Pro Se
As holidays went, the late autumn travesty marked on the calendar as Homecoming could stand a few improvements. And as luck would have it, Apple Bloom just happened to have spent what felt like most of a lifetime in working on them. Just for starters, the first, most obvious, incredibly simple way to make the whole thing better for colts and fillies all over Equestria was to stop giving them two days off from school.
And as ideas went, that particular one was so brilliant that Apple Bloom usually needed a mere two minutes of explaining herself before everypony else in her age group stopped accusing her of being utterly insane.
What was Homecoming? It was a day during which ponies were supposed to be home -- and that meant more than taking the old road out of town, carefully steering past the Rich estate, and waiting for that first moment when the combination of sights, sounds, and scents identified the edge of the Acres. On Homecoming, your heart identified the family members whom you were closest to in all the world, and then you did whatever was necessary to seek them out.
Ponies traversed a continent in order to spend time with their loved ones on Homecoming. Some crossed national borders. Others just had to trot through some small part of a single settled zone, which was still generally more than enough time for both reviewing the arguments from the last Homecoming and deciding just how they were going to pick up from where they'd left off. As Apple Bloom understood it from having spent a little too much time around disgruntled police officers -- the Crusade had produced a few side effects -- far too many ponies also wound up resuming the exact same yearly fights, frequently picking an identical spot for the sequel kick's initial target. If you worked in law enforcement, Homecoming was mostly known as a day which produced plenty of overtime in which to solve a logic puzzle: take at least three dozen ponies who'd just received a high-impact reminder of why they only saw each other once a year, and then divide them among twelve cells so that no two combatants were imprisoned together. Any incarcerated resumption of hostilities meant reworking the solution, along with possibly adding a few extra charges.
Those were the edge cases, though. For the most part, it was loving reunions. A few hours of precious time spent together, because... that might not happen again for a while.
It might not happen at --
-- that was how Homecoming worked for adults. Apple Bloom understood that, and... her brother was going to college soon. She wouldn't be seeing him anywhere near as much, it might just be the summer and a few holidays, and... maybe Homecoming would mean a little more then. She hoped it would mean something to him.
But that was next year. It was now. He was still at home, and Apple Bloom had a lot of growing up to do.
(A little less now.)
When you were a kid...
To Apple Bloom, Homecoming mostly represented all the things she had to do already, only with extra intensity. The family had to prepare a big meal? Living on the Acres meant nopony prepared all that much in the way of small ones. There was always somepony dropping by: Snowflake because he was now comfortable enough with dating Applejack to spend a few dinners at the farmhouse table, assorted Bearers would find their visits running into mealtime and there was almost always an extra plate set out, and then you had Rainbow Dash. The weather coordinator was effectively her own category, because putting more than one mare under 'near-perpetual meal moocher' would mean the pegasus got less food. Apple Bloom understood that Rainbow Dash didn't like to waste time with cooking, and had found the most effective solution was to let somepony else do it. Ideally, for free. Oh, and Scootaloo was going to be living at the Acres until things were... resolved. So bump up all food prep requirements by just that much, and then bump them again because pegasi starting into adolescence had rather quick metabolisms.
The house had to be cleaned? Apple Bloom wanted to know when that didn't apply and for preference, she wanted to know two moons in advance so she could schedule her escape from the rest of the chores accordingly. If you lived in a house, you were just about always cleaning some part of it. Especially your own bedroom, and that was just about the ultimate indignity because that was supposed to be hers -- well, theirs, at least for now -- and therefore, shouldn't she be the one to decide just when cleaning was required?
But that wasn't how it worked, because life was unfair. (Adults could also be rather unfair and the three in Apple Bloom's house had been known to ride herd over her life: there seemed to be a connection there.) So when it came to Homecoming... you started cooking the day before, and you didn't stop. Unless you were cleaning. Anypony who wasn't cooking usually had to be cleaning something, and Apple Bloom would wind up rubbing down furniture with polish cloths until her jaw ached.
