Chapter 42
Astrid Anemone was a mare who had reached middle age but somehow defied the description. Nothing had greyed, her pelt was still a pleasing, pleasant, vibrant purple-blue that was almost the colour of brand-new denim, while her mane and tail were a dark, almost subdued shade of red. Glasses, red-rimmed, sat on her muzzle, and a large brass-bodied hearing aid was mounted to one ear. One leg—her right rear—was wrapped in a steel-framed brace that creaked and squeaked with every step.
Yet, even with her handicaps, this mare seemed somehow larger than life.
She was an archivist from the First Tribes, and was the area’s resident expert in earth pony magic. Copperquick had told her everything, and so had Sodalite. Every thought, every emotion, every feeling, even some detailed info into their respective living situations. She had been told everything that seemed even a tiny bit relevant and now, the attentive mare sat thinking.
Esmeralda was a bit fussy, and while she hadn’t quite entered into tantrum territory, it was obvious that she was heading there. It had been a long, long day for her, and Copperquick was proud at how well his daughter had done. Mighty Midge was doing his best to keep her quiet and so far, his luck held. For how much longer was anypony’s guess.
It was disconcerting to compare one’s daughter to a ticking time bomb.
“This is the rarest form of earth pony magic, and the one that is least understood,” Astrid began in a well-spoken, scholarly tone, the sort of voice one developed after years of educational lectures. “One earth pony by themselves isn’t very magical. Most of the time.” She paused, thoughtful, and her right hoof pressed against the edge of the folding picnic table.
“There are exceptions to be had. From what little is known about earth ponies, their magic typically takes one of three forms; exceptional strength, exceptional speed, and exceptional cogitation. What isn’t known by most is that the smartest ponies in Equestria are all earth ponies, and they are living equine calculators. Word has it that the Crown keeps the smartest of them under lock and key as assets. I can neither confirm nor deny these rumours, but they are just that, rumours.”
There was a faint groan of concern from Buttermilk; though she had a reaction, she said nothing.
“Maud Pie might be one of the strongest earth ponies alive. Like most earth ponies with exceptional strength, her magic works through the manipulation of gravity and inertia in localised areas. She can lift a boulder by making it feather light with a touch, toss it, and then, in mid-flight, manipulate its mass, momentum, and inertia. To simplify, she can toss a small rock and the impact will be that of a mountain falling from the sky if she so wills it.”
“I’m a pretty good rock chucker,” Sodalite said, “but nothing like that. I can’t seem to miss when I throw, though.”
“Given the magic that you’ve just displayed, I’m not surprised,” Astrid replied.
“So Mister Quick and I… we’re fast… and somehow, we were faster… together?” Sodalite glanced at Astrid, then at Copperquick, and then back at Astrid once more. “Would I be wrong if I guessed that Mister Quick and I manipulated gravity and physics in some way?”
“Short answer, yes.” Astrid offered a scholarly nod of confirmation. “And together, the both of you accomplished what you could not do on your own. As a group, earth ponies become stronger. It is an unseen effect, but it can be measured. Get enough of them in close proximity and together, they can perform tasks that would be otherwise impossible. No one quite understands how this works and it largely remains a mystery.”
Sodalite had all of the eagerness of an apt student. “Would a group of earth ponies be smarter together, if they were that type?”
“It has been theorised, yes.” Astrid leaned forward to study Sodalite and her piercing gaze locked onto the curious mare for several long seconds. “Really, you should be in school.”
“Things didn’t work out that way… and school never suited me. I could never sit still that long. Got bored. I like running. Gotta go fast.” Sodalite smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile. “Wasn’t smart enough to save myself from a bad situation. I just ask really good questions, I guess, but I never ask them when it would be smart to do so.”
Copperquick didn’t feel that smart either. His feather fetish had been his undoing. Even now, it was easy to rob him of his senses and Buttermilk would be quick to figure that out. For far too long, he had only sort of existed, with only a minimal plan for the future. And what a vague plan it had been. Now, he had very little plan at all, and the future felt rather bleak even as it felt exciting and hopeful. For every moment of promise, there seemed to be a half-dozen moments of soul-crushing despair. But he had a daughter, the sex was the best that it had ever been, and on the horizon, he had the promise of a career filled with intrinsic rewards.
