3. Tepidarium
"Never again," I say, my teeth chattering. "I realize and acknowledge that was probably good for me, but I am never doing that, ever again."
"Um," says Posey. "All right."
There is an uncomfortable pause.
"I'm meant to do it again. Aren't I."
"Well," says Posey, earnestly, "it's just wonderful for the health of your pores if you go from the caldarium back to the frigidarium when you're done there." Her face falls. "But, the customer is always right."
I am at war for a moment. Then I shrug, helplessly. "Who am I to argue with the wisdom of the ancient pegasi?"
"Oh, no. Don't feel bad if you don't feel like it. It's not 'wisdom' so much as it is, um, the proper order of things."
This much I understood from my years in Canterlot. Even at the very heart of unicorn society, pegasi were a common sight (especially in the ranks of the Royal Guard) and I knew full well how much stock they put in order. Just as unicorns value erudition and culture, just as earth ponies treasure family and tradition, pegasi love rank and procedure.
"Structure is a big deal here in Cloudsdale," I say.
"Oh, yes," she replies. "Very." She pauses in toweling me off. "At least... it used to be."
"Whatever do you mean?"
There are words on the tip of her tongue, and she almost speaks them, but then they're banished with a quick little shakeout. "Let's just get you set up in the tepidarium. How about that?"
"Anything to get me away from that pool," I say. "'Tepidarium' says to me that nothing shocking happens there."
"Not at all. Just a nice warm room and a nice warm massage."
"Lead the way," I say, trying to control the zeal in my voice lest the little pony believe she's at risk of being eaten. Posey nudges me to a second room in her little bathhouse, this one decorated earth tones. It is beautifully warm in here after the icy frigidarium, and I feel the tension in my muscles beginning, ever so gently, to let go.
"Right there," says Posey, nudging me with her muzzle to a snout-down massage chair, delicate cherry wood padded with thick, eggshell-colored cotton batting. I as much as leap upon it; it creaks slightly beneath my considerable alicorn weight. I am not a little pony.
Posey gives a tiny little giggle, almost inaudible. "Ready to go, then?"
"Am I!" I say, as Posey drops a record onto the platter of a nearby gramophone, gives the crank a few delicate turns with her teeth, and then crosses to a small alcove nearby and begins fussing with something. As she works, I continue chatting. "My dear Posey, this whole night has been a living nightmare, and I know I'm just knotted up beyond belief from it all. Naturally I leave it to you to make the final determination, because you're the professional, but—"
I stop, thunderstruck. Something, a sharp, clean, mineral tanginess, is tickling at my nostrils. It becomes, in an instant, the most important thing in the entire world. I lift my head from the cushion and crane my neck to try and locate the source of the... smell, I guess. It's hard to describe it as such, but it's as close as I can get.
"What... what is that?"
Posey makes a little "eep" noise. "I'm sorry. I'll stop. It's okay, it's not important, we don't have to—"
"No, it's good! Great, even. Please, I'm just curious."
"Oh." Posey hastily steps aside and reveals a block of sunset-orange stone which glows serenely from within, its light dancing and flickering in the air currents of the room. "It's a salt lamp. They have such a wonderful color. Plus, when the candle inside warms the block, it charges the air with a tiny amount of electricity, and that's excellent for a pony's mood." Her sunny smile lasts only for a moment before it is doused by uncertainty and self-doubt. "At least, um, that's what I've read. It's really just something to set Posey's apart from all the other bathhouses a pony might visit. A little touch of the earth." She clicks her hoof against the heavy mineral block. "I like to import fresh flowers and herbs for my baths and poultices for the same reason. It's a little pricey paying the airlifting fees, but I think it's worth—"
She stops.
"Your Highness," she says, her voice barely peeping above a whisper, "are you... are you crying?"
The answer is yes, but I do not respond. I do not even understand what is going on.
"I'm so sorry," says Posey, mortified. She fumbles with her mouth for a snuffer.
"No!" I say, more sharply than I intended, which has the effect of rattling Posey even more. I tone down my voice. "No," I say, softly, mastering myself. "I... I don't know what's the matter, but it's very important to me that you leave that candle burning. If you please, Posey."
