Like Living With An Ex Who Sets The House On Fire Up To Twenty-Six Times Per Year
It felt as if the past was following her.
Going back and forth to Canterlot for the therapy sessions, using the faster form of travel -- she could always get an air carriage, but it wouldn't necessarily be the same one. A given specimen could be grounded for maintenance, recharging, or to have some touchups placed into the paint. Even the inanimate could wear makeup, especially when it was trying to pass itself off as something which would be worth a few extra bits for the ride -- right up until the pegasi actually took off, because that was when anypony in the passenger section got to discover that fresh touches of gilding didn't do much for the actual wind shielding.
Gilding.
Gilda.
Auratui...
This particular carriage seemed to be slightly underpowered. Moving towards Ponyville at speed created gusts moving against vehicle and occupant, and a portion of that kinetic energy was getting through. Not so much that Fleur would have called for a landing: she was in no danger of being pushed off the platform. But remaining motionless required effort. She was constantly being nudged backwards, any real acceleration turned that into something which approximated a shove, and it felt as if it was taking so much strength just to stay exactly where she was...
The wind also pushed against her head. Her mane was being disrupted. Any inhalation seemed to bring in far too much: trying to exhale found her fighting just to get rid of what had quickly become a toxic load. To shed the poison. But the force was directional, and it became easier to breathe when she turned away from the approaching settled zone, glancing off to the sides or -- looking back.
It wasn't the clearest of views. The corridor of scheduled weather was heavily overcast: more spring rains would be set to trigger overnight. But there was a storm over the Everfree. No lightning or thunder, not just yet -- but she could see the rain coming down, and it was easy to watch the treetops swaying in the wind. The Experience wouldn't be flying today. Ponies were perfectly capable of getting wet at home, and fetching a towel from their own linen closet didn't come with a Slight Additional Charge.
Gilda and Zephyr.
When you loved somepony...
...or even if they were just your friend...
...you effectively inherited certain aspects of their lives...
A friend. A sibling. Two sapients (or a possible plummet into insanity added to the presence of an unreasoning preschooler) who, prior to their appearance, might as well have never existed -- at least when it came to their direct impact on Fleur --
-- no. That was wrong. Both intruders had been part of the lives of others, and...
Imagine the past as a series of canyons. (Protocera was believed to have the most spectacular examples on the planet.) Time wears away at the rock, with every sapient carving out their own trail. Something immutable. This has happened: there is no changing it. Every second allows you to advance a little farther forward, but -- you can never truly see where you're going. The future is opaque. It dares you to try and aim for a destination, when you don't know if it can ever be reached. You just keep pushing, and...
...trails can intersect. Another's canyon breaks through to yours, and now two are traveling together. A collective force is being exerted, and it alters the nature of the trail. Of the travelers. With every one of those changes set in stone.
Fluttershy and Rainbow had become the people Fleur knew because they'd had that company. Without Gilda and Zephyr, those two paths might have flowed in different directions. Never intersected each other, or... Fleur.
(Rainbow might have only approached because she'd once known a griffon.)
(Trading one ranch kid for another.)
The companion's trail might eventually split off. (Perhaps you'd never wanted him to be there at all. Or maybe you'd expected to travel with her for a lifetime, and... she'd had a different concept of what the ultimate goal would be.) Your own trail kept moving forward, because it was the only way to live. But at any moment, you might hear a crumbling of rock. And the paths would come together again, you would see the person who had been at your side for so long, and...
...time wore away stone. It also did strange things to minds.
They would step out of the shadows, emerging from the winding canyons of the deep past. Intersecting your trail again, with the intent to walk with you. Or... to redirect. Steer, dominate...
And perhaps you would wonder who this person was now.
Or if you'd ever really known them at all.
Fleur, for the trails of love and friend, was a newcomer. She'd only walked with them for a short time, and... kept waiting for the event which would break her path away from theirs, send her back into those shadows. Because she had her own trail, her own past, and only the future was opaque. You could try to set up rockfalls along your own canyon, block off sections while making it appear as if you'd come in from a different angle... but ultimately, that was just illusion. Make enough of an effort, and anyone could potentially follow the trail.
All the way back.
She'd been an escort --
-- she had been a blackmailer.
She'd targeted Fancypants, because an asexual who was trying to hide it... that was more than unusual enough to get her attention, especially with somepony who had bits to extort. If he was willing to pay for the company of escorts (who never actually reached his bedroom) in order to appear normal, then what would he be willing to pay her in order to keep the illusion from being broken? She was just trying to create security. To make sure she could take care of herself, because her mark was a tainted miracle: something which couldn't provide her with a job for a lifetime, and... beauty faded. She needed security.
(She'd been trying to dominate her own future.)
He'd been trying to conceal his true nature. He'd obviously never told anypony, and that wasn't going to change.
And then he'd found the strength to approach his friend. A mare he'd known for a few decades, who just happened to hold the Solar Throne. And he'd told her everything, Celestia had backtracked the extortion, branched the investigation out to the escort's other clients, given them the chance to compare notes, deduced Fleur's talent, and then summoned her to the palace...
Celestia had allowed ponies to compare notes.
Fleur had targeted the wealthy. The powerful. And a significant portion of those parties now knew exactly who had been blackmailing them.