Extending his foreleg, he hooked it around Buttermilk’s slender neck, pulled her close, and after bending his neck, he kissed her upon the top of her head. Perhaps tickled, she squirmed, squeaked, and twisting her body around beside him, she angled her head to look up at him.
“What was that for?” she asked, her eyes fairly glittering with curious excitement.
In response, he shrugged and replied, “Just because. I don’t know.”
“Well…” Buttermilk fluffed out a bit, made a faint warbling sound in the base of her throat, and her ears splayed out sideways. “You keep that up and you’ll see what happens. You gave me a case of the scalp-tingles and now all my feathers have this odd prickle about them.”
“Good.” He felt secure enough in their relationship to be a little antagonistic. With luck, Buttermilk would reciprocate and this would be ideal. A little mutual antagonism was like seasoning in a fine stew, pepper on creamy mashed potatoes, a splash of cream in a cup of strong tea.
“Rude.” Ears still splayed, Buttermilk squirmed a bit and turned away, her cheeks flushed with colour.
“We have a unique situation here… evidence of the divine.” Astrid leveled a deadpan stare upon Buttermilk for a moment and sat there, thoughtful, her brow furrowed with concentration.
“I don’t see anything divine about this,” Buttermilk said, which caused her mother to snort. “This is just magic. Magic happens.”
“All magic is divine.” Astrid’s brows furrowed a bit more. “Cutie marks. Manifestations of magic. All evidence of the divine. Goddess Celestia’s will—”
“I happen to know Princess Celestia,” Buttermilk said, interrupting. “She’s really quite put out by words like those.”
All of a sudden, Astrid Anemone looked as though she had chomped on a particularly lemony lemon. Her cheeks drew in tight against her teeth, her nostrils flared, and her lips became an almost knotted pucker. A low, throaty groan could be heard, and Astrid’s ears stood erect, rigid with outrage.
“It is heresy to claim to know the mind of the Goddess. Her will is mysterious. Unknowable.”
“Her will is to hide the biscotti so others don’t get into her strategic biscotti reserves,” Buttermilk countered. “There is no sin greater than plundering Princess Celestia’s secreted snacks.”
Biting his lip, Copperquick struggled to maintain his serious mien. It was a good thing he was unflappably Grittish. He made himself think about pleasant cups of tea, chartered accounting, the fine, fascinating details of international trade, the fundamental advantages of row houses, cities laid out in perfect grids, and every other thought that suffocated laughter.
Copperquick’s face had a pleasant, blank smile whilst his sense of humour was throttled to death in the deepest, darkest alleyways of his mind. For good measure, his mental accountant, the quiet, dominating voice that kept his mental books balanced, it kicked over a few dustbins to show it meant business. Then, clucking its tongue, it retreated back to the primordial cellar, the base of operations where it balanced the books and occasionally enjoyed a spot of tea with Copperquick’s common sense.
“This miracle”—Astrid paused and gave Buttermilk a pointed stare— “has brought two ponies with a common cause together. For the good of our tribe, the two of you should marry.”
“I’m sorry… what?” Sodalite was the first to respond.
Buttermilk sat in terrifying silence.
Copperquick cleared his throat, but found speaking to be quite impossible at the moment. A veritable army of chartered accountants emerged from his primordial cellar and went to work. What dark deeds they did, mostly acts of violent subtraction, monitoring every potential expenditure and going door to door to the row houses where his thoughts dwelled, they ended any reaction right on the spot. Passive-aggressive resistance was the Grittish way because it was cost-effective.
Sarcasm was the only infinite, self-replenishing resource in existence.
Shaking her head, Sodalite let out a nervous chuckle and then said, “Yeah… no.”
Astrid’s expression became as stony and frigid as the arctic tundra. “Your magic was meant to intermingle. This is more intimate than any act of mere sex. Your souls have touched one another. You are bonded. Destiny has brought you together for the greater good of our tribe. We’ve fallen on hard times, we earth ponies. We need miracles. If you conceived foals, they would be exceptional… blessed with divinity… magic beyond imagining.”
