Amnesia Complex
Soarin let out an anguished groan as a rooster outside roused him from his alcohol-induced coma, letting fly with a strident, torturous cry that ricocheted around in his skull like a chunk of jagged shrapnel. He rolled to his belly and writhed miserably in his nauseated state, every pulse of blood rushing through his head ringing painfully like a series of rhythmic hammerblows on a blacksmith's anvil.
Slowly he pushed himself up with his front legs and let his blanket slide down his back. He strained his vision as hard as he could, but nothing save for a few vague shapes from nearby inanimate objects could be identified within the twilight. He curiously squinted upward through the hole in his roof, which, strangely enough, was directly above him. Something about its placement didn't seem right. Why was that? His hangover seemed to have muddled his mental acuity.
His eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the darkness, and images that were obscure were now able to be seen with a little more clarity. He turned his head and was able to identify the ledge of his loft where his bed was. That was when he realized he had been sleeping in the middle of the floor. He must have passed out. He glanced down at his blanket. His brow wrinkled with a curious frown when he shifted his gaze to his pillow. Why is my bedding down here?
Soarin grappled with the riddle, but his thoughts alluded him as the rooster outside launched another assault on his senses; that Celestia damned bird's harsh bellow after a night of inebriation carried with it the sensation of a gelid dagger twisting in his skull. He guarded his ears until he was sure the crowing had ceased, then he shakily trudged for the door, eager to fill his lungs with the cool morning air.
Soarin had only taken a few steps when he suddenly felt his hoof kick something soft. Whatever it was, it blended in well with the dark, and it was unnoticeable until his hoof sent it in motion. The round object slid a short distance before coming to an abrupt stop. He picked it up and inspected it. A hat? Soarin couldn't see it clearly, but he could feel it. It was soft and warn with age, and he could feel a nick at the edge of the brim. It was familiar somehow. He scanned his barn and noticed the old scarecrow in the corner. The dark may have obscured its features, but the shape of its hatless head was definable enough. "Is this yours?" Soarin asked rhetorically before examining the hat again. How did this get on the floor? He meditated on the subject for only a moment before disregarding the mystery as trivial. With a flick of his hoof, he hurled the hat by its brim like a frisbee and sent it spinning through the air toward the scarecrow's head. It missed and landed soundlessly somewhere in the dark. Soarin shrugged insouciantly and made his way to the door.
The pulsing rhythm of Soarin's headache lessened after he had spent a few minutes stretching and drawing in the fresh rural air. It was just cool enough for him to see his breath pluming like hot steam. He popped the stiff joints in his neck and back while savoring the brief deep indigo of the morning sky before it would turn to azure with the rising of Celestia's sun. He turned his attention to the Apple family house across the grassy pasture. A window on the second floor was lit in the darkness of the early morning with a radiant golden light. A silhouette passed by it, but Soarin's vision was still too blurry for him to determine who it was. He began to wonder to himself if that was Applejack's bedroom.
"Applejack..." His musings jarred his memory. Applejack visited him last night... While he was shitfaced drunk.
He tried to remember more, but all he could conjure in his mental imagery were snippets here and there. A collection of short first person memories lasting only for brief seconds at a time flashed through his head like a damaged roll of film running through an old projector: He could recall her smiling as she approached him. His memory went hazy after that. Soarin dreaded the thought of being so drunk that he passed out in front of her. He could only pray to Celestia that he didn't make a complete ass out of himself. Being the pessimist that he was, he imagined over a dozen likely and humiliating scenarios that could have occurred.
His thoughts were again brought to a grinding halt when the rooster let loose another piercing scream. Soarin covered his ears and cast a bloodshot glare upon his feathery tormentor that sat perched on a nearby fence. "I'm awake!" He snapped. "You can shut up now!"
The rooster clucked and cocked its head uncomprehendingly. It then flapped its wings and sucked in air as if it were preparing to bellow another savage cry. Soarin preemptively picked up a nearby rock with his mouth and flung it in the air. "Piss off!" He yelled as he loosed the rock in the bird's direction with a kick. The projectile missed its mark by mere inches, but the bird, fearing the possibility of a second and more accurate shot, relented and scurried away.
Soarin grumbled exasperatedly as he turned and shuffled to the water spigot behind his barn. After sating his thirst, washing his face, and styling back his tousled mane he trotted across the field toward the Apple family home for breakfast, as would be the morning ritual there.
He continued to wrestle with his memory as he strode across the pasture, but still he had nothing. All he could remember was that she was there, and he was blind stinking drunk in front of her. This troubled him. What if he had made a fool of himself in front of her? Even worse still, what if he did something to offend her?
Unpleasant images of Applejack's disgusted and disapproving eyes boring into him from across the breakfast table popped up in his thoughts when he approached the door, making him feel hesitant to open it. He wished she hadn't seen him in the state he was in last night. Why did she come to see him in the first place? Something about a dance? He was too drunk to dance. He hoped against hope that he didn't try to dance with her while he was drunk.
Maybe I could just go without breakfast today and get straight to work, he thought to himself. This would be his first breakfast with the Apples, and he would be making a bad first impression if he showed up hungover - especially on a work day. Not to mention that the prospect of facing Applejack with his blank memory daunted him. She'd probably assume he was a lush now, which wasn't too far from the truth. But, on the other hoof, he could smell what ever it was Granny Smith was cooking. He wasn't able to identify the tantalizing aroma, but it smelled delicious. He paused to take in a deep whiff of the scent, letting the intoxicating fragrance of herbs and spices grace his sinuses. The delectably mouthwatering aroma shoved his nausea aside and stimulated his appetite. His stomach grumbled in protest at the very notion of skipping a meal. He also knew that he would need his strength. Apple bucking was a physically demanding job that he could barely do on a full stomach. He shuttered to think of how lackluster his performance would be if he tried to do it while half-starved.
But wasn't he considering leaving the farm just last night? It's not like anypony would miss me.
Soarin sneered at the idea once he had given it a few seconds of sobered thought. This job felt like his last chance at redemption. He was a failure as a Wonderbolt, he didn't want to be a failure as a farmer, too. Even if the job wasn't particularly to his liking, he needed to prove to himself that he could at least do something right. This thought jarred an unwelcome memory of the night before, and Spitfire's words suddenly echoed in his mind.