There had been a certain question as to whether Fleur's reward for successfully completing her original palace assignment would have been a clear shot at the horizon and a two-minute head start. Or if she would have been thanked, offered her escort's license back, and led into a soundproofed room. The paperwork would be waiting for her there. The license, and a few dozen ponies who'd been told that whatever happened next would take place without witnesses.
But the job had been to make Fluttershy happy, and -- somehow, Fleur was what made the pegasus happy...
She'd become a registered resource of Equestria. Canterlot knew that she worked directly for the palace, but -- not the exact capacity. Simply that the alicorns were keeping watch both on and over her, and the Princesses had believed that would give Fleur sufficient protection --
-- and it wasn't as if Equestria's history didn't happen to be full to overflowing with ponies who'd tried to get their actions past alicorn snouts.
The protection of the palace? What would that mean if any of her previous victims (which very much included the ones to whom she'd had to deliver direct apologies) made a real effort? Additionally, the events of the previous autumn and early winter had given Fleur some doubts about the palace's ability to protect itself. (The Solar and Lunar wings were still being repaired.) And even if Canterlot could be pushed back...
Trace the trail of Fleur's life. Break through the blockades and count how many gang hideouts she'd passed through. Never too long with any one group, taking what she needed (food, shelter, security) and then moving on. She'd left the majority of them on fairly good terms. Others had been put into the sort of disarray which allowed her a smooth escape, because few things could shake up a small portion of chain like knowing exactly which links were attracted to each other and -- not letting it be a secret any more.
But when it came to the last...
She'd decided to leave Protocera. Something which required a new set of identity papers. And most of the gangs were just pretending, social clubs with insignias and Secret Tail Sways -- but this one had criminal connections. She'd needed that. And they didn't take just anyone. There were tests, to make sure a member was worthy. To find out what they could bring to the gang.
She had brought knowledge of a poison. One which couldn't kill anything that truly thought -- but the price of that sapience was unrelenting agony.
Her test had been drinking it.
Consuming that which had killed her sister.
Well, how were you supposed to respond to that level of offense? In Fleur's case, she'd bided her time, been a good mare, carefully observed every last puzzle piece, arranged them like a filly's game: a playing field of just barely-upright spottiles. And once she'd known that the papers were good, walked out the door -- immediately after she'd subtly nudged the most unbalanced one with a back hoof. Tipping the whole thing into a fast-spreading crash.
It hadn't come apart quietly. There had been fouls aplenty, quite a bit of blood, and more than enough squawks to alert the police -- which saved Fleur a trip, as she'd been planning to anonymously do that anyway. As it was, she'd simply stayed in the rough vicinity long enough to watch the blindfolded leaders being led away, and then left Protocera.
She'd told herself that she was leaving forever.
That no one knew she'd been responsible.
Surely they'd never put it together.
They were too stupid...
But that was the thing about idiots. They didn't need to assemble facts. All they required was a conclusion to pounce on and every so often, if only by sheer coincidence, they would wind up with exactly the right one.
Was it possible to track Fleur across the border? She was certainly distinctive enough. Perhaps all that was truly required was for someone with a grudge to reach freedom and...
...slip into the canyons, as the hunt listened for the echoes of hooves.
Time passed, and you moved forward into an unseen, unknowable future. But you retained the option to review the path. Every hoofstep you'd ever taken had cumulatively brought you to now. And there was always a trail.
The wind kept trying to force Fleur to turn.
To look back.
To strain for the first glimpse of whatever might be following her.
She'd asked the pegasi to land at the police station, because Fleur was under much-resented orders which said she had to brief the mare in charge. (Something she probably would have done anyway, but having Dr. Lorem believe she could just tell Fleur to do it was deeply irritating.) And because the mare in charge was naturally going to be the most likely to demonstrate the most annoying aspects of that frequently-pointless profession, Miranda...
It had to be built into every last one of the icons, across the entire category of supposed talent. The ability to sense when somepony actually needed an officer, followed by very carefully not being there.
Fleur, who wasn't in the mood to entrust somepony she didn't know, wrote up the note which requested a meeting. Then she spotted the jagged edges of her fieldwriting and allowed multiple flares of corona to rip up the paper. This was followed by writing another note, and making sure the edges of the envelope were perfectly sealed.
Failure #2 was being unable to find Rainbow. Every favorite napping spot was checked. Fleur then adjusted for the ones which couldn't receive warming sunlight under such heavily-overcast skies, and that led to checking everything on the second tier: this included a number of indoor spots, one clockwork ceiling fan with exceptionally wide reinforced blades, and That One Belfry. After a while, she found herself standing in the shadow of the cloud home and shouting up towards the vapor. Then she levitated herself, yelled with a little more proximity, and the only result she got was a hard green head peeking curiously out of a window. There was a chance that Tank's blinks were a coded attempt to tell Fleur where his mistress was, but she didn't speak tortoise and even with a translation guide, the rate at which that pet did anything meant Fleur would have had to allow about two hours per sentence.
The mailbox was at ground level. She left another note and vowed to send a bird for backup.
And then it was making her way back to the cottage, following the old road and the new river which her own acidic presence had etched into the world. Heading towards the place which so wanted to think for her, and if it ever figured out how to make her dream...
(The dreams had stopped again. She was back in her own nest, with her love. Protected.)
(She wondered if there would be a night when that wasn't enough.)
