Chapter 7: Reunion
Chapter 7: Reunion
“And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” Luke 15:20
Daphne
The land surrounding Ponyville was sprawling and free, much like the town itself from the look of it. We picked as our hiding place a peaceful grove of trees not far from the large farm, in sight of a number of cottages and smaller farms. A few of them jutted right up against the edge of the Everfree Forest. There was a large pond with a swing nailed to a tree branch not far off, but it was unlikely anyone—nor anypony—would see Marcus, Hector, and Naomi from there.
It must have been past harvest, because it seemed as though there wasn’t much in the ground. I didn’t know if they had snow in Equestria, but winter was pretty close back home. No ponies were in sight, at least not yet.
“If this place were any more cute, I would be vomiting.” Marcus glanced up as he settled down in a tree hollow. Despite what I thought were reasonable concerns of security given the monsters barely a mile back, even Marcus had elected to pack away his rifle. He was right, though—it was hard to think of this place as dangerous in any way.
“I could stand it to be a little cuter,” Naomi said. She had settled on her belly with a pair of binoculars. “Hee, one of them has a little basket; she’s carrying it in her mouth! She’s got a pale blue coat and lilac mane.”
Marcus thumbed at Naomi. “Well, she doesn’t need any entertainment. Why didn’t we bring something to read?”
I looked up from rummaging in our packs. “Because we had no idea how long it would take to get here, so we packed only what we needed.”
“I know, but still.” He grumbled, stretched, and lay back. “I’ll catch some shut eye, then keep watch. Oh, and, Daph?” I paused in the middle of my search to regard him. “Good luck. I, ah... hope the meeting goes well,” Marcus said, pointedly looking at the branches over my head.
I was left momentarily at a loss how to respond, rubbing one leg against the other. “Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Bring me back a souvenir,” Naomi called as I stepped out of the grove, walking towards town.
It felt weird to be doing that while stark naked, my clothes discarded in favor of the rising warmth, but I reasoned that Leit Motif’s chronic lack of clothing and Naomi not noting any on the mare she had seen meant that it was reasonably likely for that not to be a problem. If it wasn’t, well, getting booked for public nudity was a bad way to start a trip, but I could think of worse. At the very least, my mane had been smoothed out by Naomi’s patient hand, and my tail fell neatly behind me.
She really did like brushing me far too much.
The road beneath my hooves was easy to walk on, and even an easy trot was eating ground up. The anticipation of meeting others of my new kind was becoming overpowering. I’d only met one pony in my life and that one a child as strange as myself, so there could have been any number of cultural barriers or deadly faux pas that were waiting for me to run headfirst into them.
Starting to regulate my breathing, I prepared for the inevitable introduction. I would approach a pony, introduce myself, and, calmly—
“Hello!” a voice called, cheerfully.
“Agh!” I screamed, springing up and spinning to face the owner of the voice. A unicorn, who stepped back a pace and stared at me, her golden eyes wide.
“Uh,” she waved a mint-green leg in front of my face, “are you okay? Because, if you’re not, I should warn you that I am extremely not qualified to perform any medical aid.”
I exhaled, slowly, putting a hoof to my chest. This was the first real, live pony I’d seen in eight years, so I looked her up and down as surreptitiously as I could. Her pale, almost white mane was cut short, like mine, though it ran a little long in the back. Also like mine, her tail hung long and had a bold arc that fell nearly to the earth, though with a little wave near the bottom mine did not have. She wore no clothing aside from a pair of saddlebags in white-and-gold lyre buckles.
“I… ah…” I murmured. “I’m sorry. Uh, hi.”
“Hi.” She sounded rather more uncertain now—though for someone who was probably half-convinced that I was crazy, she still wore a bemused grin. “Look, if you need a doctor I can—whoa, where’d your cutie mark go?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Hu-what?” I asked, and turned my head to follow her gaze. Her eyes were on my haunches, and I looked back at the same spot on her. A golden lyre was picked out against her coat, as if the hairs there had all been carefully and individually dyed.
“Cutie mark.” She repeated the phrase as if it explained everything. My blank expression must have told her I was still having trouble, so she said again, more slowly, “Cu-tie mar-kuh—or, mark, whatever. You know. The thing on your butt that isn’t your tail. Talent indicator. Tail accessorizer. Impending puberty warning sticker. Integrated conversation starter.”
Apparently my first cultural barrier had something to do with a butt stamp. Grand.
“Oh, of course,” I said, my brain on autopilot. “It was a prank, my friends picked up a spell and this was their idea of a ‘good luck on your trip’ gift. Haven’t figured out how to undo it yet.”