I really do hope that you're less of a failure in whatever occupation you've decided to take up. I feel sorry for the next poor sap who wastes their time and effort with you.
Soarin narrowed his eyes in irritation as he recalled his former captain's scathing remark to him. Out of all the things from last night that he was not able to remember, why couldn't those words be one of them? The whole town saw him just lower his head and take it as if he were her submissive little whipping boy. Why couldn't he at least come back at her with a clever quip or snarky remark in front of all those ponies who witnessed him being chastised? "Oh yeah," Soarin remembered with a self-loathing scowl, "because I'm pathetic."
"Landsakes, boy!" An aged southern drawl suddenly startled the melancholy stallion. "That glare of yours could peel the paint off the walls!"
Soarin staggered backwards when he noticed the matriarch of the Apple family glaring at him from the doorway. "Oh, grandma, I didn't notice you standing there!"
"You didn't notice me standin' right in front of you?" The old matron squinted a suspicious eye at him. "Your vision must be worse than mine! And yer manners need some work, too. 'oh, grandma, I didn't see you.' Just what kinda greeting is that? And what's with this grandma stuff? It's Granny Smith to you, young fella!"
"I-I didn't mean to offend you!" Soarin stammered, caught off guard by the heat in the aging mare's tone. "Good morning, Granny Smith! You, uh, you're looking positively—"
"Positively..?"
"Beautiful!" Soarin blurted. "Yeah, that's it! And young, too! For a moment, I thought Applejack may have had another sister living here!"
"Do Ah look like an ear of corn, boy? Quit trying to butter me up!"
Soarin clapped his mouth shut. He began to fabricate additional conclusions to last night's scenario. Was it possible that he did in fact do something to offend Applejack last night, and she reported his vile behavior to her grandmother? Why else would Granny Smith be acting so hostile toward him without provocation?
The elder continued to glower at him as she hobbled out from the doorway, then she began to circle around him. Soarin continued to stand still and look forward, as if he were a perturbed but compliant soldier standing at attention to await a harsh reprimand from his superior. Was she going to fire him? Maybe she would have Big Mac and Braeburn pummel him; or perhaps she will fire him, then have Big Mac and Braeburn pummel him. He didn't want to leave the farm - not after pledging to himself that he could be of some worth to someone for a change.
"Hmm... Nice and firm... Just how ah like em," the aging mare chuckled lecherously.
"I beg your pardo—" Soarin's articulations escaped him and his eyes widened when he felt the sting of Granny Smith's hoof slapping him hard on the ass, the sound echoing like the harsh crack of a whip. If his posture wasn't completely straight, it was now.
Laughing, Granny Smith said, "What ya standin' around fer? Get on inside and get ya some grub, youngin!"
"Y-yes, ma'am!" Soarin hastily retreated in to the house, fearing that hesitation may consequently result in another rap on his rump. He shoved open the creaking saloon doors that lead into the kitchen and dining area, and he now found himself standing before the Apple family.
The clan congregated around the large, round wooden table, breaking fast on biscuits smothered and steaming in piping hot gravy. Ice cubes danced inside condensation-saturated mason jars filled with a golden amber fluid, and a metallic tray upon which sat rows of freshly baked buttermilk biscuits was set at the center of the table beside a cast iron pot. Braeburn sat with his back facing Soarin. Big Mac was seated next to him. They ate and laughed and conversed with each other as if they were long time friends, while Apple Bloom had her nose in a book. There was a seriousness and determination burning in her eyes as she scanned the text, every once in a while forking a piece of biscuit into her mouth without feeling bothered to turn away from the tome set in front of her. Soarin could catch little snippets of her mumbling something aloud. It sounded as if she was reciting the ingredients for some sort of macabre witches brew.
"Hair from a ewe, talon from a hen, blood from a changeling, feather from a griffon.
Skin from a snake, eye from a crow, scale of a dragon, will-o'-wisp's glow."
As peculiar as the little filly's behavior was, Applejack was the one who managed to hold Soarin's attention. She sat at the farthest end of the table from where he stood. The deceptively petite mare voraciously and relentlessly tore at the mountain of gravy-smothered morsels on her plate with gusto, only stopping after every other bite to wash it down with the iced liquid in her nearby jar, or wiping her face with her leg - seemingly forsaking the necessity of the napkin that was right in front of her. The moment after licking her plate clean, she returned to the iron sheet at the center of the table for a second helping, scattering her biscuits on her plate into shreds, smothering them with gravy from the iron pot, and continuing her ravenous onslaught.
"Mornin', green horn!" Braeburn's sudden boisterous greeting jolted a twinge of pain through Soarin's skull, which served to remind him that he was hungover.
"Yes, it is," Soarin glared. .
Applejack's head snapped up from her plate as if she had been startled by his voice, her gravy-spattered cheeks bulging with partially chewed food. Her face bore a deer in the headlights expression as their eyes locked. Bright red lines crept across her face and burned the spaces between her soft white freckles before she wiped her mouth with her unsoiled napkin and downed her mouthful with one hard swallow.
"H-hey," Soarin said, too nervous to think of anything else to offer. He still couldn't be sure if there was going to be trouble between them.
"Well, hey yourself," she replied in a surprisingly sweet tone, her emerald green eyes gleaming in a beckoning smile. "Why don't ya come over here and grace me with yer presence?"
Soarin noticed that next to her place at the table sat an empty plate and glass, presumably set there just for him. "You want me to sit next to you?" He asked, astonished.
Applejack pulled the unoccupied seat next to her out from under the table and playfully patted it with her hoof. "Please?" she pleaded with a cute flutter of her eyelashes. "Ah ain't gonna bite ya." Soarin gawked at her, unsure of what to make of her coy behavior.
"You gonna come keep me company, or are you keeping away like a school colt all afraid of mah filly cooties?"
Her playful jest made Soarin crack a smile, making him feel a little more at ease. "Sorry," he inclined his head shyly. "I guess I thought that you might have been angry with me."
"Angry 'bout what, sugarcube?" Applejack asked with genuine curiosity.
"I was drinking... I might have had a little too much. I was almost expecting to get an ear full from you over it."
"Shoot," Applejack chuckled. "A little too much? That's quite the understatement."
Soarin blanched. Oh crap, I did do something screwy, didn't I?
"Long as ya don't make a habit of it, and learn from your mistakes, y'all should be fine." Applejack said with a laid-back smile..
