Interlude 11 - Visiting Friends
I had to set down my cup of coffee as the two of us broke out into laughter. It’s always fun swapping stories about your kids. There’s always some new, mad way they’ve thought of to get themselves into trouble.
“Anyway, the silly lad’s standing there, completely unaware of what’s going on and says ‘What’s the matter, Mum?’” I said as I finished the story. The two of us burst out laughing again.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” my companion countered. “I remember a couple years ago, Button managed to somehow get his hooves on one of those Playcolt magazines, hadn’t got the faintest idea what it was, but knew it’d be bad if I got wind of it. I still think it was one his brother had somehow managed to get a hold of. So, one morning I’m doing the dishes, minding my own business, when I hear this ‘ahhhh’ come from Button’s room.”
“Cue breech and clear, right?” I asked her.
“Yep, I burst in, and he’s sitting there, looking at this centrefold completely mortified.” It was great to chat and relax like this.
It was Saturday today, so there was no school. However, I had apparently earned some brownie points from a number of the parents for what happened during the inspection and one of the mums, a lovely mare called Milano had asked me to drop by. She was the mother of the aptly named Button Mash, one of the more, trying students at the school. I swear, even my own son didn’t play as many video games as that little colt does. Still, he’s a good kid at heart.
I’d met Milano at the little shindig Pinkie had thrown for me after I got all my qualifications accepted. I’ve taken a few classes on my own since then, letting Cheerilee grab forty winks and catch up on marking. I met Milano, who was there with Button. We fell into conversation and she eventually invited me over for a cup of coffee on Saturday.
It had been ages since I’d been able to do something like this. Of course, I have my husband, but it’s nice to talk to another woman (or mare rather) every now and again. Back on Earth, I used to go out to see friends all the time. I’d go and see both of the kids godmothers, a few friends from back when I worked at various schools, all sorts really. And like back home, Ponyville is a place where everypony knows everypony, so there’s always someone to chat to. Plus, as we were both veterans of parenting (she and I both had two kids) we could happily swap stories. And, it cheered her up regarding her own husband, who was often not around due to his work.
Milano was a wonderful pony, a natural mother and a great parent (as demonstrated by her cutie mark) for a teacher to work with. If I told her Button was letting his grades slip, that night, she’d cut off his games and make sure he got his work done. On the flip side, if he walked out with an A on his test, she’d always do her best to reward him. Parents usually either are too harsh or too lenient; she seemed to get the balance just right.
Their home was lovely as well. It was a lot like the house I now lived in; not overly large, but it had the feeling of a home rather than just a building. Although of course, you had to watch your step lest you step on an errant game cartridge. I may not know lots about video games, but having raised a son who thrived on them, even I could tell Equestria was a few years behind Earth. At least in the West; they might have one up over Pyongyang Racer.
“So how’s Button been taking to you since you started full time?” Milano asked.
“Pretty well I suppose; they all had a fair bit of time to get used to me when I was just helping Cheerilee out. Really the only ones who give me any trouble are Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Spoilt rotten they are.” Milano nodded and made an affirmative noise as she sipped her own coffee.
“Filthy Rich may not always play fair, but he’s still a decent pony most of the time; nowhere near as nasty as that wife of his. He's just a doting father, it's her mother that's the problem.” It occurred to me that I'd never met Diamond's mother; she never came to meetings or school events, and yet according to Cheerilee, she was on the board of governors.
“Maybe it’s just because they’re fillies,” I offered. “God knows how vindictive some of the girls in Lizzie’s school were. All the mothers in the world couldn’t make them decent folk. Now colts on the other hand, they don’t snipe at each other do they? Or form those cliques.”
“To be fair, that’s usually because they’re too busy punching each other,” Milano replied jokingly. “How’s your own colt doing anyway? Though I suppose he’s really a stallion now.” I almost spewed my coffee across the table. That is one expression I will never get used to.
“Sorry,” I said as I dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “Just that phrase has a bit of a different meaning back on Earth.” Milano looked perplexed. “I suppose he’s doing okay for the moment. I miss not having him living with us from time to time, but it’s good to see him setting out on his own, and Lizzie too. I’m still not quite sure what’s happening with him and Applejack though. Still, he’s got himself an honest job and he pays his way; I couldn’t be more proud of the way he turned out.”
We kept swapping stories about our respective offspring until Milano moved the topic to what we were drinking.
“Hey, you fancy something a little stronger than that?” she gestured to my coffee. Well, it was gone three in the afternoon by this point. We’d been chatting for a couple hours now. Couldn’t hurt.