Then there were the good plates. She wasn't entirely sure what those were for. 'Eating off them' would have been the usual answer, but a once-yearly purpose didn't feel like it fully qualified. 'Looking at' would have required them to be locked up in a clear display case, instead of the black ironwood chest which protected them from time, Ponyville and, to date, Apple Bloom -- while somehow still letting all of the dust in. She really didn't understand how that worked.
And Homecoming was always held on a weekday.
So when it came to improving the holiday, the first incredibly obvious step? Was to stop giving kids two days off from school, because you couldn't do extra chores if you were already in class.
Adults came home. But kids lived there. So Homecoming was extra chores. The same things you had to do every day, only with more intensity, a lot of additional stress, and the unwelcome presence of good plates when you still didn't know what they were good at. Homecoming was unwanted work, she didn't even get to watch any of what the other kids told her were the good fights, and then you had to clean up after the dinner which you'd just spent two days in cleaning for.
Except for the good plates. The good plates had to be cleaned by Special Measures. Apparently too much in the way of soap and water could be damaging. Apple Bloom was waiting for the day when she was told that the intensity of her regard was starting to chip the polish.
She prepared for Homecoming, and then she...
...she waited.
She waited for something which never happened. Couldn't happen.
She knew that.
And every year, she found herself waiting anyway.
Maybe by next year, the dinner would mean a little more. It might even turn into something real. But this was now.
Apple Bloom hated Homecoming.
The holiday had earned it.
She wasn't Honesty. But she was still part of the family, a Malus from birth. And something in the blood told her the name was a lie.
Two days off from school (with neither wanted), and Apple Bloom had already gone through what she'd decided was the highlight. She'd been kicked off the Acres.
...okay: it wasn't a real kicking. She just had a different chore to do. Homecoming had a number of tricks to inflict upon the unwary: something it had probably picked up from temporal proximity to Nightmare Night. And one of the most common was to arrange matters so that no matter how much food shopping anypony did in preparation for the -- well, preparation -- they were always going to be caught short by a few crucial ingredients. And somepony had to go into town to pick them up.
Apple Bloom supposed it normally would have been Mac, but he was putting a little more into the actual cooking this year. There was a lot of food being readied, and most of what the youngest Apple had been allowed to do was fetch things from the pantry. She could stir pots -- under supervision, because the Crusade had been through a day where 'professional chef' had almost felt like an option, and... that hadn't exactly worked either.
Too much cleaning. Too much cooking, and it was the sort of day where the food felt as if it could never be good enough to make her forget about everything which had to go into it. (And that was food for Homecoming itself, because the day before was usually spent eating leftovers. So was the week after.) The sheer volume of labor, added to the heat of the kitchen and a desperate hope to see somepony had cumulatively gotten to Apple Bloom, and she'd... made a suggestion.
"So y'want t' bring in a little extra help with the cookin'," her big sister had slowly said.
Apple Bloom, whose idea had made perfect sense right up until the moment it reached her ears, had to force the nod.
"An' your idea of help," Applejack's voice had ground out, one disbelieving syllable at a time, "would be t' bring in... Sweetie."
Her neck didn't seem to be functioning very well.
"T' cook," the older sibling had added. And then she'd sneezed.
The larynx appeared to have stopped working entirely.
"Ain't sure 'bout your motive for the murders," Applejack had decided. "Method's pretty creative." There had been a soft sigh. "Ah get why y'want t' see her, AB. But it's her call. An'... not for that." The older sister had shuddered. "Never for that. So Ah'm gonna write up a list of the things we're short on, an' you're gonna go get 'em. Maybe some fresh air will clear the killin' out of your head." The hat had tilted right. "An' take her with you."
Scootaloo, who'd been trying to resolve the mysteries invoked upon the world by a cabbage corer, didn't notice. The initial conundrum usually worked out to 'Why does this exist?' and it was possible to take matters a rather long way from there.
