Chapter 18: Grafted
[Posted: 7/22/18 by Pepper]
This is Ronald Pfeffer, known in my little pony circles as Counselor Pepper… usually just Pepper. You know by now that Peach is my girlfriend, that she’s at the center of my life and I’m at hers. I thought it was high time I introduced myself to her readers, especially since I helped her set up her website and her blog in the first place.
It’s such a strange time in my life. I know Peach is discovering new things every day, but right now I feel like that too. It’s almost as if I were visiting Equestria. Today I realized something about myself that, honest to god, made me cry when it had really sunk in.
All right. So, five years ago, I was engaged to a young woman named Cindy Stolarz. We were fresh out of college and we were going to be each others’ lives. We were both excited about the future and very much in love with each other. We were looking forward to kids and a house and dogs—we even agreed on pretty much all our dreams, when we chatted about them. Every conversation about the future made us feel closer.
But now it’s the future, and Cindy isn’t a part of my life anymore.
An engagement is a promise, and I don’t take promises lightly, especially not big ones. The fact that our engagement failed means that a promise was broken. And a big promise, too—not just to us, but to our families and our communities. A person can’t go on with his life without a broken promise like that haunting him now and then, or if he does, he’s not an honest man.
Cindy Stolarz was wonderful in so many ways. She was on track for a professional life—planning on a degree in social services, but in the meantime she had an internship exactly where she wanted it. Her family were all friendly and reasonably successful people, and none of them had any major problems. She had hobbies—she liked the theater and swimming and gourmet cheeses. She was a really well balanced person and she hardly ever lost her temper.
She sounds really good on paper, doesn’t she? Well, she seemed really good in person, too. And she was really good—for another guy. His name is Mitch and they’re married now. He didn’t break us apart, though—she met him after we’d broken our engagement off. Over the years, I’ve told a lot of people that Mitch was more like Cindy than I was. But it’s only now I finally realize what I mean by that.
How was I wrong for Cindy? How was she wrong for me? It’s a question I’ve never been able to answer. We thought we’d be happy together. Everyone who knew us thought we’d be happy together. Whatever the problem was, nobody caught it. Nobody in our lives. But there was a problem, and it was always going to drive us apart.
How it actually happened was on a vacation we were taking together to Atlantic City. We knew we wanted to travel while we could, before having kids, and we figured we’d test it out with a local destination city to see how it would go. We knew we might get stressed on a trip together. We knew we might get sick of each other, or even snipe at each other, and we were ready for that.
So what happened? Basically… I wanted to gamble, and she didn’t want to. I know, that sounds horrible. Who gets angry at someone else for not wanting to throw money away on a dumb thing? But then again, who goes to Atlantic City and doesn’t gamble? We agreed we’d gamble some ahead of time, but for her that meant sticking a few coins into some slot machines on our way someplace else, like the boardwalk. I figured since we were in a casino town, we should spend a day touring the casinos. Actually learning some games and looking like fools if we had to. Knowing full well we’d probably lose all the money we budgeted for it and still hoping that maybe, just maybe we’d end up winning after all. Maybe we’d win big. Maybe we’d blow it all on something dumb by morning.
It’s too easy just to say I’m a risk-taker and she’s not. Because I’m not really a risk taker. In some ways, I’m one of the biggest pluggers I know. I look back on all the risks I’ve left behind—sticking it out with Cindy included—and I want to shout at myself for being a coward. And it’s too easy to say I’m more of a child at heart than she is, though that’s closer. Cindy’s interests were all adult—she loved looking into the future because she didn’t really like being a young, insecure twenty-something, and I wanted to stay young forever. But it’s not childishness I felt was missing from her. I knew it wasn’t. It was something deeper, but I could never figure out exactly what.
It would even be too simple to say she didn’t have a sense of humor, though that’s closer still. She laughed. She laughed at plays, or at TV shows when she was supposed to laugh. The good old formulas for humor worked for her, and she laughed out of sheer happiness when we were together, like I did, and I mistook that for humor. It’s more that she didn’t have the right sense of humor… but who ever heard of a couple breaking up over something piddly like that?