“Sure, why not.” Milano promptly got up and headed over to one of the many cabinets that lined the wall of the kitchen. We’d been sitting down at the little breakfast table since I arrived. Being an earth pony, and lacking the magic of unicorns, she had to use her hooves to open the door and pick up the glasses. I still have no idea how that’s possible, but since everypony seems able to do it, I pay it no mind. Opening one of the cupboards up, she fetched down two clear wine glasses and set them down on the kitchen worktop.
She then walked over to the large 1950’s style refrigerator that sat behind me. Rooting around, she pulled out a medium size bottle of red wine. Some of Berry Punch’s stash I’d like to bet. It was from Prance so I figured it would be pretty good. Setting the two glasses down on the table in the place of our coffee, she opened the bottle and gave the liquid inside a few minutes to breathe. While I’m no connoisseur (though we all pretend to be when drinking wine) I know even a great wine will taste sub-par if just opened and drunk.
After waiting a minute or so, chatting, Milano poured both herself and me a fairly generous glass, before corking the bottle, which still had about two thirds left in it, and putting it back in the fridge.
We continued chatting, the wine doing a little to loosen our tongues. Though I must be honest, it was nice to just go and chat with a friend like this. Eventually, the two of us left the kitchen and sat down on the sofa in the living room; a much more comfortable place to natter. Since it seemed neither of us had much of a tolerance for alcohol (I tend to break out in giggles after half a glass) and we were soon both laughing and joking, and the conversation quickly moved onto the antics of our spouses. For both our sakes, I’m not going to reveal what we both said; neither of us needs to embarrass the other. However, by the time the clock struck four we’d gone over into hen night territory in terms of what was being discussed.
Eventually, I prepared to head out and go back to the house; I still had a few dozen spelling tests to mark before Monday.
“Well, I had best be off,” I said as I stood carefully; that wine had a fair kick to it. “It’s been really nice chatting with you, Milano. Why don’t you drop by the house sometime next week; we could make a habit of this.”
“Sure, I’d love to,” Milano replied, equally struggling to get to her hooves. “It’s been ages since I’ve been able to just have somepony come round for a chat. I’d love to meet that husband of yours too.”
“Oi, back off, he’s mine,” I replied jokingly. Still laughing, the two of us walked to the out to the hallway.
“Alright, I’ll see you sometime next week, and if I get the chance I’ll hang around awhile after I pick up Button on Monday.” She briefly got onto her hind legs, making her actually an inch or so taller than me and gave me a brief hug. I then set off back towards home. I’d thread my way through the town, past the market and then head back home. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to see if there were any offers going on. Ponyville market is something like a souk at times; you have to haggle. For a Briton, it’s like being on the Antiques Roadshow.
As it turned out though, I didn’t even have a chance to reach the market before I bumped into another of Ponyville’s residents. I was making my way through town and was just passing by Carousel Boutique; Rarity’s home and place of business, when the white, fashion obsessed unicorn galloped out the front door and called out to me. Realising it would be pointless to run, I put off my trip to the market to talk to her.
Rarity is a good friend of mine; she was one of the first ponies I ever met when I arrived here in Equestria. Without a farthing to my name, she made me, my husband and my daughter a full set of clothes each. Then when the rift had briefly reopened just after Christmas, or Hearth’s Warming as it is known here, she had taken the various clothes of ours that had come through and repaired virtually all the damage on them. Clothes that had been getting on for a few years old now looked as new as if I’d bought them the day before.
However, whilst she is a great friend, she is also a shameless gossip. Not as bad as some other ponies, in fact she stopped going to Roseluck’s ‘book club’ when she realised it was just a place to badmouth other ponies. Nevertheless though, she can and will spread gossip like wildfire. So it is not that I do not like to talk to her, it’s just that I have to occasionally watch what I say.
“Oh, Margaret, glad I caught you, darling. I’ve just about finished the repair work on that lovely purple raincoat you sent me,” (it needed the zip fixed and some of the Velcro redone) “If you have a moment to spare I’ll gladly get it back to you now.”
That’s the other side of Rarity. Yes, she is a gossip and yes, she is obsessed with fashion. But she is also the Element of Generosity, and boy does it show. She’d first told me it would probably take a week for her to get round to fixing my coat. But when the weather team announced a change in schedule to include a rainstorm on Tuesday, she’d evidently redoubled her efforts and got it done in three days. It’s this side of her that makes it impossible to hold any animosity against her occasional gossiping, and as I said, there are far worse out there.
