They're Called 'Stomping Grounds' For A Reason
She didn't ignore the pair of Solar guards who watched her step down from the train, because ignoring something came with a requirement she was unwilling to fulfill. You had to acknowledge that something existed before you could ignore it, and so Fleur conducted an entirely natural trot past what was, to her, completely empty space. But to be fair, a total vacuum would have had an easier time pretending it had every natural right to be there, along with potentially possessing a somewhat lower level of suckage.
Fleur couldn't be bothered to notice them -- but for the commuters, they were practically impossible to miss. They had been dispatched in full armor, and for Guards who were clearly dressed for their shift to be this far away from the palace -- it wasn't quite normal, and Fleur suspected that most of the glances which went over the helmets were searching for a very large white form. (It did beg the additional question of just what Celestia would need with a train, but it was likely that just about nopony had gotten that far yet.) But the golden hues of that dubious protection served as a natural magnet for just about every other sight line, and so it also kept the vast majority from noticing the other two Guards. That pair was non-casually leaning against one of the vaulting platform walls, occasionally inspecting one of the framed posters advertising some of the latest stage productions on Saratoga Way, and moving in a manner which said that no matter what their exposed fur might be trying to claim, there was a certain breed who never really took the armor off.
All four of them had started to shift in Fleur's direction at the moment her forehooves had touched the platform -- but then a single trailing blue-green eye had timidly risked a peek at those waiting for the disembarking to finish, and the presence of her charge had set Celestia's agents back to pretending they had another reason to be there.
When it came to the Guards, Fluttershy was her very visible excuse for being in Canterlot, along with serving as another kind of armor. But with everypony else... two extremely attractive (and expertly-highlighted) mares had just stepped off a train, and some of those who'd been waiting for nothing more than a chance at the best seats abruptly decided they could catch the next train -- and, if things worked out on a level which only the most poorly-written of novels generally allowed, they would do so on the next morning.
Those getting off the train were looking at the Guards. The ones who had been waiting to depart found their attention drawn towards the gravity well which had been created by having that much beauty in one place. A number of bodies quickly succumbed to the pull.
Fleur was used to that, knew how to move through a crowd which had members trying to make deliberate contact while barely being touched -- and even then, that contact would generally take place with those she'd decided should reach her: most of the exceptions were the ones who were and-I-swear-my-hips-just-shifted-at-the-wrong-time shoved away. She understood how to deal with all of it -- but Fluttershy didn't, and there was a pair of magnetic poles steadily pulling base filings in towards the center.
There were a large number of ponies watching the mares: some with careful intent, and Fleur suspected a number were planning to revisit the memory once they had privacy. But very few picked on the full movement pattern, that which had the unicorn casually trotting next to the yellow right flank -- to start. A stallion would try to come in on the open left and find his wing grazing across white fur. The mare attempting a rear approach would be a hoofwidth away from brushing against that incredible tail -- but then a streaked fall of pink would subtly lash across the path and by the time that one reoriented, the unicorn would be reminding the forward approachers that it generally wasn't a good idea to charge in the general direction of an unlit was-it-that-low-a-second-ago? horn.
It was another kind of armor. Protecting her charge from the crowd which the pegasus barely knew how to deal with, keeping the constant tremble in fur and feathers from worsening to the point where Fluttershy would make a break for it, and Fleur really didn't want to explain a field grab to the Guards. But it was also sending the crowd a very basic message, something so simple that even ponies eventually began to recognize it.
You are not in control here.
I decide who approaches.
I determine who is worthy.
And none of you have impressed me.
(There was a shorter statement lurking beneath that. In Equestrian, it was a single word, just four letters long. For every language which existed, it was one of the first words, and it was that which rerouted a number back towards the train, moving faster than they'd intended. It was something so primal that it would take a long time for Fleur to realize she'd been saying it at all.)
That was the subtext. But there was also open conversation, because talking helped Fluttershy to focus on her, even if the mobile nature of Fleur's side meant the yellow ears had to do a lot of rotating.
"Did you have any plans for Nightmare Night?" It was the sort of question where Fleur already knew the answer, because there had been things Snowflake was willing to discuss and her charge's typical actions during a holiday based in fear had been one of them.
Fluttershy took a deeper breath than usual, and the one visible eye (at the moment, that was the right) began to widen as she started to flinch away from a smiling earth pony who was less than a body length away from failing to make his dreams come true --
-- and then he was looking at a completely unfamiliar mark, at least for the split-second he had before Fleur's tail flicked across his face.
"...just the usual," the pegasus finally said.
"Which is?" Actually, Fleur had possessed the solution to that puzzle before the question had originally been posed, with Snowflake's answer serving as nothing more than confirmation. Because there were unfolding aspects of Fluttershy's behavior which surprised Fleur --
"...I lock the door." The shivering briefly accelerated. "...unless it's a real emergency, and whoever's there has to tell me so themselves. The animal. Not the pony, because some ponies lied about having a sick animal with them and forgot to bring anyone along. And the ones who did forgot their companions really don't know how to lie for them." Feathers vibrated all the way up the barely-folded wings. "...but just about everypony knows the rules by now. The cottage is so far from town... anypony collecting tribute from me can't get much else, and I don't give out any candy anyway. So the only reason most ponies might visit is to prank, and that means visitors aren't welcome. Not on Nightmare Night."
