Other Than The Clouds, That Is
Thursday, April 26
Today was a really interesting day. I got caught outside in a pretty big thunderstorm, and I got in a heap of trouble with Mom and Dad. The thing is, it started raining and it was so strange. All of that water just pouring out of the sky made me think about why it ends. They taught me at school that the pegasi make all of the clouds and then move them to where they want the storm to happen, but I want to know why the rain stops. I’ve never heard anything about the pegasi stopping a storm. Do you know, journal? Can you tell me? Whatever it is that makes clouds rain or stop raining... where does it come from?
I gaze at the meticulously written script, recalling the time back before I found my cutie mark, back before my horn took me to a veritable treasure of gemstones, the time when I curiously examined anything and everything in the hope of finding my special talent. Flipping through the pages, I manage to find no other entries about the rain. I must have forgotten. Every time I had seen rain, I felt something nagging at the back of my mind. Now it seems that I have once again found that nagging sensation, and, now more than ever, I feel the need to answer my old questions.
It’s out there again. The drops of water fall freely from far-away clouds, pelting every surface under their humble descent. Rivulets of rain trace their way through a seemingly boundless sky, crashing into rivers, sliding down gullies that feed the rivers, creeping down windows and walls toward the gullies, and plopping onto roofs just like mine. Random splatters drum out a beat I feel like I've heard so often, yet this one beat is completely different from any other. Years spent in schools and classrooms only tell of the process: pegasi use their technology and inborn magic to create clouds out of water in the air, and when the time comes for the rain to fall, the pegasi make it fall. But from where?
It comes out of the clouds, that much is obvious. However, what makes the clouds so eager to relieve themselves of what can't very well be a heavy burden? No matter how many times I went over the books, they never seemed to explain why the rain can't be stopped until the clouds simply stop on their own or run out of moisture to give.
I try to work on weather motifs for this dress that must be completed within the week; even so, this situation manages to distract me with a tantalizing question that I know cannot be answered. If the rain does not come from the clouds, where else could it possibly come from?
Perhaps I may have to wait even longer for this answer.
“Rainbow Dash, I know that the rain falls from the clouds. But why, darling? Where does that drive to rain come from? What makes the clouds want to rain?” I don't belong in the world of philosophy. I can't even bring myself to know why this question still bothers me so badly, but my love for my work drives my hooves to sew just as much as my thirst for this one answer drives my mind to roam. It would be wonderful to find out. She looks at me, mouth slightly parted and eyebrows bunched up. Maybe I'll end up crazy by the time I get an answer.
“Well, we make them rain.” Rainbow Dash fidgets about a bit, continuing to give me a wary eye. Is she hiding something? “Pegasi can make clouds rain by encouraging them a bit. I suppose that means that the rain comes from us. We make it rain.” Those brilliant magenta eyes seem to go pensive for a rare moment in time. “So I guess it’s our hard work, our sweat, our tears, and our lives that give the clouds their drive. I dunno, Rarity. What else could you be asking me for? Questions like this give me a headache.” Me too, I think, nearly out loud.
She has a very good point. “It’s greatly appreciated, Rainbow Dash." I chuckle lightly and let a tiny smile slip on my lips. "I certainly don’t expect you to give me a drawn-out treatise on the pony condition. That answer is perfectly fine.” I'm glad that I'm not the Element of Honesty. I suppose minor frustration just comes with the territory of questions. With that, I leave her to resume her nap.
The brilliantly flaring sun hangs high above me in the sky as I slowly meander toward the library. The world around me glows with the sweet life of a rejuvenating storm. Most of the grass scintillates with minute crystals of moisture, and a few depressions in the road have a little bit of water in them. Some of the thatched roofs of the houses still sag just a bit while the steady dripping of water slowly empties them. When I look out to some of the expansive meadows to the south, I can see new meaning to the old saying, “the grass is greener on the other side.” It could be talking about the other side of a cloud. I know that the lush landscape vibrates with vibrant greens, practically dousing me in their rich embrace. It certainly looks better than normal, and all thanks to the work of pegasi. At least, according to Rainbow Dash.
The welcome mat turns what was a stone path into a soft carpet, both warning me of my unexpectedly fast arrival at the library and fulfilling its purpose in making me feel so very welcome. I can’t help but smile when I notice the lovely lilacs blooming around the entryway. With a sure hoof, I knock on the warm, wooden door.
