Tremolo
It had started as a trot: a rather uncertain one. Internally, he'd been reeling, trying to reconcile what had just happened. The impossibility of it. His mind had been spinning in all directions, he couldn't seem to keep a thought focused for more than a few seconds, and flight had been right out because trying to fly when you were so shaken as to make instinct unreliable was for spectators to take bets on how long it would take before the crash-inflicted injuries healed. But his tent had been folded, the market was closed, and he still had to go home. So he'd trotted.
At least, it had started as a trot. It hadn't taken all that long for things to turn into more of a stagger.
Physically, he was the most powerful pegasus known to exist.
(He didn't know what he truly was. So many didn't know, and he would be among the first to learn.)
He could carry, push, and haul more than anypony of his own race, perhaps even more than a few earth ponies.
(He didn't know.)
It didn't seem to be helping him stay fully upright.
She asked me out.
She asked me out and I said...
There had been a time in Snowflake's life when he'd been asked out a lot. Some of the young mares had managed to keep their faces straight while they did it, and he'd quickly learned to not even bother turning up at the appointed time and place because none of them would actually be there -- at least, not where he could see them: an early one had given away her location as the camera's flash had captured his crestfallen expression. To ask out somepony whom nopony of sanity would ever date was seen as an activity with inherent amusement value, and they'd all felt he was so stupid as to keep being strung along on the faint hope of maybe it's real this time forever. But it hadn't taken long before he'd stopped listening. Before he'd stopped... trying.
(There had been a single time in his life when he had been the one doing the asking. He could remember every moment of it, and often had trouble in stopping.)
He didn't date. There were so many reasons for that, and some of them were writ large across the swollen muscles of his body. He was...
She asked me out.
She asked me out and I said...
...well, a word equivalent to yes. In Snowflake's way (and he acknowledged it fully, had even discussed it with two ponies), he was just as shy as his near-sister. But Fluttershy openly cowered and expertly hid, while Snowflake concealed most of his social reticence behind bluster. One near-generic syllable launched forth at different levels of volume and tone generally kept ponies from asking him to say anything else. In this case, it was a syllable which had indicated agreement. Except that...
He was staggering through some of Ponyville's smaller, currently-empty streets, heading towards his little house. Staggering under the weight of a burden he couldn't seem to carry. Shaken, inside and out, with his hooves hitting the cobblestones harder than they should have. He didn't notice the vibrations passing through tree branches, or the slight tremble in fence slats as he passed.
Snowflake had been asked out in secondary school, over and over again, and every one of the requests had been a lie. And to hear it from Applejack -- it had brought everything back. He'd felt his hooves scrabbling against the ground, trying not to just leave on the spot, fighting not to show the inner tide of betrayal from a mare he'd...
How do I feel about her?
He didn't know.
(Or perhaps he was just afraid to answer himself.)
She had asked him out, just as so many others had. And he'd known what would happen. The appointed time would come, he would show up, and the farmer wouldn't be there. Not in sight, although there was a chance for her to be within camera range. As supposed jests went... well, as he understood it from Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash was the prankster of the group, and this would have been too cruel for her. He never would have expected it from Applejack, not from a mare he... it had hurt, it had hurt all over again, he'd wanted nothing more than to fly away and never return --
-- and then she'd smiled at him.
The smile of a pony who couldn't lie.
She had asked him out on a date because...
...because she wants to go out on a date with me.
And he'd agreed to go.
She wants to go out with me.
She can't.
There had to be another motivation. He knew Fluttershy was worried about him, concerned about the relative lack of pony contact in his life, and that concern took two forms: friends and romance.
With friends... Snowflake had (temporary) employers. He wasn't around any given set of co-workers long enough to develop connections, and -- ponies tended to shy away from him. It would happen if he actually spoke, and it would still insist on taking place if he kept silent and perfectly still. He was just...
...he knew what he was.
(He didn't know.)
But with Fluttershy, it was just about a sibling bond: their mutual first friend had felt it would be good for the two of them to meet each other, and that pony had been right. He could be more open with Fluttershy than anypony in the world. Beyond that, there were the hours he spent training Scootaloo, providing what instruction he could in the techniques of pegasus magic (hard for him, with a field so far below average in strength, but it had become the one subject where she actually paid attention) and lending a hoof with her homework. It was a pair of bonds, more than he'd had outside of his family before leaving Las Pegasus. It was enough.
And for romance... well, with Fluttershy, it was a subject where each could be equally hypocritical with the other. Both felt a mate was required in the other's life: each knew they would spend their lives alone. And yet both kept trying. Because they loved each other enough to wish for that status to change -- while believing that for themselves, it never could.