-- but for some things, the pegasus was utterly predictable.
"You don't want the holiday coming to you." The last word was timed perfectly to cover the impact of her left hind hoof against an unsubtle orange jaw.
"...no," Fluttershy definitively declared, and Fleur smiled.
"So let's go to it."
The pegasus blinked.
"...sorry?"
"Why do the disguises exist?" She'd originally been somewhat surprised to learn that answer, but as it now had a chance to work in her favor...
"...they're supposed to hide you from the Nightmare by making you look like something which isn't a pony." The next pause was oddly thoughtful, and also lasted long enough for Fleur to inflict three completely coincidental bruises. "...even if a lot of ponies don't remember to go that far. And I'm not sure how Luna really feels about the whole thing now. It's something which built up around being afraid of her. Except it isn't her. Wasn't. Not really."
That's... interesting. Not just what just Fluttershy had said, but the form of address used in vocalizing it. When her charge had previously spoken about the palace, Celestia was 'the Princess'. And that was typical for Equestrians, because the passage of more than three years since the Return hadn't been enough to fully eliminate the singular -- but the alicorn of the night had been casually identified as simply being 'Luna,' and Fleur filed the newest surprise away for later.
"So a disguise which is good enough to keep others from spotting you as a pony," Fleur reasonably pointed out, "could also be good enough to prevent anypony from identifying you as Fluttershy. So why don't we get you something expert, and then you can go out yourself?"
The time before the "...because..." emerged allowed them to approach the arcing gateway which led to the station's central hall, along with gaining the first glimpse of the constellations which had been carefully embossed into its ceiling. The silence which followed got them all the way up to the booths, then threatened to purchase its own ticket back to Ponyville.
"Well?" She had to raise her voice for that one: the announcements of arriving and departing trains were staring to become loud.
"...there's still other pranks," Fluttershy weakly protested. "...ones not directed at me personally, not when nopony knows it's me, but just pranks in general. There's Rainbow..."
"So I'll come with you."
The pegasus blinked.
"That way, somepony's guarding your flank," Fleur explained. "Fluttershy, half of social pressure is having to be yourself in public, and there are ponies who've never managed to do it. Mares and stallions who decided it was easier to spend every minute of their lives pretending to be somepony else. It's not a good idea for a lifetime. But for a single night... why not see what it's like to be Fluttershy, when nopony knows Fluttershy is there at all? I can even pick up a basic enchantment to alter your voice." Although there was probably nothing which could help with the identifying hesitation.
Her charge thought about it. Fleur used the time to intercept multiple dreams, then carefully trod on the fragments.
"...not a voice spell," the pegasus softly said.
Maybe she wants Twilight to cast one? Which both presumed the alicorn knew a working which would do the job and meant the other Bearers would quickly learn about Fleur's intended activity: the second aspect formed the heart of the current problem. "It would be the last step in concealing your identity. With your body hidden, a voice is just about all anypony has to go by --"
"-- I... sort of had one of those once," Fluttershy quietly cut in. "It... wasn't nice. I'd rather try to sound different on my own. Or use something which doesn't have a spell used right on me."
Okay... (It wasn't the first time Fleur had decided that possessing full knowledge of her charge's past would have made things a lot easier, and it wouldn't be the last.) "I can think of a few things." The majority were even legal. "So you'll go?"
That pause got them under the Barding Of The Ancients.
"...yes," emerged just before their tails cleared the constellation of the Commander. "...if you're with me."
Which gave them only four days to get a pair of suitable costumes, both of which would probably need to be commissioned -- but the heart of Canterlot was just a few hoofsteps away. And then all I need to do is find the right party, get her circulating while one of the primary barriers is down, see how she does... "Good. So that gives us one more shop to look for. But first --"
Fleur tossed her head back. It was a simple shift, one which visibly centered manefall while flouncing the gentle curls at the end, and the fact that it let her horn scratch the barrel of a pegasus who'd gotten a little too low for comfort was the sort of coincidence which tended to hold up in court.
"-- I have to make a stop."
"...going home," her charge softly stated: most of the volume had been drowned out by a rising tide of renewed apology.
I can't go home.
Returning to a temporarily-retired base of operations to close out accounts (and find out why none of her things had ever arrived in Ponyville). That was all. And once that was done...
...secure the treasures.
"Yes," Fleur lied. "It shouldn't take long. But I'll need a few minutes to myself on the way out. There's something I need to check." Something she was certain Fluttershy wouldn't question.
"...all right. Where do you live?"
It was a completely innocent question, and it dislodged a fully inadvertent answer. "Oh, I'm in --"
-- she's going to be the first.
Fleur went to other ponies' homes. Nopony ever came to hers --
"...Fleur?"
