Moon Is Raised And She Wants To Go Home
Her stomach felt somewhat full, and she wasn't entirely sure how that had happened. Having a certain amount of emotional distress churning in her head tended to echo directly into other organs, but -- she'd clearly eaten something, even if her memories of the actual chew-and-swallow part were largely absent and any impression of taste had gone on an early Hearts And Hooves Day vacation --
-- she really didn't want to think about Hearts And Hooves Day --
-- he has to ask me out by then. He has to --
-- at any rate, she'd eaten. It was helping her think as she paced within her bedroom, hooves coming down with just a little additional impact on each successive pass because that required calories too.
Diamond was thinking, and one of the first things she recognized was that she'd managed to get a meal down due to the rather impressive power of distraction. She hadn't been concentrating on eating during dinner. Most of the repast had been spent in coming up with things she could yell at Moon.
Her head turned, because the most recent part of the pacing had brought her to Cameo's terrarium and in any case, it wasn't a very large room and going for the next circuit meant her head had to turn first. It brought harsh blue eyes in alignment with the balcony door, and she glared through the glass.
A certain degree of upwards angling was then required in order to locate the actual target.
In the most technical sense, she'd been working on her upcoming speech since shortly after leaving the store and she still wasn't sure of what to say. She'd just taken special care not to look up at the orb during the trot home, just in case any words gave in to their natural temptation and slipped out.
Another circuit. Moon, which was putting roughly the same amount of effort into recognizing how much she was fuming as it had given towards fulfilling her requests, placidly hung in the sky.
Of course, Moon was a rather long way off. It was a considerable distance to look across, plus Diamond sort of had to assume that a clear line of sight was required. She immediately rerouted the majority of her pacing so that it took place near the clear glass of the balcony exit and considered the problem solved.
One problem had been solved. Unfortunately, her parent had recently nosed over a few bale-tons of extras.
"And how was I supposed to say anything to him?" she asked Cameo. "He was happy! All proud! You know what he's like when he's happy and proud: it shows up in his trot! When his knees are going higher --" she would have to check on the status of his healed legs again in the morning, as the burns had been especially bad around the knees "-- and his tail gets all lofted. He was talking about how proud he was to have me starting at the store while we were coming home together, and --"
She paused, in trot and speech. Looked at her pet, and noticed that the wings were buzzing a little faster than usual.
"-- I think that's what he said," Diamond clarified. "I was sort of distracted." Because dashing off into the bare bushes to temporarily take care of how she was really feeling would have raised a few questions.
She wasn't even sure of what she'd said in response. There was a vague impression of agreeing noises, accompanied by a lot of nodding.
Tiny wings briefly refolded. Iridescent cases closed, then shivered. Diamond considered tweaking the room's temperature settings.
Iridescent. As descriptions went, it wasn't quite detailed enough. She'd had to check the exact meaning of the term Snails had originally given her: 'preferentially left polarized'. And the strange science behind it meant that Cameo's light-illuminated carapace shimmered like nothing else in the world.
Someone who was unique. A special pet for a special filly. Except that time had rendered the latter into an adolescent. Somepony who was about to start work. She'd put in a request to Moon for assistance, allowed it to choose its own method of delivery, and...
"It's my talent," she softly told her truest confidant. "You know about my talent. Starting as an intern means..." Paused, in speech and motion alike. Trying to think of the right way to put it, because Cameo was always worth searching for the proper words.
There was something of a reflection in the balcony glass. She felt as if it was glaring at her.
"It's the first hoofstep on the road," Diamond finally said. "The one Daddy's been paving for me since I was born. We both know where it goes. But my talent..."
Moon appeared to have a sadistic sense of humor. Diamond was in a position to know.
The scarab slowly sunk down, rested against the terrarium's imported soil. Tiny eyes continued to follow Diamond.
"...I know," the adolescent finally sighed. (She could do that more openly, when Cameo was the only one watching.) "I know." She sort of wanted to match the movement, resting her body against soft carpet or supportive mattress for a while. Just... stopping. Letting the invisible weight have its way with her until morning.