She wanted to rest. She couldn't. There were feedings ahead. Things to clean. Somepony had to check the borders of the property, because it had been raining and the scent treatments which Fluttershy put out to prevent the predators of the Everfree from picking up on so much gathered prey would probably need to be renewed. Of course, doing it today would mean having a portion washed away almost immediately, but that was still better than risking having the barrier go down completely.
And she had to review the appointment book. Check the payment ledgers. There was also the not-so-minor matter of writing up the rest of her mission report to Celestia. Plus Fluttershy had to catch her up on both veterinary lessons and quizzes, the citizenship course wanted an essay, and it just never stopped --
-- it could be argued that there were two aspects to a law enforcement mark. One was never being around when you wanted them, and the other magically reinforced the opposite.
The cottage held endless duties, all waiting for just the right moment to inflict themselves upon her. Stealing away time and thought, as she struggled to find some way of catching up. Something which would only allow her to once again reach the point where she felt as if it took all of her strength just to trot in place.
The cottage claimed time and thought. Miranda, waiting beneath endless billowing grey in front of the door, only wanted a portion of the former.
They were outside, moving beneath cloud-dimmed Sun as they followed the property's outer border. There were still tasks to complete, and one of them could be done on the move. It also granted them a measure of privacy. Admittedly, the shrew curled up in the center of the taller unicorn's back could theoretically hear everything, but was likely to sleep through most of it and wasn't exactly good at repeating Equestrian in the first place.
"Do you usually do this with her?" the officer asked.
"No," Fleur admitted. "But she stays close for a while after I come back from a... trip. And she just likes to be carried. She shouldn't have to keep up." Tiny legs didn't need to be forced into matching an equine pace, and... the Protoceran wasn't sure how old Katherine was.
She had the option to ask Fluttershy.
Fleur was aware that the longest-lived shrews reached twelve years. The shorter-lived ones... wouldn't.
She didn't want to know.
"The smell doesn't bother her?" This emerged with a somewhat pinched quality: the accompanying flare of green-grey corona light failed to close the smaller mare's nostrils.
"They don't have the strongest sense there."
Miranda took a breath. Then she expelled it with indecent speed.
"And you're just used to it," the officer suggested.
'Yes. It takes most ponies six circuits. But I'm sure somepony like you could do it in one. If you want to start on that now, I can just transfer this over --'
"No," Fleur said. "You don't get used to it. You just get it over with."
The taller unicorn had hitched herself to a dragline: the pulling loops went around her shoulders, and the reeking bag of herbs stayed four body lengths back. It was enough distance to allow both mares some capacity for breathing, accompanied by frequent chances to treat the action as a mistake.
It was easy to follow the border. Things were more cleared on the cottage side of the line. More... stable. But with the current weather...
On the cottage side of the line, it was heavily overcast. What little light got through might as well have existed at fifteen minutes before Sun-lowering, while possessing none of the beauty.
The settled zone was overcast, because that was what weather control had arranged for this part of the day. In the wild zone, rain fell. Wind could be tracked through the movement of branches and new leaves: something which showed it coming to the line before being diverted straight up.
Miranda was closer to the edge of the fringe: Fleur had learned that it was best to put the fresh scents a little further away, because the odors soaked into the soil and groundwater had an easier time crossing the line. It meant the smaller unicorn occasionally passed under branches which had grown across the border. And as she did so, portions of her back phased into the shadows.
"Your note said it was a potential situation," the officer finally said. "Something I needed to know about. And you didn't write much more than that, because you were probably thinking that somepony was going to steam the envelope open."
Almost placidly, "Do you trust your officers?"
"Yes."
I thought you were smarter than that. "In this case," Fleur calmly said, "I thought it was best to tell you directly. And then you could figure out what to pass on. In a police chief's opinion. And discretion."
It got her a soft snort. "I trotted in about twenty minutes after you left. I went straight for the cottage, because that was the one place you would have to go. And then I waited."
"I was looking for Rainbow," Fleur admitted. "It didn't work out."
"So what do you have to tell me?" the shadow asked. "If it's about Zephyr, then you have more information than I do. That investigation's still ongoing."
Quickly, "What do you have so far?"
"Nothing," Miranda admitted. "Nothing I can use. There's nothing criminal --" paused "-- or rather, there's nothing which has a warrant attached."
Almost hopefully, "So he has a record?"
The shadow executed a traveling shrug. "He's been in a few bars. And as it turns out, he's a very loud drunk. Minor citations for disorderly conduct. Which mostly seems to mean singing. Off-key. One incidence of being held until he slept it off."
Fluttershy can sing.
"One department said they might send a followup," Miranda added. "There was something else they wanted to check. But that was all they said for details, and I haven't gotten anything else from them. The net is still spreading, Fleur. So is this about Zephyr?"
Dr. Lorem tells me I have trouble working with the police. And then she orders me to work with Miranda...
But it was necessary.
"No. I do have some news on him, but it can wait for a few minutes. You might have even heard already, and -- this is more important."
With all of the anti-charm inherent to the profession, "Then what's going on?"
They were still trotting. Rain on one side, and multiple kinds of shadow on the other. The scheduled threat had yet to fully manifest.
"Just what we all needed," Miranda neutrally lied. "Another griffon."
Fleur's lips quirked.
I'm going to take that as a compliment.
The officer measured the next breath: in and out. Evaluating the air for levels of offense.