"You'll see it when we get there," the unicorn finally said, and watched the station's enchanted glowing doors swing open as the mares approached: something which meant so many first true views of Canterlot were distorted by dark red. "But it's nothing special."
It was another observation she'd made before: that anypony who spent a lot of time around Fluttershy needed to become comfortable with extended periods of quiet. Her charge didn't say all that much as Fleur led her through the streets, quickly gaining an ever-increasing degree of privacy as they moved away from the train station. At this hour, most of the traffic flowed along well-established routes, and Fleur had lived in the capital long enough to know how to avoid just about all of them.
It didn't take long to leave the best shops behind (and Fleur had no intention of buying anything this early: it was just extra weight to carry). Restaurants shrunk at the same pace as the houses: false mansions whose kitchens were purely decorative because the four-hoof rated establishment down the street had been booked for every night were quickly replaced by family homes whose residents knew that the hole-in-the-wall on the corner hosted flavors which were too good for mere cuisine -- but a proper budget meant that experience was best saved for special occasions. Streets narrowed, with cobblestones becoming noticeably chipped. The echoes of distant hooves gradually faded, left them hearing little more than their own passage --
-- there was a faint squawk. Worse, a familiar one: something which had reached the point where Fleur didn't have to track the source. It came from two blocks ahead and several floors up, and it was followed by the screech because of course it was followed by the screech.
They're fighting.
Still.
Of course, it was those two. It was possible that they'd never stopped.
Fluttershy's nostrils flared, and the air current (twisting as it moved through the streets, distorted as much by buildings as magic) meant they did so slightly before Fleur's snout mimicked the action.
"...I smell meat," her charge observed. "Cooked meat. I think... zirolak?"
Fleur nodded. "We're coming up on the border of the Aviary."
"...the..." eventually emerged, and failed to secure company.
"Canterlot's griffon neighborhood," Fleur explained.
With more than a little shock, "...there's enough for a neighborhood?"
"It's not that big. Most of a block, and the majority are on the upper levels of it." She shrugged. "The embassy's staff lives there, along with most of the citizens."
"...citizens?"
It was easy to hear fright in the soft voice. Fleur just hadn't been expecting to hear that much of it, and when it became possible to say that about Fluttershy...
She stopped. Turned, and looked directly at her charge.
"What's wrong?"
"...I..." The wings were trembling again. "...had a bad experience with a griffon. Just once. She was -- the first one I'd really seen, and she wasn't... nice. She'd just gotten into town, and she wasn't nice at all..."
"She was loud," Fleur calmly stated, because facts so basic had no need of emotional embellishment. "And crude, and angry, and did everything she could to show you she was in charge."
Fluttershy blinked. "...yes. How did you --"
"-- because just about every griffon is like that when they come into a new place." Fleur sighed. "They have to make it look like they're in charge, because the ones who let them get away with it are the ones they can be in charge of. And anyone who can stop them -- that's who gets to be in charge of them. When they're home, they know exactly where everyone stands: who's stronger, who's weaker -- but when they travel, they get confused. Shaken. They have to figure it out, and the best way to do it is through challenge. Which, for the majority, works out to becoming the biggest jerks and bitches they can personally imagine. But they want someone to stand up to them, tell them off --"
The visible eye had gone very wide.
"-- they want to be stopped?"
"Drink it."
"...Fleur?"
She took a breath, and the scents tried to push her that much deeper into the past.
"Most of them do," Fleur finally said. "Because if no one stops them, no one at all -- then they're the ones at the top. The final link in the chain. And that's not just power, it's responsibility for most of the ones below you. The ones who can't take care of themselves. It's... easier, to have someone else be the strongest. But not knowing your place -- that's terrifying. So they challenge, because challenges lead to either victory or defeat and either way -- they'll know. It usually takes them about a week to figure out the basics." The eighth day was occasionally reserved for a minor apology tour.
Just a week, at least for the basics. One week and they usually know...
There was something to envy in that.
"...Gilda wasn't in town that long," her charge admitted. "But when somepony stopped her... she just left."
"Oh. One of those." She failed to repress (or even notice) the snort. "You're better off. But in Canterlot, there's enough griffons to form the Aviary, because they like to cluster together. It's easier to set up their own restaurants -- well, one -- and specialized shops. But there's a lot of Equestrian citizens who aren't ponies, at least when you add them all together. It's just that most ponies don't think about it until they meet a few." One of her clients had mentioned that compared to the nation's total population, it was about two percent. Also that he'd felt the number was far too high, which had given her an extra degree of satisfaction in what had come next. "Just in Canterlot, there's a few yaks, a minotaur-owned camera shop in the Heart, and now they've added --"
"-- dragons."
Fleur's jaw didn't drop. Jaw dropping was unrefined. A tail twitch, however, seemed to be called for.
"Dragons." It bore repeating.
"...yes," her charge matter-of-factly said. "Well... dragon. Singular. And you're right. I didn't think about it, even after Zecora..."
"Zecora's the dragon." Because there was a time to be subtle in her inquiries, and that time was not when she'd just been informed that there was a tower of scales and fire which held local voting rights.
