Chapter 10; A Wrench in the Gears
Chapter 10
Cloudsdale slumbered quietly in the early morning light. Even at its elevation, where the first rays of the sun would stretch across the sky and light up the day long before sunrise came to the ground, the chill of night still prevailed. Stars twinkled in a sky mottled grey and orange from the oncoming dawn. Thin wisps of cloud drifted lazily past towering cloud structures, still cast in dreary shadow. So high up, where the cold winds blew unhindered by mountains or natural edifices, the night drove those ponies fortunate enough inside their insulated cloud houses. The unlucky few worked through the night and well into the wee morning hours on the Weather Factory’s boneyard shift.
The cloud-paved streets themselves were empty, save for a single solitary figure. A mare clad in a dark cloak to hide her face and mane and a shawl draped over her body, as nameless and faceless as many a passing cloud, made her way carefully along city streets set against a backdrop of those first early rays. Traveling in the chill of early morning kept her away from the prying eyes of those who might otherwise be out on the streets with her. Nevertheless, she left from the Police Station warily, swinging a cloaked head from side to side to check for those who might yet be out, sniffing at her trail.
She hastened down lonely city streets, passing through the more downtrodden areas surrounding the factory, which hummed with the sound of the late shift working to prepare weather systems for the coming day. The factory was a sprawling complex, surrounded by an even more sprawling development of homes for the workers and their families. The breaking day rose behind her as she wove through labyrinthine streets. Upon leaving the city proper, the mare stopped, glancing around her before unfurling a pair of yellow wings from beneath her cloak. Silently, she took off into the dawn; flying towards the wealthier, upscale housing on clouds separate from the rest of the city.
Her shawl flapped in the wind behind her as she flew – grand, imposing, cloud mansions spread out in the sky looming before her. Her body relaxed as she neared the more prime areal real estate. She was almost home.
A sudden gust of cold air took her by surprise. In an instant she ducked and rolled with the wind current, effortlessly shaking off the turbulence, but the damage was already done. The wind caught the hood of her cloak and blew it back behind her, revealing a shock of flame-orange mane and an Equestria-famous face.
To her credit, Spitfire had no idea where they had come from. She suspected they had had been watching the Police Station earlier that night, and followed in the shadows when they saw somepony leave, staying just out of sight while she had her face obscured. Now, however, with her out in the open and her only safeguard against recognition tumbling in the breeze behind her, they pounced. Spitfire took off at a much faster clip; no longer caring about conspicuity. The Paparazzi came in hot pursuit.
She soon left the few camera ponies and reporters well behind her. She smirked a bit to herself – after all, who could hope to outrun and catch a Wonderbolt? But her smirk faded when she rounded a corner and came upon her own house. Throwing her wings out as airbrakes, she came to a sudden halt just in time for what seemed a thousand flashbulbs to go off at once. Spitfire balked as she took in the sight before her. The entrance to her very house lay blocked by numerous pegasi sporting cameras, notepads, and hats with cards reading ‘press’ stuck out at odd angles. They swarmed around her as soon as she arrived, snapping her picture from every angle and peppering her with a myriad of questions. Those who had been pursuing her soon caught up, blocking her exit towards the rear.
“Any news on Soarin’s arrest, Spitfire?”
“How will this affect team morale?”
“Is he being held without warrant?”
“Why all the secrecy surrounding his arrest?”
“How come no public charges have been released?”
“Does this have any connection to the recent chocolate scandal?”
“Why were you at the Police Station just now? Is Soarin’ being held there?”
“Is he under duress?”
“Could blackmail be involved in this?”
“Will he be released in time for any upcoming performances?”
“Is he going to be cut from the team?”
“How about your fans? What do you have to say to them?”
“Can you confirm any of the speculation that…”
Spitfire did her best to shield her face with her hooves as questions flew fast and thick and cameras flashed incessantly. She growled under her breath, searching for a way out of the seemingly tightening circle of newsponies. Suddenly, she spied an opening and, without thinking, flew straight down, below the posse of pestering pegasi. She arced beneath them and pulled up sharply, arriving at her own front door just outside the edge of the circle. To a pony, the mass turned, still snapping more pictures as the Wonderbolt grasped for an ornately-carved door handle. All the voices of shouting reporters merged to one. “Spitfire! Spitfire! Spitfire!”