“Huh! That sounds kind of hilarious, actually. I should try that one sometime. I’m Lyra, by the way, nice to meet you! Where are you visiting from?”
Crap.
I searched my memory, trying to recall any place other than Ponyville. Concentrating on part of the area off the road, I conjured up another recollection. I blinked, and there they were, as if they really stood there.
Little Daphne walked with her arms out for balance, dirty bare feet on a log. “—so that’s my dream house,” she said, looking towards Leit Motif, the filly laying with her hooves crossed.
“One question: what’s a spaceship?” Leit asked, lifting her ears in puzzlement.
“It’s a ship.” Little Daphne swooped her hand upwards. “That goes into space.”
Leit tilted her head, trying to parse that one for a minute before giving up. “Well, I would want to live in Canterlot. I’d live in my own castle right next to the Princess! It would have dragon guards, its own zoo—”
The image unraveled as I jerked my head back to Lyra, answering, “Canterlot.”
“Oh, neat! I’m from Canterlot, too! Well, I got my degree there! Or, well, I attended Celestia’s magic school there. Applied.” She paused. “And crashed in the dorm. But, you know, Princess Celestia graduated me anyway. Where in Canterlot are you from?”
Double crap.
“Oh, I’m from near the school,” I said, rather than trying to rely on memory again. Somehow, I didn’t think a little filly’s fantasy dream house would be all that informative.
“Whoa. And you’re traveling like… this?” She motioned to my saddlebags. From the sounds of it, her estimation of me had either gone up a hair or dropped considerably.
“Yeah,” I said carelessly. “My folks get really overprotective. Always want me to travel around with bags full of junk and not embarrass them.”
Lyra sympathized. “Sounds like my roommate.” I quietly exulted at being so on target as Lyra perked up suddenly. “Hey, maybe I could give a crack at that spell on your butt. I’m not the greatest at that sort of magic, but I did graduate and all.”
I arched a brow. “The circumstances surrounding that graduation sounded a little fishy.”
“Nonsense! I received my diploma from Celestia’s own hoof—she recognized me purely on my academic antics. Merits. Academic merits.”
“Well, okay!” I managed to keep my smile from turning sickly by sheer force of will. In being as helpful as possible, this mare kept finding ways to make my life more difficult. While I was curious to see unicorn magic in operation after Leit Motif’s stories, I also didn’t know what it might reveal—or if Lyra might turn me into a toad by accident.
To be entirely fair, I had no idea whether the truth of the matter would hurt or not—that I had no “cutie mark,” whatever that was, or that I wasn’t even a pony. It was a gamble, but more information was generally better than less. Besides, if I had gone haring off into a city back on Earth, it would have been suicidally optimistic to expect such a warm welcome.
Lyra focused her attention, and, to my amazement, her horn lit up. It was nothing at all like the magnesium flare of the wand I had seen in the woods, but a gentle, golden glow that encased the entire length of her spiraled alicorn. A similar aura touched my haunches, and I jumped a little at a tickling sensation that ran up my spine.
There was a hiss and a gentle pop, but all my coat did was bleach slightly for a moment before darkening again.
“Well, so much for that idea. I was hoping they’d just recolored your coat, which is exactly what I would have done and have done in the past.” Lyra pouted, but then she brightened. “You know who can help you, though? I’ll bet anything Twilight Sparkle over in the library would know how. I don’t think there’s a single spell she hasn’t been intimate with in the past.”
I opened my mouth, but she waved a hoof, interrupting me. “Yeah, I know, she’s a Princess now and all, but she’s not going to turn anypony aside or stand on ceremony or whatever. If she’ll see me for random ‘hellos,’ she’ll see you for a spell, no problem.”
“Thanks!” I said quickly, starting to turn back to the road. “I’ll go do that right away, Lyra. You’ve been a big help!” I started to trot, hoping to get away before she could ask any more inconvenient questions.
“No problem!” She waved. “Oh, hey, I didn’t catch your name. Admittedly, you didn’t throw it, so I don’t think that’s really my fault, but I’d still like to hear it.”
All right, so that wasn’t a question, but it certainly was inconvenient.
It could have been answered with a made-up pony name, of course. Chances are, Lyra wouldn’t have batted an eye at whatever mish-mash of terms I could have thrown at her—though I was displaying a disturbing talent of coming up with things she knew more about than I did. However, I already felt pretty bad for lying to her after she had been so nice to me.
Besides, my name is actually a thing.