It swings open shortly after to reveal a now-beaming Spike. He is so very cute in his efforts to hide a crush, but there’s no harm in letting him think himself sly. “Spike, could you be a dear and fetch Twilight?”
It would be a shame to ever see that joie de vivre leave him. “Oh, sure thing, Rarity! Come on in!” He jogs his way across the library to the staircase while I step inside, closing the door behind me. The library lends itself perfectly to the fall season, with a fire crackling in the specially proofed fireplace and the breathy scent of cinnamon wafting out of the kitchen. I wonder if Spike has cookies in the oven? He’s always been able to make just those especially well.
I notice him walking back downstairs without Twilight close behind. “She’s finishing up some thesis or whatever. You can just sit down at that table over there—” he points out a rather low table with cushions laid around it “—until she gets down. I know! I’ll make tea! What kind of tea would you like, Rarity? Take your pick. I’ll even make a dash to the market if we don’t have it!”
He really is quite awful at hiding it, but it’s endearing all the same. I think back to the last time I had tea with Twilight, remembering the many varied leaves she had on hand. “Jasmine, Spike, if you don’t mind.” I also vaguely recall leaving the library that day with at least three different papers and a book, all on pegasus psychology. I have no idea what happened. Then again, if she had books on this subject, I would be just fine.
The cushion that I decide to rest on lends itself perfectly to the situation. I could talk for hours on this little pillow, and I imagine that they're for reading as well as eating. Almost as if on cue, a door swiftly opens upstairs, and a hefty sigh wafts down, followed shortly by Twilight Sparkle.
“It’s a pleasure to see you, Rarity. Sorry about the wait. I kind of had a slightly important project due next week, so I figured I would finish it off before I got to worrying.” Naturally, she is understating the importance of the project. I smile along anyway.
Then again, that’s not to say that I’m not curious. “Really? Twilight, you must give me more details! What is this project of yours for? The Princess, I presume, but there must be more to it.” Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Spike setting two cups of steaming tea and the rest of the kettle on the table. I give him a genial smile and a wink before he starts walking away.
I turn my attention back to Twilight, who positively beams, eyes gleaming and mouth seeming like it’s going to freeze that way. Uh oh. “Well,” she begins, “it’s the start of something completely and totally amazing! You see, all of the time that I’ve been studying friendship, I’ve also been working on getting my primary degree in magical studies, and now that I have that, I was working on getting accepted into the graduate program at the School for Gifted Unicorns, and what I did for acceptance is sure to make the Princess absolutely radiant!”
There’s no way that I could ever stop such a frightfully beautiful process quite yet. She truly does love this. “And what is it that you did, perchance?” The rain can wait for at least a little while.
“Oh, it’s nothing that most ponies would find interesting.” I want to mention that, considering the enthusiasm with which she presents it, even drying paint could be made interesting to a filly. “The thing is, I made a new spell! I suppose it’s not that incredible. I mean, ponies make new spells all of the time, but it’s definitely new. I developed a way to make objects invisible! It’s only ever been done temporarily, but I found a way to make it permanent! See, what I did was—” I hold up my hoof in desperation. In no universe could I manage to ask my question before getting at least two books on advanced magic if she started explaining, not to mention that I would be here for the better part of the day. She casts her eyes down a bit and her cheeks redden. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it at all, dearest.” Hopefully she will turn her head up soon. Of all the ways to see ponies, them having their heads down is the worst. As I finally take a strong sip of the soothing tea, I consider the lull in conversation and decide to strike. Impatience feels so strange, yet it manages to spark that old flame. “So, Twilight. I have a question for you.”
She lights up so brightly when people have questions. It’s no wonder that she’s the only unicorn to ever study friendship. “Ooh, really? Is it about advanced magic? Are you finally planning on learning something really exciting?”
“I said that I have a question, Twilight.” That may have been a bit too harsh, but the blush on her face is too sweet to pass up, and I giggle softly. “No, it’s more of a question about the weather.”
As her eyes take on a rather piercing quality, she arches an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that Rainbow Dash would be more qualified to answer it, then? I mean, she works with it directly all of the time. I only have theoretical knowledge, not practical.”
