Apropos of the Sinners

by SpitFlame

Part I – Chapter VII – At Nova's Request

This so-called inn was really located in the outskirts of Ponyville. By the time Airglow reached the place the dull light of dusk had been vanquished, and the waxing moon glowed in the dark sky. A chilly wind picked up, swiping down the streets in torrents. An ordinary night.

Olva's gonna kill me for being out this late, thought Airglow glumly. But she set the thought aside; besides, this was going to be quick.

This inn was attractive to the eye, well kept, in good order, even with a backyard which grew flowers. The windows facing the street were open, and from them came a strident, unbroken stream of talk, of shouting, almost as though somepony were talking aloud or giving a speech; the voices were interrupted from time to time by the laughter of several other resonant voices.

Airglow entered through the main entrance, and the cook to whom she attended gave her a dubious look. Airglow asked if Nova Steel was present.

"He's in there," replied the cook, much to Airglow's surprise.

In the middle of the drawing room, which was papered with dark blue wallpaper and furnished neatly, though somewhat shabbily—that is, with a round table and a couch, a bronze clock under a glass cover, a narrow mirror in the space between the two windows, under a flat and creaking ceiling—sat Nova himself, who, along with several other ponies at the table, was striking his chest proudly and playing cards with them. Several piles of bits were dispersed next to the cards.

"That's another loss for you!" cried one of them, clearly drunk off his wits.

"Pah! That was just a single draw!" argued Nova, slamming his hoof on the table, causing the cards to jump. "You'll see..."

But he was interrupted when the cook came by and informed him that a very young mare, claiming to be his sister, was looking for him. He flung around and, catching sight of his sister, who was in the corner looking at him with almost glittering eyes, stood for a second as if dumbstruck. Then, saying, "A moment, gentlecolts," he rushed over to her with an obsequious smile and exclaimed, "My illustrious Airglow! You're just in time, just in time!"

"Good to see you, big brother," said Airglow amicably, and the two shared a quick hug.

"Look, you see those good-for-nothings down there? They're swindlers, sister. Swindlers to the bone; and I spit on them! Pah! So, anyhow, what is it?"

"I spoke with Misty Gem," said Airglow, meeting his gaze.

Nova blinked rapidly, as if coming to his senses.

"Re-ally? You spoke with Misty?" His face fell a little.

"She wants to... well, in short... she—" Airglow stammered, searching for the perfect way to phrase it.

"Wait here, little sister," hushed Nova. "We should discuss this outside."

He strode over to the card table where his friends were waiting for him (although "friends" is a bit of a stretch).

"Oh, how vexing this all is!" moaned Nova, stacking up his cards. "It's time for me to cut the ribbon, as they say."

"What?" said one of the ponies. "Who says that?"

"Never you mind that," Nova continued. "So, gentlecolts, how much do I owe?"

They muttered among themselves and started counting the bits. At last one spoke out, "Seven stacks, plus seven hundred... sixty-five... you're looking at eight ninety-five exactly."

"Excellent estimation as usual, gentlecolts," said Nova; and he leaned in, taking on quite a different tone. "I just happen to not be, eh, very liquid right now."

"As usual!" snapped the one next to him angrily. "What kind of pony can spend two thousand bits in a single night?"

"I admit it requires skill!" Nova began to laugh.

"Why do you play if can't pay, Nova?"

"Ah, I was sure I was going to win this time."

"Pfft! Will you pay or not?" they shouted at him.

"Come now, gentlecolts, show some finesse, I implore you," said Nova, swiping his hair back in a show of style. "Have I not lent each and every one of you bits? Haven't I never demanded to be paid back? Gentlecolts, this boundless strain you all give me—it consumes my heart like a heavy mist!"

But they had enough. The stallion from across the table, the gruffly-looking one, with a deep and ill-pronounced voice, said, "Listen here, Nova. You know what they call ponies who refuse to pay their debts?"

Nova gave him a sly and, as it were, vague look. "What do they call them? Actually, forget it. I don't need the answer. Time is marching, gentlecolts, and I must catch it before all goes dark. Such is the riddle of life: so much to do, so little time. Farewell!"

We swept the remaining bits he owed and stuffed it in his saddlebag, preparing to leave. But he didn't take more than two steps before the gruffly stallion jumped up, passing by the table, and through clenched teeth he cried in a sort of rush, "Thieves!"

Nova turned back, utterly baffled.

