//------------------------------// // Soliloquy 2: Dance With Destiny // Story: If You Give a Little Love... // by Quillamore //------------------------------// To do something for somepony else is naïve and foolish in a world where everypony fights to stay on top. That’s how I used to think, and to some extent, how I’d like to believe I still do. The mare who thought that way never succeeded at anything, Tartarus knows that's one thing that never changed, but at least she was strong about it back then, okay? She would fail and fail and fail until she’d become so used to it that it would barely scratch her. But then success had to go and botch all of that, and here she is now. In the home of somepony she barely even knows, somepony that she blindly trusted after some weird encounter in a bathroom one night. Some rich mare offers you help like that, you run as far away as you can, because everypony’s trying to take advantage of you here. But somehow, I didn’t. I didn’t even blink when I found out she was the one trying to derail the play. If anything, it actually brought me closer to her. Besides, it’s not like I was going to stay on the crew that much longer. Might as well go out with a bang and a ‘screw you, Mosely’ before I get fired. From where I stand right now, it’s like I’m not even on the set anymore. So by now, the eternal question of whether Suri Polomare, ex-con artist extraordinaire, was really hired for her connections in the first place is finally settled. She was. I was. And no matter how much you may complain about me being closed-minded or getting off lucky, my views still won’t change—that’s still the worst thing in the world to me. To be outplayed just when you finally figured out the system. They say cheaters never win. But I didn’t cheat, not that time. In hindsight, I totally should have, and I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it. But somehow, there’d been something that had been able to completely defuse any of those thoughts in me before I even noticed them. That same stupid voice, always telling me the same thing whenever I doubted I could make it without gaming the system. “Suri, you really are shaping up to be quite the gentlemare. Just keep at it for a bit longer, and you may actually end up finding what you’ve really been searching for all these years.” “You’re really sure I can do it?” I would reply. “It’s not like I don’t see the way your friends and the other ponies on set look at me, okay? They can still tell that I haven’t made any progress.” “You have made progress. They’re just too closed-minded to see it. That’ll just make them even more surprised when you end up having more class than they ever will.” And at this point I would always finish things up in much the same way: “You know, I wouldn’t go through all these hoops for just anypony. But know that I’m not just doin’ this so I can reach my own goals. I don’t want to have to say it, but I know you’ll want to hear it anyway. “If it’s for you, Mosely, then I’ll become the best mare I can.” Our relationship back then had been a formula, but a soft one. Not the kind that dragged you down with obligations, but the one that always gave you some weird sort of comfort. One where you begin to feel that change doesn’t exist, but it’s somehow better that way. And then I realize that I shouldn’t be there. I should be in the moment, preparing for my next move. Ponies like me shouldn’t be dwelling on the past, especially not if it’s about some idiot stallion who promised you the stars above and somehow forgot all that once he saw that assistant of yours that everypony loves more than you. Back in Equestria, I recognize all too late that two of my hooves are touching somepony else’s, that one is in the air, and that somehow the mare next to me is completely unfazed by this. I fall again. And for once, it actually hurts. Or at least, it should. My defenses are down, and in any other case, I would surely have been left to plop straight to the ground. But, as a meticulously manicured hoof expertly scoops me up a few inches away from the hard wooden floor, somehow it doesn’t. Somehow, there’s still at least one pony out there that’s willing to put up with my melodrama. I don’t get my hopes up too much, though. That mare from before, the same one holding me together now, still has most of her heart closed to me anyway, even after our weeks of friendship. Maybe this sort of thing is normal and I’ve just been on my own for so long I’ve forgotten what getting to know a pony feels like. But in any case, for all the things I’ve told her about myself, she sure doesn't share any details of her own. In a lot of other cases, I’d get tired of this sort of act. But right now, she’s all I have. And even if she wasn’t, I’d still be curious anyway. Like Mosely, there’s a sort of essence to her that drives ponies mad with questions. That’s why, looking into her deep blue eyes, I feel like that might be the reason I’ve been going along with her all this time. That she’s nothing more than his replacement to me. That I could end up being hurt the same way again before long. “It’s all right,” she whispers to me with a soft smile. “We can take a break for now, since you made such good progress tonight.” Shaking myself away from my thoughts, I began to remember what I was doing before I zoned myself out on memories of Mosely. Ever since the party three weeks or so ago, I’ve been one of the first to leave work, not really caring about the theatre nightlife or anypony else in the production. