Chapter 17: Wonderland
The resort was homelike in the seclusion it flaunted, yet also elegant in the accommodations it offered. Right away it was obvious that this was not a destination for stuffy crowds, whose regular throughput may have provided other resorts with soaring profits but undoubtedly at the cost of quiet peace. This place felt close, and closed; untouchable, and far away from every reminder of Equestria except for the relaxing stillness of home. There were obviously borrowed elements from more popularly known resorts but much effort had been put into turning their lavish excesses around into something suitable for a close-knit community. The true essence of the resort was not a grand seaside hotel scaled down to manage a select few clients, despite its looks. Rather it had the soul of an isolated summer beach house grandly expanded to be a vacation fairground.
The centerpiece of it all; the main attraction of the island; the beacon which had first been visible from far off shore; was the Passion's Embrace itself. Crisp and clear the structure rose up, seemingly fashioned together from enormous carved stones in hues of untarnished white and sun-soaked gray. A monument to proud brightness, it bounced more light than the bleached field of sand which sat before it. Behind it were disappearing depths of greenery, blurring away far into the island's interior. It seemed to guard the only level passage further inland: craggy, steep hills coated with lush plantlife walled everything on its left, and immediately on its right it sat against densely rocky shoals and a heavy embankment, built high to hold the tide at bay on that edge. The very wide building was like a gate separating the free ocean from the island's pulsing heart.
Length ruled as king over the broad structure's dimensions. The two most extreme edges reached from vision's left periphery to the right when seen from far in front. Such breadth made up for its substantially more shallow depth. When seen from the acute angle provided by the trail between the dock and the resort the thinness had been plainly visible. The whole of the building had a slight curve, arched to scarcely cradle the very green and lush gardens planted immediately before it. So slight was the bend that it was difficult to notice from up close or within, but at a greater distance it helped provide a postcard-friendly aesthetic.
Most of the structure reached a full five stories up, but towards the leftmost side it began to terrace down floor by floor, zigzagging until it was only a mere single story in height at the very end. Rooftop gardens could be seen on some of those levels, and each terrace had fine balustrades hugging their edges, surely offering quite a view. Similarly, the building's face was coated with many independent balconies which protruded at every level above ground; vista-ready bulges to let ponies gaze out over the beach, ocean, shoals, or whatever scenery their eyes most loved.
Any rational observer would have labeled the Passion's Embrace a hotel of some form. What other functional amenities it offered could only be discovered within.
The resort was nestled in a sandy island corner. A broad expanse of beach stretched out in front of the main building, reaching all the way down to the pleasantly churning water. The rippled sand stayed warm with the sun's stored heat even late into the tired night, and the soft give of those pillows of sand was just enough to delicately embrace a hoof. All were welcome: room enough for swimmers to cavort in the water before frolicking themselves dry on the shore; space for nappers to sink into the toweled-over sand under the cool cover of an umbrella, or bask in the sun if a tan was desired; open air enough for revelers to play and roughhouse on the loose and shifting ground, or hang further back to dance and sing with others. The beach would have been cramped and littered if it were ever made to support the bloated crowds of a more popular location. But being reserved for so few; being a hidden seclusion for the elect; kept the shorefront perfect and pristine.
Sporadic palm trees dotted the area, their thin trunks holding high endless branches which swayed in eternal welcome. One border of the beach, the one below the green hills which overlooked the trail to the dock, was lined with thick and tall shrubbery: busy bushes bearing small bunches of berries, pin-leafed plants whose branches were wildly populated, and tropical trees shooting up above them. Some of the plants bore leaves which were so long, broad, and heavy that whole streams of water could run down them during rainstorms, and they were so verdant and crisp that one almost expected them to snap when bent, cracking with a spritz of dewy moisture. Other plants had leaves so lean and uncountable that the lively residents concealed underneath could be seen with ease, from birds whistling with song to bugs on patrol. The wall of foliage never presented itself as anything but healthy and alive; constantly moving, whether by the whims of the wind or tickled by the friends within.
The other border of the beach, on the further side, was a much more literal wall: an embankment several feet tall which was built from weighty piles of sand and stone. It was aligned mostly parallel to the building's short edges, being in fact set against the structure's right side, and it ran some ways out into the water, enough to provide the beach with an ever-rolling surf. Just over the height of the embankment could sometimes be seen the splashing debris of waves smashing upon the shoals on the other side.
A few small buildings sat at the back of the beach, nestled in front of the gardens and otherwise all but invisible when compared to the towering building behind them. The cluster of structures were divided into two groups, separated in the center by a retreating path made from sand morphing into dirt between an outline of half-buried wooden beams. It lead to a gently sloping approach that ran up through the small gardens before coming to the doors of the Passion's Embrace itself.
On the left side of the path was a great length of wooden flooring laid in the sand; a fat, young boardwalk with no real height to speak of. Round tables were fixed into it at fairly regular intervals, most of them set nearer the beach. They were low and without seating; each a good spot for half a dozen ponies to rest their drinks or their rumps. Some of them were sheltered by simply constructed pavilions; tiny roofs which had waves of huge green leaves laid down in patterns across their sloped surfaces. Intelligently placed here and there about the boardwalk were three-legged stands, built from thick sticks tied together securely, topped with brass grips that were fit enough to hold flaring torches; for when the late nights stayed young.