“What a load of codswallop!” Buttermilk blurted out.
“Beezy, have a little respect—”
“No, Moomy! This mare is preying on the insecure and the vulnerable with superstition! Vague promises… there’s no way of knowing if the foals will be magically gifted. This is monstrous! This… this is exactly why the First Tribes are so hated and despised! This… this vulgar manipulation is despicable! Disgusting!”
“Beezy!” Mighty Midge’s voice had a hard, flinty edge to it. “Beezy, I raised you better. Have some respect!”
“No!” Buttermilk slammed her hoof against the table, startling Esmeralda. “Daddums, you told me that respect is earned, never just given! Listen to you… going back on everything you taught me! Are you… are you trying to appease this mare? Kowtow to her somehow? You can’t be serious!”
“I’m not asking you to give up your relationship,” Astrid deadpanned. No trace of emotion could be seen nor heard. The mare’s expression had gone cold and there was an almost clinical air about her. Dire deadpan professionalism was the only thing she projected as she focused on Buttermilk. “This is bigger than any mere emotional attachment. Mister Quick and Miss Sodalite have something to offer the world, regardless of your bigoted views on the issue.”
“Bigoted?” Buttermilk sucked in a deep breath and her right eyelid began twitching. “How am I bigoted?”
“Well, to start with,” Astrid replied, “you were the one that tried to justify hatred of the first tribes just a moment ago. Yes, we’re disliked and hated for our faith. Over the years you strangers to our shores have used all manner of excuses to persecute us and kill us—”
“I’m no stranger to your shores, I was born here!”
“You are not First Tribes, but you live on our land… and brazenly condemn me for my faith.”
“Your faith is fine,” Buttermilk retorted, “but hiding behind your faith to commit such monstrous actions must be called out. You show up and right away, you make vague promises, assumptions about a pony that I know and care about, and I’m talking about Princess Celestia by the way, and you try to manipulate the lives of strangers that you know nothing about, interpreting ‘divinity’ in your own biased way. And then, when you’re called out on your absolute gibberish, you attempt to discredit me by calling me a bigot. How about you go and fuck off, you sodding salty twat!”
“Fuck off.” Esmeralda blinked a few times and made a face like she had tasted something that didn’t quite agree with her. “Twat salt?”
“Oh, bleeding Tartarus, that’s never going away,” Butter Fudge groaned while rubbing her face with her hoof. “Nice work, Beezy. Your daughter is now one of us.”
“Twat off, salt fuck!” Flinging her forelegs around, Esmeralda appeared as though she would throw a tantrum at any moment.
Shaking his head, Mighty Midge pulled the filly close and immediately tried to quiet her.
“Would sharing Mister Quick be so awful?” asked Astrid in a calm, unflappable deadpan.
Trembling, Buttermilk underwent a violent reaction. Every hair on her body stood out, every feather, and she shook so hard that her bun collapsed, causing her mane to spill down. She looked wild now, downright feral, and the first of the red spiderwebs appeared in her eyes as her face reddened. A droplet of sweat appeared just below her ear, glistened for a time, and then rolled down her pelt for a ways before being absorbed.
“I. Don’t. Share.”
“Beezy… you need to calm down—”
“No, Daddums… what if somepony told you to share Moomy for cockamamie reasons?”
Now there were two outraged pegasus ponies and Copperquick sensed that the situation was rapidly disintegrating into something truly unpleasant. It was easy to see exactly where Buttermilk got her temperament, as Mighty Midge suffered the same unpleasant transformation. Red-eyed, grinding his teeth, with every hair and feather standing out, Mighty Midge clutched Esmeralda to him in a fierce, overprotective manner while his burning stare focused on Astrid Anemone.
“Midgy, stop that!” Butter Fudge shook her head while rolling her eyes. “You know I can’t take you seriously when you’re like that. What’s got you so riled up? Why are you like this? I don’t get it.”