Soarin smiled when he heard her say that. His new boss was not only cute - she was kick back. He joined her for breakfast, and thoroughly enjoyed both the food and the interaction with her. The sweet tea was good, too, though the concept of drinking from a mason jar was still a bit odd to him. Applejack didn't even once let him fill his own glass. The second he emptied it, she would snatch the pitcher from the center of the table and have his jar filled before he could so much as blink. It felt awkward to be serviced in such a way. He declined every time, but she always insisted.
The farmer spoke unendingly and passionately about her heritage, her family, and her work ethic, to which Soarin listened intently. There would be a few times when Applejack would attempt to steer the subject in Soarin's direction, but he'd ask about some picture or rusted archaic tool hanging on the wall, which would always lead the conversation back into a lengthy and detailed story about the object in question, what it was used for, and the family member who had passed it down to them. The exuberant little farm mare was chatty, but Soarin didn't mind. She was full of interesting facts and stories, and Soarin enjoyed listening to her as he ate. He had had four helpings by the time he had reached his capacity.
When Soarin was finished eating he pushed his plate forward with a contented smile. A warm and pleasant glow radiated in his belly as he sagged back in his chair.
"Full?" Applejack asked.
"Yep," Soarin said through a yawn.
"How was everything?"
"Amazing."
"Ah'm real glad ya liked it."
Soarin lulled his head back and closed his eyes. "I'm just going to relax for a minute, if that's okay. Let my breakfast settle before I head out for work"
"Take all the time you need, sugarcube."
Soarin stretched his arms toward the ceiling with another yawn, then relaxed his hooves behind his head. If this was the way he'd get to spend his mornings from now on, with good food and pleasant company, he would have no complaints.
"Sugarcube?" Applejack said after a few quiet moments.
Soarin lazily opened one eye and gave her a sideways glance. "Hmm?"
"Can Ah ask ya somethin'?"
"You can ask me anything." Soarin sat straight up in his chair and placed his hooves on the table to show her she had his undivided attention.
An air of apprehension seemed to loom over the farmer as she looked down and traced the grain in the wooden table with her hoof, as if to distract herself. "About last night," she began.
Soarin stiffened. "Last night?" He said cautiously. He should have known that the subject of last night's occurrences would eventually come up. He tried to fortify his resolve by telling himself that whatever may have happened, she didn't seem to be upset about it, so it must not have been anything bad.
With a sigh, she reached for her tea, taking several deep quaffs until not even the icecubes remained. She exhaled sharply as she set the jar back down, and she narrowed her eyes determinedly. "As Ah told ya last night," she began, "the Ponyville day celebration is going to be in a few days, and, well..." She shifted nervously in her seat before she spoke again. "Well, A-Ah don't suppose—"
"Green horn?" Braeburn suddenly interrupted.
Alarmed by the sudden intrusion, Applejack turned away and rubbed the back of her neck.
Soarin noted her peculiar behavior with bemusement before turning his attention to Braeburn. "What?" He snapped, eager to return to their conversation.
"Ah don't wanna rush ya," Braeburn said, "but you two need to rap your conversation up. Lots'a things we need to go over today, so it would probably be best if you and I got an early start. Ah'm only gonna be here for a few more days, so you'll need to pay attention an' learn as much as ya can, as fast as ya can."
"You're only here for a few more days?" Soarin asked, surprised. "I thought you lived here."
"Ah don't live here," Braeburn went on to explain. "Ah'm only here to train you. AJ and Big Mac are too busy with their harvest to bother with a green horn like you. No offense."
Granny Smith suddenly pushed the saloon doors open and entered the kitchen, a newspaper clenched between her teeth. She took a seat at the table between Braeburn and Big Mac and set the paper down before adding, "We're behind on our harvest this year. Our clientele has been growing, so we needed an extra hoof to keep up with our quota. Ah don't want to sound harsh, but we don't have room on the farm for substandard or mediocre laborers; we're all really gonna have to break our backs this harvesting season."
Soarin nodded and said, "I'll do my best." He looked silently at his jar and watched the ice cubes shift as they slowly disintegrated and intermixed within the sweet beverage. Every word the old mare had just said waned his confidence. Substandard and mediocre was all he was capable of, but he knew he had to try. This job felt like his last chance at redeeming himself for his lifetime of failures. "I'll do my best," he repeated, putting a little more conviction in his voice.
Granny Smith smiled kindly at him. "That's all that we ask of you. As long as you keep that promise, yer just as welcome as family 'round here."
Soarin acknowledged Granny Smith with a wordless nod before looking to Braeburn. "I guess I'm ready when you are."
"Alrighty, then." Braeburn stood up from his seat and rounded the table toward Apple Bloom. "Just let me say goodbye to mah two favorite ladies real quick." He gently adjusted the bow on the filly's head before bending down and kissing her on the cheek. "Have a good day at school, sugarcube'." He said with a doting affection in his voice.
"You do the same," Apple Bloom replied, acknowledging her cousin by reaching up and hugging him around his neck with one arm, still never taking her eyes from her book.
The lofty golden stallion then did the same with Granny Smith.
"Try not to be too hard on the city slicker." She chuckled. "They just seem to be gettin' more and more fragile with every generation."
Soarin frowned, not amused by the old badger's condescension. He turned to Applejack to gauge her reaction on Granny Smith's comment, but she had a look about her as if she were too lost in thought to have been paying attention. It was then that he remembered she was trying to say something to him before Braeburn's interruption.
"What was it you were going to say to me?" He reminded her.
Applejack looked at him, her expression inscrutable. Several times her mouth twitched as if she were about to speak, but she remained silent. Finally she said, "Ah'll ask ya later. Focusing on your work takes priority over such..." she paused, then giggled nervously while waving a dismissive hoof, "Silly little things."
"What could be so 'silly' that you don't even want to tell me?"
"It ain't nothin' to rustle yer jimmies over," Applejack assured with an uneasy smile. "Ah'll, uh, talk to ya about it over dinner tonight. Promise."
"You comin', Mr. Soarin?" Braeburn called out impatiently from the living room.
"I'm coming." Soarin sighed as he reluctantly got up from his seat. He wanted to know what was on Applejack's mind now, not later, but it wasn't like he could interrogate her. He absolutely despised secrets, especially when they concerned him. Crestfallen, he made his way to the kitchen's exit.
