Pinkie ran. She didn’t need to see to know--Pinkie ran because she was Pinkie and she never changed, come Tartarus or high water. Or blindness.
And Fluttershy? Fluttershy flew.
It was not like the flying of her youth, nor was it the way she had flown when still she lived in her cottage by the forest. It was a little of both--cautious, unsure, and yet not overly worried. Simply testing. She couldn’t read the wind or tell where she was by sound up in the air just yet. And perhaps she never would.
But for now, she could fly, and she could hear Pinkie calling to her below.
Fluttershy banked to her right, just a bit, and then evened out again. She thought Pinkie was right beneath her, but it was hard to tell.
She flew a little every day now, whenever she could find someone to spot for her. Sometimes, it was Twilight, a little nervous and half-flying herself. Rarity, who helped her land with tingling magic and fussed over her mane as soon as she had hooves on the ground. Often, it was Pinkie. Pinkie liked to run.
Sometimes, Mac would watch and she would lazily, if awkwardly, land in the grass beside him and giggle as he knelt to nuzzle beneath her chin and kiss her neck.
She came down to land, and called out below to ask if the way was clear. Pinkie yelled that it was, and she put her legs out, ready for the shock of impact. Not that she landed heavily, because she never worked up enough speed for that.
Her hooves touched the springy grass and she trotted to waste the rest of her momentum before Pinkie hugged her from behind.
She yelped, almost taking to the air again. “Pinkie! Don’t do that!”
“Sorry!” Pinkie hugged tighter. “It’s habit and stuff. I’m just so happy to see you flying for real, Flutter-butters! I didn’t think you would.”
“I didn’t think so, either.”
Fluttershy nuzzled Pinkie and then slowly freed herself. “Thanks for spotting me. I know it’s a hassle, and I’m very grateful.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just doin’ what friends do! And ‘sides, like I was gonna miss out on helping my favorite yellow pegasus fly!”
Fluttershy chuckled. “I think I may be your only one.”
“Nope! There’s like three!”
“Oh.” Fluttershy would have blinked in another life. Twilight’s spells had shut her eyes permenantly before they froze over as well as kept her from feeling stone on flesh. “I was going to head back into town. Would you mind helping me?”
“Not at all! Want somethin’ from the Corner?”
“Always.”
They walked together, leaning against one another, and Pinkie talked and talked. There was always something to talk about in a town like Ponyville, always some small innocent scandal.or goings-on. It was a small town, yes, but a lively one. A vibrant one. She loved it dearly, all of its walks and thatched roofs and its happy ponies who called greetings as they passed. She answered them all in kind, and Pinkie kept a running commentary.
Her friends had all adapted as she had. Pinkie described everything. Rarity and Twilight would use their magic to make small tasks easy. Rainbow would go flying with her, slowing down and keeping in tight formation, calling out turns and keeping her flying in nice straight lines clear of trees or birds. Applejack made sure she was comfortable at home.
They arrived, and Pinkie led her into the bustle of Sugarcube Corner. There were others here, and so didn’t hear anypony approach until they were already talking to her.
It took her a moment to identify the voice, and she fumbled, blanking for a moment.
“Sorry, Mrs. Cake,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “Could you say that again?”
“Oh, dearie, I was just asking if I could get you anything.”
She felt a brief spike of shame. Noise echoed here, and it distracted her. How could she not recognize Mrs. Cake right away? “Oh, I’m alright. But, um, tea would be lovely. And perhaps a nice seat outside, so I can feel the breeze.”
“Sounds perfect to me. I’ll get that right out to you. Pinkie, could you help her find a table?”
“Yupperooni!”
Pinkie led her back out, but once she’d been brought to the table, Fluttershy found her own way to the little seat.
“I gotta go inside and go back to work. I’ll come check on you later, okay?”
Fluttershy looked towards the sound of her voice. “Of course. Thank you for coming, again. It was very kind of you.”
Pinkie touched her lightly on the foreleg. “I was happy to.”
As she left, Fluttershy was struck by how soft her voice had been. It was easy to forget Pinkie had ways of speaking that weren’t ebullient shouting, sometimes.
She waited and enjoyed the warmth of the sun and occasional light breeze. It was a wonderful day, whether she saw it or not. Even if the heat made her blindfold a little sweaty, and she looked down as she moved it and wiped her brow.
“I have your tea, dearie!”