But that wasn't who she was. And there was still business to conduct.
"I'm going out onto the balcony," she informed her confidant. "And closing the door behind me, because I might be out there for a while. You won't get cold that way."
Cameo, rather sensibly, had no objections. Diamond stepped into night and chill.
She looked up at Moon. Her mouth opened --
-- no.
Diamond rarely had any trouble in coming up with words which made others angry: the usual difficulty was in picking out the best ones. But brilliant compositions of insult spoken to ponies were still coming back on her, and when it came to offending Moon...
There were times when ponies moved away. Moon was going to be around for a while.
Maybe this is salvageable.
They clearly needed to establish some kind of relationship.
Maybe it wants something first?
Negotiations. She could at least make an attempt at those. Except that... ponies usually told you what they wanted, and Moon was sort of on the silent side. Her father had apparently received some sort of communication from it, but that message hadn't arrived as words. Just... a feeling.
Diamond, standing on her new balcony with the door tightly shut behind her, looked up at Moon and waited to see if she felt anything.
...irritated.
Also cold.
Mostly irritated.
So how can I have it talk back?
She could... use a go-between. She talked to them, and then the words would be relayed in both directions. Because if Moon spoke directly to anypony, then that mare would just about have to be --
-- Diamond stopped. Closely examined the internal image of her having to tell Princess Luna everything.
...it was cold. She was shivering because it was cold. She should have put something on before coming outside, but her bedroom was kept so warm for Cameo...
Getting dressed would have been good practice, but the jeweled scarab had a certain species-based problem in evaluating Diamond's technique.
Keep it between us.
What could Moon want? What did it need? Because that was business. Identify the need and fill it, at a profit.
Diamond could always make a promise she didn't intend to keep. But her father frowned on that. Also, unless you had the fortune to come across somepony who was exceptionally gullible, the practical limit was usually once per victim. Diamond was assuming that Moon was more intelligent than Mr. Barnum and Ms. Bayleaf. Plus once you'd tricked somepony that way, you ideally never wanted to see them again and as before, Moon was just going to be there. It might somehow be possible to fool it once -- Diamond had vague recollections of foalhood stories about that sort of thing -- but she was presuming that Moon could hold a grudge for a very long time.
If it was negotiation...
It was usually best to negotiate from a position of strength and when it came to hoof-hammering out that kind of agreement, Diamond felt that she was going to have some trouble establishing her credentials. Moon did half of the work in keeping the planet alive. Just half -- 'just' felt a little odd there -- but it was still considerably more than she'd ever personally managed.
The second option was to approach as an equal, and her father would have had somewhat more of an argument there. Moon helped to keep the planet alive, but the business made that life more comfortable. It wasn't as if Moon offered much in the way of food, because that was more of a Sun thing. It also didn't seem to do creature comforts and as a sapient who needed some comfort, Diamond felt it could do far worse than by starting with her. But to make that argument, she would have to be in cha --
-- fifteen franchises, going on sixteen. All in Equestria. Moon was still the co-leader in global coverage.
So she would be negotiating from a position of weakness. The worst possible scenario. And if she was stuck with that, then it might be best to open with a bribe.
What could I offer?
She could... build it a place which demonstrated her respect. Or rather, she could try to contract somepony to do it. Her classmates, probably: Diamond's allowance wasn't exactly at the level which allowed the hiring of full construction crews, and using marble was right out. Still, it would show that she was serious about the whole thing. And once the structure existed, ponies could go there to celebrate Moon's existence --
-- no. It felt like a good idea -- but it also felt like it was too good to not have come up before. A few times. Diamond knew she was brilliant, but that same intelligence also allowed her to recognize that history was sort of long, there had been other brilliant ponies occupying most of it, and some ideas tended to repeat. If a building to honor Moon actually worked, then she would have seen one already. Probably a lot more than one, because there were sapients all over the planet who needed to ask for help.
Maybe Moon just didn't like that sort of thing.
What can I offer?
She didn't know.