Soarin was not a stranger to hard work. The long and strenuous flight practices and training regimen that had forged him into the lean, corded, aerodynamic stallion he was could attest to this. He was in the best shape of his life, the absolute pinnacle of physical fitness. He had adorned the covers of many sports and male fitness magazines. Everything from his diet, to his training routine, was a carefully calibrated science, orchestrated and devised from the creme of the crop of sports nutritionists, and he only trained with the best personal trainers money could buy. Soarin himself was sired from a line of physically superior specimens. His own grandfather was a Wonderbolt, back in the day when they wore those corny bomber jackets and aviator shades. Yet, despite his pedigree and untapped resources, he couldn't buck a Luna Chucking tree to save his damn life.
The heat was merciless, despite him laboring in the shade of the orchard's canopy. It didn't take Soarin long to realize how spoiled he was, having the privilege of working out in air conditioned private gyms his entire life.
Sweat secreted profusely from every pore in his body, matting his fur to his skin with an unpleasant sticky sensation. He didn't have his trainer there to rub his back when he was sore, or spray him with ice cold water from a bottle and wipe him down when the heat became intense. All he had to use as a towel was a dirty old handkerchief that Braeburn gave him. The crude cloth looked like it was ripped from someponie's garment during a bar fight, which wouldn't surprise him in the least to find out if that was true. It had an acrid stench of musk, old leather, and whisky about it. Soarin refused to wipe down any part of himself with the ringworm-ridden fabric, though he kept it, not wanting to appear ungrateful.
As unpleasantly stifling and muggy the air was, it was tolerable compared to the persistent ache in his back and legs. Every buck was a service to his memory that his physiology was not that of an earth pony's. It was basic kindergarten biology that Pegusi have hollow bones and light muscles, which help them fly. Earth ponies, on the other hoof, have naturally dense frames. Soarin continued to repeat this fact to himself in his mind. The excuse made him feel less inadequate when he felt like buckling into a puddle of his own sweat. His lack of success at the job was not a question of his physical condition, it was an issue of simple biology. It was like a fish trying to fly, or a bird trying to swim. He simply wasn't built for it. But if that was true, what was driving him to perform these tasks that he continued to perpetuate the impossibilities of? This riddle perplexed him as he went on laboriously through the day.
"Try to kick a little higher," Braeburn instructed. "The higher your kick, the harder the apples rattle."
"Got it," Soarin panted. He winced as he bucked as high as he could without sacrificing power.
"Nice!" Braeburn critiqued.
Soarin looked around him. He counted only twelve apples. "Dammit!"
"Damn what? That was a good kick. Yer doin' a lot better than you was on yer first day."
"No, I'm not!" Soarin snapped. The heat and Braeburn's unwarranted praise was beginning to fray his temper. "I still don't get how you're knocking these trees dry with only one kick!" He sneered down at the meager amount of fruit the tree had surrendered to him for his efforts. "I'm lucky if I can do it in ten."
"Been doin' this all mah life," Braeburn offered with a shrug. "Keep at it, you'll get it."
Soarin doubted that very much. He struck the tree again in frustration, this time forsaking any sort of technique. An intense jolt of pain traveled from his legs to his back. He did his best to remain stoic in front of Braeburn, but dark blots were forming around his vision, and he feared in the back of his mind that he may have just pulled or sprained something. There were no new apples that had fallen for all the pain that last kick had caused him. "This is impossible," he muttered hopelessly.
Braeburn trotted to him and said, "You don't look too good. Why don't you take a load off and let me handle the rest of the honey crisp trees."
Soarin was about to protest, but before he could, Braeburn swept passed him and let loose a powerful kick that resonated like thunder. The very tree that Soarin had just nearly broken his leg on, was effortlessly knocked bereft of its fruit in one buck. The whites of Soarin's eyes boiled red as he fought back an oath. The frustration he felt was maddening. He suffered in his dejection silently as he watched Braeburn deposit the fallen apples into a barrel. He attempted to offer his assistance, but the crippling pain from his crude kick persisted. He could do nothing but take Braeburn's advice and lay down.
Maybe I really am useless... Granny Smith's cautionary words to him echoed throughout his mind. Substandard and mediocre, Soarin was beginning to think, were words that were too good to describe his performance. In order to be on the level of mediocrity, he'd have to at least be able to do the job.
"Mr Soarin!" Came a familiar voice in the distance.
Braeburn pivoted around and noticed Apple Bloom sprinting toward them in a mad gallop. "Apple Bloom? Why ain't ya in school, sugarcube?"
Soarin turned his head to acknowledge the filly. He took a deep, calming breath before he spoke, cautious not to project his frustrations onto the child. "What's up, kid?"
Apple Bloom slid on her haunches to a stop. Her eyes were wide with urgency. "Mr Soarin, Ah know this is sudden, and Ah know yer busy an' all, but could ya please get me to school? And quick!"
"You should'a left twenty minutes ago," Braeburn commented.
"Ah know, Ah know, but Ah got all caught up with the alchemy book Twilight let me borrow; Ah lost all track of time."
"Why do you want me to bring you to school?" Soarin asked.
"School starts in fifteen minutes, and Ah just kinda figured - you know - thirty minute walk fer me, five minute flight fer you."
"Now sweet heart," Breburn chided, "getting to school on time is your responsibility. It ain't respectful to treat Mr Soarin like yer personal Taxi."
"But Ah'll get Saturday detention if Ah'm tardy one more time!" Apple Bloom wined, her eyes shimmering pleadingly. "Ah promise not to ask again. Just this once. please?" The little filly shifted her pleading eyes to Soarin.
Soarin thought for a moment. The cool sensation of the wind tugging at his mane, the soothing sound of the air rushing past him, the calming endless blue of the sky, it was just what he needed about now. "I really don't mind," he said.
"Really?" Apple Bloom's golden face lit up with the radiance of a lit hearth.
"Sure ya don't mind?" Braeburn asked.
"If you don't mind me leaving the farm for a few minutes," Soarin replied.
"Ah guess it's fine, if ya really don't mind." Braeburn looked admonishingly at Apple Bloom as she happily slung her book bag over her shoulder. "Yer lucky Mr Soarin is such a nice guy, little lady. What do you say?"
