45. Mirror - rorriM - Part Two
Letters From a Little Princess Monster
Mirror - rorriM - Part Two
The little orange pegasus who presently was Diamond Tiara stared with wide eyes at where Scootaloo and Filthy Rich had just left the gym. There should have been at least a rumble of thunder in the distance as Mister Rich nudged Scootaloo in her borrowed body out of the door with none of the gentle compassion Monster expected. Diamond seemed stunned at the display of anger her father had shown, as if she had never seen that side of his personality before and had not even been aware it could exist. Monster could understand. All of Filthy Rich’s anger had been focused directly at a little pony who Monster and Diamond were both very glad they were not, although Monster knew it was all her fault somehow.
Diamond Tiara pursed her lips and let out a quiet whistle once the two of them were far enough away not to hear. “Wow. Daddy’s mad.”
“At you,” said Monster in a rough whisper.
“Featherweight, you better go with Scootaloo,” said Apple Bloom “Ah mean the other Scootaloo and keep an eye on them. Mister Rich didn’t look too good there.”
As the pegasus zipped out the window, Sweetie Belle glared at Diamond Tiara. “If I wasn’t a lady, I’d punch you right in the teeth.”
“Me too,” said Apple Bloom. “But that would be wrong,” she added at a pointed glance from Monster.
“And it would hurt Thcooth,” said Twist as she finished putting the final touches on the bandage around Bulk Bicep’s nose.
The huge stallion had held himself very still during the bandaging process, with only his eyes darting back and forth as the situation had unfolded. Ever since his original trip into the spinning ball of fighting fillies had been brought up short twice by well-aimed kicks to his face, he had been very quiet. The muscle-bound pegasus was difficult for Monster to categorize as he looked fierce, but was actually quite meek and kind, almost the inverse of most creatures inside the Everfree Forest. He was a dear friend to both Fluttershy and Twist, which was probably the reason Twist added a little vindictively, “Maybe if you jutht punched her a little.”
“I-I’m not afraid of you,” stammered Diamond Tiara with a nervous rustle of her wings as she backed up, stopping only when she hit a rather large and warm body behind her. “Eeek!”
Bulk Biceps looked down at the five little fillies with a noticeable frown far deeper than his normal fierce expression, even behind his nose-encompassing bandage. He lifted one hoof and gently put it around Diamond Tiara, patted her twice, and sat his hoof back down on the gym matt before snorting.
Which was probably as much noise as he could make with so much bandage on his face.
“No more punching,” translated Monster. With the ratty old spell book from the library trailing behind her, she moved around to stand on Diamond Tiara’s other side. “Need to help her see what Scootaloo sees. Not punch.”
“I don’t need your help,” snapped Diamond Tiara, her wings rising back up behind her. “That blank-flank loser is going to take my punishment until Daddy calms down, and then you’re going to put us back in the right bodies.” Diamond Tiara raised her chin and glared at Monster, but there was a tremor to her tiny open wings which only grew when she did not get an immediate response to her question. “Right?”
“Learn about Scoots. Understand. Yes. Don’t. Won’t,” said Monster in very slow and deliberate words while trying to hide her own uncertainty about being able to reverse the spell. Trixie had shown Monster just how to act while saying something not exactly true, and the lesson seemed to be working as Diamond Tiara’s eyes grew wider and she glanced around the room.
“You wouldn’t,” hissed Diamond Tiara.
Monster did not say anything, just as Trixie had taught her.
“Daddy will make you turn us back,” she snapped, although with a tremulous quaver at the end of the sentence putting the lie to her supposed confidence.
The silent treatment was working so well that Monster wanted to scribble down a quick note about it, but she held firm.
“I’ll tell!” declared Diamond Tiara in a fit of inspiration. “I have witnesses!” She glared up at Bulk Biceps, who shrugged and looked back rather puzzled.
“Tell what?” asked Apple Bloom. “That you stormed in here and punched Scootaloo? That you bullied our friend until she jumped off Ghastly Gorge?”
There was a faint snort from Bulk Biceps, who looked over the collection of sincere little fillies, and then took a deliberate step away from Diamond Tiara’s side, although he still remained fairly close.
“I’m thure it won’t be too difficult to underthand Thcooth,” said Twist. “Thilver Thpoon ithn’t going to be back until next week when thchool tharath, tho what were you planning on doing until then anyway?”
“Important things!” Diamond Tiara ruffled her wings. “I had all kinds of really fun social plans laid out until she got back.”
