Returning Home
Sitting at his desk, an aged pegasus could feel the tense air that had plumed within his office. Written on his face was a look of reluctant necessity, having mixed feelings for what he knew needed to be done.
“I'll assume you know why you're here,” the pegasus supervisor said, addressing the young stallion who sat before him. The stallion answered with a simple nod of his head, the dejected look on his face being all he needed to say as he stared down at the desk in front of him. “To be honest with you, I wish I didn't have to do this. You're a good worker, nearly always coming in on time, working your hardest when given a job with few slip ups... but none of that can allow me to overlook your poor delivery times. This is the Pegasi Delivery Service, we can't have any late arrivals, and that's nearly all you give us.”
The stallion nodded once again, a subtle sigh being uttered through the motion. “I know, Mr. Parcel, you made that perfectly clear when you took the chance at hiring me. I thought I could make improvements, but... I guess it didn't work out.”
“I guess it didn't,” Mr. Parcel breathed through a murmur. “Well, I'm at least glad you understand.” Without saying a word in response, the young stallion removed the large delivery bag that was strapped to his side and placed it on the desk. Turning away from his ex-supervisor, he made his way toward the door, gaining a frown of pity from the old pegasus. “I'm sorry, Trader.”
“Yeah,” the stallion muttered as he walked out of the office, “not as sorry as me.”
Leaving the PDS center behind, Trader trotted across the paved sidewalk at a slowed pace, his snowy white coat crating a heavy contrast to the dark stone streets of Manehattan. There was no mood in him to fly, instead making his long trip home on hoof. The bustling sidewalks filled to burst with passing ponies, loud streets flooded with the angered yells of chariot drivers stuck in traffic, and the ever expanding concrete jungle of the big city were all ignored by him.
“Well, good going, Trader,” the young pegasus thought to himself, his inner voice holding a scolding tone similar to the one his mother used to use. “Yet another job gone. What would that be? The third one in the last few months. Not even sure why I bothered with it, I knew it was inevitable and still tried.” Though it was rhetorical, it didn't stop him from answering. “Oh, that's right, it was one of the only jobs I could find now, since I seem to get fired from everything else.” Heaving a sigh, the stallion continued on his way, not wanting to dwell on his unemployment.
With no hurry to make it to his destination, several hours ticked by as the stallion crossed into the less desirable part of the city. A border could practically be drawn that separated the high society streets of Manehattan's elite, and the decaying slums that housed the many in the city who couldn't afford the lap of luxury. Everything was faded, from the greying streets to the dead looking buildings that many called home, all being a stark contrast compared to the rest of the city. Even the sky looked a little less blue, despite Celestia's sun bearing down on them with the same burning intensity that it had anywhere else. The change in scenery didn't bother Trader however, having taken the trip many times before. All it meant to him was he was that much closer to home.
Soon enough, he stopped his trot to look up at the towering apartment complex he resided in. The outside wasn't much different than anywhere else, being made of a dull grey stone and having the appearance that it was condemned years ago. Heading inside, Trader made his way up the winding staircase to reach the fifth floor, where his apartment was situated. A door with a metallic plate fitted into it saying fifty-seven marked which one was his. Entering it, the white pegasus was greeted with the cubical that was his home.
To say it was small would be an understatement, being an apartment with a single room. It was similar to a large box, with fifteen feet separating each of the four walls from one another. All in all, though the size was miserably stunted, the young stallion didn't have much to fill it anyway. A bed, two small cabinets, a nightstand and a miniature fridge were all he had in the way of furniture. All of his other possessions laid scattered on the floor, though there weren't many of those either.
“It's not much, but it's home,” Trader said to himself, words of encouragement he spared whenever he entered the near hovel.
Gazing up at the clock that hung on the wall over his bed, he was relieved that he had half an hour before he had to leave again for another engagement. Taking it as a chance to relax himself, the pegasus stretched his legs and wings before jumping onto the bed, lying on his back to gaze at the blank ceiling above him. It wasn't much, but it allowed him to think clearly and attempt to plan what he was going to do next.
The stillness and silence around him caused his eyelids to become heavy, drooping down in a slow pace. Before he could stop himself, his eyes fully closed to submerge himself into an abysmal nothingness. Immediately, the stallion's eyes flared open. A quick shake of his head alleviated himself of his drowsiness, but his gaze caught the ticking clock looming above him, its time displaying that two hours had passed.