Fluttershy didn’t jump, but she did freeze for a moment before sitting back up, cover in place. “Oh, thank you.”
“No problem. I brought you a scone. It’s blueberry, your favorite.”
She perked up, and smiled widely. “Oh? That sounds wonderful. I am a bit hungry after flying.”
“I bet you are. How have things been?”
“I’m surviving,” Fluttershy answered. She found the cup with both hooves and gently brought it up to her lips to blow on. “Everyone has been wonderful, and the house is almost done.”
“That boy still holding off on the wedding until he finishes that house?”
“Yes ma’am. He said it was traditional. Applejack told him he was being foolish, but I told Mac he should do it if it was important to him. It’s just a little cabin, but it’s very comfortable.”
“I bet it is. And I just know the wedding will be a sight. You’re managing alright? Pinkie keeping you safe when you fly?”
She nodded. “Yes. Pinkie’s been wonderful.”
“I just worry she’ll be a bit too much sometimes… but I know she means well. You know, if there’s anything you and Mac need, Mr. Cake and I are always happy to help.”
Fluttershy sipped from her tea and sighed happily. “I know. Thank you. I promise I’ll come to you if Mac and I need anything.”
When she was alone again, Fluttershy nibbled on the scone and listened to Ponyville for what felt like hours. She really had nowhere to be but here, after all, and she had world enough and time.
The sounds you hear in the street are myriad and sometimes unexpected. Some are natural and obvious--the muted tramp of hooves in the dust, the bright good mornings and the fast banter of the stallholders in Ponyville’s square. But then there would be new things to discover, if a pony were careful and took the time to notice. You could hear laughter, like the thin tinkling of far-off bells as someone came home from work and scooped up a foal. She heard the foal giggle as someone tickled them. She heard Scootaloo streak by, with a quick hello and her signature buzzing wings as she propelled herself along. Distant birds as they chattered above. And the whistling wind, always the wind. She was listening to that most of all these days, hoping for a day when it would mean more than a bit of reprieve from the heat.
And, all of a sudden, a feeling came over her as she nibbled on her scone and drank her tea in peace. It shattered her peace.
She wanted to see, and that was never going to happen.
It didn’t matter if she could read the wind well enough to glide from place to place, or if her magic made up for what that cockatrice had stolen from her. Because even if she could read the books they’d bought her or the winds that Rainbow tried to teach her, even if it were possible to navigate solely by sound and memory, none of it would be seeing. She wouldn’t ever see her cottage again, or Angel, or Macintosh, or her friends, and if she had a foal she would--
She set the cup down just in time to avoid dashing it to pieces.
It was never going to be the same. She could never do the work she had done--her gifts were useless now. They hadn't kept the cockatrice from robbing her of light. The place that she had made, that had been hers irrevocably and sacred, was gone forever because she’d failed.
The sheer desire, the need, the want, whatever you wanted to call it, in that moment Fluttershy felt it like claws tearing at her chest from the inside. She bent over, gasping softly as she began to shake.
And it just got worse and worse and worse. Because stone eyes couldn’t cry. She was unnatural. They looked at her with pity, yes, and she could bear their pity but not their revulsion. She had to cover her eyes not to disgust them. Even with Mac, she couldn’t bear him to see her beneath the cloth that bound her eyes, closed shut, covered with cracks in the stone that was her new skin. What must he think, so close to her, those times when his breath was hot where her shoulder and neck met and presented themselves for his attentions? Would he look at her and one day no longer be able to bear it?
She might have gone on like that for longer, were it not for a voice breaking into her spiralling thoughts.
“Yoohoo, Fluttershy! Darling, and here I thought I would be early.”
Panic. Rarity would notice something was wrong as soon as she came near. If anyone would, then she would, and then Fluttershy would have to explain everything and…
She almost reached for her eyes before realizing there would be no tears there to wipe away, and then let her foreleg fall awkwardly. Summoning up her best smile, she listened for Rarity’s steps.
“Oh, it’s alright. You’re still early. I’m just early too, if that’s alright. Pinkie and I were done flying.”
Rarity’s hoofsteps were much lighter than Rainbow’s, but surprisingly heavier than Twilight’s. She wondered why, or some part of her not worried about being caught mid-panic wondered why. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide from her friend, it was just… it was just that sometimes sharing things didn’t help at all. It just made everyone equally sad. There was nothing that could be done to change or fix any of it, and while talking could help for awhile, talking was like putting a weight on her friend’s backs. Every conversation, every reminder that Fluttershy was a burden to them made her more of a burden.
