Fortunately, Twilight Never Published Any Post-'On The Application' Paper
The rental price could best be described as 'suspiciously fair,' and Fleur had spent most of her time during the interior tour searching for extra reasons to back that suspicion. But it was as the hourglass-marked stallion had said (and the realtor kept trying to gloss over): the upper floor was cramped, the ramp was outright treacherous, and the carpet had been forcibly removed from one room in such a way as to leave little scraps behind, every last one of which seemed to hold a portion of the neglect from all of the departed sections. Take all that out, ignore the supposed haunting because there was no such thing as ghosts, and...
Fleur didn't consider herself to be cheap. She would spend on things that were necessary, at least during those times when she somehow couldn't get anypony to buy them for her. The frivolous existed entirely within the category of gifts and once she was no longer in a position where that gift would be regularly seen by the giver, she would often sell it -- at least for those pieces which didn't seem as if they might gain value over time. Fleur would easily tap her funds whenever that deed was meant to acquire something essential. But that was it: the essentials, because the most essential thing was living. Existence required money, funds came from work and eventually, work ran out. A tenth-bit wasted now was a tenth-bit she was going to need later, especially after Celestia had taken so much of her hard-earned money and her best means of quickly making more might have been forever blocked.
(She did consider that if putting Fluttershy together with anypony else was truly a task which could never be managed over the course of a pony lifetime -- or in this case, the foalbearing years -- then it was at least a period during which she could also repeatedly invoice the palace. But that was still embracing her prison sentence, plus she suspected Celestia might become fed up well before the first decade ran out.)
Shelter was essential, and shelter which aided in survival even more so. Caves were cheap -- but caves were also occupied, and as for the mill -- no. The little house had walls, a roof, and a price which made Fleur suspect she'd missed something major -- but it was shelter, and so she'd carefully read over the lease, mentally underlined every escape clause, and signed. She'd wanted to stall on that last part for a day or two, because doing so now effectively left her paying double rent -- but she couldn't take a chance on the house getting away, especially not after finding out what some of the other properties in the area were fetching.
So it had been the realtor, and then the post office: there was a suddenly-immediate need to make contact with her Canterlot landlord, close out her business in that residence and set up the return of her security deposit. Another letter had (reluctantly) arranged the securing of her possessions: she didn't truly trust anypony or anyone among her things, but she also couldn't scramble back to Canterlot so quickly without arousing suspicions, and so that meant she needed an intermediary. It was something else which brought her hate for Celestia back to a low seethe: normally, she could have at least partially relied on her knowledge to keep whoever she chose from doing too much, but with her blackmail discovered...
The best things are safe. She told herself that, and it normally would have been true. But now she wasn't sure if Celestia had gotten to those too, and she'd found a quiet place to let herself come down from what had been approaching full boil.
She had a place of her own to sleep in and in many ways, that was a benefit. But it also meant she might give off the appearance of a pony who was settling in. That had its own positive aspects: as an illusion, it was something she could try to sell for at least a few members of the local police (if not their chief). But she couldn't fall into it herself. She was trapped within an open-air prison and had just finished picking out her cell. That was all.
But if you were in a prison, you had an obligation to explore every last bit of it: there was no other way to learn the jailers' shifts and take advantage of any holes which might exist in security. Fleur had multiple reasons to learn everything she could about Ponyville, and now she had to find out about one particular segment of the settled zone's routine. She had to explore its nightlife. And with something which could be mockingly described as a home base to work with, she also had a place where she could rest and formulate a plan of attack.
Not that she'd had much time to work with there. After settling terms with the realtor and thanking her guide stallion with tones which suggested he still might have a chance after she'd settled in a little more -- a lie, but there remained a chance he might be useful later -- she'd headed for that original Barnyard Bargains. Sadly, no amount of careful flirting had led anypony to introduce her to a chain owner who wasn't actually there at the time -- but she'd done enough to confirm she'd been told the truth: that pony lived in this settled zone. And she'd also learned a rather intriguing new piece of information.
He was single.
Oh, there were no guarantees there. Fleur was beautiful and, unlike Fluttershy, knew it -- but she wasn't exactly universal. There were those who found her to be everything they'd ever dreamed of, others who were at least curious enough to approach, and she'd certainly been with a large number that were just willing to try her for an evening -- but she also knew when somepony found her completely uninteresting. There were times when no piece matched with her, and even a few which had ponies considering her as repulsive: minority interests which refused to see beauty in anything which didn't precisely fit. Nopony in the world could ever match everypony's tastes, and so there would always be roads which were closed to her, at least if sufficient blackmail material didn't present itself. But still... a single, extremely wealthy stallion who had contacts all over the continent and somewhat beyond. She'd been so distracted by the thought that she'd almost missed spotting where the original store in the franchise kept the Foal Soap, which had then been purchased as a decidedly essential expense.
Enough food to get her through a few days, along with toiletries, two towels, cosmetics, and a single blanket. (Her new residence didn't come with furnishings.) And then she'd trotted back to what was supposedly now her part of town, ready to wash up and make herself presentable for the fast-approaching evening. Getting back to that house had to be done at speed: she didn't know just when the local nightlife began, and she wanted to arrive at what most ponies would have seen as an unfashionably early time -- but that was almost standard for her when she could arrange it on social situations: she needed that time for sorting out as many puzzles as possible.
Sensing a familiar grouping stopped her a mere half-block from what was just as supposedly her front door.
