Partial

by Halira

Chapter 35: Three Pauses

The zombie let them out at a townhome in a gated community. Thankfully, Charlotte had known the password to get through the gate. If Jessica had to guess, these were not what most people would consider affordable. She knew Arachne had some start-up business she ran, but she was only eighteen, and her husband was not much older. This seemed beyond the price point of someone just out of high school. Maybe her aunt helped her get it.

“Is she even going to be awake?” Jessica asked, just realizing it was past noon. Her ears immediately twitched as she heard a baby crying within.

Charlotte chuckled. “With a newborn foal? Yep, she’s going to be awake. I happen to know Madison has already started surging, so this should be fun. I feel sorry for Street Lamp, though. I’m sure my sister is having him deal with that.”

“She must be helping at least a little,” Jessica assured her friend.

Charlotte looked doubtful but said nothing as they walked to the front door. The zombie stayed in the car in front of the house, not going anywhere.

Jessica decided to do the honors and knocked on the front door. This close, she could hear everything going on in the house. The baby had stopped crying and was on the move, although she couldn’t place what floor it was on, which was odd. It seemed to be between the two floors. It took her a second to remember that one of the various things night pony foals sometimes did while surging was run on the ceiling, an ability ninety-nine percent of them would never be able to accomplish again after the surging was done, which made it all the worse for parents who also couldn’t replicate the feat but had to get the foal down. She heard male grunts of frustration and the beating of wings in pursuit of the infant; another set of hooves descended from upstairs towards them.

“Madison sounds very active. She seems to be moving fast along the ceiling, at least based on what I’m hearing,” Jessica informed Charlotte.

“Hmm, another reason for me never to have foals. I would have no patience for that. I’d be arrested for filicide,” Charlotte replied dryly.

“Your parents put up with you and your siblings being wild,” Jessica reminded her.

“My parents deserve sainthood,” Charlotte said with a snort.

The door opened, revealing a very disheveled-looking Arachne. She had bags under her eyes, her mane and tail looked like neither had been brushed lately, and both looked knotted. Her fur had an uneven quality, which meant it was also unbrushed. Her belly hung a bit looser than usual, and Jessica was sure that if she stepped back far enough, Arachne’s teets would be on display–something most normally wouldn’t see on a mare unless they turned her over and searched because they remained small nubs covered by fur when not swollen with milk. The mammaries were only casually visible on nursing mares or recently pregnant mares. Arachne hadn’t looked too bad the last time she had seen her and was only showing minor signs of pregnancy at the time, but she certainly looked rough now. Even her wings looked dirty.

“You look like crap,” Charlotte said to her sister.

Arachne sneered and immediately swung with a wing that collided loudly with Charlotte’s face. The army pony barely flinched and raised an eyebrow at her sister.

“And you must be feeling like crap too. Jordan can strike me harder. That was just embarrassing,” Charlotte said, although she didn’t sound very snide.

A stallion went flying by behind Arache, chasing a dark blur that was zooming along the ceiling. Arachne stood rigid and silent for a second, then sighed.

“Come on in,” Arachne said, stepping out of the doorway.

“If this isn’t a good time-” Jessica began.

“There isn’t going to be a good time,” Arachne interrupted. “Just come in and watch out for random yellow spray and brown droppings falling from the ceiling.”

Eww, that was not something she had anticipated or wanted to think about. She stepped in, raising an arm above her head to shield herself from inbound fecal matter.

The entire house floor had clear plastic draped over it, including much of the furniture. Yellow pools had formed in more than one spot but weren’t everywhere. Did Madison have preferred places to pee?

Charlotte whistled. “Wow, I doubt Mom and Mama went through this much effort to keep us from making messes, and there were three of us to manage instead of just one. You can’t manage just one?”

“Shut your muzzle! They did things their way. I’ll do things my way,” Arachne snapped as she shut the door.

“Why don’t you just get diapers on her?” Jessica asked.

Arachne huffed. “You think we don’t? She sheds them. She also tends to fight Street when he tries to put them on her. About the only time we can get one on her without trouble is when she has finally exhausted herself and fallen asleep.”

“So, dealing with a foal is more trouble than you thought it would be?” Charlotte asked.

“Surging only lasts a week or so. It may be over tomorrow,” Arachne replied calmly.

