Apropos of the Sinners

by SpitFlame

Part IV – Chapter III – Birthday Preparations

It was the night before Maxim Wingus's birthday, close to eight o'clock. Airglow came in late after running some errands, as well as aiding Misty Gem in reporting a break-in.

Yes, as events tend to take a turn for the worst when you least expect it, around this time Misty came home to find her house in complete shambles: pots smashed, tables and stools tipped over, books and scrolls spilled all over the floor from their shelves, carpet overturned—a fashionista's most dreadful nightmare! Misty was boiling over in indignation, and yet not many hours later she became used to the mess, after being informed that nothing important was stolen, that is, no jewellery or money or anything like that had been taken.

"But who would do this?" is what she said. "I don't have any enemies, do I? My mind is going in circles! This is the state of Equestria right now!" And so on.

At the present she was giving a statement to one of the investigators, and that is when Airglow departed, wishing her luck in her future endeavours, and headed back home.

Despite the appropriate essence of things having been set in place, not only in the physical formatting of the foyer but of the intended cool and relaxing atmosphere, Maxim was sitting at the kitchen table, cheek resting in hoof, not uttering a single word but merely nodding and listening with strained attention to Olva's outpourings, who had been seldom in such a happy and excited mood as she was now, that night. Maxim listened to her for a long time while hardly understanding a single word. She was in some state of extravagant pride over what she managed to accomplish, and how the library looked stunning, with all the little things, like the cut-up streamers, executed perfectly. It is always the little things that make you the happiest.

To speak more properly, the Golden Oak foyer was rendered luxurious, in the style of a Canterlot chalet, adorned on every side with flowers and leaves. There was even a little fence set-up in the back, under a plank-wood overhanging, which resembled a veranda. Even the back room felt more spacious and more stylishly appointed.

The theme of the conversation that had begun was not, it seemed, to Maxim's taste; Olva would not let go of all the "plans" she had for the party. Maxim, having been about to turn thirty, wanted his birthday to represent some symbol of maturity; after all, once you are thirty, there are no more excuses for immaturity. "Fun and games" is for the twenties crowd. The idea of a library was simple, in humble terms with the rest of Ponyville, a humble town, and this appealed to Maxim very much, because he came from the bigger cities and felt tainted by its influence. He sought humble simplicity in all its materialistic forms.

Airglow, closing the front door, went up to them to catch what they were saying.

"Mr. Wingus," said Olva in a strange fervour, seizing him by the arm, "be assured that I consider you the most noble and best of ponies, in spite of everything; be assured of that..."

Maxim stepped away from the table, for a moment restraining some ironic yet indignant grin; but, seeing Airglow come in, he let himself grin anyway.

"It's Airglow, right?" he said. "Nice place you have. Definitely wouldn't have guessed you were related to the likes of Bronze, or even Cluster."

"I get that a lot," said Airglow, smiling sheepishly.

"Airglow, practically everything is ready for tomorrow night," inserted Olva with ardent exclamations, "everything except the guest you said you were going to bring. Now, now, it isn't official, dear; if you have nopony in mind, then that still works, only we'll be on a surplus of drinks."

"Which wouldn't be a bad thing," remarked Maxim, who, upon noting the time, wandered to the front door. Something about his gaze was as if in distraction, and he was on the point of remarking that the current setting for the party would be woefully inadequate for the aristocratic lot of Canterlot, but he said nothing: he wished to show, not tell, the transformation of his progressive irony.

"So I guess you have nopony in mind?" Olva asked once more.

"No, no, I do," said Airglow pensively. "In fact, I'll go, uh, confirm it right now. See you soon!"

"B-but..." Olva tried to get her word in, with no success. Airglow went her way in quick strides, not wishing to stay and explain this sudden behaviour.

* * *

"Thank goodness it isn't my bedtime yet," said Airglow on her part, as she left Golden Oak and began wandering the streets of Ponyville. Then it hit her—"Wait, why do I even have a bedtime? I'm not ten anymore."

