It Was All about Small Steps
In a dim living room, in a small basket, a little blanket stirred. In a moment, a pair of long, snow-white ears pricked up. An equally bleached-looking head appeared, a wide yawn cracking open its mouth like some great gash in frosty wilderness. Angel looked around in the twilight of the living room, or what of it he could see from his little fortress between the sofas. It was quiet. Like most animals occupying the lower ladders of the food chain, bunnies have a whole range of shades for silence inscribed into their backbone. On that scale, a little label called “suspicious” was blinking.
He bounced up, ears turning as he made his way by the walls to the kitchen. Still quiet. This was unusual: the yellow one should be up by now. It was autumn, and nests needed to be made, burrows to be dug, and South to be shown. Winter was coming. Nonetheless, the white, ceramic cup that had his name written on it remained as empty as his stomach. With a little humph and wrinkle of his tiny nose, Angel headed to the bedroom. The door was closed, like it had been most of the summer, for reasons Angel was thoroughly aware of, and thoroughly okay with. But some things needed to be done regardless of how many ponies were sleeping in a bed, and filling the cup that read “Angel” on it was definitely at the top of the list. Concentrating all the strength that nature had in her wisdom packed in his hind legs, Angel pushed the door.
It didn’t budge. He tried again, harder, yet to no avail. This was unheard of. In his backbone, a new light was lit: this one was called “dubious”, which was an inch higher up the ladder. He hopped outside, around the house and to the bedroom’s window. The curtains were drawn, and the sun was already over the horizon. Very curious. With some effort, he managed to jump to the windowsill. Frost had already bitten the edges of the glass, he noticed. A bunny’s paw was never made for knocking, so he used one of his little trimmed claws to tap the panel. It sounded eerily hollow.
Nothing happened for a while, so he knocked again, harder this time. The same result, or namely the lack of it, followed. The ultimate measure of scratching the glass crossed his mind, but it crashed against the memory of the time when he had tasted the couch and found out he liked it. A long talk with the yellow one had stemmed from that. However, something needed to be done, and soon: his stomach was growling. He leaned against the window, considering his options with the limited brain capacity of a pet bunny. Sure, the garden still had a few lousy carrots and other vegetables that had missed the harvest, but those weren’t even washed. Bunnies were, as a race, very fond of their routines. Living only on (washed and served) greens had that kind of an effect. This was no time to give them up.
He jumped off the sill and hopped towards the forest.
***
In her bedroom, Fluttershy lay buried in blankets. Something had knocked the door and then the window some time ago, but those things didn’t concern her. Not much did, at the moment. It shouldn’t be like this. The animals need me, the world needs me. I should’ve been up hours ago. She only dug deeper into the blankets. Despite the chilly weather, it was getting kind of hot there, so she had to keep one of the corners open to keep the air moving. From the makeshift mouth of her private cave, a touch of pink mane peeked out. Even that looked wistful.
They need me, they all need me… all except Rainbow. Rainbow doesn’t need me. She left. The blanket curled slightly tighter around the pegasus. You could almost make out the shape of her rump through it. Why did she leave me? What got her so mad? I wasn’t going to leave her. What did I do? What didn’t I do? I don’t understand… She sniffed, for the umpteenth time. Sometimes, I don’t get her at all. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t need me anymore…
Is it because of him? Did she get jealous? How could it be – she’s the one who introduced us! Without her, there wouldn’t be us. But there is… and he gets me. At least when it matters he does. The memory of the alley last night turned up, not helping at all. He didn't’ see her leave, he didn’t know. He would've been more serious had he seen that. He would’ve. But he shouldn’t have suggested sex, not then. He shouldn’t have.
She pulled the blanket away: it was getting uncomfortably humid. The chill in the room sent her shivering. I didn’t remember how cold it could be here alone. I haven’t slept alone much lately. Maybe I should – the winter is coming, I need to learn to be chilly. I need to, but I don’t want to. She lay on her side, looking at her door that she had barred with a chair. Angel must be very upset. I should get up. She got up. Before she removed the chair, a heavy noise carried from the hall. She frowned and walked there.