“Like?” prompted Monster.
“Uh…” Diamond Tiara took a look around the room with the little fillies and the rather large stallion all looking back. “I was going to work on toning my abs?”
“You’ve got more muscles now that you’re borrowing Scoot’s body,” prompted Apple Bloom. “If you’re going to learn what it’s like to be her, you’re going to need to be able to flap like her.”
“But I thought—” started Monster before Sweetie Belle’s hoof was placed rather firmly across her lips.
“Like this machine here,” continued Apple Bloom, moving around the back of a rather complicated maze of silver tubing and straps that Scootaloo, that is the original Scootaloo had declared she would rather do fractions than to be strapped inside. “Mister Biceps says it measures your individual wing muscle group strengths so you can focus on improving your wingpower.”
Bulk Biceps nodded vigorously, seeming happy about the conversation taking a turn in a direction more to his liking.
As Apple Bloom and Bulk Biceps got the little pegasus strapped in, Sweetie Belle whispered to Monster, “You can change them back, right?”
“Yes.” Monster hunched her back and slumped. “Maybe.”
Sweetie Belle hesitated with a hoof over the trembling little alicorn’s shoulder, then patted gently. “Do you think Diamond Tiara can learn to be like Scootaloo?”
“Yes,” mumbled Monster. “More worried Scootaloo will be like her.”
* * *
Scootaloo sat unmoving in the center of the cold, quiet bedroom she had never thought she would ever see while wearing a body she never thought she would ever wear. Mister Rich was absolutely furious, and had laid out the terms of Diamond Tiara’s punishment in sharp words which had felt like he was peeling Scootaloo’s new skin off with a dull spoon, one stripe at a time. She shivered and pulled the exquisitely soft comforter up around her shoulders before laying down on the scented sheets.
A tiny worm of guilt nibbled away in the bottom of her rumbling tummy, which felt as empty as a hollow tree, although it brought no real desire to see if there would be anything for dinner. Some of the blame was hers, perhaps a small percentage, smaller even than the sales tax that Twilight had been teaching her to calculate, but still there. They were just words, hateful and spiteful words from somepony that Scootaloo could not care less about, but still had driven her to Ghastly Gorge in the first place, and to put a hoof solidly onto Diamond Tiara’s nose in the second.
Both actions had come back to bite her, but the throbbing pain in her nose hurt less than the pain she had inflicted on her newest friend, who had suffered far too much already.
The time of her imprisonment made a good excuse to walk around the four rooms making up Diamond Tiara’s cell, with the echoes of her small shoes bouncing back from the solid walls like some sort of cavern. The bath was large enough for two adults, too big to get comfortable in without her friends and too small to swim in while she cleaned off the blood and dirt from her new pink hide, although it was a little fun to try all of the mane conditioners lined up along the side and to experiment with the huge collection of brushes filling an entire drawer of the mirrored vanity cabinet. It would have been so much more fun to have been here with her friends and to see Featherweight clump around in Diamond’s shoes while Twilight examined the collection of foals books covering an entire wall.
She eventually pulled out one of the books and read it, and then another one or two, just to pass the time without her friends. The hollow ache inside remained unfed, even after carefully rearranging and dusting Diamond’s wide school desk and the collection of photographs that adorned it. There were a lot of pictures, both hanging on the wall in bright silver frames and even stacked on top of several specialized tutoring books on school subjects. There were only two other ponies in the pictures, both her father and Silver Spoon, and several landmarks in the background of the ones with Filthy Rich during their trips to Prance and Istally.
They looked happy, the way a father and his daughter should be. The way Scootaloo could remember being with her own parents in Cloudsdale as they dropped her off with Missus Downey the foalsitter in the evenings and picked her back up from the rest of the hovering horde of batwinged foals in the mornings after work. She had always felt a little like an ugly duckling amidst the other flying foals, and it had been pitifully easy for the others to try any featherbrained ploy to get her flying too. The final feather had been a small fall out of Missus Downey’s third floor window and she had hit a soft cloud at the bottom, so it was no real reason for her parents to get all frantic like they had. Then again, Diamond Tiara had fallen far worse than Scootaloo had today, and was facing the far worse fate of being separated from her only parent and her best friend. Perhaps…
“Young miss?” The faint clatter of a serving tray and cover came from the door to Diamond Tiara’s room, and Scootaloo dashed over to let the aged butler in.
Randolph is his name, right? I think that’s right.
