Chance Of Not Getting Into Trouble: 0%
Officer Colloquium adjusted his position on the official police perch, allowed hawk's eyes to fixedly stare across the interrogation room's featureless main desk, waited out the next burst of thunder, and considered that the two mares on the other side didn't look completely insane.
Well... they did come across as somewhat frazzled. The little purple one's bangs were almost completely frayed -- something which the pressure from the base of the metal horn restraint didn't exactly help -- and her fur had abandoned its natural grain in favor of trying for Anywhere Which Isn't Here. For the large orange mare, most of the disruption had isolated itself in the mane and tail: multiple thick blonde stands had escaped from the rope loops and were splayed across her half of the suspects' shared bench: something which became all the easier to see when she was the only one truly sitting down. The purple couldn't quite make herself place hindquarters against wood -- or rather, she kept trying to do so, getting out of the awkward half-crouch which slender legs didn't want to hold. But at the instant any part of the tail's base touched a solid surface, she straightened. Doing so almost instantly, while somehow still managing to visibly execute the movement across a series of precisely ordered half-jumps. Collo was starting to wonder how she was organizing the technique.
They also kept looking at the ceiling. There were no windows in the interrogation room, because desperate griffons had been known to work up speed and preventing injury meant you couldn't even allow the illusion of possible escape. So there was no glass for the downpour to stream across in sheets, much less any way to see the hot blue bursts of lightning streak the darkened sky over the city. But whenever the thunder boomed, they both looked up.
Neither mare looked to be completely insane. But the officer had reviewed the initial paperwork before entering the interrogation room, and so possessed the first portion of the horrible truth: they weren't natives. Collo had taken on the responsibility (and honor!) for policing a portion of the most species-mixed nation in the world and like everyone who'd grown up in the Republic, he understood that a griffon's heart could be found in any kind of body: it was just a matter of proper upbringing. He was proud to call some of the local ponies his colleagues. How could you responsibly police just about every species unless the department contained them all?
A pony could learn to have a griffon's heart. Anyone could. He lived among the proof, and a number of them were his friends.
But these were Equestrians.
Equestrians crossed the border on occasion: business, tourism, visiting distant family members, or government work. And as a police officer, what you had to understand about Equestrians was that every single one of them possessed the capacity for going mad.
It wasn't always possible to tell what might set them off. There were times when it was just about spontaneous. But they would usually snap out of it after a few minutes -- hours... 'lifetime' was somewhere on the options list... and after a while, if they encountered exactly the wrong situation, they would go mad again.
Every Equestrian was potentially, intermittently insane. (This clearly stemmed from not having been raised properly.) Natives of the Republic understood that it was something you had to recognize and, to some degree, the locals did their best to just put up with it.
But...
"From the beginning," Collo said as the mountain lion tail slowly, regally swayed. "I know you've said this a few times already. But now you're going to tell me. Why did you enter Protocera?"
The purple mare winced.
"It's... classified," just barely emerged from the slim jawline, and the orange mare softly groaned.
"...really," Collo tried, and let the fixed predatory stare try to do a little more work. Most Equestrians didn't deal well with that sort of thing, and he was still waiting for the mares to notice. It was as if they'd been through far worse. "You want me to believe that the reason you crossed the border, with full saddlebags and stamped passports, is..." The word didn't seem to fit on his tongue. "...classified."
So clearly it was going to be one of those sessions. Well, that was why the department had called him in. There were already personnel en route to the government offices and Equestrian embassy, trying to verify the nature and severity of the likely lie. But until they got back, it was going to be him.
"Pretty much all we can say," the larger female told him. "We were kinda-- how should Ah put this? -- requested."
"But your government knows we're here," the small mare frantically added. "They'll tell you! If you can find someone who's cleared to tell you. And they decide you're allowed to be told." The wince, which most frequently appeared when she tried to sit down, came back in force. "Um. That could take a while. But we really can't talk about it..."
"The local government," Collo dryly pointed out, "certainly knows you're here. Now."
Both mares winced.
"If'fin it helps," the orange began -- followed by, in lower tones, "an' it probably don't... the 'classified' part wrapped up a while back." Steadfastly, "An' it don't have nothin' t' do with what happened back there. Except for the part where it's why we're in your nation t' start with."
Collo recognized that his own use of Equestrian was heavily accented. (It was the only kind he spoke, and he still considered himself to be doing well through not adding beak clacks to every syllable which so clearly needed them: the majority.) Expecting a pony native of that country to be fully fluent was a completely reasonable expectation or rather, it had been right up until the moment when the orange mare had opened her mouth.
"Are you 'allowed' to tell me about the last three days?" he asked, and allowed his beak to clack the quotation marks into place.
"...kinda wish Ah could say 'no' right now..."
"ARE YOU?"
Neither mare jumped very much.
"Yes," the little one sighed. "We are."
"Then how did it start?"
"Look at this view!" Twilight gushed as she stared out the window of what, for ponies, counted as a true high-rise: twenty-five floors. "I can see most of the city! The streets! The hills! The air paths! ...they're not quite Canterlot air paths. The turns aren't as sharp. And the baobabs! You should really take a look! Because you'll probably get more out of them than I do, especially when it's a giant tree which looks like it's growing upside-down and the griffons are building houses on top...!"
"Ah," Applejack solidly declared, "wanna go home."
Twilight blinked. Turned the words over in her head a few times, and finally looked away from the hotel room's main window.
(It was very much like a hotel room in their own nation, because the building catered to international guests and wanted them to be comfortable. This was a hotel room meant for Equestrians, and so a carefully-concealed closet contained well-padded restraints for those moments when the guests almost inevitably went mad.)
Applejack, tail twitching in a way which threatened to disrupt the rope loops, was currently failing to rest upon the bed. Fierce green eyes drilled their gaze out from beneath the brim of the hat.
"Mission's over," the farmer stated.
"I know!" Twilight tried to enthuse. "We hardly ever have one wrap up that quickly! Or easily! There was an actual schedule for this one, and we got ahead of it! And now we've got --"
"-- three days," Applejack cut her off. "Ain't nopony due t' pick us up at the embassy for three days. An' since it's jus' the two of us, with everypony else an' Spike stayin' behind, we ain't got no way t' contact Canterlot for extraction. We are stuck here for three days, with harvest season gettin' close." She briefly looked out the window, stared at heavy white late summer clouds. "Goin' out for a mission was fine. Ah even understand why Protocera wanted help on this one, an' why the Princess decided it had t' be you and me. We settled it for 'em, an' the world's a better place for it." The smile was exceptionally brief, and didn't fade so much as evaporate. "But it's settled. We're gallops an' gallops from Equestria. Trees need tendin': yours an' mine alike." The blonde tail lashed. "Ah want t' go home."
Softly, because it had taken a lot of scrolls to teach her when the enthusiasm needed to be put away, "Applejack..."
"Winter," the farmer firmly said, "an' Ah wouldn't be so worried. Ah could take it on the slow side. But it's close t' harvest, an' Ah left behind a sister who's too young for the hard labor, a brother who's too dumb t' stop an' yes, Ah know what the source was on that one -- an' a granddam who shouldn't be puttin' in the hours. Ah need --"
"-- the Princess puts temporaries on the Acres when you're on a mission," Twilight gently said. "And pays them. You know there's enough workers."
Darkly, "Don't trust 'em."
The little mare stood her borrowed, pleasantly-carpeted ground. Waited.
"Had a report back from Time Turner, three missions back. That temp sold him a bad apple."
Continued waiting.
"...one bad out of four dozen still counts as bad," Applejack muttered, and her forelegs began to straighten. "All right, y'can stop the half-'Shy imitation: Ah know Ah'm actin' stupid. But Ah'm off my land when it's close t' harvest time. It ain't gonna feel right."
Twilight thought about it, and then both risked and managed a gentle smile.
"Applejack," she softly said, "it's three days in Protocera. When there's no mission, nothing to worry about, and we have palace funds -- although we really have to write down everything we're spending on -- and a hotel room!" Two hoofsteps towards the bed. "Not a bed of leaves or trying to scrape a decent patch of moss together. A hotel room, because it was a mission which stayed in civilization."