There was a bear in her kitchen, apparently scouring the cupboards. For somepony else, this might have set the alarms ringing. In Fluttershy, it only stirred slight bafflement. “Is something wrong?” she asked by the kitchen entrance.
The bear, looking somewhat disoriented, looked at the opposite table. In there, Angel was munching some carrots from his cup. He noticed Fluttershy’s expecting stare and swallowed. An assortment of fervent signing followed.
Fluttershy listened, or watched, without interruption. “Well, you still shouldn’t have bothered Miss bear with that. Or promised her honey without my permission.” She glanced quickly at the worried-looking bear. “Oh, of course you can have some. It’s about time you should start feasting for the winter anyway.”
The bear smiled and pulled a pot of honey out of the cupboard. For convenience's sake, she rumbled outside to eat it.
Fluttershy walked slowly to Angel, at which point the bunny prepared to make a run for it. “I’m not mad,” she said, sitting on her stomach next to him. “I should keep your food where you can reach it, anyway. As long as you learn some temperance.” And maybe you should not be the only one.
Angel smiled carefully, for that had worked for the bear.
Fluttershy watched him eat for a while, after which she went on a stroll to see how many of the last year’s burrows could still be used.
***
It was hard to tell whether his head was stuffed with bits of glass or if the world as such was in pain, pulsing like an open wound. Either way, it hurt like… like… it hurt so much that Thunderlane found it not only insurmountable but also pointless to find a suitable analogy. A hangover this bad couldn’t be shown nor told about – it could only be felt. Once in a lifetime, please. Resting under his bed, in the only place of his room that provided enough gloom, he wavered somewhere between a limbo and a coma, listening to his raspy breathing and negotiating with his muscles for the control of his body. He had no idea how he had made it this far, or even if this was the underside of his bed, but such novelties were not in the immediate interest of his survival plan. It was all about small steps now.
He wasn’t supposed to let the drinking get as far as it did, not really. After the Big Blue One, events had simply taken a course of their own, as it were. Turning blue may have played a part in it: he had felt like a new pony, free of worries and of tomorrow. Of course the tomorrow wouldn't be free of him, but that was, well, tomorrow's problem. In the end, it hadn’t been just the liquor that had gotten to him, but the flow and the mood. A night in Blueberry Inn contained enough negative energy to turn anything inside out, even itself. His little change of coat had made all the lone, melancholic souls there to realize that shared misery meant much less misery in general. It had made way too much sense.
Well, at least I’m hanging by such a thin thread that my love life can’t bother me now: we’d both fall down. He hoped that would make sense too, somehow, anyhow. He really did. Maybe Zecora could brew me an anti-love potion? Yeah, yeah, there’s something there, I just know it. I only need to–
There was the faintest of knocks on the door. In Thunderlane’s mind, boulders crashed on brick walls. He moaned painfully, shielding his ears with hooves. The effort was a stretch, but right now, his whole existence was.
There was a creak, followed by hoofsteps. “Thunderlane?” said a mare’s voice.
“Ihrm,” said Thunderlane. His tongue was operational in theory, but there were deserts that would have looked like oceans compared to this throat. He continued communicating by coughing painfully.
The mare looked under the bed and sighed at the sight. “Had your fun yesterday?”
“Lesh no talk nau,” he managed. Medals have been earned from less.
From his mother, he only earned a disapproving frown. “Do I have to ask why?”
Thunderlane shook his head, which is to say that his chin wiggled more or less in symmetry with his neck. “Plis. Not nnnnau.”
She sighed again, and her head vanished above. He saw her move back to the door, and for a moment it looked like he was allowed to shrivel back into intoxicated oblivion. But then she dropped the haymaker.
“I just came to say that Helia is on the door. She asked that you’d fly with her to the day’s practice, but I suppose I’ll say you’re sick.”
