfulness. But this was something far beyond the norm. "You've learned the divination spell three times now--and today was your first time learning it straight from Twilight. I'm sure you picked it up again like a natural!" "Haha--good point there! I wonder how long it must've taken me the first time around?" Was she really making conversation with me about things she couldn't remember about herself?? "Cole--" "That's my name--what?" Wait...I've seen this trick before... This is almost like how Berry dodges accusation with so little effort! They really are the masters of the Gentle Way. Who am I to try? My resolve was wearing thin. But my heart kept on trying. "Just stop it Cole! Stop it!! You're destroying yourself! You're flying apart at the seams! Look at me! Look at me!" She did--right in the middle of her first sip of the whiskey, which she'd floated over without my noticing and had just begun to focus on, even in my embrace. Her eyes hadn't even fully frozen before I let go of her in disgust, allowing her to nearly facefault before catching herself. I deflected my rage by gesturing and shouting at the bits of broken house as I continued--though every word was meant for her. "This isn't anything like before! Don't you see? After Berry left you, she's stopped talking with you about this. Nopony's been able to console you on the matter. I mean, I can still tell she's... I mean, this isn't her fight anymore. And now I've had to deal with it, day after day. You've already tried to help me twice with coaching Ditzy for the Equestria games. You've already asked me six times how this happened to my home! And Dr. Horsythe--how many times has he come to visit you now? Thank goodness he's professional enough to understand, or we would have lost you already! "And if you don't believe me...let me tell you what happened the first two times you came out here. The first time, Berry helped as well. She was really gracious about it, and she helped haul all the clay ceiling bits. She stayed close by me through the whole ordeal, knowing it would be emotionally difficult. I still wasn't even really talking to you guys. You kept having to look away from Berry and me. And at the end, you collapsed, just like you did earlier today. Berry chewed you out for your weakness. But I stood up for you because you at least showed up and tried. That was three weeks ago." I'd cooled off enough by this point to resume the proper one-on-one. Her calmness in all this bordered on the disconcerting. "Two days before the pale unicorn got away--that was when you came back and offered to help again. You had just gotten done having what you wrote was the weirdest day of your life, but it left you feeling better--like you could handle anything. That was also, I believe, the third time your mentor had come to talk. So you asked me about the cleanup, and I took you to it without saying anything. You reacted just like you did a few minutes ago. Somehow you never forget what happened--just how. And that tells me something very important. It tells me that you need to know why it happened. If you would be so kind as to bring over that bag hanging by that wagon"--the one to which I then pointed--"I'll show you. Again." Colgate was not with us right then, though. Her warbling eyes and trembling head were pointed at me but fixated on an abyss only she could see. I still hadn't fully cooled down from the indignation, so I could hardly help her directly. All I could do was await a reply. I would've been happy with just about anything but the one she gave me. "Berry................left me?" ... "Get the bag. Open it." The tough pouch then hung before us. It dropped gently to the earth, and the drawstring flew away. Inside were little bits of shaped glass, a tiny ribbon, a teeny cork stopper, and a few uniform twig-like things. "Aren't you missing something, Cole?" She pondered for a moment. Her eyes were utterly fixed on the little bits of brokenness. I carefully snuck over to her side, ready to catch her if she fainted. "Wow... it looks just like it might have been my..." She finally ran a hoof through her mane. "My..." "The last time you saw this, you must have thought nothing had happened between you and this was part of a horrible coincidence. It still tore you up like nothing I'd ever seen before today. You almost couldn't sleep. I stayed by your side at your apartment, waiting to see when you could finally find the inner peace to rest for the night. I stayed by you that night--stayed awake as long as I could, fetching you your tea--the only thing you had to keep yourself warm. I couldn't be there for you any more than that, but I knew I'd have to be someday. And that is what motivated me to finally read the story and get to the bottom of this and stop being so scared for myself. I am here for you, Colgate. That is all that I am here for today. And if it takes a moon or even a year for me to help find a way out of whatever in Tartarus is consuming your mind...then I will do it." She pulled away from the glittering remains, and she finally gave me her full and undivided attention. But the way her ears pointed straight back as she stared at me like an oncoming unavoidable avalanche...it somehow only made the assault even harder. I wasn't angry with her personally. It was her sickness. I hated that sickness so much that I could taste bile. I couldn't stop! "It seems clear enough to me, though: you're repressing everything that doesn't agree with you and the life you want to live. But you can't repress something that's not even there anymore. Berry is gone. She's gone. She will hardly even answer the door for me anymore, much less you. She says she'll still be a BG, but where is she now? She's trying to catch up on her own life now. You used to block out the bad thoughts now and then, back in the day...but now it's out of control, and you're going to forget your own name one day if I don't put my hoof down right now. She's waiting for you to catch up on your life. I'm sure of it. I already asked Twilight what spells could help...but no, this is your responsibility. I am not leaving your side, Cole, until you come to your senses and face it all. I would rather suffer and lose my own mind than watch you self-destruct without help--than watch you slowly drift away from us. I'm going to see this through. You're going to get right again. So the..." I'd never asked them for anything before. They're not goddesses. There is no such thing as a goddess. Probably. "So the goddesses help me!" Even in responsibility, I was a fool. No one could take such a revelation all at once and stay sane. But it was done. So was Colgate. She fainted as I'd expected--but not before I heard her whisper. "Why did..." I never got to that part. And I wouldn't until, at the very least, I wrote this section over a glass of bourbon and started to haul her back to her apartment. I opened the door, a passed-out Colgate draped over my back. She must've needed sleep on top of solace. The pale unicorn stared back at me on the other side, sitting at the table. I shut the door again. Clopfucius would have no words for a situation like this. I turn instead to Berry-stophanes. Buck this shit. Buck it all.