He was fully aware that he wasn't omniscient: it was simply that he generally didn't choose to see it as a lacking quality. As far as Discord was concerned, he knew about the things which were worth knowing. Any subject on which he found himself ignorant was very likely stupid or, even worse, orderly. And in the event that he somehow wound up in a position where he needed education -- why, sources of information were everywhere! In fact, during an era which was lost to all living memory but those of three, once somepony understood what he wanted, the rather minor challenge could be to make them stop talking --
-- he... didn't think about that very much any more. Not for long. It was like making incidental contact with an exceptionally sharp object. If you were quick enough, you might never recognize that contact had taken place at all. Not until you noticed the red stain spreading across your fur, wondered where it had come from, and only then might you experience something very close to --
-- whatever it was, it was the sort of sensation which needed to be experienced as little as possible. There were other feelings to pursue. Better ones, and some of them came with their own little curiosities. Things he could only investigate through direct experience, mysteries he had yet to solve...
As far as feelings were concerned, the previously-uninteresting subject known as 'dating' had mostly produced frustration, and investigating through direct experience had felt decidedly ill-advised. (He generally advised himself and if he was feeling uncomfortable with a topic, then he felt it best to take his own word on the matter. In this case, the secondary, page-born opinion had served as an echo.) The most basic concept of dating was simple enough: everything involved with the execution was decidedly complicated. Admittedly, that complexity had the potential to produce chaos, and he couldn't help but approve -- but in order for things to work out, all of that chaos ultimately had to collapse into a defined end goal. Something which was apparently the same just about every time.
This was, of course, offensive. But it was also for Fluttershy.
Dating was complicated, and remained so even with a rather talented research assistant to guide the way. (He had already resolved to tell the librarian nothing.) But the ultimate purpose of the activity was to reach the end goal. A fully-defined (and really, it was amazing just how much profanity he was being asked to put up with) result and if something had been defined, it could be understood.
If he wanted to learn about a subject, he could: it was just a matter of time and effort. For example, he'd recently experienced a brief moment of what he'd told himself was curiosity, because a new piece of living debris had washed up at the cottage and while he could have Fluttershy's attention at any time just by showing up, this mare seemed to feel she had a claim on it. So while he and his assistant had been traveling, he'd -- investigated. Here and there. A process which occasionally skipped a few steps, along with most of the distance in between them and a number of years, as you could really only ask him to put up with so much. Fully organized research was for the librarian: with Discord, it mostly given him the sort of headache which tended to linger even after he decided not to have a head for a while. Which should have taken care of the problem, but there you go.
He'd learned a few things about Fleur, and was still trying to decide exactly what he was supposed to do with them. It had felt as if the mare had recognized what he'd felt to be some especially subtle insinuations during their little holiday chat, but she'd just stood there....
The intruder was a number of things, and he occasionally wondered how Fluttershy would respond to being told all of them.
But the best way to get rid of her (which didn't involve breaking his parole, or -- having to look at Fluttershy's face if she realized what he'd done) was through beating her to the goal. All the unicorn had was -- whatever it was she possessed, and Discord could bring so much more to the table. In fact, why not save time by having the table make the trip on its own?
(He wasn't omnipotent, either. There were limits. He'd learned to live with a few, remained confused by others, and was still trying to figure out whether the latest was actually self-imposed. There was an odd little thrill in keeping a promise, not doing something when you so easily could. He didn't understand where that feeling came from, but felt it was an investigation which needed to be furthered.)
Because it was all about the goal, and he felt he recognized what that involved. Ultimately, Fluttershy was trying to find a mate, and his capable research assistant had listed a number of traits which a desirable match would hopefully possess.
"Um," said his capable research assistant.
He glanced down at the book, carefully balanced upon his paw. It was good to be back in his usual form for a while: something he could freely do because the area wasn't being observed. It would have been rather difficult for anypony to observe them anyway: not only was there a lot in the way, but he was standing within the teetering shadow cast by the newest portion. It was the sort of shadow which came with undertones. Some of the darker portions occasionally made creaking noises, because the ropes weren't binding them all that well.
There were subjects which Discord was still trying to master. However, he was an expert at recognizing the sort of chaos which was just looking for a place to happen, and occasionally had to give the shadow a hard look because it wouldn't be funny if any of it happened to him.
"Has something occurred to you, Harem?" They'd been traveling together for a while. It had allowed him to categorize a number of 'um' variations: based on the sort of things she tended to say afterwards, this one probably fell under 'awkward recognition of a potential future issue.'
"This is... taking a while," the book timidly proposed. "I didn't think it was going to take him this long."
He puffed out a breath from his lower lip, then decided that was getting a little staid and let the next exhalation just pass through: several fully-unnecessary flags attached to a long-ignored purchase shifted accordingly, with three changing their badges along the way. "Yes. Well. I have been attempting to hurry him." Defensively, "It's not quite as simple as it looks. Oddly, most of that comes because he's even more simple than he looks."
Several pages awkwardly fluttered at the edges. "Really?"
"It's easier to insert a new thought into a mind which has so much room available," Discord admitted. "He doesn't question where it might have come from or wonder why it doesn't fit into previous patterns. But when it comes to pushing that kind of mind, Harem, it's rather like relocating dust with a hurricane. I wouldn't care to predict where it might wind up, and I can just about guarantee a significant degree of scattering. So we let him proceed at his own pace."