But today, I finally understood. It’s not just that Cindy wasn’t eccentric. It’s that she didn’t like the idea of being eccentric. No one is totally normal, and I think when we were in love, Cindy and I were about the same amount normal as each other. I thought of myself as an ordinary, average guy, and she thought of herself as a girl on track for a healthy, normal life. But… we were growing in different directions. I have to admit—I don’t like the idea of a person who smooths over everything that’s weird about her as she grows up. I like the idea of people who get more interesting the longer they live. I need a girl with valleys, but with big peaks, too. I know that sounds dirty, but it’s the best way I can think to put it. And Cindy was never going to be that girl. She could never because she didn’t want to.
I’m sorry. I’m crying again.
My point is… ponies are that girl that Cindy wasn’t. Ponies are themselves, and more so. Ponies are made of peaks and valleys, they’re living color, they’ll never be smoothed over. Their cutie marks alone are proof of that. You can’t erase a cutie mark. You can’t keep a pony’s nature down. If you love a pony… if you’re lucky enough to find a pony you love, you can be sure it’s only going to get better, not worse, over time. Because that’s the way ponies are.
I love you, Peach Spark.
Will you marry me?
I erased the last sentence before pressing Submit.
My post had over fifty comments by the time we were back from lunch. We’d gone to a random ethnic restaurant just for the fun of it, to try something new. This one had promised “The Flavors of the East”, and Peach had wanted to know what those flavors tasted like, so we’d gone there. She’d decided she wanted to try the flavors of the north, south and west, too. On the way back, we stopped at a drug store and randomly bought a huge black and white fuzzy poster, the kind you color yourself. It had a unicorn on it. We both agreed it had to go on our wall.
“I think people love that you love me,” said Peach from her swivel chair.
“Is that what they’re saying?” I asked from my spot on a the little rug we’d put beside the fuzzy poster, now that we’d cleared a space on our apartment’s floor big enough for it.
“Seems like a lot of support!” she chirped. “Then again, what are they gonna say, ‘Boo we hate you Peach’? If they were gonna trash on things, why would they read my blog in the first place?” She spun back to the screen. “Still, it feels good. All these little emojicons.”
“It’s either ‘emoticons’ or ‘emojis’, not both,” I told her through a chuckle.
“It can be both,” she said. “Hey, are you making her horn pink?”
I stopped coloring. “What’s wrong with pink?”
“Nothing.” Peach swiveled her chair and hopped down, hooves clacking. “It can be pink if you want. But I thought we’d color her horn together.”
I smiled and held out a marker. She took it immediately in her magical grip.
“I think it’s a him, not a her,” I remarked.
“Naaah. See the shape of the chest? Those aren’t a stallion’s curves. See the muzzle? A guy’s muzzle doesn’t taper like that.”
“Remember, this isn’t the same kind of unicorn you are,” I pointed out quietly.
She drew a careful pink stroke on the horn. “We can say it’s a girl if we want to,” she conceded in the same reverent hush.
I smiled and colored alongside her.
“I think I want stripes on the horn,” she suggested. “They say if your horn winds clockwise, you’re going to gr—”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
I looked at Peach, not at the door. She scrambled to her hooves, just the way I imagined she had the first time I’d knocked on her door. Clack clack clack, they went on the floor, except for one that landed silently on the rug. “Who could that be?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t invite anyone.”
She looked at me, and her face was terrified. “What if it’s Princess Cadance?!”
“Princess Cadance? Why would she be—”
“I can tell you’re worried,” said a tempered feminine voice through the door. “You don’t have to be. I only mean the best for both of you.”
I stood up. I’d heard that voice before.
“Oh alicorns!” Peach swore. She hurried over and opened the door, albeit reluctantly. A dusky yellow unicorn, much darker than the yellow unicorn from the club, was standing there.
“Second Sight,” I breathed.
She stood there, looking at us. From me to Peach. Then back to me. Peach backed up without saying a word.
“You don’t really love each other,” said Second Sight.
Her sentence hung in the air. It was like a doctor’s diagnosis, with the flavor of an ice cube in a bowl of Lucky Charms, or an alarm clock cutting through a dream.
Peach eventually managed to stammer a response: “Wh—what are you…?”
Second Sight stepped into the apartment, closed the door behind her, and deadbolted it. She ignored all the furniture stacked on top of other furniture, all the mess we hadn’t cleaned yet. She focused on me. “You’re ignoring something huge. Something that makes it impossible.”