Fleur paused in her trot, watched as the little filly (who hadn't seen her: looking in the wrong direction entirely) waved a forehoof in temporary farewell to her friends. It was followed by taking a deep, slow breath, and the older unicorn recognized the expression of a youth who was just now realizing that some level of explanation would be required for the tree sap which laced her fur, and she'd postponed figuring out what it was going to be for just a little too long. And then Sweetie headed for what was clearly her own front door, outwardly preparing her speech while deep inside, a puzzle which was still in the process of figuring out what its own solution would be slowly added tints to the edges.
That door opened. Fleur heard both a mare and stallion voice during the seconds before it closed again.
So she's a neighbor. A mere half-block away, too.
Well, that was fine. Fleur had nothing against hearing children at play: it was a precious sound, something which never lasted for very long. And as for Sweetie's puzzle -- well, that wasn't really Fleur's fault. There had been a moment of kindness during a time of high emotion: something which always had the potential to create a fresh aspect, and now Sweetie was on the verge of something that could, under certain circumstances, turn into that first true filly crush. It could even lead to the things which a near-adolescent would eventually begin to seek in her future partners. It wasn't exactly uncommon for a youth to have daydreams about an adult, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. A natural part of growing up, so long as the adult did the proper thing should those dreams somehow wound up being voiced.
Fleur would not
would never
encourage her. But she also wouldn't inflict deliberate cruelty in order to force the piece into fading, much less push to the point where it collapsed inwards into a contour-relief pit of things the filly would never want. She would just live nearby, say hello when greetings were needed, and perhaps misdirect the occasional hunt for whoever had sent the latest deer crashing through a greenhouse. There might even be the chance for other protections --
don't let there be
Sweetie was a child, and so the best thing Fleur could do was let her be one, for as long as the world would allow it.
Sweetie was something very close to innocent. The world loathed innocence.
And then she was trotting under newly-risen Moon, looking for that future stage of Fluttershy's lessons.
She was clean. Her mane and tail had been styled. Her hooficure had been adjusted: the cosmetics had been expertly applied. And all of that had brought her to a state where she was not quite all she could have been. She had shown Fluttershy how to trot in a way that advertised the desire for company -- but there were variations available, and Fleur's current tread clearly stated to any who might care to listen that, at least for the moment, she was just looking around. She might change her mind later if she found the right pony -- say, a certain very local business owner -- and there were always those who simply ignored all messages and replaced them with what they wanted her to say. But while she needed to discover more about the town and always had her senses trained towards anything interesting, she didn't truly want job-unrelated company for longer than the duration of a drink: one which somepony else would pay for -- and also one with no alcohol involved, where she'd been able to watch all of the mixing. Her head needed to be clear, and as for companionship...
It had been a hard two days. And she could internally argue that spending time within somepony else's bed could take the edge off that -- while knowing she was lying to herself.
Fleur took pleasure in sex, enough that some of her orgasms weren't faked. (The majority were, as most of the ponies who spent time with escorts didn't seem to truly care whether the escort got anything out of it.) And she had what she thought was a healthy sex drive, certainly high enough that the idea of a fully-booked week didn't turn nauseating. But sex was something to be done with purpose. She needed to arrange security, and sex led to that. The idea of doing it purely for pleasure -- well, she could arrange that just about any time she liked, but it was also something she could do alone. Anypony could scratch their own itch. Fleur would be curious enough about individuals (or more) to arrange things once, but to turn to somepony for pleasure over and over was to potentially become reliant on them. She knew that, especially, since she'd so often been on the receiving end of that growing neediness. To be on the sending one was to lose control. And as for a one-night encounter...
Sex would make her body feel better, for a little while. But it would do nothing for her mind. It wouldn't return the time which Celestia had turned to ash. And even when it came to sheer physical pleasure, she couldn't spend any post-sex time in anypony else's bed, not tonight. For she had faced down Discord, she had won simply through surviving -- but there was a price to pay for that, and every last bit of it would be waiting for her in the nightscape.
She was afraid to sleep. She was willing to admit that to herself, because admitting to fear could often be the first step in either overcoming or channeling it. But she would not use wake-up juice and stronger things to postpone sleep, because sleep would always come eventually. She would not seek a life without dream: the clarity and frequency of her nightscape visits had led her to research such magics, and she had learned of two spells. One, which she had not been able to master, denied the manifestation of a single caster-determined subject, and she still dearly longed for that working. But the other prevented a pony from dreaming at all. The caster could only use it on themselves, and the duration went on for a lifetime. For a pony who could no longer dream, that usually turned out to be about two moons.
Sex? There was always the chance of encountering a pony tonight for whom sex with Fleur would be the best possible thing -- for Fleur. That pony could be practically anypony at all: Fleur had no issues about being with mares or stallions, and there was a range waiting beyond that. But to stay in that bed would be to allow another the chance to witness the moment when she dropped into dream and couldn't get out...
Fleur passed the candy shop -- or rather, the shops: the one which would still be open for another hour or two, and the one which hadn't yet opened at all. (She didn't venture inside. It wasn't from not wanting to become involved in the inevitable dominance struggle, for that had yet to truly begin, nor was it from regrets about not getting her chance with the double-jointed mint-green unicorn. She simply knew she had something of a sweet tooth, and so tried not to indulge it. Not only was the purchase generally unnecessary, but her smile had to be a pretty one, and dental potions were expensive.) Further on, past a store which sold --
-- she paused long enough to take a second look at that sign, decided somepony was playing a joke, moved on --
-- and then she just barely spotted the pony in the shadows.
Most wouldn't have. But Fleur paid attention to her senses, was always ready to compare the results against the lessons of memories. She saw how the stallion stood, the inability to totally relax while leaning against the wall in what should have been a position of rest, the focus in what had nearly been gloom-lost eyes. She felt his pieces, and how none of them aligned with her. And yet he still focused his attention as she passed, turned just enough so that the last thing she truly saw was the glint of light from a nearby window off the badge resting on his chest.