It was possible that Fluttershy had asked one friend to do a favor for the other. It was so easy to visualize. The half-whispered request, that typical hesitation before any words emerged at all. Go out with Snowflake, just this once? Prove to him that he could have a date, and maybe then he would find enough courage to begin looking for the next...
(There were leaves dropping from trees now, and the next day would see multiple confused ponies spending long seconds wondering whether something had gone wrong with what they perceived as nature. One slightly hungover specimen would simply conclude he had slept through the entire Running.)
He staggered through Ponyville's streets, desperately searching for some degree of inner focus. Eventually, it internally took him back to where he almost always wound up. The old mantra. The words which, in many ways, had ultimately led to his mark.
Carry the burden.
Shift the weight.
Overcome.
For pegasus magic, Snowflake was below average: he always would be. But when it came to talent, with a mark that was strictly symbolic... there, he was strong. He possessed one of the rarest talents known, something nearly as scarce as a luck mark. And there were ways in which it was a subtle talent, right up until the moment he began openly using it.
A talent for determination meant the ability to reach goals. If Snowflake set his mind to something and it was even remotely possible for that desire to be achieved, he would get there. To place obstacles between Snowflake and what he wanted to do generally resulted in debris: for a living being to get in the way was, at best, ill-advised. He couldn't be stopped: in fact, there were times when he couldn't even be slowed down --
-- physically.
Snowflake's talent was for determination. But it only applied to physical goals and even then, it was subject to the ultimate limitations of his body. He couldn't achieve the impossible. He could push on further than just about anypony, exert himself at peak for greater periods -- but his strength would eventually run out and when it did, he would drop.
He couldn't make friends just by deciding that he would.
He couldn't get ponies to accept him simply through writing the words on a wishing sheet and hoping.
He couldn't find anypony who thought he was --
-- he was home.
The little brown body hopped up to him as he came through the door. Outsized paws pushed, and then the hare landed in the small of his back. Curled up, and promptly began to drift off into sleep.
Snowflake repressed most of the sigh. He still wasn't used to that. (Fluttershy had been thrilled to learn he'd found an animal companion while she'd been on the most recent mission, she'd been trying to pair him up with a cottage resident for two years...) It wasn't just Genova's presence against his spine, a burden which took no effort to carry. It was -- having someone waiting for him to come home.
He stepped carefully as he made his way into the little house, activating lighting devices as he went while keeping a very close eye on where he was going. Most of that regard wound up going straight down, because Genova was a wild hare, one who wasn't at all used to being indoors yet and -- well, it was possible that there would be things to step on.
Fluttershy had given him careful instruction on how to litter-train a lapine. Sadly, the process wasn't as quick as it was with cats, who often had to be shown the proper site once and would then just leave the localized cleanup to their pony. With a hare... he had to create a safe spot, a place where Genova knew she was protected, because she was a prey animal and there were few times of greater vulnerability than that one. Ideally, for a tame lapine, she would be kept in a small space around the safe zone for a few weeks, within barrier or cage. She could be removed from that place, played with, have her fur groomed, become accustomed to pony company -- but when she was set down again, she had to be returned to what she saw as safety. And after those weeks ended, the barrier was taken away. She could explore the house, hop, scamper and leap (Celestia's wings, could she leap) wherever she wished -- but she would always return to the litter box he'd placed in the safe zone.
But Genova was a wild hare. She hated being confined: she scratched and bit at any enclosures, would sometimes scream: he hadn't known a hare could scream until it had happened, and he'd immediately decided he never wanted to hear it again. And she'd decided that the safest place she could ever be was with him.
Not that she'd ever -- well, not on him. But she'd also decided that his bed was hers, and the last few days had seen Snowflake doing a lot of laundry.
He silently made his way through the little house, noted where the food had been eaten, reminded himself to look for any places where it had been hidden. Genova preferred some twigs in her diet, and also seemed to believe it was best to store a few for later, just in case the twigs stopped coming entirely. So far, this meant stuffing them between the cushions of his couch, followed by deciding she was hungry, discovering the twigs had dropped too far down for simple retrieval, and tearing up the fabric during her desperate attempt to correct for what couldn't be her error.
A small stack of books had been knocked over. Things he'd checked out of the library, mostly voluntarily. Some of it was for Fluttershy: veterinary studies, so he could more effectively substitute when missions pulled her away from the cottage. A little was his own preference: he had a minor passion for police and Guard procedurals. One volume was just about inevitable: for no reason he'd ever been able to identify, Twilight had a habit of recommending pegasus history texts to him, typically focusing on military maneuvers, and all he could ever do was fail to find anything interesting within them and eventually bring the things back. All of them had brown fur on the covers, and one had landed on a pellet. This was either going to make Twilight very unhappy or it would make Mrs. Bradel, who would do the book repair before he risked returning anything, somewhat richer. Mrs. Bradel was by far the safer option.