In the dusty gloom of the bed’s underside, Thunderlane’s eyes flashed open. The day’s practice. Holy bucking cow’smotheringshiiiiaaaargh–
In a showcase of super-equine willpower, he rolled on the carpet, grinding his teeth together, although even they felt like jelly. “Stahp!” he wailed, waving with his legs in a desperate attempt to draw attention as he reeled on the floor. “Mom, stahp!”
The mother stopped, for that is what mothers do when their foals call for them, even when reason would have them close the door and pretend the last five seconds didn’t ever exist. “Yes?” she asked with a glassy voice.
Thunderlane, lying on his back, drew breath. The effort had taxed his strength on the verge of mortal limits. “Thell har… I’ll cum in ten.”
“You what?”
He closed his eyes. If he was going to do this, he needed to start thinking like a pony and not like a random assortment of pulsing nerves. That included precision of enunciation.
“Th… Tell her… I’ll come.”
She turned completely around. “In that condition? You’ll die!”
If I don’t go, I wish I did. “Nonshens.”
She shook her head sadly. “Don’t be silly, Thunderlane. Try to get to bed now, and I’ll bring you some breakfast. It’s already noon, for heaven’s sake.” She turned around.
Thunderlane twitched. The situation demanded radical action. “Mom.”
Again, she stopped. When she glanced behind her, there was sharpness in her expression that so far had remained foreign to her innately soft features. “I said no.”
Thunderlane, staring at her mother upside down, focused all the seriousness he had left – and at this point it meant scraping the bottom of his soul with a steel knife – into his face. This was a mother-colt thing, and he was not ready to be left with the short end of the bond. Not now.
Seconds boiled in the air, popping in their scores. Neither would blink, although Thunderlane worried that a layer might peel off his eyeballs. And still he stared.
Finally, motherhood stood down. Some battles were not worth a victory.
“If you can make it down without rolling the stairs, I’ll pack the lunch with you,” she said calmly. “You can pick it up from the kitchen.” With that, she trotted out. Thunderlane could hear a short conversation ensuing in the hall first floor.
Okay, that was the easy part. Getting up… How hard can it be? Really?
***
In the hall, Helia waited. This was something of a second nature to her, although at times she preferred to emphasize the “second” over the “nature”. She studied the few framed photographs decorating the walls with a familiar quasi-interest of one who has seen them a dozen times before. Still she wondered why they all were about Thunderlane and his mother. And those few slightly lighter rectangular shapes on the walls were suspicious, too. A smell of unasked questions seemed to always linger heavily in this house.
Racket from the stairs drew her attention. Thunderlane was trotting down, smoothly as a sack of potatoes. Helia gasped at the sight of him.
“Oh my gosh! What happened to you? Why are you blue?”
Thunderlane showed his teeth. It took Helia a moment to recognize his smile.
“A party got out of hoof. No worries,” he said with a voice that might have belonged to a meatgrinder. At least the words sounded like they had to squeeze through one. Wobbling, he headed to the kitchen.
Helia followed him, just in case he dropped something. His mane, for example ‒ the always so handsome mohawk was now spread all over his neck.
“A party for what?” continued Helia worriedly. “The Hurricane Day? There’s months to it!”
A tortured chuckle fled him as he dragged his legs into the kitchen. In there, he noticed a big glass of water next to the packed lunch. Decimating it was an obligation.
Helia watched him gulp down a gallon of water in one go and then said: “I know it’s the last day of the season, but seriously, can you even fly?”
The glass hit the table. A sigh climbed up Thunderlane’s throat, eager to escape the devastation that was his body. That helped, he thought. With a covered grimace, he spread open his wings. “I can. Thing is, I don’t need to. All I need is to be there.” His wings folded back, for keeping them open was like pouring lemon juice over an open wound.
Helia didn’t believe his act for a second. Frankly, even a turnip would have needed more persuasion. But it was the last day of the season, and everypony knew what that meant. Ponies with broken limbs came to the practice at the end of the season. Everypony in the weather team not diagnosed with a terminal disease did, or such were the rumours.
“Okay, hero,” she said, smiling now. “Just say if you need a flank, though.” I got two for you any day of the week. Or night.
