• Published 22nd Nov 2012
  • 529 Views, 6 Comments

The Cthuluigi Mythos - Cthuluigi



Speedfics: in which I slap my hands on the keyboard for an hour to produce magic.

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Love At First Plight

Characters: Braeburn & R63 (gender-flipped) Braeburn (named Honeycrisp)
Location: Random train, in the food cart

~~*~~*~~

Love At First Plight

With one particularly rough turn, the carefully set up apple stand ran by Braeburn was a mess. Again.

Normally, Braeburn would’ve been on the job the second the opportunity sprouted. Normally, sweeping, organizing, and keeping a pearly white smile on his face were his top priorities; all facets of running the apple stand taught to him by his mother and father. Normally, he’d want to honor his, ‘good ol’ Ma and Pa,’ as he always called them, by following their rules to the letter.

But today wasn’t a normal day. There was no shining grin on his face to be seen, nor any trace of his usual 110% in running the best stand in the train’s food cart. What they saw was Braeburn in name only, and the contrast between today’s and yesterday’s Braeburn was vast enough to spread terrible rumors.

Maybe a close relative of his died.

Maybe his house burned down.

Maybe his favorite tree got sick.

Those were just three of the many Braeburn heard in the span of only a couple of hours -- evidently the ponies spreading those rumors didn’t seem to care if he himself heard, and it was making him wish these ponies would just hurry up and leave if they weren’t even going to keep it quiet when talking about stuff like that.

They had no idea what the real problem was, but telling them about it would only encourage even more theories from the know-it-alls who really knew nothing.

He glanced out the window again, watching the seemingly endless desert landscape roll by. They had to be getting to their destination soon, and then he’d be free of their gossip spreading.

Beside him, a small, bright red earth pony by the name of Barry was running the stand next to him -- another apple stand, this one representing the Orange Pippin family. One family versus another in a friendly rivalry was a common occurrence on this train, but Barry was a relative Braeburn had never met before. Looking to be no older than 18, almost five years Braeburn’s junior, he seemed like a nice stallion, but his good heart only went so far to cover up the fact that he was as dim as they got up top.

Barry was looking quizzical as he surveyed the crowd. There were a few ponies trotting about the food cart, buying food from the stands, but the ones who saw Barry’s stand only got as far as looking for a couple seconds before losing it -- at best, it was only minor chuckling; at worst, the pony in question was beside themselves, roaring with laughter.

Braeburn was in a sorry mood himself, but he still felt bad for poor Barry. Here was his first day running the stand, and he didn’t have two bits to rub together to show for it.

“Is it the fact we didn’t get no customers since we set up that’s got you down?” Barry asked, talking to nopony for as much as Braeburn was paying attention to him. “Or...’least I haven’t got no customers. You seem to be doin’ well like normal. Pa always says you’re the one all the mares are buyin’ from. But there ain’t been no sales for me from the stallions all day neither! I don’t understand! You think it’s the slogan I’m usin’? I thought it was mighty good myself, but I don’t know. Might just not be clickin’ with folks today.”

He had a point there; the food cart was pretty deserted today, considering it was normally lively with the activity of hungry ponies, but at least Braeburn was able to make some sales -- in the forlorn way he displayed now, completely uncharacteristic of his normal, foalish excitement. Braeburn saw some of the gleam in the eyes of the mares who locked eyes with him, saw what they perceived as opportunity. Maybe sit with him, offer an ear, lean into his chest, pretend to care, buy him a drink or ten, drag his drunken flank off to some abandoned train compartment somewhere and-

He violently shook his head. That was no way to think of mares, depressed mood or no, and his father would tan his hide if he saw that.

“Hellooooooo,” Barry waved a hoof in front of Braeburn’s face, “Equestria to Braeburn. I lose you there? I asked if you had any ideas as to why we ain’t gettin’ no customers.”

With a sigh, Braeburn craned his head to look over at Barry’s display’s banner, reading it silently.

ORANGE PIPPIN’S FINEST! BUY SOME TODAY! GUARANTEE YOU’LL LOVE THE COX!

Well, that explained the laughter.

“No. No, I couldn’t possibly imagine why,” he deadpanned. Ever oblivious, Barry returned his attention to his downtrodden pal.

“This ain’t like you, Braeburn. Well, I dunno what ‘like you’ is, but I’m goin’ by what my Pa tells me, and Pa always says he’s the one tryin’ to keep up with you! Pa tells me you’re the nicest pony in the markets, but you ain’t even smiled once yet today! Is it me? Oh Celestia, it’s me, ain’t it? Whatever it was, I’m sorry, Braeburn!”