“Daphne,” I told her, giving her a friendly smile.
Okay, so “daphnes” are a kind of shrub, which is hardly the most glamorous of things, but whatever.
“Nice meeting you, Daphne! Good luck!” She waved her hoof even more enthusiastically. It seemed not everything had to go wrong for me.
With a new spring in my hooves, I headed towards town, though not before adjusting my borrowed saddlebags so they covered my rump. No sense inviting more scrutiny than I would doubtless already accrue. Determination and a sense of adventure set in, each carrying my steps to Ponyville.
* * *
It might be said that the most remarkable thing about Ponyville was how unremarkable it was. It was a perfectly normal town. Oh, certainly, its streets meandered along in the way one would expect an Old World village or ancient city-heart in Europe to, allergic to straight lines and relentlessly quaint, but that’s what someone would expect from a country town in a place like this. It sprawled pretty far, but ponies were obviously used to walking long distances. They used the empty spaces creatively, filling them with gardens and trees. Indeed, the town had such a rural feel to it that I wondered if parts of it weren’t more meadow than town. The occasional windmill or colorful tent was balanced by cheerful houses of thatched roofs and solid, sensible plaster.
I paused on a small footbridge, taking the sight in. The river under me ran right through the town, and I watched a boat pass underneath with a couple snuggled in the bow. Their little canoe passed by a pier, where a bulky pony in a shirt and straw hat fished with a line in the water.
Really, if it weren’t for the cornucopia of colorful horses running the place, I might have thought that I had taken a sudden trip to a particularly rustic section of Germany.
If anything, the greatest shock was when I saw a trio of mares talking on the side of the road with a stallion. He was clearly distinguished from the female of the species by his slightly greater height and blockier appearance rather than his charcoal coat and white mohawk of a mane. Even this small sample of the population was more vibrantly colored than I had imagined, even after seeing Lyra, who was day to Leit Motif’s night hues. The riot of colors was astounding.
When the stallion suddenly spread a pair of dark-feathered wings from his side, however, I stopped and stared. He gave them a beat and launched effortlessly into the air as easily as a pony might run across the road, and my jaw fell to the road. I had to pick it up with my hoof and reinsert it—twice—before I could get it to stop falling open. Within moments he was a dark speck, and he wasn’t alone in the sky, either. Other winged ponies swooped and dived under the clouds as though they were born to the air. Perhaps they were, for that matter.
Leit Motif had mentioned pegasi, of course. I had remembered that as early as yesterday afternoon. Knowing on some level that they existed was one thing. Seeing one soar through the air as easily as he pleased was another entirely.
Some of those girls he had been carousing with had neither wings nor horns, but the matter of pony breeds would be a question for another time.
There were enough identity issues on my plate already.
My hooves met dirt, packed smooth and hard by generations of ponies before me, and landed with satisfying clops. Hooves, both shod and unshod, clattered all around me. My ears were filled with the music of Equestria at work as I meandered through town—sometimes literally. At one cross avenue, a pair of ponies sang to one another as they painted a house, a mare’s rich contralto danced around by a stallion’s high tenor.
Unless there were a lot of pony songs about house painting, it was likely they were improvising the lyrics on the spot, too. Perhaps they were just talented. Regardless, I was glad of the decision not to bring Marcus and Naomi along. It wasn’t so much that I was worried about how the ponies would react to them, though I still wanted to put feelers out and meet Leit without them being around.
No, after seeing this with my own eyes, I didn’t think Naomi could have handled the raw cuteness that seeped from every corner without blowing her top.
Eventually, though, it became clear that I wasn’t going to find Leit Motif wandering around at random. Even if I did go to every part of town, which could take me all day if not much, much longer, there must have been thousands of ponies here, each with his or her own distinct mix of colors and an identifying mark on their rears which seemed to indicate something of note. Only some of the few foals I saw seemed to lack one. The chances of running into one particular pony out of so many were astronomical.
Just as I was considering the problem, one of those innumerable ponies noticed me. “Hey there!”
The voice from heaven nearly made me jump out of my skin. Panting, I glanced up to find the dark stallion from earlier looking right down at me. His wings beat a steady rhythm as he hovered effortlessly overhead, and I found myself staring yet again. A horse that must have weighed well over three hundred pounds was suspended directly overhead on wings that had a span of eight feet, if that. They were impressive on their own, certainly, but hardly enough to lift a creature that size.