She takes a few calming breaths and, in a bit, looks less like she's going to bolt from the bathhouse entirely. "Okay," she squeaks. "Oh, this is why nopony comes here, isn't it? Even when I'm trying to do everything right something goes wrong."
"It's fine," I say, sniffling and regaining my center. "Sorry for making a scene in the first place."
"No, it's not fine! It's awful!" Posey says, practically sobbing.
It's more of a reaction than she should be having. It's more a reaction than anypony should... unless there's more to her story that I haven't heard. It is with this that, at last, I receive my cue. The night so far has been all about me. My hunger, my confusion, my humiliation. It is simply not in the nature of a Princess of Equestria to focus so much on her own needs, what with the pain and hurt of other little ponies staring her right in the face.
I relax, slow my breathing, and enter another place in my mind; and in a flash, Posey's love lights up the room.
Watching love is an enthralling experience. I struggle to find terms for it that make sense in the pony tongue. It's like, the words for it are all there, but in my heightened state they mean something completely different. It is the difference between you or I smelling the fur of a pet rabbit and a rescue Bloodhound tracking that same rabbit cross-country. We're experiencing the same sensation, but our fictional Bloodhound can process, analyze and transform that same information in ways we ponies can only dream of. Not to toot my own horn, but that's the way it is with me and love.
Posey's love is, for lack of any better words, sun-grass-orange-coal. It is bright, shimmery and wavy, solid but yearning, and it overwhelmingly dwells upon the bright dandelion-icicle-tea-puzzle of her daughter, now visible to me clear as day out in the apodyterium, walls be darned. The curls and twists of Posey's love float with electrical agitation around her body. It looks a bit like me on a particularly bad hair day. The force of her anxiety throws tangles and snarls into it, and while she bravely restrains the snarls from passing into the conduit she shares with her daughter, the stress of doing so curls back around and knots her own love all the more.
I'm sorry, this may be awkwardly-phrased. I promise you, I'm doing the best I can. It's not always easy to explain what it is I do. Aunty Celestia says that, as an alicorn, I have talents that transcend our conventional understanding of magic, and as such, they also tend to transcend language. Basically what I need you to understand is that spreading love is different than conjuring love, summoning feelings out of nothingness and forcing them onto ponies who never had them before. This would be monstrous of me, if true, and I can thankfully report that it is not. Nor do I grow love, like a gardener tending to seeds. The image is much less terrible, but equally incorrect.
The truth is, ultimately, that I am a very small pony standing beside a wide, clear, powerful river, poking into its wild depths with a stick. Love is beyond mastery. It is a thing far too big, too pure, too strong, for any one pony to claim or control as her own. What I can do is... nudge it a bit. I can find places where anxiety and fear have thrown up rocks in love's path, and when I find them, I can smooth them out and let love flow more easily. I can help ponies remember a love that they thought was lost, or rekindle a love that has always been in their hearts, dulled by age and time. All my aspirations toward ambassadorship aside, this is my job. It is my destiny. It is what I was made to do.
With a gentle illumination of my horn, I reach out and begin combing at the worst of the mats and tangles as an image of Posey's hurt begins to crystallize.
"The success of your bathhouse means a lot to you," I say. And then I stop and wait for the conversation to continue, because it is the polite thing to do. The truth is, I've already seen more of the picture than I let on, having read it in the patterns of her love like a fortune-teller studying leftover tea.
"Well, yes," she says, shyly, sniffling away her tears.
My brain races, reveling in the exhausting richness of my vision. Posey is a single dam, that much is clear. The father of Posey's little pegasus daughter is notably absent from her love, except perhaps as a threadbare and bruise-colored patch along one edge that I haven't yet identified. Posey's daughter is her everything...
"Also, your daughter," I blurt out. "You obviously love her very much."
Posey smiles. "She's a very special little filly."
Yes yes yes, I think, in a panicked staccato. She's obviously special to you. The paths positively shine. But there's still something hurt in it, a toothache at the core of her love, something dark-withered-broken, and my probing it feels like chewing on a ball of tinfoil.