She focused, memorized his puzzle's configuration, added it to the huge gallery within her mind. And then, while looking at that inner image (which held nothing special, nothing at all, and was still just unique enough to memorize), she let silent laughter fill her mind.
You said you know what I am, Chief Rights. And knowing that, you send your officers into the streets, with instructions to keep an eye on me during any encounter. To follow for a while, as this one's starting to do. See what I'm up to, where I'm going, who I'm with.
You think you know what I am -- but not even Celestia herself seems to have considered, much less briefed you, on all the implications...
She trotted on, with a stallion following her whom she no longer had to watch at all. A police officer whose presence she could simply feel.
And because Fleur was experienced and always remembered her lessons, she also knew the exact moment when her expert, completely casual-appearing shifts in direction managed to completely lose him.
Canterlot had a nightlife: bars, clubs, concert halls, theaters and cinemas, cultural events. If you didn't feel like attending any of the preceding, then there was always a party to attend somewhere, or an excuse for throwing one. And for those whose jobs generally put them under Moon, the capital was also starting to develop something new: a daylife. The venues which had typically catered to those whose shifts ended before the Sun was lowered had realized that the ponies who labored during Lunar hours also had entertainment bits and nowhere to spend them -- so some cinemas and theaters now held dawn matinees, a few clubs paused only long enough to clean up after the last shift, and the cultural events were trying to figure out if it was within anyone's culture to stay awake that long. It had led to an economic boom in the city, along with a flood of new jobs created by the need for so many places to hire double shifts. Even Manehattan, famed for never truly sleeping, was rumored to be scrambling to catch up, fuming all the way.
Ponyville had...
...there was a bowling alley.
A bowling alley.
(Two ponies emerged from it as she passed, and she could tell they were a couple. The extremely tall mare had a mark for the "sport" itself, the shortest stallion she'd ever seen worked in construction, they were rather attracted to each other, and they were verbally fighting with the facility of those whose inevitable bedroom makeup sessions were mostly meant as a means of getting some rest before the next round.)
She'd read the map, and what it had told her was that most of those looking for entertainment under Moon might be best off heading for the train. She'd spotted the cinema's icon on the unfurled paper -- but until she'd trotted past the building, she hadn't known it had but one screen. Most of the concert venues seemed to be known as 'No one's using this pasture for the next few hours,' and the main source of theater was also labeled as being outdoors: summer stock. (Much to her amusement -- and light horror -- the primary school was also listed among the theater groups, which struck her as an odd combination of parental pride and total desperation.) There didn't seem to be a single concert hall. But as for bars and clubs... yes, a few, and she felt gazes focusing on her as she entered the closest of the first.
She didn't pay much attention to the lighting (soft blue, fairly standard) and mostly ignored her having made the wrong choice for a place to start, for this was a bar which mostly hosted a somewhat older crowd. There were far too many married stallions and mares, which meant the pieces which matched to her had tinges of fantasy, regret, and at least one tentative is-it-worth-the-risk? But for those who didn't look, or glanced away after seeing nothing which particularly interested them -- it was easy to see why they were there. For the most part, they were friends who talked for a while before heading home, shared a quiet drink while discussing their day. There was no dancing here, and she doubted there ever would be. This was the kind of bar you went to long after a partnership had been formed. Virtually anypony sipping at the contents of their mug as they rested on burgundy cushions next to low-slung dark tables would be out of the single life -- or at least looking to avoid it for a little while.
Fleur didn't pay much attention to any of that, at least after accessing that there was no direct threat to her in the building. She was too focused on the stallion in the far left corner, morosely gazing at the contents of what she was fairly sure was at least his third mug of the young night.
Fluttershy had only her sad white slate: attracted to nothing, afraid to even dream. She had no pieces to match. But there were ponies whose pieces matched her. Fleur had believed there had to be somepony in town, one or several, who dreamed of the pegasus, who would give anything for a night with those somewhat-oversized wings and a chance to be the first to truly enjoy that tail. And in her very first survey of the nightlife scene, the very first bar she'd stopped in...
He hadn't seen her yet, and so she surveyed his pieces as closely as she could. He was attracted to pegasus mares beyond (or perhaps above) all else: that was easy to read. It was just as simple to tell he wasn't currently in a relationship: many colors were dimmed from recent rejection. And even if she'd met him during a moment when her talent was shut down, the way he was regarding his mug was more than a clue.
Not bad-looking, really, although it was in a borderline way: he wasn't anywhere close to approaching ugly, but he was the sort of pony (an earth pony, but that wouldn't be a problem with a pegasus who didn't have any requirements at all) who was on the edge of fully becoming a Type, only truly appealing for those who were attracted to said Type. Fleur blamed his mane. There was a lot which could be done with a mane like that, and he'd chosen a rise like the slow approach to the edge of a cliff, which ended in the same kind of abrupt vertical drop. It said a lot about him, starting with his exact age, because Fleur had seen the magazines which had said when that was in style, and he'd never read the ones which told everypony else when it had cycled out.
Still, he kept his light brown fur well-groomed, and the eyes -- well, the fact that they were almost lost in the lighting told her they were just about the same shade of blue. His features were pleasant enough. He wasn't all that tall or solidly built for an earth pony, but Fleur wasn't sure about putting Fluttershy with anypony who would be physically intimidating, not when added to all the fears which would come from just trying to interact for the first time: a visibly weaker specimen might be best to start.