"Bed's been fine," the earth pony grudgingly admitted. "But --"
"-- when was the last time we got to relax after a mission without going home?" the little mare asked. "Because if we ever come back here, it might be another crisis. Or --" the shudder was instinctive "-- something diplomatic. Applejack, we've got three days to just -- look around, when everything's calm and nothing's wrong at all. Three days to be tourists. Destress!" And, with volume dropping all too close to whisper, "Three days to just -- spend some time together. When is it ever just you and me, without the world trying to interrupt, for three whole days?"
And slowly, the farmer began to truly smile.
"Tourists." Applejack visibly tested the word upon her tongue. "Ah can -- try that, I guess. But we split up the choices, Twi. So it ain't all museums an' old books. You pick somethin' for today. Ah'll call what we do tomorrow. An' then we decide on the last day together. Fair?"
"Fair," Twilight agreed.
Firmly, "An' we try not t' get into trouble."
"The two most sensible Bearers on vacation!" the little mare instantly laughed. "What are the odds that the most sensible mares get into trouble?"
The smile twisted a little.
"Ah ain't sure Ah've got the math for a full prediction," declared the pony who had to keep her farm's accounting books in order, "but if'fin y'give me a minute t' tabulate the historical events --"
"-- and I'm picking for today?" Twilight cut her off. "Then it's time to decide, while it's still early!" She turned her head just enough to check the view from the window again, then peered up at the clouds. "But before I choose indoor or outdoor..."
"Yeah," Applejack immediately agreed. "Did y'spot it? 'cause Ah didn't."
The little mare frowned. "It's usually next to the bathroom mirror. It wasn't."
"Maybe that's jus' where a home hotel puts it," Applejack proposed. "Could be different for griffons. An' Ah was too busy t' look or ask before this. What with the mission takin' priority. An' mostly indoors."
"Little cultural things," Twilight agreed. "It's the small details which trip you up when you're traveling. Let's both search."
They searched, and it didn't appear.
"Front desk?"
"Sounds 'bout right."
They made their way down, then passed through a lobby filled with nearly a dozen sapient species as a very polite peregrine-and-panther griffon watched them approach the concierge station.
"I'm sorry for asking," Twilight politely said, "but we can't seem to find our room's copy. Could you please show us the weather schedule?"
The reply was too kind, gentle, and soft for most of the ear shapes in the atrium to pick out. But everyone got the followup.
Quizzically, "What's a 'forecast'?"
"What's wrong with this country?" the purple mare demanded, with small forehooves doing their best to slam down on her edge of the desk and almost managing to raise an echo. "You have a pony population! I saw them on the streets! Or in this case, over! When you've got pegasi, you need to have --"
Collo's abrupt chuckle was a proper griffon one: it started at the back of the throat, emerged as a small burst, and it took exceptional courage to declare it sounded a lot like a cluck.
"Equestrians..." he observed, and both mares looked offended. "What level of skill would hunting in an ideal environment prove? You work with the one which exists. If you can't survive a little normal weather, then how can you hope to best your prey?" He allowed his wings to spread somewhat, folded them back in. "Not that we don't acknowledge weather as one of nature's most dominant hunters. And sometimes it tries to target us. Yes, we fight back against our weather -- in an emergency. We've even asked for the aid of your IST now and again, when the storm was building faster than we could gather our own forces."
Which was an activity that certainly got the Equestrian government involved -- but it wouldn't have been classified. Additionally, there was a minimum biological requirement for being on the International Stormbreaker Team, and the orange mare wasn't going to be fulfilling it any time soon.
"But in everyday life," Collo told them, "there's simply no need for weather control." (He was a proper griffon and so suspected that when it came to Equestrians, 'control' was most of it. Sapients who refused to let any leaf fall without granting it permission first.)
"But y'still need t' know what's coming --" the larger mare tried.
"-- and that's why meteorology exists as a science," he told her.
"Science," the purple muttered, and the frayed tail lashed: accelerated movement produced another wince. "Is that what you're calling it...?"
"You went to the concierge," Collo visibly ignored her (while making a mental note towards the future, because he'd reviewed everything). "And he very politely found a copy of the weather forecast for you. Something which you continued to collect on the subsequent days of your stay."
Both ponies had to force their nods.
"And what did you do on your first 'tourist' day?" the officer inquired.
"Thought the complaints would start later," the orange mare darkly said. "Why not jus' skip ahead?"
Because frustrated suspects tended to let more slip. "We start on the first day," Collo ordered. "Where did you go?"
"Underground," the earth pony said as the friends forced their hooves to march up the unusually sharp slope of the street: something the majority of the locals could simply ignore. They were mostly going by exceptionally wide tree trunks, along with a few normal buildings: with the latter, the angle of ascent meant they often passed the same structure three times. "There's museums an' libraries an' institutes, and y'wanna go down?"
"There's part of a city under the capital!" Twilight gushed.
"Yeah. They're called 'basements', Twi," Applejack offered as they went by a native earth pony: the stallion nodded politely and smoothly headed downhill under dimming light. "Y'got one. So do Ah. Ain't much of a tourist attraction. An' y'catch somepony lookin' around yours for a while, they're either tryin' t' snag your research or they heard about what y'get up t' down there an' they're searchin' for a few extra exits --"
"-- no," the little mare laughed. "Centuries ago, there was a fire. One of the only major fires, because..." Thoughtfully, "Well, I guess when you build on top of trees, you get really good at putting fires out in a hurry. But apparently it would have been too hard to clear out the dead roots and start again. So they just -- layered. They put a new surface over what was left. And that's what we're walking on now."
The farmer thought that over, and did so while a yak went by -- or rather, a griffon shaped like a yak yielded just enough of the path for both parties to safely pass. The yak seemed to be in something of a hurry.
"Climbin'," she determined. "We're climbin'. And that's why the slopes are so nasty? Because we're on top of what used t' be the ground?"
Twilight nodded. "But the fire didn't get everywhere. Nothing was considered safe for use at the time, and that's why they did this -- but there's been advancements since. They stabilized the Underground. What's left of the old buildings and roads, all safe to travel through! As long as you follow the guide. Some of it's almost perfectly preserved, Applejack! It's like walking into history!"
"Ah've been to the palace," announced a distinct lack of impressed. "More than a few times now. Y'get to the closest Solar wing restroom by turning left at the third century."
"Griffon history," Twilight pointed out. "That's different."
"...fair," Applejack eventually acknowledged.
They trudged on for a while. Twilight's knees were beginning to ache.
"I think this building took a long time to put together."
"How can y'tell?"
"The third floor back there was from a gothic period. This fifth layer is definitely baroque."
"Can y'really call 'em the third an' fifth floors when y'can walk in from the street on any level?"
"...I'm not sure," Twilight admitted. "I've just been counting from the base."
The slope subtly increased. Then it gave up on subtlety forever.
"So we're goin' up t' go down?"
"To reach one of the stabilized entrances," the little mare confirmed as three accelerating griffons flew overhead. "Let's check our map..."
Pinkish glow unfolded the paper, and they both squinted.
"Ain't easy t' read through this."
"I know."
Applejack glanced down. "Ah'd tell you t' just lay it flat on the ground, but there ain't no flat ground." The direction reversed, then overcompensated. "An' not that much natural light t' read by. Those clouds are gettin' real thick."
"It was a fifteen percent chance of rain," Twilight reminded her friend. "We're fine."
"Thick," Applejack repeated, "an' dark."
"Only fifteen percent! It's science, Applejack!"
"Kinda feelin' moisture in mah fur right now," the earth pony added. "Where's the science for that?"
The little mare frowned. "Okay: it's a science I don't know much about. Mostly the name. But they don't use weather control unless they have to. No magic, so that means science has to compensate! And if you can't trust science --"
There was a single fraction of a second where it would have been truly easy to read the map.
Then the thunder stole Twilight's words.
And then the downpour took everything else.
