• Published 11th Jan 2018
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House of the Rising Sunflower - kudzuhaiku



Hard work is its own reward, and competence can be one's ultimate undoing.

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We're afraid to be alone... everypony got to have a home... isolation

A cart with multiple trays and serving dishes was wheeled in, parked next to the table, and then unloaded. The unicorn stallion wore a blue vest, with a light blue bow tie, and had a nametag just below his collar. On said tag was the name Sundown Shores, which Sundance knew to be a reference to the west coast. This unicorn, not yet perfect, happened to be a work in progress, and Sundance saw the dental retainer.

There was a second teapot, of which Gerard took particular interest. Why, the young griffon didn't even wait for it to be unloaded—he did it himself with a quick snatch of his talons—and then inhaled the fragrant vapours that curled up from the spout. Something, while not exactly wrong, wasn't wholly right, and Sundown Shores paused briefly while the young griffon almost hugged the filched teapot.

"It has a bit of cayenne in it, just how you like," Sundown Shores said to Gerard.

"You put that in tea?" asked Sundance.

"That's not tea," Sundown Shores said to Sundance.

"It is my tea," Gerard—who was now puffed out defensively—said to both adults. "This is bone broth. Delicious bone broth. With savoury herbs and cayenne pepper."

"Oh…" Sundance, his mouth a bit dry, swallowed and reminded himself that it was not his place to judge. "Well, just so long it keeps the hooliganism away, we'll call it tea."

Gerard's head tilted left, then right, left again, right once more, and then he focused his left red-gold eye upon Sundance. "That's kind of you to say. Others might not be so kind."

As he unloaded the cafeteria serving trays and dishes, Sundown Shores smiled, revealing his retainer. "It is all young Gerard has of his kind and culture. He is not a common griffon. Not long after he was brought here, we reunited him with the special broth drink his kind are known for. We even taught him how to prepare it. As it turns out, Gerard is an excellent cook… or one day will be if he maintains his interest in it."

"That's really neat, actually." Sundance, his cup held between his front hooves, raised it in salute to Gerard.

"He was ashamed to drink it for a while," Sundown Shores continued while Gerard squirmed. "Was worried that we ponies might judge him. Cared a bit too much of what others thought of him. You may wish to keep that in mind when you go home. There's bound to be a period of adjustment."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sundance replied.

Unwilling or perhaps unable to wait until everything was served, Gerard poured himself a cup of steaming brown liquid. It wasn't tea as Sundance knew it, but it had recognisable elements. Eager anticipation, a near infectious state of joy, the need to hurry up to get a cup, and all of the pleasurable sensory enjoyment. It had a similar ritual and a familiar outcome. And the joy… there was visible joy on the young griffon's face, and this ebullience could be seen in his body language, in his every movement. Sundance recognised it, he'd seen it before in his grandmother and his mother.

"Yuck juice," Flax said to nopony in particular.

Smirking, Pluck said, "You were told not to drink it—"

"Thought it was tea," the wee filly said. "Was gross. Yuck."

"Well"—Sundance inhaled until his lungs were full, to the point where they almost stung—"some ponies think tea is gross too. And they put way too much sugar in it to hide the taste."

After a moment, the donkey filly turned her head, stared at Sundance, and frowned. When she blinked, her long eyelashes threatened to tangle, and her expression could only be described as righteously indignant. What he'd said struck a nerve, there could be no doubt about it. There was such intelligence in her eyes, such understanding—and such annoyance. Why, she was truly peeved about the snide remark.

Across the table, Pluck began to chortle.

"Shu'p," Flax said to the earth pony colt without even looking at him. "Rude. Rude!"

"All of you are almost acting like a perfectly normal family." As he spoke, Sundown Shores put down the last serving dish, which was full of green leafy salad. "Gives me hope. We don't need normal, regular parents, we need snarky parents willing to take in snarky kids… because that's all we got here are snarky kids. Especially these four." Then, whilst he pointed at Silent Thunder, he added, "That one most of all. The Silent Snarker. The Snark in the Grass. He's my favourite. You have to keep your eyes on this kid. There isn't an actor in all of Applewood that has this kid's natural talent."

Something that was almost a smile crept over Silent Thunder's face.

It gave Sundance chills to witness it.

"All of you… enjoy yourselves. If you need assistance, there's a call button by the light switch. I wish all of you the best of luck. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave."

And with that, Sundown Shores hurried out of the room.


Lunch, whatever it was, just so happened to be covered by lids. Sundance had no idea if the lids had a name, but they were little domes that covered the plates so the food would stay warm. In a really fancy place, these lids were made of metal, like shiny steel, but here, in this place, they were made of plastic with a pebbly texture. It was exactly the sort of thing that thwarted ponies that didn't have magic, with slippery sloped sides. With magic, it would come right off, but Sundance lacked the sort of magic that allowed for this convenience. However, Gerard had hands with dextrous talon-fingers.