The most prominent structure of all on that side was a stage, built up only three feet off the ground, ready to host entertainment for the boardwalk. It had hardly the grandness of an auditorium for mighty orchestras but it could support well the singing rows of ponies that made up a basic choir, or even a sizable band laying down some party noise. Two of the tallest palm trees on the whole island lived on either side of the stage and they were intentionally curved over most of the platform, arcing to meet in the middle yet falling short of their goal. The rest of the top was of much the same design as the pavilions: a sloping roof decorated with a layer of leaves. All in all it did well to blend in with everything around it, appearing basic and quaint, hiding well any functional components that could have been called 'modern.'
A pathway lead around and beyond the stage, and there could be seen some significantly smaller buildings. Several were open shacks, either displaying or offering wares of a tropical nature. A few more of them were closed, their flat walls and doors holding in either supplies or perhaps simple storage spaces. Where that path went after that could not be spied.
On the right side of the walkway towards the Passion's Embrace was an altogether more appetizing set of structures. The grounds behind them offered wide clearance for the crates of fresh ingredients that often came through. A more flea-ridden container, large and easily rolled around on its wheels, sat back there as well; certainly intended to carry old refuse in the opposite direction of the new goods which came in.
One squat building stood out for having a little more stone and sheet metal employed in its construction than most of the others. What wood was used in it was mostly decorative and towards the front; stacked beams for a pleasant, orderly face and faux branches spread cleverly as accents. All the bits of timber shimmered in the sunlight from a generous coating of some fire resistant substance. From the roof a few stovepipe chimneys poked up, topped in their amusingly conical caps. The entire front face of the structure invited curious or hungry guests in with an open window stretching from side to side. From out that window leaked the smell of hundreds of delicious meals past, forever mixing into the scent of whatever was being presently prepared, creating an irresistibly enticing lure.
Nearby was an shack who purpose could be determined solely by the unmissable sign mounted above it: "Drinks!" It hardly was much more than a bar, ten stools long, with three walls and a roof. The back wall was fully stocked with a dizzying array of drinks, all the colorful bottles at a distant appearing almost like the eye-catching glimmer of a rainbow shell. That was to say nothing of whatever selection might have existed below the counter. There was no thirst on all the island that could not be quenched.
And just like with the stage on the other side there was a path leading around the bar and cookhouse. Beyond them were more of those rudimentary and forgettable buildings; small huts whose purposes were likely as straightforward as they were diverse. From there everything ran up to the mounds of rocks and sand which formed the embankment, blocking off the ocean beyond.
At the end of the path which divided the two sides was the rising approach to the hotel's entrance. Steps emerged out of a circular design of stones laid in the ground. The steps themselves had a minimal rise, adding up to barely more than three feet total by the very end. Conversely each individual tread, made from polished and speckled stone, was corpulently wide and gapingly deep. The whole set of long, flat stairs served as no more than an extended ramp up towards the portico and main doors. Because of its low height there was no need for rails on the fringes, and only low-cut flowering shrubs ran the length beyond its edges; the beginnings of the condensed gardens that filled the grounds immediately before the building.
The portico itself was circular in shape, half of it dipping into the building's otherwise solid perimeter. Its floor was made from the same shiny stone as the steps before it. Small recesses in the arched walls around the main doors served as shelves for potted plants. Pots arranged in a line, each sides' plants placed symmetrically, the many flowers had inviting petals of pink, purple, yellow, and most especially red. Smoothed, white columns thick as rain barrels lined the outer half of the circle and held up the extended roof, and on each side of the columns' flared, square bases were embossed depictions of featureless pony heads touching noses, or perhaps pressing even closer with their lips if one were inclined to view it as such.
The double doors which lead inside had the same pony-heads image frosted into the glass which made up much of their top halves; one pony on each door. The rest of the doors were made from a very bleached wood, gentle like the white of the columns, and sanded to be just as smooth. Gold trimmings lined them, tracing around their edges and feeding into the handles; grips which were themselves curved into half-heart shapes.
The islanders and the guests arrived after their long walk from the dock. They crossed the beach, they moved swiftly past the mostly vacant entertainment and food space, and then they came up to the tiny, long steps of the rising approach.
Just as they were about to ascend Vesuvius called out suddenly for them to halt. Clearly it surprised the uncoordinated group of island ponies, who blundered about as they clumsily turned to face him with confounded faces. Some of them who had already gotten a hoof or two up the very first step retreated down with head-sunk embarrassment. Even Venus hadn't anticipated it, and she brought her mouth to his ear to lick curious whispers into it.
The sire responded with equal secrecy, his face faintly gesturing to the garden on the left of the steps. The lady's agreement sprung quickly to life, splashing over her face eagerly, and she whispered back to him gainly. They nodded in accord.
Venus turned to her island ponies and directed them with simple enthusiasm, "Go ahead. We'll meet you inside in just a moment."
Lost somewhat as to what their leaders intended to do, but wise enough to dismiss any improper indulgence by trying to find out, they obeyed and quietly resumed their march.
The jumbling stir of the earlier abrupt stop had incidentally shifted the meek Humble Herd to the front of the group. Fluttershy's plain saddlebags were still not secured to his sand-colored body as snuggly as they could have been, but ultimately they were in no real danger because of the relentless slowness he dragged his hooves up the steps with. As a matter of long-ingrained routine he moved aside as he went, inching towards the edge of the steps and deferentially clearing the path for everypony who had more speed.
Sweet Nothing concealed a glower towards the island masters, momentarily standing about in frustration from having been pointlessly given directions of 'stop' and 'go.' He shouldn't have bothered to have listened at all.