"Fifteen percent," the little mare angrily said. "I should blame myself for that one. I wasn't thinking properly. Someone tells you 'Oh, it's only a fifteen percent chance!', then it just sounds low, doesn't it? Like it's a risk worth taking. But I'm a thaumatologist." The purple eyes narrowed. "You know. One of the real sciences. And if I'd been thinking properly, which is to say as a scientist, I would have realized that it indicates a condition which is going to come up three out of twenty times. Something which, as a possible consequence in an experiment, I would have guarded against. But somehow, when it's expressed as fifteen percent, using a larger number -- it just seems so much smaller! How does that even work?"
She was down to a full squint, and all of the increasing anger lanced at the unheeding officer through two narrow portals.
"And that," the purple mare declared from the heart of a rage which had only been muted in volume, "is if you still believe the numbers mean anything --"
"-- you were heading into the Underground," Collo cut her off. "Out of the rain." Equestrians. Sapients who had no idea how real weather worked, because they refused to allow it any chance of happening.
"Yeah," the larger female tightly said. "Turns out that the Underground is kinda cold. An' damp. An' that's before y'get into the ways where humidity sort of, maybe y'know 'bout this part, sinks. So it was cold. An' damp. An' then it was damper. An' there we were, fur all soaked, nowhere t' dry off, couldn't do it on our own when the humidity was so bad, just shiverin' our way through the tour. An' while Ah've got your attention, Ah would like t' dispute the translation on the brochure for the whole thing, 'cause a good time was not had by all."
"The guide kept telling me not to drip on things!" The smaller adult tried the forehoof slam again, to an equal lack of effect. "So I paid for the souvenir towel!" Sarcastically, "And I do want to compliment the tour company on the finest snoutcloth I've ever nosed over four times the going rate for."
The officer flipped an internal switch.
"Which, after you got back to the hotel, would bring us to your second 'tourist' day," and his beak properly clacked just before the hawk's eyes focused on the orange mare. "Which would have been your choice of activity?"
She winced. He decided the purple was better at it.
"...yeah," she finally said.
"Which you chose," he added, "after hearing the weather forecast."
The thunder went off again.
"Ah still," the mare announced, green eyes narrowing fast, "thought y'all had some common sense. Going there jus' proved --"
"-- 'proved' may be too strong a word," Collo decided. "At least until we get to court. For now, let's say your little outing added some -- evidence."
The larger female stopped.
"...they sent in a report," she weakly realized.
"Oh, yes."
Their tickets only gave them access to what was called the mezzanine level of the stadium, because Twilight was always a little too careful about spending the palace's money. It put them on benches which weren't quite as padded as they could have been, peering a considerable distance down at the panorama of vegetation maze trails and hollow-hosted miniature battle arenas which occupied the huge playing area.
In one sense, the crowd was extremely mixed: scents and sounds from a dozen species blasted through their senses, and it could take some work to sort out just what was being screamed -- especially when all the words were coming in Griffonant. But in another, it was simply divided. The determining factor was the color of the scarf, and far too many sapients were taking long looks at the only two among them who weren't displaying an allegiance.
"So it's called the Stalk?"
"Yeah," Applejack confirmed. "An' some of those trails y'can see from here? They're only visible t' us. Little team sport: track down your opponents, then take 'em out -- as a group. Which is harder when you're all startin' from different points, stumblin' around in a half-hidden maze, an' trying t' coordinate across the distance while not lettin' the other team know what you're up to. It's a shorter version of their Hunt, as a team thing. Plus it's a few hours instead of a few days. But jus' as bloodless."
"Bloodless," Twilight dubiously repeated. The players were moving to their starting positions, the majority were griffons, and for those who were not, artificial claws and talons had been issued as standard equipment.
"It's like hoofball," the earth pony admitted. "Y'try to avoid real injury, and their stuff's enchanted t' stop it. But sometimes things happen. Players get shamed when there's more than a squawk, though. An' we're way too far up for bloodscent t' trigger anything in the crowd." She looked around. "Not that it's much of a risk, with this crowd." There was a single mare almost directly behind them, one row up -- but the pegasus was proudly sporting a bright green scarf.
"You know a lot about this," Twilight realized.
"Not enough," Applejack decided. "Ah know the basics, same as with a lot of sports. But Ah ain't never seen a real match, an' it ain't like anypony's gonna try a recreation on the town stage. Too far away, ponies aren't interested, plus the stage ain't big enough. So... Ah was curious." She glanced at Twilight. "Jus' hope y'won't be too bored."
"It's a day out with you," the little mare said. "In a place we've never been."
Applejack smiled, and pulled her forelegs back a little to let a donkey go by.
"As long as the rain holds off," Twilight added, and checked the overcast sky. "Fifty percent chance, Applejack! That's an actual coin flip." Quickly, "With a balanced coin under controlled conditions. And it was just supposed to be a heavy drizzle anyway. If the -- science -- is right. But --"
"-- we're in a stadium!" the farmer laughed. "Who's gonna let bad weather interfere with a sport? Nopony! An' no one either, come t' think of it. Let's jus' relax an' wait for the match t' start."
They relaxed, as best they could within foreign scents and sounds. Vendors passed by, hawking snacks. Too many of them were made of meat, and only the rough majority had been cooked. None of the natives reacted. The mares buried their snouts in each other's fur until it all went away.
The game started. The players moved into the competition area. Strange coded calls ripped through the air, and each team's opposing codebreaker immediately started trying to work out what the enemy instructions had been. Paws, talons, hooves, and feet Stalked through the maze. Some of the athletes were getting close to each other, and a few of them didn't know. The spectators, who would never dream of ruining a Stalk through trying to get a called-out hint past the one-way sonic shield, braced themselves. Even Twilight found herself tensing, because there was a dragon on the blue team, there were griffons shaped like dragons and this one was serving as the scout. She would need to tell Spike.
There was anticipation building in the air. In the world. A dozen species held every form of breath. Once it all broke loose --
"Did the report have anythin' 'bout that really nice mare who was behind us?" the orange one asked. "'cause she wasn't any part of it. Didn't do anythin' but try t' help. Don't want t' see her blamed."
They were watching the heavy cloth of the tarp being spread over the field: something which involved securing hooks to near-invisible eyelets around the rim of the stadium. It was a slow, tedious process, and it didn't get any better as the fabric slowly unfolded away from the main square, one flip at a time.
There was a clear view for the boredom. The drizzle wasn't that heavy. Just enough to saturate fur and never, ever leave.
All around the Equestrians, spectators had donned water-repellent gear. It came in two dominant colors, and went nicely with the scarves.
And the pegasus who was seated behind them, a native Protoceran who'd spotted two floundering tourists, was trying to Help.
"So not for stadiums," she said in rough Equestrian, at least once they'd mutually translated for her accent. "Because some sports, weather changes game. So need weather. Let weather happen."
"But not this one?" Twilight carefully asked. "Because they stopped play."
The pegasus used two words. The mares were familiar with each one on its own and, when hearing them together, lost all comprehension of the combo.
"What," Applejack slowly tried, "is a 'rain delay'?"
The pegasus explained.
"...and conditions -- conditions? Is that right word? -- good. Conditions for each Stalk set weeks ahead. This Stalk supposed to be dry, dusty soil. Easier to leave prints, easier to erase. Mud changes that. So cover field above highest reach of maze. Keep soil dry. Or have to use powder." The pegasus peered down. "Powder probably coming anyway. Maintenance team slow."
More water dripped through their fur.
"But they play today," the pegasus firmly said. "No matter how long wait. Lost -- post -- postal -- postponed? Postponed too many Stalks this season. Have to get this one in. For standings. No more --"
The farmer worked outdoors. Played outdoors, did it all in fully-managed weather, and needed a minute to reconcile the horror which came with 'rainout'.
"So we wait," the pegasus concluded. "Singing start if wait goes long. You sing against blues. I teach lyrics."
She settled back onto her bench. Watched the tarp as it unfolded, with the squares slowly covering up an increasing amount of area.
The rain stopped.
Several griffon referees took to the sky. They examined the clouds. Waited a few seconds, and then returned to the tarp level. A few words were spoken to the groundskeepers, and hooks were slowly removed from eyelets. The fabric began to fold back towards the original base square.
"Good," the pegasus decided in open satisfaction, just before the final fold was made. "Might get Stalk in --"
The rain started. The referees conferred. The tarp unfolded. At the playing level, it was possible to catch glimpses of sapients spreading some sort of water-absorbing powder onto the playing field, followed by sweeping the resulting gel off to the side.
