How Far Away You Roam

by Ponydora Prancypants

Chapter Six

I have to go, Jeweleyes
Don’t cry, Darling
It’s not your fault
Don’t cry
Please don’t cry

Rarity could hear Silver Belle’s pleading voice, but she could make no sound in reply, could do nothing but listen to her aunt's voice and her own sobs. It was the day Aunt Silver had left the house in Ponyville to retreat forever to her cottage on the lake. Her parents had said Aunt Silver needed to be closer to her grandparents, to help take care of them and Cousin Glory, but that wasn't all of it. Details her young self had failed to comprehend were crystallizing. Something had happened. It’s not your fault. The words crossed over the intervening years to ring in Rarity's ears again.

Rarity could see Silver Belle too, but there was something wrong. Aunt Silver's delicate features were contorting. Her face was rounding out, her eyes turned the wrong color. Her horn melted away! This was all wrong. Rarity tried to reach out and take hold of the other mare, but her body was completely immobilized.

“Rarity!” Silver Belle called out, in a voice bright and brassy and definitely not her own. Rarity suddenly comprehended that it was not her aunt's, but Applejack’s face peering down at her from just a few inches away.

“Talk to me, Rare,” Applejack exhorted, softly caressing Rarity’s cheek and slowly coming into focus. “Come on, Girl, I know you’re in there. There we go! Keep those eyes open!”

“There’s no need to shout,” Rarity muttered groggily. “It would seem I fainted. That would tend to explain why I now find myself lying on this dusty, freezing cold floor.” Gingerly, she turned her head left, then right. The collapsed easel lay next to her. The unfinished painting as well. When she looked, the walls were still covered in more of the same, every painting depicting that same wretched beach now etched in her mind. Her head ached, whether from the fall onto solid oak floorboards or the cumulative effect of the day’s events she could not say. In all probability, both.

“Fainted? I’ll say you fainted!” Applejack exclaimed. “Dead away! Had me good and worried. I heard the thunk all the way down in the basement. Thought you'd gotten into the root pantry and dropped a gunny sack full of potatoes ‘til you didn’t answer when I called. I came in here and found you out colder than Cousin Apple Buckle on barrel tasting day. Are you alright now? How ya feelin’?”

Rarity was not sure she could express how she was feeling, or how to explain her reaction upon seeing Aunt Silver's paintings without appearing to be caught full on in the throes of a nervous breakdown. Even so, she resolved not to keep what she was experiencing to herself any longer. At least she could count on Applejack to be forthright if it all came across as crazy.

“I’m fine,” Rarity said. “Or I will be momentarily. I’m going to try to stand up. Would you be so kind as to lend me a hoof?” She accepted Applejack’s proffered foreleg and held tight as she was pulled onto all fours.

“I can’t say I’m all that surprised,” Applejack went on. “I noticed that you barely ate a thing all day. With everything else happenin’, and you bein’ a natural-born fainter, and … whoa Nelly!”

Rarity toppled into Applejack’s firm embrace. “Thank you, Darling,” she said, as she experimented with putting weight back on her own legs. “Excellent catch. You know, I wouldn’t need to maintain a summonable couch if I could keep you always close at hoof. It would also be cost effective, taking into consideration the three times I forgot to unlatch the adjacent window. Now, if you would care to join me, I think I could use a bite to eat." She wobbled, then righted herself. "Also, someplace to sit down.”

Applejack’s supporting shoulder helped Rarity make it to the kitchen table, where she found an old spindle-back chair to slump down into while Applejack dashed off to bring their things inside. Rarity had scrounged a wedge of hoovarti and a small caramel-colored block of brunost from Glory’s kitchen, along with a package of crisp flatbreads. She waited, resting her head in her forehooves, as Applejack returned and prepared two plates of bread and cheese. The rest of the brandy was also poured, and a tall glass of water for Rarity. The food and drink were immediately restorative, even if the apple brandy was “twice the price for half the taste of Sweet Apple Acres’ own.” She finally felt prepared to talk, but she was beaten to the punch.