"I did know she was here," the shadow stated. "There's been some complaints. Ponies getting jostled because she feels everypony has to move out of her way. A few had to jump aside, or fly away from her path. And she isn't exactly polite. But there's been nothing criminal yet."
"She shoplifted at least once when she was here the first time," Fleur reminded the officer. (It had been a detailed account.)
"The statute of limitations already expired on that." Darkly, "And when it comes to the rotor, Pinkie would have been able to give me something to work with -- two moons ago. Same for her pushing Spike aside. If she does steal, somepony has to catch her at it --"
Dark lips pulled back from white teeth. Fur rose along the hackles, and hooves slammed into the ground.
"-- not that it matters! Because I'm not supposed to move in, am I? Don't attempt arrest without a witnessed crime? But what if the attempt makes her feel she has to attack or flee? Don't banish her! And I'm guessing that locking her up would count as removal from the community! Because I have what might be a mentally-unbalanced griffon to deal with, except that your doctor visibly feels I'm not allowed to actually do that, and it would be nice if everyone stopped telling me how to do my job --"
The left foreleg came up. Slammed down.
The left hind leg rose.
Stopped.
Froze.
Green-grey eyes went wide, just before the lids scrunched into a wince. The hind leg dropped, with the jaw slamming shut.
Most of the cry of pain was blocked.
Most.
"...ah...!"
Fleur stopped moving.
"...Miranda?"
"Cramp," the smaller mare muttered. "Hip cramp. It happens."
Fleur's gaze automatically moved across the mare's left hip --
-- it was hard to make out Miranda's mark: something which almost completely blended into the fur, refusing to give the officer's position away in the dark. But once you knew where it was, what it was, and had some degree of light to work with... you could find it every time.
It almost seemed to be rippling. A shift in the fur, as the muscles underneath slowly loosened.
"We've got m'changa at the cottage --"
"-- it won't help," Miranda softly said. "Nothing helps. Let's just keep moving."
The next twenty hoofsteps looked as if they had been executed by a mare who'd been caught performing a mobile stretching exercise. It didn't help.
"I only know the basics on griffon magic," Miranda eventually said. "I've never been on the receiving end." She paused. "I've heard that the Guards have to go through it in their training. Try to fight it off, and then see how they react after. And Canterlot's police have it as part of the training, because they might need to go into the Aviary. But... not here."
"Because we didn't have any griffons," Fleur quietly noted.
"Not in the physical sense," the officer decided. "But it's probably something every police department should go through. Every recruit. Just in case." Another pause. "I may reach out to Canterlot. Ask who they use, then see if they're willing to take the day trip. We might benefit from experience. Fleur?"
The Protoceran waited. Listened, as the tiny warm bundle of life on her back curled up a little more tightly.
"Does it leave traces? Something which can be detected?"
And I don't have to guess why you're asking. "Yes. By another griffon, if they know how to look for it. And some are better at that than others. It's their feel, Miranda. But... it's like pony magic. The vestigia fades. Gilda isn't strong enough to have hers last more than a few days. By the time I got back from the mission, it was gone." A little more softly, "I could report an assault, if you needed it. But it would be almost impossible to prove. My word against hers." And even if Miranda was willing to take Fleur's word a little more seriously these days...
Convicted blackmailer.
Attempted murder.
Pardoned.
It still didn't make her look particularly good in front of a jury.
"Because your mission got in the way," the shadow quietly said.
Starkly, "I had to go."
With perfectly steady tones, "I know."
They trotted together for a while. The wind surged on the other side of the border, pushed, was sent to the sky.
"Did you write your report?" Miranda asked.
"It's in progress," Fleur admitted.
"Anything I could use?" was a little too casual.
In case it happens here.
Doctor Lorem had told Fleur that it could help to talk, and... that didn't feel like a lie. Describing it as 'willful blindness added to deliberate ignorance of experience' was considerably more accurate than 'lie'. But...
Fluttershy asked about the missions, because Fleur...
...all I can ever do is stop the next.
Everything which already happened...
Water cut through rock. So did acid.
Fleur, coming back from a mission...
...there was probably something approaching an actual reason for sending her into therapy. Quickly. And Fluttershy did her best to ease the agonies, but -- there were things which Fleur didn't want to tell her. She had to, because the pegasus would probably just find out from another source... but she hated every moment of it. Almost as much as she hated how much better she felt for having spoken.
(Fluttershy also had her own ideas for treating that kind of pain. Comfort. Presence. And what had turned into another failed stick, because her love had been doing everything possible to make Fleur feel better and the sort of activity which required followup sticks was an option. And they'd probably had to make up for lost time, because any shortfall would have to be accounted for and Dr. Mester was not cleared to learn about the missions.)
The pegasus had to confront death every moon. Far too often, she was the one tasked with bringing it, because some kinds of pain only permitted one form of escape.
Any innocence Fluttershy retained had to be protected, and so there were things Fleur didn't want to tell her. But Miranda was a police officer, and any innocence the shadow possessed had died long ago.
She talked. Dark ears took it all in.
Evenly, "I can write to Windicity and see what happened with that officer. The one who stalled. Make sure he was let go."
"Give it a few days," Fleur requested. "The palace may move first."
Miranda nodded --
"-- is it your hip?" Fleur quickly asked.
"Sorry?" still felt like a lie.