The rain stopped.
The tarp got most of the way back down.
The rain started...
"Fifty percent," Twilight muttered. "Fifty percent..."
"Not know?" the surprised pegasus asked -- then laughed. "Right! Equestrians! Fifty percent have special meaning!"
"What does it mean?" the little mare tightly asked. "To the locals."
"It rain half the time."
Applejack, who wasn't paying attention to the exchange, got to miss seeing Twilight's entire body go rigid.
"Look at these fools," the farmer muttered, and the blonde tail lashed with enough force to jar the rope. "See the spread pattern on this? 'cause Ah've gotten t' watch it a few times now. Few too many. They all go out from the center, an' then they all go back in. Wastes time an' effort. If'fin Ah was in charge of this..."
"It should really be more efficient," Twilight's rising frustration agreed. "Especially with all the practice they've gotten. Today."
The rain stopped.
The rain started.
"You're a pegasus," Twilight informed the fellow spectator, just in case the other mare had gone so griffon as to lose track of that. "You could at least go up there and --"
"Not hurricane," declared accented Equestrian. "So why?"
The rain stopped.
"Maybe Rainbow's doing this," the little mare darkly considered. "It sure feels like a prank."
"An' jus' how would she get here?"
"You've seen her maximum speed."
"Yeah. Ah'm also pretty familiar with her endurance."
"The same endurance you matched on your way to tying for last place during the Running?"
"...y'ever gonna let that go?"
Twilight sighed. "No. Not when it might be funny. But that wasn't the time for it. I'm sorry, Applejack. Keep talking."
"She's got speed," the farmer eventually continued, waiting to do so until after the third adjustment of the slick hat. "But she can't keep it up for all that long. Best she can manage, she could get here pretty quick -- in a straight line across the clock. But it's gonna be broken up by a lot of naps. And where's she gonna mooch meals once she's out of Ponyville?"
The tarp was almost folded. Both mares watched the final part of the process, their eyes almost hungry --
-- the rain started.
"Or maybe she got a teleport relay in," Applejack muttered. "That makes sense, too."
The tarp unfolded.
Refolded.
"Y'said this was 'bout destressing, right?"
"Yes."
"It ain't workin'."
"I know."
"It's like listenin' t' somepony read a book out loud. But they never get t' the last chapter. Jus' go back and start again, over an' over..."
"I know."
The tarp began to unfold...
The farmer and the librarian were friends and in some ways, that was in spite of themselves. They were two very different mares, and often had problems finding the points of commonality which would help them maintain the connection. Staying friends sometimes turned into hard work: something which meant having three days of just getting to spend time together could feel important. A chance to strengthen the bonds.
But there were some ways in which every Bearer was at least a partial reflection of every other.
"OH, JUST LET ME!"
But for accent, it was a perfect chorus. And it lost nothing for being delivered on the move.
"I knew how to organize it!" the purple mare desperately protested. "Anypony could have figured it out, if they'd had enough time! And we did! Everyone in the stadium -- look, there was a language barrier, so when I was trying to get the playbook away from that coach, I just needed something I could draw on. Once they all saw the diagrams...!"
"Pleats," muttered the larger female. "Ah was gonna do pleats. Have one side permanently anchored an' strapped down, then jus' untie it an' pleat the whole thing across in a minute. Maybe Ah can't design t' save mah life, but Ah'm pretty sure Ah kept enough from that whole mess t' know how pleats work."
"And the stadium didn't press charges!" the little one forced on. "I know they didn't! They just had someone show us out. All the way to the hotel. And they took some pictures first, in case we ever tried to come back -- maybe I should just start carrying copies for some of the Canterlot ones with me, so we don't get stuck waiting for someone to borrow a camera almost every time we're being banned and now I have to put somewhere else on The List -- anyway, I know they didn't send for the police!"
Collo was fully aware that the stadium had decided to just get them out of the area. He also understood that decision, because the owners had quickly realized that they were dealing with Equestrians and the ponies who possessed pony hearts had a recognized tendency towards going temporarily mad. You isolated the problem, you got it away from everyone else, you waited for some degree of theoretical rationality to return, and you absolutely did not refund the ticket prices because the orange one had done at least that much in damage to the tarp with her teeth while trying to hard-press the first pleat fold.
Equestrians went mad sometimes, and griffons tried to be patient. Collo wasn't sure he would have argued for pressing charges over the arena events, because that insanity was usually just something you had to deal with.
But...
"And that just about wraps up your second 'tourist' day," he noted, tawny fur rippling along his flanks. "Which, I think --"
They all had to wait for the echoes of the newest burst to die away.
"-- would bring us to what made you my company for the evening," the officer finished. "How did that start?"
"Science," the little mare promptly said. "It started because of science. Because some people don't understand what that is, or how it works --"
"-- Twi," interjected the orange, "y'gotta slow down here --"
But intellectual rage had built up steam in the boiler, and future evidence was non-merrily venting along. "-- and it happened because someone should have said something long before this, and it just turned out to be somepony -- !"
It was their final day in the griffon nation, and they were both stuck in the hotel. It wasn't for lack of other options, because it was a big city and they'd only managed to get banned from one place in two days: a rate which, if it maintained, stood some chance of pulling down their historical average.
It was because of the forecast.
"One hundred percent chance of heavy thunderstorms," Applejack sighed. "Y'sure?"
"The concierge was," Twilight groaned as she came all the way back into the room, weakly kicking the door shut behind her. "And they wouldn't put a hundred percent on something unless it was a guarantee, Applejack. It's going to hit and when it does, we'll probably wind up caught in it. Even if we're indoors, we'll have to reach the extraction point on time." She wearily shook her head: the bangs shifted out of alignment, and a quick flare of energy put them back in order. "You just know we're going to get soaked when we try to get there."
"Funny way t' say 'embassy', when y'think about it," the farmer decided. "No other way t' get around?"
"You can't really use the Underground for shielded trots. I asked. You have to know exactly where you're going, and there has to be an exit close by. Griffons have gotten lost trying for it. And there's air carriages, almost exactly like we have back home -- but they won't fly in the heaviest storms, any more than most pegasi will. We're stuck."
Applejack sighed again, and green eyes looked at the sunlight streaming in through the window. The magnificent view beyond.
"Looks clear enough now," she noted. "But Ah live closer to the fringe than you do, Twi. Not like 'Shy, who's right on top of the weather border -- but enough that Ah can see what's goin' on outside the control zone, if'fin Ah look at the right times. Ah know how fast a heavy boomer can come up. Even when they start from scratch." Hopefully, "Did the 'forecast' have a startin' time? Anythin' we could try t' work with?"
"No. It could start at any moment. All day, at any time during the day, and then it's supposed to last until about three hours after we go home." The little mare climbed up onto the bed, then slumped down. "And I'm tired of being wet... You've seen them start from nothing? How long does it take?"
"Less than a hour, for some of 'em. Don't know what the record is." The earth pony's lips quirked. "Not bein' a pegasus an' all."
"And just about anywhere we could go would take at least that much time to reach," Twilight miserably decided.
"So we're decidin' t' stay in. Mutually."
"I guess so."
"A whole day," the farmer went on, "of doin' nothin'."
"...yeah."
The blonde tail began to lash.
"Ah ain't good at that."
"I know."
There were books available for hotel guests. The only two which initially interested Applejack from the little Equestrian section turned out to be from an author she'd rejected before, Twilight couldn't find anything to work with, and sixty percent of the in-house library was written in Griffonant.
The mares wandered around the hotel. They climbed ramps from one floor to the next, and found it good exercise. It also meant they passed by a lot of sunlight-streaming windows. Every so often, the sound of children playing would drift up from below, because they'd reached the local weekend and everyone was off from school. It meant they occasionally heard the happy parents too.
Eventually, they became hungry. There were four restaurants in the hotel. Every one of them served something which was suitable for ponies. The weekend found two of them inexplicably closed, the third was a dinner establishment, and the last had just cleared down from brunch.