The mare spun around, still mindful to shield her eyes from the blinding flashes, she glared out over the assembled company. “No! I don’t have any information, and even if I did I would not be sharing with any of you leeches! Now, scram!” She shouted before, in one fluid motion, she opened the door and slid inside, slamming it shut behind her again. With the bolt latched, she slumped to the foyer floor, rubbing bloodshot eyes with both hooves. She groaned, the sound of popping flashbulbs and her name being shouted still audible even from beyond her porch.
She had suspected that it would be too risky to visit Soarin’ in the Police Station where he was held, though the vain hope that travelling in the early morning would keep her undetected by prying eyes had sustained her journey nonetheless. Those hopes now dashed, she glared angrily up at the ceiling for a few moments before springing to her feet, eyes alight to match the fiery hues of her mane. A heated, cursory glance around the foyer revealed no outlet for her frustration, so se resorted to smacking the floor beneath her. Again, and again, and again she brought a malicious hoof down against the firm yet springy surface, her breath coming in choppy bursts. She growled out loud as she continued her rampage, only stopping when she managed to get her breathing under control.
In the week since Soarin’s arrest, the press had seemingly gotten only worse and worse with their manic trailing of her and her team in pursuit of the story. Spitfire had even gone so far as to suspend team practices indefinitely, and had told her teammates to avoid discussion with reporters as much as possible. Still, the Equestrian Media machine charged ahead, no amount of pleas and “No comment” statements ever being enough to satiate its hunger. It had driven her and most of her team into the relative comfort of their own homes, and even had her surrounded in hers. Spitfire resisted the urge to put a hoof through one of her walls, only just managing to relax herself with a deep, calming breath.
Her face fell to a hard-set scowl. There seemed no escaping them. The ravenous hordes of paparazzi were just another thing she had to worry about, as if she didn’t have enough. Her mind seemed continually occupied with concern for her team, trepidation over her dealings with the Police, the fear coupled with an uncertain future, and the crippling, haunting memories that had seen her jolt awake in a cold sweat every night since the fateful tryout. There lay memories that carried with them the ghosts of voices ringing through her mind like a distant, ethereal bell, chiming each hour, counting out the inexorable march of time. Every night, they were there.
Of them, but of course, stood alone the one voice; the voice that no amount of time would fade, and the one that haunted her every dream, always crying, sobbing, “No… no… no…”
======================================================================
Stitch by stitch. Hem by hem.
The continuous, automated whir of the sewing machine filled the room as Rarity worked, her lower lip bit in abject concentration. Piece by piece, the bits of fabric before her began to come together to form a cohesive piece. Then, all too suddenly, the gentle hum was replaced by a loud grinding noise and her sewing needle jerked to a halt and jammed, a tangle of thread and flaps of fabric. Rarity hissed at the set-back, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with the help of her magic and leaned forward, ready to pick apart the mess, when another sound distracted her. She sat up, cocking one ear towards the door of her design room. The low, faint, unmistakable buzz of hushed voices emanated from the direction of her front room. Customers!
A lesser, ill-composed lady might have cursed at realizing she had been neglecting customers and may have very well left them waiting for Celestia knows how long. Rarity, however, stood up, keeping an air of unflappable poise and strode from her workroom into the hallway, strutting calmly as she neared the showroom. She cleared her throat, preparing to offer her usual greeting to these potential clients, when abruptly a stray name slipped from their conversation and upon the cusp of her ear, and she stopped in her tracks; her greeting dying on her lips.
“… Rainbow Dash?”
“No, I haven’t seen her in over a week, and you know, I’ve been asking around town recently, and I don’t think anypony’s seen her recently either.”
“Well, I head a rumor that she went up to Cloudsdale a little while ago.”
“Why, yes, didn’t you know? She went up there for a tryout with the Wonderbolts.”
“You’re kidding, she can’t possibly be… with the Wonderbolts?”
“The very same. Why, I thought everyone in town knew that?”
“Well, I guess I didn’t. I only knew she was gone.”
“Well that’s where she went. And no one’s seen her since.”
“Might she still be with them, for this whole time?”
“I’m more interested in what she might have done with them. Don’t you remember the arrest?”
“The arre- oh, you mean that Soarin’ character?”
“Why, of course.”
“I’d forgotten about that. Now I remember. I read about that in the paper, oh, it must’ve been a week ago.”
“Indeed. The only question is what for.”
“You don’t think it could have anything to do with Rainbow Dash, could it?”