Diamond kept looking up at Moon. Wondered just how much attention it was giving her, then tried to figure out how it was even possible to tell. She couldn't look it in the eye. The image of a mare's head had vanished years ago and taken the suggestion of an eye with it.
Don't try to negotiate just yet. Not until I can think of something to open with.
Maybe I could just... ask?
She hated that. Her magic required asking the earth for what was essentially permission to do everything. That was frustrating enough. And now she was getting someone else involved. Asking always implied that the other party might say no.
...it was getting really cold on the balcony...
Diamond took a breath. Vaporous ice seared her lungs.
"Let's start small," she proposed. "You don't have to solve everything all at once. Just before it could all really go wrong. So..." Her lower lip puffed a tiny cloud of warmth towards her mane. "...maybe if they get to the date, you could make it a really bad one? So he won't want to try again. Or..."
She thought it over.
"I need to know you're with me on this," Diamond reluctantly said. "Because right now, it doesn't feel like it." There were ponies who claimed Sun and Moon worked in mysterious ways. Based on her current experience with the latter, this seemed to translate directly into 'annoying'. Or worse.
Internship.
Starting on the road.
My talent...
"Information is power," she finally concluded. "That's what my daddy always says. It can be subtle power, but it's power. So, just to start us off -- at least show me something. Let me see. And then I'll know."
The next day's trot to school was mostly used for updating her consultant team on the labor situation. It was something she could do on the move, even if her current approach to the clothing question was about two layers away from negating movement.
Diamond briefly wondered if there were any basilisk variations who turned ponies into statues made of fabric. Miss Rarity probably knew. And potentially sought out the results in hopes of inspiration.
"Luna's tail," Snips very nearly cursed. "Of all the stupid stuff to start right now..."
It was using the invocation of a Princess as something very close to profanity. It also felt like sympathy, and Diamond tried to bask in it.
"What's so wrong about doing stuff at the store?" Snails immediately asked.
Raw. Material.
"You don't get it," Snips blatantly pointed out. "You're still free. I've been stuck for years." The shorter boy slowly shook his head. "Usually to a lot of paper. With binding glue. Working for your folks sucks, Snails. And now Diamond's gotta go through it."
Silver's snout wrinkled. "I know it's not the best timing," Diamond's oldest friend said, "but it was always going to start anyway. Someday. You're on your way, right? And at least it's not in summer."
Diamond didn't bother to repress most of the groan. "It's not just timing," she pointed out (and added a punctuating tail lash, just in case Snails noticed that). "It's time. You said we had plenty of it. Time to work on this. And now some of my time is going to be spent at work. How is that going to help?"
Everypony thought about that. This included the boys, for whom the process was decidedly more visible.
"You can still think," Silver carefully told her. "You'll just be doing it there."
"But I'll be stuck in the store," Diamond countered. "Or doing things for the store. If there's anything where I'd need to be somewhere else..."
And -- my talent...
No. She hadn't told them about that part. Or, when it came to the magic given form by her mark, much of anything else.
She had likely spent cumulative days of her life in boasting about her mark, because that was what you did when three classmates didn't have theirs. But as a general rule, Diamond didn't talk about her talent. Its very nature meant it was in her best interests not to, because that kept ponies from preparing for it.
Silver knew, but had been asked not to tell. The boys...
Don't tell.
The time aspect was currently infuriating enough. Time, as with love, was a limited resource, and you couldn't really buy any.
"I don't know," Snails considered, and did so with the words which so many adults considered to be his dominant state. "There's got to be advantages, right?"
"Like what?" a poorly-hidden burst of frustration wanted to know.
"You might see when the best stuff comes in on the loading dock. And figure out how much of it you're going to get for yourself." With what he likely had decided was subtlety, "Or if you were thinking of a gift for somepony else -- somepony who's got a birthday coming up -- you could go right for it. At the employee discount."
She resisted the urge to glare at him. Diamond was fairly certain that Snails wasn't into glaring.
"And maybe," the still-a-colt openly courted death (and worse, did so instead of courting her), "it'll be fun?"
It wasn't.
