Fool's Gold
Maud Pie was not a pony. Not even one made of peridotite. She'd decided she was a fly in amber now, able to see and be seen but not touch or be touched.
It was for the best, really. Nopony wanted to be around a fly. Especially not famous pop stars. With her thick imagined barrier around her, Maud could sit motionless and through stops ten and eleven. Then at the twelfth she'd be back at the farm, amid endless fields of empty colorless rocks. The only place she belonged.
Maud wanted to cry, but didn't bother trying. Pillars of salt couldn't cry.
Bus wheels rattled over the unpaved roads of the Equestrian countryside. Passengers were jostled, including the ones seated ahead of Maud: a pegasus father with an infant filly on his lap. The foal gurgled uncomfortably and Maud prayed to Faust the baby stayed calm.
Then she quickly shook the thought from her head. Flies in amber didn't mind a baby in front of them. Nor the testy-looking griffon across the aisle. And they especially didn't mind the pale, unreachable unicorn in the back that Maud had firmly resolved not to stare at. In fact, Maud was actively staring away from Vinyl Scratch, out through the window at the trees that kept thinning and the earth got sandier. The driver and his passengers were in the empty open countryside between the major cities and Seaward Shoals.
The bus hit a bump and the foal sputtered. The dad bounced his baby on his knee, but the sputters continued. Louder and building in pressure.
Please no. Don't do what I can't.
Another bump set the infant off. Loudly.
Lungful after lungful of "wah"s pierced the every ear, earning a chorus of groans. Vinyl Scratch, despite being the farthest away, wrinkled her nose and adjusted her noise-canceling headphones. Maud, the pony nearest to the bleating sobs, miserably gripped her frock tighter around her shoulders.
Her ears hurt, and the Maud Sense was overheating. It registered the father's burning embarrassment, a nearby griffon's boiling annoyed anger, and of course the baby's bottomless bawling. Even the driver was perturbed, eyes flickering between the rearview mirror and the road.
Two more stops. Just two more until Maud was away from Vinyl Scratch, away from the howling baby, away from everything. She could endure until then. She was encased in amber.
The father was flushed with humiliation, clumsily cradling his infant daughter. The flushness of his face reminded Maud of Pinkie, who was equally hopeless with kids. Then the father shifted, and Maud saw the filly proper for the first time.
The baby's left eye was obscured by her mane. Her right eye full of freely flowing tears. Fossilized memories moved now, and they manifested Marble, the only Pie sibling more of a mess than Maud herself.
It was irrational, Maud knew, to see her crybaby youngest sister in the face of a wailing pegasus foal. But her hooves had already hit the floor, which meant her shell of amber had cracked. As often happened, Maud's body moved on its own while she vexed from inside.
Sit back down. He's going to say no.
Maud ignored herself. The still moving bus had her swaying off balance, and it would have been so easy to plop back into her seat. But like a downhill boulder, Maud was in motion. Better her than the threatening griffon.
You couldn't approach Vinyl Scratch, but you can approach him?!
Maud was in the aisleway. The center of the bus, and by now the center of attention. Haberdash from up front. The angry griffon from behind. And the helpless father who hadn't been able to hear her approach.
"Let me rock her."
"Eh?"
The father was gawking at Maud, confused by either the noise or her brazenness. Other eyes were on Maud too, including a pair of interested red ones obscured by sunglasses.
Droplets formed on Maud's forehead. On her neck. Under her one armpit that was capable of producing sweat.
"Let me rock her. It’s what I'm good at."
The baby's wails were deafening this close up. They got even louder when Maud sat down and gingerly accepted the infant from its hesitant father. But through the squall of noise, Maud's forelimbs moved back and forth with inequine steadiness. She was stolid. Stalwart. Even as the crying continued and the bus hit yet another bump.
The other passengers were losing hope. So was the father until Maud surprised even herself by hitching up her frock (the left side of course, never the right) and pulling it up to the foal's chin like a blanket. That did it. After a few minutes of the makeshift swaddling, the bus was quiet again. Cloven tried to cheer Maud's success, but Winnie Withers hastily hushed him.