Which was still irritating. All he was doing was telling the table to make the trip on its own, and --
"He's stupid."
Discord glanced down at the book's cover. There was a certain crinkling around the corners which hadn't been there before, and some of the lettering had developed little spikes around the edges.
Harem had made a statement.
"I don't see how that's a subject for debate," Discord admitted. "We went over this, Harem. There's a place in the competition for the unintelligent. Those who stumble across the right solution by tripping in a pothole of ignorance. Intelligence hardly seems to be the most desirable quality." Adding a punctuating snort, "When was the last time anypony looking for their ideal said 'Oh, what a beautiful brain'?"
His tail irritably knocked a few extra question marks into a corner.
"His lack of intellect could be seen as a positive trait. To have Fluttershy thinking for him could only improve the results --"
"-- he's not endearingly stupid," the book pushed. "Or charmingly dumb, or in the sort of way where the reader feels like he could ever learn anything. He's just an idiot. The sort of stock character who shows up for laughs, because he's had payback coming for a while and that's why you want him there: to see him suffer. But once everypony's laughed, he has to leave. Forever. Because if he ever appears again, he'll wear out what was never his welcome just by showing up --"
She was pushing...
"-- I'm told that ponies can change." His talon grandiosely gestured across the whole of his body, then returned to the limb. "Those who aren't ponies, for that matter."
"But --"
"-- I am certain she'll be a good influence on him," Discord sniffed. "Since part of her talent seems to involve a small boost to the intellect of those who can't truly think on their own. Think about everything else Blueblood can offer, Harem! The desirable qualities of a mate! The ability to provide! He can offer protection! -- well, he can hire it." Because one of the best ways to appear as if he had the facts was by correcting himself before anyone else could, and the book was taking exactly that sort of breath. "Protection, strength, and defense. You've told me about those qualities being sought in a mate, information which comes from your very own pages. And of course, he has the single most necessary trait in abundance. The one which launches every plot." And in The Voice Of Authority, "He is attractive."
The answering tones came across as being somewhat... dubious.
"...really."
Discord hesitated.
He couldn't really judge attractiveness in ponies: not on his own. There were four given configurations of bodies and much to his annoyance, they just about always stayed that way. (Crystals brought something different to the fur, but it was an identical difference and therefore became boring very quickly.) It left him looking at the way they regarded each other, which told him that Fluttershy was criminally underappreciated (with actual charges still pending). And viewed through the pony lens, the intruder definitely had something: this had mostly reinforced the idea that most ponies had rather poor taste.
Still, it gave him something to go on.
"I'm told he sparkles."
"So do vamponies," Harem countered.
"Vamponies," Discord announced, "do not exist. I would know." Defensive now. "And if they did exist, then clearly only the most handsome ones would sparkle."
"Vamponies are parasites," the book stated. "That's what being a vampony means, the only thing it ever means under all the metaphors about disease and sex. Parasites. They use other ponies, and they keep using them until they use them up."
He took a breath. Strictly speaking, he never had to, but there were times when basic dramatic necessity seemed to call for a simulation of functional lungs.
"Then it's a good thing they don't exist, isn't it?"
The book was silent for a few seconds. Pages turned, and interior artwork tried to peer through the shadows.
"I don't like this stable," Harem eventually opinionated. "Do you?"
He thought about it.
Discord felt he had a strong grasp on the concept of stables. It was where ponies kept most of the things which were meant for moving anything else: carts, carriages, and not stretching the definition out to include train cars was fine because definitions were usually overrated anyway. And for some reason, it was also the near-final destination for anything which a pony had purchased and no longer wanted, or just didn't have any use for. The trick of the thing was that there didn't seem to be an actual ultimate resting place, because the kind of item which wound up in a stable would eventually go to a stable sale: ponies trying to clear things out by asking for a fraction of the original purchase price. And for the most part, any item picked up at a stable sale was probably going to have its new owner place it in a stable. The prelude to having the whole thing start all over again.
Order chafed. Chaos comforted. Ponies were just weird.
This particular stable was a huge one. It needed to be, just to hold all of the things which didn't have any purpose.
It would have been possible to host a small Ponyville neighborhood within the walls, especially since the structure had been given rather more height than usual. After all, it was possible that somepony was eventually going to come up with a means of transport which was taller than a house and when that happened, Blueblood wasn't going to be kept from acquiring it by a mere lack of storage space.
Some brief study of the contents would allow an observer to split the stable into halves. One side contained things which had been purchased and forgotten about: given the owner, it was possible for this to take place before the ink on the receipt had fully dried. The other held those items which had been paid for and simply weren't used. Some of them were waiting for the right occasion, a number had yet to come back into style, and there was one air carriage which simply needed pegasi to develop a new means of flight. Blueblood was impatiently waiting for evolution to catch up with his realization: that if a select amount of gilding produced pleasant ornamentation, then making an air carriage almost entirely out of gold was the truest beauty and eventually, the world would produce something capable of getting it off the ground.
There were carts of all sorts, most of which had seen the wheels turn just enough to park them once. Most of the ground carriages hadn't been in fashion for a while. A palanquin was engaged in the infinite wait required for its owner to learn how to pronounce it. Means of transportation were placed next to, near, and occasionally around each other. A wall-mounted quartet of something which vaguely resembled minotaur shuffleboard sticks suggested Blueblood had once investigated a one-servant-per-hoof policy and found the balance not to his liking. Maintenance tools were used solely by somepony else or, rather more often, not at all. There was a huge collection in the stable: something which almost begged the question of how the owner had managed to avoid acquiring a zeppelin.
