You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi
Chapter 80: You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi
“Mum, I can explain,” the quicksilver colt blurted out.
“I bet you can!” The mare with a coat the color of dried blood yelled back. She surveyed the scene before her. The anger lines across her face sharpened when she spotted the saddlebag which started the whole ordeal. “Whose is this?!” She demanded.
In the end, he did not have to say anything. “That would be mine!” A red mare with a lavender mane exclaimed. She bent down to open both flaps, making sure everything was in its proper place. She felt relieved to see they were. “Alright,” she said after she closed the flaps, “I expect to know how you intend to make up for this.”
The dried blood mare, who held the same scowl as before, stated, “I intend to make this ungrateful spawn of my own foal pouch see the error of his ways.”
“Well, whatever it is it’s not good enough. I want charges pressed on him for the robbery, and you for negligence. I want both of your names.”
From where Bryce lie on the ground he could almost swear the dried blood mare’s coat became a shade more crimson, and her rust colored mane take on a bit of a grey sheen. “You want our names? Well, you don’t need a pencil or quill, because my name is Sod Off!” She raised her voice with the announcement. “And as for this thieving urchin, his name is None O’Your Fecking Business!”
“What did you just say to me?! Alright, now I have a count of verbal assault! And he’s a witness!” She pointed a hoof at Bryce. “Though probably not a good one, but still, it won’t matter once the bits start rolling-!“
Before the wronged mare could finish her rant, the blood red mare reached forward, hooped a foreleg around her neck and pulled her in close. Whatever she said only they knew, but as time passed the lavender-maned mare took on the appearance of somepony with limited options. When the blood red mare said her piece, she looked her dead in the eye, and said through clinched teeth, “I suggest you forget everything you saw, and go home…”
The lavender-maned mare took a few steps back. The dried blood mare took the saddlebags in her teeth and tossed them at their owner’s hooves. “Here,” she said in a calmer tone. “You best not forget these…”
She stared at her saddlebags as if they were some alien monstrosity. After a quick shake of her head, the mare placed them on her back and sped off, gone long before one could finish this sentence.
With her out of the way everypony remained silent. The crowd—who until this point would have been proud to see the human hanged for all to see—did not know whether to leave or stay.
It fell to the dried blood mare to break the silence. She let out a huff, then said to herself, “Blaring on like a duzzy, half-bred dickey.” She turned to Bryce, who had yet to stand, much less sit up. “And you… Do you have anything to say?” She asked in a neutral tone.
Unsure of what, if anything to say, Bryce shook his head.
The mare looked to Rarity and Pinkie, the latter of which allowed her injured tongue to continue to hang in the breeze. “What is Celestia’s name happened to you? Did this lot rough you up?” She asked, waving a hoof to the crowd.
Pinkie shook her head, for once her usual cheery exuberancetucked away. “I bit mah dung.”
The comment returned the expected look from the dried blood mare. Before she could ask, Rarity interjected with, “She means her tongue. She has a few nervous ticks, and apparently when a commotion of this magnitude occurs she…bites her tongue… Of all of them I can assume this is the least pleasurable.”
Pinkie nodded in agreement.
The dried blood mare returned a blank scowl. She turned back to Bryce. She studied him a moment before saying, “I don’t know what this means to you, human, but I must commend you for catching this slippery halfling. I suppose you also deserve an apology.”
They both locked eyes for a beat, neither daring to blink.
“You would be of proper mind to expect none.” She said, her scowl hammering the point home. “To receive a commendation from me is reward itself. There is, however, something I wish to say to you…” She cast a sideways glance to the crowd. “…but it will have to wait.”
She then back to the object of her rage. “You…” Her fur and mane brightened from their original colors. “I don’t know what you’re doing here—or how—but whatever it is you best put a stop to it now.”
“But Mum, Granddad said-“
This was enough to make the mare go tense. In an instant she settled herself, then said through clenched teeth. “I don’t care what he said, you listen to me!” With this point made known, she said in a neutral tone, “You come with me, right now.”
“Wh- Where are we going?”
“Not we, bor. You’re going somewhere I know you’ll stay put. Now, move out!”
Mother and son walked off from the scene, with not a single human or pony daring to stop them.
The crowd followed them with their eyes until they went out of sight. When this happened, they turned back to the original subject of interest: Bryce. Though they each felt as if they wanted to pound the human into the dirt, their hooves felt as heavy as lead, and they held their ground.
“I hope you all learned something,” Rarity said, addressing the throng.
The comment was enough to make a few to stare off into to open space. Others scratched the back of their neck. Still more allowed their ears to droop. Despite this, the collective hostility amongst the horde did not waver.
“Yeah, he wasn’t guilty, but only this time,” stated the stallion who confronted Rarity and Pinkie before. “It still stands that, if it weren’t for him, a lot of ponies would still have homes.”
“Perhaps,” Rarity agreed, “but perhaps not. If Bryce were half the degenerate you all believe him to be, that colt would by now be nothing more than a misshapen throw rug. If he had not acted as he had the guilty party could have walked away, and none of you would have been the wiser. If anything, he deserves an apology.”
A sudden burst of whinnies and snorted was the response. “An apology?! After all he’s done an apology is the last thing he deserves. It’s nothing more than a bad attempt at trying to make up for leveling part of Ponyville.”
“You think he did this for praise? You think it was only to try and prove to you he’s above such wanton destruction? You couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth is he would rather have you all think he was no more powerful than a common mule. I was as in the dark as anypony, and I am one of his closest friends.”
“So what?! All you’ve managed to do is make a mule seem better by comparison.”
“My point is if he didn’t want anypony—his friends included—to find out about his abilities why would he ‘level part of Ponyville’?”
Rarity waited for anypony to say their piece, but nopony could come up with an answer.
“I would bet anything it was this kind of treatment he wanted to avoid. But would you all look at yourselves? You were all fine with Bryce a little over a month ago. But because of only one pony—one who for selfish reasons found fault enough to poison him—you want to lay the blame solely on Bryce.”