That was why it was called 'work'. If it was fun, it would have been called 'play'.
Snails was the one who had a birthday coming up. It took Diamond less than three hours to decide he'd just talked himself into the privilege of opening a gift-wrapped dictionary.
Her father was in the meeting room when she arrived at the store, conferencing with various department heads. It meant he wasn't available to directly give her the first assignments. But he'd thought to pass on what he'd wanted done before entering the meeting, and it left everypony else telling her what to do.
They waited until she'd undressed (in full privacy), because the store was kept nicely warm in winter and overheating wouldn't have helped. But once that was done, with her clothing deposited in a newly-assigned personal locker... she had prancing instructions being nosed over to her by shelf stockers.
It was easy to tell when somepony was giving her orders. For starters, they spoke directly to her. And in the course of that, they would tell her what to do. The speech might start as something shaky, but each additional word seemed to pick up cumulative degrees of confidence. She also suspected some of them were enjoying the process. Spotting the tiny, half-hidden smiles felt like full confirmation.
A number might have been looking at it as their chance to exact some level of vengeance. A Secretary Of Insults would have known.
"You're starting on shelf cycling," the stock clerk told her.
Diamond blinked.
"...shelf cycling?"
"That's when --" the young unicorn mare began.
She'd effectively grown up in the store. She believed herself to know almost everything about how it operated. Diamond was completely familiar with shelf cycling, and that was why she felt there was no need for her to actually be doing it.
'But that's for --!' didn't quite make it to her mouth, because the next stop for those words would have been the meeting room door. They probably would have paused to knock before going in.
"-- um," not only didn't make for an effective substitute, but failed to dislodge her default level of Resting Superiority Face.
The stock clerk decided to treat the single syllable as a sign of ignorance, and kept talking. Any and all incredulous looks from Diamond were ignored, and that happened in absolute safety because the mare was doing nothing more than giving an order to an intern.
The full instructions took a while. Multiple customers passed them in the aisle. Quite a few smirked. Some of the expressions were seen: the rest were felt.
Diamond knew a good smirk had physical impact. She just wasn't familiar with being on the receiving end.
This was how shelf cycling worked.
New inventory came in all the time. The majority of it would be replacements for items which had already sold and ideally, you usually didn't want to completely sell out of anything. Clearance and seasonal items made for obvious exceptions -- but when it came to the basic staples of the business, it was best to always have something there for the next customer. Because if the item wasn't available, they would leave the store to seek it elsewhere. And they didn't always bother to wrap up the rest of their shopping first.
So new stock came in. But the older items would still be there. And (also) ideally, you wanted to get the senior pieces out of the store first. Some things had expiration dates and when it came to the less stable variety of mass-produced potions -- those with a Sell-By date of no more than a moon before potential disaster -- you wanted to make sure they were used up before anypony risked the kind of nausea which made expiring feel like the soft option.
It meant stock clerks were supposed to put newer items at the back of the shelf. Older ones were kept within ready mouth grip range at the front. And that way, the senior pieces sold first -- except that some customers knew about the system, insisted on getting the freshest of arrivals, and did their own rearrangements to suit. And once the more recent additions were visible again...
Shelf cycling, nosed over to an intern, meant that pony was supposed to go over the contents of an aisle, then subject everything to a rather specific form of time travel. The past was placed in front of the future.
Diamond had mastered the basic concept at the age of four.
She'd never actually done it.
There was a variable-elevation bench in the aisle. It had a platform which was large enough to rest on, could have its height adjusted by mouth crank, and it was going completely unused because Diamond was supposed to be learning the business from the ground up and in this case, that meant crawling onto the lowest shelf first.
She was crawling. The necessities of pony anatomy meant that every shelf had to present enough vertical space for a customer to safely stick their head in. Those trying to reach something near the back would inevitably wind up pushing their shoulders into the shelving and if you didn't offer customers enough room to do exactly that, then the resulting cascade of storage and product could easily turn into Medical Emergency On Aisle Four. Diamond was gradually coming into her full adult size, but the process wasn't happening fast enough and if she cleared enough space for her body (while trying to take care of those bottles along the way), kept her head down, tucking her legs as close as was possible while still allowing movement, she could effectively crawl.
