• Published 3rd Oct 2012
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The Album - Peregrine Caged



A collection of 'snapshots', short stories that represent Moments in the lives of various ponies

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Flitter -- More Than Looks (Or: Flitter Gets a Manecut)

Written by: First_Down
Rated Everyone


CLOUDSDALE HIGH SCHOOL, YEARS AGO…

Flitter bit back the numerous curses that came into her head as she sulked against the row of lockers. Cloudchaser, she thought bitterly. It always comes back to Cloudchaser.

TEN MINUTES BEFORE NOW…

“So you heard about the Cloudsdale Spring Social coming up in two weeks, right?” Strato asked her after classes ended for the day, shyness radiating from every facet, from his smiling voice to his stance. Flitter wasn’t completely successful at suppressing her giggle. Of course she’d heard about the dance. It was only, like, the biggest event Cloudsdale High put together every spring.

“Yeah, I may have heard something about it once or twice,” she replied with a smile of her own and an eye roll, causing Strato to blush a cute shade of red around his cheeks as he realized the absurdity of his question.

“Yeah… yeah, heh, of course. Ummm, well, I don’t have a date yet for it. What I mean is, I haven’t asked anypony out yet.”

“Uh huh,” Flitter responded while he stammered. She couldn’t keep the eagerness out of her tone, but she made sure not to give anything else away, like leaning forward or giving Strato a half-lidded smoky gaze.

“…And I’m not exactly the best at asking out girls I like…”

“Yeeeeesss?” This time Flitter did lean forward just a bit. Some of her hair fell forward in front of her eyes; she tried to quickly blow it out of the way with the side of her mouth. That just made it worse as more thin, straight strands appeared to block her view. She brushed them aside with a hoof, hoping she didn’t look too uncool in the process.

“…I was hoping you could, you know, help me out a bit?”Strato ducked his head to one side once he got the question out, somehow blushing even harder. It contrasted well with his chalk white fur.

Flitter closed her eyes, her smile starting to reach her ears. “Oh Strato, of course I’d—wait.” The smile instantly vanished. That wasn’t exactly an ‘ask you out’ question. Flitter opened her eyes and fixed the young colt with a suspicious stare. “What exactly am I helping you out with?”

Strato’s blush hadn’t dissipated but his toothy smile had gone from nervous to forced. “Well, see, everypony says you’re really close with your sister. A-And you and I get along fine in our classes, so, uh, so I was hoping you could maybe, you know, put in a good word for me with her?”

RIGHT NOW…

Strato had long since vanished around the hallway corner, scrambling to get away as fast as his legs and wings would allow. All alone, Flitter sighed. Her expression melted from full-on death glare with spread wings to a resigned and unhappy frown. It wasn’t Strato’s fault. Not really. He had no way of knowing it was the fourth time in two weeks this had happened.

With more force than necessary, Flitter grabbed the books she’d need tonight from her locker, biting hard enough to leave indentations in the covers. She roughly shoved them into her saddlebags but that wasn’t satisfying enough, so she slammed her locker door shut, letting the cacophonous noise echo down the hallway.

Much better, she thought.

Having an older sister sucked. Hard. Cloudchaser had twenty months on Flitter, which meant she got to reach all the important milestones first. First one to fly. First one to get a cutie mark. First one in the family to get a pet, though Flitter thought she wasted it on a stupid, loud bird that smelled like a rotten pinecone.

That was bad enough. But then Cloudchaser also had to be smarter than her. Cloudchaser was a stronger flyer, which meant Cloudchaser got to make the sports teams she tried out for. Flitter could hover well, and she thought about trying out for the Free Flyers Dance Group once but had backed out at the last second. Because Flitter could only hover well.

The more she thought about these unfavorable comparisons, the further her head drooped, and her mane came cascading down in front of her eyes. With a frustrated scream, Flitter pushed the offending hair back behind her ears. “Oh, and her mane,” Flitter snarked out loud. “Let’s not forget her awesome, incredible mane.”

And it was incredible. It sat upon her head, curled and fluffy, a complementary two-tone color of blue and white. She completed it with a pink bow across the back of her neck that acted as support while adding a flash of warm heat to the cool countenance. Cloudchaser’s mane looked like the first part of her name, a perfect cloud on an otherwise clear day, and it drove the colts wild. Flitter knew because they loved to tell her.

“Wow, Cloudchaser’s mane is so beautiful.”

“How does she do it? I could stare at her all day.”

“Cloudchaser’s mane is totally sexy while yours looks like dead algae on a stagnant pond.”

Okay, she made that last one up. It didn’t change Flitter’s feelings of overall inadequacy. And it wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that Cloudchaser… was a good sister. She was kind and supportive. She never actively tried to make Flitter feel so lame, or rubbed her greatness in Flitter’s face. How could Flitter hope to compete with somepony who did everything better? How could she be herself for others to see? At this rate she was never going to step out of Cloudchaser’s shadow and it. Was. Not. Fair.