“Well, if not him then who should we blame?” The same stallion asked. “Unless this so-called poisoner wants to make himself known who can we blame?”
“The poisoner, of course,” Rarity said in an unsteady tone. “If they hadn’t the malice in their heart to poison Bryce this never would have happened.”
“Well, if there had never been a Bryce to poison in the first place this never would have happened either.”
The statement struck a chord in Rarity. What the stallion said was the truth, and it made her sick to know she agreed, in a way. If Bryce was never here…nopony would be without a place to call home… But still… She mentally shook the thought away. “I know everypony has wished at some point a certain somepony never existed. When I was a filly there were times I wished I were an only foal. But Ponyville has been through storms, droughts, and snow to leave one stuck in their own home. What is so different now that we can’t all just shrug off, pick up the pieces and say, ‘it happens’?”
To which the stallion answered. “There was a disaster called Bryce, and unlike every act of nature before, it has yet to leave.”
This response met with a low round of approval.
When the crowd fell silent, he said to Rarity, “If you know what’s good for you, you would cut ties with him. You’re itching for everypony to run you out of town otherwise.”
Rarity said nothing. The crowd began to disperse not long after. She bent her head down, unsure of what, if anything she could do. As the last pony left, she said, “Bryce, I’m sorry. I wish they could at least try and see the you I know you are.”
Bryce said nothing in reply.
Rarity looked to where he was last seen. There was nothing, but the outline of his body left in the dirt remained. She looked about but it was all the same: Bryce was gone, again.
At last Rarity turned to Pinkie. “Pinkie, did you see where he went?”
Pinkie nodded as she pointed to her right, down the way both she and Rarity took after the human. “Yuh, he’s vight dere.”
Rarity looked on in confusion. “Where, I don’t see…” It took her a second, but as she looked on she found Bryce walking away.
He was maybe fifty yards or more away and making ground. He fiddled with the wrappings on his left arm as he walked. In his effort to grab the quicksilver colt the bandages came undone. The last thing he needed today was for the wrong pony to see his sliced-up forearm, and the twins least of all.
It happened, however, somepony would indeed see his self-inflicted wounds. “Bryce, wait!” Rarity cried as she and Pinkie ran to catch him.
In his drained state—a combination of the events of the day, blood loss and a fair portion of his life force—he came to a stop. He did his best to hide the wounds as he turned back. “Rarity, please let me be. I have somewhere I need to go.”
She took a moment to look Bryce over before she said, “I understand, but I wanted to see if you were okay. This is the second time you walked off without a word of warning.”
“Yes, and as I said before I have somewhere I need to be.”
He made to leave but Rarity refused to let him go on a bad note. “Okay, but can I say something first; just one minute of your time?”
Bryce face forward once more. “Okay but make it quick.”
“Bryce, I want to make sure you won’t allow this to influence your day. From your appearance alone, I can tell it’s been anything but good.”
If Bryce were to bend down the mare could have placed a reassuring hoof on his shoulder, but as things were she could not. She instead placed a hoof on his hip. “I think it would be better if you take the rest of the day off. I can tell your heart is dead set on whatever it is you feel you need to do, but after everything… There just so much one can take.” She was hesitant to say what she said next, “If Fluttershy saw you right now she would-“
Bryce jerked his leg out of the mare’s reach. He shot her a scowl. As he bit his lower lip, he snarled back, “Piss off!”
It was not a response Rarity expected at first thought, but it was an action she regretted afterwards. “Bryce, I didn’t mean…”
He did not allow her to correct herself. “And the last person I want to hear anything from is someone who agrees I shouldn’t exist.”
“What do you… I never said anything so heinous.”
Bryce’s eyes darkened at the mare’s words. “You don’t have to say a word for me to know how you really feel.”
Before Rarity could refute this the memories of her thoughts only a moment before came flooding back. She choked now as she had then, sickened to know they had come from her own psyche. Then her brow furrowed. “Bryce, how do you know I thought that?”
Bryce bit his lower lip, but the scowl held it place.
“Bryce, you…! What in Celestia’s name moved you to something so…?!” She wanted to punch the human. “You said before you didn’t like to use your powers, but then you go and do this—and to a friend no less.”
She waited for Bryce to say something in his defense—as if he had anything to justify his actions. In truth, Bryce did not know what to say.
He never meant to hear any thought which passed through the white mare’s head. At least, he never meant to tune into her mind.
His telepathy is an ability which he could not turn off. No matter where he went he could hear the thoughts of any sentient being within a certain radius. Unless he tuned into the thoughts of any being—as he had with Rarity not two minutes ago—they all sounded similar to the adults on the Peanuts.
It was not pleasant to hear, more so when he encountered a large group, but in his twenty-four years he managed to bear it.
This time, however, was not a pleasant time. He had heard Rarity’s inner thoughts, but also the thoughts of everypony before. Each pony’s voice had come in quick succession, with their worst thoughts made plain to his mind’s inner ear. Each one wanted him gone, or dead, or a mixture of these two extremes.
And above all the worst had come from Rarity, somepony Bryce wanted to trust. With the cat out of the bag, however, he did not know if she could ever trust him again.
She fixed him with a look—one of both anger and hurt—when he kept silent. “How could you…? After everything that’s happened you go and…? I know it wasn’t the first time,” she said, referring to a time when both she and Pinkie first came to learn about the human’s abilities. “but before you meant to only prove you weren’t making a joke of the situation.”
She swallowed before she asked, “What moved you to do this?”
Instead of answering Bryce did something both mares had come to expect after the events of the day. He turned and left them with more questions, and for a change they did not follow.
He walked on, wanting to distance himself from Rarity as far as possible. It angered him how she continued to force his hand with Fluttershy, but the hurt he felt from her thoughts stung worse.
And the more he thought on the matter the more he agreed: were it not for him Ponyville would have been better off.
If not for him Ponyville would never have suffered any damage, leaving many homeless and cramped in small tents. Dinky, Applejack, and many others would not have had to worry for their lives, much less the lives of those close to them. And Fluttershy—in his mind his only possible, yet unsteady relationship in a long line of crushes would never have anyone to worry herself over.