Apparently he’d taken my gawking for interest, and soon alighted on the earth next to me. He stood himself to his full height, and I got to confirm first hand my observations. He had nearly half a foot of height on me, and his body was noticeably bulkier in most respects. Everything about him, from his shoulders, to his head, to his legs, was heavier, and that seemed to hold true with the other ponies passing in the street. Evidently, Equestrian mares and stallions had more sexual dimorphism going for them than the horses back home.
The stallion grinned as the silence dragged on. “You get the sun in your eyes or was that just me?”
Oh, great. I’d somehow run into Marcus’ missing twin. To be fair, I had been sizing the stallion up like a piece of meat.
“I’m sorry.” I half-lifted a hoof towards him apologetically. “I’m new in town, I, uh…” Well, I certainly had no intention of explaining to him that I had never seen an Equestrian stallion in my life before. “Hi.” Well, it worked for Lyra.
“Hey. So, new-in-town,” he tapped his chest, “pleasure to meet you. I’m Thunderlane. I’m kind of the top weatherpony around here. See that beautiful sky? Yours truly.”
“Daphne.” I glanced upwards, frowning. It seemed like a normal, everyday sky to me—a nice blue with a few puffy white clouds here and there. My mind flashed back to the seemingly solid line of storm clouds outside the Everfree, wondering at the term “weatherpony” and what it entailed. It could have been some metaphorical way to say he was a forecaster, but that didn’t seem to fit.
Glancing back at Thunderlane, I could see that he had a lot more going for him in the way of muscles than most of the other ponies around. They stood out under his charcoal coat and bunched powerfully at the joints of his second set of shoulders. If he was a weather magician of some sort, he sure worked out a lot on top of that.
“It’s nice.”
“Nice?” He glanced up as well, frowning. “Well, I’ll admit it’s no Rainbow Dash job, but still.” He grinned back down at me. “I see you’re a tough one to impress, though. I might have to really pull the stops out tomorrow—can’t let you think we’re slackers here in Ponyville.”
I quirked a brow at him. “You don’t happen to own a black jacket, do you?”
“Uh?” He rubbed his chin. “Well, not right now, but with Winterfall this close I could see myself getting one. Yeah, that could be pretty cool.” He ruffled his feathers, lifting his chin.
It was only at that point that I realized he had been flirting with me the entire time. My eyes opened wider, and I took in his stance—leaning a little forward, his eyes intent on mine, face open and inviting. He was definitely making moves on the new girl in town. The notion that the local stallions may be interested in me had never once occurred before that point, and it was difficult to put a hoof down on how I felt about it. Perhaps if I spent enough time as a mare I might come to appreciate my new species, but that was a thought which was alarming on many levels.
Before I could really process an appropriate way to shoot him down, though, another figure swooped in. Like Thunderlane, she was a pegasus, but her coat was a dull lavender, and her mane was an upward shock of platinum white that flowed wildly down the back of her neck. “Thunderlane! What’re you doing slacking off down here?” she demanded as she thrust herself up at him. She had that same lithe, muscled grace about her that seemed to indicate powerful athleticism.
“Cloudchaser!” Thunderlane backed away a step as his face reddened. He lifted a hoof defensively. “Now, now, I can explain! I was just welcoming, uhm… Daphne here to Ponyville!”
“You can flirt with cute blondes on your own time.” She poked his chest, glaring him down. It wasn’t hard for her—she was nearly his own height, if much more slender, and there was an air of ferocity about her. “We’ve got to pick up Rainbow Dash’s slack.”
Thunderlane grumbled. “I don’t see why. It’s not my fault she’s flown the coop.”
“And it will be your fault if we aren’t ready in time for Winterfall!” She flared her periwinkle wings at him. “Now, get your butt back into the air.”
Thunderlane continued to grumble as he leapt upwards, letting his wings carry him back into the sky. Cloudchaser turned toward me. “Sorry about that. He’s a good guy, if a little cocky.”
“It’s okay. I know someone a lot like him.” I rolled my eyes back towards the forest. I couldn’t help adding, “I love your mane, by the way.”
Cloudchaser grinned and tidied herself. “Hey, what can I say? Somepony’s gotta be cool. Might as well be me.” She turned and twitched her tail, gathering her legs to jump. “Enjoy the town, Daphne.”
Her own rise made Thunderlane’s seem clumsy—the difference between a powerful boxer and a martial artist. She swept her wings below her and glided into the air, flying with a swimmer’s grace, all smooth lines.
Once I had finished admiring her flight, I kicked myself. “Damn it, Daphne. You forgot to ask them if they knew Leit Motif.”
I would just have to keep looking.
