Neighcaraguan Nights

by Prolet

Chapter 2: Meerperl

I woke up with bile in my mouth. Not wasting a single second, I painfully dashed up from the bed and leaped towards the bathroom door, using my wings to keep my balance. Barely avoiding tumbling over, I jumped to the toilet and put my head over it. The sensation of last night’s meal pushing itself towards freedom burned my throat. My eyes swelled with tears as I let everything out, clutching my aching stomach. After a few minutes, it was all over, and I fell to my haunches. The toilet smelled horrible. Why? This doesn’t even make sense! Racing doesn’t make me throw up all the time!

There was a knock on the door. Collecting myself, I swallowed the last anti-seasickness pills and went to open the door. “Guten morgen, Frau Scootaloo!” greeted Suppe, giving me a smile. Her eyes wandered on my face that undoubtedly held a few stains of vomit. “Wissen Sie a… towel zu haben?”

“A towel?” Yay. Next, there’ll be a paparazzi or two taking pictures. “Whatever, but I’d rather have some medicine for seasickness. This ship’s killing me.”

“I’ll go fetch you some,” told Suppe, smirking. “Oh, and I came here to tell you zhat we’ll arrive in two hours. Have fun in Meerperl!”

“I don’t know about Meerperl, but my fun happens on the International Raceway.” Suppe turned around, walking back. I sat onto the floor and waited idly, gathering some odd looks from ponies who passed by the door – the fact that I wasn’t wearing anything didn’t help with that. It was weird how high-class ponies frowned upon the natural body of a pony.

The orange-hued rays of the morning sun pouring in from the sole, round window made me think of things. Sweetie… the last night… now it was all a mere blur, a happy stain in my memory. I felt a tinge of pain in my chest as I realized that after the championships were over, it would, once again, take a very long time for us to see each other again. If all three of us could ever find time to plan for a reunion, it would be like a gift from the heavens. Traveling across the world to race was just as time-consuming as singing to large crowds a few nights a week. Not even Apple Bloom had been spared, for she was the CEO of her own business.

Suppe returned, carrying a white can made of plastic. She handed it over. The etiquette read Meer-Heiler. I thanked Supped, who nodded and trod away to serve somepony else. I opened the can, but closed it again, deciding that it would be better to save the pills, just in case there would be some unexpected problems.

After taking a moment to gather myself and wipe the last traces of vomit off my face, I grabbed my saddle bag from under the bed. I had stuffed my dress along with everything else I needed to have on my person in it. Even though pockets were kind of handy, I still hadn’t gotten used to wearing clothes, but that was partly because I didn’t want to be like the other high-flyers. I was known in the magazines for being my honest, straight and sometimes even rude self, and saw no reason to change that... because that was who I was.

The walk through the crowded corridors was short, as my cabin was situated close to a door to the main deck. When I stepped outside through the heavy iron door, the bright light made me rub my eyes. Some ponies were already chatting in small groups. The air was warm and humid, like it always was during daytime on these latitudes. Faint wind kept the temperature on tolerable levels.

I went to the side rail, leaning on it to better see where we were heading. The buildings of Meerperl, now only about a mile away, were visible on the mostly green shoreline, dominated by the lush jungles of the island. Even though I knew that Neighcaragua was by no means small, the shore, stretching for dozens of miles in both directions, didn’t fail to amaze me. The azure, glittering water of the ocean crowned the sight, contrasting with the emerald island. No place in Equestria could have offered views like this.

Because it wouldn’t take long for us to arrive to the port, I took a seat in one of the colorful deckchairs. Even the blue, cloudless sky was quite something to look at. This shouldn’t surprise you one bit. Just be careful that you don’t accidentally turn this into a vacation. You have events to win, and Piers to mock.

And just to affirm my goals, the devil arrived, looking down on me with a menacing grin. Piers was wearing a pair of pitch-black sunglasses. “Morning, Scootaloo. I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable. That’s probably a good idea, seeing that you won’t have a chance in the champs.”

“Piers, you’re pathetic. Go play a movie villain someplace else. I’m trying to relax here – that’s all I need to do to beat you.”