"...no. She's a zebra. But she isn't a citizen yet. She has... two?" Fluttershy visibly thought about it, then nodded to herself. "Two years to go, and that's mostly because she got behind on her classes and has to catch up." A small head tilt. "You haven't seen Zecora yet?"
Which meant the zebra lived in Ponyville, and there was no way Fleur would have overlooked stripes. "No." And back to the important part. "You mentioned a dragon --"
"...there's been a few," Fluttershy failed to clarify.
"A. few. dragon. citizens."
Thoughtfully, "...historically. Twilight did the research, because she sort of had to for that one. They aren't in every generation, and sometimes you get a while without one. I think the most she found in any census was -- five? And that was a family. But they've been around."
Oh. Historically. So there's no firestorms currently in a position to run for the Day Court. Which felt good to know. "I understand." And deliberately slowed the exhale. Dragons...
"...so you haven't seen Spike either?"
The final stage of the trip took long enough for most of the internal reeling to stop. (But not all of it because realistically, finding a way to fully reconcile 'The town librarian, who incidentally happens to be an alicorn, has two brothers and the youngest one, lives with her, sorry nopony brought this up before, is a dragon' was going to take a while.)
"...it's..." Fluttershy hesitantly began, still looking up at the building. She seemed to have been doing that for a while, and had quite a bit of distance left to cover: it was the tallest one in the area, enough so that the uppermost details would have been hard to spot even without the steam which seemed to cluster at the top.
"The rent was fair," Fleur explained.
"...not in very good shape..."
Fleur considered that the observation was coming from the owner of the cottage. Then she added in the fact that it had emerged from somepony who actually lived on their property and so unlike Fleur's landlord, had a personal vested interest in keeping it livable.
Fluttershy was still looking at what, with a significant degree of sarcasm, could be described as a structure. The residents never took that long to observe any part of it, largely because the pressure of a pony's gaze had a way of deepening the cracks.
"Look," and she hadn't quite picked up on the rising defensive note in her own voice, "Canterlot is expensive. You saw some of what we trotted past. Think about what those big homes have to cost. Just the maintenance is a multiplier on what I was paying for rent. This place does the job."
"...and what's the job?"
"It has walls."
Fluttershy looked at the nearest vertical ravine, which responded by stretching that much closer to her on the downslope. "...intact walls?"
After I put enough patchwork and spackle -- "Yes."
She'd had several reasons for never bringing anypony back to her Canterlot rental, and image had been high on the list. If a pony like Fleur had an apartment, it was expected to be a palatial one -- and the capital's interpretation of the term meant 'costs as much as an equivalent section of the palace, with a proportionate number of retainers.' And there was just no reason for that. She moved among ponies whose central priority for a purchase was to say they owned the results -- and that was it. Art they would never really look at, and how many times did somepony else have to look before you effectively recouped the cost? Books they had no intention of reading, furniture whose only purpose was to go with all the other furniture because none of that was being used either, dresses were never worn and the overflow meant you had to commission yet another closet...
Fleur was more practical than that. She had been saving money, especially since there was only so much time in which to make it. That meant limiting herself to the essentials, and...
Four walls. A floor and ceiling. And you got to all of it through a door which locked. That was enough.
(She'd wound up replacing the lock.)
"Let's just go inside," Fleur irritably declared, because she had somehow expected that Fluttershy would understand basic sense and she hated being wrong. "I need to find out where my things went."
There was nopony on duty on the security desk. But then, there never was.
"...why is there a crate in the lobby?" Fluttershy asked, because finally moving her stare off the wall of dented mailboxes meant it had to go somewhere. "The trash bin got lost, and now everypony's using a crate?"
"That's the security desk."
"...it's a crate."
"I didn't say it was all that secure." Which also meant there was nopony she could speak to about the location of her possessions. In theory, she could try the superintendent, but there was supposed to be something which indicated that party's arrival and the last time she'd checked, the stars weren't due to come into that alignment for another three hundred years. "Come on, the ramp's this way..."
They climbed for a while, and met no other residents within work-emptied halls. Fleur took the lead, paid special attention to the cracks (especially as she was the one who knew how best to spot them in the dim grey light), and led Fluttershy around the ones which had used the absence as a chance to spread.
"...I can still smell meat."
"The Aviary is on the next block." And with a degree of pride, "That's part of why the rent is so low. The air currents are supposed to take all the scents straight up, but this part of town usually gets the weather team's rookies. There's some slipstream leakage, and when you combine that with what the heat from the barbecues does to the local weave during the summer..."
She'd figured that out on her own, back when she was first looking for a place to stay. That things would be that much cheaper on the border. It was something she had every right to be proud of. And once she'd started to consider some of the other implications...
"Oh, and you're also getting something from the restaurant," Fleur added. "They start working on the stews early. And that's where all the steam comes from, because nopony's rerouted the flow." Which brought up what seemed to be a perfectly natural question. "By the way, have you ever tried griffon cuisine? The modified version?"