As she huffed, a new thought began to form in Flitter’s mind, terrible and dangerous and wild and exciting and achievable. She could never be smarter than her sister, or stronger or older. But she could look like her. Flitter knew the first step was always in the appearance. Turn a few heads, get them to notice you, and then take it from there.

Show them who you are, she thought. Then we’ll see who gets asked out.

It was a great idea!

AND THEN…

“I don’t know if this is such a great idea.”

Flitter sat in the middle of the living room of her friend, Shear Comfort’s, home. A towel was draped over her forelegs and a much larger sheet lay underneath, covering a wide expanse. Cloud floors were versatile in a number of ways but cleaning up small debris was not one of them. Trying to get hair out of all those curly tufts and hidden nooks was more than a challenge.

“Come on, Shear,” Flitter pleaded. “We’ve been over this. I need your help. Your cutie mark’s a pair of scissors after all.”

“Actually, it’s a pair of shears, Flitter,” Shear Comfort corrected. “My talent is shearing. Like, farm animals. Remember all those summers I spent with my uncle on his farm outside Bitsburgh?”

Flitter rolled her eyes. Her friend could be so reluctant sometimes. “Ok, shears, scissors, whatever. You’re still good at trimming stuff.”

“You’re sure this can’t wait until tomorrow? I know a really good mane stylist—”

“No way! The Spring Social is coming up and I can’t wait any longer. I want to walk into that school with my new look so everypony will see just how stunning I can be!”

“Flitter—” Shear Comfort tried to get a word in, but Flitter went right on over her.

“Besides, with your totally awesome scissor flank talents this is going to work.”

“I told you, they’re…” Shear Comfort sighed, putting a hoof to her face. “Never mind. Ok, how are we doing this?”

“Just trim the back up some so the rest can be shaped,” Flitter explained. “Then we’ll add the mane volumizer stuff. I’ve got blue and white color dye in my home so that’ll be the last thing I do.”

Shear Comfort nodded and stood over Flitter, scissors in her front hooves and wings spread wide for balance. She parted a few strands of pale green hair away from the rest and, closing the blades with a sharp metallic sound, began to work. Snik. Snik.

Flitter closed her eyes and imagined walking into Cloudsdale High in the morning with her new look. The girls would wonder how she did it, of course. And the boys wouldn’t be quite so quick to ask for her sister’s favor now. Gosh, Flitter, it’s like a whole new you. Strato and Whiteout, Jet Stream, all of them. The only thing left would be to determine who to take to the Spring Social, but there would be a little time for that. With enough colts vying for her she could finally choose. After all, she was now Flitter and not just Cloudchaser’s sister. She was…

The fantasy ended abruptly. Flitter opened her eyes and realized why. The snipping sounds had stopped. She was about to ask Shear Comfort if everything was ok when she heard her friend utter the last word she wanted to hear right now. It was the one word that contracted her eyes to the size of pinpricks.

“Oops.”

THAT NIGHT…

A solitary desk lamp illuminated Flitter in her room center stage like an actress before a critical soliloquy. A few stuffed animals watched from their place on the shelves and bed behind her while she delivered her performance, emotion pouring out of her body, over her hooves, on to the cedar desk her muzzle was pressed against. She felt dramatic. This was a catastrophe after all, wholly appropriate. A circular section of her hair, about half a hoof in width, had been reduced to stubble. Nothing she tried to do to cover up the bald spot over the last hour worked. Everypony was going to laugh or think she had mange. Or both. She was doomed. Doomed!

Knocking interrupted Flitter’s thoughts. She paused to take a few breaths and bring her voice under control before calling out, “Read the note and then go away!” Seriously, the note had been put up for a reason. Do not disturb under penalty of feather plucking to that smelly bird you call a pet! What was so hard to understand about it? The door opened anyway.

Cloudchaser peeked in and paused as if waiting for something. Flitter cracked one eye open, thought about yelling at her sister, but then released the tension in a low exhale. In that moment, seeing the pony that she could never become, with her electric mane and pink bow, defeated her. She realized that she was losing a competition to a sister who wasn’t trying to compete, and that thought was depressing. Flitter sat up at her desk, the desire to cry replaced with numb resignation. Her mane had splayed out like a fan from earlier, so she smoothed it back behind her ears, wincing when her hoof brushed past the spot on top of her head.

When no screams or threats of harm to her cockatiel burst forth, Cloudchaser stepped fully into the room. One wing balanced a dinner plate, and she flicked the main light in Flitter’s room on with the other wing before setting the plate down on the desk. For a long moment neither sibling spoke. Just as Flitter was about to say something, her sister got the first word out.

“Hey.”

It wasn’t much of an ice breaker, but it was a start. “Hey,” Flitter echoed.

“Brought you dinner.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Cloudchaser said. “Mom’s eggplant casserole was never the best even when it was warm. I think eating it now makes it a dare of some kind.”

That got a small, temporary smile out of Flitter. “How did you find out?”

“I think I would have figured it out eventually,” Cloudchaser replied and gestured to the top of Flitter’s head.