“It’s more than possible. The timing matches up, and I wouldn’t put some sort of scandalous behavior past her. Why, I’ve always thought she was a bit of a…”
It was at that moment when Rarity removed her ear from the wall and, holding her head high and flicking her regal mane from side to side exaggeratedly, strode into the front room, bringing a swift end to the conversation between the two mares. Both looked up at her expectantly, and she opened one eye, surveying them with a detached, almost bored look upon her face. Finally, she cleared her throat, regarding the two mares coolly. “How may I help you ladies this fine evening?”
The first, the clear leader of the pair, stood up noticeably straighter and returned Rarity’s gaze confidently. “Why, yes. My friend and I were looking to try on a few dresses of yours. I trust it isn’t too much trouble, no?” She cocked an eyebrow in Rarity’s direction with her last word, as if daring her to deny her request. Her friend merely smiled weakly and stood behind the first mare.
Rarity calmly brushed aside the unspoken challenge without so much as a second thought. In a voice carefully chosen to be as smooth and aloof as possible, she acquiesced, turning quickly to lead the mares back into one of her fitting rooms. “Right this way.”
Rarity tried not to think about the two mares as they followed her. She didn’t turn around to see the smug grin on the first, nor the complacent, guilty half-smile on the other. She kept up her nonchalant act of unassuming boredom, while the gears of her mind ran furiously. She clicked her teeth as she walked. The nerve of some ponies! How they could be so arrogant, so patronizing as to discuss her dear friend and her pain as if she were a sculpture in a museum to gawk at, pry into her life as if she were a story character, spread rumors about her and dare to assume she was behind some sort of criminal activity, to have the audacity, the nerve to refer to Rainbow Dash as a…
“And about time too. I was wondering if we were even going to get service.” They had arrived at the fitting room, the first mare now lazily browsing a rack of very expensive dresses.
Rarity hoped her eyes didn’t give away her desire to throttle the mare’s neck.
======================================================================
Twilight Sparkle's eyes danced as she pored over the crinkled piece if parchment laid out upon her desk – a quill, held deftly with its tip in her mouth, twitched back and forth as she concentrated on her personal list of potential witnesses. Most of the rather short list consisted of her friends and a few hospital staff, with the names of several Wonderbolts and the phrase ‘hotel cleaning staff’ scrawled across the bottom of the page next to a large, menacing question mark.
Twilight sighed. That was one big question mark. As much as her dedication and planning had brought her case together in the past week, she knew how weak it still was – especially with a distinct lack of very much physical evidence. She would have to lean heavily on witness testimony, and without more substantial witnesses, she feared her prosecution might sink fast under examination. She glanced back at the parchment, the series of inked-in names looked shaky at best, and as a convincing case, they seemed a house of cards, ready to topple at the whim of the slightest breeze. She lifted the quill into the air and began scrawling out a new name, only to scratch it out only halfway through, shaking her head and sighing again.
A knocking at the door offered her a welcome reprieve. She went to answer, swinging the door open with an easy flick of her head. “Oh! Hello, Rarity. How can I help you?”
The white unicorn pushed past her friend and into the library quickly. “Please, Twilight Sparkle. Do shut the door.”
Twilight complied, throwing her friend a dubious look in the process. “Rarity? Is something the matter?”
“Well, yes. I suppose you might say that, considering everything is the matter, something is very well the matter right now.”
Twilight blinked. “Um… you’re not making any sense…”
“Oh, I suppose not. No, certainly not. I wouldn’t be, would I? After all, I am just about at my wit’s end with all this… this cruelty, this awful behavior! Tell me, Twilight Sparkle, do you know what I just endured for the past hour?”
“No?” Twilight cautioned, backing away from the distraught unicorn as she paced the floor in the center of the library.
“The worst dress fitting session of my life. The absolute worst. And I should tell you, I’ve had bad ones. I’ve had customers who bragged about themselves, who just would not stop talking long enough for me to even think as I was trying different fabrics. I’ve had customers who were demanding, picky, indecisive, and all else you might imagine, but this one, oh, this one takes the cake. Did you know she spent the whole of her fitting, and then the whole of her nice, quiet little friend’s fitting, firing question after question at me?”
“Well that doesn’t sound so bad…”
“Not so bad?” Rarity turned, shock and a small amount of disbelief registering in her features. “Allow me to clarify, please, my dear Twilight. Not just any questions. Questions about Rainbow Dash, questions she had no right to be asking! I swear I’ve heard every single cockamamie rumor about her this town has come up with since she left for Cloudsdale and that Soarin’ was arrested.”
Twilight slowly nodded, finally feeling as if she were beginning to understand. “What sort of rumors?”
