//------------------------------// // OC Slamjam: Firefly Vs. Mild Manners // Story: Pearple Juice With Bits // by Pearple Prose //------------------------------// The first words out of my mother’s mouth that day were, “Make sure you’re on your best behaviour, Mild.” We were on the train when she said it, about halfway to Ponyville. The last hour or so had been spent in near-total silence, save for the sounds of my father smoking as he stared out the window at the passing countryside. I looked up from my textbook, stared at my mother, and went, “I’m sorry?” “This festival is really very important to us, darling,” Mother said. She sniffed once, frowned, and reached for a pre-emptive handkerchief. “Especially to your father. We’d rather appreciate it if you didn’t… didn’t..” She sneezed, rather elegantly, into her handkerchief. “Oh, confound this cold.” It wasn’t a cold, I wanted to remind her. It was hay fever. She’s the only earth pony I’ve ever met who has hay fever. Needless to say, it wasn’t something she liked to talk about. So I didn’t mention it. “I’m twenty years old, Mother.” She gave me a look. “And?” I sighed internally. “Nothing. I’ll be on my best behaviour, Mother.” “Good.” She looked at me a tad more warmly this time, and I even thought she was going to ruffle my hair or pinch my cheeks or something, but she just walked over to my Father and began to speak with him, just quietly enough that I couldn’t hear the words. I glared down at my book, closed the cover, and dropped it onto the floor next to my bed. I stretched out on the mattress and felt like punching something. Doing so would probably end up costing my parents a lot of money – we were in a private carriage, reserved for the occasional noble customer, and it was far from cheap. It was exactly like my parents’ home, which probably explains why they insisted on hiring it despite it being kind of against the spirit of the whole “being in touch with our humble roots” ordeal. When I was much younger, on my first trip down to Ponyville for the Forest Festival, I’d tried to complain to my father that I didn’t want to go. That I’d rather stay in Canterlot and play with all my friends there. Father just said, “Sometimes family is more important than friends.” I don’t think I ever really understood what he had meant by that. My friends were, well, friendly. My family was just… there. I told him that, if family was so important, he’d let me stay in Canterlot. I don’t really remember what happened then. Perhaps he just ignored me. Moving out as soon as I was able was one of the most refreshing moments of my life, in any case. Whatever. I asked my parents how long it would take until we were there. “An hour,” Father intoned, before plugging his pipe back between his teeth. Mother was humming a little song to herself and rubbing her husband’s withers. Lost in their own little world. I was wondering if I should attempt a conversation, but I felt, rather bizarrely, as if that would be intruding on something. So I turned over, away from the light, and tried to sleep. The Forest Festival is an earth pony tradition which nopony knows who, or what, actually started, but has existed for as long as anypony can remember. Many scholars make the rather reasonable assumption that earth ponies brought it with them all the way back when they helped found Equestria. It’s a very simple affair, which some ponies might say is quite befitting of an earth pony festival: singing, dancing, drinking, and more drinking, often outdoors and amongst Mother Nature, naturally. Really, I had nothing wrong with the idea on paper. I mean, I enjoy a nice party as much as anypony else. But it’s different when you’re there in person, in a way I can’t really put my hoof on. Anyway, we arrived into Ponyville station precisely one hour after I took my nap. My parents gathered their luggage and we stepped out onto the platform. It wasn’t long before somepony noticed us waiting. That somepony happened to be wearing a crown. “Excuse me, sir,” Princess Twilight said as she approached us, with an infectious smile. “Are you Sir Temper, from Canterlot?” Father nodded brusquely. “Yes,  your Highness.” He gestured to us. “My family and I are here for the Forest Festival.” Princess Twilight nodded excitedly. “Yes, of course.” She caught Mother staring at her with open surprise. “I’m, um, sorry if I surprised you, ma’am. Applejack asked me to help organise the Festival this year, as a favor. And how could I say no?” She laughed, kind of nervously. “So, shall I help you with your accommodation?” Father tilted his head at her, not unkindly. Mother beat him to the punch: “Oh, no, your Highness! We wouldn’t like to take up your precious time, after all.” Princess Twilight waved a hoof. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. This is my job, after all. Please, just follow me.” Mother hummed happily to herself. “Hmm, well, if you insist.” “I think I’ll go explore Ponyville first, actually,” I said. I didn’t really want to listen to Mother trying to butter up the princess for the next half hour or so. “It was an honour to finally meet you in person, your Highness.” I bowed as best as I could without looking silly. Mother looked almost disapproving, for a moment, before she gave my words some actual thought. “Good idea, Mild. You’re old enough to look after yourself, after all!” she said, smiling at Princess Twilight all the while. I turned to leave, but Princess Twilight stopped me with an, “Oh, Mild Manners, is it? You go to Canterlot University, right?” I looked back at her, again, trying not to look stupid. “Oh. Um, yes, I do. Why do you ask, your Highness?” She smiled. She seemed almost conspiratorial. “The castle library is open to the public. My assistant Spike is looking after it while I’m organising the festival. I think you should go there if you’re looking for something to do.” I smiled. My final exams were right around the corner. She knew. “Thank you, Princess,” I said, and I meant it. About a year ago, after Tirek’s brief reign of terror, somepony mentioned Princess Twilight’s new palace to me, and I didn’t believe them – a crystal castle, just growing out of the ground? It sounded like some enormous exaggeration, or a joke, or any one of the endless stories that ponies like to produce about the youngest princess. But then I started seeing pictures of it in newspapers, and later in photographs taken by waves of tourists, all of which seemed to only confirm the rumours. Today marked the first time I’d seen it with my own eyes. And it was… really impressive. If a bit garish. It was a sunny day, which only made the massive crystalline structure difficult to look at without hurting your eyes. The doors were wide open in welcome, with a few ponies standing around outside, taking pictures or chatting with one another. Most of them were earth ponies – they were probably in the same boat as me, or at least a similar one. Canterlot didn’t really have much of an earth pony tradition, while Ponyville was literally founded on it. A few of the ponies outside seemed to come to the same conclusion about me, and smiled my way as I walked past. It was strange. I mean, I’ve lived in Canterlot all my life, and that’s a unicorn city – being an earth pony had precisely no impact on my social life, but at the same time there was never this implied feeling of… solidarity, that only ever seemed to occur here. Maybe there wasn’t, and I’m just imagining things, but it certainly felt that way. The castle library was, thankfully, a tiny bit more subdued in design than the exterior. Despite being relatively new, the room was clearly well lived-in – amidst near piles of books, you could see used coffee mugs, paintings of Ponyville hanging lovingly from the walls, and slight soot-stains in the empty hearth. I wandered between the shelves for a long while, just kind of thinking. Honestly, my upcoming exams were far from my mind right then. The library was weirdly hypnotic – it was pleasantly quiet, with the distant sounds of rustling pages and the ticking of a grandfather clock. It didn’t have that same feeling of sheer age that many of the archives of Canterlot shared, but it was infinitely more homely. After about… I don’t know, maybe half an hour or so of aimless wandering, I found a little seating area, tucked away into a corner of the library, with a table and some comfy looking chairs. That’s where I met this particular pegasus. It was really hard to ignore him – his orange coat and flaming mane were almost garish, or at least noticeable enough to snap me back to the real world. He was currently curled over his book. I couldn’t see the title. I wondered if I should bother interrupting him. Absorbed would be a good way to describe him – his wings were flat against his side and his eyes were open wide, as if they were trying to optically consume as many words as possible. I think it was both that and his appearance that made him stand out to me, in the end. “Hello?” I whispered. The pegasus’s ear twitched, and he peered up at me, blinking rapidly, as if he’d just woken up from a nap. “Hey. I was just wondering what you were reading.” I pointed with a hoof at his book, which, when I got closer, seemed to be pretty huge, like an old textbook. He blinked at me. Then he smiled, albeit hesitantly. “Oh, it’s uh…” He stood the book up, so I could read the title: ‘A Brief History of Magic’. “Just some light reading.” I raised an eyebrow at the thick tome. “Heh. Sure.” I slid into the seat next to him. “So, you’re interested in magic?” I propped up my head on my hoof, inviting him to speak. Small talk tended to be a good way to pass the time, and, if nothing else, there was some stuff I wanted to ask about. He blinked at me again, his eyes flicking up to my forehead for a moment. “Oh, um, I guess I am.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I just need to ask… you’re from Canterlot, right?” I blinked, looked down at myself. I was wearing a jacket, as most ponies I knew were wont to do, and a very fine one at that – cut to my size, in fact. “I am, actually. Why do you ask?” “Miss Twilight mentioned to somepony that ponies would be coming from Canterlot today, for the Festival.” He shrugged, and looked somewhat bashful. “I, uh, actually thought you would be unicorns. But I guess that doesn’t really make sense, does it, considering you’re probably coming here for the Forest Festival….” I frowned. “Are you… disappointed, that I’m not a unicorn?” He looked surprised, and shook his head rapidly. “No, no, nothing like that! I just... Miss Twilight told me stuff about Canterlot before, and apparently it has a stronger unicorn heritage than Ponyville has an earth pony one. I wanted to ask a few questions, is all.