Finally he swiveled about and started up the steps at his own brisk pace. The stamping of his hooves were heedless, though his anger stay relatively contained. He made no honest effort to dodge the others in his way, scraping straight past any of them who failed to avoid him. He passed near enough to the edge that his rolling body shaved the lackluster Humble Herd as he plowed along. He spat in annoyance, "Come on. One side, tenderhoof."
"Oofh!"
The gentler pony was thrown off his balance by the minuscule, unexpected, and unkind strike. Twisting and turning awkwardly sideways, his hind hooves skipped about on the polished stone floor in a failed attempt to regain traction. At last his rear half slipped over the unguarded edge of the steps and fell into the thick brush waiting there, rustling it with a swishy crunch. Laying bent, with forelegs still up on the steps and hind legs below in the broken branches, he groaned sorely for the blow to his chest on the stone corner and the many scratches he felt around his tail.
The dark stallion who had rudely caused the predicament did not stop to help, nor slow down at all. He merely continued his way forward without a glance back, becoming the first to reach the doors and enter the building.
All of the other islanders held themselves up, concerned. Some peeked back with worry that their guests had seen the unfortunate display (they had, but not with enough attention to have seen who had caused it.) Most moved on when one of them hurried forward to help the fallen pony.
The rescuer was the large, bright orange pegasus mare who had earlier intended to assist Spike, though there had been no bags from the dragon for her to have carried. Thus unburdened, she quickly had her legs around the other pony and effortlessly her great wings lifted them both up with a few minor flaps. Depositing him back on the steps she then stuck close to help him regain his footing, like an older child getting their younger sibling to walk again after a bad scrap.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Despondent from the bruising to both his delicate body and his fragile ego, Humble Herd dropped his meek head and silently voiced back, "No worse than usual I guess... Thank you, Summer Wind."
"It's fine," she warmly told him. One of her wings dusted off some of the leaves still stuck to his rear. With a bit of a disdainful glare up towards the now open doors of the Passion's Embrace she spoke lowly, "Sweet Nothing needs to get over himself. Come on, let's get inside."
Thanking her quietly once more, he let Summer Wind guide him up the steps. He wasn't so injured in body that he couldn't have made it on his own anyway but the blow to his confidence meant he was most appreciative of her help regardless. For her part the impressive strength which her great size gave her would have made it easy to haul him anywhere without breaking a sweat, but she was mindful to not baby him with excessive care and she only stayed close enough to keep him from stumbling.
Vesuvius, like the guests, had only turned an eye towards the disturbance at the wild sounds of off-kilter clops, missing the initial strike by the dark stallion. But he was familiar enough with his ponies that he hardly needed to guess in order to know what had transpired. Silent rage brewed inside. He had half a mind to stomp up through those doors and-
"Oh ho, my, how unfortunate," Venus attempted to laugh off the trouble as cleanly and immediately as possible. She pressed the guests, seizing their focus, "If you could all just follow me this way? We have something we'd like to show you quickly, first." After a moment she realized that she would have to spend some words to grip her dear one's focus as well, and she was struck with a tinkle of amusement since that this had been his idea to begin with. "Come, Suvi."
"... Yes, of course." Her sweet call pulled the fire out of him and he turned away gradually from the ponies disappearing through the doors.
Together they lead Twilight and the others into the garden on the left, over a path of shale stepping stones in the sandy dirt and through a softly winding way of colorfully flowering bushes. Not far in it came to a rectangular space where the ground was laid flat with poured stone. Rows of rounded-topped bricks like tiny fences lined the garden beds surrounding the area, and the abounding vegetation beyond was just tall enough to hide the space from immediate outside view, though it wasn't so bad as to be a jungle. The small area was tight enough for the ten individuals to fit rather comfortably without having to squeeze together.
Towards the back of the plot sat the sole reason for the garden's existence: a squat block of some variety of black limestone, about two feet wide, hardly as thick, and slightly more than a pony tall. It was set in a raised brick base shaped like a crushed star with stubby, flared points. Each of its flat surfaces were sleek and waxy, letting the sun draw unbroken lines of pure light across it. Aside from the faded swirls of white color trapped under its shiny surface and a single, small inscription carved in the center of its front face, the short, black monolith seemed otherwise featureless. No plaque on the base or sign planted anywhere about existed to give hints as to what this monument was dedicated to.
Venus and Vesuvius stood off to one side of it, the island lady wielding a hoof with obvious invitation. All of the guests crushed together to get a closer look at the monolith, particularly seeking a chance to read the stiffly-lettered inscription since there wasn't much else about it to take in. Most of them however only squinted in confusion at the nonsensical text:
WHEFFUDIT QUASNEIGH CORDE PASSWHINIS NEILIBRUM
"Looks like something you might hear Big Mac snort before breakfast when he's got a cold after a late night workin' and an early morning risin'," quipped Applejack, rubbing her chin.
"Applejack, please," Rarity came to the preemptive defense of the island hosts, albeit her own addled reserve wasn't completely hidden, "there's no need to compare it to the ill grumblings of your brother. I'm sure that this... whatever-it-is... is stunningly beautiful when pronounced appropri-"
They all leapt when in a clear voice Twilight recited the line perfectly. Any part of it which had at first been muddied in their heads became incontestably illuminated by her exact and flowing pronunciation. Each word had a forceful air to it, rushing out of her humming lips in a coarse way not unlike the farm pony had suggested; but still too there was a high ring in each sound that touched something old inside, pure like the memory of a bell, much as the seamstress had hoped it would sound.
Her friends all stared at her with startled eyebrows or tilted heads, and the unicorn explained plainly, "It's just Old Equestrian."
