Chapter 1: Legacy
Chapter 1: Legacy
Never fight the breeze. Let the wind be your friend, and the currents will carry you home.
Mayflower reflected on her mother’s lessons as she soared upwards, the forest canopy becoming a green blur as she gained speed. Catching a thermal updraft, she shifted her weight back, forcing the glider to cut upwards. The uneven rustle of wind buffeting her orange flight suit filled her ears as she quickly gained altitude. Her mouth pulled on the bridle, arresting her ascent.
Breathing deeply of the crisp morning air, Mayflower took in the vista before her. A pinkish hue tinted the sky. She gazed above as golden sunlight filtered through alternating shades of lilac coloring the sail, basking in the welcome warmth. The lenses of her flight goggles darkened, allowing her eyes to focus on the dark speck silhouetted against the glare of the setting sun.
Every waypoint, Skybox, you’ve been ahead. Well, let’s see if Willow and I can close the distance.
The Manehattan Regional Hang Gliding Championship was a five hundred mile race through four waypoints around the eastern coast of Equestria. Mayflower trailed behind Skybox during every leg, a fact the cocky pegasus had rubbed in her face at every rest stop. She suppressed a growl of frustration, picturing his smug face.
It doesn’t help that he’s dangerously handsome with his immaculate white fur, flowing blonde mane, square jaw, those piercing green eyes…
Mayflower sighed, banishing images of the hunky stallion.
Why do all the good looking ones have to be such insufferable plotholes?
Nudging the control bit, she banked hard right, letting momentum carry the glider through a tight barrel roll. Her lips curled into smile as the craft effortlessly sliced through the air, evening out in line with her target.
Preparing for her most dangerous maneuver, the earth pony steadied her breathing and checked the speedometer. Forty miles per hour, a decent cruising speed. Time to see if all the hours spent customizing Willow Wind were going to pay dividends. Tightening her teeth around the control bridle, she forcefully pulled a strap hanging overhead. The bottle of propellant slung under the glider’s tail expelled its contents with a loud hiss.
Mayflower’s ears flattened against her helmet as the g-forces pushed against her body. She reveled in the rush of adrenaline flooding her system, letting its fire cleanse her mind of all thoughts except the desire for more speed. The wing’s leading edge cut through the air’s resistance like a razor, the speedometer rapidly spinning up to eighty miles per hour. Her short tail straightened in the wind, leaving behind a light purple contrail wavering in a white haze.
In under a minute, she could make out the white and blue colors of the stallion’s sail. Exhilaration filled Mayflower as she felt victory within her hooves. By her estimate, she was three hundred meters and closing. Just as thoughts of the Manehattan Regional Hang Gliding Championship Trophy danced in her head, the propellant sputtered out. Mayflower’s jaw dropped, realizing she had miscalculated the quantity of gas loaded in the canister. She cursed as Willow Wind rapidly lost speed, and Skybox pitched towards the final landing zone. Resigned to taking second again, she lazily banked the glider towards the finish line.
Wallflower shivered. The cold mountain air above the Hollow Shades chilled him to the bone. More accustomed to a heated library than a windy cliff, the lanky historian pulled his green parka tightly around his chest.
“I wouldn’t brood too much, May,” he said, trying to console his elder sister. If last year was any indication, she would be moping around the workshop for at least a week.
She only grunted in response, busy breaking down the flyer. Mayflower had removed her flight suit at the end of the race, laying bare her cutie mark, a cog betwixt flared wings. Unlike her brother, exposure to low temperatures caused her no visible discomfort.
Mayflower’s lithe figure made no secret which parent she took after; if not for the lack of wings, the earth pony was easily mistaken for a pegasus. A resistance to cold wasn’t the only trait she had inherited from Willow Wind; her mane had grown into the same curls as her mother. A pair of timeworn aviator goggles, permanently perched on her forehead, held the pale violet locks out of her silver eyes, their color the one aspect she shared with her sibling. Her tail shared the same style as her mane; Mayflower’s profession as an engineer necessitated keeping it docked lest a loose strand catch in one of the many machines in her workshop.