Maud hadn't noticed how high her heartrate had gotten. Her breathing had stayed the same, so she was consequently lightheaded. The pacified foal babbled innocently and grasped for its father. Maud sat, relieved to have her hooves emptied.
"Amazing," the father drawled in a thick Manehatten accent. "Are you a mom or sumthin'?"
"I'm not."
Here we go again. Another conversation to botch.
"Well you sure got the touch. Wherever you learned it. You'll be a good ma, when the day comes." The father’s smile was encouraging, but Maud's only response was to silently lay a hoof across her stomach.
If Maud ever carried her own foal, the sire would of course have to be Mudbriar. Maud wasn't a law expert (not unless you counted knowing exactly which nature preserves forbid rock collecting), but she was pretty sure passing on her defective genes would be some form of child abuse.
Foals were tiny, delicate things. Easily misshapen before they were even born. Maud was proof of that. Could her issues, mixed with Mud's issues, mixed with any other unknown additive ones possibly produce a functional foal? How far could someone small and disabled actually make it in Equestria?
Several rows back, a successful, nearsighted albino rolled her shoulders.
"I might be a mom someday," Maud finally affirmed. "I might." She didn't trust her errant mouth enough to say anything further.
"Stop number eleven, Seaward Shoals shoreside." The driver chuckled at the name. "Try saying that one five times fast."
Almost the entire bus shifted to stand up, the father included, "This'd be our spot," he remarked. "Thanks again for your help, miss."
Maud shakily stood to let them by. Stony though she was, the eventful day was catching up to her. Maud thanked her lucky birthstone this was the last stop before she was home. Not much fossil fuel remained in her reserves.
The griffon across the aisle clicked his beak impatiently. Maud didn't notice.
She was watching Cloven point through the window at the ocean while Winnie Withers nodded. She saw the driver peering at the town clock tower, pleased to have arrived on time. She regarded Haberdash, who'd pulled off his ever present satchel to smooth some pleats on his suitcoat. Between them all trotted the unnamed father, whose cutie mark Maud observed was a sand castle. All of them were here, at their collective destination, and Maud would be riding the rest of the way alone. It was bittersweet to see them all leave, so she wanted this last moment of everyone together to imprint in her memory. If no one else carried today with them, she at least could.
The griffon growled with impatience and elbowed the slow, unresponsive pony out of his way.
Maud caught herself on a seat back, crouched but at least not sprawled on the dirty floor. She reasoned she deserved that and tried to call an apology to the griffon. Before she could, the griffon tromped past Haberdash, coiled a hind paw around the satchel strap, and kept pacing.
"Wait, my bag- Stop! Thief!!"
The griffon bolted, shoving the driver into the half-zebra to get a clear path to the open bus doors. As a mix of hawk and leopard, he was certainly fast.
Maud was faster.
With speed and strength normally reserved for protecting Pinkie from danger, Maud Pie tackled the purse snatcher, digging her good shoulder into his gut. For once, mindless movement became Maud's ally, since her cold righteous fury couldn't vent via yelling or snarling like a normal pony's could. Instead it echoed through her blood, her muscles, and her forelimbs now stubbornly latticed in a deathgrip around the griffon's midsection. Alarmed donkey brays and horse whinnies rang in Maud's ears while she and her quarry tumbled down the steps to the sand.
The griffon loosed a stream of profanity and followed up with a claw swipe. Fabric was shredded and Maud reflexively gripped the collar of her frock. When she did, the griffon squirmed out from under her, wing beats dusting her face with salty particles as he escaped into the sky.
On her belly in the beach grass, Maud heaved. Then she rolled onto her back, Haberdash's satchel hugged to her chest.
"That was freaking cool!" Cloven was rushing down the stairs to skid to a halt nearby."Did he getcha? How bad did you get him back? Wowie, your dress got ripped good!"
