An Unspoken Agreement

by Jarvy Jared

An Unspoken Agreement

The café was quiet that morning. They were seated at a small table outside overlooking the main street. On the street was an old stallion, a cane in his hoof, and he was crossing very slowly to the other side. He had nopony with him. It was just him and his cane. On the other side of the street there was nothing but another walkway, and it led up the hill past the big tree and down a bit to the graveyard.

The waiter had come and asked them what they wanted to drink. Rarity had arrived first, so she had asked for a refill on her tea. Twilight had come second, so she asked for a separate cup for herself. They had ordered different tastes this time.

While the waiter went to get the drinks, they sat at the table and watched the old stallion as he crossed. “He seems so frail,” Rarity commented. “Like the wind might knock him over.”

“And lonely, too,” Twilight said. “Do you… do you think anypony is there for him these days?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Maybe he has a filly of his own.”

“Or a colt.”

They did not discuss the possibility of a wife. There was no need to.

The waiter came back with Rarity’s tea. He explained to Twilight that hers was not ready yet, and would be in a few. Twilight thanked him, and then he left. They returned to watching the old stallion on the other side of the road.

“Do you think he has pets?” Twilight asked.

“If he does, I wonder what kind of pets they would be.”

“I think they’d be a parrot. Starswirl had one for the longest time.”

“Yes, and Princess Celestia has her Philomena.”

“Yes,” Twilight agreed. She was wishing she had her cup of tea with her, but unfortunately the waiter had yet to return. She wished this not because she was particularly thirsty, but because she felt that after uttering that word it would be wrong not to fill the space between it and the next word she said with something to drink.

So maybe she was thirsty.

Rarity didn’t have that problem, and so she took a sip of her own cup, savoring the taste. She’d added just a bit more sugar than usual to it this time around. It helped keep her spirits up.

The old stallion had stopped at the crosswalk. He was looking both ways.

“If he’s looking both ways, then he must be from Manehattan,” Twilight said.

“He might be,” Rarity said, “but I do know that not a lot of ponies from there like to look both ways.”

“They don’t?”

“No, they don’t; but maybe they just know the city so well, its movements, its rhythms, that they have no need to look, because they just know instinctively what to do next.”

Rarity paused. She had felt something creep into her voice just then. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she took another sip of her tea, hoping the sweeter taste would drown it out. Maybe she’d even almost forget it had ever creeped up.

It was very quiet in that café, then. They could hear from inside the sound of water running, of plates being washed, of food being prepared. They were not the only ones at the café, nor the only ones sitting outside at the tables, but the only other ponies there were a pair of brown earth ponies whom Twilight just barely recognized as old alumni of her School of Friendship, and a unicorn sleeping with her head buried in a newspaper whom Rarity knew as an old regular at the Boutique.

It was a miracle they remembered such things, they knew; but they had said none of this when they had sat down. The old stallion was simply far more fascinating.

“Sweetie Belle had a concert recently,” Rarity said, interrupting the silence. “She actually had a duet with Songbird Serenade’s daughter.”

“Really?” Twilight smiled. “You must have been so proud.”

“Oh, I was, I was. She’s come so far—it seems only yesterday she was a shy little filly who could barely get herself to sing even a simple lullaby. All while searching for her mark, too.”

“They grow up fast.”

“Yes, they do. So do all ponies, I suppose. Did you hear that Scootaloo just graduated from the Wonderbolt Academy?”

“I did. Rainbow recommended her for a fast-track into the Wonderbolts.”

“I figured that would happen. Still, I’m surprised that Scootaloo said no to that offer.”

“I’m not,” Twilight said. She had looked away from the stallion and was now looking past Rarity, at the slumbering unicorn whose head was in the newspaper. Rarity, meanwhile, continued to watch the stallion. “She’s outgrown her fan-filly stage, and most definitely is trying to forge her own path.”

“They say that when you’ve figured out that your idols are just ponies like yourself, then you’ve truly begun to grow.”

Twilight knew Shadow Spade said that in one of her author's novels that Rarity had indulged in reading, but she said nothing.

“But they do grow up so fast,” Rarity mused. “All of them. All of us.” She looked at Twilight, then away. “Sometimes it feels like it’s too fast.”

Twilight, again, said nothing.

The waiter came back, carrying in his magic the tea that Twilight had ordered. He asked if they were ready to order. They were not very hungry, either of them, so they each ordered something small: a buttered bagel for Twilight, and a blueberry muffin for Rarity. Two, actually. Normally she’d get only one, but things change.

Hearing the order made something in Twilight wrench itself free. She bit her tongue. She felt the feeling jump into her eyes and threaten to spill. She willed it back, hoped it would hide, hoped Rarity wouldn’t see—but she knew she would. There was no hiding.

Rarity, if she saw anything, said nothing about it. “Some things have stayed the same,” she continued to muse. “Discord, of course, is still himself. Big Mac is as taciturn as ever. Sweet Apple Acres…”

“Is still Sweet Apple Acres,” Twilight finished. She hadn’t meant to say anything, and the look in Rarity’s face was that of clear surprise. Twilight forced herself to drink her tea even though it was still hot. “And Sugarcube Corner still employs Pinkie Pie. And Pinkie’s… Well, she’s still Pinkie.”