“So,” Applejack began, before taking a deep breath. “You really want to leave for home tomorrow provided there's a flight to catch? We’d miss the funeral and everything, not to mention Hearth’s Warming. And I do recall you promised I'd only have to ride on one of those flyin' monsters on the way up here. I guarantee that if the trains are runnin', anything headin' out is booked solid tomorrow.”

“Oh, I suppose I did suggest I wanted to leave right away.” Rarity frowned. “But now that lawyer wants to meet with me, and, well, I have questions. There are things I would like to understand before we leave. I suppose I shouldn’t wait any longer to admit that it wasn’t merely exhaustion or hunger that caused me to faint. After the lamps came up and I saw the paintings back in the other room, it was all too much to take in."

“All those beach paintings on the walls?” Applejack questioned. “What can a bunch of amateur artwork have to do with your faintin’ spell? I'll grant they weren’t exactly Poneighs, but we've seen a whole lot worse. I mean, you managed to stay upright while my brother showed you his figure studies from that art class he took. It usually takes a whole heap of ugly to offend your sensibilities to the point of collapsin’. Like, uh, a denim ball gown.”

“I think a couture gown in denim could be very lovely, if done tastefully and worn by the right pony,” Rarity replied. “But it wasn’t that. It’s … how can I explain?” She paused to think before continuing. “It was a strange sort of déjà vu. I have seen the place in those paintings before—that very same beach—in a photograph that Aunt Silver had in her possession years ago. Oddly enough, that image has been preoccupying my mind ever since we left Ponyville. To see that Aunt Silver had been painting it; not only painting it, but painting it over and over, well ...”

“I’m not sure I get it,” Applejack said, narrowing her gaze. “Why is it so strange for her to be paintin' a place she had a picture of? Maybe she really likes that beach. Maybe she had a lot of blue and yellow paint to use up. I guess it's weird you were thinkin' of a picture of it, but I don't see what's worth hittin’ the deck over."

"Ah. My apologies for leaving out the crucial detail. The photograph I remember was different from these paintings in one respect: it was a picture of me as a young girl, perhaps a few years younger than Sweetie Belle, sitting on that same beach with the ocean behind. It's come back to me quite suddenly and vividly, though at the time I put it out of my mind. It was just before Aunt Silver left Ponyville that I saw it, and her departure was of vastly more significance to me in the moment than any odd photograph."

"Still not getting it," Applejack declared. "Why's it important that you were in the picture?"

"It matters because it is a photograph of something that never happened. I was never on that beach as a child. I was never taken to the ocean at all. The filly in the picture was the same age, or not much younger than I was when I saw it. Old enough to remember if I had been there and had my picture taken. And in the sleigh, you heard me ask my parents if they had ever taken me to the shore.”

“They never did,” Applejack said, now wearing a look of dawning comprehension.

“So they claimed. But I believe whole-heartedly that I did see that photograph. Even now, my memory is becoming clearer. Aunt Silver had accidentally let it slip from her bag and I caught enough of a glimpse to see what it was before she snatched it away. Shortly afterward, she left our home. I'm positive that I was never supposed to see it, and that I’ve remembered it now for a good reason. How was I photographed in a place I never was? Who took the picture? If I was on that beach, why can't I remember? Why would my parents dissemble? Why in the world was Aunt Silver painting that same beach a hundred times before she died? I have all these questions needling the inside of my skull, and I swear they are going to drive me mad until I get some answers.”

“Wow,” Applejack said, rocking back in her chair.

"Yes, I know," Rarity said, eyes downcast. "It sounds like I'm raving."

"No it doesn't," said Applejack, setting her chair back down and leaning forward on the table. "It sounds like you're finally bein' honest with me about what's been eatin' you up. I've seen the faraway look you've been wearin' ever since we left home. Before all the rest of the trouble we've run into. I'm glad it's just some mysterious repressed memory and not somethin' to do with me."

"Certainly not!" Rarity declared. "I feel awful about letting you think anything of the sort. You are wonderful. You are keeping me afloat. But do you think I sound crazy?"

"For havin' a memory from years ago pop up all of a sudden? Or for thinkin' there might be more goin' on here than a funny coincidence? Maybe I'd have been a skeptic five years ago, before Twilight moved to town and I got to know what crazy really is."