Applejack tried to clean their room. Twilight pointed out that the employees were supposed to do that, and the earth pony irritably announced that it was the only available work and therefore, she was gonna do it. Unless the librarian wanted to see the concierge desk with a new master, and that was going to require more knowledge of the city than Applejack strictly had. Or she could haul luggage. Hauling luggage was definitely an option. Also, here was a list of every last thing Applejack would have been doing on the Acres that day, including a full description of the weather schedule for every part and while it would have taken a full workday to get through all of it, the world only allowed the description to occupy ten very detailed minutes.
They paced. Twilight ignored multiple chances to say something about how the farmer had clearly brought her endurance up. Applejack carefully directed the little mare away from all potential grooves.
A children's activity room was located in the hotel. Twilight found a boardgame which had instructions in Equestrian. It turned out to be about diplomacy and once they'd each played it for about an hour, it mostly became about trying not to kill each other. The mares mutually wrote down the name, copied out most of the instructions, and planned to take the results to their own government. You couldn't ask for a ban without explaining exactly why you wanted something banished, and the Princesses needed to gain just enough exposure to understand why letting Legatio come across the border would destroy Harmony forever.
Hours didn't pass. They dragged. Moments ground against the fur one second at a time. Darts of time were launched by the clock and landed directly in the brain.
And all the while, Sun shone on in a perfectly clear sky --
"-- one hundred percent," Twilight spat. "At any time! ANY TIME!"
Applejack's hackles, which had already been at their normal peak, found a way to rise a little more.
"Ain't nopony managin' this weather," she pointed out. "Nopony at'tall."
"No one manages it," Twilight half-hissed. "So who predicts it?"
The mares looked at each other, and a twinned thought lanced across the gap.
"Ah jus' thought of a place Ah want t' go," Applejack announced as her lips pulled back into a snarl. "If'fin there's still time. You wanna come with?"
"I'm pretty sure we're going to the same place," Twilight announced. "Let's just go ask that nice concierge where it is. And we'll take our saddlebags with us. I'm pretty sure we're not coming back."
They didn't.
There were aspects of the Meteorology Institute which might have made it worth seeing for some tourists and, had she been in a considerably better mood, that might have even included Twilight. Under more normal circumstances, she likely would have been fascinated by the instruments. The majority of them were brass, some were tin, a few sported electrum, and just about every last one had multiple parts. Most of those parts turned. As far as the little mare could tell, when things spun, meteorology happened. Incorrectly.
If you just were going through the main building, then the instruments were most of what was present to see. Multiple sapients hurried through the corridors. Some of them carried thick books in their beaks, while others muttered to themselves in Griffonant as they passed. The language was often considered to be one of science (although Twilight was starting to wonder why): for starters, all taxonomy was recorded that way. It meant Twilight recognized the occasional term, and had to keep herself from chasing after the kudu who had just used tempestas ante in warm blood.
But when you finally reached the top for one of the tallest buildings in the city -- something which had been placed on the highest hill, and the long climb required for reaching it had brought them to the point where even Applejack's knees were starting to ache -- you found the dome.
The summit was housed in a hemisphere of thick glass. Perfect glass, kept absolutely clean by several minor enchantments: additional effects meant none of them produced any visible glow, making it all the easier to observe the true colors of the sky. And portions of the dome had been ground to produce a telescope effect, while others magnified and a few channeled sunlight to where it was most needed: this mostly meant illuminating a few charts, three apparently-crucial blackboards, and one instrument which did very little except spin. Twilight, presented with the unexpected chance for a rather intensive study of optics, passed up on all of it because that sort of thing clearly had to be reserved for the next visit.
(She would wind up banned from the Institute for life, without any need for a photo, and it wound up on the sixth page of The List.)
Several griffons, along with those who just had the right hearts, watched the little mare as she hard-marched up to the one she'd been told to seek. Several of the smaller instruments almost considered shaking and then, when the earth pony followed in the librarian's wake, took a hard jump to the right just to get out of the way.
"Professor Praedic," she demanded of the senior griffon with the cougar body and fast-rotating owl head. "What do you mean, one hundred percent?"
Her anger filled the dome. It almost seemed to darken the sky, if only by a few subtle shades. And the griffon... chuckled.
"Equestrians," he merrily said in an almost completely-unaccented voice, and did so through the half-parted beak which constituted a griffon's smile. "You're not the first to visit, or be angry because understanding simply wasn't there. This is clearly about why the rain hasn't started yet, yes?"
Twilight froze.
"That's a lecturing tone," she said. "I know lecturing tones. You're being polite, but that's the version I use with children. With foals who don't know enough to understand. It's a domination tactic --"
"-- you have a schedule," the griffon politely broke in. "Things which happen reliably, assuming everypony got to work when they were supposed to. We have science. And science... is about the process of learning more and more, yes? Refining the theories which do work, while rejecting those which don't? Trying to come ever-closer to the treasure of Proof?"
The little mare forced herself to nod, and did so just as Applejack caught up, stopping just behind Twilight's tail.
"So you're learnin'," the earth pony darkly stated. "Educate us. Moon ain't that far off, an' there ain't been one raindrop." The frustration which almost visibly radiated from her fur was beginning to shadow the world. "On a hundred percent chance, which shouldn't be no chance at all. More of a guarantee. So what's goin' on? Tell us what a hundred percent means t' you."
The griffon, with politeness which bordered on the irritating before leaping across without benefit of paperwork, simply nodded and began to move towards the largest of the blackboards. The remaining meteorologists simply watched, as light tried to boil around Twilight's horn and, both within and outside the dome, air attempted to do the same.
"Part of meteorology," the griffon told them, "comes from observing conditions and recording what happens when those conditions exist. Collecting data. So, over the course of years -- and I mean centuries, my dear little Equestrians -- we come to recognize the tendencies. Because we've seen just about every possible combination of circumstances before, and can check the records. If these conditions exist, then precipitation occurs fifteen percent of the time."
"Three in twenty," Applejack stated. "Sounds higher, for some reason --"
"-- and with another set? Fifty percent, which of course --" another chuckle "-- means it rains half the time. But we don't just measure the tendencies. We have to report them, every day. And there's only so much room on the announcement sheet, especially when we add graphics."
"Graphics," Twilight tightly repeated.
Her mood visibly darkened. Unnoticed by everyone, with all attention focused on the confrontation, the sky began to follow suit.
"We've found it helps to add a picture of a cute pet," the griffon told them. "Especially on a stormy day. So with limited text space available, we don't write down the exact chances. We simply... round off."
It distantly occurred to Twilight that a life spent in research hadn't uncovered much in the way of new creative curses.
"Round. Off."
Although as expressions of unspeakable foulness went, that one seemed to have something going for it.
"Yes," declared the griffon as unnoticed sunlight began to dim, with clouds moving in over the Dome and thickening by the moment. "For the casual reader."
"So what," Applejack demanded from between hard-pressed teeth, "is the real number?"
The griffon crossed the remaining distance to the blackboard. Took up the chalk's metal extension grip in his beak, and began to carefully write. Swooping, oversized characters, as might be used for foals that were seeing numbers for the first time -- only worse. They were so large as to require takeoff just to finish the top loop.
99
He paused. Squinted a little, while failing to recognize why so much of the light had vanished.
,
"...why?" Applejack whispered to Twilight. "He jus' --"
"They use commas for decimal places. Instead of periods."
"Oh. Yeah. It's the little cultural things that trip y'up."
Most of Sun's illumination was gone.
999.9
"An' periods for commas on numbers?"
"Yes."
"You're grindin' your hooves into the floor."
"I know."
98
He landed, put the chalk down on a small tray, and the owl head rotated to face them. He was still smiling.
"Which, for laypony purposes, is still an approximation," the griffon announced. "But you wouldn't be interested in the real number. Just know that it exists, and will continue to be refined --"
There was a tiny *!splat!* at the absolute summit of the dome. A sound which should have gone fully unnoticed, and yet everyone looked up at the source. Saw the tiny drop of moisture, so precariously balanced on the peak under a sky gone to roiling grey and boiling black. Stared into enclosing darkness. Layered darkness. Advanced darkness.
It provided contrast to what had been present but minutes before, and also provided the perfect background for the instant when electric blue arced across everyone's vision. Thunder shook the dome. It only took an additional second for gravity to do its work, and the torrent began to run across the glass. Some portions of the drops were magnified.