Effectively. Not efficiently. Ponies weren't very good at crawling.
There was a small glowing device strapped to her forehead, and it was there because going forward was costing her an increasing amount of aisle light. The enchantment provided just enough lumens to let her read the expiration dates stamped on liquid-filled glass bottles, and somehow did so while never quite reaching the shelf above her. That surface was currently serving as her half-forgotten ceiling -- but it never stayed away from her memory for long. Every time she recoiled from something, she received an immediate reminder of where it was.
(Diamond, even for an earth pony, was considered to be on the strong side. Her recoils came up with a certain jolt. The resulting headache was bad enough -- but she was also roughly three rude shocks from having the shelf above her turn into the shelf contents behind her, and was trying to figure out whether that would actually represent an improvement.)
What was there to recoil from? What wasn't present? Because customers could be strange beings, possessed of comprehensible-but-incredibly-lazy habits. They would wait until they were on their way to the registers before changing their minds on purchasing something, and why bother to put the item back where it belonged when they could just stuff it behind rows of potions bottles? That process was clearly easier. Somehow.
Then you had the ones who just didn't have the bits to purchase their desired piece at that exact moment, didn't want anypony else to get it first, and concluded that hiding everything elsewhere in the store was the sort of brilliant tactical strategy which no other pony had ever come up with. Ever. Most of those specimens considered themselves to be collectors of some sort, the majority haunted the toy aisles and based on the evidence of Diamond's eyes, just about none could remember where they'd put anything. They also didn't seem to have much insight when it came to picking out pieces which would actually appreciate in value. But those ponies had felt some initial desire to purchase toys which Diamond had personally picked out for the store, so at least she'd been doing a good job there.
And there were ponies who'd somehow carried their trash into the store and didn't feel like carrying it out again.
Each hoofwidth of process into the shadows made her feel as if she was approaching another world. It was probably populated by dust bunnies. Or rather, overpopulated, because this section clearly hadn't been done in a while and as long as she was advancing into the division between dimensions, she'd been given a sponge and wetting tray. But not a mouth guard. There either hadn't been a mouth guard sized for the store's youngest intern, or some of the older Diamond-familiar employees had decided there was an extra layer of vengeance coming.
It was... surprisingly difficult to bite down on half of a sponge. Or rather, the biting was the easy part. Keeping any liquid from going backwards was just about impossible. But the desperate spitting was allowing her to effectively recycle the supply.
Also, as long as she was going that far back, she had to take inventory. That meant spitting away from the notepad.
She was just about all the way under the shelf now, with her teeth carefully picking up bottles and moving them aside to create more room. (There was dust on some of the grip points and when it came to her tongue, that almost served as a cleanser.) And there was some question as to whether this was a good place to bring in 'eschatology'. The rearmost items weren't exactly dead, but to truly delve all the way back might lead her to discover whether the shadowlands had a private stock. Diamond was slowly approaching the the dividing aisle wall between Potions and School Supplies, and felt as if that was the most natural place for the basic concepts of reality to go on holiday.
The unicorns are supposed to do shelf cycling...
...they did the majority of it. Any employee was supposed to be capable --
-- she just had to get through it. One shelf at a time, for the dozens which populated the aisle. And she wouldn't have to do this for the rest of her life. Once her father had decided she'd learned all about shelf cycling through Direct Experience, he'd move her on to something else and, given this kind of start, something worse.
He didn't want to take away summer...
The mere thought should have made her look forward to the season.
(Snails had to say something soon. There was no chance that Diamond would be able to maintain her current fabric layer count after the Wrap-Up wrapped up: sweat would come in far too quickly, then rapidly convert into froth. Trying to pull off the same look in summer had a good chance to actually kill her.)
But she couldn't seem to manage it, and Diamond wasn't sure why.
She kept advancing, and more aisle light was blocked out. But it didn't do anything to stop her other senses.