"Very good!" Venus was more than pleased to hear the unmarred reading, not to mention impressed with how rapidly Twilight had succeeded in rendering it. She came forward and stood between the group and the cold slab of stone. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised!" she chuckled, delivering a happy smile to her favored guest.
"As you may... or may not... know," the lady relayed history to them, sweetening her voice with plenty of proud grandeur, "this island was once home to a small civilization of ponies. Long, long ago; before even the days of the princess sisters. Very little is known about these ponies of old. We know they were here because some of the oldest writings from the ponies on neighboring islands mention them and occasionally traces of them can be found buried in the ground here, but who they were, and where they went, and why... well that is a mystery we can only guess at!"
Out of all the guests Twilight was the only one who really rose above polite attentiveness. She lapped up the simple story, even if it was information she already knew from her own prior delvings into the island's history.
Vesuvius, from the sideline, chipped in, "We take great care to treat this island as a historical site. From time to time we have archaeologists come to study things which we've found, or send carefully packaged artifacts off island for study." He elaborated, giving a professional tip to his head, "It's all part of our arrangement with the Island Society of the United Carriaggean. They sanction and support our efforts with the resort; their leasing of the island cheaply is something that makes this whole endeavor even possible with our otherwise limited resources. We, in turn, assist with their research efforts in every way we can, including a sensitivity to the island's history and acting as cautious caretakers of it."
A blunted sternness edged into him. "With that in mind I do have to ask you never to wander off. The resort IS built out of the way of anything historically important but please... we don't want anypony to disturb anything significant accidentally."
Venus, though having full agreement with Vesuvius, didn't seem remotely worried that this collection of guests would turn out to be a troublesome group. Instead she eagerly shared with them, "Although our agreement with the Island Society mandates our support of the research and conservation effort, Suvi and I have actually taken our own very personal interest in the island's history. We believe, based on all that we know of them, that they had something profoundly special here. This resort is, in part, our way of trying to bring back what we as Equestrians lost when they disappeared."
Facing the solitary monolith, she laid a reverent hoof upon it. "This memorial," she said peacefully, "is our little tribute to them: recognizing that they were here first, and what of their wisdom we seek to emulate."
She drew her hoof over to the inscription and traced along it. "It reads: 'With our hearts we pour passion free.'"
Twilight, so enamored by the sense of history that the island hosts had built up, couldn't keep herself from interjecting her own knowledge with blind excitement, "Actually, a more accurate translation would be: 'With our hearts we BLEED passion free.'"
Venus turned about to give the other unicorn an odd but otherwise neutral stare, merely taken somewhat aback by what had been said so unexpectedly.
Vesuvius, on the other hoof, had a coldness slip into him. Tension crept into his legs, and his eyes darkened and narrowed as he peered at the guest pony. Somehow he was offended by her tiny, incidental corruption of their pure tribute.
From the stillness which followed her outburst Twilight easily picked up that she had surprised her hosts. However she was still too engrossed in all the titillating specifics to more broadly notice their very distinct reactions.
Thirsty to lay out all the details, she stepped up next to Venus, tapped her own hoof on the first word of the inscription, and prattled, "This is the key word right here. You see, owing to the peculiarities of Old Equestrian, 'pour' and 'bleed' actually share the same verb! 'Spill' too, in fact! It's context and mood conjugation that determine what exactly it means. Because you're talking about a heart and are using the intensive conjugation, 'bleed' is the accurate translation." At least in her own mind she was being quite helpful, and she revealed, "If you want 'pour' here then you need to specifically use a neutral conjugation, like 'neiffudit.'"
Dropping her hoof back down she turned to smile delightfully at her hosts. That was when she noticed the agitation stirring in Vesuvius.
Twilight's glee immediately came crashing down with a nervous cough, and she averted her eyes with sorry humility. "I guess... uh...," she choked, "... I guess that you'll have to get it reengraved, hehe..."
But Venus shattered the delicate discomfort with a cheerful laugh. There was nothing false in the amusement of her smile. "Haha, well, that should teach us to consult with somepony a little more knowledgeable before we spend on such a thing in the future!"
She whirled about to share the tickling embarrassment of this minor failure with her dear one, and instantly she noticed the grave, stern-jawed shadow that had come over him. But she knew well the pony whom she cherished, understanding intimately the almost shy way in which he sometimes wrapped his childish shame and other uncomfortable losses of composure with an unsightly harshness.
"Oh, Suvi, Suvi," she cooed, ever delightful, as she floated like a butterfly up to him. She brought her body into his, planting one of her hooves between his forelegs as she ran the bridge of her nose back and forth along his neck. "So we made a simple mistake that we'll have to fix," she consoled him, her words both caressing and jolly, "but, dear, it's no reason to get so worked up..."
Her mouth came to his cheek and delivered to him far more than a kiss. Behind her mere touch, under the ordinary smacking sound of puckered lips, she passed to him something raw. From within her mouth, just faintly, her moist tongue came out and lapped once the side of his face, tasting his grouchy anger and pulling the heat of it completely out of him and into her. It filled her own pink cheeks, washing them red, and the shining color of her eyes deepened.
In great privacy she finished with a whisper to him, "... there'll be time for that later."
The fire fast stolen from him, he was immediately much more composed and in his own stony way now fawning of his lady. Much more removed from discontent than before he quietly offered to the language-wary unicorn who had pointed out their error, "Ah... thank you for your... correction, Twilight."