“Ooh, Scootaloo’s become cocky?” asked Piers mockingly. I knew very well that I wouldn’t beat him without rigorous practice sessions on the track and long conversations with my mechanics, but Piers’s unbelievable attitude always ticked me off. He never acted like that with other ponies – no, this was entirely personal. If I won a race, he’d always be there to scorn me, even though he didn’t seem to mind if a third pony took the top spot. Due to our almost equal skills, neither of us had managed to decisively come on top of the other. The Pan-Equestrian Championships would, once and for all, prove who was the better driver. Or so I hoped.

“To be honest, Piers, I have much more reason than you to be cocky,” I said with a sour voice, keeping my face stoic. “I’m a three-time winner of the Le Trod, have scored fifteen victories in the Equestrian Grand Prix Series, and finished second in last year’s Pan-Equestrian Championships. If you want compare –“

Piers snorted. “Alright, let’s compare! The last time I checked, I have won the Prench –“

“Hi, Scoots!”

Piers and I turned our heads in unison. Sweetie was standing next to us, fluttering her eyes dumbfoundedly, as if she hadn’t noticed what we’d been talking about. “Um… did I interrupt something?”

“Well…” I shook my head. “No, of course not. Piers was just passing by and wishing me luck like any noble driver would. Right?”

“Yeah. Right.” Piers rolled his eyes and hurriedly trod away. I barely managed to restrain myself from spitting after him.

Sweetie lay onto the next deckchair in the row and sighed. “I heard you arguing. What was that all about?”

“Piers is an asshole. That’s it.”

“Oh, is it, now?” Sweetie smirked, causing me to frown. “I’ve seen a lot of fiery romances. You two would make a perfect couple; you have the same interests and everything! The sexual tension between you two is higher than that between Applejack and Rarity!”

I felt a heat rise up my cheeks as I took in what Sweetie had said. Then, I shook my head violently. “You can’t be serious! Applejack and Rarity?! How in the hay would they go together? And even imagining a life with Piers… dear Celestia…”

Sweetie giggled, slapping me in the stomach. I flinched in pain. What the hay? “Just
teasing, Scoots! I am Rarity’s sister, though, and from what she’s told me, I think it’s pretty obvious that she was once head-over-heels in love with Applejack. It feels weird to think about it… we were so young back then, and my sister had fallen for my friend’s sister!”

“That’s a lot to take in…”

“Yes, and it might or might not be true. But does it even matter? It’s a fun story anyway.” Sweetie poked me, this time in the face, still giggling like a school filly. “I wonder what the papers would say if there was a rumor about you and Piers…”

“Sweetie, I think you’ve become more like Rarity than you even realize,” I said, completely unamused by my friend’s blabbering. “Last night was much cooler than talking about nonexistent romantic relationships, especially one between two mares. And now, you have made me sound like Twilight…”

“Twilight will be there to open the Championships, or so I was told. It has been many a year since a pony of her stature has officially proclaimed a sports event, not to even talk about motorsports, open,” said Sweetie, imitating Twilight’s voice surprisingly well. I could almost smell the dusty books of Golden Oaks Library. “I really hope she won’t hold a five-hour speech, though.”

“Yeah.”

We spent the rest of the sail lying on the deckchairs, bathing in the warmth of the sun. I knew I should have applied some sun lotion, but was too lazy to reach for my saddle bag. If I’d burn my skin, it wouldn’t cause any real harm. I could live with the itching, and no paparazzi could possibly see under my coat. When the shore came so close that I could see individual palms, I finally rose up. Sweetie did the same.

The ship’s engine rumbled loudly as it braked. Meerperl’s tall, colonial-era buildings looked inviting. Most of them were made of bricks, but had been painted orange or white. From what I could see from the deck, the streets appeared to be very crowded – numerous ponies trod around, some with hurry, some with a more relaxed pace – some going to work, some going to fishing. The port itself was surprisingly small, so it felt like a miracle that a cruiser of this size could even dock there. As the ship stopped a dozen yards from the shore, the escort boats scurried away, like ants trying to escape from a foal trampling them in a fit of rage.

--

The table next to us was surrounded by a group of mares who chatted in irritating, high-pitched noises. “All this Germane… it’s driving me crazy.” Filthy looked appalled; almost like Sweetie back in the day after some harsh word from Diamond Tiara. The three of us – Sweetie, Filthy and I – were enjoying sangrias under a restaurant’s sunshade after having met at the dock. We had a great view of the ocean from here.