If it means they’ll be safe I’ll leave it all behind, he thought, but not until I take care of some pressing matters.
He listed off a few of these in his mind the rest of the way to the Nuts’ home. When he reached their door, he felt he had a list of what to get done before his departure from this world of ponies.
As he raised his hand to knock, he thought, First thing, teach them to cook. And after that everything else. I’ll leave, but on my terms. I began this, it’s only right I be the one to finish it. As the door swung inwards, his last thought was this: I’ll leave on my terms. Once I’m gone it will be as if I was never here. And then everyone’s life can go on.
He put the events of the day far behind him, for now at least. There were those who needed him, and they needed him at his best.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For three weeks Bryce had drilled cooking into the three Nut girls' heads, and today was the day to see how well his guidance panned out. Bryce was there to help with the cooking, and he did a few steps here and there, such as peeling the potatoes and dealt with the steps involving the oven. He helped, but his main responsibility was to ensure each one did their fair share, both in the right way and in a proper manner. With the Nut patriarch sent away to the pub for a few hours, the task of preparing, making and in time finishing the meal lay on their shoulders—or rather, their withers.
He stepped over to Pecan's station. The bolder almond-colored filly was now hunched over a bowl of pecan pie filling. She took a spoon and stirred the mix. When she noticed the human standing beside her, she redoubled her efforts, and in the process made sure to scrape the insides of the bowl, as Bryce had taught her.
Bryce smirked and patted the filly on the back. "You did well to remember the sides but slow it down. We have plenty of time. When you finish here I'll help you start the pumpkin pie."
Pecan, being the more energetic of the twins did as one would expect. She managed her time well, though a little too well. In her haste to finish the meal—to finish it first it often seemed—she often put in the wrong amount of a certain ingredient. A couple of times, she failed to add certain ingredients at all. Her motivation to the art of cooking was noteworthy, yet another shortcoming. Most of the mess cleaned at the end of each lesson was of her doing. Looking past this, she did strive in the use of a knife and the presence of heat, and everyone thanked their respective deity she had yet to injure herself.
Bryce next went over to Almond. She worked hard on the mashed potatoes. It made Bryce proud to see she mashed more than expected; the mashed potatoes were indeed mashed. "That's good, Almond," Bryce said with a pat on her back, one which made her jump. "When you finish mashing them put in a whole stick of butter and some salt, but just a few shakes. After you stir it in give it a taste. If it needs more salt add a pinch. Keep at it until it's just enough to be good."
Bryce said this last part to the nervous filly on purpose, more to help her learn to not try for perfection. This, and to make her cope with the heat, as the steam from the potatoes made her worry.
Almond struggled in many areas where her sister prevailed. She needed motivating to begin some of the basic steps of her work, and the idea of sharp utensils and hot objects still startled her. She did well to add every part to a recipe but took her time to make everything level out. When she had everything together in the same bowl or pot she did well, but her sister often grumbled how cold the food was by then.
Bryce patted the filly on the back once more, making sure to be gentle this time. "When you finish we'll start the gravy." He walked away, sure Almond had everything under control.
He then made his way to their mother's section of the kitchen, which was in a bigger mess than Pecan's area for a change. The beginnings of a sweet potato soufflé lay before her. Every few seconds she dropped everything and checked the recipe once more. Under here breath, she muttered, "Suis-je faire ce droit? Oh non, c'est... Attends...oui, c'est ça!" Before she went back to her current task.
Bryce came up from behind and asked, "How's it coming?"
The human's intrusion spooked the mare. Her hoof slammed down on the handle of a tablespoon. The contents of said utensil splattered onto the countertop and nearby wall.
"Ahh, douce Celeste!" The mare cried in disbelief. She covered her eyes and asked, "Did I just do zat?"
"Don't feel bad about it," Bryce stated. "It's not the worst anyone's ever done." He pulled paper towels from a roll and wiped up the mess. He looked down to the mixing bowl and scooped up a small helping with his pinky. He tasted the small amount and let it settle on his tongue "You're doing well so far," he said to try and calm the mare.
"You are just saying zat."
"No, it tastes fine. You're doing fine."
Cocoa could tell he meant what he said, as hard as he was to read. The accident bit into her resolve, nonetheless. To her, the lessons seemed to do next to nothing. The determination she had to learn outweighed both Almond’s and Pecan's. She had the confidence, and she saw past the dangers of the craft with ease. Despite this, the cream-colored mare all but failed when it came to the actual art of cooking.
Cocoa fell in the same trap as Almond in terms of perfection, and like Pecan she sometimes became carried away with finishing before the imaginary timer went 'ding'.
The cause of her shortcomings—one Cocoa knew and told no one else—was her desire to outdo Bryce.
She was jealous, though not in the sense she made plans to trap him at every turn. The kind she felt based itself on how Bryce made something everypony in her and her family loved, and for once she wanted to do the same.
Cocoa felt it to be impossible at her current pace. She had yet to make anything where she did not either burn it, drop it on the floor, or downright ruin it beyond all human or equine comprehension. Bryce's teaching worked for her daughters—she thanked Celestia for this fact. She only wished the same could be said for her. Then maybe she could make something they all talked about come her and Kernal's next wedding anniversary.
"Cocoa, you alright?" The mare heard Bryce ask this question, but she did not react. "Hey, Cocoa," he said as he snapped a finger near her ear.
Cocoa's ear fluttered about, trying to lose the sound. "I'm sorry, what...?"
"Are you alright? I lost you there for a minute."
"Oh... I am...okay... I just feel bad about zee mess."
Bryce bit his lower lip. "Well, it wasn't too bad. I got it cleaned up while it was fresh. It's better to do it now rather than later because-"
"Yes, I know, 'it's easier to clean'."
"Yeah, that's it. You have learned something."
Cocoa furrowed her brow at this comment. She relaxed when she took it to be a compliment, and not a jab at her. "Yes, the kitchen would be in a…terrible shape after too long."
