Dreamer, Deceiver
Dreamer, Deceiver
Hyperventilation, or literally “over-breathing," is an example of how any overwhelming amount of something, even something as vital and life-giving as oxygen, can throw anypony’s equilibrium out of whack. Balance in all things is paramount, from study habits to molecular concentrations.
Carbon dioxide decreases in the bloodstream as an overall ratio alongside the increase of oxygen molecules during over-breathing. Continued hyperventilation, if the sufferer is not calmed, can lead to fainting—the world going black, if only for just a seeming second, if only harmlessly.
Clinging to her sister like an infant to its mother, Babs Seed found this medical truth as reality closed in around her, a tight cone and tunnel getting tighter and tighter, darker and darker, until there was no more light.
“Babs!”
Citrus caught her sister before she hit the floor, her limbs slack. Her body was like a ragdoll in her hooves.
“Greyhoof! Greyhoof, come here, quick!”
~
“Do you think she’ll be okay, Greyhoof?”
“Yes, Madame. She is merely resting now.”
“Oh… Celestia… what’s happened now?”
“The teacher stopped by earlier. I think there was a fight.”
“Oh… my sweet, sweet sister. Is this because she’s…?”
“… I’m afraid so.”
~
Babs was swimming through an icy lake. It was mid-December, and snow was falling all around her, soft and slow. She stuck out her tongue, giggling with pleasure as a flake landed square on it, melting on its surface. It was sweet, yet satisfying; not as thick and syrupy as juice, but not as flavorless as water. It was her first snowflake, and she ached for more.
Though the lake was deep and dark, stray platforms of ice floating through it and passing each other like ships in the night, the filly felt no semblance of cold. She felt strong. No. She was strong. With her forehooves alone, she swam laps about the lake, catching snowflakes on her tongue.
She was alone, but it was not an unwelcome loneliness. Here, in nature, with the snow, ice, and water, she felt at home. There were no doors to be opened, no windows to be cracked.
She had returned to her roots as a creature of nature, a child of the Earth, as deserving of existence as the trees, sun, and stars… and she was free.
~
Citrus Blossom held Babs Seed in her forehooves, her eyes glued to the slow rising and falling of the filly’s chest, counting each breath to make sure it was there. Greyhoof sat patiently on a stool in the corner, smoking a pipe of cherry tobacco. He chewed at the end of his pipe between drags, his brow furrowed, but otherwise he sat, silent.
When Babs had lost consciousness, the two adult ponies had contemplated calling for a doctor or the Orange parents. Citrus, however, considered Babs’s emotional state and decided not to drag anypony else into the situation. Instead, they carefully carried the unconscious foal into her bedroom, where Citrus held her, stroking her red-and-pink mane and waiting for her eyes to open.
It had been about half an hour before Babs began to stir in the hooves of her sibling. Citrus gasped.
“Easy now, Madame Citrus,” Greyhoof whispered. “Let her wake up on her own. It’s for the best.”
His employer nodded, and waited with baited breath.
~
Her eyelids felt like they were weighed down by iron chains bolted to a sturdy stone floor. She swore that she could hear them creak, needing oil, as they opened. The world was bright. Too bright. She needed the snow and the ice again.
Why are the walls such funny colors?
Babs Seed blinked slowly, taking in her surroundings. Red, orange, yellow, on the ceilings and the walls around her. A gray Earth pony stallion sat on a stool near a bookshelf, a smoking pipe in his teeth. A beautiful cream-colored mare with a fiery-orange mane smiled down at her from above.
“Citrus…? Wha… what happened?”
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Citrus asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Ah… Ah… I think so.” Babs Seed blinked again, expecting the world to dissolve before her and be replaced with a jet-black lake and a steady stream of snowflakes. Nothing changed.
“I think…” She began to wonder out loud, “I think I’m in ma room…”
“Yes, you are, my dear,” Greyhoof said, taking a deep drag of his pipe. He exhaled a trio of rings and added, “You’ve been out for a while, Madame Babs Seed.”
“Out”? What the hay is he talkin’ 'bout? “What do youze mean?” She stretched and wiggled out of Citrus’s hooves, joining her on the bed. She looked into her sister’s eyes, noting their sadness. Her normally chatty and catty sibling was a solemn as a judge. It made her twinge with guilt as the events of the day began to roll back into her mind like fog upon the valleys.
“You passed out, sweetheart,” Citrus said gently. “But… don’t worry. I’m not mad at you or anything like that.” She smiled softly, prompting a similar smile from the foal next to her. “But… I am worried about you, Babs. I think…. I think we should talk.”
Taking that as his cue, Greyhoof rose from the stool, stretching as he did so. His old bones were too weary to sit in such an awkward pose without much discomfort. Turning to his masters, he said, “I’ll leave you two beautiful fillies alone for now. I’ll knock when supper’s ready. If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate to call for me.”