"You just jumped a little," Fleur pointed out.
"Instinct," the shadow claimed. "It felt like my back got hit by something cold. Wet."
Fleur looked, if only to prove the falsehood --
"-- most fur," the Protoceran said, "darkens when it gets wet."
"Yes. And?"
"This is you," Fleur irritably declared.
This snort was a little more bemused.
So you're just lying to cover up the pain. Lying: the other primary police skill.
"What does Fluttershy know about any of this?" Miranda abruptly asked.
And there's another one. Change the subject quickly. Keep the person being interrogated off-balance...
They kept trotting. Young grass brushed against their legs. The light continued to dim.
"We've talked about Gilda," Fleur finally said. "Fluttershy knows to be on the lookout, if Gilda stops honoring the agreement. And the rest of the Bearers are being alerted. But she doesn't know how to proceed."
Miranda nodded. The scent bag was dragged along the border.
"I'll tell the department to be careful," the shadow finally announced. "To watch her when they can, and give her some leeway -- but if she attacks, they'll have to step in. You know that. And if your Doctor Lorem shows up, I'll tell her the same thing. I can give Gilda a little play on the reins. But that's it."
Fleur nodded.
"And see if you can get whoever they're using for training in Canterlot," she quietly reminded the officer. "Find out who's willing to go through it. But -- do it over a few days, if you can. You don't need the entire department recovering at once."
The patch of brighter grey which represented Sun was beginning to dip.
"So what's your news on Zephyr?"
Miranda's first reaction was predictably irritating. "He's found a job..." almost came across as congratulatory.
"Another job," Fleur frustratedly corrected. "This one's lasted longer than the rest." In spite of rather local demand.
"Maybe he's really just trying to settle in," Miranda offered. "Move here, get a job, get a place to live. He wouldn't exactly be the first. Ponies come --"
"Rainbow wants him gone. And he just wants her. He keeps staring at her --"
And if she decides that means he's 'started' with her...
It was openly a tease. It was also the reaction of a mare who'd been called out to one too many crash sites. "-- so somepony finally feels about her the way she feels about herself?"
Fleur glared at the shadow. The dark fur silently absorbed it.
"Zephyr and Gilda," the taller mare finally muttered. "We didn't need to deal with either of them. Maybe there's a way to settle this where they go back across the border together..."
"And she gets him a weather control job in Protocera?" felt like open mockery.
Automatically, "We usually don't use it."
Miranda's dark head inquiringly tilted to the left. "Usually?"
"We have meteorologists -- oh, right: of course you're not going to know the word for a science," Fleur quickly decided. "We can predict weather." With some accuracy. Within a few hours. And you can look up that part for yourself. "Which lets us brace for whatever's coming. But there's times when we ask our own pegasi for help, and I know the government's requested the International Stormbreaker Team a few times. To coordinate and assist." A little more softly, "Because uncontrolled weather can be a monster, Miranda. Something which hunts. And when you're taking on a monster as big as the sky -- it helps to cheat."
The officer simply nodded.
They kept trotting. Circling back towards the cottage.
"She really can't fire him?" Fleur asked. It was what her friend had said, but... when it came to weather coordinator duties, Rainbow occasionally had trouble with the bureaucratic parts of the job.
"It goes through Town Hall first," Miranda immediately replied. "And she'd have to prove cause. Just looking at her generally isn't going to be enough, especially if he is a legacy hire. That implies somepony in the Bureau might be willing to give him some protection."
Typical --
-- and then Miranda softly snorted again.
"Rainbow wanting somepony fired," the officer said. "That's almost funny..."
It had been a bad day. A nightmare mission. An exceptionally stupid therapy session.
"How is that almost funny?" Fleur half-snapped. And waited for the verbal backlash.
It didn't come. Miranda simply trotted quietly for a few seconds, as the cottage's sod roof began to shift into view.
"She's usually on the other end of that," the shadow finally told her. "They all are. Over and over..."
Miranda was a police chief. Fleur had been an escort. Two professions which used silence. Giving the other party the opportunity to fill it.
"Part of this is still before my time," Miranda finally began. "All I have are stories. But the coordinator before her -- he supposedly tried to get her fired over and over. For moons. And the mayor blocked every demand. I don't know much about him, Fleur. Just that he was the weather coordinator for a very long time, and when his name comes up... the ponies who were living here when he was in charge start to mutter under their breath. 'Tartarus' gets brought up a lot. As a suggestion."
Carefully, "Do you know why he was let go? How Rainbow took over?"
Miranda shook her head. "I didn't feel like I needed to ask. And once she was in charge..."
The cottage almost felt as if it was growing in front of Fleur's eyes. Looming.
"There's a lot of complaints," the shadow stated. "It's not just Thistle Burr. He's good for at least two a week, and it'll be that way until one of them leaves. And every settled zone has ponies who don't look at the schedule, Fleur. They'll find a knee-depth of snow in front of their door and decide it's a mistake. Then they start kicking at it. And then they blame the pony who put it there, before trying to kick most of it at her. That's normal. You can't be part of a weather team and not expect to get yelled at."
The taller mare carefully remained silent.
"But Ponyville," Miranda continued, "has a weather coordinator who's been known to sleep through her personal assignments. Sometimes she snoozes past the hour when she was supposed to brief her team. And then you have the stunts. Furrows in lawns, craters in gardens, and she always tries to get away before taking the blame. Rainbow spends more time in small claims court than some of the bailiffs. So there's been ponies demanding her firing for years. And with the rest of them..."