I took one of the hardest breaths I’ve ever taken. “Second Sight…”
She looked at Peach. “And you’re only seeing what you want to see.”
Peach’s blue eyes widened. She looked at me.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” I demanded. I’d tried to muster anger, but it came out feeling more like confusion. Scared confusion.
“I’ve been reading your blog,” she told Peach. “And I spoke with Mr. Harrison. He met you at a club on Friday. He was disturbed.”
“Of course he was disturbed,” protested Peach quietly. “I’d just broken up with him.”
“And forgotten to tell him about it.”
“And forgot to tell him about it,” Peach admitted. “I can’t blame him.”
“Ignoring what?” I asked.
“He thought something might have happened to you,” Second Sight told Peach. “That you weren’t acting under your own total control.”
“He was upset! He was confused!”
“He was right,” said Second Sight heavily.
“Ignoring what?!” I yelled. “What is this huge thing I’m ignoring?”
“I don’t know!” shouted Second Sight, turning angrily toward me. It was the first time I’d seen emotion in her face.
“Then why… then why did you say it?”
“Because I can see it. I can feel it.” Her purple-haired head swung back to Peach. “George was right. You aren’t really in love. You’ve been soldered together, like wires in a conduit.”
“That is… no. Second, that’s not possible. That’s not true.”
The dark yellow unicorn watched the peach-colored one as if seeing new sobering truths by the second. “You know it’s true. You just don’t know that you—oh. There, now you do. Now you’re moving through the stages of grief. Was it Princess Cadance? I almost have to assume it was Princess Cadance.”
“You have to assume what was her?” I pressed. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re stuck in denial,” she told me, looking me in the eyes. Through the eyes, really. “The two of you are under a love spell. I don’t have much to compare it to; I’ve only seen one love spell before, and it was in a clinical setting. But it wasn’t nearly this strong. This is so strong it’s making my head hurt just looking at it.”
“A love spell?” I echoed. That claim seemed somehow familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Yes! It’s amazing. It’s so strong it’s making you forget it even exists. This is the kind of thing that could only be done by one of the strongest love mages in the world. But that’s just what Princess Cadance is.”
“A love mage?” whimpered Peach.
“It’s her natural gift. You know that. You know what I’m talking about.” Second Sight looked squarely at me. “Mr. Pfeffer, do you even remember what I just told you a moment ago?”
I didn’t want to remember, but I did. “That I’m under a love spell. Cast by Princess Cadance, I think you’re saying.”
She stamped the floor. “Yes. She made you fall in love with Peach Spark.”
“I was already in love with her!” I cried.
She looked carefully at me.
“What are we going to do?” asked Peach, half-sitting now.
Second Sight went over and held her. “I don’t think it’s breaking. I thought it might break if I made you aware of it. It’s too strong for that.” She looked between us and continued in a lower voice. “I think you must really have been very nearly in love for it to take such a solid hold on you both.”
“I was,” I said through rising tears. “I am.”
“Maybe you were,” she admitted. “But there’s still something huge you’re pushing back. And Miss Spark… you were in love with Mr. Harrison, weren’t you?”
Peach sniffled. “I don’t remember.”
Second Sight squeezed her in an awkward-looking hug, then stood back. I went over to Peach and sat beside her on the floor. She took me in her forelegs like she was afraid.
“I think we need to contact the princess,” said Second Sight.
“She wrote me an e-mail,” blurted Peach. I hadn’t even remembered that until now.
Second Sight looked sharp. “She did?”
“Yeah.” Peach paused for a long time before going to the computer. “I don’t remember what it was about. Let’s find out.”
We all went together and she read it aloud, together with her own reply. Her voice was slow and quavering. “…My boyfriend and I weren’t hit by spells that we can recall. Frankly, we’re having trouble making sense out of your letters. I’m guessing these were sent to me in error.”
“You were in denial,” said Second Sight. “You have to write back again.”
Peach sat there, her front hooves on the chair, her back legs curled under. “I don’t wanna.”
“I know,” said Second Sight. “But you have to.”
There was silence. “Do we really have to?” I asked.
The dusky unicorn with the messy purple mane looked at me. “It isn’t wise to stay under a personality-altering spell.”