Where his sister was a transposing of their mother’s colors, Wallflower was their father’s mirror image, sharing the same messy black mane, slate grey coat, and silver eyes. Even his magic color cast a pale grey. Only his cutie mark differentiated Wallflower from his sire. Where Vellum’s portrayed a scroll hidden in sand, Wallflower’s depicted a curved arrow pointing counterclockwise over an open book.
Floating a wrench, he started taking apart the control frame. “So what happened with the gas canister? It worked correctly back at the workshop.”
Mayflower picked up the now empty booster, eyeing it with disappointment. “A miscalculation. I overlooked the colder temperature. The volume of gas contracted, so when it was expelled, the force and duration were less than when I tested it.”
Growing up, Wallflower had always been able to read his sister’s moods and instinctively know what she needed. From the self-disgust in her voice and the way she listlessly pawed at the ground, he could tell that making what she considered an elementary mistake really hurt her professional pride, especially since it cost her the race.
Feeling a younger brother’s natural urge to comfort his big sister, he laid a reassuring foreleg over her withers. “So you came in second place. It’s still a thousand bits and another nice trophy. Besides, there is always next year.” The engineer returned her brother’s nuzzle, his affection taking some of the sting off the day’s loss.
“I wouldn’t count on it being any different next year, ground pounders,” a voice sneered, ruining the siblings’ moment.
“Nice to see you too, Skybox,” Mayflower replied flatly, her cultured voice a sharp contrast to her competitor’s rough Cloudsdale accent. She didn’t bother facing the blond stallion as she finished rolling the disassembled glider into its carrier. “Come to gloat, I see. Predictable. Well, get it out of your system.”
“Thank you, I think I will,” he said smugly, strutting around like a peacock with its tail unfurled. “Leave flying to the experts, May.” He trotted in front of the mare as she hefted the carrier across her back and leaned in close. “Accept the truth: earth ponies, mixed blooded or not, don’t belong in the air.”
Wallflower stepped back and watched. His sister was familiar enough with pegasus body language to recognize when one was trying to be intimidating and could deal with it on her own. Not to mention, Skybox was much bigger than he was, possessing the body of a trained athlete. Being relatively thin and gangly, Wallflower considered getting in front of the muscular flyer a bad idea.
“We should all know our place. Is that what you’re saying?” she asked coolly, unfazed by Skybox’s aggressive posturing. She pressed her forehead against his, surprising the stallion by not backing down.
Her rival puffed his chest and spread his wings to their maximum span, casting a shadow over the smaller mare. “Exactly. Pegasi fly, unicorns do magic, and earth ponies… do whatever it is that earth ponies do. There’s an order to things, and we don’t need ponies like you trying to upset society.”
“Quaint notions as always, Skybox,” she said dryly. “Thank you for flying all the way down from Cloudsdale to grace us with your wisdom.” She brushed aside his feathers and stepped past.
“Perhaps we should move back to the dark ages, when members of different tribes weren’t allowed to marry. You can’t have dirty mixed bloods like myself being born.” She gazed over her shoulder, looking at him as a cat might look upon a particularly stupid bird about to be devoured. “But wait, isn’t your brother a unicorn? Oh, the scandal! I guess your bloodline isn’t so pure,” Mayflower quipped, turning up her nose.
Wallflower stifled a chuckle, watching the white stallion’s face redden as the sting hit home. He always found it amusing to observe his sister’s wit pierce the overinflated egos of arrogant blowhards like Skybox. One did not survive growing up among the upper class of Manehattan without honing a sharp tongue.
“Oh… no response? A pity.” Satisfied she’d taken her nemesis down a peg, Mayflower feigned disappointment and turned away. “Wallflower, come. Let us away to lunch.”
“Finally!” her sibling complained through chattering teeth as he cantered to her side. “It’s freezing up here. I think my horn is going numb.”
Unfortunately, Skybox, unwilling to let an upstart earth pony leave with the final word, foolishly kept the argument going. “So where’s your mother? She’s usually at the finish line. Was the old bird too ashamed of your dismal performance to bother showing up?”