Braeburn sighed -- Barry was a bit too thick headed to know when to throw in the towel. Or even know what a towel was. For the sake of his feelings and Braeburn’s own conscience, though, he couldn’t leave him feeling bad like this.

“It’s not you, Barry,” he said, sighing, “it’s...her.” He pointed a hoof towards a mare on the other end of the cart by herself, who seemed to be carefully browsing the stands.

Barry squinted his eyes to get a good look at her. Switching his gaze from Braeburn to the mare several times, he shrugged. “Okay, I don’t get it.”

Braeburn almost choked on his own saliva.

“W-What? Just look at her! How can you not see that?” he exclaimed -- by some miracle not grabbing said mare’s attention. He could hardly believe what he saw, and how nopony else seemed to put two and two together felt like some big practical joke he was the butt of.

“She’s yellow,” Braeburn continued, “just like me! Orange-ish mane, just like me!”

“O...kay,” Barry answered, “but I reckon that’s hardly-”

“I caught a glimpse of her face a few times. She’s got big green eyes, just like me! That hat she’s wearin’? A brown Stetson hat just like mine, and I guarantee she got it from her pa, just like how I got mine from my Pa!” Braeburn interrupted.

“Well-”

“A-and this!” Braeburn added, turning his flank towards Barry. “A single braeburn apple for a cutie mark. Just! Like! Mine! And I bet she’s like me in a buncha other ways, too, like havin’ a stuffed bear she sleeps with that I swore I’d never bring up in a conversation! No way this can be real! This...this is freaking me out. NOPONY resembles another pony that closely ‘less that pony’s lookin’ in a mirror. If she buys an apple from this stand, I reckon I’ll be the one missin’ bits, that’s how much like me she is!”

Barry was hardly the shiniest apple in the basket -- but by Celestia, there was no way anypony could not be weirded out by this!

Braeburn sprawled over the stand, his face sunk into his folded forehooves. “And that ain’t the worst part, neither. Oh, Celestia, no, that ain’t the worst part at all...”

“What’s that?” Barry asked, cupping an ear towards Braeburn.

“I...” Braeburn frantically searched his mind for the right words; finding nothing, he spilled the beans, like a good Apple is wont to do. “I think I’m in love...”

To Barry’s credit, he didn’t laugh. If he had, Braeburn would’ve left the train, found a way in front of it, lay down on the tracks, and waited to go to that great pasture in the sky.

Maybe he isn’t quite as dumb as he looks, Braeburn thought.

“Why don’t you go and talk to her, then?” Barry asked.

Maybe he’s every bit as dumb as he looks, Braeburn thought.

“It’d freak her out, just like she’s freakin’ me out! And it ain’t just that, either! She’s the most gorgeous thing I ever seen, but she could pass as my identical twin! That means that, to me, I’m the most gorgeous pony there ever was...” he answered.

“So...” Barry cautiously urged Braeburn to continue.

“So it’s been makin’ me think. All these things I do, like smile and make myself look neat and stuff, do I do it because the other ponies love it? Or do I do it because I love it? I mean, I guess I could admit I’m good lookin’ for a pony, and I about gotta wear a suit of armor everytime I go into a bar ‘cus they always say everypony’s gay for me and all, but to be flat out in love with myself? That’d make me one of them narsi-...gnarly-...nail scissors-...narcs-... uh, a pony that’s in love with themselves!”

Barry shrank back. Braeburn couldn’t blame him; he himself was not expecting the words he was saying, but wasn’t able to stop.

“And an Apple doesn’t lie! How in the name of Celestia can I love a mare and tell her she’s beautiful, but that she ain’t quite as beautiful as I am?”

“Uh, Braeburn-”

“She wouldn’t love me and I wouldn’t love me for it neither!”

“Braeburn!”

“What?”

“She’s lookin’ right at you.”

Braeburn turned his head so slowly that your average pony would’ve dropped what they were doing and ran for the hills. Sure enough, the mare, not three feet away, was looking right at him, her head cocked but her expression kind.

It’s even worse up close! It’s like lookin’ straight into a mirror!

She was definitely a mare, true; she was more slender, her jaw was more rounded, and her mane hung down longer than his own, but beyond those gender-based differences she was every bit his twin as far as appearances went. His brain screamed at him to act, but was unable to form any panic that he wasn’t already feeling himself.

One pair of green eyes looked into an identical pair, and two identical mouths formed the identical amount of zero words until Braeburn found the ‘on’ switch for his brain again.