Blueblood had almost done it. The need for a permanent (or, given Blueblood, perpetually cycling) crew hadn't stalled him. Needing to purchase a hangar hadn't created the smallest obstacle for a stallion who assumed his finances were in perfect shape because the money hadn't stopped coming yet. The stop had hit when a truly heroic effort had managed to explain the first law of zeppelin carrying capacity: you could have all the space you wanted, as long as you didn't fill it with anything.
And that was why there was a new shadow teetering across the stable, with an option for avalanche.
Discord had learned a few things during his stay at the estate. Just remaining there had required him to both assume the shape of a pony and hold it for a discomfortingly long time, and this had allowed him to gain an entirely new experience: that of being paid. Not that he'd actually applied for a job: it was simply that if somepony was on the estate grounds long enough, the staff assumed they either worked there or had the kind of serious issues which funded therapy could hopefully resolve.
Besides, getting access to Blueblood had required him to carry a plate now and again, or bring something into a bedroom. So as far as Discord was concerned, there were multiple definitions (always better than one!) which had him putting in the work.
Getting paid had been a novel experience. He could always conjure his own bits whenever he liked, but that just usually meant he was taking an extra step because obviously conjuring what he'd actually wanted was more practical and in both cases, when it came to anything other than small, quickly-consumed treats, Fluttershy had a strange habit of asking him not to casually destroy economies. (Watching her fill out a number of complex forms had led him to investigate the concept of property tax, and then he'd had to let her talk him out of it all over again.) But these were earned bits, and those felt different.
It didn't always have to be bits, of course. The core idea was that someone did something for you, and then there was compensation for services rendered...
...anyway, there were things to learn about Blueblood and because Discord found the order imposed on the universe by the march of numbers to be utterly offensive, none of them had centered around looking at the stallion's bank accounts. Like Blueblood, Discord assumed that if money was coming, then money would keep coming and with the former, a stallion who'd never worked an hour in his life was fifteen moons away from being horribly wrong.
The stallion made a lot of purchases and when he wanted to be certain of impressing somepony, he brought most of them along.
A cart had been chosen. Then it -- well, strictly speaking, Discord couldn't say it had been loaded because the process was still ongoing. It wasn't a had. It was barely scraping 'has been', and kept verging into 'is being'. There were boxes piled on top of boxes, which were askew among suitcases, which had been bound to each other with ropes, bungee cords, and a generous helping of prayer. And every time Blueblood came up with something else which he just had to take with him, the pile got that much higher.
There were several ways to regard the results. Ponies who were caught within the scope of the current teetering shadow tended to spontaneously contemplate their mortality. Several Bearers were a minor temporal separation away from deciding that a fully camping-prepared Rarity was actually an underachiever.
"The stable is a means of holding possessions," Discord decided. "A demonstration of wealth. Which, given that wealth is a welcome quality in a mate, makes the stable desirable." He looked at the shadow again. "Just look at everything he's bringing with him! A gift for his intended! And it's only a fraction of what he actually owns --"
"-- they're things he's bringing for himself." Harem's tones were softly insistent, and somehow lost no actual insistence for the relative lack of volume. "All of it. In case he needs any, or just to show off."
He sniffed. "Very well: then once the two of them are together, it becomes a dowry." Harem had taught him about dowries. "Whatever is his also becomes hers. Legally. He's just showing her how much he can provide."
And that was how Discord would win.
Fleur was trying to find a mate for Fluttershy. So was he. And Fluttershy refused to let Discord provide for her -- so what he would provide was somepony who would.
Responsibility could be transitive. There was something interesting about that...
But Harem didn't seem to agree with him about Blueblood. She could think, he'd allowed that to happen, and... she was thinking for herself.
"It's too much."
"When one is demonstrating the ability to provide," Discord countered, "there's no such thing."
The book was silent for a while. The back cover shifted against his paw.
"Consider just how much is here," Discord offered, then added a quick talon snap to keep any of it from relocating itself to a rather personal version of 'here'.
Harem thought about it.
"Forty pages."
He raised a querying eyebrow.
"There was a writer who thought taking forty pages to describe somepony packing would be satirical," Harem offered. "So that's how he broke up his action scenes. And the romance. Both of those were really good, but he just kept putting in page after page of packing. And then he described the contents. That was another seventy pages. Every time anypony went somewhere. Each way."
"Did it work?"
"Some readers thought it was brilliant."
"See! Then in actual life, bringing so much along would clearly --"
"Three."
Carefully, "-- three."
"Three readers probably thought it was brilliant," the book told him. "Since that's how many didn't return the novel for a full refund. Unless they were just the ones who didn't have the strength to haul the hardcover back to the store."
"...oh."
"But another author abridged it a few decades later and published the results on behalf of the Morganstern estate," she finished. "Taking out all the packing parts. That sold really well. He just never got around to searching for the hinted sequel." The book sighed. "Thousands of ponies, still waiting on Buttercup's Foal..."
He let her rest on his paw as he looked around the stable again. It was a huge one: it needed to be, just to hold all of the things which didn't have any purpose. And even with but a single permanent occupant, the same could be said of the mansion.