"Right. Well, are you ready for the next part of the soufflé? All you need to do really is spread out what you have now in a pan, put it off to the side, make the topping, put it on the sweet potatoes and it's ready for the oven." He looked over to the ingredients, then raised an eyebrow. He picked up two bottles of seasoning. "I thought I tasted something off from my recipe." He held the seasonings out to Cocoa. One contained cinnamon, the other nutmeg.
The mare looked to the floor as she ran a foreleg along the other. "I just thought they might add to the dish. It tasted good, but it needed something else."
Bryce looked down at the bottles again. "How much did you add of each?"
"Just a half teaspoon of cinnamon, and a quarter of nutmeg."
"Did you already mix it in?"
Cocoa nodded, not meeting Bryce's eyes.
"How well?"
"I mixed it in... Is 'thoroughly' zee word? I mixed it, then scooped it on top of itself."
Bryce looked to back to the two bottles of seasoning and sniffed them. He smacked his lips a few times. "Well, I want you to do something. You changed my recipe-"
Cocoa let out a sigh. "I understand." She fired up her magic and levitated the bowl, its contents, and a spoon into the air. She moved towards the trash can. "I will start over."
"Wait, wait a minute now!" Bryce stated as he ran over and stepped in her path. "I meant go get a pencil or pen and write this down. You changed my recipe, and you made it better."
Cocoa stepped back in shock. "Are you serious, or are you...pulling on my leg?" She questioned both Bryce's remark and the phrase itself.
"Am I bent down?"
"No, but what does-?"
"Do I have one of your legs in either of my hands?"
"No, but I cannot see-"
"You did something to make this better, and because of that I want you to edit it yourself."
Cocoa's jaw dropped. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. Her face contorted back and forth between the two for a moment before she leapt forward and wrapped her forelegs around the human's waist. Bryce did nothing as she held him tight.
It was not praise from her husband of the past decade, but it was a close second.
Pecan was the first to notice. "Hey, Almond," she said, drawing her sister away from the mashed potatoes. "Why's Mom doing that to Bryce."
Almond looked at the scene before she shrugged.
They went back to their current tasks after their mother released Bryce, pretending as if they saw nothing.
"Well, I have no earthly idea how to respond," Bryce said. "But I somehow feel the correct phrase is 'you're welcome'. But it needs to wait." He pointed to the bowl of sweet potatoes. “Finish your part, then we can talk.”
Cocoa went back to her part of the kitchen with a new-found enthusiasm. She stirred the mixture a few more times, tucking it over itself as she did, and before she dumped the soufflé into the buttered pan she snuck a taste. As the sweet potatoes settled on her tongue she could not keep her face from pulling into an ecstatic little grin.
It did not take long for the three girls to finish their current tasks. After placing the soufflé in the oven, and a lid over the potatoes to keep them warm, they each went about beginning the next dish.
It was then Bryce said, “Okay, you’ve all worked hard, and what you’ve all made looks good so far. The stuff in the oven needs time to bake, so each of you get everything ready for your next recipes and take a few minutes to calm yourselves.”
The two Nut twins did as suggested, with Almond setting her ingredients in a well-ordered line and Pecan her own in ordered chaos. Cocoa, meanwhile, did the same, but took more time; she could not keep her eyes off the oven. The individual parts for the seitan loaf—a vegan food made from wheat gluten with a meat like texture—lay scattered across her section of the counter in true disorder.
As the three girls did this Bryce poured himself another cup of coffee. With each cup he felt the life creep back into him, and his skin regain its color. As he nestled the mug he took a sideways glance at his bandaged arm. He felt no pain from the wounds, as deep as some had been, but this was the least of his worries. With his late arrival at least, more attention lay on finishing dinner, and less on his tardiness.
With the focus on the meal he felt he could replenish his life force without worry. If nothing else happened which needed a quick healing the slashes across his arm and cuts on his fingers may disappear with another dousing of life forces.
As the three ponies each finished gathering their ingredients the kitchen fell into silence. As the two fillies tried to contain themselves, Cocoa could not help but bend down to stare into the oven. As her creation came to a literal boil the earnest, toothy smile across her face spread to its limits.
Bryce, the shy Almond, and the now bored Pecan looked on; one with a smirk and a shake of his head, the other unsure of what to make of her mother’s giddiness, and the last wishing she could start with the pumpkin pie already.
“Cocoa, you might want to step back before the gas gets to you,” Bryce suggested.
It took the cream-colored mare a second to understand. “Oh, I suppose you have a point…” She raised her head up, still holding onto her smile. She thought of something to say to hide her enthusiasm. “It’s just…this is the largest meal by far. You do not think we are making too much, no?”
“Well, maybe a little, but it’s more to see how you three are doing.”
At once the mare’s smile faltered a whole half-inch. “Oh… Is there…anything to report?”
“There is, actually,” he said in a monotone voice. All three ponies went tense. “Pecan, you managed yourself well enough to not try and lap everyone else. You made sure everything was level and everything needed was present.” The first almond-colored filly settled down.
“Almond, you also handled yourself well. You’ve become accustomed to the heat and learned how to handle a knife with efficiency and proper precaution; you didn’t shy back, as much.” The second almond-colored filly settled down as well.
Then Bryce looked to the last pony in the room. His usual blank expression made it hard to read his mood. “Cocoa, you surprised me the most.” By now the mare’s smile sank into a straight line across his mouth. “You decided to take a chance and have fun.”
It was a response nopony expected.
Cocoa blinked a few times, not knowing what to make of the human’s praise. “I…am sorry, but what do mean? You are here to teach us cooking, not to have fun, no?”
“Who said it can’t be both? I mean, it’s an art, not a science or a math. And trust me, I’ve read over a few science and math textbooks, and they are dull, dull, dull, dull.”
“You can say that again!” Pecan exclaimed as she went about scrapping out what remained of the pecan pie filling with a hoof.