“Can I help you, sir?” Scootaloo picked the tray out of Randolph’s tentative grasp and sat it on a nearby table before turning back. “Sorry about not answering the door right away, Randolph. I was going through the pictures.”
“Quite all right, young miss.” Randolph seemed distracted for some reason, and squinted at Scootaloo for a moment before spreading out a napkin on the table and bringing out a few small dishes from under the serving tray. “Master Rich noticed you were not down at dinner this evening, and insisted I bring you a tray.”
“Is it that late?” Scootaloo looked at a large grandfather clock nearby and whistled almost soundlessly. “It is. I better get to bed.”
The spinach souffle with little crispy onions was delicious, as much as Scootaloo noticed while scarfing it down and chasing it with the dinner roll, green beans, and some sort of tiny carrot sticks done with frilly edges. She finished off the glass of grape juice in one long swig and quickly packed all of the dishes back under the dishcover, after adding one quick lick on the plate to get the last of the cheesy spinach.
“Thanks, Randolph,” she added as she escorted the elderly servant back to the door and balanced the tray on his back. “I’ll see you in the morning at breakfast, okay?”
There was a click of the door latch, and Scootaloo was alone again as she hurried through preparations for bed.
* * *
“I felt like a science experiment strapped into that machine,” groused Diamond Tiara as she limped along in the tight cluster of little ponies walking through the streets on the way to whatever hovel Scootaloo and her goofy relatives lived in. “Stretch here, reach there, push here.” Diamond lifted one wing partway up and let it flop back down onto her flank with a soft thud.
“Data points,” mumbled the little purple monster trotting alongside the rest of the weird little ponies. “Plotting reaction graph against similar wings to get an idea of why Scootaloo can’t fly and you can.” The little alicorn hunched her back as she plodded along, so tired that her tiny little filly wings drooped out from under the edges of the cape. As small and defenseless as Twilight seemed, Diamond Tiara had been amazed at the strength those little wings had produced, as well as how long she had managed to pull the weights up the sliding scale before calling it quits when the next test subject had returned to the gym.
“Because she’s a loooooser,” said Diamond, drawing out the word.
“Then why can’t you drive her scooter?” replied Featherweight, who was plodding along with the rest of the groundbound crew after having been ‘tested’ just as vigorously as his fellow winged ponies.
“Because it’s a loser scooter, and I’m not a loser,” said Diamond with a shake of her head that was supposed to toss back her elegant mane, but just wound up disheveling Scootaloo’s hopeless tangles even more.
“Anyway,” said Sweetie Belle, taking a page out of the cloud of loose papers surrounding the weird little alicorn and passing it over to Diamond Tiara. “We made up a checklist of Scootaloo’s normal evening activities, and all of us will help out so you don’t get too far behind. We’ve got to clean up her aunt’s shop, run down to the market to pick up extra food for our sleepover tonight—”
“I don’t want a sleepover,” complained Diamond Tiara even as she considered what it would be like to have more than one other pony over for the evening. “It’s stupid. Like all of you.”
Featherweight patted his camera. “Well, it looked like Scootaloo was doing OK over at your house. I got some good pics of her in your bedroom and the bathtub.”
“My bathtub?” As she growled at the other little pegasus, Diamond Tiara’s wings rose up but they drooped almost immediately with fatigue.
“You said to document everything when we were at the newspaper,” said Featherweight, looking slightly guilty. “I don’t normally take pictures of anypony in the bathtub, or at least not since Mom and Dad lectured me. But at least she’s doing a good job pretending to be you.”
Diamond Tiara’s lips drew back in a thin line. “Gimme the checklist.”
* * *
Several hours later, as Diamond Tiara rested her soggy aching wings in the bathtub along with two other scrubbing little fillies, she felt a little spark of pleasure at how well she had managed to fool Quick Fix, Scootaloo’s aunt. There had been a little bit of vindictive pleasure in crawling around on the greasy floor of the machine shop to get under every piece of machinery and sweep up all of the loose debris of the day’s work, particularly when it resulted in another smudge or smear of oil across Scootaloo’s dull orange coat, and she had comported herself quite well at dinner with a set of manners that would have been perfectly acceptable if she had been dining with royalty.
Even if they had green beans with dinner. Ick. And no ice cream for dessert until after bathtime. Peasants.
As Apple Bloom darted out of the bathroom with a wet towel across her back, Scootaloo’s unicorn aunt came scurrying back into the bathroom with a few dry towels, interrupting Diamond Tiara’s self-congratulatory internal dialogue with a kiss on the top of her damp head and a nudge to Twist, who had just finished rinsing her tangled mane. “Hey, Speedy. The girls are mostly done in the tub and you still haven’t gotten the grease scrubbed out. Don’t tell me you’re slowing down as you grow up.”