“It’s only been one day. The doctor said at least five more!” Street yelled as he flew by after the black blur.

Arachne covered her face with a wing.

Jessica watched Street Lamp continue to chase Madison around. Night ponies weren’t good at gently catching moving things in the air. They were trained to knock things down and to do short sprints. With that in mind, why even chase her around like that? Street wasn’t about to try to knock his daughter off the ceiling; that would hurt her. Maybe he was hoping she would stop and sit still long enough that he could grab her.

It did make her think about Mark and made her wonder if she fully appreciated what she might be getting herself into. Sure, Mark couldn’t run around on the ceiling–she hoped he couldn’t, anyway, but he did bring unique challenges, many of which would no doubt catch her off guard. He likely had some sort of magic. What that entailed was anyone’s guess. His grandmother might know if he had gone through a surging period when he was small, but she wasn’t available to talk to. That meant it might be years until they found out. He’d already demonstrated his talent at hiding and getting into small spaces; while not as troublesome as running on the ceiling, it could still cause some headaches. Perhaps she should try talking to Arachne about being a new mother.

She looked at Arachne’s disheveled state again. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to inquire about that.

“So…I came to see my new niece. It looks like that may be a challenge,” Charlotte said as the blur whipped across the ceiling again with Street Lamp in pursuit.

Archive removed the wing from her face. “She’ll tire herself out eventually, then you can get a look at her–pitch black fur with a hot pink mane.”

“Doesn’t sound like Street Lamp’s colors,” Jessica replied.

“Nor mine,” Arachne stated, spreading her wings and folding them. “Who can say how color inheritance works? Moon doesn’t look a thing like Mom, and I hear he looks nothing like the bastard who raped her, so I’m not shocked Madison doesn’t look like me or her father. She’s definitely mine. I won’t forget carrying her weight around for most of a year and painfully pushing her out. Street’s the only one who has mounted me, so she’s his daughter.”

“Well, she’s very healthy,” Jessica said as she listened to the continued pursuit.

Arachne nodded. “It took her about two hours after birth to figure out standing. It took her another hour after that to figure out how to walk, with some frequent tripping. She was mostly calm the first few days with a few small bursts of running here and there; she just followed me or Street around, investigated her nearby surroundings, and suckled me when she was hungry; then this started. I could deal with her current activity level, provided she stays out of the spider room, except for the fact she doesn't have the decency to go to sleep when it’s past noon. It’s noisy, and she keeps me awake. I need to get my sleep to manage the spiders properly.”

“Spider room? Spiders?” Jessica asked in confusion. She knew Arachne had an obvious obsession with arachnids, but she had a room for them?

“How do you think we can afford this?” Arachne said, spreading her wings wide to indicate her home. “Spider silk sells well. Most companies that produce spider silk have to immobilize the spiders and force them to spin straight threads, which then have to be carefully put together as yarn and then turned into garments much later. However, I can direct the spiders to spin as I like. I can make custom fabrics and garments directly spun by the spiders. A single dress can net me tens of thousands of dollars. I paid the entire year’s rent on this place with my last garment.”

“And how many garments a year are you making?” Jessica asked. It seemed like it would still take a long time to make anything.

“I’m on pace for three this year,” Arachne answered. “But I hope to get more spiders and a better place to house them with funds from the next garment; that should increase my output. If I can do that, I can be making millions by next year. At this rate, I’ll be richer than Titi in a decade or so.”

Titi was the trio of night ponies’ pet name for their aunt, Wild Growth, who was arguably the wealthiest pony alive, at least, the richest pony known. There were some other contenders for the title. Still, Wild Growth was the only one people knew how much she had–one hundred and ninety billion dollars. However, the total was slowly declining because of Wild Growth’s philanthropy and the fact her income had fallen dramatically after she went into government. She was still in the top twenty richest for sure with that amount. Wild Growth had amassed that wealth by getting stock cheap for many companies selling to ponies, primarily PonyCo, which gave her huge amounts of stock to entice her to be a spokesperson when they were first starting up. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Arachne thinking she could surpass that wealth was a lofty ambition. It didn’t seem a realistic goal, but who knew, maybe Arachne could do it. Jessica didn’t care much about money. If she had enough to pay for what she needed, that was enough. What would she even do with that much cash?