I trembled. “I’m happy this way!” I objected. “I’m actually happy.” Then a horrifying memory trickled in. “I was going to move away,” I added. “I was about to give up… move back home…”
“Maybe we shouldn’t write back to Cadance,” said Peach. “Maybe we should stay in love. It’s been… it’s been the most wonderful time that I can remember.”
“The spell won’t last forever,” said Second Sight.
That hung.
“Maybe it will,” I resisted.
“Not even the strongest love spell can last forever,” she said.
“But love can last forever!” I shouted. “What if we really are in love now? What if the spell just tipped us into what we were going to do anyway?”
She considered. “Then I guess it was the right thing for the princess to do. Or it may have been. But we still need to get it removed.”
“No,” said Peach.
“It’s not healthy for you to—”
“NO!” she shouted. She looked to me plaintively.
I opened my arms and she hopped over. She reared up as tall as she could on her back legs and we hugged.
“I’m going to call Kellydell,” said Second Sight. “May I use your telephone?”
“Haven’t got one,” said Peach.
Second Sight sighed. “You really should get a telephone.”
With some difficulty, I pulled mine out and offered it. “You can use mine.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pfeffer.”
We stood and hugged and squeezed and stumbled while in the background we heard Second Sight’s careful, impersonal voice speaking on the phone. “Kellydell, it’s what you might call a friendship emergency. Will you come? …Yes, apartment 412. …Yes, bring him. …All right. Thank you.”
We unfolded from each other long enough to see her wander through the furniture and come upon our unicorn poster. She looked up at us.
“It’s a fuzzy poster,” said Peach weakly.
“So I see,” said Second Sight. “I do enjoy collaborative art. Shall we color it together to pass the time?”
We were coloring when there was another knock. It was softer this time, and we were expecting it, so there was no scrambling. Second Sight opened the door and Kellydell came in, followed by Seaswell. Then, to my mild surprise, in came George Harrison.
Peach looked up in alarm, her mouth open.
Kellydell came around the bookcase and gave Peach a nuzzle. “Peachy. Are you okay? I was worried it might be something like this.”
“I’m not okay,” she said.
I stood up and backed away. Second Sight explained things in as much detail as she knew, and Kellydell asked questions. George and Seaswell didn’t say much—they hung back.
“I don’t want him to move out,” asserted Peach, who kept shifting between sitting and standing. “It’s been amazing living together.”
“And we’re going to save money,” I added.
“Oh, really!” said Kellydell to me. “I guess this kind of solution could solve any kind of housing crisis, couldn’t it? Just magic everyone up so that they fall madly in love, and suddenly, wham!” She gestured around us. “You have couples living comfortably in a cluttered studio apartment?”
“We were planning on getting a one bedroom when the lease is up,” murmured Peach.
“Not to mention loneliness,” Kellydell continued sarcastically. “Lonely people cluttering up a city? Just sort them out and hex them. Pow—they’re in love and won’t ever be lonely again. So many problems, solved just by tinkering with people’s hearts!”
“You’re making out like it’s lunacy,” put in George, “but there just might be some value in that idea. Helping out the lonely people might be worth more than you think.”
“We have pills,” I said. “Things like Prozac. They make people happier.”
“You do?” asked Peach.
“And we went to Cadance too,” Seaswell reminded his wife. “We had her renew our love.”
Kellydell stamped her hoof, though it didn’t make much noise. “Renewal is different.”
“Is it really?”
“Of course. We had something to begin with.”
“And we didn’t?!” cried Peach.
Kellydell looked at me. “I don’t honestly know. From what Second said… Peach, come on. Let’s talk over here. You boys go talk over there a while.”
Peach obeyed. Soon, the three mares were huddled up talking around the fuzzy poster, and George, Seaswell and I found ourselves sitting on the futon mattress on the floor.
“So this is where it’s come to,” said George.
“I’m so confused,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I should be doing or thinking.”
Seaswell hugged me and patted my shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
“I expect he’s right,” said George. “It may not come okay easily, but these things do work out.”
“I don’t want to give her up,” I said. “I know that’s a dumb thing to say to you, but I don’t. I really don’t.”