Fleur didn't like everything she was sensing. She could only truly read the sexual aspects of a sapient being: other facets of personality needed to have at least a little attachment to a piece for her to get any idea of the rest. As such, she couldn't completely figure out anypony through their puzzle's solution. But in this case... there was a neediness there, something approaching desperation. He had to be with a partner: he was unwilling to go for very long without one, and she suspected he was in the bar to drink away the pain which had come from the departure of the most recent, basking in his own agony within relative solitude. And the pieces themselves seemed to have faded and brightened so many times as to blur some of the original hues...
Serial dater? It was possible. She could even be looking at a serial monogamist, which begged the question of why his relationships had broken up so many times. But there was nothing violent or dark in him, at least not which was tied to his pieces. Just a near-desperate longing for somepony to be with, and it was a desperation which seemed to keep right on coming back.
And so many of his smaller pieces matched to Fluttershy.
Fleur put it all together, added an expert guess. He knows her. He's seen her more than a few times. He hasn't tried asking her out, at least not recently: there's no rejection tinge to those pieces. But he's thought about her. If I bring her up in conversation, he'll probably start to fantasize, and then I'll feel the hues shift...
It was enough to start with. Enough that she was willing to learn more. And so she carefully trotted through the bar, her movements now letting everypony know that her choice had been made, until she slowly, casually lowered her body to be on the same level as his (or almost so, as she was somewhat taller), on the opposite side of that low table.
He didn't notice, which seemed to confirm the current mug as being at least his third.
"It won't talk back," Fleur said, and smiled just in time for his startled gaze to see it.
He blinked twice. (Pieces shifted, told her that she would be his interest only in dire emergency, and he wasn't sure he was quite that low just yet.) "Huh?"
"The mug," she smiled. "You're definitely talking to it. But they never talk back -- well, not to you. I've heard some ponies with brewing and tasting marks claim they get words along with the flavor, but..." A small nod to the horseshoes on his left flank. "So if you're being witty, it's wasted. Why not try talking to a pony instead?"
She looked at the tired little smile, felt him decide the emergency wasn't up to that final standard. "I -- appreciate the interest," he told her, and the tinges which had come from his own rejection deepened. "But I'm not sure I'm good company for anypony right now, or anything except this mug. It's nothing against you. It's just -- been one of those days."
Fleur sighed, arranged her posture to show a twinge of inner pain. "Same," she admitted, or displayed something to pass for such. "Sorry. It's just that -- I just moved into town, I only have one friend here and she's not much of a talker, plus she's been working too many hours already for me to drop by and interrupt... I was just looking for somepony I could talk to for a little while, if only so I'd be talking to somepony else. And you looked like a pony in need of conversation."
"It's all right," he accepted. "Sorry. Maybe some other time. But if you've got a friend here..."
Another careful, artistic sigh. "I just don't want to bother her again, but..." She started to stand up. "Oh, well. I guess it's off to Fluttershy's. I hope your night gets better. And that you stop before the mug does start talking back."
He blinked.
"You know Fluttershy?"
Four pieces began to glow.
Fleur nodded, wearily smiled. "She's the only pony I do know."
"And you're her friend?" That with an open note of surprise on the end.
"Surprisingly," and she put a little bit of tease on that, added to a tiny touch of amazement. "Sorry to have bothered --"
"-- she will be tired," he quickly said, and that glow got brighter. "She works -- well, you know. Sit down, please. I can get past myself for ten minutes if it means she gets a little more rest."
She feigned a blink of surprise, slowly settled back down.
"You clearly know her," Fleur stated. "Are we friends of a mutual friend?"
It got a smaller smile out of him, and she felt the regret of fantasies unfulfilled. "I've never been that lucky. I just see her regularly. She mixes my Shimmy's medicine -- oh, right: you're new. Shimmy's my ferret, and she needs medicine --" his eyes briefly closed "-- for the rest of her life. So I see Fluttershy every so often just to pick up a fresh supply. How did you meet her?"
Fleur considered her lies, then decided she wanted a little more time to narrow them down. "Well, if we're going to be talking -- Fleur." She extended her left foreleg over the table, presented the hoof.
After a long moment, he raised his own. "Caramel."
This nightclub was a dominant one.
It had to be. Oh, it was possible to get along in the lower tiers of the nightlife if you were willing to settle, which generally translated into putting up with paws and hooves stepping on your face, then politely bending your knees in acquiescence to whoever had just used you as a launch point in their own quest for a higher ascent. But if you truly wanted to succeed in Protocera, you needed to have that drive which told you to be the first. You understood your place in the dominance chain, and then you told everyone else to move out of the way for you, link by link. A little aggressive advertising, some very hard-hitting promotions, hiring (because 'stealing' is such an ugly word) the best talent away from the competition... all it took was a little sincere effort, and the club would dominate, right up until the moment the trends either changed or someone came along with a better idea and large eyes trained on the link immediately ahead.
But for now, this club was dominant, at least for the rather specialized segment of their market. Because someone had decided their best way to success and what they felt would be permanent residence on the final link was catering to somepony. In terms of resident species, Protocera was the single most mixed nation to exist -- but that was for the physical aspects of their residents. It meant truly specialized businesses were few and far between, and some of those which had tried to get themselves established had wound up being driven out of business by those who felt things had gone too far beyond the accepted norms. But this nightclub prospered. It played the music which currently dominated the market. The dance floor was taken up by the most popular styles, right up until they were replaced by the new most popular styles and if some of those movements had to be adjusted for those without wings -- well, that was why they came to the club: for talk and dance and music, a chance at romance, and the potential (although so many saw it as a certainty) of sex. There was magical illumination and spell-boosted acoustics. There were vegetables which looked like meat. There was a proper communal drinking trough, and some of the customers had never even seen one before. There was chatter and socializing, acceptance and rejection, laughter and song and just trying to have a good time throughout the night.