That last comment made Maud sit up in slothful panic, holding her bisected frock together like a gaping wound. By now the other passengers were gathering all around.
They saw, didn't they? How could anyone miss it? Faces pressed in from all sides. Looking at her. Scrutinizing her.
Given a choice, Maud would have dissolved into the sand. But there was no choice. None other than the one that had left her sprawled here. Maud sat where she was, satchel in her lap, steeling herself for jeers. She got praise instead.
"My bag!" Haberdash slung the reclaimed prize over his shoulder and clapped his hero warmly on her back. "You're a mare of action if not words, miss Maud."
"That's a mighty claw slash," the pegasus father noted. "You're not hurt, are you?"
Slowly realizing her life wasn't ruined, Maud dared to check her damage. The talon had hooked her lapel pocket and torn a ragged path downward. Her clothes were more like an open robe now, held in overlapping place by Maud's foreleg gripping an opposite shoulder. Her body didn't have a single scrape, as there was only one place where claw had hit something other than fabric: nested in the threads of Maud's former breast pocket was her pet rock. And on his outward-facing edge, he had a deep gouge exposing his green core. Right where the talon had been deflected.
Good boy, Boulder. Very good boy.
"That ruffian," Winnie cursed. Her eyes were on the empty sky. "Who steals from travelers on vacation?!"
The bus driver was rolling an unlit cigarette in his hoof. "You really can't know a passenger just by lookin' at em," he asserted. "This... erm, this town has a law office. If it's alright with everyone, I'll take minute to report what just happened."
Haberdash extended a hoof to help Maud up. When she didn't take it, he shrugged politely and followed the driver to corroborate the story. Cloven wanted to ask Maud more questions, but Winnie shooed him towards the beach. The pegasus father nodded goodbye as he trotted with his baby towards the rental condos.
As everyone dispersed around her, Maud inhaled through her nose, then out through her mouth. She remained where she sat, limp but not relaxed. Her eyes were on Vinyl Scratch, still loitering by the bus doors. The unicorn was looking at Maud.
Directly at Maud.
Breeze blew, waves crested, and beachgrass rustled. There were no other sounds except Vinyl Scratch's approaching hoofsteps. Maud's mind raced, too fast to land on any coherent thoughts. She felt cold like clay, hot like igneous, coarse like granite.
Vinyl Scratch pulled off her headphones.
Don't crumble. Be peridotite.
Vinyl Scratch spoke.
"I know you, d-d-don't I?” The unicorn's voice was raspy, like tectonic plates grinding together. She clearly didn't use it often. "Am I r-r-r-right? You're Maud P-Pie?"
A silent, nodded response made the DJ grin.
"I heard the s-s-striped one in the suit say your name. But even b-b-before that I recognized your dress."
"It’s a frock."
"It used t-t-to be, anyway." Vinyl Scratch laughed at her own quip, though her atrophied chuckles sounded more like wheezing. "S-s-sorry. Bad joke. I'm not n-normally this nervous."
"Nervous."
"S-s-sure. I know we n-n-never talked back in school, and most of that was m-m-my fault because I was still shy about my st-stut... my st-sutt-st-" Vinyl Scratch's wheezing chuckles came back. It was cosmically absurd, not being able to pronounce her own speech impediment.
"Whatevs. You feel my f-f-flow. Or maybe you don't, actually. The reason I r-r-remember you from back then be-c-c-cause I was always j-j-jealous."
Maud blinked. Then blinked again.
"Jealous."
"Of c-course. I was jealous of everyone who c-c-could talk calm and clear. And y-y-you talked the calmest."
Maud's grip on her collar loosened. Just a little bit.
"I'm not as calm as I look, Vinyl Scratch."
"If you s-s-say so. But nopony else did anything when that b-b-baby cried. Or when that griffon ran. Es-p-pecially not me. Whatever y-you're made of, its tough stuff."
Maud's grip re-tightened. "It is. Its very tough."