“Well, the other reason we came by is Jessie’s got a hot date, and she could use some beauty tips,” Charlotte informed her sister.

Arachne scowled at her sister. “Sure, and I’m the Queen of England. Don’t play games. I know you just wanted to see me in this state.”

Charlotte smirked. “I didn’t realize that I was related to royalty. Does that make me a Duchess? Just to be clear, I’m very much enjoying seeing you look like this, but Jessie actually does have a date coming up. Could you be helpful and give a few suggestions for her appearance?”

”You’re pushing this joke,” Arachne mumbled.

Jessica sighed. “Is it that hard to believe I’m going on a date?”

Arachne gave her a blank look.

“I’m going on a date with a man. He’s also a doctor of physics at the same university I teach at,” Jessica said flatly.

Arachne blinked. “I guess some people just have odd tastes.” She waved a wing dismissively. “Sorry, I can't help you. I don’t know how to make a human more attractive to humans. It’s like trying to judge what’s attractive to a bear. My suggestion is to find a human to help you or a pony who used to be human and is old enough to know how to apply makeup and do the hair for a human.”

“Your mom then?” Jessica asked.

Arachne shook her head. “Mom never cared about that stuff until after she became a pony, and Mama still doesn’t care about that stuff. Surely you know some human woman who can tell you. Your mother might be a decent start.”

The thought of letting her mom give her advice after how much her mom had pushed her about relationships made her want to crawl under her bed. She was not going to her mom for advice.

“I know another coworker who might help,” Jessica replied. Violet might help, and she was definitely attractive, but Violet’s ideas of beauty might be pushing farther than what Jessica would be comfortable with. There were limits to that. That would be figuratively running before walking.

“Hmm, maybe you can try Great Aunt Amicus,” Charlotte suggested. “Grandma always said Amicus was a priss when she was our age. She might have some ideas. You’d have the benefit of keeping it private since she’d be giving you advice at Wabash. Going to a coworker for help spreads gossip.”

“I agree,” Arachne said, then briefly stuck her tongue out as if disgusted to be agreeing with her sister. Charlotte mimicked the gesture.

The galloping blur stopped above them, revealing a pitch-black night pony filly with a very wild and bushy pink mane. The filly cooed, and the surge decided to stop–at least for the moment–at that moment, and the filly let off a high-pitched screech as she fell from the ceiling.

Arachne jumped and caught the filly on her back. “Got you!”

“Wahwa!” the filly said happily and hugged her mother.

Arachne rolled her eyes and carefully pulled the filly off her back and into her forelegs as she sat down. “Street! Can you come get Madison and put a diaper on her before she shits on something?”

Street came down next to Arachne and took the filly into his hooves. “Come here, you wild thing,” Street said tiredly but lovingly. “You give me quite the workout. Are you tired now? Ready to sleep for a while?”

The filly yawned on cue. She was kinda cute, in a wild animal sort of way.

Street held Madison out to her mother. “Let your mommy kiss you, and we’ll get a diaper on you and get you back in your crib.”

Arachne grudgingly kissed the filly on the head and then waved Street away. “Hurry up and get her taken care of. We need to find a lid that locks onto the top of her crib tomorrow.”

Street’s ears sagged. “I don’t like that. It’s like putting her in a cage.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Arachne snapped. “Until this surging is over, we must ensure she’s contained. She’ll disrupt my spiders, making it harder for us to make money and pay the bills. Being contained isn’t going to hurt her.”

Street lowered his head. “Yes, dear.” He then put Madison on his back and walked away.

Charlotte grimaced. “I think we should go and let Arachne get her much-needed beauty sleep. I need to get some sleep, too.”

“Good idea,” Arachne replied. She nodded to Jessica. “Good to see you again, Jessie. Feel free to visit again; just make sure it is night.”

They made their goodbyes and then exited the house. The zombie and the car were still in the driveway, waiting patiently for them. They walked towards the car.

“Kinda what I expected. Arachne treating her foal as an inconvenience rather than with love,” Charlotte grumbled.

“That’s not fair to say,” Jessica scolded. “She’s overtired, and having a foal run around the ceiling when she should have been in bed hours ago has to be stressful. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t adore her baby.”