Discord didn't understand that yet. He was still learning. A lesson yet to be acquired was that to stop learning was a form of death, and that would eventually make perfect sense to him because death was one of the most orderly things there was.
For now, he felt content to have realized that when it came to the search for Fluttershy's perfect mate, he could bring his own talents to the table. And then he could make the table move.
But he was still somewhat disgruntled. His exact methodology in creating the link might have been more complex than most, but -- he was hardly the first to compare Blueblood against a table.
Most of those who'd done so had been regarding the relationship in terms of intellect. Discord was treating it as a matter of speed.
An actual table would have been there by now.
She was coming too close to the library, and doing so for the third night in a row.
Fleur had several reasons for scouting Ponyville, and one of the most crucial came from something which had to be removed from the rental as soon as possible. She couldn't allow herself to become reliant on the contents of the box, and... the rental wasn't safe. She had taken some basic measures to secure the property, then gone somewhat beyond that, but -- the fact remained that anypony with time to work and the right skills could manage entry. Fleur, if she'd encountered the same level of defenses installed on another residence, would have been able to get in -- and that was with a mark which had nothing to do with theft. She had to secure the box, and soon. The first step was finding a location she could always access, even on the gallop. Somewhere nopony would ever think to look...
She was searching, It was a process which was finally allowing her to master more of Ponyville's secret routes, and it was taking place under Moon because autumn didn't have a lot of time left. Sun was being lowered a little sooner in every cycle, Moon held sway for the majority of hours, and the temperature just kept dropping. She was guaranteed to be in the settled zone when winter arrived and if this was a preview of what the Weather Bureau's local schedule for the season had dictated, Fleur would need to resist the urge to kick a little snow at Rainbow herself.
The season had reached the point where no matter when she left the cottage, Moon was up. And the three days which had passed since the cider found her leaving earlier and earlier...
It wasn't that she didn't have a lot to do. There were rumors which claimed portions of Tartarus served as a place of endless labor: if so, Fleur was arguably serving her sentence in one of the prison's extensions. You could always find labor waiting at the cottage, and Fleur had to find most of it before Sun-lowering because that was as much as Fluttershy would now let her get away with.
In terms of the actual job... there, they'd been getting a lot done. The Algonquin was a frequent subject of discussion: potential styles for the dress (which would probably still be purchased from the bitch), ideal times for arrival and departure, the most likely topics of conversation. They'd even begun to review the probable guest list: something which had unfortunately required Rarity because while Fleur stood ready to invoice the palace on anything and everything, gossip magazines just didn't stay on sale for very long. There were two local ways to quickly acquire a decent back catalog, and the one which hadn't been the tree turned out to be the Boutique.
It had been a necessity. The truce had held through gritted teeth and the transfer of a cart filled with rumor, conjecture, and the undeniable fact that Equestria needed to take a long-overdue cue from Protocera and nail down its own libel laws. But the flimsy gloss of the pages had provided an album which Fluttershy could review: faces and names to memorize, proper forms of greeting, who'd published what and how recently. Fleur was even putting together a short reading list, because few things impressed an author like being able to quote from their work: the problem typically then became getting the writer to stop quoting themselves.
Fluttershy had dedicated herself to those aspects of the lessons with an intensity which Fleur hadn't believed possible. Flashing a picture of a possible guest in front of whichever eye was visible could get a name out of her charge within seconds. But that was the main topic of discussion. Frequently, just about the only one.
They were reviewing in the dispensary. Fleur kicked titles across the examination table. And after several hours of it, Fluttershy would send her home.
Fleur was trying not to push too hard. There was enough time remaining before the Algonquin would actually be held: the hours used per day, applied to the stretch run, would allow them to cover all of it. It was just so much less time spent at the cottage than what had become the usual --
-- nopony wants to talk about nobles, writers, and artists all day. Especially nobles. I had to attend just about all of those parties and it only took me a few moons to reach the point where I was just doing it because I knew what had to be done --
-- and Fluttershy wasn't singing.
It shouldn't have felt strange. It didn't feel strange. Fleur had caught her charge in a singing mood exactly once. Happiness was temporary: the desire to express the emotion through music would therefore be equally so. All things considered, the pegasus had probably just been looking forward to the cider. The cider was now available. Singing could be put aside.
(Fleur had gone through a fifth of her own barrel. She was still trying to pin down the ginger.)
It was just that... Fluttershy had sung.
Once.
She's a good singer. Not on the level of a mark, but a natural talent. Singing is the sort of thing which can work at the Algonquin. There's going to be a live band, and some of the guests will join in. We could rehearse. If I could get her on stage --
-- Fluttershy.
Singing in front of a hall packed with Canterlot's elite.
She narrowed it down.
Singing in front of anypony.
Fleur didn't sigh: there was very little point and at any rate, the utter collapse of the inner image had pretty much done it for her. Instead, she simply made her way around Ponyville, casually avoiding those who came too close (although there hadn't been many of those, with the numbers dropping with temporal distance from the cider line). Scouting. And as she scouted, she saw some of the things she had left to do.
Sweetbark's office. Closed already. Of course the supposed vet didn't have long hours. You didn't need them when every patient you saw could be waved out the door in five minutes.
There was the Boutique: that was still open. Trot a bit from there, and she found Sugarcube Corner. Two Bearers, and she felt as if she was no closer to having any control over them than she'd been on her first day.