“Don’t be silly, Rich,” said Sweetie, rolling her eyes comically. “I’m sure the native people would love to speak their original languages. Besides, you just ordered these drinks in plain old Equestrian.”

“He’s been weird for a while, Sweetie. I don’t think we need to worry about him. When the negotiations start, he’ll be in top shape once again.” Not caring about my words, Filthy stared at his drink, his eyes looking empty. “Hey, Filthy! You there?”

Filthy turned his head towards me and flinched. “Yup. I’m sorry, gals. It just seems like everything’s been working against me lately. You two should leave me and go have some fun by yourselves. Heck, my daughter used to be your number-one bully. What a great father I am…” Shaking his head, Filthy emptied his glass with one gulp. I could but frown; something seemed to be deeply bothering him. You should fish out what happened with Diamond, but not right now. Let him regain his composure first.

“I’m afraid I have to go in an hour, so I’d rather have all of us here,” told Sweetie, giving a compassionate look to Filthy, who still didn’t crack a smile. “If something’s wrong, you can tell us. Well, at least to Scootaloo, if not me.”

“Nah. You know what’s wrong. And because I’m an indifferent business mogul, I won’t bother telling you. After all, then it would be said twice. Not to even think about…” Filthy paused, and then, sighed deeply. “Who am I kidding with this bullshit? It’s Diamond. I invited her to come here with me, but she refused with some very rude words. Then again, there are many further factors contributing to my depressed state. As an intelligent stallion, I’m aware of most of them. But really, this conversation could change its course, don’t you think?”

“Why did she refuse to come?” continued Sweetie.

Filthy gave Sweetie a pained look. “I’m here to sell weapons. The government wants to buy them, so I’ll be selling them.”

“What?” gasped Sweetie. I could see that Filthy’s revelation had come as a shock to her, although I didn’t understand how she hadn’t figured out his motivation before. “You’re seriously dealing arms to Orden’s gang? Where has your honor gone?”

“Look, Sweetie, I know you don’t like him very much, but this is –” getting out of hoof, and quickly, at that.

“Mister Rich, I think you should just accept the fact that Diamond wants no part in scamming the common pony or dealing arms to military dictatorships,” said Sweetie with an offensive tone, getting Filthy’s attention. “You know very well that Orden’s government won’t be using them just to protect the country. Do you honestly think that Germaneigh has any wish to reconquer its old colonies? Even Prance gave up on that a long time ago! The ponies here are free of imperialism, and that’s not going to change.”

Filthy sighed. “Sweetie Belle… What does it matter? If they are paranoid, let them be. It’s too big of an opportunity to be missed.”

“Diamond seems to have disagreed.”

I had a hard time keeping up, but wanted to end the argument before it got any nastier. “Sweetie…”

“Could you kindly stop throwing salt in my wounds?” Filthy started to sound angry. “It’s not fucking every day that your daughter abandons you. Whatever you think of me, have some decency, alright? I helped Scootaloo start her career, and at least she appreciates that.”

Sweetie was about to reply, but I stuffed my hoof in her mouth, staring straight into her eyes. I saw that she was having a hard time controlling the thoughts raging in her mind. Shaking my head barely noticeably, I took my hoof back. Treating Sweetie like that made me feel bad inside, especially because I knew she was in the right, but this wasn’t the right time to start an argument like that. An awkward moment of silence ensued.

“Uhm...” started Filthy, breaking the silence before it got too brooding. “I’m sorry for being a jerkass businesspony, if that’s what you’re asking for. Please try to understand – it’s just a job, after all. And if I wasn’t here to negotiate about arms deals, it would be somepony else. I doubt that would change the situation in any way. If the Neighies want guns, they’re going to get them in one way or another. But – really – we should change the subject. I don’t want to talk about this shit. You have your opinion, I have mine, eh?”

A short silence ensued again. “If we really need to, I have a lot of stories about Meerperl,” said Sweetie, again breaking the silence before the awkwardness level rose too high. I noticed that I’d held my breath, and exhaled in relief. Listening to two of your friends arguing wasn’t exactly the best way to prepare for a week of high-speed racing. “This city is much older than Ponyville – 248 years, to be exact, and has a history more colorful than than of Manehattan or Trottingham.”