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t need them, and they don’t need me. I would’ve been perfectly satisfied to hole myself up in my room every night and wallow in self-pity, but Pink Lady, the mare who brought me away from the worst embarrassment of my life that night, would have none of that. Like most things about her, I have no idea why she’s doing any of this. But for now, we spend our days being mortal enemies, what with her trying to sabotage the play and all, and our nights in her apartment, dancing like fillyhood friends. Though we don’t always dance, it’s the one thing we tend to default to. Lady (as I’ve started to call her) has always felt it’d be the best revenge to keep molding myself into a graceful and elegant mare so that one day, I’ll be able to show Mosely what he missed out on. For her, the first step to that is taking up ballroom dancing, something that not many ponies do anymore these days but is apparently a coveted skill anyway. It gives her a chance to show off her expert breeding and gives me the warmth of somepony else huddled against my body, however sappy that probably sounds. Right now, she’s already made her way to the kitchen, and I realize for about the thousandth time how small everything is in here. I’d always thought somepony as rich as she was would have some sort of mansion or a large condo at the very least, but sometimes, I swear her apartment is even tinier than mine. A couple of weeks ago, I’d finally had enough of wondering and asked her about this. “I never really enjoy staying in one place for long,” she told me back then. “So I figure if I’m going to move to another part of town in a few years, there’s no point in shelling out too many bits per month for something that’s only a status symbol to begin with. I much prefer letting the way I treat ponies speak for itself instead of showing off with a nicer house. It’s more rewarding in the end, for me at least.” The way she explained it was easy enough, but something within her tone betrayed something else. Another reason, another mystery. Another reason to keep going with life, even when everything seems to be looking down for me. Not just because of some selfish desire to learn her secrets, not anymore, not like the hardened Suri from before would. Maybe because I feel like finding out about Lady would put me back in Mosely’s good graces again. Maybe because I’m just desperate to have somepony else see me as their number one again. Or, if you really want to stretch it: maybe because there’s still a part of me that cares, that wants to help her through the way she’s doing for me. Sometimes, that thought flickers through my mind, but I don’t press my luck too much on it being true. In any case, there’s still a sort of sadness to her gaze every time she looks at me, and I can’t help but think about her first conversation with me. When she said she made the same mistakes I did, how literal was she? Was it just that she used to be involved with Mosely or is there something else? Just being around her fills me with questions. But at least when I’m investigating her like this, it takes away the pain a little. When it all comes down to it, that’s what really matters; the sooner I can find out her secrets, the closer I can get back on my hooves and be my old self again. At least, that’s what I’d thought for a while. But now, I’m not so sure I want that. “I’m going to make us some coffee,” Lady says after a while, realizing as always that I’ve drifted off into my own world. “I presume you want sugar in it like always?” “Um, sure,” I answer. Normally, the idea of other ponies making me coffee doesn’t weird me out quite this much; at least, it didn’t back when it was Coco. With her, I had at least some idea that this was how things usually worked in Manehattan: the lower-up serves the higher-up in any way she can, and there’s nothing anypony can do to change that. With this system in mind, I really should be the one trotting up to the machine right now; doing anything else just makes me feel like a servant being waited on by a princess. That’s not how things are supposed to work here. Or at least, that’s the way I always saw it. The more I’m with Lady, though, the more I realize that though I’m nowhere near willing to give up my tried and true dog-eat-dog vision of Manehattan, not everypony sees it the same way. Life here, from what I’ve seen, has always been a web of conspiracies, rivalries, secrets. Everypony has some enemy they’re trying to beat here, but somehow, Lady doesn’t seem to have any other than the play itself. Whenever I ask her why she continues to fight against it even when everypony