“Sure, Rarity. I was only heading to the market anyway.” I followed the white mare back toward her shop. “How did you manage to get everything sorted so quickly anyway? I thought you said you needed to get the Velcro from Manehatten.” Rarity nodded as we entered the shop.
“Indeed I did, darling. Nevertheless, I assure you it is all done and ready. And you should also know a magician,” she paused to levitate a few of her tools and tidy them away. "Never reveals her secrets.” Whilst Twilight was simply brilliant at all spells sent her way, Rarity excelled in terms of magical dexterity. Her ability to levitate multiple objects was very impressive, as was her ability to root out buried gems. Some of those were the size of my fist. As she headed into the back of the store, with me standing in the shop front, Rarity kept up the conversation.
“So how have you been keeping, darling? Still being kept busy with school I take it?” I nodded an affirmative as I called back to her.
“No more than I can handle. It certainly makes both my and Cheerilee’s lives a lot easier.”
“And how has Sweetie Belle been doing? I know that filly has a tendency to try and coast through at times on her homework.”
“No, she’s really had her nose to the grindstone. She managed to get herself an A on that report on family trees.” At that point, Rarity returned, my old coat, now looking brand new held in her magic.
“You never cease to amaze me with how well you can touch up old clothes, Rarity,” I said as I took the coat from her and draped it over my forearm. “You aren’t pushing yourself too hard are you?” Generosity can be just as much a flaw as a virtue if taken to the extreme after all.
“Oh no, darling, I learnt my lesson on Nightmare Night a couple of years ago. Poor Sweetie Belle found me passed out in the middle of the shop trying to fill orders. I’ve not taken on nearly as much work since then. Still, I do have to get back to work on a few pieces for a client in Baltimare.”
Taking that as my cue to leave, I bid Rarity good day and headed on toward the market place. I was glad for the coat to be sure; ominous looking clouds were already starting to form in the sky as the pegasi carefully manoeuvred them into position. As I watched the display, I even managed to spot Rainbow Dash helping another pegasus with a medium size cloud. On closer inspection I realised it was Lizzie. They all looked pretty busy so I decided not to bother them, but Lizzie seemed to be enjoying herself. Dash had said several times that my daughter had all the making of a good weather pony. With that, I reached the market.
By the time I reached the market, it was just gone half past four, and most of the stalls were getting ready to close up for the night in about half an hour’s time. It was still quite busy however, with a fair few ponies milling about doing their best to snag a few last minute deals. As for me, I quickly wound my way through the various stalls, picking up my shopping as I went. Most of the stalls I stopped by were food stalls, though I did also take the time to get a few flowers from Lily. Ponies may find them a good snack, but personally, I prefer to put them in a vase in the hall.
The last item on my list (yes I write lists, though not nearly as much as Twilight does) was to pick up a few apples so I could cook up some apple crumble after lunch tomorrow. That meant going to Ponyville’s biggest monopoly; the Apples’ stand. Usually, this is looked after by either Applejack or her older brother. Big Mac and I in particular get on really well; he’s a great guy once you get to know him. But today, oddly enough, it was not Big Mac who was sitting behind the counter, but my son.
“I didn’t know you were running the Apples’ stand today. I could have come by earlier, we could have had a chat,” I said as I walked up to him. The little grey pony pushed his cowboy hat back on his head as he looked up from whatever he was doing.
“Oh, er, hey, Mom,” he answered, sounding a little surprised. “Mac asked me to take over the stand this afternoon; poor feller worked harder than any of us durin’ the zap apple harvest.” I still find it so funny just how much he’s changed over the last seven months or so. As he is now, you’d probably think he grew up around here, and was always a pony to boot. I know he was already familiar with this world, but the way he’s fitted himself in is just so, strange.
“So, what can Ah get ya?” he asked, startling me out of my reprieve. I promptly consulted my list.
“Right, I need half a dozen of those golden delicious. Any left in stock?” He promptly turned around and, using his magic, levitated a few of the filled baskets, checking. Eventually, he brought one of them down and placed six into a bag for me.
“There, six golden delicious for ya. Makin’ your apple crumble for Sunday lunch tomorrow?” he enquired.
“Yes, you know how much your father loves that with a bit of custard. How much do I owe you?” I fished out a small purse out of my bag.
“Two bits ought to cover it,” he replied. Handing over the two coins, I took the bag from his, whatever you call the weird magical field unicorns make when they levitate things. “Thanks, Mom. See ya ‘round!” Waving goodbye to him, I headed on back home for tea.
