Vitium

by Casketbase77

“Broodmother oft’ said...”

Zecora rubbed her eyes and put a tea kettle on the flame usually reserved for her cauldron. It was the middle of the night and while she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, living in the Everfree had its share of quirks. One of them was tolerating the occasional night when packs of Timberwolves filled the forest with howls. Zecora hummed and listened to the din as she waited for her tea to boil. She was a calm soul who believed nothing in nature was needlessly cruel or disturbing. If the forest had seen fit to wake her at this late hour, its reason for doing so would become clear eventually. All Zecora had to do was keep listening.

Sucking wind while blinded by fear and darkness, Vitty broke into the clearing and hit the ground in a heap. Her limbs were burning too much from exhaustion to carry her any farther and the sounds of the pursuing pack were everywhere, bouncing off the towering trees and ringing in Vitty’s pounding ears. Vitty had nothing left. She couldn’t run on tired legs. She couldn’t see through tear-filled eyes. And her coat - her awful, loathsome white coat tinted slightly blue in the moonlight - made hiding from her pursuers impossible. The timberwolves were going to catch her. They were going to eat her. Vitty’s miserably short life would end here in these woods with her trembling like a snow rabbit, alone and afraid. This world, this skin into which she’d been born, all of it was so sadistically, monstrously unfair.

Barely hearing the kettle’s whistle over the now deafening barks of Timberwolves, Zecora gingerly picked it up off the burner. The magic flame underneath promptly extinguished itself, plunging the cottage into complete darkness. Zecora could no longer see the teacup she meant to pour the water into. Chuckling softly at the universe’s ironic sense of humor, Zecora flicked on a lamp.

For a second, Vitty couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing: It seemed the clearing in which she’d collapsed wasn’t empty. Fewer than twenty feet away from her was a house with a single light issuing from its side window, piercing the night like a beacon. Vitty’s mind caught up to her body and she realized she’d somehow managed to stand up. Vitty knew by the predatory yellow eyes all around that the Timberwolves were nearly upon her, but for a moment her world slowed and she was spared a single second to rear up and look bleary-eyed at the yawning, starless sky. If Vitty believed in any Gods, she would have offered a hasty prayer that this cottage’s occupant would have enough pity in their heart to let her in. But she didn’t. So instead she used the last of her strength to hurl herself at the door.

Zecora flinched at the sudden thump outside and swallowed, partially to recompose herself and partially to finish her current sip of tea. Timberwolves didn’t thump walls, which meant it was something else that wanted in. She laid a hoof on the door, well aware that the powerful warding magic that protected her home would deactivate the moment she opened it. Why risk it? This was the Everfree Forest after all; even taking Timberwolves out of the equation, the odds of something friendly being outside were astronomically low. Still, Zecora bravely turned the knob. This was why she’d been awakened. To do this. The will of the wilds was immutable, and Zecora’s faith needed to be stronger than her fear. She snorted resolutely, then flung open the door.

Vitty stared up at the creature in the cottage entryway. It was equine, like she was, but much taller, with stripes all over its body and heavy jewelry adorning its ears and neck. The creature’s appearance might have intimidated Vitty, but its eyes... they were soft, sagely, and somehow not at all disgusted at the sight of her.

Zecora stared down at the creature on her doorstep. It seemed to be some sort of Equestrian half breed, part Unicorn and part something Zecora couldn’t identify. What Zecora could identify however was an obvious birth defect: the hybrid’s colorless fur and red, wavering eyes clearly marked her as an albino. And a terrified one at that. Zecora reached out to stroke the hybrid’s tear-stained cheek compassionately, but the howl of a too-close Timberwolf instead spurred Zecora to quickly pull her guest inside, slamming the door and reactivating her home's shield against the night.

---

“You’re an Umbrum? I’m impressed. // You’re tame, so I would not have guessed.”

Vitty nodded and pulled the blanket Zecora had given her tighter around herself.

“Umbrum with pony blood, that’s what Broodmother oft’ said. Years back, she fancied mixing up unicorn genes with her own would net her a strong, mixed race fighter. So she... she ‘guised as an Equestrian for a bit, got seeded, then went back to whelp me ‘moung the rest o’ the herd.” Vitty had a strange, thick accent she’d no doubt gotten from being raised exclusively among her purebred kin. Not that Zecora had any room to criticize someone's irregular speech patterns. The zebra took a swig of her now tepid tea before speaking again.