* * *
Continuing down the street, my eyes wandered from the ponies I passed to the houses and stores. They were becoming denser as I meandered towards what seemed to be the center of town. Storefronts and quaint little alleyways were becoming the norm. One place had a wide set of double doors marked with enormous hoofprints—glancing inside, I could see a thriving restaurant, where the wait staff moved between tables with trays balanced on their backs.
It was as if I had stumbled into some bizarre Animal Farm reality where ponies had risen up and conquered man. “Four legs good, two legs bad,” I muttered under my breath. Of course, the horse didn’t exactly have a happy ending in that story, so that probably wasn’t the direction I wanted to start thinking.
There was enough different about Ponyville that it seemed unlikely—the width of stairs, the shape of doorknobs, and more—but there was an alarming concurrence to the architecture and lifestyles of these people that I was hard-pressed to find an explanation. After all, even on Earth, there were hundreds of cultures with wildly different styles of dress and building. Why should Equestria resemble a sort of European-pastiche?
I frowned, pausing by a fruit stand. Our worlds were synced up in some fashion. It was clear from those ancient scribbles we’d found on those thugs that humans and ponies did have some shared history. The possibility existed that western civilization had borrowed from the ponies rather than the other way around, or that there had been some sort of exchange.
“Excuse me, miss?”
I glanced up from my musings to see a couple looking at me. It may have been my reading too much into things, but it seemed to me that this pair were older than me by a fair margin—ten to twenty years, at least. There was a certain maturity to their features I had not seen on the other ponies I’d met.
The mare, a green pony with neither horn nor wings, smiled slightly. “Are you quite all right?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” I offered her a smile in turn, glancing between her and the stallion. I did a double-take, staring at the prominent mustache and beard he wore on his solid, blocky face.
“Sure you’re all right, miss?” he asked in an accent with more than a little twang. I was forced to amend my earlier thought—Equestria was not only synced with Europe, but with the American Southwest, as well. “You look a sight, you do.”
I craned my neck around. It was still weird doing that—so much of my height was neck it was a little alarming at times. There wasn’t really any need to examine myself. I was still exactly as trailworn as I had been upon meeting Lyra—no new bruises or cuts anywhere. “I just had a bad run is all. Got scratched up in the woods.”
The stallion stared at me. “Celestia’s teeth! You weren’t in the Everfree, were you?”
“Look at her ankles.” The mare pointed a hoof at my legs. “She looks like she’s run for days! I think you sprained that rear one, too, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but it was really minor—”
“Nonsense.” The stallion shook his head. They closed in on either side of me. “Come on, little miss. We oughta get you to the hospital right away. You don’t want that gettin’ worse on you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “There’s a hospital here?”
“Sure enough,” the stallion said. “Ponyville General, serves the whole region, it does. You must be new in town, right enough.” The mare moved to support my sprained leg while the stallion half-hauled me.
“Gah!” I squirmed out of their grasp, turning to look at them with some surprise. “Grabby, much?”
“Aw, shucks, miss.” The stallion stepped forward. “We don’t mean nothin’ by it. I can’t very well stand the sight of an injured pony.”
“You absolutely must get proper care!” the mare agreed. Her eyes watched me uncertainly, as if I might fall over at any minute.
“I’m okay! Seriously! I had a field dressing and, uh, I’m going to see someone who knows medicine.” Thinking quickly, I added, “I don’t suppose you know her, actually? Leit Motif? She’s a mare my age, with a black mane and navy blue coat.”
“No… can’t say that I do.” The mare frowned at her companion.
The stallion rubbed at his chin. “What’s her cutie mark like?”
“Uh…”
“Well, it’s all right. I’m sure you can find her. You just scooch on over to Sugar Cube Corner, miss. They’ll set you straight, there.”
“Sugar Cube Corner! Yes, of course.” I gave them both a strained smile, nodding. “Uh… where can I find that?”
“Just take the tunnel here and head for the market.” He gestured to his left, where a stairway descended through a tunnel under one of the larger buildings.
I nodded again, bidding the pair a “goodbye” before trotting through, my hooves echoing around me. These ponies were proving almost aggressively helpful—even a police officer back home wouldn’t have batted an eye at someone with such minor battering. Actually, in all likelihood, they would have watched me more closely under suspicion of being a vagrant.
The tunnel exited into a wide, cobbled area, and I meandered among the shops and stalls. That I should have asked what “Sugar Cube Corner” was became increasingly evident. The fact that I couldn’t read the signs left me with little recourse but to ask someone for directions, something I was feeling decidedly self-conscious about. It was getting to be a little oppressive in a way I had not anticipated—the ponies were nothing if not friendly, but my headlong rush for Leit Motif had stalled and left me rudderless.