The comparison only served to confuse the mare. “But how is cooking not like science? In science one needs to put this and that together to make a certain dish. And like math one needs to put the correct amount; why else would you have given me a recipe?”
“Well, yeah, you can put this and that together,” Bryce answered, “but any able-bodied person can rub two rocks together and make a spark. And it doesn’t take a degree of higher education to make everything balance out. Anyone can just follow a recipe. But I didn’t see cinnamon or nutmeg on my recipe; you put those in yourself. And you did it without any idea how it might turn out, or how much of either one was the correct amount.”
Cocoa rubbed the back of her neck as her ears drooped. “It was nothing. It was a… A fluke, no?”
“Enough of one to make me change my recipe. I’m gonna make every sweet potato soufflé with cinnamon and nutmeg, if I can, from here on out.”
It made a smile to return to the mare’s face. “Really, Bryce, you do not have to for my benefit.”
“Who said for your benefit? I only said I gave you a piece of paper, you did as it said, and instead of accepting it for what it was decided to improve it. It’s like I said: cooking is an art. You could have been all left and dull, and life goes on. But you decided to go right and make something new out of what you had available. Anyone can balance numbers and equations and study reactions—with enough effort, at least—but it takes someone of the right mind to create something that makes others question ‘what was so great about the stuff before?’.”
Bryce looked the mare in the eye. “Now do you see what you’ve done?”
Though a few of the words were lost on the mare—due in greater part to her need to translate Bryce’s speech into her foalhood Prench—she in time came to understand him. And the weight his word held only made the small smile grow to its former glory.
She wanted to hug the human once more—in fact she wanted to kiss him—but before she could move Bryce opened the front casing of his watch.
“Well,” he said, “I think we should get back to it. We have a little over an hour until Kernal comes back.”
With a new-found determination, the cream-coated mare looked forward to what came next. If she had impressed Bryce with a few granules of spices what would her husband think.
She could almost picture it now. Kernal would soon come in—with hopes not too spirited—and make a comment on how good everything smelt. Then as they all sat around the table she expected him to say how ’Smashing!’ everything looked. He would take a few bites, and then a few more, and before anypony knew it half of everything would now have a home in his stomach; he could not get enough.
And when Kernal found himself unable to hold anymore, Cocoa hoped to hear the words she longed to hear in the three weeks Bryce had taught her and the twins how to cook: ’This is, by far, the most wonderful meal I’ve ever had! Why, this is even better than our anniversary!’
As she imagined this scenario playing out in her head—with her ears deaf to all around her—Pecan pointed to a small bowl at her mother’s station. She said something, but it came out as a dull roar to the cream-coated mare.
In response to the filly, Bryce walked over to the indicated bowl. He said something in the same dull roar. He looked to Cocoa and said something. When she did not respond he spoke again, with a little more volume.
When she did not reply Cocoa heard the human’s voice thunder in her mind, Cocoa!
The mare shook her head to try and make his voice stop echoing, unaware of what had happened. “I am sorry, what?” She asked.
“Cocoa, you forgot to add something,” Bryce said. He pointed to the same bowl Pecan had indicated a second ago.
Cocoa looked at the bowl and remembered what it contained. She returned a lighthearted laugh. “No, that is meant for later. You said to put the sweet potatoes in the oven and then put on the topping later, no?”
Bryce shook his head. “No, it’s the other way around.”
For a moment she looked to him in disbelief. “But it said on your recipe to do it as I have done it.”
“Cocoa, it doesn’t.”
The cream-coated mare froze, beginning to doubt her view of the story herself. She made a quick trot over to her section of the counter and looked over the recipe, a sheet of paper speckled with ingredients across its surface.
As she read the lines—which needed time because of the human’s poor script—they proved Bryce to be in the right.
Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. She slapped a hoof to her head and uttered a quick, “Oh, baise-moi!”
Bryce laid a hand on her withers. “Cocoa, it’s okay; we both made a mistake here,” he said to try and reassure her. “I should have made sure myself before I had you put it in. Just go and pull it out of the oven.”
Cocoa took a few breaths to comprehend what Bryce had said. When it dawned on her she returned a quick nodded and rushed over to the oven.
As she bent down to look in the oven she continued to berate herself in her native tongue. Firing up her magic she opened the oven door and flinched at the hot, wavy air which escaped the small chamber. Acting fast she pulled the glass baking dish out and directed it towards her station.
Before she could, however, she heard the front door open and shut, and with her gaze followed the soufflé. It was her husband.
Shocked by his presence, Cocoa almost lost hold of her magic. “Kernal!” She yelled, without meaning to. “What… What are you…?”
Before she could finish, the chestnut-colored stallion answered, “Sorry, loves, but the pub became crowded, and the stallion running the place said I had to order another drink or leave. And since I didn’t want to have too much I decided it best to do as asked.”
From the way he handled himself he appeared to not be in too good of spirits, which was how Cocoa wanted him to be. She returned a throaty chuckle. “Oh, I understand… But dinner is far from…” She trailed off, once more disheartened by the events of the evening.
“I know, love, but I had little choice.” He said as he ducked under the floating glass dish. “But I will say this,” he said before he stopped to lay a quick peck on his wife’s cheek, “it smells good.”
And with one small comment the cream-coated mare’s mood lightened. “Oh, it’s nothing…”
“Smells like more than just nothing to me. Is that pecan pie I see?” He asked, looking to Pecan’s station. “Oh, it looks smashing! Mind if I…?” He made to stick his hoof in the pie filling, but before he could he met with a smack of a wooden spoon on said appendage.
“Nah-uh!” Pecan berated. “You have to wait until it’s finished, just like everypony else.” And as if to show off the knowledge she had accumulated over the past few weeks, she added, “And you haven’t washed your hooves!”
Kernal agreed with the latter comment, but he returned a smirk when he spied something on the almond-colored filly’s face. “Oh, and what’s that I see on the edge of your mouth?”
Pecan felt where her father had indicated. When she found a small dab of the pie filling on the corner of her mouth she made quick work of lapping up the evidence. Following its sudden disappearance, the energetic twin returned a smile. In her teeth lay only more evidence of her lie.