The griffon regarded it all. Turned back to the chalkboard, nodded to himself, took up the extension again, and made one minor modification.
99
And in that moment, Twilight Sparkle went just a little bit mad.
"It was," the little mare insisted, " a perfectly reasonable reaction."
The orange pony facehoofed. Collo, who seldom got to witness a suspect putting themselves in chains, simply watched.
"Anypony of sanity would have --"
"-- Twi, y'tried to go after --"
"-- the blackboard! I was aiming for the blackboard! You didn't have to try and knock my aim off! If you'd just let me hit what I was actually trying for --"
"-- it was one of those swivel types! Anchored, but y'hit hard, Twi! When that burst knocked into it -- if the whole thing spun --"
"-- and then we could talk about how you tried to wreck my aim!"
"It was the closest --"
" -- you bit down on my tail and swung me around!"
The earth pony sighed.
"You're kinda on the small side," she observed. "An' Ah was behind you. Only leverage Ah had. Knockin' you over would have been worse."
The little mare fumed. Sat down under the pressing weight of raw frustration, yelped, and got her hindquarters off the bench again.
"It just would have been the blackboard," she fumed. "Erasing it. By force. In an explosion of chalk dust. If you hadn't been swinging me, I wouldn't have hit all of the other things."
Collo didn't get a lot in the way of spontaneous confessions either.
"Very expensive things," he observed. "Even when you don't factor in all the repairs which need to be made on the dome."
Equestrians went a little mad sometimes. You had to understand that, and you tried to forgive most of it.
But there were limits.
They all sat in silence for a while, as the mares finally dipped their heads in what almost could have been shame. Thunder rolled again and when it stopped, Collo heard hooves in the approach hallway. Flanked by the sounds of moving talons and paws, all getting closer. His time was almost up, then.
"I don't know what the Institute wants to do in the way of charges," he told them. "But at the very least, they'll want to be paid for damages. So unless you two want to start bribing your way out of it --"
-- were the hooves that close? Or were they simply that heavy? The audible weight of the impacts was more suited to a minotaur-shaped griffon, but the beats were coming in four-time --
-- the door opened, and pastel hues twisted and flowed their way through the new gap.
It changed the light in the interrogation room. It made the Equestrians automatically look towards the source. And then they both cringed into their benches, with the little one's tail jammed directly into the wood.
"My apologies for interrupting, Officer Colloquium," the giant white mare wearily said. "But as you can see --" she nodded to the griffons who were flanking her, as the light of that strange mane glinted off the official badges mounted on the ornate chest straps "-- I've spoken to your government. They'll be giving you the paperwork required to close this case. But those two are with me now."
Collo had seen a lot of things happen in his interrogation room and when it came to interesting sights, up until that exact moment, full-body cringes hadn't been all that high on the list.
"We're still waiting for charges --" he tried, because he wasn't sure what else to say in the presence of one of the world's leaders. Especially if there was any chance that the wrong word would make her temporarily go insane.
"There won't be any. I've also spoken to the Institute. Equestria is paying for the damages. And some refinements to the dome, plus a few possible improvements." Her voice was steady, and yet everything about the giant's posture suggested a motionless sigh. "The budget will treat it as mission-related expenses. Again."
"So," the officer attempted for Round Two, still trying to figure out how the mares were just about to slip away, "there was a mission?"
"Which your government knew about," the giant confirmed. "Although they didn't bother tracking them after it ended."
"Because," a few valiant brain cells fired off, "I didn't think I'd see a Princess intervene with any two random adult mares --"
The huge eyes briefly closed.
"You say 'intervene with'," the white mare stated. "Sometimes I think of it as 'searching for'. Eventually, I might even find one."
The injured tail was now trying to merge with the bench.
"You weren't at the embassy," royalty announced. "Experience suggested that I check the nearest prison. After all, as portions of the Solar staff keep saying, it isn't a real Bearer visit --"
"-- we can explain," the orange and suddenly not-so-large mare said. "Ah swear we can --"
"-- until somepony posts bail," the controlled voice mercilessly finished. "And in a sense, I have."
Paperwork was transferred. Collo, as an officer of experience, took two minutes to verify everything, and then custody went along with it. The government griffons left, the horn restraint was removed, and the two Equestrians slowly got up from their shared bench. Moving as if the thing they wanted most in the world was to never leave the interrogation room at all.
"Princess --" the orange began.
"-- we'll talk," the white mare said, "when we get home. Your saddlebags are already at the embassy. Once we recover your things, I'll teleport us back."
The little purple mare forced herself past the long legs, stepping into the hallway.
"Home," she sighed. "At least we'll be home."
The orange mare nodded. Followed her out, began to trot away. The white mare turned and after a mere second, she was in the lead.
Collo, his job complete, started to pack up his copies of the paperwork. They would need to be filed properly, and that meant one more sorting to make sure he had his copies. It meant he was looking down during the rest of it.
"Home, with regulated weather and sanity..."
"No," said the white mare.
Two sets of hooves froze.
"Princess?" both Equestrian subjects simultaneously asked.
"I can't promise sanity," royalty said. "Not when it's Ponyville, and especially not with all of you. Let alone when it's just down to the two sensible ones. But I read everything before I spoke with the Institute. I think you two both need some more experience in dealing with wild weather. So the tree and the farmhouse are off the Bureau's schedule for the next two weeks."
"Princess!" the orange yelped. "Mah crops --"
"-- just the farmhouse, Applejack. I wouldn't interfere with your harvest. But the control zone has been reorganized for the duration." There was a pause. "Of course, with the new wild sections so small, the local majority would just take over. So I'm going to give Rainbow permission to be... creative."
It was almost possible to hear where the smile wasn't.
"Rainbow," just barely emerged from the smallest at the speed of stun. "Being -- creative. With us, under palace permission..."
"Did you know," the giant innocently interrupted, "that hail actually becomes more likely in summer?"
There was a moment of absolute silence. And then the flash of light took the twinned screams of horrified insanity away.
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That should be the new tagline, now that the reality is one doesn't work.
Ye gods, Creative Celestia is the best Celestia.
Now this? Is pretty funny. It's almost cathartic to see the Equestrians get the piss taken out of them a bit, when they are actually heroic and good as we know, but they are certainly silly in many ways. That's fun. Good contrast.
...Wow. This was an incredible sequence. What a story! Quite funny and entertaining. Those wacky Equestrians! With their micromanaged weather!
Thanks for this one, Estee. It was fun to see the Griffons through their own eyes in their own country, though I can't forgive them for their decimal comma crimes. I don't even know what the number he wrote was supposed to be, 99 or .99? I was 100% in Twi and AJ's shoes in that moment, and it sucked, cause I was having fun ripping on them before that. Taught me a little empathy!
Weather always does seem to start when you've stopped looking for it...
Ya know. I think the princesses have tried to create a nation with as close to perfect predictability as they could in response to growing up in the discordian era. But I think that environment has had a few unintended consequences. Namely citizens who don;e deal with change or the unfamiliar well...
Celestia is like Dr. Doom in that she will create entirely new forms of punishment from scratch just to make a point.
Last NFL game cancelled for weather:
Nov 17, 1935 Boston Redskins vs Philadelphia Eagles
Downloaded to
The Triptych Continuum Rebooted
Year 4 folder
Now will Rainbow being creative backfire? While Celestia was worried about the managed weather bleeding over into the new zones what to prevent the new wild weather from bleeding into the control zones I'd think they would be some bleed in both direction
Of course the way percentages work in weather forecasts, at least as I understand it, 15% could mean a 15% chance of rain over 100% of the forecast area... Or a 100% chance of rain over 15% of the forecast area. And the person reading the forecast has no real way of knowing which it is. Or exactly where the bounds of the forecast area are exactly for that matter.
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YouTube channels SciShow and MinuteEarth to the rescue.
I think this is my favourite part.
It just perfectly captures the moment when the catalyst was added to the unstable concoction of Twilight's fraying sanity, as well as encapsulating the story's message that not everyone's culture would or should accommodate your preferences.