"...Ah..." came into the world on the second attempt, and found itself without friends.
"Because one of the things 'bout having a pegasus livin' here," had just kept coming, "is that Ah've had the chance t' learn a bit of biology. Like how flight feathers come in. An' the fact that before they show up, a pegasus sort of goes through somethin' for the second time. Followed by havin' the exact same result from the first one."
She'd sneezed again. Unfortunately, this had to be followed by an inhale.
A myriad of tiny fragments were pulled into orange nostrils. The subsequent sneezing fit got most of them out.
"Ah can put up with sweepin' feather down out of the house," Applejack had finally choked out. "Don't add much t' pies, though. Go."
They went.
There were times when Apple Bloom forgot just how long the trot into town truly was. Going to school, visiting friends, simply heading back home after an afternoon of work at the fix-it shop... add up the distance across a lifetime and at the very least, she'd crossed Equestria. Possibly even gone around the world, while never really going anywhere at all.
The far edge of the Acres was fairly close to the settled zone's fringe. It took a lot of legwork to get there, and she did it automatically, without thought. She usually didn't notice. Special conditions had to apply before Apple Bloom truly acknowledged just how much time was required, and one of them was currently in play.
"So you've got the list," drifted down from above her as the shiver-triggering shadow crossed her spine. "Plus the money," wound up being called backwards from ground level. "How many stops do we have to make?"
"At least three," Apple Bloom said. "Could be five or more if places are sold out."
Scootaloo groaned, and didn't manage to hold the note for quite long enough.
"I see a rock. A big one. With a flat top."
"Ah see that rock most every day," the earth pony philosophically observed. "More of a boulder. Sort of a constant. It was here before Ah was. It'll be here after Ah --"
Ah won't wait this year.
Ah'm a big pony now.
...well, bigger.
Ah won't.
"I'm going to get on top of it," the pegasus declared.
"As y'like." At least she's talkin'.
Keratin scrambled against stone.
It took special conditions for Apple Bloom to truly register the length of the journey. Weather could be one of them, but the Bureau had scheduled the time before the holiday for the sort of autumn crisp and clear which was absolutely perfect -- as long as you were in direct sunlight and the air was utterly calm. Any actual gust of wind went directly through the fur, followed by penetrating most of the flesh. It was a reminder that better holidays were on the way, and also suggested to Apple Bloom that having gone out with nothing more than a scarf meant she was severely underdressed. Sun was being cooperative enough, but...
"Okay!" came from a point of moderate elevation, some six body lengths back. "Let's see how this works!"
There were ways in which the words were a comfort, because they represented more speech than Scootaloo had been offering for days. The pegasus had responded to the approach of the holiday through becoming increasingly tense and -- silent. Scootaloo had a way of going silent which effectively duplicated a scream. It was the sort of sullen quiet which both demanded notice and dared any observers to do something about it. The expectation was that they would fail, and that would give her another reason to descend ever-lower into sulk.
Apple Bloom hadn't been able to get through. But she'd kept trying, because... she'd understood. It was the holiday. Her friend was waiting, and -- the filly didn't know how to make that stop. If she understood how that worked, Apple Bloom would have stopped waiting years ago.
But it was possible to be distracted from the wait, if only for a little while. And if you wanted to get Scootaloo's mind off of one subject, you invoked her favorite: flight.
The pegasus wasn't quite there yet. Puberty was finally working several levels of magic, but it was the sort of spell which took a minimum of several moons to fully cast. The sheer indignity of having to keep waiting occasionally put a muttering Scootaloo in front of the bathroom mirror, where she could spend an easy hour in lecturing the very universe about its lousy priorities while -- she always forgot about this part -- completely tying up the bathroom.
She couldn't fly yet. But Snowflake's tutelage, added to the passage of time, had allowed her to learn some of the basics for gliding. And for Scootaloo to be offered any means of being in the air...