She put the thought aside for the more immediate matters. The ponies who would be attending Maixm's birthday were as followed: Maxim himself, her father and a friend of his, three of Maixm's friends who were from out of town, some acquaintances from the auction were apparently coming (I will add that Bronze and Spender Spent managed to make amends, ever since that incident from the beginning of the story), Olva and herself would be there, maybe one or two other ponies she was missing, and she could bring one other pony. But who?

Some options came to her in the form of formless ideas and imaginations. She recalled, for instance, that sick pony and his aunt to whom she was sent by Nova. His name—Pyre Opus—still left its morbid impression on Airglow, so that she still felt bad for him, wondering what they did with those two hundred-fifty bits. Her brother Nova was quite generous with his money, either for the better or worse.

After some minutes of wandering around, Airglow found her way to Hay Avenue, on the fifth block, where that lopsided house was located. She wanted to do something nice for somepony who probably wasn't used to receiving kindness. Or, perhaps, her motivation was not simply an act of kindness, but something else, something far more complex and (dare I say) self-centered than its subsequent explanations.

But who am I to call Airglow self-centered? Something firm and aware always seemed to settle in her eyes when speaking with other ponies; and at the moment, a certain steadfast, humble, but good and irrevocable resolution appeared in her.

When reaching the house she found, to her surprise, several ponies in orange vests, adorning small moon crest pins, who by the looks of it worked in renovation, moving in, out, and around the house, carrying with them pieces of furniture of all kinds. The glass panes of the windows were gone, too. Airglow stood there in front of the yard, examining the place, wondering whether or not this was the right address, when she heard that course, spiteful voice, "It's you! Why have you come?"

She turned around and saw Pyre Opus, walking with a slight hunch towards her, his neck wrapped in some ragged, blue scarf. He carried on his back a thin, worn-out saddlebag with the corners of a few papers peeping through. Judging the situation, Airglow decidedly came to the conclusion that he was on certain terms with these renovation ponies, and by the weary look on his face, that something unfortunate had transpired.

Upon seeing Airglow, a small vertical wrinkle came to his forehead, between his eyebrows, giving his dreary face a look of thoughtfulness concentrated upon itself, which was even almost severe at first glance. Airglow found it strange, too, that he was out here, and that he was apparently renovating at night.

"If you came back for the money, it isn't here anymore," he said heatedly. He moved his mouth to one side, twisting it, as it were.

"Is everything okay, Pyre?" asked Airglow, recalling his name.

The severity in him vanished, and his expression softened. "I... But what's it to you?" he retorted, not with anger, but almost timidly, as though confused by Airglow's show of concern.

"You're right, it's none of my business," replied Airglow, "though just so you know, I'm passing by. I'm looking for something."

"Hem! Really now?" he coughed. "Looking for what?"

She looked at what was once his house, then back to him. "For conversation, I guess. Anything, really."

There was a terrible resentment in his eyes, which refused to subside no matter how he composed himself. At the sight of Airglow he went pale, unable to deny this friendly display, which added to his disdain; in a show of haste he wandered right by her to his dismantled former house, went right up to one of the ponies working there, handed them those papers from his saddlebag, then came back; but he walked right by Airglow without a word, and started heading away, to who knows where, but paused and stood only a few dozen yards away for a while, deep in thought. A minute later he heard Airglow come up to him once more.

Unexpectedly, in his intervals of violent coughing, he said, "You want to know what? My aunt went away... She left and took all that was here."

"She left?" muttered Airglow, frowning. "And you weren't okay with that, were you?"

Pyre nodded, but in his pale smile, still twisted with spite, there suddenly flashed something cunning, as it were, though also pitiful. "It was her fault anyway," he said, "wanting to stay with a dying pony drove her away."

"Oh, that's right," said Airglow gloomily, almost in a whisper. "She told me you were dying."

"Hem! I have two weeks left. That's what the doctors tell me. I'm homeless now, you can see for yourself, but what does it matter in two weeks? In two weeks it'll all be over, with no prospects. Well...?"

"Right..." muttered Airglow, pawing the ground, with a thoughtful look on her face.

Pyre narrowed his eyes at her, but the silence was broken by a stream of violent coughing from him, which seemingly triggered a light bulb in Airglow.