Snowflake had already decided he loved Genova. It had to be love, because there was no other reason for putting up with it.
Eventually, he reached his bathroom. (It took a second before he realized he'd been heading there all along.) Turned on that light, took three more hoofsteps forward, and looked in the mirror.
The mirror had been there when he'd moved in. He didn't use it all that often. He kept himself groomed, certainly: the nature of his occupation meant a need to get the sweat out of his coat, and the mirror helped him see where the rough spots were. (There were more of those than usual: he still had bandages from the battle which had brought Genova to him, and the injuries needed a little more time to fully heal.) But he didn't look at himself very much. He knew what he looked like. He knew what other ponies saw...
He was looking now, and so he saw what he believed he should have been seeing.
Certain muscles were swollen to the point of being grotesque, parodies of what pony musculature was supposed to be. Others came across as distorted because they'd more or less been shoved out of the way by other muscles. His body looked as if somepony who only knew of anatomy by rumor had attempted to draw a pegasus while staring through a warped fish-eye lens.
The wings... the remnants of the wings were well-shaped: the initial partial amputations hadn't been particularly well-executed (and he didn't blame his first friend: you could only ask a midwife to do so much in a true emergency and multiple physicians had told his parents that nothing could have been done to save them), but there had been follow-up surgeries. With all adult feathers in place, all he would ever have, it simply looked as if they had somehow been miniaturized. He never preened in public, for doing so inevitably exposed the scars.
Overdeveloped muscles and crippled wings: the second had led directly to the first. He'd been born without the protective tissue shells called caps over fragile wingbones, the pressures of the birth canal had done irreparable damage, and... he'd thought he'd found a means to fly anyway. He'd been right: his mark had manifested at the moment he'd truly taken off for the first time. But there had been a price for that.
He supposed his hooves were probably his best physical feature: it was rare, to have them be a different hue from the fur, and the gold was well-set. But his red of his eyes was harsh, repellent. His features seemed to have been rendered by a minotaur sculptor with a hunk of stone, a chisel, a picture of a pony, and all of five minutes to finish. He was, charitably, rough-hewn and for the many who didn't feel like being charitable, there were a lot of other terms to work with.
There was an earring (although it was mostly obscured by the bandages). He liked his earring: it was his one concession to a personal fashion. It matched his hooves. It was something most stallions wouldn't sport. It --
-- it gave ponies something to focus on when they had to look at him. Something other than his face and body and crippled wings.
I'm ugly.
It was a rather definitive statement, one which had a great deal of inner power behind the words. It also had the benefit of long practice.
He hadn't been all that appealing before the workouts had begun. They hadn't done anything to change the contours of his features, but he hadn't exactly helped himself either. He had tried to turn raw strength into flight and -- all he'd gained was flight. He had taken a damaged body and warped it to the point where nopony in Las Pegasus had accepted him as a true part of the flock. That had sent him to ground, and the herd had been equally rejecting.
There had been long nights where sleep had refused to come. Harsher hours in the nightscape after it finally had. Wondering if he'd made a mistake, while knowing there was no way to take it back.
Nopony wants to be with this.
The stunted wings vibrated as red eyes briefly closed, just before he forced himself to look into the mirror again. He felt Genova shifting in her sleep.
For Applejack to ask him out... the request had been honest: it couldn't be anything else. But the more he thought about it -- there had to be a reason. An excuse, some motivation behind the unexpected charity. Fluttershy was the most likely suspect, and all he had to do was ask her.
He was willing to play along for a while, if only because he knew Fluttershy wouldn't be trying to hurt him. She just didn't understand that having false hope was worse than having none. And now that he'd recognized what was going on, he would just -- get through it. And then he would go back to his life, the one where he had a near-sibling who truly cared about him, a cross between student and friend who occasionally listened to him, and a new-found hare who still needed litter training. It was enough.
It had to be enough.
It was all he could ever have.
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Author's Ultra-Public Note: this is not a standalone story. It's not only the first piece in the 'verse to be expressly set after Triptych, it builds on everything that came before. As such, there's an assumption built into this story: that people are at least somewhat familiar with the material.