The Nut patriarch did not feign ignorance and held the same knowing smirk.
Defeated, Pecan crossed her forelegs and returned a pout. “Fine, but only a small taste.” And to make sure she hit the point home, she pointed at the much larger stallion and said, “But go wash your hooves; nopony wants the taste of dirt in their mouth.” When she remembered who she spoke to like she owned the place, she acted fast to add a short, but apparent, “Please.”
As this exchange went on, Bryce started to wave down Cocoa. When she met his gaze, he pointed to the soufflé still held up in her magic.
The cream-coated mare took the hint and continued her way, making sure to float the hot dish above everypony’s heads. As she passed by Kernal and Pecan, she stopped to hear her husband’s comments.
Having tasted Pecan’s pie, the stallion smacked his lips. “Well, you certainly did well, Pecan,” he began. “If it’s this good now I can’t wait until you bake it.”
Pecan beamed with pride. “It’s nothing. You should wait until taste Mom’s stuff. Even Bryce said it’s good. He said he wants to make it how she made it from now on.”
“Oh…” The stallion hesitated on mention of Cocoa’s part of the meal. But after hearing Bryce’s comments he changed his tune. “Well, if he said that then it must be good.”
With these few words Cocoa found herself swelling with pride. But she knew he needed to taste for himself first. And before he could she needed to do her part and finish what she started. Once more the thoughts of the praise Kernal would soon lay on her cooking filled her head.
They all but shattered as the baking pan flew towards the kitchen wall.
No one had time to question how this had happened when Almond—who until now had sat back and watched her father heap praise on her sister and mother—began to scream as if her hide had caught on fire. Anyone who witnessed the scene could tell this comparison would not be wrong as steaming orange masses clung to her hide.
Everyone was too stunned to move in the immediate aftermath, as anyone could expect from a sudden screech of agony.
It was Pecan who first sprang into action—she felt her twin’s pain as if it were her own.
She jumped down from her stool and tried to bound over to Almond, but she felt a larger force pull her away. She managed to wiggle free after a quick jerk, but the same force pulled her back once more, this time holding her with a firmer grip. “Pecan, stay out of this—you almost stepped in the glass!” Her father exclaimed.
Pecan nonetheless struggled but lost some of the fight in her when she saw the small shards of the baking dish glitter among the sweet potato soufflé splattered on the floor.
By then Almond had ceased her wailing and fell into a fit of soul-wrenching cries. It was the first time she had felt so much pain in her eight years on this planet, and she knew not what else to do. All her other senses left her, leaving only the smoldering burn on her nerve endings.
In a moment the heat of the burns subsided, but not the pain. It took a moment for her to feel the cool relief as something spread itself over her wounds.
At first, she took it to be from Bryce, remembering weeks before how he had helped when she had been hit with a stone.
She soon knew this to be false. First, whatever now poured over her was nowhere as warm and calming as when Bryce healed her; it was cold and only numbed her pain. Second, she could feel the substance pool around her instead of sink into her flesh, as Bryce’s life force had done before. And last, and most telling of all, was her mother was the only other living being in the room.
As Cocoa shut off the bathtub spout she felt relief to know what caused her frail foal such pain was now washed away. What the orange lumps hid, however, only served to make her cringe.
Most of the affected area lay across Almond’s back and withers, with a few stray marks along the nape of her neck and down her left barrel and legs. What struck the mother mare most was the redness, which at first sight made her think the filly had been burned to the meat. The burns showed through well against her almond-colored coat.
It made Cocoa sick to know this had happened—for it was something one feared—but to know it had happened to a filly who was of her own flesh made her stomach flutter. She tried in desperation to try and recall what, if any spells she could use to soothe, if not heal Almond, but her mind could remember naught.
Then she remembered the same events Almond had remembered not a moment ago: Bryce could heal Almond—he had to, he must.
Turning off the spout—though only enough to make the water come out as a drip, drip, drip—Cocoa lifted Almond once more in her magic. As she did the more vulnerable of her two fillies let out a hiss.
Cocoa began to think better of moving her daughter, and instead ask Bryce to come to Almond, but she could not allow herself to leave Almond by herself. Instead, she cursed herself before saying, “I’m sorry, mon doudou, but only Bryce can help.
The mention of Bryce was all Almond needed to hear. With a sniffle, she bit her lip and returned a nod.
Cocoa moved back through the house, trying to concentrate enough to keep her injured filly steady. With each small motion Almond bit further into her lip. She could take it for now because, in her heart, she knew Bryce could take away her pain.
When they reached the living room Cocoa placed her down on the couch with care. “Try and stay still now, mon doudou, I will go and find Bryce,” she said before parting with the filly.
Back in the kitchen Cocoa found Kernal busy sweeping up the last of the glass dish. Pecan sat at the dining room table—for once out of the way—biting her own lip as Almond had. At Almond’s station there was a hole in the wall—a hole which revealed a stud—where the glass dish had impacted the wall. Most of what remained of the dish’s contents had since cooled, and now lay splattered like the feathers of a peacock around the mark. The only imperfection in this plumage was where Kernal had scooped up the broken glass and where Almond had had the misfortune to have sat.
And then she saw Bryce, sitting against Cocoa’s station. He bit his lip as well, panting for air as he struggled to keep himself on his feet.
Cocoa trod through the kitchen, making sure to avoid her husband’s area. “Bryce, I have need of you,” she said as she cleared the final few feet.
A small shiver went up the human’s back at her words, but otherwise he kept himself planted to the spot.
Cocoa reached up to grab Bryce by the shoulder. “Bryce, please, Almond is hurt. She-“ The cream-coated mare became frightened when she felt the chill of his flesh. She thought about questioning him on this, but it needed to wait. She gripped his shoulder harder and shook him. “Bryce, please, Almond is hurt. I cannot imagine what she is going through, but you must help.”
Bryce kept repeating something she could not quite make out.