"Oh, it's... it's no problem at all," Twilight carefully replied, somewhat unbalanced. "I'm happy to help..."
"Well, heh... this little memorial is all we wanted to show you," giggled Venus. Even though she was addressing the guests she was still bound close to her Vesuvius, hot in the face and helplessly locked in some fantasy thought with him. "Please think about it, and keep it in mind during your stay here."
Taking a few steps to the side towards the path that had all come in from, and practically dragging her dear one along with her, she further instructed, "Reflect on it for a minute or two if you like. When you're ready, come along! We'll meet you just inside so you can be shown your rooms!"
Vesuvius only managed to get in a minimal, silent nod towards the guests before his beloved Venus pulled him away with excited force, chittering in his ear all the way. The allure in her whispers doubtlessly caught hold of him. No concern for the rudeness of their haste came into his face; only a thrilled blush whose redness outshined his natural crimson.
Together they left.
All of the guests stood where they were, not reflecting on ponies past as had been suggested to them but instead staring at the presently departing ponies who weaved back along the plot's entrance.
"Weird...," Spike noted, almost more as an open call to check if the others felt the same way.
"Well," Applejack hauled her words out like a heavy basketload of apples, deliberately steady in speed and carefully balanced, "they sure are an awful... friendly pair... With each other most especially. Never taking their... hooves off'a each other..."
"It's... nice?" was Fluttershy's feebly-made attempt to politely compliment the lascivious behavior.
"Now let's not... be so judgmental," Rarity tempered her friends' reactions, though again she was herself obviously suffering from the same reserve. "We... hardly know them. Their shamelessness- (er, no, perhaps a different word...) Their... their ... b-boldness? Their excessive boldness may be just an unusual little quirk they share and enjoy in their relationship. It's not our place, especially as guests, to trample on their... er... enthusiasm for each other."
Standing behind all of them James could scarcely believe it. Not the behaviors of Venus and Vesuvius, which he had always found unreservedly and disturbingly physical for ponies; his astonishment came from seeing that the others had taken any special notice of it at all! This was, for him, the first anypony had EVER even acknowledged of such primal affection. This was actual confirmation that they were not oblivious to the apparent lust in the lover ponies' audacious conduct. Perhaps larger, it was confirmation that such behaviors were not a complete unknown to ponykind. Though... by the tip-toeing sound of his friends' voices they were quite obviously sweating with reluctance as they deliberate dodged their way about the topic.
He couldn't miss this chance. Perhaps it wouldn't be the most prudent experiment; far from well-planned out and also ill-advised by most measures; but he HAD to test it just to see how they would react. He had to know.
Raising his voice to ensure that he caught the ears of every last one of his companions he floated out a select thought very casually, as if he were doing no more than observing the weather: "They're banging."
No reaction came at first. Most of them continued to stare at the plot's entrance though the two hosts had already become mere moving shadows beyond the bushes, ascending the small rise to the building's doors.
Only Twilight responded, and she was also far from stirred by any dramatic wind. Half-turning towards him her ears perked up with general confusion. Feeling as if she hadn't heard him properly she plainly asked for clarification, "They're what?"
Maybe it was just that subtle tension built up from so long of never addressing that particular topic. Maybe it was just the mischievous devil in him taking a cackling turn at the wheel after a week of being choked out by serious brooding and bottled emotions. Maybe it was just that endless worry which comes at the beginning of a poorly-chosen effort and then compels one to dig deeper and deeper as if they could escape by reaching the other end. Whatever the reason, his spigot turned and he couldn't help himself from pouring everything out, line after line, like a little miscreant:
"They're banging. You know... Screwing. Porking. Boinking. Scoring. Plowing. Shagging. Rutting. Getting some. Going wild. Nailing it. Jumping bones. Knocking boots; or clopping hooves, as the case may be. Getting nasty. Getting freaky. Playing locksmith. Rocking and rolling. Draining the snake. Plugging the hole. Getting it on. Rolling in the hay, which actually sounds rather appropriate. Going to pound town. Breaking in the bed. Dancing under the sheets. Doing the old in and out. Getting down and dirty. Sticking it to each other. Getting horizontal, if that's how it still mechanically works with ponies. Gathering some biblical knowledge. Hitting a few home runs. Doing the real victory lap. Digging for the treasure. Honoring the ancestors. Taking after your parents. Making the grandparents proud. Practicing for the repopulation effort. Doing their part to save the species. Planting seeds in the garden. Tasting the forbidden fruit. Completing the circle of life. Riding that train to the end of the line. Sweating it up with a workout for two. Having a picnic with a sausage, a basket, and a blanket. Checking if the equipment still works. Firing up the emergency lube factory. Naturally decreasing the coefficient of friction. Following the oldest assembly instructions. Taking nightly excursions to the bone zone. Making trades on the early morning fluids exchange. Partaking in a little afternoon delight. Doing... d-doing the... over-under boogie-woogie...?"
It was a disastrous set of dominoes tumbling in a chaotic line. Every thought that spilled out of his head was followed by another set of wily words screaming for attention, each more desperately aching to be spoken than the prior, until finally his steam sputtered out very suddenly. There's only so much dust that can be pulled from a bone-dry well. He was a little torn inside, having enjoyed his romp so badly while at the same time knowing immediately that he had somehow crossed a terrible line.
But the experiment yielded results. There was no doubt in his mind: they recognized exactly what he had been talking about. Sure, it had taken awhile; he had traveled some depths into his tirade before there was any sign of change in them. It had taken them much longer than any human would have needed to latch on to his carpet bombing of clues. But still, one by one, somewhere along the line each of them had the uncomfortable light of realization flare up inside.