“Oh, I’ve already asked her. It’s also philosophical, in a sense.” She nods curtly, as expected. “I got an answer, but only part of one. You see, I initially asked where the rain comes from. Not in the sense of clouds, though. I really want to know why it rains. What drives the clouds to open up? Where does the mostly unstoppable nature of rain come from?” I can almost feel the gears in her head spinning up to speed, whirring and churning and digesting every bit of the information I just fed her.
“In response, I was given an answer that works for Equestria. Rainbow Dash mentioned that the pegasi make it rain. Their work, sweat, tears, and lives go into that process. However, it doesn't work in a place like, say, the oh-so-tacky Everfree Forest. The rain there acts much like ours, except it is unplanned, not regimented, and most likely carrying some foreign poison of some sort.. the nature of the actual rain, though, is the same. Do you have any idea why? I really must know. It’s holding me back so dreadfully.” I lean back on my cushion, not realizing that I had been slowly moving forward the whole time. I hope that the pure look of desire in my eyes does not put off Twilight’s broad mind. I want this answer. No, I need it. When I found that question tucked away in my diary, this search for that answer became something I left back in the past, and I can feel it brightening my coat and enriching the color of my mane. I wonder if I should make this curiosity thing a monthly endeavor? I suppose that I could, as long as I know that the answer isn't as far away as this one apparently is.
Her deep-lavender eyes return from the other world that they most certainly became lost in. What is it about this question that brings out the most thoughtful side of ponies? “You want to know something, Rarity? I haven’t the slightest idea." I honestly wish that the one time I hear Twilight say that she doesn't know simply didn't happen today. "All I know is that some strange form of magic that pervades the Everfree causes all of nature in that area to become wild and self-sustaining.” She shrugs halfheartedly, mouth curled into a jaded smirk. “It’s another thing I’ll have to put on hold in my studies. After all, I need to get all of the facts sorted out before I can even begin to think about this kind of knowledge. Science trumps pseudoscience.”
When her piercing eyes reach up and grab mine, locking onto my soul, I nearly jump back. “But you can learn, right away. This kind of gray area doesn't work for me, but you're not a scholar. If you go out there and feel it for yourself, I’m sure that you’ll be able to discover it. After all, the question is sometimes less about the answer and more about the person asking.” I stand up to get ready to leave. Twilight accompanies me up to the door in silence. It then swings wide open, and she embraces me with a free hoof. “Good luck.”
“Thank you for that, Twilight.” I give a benign smile that belies my inner turmoil. I swear, I will not get anything done until I’m happy with the answers I have. I suppose it’s good luck that I have a fair few friends because I’ll keep going even if I have to ask Princess Celestia herself. In all honesty though, I probably wouldn't dare to impose on her. I look out to Ponyville and start trotting.
When I reach Market Lane, the atmosphere is as it always is: salesponies cheerfully work at their stalls, selling their goods and making conversation; other ponies mill about, happily doing however much shopping they intended to get done; and the same light chatter fills the air, drifting through topics from oranges to silk.
However, one key item seems to be missing from the usual to and fro. Instead of Applejack manning the apple stand like usual, Big Macintosh is there instead. How strange... I trot my way over to him, hoping to find out why. When I finally do meet him face-to-face, he is just as unreadable as ever. “Where’s Applejack, Macintosh? Is she at the farm?”
“Eeyup.” That stallion never did like to answer questions with more than what was necessary. His mouth is still a straight line, along with his brow. I imagine that he would win a fair amount of money playing poker, but the Apple Family wouldn't ever get caught up in such a game.
“Oh my, whatever for? Is she sick?” Maybe for once I’ll get something resembling a proper answer.
“Nope.” So much for that. I suppose that if she isn’t sick, then she won't really mind a visit all that much.
A small sigh escapes my lips. “Well, thank you for telling me." Even though you helped absolutely none, I want to say. I really do need to get this sorted out soon. "Have a fine day, dear.”
“Y’welcome.” I continue my walk out toward the edge of town, which, given the size of Ponyville, is not very far away at all. The noise begins to die away as the sound of my clacking on the cobbled street overpowers the ever-more-distant pulsing heart of town.