The cream mare shook him with more force, but he did not stir. After a few failed attempts her patience fell through. With her concern only for her daughter’s well-being Cocoa released the human and planted a firm slap to his cheek. “Bryce, pour l’amour de Celeste, please help her!”
For a moment the cream-coated mare’s actions left everypony uncertain of how the human may react. Bryce stood as still as a stone for a few breaths, then he blinked a few times and rubbed his left cheek. He surveyed the scene before him as if he had not been present. “What happened…? Why did you…?”
Instead of providing an answer, Cocoa said, “Bryce, I am sorry, but you need to… need to… Maudis tout, quell est le mot…! Snap! You must snap out of it! Almond is hurt!”
It did not take Bryce long to react. Hs demeanor changed from one of guilt to one of alarm. “Where is she?!” He almost demanded.
Cocoa wasted no time. She rushed back through the kitchen. She leaped over the mess and had to skid to stop before the couch, with Bryce at her heels.
Almond had moved little since her mother left her. She had somehow found the willpower to pull a small pillow between her forelegs. She squeezed said pillow with all her might, anything to take her mind off the pain as it came in full force.
Cocoa failed in her attempt to suppress tears. Bryce gripped at his chest, the pain of his own burns from months before now fresh in his mind.
With a practiced mind he pressed these memories to the farthest reaches of his psyche. His own troubles forgotten, he kneeled and began to rub his hands together. In no time a bright, calming light sprang from between his palms. Taking a second to determine the worst offenders Bryce went to work.
With a gentle touch he rubbed his life force over the filly’s burnt, red flesh. At first contact Almond hissed, but as the aethereal material settled this discomfort passed before the pain became replaced by sweet, euphoric relief.
Bryce continued to spread his life force along Almond’s back, then her withers, then her neck, her barrel, and last her leg. He wanted to provide more, but he could already feel himself go into the danger zone. With his current state he could at least take away the pain, at most leave her with a few burn scars. There was only so much he could spend, and he needed to reach as many spots as possible.
When he felt finished he began to recall what little life force remained in his hands. As the calming glow receded he found he had missed a spot in the center of her rump. He made fast to reach this area—he felt he could not will his life force to surface again this night. He cupped his palm on her rump, hoping there was enough to do the job.
In the span of a breath what little light poked through disappeared. Bryce removed his hand, taking his time to inspect the area. He met with a noticeable shine—a scar which one could mistake to have been from a wound suffered months back.
He sucked in his lower lip. “I’m sorry, Almond, I did what I could.”
Unconcerned with the human’s distraught tone, Cocoa pushed him out of the way, so she could have a better view. She let out a breath. Almond was no worse for wear. Where the burns had was her furless tan hide. The almond color of her fur, however, almost made the mother mare miss these spots.
She was not satisfied yet, not until she knew the filly felt as well as she looked. With a shaky tone, she asked, “Amande, how do you feel?”
Almond continued to choke the pillow under her for a few breaths. When she loosened her grip she lifted herself up, her tense leg muscles making this simple action somewhat difficult. She looked to her mother and Bryce, who each looked to her with concern. Her father and sister stood off to the side, wanting to provide what support they could if worst came to worst. Before anyone could say anything, she returned a smile, and this was all they needed to know her current state.
Cocoa reached forward and took the meek filly in her forelegs. “Celeste merci!” She cried.
Kernal made to move forward, but had to wait, lest he trip, as Pecan rushed ahead. She needed to see with her own eyes if the other half of her was as well as her mother made out. While Almond looked perfect now to the mother mare, Pecan was quick to spot the one mark they did not share—the spot of her rump reserved for her future Cutie Mark. Regardless of this of scar, she felt beyond relief to know Almond was alive and well.
It did not take long for Almond to have to struggle to breathe in her mother’s grip. She managed to wheeze out with, “Ma…ma…”
For fear something else may be wrong, the mother mare loosened her grip. When she found her filly gasp for air she berated herself for her actions, but this soon faded.
All this Bryce saw from the edge of the living room, where he hoped he could escape the family’s attention, if only for a few moments.
When the initial surge of joy from Almond’s recovery subsided, the remaining three Nuts fell back to earth. It was only then they came to notice the damage to the kitchen, and the scattered orange mess which had caused the whole ordeal.
A morose frown fell upon Cocoa. To know Almond was fine made her happy, but the events of the last few minutes took the reins. “My soufflé…” She almost wept.
The three remaining ponies looked to each other. It fell to Kernal to try and comfort the cream-coated mare. “Cocoa, I’m sorry… I’m sure it would have tasted great. Pecan said Bryce gave it a raving review.”
Cocoa kept quiet for a few breaths before she said, “I… I do not know what happened…”
“It’s okay, Cocoa-Nut, we all make mistakes…” Kernal wanted to bite his tongue then and there.
The mother mare turned on her husband. “A mistake?! If I had dropped it on zee floor zat would have been a mistake! But…!” She stewed in her rage for a few seconds before she said, “But this was not my mistake.”
The three other members of the Nut family looked to her in surprise. “But Mama,” Almond said, “you had the pan in your magic.”
“Yes, we all saw,” Kernal said in agreement. “I know what I said before—and I will never blame you for it—but we should try to look past this. You still have other things to cook, don’t you?”
She shot Kernal another glare. “But I as… Asshirt… Assert it was not moi! Somezing… Somezing ripped the dish from me!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, si ça te fait plaisir, no mother would harm her own foal. Somepony or somezing was able to get through my magic.”
Kernal rubbed the back of his neck. “Cocoa, it’s not that I don’t believe you, but who could do such a thing? Both Almond and Pecan have yet to display any real use of magic. I am an earth pony, and so unable to lift a mere pebble, much less a baking dish without physical contact. All this leaves is Bryce, and he…can’t…”
In short order all pony eyes were now on the human, who stood with his right hand gripping his left wrist. He could feel their stare on him but could not bring himself to look.
Cocoa shot him a glare. “Bryce… Did you…?”