Reeling in small desperation, I continue to babble on. "Posey, I'm sorry if I'm talking too much, or maybe, asking things that make you uncomfortable, but you've done me a great service tonight. If I can repay you in any way by lending you a shoulder or an ear, I'd be honored to be of service."
It's good. It's a very proper, princessy sort of thing to say. For the sake of my own dignity I hope she cannot hear the subtext of me silently begging her to tell me about the hurting part. Honestly, it's not even compassion at this point; the pain is beginning to twist at my own gut as well. I've let myself get too close. Caution, caution...
Posey scrunches her muzzle. "I just wish..."
"Yes?" I practically shout.
"Um," she says. "I just... sometimes I feel like the most terrible mother a little pegasus filly could ask for."
I inhale, sharply. Yes. This is it. "Posey, I'm sure you're a fine dam."
"I'm not fine," Posey insists. "My daughter should already be flying by now, but I haven't the faintest idea of how to start teaching her. She spends every day with me in the bathhouse, hardly stepping a hoof outside, and that's just terrible for her, but what am I supposed to do? If I let her wander too far she'll stumble and fall through a gap in the clouds, and I don't have a single feather to save her with!"
"Oh, Posey," I breathe.
"I know it's terrible. I know I'm planting the seeds of the height-fear in her. But what can I do? There are camps where pegasus fillies learn how to fly fast and well, but the thought of her going to one of those places eats me up with fear. What if... what if she gets knocked off a cloud by a more air-friendly foal and nopony notices until it is too late?"
"I don't know," I say. "I've read about flight camps, but I've never seen one with my own eyes. One would hope they would have safety precautions in place?"
"One would hope." Posey looks downcast, dragging one hooftip across the floorboards. "In any case, it's nothing I need to worry about yet. Flight camp isn't really in my budget right now. But she's eventually going to need experiences I just can't give her, in order for her to grow up to be a good strong pegasus mare. Sooner, rather than later."
She shrugs, then, looking up at me again. "So, yes. My business means a lot to me. I hope my little bathhouse will eventually be—well, not a sensation, exactly, because that would mean crowds of ponies clamoring for my services and the thought of that scares me too—but maybe, um, a sort of modest success. Maybe. Just enough to help my little filly to become a good, strong, sky-loving pegasus. The kind her mother isn't."
Posey's emotion washes over me in waves, and it is a little much for me to bear in my already-heightened state. I tremble for a moment, overcome. Frankly, I want to curl into a bashful little ball for a while at the memory of a life filled with petty little princess problems that I haven't faced with even a tenth of Posey's bravery. Then, I relax, the glow leaving my vision.
"Posey, I know this may seem like small comfort right now, but I am absolutely positive that it will all turn out just fine. Do you believe me?"
"I want to," she says, not meeting my gaze. "I really do."
I nod. "Well, then. My sincerest apologies for the interruption. We may continue, if and whenever you like."
Posey seems to summon her courage as I settle myself back into the chair, leaning my muzzle and forelock heavily into the padding. There is a brief moment of uncomfortable anticipation where I wonder if my hostess is too ejected from the moment to continue, but my fears are put to rest as I feel Posey's hooves upon my back. At that moment, that tension melts away along with a whole crowd of others.
I cannot tell you the last time I had a proper massage. Aunty, for all her odd and occasional decadences, doesn't keep a masseuse on staff, preferring instead to visit an odd, exclusive, secretive little place in Canterlot Town when she gets a mind to. I've never been there, myself; she is so very hush-hush about it that I always figured asking questions was bad form. And though I cannot tell you how long it's been, the moment that Posey's warm, solid hooves touch my back, the answer immediately becomes "too long."
It hurts, at first. Air hisses between my teeth as her patient, probing kneads encounter knot after knot. But she does not shy away from my reaction, and her hooves never lose contact with my coat. Sharp pain gradually dulls, then releases altogether as her hooves work my sore points, again and again.
"Oh, my," says Posey. "This must have been building up for quite some time."
"Ever since leaving Reduit," I say, without really planning to.
"I'm not even sure where that is," says Posey, working out the kinks in the thick, heavy muscles supporting my wings. Seemingly out of my conscious control, my wings spread and droop, lolling beneath the masseuse's ministrations. My eyes go half-lidded with contentment. "Was that where you were born?"