At least I have a destination in mind, even if it does involve trekking through some rather messy areas. With my first step on the outskirts, a small bit of mud already clings to one of my hooves. This is going to be a swell trip.
When I finally make it to Sweet Apple Acres, my luck dictates that not only are my hooves ruined, but Applejack is nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t stay inside on a day like this, would she? Not normally, but it just so happens that the one time when I urgently do need to speak to her, she's flown the coop! Almost as if on cue, I hear a soothing voice coming from the barn. It’s most definitely hers. I decide to count backward from ten. Walking around to the barn door through the fresh grass, I end up standing in the entrance, watching Applejack sing what sounds like a very old earth pony lullaby to a newborn calf. I only manage to make out the last few lines.
“...Gur dè a ghaoil a nì mi dhut
Is eagal orm nach fhàs thu.”
A soft smile crosses Applejack’s face as the calf snoozes peacefully next to her mother. I can’t seem to speak up. After hearing the song, even though I don’t understand it, I can feel the tears of old hardships welling up behind my eyes.
Just then, Applejack looks over to me, putting a hoof up to her lips and keeping her voice low. “That song’s older than Ponyville, according to Granny Smith. Much older, in fact. It’s a little sad and very short, but it puts the animals and the foals right to sleep.” She stands up, motioning to the outside, so I walk out and wait for her. Oh, so much waiting. I can see the sun getting ready to set off to the west, directly over the Everfree Forest. For that brief moment in the day, the forest looks just like any other. The long shadows are filling in the gaps between the trees, turning it into a strange mess of branches and darkness; however, there’s still some light out, and no creatures lurk just at the border. It’s stuck at a point where it’s spooky but neither too dangerous nor out of place. I know that will change in a few minutes, though.
I look back toward the now-emerging cowpony as she puts her trademark hat back on her head. “So, Rarity. What brings you around here? I know it’s not the dirt and mud and animals. Now that I think about it, you look like you've been puzzling yourself over something or another.” Thank Celestia that she’s straight to the point, as always. Applejack has always been the kind to figure out exactly what she needs to say in the blink of an eye.
I sigh deeply. “The thing is, Applejack, I managed to discover something in the diary I kept as a filly. It was a question, a rather interestingly innocent one, but now I can’t get it out of my head. What makes clouds rain in places that pegasi don’t control the weather? Rainbow Dash and Twilight both had advice, but I don’t want to resort to what Twilight suggested.” After ensuring that my hooves are relatively clean, I rub the sides of my head, trying to stave off the inklings of a headache that has been worming its way into my skull for the past few hours. “My work has come to all but a complete halt, and any attempt I make to clear these clouds of thought out is just about as effective as washing a pig!” I huff, maybe a little too angrily. I look up at Applejack, and her brow is furrowed, her eyes are filled with the same gaze she had toward the calf, and her smile is gone.
“Sugarcube, you’re trying to catch up before you’ve even gotten behind.” She gives me a soft smile. “You’ve been on about this for just a day or so, am I right?” I nod slowly. “Then you have nothing to worry about. Have you ever thought that there’s nothing behind it? I’ve been in some bad storms, and it surely didn’t look like there was any rhyme or reason to it.” Her hoof meets her chin for a second. “Now that you mention it, though, I do think that it would be an excellent idea for you to experience that firsthand. And I’m not saying that because I want you to get messy. You have to figure it out, and I’ll be darned if I let you go around frazzling out over this. I know what it's like when important work can't get done.” I smile a little bit. She really has a way with words sometimes. I wonder if she’s ever written songs. She laughs, a cheery sound that feels like warm apple pie. “It's good to pick those cheeks up. Now, get!”
I turn directly toward the Everfree Forest and the storm gathering above it. “Of course, Applejack. I’ll see you around!” I don’t gallop often, but if it means an answer, I couldn’t be more ready for it.
The bright light from my horn bites its way through the stormy darkness of the Everfree as thunder rolls and roars overhead. None of the usual small critters have yet shown their grimy and dirty selves, thank goodness. I keep skirting mostly along the fringe of the forest, hoping that I can find a nice clearing that isn’t very deep in. I take a look up to the sky to make sure that I’m still at least skirting around the storm, and I can still barely see pieces of the sky through the dark wall of clouds. I take a short break to mull the situation over. “I suppose that I’ll have to go much farther into the forest. I can’t just let this opportunity get away from me. Well then, no choice but onward.”