"That's what they call 'em! Thieves!"

"How dare you slander my good name!" cried Nova in extreme indignation, as though unable to contain himself.

The steaming stallion roared and rushed at him; but Nova responded with extreme precision. That is, he stepped back, cocked his hoof, and hurled it unexpectedly into the stallion's face. A loud blow, the crunching of bone, his face caved in and he fell to the ground, totally unconscious; blood began to spill from his mouth.

All the mares in the inn squeaked in fright.

"Madpony!" the cook from before yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Pah! I spit on it!" retorted Nova in threatening tones, and he at once made his way to the front door.

"You think this is over?" cried one of the others from the card table; every feature on his face was twitching.

"A mere trifle of life," replied Nova. "Besides, you all saw it! He came at me. He—at me. Pah, pah! Put the damages on my bill, good gentlecolts. Come, Airglow," he said quickly to her, exiting from the building.

Everypony gave Airglow a dirty look. She chuckled nervously, face turned crimson, right before vanishing from sight, tailing her brother.

"Ech! And I thought this was a decent establishment," remarked an elderly stallion, before taking down another shot of brandy.

* * *

It had occurred to Airglow that Nova was, in a word, stalling for time. Or perhaps not even that, but searching for a certain swiftness of mind before the fixed date to speak with their father on the day of the Summer Sun Celebration. For Nova gambling was not uncommon, but it looked like the phantom of impatience had possessed him wholly. He spoke without refrain, yet in short breaths, laughing and flashing his burning eyes.

They walked for a bit—really less than a minute—and came full stop under a solitary lamp by the roadside.

"So, little sister, your searching has been rewarded!" he declared with determination, setting his sights involuntarily upwards, as if he were preoccupied with another thought.

"Nova, I..." Airglow began choking. The corners of her lips quivered. "Everything'll be okay, you hear me? Everything's one huge misunderstanding. I talked to Misty, she says it's not your fault completely, that she still wants your friendship."

"Wait, Airglow, wait"— With a rapid gesture he put a hoof 'round her shoulders and pointed to the sky. "You see the stars, sister? What mesmerizing brilliance, what stars! I have a name for it: a white night! There are certain gears, these little variables, which exist for every pony, and in between every relationship: that which determines the fabric of reality. Ours is clean, smooth, functioning. Oh, I love you so much, little sister!"

"Gah! N-Nova..." Airglow struggled to breathe from his tight hug. "Nova, I think you're drunk again."

"Oho, whatever you say," he said, assuming a jovially pensive expression. "So, you spoke with Misty, and learned that she wants my friendship? Ah, I've come to terms with that already."

"Wait"— Airglow's face lit up —"you knew?"

"No, I didn't know. But why let the future surprise you, little sister? The future is determined; it's fixed, a constant, like the bottom of a whirlpool, a fate to be accepted on all terms. The future can't change the past, now can it?"

"I mean, maybe if you reinterpret the past..."

"An interesting thought, little sister. Look, here I am, with a handkerchief (a metaphorical one, that is); I can twist them into a rope in a minute, and braces besides, and why go on burdening this planet, dishonouring it with my vile presence? Then you came, and—good graces to Celestia—you, of all ponies, who I love more than anypony."

"But Nova, about Misty—"

"Yes, Misty Gem. Oh, what an angel she is, little sister! She deserves better than me. Yes, yes, my friendship. I dishonour her, I ruin a part of her life, and friendship, you say? So be it. Oh, Airglow, I have such a story, such a tale as is my own. It's hard to believe real life can contrive such tragedies, but, in a word, it's real. Fantastical, but real."

"You have your side of the story, and Misty has hers, which she told me. Maybe you can give me your way of looking at things."

What worried Airglow more than anything was that, incredible as it seemed, her brother appeared perfectly pleased with his supposedly worsening position.

"Look closely, Airglow," Nova started speaking somewhat sorrowfully, a total change to his demeanor just seconds ago, "I won't tell you my side of things now. You'll learn of it tomorrow, but not now. Now is the time for an unbound defiance of the current order. I seek a higher order, Airglow, darling. You won't understand everything now, but know this: not all the money is lost. I didn't spend it all."

Upon hearing this Airglow's face brightened, finally finding something new to latch onto.

"That's great, Nova. So there's an even bigger chance you can make up with Misty."