“No, you wouldn’t, because I’m totally staying in here until it grows back.”

“That’ll take weeks.”

“Well, then maybe you can slide me cold leftovers under the door,” Flitter finished with another small smile. She saw Cloudchaser mirror it and even give a light chuckle. But the unanswered question still nagged at her. She had avoided her sister all afternoon, so there was only one way she knew already. Flitter tapped her front hooves nervously, “Did Shear Comfort tell you?”

“Yeah, she came over a little while ago,” Cloudchaser confirmed. “She was worried you were mad at her.”

Flitter sighed and moved from her desk to the bed, tucking her legs under her as she sat on the mattress. She had been mad at Shear Comfort, said as much to her face before zooming out of the house in tears. Flitter made a mental note to apologize to her friend next time she saw her. “It wasn’t her fault, I guess. She did try to warn me. I freaked.”

Cloudchaser moved closer to her sister, eyeing the shaved spot critically. “It… doesn’t look that bad.”

“Really?”

“No, it does. What the hay were you thinking, Flitter?”

Flitter cringed. There were a lot of things she had been thinking at the time, but now, with her sister here and staring at her, they seemed silly. Flitter couldn’t even remember half of them. “I just… everypony loves your mane. I thought maybe I could get mine to do that, and then someone would ask me to the Spring Social.”

“And you couldn’t take the time and some bits and go see a stylist? You just yanked one of your friends into it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think.” Flitter stared down at her mattress despondently. Her sister was right as usual.

Cloudchaser looked like she had more to say. However, she hopped up on to the bed and draped a hoof around her sister’s shoulders instead. “Hey, you want to know a secret?” Flitter turned to look at her. “I think your mane is better.”

It took a moment to register what had been said. Once she did, Flitter made a rude noise in the back of her throat. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, whatever, CeeCee,” Flitter rolled her eyes. “All the colts adore your look. They all tell me. No one’s ever said that to me.”

“That’s because they’re just looking. Yeah, my mane’s awesome to look at but you ever think about what it takes to maintain it? It sticks straight up on a good day. You’ve seen me in the morning before I spend, like, an hour getting it fixed. It’s out of control. Yours is natural. You just wake up and it’s already perfect. It’s soft and smooth. You can run your hoof through it. I’ve broken hairbrushes in half getting through my tangles.”

Flitter stared at her sister in stunned silence. She searched for some sign of sarcasm or placation and came up empty. Never had she considered the possibility— of course nothing Cloudchaser just said was a lie or anything. Flitter knew about her sister’s morning routine, and she knew she could enjoy extra time to sleep before class because she didn’t have to do all that work. But she never would have guessed her older sister, the one who got all the attention, would have preferred it another way.

Cloudchaser smirked, “So yeah, sis, I’m totally jealous of your mane.”

The revelation almost got Flitter to laugh, except it turned rueful once she remembered the damage already done. “I’ll try to remember that next year if I get asked to the Spring Social, if any boy can look at me from now on without laughing.”

“Maybe they won’t find out.”

“They’ll find out.”

“Shear Comfort’s your friend. She won’t say anything. And I’m certainly not—”

“Cloudchaser, look at me! They’re going to see it!”

Cloudchaser hummed aloud as though pondering the problem. Without another sound she reached with one hoof behind her head, undid the pink ribbon holding her mane up, and slid it through Flitter’s hair. “Here,” she said, making a few quick adjustments with her hooves. When she was done, Cloudchaser leaned back to inspect her work.

For the second time tonight, in the span of a few minutes, Flitter was rendered too stunned to speak. Without her pink ribbon to act as support, Cloudchaser’s mane slowly came undone in the back. Thick strands uncoiled down the back of her neck and draped over her right shoulder. But, your look, Flitter thought, this was your look…

Then she turned her head to the mirror adjacent to the bed, hanging up on a cloud wall. The reflection that stared back now had a bow nestled atop its head. The bright pink color was quite appealing among the straight pale green hair. But more than that… Flitter walked up close to the mirror, tracing one hoof along the edge of the ribbon.

It’s gone! The bow covered up the bald spot. It wasn’t perfect. Flitter knew she would have to make some rearrangements, but the purpose it served was clear as day. And Cloudchaser had just… she didn’t even hesitate.

Flitter wanted to say thank you a million times, but the words were hard to form at that moment. The longer she looked into the mirror, the more her eyes burned. She closed them and gave a long, loud sniff. I really thought I was done crying tonight too. It was okay though. These tears were happy so she didn’t mind them.

Eventually, Flitter made her way back to the bed after wiping that last of the tears away. “So,” she said, trying hard to keep her voice from cracking. “What else about me are you jealous of?”

Cloudchaser laughed and rustled her wings to nest closer to her sister, “Well let’s see… you’re more graceful. I was shocked you didn’t try out for the Free Flyers this year. You’ve got a better singing voice. We’ve already talked about your mane…”

Flitter closed her eyes and leaned against her sister’s shoulder as she talked. Okay, she thought, so maybe having an older sister doesn’t suck so hard after all.

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