“Oh, the usual, far-fetched drivel. Rainbow Dash and Soarin’ tried to orchestrate a hostile takeover of the Wonderbolts, or Rainbow Dash and Soarin’ tried to rob Cloudsdale bank of a stash of diamonds and were both arrested. That is not what’s important, though. She put every single question to me as if she fully expected me to betray my dear friend’s trust, as if she didn’t care for Rainbow Dash’s feelings, nor mine, whatsoever. And what’s worse, for every harebrained speculation she put to question, she had more that were unsettlingly close to true. She even guessed once that Rainbow was in the hospital, if you can believe it. I brushed it off, though, I brushed it all off, dissuaded her from asking, told her the questions were ridiculous, but to no avail! I would have removed her from my store forcefully had I not thought it would reflect poorly upon my business.”
Twilight blinked a few times. Rarity had stopped, and now gazed expectantly up at her. The pale unicorn’s eyes shone a mixture of anger and, unless Twilight was mistaken, what seemed to be fear. “Uh, Rarity, don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit? I mean, this was just some mare, one pony who got a little curious and came to you for gossip, didn’t you say the whole town would be gossiping abut this?”
“Well, yes, of course, but I expected it after the news broke. I never dreamed such wild speculation would reach Rainbow Dash this early. I’m outraged. I can’t help it; this is despicable. Twilight, this mare had no tact, no courtesy, no common decency. She was rude, and awfully behaved, and impossible…”
“It was just one mare, Rarity. What are you really worried about?”
Rarity sighed and fell dramatically into a large, overstuffed couch. She rolled over and Twilight waited while she contemplated the ceiling, no answer forthcoming. Finally, Rarity looked back, the anger in her eyes broken. Her voice was quiet again when she spoke. “Do you remember what Rainbow Dash and Applejack told us last week, about her being a lesbian?”
Twilight was taken aback for only a brief instant. “Of course. That’s not something I’m likely to forget.”
“This mare today, she got me thinking about that.” Rarity rolled back over onto her back, sweeping a hoof through the air above her head as she spoke. “Twilight, we’re lucky that Equestria is such a welcoming and accepting place, but there are still some ponies, a good number of them, some of whom I know in Ponyville and Canterlot, who don’t think quite like you and I. When this story breaks, our dear Rainbow Dash is going to be absolutely hounded by ponies. I can’t even begin to imagine it, but if what I saw today is any indication, it’s only going to be worse once her story reaches the press. We simply must do something.”
Twilight paused, a frown deepening on her face before she shook her head sadly. “I don’t think there’s much of anything we can do right now, Rarity. We’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Rarity blanched, rolling over and fixing a shocked gaze on her friend. “You cannot be serious, Darling. Surely you do have a plan in mind?”
“I don’t know how ponies will react yet. And until I do, any plan I make will be useless. The best thing for it right now is to just focus on the trial. If the police have their way, we’ll be going to court in less than two weeks. We have to be ready by then, and that’s what I’m going to focus on.”
“What do we tell Rainbow Dash, then? How are we going to protect her when the time comes, what if her secret gets out with the press and every curious pony in Equestria prying into her life like that? Where will we be then?”
“Like I said, Rarity. That’s a situation we can’t prepare for without knowing more. Rainbow Dash has been in enough of a bad place recently. She’s made incredible progress this past week, but she’s still far from ready to face something like that. The trial has to be our main focus right now, Rarity. It just has to be.”
“Well, for her sake I hope you’re right, Twilight Sparkle.” Both mares fell silent, and the library descending into an eerie calm. The faint sound of rain pitter-pattering against the tree trunk rose up over the faint quiet. The two looked upward. A few droplets of water streaked a candle-lit windowpane above them. Twilight frowned.
“When did it start raining?”
“I haven’t the slightest. Was there a storm scheduled for today?”
“I don’t know, I only usually hear about it from,” Twilight hesitated, “… Rainbow Dash.”
For a while, the mares merely listened to the rain as it felt gently against the outside wall. The flickering, changing light of the candles cast long shadows against the wall and across rows of bookshelves. Rarity shivered slightly. “We’ve certainly got our work cut out for us.”
Twilight nodded, and the two were once again cast into mutual silence. Rarity settled back into the couch and Twilight returned to her writing desk, pondering once more her painfully short list of witnesses. She briefly considered pulling out her book of courtroom procedures to look through once more, but finally decided against it. She’d already read trough it twice, even taking detailed notes. So she resigned to stare at her barely-completed paper and reflect painfully on how much she had left to prepare. Twilight found herself envying her young assistant slightly. While she had so much to worry about, Spike was probably asleep already in his basket, not a care in the world. At least, she hoped he was. She had already found him restless and feverish in fitful bouts of sleeplessness twice in the days since she broke the news to him; the little dragon had taken it hard.