“I fell asleep?!” Trader exclaimed, jumping off of his bed and onto his four hooves. “Ponyfeathers, I'm late!” Darting toward his fridge, he grabbed the tool belt that was set on top of it. The yellow piece of cloth showed its age with the faded coloring and near tattered appearance, but it still wrapped snugly around his body without fail, having several pouches and straps running across it where different tools were set. He had to unfurl his wings before putting the belt on, not wanting to pin them against his body.
Before rushing out of the door, he stopped in front of the mirror that was on the nightstand. Giving himself a quick once over, the stallion spotted the multiple hairs that were out of place due to his bed. Flattening them with his hoof, he examined himself once again, no longer seeing a hair out of place in his dusty-black mane. Then, as quickly as he could, the pegasus galloped out of his apartment and raced down the stairs.
The moment he was outside, Trader took off into the air, heading the same way he came merely hours ago. There was a sharp ache in his wings as he flapped them with all of his might, propelling himself forward as fast as he could in his hurry to make it to his destination. Though the young stallion was far from being the fastest flier in Equestria, it was still a speedier trip than his fastest gallop. Soaring over the rooftops of the city, the ponies below him became nothing more than colorful dots.
With his high-flying speeds, it took only a few minutes for him to cross into the residential area of Manehattan's high-society ponies. Seeing a large apartment complex just below him, he dived down sharply, only slowing his descent at the halfway point, were he was able to land softly on the pavement before the building. Not wasting time to examine the surroundings, Trader galloped through the front doors, already knowing the way to his destination.
Running up to the second floor, the charging stallion's head looked back and forth at the few doors that made up the level. There was one door in particular that stood out against the plain, wooden slabs that were set everywhere else. A small design on the very front of the door showed off who exactly lived there, having a depiction of two exquisitely ripe oranges.
Coming to a halt in front of the door, Trader waited to go any further. With his overexertion, he was left to pant heavily. Pausing to catch his breath, only another moment was taken as he straightened his posture before he rapped his hoof against the door. Only a few moments went by before the door opened, revealing an elegant mare with a cream colored coat and light-orange mane. Most noticeable about her was the jeweled necklace she wore and the orange beauty mark on her cheek.
“Oh,” the mare responded, her expression brightening upon seeing the stallion, “Trader, it's you.”
“Hello, Mrs. Orange,” the pegasus said awkwardly, knowing of his own tardiness.
Mrs. Orange was quick to step away from the doorway and beckon the stallion to enter. “Come in, come in, dear. I'm so glad you were able to make it.”
Trotting into the apartment, Trader's eyes were immediately assaulted by the bright colors around him. Everything, from the furniture to the walls, ranged in one of the many different shades of orange and yellow. Besides the overbearing color scheme, there was no denying that the apartment was as lavish as they came, showing exactly were the Oranges stood on the monetary scales.
“Uh, Mrs. Orange,” Trader murmured, like a child with a guilty conscience , “I'm really sorry about being so late. Today just hasn't been going too well for me and-”
“Nonsense, darling,” the posh mare said happily. “You know very well that I wouldn't mind you showing up a little later than what you had set for yourself. I'm just grateful you've come at all.”
Still unsure about that fact, Trader rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “Well, a pony is only as good as their punctuality. That was one of the many things my dad used to say.”
A delighted giggle escaped Mrs. Orange as she turned away to trot deeper into the abode. “I suppose I can't ask for much better than that, can I? Anyway, just follow me, the kitchen is this way.”
Trailing after her, Trader found himself being led through an impressive dining room. An exceptionally long, rectangular table rested in the very center, while silk draped windows were fitted on the wall next to it. Beyond that, a pair of doors led them into the kitchen. The room was easily three times the size of his entire apartment, holding large stoves, rows of cabinets to hold food, hanging sections of pots and pans, with an expansive black and white tiled floor.
“This is it,” Mrs. Orange said, stopping next to a machine that was at the far side of the room. It was a massive metal box, with a conveyor belt going through one end of it and coming out the other. Pipes of varying sizes poked through the wall to connect to it.
“A rainbow washer two-thousand?” Trader muttered. It was a dishwasher, made to clean any dish with all the colors of the rainbow. The machine was something you would expect to find in a restaurant, but the stallion was aware of the Oranges' reputation for hosting lavish dinner parties with Manehattan's top ponies.