“I. Don’t. Share.” Mighty Midge’s words came out with just as much vehemence as his daughter’s.
“Midgy, I—”
“You know, Moomy, if you did something other than be a passive-aggressive doormat and actually talked to Daddums, you might learn something about how he and I are. It might put your mind at ease. But no, you won’t say a word because that would upset your carefully constructed world view, and you just have to suffer in silence, believing all the while that Daddums would cheat on you if you did so much as make a sodding bloody peep or upset him in some way!”
“What?” The word came out as an angry squawk and Mighty Midge’s head swiveled around to face his wife. “You think I’d do what?” Quivering with outrage, he squeezed Esmeralda to try and comfort himself. No other words seemed forthcoming as he bit down on his lower lip and chewed with savage effort.
Astrid let heave a sigh of defeat. “The fortunes of earth ponies sink ever-lower. This isn’t even about the First Tribes, but earth ponies as a whole. The two of you hold such promise… such a precious thing was witnessed today, surely we can all agree on that. It seems that miracles aren’t worth what they once were, and it is easy to cast them aside. When at last we collectively sink to the bottom, hindsight will allow us all to look back and see this for what it was, a missed opportunity.”
“Oi, what do you mean by that?” Butter Fudge asked.
“Moomy, don’t be a rube, it’s manipulation meant to draw you in.”
“Well, Beezy, it’s working. I want to know what she means by that.” Ignoring her daughter’s fierce gaze, Butter Fudge turned and gave Astrid a nod. “What do you mean by what you said. All that doom and gloom. I’m not sinking to the bottom. What are you going on about?”
“I think I’m done here,” Astrid replied. “If all is going well for you, then surely it must be so for all of us. No words of mine will convince you otherwise. Celebrate your good fortune while it lasts. I must be going.”
“No, wait, what are you going on about?” Butter Fudge craned her neck and her ears angled forwards.
“My portents of doom and gloom are just superstitious drivel. There’s no dark future, no end times, no need for every exceptional pony that can be mustered. There’s no necromantic goat lurking in the shadows, waiting to destroy everything we hold dear. And there’s certainly no need to seize upon precious miracles when they happen. Good day, all of you. I’ll be taking my leave.”
“No, really… I’d like to know—”
“Moomy, it’s codswallop. She’s a charlatan and right now she’s trying to emotionally compromise us because she didn’t get her way. It’s a con job, and nothing that she says has any basis in fact.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Astrid said to Buttermilk. “You’ve called me out. So, there’s no point staying here and wasting my breath. There’s nothing left to say.”
“Good riddance. Begone!”
Butter Fudge banged her hoof against the table’s edge. “Beezy!”
“Leave Beezy be, Fudgy.”
“Midgy?” Butter Fudge turned a hurt, confused stare upon her husband.
Copperquick, who felt that the center had not held, did his best to be pleasant even though the situation was far-beyond salvation. As was his way, he began with an apology: “I’m sorry.” Ears sagging, he did so again. “I’m dreadfully sorry that things didn’t work out as you had hoped. If I might speak for myself, I am thoroughly committed to Buttermilk. Even if she hadn’t have exploded the way she did, things would not have worked out. If I am to be perfectly blunt, I’m a freak with a feather fetish. I’m a sexual deviant.” After a bit of much-needed self-depreciation, he heaved a contented sigh.
Astrid’s ears fell, and the one with the hearing aid sagged down to the point where it rested against her cheek. “Yes, I understand. That’s the way of the world, today. We’re all so wrapped up in our own needs and desires that none of us put the needs of our tribe ahead of our own. For a time, that was our engine of survival, but we’ve abandoned that. I wish you both the best of luck, whatever your individual endeavours are. You both seem like fine ponies, I hope the coming tide doesn’t sweep you both away. Good day.”
With that, Astrid Anemone rose from her folding chair and began to gather her things, avoiding the eyes of others, and saying nothing else. Copperquick, feeling some strange sense of sadness, watched as Astrid readied to leave. Perhaps he was missing out on something, it was impossible to say. He had been part of a shared magic with another, and that on its own was pretty miraculous.