My hoofbeats turn from soft, dry thumps into squishy, wet ones as I get deeper and deeper into the mess of trees. I notice a gap in them off to my right, so I decide to move toward it while tiny droplets of rain start to gently drip on my coat. When I get to the edge of it, the gap turns out to be a decently sized clearing. I suppose that I won’t really find a better place than this, so I simply stop and gaze up toward the clouds as they drip like sponges full of water. It’s just a matter of time until they’re squeezed, but why do they have to wait so long?
After a couple of minutes of just plain drizzle, I decide to grab some long strands of grass from nearby and start weaving them into something to sit on. I would most definitely enjoy staying clean, if not dry, and it seems like I might be here for a while before the real rain starts. It’s so strange, though. In Ponyville, the rain just starts. There’s no period of drizzle before the storm starts to pick up; if it drizzles, there’s no heavy rain after.
Before my small basket-weave of grass is even large enough to sit on, the sky just opens up. Nothing could have prepared me for it, and, in less than a minute, I’m already soaked to the bone. The sound holds no similarities to any other storm I’ve sat through before. Every tap and beat of every drop and bead of rain makes an organic sound that plops true and naturally, accompanied only by itself and not any drumming on roofs and windows. Despite that glorious cacophony of water falling from the black blanket of clouds overhead, I still cannot see or hear anything that could possibly answer my question. Maybe it’s really like Applejack said, but I don’t want to give in and believe that so easily. If there is a real answer out there, I can’t miss it. I have to do myself that justice.
I sit there with a finished pad, fifteen minutes into this downpour. “Just look at yourself, Rarity. You’re in the middle of a storm. Your mane and tail are ruined. Your coat is getting muddy. You’re soaked, cold, and miserable with all of this thinking. By Celestia, you’re probably going to have pneumonia in the morning! But here you are, sitting out here in the middle of it all.” I stand up and glare upwards into that unfathomably large bucket of water above me. This is it. I’m tired of waiting around while this nags and nibbles at my mind. “Do you hear me, rain? Why do you act the way you do? More importantly, why can’t you show me?! I can’t get work done or even think straight without you butting in! Sure, it’s only been a day. Who’s to say that this won’t go on if I don’t fix the problem right now? If you have any decency in that wild nature of yours, just... let me know. I ask no more!” That’s when the thunderstorm part comes in.
The first bolt of lightning that I actually see strikes not more than one hundred yards away, and the piercing, deafening crack launches me back into the mud out of sheer terror. I can’t help letting loose a scream that I can barely hear anymore. Even with my eyes closed, the next bolt still burns the flash into my eyes as it happens. I can feel that it’s even closer than the last, and, at this point, I’m just waiting for that next strike. The burning smell of ozone creeps into my nose while the rain drives itself into me. By some measure of whimsy on the storm’s part, that next bolt doesn’t happen anywhere close to me. That’s exactly when I realize that whimsy is the key to it all. It has nothing to do with a drive or a want. There are no motivations or inclinations or anything of the sort. Clouds just rain, and they start or stop when it suits them. Only a pegasus can whip them into starting.
I open my eyes and look up into the sky, that perfectly random, gray sponge of a sky, and I start to laugh. It starts small at first, just like a storm, and eventually grows into some raucous affair you would find in a pub. I can't help it! It's just as unpredictable as rain, yet I couldn't be more prepared. Now that I've sorted it out, I reckon that I could laugh the clouds away. What the hay, maybe they'll simply do it on their own! I wish I had a mirror. I imagine I would look rather ridiculous, what with a wet and muddy mane and tail falling down straight, my coat all matted, and this goofy grin that my giddy self just can't dispel. Oh well! The rain isn't quite as heavy anymore. Who knows? Maybe it will stop soon.
After a few minutes, I finally begin to settle down enough to gain control of myself. With a breathy sigh, I pick myself up and try my best to wipe some of the mud out of my hair. I'm perfectly glad that this is finally over, but no matter what I might get into my head, I really have to get home and shower. Even though it marks my effort, I need to clean all of this icky nature off and return to looking amazing for my clients and friends. I let a faint smile begin on my lips. I may even get some work done before I fall asleep. After all, I’ve already got some absolutely fabulous ideas for that dress I’m working on.