"Mm hm," I hum, momentarily unable to form coherent words. "Little... mmm. Little earth pony village overlooking the North Lunar Ocean." My eyes fall all the way shut.
Then they fly open again at the feeling of teeth against my neck.
Posey is nibbling me, working her teeth slowly up and down my neck. The sensation is electric, and yet, profoundly soothing, and it causes memories of my fillyhood to come rushing back to me. Not of the Abbey; this is never something the Sisters would ever have dared do to their little Princess-Goddess. But there were other ponies in my life, ponies who would sometimes curl up with me for a little bonding when the lessons got a bit long...
"This... this is really nice," I say.
Posey lifts her muzzle from my neck, delicately fishing a stray pink hair from my coat away from her lips. The maneuver is, frankly, adorable. "Oh, good. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I thought since you were raised with earth ponies you might appreciate a traditional tooth-grooming."
"See, funniest thing. It wasn't the earth ponies I was raised with. It was a unicorn, my teacher. She said she wanted to nurture all three parts of me, not just the unicorn part, so she bought a book on earth pony social rituals from a traveling peddler. We fell in love with it the moment we tried it."
"She sounds like an interesting mare."
"Absolutely. She taught me about philosophy and science and history and had all sorts of stories and parables and crazy predictions about what my life was going to be like. There was one time she informed me, in no uncertain terms, that when I found somepony who could answer the question of what love is, I'd find the pony I was meant... to..."
My eyes go wide. I'd... made assumptions, hadn't I? I'd secretly hoped that part of the unconditional triumph of my first diplomatic post here in Cloudsdale would involve finding my One True Love, at last. I had a picture of him in my head: a warm, sensitive creature, gentle, maybe a little shy, somepony who would lift me up on my bad days and help me to discover new wells of emotion in myself. And I had wondered where and how I was going to meet him.
I hadn't even considered it might not be a "him" at all...
All sense of perspective instantly leaves me. My brain spins. Is it possible?
Oh, my...
I mean, I know fillyfoolery exists, in much the same way I know that wild wolves have an amazingly complex social structure. I love that it's there, and it's fascinating to watch and learn about, but it's something that goes on in an entirely different plane. And yes, I've admired other mares' appearances objectively, but...
I mean, could I possibly be...?
Blood rushes to my head. I cannot perceive myself tensing up, but Posey does. She lowers her muzzle down close.
"Everything all right down there?"
"Yes! It's... fine, Posey, just fine." I take a deep breath. "Strange question, Posey—if I were to ask you what the meaning of love was, what would you tell me?"
Posey blinks. "I—I'm sorry, ma'am? What kind of thing are you looking for?"
"Humor me. I just want to hear what you'd say." My tone is artificially easy, which is difficult since I'm practically holding my breath.
Posey gives an adorable little frown. Then she begins moving her hooves once more, in slow, calming patterns. After a moment lost in thought, she speaks.
"I don't think there's just one meaning of love. Ma'am. If it pleases you."
"Your honest answer pleases me more than anything, Posey." I am tight with anticipation.
"All right, then," says Posey. "I've had my share of 'lovers,' but I'm not sure it's ever actually been 'love.' When I think about... um, the stallions in my life, I always seem to find ponies who are dangerous. I don't... I don't know why that is. Certainly I don't like danger. You may not realize it, but I'm actually kind of a timid pony. And while a dangerous pegasus can be fun for a little while, they always eventually leave, and you never know when that's going to be." She shrugs. "It's so hard to hold a pegasus down, to get them to show a little loyalty. So maybe if I had to imagine a pony I could really love, it'd be somepony nice, and predictable, and devoted, and not at all scary."
"Can you do something for me? Can you make it a single word? 'Love is...'?"
Posey thinks. "Safety," she says.
I close my eyes, and release my breath.
"Thank you, Posey," I say. "That's exactly what I wanted you to do."
"I didn't say the right thing," says Posey, shrinking. "Whatever it was you wanted me to say, I didn't say it."
"Well, you didn't say the thing. It's not wrong, or right. Sometimes I think half the reason my teacher gave me that prediction is so that I would go around asking everypony what love is and hearing all the different things they have to say. So on that front, you were an unequivocal success."