It's nice to see a portrayal of non-Equestrian nations as fully functional civilisations on their own terms, rather than cultural backwaters just waiting for ponies to spread friendship to them.
You just know that Rainbow isn't going to be the only member of the Weather Team to be involved in this. Because getting a Palace version of a Blank Check to 'get creative with the weather' is not an opportunity one passes up.
IMO, relations with the Griffons is complicated
On the one hand, ponies eat plants. They can eat some meat, but they've got to eat far more vegetation than griffins + a lot of them can't fly.
Vegetarian + flightless = weak = despised.
On the other hand they've (likely) won every war they've ever fought with everyone = strong = respected. They've certainly got the princesses & control the sun & moon + unicorn magic. They are almost as dangerous as the largest dragons & that means respect.
So, crazy but powerful = confusing to Griffins.
Nature vs Nurture
On The Highway of Life
Crazy People Have The Right of Way
Good titles for a story set in Gryffindor.
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Science Made Stupid:
How to Discomprehend the World Around Us (Weller)
Won the Hugo in 1986 (Best Nonfiction Book category).
Had an essay on determining how probable the rain that fell actually was.
Culture Shock. It's what every tourist undergoes to some degree whenever they visit another country, but it's different for every individual.
Seeing both Twilight and Applejack go through it to this degree was absolutely hilarious, though I would offer the argument against classifying the former as "one of the sensible ones."
I absolutely love this.
Its refreshing to see the mane six as 'villainous' (stretching but technically correct) protagonists. Especially being portrayed as boorish tourists. Yes the Griffons are a tad patronising, but as they see it Equestrians are control freaks liable to snap if everything isnt "just so".
I adore the Protoceran world building as well, especially the Hunt sport.
I think given this chance that Rainbow is going to be creative. Very, very creative.
Applejack and Twilight deserved that punishment, though, I still wish they went to prison.
I like this one :)
btw
voice
The words that I can hear, floating in the air between every scene break:
Glorious to see the view of insane ponies from the outside for a change. Twilight, Applejack, this is what privilege looks like.
What I love about this one was the reason they snapped… these are the absolute two worst ponies to have nothing with which to occupy themselves. Applejack overworks herself and Twilight organizes every moment. They are indeed the two most sensible bearers when things need done, but it’s easy to see the wheels coming off when they have the urge to fix something and there’s nothing to fix.
And I do sympathize with them when it comes to sports. I doubt there’s a single sport in existence where a new observer couldn’t quickly identify a better way of doing some aspect of it, and the only answer for why it isn’t done that way is usually “tradition”.
Loved the weary and condescending griffons having some sympathy for their guests’ madness throughout. Good stuff!
Hmm. Is Twilight getting the hang of pegasus vision, or are there universally visible indicators of some kind? (Possibly the latter. I imagine the officer would recognize that horn and wings make for a notable combination.)
One of several advantages over the crystal coffee table: Celestia can explain her reasoning in a way ponies can actually understand before the fact.
Welp, they're doomed, in case the framing device didn't make that clear enough.
Ah yes, Twilight Sparkle. Perhaps the only mare of her generation who actually cares about history. (see Harmony, Elements of; Moon, Mare in the.)
I can't help but think of Discord's game in the hedge maze. Of course, there one team was shamelessly cheating.
I do like the helpful pegasus-shaped griffon. Very useful explanations, even if she's asking the tourists to deal with what they see as utter madness.
In any case, lovely bit of silliness. Thank you for it.
wow if this is how they react to normal weather pony kind would not have lasted long if cosy glow had successful got rid of magic
To say something new... Loving all the little nods!
I am surprised this hasn’t come up sooner. You would think that they would have experienced something like this far sooner. They just found out about how things are supposed to work naturally and it made it funny.
I can't remember the story, or the exact phrasing, but in that story, Celestia said to her enemies something along the lines of, "I have been called many things, but the title I bear most proudly is Teacher." Education ensued.
(Edit: 99.98% sure it was Arad's Stardust or Mente Materia, but I don't feel like searching for the exact chapter)
Celestia is often depicted as a chessmaster, or great strategist, or just someone you don't want to cross when she lets her mane down.
Estee's Celestia is all of those, and has a delightful appreciation for comeuppance due, besides.
I'd hate to see their reaction if a tornado had spun up
The title made me think of JoJo
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Fun fact: A guy decided one way to compare the accuracy of forecast percentages of the National Weather Service, The Weather Channel, and his local TV news station. The NWS was right on target- 20% of the days where they forecasted a 20% chance of rain actually had rain. The Weather Channel was almost as accurate but fudged a little bit on percentages to cover for days when freak weather might happen. The local TV news station, in contrast, was completely awful and seemed to issue hyped up forecasts that weren't very accurate to boost ratings.
Source: https://randalolson.com/2014/06/21/accuracy-of-three-major-weather-forecasting-services/
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Blame Discord. It has been stated his reign of madness was responsible of exacerbating ponykind's herd instincts, as a coping mechanism.
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You think creative Rainbow can be bad? Just wait until Rarity finds out. She remembers a lot of weather magic from the Cutie Mark switch incident, as Cadence can attest.
Did you know there exist MILITARY forecast meteorologists? Which are, like, court martialled if they are mistaken jn any significant way?
The caveat they have guaranteed forecast for like 4 hours, tops.
Ah, getting angry at the weather and dealing with it. Now THAT'S a true sport.
Good story again Estee.
100%
...Look, I'm just spittin' facts, here.
What amuses me here is that both sides are being a bit prejudiced about it, but both of them also have fair points that you can't exactly just dismiss either (though obviously, for a number of reasons, the griffons have the stronger argument here), so you kinda got a back-and-forth to it that--completely unhelpfully as it does nothing to really help resolve the real problem--cancels each other out. So they can ultimately preach their sides of the matter as much as they want, but ultimately, they aren't going to be making any progress that way, because both sides are too convinced their respective way of looking at it is the right one.
Which, of course, is precisely what makes this dumpster fire so much more hilariously amusing.
The fact she has to force it out now is very telling.
On that note though, this "Stalk" sport is very interesting, and you've clearly thought out a fair bit of the logistics of how it'd need to work and still be fair. I can almost see it working as a real-life sport, in fact...with maybe one or two tweaks for added safety.
It would be something along her speed, wouldn't it?
That's...not helping your case in the slightest, Twi.
Oh! So Griffonant is basically Latin, then? Huh, dunno why I didn't catch onto that sooner...but then there hasn't been exactly that many instances of it given in-story, so...
Mwahahaha, can't say the two of them didn't deserve it. On one side, I can kinda understand Twi and AJ's frustration over the matter, but ah...they definitely made Mount Everest out of that molehill, to the point that they failed to look the matter from any perspective but their own, so...my sympathies don't go especially far here.
So by all means, have fun with it, Rainbow.
11368443
Per Triptych, she remembers indistinctly.
Has been jailed at least 2 times
Hoofballistic (assault) & Resisdent Weevil (breaking & entering + arson). Twilight has helped her on several occasions.
No, PINKIE is the practical joker & troll.
Advanced Darkness.
For when Princesses go MAD.
Finally remembered one forcast from last year. One particular day there was 5 consecutively hourly predictions, each with a 20% chance of thunderstorms. Once my sight had recovered from the flash of light coming through the plastic phone casing, through the curtain, reflecting off the back of the monitor, then the wall, and the simultaneous explosion of thunder, I dropped the computer and associated network as quickly as possible because Im paranoid and like to safe the gear on the first hint of a thunderstorm coming over.
What the met office meant, was that thre was an unbroken line of thunderstorms coming over sometime during the day, so it was a 100% chance, somewhere in that 5 hour window.
They might run the simulation 51 times and take the average, but they dont give you the spread. Theres one particular statistical system where the more you sample, the worse your errors get.
11368652
Of course this and some of the other forecast details/stories others have posted does demonstrate that the science of meteorology just isn't a super exact one by nature. Even when you have the best teams working on it to get the most accurate of predictions possible, sometimes the weather's going to do something completely different that no one could've expected anyway.