“Street showed much more affection, and he’s dealing with the same situation,” Charlotte countered.

“He’s not recovering from being pregnant, and how much has Arachne ever shown affection?” Jessica countered back. “You already verified she cares deeply for you, even though you two are snapping and growling at each other all the time. She’s not the best at showing how much she loves and cares. You aren’t the best at it, either. You also said you’d have a hard time dealing with a foal doing all that stuff. Why are you being critical of your sister for her having a hard time?”

“Because I know my sister,” Charlotte replied. “Do you think she gives a damn about Street Lamp? She picked the most attractive eligible night pony stallion because, of course, she had the most attractive to parade around, and she took him as a trophy. Then she let him get her pregnant because she felt like she had to add a family to her collection. To her, Madison is just another trophy to show off, not someone to love. At least Street Lamp legitimately loves his kid, so Madison has someone there for her.”

“You’re being too harsh,” Jessica insisted as they got into the car's back seat. “Phobia was always kind of distant with you and your siblings, but everyone knows she loves all of you. Maybe Arachne takes after her in that regard.”

“There is an easy way to determine if the mother loves the child,” their driver informed them.

They both looked at the driver as the driver pulled the car out of the driveway.

“What is that?” Jessica asked, curious about what ancient wisdom this zombie might have.

“If the parent finds the firstborn defective, they will feed the firstborn heavily, so the firstborn grows fat, then, when the brood of many is born, the parent will feed the fattened firstborn to the newly born. If this Arachne does not care for this child, she shall be overfeeding it so the next batch of siblings may devour it,” the zombie explained calmly.

….
…
..
.

What?

“There is wisdom in what she says,” Charlotte said in a lofty tone. “Maybe mom should have done something like that with Miss I’m-The-Eldest-Because-I-Came-Out-Thirty-Seconds-Earlier. I might have vomited her up, but I’d have chewed her up. It be worth it.”

“I’m never asking a zombie for parenting advice,” Jessica replied. What the hell kind of culture did this thing come from? The zombie seemed to have gotten the idea and gave no further recommendations. That was good. She didn’t want the zombie to start suggesting recipes.

“Luckily, you can’t get pregnant,” Charlotte replied.

Jessica bit her lip. “I'm looking into adopting. I met a partial boy who had just been taken into social services. I’m told people may not want him because he’s partial, and he’ll struggle to find a parent who understands what he goes through. I understand. I want him. I’m going to try to adopt him. His name is Mark, and he’s four years old.”

Charlotte blinked. “You’ve got a lot going on. I’m guessing finding Jeg’galla’gamp’pi finally cleared your schedule, and you’re filling it–no judgments, just observation. Well…if you’re going to try to talk to Amicus about beauty tips for a date, you might want to talk to her about the trials and tribulations of adoption. Grandma is the only person I personally know who has adopted, and she’s not on Earth anymore, but Amicus and Andrea were there through almost all of it. Great Aunt Amicus is the easier one to talk to and the one who understands all the legal stuff involved. If you’re trying to adopt, you probably should have a lawyer, and she happens to be a good one.”

“Sounds like a reasonable plan, and I have to go through Wabash to return home anyway,” Jessica agreed. “Going to another world wasn’t as exciting as I thought it would be. Yes, it was strange, it was dangerous, and there were moments of wonder that I’ll never forget, but I think my real adventure is going to be adopting Mark and trying to make a life for us. Does that make me lame?”

Charlotte smiled and shook her head. “Not lame at all. There’s still Devourers out there, but you’ve played your part. It’s time for you to get a chance to appreciate what we’re fighting to save. Adopt the kid, go on dates, heck, get married, and settle into domestic life. If we don’t win, you’ll regret it if you never got to do those things before the end; if we do win, you get to experience them even longer.”

She held out a fist to the night pony, and Charlotte raised a hoof and bumped it. “Thanks, Char. You’re rough around the edges, but you're a good friend.”

---

Rebecca wandered out of the farmhouse bathroom and nearly ran right into Phobia. The night pomy gave a startled jump, but it was minor.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Rebecca apologized.

Phobia took a deep breath. “It is okay, sister. I should have anticipated you were in the bathroom. I was not paying attention. The fault is mine, and the fright was minor.”