Her musings were interrupted as the sound of gentle rainfall suddenly became overwhelmed by a knocking at the door. Twilight spun around as Rarity sat up with a start. “Who could it be at this hour?”
“I don’t know. I’ll go see.” Twilight trotted to the door and swung it carefully open, peering around the edge into the drizzly night. A soaked, disheveled, and grave looking unicorn stallion stood on the walk. It took Twilight a few moments to recognize the sopping hat and drenched jacket. “Oh! Detective Bright Star, please come in!”
She ushered the officer in, and in a matter of minutes had a fire hissing and crackling in the gate. The detective nodded his thanks as he wrung out his hat, having hung his jacket to dry before the flames. Then he turned to the mares, their faces both awash with concern. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, ladies. But I arrived as soon as I could. I have news, and I’m afraid none of it is good.”
“What do you mean?” Twilight frowned.
The dancing light played upon the detective’s face, flickering across his brow as he flicked a plastered wet lock of ashen mane from his forehead. His eyes seemed distant, sunken and shrouded in shadow from the pallor cast by firelight. He suddenly looked very old, indeed. “There’s been a leak. We’re not fully aware of the specifics just yet, but it came out of the Cloudsdale Office. Probably some low-level intern or a night guard who got too cozy with a reporter. That’s not important, though. The important thing is everything, the reason for the arrest, the rape, and the upcoming trial is in the media’s hands because somepony had their lips too loose.”
Rarity and Twilight both stared at the stallion, too stunned for words, until finally Rarity managed a choking gasp. “Surely… you can’t be serious?”
“I’m afraid I am. Of course we’re going to try and dig out the source of this leak, but the damage is already done. We’ll have to formally charge Saorin’ with the crime tomorrow morning just to keep the media under control. You’ve seen how much attention his arrest has already garnered. Now imagine what it would be like if information on his crime arose without him being publicly charged. Our hoof has been forced.”
Twilight shook her head in disbelief. “Wait… how hasn’t he been charged already?”
“We can make the case private and keep details form the public if there’s a legitimate reason. We usually do it to protect key witnesses or victims. So he has been charged, we’ve just been keeping it under wraps. Until now, that is.”
Rarity appeared to blanch even in the dimly lit gloom. “So you mean the cat’s out of the bag now? And Rainbow Dash will just…”
The officer nodded gravely, cutting Rarity off. “News is already buzzing around Cloudsdale. By morning, Miss Dash’s name will be on the front page of every paper from here to Fillydelphia.”
Rarity appeared uneasy. “Twilight, could I have a word with you,” she cast a wary glance towards the stallion, “alone?”
Twilight nodded. “Please excuse us, detective.”
“Of course… of course.” He muttered, returning his gaze to the dying fire.
Rarity led her friend back, around the corner of a bookshelf before turning to her, fear and worry obvious in her gaze. “This is exactly what I was worried about. The press is going to have a field day, and where will that leave poor Rainbow Dash? What does this mean for us, for her, for her secret? How do you propose to protect her now?”
Twilight sighed. “I don’t know, Rarity. I need more time to think.”
“Well, you’d best think quickly, because time is exactly what we just ran out of.”
“Everything’s happening so fast. If only we had more time.”
“And just what are we going to tell Rainbow?”
Twilight answered quickly. “Nothing – at least not yet. She’s still too fragile right now. Something like this is the last thing she needs to hear.”
“Do you really think that’s wise?”
“I need to know what we’re up against. She’ll be safe in the hospital for the next few days. By then I’ll have a plan. You’ll see.”
“I do hope you will, Twilight Sparkle. I believe in you. We all do.”
“I’m not going to let anypony down.”
The sound of the stallion coughing reached them from around the shelf, and Rarity frowned in the darkness. “And another thing. I don’t think I much like this Bright Star character. He just shows up in the dead of night bearing bad news. It all seems very… suspicious.”
“Oh, come off it, Rarity. He’s just doing his job.”
A sudden flash of lightning momentarily bathed the library in ethereal, white light. Rarity and Twilight both cast their gazes back to the window. The rain streaked faster against the glass, and the howling, spraying sound only increased in tempo. Twilight Sparkle uttered a quiet, mirthless laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. It just seems fitting, doesn’t it? We’re already fighting a losing battle. It only makes sense that time is against us now as well.”