They shuffled their hooves around to handle their sinking weights. Their tails cowered beneath their bodies. Their eyes turned awkwardly away from him. Their ears lost life and went limp though they were still helplessly tuned to his train wreck of a speech. And, oh, the blushing especially! Every last drop of their blood was pumped into their faces; ripe tomatoes about to explode from the uneasy pressure of embarrassment.
Really he might had achieved the same reaction if he had just wordlessly dropped his pants and stared dancing for no reason save an improbable onset of spontaneous insanity.
It truly surprised him that Pinkie Pie's reaction was exactly the same as all of the others. Not that he had expected her to have some sort of secret sexual side or anything like that. It was only that, from all which he had observed, she had always seemed impervious to being flustered. But... apparently not? There was something about her a little bit more comprehensible than he had previously guessed.
As the silence ate up the passing seconds his own miserable regret grew in power. He hadn't liked wedging boulders into their hooves and making them feel so unbalanced; honestly he hadn't! Certainly there had been some hidden thrill in the sheer deviance of his act, but they were still his friends and the harm he had caused them, even if not malicious, he knew now had been more than ignorable teasing.
What a stupid thing to have done without having consulted somepony in private about it first.
Losing his puckish standing, he capped his remarks weakly, "That was just... just my observation... of them..."
Twilight, hopelessly lost in exasperation and all but slain by mortification, fought hoof and nail to summon up whatever strength was left in her which hadn't been frightened away. She gasped repeatedly as she expressed, "T-T-T-That's n-n-none o-of our b-business!" The emotion pouring out of her was some impossible mix of shock, anger, sorrow, confusion, and suffocating anxiety. Still, she was the only one amongst the ponies and dragon who even had enough collected will to respond.
However all her exposure to the man had taught her well; quite quickly it occurred to her that this was probably the result of an unanticipated cultural disconnect. Her forgiving, understanding side joined the fray, expanding the great war between her already jumbled mash of feelings.
Stretching every last straw that held her together she strained as she tried educate him without destroying the last of her already shattered composure, "W-W-What t-two ponies d-do in p-p-private i-is their own b-business and isn't t-to b-be d-discussed in a-a-any capacity b-by other p-ponies. E-e-e-ever! T-The m-most i-intimate details of a m-marriage a-are not-"
One particular word of hers tripped him up solely because it blasted so violently counter to his deep intuition. It was just something his gut had read into the island hosts' relationship. Admittingly he had no hard evidence for his belief but it seemed so incredibly real to him that he couldn't let his opinion go unvoiced, even if it would stir the pot more to say it.
"I don't think," he honestly contended, trying to keep himself humble, "that they're actually married."
"W-W-W-W-W-W-W-W-What!" Twilight exploded. Her meltdown was fast and furious. Everypony else was also rocked from a tidal wave of embarrassment.
"H-H-H-How... I-I-I-I-If t-t-t-they a-a-a-are e-e-e-e-engaging i-i-in... T-T-T-T-Then... i-i-it i-i-is... E-EXCEEDINGLY U-UNLIKELY t-t-that t-t-they're n-n-not..." The educated unicorn's stammering became insurmountable; an uncontrollable spasm in her vocal chords that took good, understandable sounds and beat them apart into shapeless pieces.
She at last had to stop completely when her voice had degenerated into a petty gurgling, overwhelmed and broken by the incomprehensible insanity spoken by the man. Standing frozen, jaw unhinged, a wide and empty look upon her face, there was inside the unicorn somewhere the swirling sound of a flushing toilet; a purging of the rejected refuse which had rapidly cluttered up in her head, dumped and smushed together from surprise and panic. The mental scrubbing she forced herself to undergo sucked the nauseating slime down to somewhere forgotten and left the bowl her mind largely bleached fresh.
When she came back she was still very discombobulated but at least the reboot had restored enough of her wits to allow her to talk again. Her throat firmed up, she swung her head back and forth, a hoof came down solidly onto the stone ground, and she declared conclusively, "NO. No, no, no, no! We ARE NOT talking about this! We are - NEVER - going to talk about this! It is GROSSLY INAPPROPRIATE!"
Without any words or motions all of the others seemed to agree. In the dead stillness that followed Twilight's sworn resolution not one of the others peeked a diverted eye back up at James. Not a sideways or lowered head came back to center on him, each of their faces remaining pointed towards the ground while swelled red with color.
One by one they started to turn away without saying anything, walking off with subtly shaking steps, along the path to join Venus and Vesuvius again. Their unsignaled exits were dry of any real rudeness, not done at all in an attempt to snub or fling about disdain. It was only that the uncomfortable thickness in the air had become so suffocating. They had to escape it, for their own sakes.
The ten ton anvil of awkwardness that had crashed down amongst them had been stupendously unimaginable. Nopony in Equestria had ever uttered words so overt about that subject. But somehow against all predictions, real and imagined, possible and impossible, this man had spouted the culturally unthinkable. Once that inconceivable line had been crossed they had been left high and dry in a situation unfathomable. The only action their unready, injured minds could possibly accept was to walk away and pretend it had never happened.
James sighed and rapped his fingertips upon his forehead a few times as his friends silently proceeded to slip out before him.
Stupid.