Diamond could hear customers trotting past her tail, and felt the smirks hitting just above her dock.
"I'm finished," she told the nearest supervisor. It was easy to find a supervisor. She was an intern. Every other employee qualified. But she'd wanted to get away from the Potions aisle before the dust bunny army launched a second assault against the invader, and so had chosen the supervisor closest to the glass of the store exit.
It was dark outside. Winter made it hard to figure out if night had arrived early or if she'd just been at it for that long.
The stallion nodded. "Fifteen-minute break. Then get dressed."
If evaluated by the tastes of the average pony, then the store had a decent-if-small selection of clothing. Diamond suspected Miss Rarity wouldn't be caught dead wearing any of it, and didn't feel as if she'd just been personally asked to serve as a model.
There were two reasons for telling Diamond to get dressed, and sending her home right after a break didn't make any sense.
"...what am I doing outside?"
"Cart retrieval," the stallion mercilessly stated. (Diamond automatically considered the sentence to be merciless. It wasn't the sort of two-word statement which left any room to get mercy involved.)
"Just... around the front of the store, or...?" 'Or' was the bad option.
"Six-street radius," wasn't so much qualifier as verdict. "Bring back whatever you find."
The offered break wasn't. Diamond wound up in a back room, frantically trying to get a start on her homework because she'd just realized that it had to be done sometime. There were ways in which school was very much like a second job and when it came to the leftover labors from the earlier shift, Miss Cheerilee wasn't going to accept I Didn't Have Time After The Other One as an excuse for not getting them done.
Then she got dressed. Keeping the results down to normal winter insulation allowed her to leave a few layers in the locker. Snails was presumed to be nowhere in the vicinity, because she'd asked the entire group not to be. She felt as if she would have to be working for some time before anypony could just come in and --
-- there's going to be other kids coming through the store. Seeing me working. Telling each other. I might have already missed one --
-- outside. She was going outside. Proof of labor would probably mean bringing back a cart. And that had the potential to turn awkward, because customers tended to take the store's shopping carts home. Some of them technically brought the things back during their next trip -- at least for the amount of time it took to go down all of their chosen aisles. Others just outright kept the things, because a cart could be used to store so many items and when it came to cost, her daddy had already paid for it. Carts were lost all the time, and most of them never came back.
There had been several attempts to solve this. The most recent had seen Miss Ratchette install short chains which locked carts to each other when put away, along with a tiny lockbox near the hitch. Pushing a half-bit into the box's coin slot freed up the cart. This was supposed to encourage customers towards putting the carts back, as the money was returned upon relocking. A number of ponies had responded by deciding that the price of a cart was now a half-bit. Several were still complaining about how that was clearly much too high.
So there were cart retrievers. Some worked in front of the store and tried to keep the chains from getting tangled. Others went into town and just looked for where carts had been taken. And since they were effectively recovering the store's property, the police didn't have a problem with employees simply reclaiming any cart which was out in the open. This included anything sitting on a lawn, or visible within an unlocked shed.
The police didn't mind.
Customers, upon witnessing any such retrieval effort, frequently treated it as if they'd just caught somepony in the act of somepony stealing their cart.
...oh. So she'd insulted that mare.
There hadn't even been any issues in figuring out what she'd originally said. The mare had provided plenty of detail, because cart retrieval ponies got yelled at a lot. Diamond had been spotted while she was still trying to get the wheels to stop squeaking on their way past the front gate, and yelling had ensued. The opening salvo had effectively summarized everything which had happened before. This had let Diamond recover all memories of the exact incident and upon both review and full attention paid to everything else the mare was saying, she'd decided that her original efforts hadn't been harsh enough.
She'd still tried to apologize. For what she'd said. Not for the cart. The cart belonged to her daddy. And the mare had said she didn't look sorry --
-- stupid Resting Superiority Face...
She'd still decided to count it as removing one pony from the list. As far as Diamond was concerned, being repeatedly accused of theft had effectively balanced things out. And now she was a block away from that house, the echoes were finally fading and the six witnesses would presumably stop smirking any hour now, but Diamond could finally pause and try to unfold the hitch so she could pull the cart back to the store --
-- the hitch was sort of adjustable...