George shook his head. “It’s a perfectly honest thing to say. Listen, chum. This isn’t about me and her. I’m not here just now for Peach alone. I’m here for you too. Don’t think of us as rivals, if you can help it. Today I’m not your rival. Today I’m here as a friend, nothing more.”
I nodded and didn’t meet his eyes.
“I know you want to keep loving Peach,” said Seaswell. “But it’s going to fade no matter what. And either you’ll still love her then, or you won’t. I hope you do. But if you don’t, you don’t want it to linger, do you?”
I bit my tongue. Lingering was exactly what I wanted this feeling to do.
“You’re a victim, Sergeant. You’ve been dealt a bad one here. Sorry to say, it’s gonna feel cruel sooner or later. And seeing as how it’s Cadance’s fault, I feel she really ought to be given the chance to make things square.”
“Do you really think this is Cadance’s fault?” asked Seaswell.
“Well, in part. Sounds like it was really more those scrapping ambassadors to blame—the princess just got caught up in the excitement.”
I sat in thought. Seaswell’s wing brushed my side and face, and I held it gently.
Peach walked up to me. I reached out for her with my other hand; she put her hoof in it.
“Is it a lie?” I asked her. “What you’re feeling for me? Is it a lie deep down?”
Her eyes went small. She switched her tail and sniffled, then blinked in thought.
“That’s one thing I love about you, Peaches,” said George. “You don’t just accept the easy answers. You look for truth. You always look for truth.”
“I do,” she repeated.
I clutched her hoof harder.
“It does seem weird,” she admitted at last. “That I fell for you so quickly, when I was probably about to choose George instead.” She looked at him, vulnerable. “I was,” she squeaked.
He met her eyes and almost nodded, obviously uncomfortable.
It was really hard for me to say what I said next. “Do you think you can remember… why you were about to choose him?”
Peach closed her eyes. She remained in thought, struggling, for a full thirty seconds while the others came to watch.
“I can’t,” she eventually said. “I can’t remember why.”
“She’s telling the truth,” said Second Sight quietly.
Peach moved closer and leaned against me. “I love you so much, Pepper.”
“I know, I love you so much too.”
“But—somehow I know I’m tricking myself,” she said, looking at George.
“It takes a mind strong as steel to admit that,” said George.
There was a tremendous, murky tension. No one spoke.
Until Kellydell did. “I think we should all watch ‘Hearts and Hooves Day’,” she suggested.
“Is that the pony episode where they make the l…” My voice broke. “…the love potion?”
“That’s the one. What do you say?”
We all looked at each other.
“I think we’re in general agreement,” said Second Sight. “Let’s put it on.”
So we turned down the lights and watched an episode of My Little Pony written by Megan McCarthy—the woman who had been the so-called Head of Storytelling for My Little Pony when her story world had unexpectedly come to life; a woman who had since toured Equestria and written extensively about it but turned down the chance to live there. I sat in my apartment which in a sense wasn’t my home, surrounded by five ponies who wanted the best for me but were steadfastly ruining my perfect life.
I almost forgot my problems in watching the problems of three cute little children with incredibly big smiles and soulful eyes—children whom I knew were now teenagers carrying on correspondence with youths across their country, co-presidents of the Cutie Mark Crusaders Organization. These were children who had made it big and with a vengeance early in life, but now, in front of me, they were busily making a mess by fooling with magic beyond their ken.
Their problem resolved as pony problems often do—in the very nick of time—and they stood abashed, having learned their lesson, as so many ponies do every week they stumble through their uncertain lives, and as so many human beings don’t.
“We should have never meddled in your relationship,” apologized a little yellow earth filly, who had since taken on most of the business correspondence for her older sister at their world-famous apple farm, yet still found the time to travel.
“Nopony can force two ponies to be together,” admitted a crippled orange pegasus filly whose choreographic routines had opened for the Wonderbolts in various venues and even once for Princess Celestia at the Summer Sun Celebration.
“It’s up to everypony to choose that very special somepony for themselves,” concluded a pretty white unicorn filly who now toured Equestria, giving inspiration to classrooms full of fillies and colts as confused about their futures as she had once been.
“We’re sorry,” said all three in creepy unison.
The episode ended and we sat in the dark.
“I’m glad it worked out,” said Seaswell. “What if they’d been a little faster getting back with the diamond and the dress? What if they really had gotten married?”