Sure, the irreverent rant would have only been the start of some pointless verbal jockeying with his old friends; harmless and carefree slinging of mostly meaningless words about the world's oldest subject. But these were not his old friends, and that they would have been comfortable with the same level of shameless prattling was not something he should have taken for granted. Especially since his months of exposure to Equestria had already had him guessing that it was a sensitive topic not often discussed by ponies in the open. To have made his friends feel so perturbed just to sate a little of his natural curiosity, especially when a quiet and honest aside with Twilight was all he would have otherwise needed? The regretful label he applied to himself at that moment was: 'despicable.'
If there was any mercy he could allow himself, it came from the fact that he had obviously vastly underestimated how sensitive a topic it was. Seriously. He remembered that there had been some tremendous doubts in the ponies' hearts when they had seen him for the very first time and he had KILLED ANOTHER MAN before their eyes, but they had afterwards still made a noble effort to get past it and befriend him. Here he had let loose with only some filthy-mouthed skulduggery and yet that alone had rendered them senseless, fleeing the scene!
One side of himself was not overly worried with what had happened; they were kind, they were forgiving, and they understood friendship. Apologies to them for his rudeness were in order, as well as education on cultural mores for himself if he could politely manage to coax it out of Twilight.
But yet another side of him was slightly worried that his choice to expose a central piece of his humanity to them had left a permanent mark. Maybe now they would always see him as some kind of boorish sex freak.
Twilight lingered the longest of all of them, actually managing to give the man an occasional glare; ones which didn't want to be angry, distraught, judgmental, bitter, harsh, or any of those nasty things, but which also had to try so hard to avoid them. Getting to know him had always been an experience fraught with surprises but never in the thousand years of Celestia would she have guessed that he would have unleashed something so crazy. At last, after the others had gone, she began herself to turn away, saying nothing.
"I'm sorry about that," James was fast to offer, wanting to ensure he got his first apology out before the opportunity was lost. Outwardly he was more sincere than remorseful.
The unicorn stopped and tried to say something to him, but it was still too soon for her and she fumbled. A few non-words croaked out quietly from her bitten lip. In the end she only nodded her head once in acceptance before she continued to move on.
Stung by how the usually wordy pony now had nothing to say he quickly dashed up to her side and followed along with her slow gait. "I mean it. I really am," he assured her.
"It's... fine," she worked hard to verbally bring out her forgiveness. "But... now you know, so... never again, and end of discussion!"
"Right. Okay. Just-" His pleading was appropriately cautious. He wanted to give her an unambiguous account of himself, actually learn something about pony culture from her if he could, and all the while not again trample over her sensibilities.
"No! Topic closed!" Twilight snapped at him.
"I'm not trying to really bring it up again," insisted James softly, causing the unicorn to shoot him a dim, doubtful, scrutinizing glance. He bowed his head low and added, "I'm just... You have to understand my incredible surprise, is all."
She was almost gruesomely flabbergasted. "Surprise?" she scoffed.
"Well, yeah." The man reasoned delicately, "I mean, you and I have had some pretty serious discussions about stuff like warfare, and violence, and killing, and you've always handled yourself pretty well. So... while I always figured that this was a subject not often spoken about... it's still sort of stunning to me how much you lock up at the mention of a little sex."
Twilight involuntarily slammed to a stop, coming to a halt just before the rising steps in front of the Passion's Embrace. All the hairs running along her spine shot up, her tail whipped out and stiffened, and her eyes all but bulged out of her head. "A LITTLE S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-," she wheezed endlessly, hissing like a snake. The tip of her tongue poked out of her forcefully clenched teeth, desperate to hold in the scandalous word.
Whoops. "Sorry," he apologized again, quietly.
"T-This is s-something COMPLETELY D-DIFFERENT!" she asserted loudly, all the while fighting to bring herself back under control.
"That's just the thing," James tried to explain to her. "It isn't really for me. Back home, a couple of good friends talking about se- erm... talking about 'it'... well, that's really sort of a very casual thing. No big deal for anypony involved."
"That's-!" Twilight gagged. In parsing all the implications of his revelation something particular about it struck her, though she was loathe to own up to it. Struggling with every syllable, her eyes twitching with disbelief at herself, and her jaw grinding through the motions painfully, she told him, "That's... admittingly... fas-...-cinating..."
She immediately straightened up and maintained her very Equestrian line of thinking, coming out strongly, "B-B-But! But only so much as it is also crude, uncivilized, unbecoming, disrespectable, distasteful, and... and... repulsively vulgar."
Once more she started walking, climbing the steps with the man following at her tail. Pushing out all compromise she instructed him, "Here that kind of... language is strictly unacceptable. So don't do it again, please? 'It' is the immeasurably private business of only the two in-love ponies who are involved. Aside from that ponies don't ever talk about 'it.'"
"Why?" he asked.
They came to another stop, midway up the steps.
She turned to face him, impossibly incredulous. "What do you mean, 'why?' They don't!" Her frustration quickly leveled out. She understood how unyielding she was being given that she was speaking to somepony who, extremely literally, had a different worldview. Calming some, she still did not shy away from her position. "They just don't."
James' hands came up in surrender. "Alright," he said, "I'm sorry. I got it. Not a word, ever again. Promise."
Twilight nodded hesitantly a few times, eyes jumping between the man and the polished stone below her hooves. The 'thank you' was implied; the restless pony was otherwise too beaten from handling the whole ordeal to give it to him proper. Taking a heavy breath she slowly turned back around and proceeded on, up the steps.
James waited behind, alone. His palm slapped against his thigh dismally a few times. "Yup," he sighed to himself, "puritan ponies. It figures. Guess that means I'm going to have only myself to share... me with."