Perhaps the point was to give Gerard a chance to show off how useful he could be.

Sundance thought it was a stupid point to make.

Yet, he understood the point had to be made. Gerard was useful; he had hands, the ability to cook, and no doubt a variety of domestic skills. If he was useful enough, somepony might take a chance on him. Allowing him to show off his skills might even out the stacked odds against him. So would displaying his natural aptitude for foalcare. All these thoughts left Sundance in a conflicted state, which became even more muddled when he paused to wonder if this was intelligence or wisdom at work, and if he were smart or wise for entertaining this awareness.

"I don't want—"

"You are going to eat some salad, little lady," Gerard said before the filly could finish.

She inhaled, her cheeks puffed out, and her long ears twitched with revulsion.

Reaching over, Gerard pulled off the plate cover from Silent Thunder's food, and there was a gasp of pleasurable surprise from the pegasus colt. So intent was Sundance on observing Silent Thunder's face that he failed to notice what was for lunch. Meanwhile, Gerard removed the other plate covers and set them aside on the cart. Overcome with anticipation, Pluck rubbed his front hooves together whilst he licked his lips. It was just the sort of visceral reaction that one might expect from such an adventurous colt.

"Sandwich!" Flax shrieked.

Gerard froze in place, almost comically so, and with his head tilted to a completely vertical angle, with one eye pointed at the ceiling and the other at the table, the befuddled griffon stared right at the filly and said, "This is lasagna."

"Looks like sandwich," she said while recoiling in horror.

"This"—the patient griffon extended one talon-finger to point down at his own food—"is lasagna."

"Sandwich." Terrified, Flax banged her front hooves against the table and then butt-scooted away with surprising speed.

"Laa-saa-nya," Gerard said, carefully pronouncing each syllable.

"Sand-wich," Flax retorted as she scooted a bit too close to Sundance.

"Pluck, what is this?" The griffon demanded whilst he stabbed his talon-finger at his food.

"Sandwich," Flax said before the one-eyed colt could respond. "Has bread. And stuff in middle."

"Those are noodles." With a tilt of his head, Gerard reset his eyes to be horizontal once more. "Pasta. Flax, you've had lasagna before. You like it. This isn't a sandwich."

"Sees like a sandwich. Can't unsee." Again, the filly scooted across the tabletop, away from the dreaded lasagna sandwich. "Bread, noodle, all the same. Scary!"

Unable to say anything about the current predicament, Silent Thunder facehoofed.

"Is this why they call it the 'terrible twos'?" asked Pluck, who kept his surviving eye upon his steaming plate. "Ooh, cottage cheese. Yummy."

"Gross!" Flax retreated even more. "Curdled milk. Yucko."

"But you like cottage cheese—"

"No I don't, Booger-bird!"

"Oh yes you do!"

"But now it looks gross and I don't like it!"

Now, Gerard's feathers were ruffled. Figuratively and literally. While the griffon hadn't lost his cool, Sundance could see tell-tale signs that he was, at the very least, annoyed with Flax. But there was still kindness found in those strange red-gold eyes, and none of the griffon's many movements seemed particularly angry. The only thing that Sundance knew for certain was that Flax wasn't acting; this wasn't a ruse, she was genuinely afraid. Almost terrified, in fact, as revealed by the way that her tiny barrel heaved and her curious pupil response.

Like so many other things, Sundance knew that what he was about to do was a risk, and a terrible one at that. It was a daredevil stunt, one that might end badly. He waited patiently, and when Flax turned her full attention upon the offending lasagna once more, he saw his opportunity. With a smooth, swift rush of motion, he reached out, corralled her in his forelegs, lifted her up, pulled her close to him, and then embraced her. She cried out, a wordless sound, kicked a bit, squirmed, struggled, fidgeted, and then went very still.

The proverbial pin drop that happened in moments like this one might've been deafening.

She whined, sniffled, whined again, and then curled herself up into a tight ball while she pressed her head against Sundance's neck. Almost instinctively, Sundance slipped one foreleg beneath her to support her a little better, and then he leaned back in his chair so that he might enjoy the moment. Every snuffle was precious to him and he was grateful for this moment to gain her trust. As for the three boys across the table, each of them watched, waited, and wore different expressions.

"Oh, he's good," Pluck remarked with an air of casual calm.

With both eyes on his lasagna, Silent Thunder nodded.

"Are we friends now?" Sundance asked of the little filly he held.