A twitch of her hind leg was Wallflower’s only warning before Mayflower abruptly turned to spring at her rival. Wallflower’s reflexes were barely quick enough to grab her tail in his telekinesis, preventing her from smashing Skybox’s face in.
“Let me go, Wally, I am going to bucking stomp his wings and toss him off the mountain!” she yelled, livid at being held back.
“He’s not worth it, May. He’s trying to bait you!”
Nostrils flaring and puffs of hot air condensing around her snout with each breath, Mayflower took on the visage of an angry dragon whose slumber had been interrupted. In this case by a very loud and stupid pegasus. Ignoring her brother’s protests, she dug her hooves into the gravel and slowly dragged the grey unicorn forward.
“You just had to take a parting shot, didn’t you, Sky?” he spat, wincing as his haunches scraped across the sharp pebbles.
“So the ice queen has some fire.” Skybox ignored the warning. Seeing Mayflower riled up was rare, and he wanted to make it last. “Did I hit a nerve? Did the eagle finally notice she gave birth to a kiwi?”
“I. Am. Going. To. Break. All. Your. Bucking. Legs,” she snarled, each word punctuated by a strained step forward.
“Your ornithological knowledge is most impressive. Now get out of here before I lose my grip on her!” Rivulets of sweat ran down Wallflower’s face as he struggled to maintain his hold. Mayflower’s light frame belied her inherent strength. Resemblance to a pegasus aside, she was still an earth pony with all the muscle power to match. It didn’t help that Wallflower’s spell power and mana pool measured below average, meaning only a few moments remained to get the swaggering idiot out of harm’s way. Worse, said idiot was hovering in and out of Mayflower’s reach, easily avoiding her angry swipes, infuriating his sister further.
“Ha. Far too slow. You’re pitiful. No wonder she―”
“She died six months ago, you feather brained imbecile!” Wallflower shouted, cutting him off. “That’s whole reason she wanted to win so badly!”
Skybox’s mouth froze midsentence.
He floated in place, paralyzed by the burning hatred in May’s eyes, she chomped at the bit to stomp him into paste. Probably best he moved.
The epiphany came just in time as Wallflower’s magic ran dry. The sudden release sent the unicorn flying backwards. He hissed as pain exploded in his head and spots clouded his vision.
Unleashed, May roared as she lept towards the pegasus, snapping him out of his stupor. With a strong flap, he bolted for the sky, narrowly avoiding a potentially bone shattering swipe from her foreleg.
The earth pony threw both curses and any small rocks she could pick up at his fleeing form. He yelped as a stone clipped his left ear, causing him to briefly lose altitude. Watching the target of her fury get away, Mayflower lost all control and vented her unspent anger on the ground, pulverizing the small rocks into powder. Eventually, she collapsed, letting out slow, ragged breaths. As her rage was washed away in a torrent of grief, she lay wailing in the dirt. Even her Wallflower’s gentle stroking of her mane did nothing to stop the tears.
“Shh...” he comforted. “It’s alright, let it all out.”
“Momma...” Mayflower’s cries became muffled in the damp fur of her brother’s chest.
Every mare in the cafe set their sights on Wallflower the moment he and his sister set hoof inside. Wall’s friends had warned him about this phenomenon: anytime a stallion appeared alongside a mare who’d clearly been crying, a silent directive circulated to every female in the vicinity to turn their most accusatory stare on the unlucky colt. After all, whatever had upset the poor girl was obviously the male’s fault.
A waitress begrudgingly provided him an icepack after taking his order. He sat, pressing it to the back of his head, trying to ignore the negative energy emitting from everything with two X chromosomes. Mayflower’s return saved Wall from bursting into flames. She looked refreshed. A quick rinse had cleaned the tears from her puffy eyes. They each searched for words to break the uncomfortable silence.
“I’m really sorry for what happened up there, Wally, and thank you.” May started fidgeting with her goggles. “If you hadn’t been there…”
Wall recognized the nervous habit and waved off her apology. “It’s okay, I understand. If it’s any consolation, Sky’s brother is just as much a cretin as he is,” he joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “You’re lucky. I have to attend the same university as Platinum.”