else has moved on to other controversies, she refuses to answer. But somehow, in that silence, I can tell the problems she has with it can’t be limited to anypony in particular. Because that would contradict what little I know about her in the first place. “The view’s nice tonight,” I remark, trying my best to make up for my constant spacing out tonight. I must look like such an idiot to her, considering how I usually can’t shut up. I figure it’s safe enough to talk to her about the giant window in her apartment, one of the few remarkable features of an otherwise plain room. The complex Lady lives in is much bigger than mine, stretching all the way up to the sky. Taking in the fourteen-story view, I’m almost jealous of the ugly place for once. “It really isn’t,” Lady responds with a greater sadness than usual in her voice. “You get tired of it after a while. That is why I prefer not to look at it in the first place.” She picks up a tray after this and balances it in between her teeth, carefully centering it so the teacups don’t spill a single drop. She does it so effortlessly that I almost don’t notice the sigh of relief she breathes after placing it on the table. “You know, Miss Polomare,” she whispers, placing the black coffee to her lips, “it’s odd how ponies seem to hold Manehattan and Canterlot as the only places ponies of prestige can live. Take that whole incident where I met you, for instance, with the way he felt the need to humiliate you just because you were born in a different city.” There is only one ‘he’ in Lady’s vocabulary. All other stallions get names and faces in her world. I’m about to interrupt and say that I don’t want to hear about that incident right now, but somehow, something keeps me from saying anything. Maybe letting her continue on will get me closer to whatever ultimate question I really want from her. “Well, I guess I should have told you this weeks ago, but I have a confession to make. I don’t think breeding should make any difference in the way ponies see each other. We live under a royal family, and that’s quite enough. Blood debates and all that should really just be left to them, because in the real world, anypony can get ahead if they have fate on their side. I guess you could say I’m living proof of that because, well…” A tiny sliver of her tongue flicked across her closed mouth, already hesitating over what she was about to say. “…I’m not actually a Manehattanite, either.” The only sound the room makes after that is the sharp clang of fine porcelain slammed against a saucer. “Oh, my, I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen a pony’s mouth open that wide,” she replies with a dignified chuckle after a few moments. “Surely it wasn’t that much of a surprise to you?” “I guess I always just figured you were from around here,” I admit. “I mean, you blend in well enough. You don’t have an accent, for one thing.” “Well, that is not to say I haven’t lived here for my fair share of years. If anything, I’ve lived in Manehattan far longer than anyplace else. But for some ponies, I guess you could say that was not enough. Hence why I sought you out in the first place; as odd as this may sound to you now, you aren’t so different now from the way I was back then.” “Then how were you able to get to where you are now?” I ask. Instead of calmly giving me advice like I expect, her face lowers in regret once more. “You can’t keep both sides of yourself, Miss Polomare. Eventually, you’re going to have to sacrifice either your old self or the pony you could be, and I think by now you can tell which one I chose. Unlike you, though, I would have been perfectly fine with going back to the way I was before, and sometimes still, I think of how it would have turned out if I hadn’t changed. And sometimes, I wonder if it was really worth it.” Lady finally forces herself to look out the window to the sprawling landscape in front of her. “I guess you could say all this is beautiful in a sense, but some ponies say the most beautiful things are also the most useless. I do not think I would go quite that far, but I cannot help but feel that this city doesn’t bring the satisfaction it once did for me. Looking out at it, I just see emptiness. To me, being born within the confines of a safe wall, never getting to see anything else, is nothing to be proud of.” “Then why don’t you leave it all behind? Nopony’s forcing you to stay here, okay? I mean, I know you have your jewelry business and everything, but if you don’t see anything special anymore here, why do you stay?” “Because it was where I was meant to be,” Lady responds. “Simple as that. It’s where I can help the most ponies and where I can save them from feeling worthless. Too many ponies come here without purpose, and while I certainly can’t find any for myself here, it’s the least I can do for others.” Yet, something doesn’t seem to add up here. It hasn’t made sense ever since I met this mare. It’s half the reason I feel like I don’t know anything about her at all. She may be one of the most cultured ponies I know, but she’s also a mass of contradictions. I’m