“Me?” sputtered Diamond Tiara with one dripping hoof held to her chest and the underutilized scrub brush floating somewhere in the tub.
“Yes, you,” added Quick Fix as she scooped Twist out of the tub with her magic and wrapped her in a fluffy towel. “You’re the only niece I’ve got so far, although my sister’s latest letter sounded like you may have another little brother or sister in a year or so if things work out.” She picked up the soapy brush out of the tub while Twist bounded away into the other room, and Quick Fix applied a little more soap to the bristles before starting on Diamond’s greasy stains. “I’ll bet you’re excited, aren’t you?”
“About what?” Miss Fix had a very enthusiastic magical hold on the scrub brush and was applying it to Diamond’s greasy hide with a firm pressure the housemaids had never attempted. Even Daddy had always used the most gentle and delicate touches with the brush as if he were afraid Diamond would shatter if scrubbed too hard.
“About going back home,” said Miss Fix as she applied more soap to a particularly stubborn stain. “Since you can hover, it’ll only be a matter of time before you’re zooming around Cloudsdale with the rest of your pegasus friends, and your old Aunt Fix will be all alone in the house again.”
The sounds of something fragile becoming somewhat less fragile and more distributed filtered upstairs and Quick Fix’s ear twitched. “Provided the house stays together until then,” she added. “This deserves a celebration. How about tomorrow after we take the train up to Fillydelphia for your doctor’s appointment, we take all of your friends out to Funland for the afternoon?”
“Funland?” echoed Diamond Tiara.
“Sure! It’ll be fun,” said Quick Fix, getting up to her hooves and turning for the bathroom door as another crashing sound filtered upstairs. “As long as you don’t throw another fit about Doctor Pinion, that is. With school starting next week, you may not get too much time before Flow and her husband come by to pick you up, and I want to spoil you rotten while I still can.” She winked and headed down the stairs, calling out, “You didn’t let Sweetie Belle use the oven again, did… I got the fire extinguisher, somepony open a window to let out the smoke! How did you burn ice cream?”
“Funland?” said the freaky little purple alicorn who poked her nose into the quiet bathroom where Diamond Tiara was sitting and thinking in the tub.
“It’s some podunk little amusement park in Fillydelphia,” said Diamond Tiara, waving one hoof absent-mindedly. “So are you going to turn me back now?” she added with a blink to get an errant soap bubble out of her eye. “Otherwise I’m going to wind up in Cloudsdale since I can fly and Scootalooser can’t.”
“Don’t want to lose Scootaloo,” said the little monster as she plodded over to the tub and climbed over the edge, winding up in the soapy suds with a forlorn plop. “You’d have a mommy and a daddy there. Scootaloo would still have a daddy here.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” said Diamond Tiara as she picked up the scrub brush in her teeth. Twilight was somewhat smaller, and it felt odd to be scrubbing her monotone purple body much like if Diamond had a little sister in the tub with her. She had taken baths with Silver Spoon before, which was a little complicated with two maids each having their own little pony to scrub, but this was both simpler and possibly a little… nice. “It would be cool living in Cloudsdale, I suppose, but we’re talking about my Daddy here. Hold out your wing.”
Running the soapy brush along the oddball’s purple wing to get out her greasy stains was weird, and she grunted with effort to make all of the feathers line up just so before switching to the other wing. She scrubbed in silence for a while as Twilight leaned into the brush, eventually murmuring, “Nice.”
“Meh.” She was not about to admit it, but the little purple freak had a point, and not only the one on her head. The servants did all of the things a mommy would do like scrubbing and cooking, but they just did them for money. When one of them would storm off shouting something about not being able to pay them enough to deal with Diamond, she had always blown the words off. In contrast, Scootaloo’s aunt had greeted her at the front door with a hug, and was constantly rubbing her affectionately on the top of the head when she least expected it, which none of the servants had ever done for her.
“Having a mommy is nice,” said Twilight.
“Having a daddy is nicer,” countered Diamond through the handle of the brush as she stroked it through the little freak’s short-cropped mane. Little flecks of blue and pink roots had begun to show at the base of Twilight’s mane, a sign indicating the manedye needed to be reapplied, hopefully in a different tint even if the remaining mane was still too short to be properly braided or even styled. Twilight needed about another hoof of length in order for it to flatten across her high forehead properly in something like a pagepony cut to match with her nerdy personality, and still lie flat against her neck without the curls and bounces Sweetie Belle preferred.