And then there was a flash of white light.
The music stopped. Movement stopped. Tiny multicolored spotlights played over the warped form which was now standing in the exact center of the dance floor.
"Everyone," the larger of the two newest arrivals announced in what he still falsely believed to be his most regal tones, "please continue about your business. I am only here to observe."
There was a moment of what he would have considered to be a perfect silence. He hated it. Silence was, in its way, order. It was the total absence of anything interesting being said, it was the usual result of having one's thoughts pounding against stone, and so he normally would have considered it to be a relief when the horrible thing was broken. However, having the resumption of sound come from multiple, near-simultaneous screams was, under the circumstances, somewhat offputting.
The owners of the screams moved. Some of them took flight and since the club was a slightly mixed one on most nights, two different configurations of wings beat at the air. Hooves pounded. The bartender vaulted her station, and her hind legs knocked over most of two shelves along the way. One far-traveling DJ somehow wound up with her horn sticking through the hole in the center of a record, and he wasn't sure if that had been accidental or just a rather hasty way of saving her favorite album. Dishes flew, meals scattered, dignity evaporated, and all hope of romance temporarily died under trampling hooves in the rush to get out.
And then the club wasn't dominant any more. It wasn't much of anything, excepting an empty place for a rather put-upon new arrival to sit down in the middle of that now-silent dance floor, letting the little spotlights play across his twisted body. He liked the colors, but felt the patterns needed to be a little more random: that was arranged with a snap of his talons.
Then he thought of something else, and snapped them again.
"Where..." The book being balanced on his paw swallowed. Or rather, she made a swallowing sound, and did so without benefit of mouth, throat, or saliva. She didn't understand how she was doing that, and was more than a little concerned about whether she should ask. "Where are we?"
"Protocera," Discord sighed. "Or the Griffon Republic, depending on how much you believe that from their government." Morosely, "You know, there are some people, and I'm not saying who, that would feel somewhat disrespected by such a reception. A little put-off, you might say. As if they aren't particularly wanted anywhere. Now of course, this is in no way happening to me. The locals are simply... not used to my presence. In any way. No one around here has seen me for -- well, there wasn't exactly a 'here' at the time, not under the same name. So really, it was a little much of me, expecting some sort of protocol to be in place for an official visit."
He sniffed. It felt like a dismissive one. Mostly.
"I," he just-as-regally stated, "expect too much from others sometimes. I really do."
"But -- why here?" the book eventually risked. "You said you wanted to learn about dating by watching ponies do it..."
It triggered another sniff. "And so here we are, in a pony nightclub, at least for what was the majority population." There had been four griffons, but most of his view had been of their fleeing tails.
"But we're in Protocera," the book finally tried.
"And?"
"They're not ponies," the book helplessly said.
"The anatomy," Discord pointed out, "begs to differ."
"They're not ponies in their heads," the book weakly insisted. "They grew up with griffons. They mostly think like griffons. They're just griffons with hooves..."
"And how do you know about that?" Discord asked.
"Well," the book offered, "it's a pretty common thing, for my kind of story. If you want a pony to be a lot more aggressive than normal, you have them come from Protocera. You can usually spot them within the first few chapters, because they're just about always one of the first ponies to be added to the harem. They're easy to pick out."
"Are they?"
"Very," the book confirmed. "They deny they're attracted to the main character every chance they get, push them around too much, call them an idiot, and expect that character to fall in love with them."
Discord thought about that.
"Does it work?"
"It depends on the writer," the book admitted. "But they usually don't win. There's certain --" and somehow, she knew the next word was going to be a bad one "-- rules...?"
It got the book a frustrated glare, intense enough to heat her cover. "Rules."
"About the types," the book very reluctantly followed through. "Who they are, and sometimes when they appear, and almost always if they win."
He thought about that. "Tell me about some of those types."
"Well," the book said, starting to feel a little more comfortable within its chosen (or written) subject, "there's just about always an athlete. Someone driven to do things physically above all else. They may not be too bright. They like to beat the main character in races and competitions, but they secretly respect anyone who can give them a fight." Discord nodded, which felt like encouragement. "They usually last a while. And then you get someone who's there as a counter to the athlete, who's completely into books. She studies and puts herself into her classes, she probably doesn't date at all, and the main character is the first pony she's ever really noticed. She blushes a lot and gets things wrong when they aren't about her studies, which is supposed to be cute. A lot of those win in the end."
Another nod. The grey ears were rotated forward. That red gaze was focused.
"And then," the book went on, truly warming to the material, "you pretty much always have somepony with a ridiculously full tail." (Which was when the book completely missed Discord leaning in.) "She's mostly there so other ponies can make jokes when her tail bounces around a lot. She typically goes nearly all the way to the end. But she always loses."
Discord took a slow breath. Half the lights went out, and most of what remained started glowing in ultraviolet.
"Fluttershy," he told the book, "has an extremely full tail."
"...does she?" the suddenly uncertain book asked.
"One might even say," Discord tensely continued, "a ridiculously full tail."
The book thought about it.
"...I'm -- very sorry for her loss?"
"And why," Discord challenged, his gaze smoldering as wisps of smoke began rising from the edge of his eyes, "does the mare with the ridiculously full tail always lose?"
The book tried to work it out.
"I think," she reluctantly said, "it's because... most authors and readers have more average tails?"
Discord carefully set the book down on the dance floor, rested his chin in his paw and sighed.
His eyes widened. He took a moment to bring them back down to something which comfortably fit on his face.