"No, little sister, no. The tides are high and frothing like clouds; there's no way to cross them at the moment. I squandered the ten thousand—is that so? No, I only squandered half. And our scumbag of a father owes me five thousand. Five and five—a sum total! I can only go so low as to reveal my face to Misty once I've proven that I'm not a thief. I'll pay her back, Airglow; as Princess Celestia is my witness, I'll redeem myself, I'll pay it back, every last bit, every copper, everything.

"And about that 'fatal day,' little sister... I was drunk, and there was that beast, oh, that sensual beast. But I was sobbing. I was sobbing then, kneeling to Misty's image, because I deserve all the suffering in the world. But—pah!—I said I would tell you tomorrow, not today."

And he looked down and sank into deep thought.

"Yes, I am a scoundrel, a thorough scoundrel!" he said suddenly, in a gloomy voice. "It doesn't matter whether I cried or not, I'm a scoundrel! Tell her I accept the name, if that's any comfort. Also, tell her that I accept her friendship, but only once I've paid everything; if she intends to save me somehow beforehand, she can forget it. Come, that's enough. Farewell. It's no use talking! It's not amusing. You go your way and I mine. And I don't want to see you again except as a last resort. Farewell, Airglow!"

He softly pressed Airglow on her chest, and still looking down, without raising his head, as though tearing himself away, turned rapidly towards town.

Airglow looked after him, unable to believe he would go away so abruptly.

"Stay, little sister, one more confession to you alone!" cried Nova, suddenly turning back. "You see right here—there's a terrible disgrace in store for me." And as he spoke he pulled out a coin pouch, filled to the brim with bits. "Two-fifty bits in total. Here."

"But why are you giving me that?" said Airglow in faint surprise.

"I need you to do me a real solid, Airglow. See, first take this. There. Now, you must make a delivery for me, Airglow dear, you must, my life depends on it!"

"Y-your life!" Airglow nearly shouted, fear in her voice.

"Shh! Shh! No, not my life, per se—that was mere hyperbole. No, I need you to deliver it to a young stallion for me."

"But Nova, I can't. It's really late right now, and I'd get in trouble, and—I mean, please don't mind my asking, but why haven't you made this delivery yourself?"

"I wouldn't be able to, they'd never let me in. I'd be chased out at once! And even if they let me, I can't bring myself down to it. How could I?"

"Nova?"

"I don't intend to dive into the nitty-gritty, but know that I did a pony some wrong, I brought him great misery, and my soul is tormented for such an act. I can never forgive myself. Well, and so, to reconcile I'm giving him two-fifty bits—from my own account, naturally. It's the only way I know how to pay. And so, go and... He very much lives in poverty, Airglow. He needs these bits, and his aunt is a real ragamuffin. Go, save the dear lad for me, beg forgiveness in my name."

"Okay, okay," said Airglow, still trying to array the scattering of her mind. She stared at the coin pouch with some a grey shadow over her face; these bits, which represented so much suffering in her family, and now she was about to deal in it, too. "Okay..." she said again in a low voice. "Where is he?"

"Near the end of Hay Avenue, fifth block to the left, a homely little abode, small and compressed to the point of picturesqueness. You can't miss it. So that's that, little sister. Thank you. Away!"

And he suddenly retreated, this time for real. Airglow, still a little shaken, made her way towards the assigned location.

"What's gotten into him?" she wondered wildly. "Nopony can seem to agree on anything anymore. But... no need to be a pessimist. I'll let things take their course, and everything'll get better. Hopefully..."

* * *

Airglow positively refused to believe that she was in any significant grief. That is, she perfectly entertained the thought in her head of what imminent grief there'd be if all went astray, but she would keep in mind that not all was lost, and, moreover, it was no good being a pessimist. She was, in many respects, a realist and an opportunist, and far more intelligent than ponies gave her credit.

A pessimist sees the glass as half empty, but an opportunist drinks the glass when given the... opportunity. No surprise there.

These fleeting details left her in quite the temporary stupor. What was everypony scheming? Now that, dear reader, is a question worth considering.

Say, dear reader, forgive such abrasive bluntness from a lowly narrator as myself, but what is your life philosophy? How do you—actually, nevermind. I would hate to break the flow of the story anymore than I have. We will get to these high and mighty questions later on in this story, sooner rather than later. Back to Airglow.

It was nearing ten o'clock. At last she found the house in Hay Avenue, a decrepit, lopsided little house, with only two windows looking out onto the street, and a barren little courtyard. Indeed, the house of this young stallion turned out to be something of a cottage.