“I’m sure they would have spent an hour apart eventually,” said Kellydell. “And then they’d be stuck in a sham marriage.”
“Until they petitioned Celestia for a divorce,” said Second Sight.
“For god’s sake,” I mumbled. Seaswell, sitting next to me, put his head gently against my side.
“But they did go off together in the end,” pressed Peach. “Maybe Cheerilee and Big Mac could have made things work after all. I know they didn’t end up together, but they could have! The kids didn’t know.”
“Because they didn’t know, they shouldn’t have forced it,” said Second Sight.
“The romantic picnic was a good try,” said George. “When that didn’t work, they should’ve switched tacks.”
“I know, but… but just because they were enchanted doesn’t mean they couldn’t have gotten together in the end,” protested Peach. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“Exactly,” said Kellydell. “They still have their chance. And so will you. Once the spell is removed.”
“I don’t want it to be removed. I like the way I feel!”
“Peach, it’s altering your personality!”
“I don’t care! Love is a personality-altering spell! That’s how it works! And it’s a good thing.”
“I know it feels right,” said George. “And I’m sorry, Peaches--I truly wish it didn’t have to be done. But you can’t just keep living with this. It’s no good for you any more than it was good for Mac and Cheery.”
Peach stood up on her own sofa. “But we’re not like those two! They were just staring into each others’ eyes and saying pet names! Pepper and I are… living life! We’re settling into our home, working our jobs, going out… we’re not poisoned with love. We’re happy.”
“You are much better off than Mr. Macintosh and Miss Cheerilee,” acknowledged Second Sight. “But it would be wrong to say that your mental processes are unimpeded. When I look at you, I can see that you feel something like love for each other. One could argue that it is love. But it doesn’t grow out of your natural emotional complex, like true love does.” She tilted her head, looking at me carefully. “It’s grafted on. The connection isn’t sound, and as a result, whenever you’re faced with a decision that involves your love for each other, the process isn’t smooth. Even if this graft is much better than the one I observed during my studies, it still causes emotional jerkage. You aren’t going to make sound decisions, true to the emotional complexes you’ve built up over a life of experience, so long as this artificial love structure is grafted into your minds.”
“I’ve never been much of a decision maker,” I admitted.
“Decision-making is life,” intoned Second Sight.
Silence. “I think we should write back to Cadance,” said Peach quietly.
I felt tears welling up quickly. I wiped them and nodded.
We went to Peach’s computer. She pulled up her e-mail. “Oh,” she said softly through her tears. “Looks like she wrote back to me already.”
“Not surprising,” said Kellydell.
Peach read. “Dear Peach Spark. With regard to your recent correspondence: I am afraid that Princess Cadance is adamant that she did in fact target you and your companion with a love spell, and the fact that you do not recall it implies that said spell was even more effective than she feared. She has asked me to insist that we arrange a time and place to meet so that this error may be made right. Her Serene Highness has returned to the Crystal Empire, but as her Earthside adjutant, I look forward to meeting you and your companion in person at your earliest convenience. Please respond. —Opli Dexia.”
“You’ll have to meet with her,” murmured Kellydell.
“Oh gosh, she seems so rigid,” said Peach.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “This isn’t gonna be any fun at all.”
“I don’t think it’s realistic to expect a decoupling like this to be fun,” said Second Sight. “It may well be emotionally painful, or at least unsettling.”
“Way to ease the blow,” remarked George.
Peach looked at me for some reason, probably studying my face to see whether I was backing out. When she decided I wasn’t, she set to typing her reply, her hooves pressed against the edge of the desk and her magic pushing the keys. “Hi there,” she muttered as she typed. “I’m sorry about before. I guess we really must have been jinkied and we didn’t know it until now. Thank goodness for friends, huh?” She paused to take a deep breath. “I work from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, Monday through Friday. So that’s pretty much out. Any other time, we can meet, if Ron’s available. Let’s set up a time.” She looked around the room. “Anything else I should say?”
No one spoke at first. “Probably ample time for the mushy details in person,” said George.
“Yeah,” I said.
Peach turned back to her screen. “I look forward to meeting you and getting this taken care of.” She hesitated. “Sincerely, Peach Spark. Thank the princess for thinking of me.” And she clicked Send.