I had nobles fighting over me. Performers at war over who would have me at their side when they went into the awards show. Trotting in front of the cameras, with the best possible decoration moving at their flank.
I can't even get into a card game.
She swerved a bit. Avoided Mr. Flankington's place (which had become instinct), eventually found herself passing between the two candy shops. Bon-Bon had apparently just shut down for the night: the door was still faintly vibrating in the frame. And the opposing operation... that much closer to opening: more bright colors inside, which included some glass-blurred paintings of what Fleur assumed to be the most child-friendly fictional characters to currently populate the bestseller list. And -- she had to squint a little, as the outside lighting wasn't quite aimed at the storefront yet -- the announcement of a contest. The chance to see how candy was made, creating your own batch under expert instruction. With an age limit for entry, because the proprietor was both seeking a younger customer base and wanted to stress how the right moment could potentially lead to a mark.
It wasn't her battle, and she turned away.
More trotting. Down an alleyway. She avoided all sounds of bowling, didn't feel like entering a bar unless she could get a guarantee of finding a certain mare in attendance --
-- and there's the library.
Again.
The lights were still on in the tree: they just wouldn't stay that way for much longer. Based on the posted hours and Fleur's best estimate of the time, the library had no more than five minutes of operation remaining on the night. The closing time was posted on a notice board, along with a schedule of upcoming library events (a donkey literature focus, with chocolate on standby because anypony who read too much would need a reminder that any level of pleasure still existed) and the suggestion that the librarian on duty still thought Daring Do was a good choice for an all-ages read.
I can't keep doing this. Because she knew why she kept coming too close: something which put her at risk of encountering the librarian, and she wasn't sure how the alicorn currently felt about her. Not having a read on the nature of any potential interaction made her reluctant to risk having one.
She wanted to speak with Twilight: eventually, she would have no other choice. She still wanted to find out why the youngest alicorn felt Celestia's word alone might not be good enough any more. But it would have been safer to have the next encounter with Fluttershy at her side, or in a group --
three days of dropping hints and I can't even get into a card game
-- because that just about automatically provided some protection. Unless the entire set of Bearers somehow ganged up on her, and she was relatively certain she could keep a sixth of that from happening --
Let's just consider how well Fluttershy probably resists group pressure.
-- somewhat certain.
But she kept approaching the library: never going in, but coming too close. She also kept trying to change her routes, but -- once a night since the cider line, the balcony would come into view. And Fleur knew why.
He might not even talk to me.
He'd at least want to introduce himself, from what Fluttershy said. He introduces himself to everypony, because that's the way they might see him and
I just want to talk to him.
I understand.
I know.
His whole life, I could make his whole life so much easier if I just had two hours to tell him everything I wished I'd known all along...
...Fluttershy said Twilight sees him as her brother.
I believe it. I know it's possible. I...
...anything I tell him, he might tell her and
Too close to the door, close enough to hear hoofsteps moving around inside. Hoofsteps which were probably well inside the tree, but they were still hoofsteps and if the door opened...
I need to talk to him. Before it's too late, because something will happen, maybe it already has
how?
A few more steps and she would be clear from direct view, something which would only be possible when the last patrons left. Twilight lived in the library. Closing up for the night didn't mean any level of commute beyond heading for the kitchen --
-- the front doors opened. Pinkish light flashed into Fleur's eyes.
The alicorn, horn already lit, came out.
There was a piece of paper held in her field, bobbing along at her side: probably a change being made to the notice board. And Fleur realized that the hoofsteps had been close because the librarian was so small, she would have needed to be just about on top of the exit in order for any sound of her movement to be audible at all, the little body took a single step out into the night and then the alicorn saw Fleur.
"Hey!"
It was immediate, leaving Fleur suffering not so much from a lack of places to run as a total absence of explicable reasons for retreat. All she could do was hold her ground as the librarian accelerated into gallop, coming straight for her --
"I have to talk to you!" the alicorn called out. "This is crucial! I have to ask you something, Fleur! You're just about the only pony I can ask! I've been waiting to talk to you for days and I'm not going to miss this!"
-- she stopped, pulling up right in front of Fleur, who managed to assume an expression and posture of mild curiosity.
"What?" the unicorn casually asked. Waited.
Twilight drew herself up to her full height.
It was a fascinating process to watch. The mare was small: shorter than many adolescents, and possessed of a naturally slender build. Watching somepony on that scale force every possible joint to maximum extension was a rather mechanical thing, and suggested that multiple parts were on backorder.
"The cinema," formed the start of the librarian's narrow-eyed demand. "That date you had Fluttershy go on with Caramel. You remember that, Fleur? Do you feel like you remember everything about it?"
The escort nodded.
"Good," the alicorn stated. "What did you do with your glasses?"
Fleur blinked.
"...sorry?" Because anypony who stayed in Fluttershy's vicinity for a while was going to master that one.
"The glasses!" Twilight's forelegs reared up by a few hoof-heights, which still left her glaring vertically at the tall unicorn before she crashed down again. "I've been trying to get a few pairs since Fluttershy told me about the date! All over town, Fleur, everywhere! And do you know how many I've found so far?"
A shake of the head seemed vaguely appropriate.