Filthy and I agreed, and Sweetie started telling us about Meerperl’s and Neighcaragua’s history. The island had originally been inhabited by a small number of earth ponies who had had no knowledge of the outside world, much less the colonial race between the continental nations. A Germaneighian explorer, Kompass, had found it about 300 years ago, and claimed it for her country.

At first, I listened excitedly, but eventually, the boring realities of history caught up. When Sweetie got to Meerperl and the modern days, I found myself gazing towards the sea. Sweetie’s tone reminded me of Cheerilee, and a smile rose to my face as I remembered the sounds of the classroom.

The lecture probably wasn’t too long, but it felt like hours had gone by. My daydreams of Ponyville went uninterrupted. Sweetie continued to rant on about some hostilities outside Meerperl. So excited was she that she failed to notice both Filthy and I had long since stopped listening. Filthy had already gulped down a couple of drinks, and whenever he wanted a new one, the waitress was nearby – considering that he constantly ordered the most expensive items on the list, it was no wonder. I had no idea why Sweetie was so interested in the history of the island. She lives here, that’s why.

“…but I really have to go now. I have a gig tonight in Das Blaue Meer, a gentlecolt’s club by the Main Street.” Sweetie rose from her chair, waking me up from my stupor. “See you, Scoots! And you too, Rich.”

Filthy didn’t turn his eyes from the drink in front of him. “See you.”

“Wait, wait!” I exclaimed. “Sweetie, where was the concert? And at what time? I have the whole day free, since the track won’t open until tomorrow.”

Sweetie rolled her eyes. “You weren’t listening at all, were you?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued: “Das Blaue Meer, a club by the Main Street. It’s a large and classy-looking blue building, like you’d probably guess from the name. You can’t miss it. I’ll be singing between nine and ten in the evening, perhaps later, too. But for now, bye!”

“See you in the evening!” I shouted after Sweetie, who was already walking away. She glanced back and gave me a smile.

For a while, I stayed by the table with Filthy, watching him become more and more drunk as time passed. When he stopped responding to me, only talking to the waitress to order a new drink, I shook my head and rose up. “You’re becoming pathetic, Filthy. Get a grip. Since there’s no point in sitting here with you, I’ll be in my hotel room. You know where to find me if you want to talk about Diamond or something else.”

Filthy turned his eyes up only for a second. “Bye.”

Sighing, I turned away from my friend. I made my way to my car, which was parked by a road, only a short walk away. Like always, the polished blue exterior, complete with the white roof and the elegant, black-and-white tires made my heart jump a little. The car was awesomeness in material form. When ordering it, I had considered paying for a custom paintwork to make the roof be in the spectrum of a rainbow. However, that also meant having to make a big decision: whether I still wanted to be Ranbow Dash’s fanfilly. What would everypony think if I painted my car in the honor of a childhood hero? That I’d be licking the boots of a wonderbolt, of course. It was almost a shame that Rainbow had achieved her dream – and so had I. Now that we both had our duties, we rarely met outside the Grand Galloping Gala. Fortunately, the Wonderbolts made at least some appearances to celebrate the most important races, but I couldn’t be certain if they’d have a show at this year’s championships. Neighcaragua was a long way from Equestria, after all, and the diplomatic relations between the two countries weren’t exactly warm.

I unlocked the car and sat in the driver’s seat. The furnishing was creamy white, and my rump comfortably sank into the soft seat. However, in the controls – the huge driving wheel and the pointy gear stick – comfort had given way to efficiency. Grinning, I turned the keys in the hole, starting the car up. I revved the engine, creating a low rumble that vibrated through my body. Even though this was no racing car, the power in my hooves always felt incredible. Shifting the car to first, I put my right rear hoof lightly on the gas pedal. My position in the seat was somewhat unnatural, and even after hundreds of thousands of miles, I hadn’t completely gotten used to it. The resulting back pains had fallen to tolerable levels, though.

There were some cars on the street, a few even matching mine in the looks. The lack of traffic jams was refreshing, though the number of pedestrians crossing the street wherever they felt like it was dazzling. I had to rest my other rear hoof on the brake all the time to avoid running over careless ponies, and soon just accepted the situation and stopped honking the horn. During the confusing drive through Meerperl, I passed by the Das Blaue Meer. It truly was impossible to miss the bright-blue building, which sported a huge sign over the double doors: “Nur für höfliche Ponien! – Only for well-mannered ponies!” The classy declaration made me frown. Have I really become one of those ponies? How much do I have in common with Filthy, after all?