“H-Howdy miss,” he greeted, pretending he wasn’t about to drown in his own sweat. “You can call me apples. Um, care to buy some Braeburn? Wait wait wait. I’m Braeburn, and would you be interested in some apples? Only two bits a piece, and they’re the best you’ll find in all of Equestria! Um, no offense Barry...”

He motioned to his stand, the same stand he had completely neglected since his depressed mood set in, the same stand whose contents had been rolling all across the food cart for a good fifteen minutes now, to the amusement of anypony watching, and to the dismay of any that had slipped on them. “Oh, right...” he trailed off, his cheeks going red.

She giggled, keeping that oh-so-adorable smile on her face all the while.

“My name’s Honeycrisp,” she said, her voice shy, but warm. “Um, you need a hoof cleanin’ up these apples?”

Dear Celestia, she’s quiet, but her voice has even got that same lilting quality as mine! he thought. “I-I-I’d love that, ma’am, th-thank you kindly.”

She stifled a giggle behind her hoof. “You can just call me Honey.”

As more heat rose to his cheeks, Braeburn’s mouth apparently carried the risk of operating faster than his brain. “Hey, Honey. Am I on fire?” he asked.

This time, Barry did laugh.

~~*~~*~~

Ten minutes later, Braeburn’s stand was in tip-top condition again. Barry had made his first sale of the day, courtesy of Honeycrisp, and Barry had even managed not to say, “I told you, she’d love the Cox!” Bless him, he was learning already.

“Attention passengers, we have reached the wonderful town of scenic Appleloosa! Thank you for using the Equine Express, and have a wonderful day!”

The voice blaring over the loudspeaker brought both Honeycrisp and Braeburn back to reality, ending Braeburn’s most stutter filled conversation ever. Despite his earlier misgivings, talking to who was basically the mare version of himself didn’t bring about anything bad, let alone the apocalypse. Other than the feeling of his heart about to burst, of course.

“Oh, this is my stop! I better get goin’. Thanks for the apples,” she said, smiling. Now that she felt more confident talking to Braeburn, her vocal similarities to Braeburn became even more obvious.

Braeburn gulped. She commutes to Appleloosa, too!? How have I not heard of her?

“‘Twas my pleasure, Honey. You take care now.” Braeburn smiled back, keeping a cool expression as every fiber of his being screamed, pleaded that she wouldn’t leave.

Alas, she did; with a friendly wave of her foreleg and a smile, she left the train cart as quickly as she had entered, and just like that, she was gone.

Braeburn sighed, his shoulders drooped. He felt like his soul had left with her. If only the conversation didn’t have to end, if only he didn’t have to watch the stand, he could-

He looked over to Barry, who seemed obsessed with rubbing the two bits he made from Honeycrisp’s sale together.

“Barry.”

Barry looked up at him. “Hmm?”

Braeburn turned away, staring off into space. “Whatever I said earlier about me not being able to love right, I take that back. Everypony might be gay for me, and I might be the victim of no less than fifty-nine date rape attempts, but there is not a soul in Equestria that can convince me I’m prettier than that mare.”

Determined, he looked back over to Barry, who was still listening intently.

“Take over my stand. Anythin’ you sell, you keep the bits. I got somethin’ important I gotta do.”

With that, Braeburn took off, not even waiting for Barry to stammer out a response. Leaving Barry to watch both Braeburn’s stand and his own was a risky move, but it stemmed from a conclusion Braeburn made the second Honeycrisp first said her sweet, sweet name to him: love makes you crazy.

~~*~~*~~

Five minutes later, Honeycrisp found herself at the edge of a crowd, having waded through a sea of ponies since leaving the train. She had felt as though every eye in the crowd was on her when she heard a familiar voice call out.

“Honey! Miss Honey!”

She turned around, having finally gotten some breathing room, and stared into the green eyes of Braeburn, green eyes that still baffled her as to how they were so much like her own..

“I thought-” he panted, “I thought I wouldn’t find you again.”

“But what are you doing out here? Aren’t you running the stand in the food cart?”

“Barry can handle it,” he said -- hey, it might not be a lie -- “and I’d rather be talkin’ to you.” That definitely wasn’t a lie. “Would...would you care to join me for supper? My treat.”

She didn’t answer him at first; Braeburn was worried he had been too forward with a mare like her when she suddenly smiled again.

“I-I’d love that,” she answered.

~~*~~*~~

The rest of the world could spread all the rumors they wanted to -- in fact, for all Braeburn knew, they still were. For Braeburn, all that mattered was that meeting Honeycrisp was the greatest apocalypse he could’ve asked for.

Because that night, they laughed, they lived, and they loved.