"Thank you, Mr Soarin!" said the filly. "Ah don't wanna rush ya, but we need to go, like, nowish. Ah'd sooner chew the abc gum off the bottom of Scootaloo's desk than spend a Saturday afternoon peeling it off."
Soarin crouched down to his belly, and Apple Bloom swung a leg over him and situated herself firmly at the base of his neck. "Does this flight come with free peanuts?" she giggled ammusedly at her own joke.
"No, but in the event of an emergency, I'll be using you a flotation device," Soarin retorted, which scored a disapproving frown from Braeburn. Soarin pretended not to notice as he raised to his hooves, then dug them into the ground. He looked hungrily up at the sky and spread his wings. "Ready, kid?"
He could feel the pressure from Apple Bloom's hind legs on the sides of his neck as she gripped his mane like a pair of reins. "Ready."
"Hurry back," Braeburn waved.
Soarin crouched, then leaped, and he was airborne, effortlessly ripping through the orchard's canopy as he shot strait for the sky's zenith. He drew in a deep breath and looked down to watch the earth flee from him until Sweet Apple Acres was but a green square patch in the distance.
"Mr Soarin!" Apple Bloom cried out. Terrified, She buried her face into her steed's mane.
"What's up?"
"Slow down!" She whimpered.
"Oh, sorry." Soarin lessened his speed to a more casual pace as he ceased his climb. He arched his path until he was moving forward, and he banked toward the direction of the school, which looked like a little red dot from his altitude. "That better?" He could feel Apple Bloom's face still hidden in his mane. "Take a look at the world around you, kid. Few earth ponies get to view it from this perspective. I promise, you'll love it."
After a few unsure moments, he could feel Apple Bloom's grip loosening. The frightened filly managed to open her eyes, and was overcome with a sense of wonderment as she took in her surroundings. "A-Ah can see the whole town from up here!" She exclaimed. "This is amazing!"
"You like that?" Soarin laughed.
"Ah do!" She giggled and freed her grip from his mane, hanging on with only her hind legs. "Ah had no idea this felt so good!" The little one grinned fiercely with her head upturned as she spread her arms out, her crimson red mane flowing behind her like blazing phoenix feathers. A gentle updraft suddenly hit them. Soarin locked his wings out and rode the wind above a cluster of clouds. His wings traced white wisps through the air as they glided lazily through the draft. It was a little boring to move at such a slow speed, but it was relaxing, and at least his passenger seemed to be enjoying it.
"Hey, kid?" Soarin said, seeing this interaction as an opportunity to gather some clues to Applejack's odd behavior. "I don't suppose your sister said anything to you before I came in for breakfast, did she?"
"Matter of fact, she did."
Soarin smiled. "She did? What'd she say?"
"Good mornin'," Apple Bloom replied.
Soarin's eye twitched in irritation. "I meant, anything about me?"
"Ah don't think so. Why?"
"No reason," Soarin sighed in surrender.
"Tell me why!" Apple Bloom insisted. "Is it a secret? Ah like secrets! Promise Ah won't tell no pony. Cross mah heart, hope to fly!"
Soarin thought it over, then decided it didn't matter if the insistent little filly knew about his dilemma. It wasn't like it would change anything. "Something happened between me and your sister last night, but I can't remember a thing. To make things worse, she seems to be harboring a secret from me."
"Why can't you remember anything?" Apple Bloom asked interestedly.
Soarin mulled over his answer for a second, trying to put his words in a way that a child could understand. "You can call it amnesia, I guess."
"Oh!" The filly exclaimed knowingly. "You were drinkin', weren't ya, Mr Soarin?"
Surprise spread across the Pegasus' face. "Aren't you eight? How can you know that?"
"Part of being an alchemist is understanding how various chemicals, such as alcohol, effect the body." The filly pointed out matter of factly. " Ah figured ya was hungover from the way you stumbled into the kitchen with your eyes all bloodshot. You should have told me you was feelin' puny this mornin'. Ah could'a whipped up a medicinal poultice for that. Detoxification potions are easy-peasy."
"Alchemist?" Soarin asked. "What's that?"
"It's a fancy way of saying potion mixer. Twilight Sparkle is a pretty good teacher. She's got access to a lot of really neat books that help further mah research. She even has a small laboratory she lets me use when we have our time together."
"Potions, huh?" Soarin shifted the edges of his wings like rudders on a plane in a diagonal glide, the school fast approaching. "I took a crack at potions when I was a kid, but I never really went anywhere with it. Plus my folks wanted me to be an athlete. They always got a little nervous when I would show interest in what they referred to as 'egghead' pursuits."
"Egghead, shmeghead, alchemy is awesome," Apple Bloom stated, her eyes sparkling with passion. "It's chemistry and magic all bundled into one perfect little package. The limits to what one can do with alchemy are only defined by your knowledge and imagination. Ah could cure any illness, or Ah could turn ya into a frog. Who knows? Maybe a cure for mortality could be discovered one day!"
Soarin chuckled. "You're starting to sound more like a mad scientist."
"Alchemist," Apple Bloom corrected. The two were now traveling just over the school grounds. Apple Bloom swiveled her head around and waved at two other fillies. She pointed at them and said, "Can ya land me over there, Mr Soarin?"
"Sure, kid." Soarin veered toward the fillies, swooped down, and descended slowly until he was on the ground. The moment he landed, the dull ache racing up his legs acted as an instant reminder of how tired and sore they were.
Apple Bloom dismounted and the two fillies she waved to came scrambling to meet her, but a grey earth pony with a braided platinum ponytail cut them off and managed to get to him before they could. She skidded to a stop and looked up at him, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Could it be? Soarin, coming to visit me at my school? Like in my fanfictions? All twenty of them!"
Soarin staggered backwards, but the filly mirrored his steps. "You," She began, "You... You're really Soarin? Could it be?"
Soarin nodded. "I take it you're a fan?"
"Fan doesn't even describe it!" The little silver filly dropped her book bag and produced her binder. It was covered front to back with pictures of him. Pictures that were taken of him during his shows, pictures of him from magazines and various advertisements. The one picture that was centered in the binder, as if to give it special attention, was of Soarin in his flight suit with his hood unzipped. His mane was ravaged, and his body glistened with a sheen of sweat as if he had just come out of a fierce battle. His muscles were especially prominent through the magic of lighting and airbrushing. It was a fitness ad to Soarin's recollection.