Gliding made Scootaloo happy. It pushed off some of the impatience for a little while, because at least now she had this much and the rest was on the way. It also created a few problems around the Acres, because gliding had a rather basic requirement: you had to launch from some degree of altitude. As a result, Scootaloo had taken to seeking out the high places.
She followed the circular ramp to the top of the grain silo at least five times a day. There was no barn attic which could be kept safe from pegasus intrusion. Apple Bloom's roommate was currently starting just about every trip outside the house by pushing off from the bedroom window, which would have been a lot more tolerable if Scootaloo could ever remember that it was autumn and bother to cut off the chill draft through simply closing the thing behind her. She'd identified most of the little hills around the Acres, every small cliff, and had been spotted in the middle of some worrisome examinations for the stronger tree branches. Verifying the health of trees was a basic duty. Attempting to climb one was a sign of insanity.
(It hadn't quite gone that far yet. However, Scootaloo had been asking Apple Bloom a few concerning questions about exactly what had to go into the construction of a portable folding ramp. And when the earth pony might reasonably expect to work on one.)
Whenever Scootaloo was outside, she would look for chances to glide. Continually seeking opportunities to get on top of things, all in the name of coming back down. She liked to glide directly over ponies, just to show them how far she'd come. And when she was traveling with Apple Bloom, the earth pony generally wound up shivering because a pegasus who never closed the window (and honestly, it was a basic kick: one hind hoof would have done it) also didn't consider what happened to the warmth from Sun's light when her shadow crossed somepony's back.
That was one reason for shivering.
"All right! See that little incline over there?"
"Nearly every day --"
"-- cool! Let's see what that does! No, you get ahead, I'll be back on the road in a second. Or over it! So it's up, get some speed, prepare for the jump, launch --"
The other was because gliding ultimately functioned in one major direction, autumn meant a distinct lack of useful thermals, and Scootaloo still had some trouble in judging glide distance.
"...ow..."
"Y'okay there?"
"You just had to move," Scootaloo grumbled. "I was just trying to get my legs up enough to clear you, and then you moved. And there was a rock under you." Suspiciously, "How long has that rock been there?"
"Centuries, probably."
If you didn't stay on alert, you either wound up with a shadow going over your back, or a pegasus going into it.
"Somepony should have moved it." Orange legs eventually pushed. Most of the road dirt fell away from the adolescent's chin. "There's been enough chances. And you didn't have to dodge that fast."
"Reflexes," replied an earth pony who'd been through several years of living in Rainbow Dash's chosen crash site and somehow still hadn't fully adjusted for Scootaloo's much lower glide speed. "Are y'hurt?"
"No," Scootaloo muttered. "It's a stupid rock. But it wasn't a stupid sharp one."
"We'll keep goin' when you're ready, then. Ain't far now."
Ponyville felt strangely empty.
Apple Bloom's home had started out as one of the smaller settled zones: something which was almost lost in Canterlot's shadow. Ponyville was exactly the sort of place which travelers regularly stopped in -- for ten minutes, because the train had come to a temporary halt, there were snack booths right over there, and prices were going to be a lot higher in the capital. It was a small town, and she'd assumed that it would always remain so. Because fillies and colts waited for the moment when their own lives changed forever, and never considered that an entire planet might get there first.
Princess Luna had Returned. The world had changed. And one of the smaller alterations had come when a surprising number of ponies had decided that the settled zone which hosted the Bearers would make for an interesting place to live.
It hadn't started immediately. But it also hadn't exactly stopped just yet. Ponyville had picked up a few thousand new residents, fresh faces and names and marks to memorize in every moon, and when a settled zone whose population was largely from Somewhere Else spotted Homecoming looming on the calendar -- it scattered. Took to trains and air paths and, for the truly wealthy, the escort network because being teleported would get them back to their loved ones all the faster.