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m a bit of a magic buff, see. I just think the whole thing is fascinating.” “Well, I know plenty of unicorns, and I go to Canterlot University.” I felt my chest push itself out a bit. “My name is Mild Manners, pleasure to meet you. So, what did you want to ask?” He tilted his head and looked uncertain. “I’m Firefly. Are you… sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to take up your time, if you’re here for the Festival.” He scratched at his chin, then, and fired out another question before I could get another word in. “But why?” “Why what?” “Why come here?” He looked genuinely confused. “Ponyville’s an earth pony town, historically, but surely it’s a long way to come for what I’ve always thought was a national celebration.” I blinked at that. “Well, Canterlot has plenty of earth ponies, but they’re not really… it’s just not a big thing back home.” Though it did make me wonder. I think Mother would much prefer it if there was something a bit closer to home, but then, Father likes to stick to traditions. Firefly gave me a confused look. I snapped back with, “I could ask the same of you, you know. Pegasi stay in Cloudsdale, historically. Why are you living in an earth pony place?” Firefly shrugged. “We all have places where we belong. I’m a pegasus living groundside. You’re an earth pony who lives among the Canterlot nobility. Maybe it isn’t the norm, but I don’t see why it shouldn’t be, y’know?” I blinked. I hadn’t even intended to get into this discussion, but I found myself lost in thought. I didn’t like my family. Sure, I loved them – they were still family, after all – but there’s a reason why I was so reluctant to get on that train ride – Canterlot politics doesn’t infect ponies with the same simple optimism that seems to pour out of everypony in Ponyville. Quite the opposite. Even then, I couldn’t picture any of us living here, away from Canterlot and high society, even if we would be away from it all. I didn’t really know what to think. I glanced at the clock, realised that the Festival was starting soon, and left Firefly to his books. The Forest Festival went by in a strange blur. The Apple family, the hosts of the event, invited the numerous guests into a rolling meadow, which had fire pits, a stage, numerous stalls selling snacks and drinks, and an enormous tree standing tall atop a small hill, which had been decorated with ribbon and filigree. There was a speech or two, I think. They were short, and they probably talked about earth ponies being great, and I’ve forgotten what words were said. I was mostly just watching my parents out of the corner of my eye. Mother, despite her sneezing, seemed at least somewhat content. Father, though, just stood silently, his expression unreadable. I tried to distract myself, for a while. I joined in on the dancing, and drinking, and I played games, but in the end, I found myself wandering over to the fire pit where Father sat, drinking cider and speaking on occasion. I sat next to him, holding my own mug. “Hey.” He raised an eyebrow at me, sipped at his drink, and asked, “What is it?” I just shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just saying hi.” He nodded. We sat there, quietly, and we drank. Talking was an easy thing for me – I was good at. I think my father is as well – he’d have to be – but most of the time he just chooses to be silent. The question burned inside my chest. “Father?” I said. He looked at me. “Why do we always come here?” I gestured to the party going on around us. The sun had just set, but the fires burned brightly enough to light up the night. “Every year?” He tilted his head. “Did the idea that I might just enjoy this Festival not occur you?” “Well, I mean.” I waved a hoof. “I get that, but if you enjoyed celebrations, you could just… make your own. Canterlotians held plenty of parties.” I should know. University life had its benefits. He looked down at his cider. “This one is special,” was all he told me. I think I knew why. I put a hoof on his shoulder. “Did you used to live here?” He glanced at me. “Hmm?” “You told me once that family was important. I didn’t get it at the time, but this is family to you isn’t it?” I sipped at my cider. “More than just us. More than just me.” We lapsed into silence, for a time. Then, “Mild.” “Yes?” “I know how you feel.” “About what?” “About us. I was the same, once. I wanted to strike out. I wanted to be me. My own father and I grew distant, eventually. I moved to Canterlot, eventually. The rest is history.” He sighed. “But I forgot myself. I woke up to it eventually. You wanted to be your own pony, so I let you be that, even if it meant parting ways.” He rubbed his chin. “Nowadays, I just keep coming back to this, and I keep dragging you along with me. Maybe so you can understand.” “There’s always a place where we belong, you know,” I said. “Maybe at heart, you’re no Canterlotian, just like I’m no Ponyvillian.” He looked at me, then. “Perhaps,” he said. The rest of the night? We just sat, and sipped our cider, and watched the fireworks, and thought.