"If I'd given the answer you're looking for," Posey asks, "what would it mean?"
I hesitate, almost tell her, and then the moment is lost.
"Never mind. It's silly."
Posey nods. "Well, you sound a little disappointed, but you're certainly more relaxed. Shall we continue with a little preening?"
"Posey," I say, "that sounds like heaven."
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6805799
Ah yes, thus the huge swaths of prestine cloud farms which grow diddly
7422272 You sure? I mean hydro-pone-ics is real science.
>Me when new Skywriter:
derpicdn.net/img/view/2014/3/21/581220__safe_solo_twilight+sparkle_cute_happy_twiabetes_artifact_excited_the+cutie+mark+chronicles_one+word.png
That's certainly the most evocative description of Cady's talent that I've ever seen. I guess I need to have a bit of a reread to see if she's gotten previous interesting answers to the question from other ponies.
I kind of wonder if you're referencing the comic where Celestia goes to a spa while Luna runs the kingdom for a day. Trying to google for the specific issue informed me that there is a "Celestia spa" at Disneyland Paris, and that completely derailed my train of thought.
7422288
Pegasi are idiots. They're main source of revenue appears to be that of government work, both in the military and cloud management. They appear, at least here, to have no infrastructure or attempts at economy or finance outside of the burecratic and gov sector, hell, they're conditioned to accept entitlements from birth, thus the bread handouts. They don't actually work or toil, they just wait for ol' sugar daddy to hand them their next meal. In no way, shape or form, is their life sustainable.
Hydroponics? Feh, that would require to gather the tribes five brain cells together and actually do something with their empty selfish lives
Shining Armor gonna be all:
7422398 jeez, way to lump an entire race and culture together as being idiots without a single redeeming quality.
A neat chapter - emotionally charged, one on one.
7422398 So! Not a fan of Pegasi in general, I see. Okie dokie!
"by more air-friendly foal and"
"by a more" or "foals"?
The salt lamp, and Cadence's reaction to it -- I'm imagining it reminds her of the salty seaside air of Reduit. Or, possibly some kind of an ancestral memory of the Crystal Empire, where all the lamps are likely to be crystals of some sort.
Either way, this was another lovely chapter, and I just plain want more!
7422650
Fixed, thanks!
7422790
You're welcome. :)
7422442
7422398 Is admittedly speaking bluntly and in generalities, but they're picking up on a societal conflict I am in fact intentionally setting up. So if it seems like strong language, the author is at least partially the cause in that I'm guiding discourse in that general direction. More on that later.
7422442
7422508
Within the context of this tale, no, I'm not a fan. Now, much of Equestria, in the context of this story and original canon, appears to be in something of a cultural stagnation, partly due to living under mommy's wing, partly to ease of life, but its there. The pegasi here though are literally rotting.from it. In earth ponies and unicorns, we see a near constant exchange of culture, media, ideas, but the pegasi are stuck in the pre classical era. Many no doubt speak with pride of never having had sullied there hooves with the filth of terra, and sneer down on others as ground pounders. Hell, even with the earth ponies and gryphons, we see no mingling, no melting pot, they're relegated to their own sectors lest their filthy no good selves sully proud pegasi heritage and given the dregs of the coffers to build their own communities.. I'd imagine much of the infrastructure the is built by bits out of their own saddlebags.
7423075
Apologies mate
7423158
No apologies required!
7423162
So.... why did Celestia let things get this bad anyway?
Best description of Cadance's special talent I've read!
Glad to see thing are finally starting look up somewhat for Heartbutt.
Typos!
give her AN order
is too DEJECTED from
Am halfway, but excellent work so far
7423206
Wrong!
First one is in fact the right way to put it.
Second one is the old earth pony tradition of shot putting ponies out there store's when you are pleased with them
7423165
This starts getting into spoiler territory, I'm afraid.
7423219,
7423206
These both were intentional; I added a comma to clarify the first, and "ejected" was the best word for "forcibly and abruptly taken out of the moment."
Woo! Always good to see an update!