"None." A frustrated right forehoof stomped, with every particle of dirt at the impact point failing to respect the effort. "It's not like the cinema tracks everypony who goes inside, so I don't even know who was at the show that night. I tried posting a sign asking ponies who'd been there to turn in their glasses to me, because I really want to find out how that effect works. Nopony responded. I talked to Bayleaf, and she didn't even know glasses were involved: she was in the projectionist booth all night, and she only looks down if she hears ponies starting to --" there was a faint blush beginning to underlight fur "-- she doesn't always look down."
"Why didn't you ask the cinema owner?" felt like a reasonable question.
"I did! He didn't even know there were glasses involved! He thought somepony from the studio came in to pass them out! And it was just at the one show, Fleur! Every other screening didn't have them!"
"Well," Fleur carefully tried, "maybe they got pulled back. After --" adding a faint, artful wince "-- Caramel." Which did explain why nopony else had gone through the same reaction. "For further testing --"
"-- I sent a letter to the studio." The streaked tail was lashing now, and the ongoing upwards glare just gave Fleur a view for where the missing portion of mane hadn't been adequately hidden. "Nopony's written me back. I know the names of three ponies who were at the screening that night. Caramel thinks he lost his during the gallop out. Fluttershy doesn't remember what she did with hers, but she's sure they aren't in the cottage. What did you do with yours? Because unless somepony finally steps forward, you're the only one I can ask. And maybe nopony can step forward, because I think they were all collected at the end of the show. Making sure any innovation didn't get out early and let somepony duplicate it. But I just want to study them, I swear. See how they work. And only three ponies left early! Got out ahead of any collection, and two of them don't have anything! Without you, I might not get to see them for weeks and if the studio never writes me, if they were pulled back once and for all, there's no chance to see how they work or improve them or..."
The glare changed. Widened, acquiring just a touch of quiver at the edges. The latter had also reached the lower lip.
"Fleur," the world's youngest alicorn half-begged. "Please..."
The unicorn blinked.
She's serious. She's actually --
-- what did I do with them?
Fleur normally didn't kick gifts away until she'd determined if they had value, and the glasses had been given to her for free. It had been experimental magic (and in her opinion, weak spells): that was the sort of thing she would normally retain for a while.
Twilight was watching her face. There was an odd intensity about that gaze, and Fleur thought she understood it. The Element of Magic had a few questions...
Backtrack.
I was wearing them during the screening.
I didn't take them off when I got up from the bench.
I...
...Fluttershy and I found Caramel, and...
...I don't think we were wearing them.
I know I didn't have them on during the trot to the cottage. None of us did.
Did I just slip them into a saddlebag without thinking about it?
Fleur had an excellent memory: something which was a necessity for keeping track of everything she had going at any given time without leaving evidence via mistakes like writing things down. But it wasn't perfect, and any period of her life for which she could track every last second was automatically among the worst ones. When it came to the fate of the glasses...
"Twilight," and it was so easy to summon the tones of apology, especially when the worst-case scenario had been avoided, "I don't know what I did with them. I was just trying to get out of the cinema and find Caramel. I must have taken them off at some point, but I don't know where that happened. If it was outside, then I probably took them back with me. I don't remember passing a collection trough, but -- I could have just put them in subconsciously, while I was focusing on something else. I'm sorry."
The little alicorn collapsed in on herself, which was much more of a natural talent.
"...I thought that was possible," Twilight sighed. "But I couldn't know until I asked you, and I was waiting to ask you personally. Fleur -- would you at least check your home? See if you put them somewhere?"
Fleur nodded. "Tonight," she promised. "If I find them, I'll drop them off in your mailbox tomorrow morning, before I go to the cottage." Giving up custody of weak experimental spells was more than a fair trade for an alicorn's goodwill.
"Thank you."
"I'll go look now," the unicorn offered. Before you think of anything else. "Good night, Twilight."
Still crestfallen, "Good night, Fleur. And good luck."
Okay. Walk away normally.
Keep walking.
I don't hear her moving.
No acceleration.
Turn this corner. Out of sight.
A few more steps...
Strictly speaking, she couldn't hear the sudden blink and flare of wings. Imagination had to suffice.
"WAIT! About that date...!"
...and too late.
Which left her heading back towards the rental, only now doing so at a somewhat more normal hour while preparing to ransack her own rooms.
It wouldn't take long: there wasn't a lot to search through. But she'd been thinking about it, and she was sure she hadn't seen glasses...
Avoiding ponies. Shifting past forms before they could intercept. A shortcut onto an empty street. She turned --
-- there was a streetlamp awaiting her at the exit, the other pony turned when she heard the hoofsteps, the only other pony on the cold street at all when things would have turned out so differently with a witness, and reflected dark blue flashed into Fleur's eyes. Doing so at the exact moment before the pegasus finished turning, the lustrous obsidian mane shifting to let brilliant yellow eyes stare at her.
It almost redeemed the entire night. The last three days, and even had a chance to put a small positive note on her entire sentence once she successfully took it to four. Her talent lanced forth --
bisexual, oh thank Moon she's at least bisexual, there's a lot of repression here but I can work around that, likes her mares tall and there's something here about dark fur but if she already likes her mares tall --
-- and she smiled, tilted her head a little to the right, her hips began to sway --
"-- good," the pegasus softly said, and the darkness of the dropping tone gave the word its very own lie.
Fleur stopped. Stared at the metallic, standing within the chill downwind just a few body lengths away from her goal, frozen by cold and unexpected anger.