He grunted another sigh, casting his eyes down towards the shrubs to his right.
It was almost as if distraction itself leapt out from the bushes at him. He blinked, all his recent thoughts scurrying away as he leaned forward to inspect what he saw. Some of the brush was disturbed, with torn leaves and bent or broken branches; very unorderly compared to the healthy plants around it. And within the mess he spotted a silvery gleam.
Kneeling down he reached his hand into the wounded bush, pushing aside rustled leaves and thread-hanging twigs. Grasping, he felt his grip squeeze around some loose, cold metal. He stood and pulled out his find.
Dangling from his hand was a beautiful necklace: a silver chain which jingled quietly as it swung back and forth, and below it was held a gorgeously blue sapphire in the shape of a heart.
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Hmm
Okay this is getting interesting i love how everything is going to be played out
to me it seems that the islanders are going to try to worm their way into the main sixes hearts and...do something
Love, or some amalgam of it, is a power on the island
Also i do find it funny how the six just become silent when Sex is introduced right now
but that almost seems like how some teens react to hearing about sex shy and just not wanting to talk about it
Makes me think what would happen if this conversation was brought to Celestia
A con i would have to say
To Me
is that the environment is given heavy detail...it could be that i am tired and i am just trying to skip over it
but i believe you could skimp out on some details
Unless anything about the environment is Extremely crucial for the Audience to know then do as you wish
but i think it would be crucial to only mention the environment in cases like the end scene in this chapter
But still
Great Story
Part of me is thinking some sort of changeling co-habitation/integration, part of me is thinking it's something else.
And I'm also thinking it's not been miss-translated. :-p
The prudishness of these six is... frankly off the scales. Even if he did drop a verbal wall-of-text of sexual innuendos on them, it shouldn't sound like an embarrassing version of Black Speech.
And I get the feeling Jim's casual view of sex and lust is gonna play a very important part on unveiling whatever "horror" lies beneath this façade of an initiative.
Thanks for the comments!
5939790
Glad to see that's being picked up.
When I wrote What Separates one of the things I did was take something I knew the original show would never really deliberately address and call it for one side, strictly to see what I could do with it for the story and for the exploration the story was trying to achieve. In that case it was carnivorism. And I was caught quite off guard when people responded to that very strongly! I'm not much of a community writer so I was only really thinking about my own reading experience when I drafted that. When an author puts something forward I usually simply accept it as a premise, even though of course I'll have feelings about it one way or the other. Not being a real participant in fanfiction communities myself, it was fascinating for me to see people care so much about their own interpretations on it and to discuss it from that light, though of course now I understand that is perfectly rational (and interesting.)
Here, in this story, the same thing is happening. The original show, I'm exceedingly certain, is never going to address sex and sexuality as a topic. But I can use it as a topic to both drive the story interesting places and as part of the exploration, so I'm calling it in a specific way for the ponies. And like with What Separates I've picked something that doesn't break from the 'world' of a cartoon show. The position of the ponies is more or less absurd prudishness; sex is never mentioned but presumably it has to happen 'like magic' off screen. Or in other words: the business of 'business' is the business of only those doing the 'business.' So that's why the ponies are so shocked that he even dared mention it, let alone his avalanche of increasingly esoteric euphemisms.
Naturally, despite James' promise that there won't be a word more, it's going to come up again and we'll get more details.
5939758
Speaking of that, I probably should have mentioned this in the author's note: the 'Old Equestrian' is really just some shoddy Latin with a bunch of "neighs" and "whinnies" thrown in. Cause... you know... horses.
5938140
I'm sympathetic to this. The heavy unloading of the scenery details is there, largely tritely, because I wanted it to be. I wanted to have some fun taking a stab at describing the place, for the better or the worse of the story.
That said the idea of conservation of detail is not lost on me and the big descriptive start of the chapter does try to be relevant to the rest of the story. Some ways are direct: the mentions of the stage and the bar are there because they will be used later. Others are more to impress the atmosphere of the locale on the reader: it talks a lot about the brightness and the warm or light colors; it always uses tender or happy words, talking about the softness of the beach or the ways swimmers and sunbathers can enjoy themselves. And so on. So... I did try to avoid having things to be there just to be there.
But again, my success or failure in this regard is up to each reader; my only interest was to try. So thanks for giving your thoughts!
Okay, seriously, that was just dumb. There's "exaggerating something for stylistic effect" and there's "just completely ridiculous," and this here went so far into the latter category, it almost wraps all the way back around again. The Puritans were stuck up, but they weren't so cripplingly phobic of sex that they couldn't even acknowledge that it exists without breaking down. They just thought it was a bad thing. With that kind of absurdly paralyzing psychological hangup afflicting, how is the entire species not already extinct?
5942727
There will be more details as the plot and dialogue advances.
But if it really important to have some kind of under-detailed understanding at this stage then the short, short answer is: magic.
Big shocker there, I am sure.
That was great, for all the many euphemisms if nothing else.
I think James hit it on the head, even if it was accidental. The Ponies on the island are a group devoted to the old hippy notion of free love. THAT is why they are being so secretive. They already KNOW how most Ponies would react so they have to tread lightly in order to win them over. Hell, even the name of the hotel alludes to it: Passion's Embrace? How could anybody miss that?
and after that little outpouring, if they still didn't clue in to what James what talking about he could have always gone this route ;)
https://youtu.be/4Kwh3R0YjuQ
Great, it's a resort run by hippies
Now the song Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo is stuck in loop in my head at such mention of... that...