"But that," he realized aloud, "is only what happens when she's part of the herd fighting for the main character. What about the times when a mare with a --" he nearly spit the word "-- ridiculously full tail is the protagonist?"
"I don't know," the book eventually admitted. "It never happens."
"Because?"
After a full page-trembling twenty seconds had passed, "...see... previous footnote?"
Discord sighed.
"Well," he declared, "it is happening this time. Consider us to be venturing out into previously unestablished authorial territory, with no rules to follow." Which triggered the worst smile in the world. "I like that. It means anything might happen..."
The book, with exceptional wisdom, said nothing.
"Very well," Discord stated. "Direct appearance in a Protoceran nightclub for the purposes of observation: does not work. We check it off the list --" he paused, used his paw to wipe the foul words from this tongue, scattering italicized letters all over the dance floor "-- and move on. Shall we go?"
He carefully picked up the book.
"Um..." the book slowly offered.
The put-upon tones crashed back in. "What is it?"
"You never said why you brought us to Protocera."
"Do things need reasons for taking place?"
"...usually."
"Really."
"...in -- literature..."
The timid, openly worried speech pattern went into his ears, and he thought back to the moment he'd seen the nightclub's soon-to-be-former patrons moving for the exits. What some part of him had wanted to do. Where he'd wanted to go.
Discord sighed. "If there was to be a reason," he said, "then there would be at least two of them." The book, for lack of any other options, listened. "Firstly, we are currently gallops upon gallops away from Equestria. This provides a measure of, shall we say, privacy. If my second exertion somehow missed wiping anyone's memories, then it will take a very long time for news of this visit to reach the Grimcess. Time we need. For research. You understand?" He straightened to the extent his body normally allowed without invoking change, began to put things back the way they had been in the name of secrecy.
"Yes," the book admitted, sounding somewhat comforted. "So we're going to stay here?"
"Not for long." Three of the tables uprighted themselves as Discord looked at the book which was timidly balanced on his paw. "You need a name."
"...I do?" the book eventually asked.
"Yes."
With what seemed to be genuine curiosity, "Why?"
Discord wasn't sure. He wasn't fond of names. To name something was to define it, and to define anything was often to remove the possibilities of it ever becoming something else. He often felt as if pony names worked that way, and so deeply resented most of them. At one point, rather early in their relationship, he'd told Fluttershy that he was thinking of having a word with her parents about what they'd done to her simply through what still felt like a majestically ignorant choice, and he'd allowed her to spend nearly a full hour with him before he'd also allowed her to believe she'd talked him out of it.
Names... limited. There was something very wrong with that. But at the same time --
"Because," Discord stated, "I am not going to keep calling or thinking of you as 'the book'. What happens if you're lost among some other books and I need to yell for you? What happens then?"
"I'm -- the only one who could say something back?"
"Not the point," Discord sniffed. "Besides, books talk all the time when I'm around. How else is someone supposed to learn anything?"
The book just barely managed avoid to answering that. "But I don't have a name," she weakly protested. "I have a title. And an author, and a genre --"
"Genre," Discord repeated.
"Yes."
"Which means?"
"My entire category of story. I told you: I'm a harem fantasy."
He nodded. "Harem Fantasy it is, then. Now --" the bottles repaired themselves, although one sealed itself with a slightly lower liquid level. "-- disgusting stuff. If they're going to make it look like blood, they should at least have the courtesy -- at any rate, shall we go?"
The talons began to raise.
"Wait."
This time, his eyes didn't roll so much as rebound, and he was rather proud when the six-point bank shot landed them back in their sockets. "Oh, what is it now?"
"You said -- there were two reasons."
Eventually, he nodded. "Yes."
"What's the other one?"
"Yours. The one you stated."
Harem Fantasy thought about that. Then she realized she was thinking of herself as Harem Fantasy thinking about something, and then she got a headache, which was happening without having an actual head, which somehow made it worse.
"I don't understand," she admitted.
"You said," he reminded her, "that there are ponies here who don't think like ponies. Griffons with hooves."
And that horrible smile came back.
"Isn't that interesting?" Discord not-quite-asked. And they vanished.
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Oh, this is THAT house...
So for added irony, the whole reason Celestia wants Fluttershy to start a family becomes meaningless because he finds another friend in Harem Fantasy. Despite the numerous warning bells this kicks off in her head, and the shenanigans she gets up to, the whole thing works out super.
This was great. I wonder if Fluttershy has any idea about Caramel's reputation in town. Surely Rarity would have heard about it.
Fleur looking out for Sweetie was cute, even if that undertone was dark. I love how meta it got with Discord's section, that meshes really well with his character.
Haunted? Naaa, nothing in Ponyville is haunted. Possessed, maybe, but not haunted.
I'd expect a pony with such a sharp eye on her finances to do the socioeconomic math: smaller town, smaller population, smaller percentage of it with both the time and inclination to spend nights out. Still, she's definitely found a taker. Or more accurately, a giver. It's a shame, really. Caramel's the perfect sort of stallion for Fleur, lavishing with gifts until she loses interest. Of course, Fluttershy most emphatically isn't Fleur, and there we have a problem.
Still, very neat to get a better of sense of Fleur's talent in action, complete with some of the perks common to telepaths. She doesn't need to see you as long as you can think. Or, in Fleur's case, lust. Also a few more possible hints with Fleur's background and philosophy. I can only imagine how horrified Cadence would be if she ever talked to this mare...
As for Discord... Yeah, that went about as well as expected. Maybe next time he'll rethink the whole "being visible" thing. Still, always fascinating to see through such alien eyes, even when they're bouncing about the room. Also nice to see that Harem Fantasy's name is canon. (Another fascinatingly alien mind, that one. A book's expectations and habits of thought following the tropes of its genre makes perfect sense.)