...the store needed to order some junior carts.
(Diamond presumed Miss Twilight was just pushing the thing with her field. Or pulling it. Some unicorns pulled.)
Pushing the cart with her head hadn't felt like a good idea at the time, because her head was still sore from doing shelf cycling. But it was the most workable option and in both cases, there was no chance for her tiara to become damaged from the activity. Her tiara was gone. And Diamond, who had picked up both height and body length over several moons and still held out some hope for getting close to Miss Fleur's intimidating dimensions, hadn't quite reached the point where the head-lowered position didn't have her form and viewing angles almost completely obscured by the cart.
It meant she had to stop every so often. Realign the direction, listen around her, try to figure out if she was about to push the cart into anypony and when hearing wasn't enough, she stepped back and peeked past the cart's sides. Scouting for a clear path.
She did it again when she was a mere two turns away from the store, moving down what sounded like an almost-empty street. She had to be sure, because a pony hit by a cart might consider suing. And it was dark and cold, the closest lamppost was behind her and the next one seemed to be far too distant. The Weather Bureau had scheduled for partly cloudy, which meant Moon wasn't helping much. Wheels on cobblestone created potential steering problems, and checking her course for obstacles felt like it was essential.
Diamond peeked out from behind the cart.
A cloud shifted.
Moon shone down on the street, and half-silvery light revealed the mailmare.
The pegasus was about twenty body lengths away. Perpendicular to Diamond's position, and a little ahead of the cart's travel line. Which meant she normally wouldn't be in a good position to spot the observation, but that one eye --
-- Diamond could see that eye. Its line of sight was currently drifting down. And what she could make out of the mare's face was somewhat pained. A familiar expression, because Diamond had been wearing it for a while. It was the look worn by somepony who was fighting off a headache. And losing.
The mare wasn't looking at Diamond -- but one bad change of drift could change that. For the moment, she was facing an overstuffed mailbox in front of a dark house. Nothing appeared to have been collected for at least two weeks, and snow had piled up on the walkway.
Maybe you should stop delivering there if nopony's home --
-- she had to be ready to move. Duck back behind the cart at the first sign of awareness --
-- the mailmare was right there...
Diamond had trouble determining if a mare was appealing. But it generally took no effort whatsoever to spot flaws, and inventing a few for future rumors didn't take much more. With the mailmare, there was that one eye. There would always be the drifting eye, and nothing could change that. But to look at the rest of her...
The fur was somewhat out of grain after a long workday, but it was clean. Mane and tail -- neither one was particularly styled, and it was impossible to work out whether the former had been split to go around that ear or if the mare had just forgotten she had an ear there. Go back to the face, look away from the eye again (which took an extra effort) and nothing about her features felt outstanding.
Her body wasn't all that sleek, at least when compared to somepony like Miss Rainbow. However, the wings were strong. There was more muscle at the base than Diamond had really noticed before, but -- who ever really looked at the mailmare for very long? And when it came to everything else...
...how did anypony go about judging butts? It was there. If the mare sat, it would be doing its job. There was very little else to go on.
How desperate is Daddy if this is what he decided to try with?
Or maybe Diamond was missing something. But if she was, then everypony else in town had missed it too. This suggested nothing was actually there.
I could ask Silver.
The mare's visible wing twitched. Diamond ducked back behind the cart. A few seconds passed with no sounds of takeoff, and she risked another look. Still there.
It probably wasn't a good idea to check on the mare's potential attractiveness with that consultant. That was the last resort of just-in-case, but her friend oddly regarded such questions as being exceptionally awkward and given her father's recent failure of taste, Diamond really didn't need to hear Silver say 'Yes'.
What did you break today?
Nothing in the store. You didn't come in.
Diamond hadn't seen her come in --
-- you break things. All the time. Everypony knows that. If there's a package marked Fragile, then that's probably a challenge. To see how many pieces come out.