Trying my best to get the uncomfortable questions out of my head, I eventually arrived to my hotel, Queen’s Rest. It was a white building with over ten stories, and all of the rooms seemed to have extensive terraces with sunshades and marble decorations of various colors. I parked my car at the mostly empty lot, which was patrolled by a nasty-looking earth pony. The bulge on the side of his tuxedo – the mark of a gun – sent shivers through my spine. Does everypony carry a gun around here?

I left my car to the care of the guard, and walked inside the hotel. The reception room was made of white marble. Black pillars with carvings of various animals rose from floor to ceiling. It was obvious that they weren’t needed to keep the building in one piece, but I couldn’t deny that they looked cool. In fact, the reception room looked more like an entrance to a palace than a hotel.

“Miss Scootaloo!” chirped the receptionist, a white unicorn. Her color was a perfect match with the walls. “How can we serve you?”

“Just throw me the keys. I want to rest.”

The mare nodded, levitating a big, silvery key in front of me. I snatched it. My room’s number, 37, was carved on it. I thanked the mare, trotting off towards the staircase.

--

I lay on the luxurious bed, almost engulfed. The bed had wrapped around me like water, and my hooves were already feeling numb from the lack of sensation, but instead of relaxing me, it made me feel uncomfortable. Hoofington General Hospital – that was what the feeling reminded me about. Racing had its dangers… and even though I’d lost friends on the track, it had never come to me that I could get seriously hurt until it had actually happened. All it had taken was an unlucky front-right puncture in a very bad spot, sending me into a concrete wall. It was only by dumb luck that I’d lived to tell the tale.

Death... danger... happiness. Everything in my life had happened so fast that I sometimes had an urge to just sit back and wait for the world to pass by. In barely twenty years, I had accomplished almost everything one could dream of. Nopony could deny that I was the best racer of the century, at least equal to Piers. I had been in a somewhat long relationship... and when everything had been fine, seen death face-to-face.

Don’t do this to yourself. Enjoy life while you’re living. What would anything be worth if you just lied in your bed all day?

Sighing, I rose up. Resting was impossible when all I could think about was dying.

Only now did it really strike me how odd Sweetie’s and Filthy’s behavior had been. Sweetie hadn’t previously had a problem with him. Also, it seemed like Filthy had pretty much lost it – previously, his issues with Diamond had never taken him so far down the road. When we were still living in Ponyville, he wouldn’t have so much as glanced at alcoholic beverages. It was mind-boggling how much ponies could change.

The spacey, luxurious suite didn’t help in turning my thoughts elsewhere, so I started growing anxious. What the hay is going on? Sweetie acted like Filthy was a villain rivaling Chrysalis, and armed guards patrol the streets. It doesn’t make any sense.

A quick look around the room told me that there was a small shelf crammed full of books in the corner. I walked to it, and after seeing cheesy names like A Hot Night In Canterlot and Three Mares and One Stallion, I settled for the latest Daring Do book. If anypony could take my mind away from dying and a sudden antagonism between my friends, it would be the adventurous mare, who resembled Rainbow Dash in more than one way.

It didn’t take me long to get submerged in the adventure. I found myself in a lush jungle, chasing a group of grave robbers to return the Amethyst Crown to its resting place before it would release íts powers, causing unimaginable suffering to all of ponykind. I watched as Daring dodged bullets, flew across vast canyons, spelunked in dark caves, and chased the villains across all kinds of hostile terrains – not to even the mention the cannibalistic natives, who were, in turn, after her.

Before I even realized, the clock beat nine times. I jumped up, feeling cold sweat on my forehead. No way. I can’t be late!

Not wasting a second, I dashed to the terrace. The wooden door crashed open, revealing a wonderful sight of Meerperl from aboce. A short railing bordered the terrace.

I gulped. The parking lot was far below, and my stomach was already protesting. From up here, I could see downtown Meerperl. A distinctly blue building in the distance reminded me why I had to do this, but it wouldn’t make it any easier. I climbed onto the railing, swallowing hard. My heart was racing. You don’t have the whole evening.