Also, only with this chapter did I realize what you were going for with tail fullness.
Eagerly looking forward to more in both parts of the story. This is likely going to get a lot more ridiculous before it gets any better.
7964611
OMG. That is an awesome theory!
...
I think that'll make the Tsundere trope... Gonna mull a bit more? ... Nah.
...
Oh! Tails as boobs comparison! Interesting! BOUNCY, BOUNCY, BOUNCY.
...
Nice use of font sizes! Especially the enormous "Because?"!
So, Fleur is going to start Fluttershy with Caramel...
When she sees something wrong, Fleur is going to encourage 'Shy to speak up...
My money is on a post Iron Will, Suited For Success style "this is why you suck" explosion. Possibly itemising every piece if gossip she has heard from Rarity over the years.
In his current fragile state, somepony might have to talk Caramel down off whatever high structure Ponyville has to offer. How long ago were Fleur's psychology courses?
And we have the continuing adventures of Discord and Harem Fantasy. After Anchor Foal wraps up, those two should get their own feature.
On a far less awkward note, I was surprised Discord expressed a desire for a protocol, because it's an ordered, constant response to an event. But this Discord, like everyone else in your world, is a real person and occasionally contradicts himself. It stands out a little more because he can be played as a personification of a force, and in some stories is bound by nature to do what he does.
Somehow I just have this nagging feeling that Fleur's just going to lose it and start "fixing" things for Fluttershy just because that small core of equine decency that still exists in her cold, mercenary heart (I'm sure there is one, probably) will have had enough. And I'm completely expecting it to start with "fixing" Ponyville's one true veterinarian. And if nothing else, "convincing' said vet to do their job will ultimately help Fluttershy get some of her life back and make Fleur's task at hand a little bit easier (maybe).
In other fun ideas, I can't wait for Caramel to run into Discord and have Discord attempt to actually be "polite". I'm sure hilarity will ensue.
Firstly, I love the whole book-as-person you have going on. It helps to flesh out the Discord sections, seeing as he often doesn't have anyone other than Fluttershy to talk to. I wonder if Harem Fantasy and/or Discord might become more involved in the Fleur situation in the future.
I wonder if the specifics of choosing Harem Fantasy as the book to teach Discord how to get know other ponies might have some influence with Fluttershy. I wonder if other books might get involved. Even if they don't, I just enjoy how Discord is able to personify a book and thereby make the story that much more interesting.
Secondly, this was a great chapter with lots of world-building. I really liked it a lot!
I hope you'll publish more soon.
7964611 Discord reads this and decides to become a harem writer.
With the character as an EXPY of Fluttershy.
Chaos being Chaos,
Fluttershy's life becomes a harem protaganist story.
She already has the girl who wants to get her married, but gradually gets to know her and falls in love with her.
7964772
I admit that I, too, am looking forward to Fleur becoming Equestria's most evil force for good.
7964661
Sadly, I suspect that Fleur will never feel secure enough to have an actual honest discussion with Cadance, should the two ever meet. Fleur has not survived this long by saying what she really thinks. I would be interested in a conversation between her and Chrysalis, though.
7964682
They should start a PI firm and solve crimes!
Though being Discord they would probably start more crimes then solve any. That or he'd get bored and wander off somewhere
Someone found Quills and Sofas, I assume
7964839
I'm not sure Fleur would actually need to talk to Cadance. I imagine they would just have to be in the vicinity of each other and their respective talents would probably go nuts! Then I would expect Fleur to be looking for the nearest exit (or make one) and Cadance would be in hot pursuit to have a little talk.
7964628
I forget which story it was - I'd have to look it up - but there was a story where Fluttershy had to deal with Caramel not having the money to pay for his ferret's medicine because he'd spent exorbitant amounts of money on gifts for his current girlfriend. I think that was...was it Two Plus Two Equals Five, or The Hipocracy of Tolerance? One of those two, I think. Pretty sure she knows, and kind of hates him (but not his ferret, and she's the one who suffers if she doesn't get the medicine.)
7965088
Yeah, Flitter lays into him over it, because she knows Fluttershy's too timid to stand up to him.
Fleur still has a long way to go with learning how Ponyville works. At least she has a "home base" now, and and look at who her neighbor is. That's going to be another unpleasant surprise. I wonder how far Fleur will have to go to get Fluttershy actually dating- talking about the first decade of her task/prison sentence might not be an exaggeration at all. I wonder if Fleur will just try throwing ponies at Fluttershy to see if she can get a reaction (other than terror and fleeing). It won't work of course, but guess she has to start somewhere before she tries something more specific.
And ah, harem fantasy- endless shipping wars of why "best girl" never wins, depending on who you ask. I know Discord would never admit it, but there is some logic to his actions- mindbending and terrifying sometimes, but logic. Such as experimenting far enough away from Equestria that Celestia won't hear about it for a while. At least Equestria doesn't have visual novels and computer games to inspire Discord, or else Fluttershy might have woken up to dialogue choices straight out of a romcom.
The bit about Barnyard Bargains reminds me of a point I wanted to comment on "Confederacy of Dunce Caps", but could never quite form, which is my suspicion that that story is really about the hole left in Diamond Tiara's life by the absence of her mother.
And, more feed for my theory that Fleur is a victim of child sexual abuse, and possibly this is how she got her mark and talent.
Ah, Discord discusses genre theory. Arguing with a book about what it says, the great pastime of readers through the ages.
This chapter was a good start to the morning: thank you for it.