Don't say anything.
See what comes out.
"Twilight isn't a marked librarian," the shadow went on. "There's only so many libraries in Equestria, Fleur. If there's one more marked librarian than positions available, then somepony's going to be irritated. Twilight has the reins on our library, by Princess Celestia's order, and... it doesn't gallop perfectly, does it? She has the desire for the job, most of the skills -- but not the instinct. She has trouble matching ponies to books. The others have to remind her that if she orders the thickest research journals with the library budget, she'll be the only one reading them. Her first remaindered sale didn't happen until the mayor shoved her into it. And there used to be a few residents who complained about the little mistakes. But it was mostly the librarians who had the right icon, didn't want to be stuck at the Archives and refused to cross a border. They felt entitled to her job, and that meant letting Twilight go. One of the palace-assigned substitutes who filled in during several missions was just about campaigning for it, and I don't know what happened to make that stop. Why R.L. dropped out of the fill-in program. But most of those complaints stopped after Twilight -- changed. At least when it comes to the marked ponies, because... it's harder to convince yourself that you can displace an alicorn."
If I was still in the blackmail business...
Fleur had specialized in the sort of sexual information which brought embarrassment. 'Isn't great with card catalogs' oddly felt as if she would have been working out of her depth.
"You're probably wondering about Fluttershy," Miranda said. "You've probably also noticed that you don't have neighbors, and anypony who tries to change that doesn't last long. It's living next to a zoo. One which doesn't have fences, shield domes, or even a resonance barrier which tells the animals not to leave. Oh, and you have to account for Discord, even if --" a little more quietly "-- that's not as much of a factor now. But there was that time she tried assertiveness training, and..."
It wasn't a laugh. It was an implosion of sound, collapsing into the vacuum where a laugh should have been.
"Rarity's lost it in public a few times," the dark mare added. "And I mean going beyond the usual drama. That scares ponies. There was that day when Applejack gave a few dozen residents food poisoning. And Mac -- there was that fight, and did I ever mention the time he moved a house --"
She stopped, just for a second. Her eyes closed, then opened again.
"Bearer families," Miranda said. "Associated category. But that still puts us at Spike, because he's always been one of them. Not everypony can get used to living near a dragon, and the ones who see a scroll come in for the first time -- most of them just run from the flame. Then there was the growth issue: you've probably heard about that one. He's been forgiven, but -- ponies remember. And Pinkie? Try getting ponies used to Pinkie. We have new ponies moving here every moon, Fleur, and some of the ones who meet Pinkie for the first time wind up at the station. Confused. Reeling. The rest just say the parties are too loud. Too close. Public nuisance, public disturbance --"
Oh, so she's actually a griffon --
"-- and that's when we have one of her," the unicorn darkly added. "One sane, focused Pinkie who's spent years in learning when ponies don't want to be welcomed or cheered up. Getting another thirty with no restraint and a one-word vocabulary of 'FUN!' didn't exactly help."
Fleur blinked.
"And who was I supposed to charge for the results?" Miranda demanded. "Ask Twilight to unblock the mirror pool, then go yell at the water?"
"If I ask you to explain any of that," Fleur slowly said, "is the word 'classified' going to get involved --"
"-- and that's individually, Fleur. When they're acting as pairs on up, or if it's the whole group..."
Silence for a moment. A little more progress around the curve, and the front door would be in sight.
"Dragon Mountain," the shadow said. "The parasprites. The Smarty Pants Incident. There are ponies who swear they lured in the Crystal Geese on purpose, and most of that blame went to Fluttershy. I could keep going, Fleur. For a very long time, including whatever happened with those brooms that cost us the bridge. But I think I can end it at Tirek. Because he wasn't their fault. He was in Canterlot, and then we were just the next meal on the menu."
Her volume dropped. Hoofsteps slowed, and the dark spine seemed to twist.
"Ponies move here every moon," Miranda slowly finished. "To be part of the town which hosts the Bearers. Ponyville: the settled zone of opportunity. And that includes taking the first one to leave. We got lucky, Fleur. Canterlot had the fatalities. But Tirek was stopped as he was coming into town. We just lost a few buildings, and..."
Discord.
We almost lost Discord.
Who had done something.
Overdone it.
Drastically.
And that was why nopony who'd been in the settled zone that day had died.
"...it was still a wake-up call. Ponies left. A lot of the ones who come here, convince themselves that they can just watch and never be part of it... they left. And that was just a bulk departure. Ryder's moving supplies store technically hasn't closed in a few years: somepony tries to come in under Moon and it rings the bell which wakes him up. Ponies see what this settled zone is really like, and so many of them decide to leave. We lose the new ones, we lose long-term residents, and there's been enough flow to replace them and keep the population number moving up -- so far. But we're still losing ponies. Some of the ones we still have might even want to leave, but... imagine what it's like, if they can't afford the move. To be stuck here, waiting to see what happens next. Whether it'll happen to them. And..."
The dark mare was just trotting along now. A body moving because there was nothing else to do, her eyes didn't seem to be looking at much of anything, and the voice was...