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Oh-ho-ho, it's on now.
The shitstorm has arrived, they should be happy they only have newspapers and not Television.
blacklikemoi.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/la_g_kobe01jr_600.jpg
also i wanted to strangle that bitch in the dress shop too... i don't expect them to be any more tactful about rape either
2644328
If I didn't know you as well as I do...
Still. Now that the shit is an inch from hitting the fan...
Go time, girls. Bring the bastard down. HARD.
~Skeeter The Lurker
You have no idea how many times I've called the Wonderbolts "cocksucking motherfucking cuntbucket cum-filled (n word here) assholes" while reading this story.
In any case...
I've got a solution.
Go read my story, "Trapped".
Then port the main character, Peter, into this story.
First line he'll say:
"There's nothing a little murder can't fix..."
OH geeze
2566155 sex with a person when they are intoxicated is rape, legally. Any time they are not in a mentally lucid enough position to give consent, regardless of whether they give it or not, it qualifies as rape. This is true of mentally ill people, people under the effects of a mentally draining disease and people who are not age of consent, also.
Don't care about the time everything is sett up, I care about the end result. Anyway, the media is a bitch
Oh blessed Hells, this is just piling up on the Mane 6 pretty damn fast. Rarity being suspicious of the detective, though... I dunno. Either way, at this point, I'll be keeping an eye on him myself, for sure. Just in case.
...Oh sonnuva- This is just perfect! Rainbow's rape now has me trusting almost nopony in this damn story! th09.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2012/337/5/a/fluttershy___angry_by_kooner_cz-d5mwq02.png
So on top of little actual evidence, a small amount of witnesses, this being a high profile case, and the media finding out because of some fool with loose lips, we also have to deal with ponies like the one Rarity had to deal with? I see only one acceptable solution for this:th05.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/f/2012/351/9/5/twilight__be_careful_with_black_magic__by_kairaanix-d5obh5s.png
2644929
And so, the legal shenanigans will begin...
We don't actually know what Equestria's laws regarding rape and consent are. The author will, in all probability, copy/paste our own, but saying definitively that that is the legal precedent at this point isn't accurate. We won't know until the trial chapters start.
This will be the key, the smoking gun, of the whole thing. The defense is going to argue that Dash was a fully consenting adult who made no attempts to dissuade Soarin's advances and indeed even encouraged them. Combine that with Soarin's probable reputation as a hard working and genuinely likable individual and you have a case that is soaked in reasonable doubt.
Was Dash impaired by alcohol? Yes. But so was Soarin. At that point the question becomes: if both parties are impaired and one makes sexual advances the other does not attempt to stop and actually encourages, is that considered sexual assault? If I were on the jury, at this point, I'd say no. With Dash's "acceptance" of Soarin's overtures, there's simply way too much reasonable doubt.
2646569 ah. I did not know the use of alcohol was involved on Soarin's part as well, as I was merely responding to the below comments on legality of rape. I have too much work right now to read the story
You are of course correct in that Equestrian laws on rape are potentially different from our own, but given that they live in a world with love spells, illusion spells, mental illness, dangerous potions that can cause two ponies to care nothing about the world outside of each other and alcohol I expect the rape laws are much the same for this matter. Possibly even more developed.
As for my verdict, given this new information I would be inclined to side with you as a juror. Neither party was in a sufficiently sober state of mind to give consent, but given Dash did not actively resist and did give consent to a similarly drunk Soarin', and reciprocated and escalated his actions, he could just as easily (and untruthfully) accuse her of rape as she him.
Everyone always suspects the crooked cop. Its almost like people think that these guys never do their jobs. I mean, crooked cops are a thing but more often than not, its just a guy trying to do his job. Cops get a lot of flak.
The same thing with soldiers being called heartless babykillers. We're not evil robots, we're just like you, except that we wear a different type of uniform to work.
Silver out!
So my lord, When is the next update? fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/082/9/b/princess_molestia_by_cuppatease-d4tplap.gif
When's the next one coming? Enjoying how it is turning. Poor soarin and rainbow dash though. Like them both together as lovers, not enemies
a
rape?
The shit just hit the fuck
The shit just hit the fan.
I wonder how the paparazzi actually act and what they think... do they feel bad about what they do and how they invade privacy? or are they blissfully unaware about how bad they are?
hmmm
Random internet learning adventure here I gooooooooo!!!
Permission to kill on site?