"You want me to sign your binder?" Soarin guessed.
"Yes!" The filly squealed. "And then you can marry me! And we'll have a honeymoon in Prance! Then we'll have three beautiful babies together! Two girls, one boy! And we'll have a summer home off the Gold Coast of Hosstrailia!"
Soarin uneasily backed away from her.
"Sil!" A pink filly suddenly sprung from out of nowhere and subdued the silver one, clasping a hoof over her mouth. "You're scaring him! Play it cool!" The pink filly smiled up at Soarin as the silver one desperately mumbled unintelligible declarations of her affection. "You'll have to forgive my friend. Rabid doesn't even begin to describe her fandom."
"It's okay," Soarin chuckled and turned to Apple Bloom. "I'll see you at home, kid."
"Don't ya wanna meet mah friends?" Apple Bloom asked, standing between an ivory unicorn and orange Pegasus, who were both gawking at him with expressions of intense enthusiasm.
"What does he mean by he'll see you at home?" Said the ivory unicorn, her voice sweet like a minstrel's.
"Oh, Soarin lives with us." Apple Bloom informed. "He's kinda like a handy pony in training."
"Freaking Soarin of the freaking Wonderbolts is living with you?" The Pegasus exclaimed in disbelief, the gruffness in her voice betraying a certain tomboyishness in her demeanor.
A sudden, horrible screech suddenly erupted from the silver earth pony's mouth. The sound could only have been described as iron spears grating harshly against a brick wall. She shoved her pink friend to the ground, liberating herself. "You're working and living with those hicks?! Does this mean you're not a Wonderbolt anymore?!"
"No," Soarin answered curtly, not liking the term the silver one had just used to describe his employers. He then looked back to Apple Bloom. "I should get back to the farm, kid. I'll hangout with you and your friends any time, though."
Another strident squeal escaped the silver filly as she darted in his way before he could take off. "Wait! Please! This is exactly how one of my fics begin! You should come work for my family! We've been needing a new butler since the other one died, I guess. My Daddy can triple whatever meager salary those Apple hicks are paying you."
Soarin glared at her. Spoiled brat, he thought. He knew how to piss off rich fops like this, though. When they tried to act superior, simply act even more superior. He stuck his muzzle up and smiled insufferably. "Kid, I don't need your money, and your daddy would weep if he saw the size of my wallet. You ever hear of the one percent? Well, I'm the zero point one percent."
"Ooohh," the pink one remarked with an approving smile. "Silver Spoon, he's sassy!"
"Isn't he great?" The silver one sighed, her head tilting with a dreamy expression.
Soarin face-hoofed and quickly realized that acting pompous and superior would only warrant admiration from yuppies like these. "Apple Bloom," he said frusteratedly, "I'll see you at home."
"Would you mind if Ah brought mah friends around your barn, so Ah can have them meet you?"
Soarin spread his wings as he crouched into take off. "I don't mind. Party at my place, I guess."
"Wait!" The silver filly pleaded, but Soarin ignored her and took off. The last thing he heard was her screaming after him, "Soarin, wait! This isn't how my fic goes! You still need to ask me to marry you!"
"Kids these days..." Soarin rolled his eyes as he sped into the azure sky, the filly's desperate screams for his attention becoming more and more distant until they were completely inaudible.
On a whim, he decided to clear his head of all thoughts and just fly with no destination in mind. Just ten minutes, then I'll head back to the farm, he promised himself.
He shifted his course and shot into the sky, climbing higher and higher, until the air was thin and frosty with arctic gales, until the earth below was patched like a sprawling quilt that curved far in the distance. He enjoyed the liberating sensation of the endless blue's embrace. He may be living with earth pony's now, but he was still a Pegasus. The sky was every Pegasus' first love, and Soarin was no exception.
He filled his lungs with the icy air, and exhaled a white mist that dissipated into the wind - just like his worries.
The grass felt lush under Soarin's hoofs as he touched down on the farm. There was just something about flying that relaxed him and chased his worries away. His legs didn't even feel sore anymore. Energized and refreshed, he was ready to find Braeburn and get back to work. He was ready to apologize for being so short-tempered earlier. He was sure that the apple bucking would eventually become easier as he gained experience.
Soarin looked all around, but could not seem to locate Braeburn in the location where they had been working. It was then that he noticed packed in lines where the grass yielded to the weight of the barrel wagon's wheels. He followed them for a few minutes until he could hear Applejack's voice ringing from a clearing in the distance. Soarin smiled as he quickened his stride. Just hearing that saucy little farm girl's sexy drawl was enough to invigorate him.
"Ah don't care Braeburn, he's been annoying me all day. Have you seen the way he looks at me? The way he undresses me with his eyes?"
Soarin stopped dead in his tracks. Who was she talking about? He crept to an apple tree and stealthily peeked out from its side. Braeburn was tapping the cap of a barrel in place with a rubber mallet. Applejack was standing near him. She seemed livid about something.
"Cousin, the only article of clothing you ever wear is your hat." Braeburn pointed out. "You're already undressed."
"Yeah, well..." Applejack faltered. "Well, he probably dresses me with his eyes just so he can undress me with em again! He made me feel so uncomfortable that Ah had to go hide in the chicken coop just to get away from him. The chicken coop! Rarity's been runnin' me ragged, too, as if it was mah fault that preppy little city boy's been drooling over me!"
"Miss Rarity? She's been buggin' you too?"
"You kiddin'? She won't leave me alone! She gets mad at me because she's got such a huge crush on the guy, and Ah'm like, You can have him, Ah sure as shoot don't want him. Don't get me wrong, Ah love Rarity to death, but that girl has some serious jealousy problems."
Soarin was beginning to wonder if they were talking about him. It couldn't be. It was true that he had the tendency to 'admire' her - maybe - but he was always careful to not make it too obvious. But if he disgusted her so much, why was she being so nice to him over breakfast? The Applejack he knew wasn't two-faced. And what was all this stuff about Rarity? Rarity had a crush on him? The only thing he knew about that unicorn is that she was extremely flamboyant, and she knocks your ass out when you try to rescue her. Soarin involuntarily rubbed his jaw as he remembered the blow she inflicted on him that fateful day she plummeted from Cloudsdale.