"...sometimes ponies go into a profession which they're not marked for." (Fleur, facing a veterinary study session and makeup quiz, said nothing.) "Maybe you heard about Mr. Rich's cousin. The one who went into politics, and then went directly to trial because he thought the Day Court was nothing more than a good way to collect bits. Somepony else processed Dubiously's arrest: Canterlot, after all. But maybe there was a fight to see who would get it. To see who'd get the job. Because there's only so many hires in any profession per year, and if there's more marked ponies... then they have to spread out. Try to find a place. Like Ponyville, because they've heard about all the chaos and if things are so crazy here, it has to be because..."
Miranda's soft voice was steady. Stating facts, and nothing more.
"...maybe the mayor isn't keeping control. So we get some of the political marks, scouting the territory. Trying to figure out if they can win an election here, get Marigold out of Town Hall. But the smart ones realize it's not just beyond what she can control: it's past what they can manage. What anypony could. And they leave, and just about nopony runs against her. But they're not the only ones, Fleur. Ponies move here because there's opportunity. To seize their own place. Because the mayor isn't the lone mare who's supposed to be keeping control, and if they can just displace what has to be the single most incompetent police chief on the continent --"
Perhaps Fleur would have said something, if there had been but one more second to use. There might have even been words to say. But they had been moving the whole time.
Two mares came around the curve, and the glare of angry red eyes drove speech away.
It was possible to become used to his looks, even with a pony who was sometimes regarded as being so ugly as to approach a strange sort of appeal from the opposite direction. The half-amputated remnants of wings -- they weren't badly shaped. A number of ponies had just talked themselves into believing the limbs were both whole and small: something which was easier to believe when the scars were hidden by feathers. And his raw bulk... after a while, that was just part of the landscape. A distant white hill with gold mining prospects at both base and elevation.
You got used to him. The careful movements, the tight control. Because that was there every day.
The anger, which had clearly been standing in front of the door for some time, was effectively new.
"...yeah," the deep voice slowly began. "Glad somepony came by. I think Fluttershy's at the far end of the stream." The red eyes focused. "So... I just found out there's a certain pegasus in town. Pretty tall. Aquamarine. Related."
Neither mare moved.
"And I was sort of wondering," Snowflake finished as the angry gaze closed in on Fleur, "why nopony told me."
Stats
Page generated in 0.03 seconds
Total duration
1,017 users online
1,720,060 hits today, 2,244,100 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Some day there needs to be a very long conversation between Celestia and Miranda. Because if this look-the-other-way situation is putting her in actual debilitating pain, that's completely unacceptable.
Lordy, imagine how Twilight or any of the other bearers would react to the revelation that dealing with their shennaniganry is quite literally torturous.
Okay, what the heck did zephyr do to snowflake?!!!
Like, seriously!!!!
What'd he do?!?!
I am praying that Zephyr doesn't mess thing s up so bad that he can't be near his family again or speak to them
Perhaps you mean "trail"?
11536811
Oh, IDK. They kind of find dealing with each other torturous at times so they might very well accept that others do as well.
Thinking about it, at times they'd ALL score high on the Biggest Pain In The Ass chart.
11536811
Yeah I always thought twilight had empathy issues. Empathy isn't just understanding how others are feeling it also about seeing things from their point of view in order to cause the least amount of pain. Yes sometimes you have to hard for the other person own good but you should always choose to the path that cause the least amount of pain. The girls unfortunately because they bear the elements were barely scolded when they messed up and learning their lesson was considering enough.
11536817
"Unforgivable" is a word in the dictionary between "unable" & "unwilling" but IDKY because everyone defines it for themself.
Gilda and Zephyr.
Ok, that's a terrifying ship.
Yeah, most of those stories are warnings.
I'm real worried about that cramp that Miranda has, especially since we spent the chapter talking about marks
Ah crap.
So this is the same universe as Monster Girl, where the Knight of the Night is making a home for herself in Castle Canterlot? Would love to catch a little glimpse of those characters sometime.
Thought Miranda was there by direct Royal command, not by election or through the mayors office or something, because Celestia puts the very best chief in the very hardest job. Somepony she can really count on. She always seems to be skirting burnout but any ambitious displaces are in the wrong town.
Having previously established that going against your mark for long periods of time can do serious damage to a pony, I am very concerned about Miranda.
11536996
I've known stoics like Miranda, my father for instance went his whole life with moderate to severe back pain. "Visible discomfort" for him meant "pain bad enough that you can't walk".
If Miranda is flinching like this, well, lots of other ponies would probably be screaming. Or at least, either begging for painkillers or assaulting whatever happened to be inflicting the pain.
A metaphor for Fleur's current situation?
Hey, a call-back to One Upon A Luggage Inspection Station
Fluttershy hadn't told Snowflake yet?
11536817
I'm pretty sure it's about what Zephyr tried to do to Fluttershy...
11536817
Most likely snowflake helped fluttershy pick up the pieces from the fallout of when fluttershy believed zephyr had robbed her and know how hurt she was, no doubt him added to the mix is going to bring what ever disaster approaching here faster
We've seen in other stories how much Miranda overworks herself, how hard the job is, and her problems with "hip pain".
I'm wondering if this will be the story where we get to see Miranda finally have her own public blowup/meltdown.
Aw, she really likes Rainbow!
11537081
Now that you say that, I forget, did anyone need to be told? Rainbow knew that Zephyr was in town, Fluttershy knew because he showed up on her door, or something...