Sensing she'd stepped off beat, Vinyl Scratch rubbed her neck. Headphones jostled at the motion, and from where Maud was kneeling, it almost looked like the unicorn had a frock collar of her own.
"It's not f-f-fun, is it? Solo sessions alone with your th-thoughts. Those happen to me when I'm traveling on the road b-b-between gigs. But music can fill that dead air. Do you like m-music, Maud?"
"Sure."
"Y-yeah?" Vinyl Scratch was perking up again. "I bet your f-favorite genre is rock."
"I like metal. It's harder and heavier than rock."
Now it was the DJ's turn to stare blankly.
"That was a pun."
"Oh! I g-g-get it now. Good one!"
Maud nodded. Although she couldn't laugh at her own joke, Vinyl Scratch produced enough raspy guffaws for the two of them.
"You should do st-st-stand up comedy. I've played enough venues to know deadpan d-d-delivery is a lost art."
Maud had tried doing stand up. Once. The only compliments she'd gotten were from Pinkie Pie, and praise from Pinkie was hard to weigh. But encouragement from a career performer like Vinyl Scratch...
"Aha, I th-th-think that was the preamble to a smile I just saw. You done p-p-pouting in the d-dirt down there?"
Vinyl Scratch's hoof reached down. Maud accepted it, and was pulled to standing upright. Between the two of them, Maud was taller. She hadn't noticed before.
"No offense Maud, but y-your outfit looks as b-bad as my voice sounds."
Maud reflexively reached for her collar, then stopped.
Vinyl Scratch was speaking to her. Taking a plunge by revealing her shameful stammer. It was a show of trust, especially since it was shared without having to be requested.
To Tartarus with it. One secret deserves another. Tit for tat, as Pinkie would say.
Maudelina Daisy Pie gripped her shredded frock with both hooves and pulled it off over her head. She gave the tattered linen a shake, pretending to just be smoothing sand out of it. As she did, Maud turned to display the sprawling strawberry birthmark that marred half her body.
Stretching from elbow to gaskin, Maud’s secret was a hairless expanse of mottled pink hide. Her defect’s lurid, pockmarked welts scalded her velvet grey coat, like craggy islands jutting through a placid sea. It was pale from lack of sun, and though the ridges looked angry and inflamed, just like all of Maud its looks were deceiving.
Mudbriar, the only pony who’d held Maud close and unclothed since she was a baby, could attest that Maud was every bit as soft and easy to hug as any unblemished pony. Overcooked in the womb the birthmark may have been, skin was just skin. And Maud was just Maud. She wasn't half stone, half peridotite, half anything. She was pure pony, warts and all.
Flourish complete, Maud shivered in the seabreeze. Vinyl still hadn't said anything, but she did give a slow nod to confirm she recognized and appreciated Maud baring herself like this.
“It was good to finally hear from you, Vinyl Scratch.”
“Nice to… nice to ss-s-see you t-t-tt-too.”
A polite cough alerted both mares that the bus driver was back. Vinyl Scratch clamped her mouth closed, redfaced at the possibility he'd heard her. Maud meanwhile draped her torn former frock over her good shoulder. She didn't express any shame. Whether she felt any, Maud hadn't decided yet.
"Sorry if I'm interruptin' anything, but the report's been filed and we can get back on the road." He brandished his keys.
Say thank you. Maud urged herself. Say it.
"Sure."
Oh well. Roam wasn't built in a day.
"All aboard who's coming aboard," the driver announced. "Though, I think its just you, ma'am. Stop number twelve? The farm near Rockville?"
Vinyl Scratch pawed mutely the sand. Maud spoke up so her new friend wouldn't have to.
"Sure. Only me."
The driver nodded, taking one last drag to finish his cigarette. Then he trotted to his place behind the steering wheel.
"You travel all over," Maud said to Vinyl Scratch. "I don't. But I’ll be back in Seaward Shoals this autumn. For one day."
Vinyl Scratch believed she could pick up what Maud was putting down.