“Mommies hold us during thunderstorms,” said Twilight in a very slow and particular manner as if she were sounding out the words individually. “They keep us safe and tell us nothing will ever hurt us or come between us. They need us, but they need daddies too, even if sometimes we don’t think so.” She sat there impassively as Diamond Tiara rubbed in the shampoo, swaying back and forth in the water through the rinse and the lilac conditioner as if she were miles away.
* * *
The hesitant ibex servant stopped at the edge of the river and peered through the starlit night at the zebra sitting quietly in the water, communing with the spirits. It was odd to think of an Imetabiriwa as a male. There had been a few among the People over the centuries, but mostly they had turned to dark magics and forbidden lore as they aged and grew in power. The darkness around her seemed to nip at her hooves with the reminders of memorized stories and the lessons of the signs which signified their corruption. It was very important not to act suspicious when an Imetabiriwa began to turn to the shadows, as it sometimes took several score their numbers to bring them down before the corruption was complete. Still, as long as the strange zebra kept by the Strictures and lived in harmony with the spirits, she should be safe in his presence.
She was still nervous.
“What do you wish, Illia?” Somehow, Tallgrass was always able to differentiate between Illia and her twin sister, quite unlike Old Kavu or even Blind Kichaka. The male Imetabiriwa’s voice was both deep and rich in the darkness, but filled with a joyous happiness that seemed to caress every hair on her body with a tingle of pleasure all the way to her withers. She suppressed the forbidden feeling and bowed low, bringing her horned head down to nearly touch her forehead against the ground of this strange land.
“Forgive me, Imetabiriwa Tallgrass. Old Kavu wishes to know how long it will take you to bring the water.”
Tallgrass nodded towards the filled bucket sitting at the river’s edge. “My apologies for interrupting her preparations for bed. Please, take the water back to the camp in my stead.”
“As you say.” She hesitated before picking up the bucket in her weak magic, looking at where the strange zebra was still sitting motionless in the cool river water. There was something about him that itched between her shoulder blades, as if a lion were wrapped up in a zebra disguise, or a crocodile were baiting her to the water’s edge with a captured relative. The Imetabiriwa known as Tallgrass had been a shock to meet, and acted as no zebra she had ever known. For a moment when she had first seen him in the giant city of stone, he had even looked as if he were a different creature altogether, made of pink with wings and a horn as the fabled Imetabiriwa na Anga prophesied so long ago.
“Forgive me for asking,” Illia started in a rush, “but what are you doing?” Off in the distance, the soft rumble of thunder rolled over the ground as the flying ponies prepared a midnight rainstorm over some distant pony town, and she twitched her tail to chase away the fear.
“I am remembering that which I never experienced. I am experiencing that which I cannot be there to see. I am seeing that which cannot be seen, only felt.”
“Oh.” The young ibex servant stood on the river’s bank and blinked as Tallgrass finally got up, slogging through the water towards her.
“Be of good faith and do not be concerned. Flower is upset over what she has learned. As much as she tries to hide her fright, she fears her friends must leave some night. With all my heart I wish to be at her side, but in this troublesome time, I trust my bride. When we get to home, you shall meet my daughter, but for now, I suppose, we should fetch the water.”
Tallgrass bent down to pick up the handle of the bucket in his teeth and walked with slow steps in the direction of the Hayhaven Community Campgrounds Natural Settings With Private Showers Only Two Bits. The small group of elderly zebras were probably all bedded down now, except for Old Kavu who was waiting on her hoof-soak, but he totally missed the terrified glance by the quaking ibex servant who followed behind with trembling hooves and two whispered words, said so quietly even she could barely hear.
“Bride? Daughter?”
* * *
There was a faint tapping on Filthy Rich’s bedroom doorframe that was repeated several times before Randolph poked his nose in and regarded his glum employer, who was sitting at his desk with the untouched dinner tray in front of him. “Sir? I just finished with Miss Diamond’s diner tray. Would you like me to…” The elderly servant trailed off as he took inventory of the paperwork-covered desk with an ignored tray sitting in the middle of it, including melted ice cream and a congealing spinach casserole. Master Rich always had a robust appetite, much to the dismay of his bathroom scale and the constant battle he waged against a supposedly shrinking waistline on his suits. Even the green beans had not been touched, which Randolph considered as improbable as Pinkie Pie not showing up for a party or Rainbow Dash turning down a race.