There was no response of any sort, so Sundance once more turned his attention upon Gerard. "You're patient with her. Good and kind. I'm pointing this out, because you don't have to be. In fact, if I can be blunt and honest, I'd say that you got saddled as a foalsitter. You might not have to look after Pluck so much, but Thunder and Flax are little enough that they need constant attention."

This comment earned Sundance the silent ire of the pegasus colt.

"I don't mind." Half-shrugging, the griffon flexed his talons, and then reached up to smooth down neck feathers so ruffled that they revealed pink skin beneath.

"Really. You don't mind? I mean, I don't want to sound doubtful, but you've got to be near that age where you do mind a little."

"Sundance"—the scarlet-gold eyes had piercing intensity—"I don't mind. I've seen life end. Seen how blood pours out like sands from an hourglass and brings time to an end. After seeing that… after all that's happened, I want to see life continue. Life has good bits and bad bits, and even some awful bits… but it is still life. Every time I start to lose my patience, I remind myself that life is precious."

"This is all he talks about in therapy—"

"Don't make fun of it, Pluck."

"I wasn't going to make fun of it… for once." Hunched over, Pluck cast a sidelong glance at Gerard, and then his downcast eyes returned to his plate. Then, in a low whisper, he added, "Some of it is rubbing off on me, I think… and I hate it."

"You hate it? Why?"

"Because… life was easier when I didn't care about life." A sigh was heaved, and then Pluck squeezed his eyes shut. "Just shut up about it, alright? It's lunchtime. Not therapy time. Just let me do my own thing."

"Sure, Pluck… but we'll talk later."

"Oh, bother." Eyes now open, Pluck scowled. "Shoulda kept my mouth shut."

Sundance looked down and saw that Flax was looking up at him with wide amber eyes. There were little flakes of gold to be found in those eyes, and no doubt other hidden treasures could be found within those depths. She was calm now, her terror gone, but Sundance knew that this was just a temporary state, a bit of quiet between tempestuous storms. Gerard and Pluck continued to have their moment, but whatever exchange happened between them now was done in silence.

"Why don't you like salad?" Sundance asked Flax. "Don't like yucky greens?"

"Greens good." The filly's response was an almost inaudible whisper. "Salad has too many tastes. Too many. Too much."

"Oh, so you like the greens, but you don't like them together. Is that what you're saying?"

She made the bare minimum of effort to shrug and then said, "Yuh."

Lost in thought, Sundance found that he could relate. When his grandmother took him out for ice cream sundaes, he didn't like strawberry and chocolate syrup mixed together. Individually, they were delicious, and he loved them, but together, they overwhelmed his senses and he found them revolting. It wasn't until he was older that he developed a taste for the two when mixed together. What might his grandmother say right now? What words of wisdom might she have to offer? Knowing his grandmother… there was a good chance that she would just make Flax eat her greens. Some things in life demanded a simple and direct approach. You could only worry about so much, and because of that, you had to pick your battles.

"Do you want to come home with me, Flax?"

All of her muscles tensed and her eyes closed.

"It'll be nice, I promise. You'll have lots of other little ones to play with, and there will be a great big family with lots of grandmas and grandpas… a lot of my peasants are old, Flax. They're a bit kooky and odd, but they've lived so long without foals around that they truly love them. You'll get so much attention… you'll be loved and adored. That's the thing, Flax. Sometimes… well, sometimes we don't appreciate what we have until we don't have it. By doing without, we learn to be grateful for what we've been given. And the old coots in my barony, they went without foals for a long, long time. What I am trying to say is, if you come home with me, you'll be very precious to them."

"I don't know my mama," the filly murmured. "Can't 'member. Just gone."

"Do you feel bad that you want a new mom?" asked Sundance, who dared to fly in this strange new territory.

"Sometimes," she replied as her muscles bunched even tighter.

"That sounds really hard." Mindful of his words, and fearful that he might sound patronising somehow, in some way, Sundance wasn't sure of what to say. These skies were unknown to him, and the unknown posed the worst sort of danger. "Mothers want their foals to be happy." He reconsidered his words; only good mothers wanted their foals to be happy, and bad mothers didn't care. But he dared not speak these words aloud.

"Your mother would want you to be happy. Every mother wants to know that their precious foal is looked after, even if it is by another mom. That's how moms are." Well, good mothers, anyhow, he thought to himself. What had life done to him that he now thought this way? At some point, something had gone wrong, or he was exposed to something that changed him profoundly. The infallible goodness of motherhood was tarnished somewhere along the way.

What had life done to him?

He'd left his apartment. Yes, he'd left his apartment after he'd finished his project, and then he'd been exposed to the world. Not the world as seen in newspapers, or in movies, or found in books and print. And most certainly not the world just outside his window, where the elevated train passed every half-an-hour or so, rattling as it trundled along the tracks, spewing out black snowflakes that drifted down to the streets below. Fearful of his own realisations, he squeezed Flax a little tighter, as if to ward off any potential epiphanies that lurked in the boggy primordial mire of his subconscious.