In truth, the fight had terrified him. He’d never known his sister to have violent mood swings. The unhinged look in her eyes as she threatened Skybox left no doubt in his mind she would have crippled the pegasus—or worse—if he hadn’t intervened.
“It’s not okay, Wally. I thought I was over mother’s death, but everything still feels...” She trailed off. Wallflower kept silent. He wasn’t a psychology major and hadn’t anticipated his sister being in such a dark place. The fortuitous arrival of their food bought him some time to think.
May’s expression slowly transformed to one of delight as she realized her brother had ordered not one, but two servings of her favorite dessert: the triple chocolate mousse parfait.
Three layers of dark, milk, and white chocolate mousse, crushed bits of delicate chocolate wafers, finished with a scattering of dark chocolate shavings, all served in a tall glass of fine crystal. It was an unusually elegant dish, considering the eatery’s usual clientele of hikers and mountaineers.
On the first spoonful, she entered chocolaty nirvana as a wave of smooth bitterness swept her in. Subtle floral notes hid under the ocean of flavor, and hints of coffee added to its complexity. Unable to resist, May broke through both remaining layers, the sweet milky taste leading a sugary waltz over her taste buds. The wafer crumbs broke up the dessert’s uniform smoothness.
Wallflower stared at his sister, a little envious of her hummingbird metabolism, as she polished off the first treat in the time it took him to finish a quarter of his walnut-apple salad. He wondered where she hid the calories. Her claim of mares having separate stomachs for sweets sounded dubious at best.
Returning from her sublime journey, Mayflower let the spoon clink in the now empty glass.
“Feeling better?”
“Much,” she sighed. Consuming so much rich chocolate lifted her spirits considerably.
Wall allowed his sister a few moments to bask in sweet-induced euphoria. He hoped a good mood would lessen the pain of the upcoming discussion.
The unicorn leaned forward, hooves steepled. “I’m really worried about you, May. Since the funeral, you’ve spent every waking moment in the workshop.”
May ate the second parfait at a more sedate pace, appetite stifled by the serious undercurrent in her brother’s words. “I thought losing myself finishing the crossbow would make me forget, but anytime I stop working I remember she’s gone.”
He nibbled his salad, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Normally, the combination of candied walnuts, tart apples, tangy goat cheese, and bitter greens would dance on his palate, but the mood turned the once bright flavors to ash. “I went to a grief counselor. He suggested a vacation. I want you to come with me.”
She rubbed her neck, unsure. “I don’t know, Wally. I have my presentation to the military coming...”
Wallflower took her hooves in his. “We’re drifting apart, May. I’m scared for you. I need my big sister back.”
May thought about the projects left unfinished. Could she really afford to go on a brother-sister bonding trip? Her brother’s pleading expression convinced her she couldn’t afford not to.
“Alright,” Mayflower sighed. “I could never say no to you, little brother.” She finished the last of her mousse and motioned for the bill. “So what paradise have you selected?”
“Let’s go, and I’ll show you,” her brother said, already leaving. “Oh, and you’re paying for lunch, correct?”
Mayflower found her brother sitting on a grassy knoll, watching the clouds. She marched over and dropped beside him in a huff. “Thanks for leaving me with the check.”
“You expected me to pay, on a graduate student’s salary? You must be joking.” He laughed as she playfully punched his shoulder.
“So, about my conditions. One, we have to stop in Canterlot for my P.A.C. demonstration.”
“P.A.C.?”
“Pump Action Crossbow.”
“Okay, done.” He nodded, Canterlot Grand Library being on his list of places to visit anyway.
“Two, you’re pulling the caravan.”
“Oh, come on, May!”
“No whining, Wally. You need the exercise. Moreover, while we are on the subject, what was that pitiful display on the cliff? You’ve been neglecting your magic, haven’t you?”
“Umm…”
“Thought so. We are bringing weights.”
Wallflower rolled his eyes. May was always on his back about fitness. Lifting heavy objects up and down in an endless cycle, magically or otherwise, sounded utterly boring. He was a highly educated academic, not a dock worker. Besides, didn’t climbing up and down ladders to retrieve books count as exercise? “Whatever,” he grunted, and dug through his saddlebags.