Whatever could have happened might have been more so, there was no way to tell.
“Astrid”—he tried to be as warm and sincere as possible—“I’m sorry.”
But the mare had nothing to say. She hurried off, limping, leg brace creaking and squeaking. He watched her go and some strange fear gripped him as he wondered what might have been. It wasn’t too late to change things, but he couldn’t see himself doing so. He was set on his course of action and was willing to face the future, come what may. Buttermilk was his future, for good or ill.
Astrid Anemone vanished into the crowd and he could not help but wonder if he would see her ever again.
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I'm with Copper; the feathers come first.
9241118
- Deviant.
Wait....all those phisical problems with Astrid. She is the result of a inbreed, right ?
Why must you make atagonistic figures have relatable reasons!? It makes me so tornnnn
9241122
- I'm backing away slowly, with no sudden moves.
very curious intercourse here, good job
I'm sure there are plenty of other ponies with the Speed Force for her to breed to make Filisecond a reality.
And all I am hearing is WAAARGH!
I was surprised by the name Astrid, since it isn't what you would call a pony name.
Anemone is a bit more normal for a pony though.
While Astrid probaly is right about the foals they could create and the need for exeptional ponies, eugenics probably isn't the way to go.
9241272
http://mlp.wikia.com/wiki/Mj%C3%B6lna
I dunno, there are some strange pony names out there.
Like Mjölna.
Or Pinkamena Diane Pie.
I'm not really seeing the contradiction.
*record scratch*
Woah, so Buttermilk is not a fan of being a part of a herd, or at least not one in which she'd have to share Copperquick.
Honestly, I was personally only assuming the possibility on account of the Weedverse's tendency for relationships to be herds, but I'm fine either way on this one.
9241272
I dunno. It could be significant.
9241394
It can also means a messenger of god.
I think Buttermilk came off way too strong. You can disagree vehemently without being so disagreeable, though, I can see her being possessive like this.
I do think consulting the princesses might be wise. They are right there. Equestria is at war. Exigent circumstances and whatnot. AI is a possibility as well.
The fun part about all of this is that Astrid is technically correct in everything she said.
9241394
You can also translate it more directly
As is the danish word for aesir, one of the races known as the norse gods.
Strid litterally means feud, conflict or battle
So yeah it could be relevant
Okay. While this mare has made some predictions that in future-set books we see came true, it still does not hand/paw/hoof-wave the fact that she just tried to play the "good of the tribe card" to take one earth pony (Copper) with a daughter, and shack him up with a conveniently magically resonant mare of the same tribe with similar circumstances, on the OFF-CHANCE that they'd foal out some exceptional Earthers...
I don't care if Sodalite and Copper would give rise to the next hundred Rockhoofs... wrong is wrong, and religion and cultures have played this same trick on adherents for centuries to manipulate them. I'm with Beezy on this (not just cuz I too have a feather fetish).
I don't care what the reasoning is, if somebody told me to share my wife for 'the good of the world' i'd go apeshit.
Astrid is technically correct here. The force of Destiny is a very real force in this universe.
She may have also made her argument in the worst possible manner.
Never mind that both of them participated in the race out of desperation to provide for their kids, they should immediately have more kids, with no suggestions as to how to provide for those.
And when Butter Fudge actually asked to know more, she'd already gone into "beleaguered faithful" mode, oh no woe is me, the persecuted, et al.
Regardless of anyone's opinion on her faith, she left a bad enough taste as a person.
I do, however, hope that Copper and Sodalite remain friends.
Wow... I’m kinda disappointed with all sides of the conversation.
Every good point brought up was so blunt that no one could consider the others side. And I can’t rightly blaim Copperquick for not speaking up sooner much as I might wish to...
Buttermilk reminds me so much of my wife in distractions like this. She didn’t even realize how antagonistic she’s coming off.