Airglow was about to knock the iron door knocker when she was struck by the unusual silence behind the door. Yet she was sure this was the place. Like Nova said, "You can't miss it."

Either he's asleep, thought Airglow, or maybe he heard me coming, and he's waiting for me to open the door. Here goes the knock. And she knocked five quick times. An answer came, though not right away, but up to ten seconds after.

"Who are you?" somepony shouted in a loud and forcedly angry voice.

Airglow's legs went a little cold; she stood there for two seconds, was about to respond, but suddenly the door opened all the way, and as if by habit she stepped across the threshold. She found herself in a room that was more spacious than she imagined it would be, but extremely cluttered, with all kinds of, not only furniture, but junk and domestic chattels. There was a black stove. From the stove to the window on the left, across the entire room, a line was strung, on which a few pieces of rag were hanging. There were blankets to the right, some more dirty than others, and in the corner a single lamp that burned brightly.

There were many more things to describe, but I shall not bore the reader with such details. Just know that, for all intents and purposes, it was a challenge just to move from one end of the room to the other without bumping into something.

The door closed, revealing behind it a pegasus mare, very much middle-aged judging by the white streaks in her mane, with visible bags under her eyes. Obviously this was the same pony who shouted, "Who are you?" from behind the door, since there was no other female in the room. She rushed up to Airglow, stopping just half a meter away.

"What do you want, filly?" the mare demanded, though the meekness in both her eyes and posture was quite out of proportion with this show of aggressiveness.

"I'm looking for a young stallion, is he here?" asked Airglow steadily.

"Oh..." The mare's face softened up. "Yes, yes, I think I know who you're looking for. Did he do something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Airglow hurried to say, but paused. "I mean, I'm not sure exactly, I've never met him. I just want to give him something."

"Right there." And the mare, in a slow gesture, showed Airglow to a bed opposite of the stove. Not fully a bed, but only a single mattress placed square on the floor.

Indeed a young stallion—whose gaunt face more resembled a colt's—was seated half upright on the bed, with a thin pillow behind his back. His face was very thin and yellow, which contrasted unnaturally with his brown coat; his extremely sunken cheeks gave away his sickly condition. What struck Airglow was the look in his eyes—intensely inquisitive, and at the same time very haughty. His countenance as a whole expressed a sort of insolence, and at the same time—which was really weird—an immense cowardice. He looked like a pony who had been submissive for a long time, but had suddenly jumped up to try and assert himself. Or, another way of looking at it, like a pony who wanted to hit you but was all too afraid that you'd hit back.

"That there's Pyre Opus," said the mare. "I'm his aunt, Blue Opine."

"Who are you and what do you want with me?" he asked shrilly. In his voice could be heard wavering cracks, now spiteful, now timid, faltering, unable to sustain its tone.

"I'm... Airglow Sky..." said Airglow in reply, looking very attentively at him. "I'm here to... I mean, Nova Steel sent me."

Pyre muttered something incoherent and shifted uneasily in the bed.

After a few seconds Airglow realized he wasn't going to say anything, so she spoke up, "I'm his sister. He wanted me to give you this." And she presented to him the coin pouch, with two hundred fifty bits.

This immediately caught the attention of the aunt, who, with a burst of energy crossed the room and stood before Airglow.

"What's this?" she asked rapidly and, as it were, angrily but also fearfully. "What are you pulling, little lady?"

"It's not like that," said Airglow, realizing that she was not trusted and spoke with a certain sincere friendliness to remedy that fact. "My brother caused your, um, nephew here some trouble. This is just compensation, I think."

"You think?" said Pyre mockingly, and with a rude gesture he turned his head. "She doesn't know anything, auntie. You... what's your name again?" He looked at her.

"It's Airglow. Airglow Sk—"

"Leave me alone, Airglow. I don't want you here. I don't need your pity, it's an insult."

"An... insult?" Airglow cocked her head in confusion. "I'm not trying to insult you."

He kept silent. She sighed glumly.

"Listen," she said, "you must be very angry over whatever Nova did to you, and in effect you would be very angry at those associated with him, such as his siblings. But please know that my brother apologizes deeply, and that he's in great agony over it. That's why he asked me to deliver these bits to you... to help you... in your, um, situation."