Out levitated a wide, flat jewelry box, the wood lacquered a dark chestnut. Gold filigree wound around its surface. A lovely piece, but May didn’t see anything to warrant her brother’s growing excitement.
“Behold and be amazed!” he declared, opening the lid.
Seated in the felt lined interior was a nondescript notebook, but the item next to it drew Mayflower’s eye: a pristine primary feather of purest white, the color carrying right down to the root. May held it in awe, feeling a soft warmth as if a tiny fraction of the sun’s essence sat in her hooves. The grand pinion obviously belonged to a pony, just one several times larger than any normal pegasus. “Where did you find this, Wally?”
“It’s a funny story. My thesis was rejected, so...”
Her brother’s voice faded away as Mayflower continued to gaze at the feather, stirring a cauldron of memories. Fragments of the worst period of her childhood floated to the surface.
Guards at the door. Mommy’s crying. I don’t understand what’s happening. Mommy’s wings embrace me, holding me tight. They’re warm. She won’t let go.
Daddy’s not coming back? A chariot accident, Mommy’s angry again. What’s neg-gla-gence?
A letter from the Princess? Mommy says the Princess feels sorry for us and sent me a gift.
Stupid feather! It’s supposed to be magic. why won’t it bring Daddy back? Why won’t it give me wings? How can I be with Mommy all day without wings?
I’ve got a little brother now! He looks just like Dad—no, he looks like Father. I’m a big sister now. I will speak like one. Brother’s name is Wallflower; it’s pretty. Mayflower and Wallflower, Mother says we’re her bouquet of happiness.
“…then the boxes fell on me, papers everywhere… Hey, are you even listening?”
Mayflower blinked back tears as her brother waved his hooves in front of her face. “Sorry, just spaced out there for a second. What were you saying?”
“I found one of Father’s notebooks,” answered Wallflower, getting more excited. “From what little I’ve read, his next expedition concerned alicorn history. Imagine it! The history of the princesses, it’s the stuff of legends!”
May couldn’t help but smile at her brother’s enthusiasm. “So it’s a working vacation for you and fun for me? Sounds good to me. Where to first? Hoofington? Fillydephia? Oh, tell me it’s Las Pegasus. I’ve always wanted to go there!”
“Actually… most of the writing is in Father’s shorthand so… ” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
Mayflower’s smile faded. “In other words, you don’t know.”
“Hey, if I can translate Old Equestrian, I should be able to figure out my own father’s horn writing. How hard could it be?”
Is this some sort of cruel joke left by Father to torment me from beyond the grave?
It was the last party of the semester and instead of enjoying the festivities, Wallflower sat at the back of the dimly-lit student lounge. Maps and parchment lay sprawled across the table. The pencil clenched in his mouth was in serious danger of being bitten in half.
This particular lounge was reserved for well-to-do students. It sported a fully tended bar and well-dressed wait staff who weaved through the crowd, bearing a menagerie of hors d'oeuvres.
Wall ran a hoof through his increasingly disheveled mane. The journal seemed to mock his attempts to decipher it. In the beginning, he had made steady progress, mapping out several potential locations for exploration. The problem came when the list continued to grow ever longer. Equestria was a very old country with a large number of ruins scattered about the continent; it required a lifetime to explore them all, and Wall only had a summer.
“You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”
Navel Orange slid into a seat next to his roommate. The earth pony was dressed in a simple blue tie, which nicely complimented his burnt orange coat and blond mane. He dwarfed Wallflower in size. Working on the Orange family orange grove had gifted the stallion with a powerful physique. With a Master’s degree in agriculture, Navel was an example of a most elusive species: the physically fit academic. It made him quite the hit with ladies on campus, much to Wallflower’s chagrin.
“So, still stuck?” Navel placed a snifter of brandy in front his friend.
Thankful for the distraction, Wall took his time enjoying the sweet burning sensation as the alcohol ran down his throat. “About the same, I’m afraid.”
“I warned you, Wally. Your father’s generation kept their discoveries secret. Glory hounds, all of them.” Navel paused, sipping his own drink through a straw. “You still have time to rework your last idea, even if It’s a little dry.”