I got back just as the clock struck five. On a weekday, I’d be expecting my husband home any second. Today though of course, court was closed to give both princesses a break. Even here in Equestria, without any real religion as far as I can make out, the weekend, and particularly Sunday are viewed as a day of rest. Well, constants and variables I guess.
Tonight was also my night off from cooking the dinner. Now, I’m no rampant feminist, but I still like to have a night or two where I can just put my feet up and relax. And as he’s not been to Canterlot and back today, my husband can’t play the ‘I’m tired’ card. Thus, he cooks the dinner on Saturday night and he helps me with the Sunday roast. He’s actually a fairly decent cook too, to be fair to him.
Pausing a moment to fish my house keys out of my bag, I opened up the front door and stepped inside. In the living room, I could hear the sound of the projector going. Since Equestria doesn’t yet have television, mainly due to the lack of demand, we’d bought ourselves an old fashioned projector. This was set up in the living room and projected onto the far wall, on which we’d hung a screen. Whilst Equestria had no television, a great number of videos and DVDs had come through the rift when it opened. Blade Star, with Twilight’s help, had been able to somehow alter them using his magic. It changed them into old style film reels, a technology which Equestria already possesses. The same applied to CDs too, which were turned into vinyl records; a change I’m not complaining about; vinyl has always sounded better than CDs if you ask me.
Walking into the living room, I found my husband sitting comfortably on the sofa, watching a movie. A bowl of popcorn sat next to him. He was quite absorbed in it, as at first he didn’t notice I’d come in.
“What are you watching there, dearest?” I asked. The response was immediate.
“Ahhh!” he exclaimed in fright. The bowl of popcorn jumped a foot or so in the air and sent its contents flying all over the carpet. After a moment, he recovered. “Sorry, darling. You scared me; didn’t hear you come in.” I paused to take my coat off and hang it up on the stand, I was still laughing a little.
“Didn’t mean to startle you. Honest,” I replied, grinning. He gestured toward the screen.
“I thought I’d put one of the Die Hard films on before dinner,” he explained. After looking for a moment, I identified it as the second film; the one set at the airport.
“How is the dinner doing anyway?” At that moment, I heard the little timer we had in the kitchen go off. “Oh, speak of the devil.” The two of us went into the kitchen. By the smell of things, it was omelettes tonight. A few minutes later, we were sitting down at the table chatting away as we normally do.
“Sounds like you and Milano get on pretty well, dear,” my husband said. “You going to make a regular thing going to see her?”
“I probably will, but I invited her to drop by the house sometime next week. I thought we could do with having some friends over.” My husband nodded in agreement.
“Sure, I suppose I’ll need to make a special guest appearance then?” I gently cuffed him across the head from over the table.
“Behave,” I warned him jokingly.
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Nice chapter.
5427100 Firstly, I am honoured that you chose to rip my fic a new one.
Now to answer your most pressing concern, Blade Star is not, as you point out a guard. I do mention that he was a cadet back on Earth, but other than that, he has no formal training. The relationship with some of the Royal Guards, particularly Shining Armor is one of civilians not military. Remember, given the pacifistic nature of Equestrians, the Royal Guard is more akin to a militia, or even a police force, than an army. This may explain why they are not overtly hostile to his initial introduction. He will get a wringing out shortly though when he meets Strong Shield.
Cute like how everyone finding a place in thier new world
5427601 I regard Twilight as the exception rather than the rule. Her cutie mark is magic after all. What is simple to her may be extremely tricky for other, less powerful unicorns. We have consistently seen other unicorns far more limited, with most only able to use one or two specialised spells related to their cutie mark.
Space before the first quotation mark.
I'm no cook, but don't omelettes require constant supervision?
5430517 Shoot...I don't know much about it he doesn't like to talk about it which is kinda self explanatory. My parents didn't talk much about it either do I just left it be. It wasn't my business. All I know is that he has it.
Chilling red wine. Sacrilege.
Ugh... ack... oh god, that's painful to read in hindsight.
Nothing wrong with it in this story, seeing how it's contained in a universe before season 4 ended, but I don't think I can read that easily after Crusaders of the Lost Mark.
Ugh, why is this still a thing?! Milano/Mrs. Mash/ Button's Mom/Elaina! The last one is her rightful name!
Oh for goodness sake!!! I didn’t bother pointing them out because you never seem to change them!
9562661 I promise, one of these days, I will go through every single one of your comments and correct the errors you've pointed out.