“Yes,” the mare replied in a saddened murmur, “it just stopped working with no sign of warning. None of our servants were able to get it to work, and we were planning a lovely get together in just a few days.”
“Hm,” Trader muttered aloud, inspecting the outside of the machine for any immediate signs of the problem, “I suppose I can take a look at it.” On the front of the machine there was a panel, removing it allowed easy access to the mechanical inside that made up the machine. Taking a screwdriver from his belt, Trader lied down on his back and used his wings to gentle push himself across the floor and into the opening, granting him the perfect angle to begin his work.
“Do you see anything?” Mrs. Orange asked, watching the stallion work.
“Not yet,” the pegasus' replied, his voice muffled slightly from the screwdriver in his mouth, his hind legs still poking out of the opening of the machine. “Can't say I've had to look at many of these things before, not to mention I'd rather not make things worse for this pricey appliance. Couldn't you have gotten a professional for this? It's not like you couldn't afford it.”
A small, controlled huff of amusement came from the mare as she smiled softly. “I would like to think of you as a professional, Trader. I've seen that you certainly act like one, ever since you first came here to repair our sink when it was on the fritz.”
“Oh yeah,” the stallion murmured in his remembrance of an old memory. “That was back when I was working for Mareeo, about a year ago I think.”
Though Trader couldn't see it, Mrs. Orange's smile shifted into a frown. “To answer your question fully however, I also trust you far more. So many boorish stallions have been called here who always seem to think I've summoned them for... other intentions, simply because my husband happens to be away at work when they arrive.”
Trader nearly swallowed his screwdriver as he stunted the laughing fit that threatened to burst out of his lungs. “Well... I think you've been reading too many of those bad romance novels. Especially if they have anything like that in them. You know, I used to work in a book store, I could probably recommend a good- Ah-hah, here we go, I've found the problem.”
After a few moments, the young pegasus managed to push himself out of the depths of the machine. Once freed, he held up a small piece of glass, triangular shaped on two ends with three rectangular sides. The biggest detail about it was the large crack that ran across the surface, splitting off in several branching paths.
“What is it?” Mrs. Orange asked, not aware of what she was being presented with.
“It's the prism that works the color cleaning,” Trader answered. “The machine must have a fail safe to not run when something's wrong with it, preventing any further damage. You'll need to replace it. Luckily, the piece isn't any kind of special order, you could get a new one by tomorrow.”
Mrs. Orange beamed at the news, elated to hear that their problem was solved. “Thank you ever so much, Trader. I have nary a clue as to what would happen if you weren't here.” Her grateful smile soon depleted however, as the mare noticed the downtrodden expression that became the idle look on the pegasus' face. “My word, Trader, is something wrong? You look as though something terrible has happened.”
“It's... it's nothing too bad,” the stallion replied with a shake of his head. “I just ended up losing my job at the PDS and now I'm realizing I don't have many options.” A false smile crossed his lips to give a reassuring expression to the mare. “It really is nothing to bother yourself with. Though, you'll have to look for somepony else whenever you need help. I'm certain I'll need to move away and find another city for work,” he heaved a sigh as he looked down to the floor, “... again.” His gaze turned blank as he thought aloud on the possibilities. “Canterlot might be a good choice. I doubt I'd make a good chariot puller, but I hear becoming a guard doesn't require much.”
Unbeknownst to Trader, Mrs. Orange's face held a vastly different expression one would have while hearing such a plight. A wide smile stretched her lips as the mare's mind began to formulate a wonderful idea, seeing a way to solve not only Trader's problem, but another problem she had learned of some time ago.
“Perhaps I can make a suggestion?” Mrs. Orange asked. Trader didn't answer, too caught up in eyeing the sly grin that was on the posh pony's expression. “Well, as it just so happens, we have some family down in the little town of Ponyville. They've recently mentioned how their growing work has left them shorthooved with only themselves to do it. Now, from what I can tell, you need a job and they need the help of a strong working pony.”
Trader tilted his head to the side, eyeing the mare with a perplexed stare. “Ponyville?” he murmured, the familiarity of the name rolling off of his tongue with ease.
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Orange nodded. “It's such a humble little place, vastly different than Manehattan, but I have no doubt it's the perfect place for you.”
“What would the job be?” Trader then asked, not sure if he would be qualified for whatever it was she had in mind for him.