Titled: Differing Lifespan between Tribes and its Effect on the Evolution of Equestrian Social Constructs, Wallflower’s thesis covered the historical growth of Equestria’s institutions and the handling of problems caused by three inseparable races with completely different rates of aging after puberty.
The average pegasus expected to live about sixty years; more gifted flyers lived for significantly less. For example, members of the Wonderbolts averaged fifty years or less, exemplifying the adage, “a candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long”. Pegasi made up for their short lifespans and higher accidental death rates with a much higher birth rate compared to other ponies.
Unicorns lasted an average of eighty years with the numbers for those of exceptionally high power trending downwards, their magic burning through their life force at a rapid rate. With their low birth rate, unicorns were the least populous.
Earth ponies remained the longest lived of all three tribes, with most living well over a century. Their longevity and moderate birthrate made them the largest race by percentage.
The advent of mixed marriages and the children stemming from such unions presented Equestrian society with complex questions. How to deal with families where parents outlived their children by a generation? A healthy earth pony could marry multiple pegasi during his or her lifetime and start a family with each; it made inheritance law a nightmare.
While Wallflower’s paper was well researched, it covered well-trod ground. In addition, nopony wanted a reminder of his loved one’s mortality. Mayflower never discussed how she was going outlive him by several decades despite being his elder. Besides, Wall had stronger reasons to switch topics.
“No, Navel, you don’t understand. This journal, what it contains, is my only chance to connect with my father.”
“Just because I haven’t lost a parent doesn’t mean I’m not sympathetic, Wally. Only, I don’t believe chasing your father’s shadow is healthy.” Navel voiced his concern. “Have you discussed this with May?”
Wallflower shrugged. “I don’t want her to worry. She has it hard enough with Mother’s death.”
“She has a right to know. May was only a filly when your father died.”
“At least she spent time with him—remembers his touch, heard his voice,” Wall replied bitterly. “All I have are photographs. Now this.” He tapped the notebook. “This is my chance to fulfill his legacy.”
Navel was about to argue the point when another pony approached.
“Navel, Flower, is this a private party, or can anypony join?”
Both stallions turned to see Platinum Plus. Except for his horn, the white and blond unicorn was the spitting image of his elder brother. Draped over his shoulder was a pretty, teal- coated unicorn mare sporting a bronze updo, which Wallflower assumed was Platinum’s latest piece of leg candy.
Not waiting for an answer, Platinum seated himself opposite the table’s occupants. “Be a good girl and bring me a drink and a few of those little cream cheese things,” he said, sending away his fillyfriend with a swat to her flank.
“Do you even remember this one’s name?” asked Navel, disgusted by Platinum’s typical chauvinism.
“Do I ever?” replied Platinum in a bored tone. “So, Flower, I see you still haven’t been expelled.”
Wallflower bristled. “Go back to your painted-up tart, Platinum. I’m not in the mood.” To an outsider, his response would seem like an overreaction to a harmless jest, but to those who knew them, it was like picking at an old wound.
From the very first time he encountered him, Wallflower had taken a dislike to the arrogant stallion and the feeling was mutual. In Platinum Plus, Wall saw everything wrong with Equestrian society: a self-entitled fop, coasting through the hated School of Management, guaranteed position in government by way of his family connections.
Their rivalry came to a head when Wall published The Problems Inherent in a Self-Perpetuating Autocracy. Platinum had led the charge to have the work banned, labeling it treasonous. Wall had narrowly avoided expulsion.
“Still upset about that?” Platinum smirked, enjoying Wallflower’s cringed expression. “Holding onto the past, I see. Typical historian.”
“Did you have an actual point in coming here, or are you just here to poke fun?” said Navel.
“A little of both,” Platinum said, flourishing a newly minted diploma with his magic. “Looks like I beat you to a Masters, Wally.”
“They accepted your thesis?” Navel sat in disbelief. “Who’d you pay off?”
“Nopony, I assure you. Why is this so hard to accept?”
“Because your thesis is horseapples!” protested Wallflower, his left eye twitching. “Strict Nepotism and its Benefits to the Management of Equestrian Government and Business? Your argument is a one way ticket to stagnation. How could the committee buy it?”