“Thanks,” he said. He picked the paper bag with his teeth and shuffled by Helia who followed suite, secretly biting her lip.
Should I go for it now? she thought. He can barely walk, and I’m not sure if his brain is in any better shape either. Is that a positive or a negative factor? Goooshh… I’m getting cold hooves again. Buck.
They got outside, and Thunderlane was grateful it was cloudy. At least he wouldn’t be completely blind. It still wouldn’t be a pretty journey, he had no illusions about that, but that didn’t matter. The last day of the season was important. It was the day when the weather team would go over the last season’s achievements, memorable moments and, most important of all, the awards. They were unofficial of course, but for the weather team they went beyond official. They were a ritual, the culmination point of all the competitive bonding that was the pulse of the team as Dash was its heart, which she was, undoubtedly, indisputably. The whole thing had been one of her first ideas when she had become the captain.
So, even with his own muscles joining in a union against him, Thunderlane went on. I could skip a normal drill and blame it on the liquor, but if I missed the awards… Dash could draw all kinds of conclusions about that. Some of them would stick, and they would stick deep. It wasn’t that Dash was keen on carrying a grudge, oh no. She’d make a skateboard out of one instead – those carried you. Maybe I can have a word with her in private. I bet she needs somepony to shout at.
Most of the team was already milling about the training yard when Helia and Thunderlane arrived there. The location of the event varied, but they always grouped here before gathering some clouds to rest on or something. Right now there was enough sun to spare, but it wouldn’t be for long when that would be a luxury. Winter was coming, right on schedule.
“Don’t overdo it,” said Helia as they melted in the small crowd. She joined quickly in a conversation, although kept glancing at Thunderlane over the heads that littered the yard.
Thunderlane looked around, but couldn’t see a glimpse of that unmistakable mane or tail. Amused expressions and semi-clever quips rained down upon him from every direction, but he didn’t have enough energy to spare for those. Weird. Usually she is the first one on the spot. He kept on looking, or squinting, this time scanning the faces around him. Under the easy smiles, he could sense a disruption. They were all waiting, which was unusual. Dash wasn’t the type to keep ponies waiting, especially not for something like the awards. And still they waited.
They waited until it was no longer a secret that they did. Smiles passed away, frowns deepened and questions gained a voice. “Where’s Dash? What's the time? What’s happening?” Anxiety spread like the flu, and soon they were all sneezing. But what really worried Thunderlane was the question “who?”. Namely, “who’s in charge”. He knew the answer, and so would they, right when the question would spring to their mind. He was the deputy captain. He would be in charge, right after someone would remember that. The problem was, he really didn’t feel like a leader at the moment. Thus began his inconspicuous shuffling out of the yard. He almost made it. It was that close.
“Hey Thunder, what gives?” said somepony. It didn’t matter who it had been, for all the eyes had instantaneously nailed at him. It didn’t take long for them to arrange into a circle, with him in the middle, cozy as a chicken in a kennel.
“You know where Dash is?”
“Did she say anything?”
“Did I win the cloud round-up? Did I?”
“What happened to your mane?”
"Why are you blue?"
Up until now, the post of the deputy captain had been rather nominal, just another medal to chase and little else. Dash did all the real work. Really, she innovated, planned and executed practically everything that happened in the team. Every now and then she’d discuss some topic with Thunderlane or some other, and that was how everypony liked it. Dash was awesome in what she did, whatever that was. She was so awesome that Thunderlane could truly appreciate her work only when he was supposed to step in and do it.
“Come on, guys!” he said, hoping that his beat-up shape and voice could incite some sympathy. “You know I know nothing you don’t! Maybe she’s sick.”
This, contrary to what Thunderlane had hoped, stirred general horror rather than calm, and he knew why only half a second after he had said it. It would take the plague to keep Dash in bed during the end of a season.
“I’ll go see her right away!” he shouted before anypony else could get the same idea. He was about to shamble away at his top speed when another voice stopped him.
“Give it a rest, Lane. I’ll go – maybe we’ll get to her before the end of the day that way.”