“Just a little manual labor,” the mare replied coyly, the mysteriousness of her answer sounding deliberate. “Now, I know you might have a little trouble when it comes to employment, but I know this will work fabulously for you. These are good ponies, they won't turn down a helpful offer from somepony as hardworking as yourself. I'll send them a letter to let them know to expect you.”
The stallion was quickly taken aback by the sudden offer he had received. Though the likelihood of actually obtaining the job looked bleak, he had little else in the way of options. “Mrs. Orange, I... I don't know what to say.”
Mrs. Orange beamed cheerfully. “Just say that tomorrow, you'll return here bright and early with the part you need and finish your work. By then, my dear relatives will have received my message and will be expecting you.”
“O-of course,” the pegasus breathed, nodding his head rapidly. “I just... thank you, Mrs. Orange. I really can't tell you how much this means to me.”
“I'm just helping you as you have helped us, Trader,” Mrs. Orange responded.
An elated smile ran across the stallion's face, bringing him to a mood comparable to a foal on their birthday. “You'll have no worries here then, Mrs. Orange. First thing in the morning, I'll get you that part and fix your machine, without fail.”
The mare nodded her head happily. “That's wonderful. Now, if you are to leave Manehattan, I'm certain you have a few things you need to be ready for.” She gestured toward the door. “I won't keep you any longer for the day.”
“Okay then,” Trader said excitedly, beginning to trot toward the door, a jovial skip in his step, “goodbye, Mrs. Orange. See you tomorrow.”
“Farewell,” she replied, watching the stallion leave as he made his way out of her home. “And don't worry about my relatives, I'll have the PDS send their fastest courier to deliver the letter.”
Trader waved goodbye once more before he was out of the apartment. As he made his way down the stairs and back onto the paved streets, the stallion only halted in his step once, his mind realizing the strange irony in what the cream-coated mare had said last.
The next day was carried out in a brisk pace. With his mind racing from the proposition he was given, all Trader could think about was what the day would bring by its end and he made his way to the local hardware store. Luck seemed to be on his side that morning as they still had one prism in stock, allowing him to make his purchase and head toward the Oranges' home without incident.
Flying through the air with a new found vigor and joy, it took no time at all for him to be standing before the door with two oranges. Mrs. Orange greeted him warmly as she always did when they crossed paths.
“Almost... got it,” the white-coated pegasus muttered, his legs once again sticking out from beneath the machine as he worked on fitting the fragile prism into its rightful place within the mass of metal parts. “There!”
Emerging from the machine, Trader placed the panel back where it belonged, inspecting his work as he moved with each passing moment. Concluding that everything was in order, he took a plate that was set on the counter and placed it on a tray that was resting atop of the conveyor belt going through the machine. Looks of hopeful optimism were shared between Trader and Ms. Orange as his hoof hovered over the switch to turn the machine on. If either of them had fingers, they'd certainly be crossed.
Flipping the switch, the machine sprang to life. It rattled and shook as the belt began to move, pulling the plate deep into its open maw and out of sight. Sounds of spraying water emanated from within as the machine continued to shudder slightly.
Trader's tensed expression was almost frozen on his face as he half-expected the machine to suddenly explode with his tampering. But thankfully, nothing of the sort occurred as the rattling of the machine ceased and the plate slid out from the other end. It was warm to the touch, small amounts of steam rising from the damp surface. The entire dish looked like a fresh coat of gloss was covering it, while the pristine surface held a dim glow of seven colors running across it before they faded within moments.
“Thank you ever so much, Trader,” Mrs. Orange said with a sigh of relief. “Now we will have no troubles for our oncoming get together.”
“I'm always happy to help,” the stallion replied with a modest smile. “Also, about your family in Ponyville...”
“They have no doubt received my letter and should be expecting you,” the mare said. “I told them to give you a chance and that you won't disappoint.”
The young pegasus couldn't help but raise an eyebrow toward her. “And do you mind telling me who exactly I'll be looking for?”
A knowing smirk crossed Mrs. Orange's lips as she eyed him. “You will know them when you see them, Trader. Now,” she turned away from him for a moment to take something from the counter, “to thank you for all that you have done, and as one last goodbye before you leave Manehattan, I wanted you to have this.” Extending her hoof, Trader's eyes widened as he saw the bulging sack that she was presenting to him. The brown cloth was rigid from the small metallic coins that were pressing against it from the inside. There was a soft chime as the bits rubbed against one another while the bag shifted.