9241822
The issue with that is simply that religions left and right ARE wrong. When you are in a situation where you can demonstrably show something that is not religion anymore, it's science... Here we have things that ARE real, and warrant at least an investigation
9241272
Ugh... this hate for eugenics... eugenics only means trying to better the genetic pool of the human specie. There are bad ways, really bad ways and reasonable ways. The bad ways are the one without any scientific background [like the "let's make everyone blond and blue eyed as they are superior!"] the VERY bad way are the one where you start trying getting the bad way by sterilizing forcefully everyone that do not conform to you skewed baseline, the reasonable way is making sure no incredibly compromising illness gets carried on and [a little bit more controversial] if you have the scientific backing to address that making sure you get capable offspring... Obviously in the real world we don't have really reliable tech to do that properly, [but at least we have a fuckton of pregnancy diagnosis to avoid really bad mess up] . Here we have something that may or may not work out. The mare here is obviously too steeped in religious trappings but here they may not be the typical non sense of real world religions as there is a design behind a LOT of things...
Much plot. Such twist.
As happens often, such a dramatic shift of tone in this chapter. Much happened here and it is going to bring the awesome at some point.
9242000
Agreed. Yet this mare is adhering to a dogmatic and outdated view of her Princess, and to say anything against it is blasphemy or heresy... even if you were standing next to the Princess herself saying it in conversation with her.
The First Tribes play offhanded barbs and comments that could be racist, bigotted, or discriminatory; but the moment you say anything to them, or return fire, YOU are the bigot and oy vey ist mir, the presecution!
Least Gosling and his ma are decent folks, and show that not all the First Tribes ponies are professional victims
9242250
Yes they seems to be quite peculiar in their worship... And it always seems somewhat strange with the fact that Celestia [and Luna] IS there and relatively approachable she CAN clarify anything that happens and keeps existing for long time...
9242256
And yet, rather than actually approach and ask them as ponies, these fossil religious crackpot whackjobs utter the same circular logic rhetoric they learned from their parents, and their grandparents, etc ad nauseum.
Still, Astrid Anemone added another glimpse at how "out of touch" parts of rural Equestria can truly be. I mean, no mention of Luna, outright tries to silence Beezy with dogmatic claptrap when Beezy knows and talks with the Princess as a friend, hides behind her First Tribes status like a wall of riot shields and hurls bigotted statements at her detractors, and THEN has the cheek to claim that she is the victim when shots are fired back...
Yep, sounds like this 'un is a sheeple ready for the future Mrs. Blintz and her cult of personality approach ... ugh.
9242263
And yet... Celestia has ALWAYS been that approachable... So when has all this bull managed to stick?
9242287
Prolly back in her oft-hinted at but never fully explored "Sol Invictus" days. Back when she had to be a warmare AND source of continued life for her ponies. Though in PTSSFF (methinks), the image of her heavily armored with a warhammer was quite an impressive visual.
Kudzu, if you read this little convo - can this curious white fox of multiple tails request we see more of Celly in her armor swinging her hammer of solar wrath against Grogar's undead and corrupted abominations? Please?
9242000
I have no hate for modern eugenics as a whole
But this is Equestria there are no advanced science to back the idea.
This is one pony deciding who should breed, disregarding everything else because SHE thinks it is a good idea.
She is in no position to decide what is the greater good for earthponies (she never mentions the other tribes).
9242378
On the other hand they have magic... Simply accepting that is out of the question. Investigating the basis, may not be so stupid...
I think that Buttermilk went a bit overboard there. What is the harm in asking Celestia? What good is a living thousands year old god if you don’t ask for advice?
9242530
One simply does not inquire directly from the mouth of the Eternal Sunraiser! Le gasp!
9243078
Yeah. She might tell her story about hot, buttery ponies again.
Go Buttermilk, though you were a tad aggressive I'm totally with you on this.
9241564
Yo if someone told me to let someone bang/marry my partner for vague religious reasons while simultaneously putting words in the mouth of a good friend, then called me a bigot when I didn't react favourably (in front of my parents and moments after I was worried said partner was going to die of exhaustion) I might not hold an appropriate level of tact either
9241272
We Orkz iz made for fightin' an winnin! If ya paint da ponee red, it goes fast! WAAAAAAAGH!cs8.pikabu.ru/post_img/big/2017/03/22/0/1490130132199992044.jpg