Harem Fantasy definitely needs to be turned into a pony one of those days. You know, for
sciencechaos.7964661
One of the things I've been going for with Fleur is that she's an example of what can happen when a pony truly thinks about their talent and explores all of its potential. Her magic is subtle, not exactly overt, and certainly doesn't do much on an absolute scale, not if you're comparing her to somepony like Twilight -- but because the pony who possesses it is fully willing to find out everything it can do, she's dangerous.
7964764
In this case, it may be more towards his considering that he's not exactly treated with reverence when he shows up, much less respect. It's generally terror. It's possible that he even vaguely recognizes that while fear can be ordered to look like love, it will never be such -- and in that sense, he just might be ahead of the mainline 'verse version of Sombra.
However, being able to recognize the difference doesn't mean he necessarily understands what the latter is.
Really liked this, as usual, and the bit with Sweetie Belle in particular. Seeing a pony with brains properly explore her talent to its full potential and use it in many different ways to her advantage is lovely. Must say I didn't get what the title is a reference to, but then I haven't read that many of the Triptych stories.
And, whoa, you wrote all that from start to finish in one day?!
Caramel? Boring
7967167
Fleur is trying to set up Date Camp. Social training wheels. You don't teach someone how to ski by duct-taping their feet in, taking them to the top of Everest, then saying "See you at the bottom!" and shoving them in their back, hard.
Not that Caramel doesn't have some local issues -- things Fleur doesn't know about yet. But it's still a marginally better choice than, say, Hughbert Jellius.
...Fleur meeting Hughbert.
I may have to keep that offscreen.
i remember a story where someone tried to keep Princess Luna from peeking into his dreams by hanging up several "dream-catchers". Luna actually got stuck, but escaped easily, so they only annoyed her...and since they broke, showed that she HAD been in his dream.
Fleur needs to expand her search outside Ponyville. They need to go clubbing in Canterlot. Plus while she is there she can get her stuff and talk to Celestia about Fluttershy's finances.
I hope Fleur-de-lis ends up dating Filthy, just to see her interact with Diamond Tiara.
7964611 I can just picture Celestia now: "It sure is a relief to us four female immortals that Discord, the one male immortal, has calmed down and struck up a close friendship with Harem Romance. That will surely have no long-term consequences."
7967189
Please don't. For our sakes.
7965088 That would be The Hypocrisy Of Tolerance.
This just occurred to me:
Actually, I bet there are plenty of stories where the mare with the ridiculously full tail wins the stallion. It's just, they always start with
"Dear Hostler,
I never thought this would happen to me...."
7965539 Hear, hear!
Given her canon interest in Neighponese cartoons, Fluttershy probably will get along well with Harem Fantasy. Heck, she may have read her.
Dollars?
And finally (at least for me) we have what the direct parallel to tails is.
As for the griffin who looks like a pony plan, I could see that going really interestingly, or really badly with Fluttershy.
8058489
Ratchette is the owner (and sole employee) of Ponyville's fix-it shop, specializing in minor to moderate repairs on conveniences and devices of all sorts. Miranda Rights, as the pony herself explains during this chapter, is Ponyville's chief of police.
There's a certain degree of population in place.
And thus it was that Discord took his first steps on the path that would lead him away from chaos and into an endless exploration of the vast universe that was the psychology of the individual.
...and then back into chaos, but in deference to his traveling companion of old, it was a chaos that somehow made a satisfying ending materialize in the last ten pages, as though it had been waiting there all along.
Oh.
Oh hang on a moment...
Well this is going to be awkward to read.
So Discord's properly interested in getting Fluttershy a date and/or mate?
I'm finding myself thinking of Cheerilee's Thousand by xJuggernaughtx.
Particularly D-8-R.
This could turn out hilariously bad.
I'm loving all the ways the different little pieces of your story are meshing and touching on each other.
It's a proper world, or 'verse if you prefer that term.
This is very interesting story so far. Is there a plan how many chapters long the finnished story will be?
I love the story so far, please dont leave us Estee
Oh, sweet Celestia, he's thinking Hippogriffs...
I'm not sure why anyone would be surprised at Discord contradicting himself or liking order in some things. Thing is, he calls himself "the master of chaos" and he is a spirit, but he's also a person. A rather egotistical one. He's not so much a force as an easily-bored manchild with too much power on his claw and paw.
Huh. You know, it makes sense that he considers Laughter his favourite Element. If you look at his actions, you will find they're not random at all. They're jokes and references and visual humour in the extreme. Maybe Discord isn't a Chaos Spirit, but a corrupted Laughter one?
It figures that perpetually unlucky Caramel is the first
victimcandidate for this experience. I suspected this will not be the point at which his luck and life turn aroundThere's also a filk song Wanted Fan , but I couldn't find it
8198785
reminds me of a fan-story where Pinkie became Discord's first friend instead of Fluttershy...
Fleur's song
The more I read this the more I wonder if this ends up as Fleurcord. They both have a rather utilitarian view of other ponies and Fleur desires security above all else. What's more secure than a being that can literally change the world to his whim?
8586543
Hey, Estee sometimes has happy endings. But it's always a damn rough ride getting there.
Harem Fantasy is my new favorite Estee character
ah, must be that "quills and sofas" shop. Twilight also thinks it makes no sense.
Oh no, Discord may have noticed the harem archetypes loosely match A) Fleur (the aggressive one raised by griffins), B) Rainbow Dash (the competitive sporty one), C) Twilight Sparkle (the bookish one) and D) Fluttershy (the bouncy tailed one). We know he noticed the last one, of course, but did he notice the first three? Because that might lead to some match-making.