“M-Mrs. Orange... I-I can't accept that,” Trader replied, shaking his head. “Maybe a little for the prism itself but I can't charge you anything, it wouldn't be right.”
“Oh, hush,” Mrs. Orange retorted indignantly. “I know full well of your money problems, and I can't send you off to start a new beginning in Ponyville with what you have now.”
Despite his previous apprehension toward the gesture, Trader was unable to take his eyes off of the bits that were being offered to him. He didn't even need to count it to see the hefty amount, easily outmatching the meager amount he had saved up. It made his legs shake slightly. Against the temptation however, he remembered his ideals, and knew it wouldn't be right.
“But I-” he tried saying, immediately being stopped as Mrs. Orange took a step closer to him, her face one of a mild sadness.
“Please, Trader,” she said. “You're a good stallion, but there is no shame in accepting a little help when you've earned it. This will cover for the part, as well as help you get to Ponyville, tickets aren't cheap these days.”
With a begrudged expression on his face, Trader allowed for the small sack of bits to be placed in his own hoof, causing him to stare down at it and feel the weight of the coins. “Thank you, Mrs. Orange, I won't forget what you've done.”
“Just don't forget us when you've gone to Ponyville,” Mrs. Orange replied, her large smile almost contagious. “It's a small town, but there is plenty of excitement to be had there.”
“I won't, no need to worry about that,” the pegasus said. With the business in the kitchen being done, Mrs. Orange led the way back into the living quarters and they made it to the front door without another word.
“Goodbye, Trader,” said the cream-coated mare. “Be sure to visit if you ever find yourself back in Manehattan.”
Trader nodded as he stepped through the doorway and stood facing Mrs. Orange at the threshold. “I'll be sure to,” he said. “Goodbye, Mrs. Orange.” With that, Trader turned away and headed for the stairs, ready to return to his apartment for one final time.
Standing at the train station, Trader had everything he needed to leave for Ponyville. Strapped to his back, his saddlebags held what little he had to take with him. A few miscellaneous items, the bits he had saved along with the ones that had been given to him by Mrs. Orange, the ticket to Ponyville he had just purchased, and his father's old tool belt. They were all neatly placed within the bag, leaving more space to be filled but having nothing else to add to it.
Right on time, the train arrived at the station, the doors opening wide to allow the on board ponies to exit and make it to their desired destination of Manehatten. With nopony else leaving, the doors beckoned any new passengers to board, allowing Trader to step through and into the passenger car.
Rows of seats were set up at both sides, allowing many choices to sit for those who boarded early. Trader took the first seat he found, sitting down to gaze out the window at the city he was leaving behind. After everypony was finished finding their seat and no new passengers appeared to be boarding, the conductor made his rounds.
The conductor was a unicorn, with a short, curly mane that was mostly covered by the hat he wore and a light blue coat. With his magic, it was a swift and simple task to check every ticket as he trotted down the aisle. After every ticket was checked, only a few moments passed by before the train began to move.
The loud chugging of the train filled the air as the still scenes outside began to shift and become replaced by a moving background of colors. Within no time at all, the train began to glide across the tracks, everything else in the outside world passing by at an amazing speed.
While Manehattan was placed at his back, Trader relaxed in his set, resting his head against it as he closed his eyes and imagined the small town he was headed for. A rare feeling of optimism crept into his mind as he knew that even if he didn't get the job Mrs. Orange was proposing to him, he was certain that something could be found within the town. Leaving the big city seemed like the perfect thing for him, returning to his roots that were left so long ago.
As his thoughts lingered more on his destination, he became curious as to how Ponyville might have changed in his absence. The young pegasus knew from experience how mere moments can alter so much, especially in the wake of poor choices. It made him wonder what years would have done to his quaint hometown of Ponyville.
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Heh. This is actually going to be my first attempt at a story of this... genre. Hopefully you all have taken a bit of an interest in the story now, and that I'll be able to make the story a wonderful read for everyone.
11/10 would masturbate vigorously to again.
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Zing.
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1661755 Im out. Stay awesome.
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Well written.....interesting character.......
watch this I will.
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alright you win.
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I spotted an error here:
I think you meant Mrs. Orange.
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Nah my man he said what he meant, here let me explain it to you alright? My man trader teleported to ponyvill and started a whole new conversation with Mrs. Cake about the exact same thing. He then whent back to Mrs. Oranges place to continue the conversation that he left off with Mrs. Cake. Make sense? Good