There had always been ponies who left the settled zone for Homecoming, along with a base number of natives who stayed in place. And since most of the latter hadn't shifted, the subtraction was arguably no more severe than usual: after all, it ended with roughly the same total.
But there was hardly anypony on (or over) the streets. There were a lot of new buildings in Ponyville, and it felt as if too many of the homes had fallen silent. For the ones which were still occupied... shadows moving behind curtains, generally localized to the kitchens. The air was filled with scents, and too many of them were the same ones. Homecoming had a pair of dueling traditions for its dishes: you either made everypony's favorites because that was yet another reason to return -- or, if that was going to be too complicated for a large gathering, you made the sort of things which only came out once a year. It was what ponies called hearty food, and Apple Bloom suspected that was because anything you actually managed to swallow moved into the chest cavity, shoved the heart aside, and settled in for a long stay. The appetizers usually required about twelve moons to finish digesting.
And with the businesses... practically speaking, just about anypony who didn't sell things needed for Homecoming shut down for a day or two before the holiday. It was their chance to prepare for the Hearth's Warming Eve sales rush, which started the day after. Apple Bloom had already been considering what she could gift to Scootaloo, and was hoping for a few verbal hints to narrow down the list.
With the shops, the ones which didn't sell food, cooking equipment, and medical supplies had a reason to go dark. Add that to the lack of hoof and wing traffic, and Apple Bloom's settled zone was oddly quiet. It almost felt like the silence of something which was holding its breath. Waiting.
And it was more than just the places which sold.
"There's the fix-it shop."
Ah know. Ah work there --
Apple Bloom, who'd gotten a little ahead, picked up on the note of interest with about two seconds to spare. Glanced back, and found Scootaloo's intent gaze resting exactly where she'd expected.
"Don't try t' get on the roof."
"But she's not there! She won't know! And it's not like I'm going to do anything up there! Well, nothing which isn't jumping down." A pause. "Actually... what's that thing on the right corner?"
Apple Bloom measured her prospective answer for safety. Then she remembered that it was Scootaloo and the weight of intent was usually enough to break the scales.
"The sorta-sphere with all the gaps and flared ridges?"
"Yeah. It's rotating a little in the breeze."
"Heat vent."
"Seriously? Why does a device repair shop need to get rid of heat?"
"'cause some of the stuff's gotta be softened a little before it gets hoof-hammered back into shape." There wasn't a full forge in the shop: a number of the materials within couldn't be kept in close proximity to that level of heat, and the building itself hadn't been constructed to withstand those temperatures. Only a few metals could actually be melted: Miss Ratchette's equipment was just barely up to the task on aluminum -- but softening was a little easier.
"Which means that when the shop's active," Scootaloo carefully considered as purple eyes grew bright, "it's going to be kicking out some awesome thermals --"
Apple Bloom's imagination went into instant overdrive and produced seven slightly-varying results: the central variable was the exact moment in which she lost her job. "-- don't."
The pegasus irritably kicked at cobblestones. The street refused to go anywhere.
"Fine..." Scootaloo muttered. "Not like there's anything going on in there right now anyway. Since the shop is closed. And you didn't try to make that ramp yet."
The earth pony wished the repair shop was open: going to work would have meant both having a place to be which wasn't the Acres and a viable excuse for spending her time there. But...
Miss Ratchette didn't talk about her home much. Or herself. The usual topics in the shop centered on the repairs which were currently being done, anything that was coming up next, and the skills Apple Bloom needed to learn in order to manage any portion of it. When it came to her mentor's life, most of what the filly knew for certain was that the adult had been born in (or directly under) Cameo Cumulus: a place which the library's atlas said was a pegasus settlement on the west coast. Unintended hints suggested siblings, along with the fact that the shop's proprietor was the youngest of the group. Both of her parents seemed to be alive, everypony else still lived in their original settled zone, and --
-- she'd never said it directly. Miss Ratchette seldom came close to bringing up anything about what her life had been like before coming to Ponyville. But Apple Bloom had always felt as if her mentor didn't like Cameo Cumulus very much. There was something in the clouds which the adult had been trying to get away from, and the best hope of escape was through coming to ground.