This got out a general laughter. Crowds, even small ones, tended to be mood-swingy.
“I’ll come with you!” called another voice. “Me too!” echoed a third one.
This wasn’t going well. Thunderlane, deep inside himself, was harboring an omen concerning the reason why Dash hadn’t showed up. That reason didn’t need to see the light of the day.
“Hey, I’m the deputy captain!” he said, turning to face the pony who had talked first. Luckily, it was Cloudchaser. I think she likes me. I think. “I’m supposed to do these kind of things, right?”
“Are you?” asked Cloudchaser, tilting her head. “Where does it say?”
Okay, maybe she used to like me. “In the rulebook. Check yourself.”
“We have a rulebook?” asked some newcomer quietly from his neighbour.
Ah, the rulebook. A great mystery of the weather team. Well, the only mystery, if you got down to it. Nopony had ever read it completely, and for most it took years to get to know that such a thing existed. Mostly it kept the table in the coffee room from wobbling. Dash always said that “the number one rule anypony in this team needs to know is ‘do it better’’, and that had been widely accepted as the sufficient, albeit vague, rule of hoof that applied to most cases. But every now and then somepony cited the rulebook, and at those times what settled the issue had nothing to do with letters. The phrase “check yourself” was the closest thing to en garde that the weather team knew about. Thunderlane’s hopes rested on the assumption that his voice carried more authority now that he could only croak.
Cloudchaser, eyeing Thunderlane suspiciously, humphed. “Yeah, methinks it also says that we don’t got all day waiting here.” Her eyes narrowed down dangerously. “Show me that you can get three feet off the ground and I’ll consent.”
A wave travelled over the audience which had instantly turned into an audience. The weather team only loved the medals because of the challenge they symbolized.
Thunderlane was starting to sweat, and this time it wasn’t cold. Buck, buck, buck, buck… Why I have to be so stupid? Do I do this on purpose? I’ll never hear the end of it if I fail now. Never. With the tiniest motion, he tried his wings. Tingling dullness passed over him, only to be followed by magnificent aching. Oh buuuuuck… Everypony was staring. Backing down would be even worse than failing. The coin was already in the air, shining like the sun itself, and he had called heads. All that was left to do was to pray. He inhaled, hoping that they wouldn’t leave him outside when he’d pass out.
“Wait!”
He breathed out, knees wobbling slightly. It had been Helia’s voice.
“We can carry him,” she continued, stepping into the circle. She spoke to them all, but directed her words at Sunchaser, whom fate had chosen to be the brains and mouth of some collective entity called the weather team that had incorporated Helia and Thunderlane as its internal opposition. It didn’t make sense to ask if any of this made any sense. That is how it worked.
“Oh yeah?” said Cloudchaser, who aimed to be the deputy captain next season. “Why bother?”
“Well, he is, the deputy captain,” said Helia, making sure not to look at Thunderlane while she spoke. “That must count for something, right? And he called dibs on talking to Dash.”
The crowd nodded its heads approvingly. If calling dibs didn’t mean anything, what did?
Cloudchaser hesitated, but tried another angle. “Well I call dibs that we race there!”
“No!” shouted Helia before somepony could catch onto that cue. “Guys, we shouldn't be barging there like a mob! It’s Dash we’re talking about: she deserves something better.” She wiped the ponies with her eyes, appealing to their shared love for Rainbow Dash. “I say we all go there and let Thunderlane see what’s up first. It’ll be proper that way.”
This seemed to gain the majority approval, mostly because it was a clean-cut plan of action that included everypony and that could be put in motion right away. Cloudchaser bit her lip a moment longer and then rolled her eyes.
“Fine. But it ain’t me carrying him.” With that, she rose to her wings, which served as a signal for the rest of team to do the same.
Helia sighed. Behind him, a voice beyond the grave said: “Thank you.” She turned around.
“Oh, don’t mention it. Now, let’s get you up.” She signed Flitter to come help her, and together they got Thunderlane airborne. He still grimaced, but there was at least a quarter of a smile mixed in with the pain.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked.