"Give the guy a break, cuz." Braeburn grunted as he hoisted his now-sealed barrel onto his back. "You know how those rich and famous types are. He's just a little eccentric, that's all. And Miss Rarity, well, she'll get over it."
"Eccentric or not, famous or not - you don't know what its like to be stared at like you're a piece of salt lick, and to make matters worse, have your best friend hate you over something you have absolutely no control of. Ah don't want him on the farm, and Ah damn sure don't want him around me - especially when Ah'm trying to work. Ah'm not in the habit of talking about ponies when they ain't around to defend themselves, so Ah'll just leave it that."
Soarin turned around and slumped his back against the tree with a vacant look in his eyes. They were talking about him! What other rich, semi-famous stallion has been here besides him? She really wants me gone?
A loud thump resonated from the cart when Breburn dropped the barrel in place among the other containers. There was a long silence until he finally said with a cold seriousness in his voice, "You want me to get rid of him when he comes back?"
Soarin felt his heart drop into his gut, not believing that Braeburn, one of the nicest guys he had ever met, would offer such a service against him with such a callousness in his tone. He had thought a friend of Braeburn up until now.
"That's real sweet of you, but no. He ain't gonna be here for very long, so it's not like it matters. Ah just can't wait till we're rid of him. Out of the farm, out of the city, and out of mah life, and If he thinks he can come around here whenever he wants like he's one of the family, he's got another thing comin'."
Applejack's statement was like a dagger thrust into his heart. He never truly thought of himself as one of the family, but is still devastated him to hear her say something like that. The hurt of all the past grievances inflicted on him manifested once again as a vice grip on his heart. It made its way up to his throat, but Soarin swallowed it. No, no more feeling sorry for myself! I've done nothing but try, and try, and try, and it's never been good enough for anyone. He looked up at the sky, and entertained the thought of just flying away and never returning, but he quickly decided against it. He wasn't going to quit this time. He was surrounded by backbiters who smiled at him through their teeth while concealing daggers behind their backs, which was no different than how things were when he was in the Wonderbolts. He decided that his only way out was through a pink slip. At least that way he could tell himself that he didn't give up and quit like he did with everything else. He stepped out from his concealment and glared at Applejack, waiting to be noticed.
Braeburn was the first to notice him. "Well, look who's back!" he said with a bright smile. "Just in time, too. Ah think the rear axle on the wagon's got a bad seem. Guess who gets to learn how to use a welding torch?"
"Hey, sugarcube," Applejack greeted him with a sweetness that practically made Soarin's stomach lurch. "Heard ya took mah baby sister to school. That was so sweet of you!"
The memories of all the humiliation and indignation Soarin had ever endured swirled about in his mind like a raging thunderstorm as he watched her smile at him. The way she was just talking about how she wanted nothing more but to have him out of her life, and then to just turn around and smile at him like that. It exacerbated his already foul mood. The more he looked at her, the more he saw Spitfire. His rage bubbled inside him until it was dangerously close to reaching a fever pitch. He wordlessly walked past her, and he hitched the wagon. "Lets get these apples to the cellar, then we'll weld this axle," he said with a level of restraint that surprised himself.
Applejack trotted beside him, smiling that fake smile of hers. "So, Ah was thinkin' maybe we could go out for lunch? You ain't had a burger 'til you been to the hay burger."
"No." Soarin said curtly. "You and Braeburn go without me. I have an axle to fix."
"Uhm, well, A-Ah m-meant just you and me, that is, if y'all wanted."
Soarin noted Applejack's nervous demeanor with curiosity. "No," he said once more. "I already had my break."
"Well, ya gotta eat!" Applejack insisted. She sounded as if she was becoming frustrated.
"I'm not hungry!"
"You ain't now, but Ah'm talkin' about lunch time! You know, in a few hours?"
"No, now leave me alone!" Soarin quickened his pace to the apple cellar with a grimace. He noticed Applejack was no longer perusing him. He slowed and turned his head around to see what she was doing.
Applejack stood there with a sullen look until Braeburn joined her. She shook her head and said something to him. Braeburn said something back to her. It almost sounded like "I'll find out." Then he hugged her and trotted until he was side-by-side with Soarin and the cart. He kept his eyes forward and asked, "You wanna talk about it?"
Look at this bastard pretending to care! "Talk about what?"
"Anything that may be on your mind."
"Eh, nothing too serious," Soarin offered with a sardonic shrug. "You know, just a little back pain. Feels kinda like someone plunged a dagger into it."
"Mister Soarin, whatever the reason for this attitude of yours, Ah can't say that Ah appreciate it. And Ah don't know if y'all noticed, but you just hurt mah cousin's feelings."
"Well, I guess you could always get rid of me," Soarin said accusingly.
"Ah'd really rather not have to do that, if Ah could avoid it," Braeburn replied calmly. "Look, ah know we're guys, and what not, and we ain't supposed to talk about our feelings, but Ah'm here, alright? It's like grandma said: family."
Soarin stopped. The wagon behind him jerked, and the barrels rattled together. "Family?" Soarin laughed humorlessly. "Do you want to know what family is?"
Breaburn remained silent.
"Familial love is nothing but conditional affection. Everyone loves you when you're on the top of your game, oh, but when you fall, who's going to be there to catch you? No one! No one catches you, Braeburn - they only gather around you to mock you and kick you until you're forced to drag yourself back to your hooves!" Soarin roared with pint up fury as he slashed the air with his hoof. "Everyone treats you like you're a burden! They make you feel like they'd be better off if you just laid down and died. But they don't tell you that to your face, do they?" Soarin glared at Braeburn, who only returned a look that was half laced with concern and confusion.
Soarin scowled at him with a trembling jaw before turning away and continuing down the trail to the cellar. He didn't care about restraining his temper anymore. He was going to be fired anyway, so what did it matter?
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UPDATE! OMG, YOU REALLY UPDATED IT
Your so awesome for updating! Thank you!
I think I see what is happening here. I hope you clear this up in the next chapter, but great twist on that episode. I can't wait for the next chapter. I hope it comes out soon.
oh this is not good, not good at all
Oh my... Plot twist! I'm loving the story so far, it's dramatic, well-written, surprisingly emotional and a great read!
'Warn with age' - worn
yay!!! an update!! just as good as the previous chapter. i hope somepony sets Soarin straight, eavesdropping always leads to misunderstandings. all i can say is i can't wait for more!!!