“Thank you, Greyhoof.” Citrus Blossom sighed, offering silent blessings and prayers upon the faithful butler.
Winking, the stallion gave his employers one final smile before exiting the room, slowly closing the door behind him.
“I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered as he trotted downstairs to the kitchen.
~
Babs Seed knew that silence could only get her so far. Her sister, however well-intentioned she was, liked to pry, and would be taking a crowbar to the front she had built for herself. Even as her older sister smiled at her, saying nothing, she knew the questions and accusations were coming. Nothing could stop them.
Babs decided to stay ahead of the game.
“Citrus… I’m really sorry. 'Bout everythin'.”
“No, no, honey, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Citrus shook her head, placing a hoof over the filly’s shoulders. “Your teacher came to the door a little bit ago—you were still resting—and explained that there had been a fight at school. I guess he kicked you out for the day, yes?”
Horseapples. Looking away from the orange, prying pupils of her sister, Babs stared at the floor. “Yes. Yes, he did.”
“And… I guess that the colt you, um… punched… had been teasing youze?”
Wait… the old stallion heard dat? Then, maybe…
Babs blushed, ashamed of her victimhood. It was a title she wished upon nopony, and she hoped to give it away as soon as she could. “Yeah," she mumbled.
“Is it…” Citrus Blossom chose her words carefully, gently, as each of them bore a weight she could not imagine. “Is it… because you don’t have a cutiemark?”
Nodding was the only response Babs could muster, a tear sliding down her cheek.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
~
The Oranges were one of the cornerstones of Manehatten’s economic empire. True to their name, they were orange fruit salesponies—salesponies, not farmers. A life of sweat and sun, livelihoods dictated by the changing and oftentimes unpredictable natures of the weather and crop yields, was not in their cards. They were far too proud for that.
Father Orange was gifted in manners of tongue and treaty, of making incredible business deals and seizing investment opportunities nopony had seen from a mile away. His cutiemark was a whole orange resting against a stack of gold bits.
Mother Orange, an equal to Father Orange in intellect but not in daredevil disregard, served as the Libra scales to Father Orange’s reckless spending. If they were at a casino, the paternal guardian of the Orange clan would head straight for the roulette table, all bits on black—his lucky color. The maternal protector, however, was a mare of caution and strategy, and adored games like poker or blackjack, where the falling of the cards was not the entire story. They had to be played carefully and cleverly for a profit to be made. Her cutiemark was a set of Libra scales with an orange on one side, an equally-weighted stack of bits on the other.
Citrus Blossom had followed in her parents’ hoofprints. She knew well the ways of Manehatten, the corporate games, the doublespeak, the ways of getting what she wanted. She was not manipulative, or lawless, mind you; she just knew all the rules to the game, and played them expertly. Set to take over the Orange Family business once her time came, her cutiemark had appeared relatively early on her flank—a cut slice of the orange fruit crossed with an orange blossom flower.
Babs Seed had always been a wildcard, a wrench in the system, a ghost in their machine. From an early age, she’d shown no interest in the family business, or wealth in general. She had always sort of… kept to herself. And now, she was teetering at the brink of childhood and adulthood, one hoof on each drifting continent, and still her flank was plain.
Citrus Blossom worried a lot for her.
Tonight, she worried even more.
~
Running a forehoof through her stray strand of fresh manecut, Babs Seed told Citrus Blossom what had happened that morning, about Boone, the teasing, and the teacher’s rough and incomplete handling of the situation.
Each word was careful, cautious, rehearsed from within before she uttered it. She did not talk about Card Slinger, Fencer, Lucky Toss, or Turner. She did not reveal the true reason behind her bobtail and manecut. She did not confess of the reasoning behind her midnight romps. She did not touch upon the isolation she felt, living in the cold, vast mansion. She did not speak of the alienation she felt at school, being the only foal in her class without a cutiemark. She did not explain how she missed her parents when they were gone, and felt like they were merely ghosts when they were there. She did not enlighten her older sister on her confusion, her fear, her uncertainty of being so young and so very, very different, and how much that scared her.
I’m a good liar.
When Babs was done, she looked up into Citrus’s eyes and felt her heart break from their poorly-hidden sorrow. Now I’ve done gone an' made youze sad, too.
I can’t do anythin’ right.
“Babs, sweetie, do you know what I think you need?”
Sniffling, Babs asked, “What, Citrus?”
“Some time to think. Some time away from here.”
Citrus rose from the bed, getting down on all four of her hooves. She began to pace, willing herself to think of somewhere Babs Seed could go. Clearly, Manehatten was poison to her, at least right now, and she needed fresh, clean air to clear her mind.
Citrus Blossom paused and looked out of the east window. In a garden below the Orange Family Mansion on the hill, she spotted an apple tree, bursting with delicious fruit.
Apple tree, she thought.
Apple. Tree.
“Wait!”