The old stallion, satisfied that nopony was coming, began to cross the road.

“Fluttershy, Rainbow, Applejack, Pinkie… you… me.” Rarity counted them off. “Still friends after all this time.”

Twilight managed a grin. “You should know, we don’t shake easy.”

“No, of course we don’t.” And Rarity laughed. It was sweet poison to hear. “Some things change. But us? Not us.”

But they both knew that us meant the six of them, not the two of them. Or maybe it was the opposite way around. They did not say, and did not ask what she meant, did not ask one or the other to clarify.

They sipped their teas.

The waiter came back out soon with their orders and set them down before them. They began to eat, casting aside conversation for now. Meanwhile the old stallion was still crossing. He could have moved faster if he wanted—or maybe he couldn’t—it was for neither of them to say.

“But, things change.”

It was unclear who among them had said it. For all they knew, it could have been one of the other ponies there. But regardless, Rarity decided to answer, slowly and carefully. “Yes, they do. It’s inevitable.”

“I suppose,” Twilight said. “Or, I guess I know.”

“Yes.”

Twilight sipped her tea and was surprised that she was already done with her cup. She found herself looking back at the old stallion. “Do you think he knows?”

“That change is inevitable? I’d imagine that, at his age, he doesn’t just know; he feels it happening all the time.”

“It’s… sad,” Twilight said.

“Yes,” Rarity said. She was looking at Twilight, now. “Yes, it really is.”

And Twilight looked at Rarity. And they were looking at each other for a moment, and said nothing more to each other. Then the moment passed and they were not looking at each other anymore, and still they said nothing to each other.

They finished eating and drinking. The waiter came back and asked if they needed anything else. “Just the check,” Twilight said to him.

Rarity added, “Separate checks.”

They both knew that it hurt her to say it. It hurt Twilight just the same. But they didn’t say it out loud. When the waiter came back, he had followed through, and presented them with separate checks. They paid them in full, and then left the café, quiet as it was quiet.

And they still said nothing more to each other.

On the other side of the street, the old stallion had finished crossing. He was making his way up the walkway that led up to the hill past the big tree and down a bit to the graveyard.

Comments

[Jarvy Jared]

9681485
Thank you!

[Midnight Radiance]

Very nice story. Even though they didn't say it, I know the issue they were dancing around.

[Dashie04]

You definitely nailed the sad part, the reveal at the end only makes it that much greater.

Do we know which pony he was looking for? The world may never know.

[Greatazuredragon]

Very nice work.

[Jarvy Jared]

9681763
Thank you!
9681606
I'm glad that you thought that part was handled well. As for the old stallion, maybe it doesn't matter fully who he might be looking for.
9681606
Glad you enjoyed it, and even more, that you understood it!

[New Fossil Studios]

old alumni of her School of Friendship

That part just hit me, because it was then that I realized that this takes far into the future. I always like those stories that take place far into the future because what happens then is up to interpretation, and while they were talking about things changing, the one thing that came to mind was death. And the part at the end where the stallion was approaching the graveyard just reinforced that point.

One more thing that I like to applaud you for is the style of writing. It's like a river slowly passing by. So peaceful. It's a style of writing that I rarely see in a lot of stories, and I really do love it as it is a style that is drastically different style than what I implement in my own writing, which tends to be very high octane or have a back-crawling vibe. Every scene, something has to be happening for me. But in this style of writing, something is happening, and that much is clear to the reader, but it happens at such a gradual and peaceful pace that you can't help but just sigh in content.

All in all, a true masterpiece for the ages.

[The Devious Writer]

9681749
What reveal at the end, the graveyard? That was mentioned in the first paragraph.

[Jarvy Jared]

9681905

One more thing that I like to applaud you for is the style of writing. It's like a river slowly passing by.

I'm glad you found that style enjoyable! I've was trying to focus a little less on forcing the story forward and more on letting the language and rhythm of the prose itself tell its own story. I tried something similar with my other story, "The Pilgrimage," as well as "The Milliner on March Street."

I admit, however, that I was very much inspired by how Hemingway wrote his short stories, and I tried, perhaps to variable success, to emulate that here.

[Dashie04]

9682303
Well, me accidentally ignoring it made it better.

[Huk]

Interesting way to say things without using words... Nicely done.

Although... it makes me feel... sad

[Jarvy Jared]

9682743
I'm glad you found it impactful.

[Deep]

As usual, such a good job from you!

Few questions (hidden for spoilers):

1. Dumb question, but the issue being dodged is that Twi and Rarity have grown apart, right? Just want to make sure I'm not missing anything.

2. The old stallion walking toward the graveyard symbolizes that Twi and Rarity (and everyone) are inevitably approaching death, right?

[Jarvy Jared]

10486932
To the first point: yes, they've drifted apart, but in my view they had actually also broken up and were in the process of trying to escape the awkwardness of having once been together romantically. But I think it works as either a platonic or romantic break up.

To the second point: as Hemingway once said, Symbolism is in all that you see beyond you. So... take that stallion as you will.