"I've been hoping I would run into you eventually," Joyous Release calmly told her, just as the obsidian tail lashed through fast-scattering light. "So why don't we talk?"
"There was a writer who thought taking forty pages to describe somepony packing would be satirical,"
Inconceivable!
thank you for the chapter
Oh shit! Discord is trying to win with Blueblood? Ha! That's funny. Interesting parallels with HF and Discord, Fluttershy and Fleur again.
The middle section with Fleur finding her way back to the library, so she can talk to Spike some time, that's so sweet. She already cares about him very much even without officially meeting him yet. And of course Twilight would get worked up over those glasses, lol.
And damn! That ending sequence... Estee you devil! That's a way to get you seriously invested in wanting to know what happens next. Thanks for bringing this story out again, I'm truly delighted to get to read it.
Oh that cliffhanger! Makes me want to reread see if I missed something.
Discord stuck in a room, and Fleur out on the town...
My, my... The glasses... That's interesting where that could go...
----
And bad times for Fleur? We Need To Talk is never good for the one being talked to...
Luna could've warned her... And having a similar talent means... What? ... Metamagic making her a bit... Other? Giving her new senses? Etc?
Is this a Princess Bride reference? Georg, at least, seems to think so.
10699943
It most definitely is, and a good one at that.
What could Fleur have done to Joyous to possibly made her this mad? They barely ever interacted in the story.
And if Fleur want an excuse for going in the library, she can just say she want her new library card. She is new to Ponyville after all and isn't registered with the library yet.
10699943
I've read the book, I can confirm it is.
A really, really awesome reference.
10699975
I’ve read it, too. In high school. I don’t think it could be recognized as a reference from just the movie.
10699957
One of the best I’ve seen, actually. Mostly because it’s not one of the blatant, overdone ones.
More Anchor Foal is always the best. I’m quite curious what the anger is for with Joyous. Fluer hasn’t had any direct exposure to her, so this could be very interesting.
I'm not sure how how Joyous could know about Fleur, but I suppose she could guess at what she is. (Or what she WAS, I suppose). But I don't think Fleur at her best, or her worst, could even faze what Joyous has seen.
I simply love how you write, and all the interesting things in this chapter.
Aw, come on, Discord, Spike could use some good word.
He's not wrong
Another side story maybe? Please?
Hah! The Stallion in Black lives!
Amen.
I have a feeling it will become Fleur's battle ....
Why is Joyous so angry with Fleur?
Just have Fluttershy have kids with Discord. He'll make her immortal and he'll always have a vested interest in Equestria.
Don’t even get me started on the butcher job that hack Goldmare did on the adaptation. If they ever make a film version, I hope that they respect the original writer’s estate and go with King’s abridgment. And get some of those 3D glasses ponies are talking about for the Cliffs of Insanity.
I have a feeling that a talk with Spike could be very good for Fleur rather than the other way around, at least if her world view was open to listening to and valuing his perspective. If nothing else, it would be good for her to open up to someone.
And I’m guessing that Joyous got a head’s up about the new mare in town from the Princess? Regardless of how she knows, I can see some possible reasons why a mare who weaponizes her attraction in order to prey on others would offend her. Either way, a great cliffhanger which has me eager for the next part!
"the front doors opened"
"the front door opened"?
"didn't get out early and let somepony would duplicate it."
"didn't get out early and let somepony duplicate it."?
"""I've been hoping I would"
""I've been hoping I would"?
Thank you for writing. Even with that cliffhanger. :D
With a name like 'Joyous Release' she probably has a talent like Fleur. Then again, in her own story that talent went horribly wrong. Maybe even backwards. That poor girl needs friends more than lovers.
Fleur needing to speak to Spike, her friendship with Sweetie Belle. So.etimes I think Fleur has at least one standard so many lack. Be nice to kids.
Ah. Discord has experienced the sting of regret, and he's not terribly fond of it. Who can blame him? (Or it's guilty nostalgia, but hey, at least that means he's capable of guilt.)
Restrictions breed creativity. It's more fun to work through a maze than just smash through the walls. Well, a different kind of fun, anyway.
Huh. There's a new serif in town. I wonder what Harem will be like by the end of this.
At the risk of creating a new offshoot of your fanbase on par with the Seapony Truthers, I will note that Discord has acknowledged his own lack of omniscience.
I have to appreciate how equine nature can baffle even chaos incarnate. Likely part of why Discord agreed to settle down some. It turns out ponies can create a sort of chaos he could never imagine.
Harem's knowledge of the history of literature is both unexpected and suprising. As was the Princess Bride reference. Though if we want to be cute about it, Buttercup's Foal is in Ponyville. All three of them.
Ahem. No comment.
I do hope Fleur gets to talk to Spike. There is an element of getting to see precisely what she has to say, but the advice could be legitimately useful for him. I wonder if she's ever taken him aside in other timelines. I wonder if she'd even know he's there...
And that is quite the note to end on. This should be very interesting indeed. And Luna would no doubt be very happy to hear she left an impression on Joyous. As always, looking forward to more.
So tall and dark fur, there's only one pony I can matching that description, but I wont speak it aloud in case I'm wrong.
otherwise good chapter, look forward to see Blueblood be metaphorically crushed under his own idiocy.
also Buttercups Foal is that some subtle hint at Fluttershy's future child or something?