“Forgive me creature of the night, // Your fur, it seems a little… light.”

Vitty laughed miserably. “Gettin’ right to the guardgoyle in the room, eh? Yeah, I popped out o’ Broodmother lookin’ like this and contrary to ‘er hopes, these colors never got any darker as I grew. Broodmother oft’ said she was never puttin’ Unicorn batter in an Umbrum oven ever again.”

“I do admit your type is rare // with reddened eyes and snowy hair. They do exist though; here in town // Bulk Biceps can be seen around.”

“An’ I’m sure he gets along fine, whoever he is,” Vitty replied dreamily. “But things’re different ‘moung us shadow beasties. I can’t sneak ‘round in the dark looking like I do. And muh peepers...” she tapped a bleach-colored hoof to the side of her head tenderly, “...they got no night vision. I’m the worst o’ both worlds, I am. Umbrum lackin’ shadow powers, Unicorn lackin’ light magic. Definitely not fit for someday leadin‘ a herd. Broodmother oft’ said she might as well’ve bred herself a mule.”

Shame and resignation were permeating Vitty’s brogue, so Zecora made sure her response was firm and compassionate:

“Nature’s will is vast and wise. // Its plans elude our mortal eyes. A burden one is saddled with // might one day prove to be a gift.”

“Your rhymes’re slippin’ a bit,” Vitty noted. “Look, you seem like a nice mare and I’m humbly grateful for you ‘viting me in, but now’s when my hoof comes down: You don’t know what I’ve lived through, so you shouldn’t be callin’ my looks a blessing in disguise. If I was born dark like I was supposed to be, I wouldn’t’ve been named after the Umbrum word for ‘mistake.’ I wouldn’t’ve been outta place and miserable ‘nuff to run away from the herd. And I certainly wouldn’t’ve been easy prey for those brayin’ wood wolves within minutes of leavin’.”

When Zecora didn’t apologize, the hybrid’s anger became palpable. “Where do you get off, eh? How’re you so certain my looks’re anythin’ more than a cruel accident of uncarin’ fate?”

Zecora put her cup down.

“Because they led you to me.”

Vitty's tired red eyes went to the floor. She waited for the zebra to continue speaking, to add something to her statement that would turn it into another folksy, easily digestible couplet. But nothing else came. Zecora remained strategically silent, and so did the forest around them. Wait, when had the howling of the outside Timberwolves stopped? Vitty wasn’t sure. Vitty wasn’t sure about anything except that she’d snapped at the only creature who’d ever shown her unconditional kindness. Beneath the blanket, Vitty wrapped her forelegs around herself bitterly. Mistake, that was what she was. Vitium Loquente, “Mistake With A Mouth.”

After what felt like a long time, Zecora stood up.

“We’re too far past the midnight hour, // for heavy talks to not turn sour. I'm off to bed, but as I go // there’s one last thing I want to know: Come morning when I stretch and yawn, // will I find you here or gone?”

Astounded by the realization she wasn’t getting kicked out for her belligerence, Vitty bit her lip and looked around the cottage.

When she’d run away from the herd, it hadn’t been with any kind of plan. She just couldn’t take another day of shuffling aimlessly in the ranks of other creatures who didn’t care whether she lived, died, or disappeared. And though Vitty’s initial experience with this strange new land’s wildlife had definitely been a traumatic one, it was true that all her troubles had somehow culminated in her sitting here, safe on this couch with a warm afghan blanket on her shoulders.

“Broodmother oft’ said…” Vitty trailed off before wrinkling her pale nose defiantly. “Oh, who anymore cares what Broodmother oft’ said. I’m not liable to see her again ‘less she sends out for me or I go back on my own. And neither’s fit to happen. I’m an untethered Umbrum with nopony in the world, so.... “ Vitty sniffled. “So I’ve nowhere else to go. If you’d have me, I’d wanna stay for awhile. Sure as the night’s long, I’d very much wanna stay.”

Zecora hid the thinnest of smiles and gave the courageous hybrid a maternal pat on the head. This forest had seen fit to bring the two of them together, and why it had chosen to do so would become clear eventually. All Zecora had to do was keep listening. And perhaps given enough time, she might even teach Vitty to do the same.

Author's Note:

I reckon that Zebra spirituality is a bit different and than the beliefs of native Equestrians. But some wisdom transcends species barriers, and that was the theme I was trying to touch on in this little vignette.

Vitty's story continues in the Snippet Series Season One Finale!