Miss Ratchette didn't like her birthplace. But she loved her family. And when the holiday had started its final approach, she'd gone home.
The adult wasn't an endurance or speed flyer. She barely flew at all. Scootaloo spent more time in the air than the device repairpony did. And Ponyville was near the center of the continent. It would take days to make the full trip back and forth, and all but the very last bit would be by train. Days of being jolted by wheels and rails, just to have a few hours with her family. Days of just... waiting.
In practical terms, what it mostly meant to Apple Bloom was that she had time off from school and work -- but not chores. And never the holiday.
She had chores in town, for the holiday. Life was unfair.
Get 'em done. That much closer t' the whole thing bein' over.
"Do you think Town Hall is open?" Scootaloo innocently asked.
"Probably, at least today. Not tomorrow. Might be runnin' on short staff, though."
"Which means there's no one watching the ramp to the summit --"
She was a moon and a half older than Scootaloo. That made her the big sister. It was a position which came with certain responsibilities.
"-- no."
More cobblestones got kicked.
"You're no fun."
"Ah," Apple Bloom declared, "am all kinds of fun. Sittin' in Chief Rights' office while we're waiting for somepony t' pick us up? That ain't fun. All somepony has t' do is see you an' decide it's trespassin'. Or if'fin y'come down in the wrong place --"
"-- you don't know where I'll come down!"
She was still trying to figure out what to make Scootaloo as a Hearth's Warming gift. However, in the absence of unwitting suggestions --
Ponies get taller when puberty hits. Legs can go kinda gangly. All length an' angles.
Ah love you like a sister, Scootaloo. An' Ah think y'might wind up as sort of a looker, for the ponies who like t' look in that direction. Straight up, so they'll know when t' get out of the way.
Ah think you're gonna be kind of pretty, when it's all over.
-- it was going to be crash pads.
Something which went over the kneecaps.
Ah know where you'll come down. The same place y'usually come down, if'fin Ah get distracted an' don't move in time.
Me.
Y'usually come down on top of me.
You'll be sort of pretty, when it's done. But right now, you've got the boniest knees on the planet.
All four of Scootaloo's knees seemed to have an unerring instinct for coming down at the same place in Apple Bloom's spine and somehow, in defiance of logic and anatomy, at the same time.
They shopped or rather, Apple Bloom did. The Crusade had ended, the earth pony was safely apprenticed at the device repair shop (for the purely mechanical aspects of the work), and so a number of places had tentatively opened their doors to her again. Scootaloo generally got to grumble outside, and did so against a variety of backgrounds.
Saddlebags slowly filled. The Sold Out signs over the yuca bins added two extra stops. Apple Bloom had yet to figure out why it was sold at all because she felt that as roots went, yuca was rather accurately named.
It was, quite naturally, in the very last place they looked. (Apple Bloom fully understood that little rule: everything was in the last place you looked, which included finding it on the first try because once you'd located something, you stopped looking.) It put them closer to the center of town than she'd planned on, passing through the restaurant district.
"How do you want to get back?" Scootaloo reluctantly asked. Even with feather down in play, coring probably still awaited.
'Back'. Not 'home'.
"Head for the train station," Apple Bloom decided. "We already crossed the tracks one way t' get this far, and that's the closest hoofbridge for goin' over 'em again."
Scootaloo simply nodded. The pegasus loved stunts almost as much as Rainbow Dash, went through huge bottles of wheel lubricant just about every week, and tended to see anything moving as the unwitting loser in the next race -- but when it came to crossing train tracks, just about everypony who couldn't fly used the hoofbridges. There were school films about what could happen if you didn't, and nopony wanted to watch them more than once. The implied endings were bad enough.