“I’m fine,” said Master Rich, in the same flat tone of voice he had last used when Stinking Rich had passed away.
Randolph had served the Rich family since he was a young colt, through thick and thin, through his childless marriage to Creme Brulee and her death nine years ago. He had almost retired then to spend his last years exploring Equestria with an urn of ashes at his side. Creme had always wanted foals and to travel, two things their marriage had not given them much of, even though they had traveled with Master Stinking Rich on business and enjoyed helping raise his talented young son. When Master Filthy Rich had come home from business school in Manehattan with a foal in tow, Randolph had felt his heart captured by those beautiful blue eyes. She needed him, and for the last eight years, Randolph had thought Diamond Tiara was the only reason he stayed. Now he realized Filthy Rich had been the son Randolph could never have, and he needed the support that Stinky could no longer give.
“You’re not fine, sir,” said Randolph, sitting the empty tray from Diamond Tiara’s room down on the desk. “Your daughter is not fine either.”
“What’s wrong?” Master Rich’s eyes were huge and white as he nearly lunged out of his chair. “Was she hurt in the fight? Should we inform Doctor Stable?”
“Not in that way, sir.” Randolph paused and ran his teeth across his bottom lip. “If anything, I believe this experience has been good for her. She was polite when I brought in her dinner tray, had already bathed, and was going straight to bed after finishing her meal.”
“She… didn’t ask for a bedtime story, did she?”
“No.” Randolph grew tense at the shudder traveling across Filthy Rich’s flank, much as an unstable wall of earth might make before its ultimate collapse. After waiting until Master Rich had settled back onto his chair, Randolph continued, “She reminds you of Filligree, doesn’t she? I can see why the young mare had captured your heart, if her daughter is anything like her.”
Filthy Rich could have been made of stone with as much as he moved. Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ve held her so tight because I was afraid I would lose her.”
“Who, sir?” Randolph settled down in the other chair. “Your daughter or your long-lost love?”
It took several breaths before Master Rich admitted, “Both.”
Randolph could not look at the anguish painted upon Master Rich’s face, but instead turned his attention to the open window with a soft evening breeze making the curtains billow like living creatures caught in a mindless dance. “Sometimes we have to let go of what we love in order to keep it.”
“I know. Sending her away to Miss Puressence’s school in Canterlot is the only thing I can think of.” There was a long pause before Master Rich continued, “You knew what a monster she had turned into, didn’t you?”
There was really only one way to answer the question. “Yes, sir.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“Would you have listened, sir?”
They sat there in silence for a while until the faint click of the dish cover and a quiet smacking noise indicated Master Rich had finally given in to the temptation of the nearby green beans. Strangely enough, there was a noise outside the window too, a faint scratching and a pop, although there was nothing there when Randolph stuck his head out into the cool night breeze and looked around.
* * *
“Scoots?” The plaintive voice called out several more times before there was a near soundless pop of teleportation, and Monster huddled on the bedroom floor right in front of Scootaloo. Or at least Monster thought it was Scootaloo. It was a little difficult to tell. Diamond Tiara’s pajamas covered most of her body in what looked like a bunny suit, complete with fuzzy tail and long, floppy ears.
“Hi, Twilight. Look at what I found in Diamond Tiara’s closet.” Scootaloo did a ballet pirouette in the middle of the floor and struck a pose. “Make sure Featherweight gets some good shots of it.”
“He’s not here.” Monster huddled up against Scootaloo’s warm pajama-clad side and trembled. “Miss Fix says your parents will take Diamond away to Cloudsdale.”
“My parents are taking Diamond Tiara to Cloudsdale?” Scootaloo’s borrowed face twisted in indecision, stuck between a beaming grin and a frown. “Mister Rich says he’s sending Diamond… well, me to some weird military school or something run by Miss Pure Essence or something. I thought you could switch us back before then and she’d be out of our mane like forever.” Scootaloo wriggled a little, eventually peeling out of the hot pajamas which were overkill for the warm summer night air and stuffing them back into the closet. “I didn’t think about it before, but even if DT goes away, we’d still have Silver Spoon to bug us. I mean her and Diamond are besties. Half the clothes in the closet are hers.”
“Didn’t think,” muttered Monster, who had taken advantage of Scootaloo’s distraction to burrow into the bed until only the tip of her quivering tail stuck out from under the covers. “Hurt you. Her. Mister Rich. Silver Spoon. Made you go away. Monster.”