EThe Snippet Series Season 1 Finale

• MLP: FiM
• Slice of Life

After fifteen fics spanning many mini-arcs, several storylines converge for a cooperative payoff.

• Rainbow Dash
• OC
• Lightning Dust
• Flurry Heart

Casketbase77 · 6k words  ·  86  1 · 1.7k views

Comments

[Nitro Indigo]

Why does Vitty look like a Monster Hunter kirin?

[Casketbase77]

10116564
Cuz a ponified Monster Hunter Kirin is technically what the original picture is. But there’s not much potential for a complete story there, so I tried coming up with a different explanation for why a sobbing, pony-esque creature would have gotten itself lost in a menacing forest.

Vitty was the result.

[Kodiologist]

I'm albino, so I always like to see somebody remembering that albinism creates vision problems and visible nystagmus; albinism isn't just a palette swap. You'd think more authors would take five minutes to read about albinism on Wikipedia before making perfectly sighted albino characters.

Hoping for an obviously bad thing, particularly a disability, to turn out to be a blessing in disguise is fundamentally crazy. Is Zecora that crazy? Well, narrative causality is likely to be in effect in episodes where Zecora appears, because dealing out karmic justice, or being peripherally involved in the dealing-out of karmic justice, is a common role for her. So maybe she's just genre-savvy. Equestria isn't the kind of setting where bad things happen to good people for no reason and that's the end of it.

Referring to semen (as "batter") is pushing it for an E rating, I think.

You have a few "it's"es that should be "its", and "had saw fit" should probably be "had seen fit".

[FanOfMostEverything]

And then Vitty meant Twilght Sparkle, and she learned that someone caring about your existence can be just as bad as complete indifference, if not worse.

Lovely vignette, especially the more druidic take on Zecora. Thank you for it.

[Casketbase77]

10116728
I did try to approach the albino angle as tactfully and medically accurate as possible, yes. Type the story’s title into Google Translate for proof of that. My goal was to saddle Vitty with something similar to Scootaloo’s flightlessness: a disability that is openly acknowledged as being such in-story, but ultimately something the character shouldn’t let define her entire identity. Plus the coloring reflects her being an innocent member of an otherwise morally bankrupt species. Too often in fiction the albino character is the evil odd one out. I was consciously trying to buck that stereotype.

I guess I coulda communicated this better, but Vitty is meant to be very young. She’s got a lot of (somewhat justified) anger at the world and is prone to parroting demeaning things she’s heard, which explains the “batter” comment. It’s extremely unlikely she even understands what that phrase means. She understands how it makes her feel though, and Zecora’s function was to help Vitty let go of unchangeable physical angst and focus on cultivating some spirituality. In a better thought out fic, I suppose Zecora would lead by example, citing her rhyming compulsion as a neurological disorder that she eventually learned to live with, but oh well. Future stories handling tender topics will have to take thematics like these into account.

Also I’ve fixed the grammatical issues. So much for all those University English courses that were supposed to teach me how to write correctly.

[Kodiologist]

10116782

Type the story’s title into Google Translate for proof of that.

Huh, "disability" is of quite a different tone from what I saw when I looked up "vitium" on Wiktionary: "crime; vice; fault, blemish, error". I wonder how much the Romans distinguished between disability and vice.

citing her rhyming compulsion as a neurological disorder

That's dark. I always assumed it was some kind of shamanistic practice that's supposed to encourage contemplativeness or increase contact with the divine or something, but it would be funny if it turned out to be a really bad case of poison joke.

[stag the story teller]

10117011
I think he meant that vitium is the common way to call the disease vitilago, google what that means

[iloveportalz0r]

... and heavy jewelry adorning it’s ears and neck.

*its

[Green-Venom]

Zecora flinched at the sudden thump outside and swallowed, partially to recompose herself and partially to finish her current sip of tea. Timberwolves didn’t thump walls, which meant it was something else that wanted in. She laid a hoof on the door, well aware that the powerful warding magic that protected her home would deactivate the moment she opened it. Why risk it? This was the Everfree Forest after all; even taking Timberwolves out of the equation, the odds of something friendly being outside were astronomically low. Still, Zecora bravely turned the knob. This was why she’d been awakened. To do this. The will of the wilds was immutable, and Zecora’s faith needed to be stronger than her fear. She snorted resolutely, then flung open the door.

Now that’s what I call faith… Opening the door in the middle of the night while in hostile environment…