“Have a fun time with your wife?” Rebecca asked slyly.

The elder Dreamwarden nodded. “It is infrequent, but it is good to have times like these. Did you leave enough hot water for me to take a shower? Much as I don’t mind getting messy when Rosetta and I have our time together, I don’t enjoy having gunk stay stuck in my fur for a long time after. I’m having difficulty sleeping anyway, so I figured I’d have a shower.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “That’s because you take so many micronaps through the night and morning that your body doesn’t know when to sleep anymore. You need a good eight hours straight of sleep. It would help if you lay off the work. Work is bad for your health. Um…as for hot water, you might want to wait five minutes. I won’t say I did an extended rendition of singing in the bathtub with a hip-hop beat, but I won’t say I didn’t either.”

Phobia sighed. “Very well. When do you intend to start working with your truestone?”

“Is that really what we are going with for a name?” Rebecca whined. “It’s sooo boring a name.”

“It is the roughest translation of what they were called back in the day,” Phobia reminded her.

“Well, no, the roughest translation is alabaster colored stone of many shapes that do not break, unblemished, has both existed and not existed since before time and after time, gives off-,” Rebecca started to recite.

“We’re calling them truestones,” Phobia said flatly.

“Hey! I still had about thirty more descriptions to go through!” Rebecca protested.

“We are not calling them by all those descriptions. We are boiling it down to truestones, which is the best one word term we can translate from that,” Phobia asserted.

“I don’t like it,” Rebecca asserted.

Phobia tilted her head. “We could put it to a vote. What do you think your chances of winning that vote will be? You’re better at math and statistics than me. Tell me what your odds are.”

Not very good. She decided to go for her final tactic.

“You realize this is going to invoke an epic pouty face. Are you prepared to endure the pout? Are you?!” Rebecca declared, then proceeded to give her best puppy dog eyes.

Phobia stared at her for a few seconds. “I think that is a sacrifice I can endure. They’re being called truestones.”

Darn it.

“I’ll start working with the boringly-named truestone later today,” she answered. “I’m hoping it can help me push my range to do a visual check-in on my bodyguards. They should be close, or getting close, to their destination. I hope they're going to be alright. I’m worried about this.”

“You volunteered them for this mission,” Phobia reminded her. “Yours are also among our most adept fighters, and you regularly employ them to do unsavory things to people that do unsavory things.”

“I know!” Rebecca replied, feeling more distraught. “But they normally aren’t going in and taking on a full battalion of armed guards who know what they’re doing with their guns! Normally, they stealthy strike one bad dude or beat up many thugs with muscle but no skill. They also are normally unlikely to actually kill anyone, just hurt them real bad. This is different.”

Phobia sighed. “I’d prefer to avoid violence altogether, not even to speak of killing, but I see little way of avoiding it in this circumstance. We have our contract with Sha’am, and we honor our contracts. It was you, Arbiter, and Ghadab that got us into this contract. The other three of us were opposed.”

“Well, don’t forget the Mexican government, who was our tiebreaker,” Rebecca reminded the night pony. “I was kinda hoping they’d help out after getting the tie-breaking vote. We don’t give them a chance to be the tie-breaker much.”

“That was never going to happen. Mexico has never adequately been able to assert control over its territory, and they are currently moving towards another civil war, one that may lead to multiple breakaway nations forming, at least one of those directly across the Rio Grande that will be a massive headache for us all if it comes about. They were never going to help us. They hoped we would deal with their problem for them. If you paid more attention to international politics, you’d have known that,” Phobia said calmly. “I’m not going to be around forever. At some point, you’ll be the eldest living Dreamwarden on Earth, and you need to be able to step up and lead our waking world operations. You need to start paying attention to these things.”

“I think being the eldest is a bad way of choosing who is nominally in charge,” Rebecca countered. “I don’t want to lead. I have my bodyguards, and that is plenty for me to lead. I just want to do my thing, helping people who don’t have a friend, cheering up foals, and inspiring the creative types to take risks and be bold with their ideas. I hated being in charge during this mission we just did, but I was the one with the needed side skills, so I went along with it. I like being one of six who votes. Being in charge of anything isn’t ever going to be my thing. It makes me grumpy, and I don’t like being grumpy.”