Kernal tried to regain control of the situation. “Now, Cocoa-Nut, surely Bryce would never do something so wicked…” He did not know if his wife heard him, but he continued. “Bryce adores our girls. And he just went out of his way to help her. Surely you can see how the two things could never-“
Without warning, Cocoa took up the first heavy object her magic could grasp, this object being a large ceramic bowl in the shape of half a walnut shell. With all her might she guided the object towards Bryce at a fast rate. In her mind she hoped the bowl hit him. If it did she would hate herself later and spend the remainder of her days apologizing to him, if he lived. But if it did not…
As the ceramic walnut shell sailed through the air everypony imagined the sound of pottery breaking against skull. From the dazed look in his eyes they thought this sound would soon become a reality.
What they saw instead was something nopony expected.
The bowl came to a sudden stop, with no more than a hoof’s width between it and Bryce’s large head. As this happened, the chocolate-brown aura which had formed around the ceramic walnut shell vanished, replaced with nothing but colorless, invisible air.
In all this time Bryce had not moved, much less flinched, but when he came to comprehend what had happened he could do nothing but shake on the spot.
No one said a word for a moment; they were all unsure of what to make of the scene before them. Cocoa, who had done this as a test, shook off the surprise in her face, and became the embodiment of the word ‘pissed’.
Tu fils de pute! She said under her breath.
Kernal, who’s shock broke at his wife’s curse, turned to her. “Now Cocoa, I’m sure there’s-“
The cream-coated mare stomped forward, grinding her teeth harder with each step. Tu dingue, putain fou!” She shouted before she planted a foreleg into the human’s gut.
The blow knocked the air out of Bryce, who keeled over with his arms around his stomach. The bowl, until now still in his telekinetic grip, fell and broke on the floor.
Cocoa, upset she had failed to go for his groin, pulled back for another punch, but Kernal held her back. “Cocoa, you need to stop.”
“Laisse-moi, Kernal!” Cocoa shouted as she pulled against the walnut-colored stallion.
“No, I won’t! You can’t do this, not until he’s had a chance to explain.”
Cocoa struggled for a few seconds more, up until her husband’s words set in. With one final jerk she relaxed, allowing the stallion to hold her back, for now.
When Cocoa held her peace, Kernal asked, “Bryce, I still believe you would never do something to purposely hurt anypony—much less our little Almond—but…” With a swallow, he asked the question they all knew the answer to but not the heart to believe: “What happened?”
Bryce, still bent over from Cocoa’s attack, stood open mouthed. No words came out as he thought the matter over. In his mind he replayed the scene over and over, with each one worse than the last.
When Cocoa became impatient she succeeded in releasing herself from Kernal’s grip. She reached forward, with a hoof on either shoulder, and stared him straight in the eye. “Bryce, s'il vous plaît, tell us what happened.”
When Bryce said nothing, Kernal added, “Please, tell us you didn’t do this on purpose.”
Cocoa stepped down from the human and took a few steps back. Once more all four pairs of eyes lay on him.
He looked to each of them, trying to think of what to say. He wasted time trying to find an out, but he knew there was only one truth.
He said the only words he could think to say, two words no matter how he delivered them could never change what had happened. They were the same words he kept repeating when Cocoa had tried to gain his attention. “I’m sorry…”
With this said he waited a few breaths before he dared to move. When he did move Cocoa tensed up, prepared to tackle him in the ground and punch him through the floorboards. She wanted to do this, but she kept her place.
Each of the ponies watched as the human turned, headed for the exit, and left with a look of one who had seen something horrifying.
Not long after the door closed shut, Cocoa turned to Kernal, and with daggers in her eyes asked, “Avez-vous besoin de plus de preuves que cela?”
Without allowing the walnut stallion time to answer—for he knew enough to understand the question—Cocoa stormed off. She took one look into the kitchen, more so at the mess yet to be cleaned. If the orange mess was not cleaned soon she knew there would be a stain, but right now she did not care.
With a huff—frustrated she had ever trusted the human and that her long sought-after meal now lay splattered across the kitchen—Cocoa continued into her and Kernal’s bedroom, slamming the door after she entered. To make sure nopony could disturb her she levitated a tall dresser over it. Then, with a shaky gait, she trod over to the bed, lied down, and taking her pillow in her forelegs screamed as loud as she could. A torrent of tears followed not long after she stopped her cry of anguish.
The amount of misfortune which can happen to one man in the span of a day can sometimes go on without end. A terrible act done to one we love may bring meaning to their life. An attempt to isolate one’s self from the day can lead to them being found by someone unexpected. And from this meeting a few choice words can reveal the identity of the spiteful party.
What happened after Bryce left the Nuts’ home? Read the next chapter if you would know.
Stats
Page generated in 0.023 seconds
Total duration
887 users online
498,256 hits today, 2,167,270 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Very clever bryce, do something they would never forgive you for, but would cause no lasting harm.
Jeez, he really is planning on leaving. Can't say i blame him
You can't just leave on a cliffhanger there. You...you...
I got nothing...
God, he's so thick in the head.
8825069
Dingle dwarf, sock puppet, stoodle noodle, teen acne! I got a bunch of these insults.
Stupidity is painful.
The Monk
"Knowledge is power and power corrupts, so study and be evil." - Reykan
Ditto
I have to be honest, after reading "Spider Webs" and "Patch", Brice is one of the most unlikeable characters I have ever read. If he doesn't start showing at least one redeeming quality in the next two chapters, I don't think I will keep reading. Up to this point in the story he has shown absolutely no positive qualities.
Just like how the secret to a good villain, is that they have admirable qualities that make you secretly root for them, a good hero also has to have such qualities. If you can't root for him, the stories lost. I hate to say it, but I really don't like the guy.
The Monk
"Knowledge is power and power corrupts, so study and be evil." - Reykan
9456534
I know full well what crap the beginning is, but I can't change it. All I can tell you is what I've said before: If you can get past the first 20 chapters it gets better.
If you can't stomach that then go to chapter 21 and read from there.
9456923
Good advice, Ill give it a shot.