Ponies wandered from stall to stall as the ponies inside them barked their wares, all in the growing shadow of a massive, circular building with a balcony on its second story. Turning to the stands, I considered a few of the options before stepping up to one that seemed particularly likely, joining its queue. Each of the ponies ahead of me dumped small, silvery coins onto the counter and came away with bulging bags. I stepped aside for an older stallion behind me and then took my turn at the front, hoping the proprietor wouldn’t be too annoyed with a request for information without purchase.
“Shucks, sugarcube, you sure look as you could use a pick-me-up,” the mare on the other side said, resting her forehooves against the stall’s countertop and offering me a giant grin on her freckled orange face.
“Is it that bad?” I asked, pretending to be browsing the selection. I let another pony go ahead of me in line to make up for it. The variety of the dishes arrayed at the apple cart were mildly astounding, featuring not only raw apples, but racks of various apple-based pastries that were doing a number on my nose. My sweet tooth moaned and cursed my lack of local currency. It seemed a safe bet that this cart came from the orchard I had seen in my first glimpses of Ponyville.
“If’n you call lookin’ like you just went through Apple Buckin’ season without a wink ‘bad,’ well, I’d be inclined to call it that,” she agreed, tapping her hat higher over her blond bangs. “Custom’s appreciated,” she asided to a pair of middle-aged mares who made away with a stack of apple tarts.
“So what can I do ya for?” she directed at me. “You look like a pony in need of somethin’ special. Wait, lemme guess—fresh, hot apple cinnamon pie?”
My stomach growled, and I had to wipe my mouth with a foreleg to keep the drool from showing. “Ah-ah... while that sounds utterly fantastic, I was actually hoping if you could help me figure out how to find someone. Somepony, I mean. A friend of mine. I’m in town visiting.”
“I thought you might’ve been new to town. You got that travelin’ look about you,” she said, and seemed genuinely excited to hear it, for all that I also admitted I wasn’t a customer. The fact that I was letting other ponies through probably helped, but it was still oddly welcoming. “Wouldn’t be no skin off my back to point you in the right direction. Who’re you after then, sugarcube?”
“A unicorn, Leit Motif. Dark coat and mane, sort of a dark blue and black respectively,” I answered.
“Can’t say as I’ve met her, though I’m sure I remember a unicorn of that description,” the mare said apologetically. Even as I started to deflate, however, she boldly tapped me on the chin with a hoof and grinned again. “But there’s a pony in town who abso-posi-lutely has. You just scoot yourself on over to the building yonder that looks like a frosted cake and ask for Pinkie Pie. She knows everypony in town. ‘Course, you stick around long enough, she’s liable to find you anyway and throw you a party, so it’s probably best you just go to her and get it over with nice and quick.”
Turning my head, I saw what she meant immediately. At the far end of the market stood a confection disguising itself as a building—or perhaps the other way around, it was hard to be sure. I would have to see if anypony was nibbling on it. Turning back to thank the helpful mare, I found myself confronted with a steaming slice of pie. Gooey, baked apple oozed languidly out of a crisp crust onto a paper plate, and the smell of it nearly made me melt on the spot.
“Now don’t you go thinkin’ this is gonna be the norm. Pony like you looks like you deserve a break, and you can call it your official Applejack welcome-to-town-on-the-house slice. Further slices are, of course, available at a reasonable-like price,” she said, beaming.
I stammered, unable to express my gratitude as she set it down. It was hard to resist simply devouring the slice on the spot—so I simply abandoned restraint and snarfed it right off the plate.
Wretched mare. She was a cocaine pusher. Now that I had been hooked on a free sample she could charge me whatever she damned well pleased, and I would come running for my fix.
“Whoo-ie!” she whooped and laughed, and several other ponies around me joined in as well.
I flushed, embarrassed, and then burped. “Pardon.”
“And ye’re welcome,” she answered with a nod. “Healthy appetite, all right. You skedaddle on, now. Find your friend.”
“I will, thank you,” I said, and practically pranced across the cobbles of the market. Ponyville wasn’t perfect—that probably would have required cell phone towers, a space elevator, or an armed regiment ready to help me take Amelia back—but it was definitely turning out to be a pleasant stop.
As I approached the giant cake-house, though, I had to abruptly skid to a stop, my hooves splayed. A mare had stopped dead in the middle of the street ahead of me, and I had very nearly ploughed full on into her, distracted as I was.