Because I couldn’t stand see you get laughed at. “‘Cause I know you pay your debts, silly,” she
said, smirking.
Make that two quarters. “Heh. Right.”
***
It didn’t take long for them to arrive at Dash’s house. After they had formed another crowd on the yard made of clouds, Thunderlane braced himself and trotted to the front door. He was carried more by his sense of self-esteem than by his legs, which still tried their best to wobble at the knees. He raised his hoof and knocked on the door. Nothing happened for a while, so he tried harder. It opened inwards without a sound. He strangled the instinct to glance back, for there were no better answers there. He stepped in.
Outside, the crowd waited, again. There was some talk about calling a doctor, but the idea never took off. Some were circling the house, trying to get a peek inside, but nopony approached the front door. A bet that Dash had set this up was circling around, and the odds were in favour. Everypony knew she was the second most earnest prankster around. Still, they waited.
Thunderlane came out.
“She isn’t here,” he said to himself, eyes looking nowhere.
“So?” cried somepony. Thunderlane looked up. His expression made the nearest ponies flinch.
“She isn’t here.”
The crowd waited.
It waited some more.
Then, as crowds love to do, it panicked.
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So much for 'Element of Loyalty' Dash
Hitting the low point for everypony early on. This is becoming a seriously heavy story for a sequel to a clopfic about setting up a threesome.
4618525
Loyalty betrayed is not a pretty sight. Dash is just a pony, none of the mane 6 are perfect unwavering embodiments of their elements and she happens to have quite the hot head. Think about any time that you felt truly betrayed by someone you trusted, someone you held unquestioning loyalty towards. Can you say you would react any better?
4618729
wow, i just realized that comment I made has really bad grammer, to the point where I dont know what words can correct itnvm, hit the wrong letter4618729
Unfortunately, for THIS Dash, making anyone around her who loves her somewhere between unhappy and miserable by offering this half-relationship with her isn't particularly loyal either, it's sorta a dick move, even if they're willing to weather it for her. What did she think was going to happen when two ponies who want to have long term romantic relationships get into a relationship of sorts with her when she vehemently denies she's in love or wants anything more than friends with benefits?
I guess maybe between her being so vehement to not be in a relationship and happy with that situation, and being a little clueless, she assumes everyone else is also happy with it, even if they want more? Not that she seems too concerned with how Thunderlane feels anyway.
I know Loyalty isn't kindness, but there has to be something about listening to and/or treating those you're loyal to with compassion, or you will just be in an intensely hard to get out of terrible relationship.
...I'm really looking forward to this relationship getting put back together.
4618729 While writing the first part, I felt that I was "wasting" good emotional stuff on what would inevitably lead to awesome sex anyway, so I thought I'd flesh out those hearts here.
4618967 I'm sure they'll talk it out eventually (pretty sure, but I never plan my stories too far), although there might be some thunder ahead before that...
4620362
Never underestimate the power of having both good emotional material and great sex.
Ummm... I really hate m/m and f/f but... The wording kind of threw me off in the beginning and I didn't really understand it. I'm guessing rainbow likes fluttershy, fluttershy likes thunder lane, thunder lane like rainbow. The big blue one, or whatever that was got me REALLY confused, I was a good story, I am really tired so I might sound mean right now. Fluttershy seemed kind of lame, rainbow seemed pitiful because normally rainbow is strong and has a tough skin, and Thunderlane was just a jerk, I want to say D word but that's mean an I don't like curse words. All in all, it was a good story. It's probably 'cause I'm tired but, I kind of felt my brain was rotting from boredom. I'm not saying this story is bad at all and maybe if I got more sleep last night I wouldn't be so harsh. It doesn't need an editor, I don't care for the styling though. Rating: 7 1/2 out of 10. Great job! You did really well. :) oh and I really don't like the S word (it has three letters) see I don't even want to say it. I really don't want to insulted you by this review, I'm harsh when I review and I am getting harsher for some reason. There is a reason why tho story has so many likes, it's good. :D