“Cutie marks,” Platinum answered simply, taking the proffered drink from his returning marefriend. “Talents have a way of being passed through bloodlines. Entire families have skills related to one common aspect.”
“Oranges,” whispered Navel.
“Exactly, Navel. Your family is a living example. Even you prove my point, Flower. Professor Scroll was a talented historian, and as painful as it is to say, you share a glimmer of his brilliance.”
Wall opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of a cogent counter-argument. Skybox staggering into the table saved him admitting it.
“You! Tell your sister to watch her back,” the pegasus slurred, glaring at Wallflower. “She thinks she can attack me and get away with it? I’m the champion! I can have her kicked out of the league in a heartbeat!”
“Brother, you are drunk,” Platinum said in a tired tone. Skybox seemed a wreck after the incident at the cliff. Hoping to lift his spirits, Platinum had invited his older brother along to the party, a decision he now regretted.
Sky angrily swept the table with a wing, scattering drinks and papers to the floor. “Well, la-de-da! So what if I am drunk? You worried I’ll embarrass you in front of your fancy Manehattan friends, little bro?”
“It’s a little late for that.” Platinum enveloped his inebriated sibling’s tail in a gold haze and dragged him away. “My apologies, gentlecolts. A spirited debate as always.”
Ignoring the stallions’ withdrawal, Navel bent down to pick up his friend’s papers. As he reached for a sheet, his hoof was swatted away.
“Navel, hoof me the roll of tracing paper and a pencil.”
“Wall, what—”
“No time to explain. Just give them to me.” Wallflower’s eyes glittered as he stared at the maps overlapping on the floor. A fog had been lifted, rendering the answer visible for a precious few moments.
Navel stood aside, puzzled by the seemly haphazard lines his friend drew across the paper. With each application of pencil and ruler, the historian’s tail swished with increasing excitement. Slowly, a pattern emerged as the lines started to crisscross in increased frequency. His grin widening, Wallflower overlaid the tracing onto various maps of Equestria, discarding each until he found one which fit his unknown criteria.
“I’ve finally got it, Navel,” he exclaimed, tracing a hoof along the symbols at the chart’s edge. “All of these are start and end points, but they only work for a map of a specific scale.”
The earthy pony raised an eyebrow and hovered over his friend’s shoulder. “A type of triangulation?” he supposed.
“Close, but look.” Seen from overhead, a keen observer would make out a series of arrows hidden amongst the grid of overlapping marks. They all pointed towards one point. Cross-referencing the coordinates against a guide to Equestrian ruins revealed a single entry: The Palace of the Royal Pony Sisters, Everfree Forest.
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Think how hard it was for me to become an insufferable plothole without the looks.
This is going extremely well. (And the sidebar on lifespans was ingenious, and I'm not just saying so because I once had a pegasus die off at sixty.)
I can't help it, this line cracks me up every time
weknowmemes.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/go-home-rainbow-youre-drunk-meme.jpg
An excellent story so far. I'll likely be faving and giving a thumbs-up when I finish what you've written so far (I don't like doing either until I finish what's there; been burned when stories turn bad after faving). A couple of things though, struck me as odd. I'm not sure that hang-gliders are designed to do what you had them doing in this story. I may be entirely wrong (having never flown one before), but barrel rolls and propelled flight may be outside of their normal operating envelope.
Also, the cutie marks. A cog is a single tooth within a gear. May want to fix that. And Wallflower's cutie mark description confuses me. How can an arrow be pointing counter-clockwise (a direction of movement over time)? Does that mean it's pointing left? What I'm trying to say is that it's hard to convey counter-clockwise with a static image.
All in all, an enjoyable experience. I just needed to comment on those two things before continuing on.
Interesting world building with the lifespan differences.
I like how you've allowed Mayflower to fly. Not sure I've seen hang-gliding ponies before, seems new.
I dislike your antagonists (very much so!
) and identify with your protagonists (especially being a man of history) this story seems to be turning into an exciting adventure into equestria's past. I cannot wait to read more, all in all your writing style is very full, descriptive and lively!