His words seemed dishonest. Bitter. Even as he said something, he thought of something else. There were lurking caveats to the things he had to say, clauses that he had to clarify in his thoughts even if he didn't say them aloud. He could not help but wonder: did Princess Celestia feel this way? After all of the life that she'd seen… after all that she'd experienced. Her thoughts must read like a legal contract, with clauses, provisions, and stipulations—the mind of a bureaucrat in action.

The invisible circlet upon his brow grew a little heavier in the wearing.

Even worse, he felt bad because he'd grabbed her, as if he'd betrayed her trust somehow. But due to his own inexperience, he could think of no other way to establish this initial bit of trust. Things were fine now. She seemed happy enough and he was almost certain that if he tried to put her down, she would protest. Could a pony do the right thing for the wrong reasons? Or the wrong thing for the right reasons? Was this a matter of doing what was necessary for her own good—and as a baron, just how far did this line of reasoning extend into the lives of others? Almost buried by his own thoughts, he gave Flax a squeeze and hoped that the long flight home would give him the time he needed to sort all of this out.

"I don't know what to think," Pluck announced.

"Huh?" Startled into awareness, Sundance blinked a few times to clear his head. "I'm sorry?"

"The way you are with Flax. You seem like you actually care." Pluck's face darkened, and his eyes were full to brimming with something, perhaps frustration. "You hardly even know her. You just met her, in fact. But look at you. I get mad sometimes, because I can't tell when ponies actually care because they care or because it is their job to care. Sometimes, it seems like Flax is just a task to them. A chore. They can't possibly care as much about her as we do."

Beside Pluck, Gerard nodded as he poured red fruit punch into pink, blue, and yellow plastic tumblers. "Pluck talks about this all the time in therapy. The houseparents constantly have to assure him that they care… and he constantly questions their every action. Sometimes"—the griffon's eyes narrowed and he cast a furtive side-to-side glance around him—"their reaction gives them away. They care because it is their job to care. Maybe that's not a bad thing… they do care, after all. But Pluck is right. They don't care about her the way that we do. But maybe that's the point. We are supposed to care for each other, and be our own support group. Maybe everything is working out as intended."

"I hadn't thought of it that way." As he spoke, the young earth pony colt rubbed his chin.

"Sometimes, you are so single-minded about protecting Flax that you don't think at all."

"Thank you, Captain Barf Buzzard, for that astute observation."

"Not a problem, Captain Motormouth."

"What is the world coming to when the important thinking is left to a birdbrain?"

At this, Gerard froze. He held the pitcher in his left talons, slightly tilted, but not enough to pour. A rather deadpan expression took over his face, at the parts capable of said expression, which did not include his beak. Silent Thunder shook with mute laughter, but this ceased right away when the griffon turned his baleful stare upon him. Then the mute colt imitated the griffon's every movement, every action, his every expression. As it turned out, an equine could, in fact, make themselves appear to be quite avian, and Silent Thunder did so. After a prolonged silent exchange, Gerard gave up, rolled his eyes, and turned away with a huff of disgust.

"That's what's wrong with our group," Pluck remarked. "There's two birdbrains. Lemme tell you…" His words trailed off into a faint wheeze when he noticed both Gerard and Silent Thunder glaring glarefully in his general direction. "Right… sorry… three birdbrains now."

It took Sundance several long seconds before the joke detonated between his ears, and when it did… it took everything he had in him to maintain his solemn expression. He stroked Flax's long ears, wrapping his fetlock around their length, and he gave the one-eyed colt across the table a cool stare. For his part, Pluck seemed pretty cool under pressure, and that in and of itself was funny. There was an exaggerated expression of aggression on Silent Thunder's face and the silent colt glared daggers at the earth pony that sat on the far side of Gerard.

"I'm the only one with horse-sense," Pluck announced.

"Wait…" Gerard put the pitcher down, turned to face Pluck, and then held up one talon-finger as if to indicate that he planned to say more. "Does this mean that you accept Sundance as one of us now?"

All of Pluck's cool vanished in an eyeblink, and the colt was visibly startled. But he was quick to recover. Though still somewhat shaken by Gerard's words, he nodded, and then said, "Yeah, I guess I do. For now. But he's on probation. I stand by what I said in our final therapy session. There are no words that will sway me. Only actions."

"Fair enough," the griffon replied. "Let's eat."

Author's Note:

:trollestia: - We're afraid of everyone
Afraid of the sun
Isolation
The sun will never disappear
But the world may not have many years
Isolation


When next we meet... we ride the Redline Express to Ponyville.

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