They trotted, and even the restaurants were quiet. There would be a few open for the holiday, because some ponies got sick of the cooking and as Apple Bloom understood it, having the same old fights against a different background added some variety. But for now, they mostly seemed to be at rest. Waiting.
The sound of a train whistle reached them, surging down the eastern corridor. Cobblestones began to subtly vibrate beneath their hooves. There were usually a few more trains passing through just before the holiday, trying to manage the surge in travel numbers. Canterlot served as the system's national hub -- but just about anything going west on the outbound had to pass through Ponyville.
The train pulled up to the platform just as they reached the first of the ramps. It also put them exactly on time for the engine's steam to vent, and everything momentarily vanished within warm fog.
The fillies held their breath, felt fur go damp, and then automatically moved to stand against the westbound platform's back wall. Adults didn't always look where they were going.
Hooves trotted by, faded into silence. A few flapping wings helped disperse the vapor, and the two friends blinked against the harsh return of sunlight. Shifted away from the wall --
"-- and will ya look at that?" called out a brash, half-merry, familiar voice. "It's like ya think showing up exactly on time makes a good impression or something!"
They both turned. Stared.
The third filly on the platform -- the one who would, if not for coincidence, have found herself alone...
She was somewhat heavyset, and the visual end of that mostly served as an understatement. Every earth pony had a little more mass than their appearance suggested: there was a universal touch of extra density in flesh and bone. This filly took it further. Spending any real amount of time around her provided the impression that a rather significant amount of pony had been compressed into a fairly small space. A determined hoofstep from this filly could make a ramp shudder: a double-foreleg stomp stood a good chance to break one.
Her hues... Apple Bloom had overheard Rarity talking about them, shortly after the filly had left Ponyville for the first time. Mourning the loss of opportunity. "Amaranth and gamboge: how often does one get to work with that exact combination? Especially with those natural highlights! If somepony had simply provided me with a touch more in the way of warning...!" And when it came to the mane and tail... surely there was something the designer could do about the shortness of those falls, even when there was just barely enough of the latter to curl in towards a hip.
'Gamboge.' Apple Bloom had needed to ask about that one, and it had just turned out to be the formal term for the hue of the filly's coat: something which was currently being rather poorly set off by a pair of bulging too-basic saddlebags. But there were lighter spots: three under each eye. Applejack sported a similar pattern, and it was something which made the visitor a little more identifiable as...
...family.
There was a holiday upon which ponies set out to be with those whom they were closest to in all the world -- or rather, that was what the adults did.
Mares and stallions went home.
Fillies and colts lived there.
It was the day before Homecoming, and there was no reason for Babs Seed to be in Ponyville.
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I'm very excited for this! Or, I'm excited in the metaphorical "wrapping myself in a blanket with a warm mug of tea and getting cozy for this story, cuz I know it's gonna be a good one" way.
I'm looking forward to the rest of this one! A story about homecoming is perfect for the Thanksgiving mood. And I'm super invested in the Crusaders in this verse
Lotta analysis from Apple Bloom! Cool!
Ship? Why else is Apple Bloom the usual landing pad?
Is Babs moving in, too?
Or is this just her asserting her independence, given her cutie mark?
Find out next time, same time, same channel!
I'm going to want more Apples kneecapped by the end of this, aren't I.
& yet, somehow this doesn't apply to baths.
Well well well, look at that. A new story that match the season and centered around the Apple family in a holiday. Color me interested.
Sweetie cooking is a weapon in itself.
Scootaloo when The Secret get revealed to everyone and is remembering that exact moment: "Wait a minute..."
Added to the Tritych Continuum Rebooted the "Year 4" folder
Typo corrected
That was a good chapter goodluck with the rest of the story.
Well, with Sweetie still a member of the Crusade at that point, it would have transitioned rather rapidly into "Cutie Mark Fire Brigade, Yea!"
‘Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.’