“Hey, it’s not that bad,” said Scootaloo, taking a hop onto the bed and falling on the floor as her nonexistent wings failed to give her an important last few inch of altitude. A second hop was more successful, and Scootaloo tunneled in next to her little friend. “Tomorrow I’ll sneak all of you into the house and we can figure out what to do. This place is huge, and even has an indoor pool with round rocks and goldfish and all the bubbles and stuff.”
“Tomorrow we’re going to Fillydelphia.” Monster trembled a little, but stuck her nose out from under the covers after a brief hug. “Feels right. Going to doctor to get new wing braces for other you. Then Happyland or something.”
“Funland.” Scootaloo made a face. “Aunt Fix always takes me there if I don’t make a fuss at the doctor’s office. Are you sure you want to go to Fillydelphia, Twilight? It’s a lot more busy than Ponyville. And the amusement park is always full of other little ponies.”
“Yes.” One small purple hoof made patterns on the comforter. “Want you there too. Need you there. Don’t know why. Just is.”
Scootaloo scoffed. “There’s no way I’d get permission. Mister Rich was steamed. Twist’s sister doesn’t like letting her out of town without ‘proper’ supervision, and Apple Bloom’s sister throws a fit about something called ‘liability insurance’ whenever we try to go somewhere fun⁽*⁾.
“Permission.” Monster quit making little patterns on the blanket and eyed the desk, heaped with fresh paper and quills. “I can do that.”
(*) Rarity has a small saddlebag packed and ready at the front door of the Carousel Boutique at all hours of the day or night, along with a convenient map of Equestria with a colored push-pin to indicate Sweetie Belle’s probable destination, just in case her sister has to make an emergency trip somewhere on the spur of the moment. Sometimes, she even provides some spending bits and a little push to get her sister out the door. One might suspect there is a reason⁽¹⁾ Rarity’s parents spend so much time traveling Equestria and leaving Sweetie Belle in her care.
(1) Other than burning orange juice, burning toast, burning cucumber sandwiches, burning salads…
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Sweetie Belle's cutie mark really needs something to do with fire.
That footnote... poor Sweetie Belle.
Oh man.. This idea that learning to fly would almost automatically send Scootaloo away from Ponyville. I sure hope Monster's half-baked plan and the little element bearers' good intentions can salvage the situation.
It was good to get a glimpse of what Tallgrass and the Zebra delegation are up to.
I wonder what's Twilight's plan, because I imagine it won't be simply explaining the switch to Filthy Rich.
6270781 This is why I love fics with any kind of more martial or magical Sweetie destiny. Why not put all that destructive power to good use?
YOU SICK LITTLE B
H, I WANT TO STRANGLE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW FOR THINKING YOU CAN MAKE SCOOTALOO TAKE ALL THE PUNISHMENT YOU DESERVE AND THEN SKIP BACK INTO YOUR LIFE????
Randolph, you have now entered the Twilight Zone
I'm still steamed, even more now if Scootaloo misses out on what should have been a night of celebration with her friends to be all alone. I hope Twilight's plan works and she gets Scoots and DT switched back before they get sent to Canterlot and Cloudsdale.
6270781
6270803
I do not think Ponyville would survive Sweetie getting her cutie mark...
derpicdn.net/img/2013/6/1/338383/medium.jpg
6271530
I can't help but notice that, in that image, she has still not yet managed to obtain her cutie mark... how large a conflagaration does she require?
6271550
Fire is like violence (and XML if you are of a computery bent); if it does not solve your problems, you are not using enough of it.
Another enjoyable chapter. Good job.
6271633 Except if you're burning ice cream. Then you need to use less fire. A lot less fire.
6270781
A shame the name "Torch Song" is already taken.
In any case, this just got even more complicated. Given all of the different factors in play, all the different moving parts, I have absolutely no idea what might happen next or how this situation is going to end.
What fun!
6271732
I dunno. Setting fire to ice cream is a perfectly cromulent thing to do.
(see here)
(and here)
Pinkie could probably give Sweetie tips and hints for the preparation though...
6271833 Burning, rather than merely cooking. Cooked ice cream, be it deep fried or something else, is delightful, decadent, and delicious. Burnt ice cream, however, is much the same as burnt milk. That is to say, blackened and unappetizing.
... There aren't a slew of choice words that mean "Tastes nasty" unfortunately.