The only one that Fleur cared about notifying people about, was Gilda?
Look like Fluttershy spiritual big brother is going to go through her biological big brother. Can't wait for it!
It's nice to see events from other stories making their way into the continuity. Any nod to Cerea presence is always welcome.
11537268
Make sense zephyr an annoyance with baggage for fluttershy, other then that he is harmless meanwhile gilda a threat and danger so of cource she let ponies know
As other people have mentioned here, Miranda’s hip pain is being caused by denying her cutie mark, allowing what she knows to be criminals to roam free without arrest or prosecution. Eventually she’s going to snap, arrest every one of the mane 6 for their list of crimes, and enjoy inner peace for however long it takes Celestia to get to Ponyville.
I can’t wait to see that conversation, where Celestia would talk about the needs of the many and the greater good and Miranda counters with the needs of the community of Ponyville. The bearers could be kept in the same prison, and be pulled out of there when needed to use the elements.
Thing is, some prison time might actually be beneficial. It’s stated in-universe that “it’s not a bearer mission until someone posts bail,” and that’s not a good thing. Literally every time they go out to do missions FOR THE CROWN, they end up getting in trouble and being arrested. They’re six adult mares, and only one is socially stunted, which means that at least five of them should know how to act in normal society! It’s like they all share just one brain, and it’s kept in that hat for the times they think they need to actually use it.
Edit: you know, there could certainly be an interesting crackfic in that idea; in a world where Luna never fell and required new bearers to purge the darkness within her, six mares from different walks of life are all spending time in the same prison for different crimes of varying severity. A glimpse of a world where the mane 6 don’t have the crown to cover for them.
11536811
Now I'm imagining what Miranda suffering from CMFIS would look like, and I'm not sure I like it. Yeah, coping with pain and carrying on is all well and good up to a point, but there's GOT to be a better long-term solution. COMMUNICATION!
Zephyrs gonna get suplexed through a building
A hilarious thought occurred to me, from a outside viewer, zephyr could be a protagonist of one of those conspiracy movies, here a immature pony visiting his sister.
tries to get a small lone and a job to make ends meet while getting back on his feet and there this massive conspiracy to get him, the police are involved trying to find anything in a back check, to have a reason to arrest or kick him out of ponyvile, his boss is looking to find a reason to fire him when he done nothing wrong yet, all masterminded by his sister manipulative spouse.
his only ally is a tomboy griffon with her own agenda, will zephyr survive and come out on top very unlikely but I watch it
a quite wonderful summation of Fleur finally allowing herself to get actually introspective. Dr. Lorem is quite good for her.
11537367
We can only hope.
She really needs to spend more time with Twilight.
Only if she focused solely on how it could benefit her and not others. Potentially the world's greatest matchmaker—though she'd obviously need to get to know her clients beyond what her talent could detect—but circumstance made her into a monster that had to be tamed first. And that's still a work in progress.
I just looked it up, and "domino" literally come from the Latin dominus, lord or master. A very griffon term... though it got to the game pieces via French. No wonder the locals call them spottiles.
In the Bearers' defense, Dragon Mountain was a mission. And impacted Canterlot as well, at minimum. But yeah, Miranda definitely needs to talk to someone, because the Ponyville situation is getting unmanageable on every conceivable level, and at this point it's a question of what will break first.
Ah, Dubiously Rich. Is it fur dye, or is he actually that shade of orange?
And yes, we definitely have an interested party who's been left out of the loop. I can only imagine how Snowflake feels about the whole situation. (And in the others' defense, they've had a lot going on.)
11536811
We’ve had some solid insights into Miranda’s suffering in several stories. She lost an officer to the Crusade and has had to abort justice on multiple occasions. Duet showed just how untouchable the Bearers and their families are and it clearly causes Miranda physical pain. Celestia even came close to acknowledging it in the previous story when she admitted she puts ‘perhaps too much’ on her. That was while in visible pain while recounting how she obtained evidence in a way that would only be considered legal if they got a sympathetic judge, to which Celestia said she’d be the judge herself to make sure the evidence was allowed. Celestia knows she’s causing that suffering and weighs it as acceptable to keep the Militant Arm of Harmony operating. Miranda is an acceptable casualty.
11537412
I’m not sure if upon seeing this post Estee cringed in disgust or added it to her crackfic idea drawer.
I really enjoy Fleur and Miranda’s interactions, and I’m even more primed for Miranda to take a lead in her own story now. She’s got to get one in before her cutie mark spontaneously combusts…
Great chapter. Thank you for the update Estee!!
With all the mention of Miranda's hip pains, I'm beginning to wonder if it's possible for a pony to go so utterly against their talent that they actually break the connection between cutie mark and pony soul. And if so, what does that do to the soul, to tear out something connected so intimately?
I love how the Mirror Pool is relegated to Ponyville Fridge Horror #532A.
👍
"those two paths might flowed in different directions"
"those two paths might have flowed in different directions"?
11537363
...And from your comment, it occurred to me:
With her stealth abilities, with her drive for justice where law enforcement is failing to achieve it, with the general Ponyville craziness providing an alibi...
Well, if a mysterious masked mystery mare shows up to fight crime, and the police chief is determined to catch her but a: never seems to get anywhere and b: is looking less stressed these days, there might be a connection. :D