It was plain stupid – taking a risk like this just for Sweetie. Then again, I really wanted to be with her tonight, so arriving thirty minutes late would be totally unacceptable. With a steadfast, determined look on my face, I unfurled my wings and jumped.

Air rushed past me, and I flapped furiously, trying to gain control. For a split second, a horrible feeling of dread struck me: what if I wouldn’t regain control? But, of course, I did. Even though I’d never been much of a flier, I wasn’t completely helpless. Relieved to still be in one piece, I changed the direction of my dive so that I glided towards the nightclub with a high speed. Every now and then, I had to flap, my sides already aching from the effort. While most pegasi could fly almost purely by their magic, that little spark just wasn’t there for me. Yet, while I flew over city, I felt freer than I had in a long time.

Some minutes later, I landed next to the club, staggering a bit as my hooves impacted with the tarmac. If my sides had ached before, now they were burning. I walked to the door, and saw a red earth pony blocking my way. He was wearing sunglasses.

“In what business are you here?” asked the stallion with a monotonous voice.

“I’m here to see Sweetie Belle!” I said, still panting profusely. “Just let me in already! I know I’m late!”

“Hold your horses. Why would I let such a sweaty mare in? This is no worker’s club, Miss. If word came out that we’re a hangout for ponies like you, our repu –“

“Don’t you recognize who I am?”

The stallion paused, pushing down his sunglasses. He glared straight into my eyes, causing my stomach to turn. I felt very small in front of him. To my relief, he soon pushed the glasses back up, nodding. “Oh, you’re Miss Scootaloo. I’m sorry for my outlandish behavior. Just be sure to arrive in a slightly more… hm… sophisticated manner next time.” I hastily mumbled something about an agreement, trotting past the stallion.

Music was already playing as I walked in, taking a seat at an empty table that could very well have been from a palace with all the delicate carvings on its foot. The azure walls were full of paintings, most of which looked like odd messes of colors and shades. The floor was made of marine marble, complementing the lighter-colored walls. While the club, restaurant, or whatever it was wasn’t even close to being full, the patrons made up for it. They looked just like the ponies on the cruise... classy and well-dressed.

I was given odd looks by the other ponies, but I didn’t really care about them at the moment. All I could think of was Sweetie, who was on a small stage in the front, accompanied only by a pianist. Sweetie’s mane was all curly, almost like Rarity’s. She was wearing all sorts of glistening jewelry, but even more striking were her eyes. They were gleaming with happiness – happiness from my arrival? Now you’re daydreaming.

I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on Sweetie, who returned the look once in a while. In no time, I was lost in my thoughts, listening to her beautiful, flawless voice.

When you meet with the young mares early in the Spring
You court them in song and rhyme
They answer with words and a clover ring
But if you could examine the goods they bring
They have little to offer but the songs they sing
And the plentiful waste of time of day
A plentiful waste of time

It was an old stallion’s song, but somehow worked when Sweetie sung it. A feeling of warmness engulfed me – just like that I could imagine somepony much older feeling when they thought about their past loves. My mind wandered back in the day when I’d been so happy with Silver Ribbon… and only now did I fully understand how little time had really passed. Just five months ago, we’d still been happily together. He was a wonderful stallion, but had never really understood my wish to travel across the world, racing against the fastest of ponies. Our break-up had been inevitable, but we still exchanged letters occasionally.

Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn't got time for the waiting game

Sweetie’s voice had a sad, yet somehow warm tingle to it. She sung the song perfectly – it wasn’t every day that a young mare like her would take up the challenge of September, but she had both the courage and the skills to pull it off. I felt proud to have a friend like her.

There wasn’t time for me. Yet, there was. My career would eventually end, and after that I’d have all the time I wanted, having earned the prize money to enjoy my golden years as I wished. Even though I knew all of this, I couldn’t help but ponder what would happen if I just quit.

Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'll spend with you
These precious days I'll spend with you

The song ended, and everypony clopped their hooves on the floor. The applause was almost deafening, and my hooves were numb after it finally ended. Sweetie didn’t give a speech between songs, opting to start the next one right after the applause had ended. This one was much more casual, and sent me to the narrow alleys of Manehattan to seek my fortune. Sweetie’s cutie mark, a simple musical note I didn’t know the name for, was a perfect complement to her talents. I’d heard the song before, and even with my untrained ears, I could say that she didn’t miss a single note.

