• Published 16th Nov 2012
  • 7,640 Views, 387 Comments

The Rustic and The Romantic - TheLastBrunnenG



The Farmer and The Fashionista, The Orange and the White, The Barn and The Boutique

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Facing Worlds

White coat glowing eerie and ghostlike in the moonlight, a pony lay facing an uncurtained window. Her bed was warm and familiar yet not her own. Miles away and inches from her another pony lay staring at bare plankwood walls and the shadows of passing clouds.

The snow-furred unicorn shifted, tossing, turning, her mouth opening and closing in silence, searching for lost words. She broke the silence, clearing her throat, and said, “Applejack, I - “

“Don’t start, Rares,” came the reply from across the bed, harsh and overloud in the midnight dark. “Whatever you’re about to say, I ain’t in a mood to hear it.”

Rarity shrank a bit under the sheets, her eyes still sparkling under the pale half-moon which crept across the windowpane. She lifted herself on an elbow and shifted, pausing when an icy chill shot up her spine despite the balmy summer night just outside the walls.

“And don’t turn ‘round, neither.” Rarity went rigid at the interruption, legs trembling and sheets quivering as long seconds ticked by. Applejack twisted her neck with a deafening pop and said, “You keep talkin’, Rarity, and I’m gonna have to answer, and I’ll regret every dang word of it come sunup.” The farmer’s heavy inhalation cut through the room like a dragon’s roar. “And if you face me, Rarity, so help me Celestia, I’m gonna regret what I say a durn sight longer than mornin’.”

Minutes masqueraded as hours in the room’s oppressive quiet. Rarity swallowed, eyes shut against the moonlight and the evening’s memories. Slowly, between thick tears and heavy heartbeats, she whispered, “Applejack, love, I did it for you.” No reproach stopped her, no admonishment from across the gulf, and she continued, “You know that, right darling? I knew how long you’d been trying, how much it meant to you, and I thought - ” She choked back something more than words and less than an apology. “I thought - “

Applejack sighed and what may once have been a whisper came out as a hiss. “No, you weren’t thinkin’ at all, Rare. You knew how long I’d been plannin’ the family reunion. This here shindig’s been in the works since afore I ever set eyes on your accursed fool hide. Yeah, we’d been tryin’ to get the Oranges here from Manehattan for years. Not we, really, just me. I’m the only one’s been anglin’ to bring ‘em to Ponyville. I ain’t seen ‘em since I was a foal, and come Tartarus or high water, I was determined to show ‘em what we Apples were all about.”

She ran a hoof through her mane, the slow movement exaggerated in shadows on the unadorned wall which held her gaze. “An’ you went an’ brought ‘em here, just like that. Like it weren’t no more trouble’n knittin’ a scarf.”

Rarity’s brow furrowed in the moonlight and she eased her eyes open. “I thought that’s what you wanted, dear, I - “

“That ain’t it, sugar. This here family - the Apple side, at least - we’re tighter’n the first dozen apples in the cider press. You think we don’t hear nothin’? I thought you were the rumor expert, Rarity. You honestly think we ain’t caught a word you said to Aunt an’ Uncle Orange?”

Rarity shook, eyes wide and watering, jaw working, and waited.

Applejack growled, “Let me refresh your memory, Rare. ‘Not exactly intellectual giants.’ ‘Half of the lot wastrels.’ ‘Less charming rustics than simple bumpkins.’ That ring a bell? I knew just as well as the next pony that them two didn’t want hide nor hair to do with the Apple clan. They came ‘cause a highfalutin’ pony like Rarity Belle invited ‘em and they wanted to see the grand ol’ spectacle. Hayseeds an’ hillbillies, rednecks an’ wetbacks. That’s what them Oranges came to see! They didn’t want the first fritter nor family photo. They wanted to look down their muzzles at the whole backwoods lot o’ us. An’ you were right there every hoofstep o’ the way, nose in the air and all.”

The moon inched past one pane then another before either pony spoke again. Rarity mumbled into the sheets, “I’m sorry, Applejack. I never meant to… ” She looked up at the window and glanced over her shoulder at the orange pony behind her, a hoof’s length away and a mile out of reach. “I should go.” She rose carefully and deliberately, sitting on the edge of the bed and silhouetted in the moonlight when the silence broke.

“Please don’t leave, Rare.” Rarity looked back again and saw the farmer’s chest heaving deeply. “I know you were just tryin’ to keep ‘em talkin, tryin’ to make conversation. That you got ‘em to show up at all when I’d been tryin’ for years was its own little miracle. I never said thanks for that, Sugar." Applejack turned her head a little and the moonlight caught something steely and hard behind her emerald eyes. "But don’t never badmouth us again, hon. Not behind our backs. I know you ain’t meant a word of it, but that ain’t no excuse.” She paused to wipe her muzzle and said, “So please, for me, lay back down. I still need you here, Rares. That ain’t changed. In the mornin’ I’ll be over this, but for now, I still need you close. A hoof’s length away ain’t so far for one night, is it, Sugarcube?”

Author's Note:

TMP Prompt # 269. The Prompt: Why were we there back to back?

This story should take place right after Apple Family Reunion, but more likely it would happen after the following reunion, not the one from the show.

Title is a reference to the legendary Unreal Tournament map, not to Minecraft. There's a connection somewhere here about sniping.