Coincidently, this arrives on the same morning the latest issue of Friends Forever, which from the cover is a Cadance-and-Twilight story; though from what was said on our local ponythread, it may be veering into "Siege of the Crystal Empire" territory (i.e. bad by pony comic standards[1]).
[1]Sadly, "bad by pony comic standards" is still heads above "Marvel and DC comic standards" which is why I now get more pony comics (I am down one X-Men comic (which isn't even the main continuity now) after twenty years, when I used to get, like four-or-five, plus Teen Titans, plus odd miniseries...)
7423267
Lets hear it for the real good guys folks. Hail Hydra
7423396
I won't de-rail the comments with further commentary on the subject - because neither the time nor the place (and I have a nasty habit of derailing things with my aside comments...!) - but I shall just iterate my reaction to the speech from the mouth of the Red Skull thusly:
*skulldesk*
*skulldesk*
*skulldesk*
This was great. I love Cadence's reaction/sudden realization that she just assumed she was straight without checking first lol
Your description of her love sense was just beautiful.
The salt lamp is likely triggering hazy memories of Cadance's true birthplace. It is a form of crystal, after all.
Cadance's description of how she perceives love is fascinating. I'm a sucker for exotic senses, and ones so removed from common experience that it takes four senses to even approximate the qualia are especially cool.
Also, there's definitely something out of order in Cloudsdale, though Posey dares not broach the subject. Still, she may be Cadance's best lead on the subject if either ever dares bring it up again.
Furthermore, I can only imagine Posey's reaction when Fluttershy gets her cutie mark. All of her worst fears came true... and it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to her daughter. Still, I have to think she'll feel she failed as the mother of a pegasus given where her daughter will choose to live.
So I just noticed that The Adventuring Type is at the top of the 'Also Liked' stories for Spa and Order.
We're fic-buddies, Skywriter! Eeeeeeeee
ee
e
e
e
e
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
7424022
Let's braid each other's hair!
7423165
I doubt it's any one cause, but at a guess Celestia spent a few hundred years learning how to keep Equestria safe and stable, and then she just kept it that way for hundreds of years more. (Also maybe censorship of history? Bad economic stuff? Something to do with education? Celestia's cake obsession?) Regardless, very important question for this series.
Welp. I ship it.
7424260
That would be adorable, can we get Andy Price fanart of the event?
Very interesting reaction to the salt lamp by Cadance. Environmental or sensory memory of the Empire way back when, I'm guessing?
Excellent interpretation of Cadance's love magic, much less creepy than some of the possibilities.
This really makes me wonder just how Posey is going to react when her daughter ends up where she ends up. Oh one hand, Element Bearer Fluttershy means that yes, she really is a very special filly.
But on the other, most of Fluttershy's life in Ponyville sound tailored precisely to her mother's fears for her.
Geeze, and so even in access to proper massages Celestia's secretive ways are causing Cadance problems. It's a minor issue compared to some, but rather indicative of the whole.
Ooo. Of course, everyone reading along knows the eventual outcome, but that's a fun way to throw Cadance for a loop.
It's a little extra funny to consider this in light of Rainbow. In most circumstances I'd describe her as the quintessential pegasus' pegasus, but apparently not in this case.
I'm 95% certain that this is the exact reason.
Poor Cadance, still no lunch. Filly Fluttershy disapproves:
Hello Luna's day court comic reference
7424697
Sure, if you commission it!
7422398
Except for the fact that the biggest and most powerful entity in Cloudsdale is the Cloudsdale Weather Corporation, a private for-profit enterprise that overshadows their actual elected Senate.
Oh no! Cloudsdale has a social safety net. Quelle horreur!
Except for how they make all that weather. The weather that they produce and then sell. That's... work. Work that they toil at.
Why on earth should Cloudsdale grow its own food? That would involve investing massive resources into something they're not actually good at in an environment that's deeply hostile to it. They can go to the Hegemony and say "hey, we'll give you a bunch of weather, and you'll give us a bunch of food." Everybody wins. Let the earth ponies grow food, the pegasi will provide the rain and the proper temperature to do so. That's division of labor. That's efficient.
Now that she's achieved her full growth, Cadance needs to invest some time in figuring out her portfolio. It's pretty clear that Cadance of Cloudsdale has no idea how to be the Princess of Love beyond having love radar.