“That was brave of you, Peach,” said Seaswell.
“I’ll say,” said Kellydell.
“It was brave of Mr. Pfeffer too, for the record,” said Second Sight, as if simply stating a fact. “He could have objected.”
“True enough,” said George.
In the silence, Peach turned to George, her eyes glazed by tears she hadn’t shed. “You really think my mind is as strong as steel?”
He nodded. “Absolutely, Miss Peaches. And I’d give you a hug about now if you wanted one.”
She looked uneasily to me for a moment, and when I gave a tiny nod, she hugged George. They squeezed for quite a while. Then they parted.
“What now?” asked Peach.
“Do you need someone to stay the night?” asked Kellydell. “We can stay, if you need us.”
I exchanged an uncertain glance with Peach. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been through this before either, you know.” She cleared a couple things off the bed, looking uneasy. “We don’t really have much space. Are you thinking we need…” She made a disgusted face. “…a chaperone?”
Kellydell winced. “Not exactly how I meant it.”
“I think we’ll be okay,” I said. What were we supposed to do, promise we wouldn’t love each other too hard before our appointment?
“Yeah,” said Peach.
“Have it your way,” said Kellydell. “I’ll try to come by tomorrow evening.”
“You want to see my face too?” asked George? “Or should I steer clear?”
Peach hung her head. “I don’t know. Let’s wait on that.”
George nodded.
We all turned to look at Peach’s computer, as if waiting for her e-mail program to chime. But it didn’t, so eventually Seaswell nudged Kellydell with his face, and she sighed and gave him a nuzzle. “We should be going,” she told the room.
They gave their wishes of good luck and left. So did George, giving us a winsome glance on his way out. Second Sight went last, pausing on her way to the door. “Try to know yourselves better,” she advised. And with a swing of her tail, she was gone.
Peach stood staring at the door. I went over to the bookcase and sat down, looking at nothing.
“Wow,” Peach eventually said. She wandered over to the kitchenette and put on the tea kettle, not looking at me. Eventually, I heard it whistling and looked up.
“You want some?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I answered.
She served me peppermint tea. I sat and drank it, too hot. Somehow we both wound up back at the big fuzzy poster on the floor.
She picked up the pink marker. “I’m gonna do the horn now,” she declared.
I took a green marker. “I’ll do the grass,” I said.
“Okay,” said Peach.
That night, we lay together on Peach’s futon mattress, facing away from each other. I was lying limp and clammy; Peach was all curled up. When I felt the hair of her tail against my thigh, I sighed and wriggled away.
“What do you think’s gonna happen?” she asked quietly.
I gave it an honest try, but I didn’t have anything better than “I don’t know.”
We were silent, but I didn’t think for a moment we were going to fall asleep without saying anything else.
“They were talking like I was supposed to fall in love with George,” Peach murmured. I could feel her breaths from the way they stretched the blanket over us. “That’s what I was doing, apparently, so now that’s what I’ve got to do.”
I couldn’t say anything.
“I mean, I get that this isn’t healthy. That something happened, and we’re not all right.” A pause, without breathing. “But I don’t like the idea that there’s someone I’m supposed to fall in love with.”
“Me neither,” I mumbled.
Peach was still for a while. “I feel like I’m a new person. Someone that shouldn’t exist. Old Peach got caught in a spell and turned into me, New Peach… and now they want to get rid of me, so they can have Old Peach back.”
I turned over to face her. “I don’t feel like a new person,” I contributed. “I just feel like a better one.”
Peach sighed and slid over. She rested one hoof on my chest.
I stretched out my arm and put it on her.
Now I could imagine us falling asleep.
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This... hurts. Like... really hurts... Ron's probably going to move away like he planned, isn't he?
You think you're already broken and shattered, yet this still made something inside me fall in pieces even more.
Still, keep up the good work, I really can't wait for the next chapter.
Second Sight seemed quirky but interesting when she was introduced. Here, she's seriously impressive! She really managed to take command of a pretty awkward and difficult situation.
If the spell is as bad as it sounds, I wonder will they need to meet Cadance to get it undone? Pepper might end up getting to be one of the rare people to get to visit Equestria... and he won't be able to enjoy it at all because of the reason he'll be there.