That footnote about Rarity randomly sending Sweetie Belle off just to get her away for a while sounds wrong. At first glance funny, but wrong. There's no way that's safe for a child and Rarity is more responsible than that. If it was sending her on a wild goose chase around town or some such, I could see that, but traveling alone? No.
Sweetie is no doubt destined to open a trendy new restaurant, "Blackened Everything"
6272484 Sweetie: Rarity! Rainbow Dash wants to take us to--
Rarity: Wonderful! Here's your bag, a sack lunch, and make sure to be back home by evening so I can tuck you in.
Sweetie: Thanks, sis! You're the greatest! You sure you don't want me to stay home and help you with that order you have for Manehattan?
Rarity: No! I mean, no, I think I can handle it on my own. If you get home early enough, I'll let you help me get it packaged for shipment, how's that?
6272334 Admittedly, having Sweetie Belle chant "With fire be PURGED!" over the toaster is a little creepy. (Yes, I play WOW)
6271833 Having the ice cream burn through the table afterwards, not so much...
6271439 Yeah, Diamond is getting a taste of just what this looks like from the other side. Just wait.
6270938 Plan? Well, she's going to tell Trixie, does that count?
6270924 Yeah, if Scoots is ground-bound because she can't fly, when she *can* eventually fly, she's going home. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that.
6272513
...that makes more sense. I can actually see that.
Was this supposed to be Sweetie Belle or did I miss something?
6272581 Notice that Diamond Scoots mentions reasons that all her friends won't be allowed to go ... except for Sweetie Belle. Rarity is all too glad to let the inevitable disaster happen elsewhere.
Nitpick:
weird
6273031 I see what's happening now. The way the * led to info on Rarity threw me off a bit. Thanx.
With all that burning, I am amazed sweetie Belle is a singer and not a fire mage.
You know, if Sweetie's big sister is anything to go by, sometimes ladies do punch people in the face.
Featherweight reeeally needs some editorial oversight.
Nice job with the rhyming, Tallgrass.
Poor Tallgrass, he's totally stumbled into being a part of some prophecy, hasn't he?
Randolph's perspective on the Rich family is interesting.
6270781 I really favour exploding lemons, myself.
6273033 Nit picked. Fixed.
6275937 To be honest, in the early drafts of this section, Tallgrass was not rhyming, but as I edited, it just happened. It scares me sometimes.
6274787 Why not both?
6276401 I really wanted to work a joke about that in the Lemons section, but I never found a place where it fit.
6272498 Which will of course burn down on opening day.
6273142 I expanded out that particular footnote, due to the confusion. Now it should be even more confusing.
6270781 In Pathfinder terms, she needs to be a Winter Witch, but instead of winter, it should be Summer. A... Lava witch, or something. XD
......*claps*
6346421
Given her singing, a Bard/Fire-Elemental Bloodline Sorcerer with the Fire Music feat, and a focus on damaging performances might be closer, also doesn't require home-brewing which is always a plus.
mat
score of their numbers
dinner
Filigree, [unless we're punning on Filly, in which case you'll need to change other chapters' spellings]
Diamond doesn't need to be punished. She needs therapy. Children should feel guilty when they get scolded for doing something wrong. Diamond is acting like a flat out sociopath.
8315701
I don't see that. She is just a master at the unhealthy coping technique of denial.
Though I do understand not being able to understand her actions. I've just dealt with a lot of people with various kinds of mental issues.
On a side note, when Spoiled Rich was introduced to the show, it gave a very convenient way to show why she acted the way she did. But all that really did was shift the blame on Filthy, who was depicted as a good pony before, yet married someone almost completely unlikable. (And not even particularly attractive.)
This version is more in line with what I had figured was the reality. Filthy being a well-meaning, but ultimately destructive influence on his daughter due to an inability to ever see her be hurt. (Including seeing complaints about her behavior as attacks against her character.)
Being spoiled as a foal meant that Diamond has very little concept of others' feelings. That sounds like "being a jerk", but as a person who suffered from severe autism (and still has memories of that time), I can tell you with absolute certainty that it is a learned behavior. Filthy's entire world was dedicated to making Diamond Tiara happy, so that is what she learned was the case for everyone else.
And of course, as a filly growing up, she learned to prioritize her own comfort, even if it never gave her actual happiness. (I have personal experience with this as well, though to a lesser extent.) This includes lying to her father. Because if she didn't have the approval of her father, what would she have?
Now, her world is shattered. Her facade is broken, and she is clinging desperately to anything she can, even if it means lying to herself.
Spelling
Did you mean Strictures, or Scriptures?