She wasn’t a burden. That was what Applejack had told her the first day, when she’d apologized for being one. She wasn’t a burden. It was just a matter of remembering that she wasn’t.
“Fluttershy?”
Fluttershy sat up straight. “Yes?”
“Ah, you seem to have lost track of me for a moment. I was just saying, that we had just enough time for tea before we walked over to the Spa. Would you mind? I might have a bit to snack on. I had to skip breakfast this morning and I’m a bit, ah, peckish.”
“Oh, why did you do that?” she chided.
“Customers, actually. Permit me but a moment to acquire some victuals and I’ll regale you with the tale, hm?” Rarity chuckled and then she was walking away again. She bumped a chair on the way to the door, as she navigated among the tables.
Rarity hadn’t noticed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Well, beyond mere relief.
By the time her friend returned and sat at the table, Fluttershy was fully in control. She was composed. Calm. She had never panicked in public at the prospect of… of herself. In fact, that never happened ever and she was going to not think about it. Because if she did, then Rarity really would notice.
And it seemed to work. Rarity told her about pulling an all nighter, only to be interrupted a little after the store was supposed to be opened by a confused customer hoping to get something mended. She laughed at the right points, and expressed concern with a soft little, “oh dear!” as she was wont to, and they passed the time in warm contentment.
It was time to leave, and Rarity helped her in the road. She had noticed that her friends all took a different approach to helping guide her. It matched their personalities, or at least she thought so. Rarity wasn’t quite as hesitant or worried as Twilight was. When she was with Rarity, they walked and talked as if nothing had ever changed, and Fluttershy was grateful.
“You know, dear, I was just thinking the other day… when we were with you, and Rainbow Dash was showing you how to fly using that bar?”
Fluttershy murmured an affirmative that was more sigh than word.
“Well,” Rarity continued, rising slightly from the bath. “Unicorns, when they lose their sight, tend to use canes. They’ll feel out a path in front of them, you see.”
“How do they know what it does?”
“Magic. You can touch with your magic, in a way. So what the cane touches…”
“The unicorn ‘sees’,” Fluttershy finished softly.
“Yes. It would be awfully hard to do without telekinesis. I just remembered it.” She sighed. “Now, I believe we’ve both relaxed enough.”
“Enough?”
“Yes, enough. You seemed distressed earlier.”
Fluttershy froze for a moment, and then wilted, sinking into the mud.
“Yes.”
“Well, out with it. Come now.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Balderdash. Honestly, Fluttershy, this is the entire purpose of having a spa--unburdening. You tell me, and it does us both good. Gossip, comfort, the news. It is all conversation of some sort, and it’s all rather good.”
“Er… I guess.” Fluttershy chewed on her lip a moment. “It was just… Please don’t be upset, okay?”
“I’ll promise to try my hardest.”
“I was just… upset. About how this isn’t going to change.” She touched the blindfold, still on even now when it was just the two of them. “How it’s never going to get better. I want to see again, Rarity… I’m not going to. Unless years from now Twilight works some miracle--”
“Which is certainly her modus operandi,” Rarity said, just loud enough to hear.
“I can’t rely on that,” Fluttershy said, and then shook her head quickly. “It’s not because I don’t have faith in Twilight! I do. I trust her.”
“You can’t hang your life on something that may be illusory, you mean.”
“I think so, yes.”
Rarity hummed. “What brought this on?”
“Nothing. Just… it just happened.” With every passing second, Fluttershy’s voice was softer and softer. “I don’t know why. I was doing so well, and it was such a good day, and then…”
“It’s not shameful to feel sorrow,” Rarity said. “Fluttershy, this has been a trying time. It is a tragic event, and you have borne it with dignity and optimism that I simply cannot fathom.”
“I just don’t want to be a burden.”
Rarity huffed, and her tone was heated. “Burden? Utter nonsense. If anything, you have bouyed our spirits. I daresay at times it seemed that you among us all had taken this the best.”
“I, um--” She felt Rarity’s hooves on her foreleg. “If you, uh, if you say so. Sorry.”
“I do say so. You’ve no need for apologies.”
Rarity stayed close to her the rest of their visit. It was nice to feel a near constant reminder that she wasn’t merely alone in some loud place.