Happy melodies and sad tunes continued to waltz through my mind for the rest of the concert. Most of the songs were slow, sounding like they were made for dancing. I had an urge to jump up and sway in tune with the music, but to my annoyance, none of the other ponies seemed to share my sudden enthusiasm. The reality of the classy nightclub was, as expected, boring. When Sweetie finished the last song, she left the stage, accompanied by huge applause. She winked to me, and I winked back.

I didn’t have to wait long. After a minute, Sweetie walked to my table and sat down, levitating two drinks with her. “Having a good time?” she asked, still smiling. “I noticed you arrived late.”

“That was just… wonderful! Marvelous! Incredible!” I praised, noticing a blush creeping to Sweetie’s cheeks. “Or something like that. But besides that, I’m not really having a good time at all. This place is kinda boring.”

Sweetie took a sip from her drink, and I did the same. I had no idea what it was, but it was smooth in texture and tasted spicy; probably something local. The blue color was somewhat odd, though. “I know a few places around here, Scoots – places with much more fun and lots of dance, if that’s what you’re looking for. I’m not booked for the rest of the night.”

I stared at Sweetie, who blushed even more before I finally looked away, laughing. “Was just testing you. And if you know better place, I’m all ears. I’m not really into dancing with strangers, but I suppose doing it with a friend would be alright.”

“There are many… and nothing like this, which is a good thing, I’d say. They’re more of the casual type. Almost like Sugarcube Corner, but with Pinkie throwing a party that never ends.” Sweetie slapped her face. “Actually, that sounds pretty creepy… but imagine one of Pinkie’s parties with actually good music instead of Vinyl’s bass.”

I gasped. “Are you saying that Vinyl’s music is bad?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s decent on its own right, but you can’t argue that it isn’t the best for dancing, unless hopping around while bobbing your head wildly is what you call dance.”

“Actually…” I cringed, because I didn’t really know how to dance. It had been easier when the music was some futuristic riffraff that didn’t make much sense – then I could, like Sweetie said, just jump around. “I’m not an expert when it comes to dancing…”

Sweetie giggled. “Oh, Scoots! I’ll teach you. It’s not that hard, really. You’ll learn in no time.”

“Sure. What are we waiting for? I’d like to dust off. This place is turning me into one of them.”

We rose up and walked out, and the bouncer wished us a pleasant evening as we stepped outside. Streetlights were already on, as the sun had set moments ago. Not a single cloud sailed on the purple sky, and the first stars were already blinking into sight. Even though it was starting to get late, many ponies were still on the streets. Sweetie led the way, and I followed in her hoofsteps past the now mostly silent buildings. A light wind came from the sea, bringing with it a humid, salty smell. I took it in, reveling in the joy of the tranquil night. Our walk through Meerperl was getting long – and eventually, the cold realities started to catch up with me. I couldn’t be out for too long. The first practice session would start at 12pm, whether I liked it or not, and I’d have to be at the pits about four hours earlier to have a good talk with my mechanics.

“Sweetie…”

She turned around and cocked her head. “Well?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you. I’ll have to wake up in… uhm… eight hours. I really need the rest.” I gave Sweetie a sad smile. She looked disappointed. “But if you have the next evening free, we could go to this other place then. It’s not like having fun was forbidden for me.”

“Sure,” sighed Sweetie. She approached me, her eyes glistening, and caught me in a deep embrace. I returned it, feeling all warm and fuzzy. Sweetie had always been comfortably soft. Her breath smelled minty. “Singing to you made me feel good, but tomorrow, I’ll let somepony else do it for me. Good night, Scoots.”

“Good night, Sweetie,” I replied, breaking the embrace. With a fuzzy feeling in my chest, I trod through the streets to my hotel. The serenity of the night was something I couldn’t have expected; now it was almost like every Neighcaraguan had gone to bed early. Only the occasional pony stumbled by, leaving my wondering why so many had abandoned the streets at almost the same moment.

And when I collapsed onto my bed, the only thing I could think of was Sweetie’s smile. At long last, we were reunited.

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Scootaloo X Sweetie.