"...Mister Flankington tried serving it for a while."
Fortunately, Fleur had brought enough makeup to repair the damage done by her own wince. "He didn't have the real thing."
"...I wouldn't know," her charge eventually stated. "I didn't try it." With a little sigh, "He's a good stallion. He really is. And he tries, he just tries so hard. He tries so hard that everypony keeps waiting for him to stop. But it's his mark..."
She tried not to think about how much she felt like Sweetbark (which doubled the memory of nausea and almost turned it into a renewed event) just for thinking of the next question -- but it felt like she had to ask. "What's his mark for?"
"...food chemistry."
And now the brow furrow also required touchup. "What's food chemistry?"
"...nopony knows. And the more he tries to explain it, the less anypony understands." Another, deeper sigh. "But he tries. Why are the lighting devices so dim?"
"Conserving the charge. If you run them at a lower level than usual, you can stretch it out for a while."
"...but it's easy to recharge them," Fluttershy protested. "Just about any unicorn can charge a device. You could charge it --"
"-- right," Fleur cut her off, stepping onto the newest level bend in the ramp. "I could do it. Most of the adult unicorns in the building could manage it. And then we're giving the landlord rent and free thaums. This is my floor. It's three doors down."
"...what's this first door? With all the -- water stains coming out from under --"
"Oh, right," Fleur said, and was glad to have been reminded in time. "That's the bathroom. Hold your breath."
"...your bathroom has its own door? Coming off the hallway? That's... not a normal design, is it? I've never lived in an apartment building, but that just sounds --"
"It's the floor bathroom," the unicorn patiently explained. "For everypony on the floor."
There was only one other set of hoofsteps in the hallway, and so it was easy to notice when they stopped.
"...for everypony," said the oddly-hollow voice.
Fleur stopped.
"It's a big city," she steadily pointed out. "A place where there's ponies with a lot of money. If there's a department store in the Heart, there's a pony who's collecting the profit. Paying the employees. And the way some of them make sure there's profit to collect is by not paying their employees all that much of it. Wherever you get wealthy ponies, you're going to find ones who aren't. Because that's how the wealthy ones stay that way."
You're poor.
How can this be new to you?
"The owner gets the mansion," Fleur finished, "and the workers have to live somewhere. This is somewhere."
"...but..." A shuddering breath, followed by "...but Mr. Rich isn't like that -- he says living wages have to be wages you can actually live on, and survival isn't the same thing..."
"Then he's a good pony," could be said, although Fleur was going to need a look at his real ledgers before assigning it any degree of truth. "But he doesn't have a lot of company." She resumed her trot, went past the second door, reached the third...
She glanced up and down the hallway. Registered Fluttershy's presence, discarded it from any future list of risk factors, and pressed her ear against the door.
"...what are you doing?"
"Seeing if it's been rented out," Fleur softly explained. "I don't want to just trot in if somepony new is living there." But all she was picking up was silence.
"...what if they're at work?"
"Then there would be a very low hum coming from the basic security spell on the door," the mare distractedly replied, still focusing on its absence. "Because it would have been reattuned for a new owner, they would have activated it as they left, and it's a very cheap security spell. But I can't hear anything. This is still vacant."
"...oh," Fluttershy half-whispered. "So it's still attuned to you?"
No.
"Yes."
Fleur casually broke in.
The room was empty.
She'd expected that. The list of furnishings which the rental came with began with 'Window' and also happened to end there while making no mention of the fact that Fleur had needed to have it replaced. She was tempted to take the clean glass with her.
"...it's small," Fluttershy softly observed. Her charge was still mostly in the hallway: Fleur was walking around the edges of the room, trying to make sure nothing had been missed. It wasn't an activity that required all that much in the way of time.
"It's cheap."
"...there's no kitchen."
"Fast-cooker. And eating fresh produce. You don't need a refrigerator when you're just keeping things for a few days." Basics.
"...and no bed..."
She was an escort. Beds had been readily available.
"...but it's clean," the pegasus tried. "And the walls are in better shape."
Fleur thought about all the cleaning and repairs she'd personally performed. Then she considered the effective increase in value, wondered just how much of that had been placed into the next lease, and finished it off by deciding that was why the apartment was still empty: she'd effectively priced a tiny part of the building out of the local market.
"...but there's nothing here," Fluttershy finished. "None of your things." With fear somehow more open than usual, "Did somepony steal --"
"I wasn't really expecting to find anything," Fleur stated, turning away from patched grey walls. "I asked somepony to pack my items and mail them to Ponyville. They were clearly packed. I want to find out where they went from there. There's two places we can look first."
They were in the second.
The building's basement was seldom visited by any of the residents: only the most knowledgeable (or stupid) tried to fix their plumbing problems by venturing to where everything tied into the city's water system. It meant very few were aware of the floor-to-ceiling wire cages which took up so much of the space between pipes. Prisons which held those items whose owners had committed the crime of abandonment or rather, of skipping out on the rent.