I'm glad you're back. I was hoping you hadn't abandoned this one. Well done!
Wow, and just when you thought the Wonderbolts couldn't get lower, it seems their definition of "family" proves otherwise.
I've genuinely enjoyed a lot of this fic, but the conflict that was introduced at the end of chapter four feels... forced.
Maybe I missed something leading up to this point that would have clued me in that this was going to happen, or even correlates to the story. If that's the case then shame on me.
The sad thing is that Applejack and Breaburn are (were?) likely actually talking about that stupid idiot, Trenderhoof. (Ain't seen that ep yet, but I've seen enough to know that I don't like the jerk.
)
The sadder thing is that Soarin likely came in at the wrong place in their conversation.
Please, update soon! I wanna see Soarin and AJ (and the rest of the family, too, of course) work this out!
Yeah, they were probably talking about Trenderhoof.
4675642 I agree.
Ah, the old "This isn't what it sounds like," conversation. Always a classic.
Haha nice. I thought you were dead.
Looking forward to more. This cliffhanger is a doozy.
4675308 Eh, I can see why you would think that. Just stick around for the next chapter and everything will make sense.
4677132
Hopefully it is sooner than 3 months? The wait would kill most normal people.
Oh misunderstandings, let me count the ways...
Wow, this is gonna be good.
Who is this guy pretending to be? Gabe Newell?
She's talking about all her human fans right? I know it's Trenderhoof but that was too easy.
Now he's got her frustrated, very bad idea Soarin, don't do that to women.
Poor guy, I can't wait to see what happens when he sees Applejewel/Rarihick.
If you know who I am, then you probably know my dislike for Pony fanfics involving one of the Mane Six.
Applejack is also my second least favorite pony (Rarity takes that fucking title!)
That being said, I actually really like this story. The emotions are genuine, the characters feel alive, and the budding taste of AJ's crush is deliciously obvious.
Spitfire, to me, isn't really that angry at Soren. I actually think she's just really hurt that he left her 'family'. Some mother's lose their shit when their kid so much as mentions moving out, so her aggressive reaction is quite understandable, even if it was kinda brought upon herself. Not that Soren helped any, he sounded quite lazy and most likely didn't deserve to be a Wonderbolt.
So props to him for quitting, it wasn't going to go anywhere.
With all that said, let me say this. This fanfic is the first in a long time that has actually kept my attention firmly on it. With other's I end up jumping onto Youtube or something, simply because I just can't keep my attention glued to it.
So yeah, here's a like and favorite. Hope you update soon!
Residual Hangover + uncertainty of making a a$$ out of yourself + borderline depression + moderate to severe inferiority complex + encounter with a rich rabid fan + annoyance at rich rabid fan + catching the tail of an out of context conversation = plenty of amusement for the reader and plenty of heartache/headache for the protagonists
Seriously... this is what happens when you assume something Soarin'... and if you didn't have egg on your face already (I'm pretty darn sure you didn't!) then you do now
I can see this turning into a scene from "The American President"
"Excuse me, sir, where are you going?"
"I'm going over to her house. I'm going to stand outside her door until she let's me in, and I'm not leaving until I get her back. "
"How are you going to do that, sir?"
"Well... I... haven't quite worked that part out yet, but I'm sure groveling will be involved."
This is going to be highly amusing one way or the other, I'm sure, but I seriously hope this goes the way I'm hoping it will. Either way, I'm very happy to see this updated and I look forward to further chapters!
Stallions, only got half a story uch, he's an idiot.
Once again, Trenderhoof tries to ruin another one of my OTPs!
WE MUST BURN HIM AT THE STAKE!!
4677132
I'm not abandoning the story, more or less just saying something that caught my attention.
4678287
Someone needs to make a fic where Trenderhoof gets completely and utterly destroyed by everypony.
Damn it Trenderhoof!
....uuuuuhhhmmmm this could be misinterpreted
4680203 You sick fuck XD
4680480 if you have been in the internet for longer than 5 years
and /b/
I finally got to read this story and I think it's pretty good.
I can 't wait for the next chapte-
*sees how long it took to update*
Oh god, and right when things got even MORE INTERESTING...
Okay. Good chapter. Can't wait to see how everything here gets resolved. Nice use of chapter reference.
Oh boy, if Soarin had know they were talking about him
Oh man, the Silver Spoon bit in this chapter was just so hilarious.
Ouch, that misunderstanding at the end. Talk about the age old saying about assumptions, Soarin is going to feel like such an ass once he realizes what happened.
And damn you Trenderhoof!
I do believe Soarin is sick, he is suffering from hoof in his big fat mouth sickness!
Soarin really needs some TLC from Applejack
ok i really love this story! and i cant help but think this is just a big mistake on Soarin part.
but wow i cant wait for the next chapter and Soarin better be ready to kiss Ajs hoof and say sorry .....or maybe some other parts >:3
Will we have to wait long for an update?
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4680612
4677397
It won't be as long as three months. A couple weeks at the very most. The reason why it took three months to update was because work had me so busy. I'm a cattle rancher, and April, May, and June are what is known as breeding season. Its the busiest time of the year in my line of work. It's sell season now, which is still hard work, but not nearly as hard.
4694056
Cattle rancher? Nice.
Also take yer time.
Imagine Applejack bucking Spitfire's teeth in...
This keeps getting better and better.
4677981
Mother loosing her shit when the son is just a block away.
Talk about a
Fan BTW.
Wow. Way to weave episodes together. Good job.
Man, Soarin was awfully quick to get all embittered and self-righteous.
Even if Applejack HAD been talking about him, those were all perfectly legitimate reasons not to want him around. He doesn't really have scope here to act so betrayed.
wrap
Why don't ya come over here and grace me with yer presence?"
This line made me thing of a line from Call of Duty: Black Ops 1.
Kravchenko: Aaah! The hero of Berlin graces is with his presence! Have you not tired of battle Reznov?
Reznov: As long as Mother Russia has enemies, I will answer her call.
Dragovich: Put aside your petty rivalry Kravchenko. Captain Reznov will do as he is told. We are here for ONE German! And one German only! Doctor Friedrich Steiner! This man, has offered his cooperation to our cause! He is not to be harmed! Disobey this order, and you will be shot!