“Oh my gosh, hi!” she turned and greeted me, as though she couldn’t be happier by our meeting. We could have been old friends reunited for the first time in years, as far as she was concerned.
“H-hi,” I said, unable to match that level of enthusiasm even if I tried. It was enough of a shift from my meeting with Lyra and the stall owner—Applejack?—that it left me grinding a bit on the gears. Absorbing her presence was almost as difficult as Lyra’s had been, and that had been my first time meeting another Equestrian in eight years. “Explosively pink” was probably the operating phrase. “Are you… Pinkie Pie?” I managed to ask after a moment.
“Sure am!” She threw her forelegs wide. “And you’re new in town! I know, because I know everypony in town, so if there’s somepony in town I haven’t met before then that means it’s somepony new, otherwise I already would know them because anypony else in town is somepony I already know, seeing as how I know everypony.”
“Pony.” My eyes were crossing in the attempt to follow the line of conversation. When I shook my head, I could swear I heard something rattling in my skull.
“Exactly! So since we’ve established that I’ve never seen you before and that you’re new in town, that means you’ve just made a brand new friend.”
“I have?” I asked, startled. “Who?”
“Me, silly!” She giggled. “So what kind of party would you like? I’m totally getting into theme parties after my hit alicorn party last summer, you know, so I figured that’d be a sweet way to spice up my game! And everypony just loves my sweet and spicy lemon twists, so I always end up bringing those, too.”
“Uh,” I stammered, “Ha-Halloween’s coming up, right? How’s that for a theme?”
“Hollow Spleen, huh?” She looked puzzled, but quickly brightened. “I don’t have any idea what that is, but I bet I can work with it! What do you do with a hollow spleen, and when does it come up?”
Smacking my face with a hoof, I cursed myself for letting her knock me so off-balance. To be entirely fair, though, she was liable to tilt the planet’s axis if she tried hard enough. “I mean—costumes, candy. It’s a tradition where I’m from, and—”
“Oh, Nightmare Night! You must come from a really cool place for it to be called Hollow Spleen—or really gross. Or really cool and gross. Kind of like a glazed cake you find forgotten in the back of the fridge and it’s turned into a solid block of rock made of sugar.”
It was hard not to be caught up in Pinkie’s enthusiasm, and I found myself smiling almost against my will. “How about a Nightmare Night party, then?” I suggested, and she beamed right back at me.
“Done and done! So what’s your name, newpony?” she asked, inspecting me with casual indifference to personal space.
“I’m Daphne.” I kept my saddlebags planted firmly on my flanks in case she decided to peek. “I was actually hoping you could point me to someone I knew in town.”
“Oh! You know someone in town? That’s so neat. I bet you two must be great friends for you to walk all that way and end up with all those scrapes and bruises.” Well, no wonder Applejack had singled me out as particularly trail-beat.
“Y-yeah. We are. I haven’t seen her in a long time and, I…” I trailed off, realizing the other pony had started to draw me out. There was such a shine of innocence and such unconditional love and joy about her that I had felt comforted the moment I saw her. This was a pain that was very private, though, and this sweet mare would have to wait before I spilled any part of that on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. Her name is Leit Motif, and I’ve been looking for her for most of my life.”
To her enormous credit, Pinkie Pie didn’t press for more details. “Oh, that’s easy. She’s just ten houses down that way on the left.” She pointed down one of the cozy side streets leading off the market. “You should probably go see her. I’ll bet you two have loads of catching up to do if it’s been that long.”
“Thank you,” I murmured in her general direction, already distracted. I paused to shake her hoof in gratitude, before turning and marching the way she’d indicated.
If anything, my steps were growing more tepid as my trepidation built. Eight years of separation, months of therapy, and years of burying myself in a safe, constructed world of conformity lay between us, all contained within a mere hundred or so yards of space. Each step failed to move me past any of that. In fact, it pushed it together more tightly, compressing that time and those feelings into a tight block of fear, pain, and regret. The block did not merely settle in my stomach. It took up shop and started to export itself to all parts of my body.
My legs felt numb, awkward and unfeeling, as they left the ground and returned to packed earth. My mouth dried, leaving me unable to ask anypony I saw for further direction. My ears flattened, dimming all sound. My eyes stung, and I had to rely on increasingly narrow tunnel vision as I studiously counted houses. If anypony stopped to ask if I needed help, I neither saw nor heard them, and, at that particular point in time, I certainly didn’t care.