It was technically illegal for the landlord to sell such things, at least not before a significant amount of time had passed. It was a duration just short of that required to declare the departed pony as legally dead, although the majority of those who reappeared just in time to protest the final disposal of their possessions weren't returning from the grave so much as they had been released from solitary confinement: admittedly, the difference was rather fine. And in the case of Fleur, who was believed to Have Money...
She suspected that the landlord had seen Early Sale as having too much of a chance to trigger Major Lawsuit, and so the skimming had come from another direction. An intermediary had been engaged to retrieve her possessions -- but at a guess, the process had been interrupted by declarations of Who Are You, I Don't Think That Looks Like Her Fieldwriting, and I'll Know She Sent You When She Comes To Pick It Up Herself -- ultimately concluded by She Was My Tenant, So I'll Mail It To Her, followed by collecting (and keeping) the shipping costs. Her hired party had simply been too fearful to tell her what had happened, especially since Fleur was going to find out eventually and staying out of contact gave the mare that much more of a head start.
"...they're nice dresses," Fluttershy said.
They weren't nice enough to sell. Although she'd kept a few of the better ones: gifts didn't come in every day (at least not of the type she needed) and having a few suitable pieces around at all times had been practical. It was just that keeping pace with fashion meant the usual duration of 'suitable' was about a season, which also did horrible things to the resale value. And as for hanging onto something long enough for it to become vintage...
"It looks like it's all still here," Fleur declared. "There's a packing company about two blocks away. We'll bring a few of their employees into the building and they'll ship it out by this afternoon. Can you wait for me down here? This is when I need to check something." Which was leaving a pegasus in a cramped basement, but Fluttershy had one of her own at the cottage and had never shown any signs of the species' near-universal claustrophobia.
"...yes. This is really all of it?"
"I won't know for sure until I open it," Fleur admitted, because it wasn't as if breaking into this was going to be a problem. "And we'll do that when it gets packed, to save a step. But I can see the edge of the fast-cooker, so at least I don't have to worry about getting a replacement." She turned, bent all four knees and half-scooted under a pipe with as much dignity as she could manage: nearly all of it. "I'll be back soon."
Some treasures didn't need to be buried underground.
There were two places where her possessions might have strayed to within the building, and she passed through the first again without so much as a glance. The existence of something approaching a flat-roofed attic had never struck her as deliberate intent: the low ceiling simply made it feel as if the construction crew had run out of wall budget and slapped an extra-thick roof on before the payroll went dry. Very few tenants ever risked keeping anything in the cramped space and Fleur, who had officially entered the category of 'tall' during puberty and never looked back, maneuvered through clumps of dust and shed insulation without ever quite being able to straighten her legs.
(She thought about how Celestia might have done in dealing with the conditions, and it nearly made her smile.)
She hadn't kept anything in the so-called attic. The space was public, and the fact that nopony really wanted to go there didn't change the fact that anypony potentially could. But she'd had to store the best things somewhere, and there had been certain requirements for that location. It had to be fairly close to wherever she was staying, but it also had to be accessible without going through the building, especially as any situation where she might reasonably have to flee might see those chasing her staking out the rental for any signs of return. But nopony in Canterlot had known that she was capable of self-levitation --
There's the hatch. Her field interacted with the minimal locks, prodded here and there, and then winked out so that her unlit horn could push the results open.
-- and nopony ever expected a running unicorn to go up.
She stepped onto the roof, took a moment to adjust blinking and breathing for the steam which shrouded so much of her view. Moved across cracked stone and fractured cement, sliding her hooves as she did so.
The tallest building in the area. It was impossible for anypony to see what she was doing from ground level, nothing nearby stretched high enough to allow a lateral inspection and if it had -- there was steam, enough to keep pegasi from inspecting the roof on an overhead view. It was about as close to being completely concealed as anypony could be while remaining in the open. And if you understood how to hide your field, maintain the intended effect while temporarily preventing all glow and could deal with the ways in which that could warp the magic...
It's here.
It has to be here.
Except that... Celestia had discovered so much...
...no. She only knows about Canterlot, and she might not have discovered all of that.
She didn't have any reason to look beyond that.
She doesn't know.
Fleur slid her hooves a little faster. Peered through the steam --
-- there. A distinctive pattern of cracks. Looked at through a lens polished by memory, it almost resembled the interwoven branches of a nest.
Her field projected, and did so without a visible corona: something which took all of her concentration as the distorted magic tried to bend where she wanted it to push, twist angles against themselves. But the pieces within the cracks were moving, lifting here and there, a sliding puzzle where the pieces added up to about a quarter of her own weight. It was something which had to be done in a precise order to keep the whole thing from caving in on itself, and she was trying to work the exact sequence of shifting concrete while frantically inspecting the edges of each fragment for new chips and cracks, trying to figure out if anypony had been there before her --
-- keep it as high up as possible, always close to the sky --
-- there was a hollow. Shadows gathered within the fresh exposure. Steam sank into pulling coolness, and fresh moisture glinted on dark wood.