"It's an insult," said Pyre again; but he could not get another word out before stifling a violent cough. Then he coughed four more times—"Hem! Hem! Hem! Hem!"—and he exhaled slowly. "I won't be insulted."

"He's dying," said the aunt.

Airglow was taken aback. "What?"

"Of consumption," said the aunt again. "This rascal coughs and coughs, and I'm forced to care for him. The parents hit the road not long ago."

"Auntie," said Pyre in a croaking voice, "may I ask your reason for telling her that?"

"What's it matter to you anyway?"

"You're insulting me, auntie, and I don't approve of it. Hem! Hem!"

The aunt shook her head in disapproval, and she heaved a great sigh.

"Can I at least know what Nova did to you?" asked Airglow with greater emphasis.

"Questions are an insult," retorted Pyre. "An insult."

"Quiet, you. Airglow, right? If you really want to know, your brother dragged him out of Ponyville's inn last week, dragged him out onto the streets and thrashed him in public."

"He what!" Airglow's eyes widened. "Why would Nova do that to him?"

"I said he's just like his father," said Pyre. "No difference, just like him."

"Really?"

"The truth entered him and crushed him into powder. Hem! But that doesn't matter. It's an insult, too."

"I swear to you," said Airglow as sternly as she could, "that I'll make my brother come before you and bow to the ground in forgiveness. If not, then... then... then he's no brother of mine! I swear to you."

"Don't bother!" coughed Pyre. "Unless you want to insult me in the process." And suddenly a new, much darker expression came to his face. "I don't just mean this particular instance is insulting. Everything is an insult. Life is an insult, directed right to your face. Nothing is ever fully justified, only maybe half justified. Yes, your swine of a brother thrashed me, publicly, but so what? So what if there are witnesses? You think I care about witnesses? They're all an insult, too. These words ponies tell you, these charitable nothings and false altruism—it's nothing but a horrible, horrible joke. How can anything be properly described, properly justified, if everything is relative, and anything can be interpreted in an infinite number of ways? What's evil, for example? Evil is just a word. Under the skin it's simple pain. For some mercy and pity is victory. You may sacrifice, you may endure, and when given the chance you'll—hem!—you'll forgive. But what if you leave the door open, and it turns out the object of your pity is irredeemable? I'm not responsible for my misdeeds, nor is my aunt. Will you say your sentimental nonsense to a dying pony? Hem! Hem! It's an insult. Everything is an insult!"

He stopped short with a catch in his throat. Every feature in his face was twitching and working; he looked extremely defiant. He was in a sort of frenzy.

"I think I understand it all now," said Airglow softly and sorrowfully. "You must be in so much pain, and nothing in your life has gone your way. Now I understand..." she repeated thoughtfully. "But just... know that my brother regrets his actions, and it's your call if you don't want his forgiveness. By the way, if you don't want these bits then that's alright with m—"

"No, no," said Pyre in a strange voice. He heaved himself up and snatched the pouch from her hooves. "There, you happy? Now go!"

The aunt simply shook her head and strode over to the other side of the room, as if looking for something to occupy her.

Airglow looked at Pyre for a long time. She opened her mouth to say something, but when none came, she settled on a halfhearted sigh.

Then, she bid the ponies a farewell and made her way out of the cottage. Night had deepened, and so she took to the sky and flew as fast as she could back to Golden Oak Library.

Just as expected, Olva berated her for coming home so late, and went on for nearly five minutes on who would take care of Twinkie if something were to happen to her. Airglow apologized profusely, saying it wouldn't happen again. This apparently satisfied Olva, who in turn apologized on her part, and kissed her on the cheeks.

Twinkie was already passed out on her bed. Airglow didn't want to wake her, so she went straight to her own room, and eventually she fell into an uncomfortable sleep, not exactly in anticipation for tomorrow.

Author's Note:

That's the end of Part I, folks.

I'll add one comment. While there is romance in this story, even quite a lot of it, there's no "romance" tag. This is because despite all the talk of love and marriage and sex peppered throughout this story, it's kept deliberately shallow and artificial. Yes, these characters talk about love, but they do so out of vanity, out of pride, and the "official" marriages are loveless. There's no romance here that's acted out through the heart, there's always some ulterior motive behind it. There are exceptions, however.

So, while the romance is there, it's a far cry from the genuine thing.

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

If the main OCs in this story were voiced, what would they sound like?

[SpitFlame]

9549329
Huh, not sure. Never really thought about it.