--Robert Frost, The Death of the Hired Man
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For saddest Frost poems, there's that and Home Burial. And maybe Maple.
I am worried about Apple Bloom here. I hate to say it but she needs to experience a bit more loss in her life to truly understand just what this holiday sounds like it is about. I wonder if talking to her sister about her issues would help? Then again there are plenty of real world people who hate the holidays with their families and try and avoid them at all costs.
Intheresting. This is where it starts to mean something for a child too busy to stop and think.
Oooh more progress on the Scootaloo situation, combined with Babs "Brooklyn Rage" Seed herself? Intrueging.
Looking forward to how this Estee story goes as always.
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No, she doesn't. Go back and reread the subtext. Apple Bloom hates Homecoming because of who isn't going to be there. Everything else is just her making up reasons to justify how she feels.
Also, you have to cross a river, there's only one very small boat, and you have a sack of corn, a chicken, and a fox...
That's a privilege of hosting the dinner. Everyone else just gets one night and expresses incredible envy. (Source: Have helped prepare Thanksgiving dinner for about thirty years.)
A thought the royal sisters would find very familiar, if for very different reasons.
It's kind of touching. Touching at a very high speed, but Scootaloo seeking out a friend/sister in spirit to land on speaks to a sort of bond that would be far more heartwarming if it weren't so back-bruising.
And here's our inciting incident. Apple Bloom's about to have her horizons expanded whether she likes it or not. Looking forward to the experience.
(Also, legal terms for the chapter titles. Interesting. Bloom's certainly only thinking in terms of her own benefit at the moment. We'll see how that shifts.)
This needs a genre tag. Maybe Slice of Life and Drama?
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*nods* That one's on me. (I was wiped yesterday.) Thankee.
Nice to see scootaloo and Applebloom at least taking again. Still wonder what happened to scoot’s parents, but I am also curious to see how this progresses and what happened to make Babbs come to Ponyville.
My gut says there is a divorce on the horizon for Babs' parents.
Either way, we have Babs who isn't with her family for some reason, AB the orphan, and Scootaloo who has been essentially abandoned. There might be a lot of drama under one roof, let's hope Miranda isn't called in.
Nice to see another story with the new and improved reformed crusaders. ICR if Babs Seed has a different characterization than canon and therefore is more redeemable. I'd imagine that Estee has a deeper angle on the character in store.
Looking forward to more. Thanks Estee!
...how did I just notice this?
1) Malus is Latin for apple
2) In Geesed!, chapter 4 there's this
, and the words are in Latin, so Latin = author's substitute for Menagerie's Griffonant.
3) Apples have roots in Protocera?
I had been looking forward to more about the whole Apple family situation, this is gonna be good.
Oh, oh dear, Homecoming must be incredibly sad for Scootaloo, how many times have she waited, hoping for someone to show up? How many times did she go as far as making a meal?
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*pauses and goes back to look through the first half of the chapter*
Ooh right. Homecoming is for Apple Bloom what Hearthswarming is for Rainbow Dash.
I was thinking those thoughts of Apple Bloom's were about the risks Applejack took being an Element.
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applejack being like "god damnit" as she signs another set of adoption papers "we're running an apple orchard not an orphanage"
Well, no idea how long it'll take me to finish this story, but I am at least finally starting it!
"So Ah'm gonna write up a list of the thing we're short on"
"So Ah'm gonna write up a list of the things we're short on"?
"some worrisome examinations for the stronger tree branches"
"some worrisome examinations of the stronger tree branches"?
"And it was more just the places which sold."
"And it was more than just the places which sold."?
"but when it came to crossing train tracks, just about everypony who couldn't fly used the hoofbridges"
Hm. And now I'm wondering what this Equestria's current level crossings are like. Presumably they do exist for cart traffic -- but if, say, somepony has to be stationed there to manually check the way's clear and manually open and close gates, I can see why the preference would be for traffic which doesn't need level crossings to not use them.
Thanks for writing!