Slowly, shakily, she raised the box. (Dark red, so deep as to nearly turn black, almost like painite captured in wood, from a tree no earth pony had ever grown. It was twice the width of her hooves, weighed very little, and took almost all of her strength to raise.) Squinted until she spotted the three thin threads which had been glued down to cross the line between container and lid, still unbroken.
The lid raised, just enough for the threads to snap, and the scant sunlight which breached the steam glinted off keratin.
You're still here.
It was a lie. She had known it was a lie from the very first night, and it was still a lie she told herself every time the box was opened.
She looked at the contents for a while, because that was what had to be done. And when the past allowed her to pretend it could be put away, she closed the box, reassembled the puzzle, and went back down.
There was a chance that Fluttershy might have noticed the fresh weight in Fleur's right saddlebag. But the pegasus never said a word.
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Wouldn't have called self levitation as one of Fleur's abilities, though thinking about it, it makes some sense.
I really love spending time in Canterlot, it feels so real. I hope we get time in your Cloudsdale sometime soon.
To be fair to Gilda, she had a whole party turn on her at once, when she only intended on a single target. Herd behavior must be a constant source of flusterment to griffons, going all the way back to when their hunting parties kept being followed back by large groups of angry ponies, most of which weren't even related to their prey.
Hmmm. A word with four letters that sent ponies running and is one of the first? My guess is MINE!
For awhile now with this story, I've been hoping that Fleur ends up matching herself with Fluttershy. Sometimes, it feels like Fluttershy is reaching out to her without Fleur realizing it, and with Fleur having her Mark magic turned off won't notice those feelings and desires budding in Fluttershy until after it becomes apparent. I can rarely guess where you're writing is going though so I don't have a clue what's really in store for the story in the end, but here's hoping.
That said, wonderful chapter, from the exit of the train to the by play between the two characters as Fleur heads "home", all of it was an excellent read. I especially liked Fluttershy's reactions to seeing Fleur's house and being diplomatic along with Fleur's cynicism to the landlord taking advantage of their tenant in subtle ways.
Minor correction:
Conversing is what they're currently doing. You want ''conserving''.
9954697
I agree, though it took me a minute or so to figure it out.
9954697
... Ooooh. I thought it was "stop." Yours is way better.
It makes sense that Fleur's philosophy of economics would be heavy on the class conflict. Her understanding of societies is very hierarchical, and she clearly hates these hierarchies even as she makes a show of embracing them. We already know she despises exploitation of the weak, whatever "the weak" might mean in a given instance.
E: in hindsight? HALF right.
"There was a shorter statement lurking beneath that. In Equestrian, it was a single word, just four letters long. For every language which existed, it was one of the first words, and it was that which rerouted a number back towards the train, moving faster than they'd intended. It was something so primal that it would take a long time for Fleur to realize she'd been saying it at all."
Mine?
:)
"So the only reason most ponies might visit is to prank, and that means visitors aren't welcome. Not on Nightmare Night."
...Mind you, any visitors who, on Nightmare Night, look at the dark, isolated cottage on the edge of the wild wood, the place they know to be surrounded by dangerous and oddly behaving animals and frequented by the protective Lord of Chaos himself, and think "That'd be a great place to dispose of this excess toilet paper", well, let's just say that I'd not give them good odds in a horror story.
"she could do show you"
"she could to show you"?
"compared to the the nation's total"
"compared to the nation's total"?
"Conversing the charge"
"Conserving the charge"?
Interesting...
(Well, quite a lot of interesting stuff in this chapter. :))
Canterlot poor vs. Ponyville poor...
The more levels of hirearchy and abstraction between the top and bottom...
...
What's in the box?? Obvious bet is a picture of her mom or something.
Presumably the same thing God needs with a starship.
And somewhere in the world, Harem Fantasy felt inexplicably insulted. As opposed to all the explicable insults that came from being Discord's advisor.
I can't help but think of Om in the desert in Small Gods, especially given the one vs. many stakes. Some languages are almost nothing but that particular word.
She certainly seemed to get into the spirit of things after those initial hiccups... but it's not like Fluttershy was there to see it. And I could see the others not wanting to discuss everything she missed when she likely believes she'll never be able to enjoy the festivities.
"You mean like what you just did to that mare?"
"Precisely."
Lovely allusion to the Poison Joke.
It's an interesting question: Would it be better to let Fluttershy know all the lessons Fleur plans on teaching her? Crippling self-consciousness says no, but it still feels skeezy.
Of course. She can't go home again, but she can at least try to recapture a bit of the feeling.
I know what she means, but I love the mental image of Canterlot's apartments being nominally overseen by a Great Old One. In Equestria, that's hardly even surprising.
It's rough in the capital. Plenty of cracks to fall through and lots of expertly manicured hooves to stomp you through them. At least this Canterlot hasn't exploited the local cavern systems. I've seen some where the low-income housing is better suited for Morlocks. Naturally, the Bearer of Kindness is appalled, but there's nothing she can do about it at the moment.
As for that keepsake... Hoof trimming? Talon clipping? Lock of hair? Something more practical? Keratin is a frustratingly ubiquitous protein. One thing it definitely isn't is unicorn horn. The closest thing we have for a technical term for that material is quasiossum.