...Well, that's a hell of a line. I think the degree to which their personalities are being over-ridden is pretty horrific, but Peach's argument here kind of hits home.
wow I never saw this coming.
how will this turn out?
I am hoping they stay to gather in the long hall.
Harts Fire
Story is getting really uncomfortable, which I like. I feel like earlier it was being hinted at slightly that Peach's original bias towards George was because it was easier to choose him. That's an ugly truth about herself that she's going to have to face pretty soon - that Pepper started the race with a handicap.
But then, now that she's living with Pepper, is breaking up with him easier than staying together? On the one hand, they're already living together, so fuck it, why not give it a go, even if the knowledge that the relationship was pushed that far because of a spell is uncomfortable? Breaking up with him could also be considered easy, because she has an out - "We were never in love, if I feel anything right now, it's just because of how intimate we got."
Either way, there's work ahead for them. The best solution would probably be for all three of them to take a break from one another and let their emotions sort out. George goes off and does whatever he does. Peach stays and works. Pepper moves back home. Or maybe George and Pepper move in together, then they become swinging bachelors like in Perfect Strangers.
I hope they keep kissing... Peach and Pepper I mean, not George and Pepper in the hypothetical sitcom where they're roommates.
6709811
Yeah, I'd pegged that earlier too, and am very excited to see how the whole thing works out. Regarding relationships, Peach knows what to expect from a stallion and George knows what to expect from a mare because they grew up immersed in the society. Pepper is an outsider who has to both feel his way in while in return also be tested by any pony of potential affection before either side can move on to where Peach and George started at.
It certainly doesn't help that Pepper is somewhat insecure, making the whole process less certain and more lengthy.
I can't say that there specifically has been. But there are a number of episodes - and fanfictions - that give me hope for my own insecurities. (Speaking of the title of one of my stories...) Now if only I were less lazy in facing them down.
You know, one thing I noticed, but didn't really think a lot about until now, is the fact that ponies are apparently free to live and move about the human world however they please, but humans aren't even free to just visit ponyland however they want to, never mind live there. Immigration is heavily slanted and restricted in one direction.
What does this say about the ponies? I don't think it says anything good, that's for sure.
2.5 / 10
Is it just me, or that chapter was slightly rushed?
There was a lot of heavy stuff covered, but it basically went over it with just ton and ton of dialogue. Few exposition, just talk. While we previously had a lot of introspection from Ron, this time we barely had any. The plot in itself was well thought, the issue raised were well depicted. But it was just dialogue.
Heck! Your main characters are having a mild identity crisis at the end and it's barely addressed!
It was disappointing.
And well, if you hadn't showed in the past that you could do better then that, it would've been perfectly acceptable. It just felt less then what you use to give us...
I do hope the next chapter will be up to your usual standards
This story made my list of Top 10 Favorite Stories of 2015! Congratulations, and thanks for the great story.
This chapter hurts.
What you tell someone under a love spell is not that they're lying to each other. Because maybe they are, maybe they're not, so you're telling them something you don't even know is true, and all it will do is hurt them to hear it. What you tell them is that the spell is hurting their love for each other, that it's a crutch and they're in danger of weakening from being tied to it. Like hard drugs, it's a bad coping mechanism, but it's still a coping mechanism for a very real underlying problem. You don't tell them that they can't be in love because they have too many issues being covered up. You tell them that there are better ways for them to deal with their issues, and honestly love each other. Ways that won't fizzle out in a puff of pink hubris.
tacts
Much of the series has been a help and comfort, reminding me of life lessons I learned before but forgot in the time tv animation forgot or got too ham-handed to teach well. I even learned new ones and realized the series is popular for the reason Musicals were in the Great Depression. It reminds us there is ALWAYS hope. ALWAYS tomorrow...
7154839
Actually, the correct usage is right in the middle: "switched tack" or "changed tack" (in the singular form). "Tack" is a nautical term that refers to the position of a sailing ship relative to a headwind and the accordant need to continually change sail position (one particular sail section is also called a tack) to make progress into the wind toward your goal.
Because the meaning is rather similar to "change tactics" and sometimes shows up in settings that require "tact" (i.e., sensitivity and diplomacy), confusion often occurs. Ultimately, though, "tacts" (plural) is not a word, and "tacks" (plural) are what you use to pin paper to a corkboard.