I'm not asking new arrivals to read all of Triptych before they start on this one, because making a story of that word count into a mandatory opener is arguably an act of cruelty. Instead, I'm saying this directly: if you haven't read that one, don't read this one. Not only would you be getting major spoilers for everything else, but at best, you may wind up very confused and at worst, I was going to get several hundred downvotes for this ship anyway.
This one's for the veterans.
If you're volunteering to go become a veteran, I salute you.
Hmm it should be interesting to see where this goes though I am curious. Are we going to see any other stories dealing with the other elements in the aftermath of what happened in Triptych as well?
9429660
The first post Triptych story... And it's looking to be very much worth the read.
I've read everything you've posted, Estee, and I've loved it all. I'm with you to the end.
Incoherent noises of high-pitched excitement
It's already too real with just two chapters. Some of these themes hit close to home for me. I'm so excited to see how this develops, though. Congrats on breaking into the new post-triptych world officially. Appleflake ftw?
Woot!! So glad to see the lives of everypony after the events of your last great novel.
Never thought of this pairing so it should be an interesting read.
You know, I don't think I've ever seen a
Bulk BicepsSnowflake focused story before. Certainly nothing serious like this. We're in truly unexplored country now.This is looking good so far. :D
Thank you for writing, Estee. :)
9429660
Maybe you should put that in the description, or at the start of the first chapter? I have gone through all of Triptych, so that's not a problem for me, but I also didn't see this note until I'd read the first two chapters of this story.
You may want to make that first comment a top-mounted author's note for the first chapter.
In any case, you have set up one hell of a romantic drama. Eagerly looking forward to seeing how the S.S. Appleflake makes it through these choppy waters, especially since the real storm hasn't even hit yet.
And I do love how casually you dropped that "what they perceived as nature." Silly ponies.
9429671
This is AJ. If they feel the need to react badly, that is very likely to be their problem, as Pinkie's sisters could find you some rocks more likely to be swayed from their chosen path than AJ. Snowflake... well, we know what his mark means, don't we.
Really looking forward to this, wonderful start!
I feel bad for Snowflake, but while he was looking in the mirror, I couldn't help but think of this one Muppets song.
9430252
I would have gone with the S.S. Snowjack, but Appleflake works too. Also, that bit with the falling leaves reminded me of Pinkamena in Yakity Sax.
I'm thinking the real trouble will be from the vast Apple extended family.
Oooh, this is gonna be interesting. Or tragic...!
With that chapter title, I feel I would be remiss if I didn't post this: The Cars- Moving in Stereo/All Mixed Up
Ooh, a follow up to Triptych! I'm super excited! I'm sure that, no matter how long this story takes (possibly even because) this story will be incredible.
9430353
Good idea.
I'm so looking forwards to Fluttershy giving Applejack the 'If you break his heart' speech
9430487
Snowflake has been a major supporting character in Estee's ficverse since almost the beginning and he even has a couple stories that he stars in. Most of which was written before the official Bulk Biceps name was revealed on the show. In a sense Estee's Snowflake and the show's Bulk Biceps could be considered different characters because all they have in common is appearance and favorite word.
9429660
Should I post a link to the Triptych Recap I finished?
9429957
I don't know if it's as serious, buuuuut...
9431356
Ah I'd been meaning to find and read that, thanks. And it explained how he got his pet! Bonus.
Oof, those are some serious body image issues. Poor Snowflake.
9429679
Here, here!
I just saw this on the feature list, considered it for a very short while because it seemed like a very strange coincidence (as far as I know, the ship doesn't actually exist outside the continuum, which is rather impressive) and then dismissed it with an "eh, it's not like anyone but Estee can really pull it off, even if that's where the inspiration came from." Looks like someone just pulled a fast one on me. 👌
EDIT: Oh damn, this is an actual full-blown sequel to Triptych. In real life. Oh boy. Oooh boy. Let's get so hyped!
So excited to start seeing the fallout from Tryptich! I’m curious to see if much of the Twilight stuff will be touched on, with AJ teaching her how to sing and her self-Imposed deadline for telling the others what she learned about herself coming up soon. Regardless, though, I’m excited to see how Applejack and Snowflake navigate the dating world and the reactions to their attempts.
You know why I like this story? Because it's a tomorrow.
Tons of stories have big things happen that "will change everything" but rarely do we see any of it aside from the resolution chapter and then the story is over. Show me the fallout baby! Woo!
9429660
I'm not sure to what extent it's going to impact this story, but you might also want to include a link to Snowflake-Shoe Hare in the description.
:'c Poor Snowflake. I just wanna give him a hug...
According to Wikipedia, most rabbits love to cuddle. However, being burrowing animals, they find it frightening to be picked up.