“It… it's a date. I can def-definitely fit a day at the beach into my schedule. I already own a sunblocking w-w-wetsuit to let me s-swim without burning.”
Maud finally smiled. "I like to swim too."
The diesel engine started up and Vinyl nodded goodbye. She had no parting words, but that was alright. None were needed between quiet friends.
Maud sat peaceably on the empty bus, shredded former frock in her lap. She'd be home soon. Able to inform Limestone she'd won a fight. Able to hug Marble. Able to shake off all the dust and plaster from her soul, now that she was no longer a pillar of salt. This frock would still need to be mended though. If not for herself, then for those who knew her for it. Boulder especially.
Maud held her pet rock to her bare chest and breathed deep. He had a scratch now, but so did Maud. A scraping scratch and a Vinyl Scratch.
She was looking forward to autumn.
Source of the above gif: https://www.deviantart.com/yooyfull/art/What-a-boring-pony-441258324
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Pretty great flow, her thoughts flow naturally.
Liked Vinyl.
Eighth wonder of the world!
It occurs to me how great the narrative placement of a train is. Some of my favorite works are set eternally on trains, and the filing out of new people and destinations makes a perfect countdown timer to some cataclysm, or in this case, emotional breakdown.
Casual reminder that this Saitama Maud is canon, and we desperately needed more of her.
Whoops. Almost forgot YOUR headcanon.
And we roundabout with a bookends. You don't need much compliment on a short character piece, but other than awkward chapter breaks- maybe an Infinity Train thing where each stop is its own short chapter?- this was an excellent exploration of your professed love and difficulty characterizing one of the least appreciated characters. In canon, at least. That's what fics are for.
This is certainly one of the most well-written character pieces I've read in a long time. You did an excellent job of portraying Maud and her thoughts in a realistic and incredibly sympathetic manner. The pacing was good; a slow burn, but just fast enough to keep things interesting. Your choice of pairing was interesting and used to great effect.
The only things I might complain about would be the inclusion of the darker (for lack of a better word) elements. I recognize that was necessary for the story you were trying to tell, but those sorts of things still irk me whenever I see them in a pony fic. My obsession with worldbuilding compels me to complain about the existence of automobiles and cigarettes in Equestria, but at the same time, I recognize that those are nitpicks that are easily overlookable.
Love stories with Vinyl where she can't/ doesn't talk. This interpretation of that style is great. That and your interpretation of Maud's stoicism is interesting and very engaging. A great read that makes me wish there was more of this pairing, both romantic and not.
In which rock breaks claw-sharp scissors.
It's great! And there are three main pillars for that success.
There's the framing device of a bus, especially starting the story off with an announcement of a bus stop and its number. Knowing I'm on stop number six in a story called Stop Number Twelve means that I should be expecting something big to happen at stop #12 or at least #11. There's a sense that we're always hurtling towards the next step in the first chapter. Of note is that there's a noticeably much bigger narrative gap between stop #9 and #10 (or the rest stop compared to the gaps from #6 to #9. The timely announcement of stop #10 after a long sort-of flashback is, interestingly enough, like taking a fresh breath of air in the present after being submerged underwater, under the past.
Since now we've established the past hurts of Maud, the rest stop means that she can only go forward. And funnily enough, for the interlude that's supposed to imply taking a break, there's only built-up energy/darkness/hurt. She's not moving any closer to home at the rest stop; at least, before, there was progress, there was ground being covered.
And what's more, we don't see stop #12. Of course, everything's wrapped up by then; we don't have to see it anymore. But it's notable that the location that names this story never appears. Just wanted to point it out there, and I guess this is where I insert something cliche about the journey being more important than the destination.