How do you keep your job?
How did you even get --
-- why you?
How desperate could her father have been, to try for the mailmare?
Why her --
-- grey wings flared. Spread. Flapped.
There was something exceptional about the pegasus. It came in the speed of her takeoff. And within seconds, she was gone. Vanished into the darkness.
Diamond had never been spotted.
Not you.
It's my love. You can't have it.
I just looked at you. You're not worth --
-- maybe it wouldn't reach the first date. (There was still a little time to think of something which would save her daddy..)
It might be a bad date. It almost had to be. Something where her father might break it off on his own.
But if it somehow went beyond that...
The headache intensified, and Diamond's tail lashed.
I could still stop it before they go out.
He might wake up. Especially if he gets shocked --
-- no lightning. The burns had been bad enough.
It could all end as quickly as it had started. But if that didn't happen, then -- the mare wasn't good enough. Not for her father. If the mistake went beyond one date...
...then I'll need to think of something else.
Something big.
Her daddy was at stake. And she had to save him.
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Diamond really needs to tell her dad that this is hurting her on a mark level.
Is there any cultural reason why Diamond can't ask Snails out? I know in Western culture its traditional for the men to do the asking (especially for a first date), but I've seen several fics where in Equestria its the reverse (which makes sense, given the gender disparity). Has this been addressed anywhere?
Diamond is making the same mistake a load of kids her age make for the same reason. Given the setting and the author's way of doing things, this is probably going to be a real mess.
This here is exactly why her dad has Diamond do the internship. She has a thorough theoretic idea of how to run the store. But she badly lacks the practical understanding of what it all means.
11763026 I just assumed pride, personally. Kids are silly. She's gone to all this trouble to get him to notice her, and if she goes and asks him now, it's basically just admitting defeat. Also, a fear of vulnerability, probably; if she asks, then she's in the position of potentially getting rejected. She's putting herself in a subordinate position. If she gets him to ask her, she's the one in charge. (There's an argument to be made that as the one initiating the relationship, she's still in charge, but re:possibility of rejection and also her monologue on earth pony magic. Prolly not how she would see it.)
11763115 While I absolutely, absolutely agree with you- and heck, even the embarrassment/humiliation is probably good for her in the long term, as a learning experience- I think she also absolutely needs to bring up the conflict with her Talent that this is causing her. Internship is a pre-carved mold; it hasn't been modified because for the most part, it's worked perfectly for everyone who's passed through it, but Diamond probably needs to get some accommodations where she's able to be at ground level without necessarily being "beneath" everyone (in a way that won't set her talent off). I think it's very doable, but she has to open the channel in the first place.
I’m guessing her and Snail’s relationship will start exactly like her parents’ relationship started; with her stomping up to Snails and TELLING him that they’re going to go on a date, that it’s clear she has to start their relationship because he sure isn’t!
Diamond probably doesn't realize that she can learn stuff about her mark by going through that Internship.
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
"Work consists of what a body is obliged to do. Play consists of what a body is not obliged to do."
Mark Twain
I'm not sure what's funnier, Diamond still viewing her efforts with Moon as business negotiations rather than an entreaty to the heavens, or her inventing then discarding the concept of a dedicated place of worship.
Rarity and the Weaver Basilisk is a lovely concept.
Ah, intern work. Somebody's got to do it. And it really is amazing how willing some people are to just abandon unwanted items on the nearest shelf.
Missed opportunity for Diamond to find common ground with Dulci on other ponies' frustrating lack of consideration... though that possibly empty house may portend something far worse than a lazy shopper. Still, there are a number of important lessons Diamond will have to learn that, for now, she's refusing to. Not just how love isn't finite, but also what a leader must do and understand. This will all be good for her in the end, but it won't be enjoyable.
(Also, the nature of her talent may explain why she hasn't just come out and asked Snails out herself. She wants him to want her on his own, not to be ordered to want her.)
oh, Diamond talking to the moon reminds me of a quote I read somewhere:
"prayer is just a sophisticated way of negotiating with thunderstorms."