10700534
I want to believe... in thestrals.
Gather the mangoes!
Well Blueblood isn't totally screwed, once he goes broke he can sell everything. Plus he owns his house, he can live in comfortable upper class(such as a very sucessful doctor, not a multimillionare) just on the sales alone once he goes broke, assuming he learns his lesson and gets better with money.
So he's screwed
10700503
It’s the Protocera upbringing. The griffons, for all their faults, have an absolute social imperative that all children must be protected. It’s listed as the reason so many ponies live there.
It also casts some doubt on Fleur’s history being quite as traumatic as some have assumed. I don’t think she was a victim of Protocera’s version of sex trafficking. I t think she grew up on a monster ranch where meat was raised and had a traumatic death of a close friend and teacher, as well as intense bullying from her own age group in hierarchy games.
Anywho, I find Protocera a very interesting place and I hope to see more into griffon society as we go.
Damn it, that would be a thing she'd have to ask him not to do, wouldn't it.
10699972 Yeah, about that. Do you remember Joyous Release having yellow eyes? I mean I can think of one character with yellow eyes, but... No, I'm being paranoid.
Is there a rule that prevents Discord from visiting the Crystal Empire? I would think that the first thing one would do when trying to find a mate is consult the Princess of Love.
Of course Blueblood comes to mind as the object of the chapter title. But as of these last two chapters, it seems more like a shared reference accounting for three instead of the obvious one.
That (and everything else) aside, for some reason I keep wondering and fretting about what's going to happen to poor Harem by the end of this story. Will the book-come-to-life have a happy ending? Or is she doomed to sit up late nights with Twilight, or... Rarity?
10700672
I think that's a Princess Bride reference.
10700272
That's what I keep saying, but an awful number of fans seem very invested in Fluttershy (and the rest of the non-Alicorn Five) dying of old age.
I blame Hasbro.
The characterization of Blueblood is one of the kinder I have seen, no malice just irritating stupid.
Twilight not thinking Celestia's word is enough? Well a combo of factors have diminished her view of Alicorns as perfect. Chief amoung them being that she herself is one and knows she isn't perfect. It's reframed every time Celestia let the mask of perfection slip around Twilight, Two can't dismiss them anymore. The fact that Twilight has realized for a lot of times Celestia's plan amounts to "just throw the right pony at the problem". It may be effective but not really how an all knowing goddess would do things. She now sees her mentor as a fellow pony rather than a perfect being, wich honestly Celestia wants.
Now the 3-D glasses Twilight is clearly coming to the disappointing realization "Discord is behind it" and she doesn't get a new magical artifact to play with.
10701853
Which is weird since the show's creators said that Twilight would NOT outlive her friends. (But Cadence would outlive Shining Armor.)
10701906
Well, it's not like the original creators ideas mattered much to the people running the show after the first couple of seasons, let alone by seasons 8 and 9 (or, as I like to call them, "Twilight's fever dreams").
10702027
I got disillusioned with the show after the changelings proved their individuality by EVERYONE GOING ALONG WITH THE GROUP!
Maybe Joyous has some way found out that Sweetie Belle has a crush on Fleur and assumes that Fleur has caused it intentionally.
I worry about what might happen if Fleur does get to have that conversation with Spike. From everything we’ve seen, in spite of all challenges, he’s healthy, happy, well-loved, and incredibly empathic and understanding of others. To say nothing of being accepted by his adopted culture, with the sole exception of the Flower Trio, who in fairness refuse to accept that wine makes you drunk, let alone a dragon living down the street.
Fleur... we don’t know exactly what advice she’d give, but it does not feel as if her advice would support that life. Meaning that either her advice would change Spike’s perspective for the worse, or else her advice would be shown to be useless and unwanted. And given that her kindness to children is her biggest redeeming factor at present, it would be a shame for that to take a hit like this.
10701678
You're expecting Discord to do the logical thing.
10703726
Fair point.
10703726
Also ask a pony -- not just that, an Alicorn Princess -- for advice and help? He'd probably rather go back to being a statue than stoop to that. At least statues never ask Alicorn Princesses for help.
He does manage it at least once.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2016/3/18/1111304.jpeg
Uh oh. Joy's got a bug in her ear and who knows what kind.
Ya know, Joyous’ story was great and I loved ‘Mark of Appeal’, but I wonder if it was originally meant to to become the long form story it became. The idea of a pony with a cutie mark of a butt on her butt is just... very silly. It became a very interesting and surprisingly emotional story, but I still struggle with taking her character seriously.
I wonder if that is why it’s hardly ever mentioned.
It’s also fun to know she’s still crushing hard on Luna. Those tall, dark furred mares...
10699841
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
10702110
"We're all individuals!"
"I'm not."
10700503
Came back to this chapter...
I wonder... Is Fleur's talent just the Unicorn version of Joyous's...
Telepathy vs. Pheromones... What would an Earth Pony's be?
Oh, that’s right. The Princess Bride. For a second there I thought it was Boring and Pointless.
10713253
It’s bound to happen sooner or later, if only because it’s the last thing he’d ever be expected to do.
10713253
The thing that struck me about that (On, like, the third readthrough.) is that the butt on the butt matches the description of the mother’s butt. One of the mothers’, at least. Admittedly, red flanks and white tail (or whatever the actual colors were) is vague enough to have plenty of varieties, but still…