Beyond bus stops, though, there's how resourceful this fic is, with few to no details wasted. Stop #11, Seaward Shoals, houses both the climax and part of Maud's backstory; all named (and unnamed) characters make meaningful interactions with at least Maud, if not also with Vinyl, and (barring the unnamed pegasus father and child who already only first appear in the third chapter) get some second wind in the last act. Especially by the griffon, which I was surprised by... given that you've already established Maud Sense, so Maud not noticing the griffon's intent to steal the satchel until it was almost too late meant that, surely, the reader wouldn't have seen this coming. And speaking of satchels, I did a Ctrl+F for the word in each chapter, and it's only mentioned once per chapter (though the third time, notably, is supplied with "ever-present") before it gets stolen. Talk about rule of three.
All of that is to say that if sustainability was ever a thing for stories, you've got it nailed down here.
Finally, it's a nice contrast to have here, even without knowing that it's part of a competition for original pairings, but to keep it short, I'd just like to point out that it reminded me of Twilight Sparkle and Moon Dancer. Very similar earlier in their lives (didn't speak that much, if at all, and implied to be the odd ones out), but lives diverged, and one ends up looking at the other, seeing her as famous and successful, obviously having overcome the obstacles that singled her out as the strange one. That's some subtext, whether intentional or not: being jealous or depressed that somepony who'd suffered similar issues wasn't just able to overcome them with apparent ease, she's now seen as normal or even among the best, a success story to emulate... while Maud remained a peridotite.
Fortunately, she ends up something else at the end of the story, and, judging from your story's long description, I'm not surprised it's gotten third place in the contest. Thank you for this connection between Maud and Vinyl, Casketbase!
Tell?
This was a great Maud story that gave me a new perspective of her. Several stories present the idea that there's more going on in Maud's head than what we see, but I hadn't seen the frustration she feels at herself like this before. It was handled in a really relatable way, and it was nice to see things work out well for her (cuts and teared clothes aside). This was also a good presentation of Vinyl that I hadn't really seen before.
Wonderful fic, impressive, unique, take on Maud and a fun Vinyl.
Me very likey dis one :3 very good.
Well, that was quite a ride... no pun intended. Admittedly, I'm a little unclear about the distances and travel speeds involved, but it really works.
Also, I'm curious (and, sorry if this doesn't necessitate spoilered text, but I want to be on the safe side): Was Vinyl's stutter influenced at all by Scatman John? I realize that, musically speaking, the two have little in common, but it just reminded me of his story a little. Probably nothing, but figured I'd ask.
11584699
Glad you liked the story; I consider it one of my best.
Vinyl Scratch's stammer isn't based on The Scatman specifically, but her music does relate to her self-worth. Techno is all about turning glitchy stop-and-start noises into pleasing sounds, and making said music gives Vinyl Scratch personal satisfaction. She's no singer, but she can take broken audio and use it to create sounds people enjoy. The big divergence from The Scatman is that Vinyl prefers to keep her speech impediment a private, personal affair.
In the context of this fic, Maud is the protagonist who gains the courage to change the things she can, the grace to accept the things she can't, and the wisdom to know the difference. Vinyl Scratch already embraced those values years ago, which is why she's so much more serene and self-assured in comparison.
An oddball ghost happened across your fic and read it. Have a review!
First rate character study, and great story too!
Hello! Have a review. Wow. I read this after Mike recommended it, and I think I liked it even more than he did. Apart from a few minor things it was sheer pleasure. Once I'd got into its rhythm, I loved pretty much everything about it. Most notably, the tremendous character work. The way you wove Vinyl's backstory into Maud's and gave them a reason to bond again was wonderful. A very satisfying explanation for Maud's frock, a fascinating look inside her head... yeah. Boringly, I'll agree with the people you quote in your longdesc: this is the best Maud fic I have read, bar none. Have a like, a favourite and a five-star rating.
And for anyone else passing by: read this fic. It is enormously underrated.
Absolutely wonderful story. The narrative flow of the whole thing felt very natural and well-paced, and exploring Maud's headspace was really interesting with the way you portrayed her. Her connection with Vinyl felt believable and rewarding, and the feeling of real character growth by the end was really compelling. The extra characterization you gave both of them (psychological and physical) added some depth that I really enjoyed. Great stuff!