Looking forward to more.
9954644
We saw her do it in a previous chapter, when she talked Fluttershy down off a cloud.
9955068
It mentioned keratin. It's got to have something to do with bones or remains.
For some reason, I was picturing the red apartment building from Hey Arnold! as Fleur's building, except here it's way more run-down. I really enjoyed this chapter, it was really fun to see how Fleur was guarding her charge as they moved through the train station and the unstated subtext there.
I agree with 9954734, that's been one of my running theories for a while. I hope it does work out that way, just because the irony would be delicious. And because it's cute and they could be good for each other. :)
Mystery box. I love and hate them at the same time, in a story or in real life. Curiosity is a real pain sometime.
I really wonder how this little visit will paint Fluttershy view of Fleur. In a positive light she is Economic, Practical, Minimalist and Thought.
On a bad one though...
9955112
Which I completely forgot about until you mentioned it. #I'mAnIdiot
...
9955216
Or feathers, which are another reasonable possibility given the context.
I find it really funny, in a darkly humorous way, that Fleur was so appalled by Celestia not paying Fluttershy and Fluttershy's 'poor' living conditions - while Fleur lived like that. One more point towards my theory of 'this is less about getting Fluttershy pregnant and more about an intervention for Fleur'.
If the implication from the station is what it seems... would be interesting!
I wonder what's in the box.
Indeed. What could a monarch want with a train?
When I was working in Kings Cross Station I was once delayed because the Queen was boarding her train. I love it when there is an excuse for delay that your boss cannot question.
I'm far from the first to mention it, but IMO Fleur is definitely NOT from anywhere in EQ
Protocera (Griffin Lands) would be my first bet.
Another very good update. I feel like Fluttershy seeing more of Fleur is a (somewhat weird) person rather than an aloof, fashionable mentor will only help.
Well, with the part where Fleur's own feelings are clearly evolving beneath her feet without her notice.
9956020
Could also be a beak, but yeah you're probably right about it being a feather.
9955216
Bones are calcium. Keratin is hooves, claws, fur, feathers, scales, beaks, and turtle shells. Though some of those things in some animals are a keratin sheath over a bone core.
Question: does the magic unbreakble-ness of unicorn horns remain after death?
Spike would confuse the hell out of her by being a polite dragon. Though if she used her magic out of curiosity and saw Rarity's it would then piss her right off.
Being poor in a small farming community on the edge of the wilderness is often better than being poor in the city because aside from prices being low enough for poor people to afford some things, you can save money by going old-school and gathering your own resources such a firewood.
9956307
That’s something that didn’t make sense to me about this chapter. I get that Estee is going for irony here, and representing how poorly Fleur takes care of her emotional needs and can’t ask for help, but I think it’s been over shot. I could maybe buy her being obsessively thrifty and setting up shop in a dilapidated, out-of-the-way location. But I can’t believe at all that someone paranoid (and likely traumatized) as her wouldn’t have an RPG’s worth of locks and magical alarms.
I’m hoping this won’t be her place of residence, and more like a place reserved for her mystery box.
I suppose Fleur might have been more horrified by the overwhelming stench of animal scat. But we’re probably going to find out how much she hates the idea of powerful people exploiting the weak and genuinely virtuous. Which she knows she’s not.
Canterlot needs some union organizing. Or at least Princess-mandated minimum wage laws.
9955112
"At least this Canterlot hasn't exploited the local cavern systems."
That's where the housing for the local Diamond Dogs is.
"I know what she means, but I love the mental image of Canterlot's apartments being nominally overseen by a Great Old One. In Equestria, that's hardly even surprising."
Ah, but aside from taking even longer naps than elder dragons, Great Old Ones have minds too horribly alien for any landlord to contemplate hiring them: they don't care about money. [1]
[1] Well, except for Shk'ru'J-M'kkdkk, Lord of The Infinite Bin, but It's an odd duck even among Elder Abominations.
As powerful as she is, it's nice to see other ponies capable of things that Twilight can't manage. Rarity's field dexterity and now Fleur's ability to successfully conceal her corona while retaining full control.
I must be in the minority opinion here (probably even leaving out the author). I can conceive of a language not starting out with any possessives, but would guess the basic road to animal sapience would leave any such language with at least one expletive, and that at least one of those initial expletives would double as either a desirable or undesirable bodily function, so...
Can see the lack of security spell. She's never planning to sleep in there to start with, it's so small a security spell on the door wouldn't provide enough useful warning if she's home and there's no other party she'd want responding to an alarm if she's not, and her real assets aren't household items or clothes, they're cash in bank accounts. A decent security spell could just attract attention to the apartment; the cheap ones the other apartments are using would be a waste of energy when there's nothing really worth protecting inside. (Also, putting a good spell up might attract negative or avaricious attention from the landlord, which seems a greater problem than the local criminal talent.)
ah, yes, in another story, that "warping" was the reason Twilight lost control of the snowplow in that scene from "winter wrap-up".