"I have an idea," she suddenly said. She came up to him, speaking with extraordinary conviction, intending to persuade him of something. "Why don't you move in with me at the Golden Oak Library?"

"With... you?" he repeated, looking almost offended, squinting his left eye.

"Yeah, I live there. And..." She let out a seemingly defeated sigh, frowning even more now. "And I'm sorry about your circumstances. I can't save you from those two weeks, if that's really what the doctors said. But at least if you come to the library and stay there, it'll be easier for you to live among ponies and trees. I mean, it'll be a much nicer place."

The serious air of this offer somewhat surprised Pyre. He had a vague feeling that there was something else he ought to find out, something he ought to ask—at any rate, something more serious than moving into a library for all of two weeks. But anyway, it was dark, and he was having a hard time distinguishing her face very clearly.

"What difference would it make?" he said. "Hem! Why are you foisting 'trees' on me? Don't you know, once we die it's just that—we die—there's nothing special after that. What difference will it make whether I die inside a tree with ponies or not?"

"I... I agree," said Airglow glumly, "there's no point in worrying about two weeks. But"— she all but heaved herself, pressing a hoof to her chest —"greenery and clean air is bound to produce a good change, maybe even a physical change, maybe even just sleeping in a warm bed can help you. And maybe your dreams will change, too, and become lighter. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Ha! My dreams will change?" observed Pyre, laughing. "You talk like a materialist."

"Well," she replied, smiling, "I've always been a materialist."

Pyre was taken aback, unsure of how to respond to her. He looked at her more attentively now. The silence began to stretch, and eventually Airglow said, "Look, I only came to invite you to a birthday party. It's to a friend of my brother's, Cluster Tale." She looked up in thought for a second. "Or at least I think they're friends."

While at first the subject of a birthday party did not interest him in the slightest, the mention of Cluster's name had an immediate and profound effect on the sick pony. In his gaze there suddenly flashed a boundless hatred, in spite of his coughing and trembling, which was giving way to meaner and meaner passions.

"Cl-us-ter Tale will be there?" he exclaimed.

"Um..." Airglow looked at him.

Pyre remembered the first and only time he had ever spoken with Cluster. It was at a local gathering (the same one of which Liquor Alexander referenced before), and he was well aware of Cluster's status as Princess Celestia's student. He wanted to behave spitefully with Cluster, to plaster the wickedness of Canterlot high society for all to see, and to show how clever he could be in the face of such a distinguished pony. Pyre went to Cluster and began to expound upon him all of his troubles, his dislikes, his offences and degradations, his arguments and deconstructions of how ponies like Cluster live their lives. He concluded by saying that everything he did was meaningless, that the title of Princess Celestia's student held no weight—that life in its totality was meaningless. In short, he unleashed upon Cluster a rhetorical wave of nihilism. And, at the end of it all, Cluster raised an eyebrow, tilted his head to one side, and said, "If everything is meaningless, what's the point in complaining about it?" Pyre was crushed. Everypony in the room laughed at him. He trembled in rage just being reminded of that damn unicorn.

"What a horrid insult! Hem! Hem!" wheezed Pyre. "If Cluster Tale is going to this stupid party, then I'll go, too. Well, is he going?"

"Yeah, sure, of course!" Airglow took notice of his undertones and seized the opportunity. "I don't know if he'll come for sure, but if his sister and father will be there, there's a good chance he'll come, too. Not one hundred percent, but... yeah, he might come."

Technically this was not a lie, she reasoned, because there really was a probability of him showing up, however small it wound up being.

"It's tomorrow night," she added, smiling with encouragement, "at Golden Oak, starting some time around eight o'clock."

"So be it, so be it!" Pyre coughed his way to his exclamations. "I will come... hem!... I have only two weeks left to live, so what's there to lose? Literally nothing. Hem!"

And he left without a farewell. Airglow went her own way, back to Golden Oak, thinking, Well, it's better than nothing. I just wish Cluster was here. But where is he?

And Pyre, still all atremble in his rage, went inside to what was left of his house, found a few pieces of paper and a quill, and feverishly began writing something down.