That's okay. She'll figure it out.
I sort of get the impression that this is one of those things Queen Arborvitae was traditionally quite good at, and that Celestia is very good at being Princess Celestia but is not all that good at being the de facto leader of a tribe of two. There's nothing wrong with that per se, but it has clearly caused problems.
7426808
And it would be a bureaucracy, would it not? One closely monitored by the Crown, which puts another layer of incompetence on top of that. And whatever type they are, all bureaucrats have a vested interest in featherbedding.
Except its not. Keeping the plebians content 101: food and distraction. Keep them fat and happy, and they won't say boo to any evil done. This isn't a shovel program or hand up, its a bloated monstrosity from the old days.
Except they're not losing anything! Now, lets go with this train of thought: in the old days, the unicorn and pegasi both took tithes for weather, and raising the powers cosmic respectively. Neither tribe actually lost anything though. Did the unicorns give less sunshine, or the pegasi less weather for a bad crop? No, they simply took it anyway, and put a whip to their peons withers to make more. Earth ponies lost two thirds of their food to royal horn heads and their feathered bully boys, literally food from their foals mouths. Thankfully The Sisters took the sun and moon out of the Royal unicorn rulers, who after finding out they couldn't use that as a way of extortion, had to go and learn ways to earn their next meal.
Pegasi are still in that old tithing nonsense, and all the while claim independence and pride when they've never worked outside of cloud jockey their whole life. And even though not all serve in the Guard, all still demand tithes as though they did
First of all, anyone can do anything if they set their mind to it. Secondly, it costs more to have everything air lifted up there! Storage and logistics must be a nightmare! Also... self respect? Learning self reliance and work ethic? Actually achieving actual independence? Learning to cook the food you grew, and know you earned something then having some week old bread tossed to you? Easing the burden on their fellow Equestrians backs? Stimulating their own economy?
7426877
What "it" are we talking about here? The CWC? Of course it's almost certainly a bureaucracy, it's a corporation; the bureaucratic form is widely adopted because we've yet to come up with a different organizational scheme that works better.
This is true, but it also ignores the fact that keeping people fat and happy is one of the most important jobs of the government. Or are they supposed to keep people starving and miserable instead?
... huh? They... presumably need to invest time and resources into making all that weather. I'm not sure what you mean by "the pegasi aren't losing anything."
They still had to invest time and effort into controlling the weather and the cosmic powers, tho.
You don't actually know this. And even if this, the worst possible reading of the Hearth's Warming story is true, I'm not sure how it is relevant. The unicorns and pegasi were both still, you know... doing stuff. Stuff of value! They weren't just lazing around.
What's wrong with working as a cloud jockey? Judging from what we've seen in the show, that's an important, difficult job!
This is objectively untrue.
You don't actually know that. The effort and time expended in shipping things up from the ground might be considerably less than producing it locally. The question isn't "how much effort is it to ship things in?" but rather, is it MORE or LESS effort than selling weather and using the bits to buy other things you need.
You don't need to grow food to do that? I mean, how are the pegasi who spend their time producing weather and selling it demonstrating less work ethic and self reliance than earth ponies who spend their time producing food and selling it? How do they not have self-respect?
And of course not all pegasi are going to make weather. Many of them will do other things. There are probably pegasus chefs, pegasus cloudmasons, pegasus writers, pegasus reporters, pegasus shopkeepers, pegasus plumbers, pegasus accountants, etc etc. How are those ponies not being self-reliant and demonstrating work ethic?
Or they could produce weather, and sell it, and use the bits to buy food. Is there evidence that Cloudsdalians are mostly unemployed and also not interested in being employed?
What burden is this?
By pouring a ton of bits into growing food in the sky, when it can much more easily and cheaply be grown on the ground? That would be stimulative, true, but in the long run it would also be deeply wasteful.
"Um. Princess, would you mind if I put the wireless on during the massage? A lot of ponies find it relaxing."
"The wireless? Oh, please do."
=========
The Weather Corporation would like to remind all citizens of the Hegemony that the rain in Equestria falls mainly on the rest of ya.
Welcome... to Cloudsdale.