far from the most qualified pony to ask this sort of question, and yet it flows out anyway. “If you want to help everypony so much, then why do you keep trying to mess with everything on set?” I’ve seen enough liars in my life, myself included, to know how they squirm when they’re called out. The way her eyes widen and shift, the way you can almost see her mind struggle to evade the question, every sign is there. All along, I really should’ve known better than to get involved with her sorts of offers and the way she’s willing to give Equestria away for free. “I apologize in advance,” she sighs, “but I’m afraid I cannot answer that. That is a question not even my most treasured friends can know the answer to.” “So that’s really how you see me?” I ask in only half-sincerity, my heart growing increasingly skeptical. “Not as somepony to mold as you see fit?” A stern flicker crosses her face for a split second before shifting to a more straightforward sadness. “I told you from the beginning that I would only teach you so far as you wished to be taught. I thought you understood that.” “I thought I did, too, but the more I see you spying on set, the less sure I am. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the time I spend with you is one of the only things I have going for me right now. But when the second pony in two months comes over and promises me everything I ever wanted, don’t blame me for being skeptical.” What comes next jolts me more than anything as my mind replays it over and over. Compared to other ponies’ rage-fueled tantrums, it rates pretty low on the scale. I’d give it about a three at most. The most that comes out of it is the same sort of porcelain clink that I made before, only this time it was a miracle the teacup came out unscathed. Even then, with the type of business Lady does when she’s not bungling everything, a cracked teacup would’ve been easy enough to replace. The mask she’d worn up until then would be much harder to get back. “Don’t compare me to that monster ever again,” she says with a glare in her eyes. After a few seconds, she’s back to seeing me as a friend and shakes her head in embarrassment for several minutes, but I know better. This is the first time I’ve seen her this angry at anypony, and I have a feeling that for once, I wasn’t the one who provoked this sort of reaction. “Okay, then I won’t ask you why you have to be against us anymore. If it makes you that mad to think about it, then I’d rather not have to see that side of you again.” “Suri, wait, I don’t think you understand,” Lady replies, calling me by a name unfamiliar to her, barely trying to keep her voice from breaking. “I need you just as much as you need me.” “Then I want you to tell me what your history with Mosely is. Every time I bring him up, you don’t act like you normally do. I don’t need to know anything else about you and you can keep all these secrets from me until the end of time for all I care. I just want to know what your deal is with him, and then I’ll lay off.” “Are you sure you really want to know?” she asks me. “That was a part of my life not even I like to acknowledge. If I could leave it in the past and never remember it again, I’d be the happiest mare in Equestria. I understand he was your lover and that you’re naturally curious about it, but do you really want to know how far all of this goes?” “If it helps me get over all this insanity, then it’ll be worth it,” I answer without a doubt in my mind. It’s the surest feeling I’ve had in months. “Come back tomorrow night, and everything will be like it always is. We’ll dance, and then I’ll explain everything. You promise you won’t tell any of your coworkers?” “Of course.” “Then there’s one more thing I need to ask you. If I were to pour my emotions out to you like this, I would feel pretty awkward calling you by your last name after that. And besides, you do have a nice first name, in my opinion.” “You didn’t need to ask me that,” I reply with a slight chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. Sometimes I swear I still have my heart caught in the wrong time.” “No, that’s fine. If anything, it almost makes me wish I’d been more formal with you. Then I’d have something to show you how close we’re getting, too.” “Actually, there is something else you can call me,” Lady whispers in her lowest possible tone. Winking straight at me, she adds, “I never said ‘Pink Lady’ was my real name, now did I?” Taking full advantage of my silence, she affectionately places her hoof underneath my gaping chin. “If you keep doing that, it’ll stick that way. But that’s beside the point. You should probably be getting off before the cabs stop running.” I nod, trying my best not to show any other signs of emotion. Five days remain until the play, and tomorrow, I am about to find all the answers. Or at least all that matter to me. I’m about to close the door behind me when I hear Lady’s voice for the last time. “Tomorrow night, don’t ask the receptionist for Pink Lady. Ask her where Cameo Citrus lives, and that’s where you’ll find the me you still need to meet.”