Phobia snorted. “Very well. I still think you could stand to pay more attention to such things. What about the truestone that Jess found? I find it interesting that Jeg’galla’gamp’pi gave her one.”

Rebecca shook her head. “She doesn’t seem thrilled with it. I’ll try giving her a few pushes to get her to explore what it can do. The scientist in her will have difficulty keeping her curiosity at bay.”

“Good,” Phobia said with a nod. “It was an unexpected boon to have found truestones that bonded with someone; two is extremely lucky. We want those stones to reach their best capacity. I’m not sure if we will need them, but it is best to have their potential realized if we can.”

“You sound like your mother–never abandon a potential resource, even if you don’t know what you’ll use it for,” Rebecca observed.

“With the fate of life on the line, we need every possible resource we can,” Phobia replied.

“Speaking of which…Triss was kinda cross about your mother leaving for Equestria,” Rebecca said. “I told her that I would try to convince her to come back, but I’m not exactly sure how to go about that.”

Phobia frowned. “That’s your agreement and problem, not mine. I want my mother off the table. I have had to worry about her well-being for far too long. While her primary antagonist has ceased direct operations to kill her, they have stirred the pot so much that the Shimmerists who want to kill her will never go away. You can try speaking to Luna if you want to pursue what Triss wants, but you’ll get no help from me. I’m more than willing to let the dragon be unhappy.”

“She said she had a vision and that Sunset Blessing was going to be necessary to defeat the Devourers,” Rebecca added.

Phobia raised an eyebrow. “And we both know how unreliable visions are as a source. Did she give any further details?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Just that we need the Sunrise and Sunset. Sunset Blessing is the Sunset. I’d assume Sunrise Storm might be the Sunrise, but she didn’t specifically say that, so it could be another Sunrise. She didn’t give any further details.”

Phobia sighed. “I hate cryptic visions. We can’t ignore them, but they give so little detail on anything, and we can end up doing the wrong thing while trying to fulfill what we think the vision wants. I’ll look into Sunrise Storm and any other Sunrises that I can find and see if there is anything worth nudging. Do what you will with my mother.”

“Maybe I can see if Sunflower has had anything that relates to this–see if we have some other vision that can clarify things, or maybe Jennifer,” Rebecca suggested.

“Not her,” Phobia said. “She still has standing orders; we can’t contact her unless she specifically requests it. We agreed to her request. That’s a contract. We honor our contracts.”

“I never agreed to that. You entered that agreement way before my time,” Rebecca said.

Phobia narrowed her eyes. “Do not violate our agreement. If you do, I’ll see you get censored. Do you want to be censored?”

Rebecca’s ears fell. “Fine. I’ll honor that agreement I didn’t make. You’re so pushy. Um…I think the hot water should be back. I suggest singing Singing in the Bathtub. Their shower has great acoustics.”

”I don’t think I will,” Phobia politely declined.

“Aww, come on! Do it with a hip-hop beat,” Rebecca said.

Phobia shook her head. “Definitely not.”

“Rock ballad?” Rebecca tentatively suggested.

Phonia frowned. “Rock ballad?”

“Like Meatloaf! Will you rinse me up, will you hose me down?” Rebecca sang.

Phobia stared blankly at her.

Rebecca grinned back.

….
…
..
.

“Will you get me out of this grime-encrusted gown?” Phobia sang.

Rebecca cheered. “You got it!”

“Will you make the water a little less cool? I can do thaaa-aaat. Oh, I can do that!” the pair sang in chorus.

The chorus got louder. “Oh, I would do anything for suds! I would do anything for suds! I would do anything for sure! But I won’t go splat! No, I won’t go splat!”

Her bedroom door opened, and Russell looked at the pair of them. They stared back at him. Silence stretched on for several seconds.

….
…
..
.

Russell turned around. “I didn’t hear nothin’.” He shut the door behind him.

Phobia coughed. “I’ll be getting in the shower now.”

“Good idea,” Rebecca replied and then followed after her husband.

Author's Note:

Rebecca can encourage anyone to be a little silly.

Comments

[Numinos]

Never knew I needed singing Phobia in my life, but here we are : ) Nice chapter!

[Kairee]

If there wasn't a little laughter once in a while, there would only be tears. Never change, Rebecca.