“Huh?” Babs Seed rose from her own position on the bed and trotted over her sister to join her. Citrus was smiling gleefully out the window, looking at something far-off in the distance. “What’s out there youze see?”
“Look, Babs Seed,” Citrus said excitedly, tapping on the window towards the garden of her discovery. “An apple tree.”
“Meh,” replied the unimpressed foal. “It’s jus' a silly ol’ apple tree. There are a lot o' those around heeya.”
“No, don’t you get it?”
“… Get what?”
A broad, sparkling grin spread its presence across Citrus Blossom’s muzzle. Of course! she shouted in her thoughts. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?
“Babs Seed… how would you like to visit your cousins for this year’s Harvest Day Parade, in Ponyville?”
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This is a very well written story hehe
Amazing! Still needs more stabby stabby though.
Was about to get into a fight once during recess. Ended up getting restrained by one of my friends and kneed in the jewels by one of my opponent's friends.
Excellent work, so far! Please, continue!
1754787 I got in a fight once too. Poor ol' bloke.
Reading later!
1754787
First time i was ever in a fight, it wasn't really a fight. This kid at school was taking the piss out of me for a few months. One day, I got sick of it, so I threw him in a pond. In January. In Washington. He came out mad as a cat and swinging. I picked his ass up and threw him back in the water.
1754787 hahaha
that's when you say "nah man i was just sizen you up for the the brawl later." Can't say i've ever bin in a full out fight with anyone. Although I did try to stab a kid who was hitting me in the back of the head with his binder (Big African american kid). Just my natural reflexes there
1756744 YES!!!
Cold and humiliated and you didn't even have to hit I'm.
This story is so amazing. One of the best I've ever read! I seriously can't wait for the next update!!
1757550
Thank you very much!
1757141 only thing i can count as a fight i was in was when one of the football team kneed me in the nuts in the hallway, i responded by grabbing his neck and slamming him into the locker. later his buddies asked if i would join the team
1757701 Alright respected by aggression
. I can see why football players would want that.
1754787
I put my leg between his legs pushed his chest and pulled my leg up and in at the same time, he did not 'trip' so much as he went completely horizontal and landed square on his back, he's rolling around in pain and I just walked away. Later me and the kid ended up friends.
I'm not a fighter, so when this kid came stepping up to me demanding I fight him I refused. He then came at me swinging
1759185
You're right, I was meaning to say "girls and guys". Forgive me if I'm incorrect, but isn't "foal" the generic term for a young pony (like "kid") and "filly" is specifically for young female ponies?
If I'm wrong, I'll make some edits.
Once in 5th grade I got in a fight and the kid punched me in the face and I laughed
I've taken down two guys at once. I would always get punks and thug wannabes though
Greyhoof: My God! An apple tree!
Babs: No way!
Servant 1: What a discovery!
Servant 2: Quick, we must summon Cherilee to verify, before it's too late!
Allspice: In all my life, I have never seen an apple tree this...fruity.
1758262
So defeat means friendship?
1756270 with friends like these...
I remeber this time I got into a fight against two guys. Got slugged in the back and had my bike slammed onto me, from a height.
This other time, some punk broke my computer so I threw him onto an overturned chair.
The other day, I got punched in the face.
This fic makes me think of this song.
Poor bab seed!
Ignore em thier just JERKS.
I get in fights with my little cousin all the time. A`in't my fualt he drives me to. I never hurt him like he makes me wanna. But he never learns
All these people talking about their fights in school haha. Well, I remember I never really "fought" people in school... I just strangled them till they almost past out or till I was pulled off although some guy, back in yr10 I think it was, tried pushing me up some stairs for like no reason and he was dick anyway so I got him in the corner and just hit a few times. Looking back at these moments I'm not proud of any as I realize I actually had some anger issues (I was bullied a lot in primary school and that all happened in secondary school) and I knew I definitely had some issues when I hit a yr8 kid in the face for annoying me when I myself was in yr11 and that's just inexcusable, so the school gave me counseling and I left many people I knew behind besides a select few. Annnnnnnywaaaay, nice story and I'm really enjoying it so far.
Just a random question, where are those short sayings on the top of each chapter from?
Oooh.
1775667
Where is this from? It sounds familiar.
And then the episode with the song that is still in my head happened. fffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuu!
2477297
Yeah I've come pretty close to doing crap like that. I was and still kind of am. Now I just think how they're gonna all live on the streets and suffer since my generation is screwed. Anyways, on that happy note on to the next chapter.
Is a science lecture really an appropriate train of thought for a sobbing, frantic filly desperately looking for comfort while on the verge of fainting?
This is an interesting little detail. I can't help but wonder if the Oranges allow their servants to smoke around their children or if it's a little habit that Greyhoof indulges in when his employers aren't around.
The emphasis on salesponies would have been a powerful enough bit of characterization on its own. The rest of the paragraph strays into over-explanation.
Ah, now we're off to mix it up with canon. This should make for some interesting reading.