Tonight, we have another in our ongoing series of public service segments. It's molting season again, dear listeners, and that means grooming and personal hygiene are on the minds of everypony.
First off, some words of encouragement for our younger listeners in flight school. Children, I know this is a difficult time for some of you. You might watch your classmates go through molt seemingly instantly, walking around with their fine summer primaries and secondaries already fully grown in. Meanwhile, you can't so much as walk down a cloudway without leaving a pile of mangy-looking feathers behind you. This is normal, and nothing to be ashamed of, and don't let anyone tell you differently.
Still, some tips for you slow-molters and heavy-molters out there. First of all, preening is more important than ever during molt, even though it will often be uncomfortable and difficult. Community preening at school, supervised by a licensed professional, may be embarrassing, but it will keep you in top flying form. Remember, though; don't make eye contact with your preener.
Never make eye contact with your preener.
Second, you might be wondering if there's a productive use for all those shed feathers; it feels a little wasteful just throwing them all out, doesn't it? Well, you're in luck! The Senate, in partnership with the Weather Corporation, has a feather-buyback program. They'll pay good bits for neatly organized feathers in usable condition, and our friends in the pillow and quill industries will thank you. Remember, though; this program is only active until the end of molting season. Once it's done, it's done!
But... and this is important, listeners... never sell your feathers to a non-pegasus pony. Why not, you ask?
Witchcraft.
Finally. Some among you might have noticed a curiously colored feather, different from your normal coloring, growing in among your new secondaries. Curiously colored how, you ask? Mmm. Well, that will be... difficult to describe. Not a forbidden color, no not that! (There are no forbidden colors and their possession is illegal.) But... difficult. You won't be able to categorize it using any standard palette or normal language. This new feather might also itch a bit at first, but soon it will become just as much a part of you as any other feather. More, even.
We're sorry.
We're just... we're very, very sorry.
There are no other words.
It will be best for everypony if you sit extremely still and wait for the authorities to arrive.
This concludes our public service segment. Coming up next, our ongoing look at the doping scandal that continues to rock the Cirrus Maximus; Team Zephyr is accused of having illegally obtained and abused various forms of steroids, opiates, amphetamines, and immortality. More on that story when we return.
=========
"The wireless programs in this city are much different than those in the Hegemony, Posey."
"Are they? I can't imagine not listening to Third Eye every night. His voice is very... soothing."
~~~fin~~~
This is part three of Welcome to Cloudsdale. The previous part may be found here.
The next part may be found here.
The Welcome to Cloudsdale masterpost may be found here.
7428388
Oh, lovely. Thank you. I'm particularly jonesing for W2NV this month since they're on subscriber-only hiatus.
(Not jonesing quite enough to be a subscriber, mind you. I am eternally leery of a regular monthly outlay for non-essential services and like to keep my fun-purchases on a one-time basis. I do buy the live shows, though! So there is money going there. Wow. Too much spending information.)
7429291 De nada. I sort of like the idea of producing some hidden meta-fiction buried in comment threads. Although once I get enough of these I might collect them.
I actually wanted to do one for every chapter, but, true story, I missed the publication of Frigidarium. Around mid-April I was like "man, Skywriter is taking forever to put that out, I thought he finished revising ages ago" and then I looked and it turned out you published in February and I simply somehow missed it in my feed, like a dumbass.
7429566
In your defense, it's not like I have a track record of timely production.
7422398 I do think part of why Equestria has managed weather is to give jobs to Pegasi now that there isn't a large standing army for them to join. Without weather Cloudsdale would turn into Detroit. We've seen farms have modern irrigation, which has to be way more cost-effective than hiring the weather service.
This fic is so, so, so very good, and one of my favorite combinations in MLP fan fiction: Slice of Life easiness with casual but fascinating world-building. It's easy for people to forget that world-building doesn't JUST have to happen in some epic adventure fic or what-not, there's so much fun to be had with it in something as simple and casual as a story like this. Your characterization of Cadance remains one of the best I've ever read, and I can't wait for the next installment. Keep up the great work!
7438757
Thanks so much!
7439508
But of course!
Aha! Character growth through experience! Skywriter does it right.
7459296
I do hope so. Thank you.