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Oh hey, I remember this from somewhere. EQD, maybe? Anyway, nice read.
1884494
I just finished it today. I may have had you look at in the IRC a while back.
1884534
Oh, you know, you're right. That's where it was. Anyway, like I said, great job.
Having had several questions of my own go unanswered for many years, I rather easily identified with poor Rarity. Unfortunately, it's true: if you really want to get to the bottom of something, you're likely to get more than just your hooves dirty.
Gotta say, I've never seen a better use for RainyMood than this. Have a moustache for that
And now, have another moustache for writing a great story^^
1891667
Well, thanks! I do like moustaches.
And I really only put the rain because it was on while I was writing.
1884562
A right mess for her, that's for sure.
1891757 Maybe but it still fits really good in there^^ I wonder why I didnt have the idea of turning it on while reading this? Usually my brain is random like that... Oh well^^
*Grins and applauds* Very lovely piece, Nice and simple but an excellent narrative thread running through it. Have you considered submitting it to EQD?
1917186
Thanks very much. I already did, in fact. I think it was the 1st or 2nd.
1917554
And now it's on EQD.
Hm. I'm not 100% sold on your Rarity voice.
That being said, I really enjoyed this! It's good! Bravo.
AMAZING. beautiful writing
2005885 2006127
Thanks! Also, I really worked to make sure it fit her as well as possible, so I'm not surprised that it didn't mesh all the way.
2006165 It wasn't bad! I write her way too rarified (ha!) and yours was a bit too vernacular. She's kind of somewhere between us, I think. But as narrative voices go it wasn't a bad one at all. I rather enjoyed it.
Congrats on the EqD post. Glad to see this go up, and Pre-reader 63.546 sends his regards.
2006165
2006223
I actually rather liked Rarity's voice here. It may be a tad below aristocratic, but consider:
-She doesn't speak quite that highbrow in canon, which is obviously an allowance for the target audience, but still...
-The narration does have a fancier feel to it, and since the story is in Rarity's perspective, that reflects on her.
-The interactions are with herself or her closest friends, both scenarios in which she's not trying to impress anyone.
-She's chasing down a childhood quest, which may well have the effect of simplifying her language a bit.
2006515
I can accept that.
I get quite an odd, but nice feeling reading this. Remind me of these:
Time off 1
Time off 2
Time off 3
I don't know why though. I think they give me similar feelings.
Congrats on the EqD post, Limey!
A great story hoofs down, simply loved it!
2007056 2007070
Well, thanks!
2006717
Those comics look awesome, especially the one about Rarity. I may or may not be biased. Still, thanks for sharing that.
2006515 2006223
Yeah, I totally, definitely had all of that in mind while writing it.
Well, not consciously. It's one of those great things about being an author: people see things in your work that you didn't even fully realize were there. I know for a fact that I didn't go out thinking about that kind of analysis of her voice in the situation, but I did get the feeling that less uppity narration would feel more natural.
My Teleological Pony?
As always, the simplest-seeming questions are often the most difficult to tackle.
I really enjoyed this; it was nice to see the philosophical side of Rarity for once. You did a good job at keeping her in character :)
This was a great fic. I hate when Rarity is portrayed as vacuous, when she actually seems to be just very particular about her tastes. This perfectionism would actually translate very well into this manner of obsession. I also like how you make her be very "ladylike" in how she goes about doing her things - even while getting soaked.
For being such a short fic, you certainly accomplished a lot here. Congratulations and thanks for the read!
2007696
People will always read more into your writing than you intended. One of my favorite instances is Robert Frost's poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." He repeats the last line: "And miles to go before I sleep." People have been extracting meaning from that repetition for a long time. When someone asked him, he said that he couldn't think of anything else.
I quite enjoyed this! The only downside for me was that it ended a bit ubruptly – It was like, Suddenly answer, and /end. Other than that, this was absolutely lovely! I particularly love, love, love your portrayal of Applejack. I think many writers forget that she is indeed a very sensible and loving mare.
hoh, it seems like you're gonna make it up to 1000 views, good for you!
What a sweet story, and a well-drawn Rarity. Thank you for sharing it.
3262592
And thank you for the comment.