"And now?" Rarity asked.

"Now we live in a world where a lost empire can appear out of thin air and a twitchy librarian can become a genuine wing-a-ling Princess. My own orchard got drowned in chocolate milk. I lost a barn to a horde of Pinkie Pies." Applejack extended a forehoof and rested it on both of Rarity’s. “I fell head over hooves for somepony, when I thought it was just gonna be me and the apple trees for all the rest of my days. That's you, by the way.”

Rarity smiled. “Truly, we live in a charmed world, full of wonders and revelations. Or at least, I am thoroughly charmed, and happy to know you don't think me mad."

"Not about this, anyway," Applejack agreed, returning the smile. "But I do have to wonder if there's a riddle we can solve here. If your parents don’t know anything—”

“Or if they are concealing the truth.”

“—and you can’t ask Silver Belle about it, then what can we do about it?

Rarity looked around, at the old oak kitchen cabinets, the positively ancient iron kettle on the stove, framed newspaper clippings yellowed from the sun, and was struck by a thought. “What if the photograph still exists?" she asked. "What if it's here, in this house? You’ve seen Glory’s place, and just look around you; the ponies in my family hold onto things. If we search the house perhaps we might find it, or at least some sort of clue that would tie the paintings and the photograph together. Some other old picture, maybe.”

Applejack nodded. “It can’t hurt to look around. And it’s not like your aunt will mind us riflin’ through her things.”

“I have been led to believe that they are, for the immediate time being, my things,” Rarity observed. “I feel much better, now that I have some food and drink in me and the weight of a secret off my chest. Not to mention that it's finally starting to warm up in here. Let's rifle."

Comments

[Aatxe360]

Yes, yes! More...

[wolfstorm56]

Nice. I'm very excited to see this play out.

[Always Breakfast]

...Huh. So Rarity is remembering a beach she (thinks she) never went to, and her whole family is hiding something from her that's probably the reason she got the whole inheritance.

Okay, I've got this. Bear with me here. She goes to the beach, finds a small shoreside cottage, and inside is Ponydora beating his head against Abyssal Forge. Then the universe breaks. THE END.

[Blue_Paladin42]

I was just thinking about this story when I woke up...

I AM A GENIE

[Harwick]

Nice to see that the cumulative effect of their adventures has made Applejack unflappable in the face of weirdness.

[Sugar Moon]

Hmmm, an unasked for inheritance, a trip to the beach that did not take place, the parents denying that they took her there and finally Aunt silver leaving mysteriously to look after Rarity's grandparents saying that it wasn't Rarity's fault. I'm calling it, Rarity is Silver Belle's kid. Probably wrong but meh.

[djthomp]

Mmmm, cheese. And bread, but cheese is always a winner in my book.

Hmn. I'm going to guess that whatever happened, Rarity was on that beach and her lack of memory of it is what drove Silver to move away from Ponyville. Regardless, I'm glad she brought AJ fully up to speed on the problem, Friendship (and other 'ships) is Magic after all, and whether just two of them or all six, the girls are always stronger working together as opposed to by themselves.

[statoose]

I've always thought your smart writing goes so well with Rarity's character. The mood of this story is wonderful; I always see solemn, color-drained images in my head. Very much the same vibe as a show like House of Cards. As a matter of fact, I found that the House of Cards soundtrack goes quite well with this story – I actually listened to that track on loop while reading this chapter.

Quite a lot of questions here. I certainly did not expect this rather spooky mystery to haunt this story when it first started out a year ago, and I'm definitely enjoying it!

[TheTownCrier]

5636369
That's my thinking too.

[Swiftest]

Glory went to the beach. Rarity only remembers seeing a picture of a pony who looks like her at the beach in Silver's possession, which is implied to be the reason she went back. Considering the age of the filly in the photo compared to Rarity's at the time, yet Rarity having no recollection of it nor having had a good enough look to remember the eyes' colour. Memory has always been unreliable.

[Magatsu Orpheus]

This is starting to turn into a Doctor Who episode.