An example that happened when I was in middle school, where ALL of the regional weather teams were in agreement that a major winter storm was rolling in to our area, and we were not only going to get hit, we would get hit HARD, in a sort of "winter storm of the decade" kind of scenario. And I cannot stress this enough--everyone was predicting this, no exceptions, no variations, no outliers. According to all the data, by all accounts, it was a definite certainty. The confidence of it hitting was so high that everybody took steps to prep for getting snowed in, towns stocking up on supplies and making emergency preparations to combat the snowfall as best as they could, even the schools let students out early the Friday before it was set to hit, so to ensure all of the students would have ample time to get safely back in their homes before the storm struck, and made preparatory plans for possibly cancelling school the following Monday if everyone was still snowed in after this storm struck. By the time the storm was set to hit, everybody had prepared for the worst.
The storm instead blew right over us, barely even dusting us with snow, went further south into the next state over, and hit THEM hard instead, catching all of the meteorologists completely by surprise, because according to their data, that shouldn't have happened and there was no reason to have expected it to.
Another example was when a rainstorm that was predicted to just idly roll through the area as normal instead parked itself directly over my hometown and must've dumped its entire payload of rain directly on us, not just giving us well above record rainfalls for our area, but also caused some flash flooding, something none of us locals had ever seen happen in our area before. The meteorologists later couldn't explain how and why it happened and were caught just as off guard by it as all the rest of us.
So I guess the moral of my story here is to give your weather teams at least some slack, because weather's a fickle mistress that will sometimes do the opposite of what you'd think it would out of seeming spite.
You know, reading all this delightful head-canon about Protoceran culture and their nonplussed attitude towards “wild weather”, it makes me wonder how an Equestrian born and bred Gryphon would react to life in Protocera.
That may make an interesting story... and give this ‘verse another good side character, akin to Ratchette... hmm....
11368213
Now that's just not true. "Cheating" implies there are rules to break or bend, but rules are boring. Therefore, there was no cheating, and nothing to be ashamed of.
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Chapter2, Sunset. (could have only been chapter 1 or 2 because of what happened during/after the education)
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She may be a bit prejudiced against griffon scientists after that one astronomy professor who attempted to persuade Luna that Moon doesn't exist.
You know, of all ponies, I would have expected Twilight to understand how science communication works. I sure hope Equestria never has to contend with global warming or a non-Windigo-induced ice age; if this story is any indication, their climate scientists would either be exiled or tarred and feathered by the first IPCC report.
And this is why the Crusaders were able to do what they did for so long: nopony notices crazy when everypony's crazy.
11368747
The region I used to live, was a 45 square mile county which was nicknamed The Valley. Its hills hold one of, if not still the highest main road in the UK The weather there was regularly totally different to the surrounding counties due to the geology and geography. Being a south facing valley mouth, sotherly winds would lift and speed up as they came up the line. You could have constant cloud cover over the area, and the lifting wind would push it apart. Mostly though it would be sunny in the overall area, and the lifting wind would cool, form clouds, and rain.
Lots of rain.
Turns out the one year measurement of 50 inches they were happy with to build reservoirs there a hundred years ago, was a below average year. This year is looking to beat even the dryest year Ive seen measured in the last 20. But, hurricane season is approaching and the leftovers can do all sorts of nasty things to the UK. Even The Valley notices when it gets 150mm of rain in a day. These records of nightmare rainfalls from elsewhere would be devastating.
I can imagine what "something" in italics is implying.
MENU:
Large Steak
Small Steak
Expensive Steak
Porkchop
Sides:
Chicken Drumstick
Garden Salad
This is subtly BRUTAL. She's calling Equestrians children and I'm pretty sure she's implying that they are of the immature/spoiled don't know how to act properly in larger society variety.
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Twilight and Applejack: "What's on the menu for ponies?"
Griffon waitress: "Well, we got eggs and Spam; Spam, eggs, sausage, and Spam; Spam, baked beans, and Spam; Spam, Spam, Spam, mushrooms, and Spam; or Lobster Thermidor au Crevettes with a mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and Spam."
Twilight: "Don't you serve anything without Spam?"
Waitress: "I suppose I could make you a daisy, Spam, and daffodil sandwich? That's not got much Spam in it."
Twilight and Applejack together: "WE DON'T LIKE SPAM!!"
(Behind them, the other customers start tapping their plates and singing, "Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, lovely SPAAAAAMM!")
Applejack: "QUIET!!"
An hour later
Twilight: "That could have been worse."
Applejack: (burrrp!) Let's never speak of this again..."
"Most Equestrian didn't deal well with that"
"Most Equestrians didn't deal well with that"?
"maybe I should just start carrying copies for some of the Canterlot"
"maybe I should just start carrying copies of some of the Canterlot"?
"A children's activity room was located in the hotel. Twilight found a boardgame which had instructions in Equestrian. It turned out to be about diplomacy and once they'd each played it for about an hour, it mostly became about trying not to kill each other."
...In Protocera, Diplomacy is considered a children's game? :D
...Hm. Though maybe it's not Diplomacy; I'm not sure how they could really get going at the backstabbing there with only two players.
"you finally reached the top for one of the tallest buildings"
"you finally reached the top of one of the tallest buildings"?
"by several minor enchantments: additional effects meant"
"by several minor enchantments; additional effects meant"?
"And portions of the dome had been ground to produce a telescope effect, while others magnified and a few channeled sunlight to where it was most needed"
What's the difference between the telescope effect and the magnification here? For an alternate interpretation, what's the difference between magnifying and channeling sunlight, at least assuming additional energy isn't being added?Ah, I think I see, from later text: the magnifying sections magnify what's nearby, with what's far away out of focus?
"and it wound on the sixth page of The List"
"and it wound up on the sixth page of The List"?
"as the mares finally dipped their heads in what almost could been shame"
"as the mares finally dipped their heads in what almost could have been shame"?
Thanks for writing, Estee! :)
You know, part of the reason meteorology is so inexact is because there's no way to control all the variables or repeat exact situations with minor changes. You'd think that would be less of an issue when there is a whole nation that would love to lend some pegasi to help with the experiments.
11372516 You've placed the grasping member firmly upon the exact reason why unicorns are viewed with muted terror among the physics departments of other races.
"You don't understand," said Professor Mutnik to the young unicorn who had by some terrible mistake of the registrar's office been enrolled in his class. She was a child, no more than twelve or so, and most of his students were working on their thesis topics. He had been willing to humor the dean's office for a few weeks, but once the first exam had been graded, it was obvious she did not belong.
"No you don't," said Decimal, who lit up her horn and spread several sheets of her exam answers across his desk. "Here, you marked me down for answering sigma cubed times i when that is the obvious answer. I mean otherwise you have to integrate across several series when all you have to do is change the value of e to 2.6 here--"
"Wait," said Mutnik weakly as Decimal's quill danced across the page. "You can't do--"
"Which means adding a spinwise twist to pi over here to make it 3.56i over theta," she added with her horn glowing brighter.
"Those are constants," stammered Mutnik. "Constants!"
"They stay constant for the first half of the equation," said Decimal, now furiously scribing away as the numbers began to glow on the page and change before his horrified eyes. "You have to flip pi back to 4 here or you get an unresolvable phasic rift and once a parallel dimension starts leaking out over the page, you might as well start over..."
11372706
Does weather take into account the Root Temperature variance of speed of sound? that is, the velocity of the speed of propagation varies as the square root of the energy density? Which is weird given how closly otherwise light behaves just like sound.
Then theres the whole gravity looks like the result of increased fractal folding in fourth spacial dimention, which changes all your rulers?
How many computer programming languages use the exact same definition, value, and symbology for otherwise claimed constants, such as Pi?
I loved this. Collo was the perfect straight-Griffon for the situation. The touch with the closet was nice, too; between the two of them, it was easy to get a sense of the scale of the issue, how many ponies had lost their minds at some facet of the Griffon lifestyle. The receptionist at the hotel was probably my favorite little detail, though - they didn’t want to say the word “forecast,” quite possibly because they understood what might happen once it was said. This specific meltdown has happened before, and it will quite likely happen again, unless either Equestria or Protocera makes an enormous change to the labor surrounding weather - which, of course, they won’t. Why would they?
Overall, great culture shock. Loved the characterization, too!