I must have walked in front of her house and her door six times before I was satisfied that I was at the right one. Counting nine houses and then ten, I then counted eleven to make sure that Pinkie had been inclusive with her count and not exclusive. It took three tries to confirm that building number eleven on the left was a store with a quill and a sofa on the sign.
Several minutes were needed to prevent myself from hyperventilating. Breathing in and out, I studied the thatch-roofed house, with a heart-shaped window cut into the front door and shrubs growing against the first floor walls. There was no way of knowing what I might find inside. Perhaps Leit Motif still lived with her parents—she was near the same age as me, after all, and ponies didn’t age any faster or slower, as far as I knew. Maybe they married earlier, though, and she had a husband and little foals running around.
When I faced the door again and put into mind all of the memories I had of our time together, though, I felt something sharp and hot melt away the ice that had been flowing through my veins. It filled my limbs with strength again and lent me new sight. The susurrations of doubt burned up in the fire of my resolve.
I could have spent all day worrying and moaning and practicing greetings, but I wasn’t going to let one more second get between me and Leit Motif if I could help it.
I reached out with one hoof and knocked on her door.
Leit Motif
It was late.
Once again, I had slept in. An imprint of my pen remained against the side of my face, along with a fair portion of the words that had been inked. I lifted scroll and pen groggily to examine both critically.
One good vellum scroll, written upon which was a claim summarizing the damage done to Town Hall by a rampaging cave eel. It was mostly salvageable. Spilled ink blotted out most of the page and made the words worthless, but the material could be washed and saved.
One rare, griffon-constructed fountain pen, engraved with the maker’s signature. Treacherous, but unharmed.
Finally, one mahogany writing desk, expertly crafted by local artisans. The finish would need to be stripped and reapplied, though the stop at the bottom had both prevented the ink from dripping onto the floor whilst simultaneously digging painfully into my neck. While massaging the soreness with a hoof, I discovered the final damage—myself. My hoof came back damp, and I sighed as my already inky-black mane drooped sadly, heavy and wet.
I went to all fours and lifted my horn. Magic shut the windows that had been left open overnight and stilled the wind that had been blowing the curtains. A cloth unfolded itself and mopped up the spill, then wrapped around my mane to keep it from dripping further. The pen’s decorative holder was straightened. My forehoof tapped out a slow, steady beat on the hardwood as last night’s open scrolls were carefully refurled and slotted.
The last thing my magic brought to me was a little, leather-bound journal, which I opened to a fresh page, noted the date with a flourish, and wrote, Woke at around 1:20 in the afternoon, yet again failing to set alarm. Have to start last part of previous night’s work again, but after I clean up the mess and bathe. Miss Rainbow Dash’s latest foray into the field of being an act of nature will just have to wait. It’s not as though she’s around to answer for any of the damages this time, anyway.
Sadly, though, there was no writing somepony else up for my own mistakes. A mare just had to own up and do what had to be done. I dotted the last sentence particularly hard and set the diary aside before starting downstairs. Shelves lined with glass glowed in the subdued light that filtered in through the curtains. Resin, button, and painted eyes watched me as I worked my way down. I smiled and reached out a hoof to buff the head of the porcelain tiger guarding my tea set before opening the door to my bathroom.
A thought occurred as I scrubbed my face and mane out under the sink, and I stared at the big tub in the corner. To be able to soak all day instead of working would be very fine indeed. Just let the cramps and tension flow out into hot, sudsy water.
It couldn’t hurt, really—not if it was just for a bit. My work wasn’t going anywhere, and no pony had yet come running for an adjustment so far. Would one day out of the week really kill productivity that much? My hoof tapped at the sink.
In the end, the decision had not been all that difficult.
As the tub swelled with bubbles and steaming water, my anticipation grew. A tiny little spark of excitement dared to light. It was perhaps a little strange to feel a daring thrill at the thought of a day off, but I took what I could get. Not that it was ever that easy. There would be a fire tomorrow, or Rainbow Dash would finally return with her entire extended family in tow and destroy the town. The office in Canterlot would find me dead, drowned in my own paperwork.
The weathermare was probably outside the window right now, waiting for me to lower my guard, so she could demolish all of Ponyville in some fantastic stunt. Just watching. All I had to do was put my little hooves into the tub, and I could kiss the town goodbye.
Then again, if Ponyville found itself carried off into the sky, it seemed doubtful anypony would be around to file a report for it. No more claims for disasters, be they natural, unnatural, or caused by mangy, colorful pegasi—the most unnatural of all.
One, two, three, and finally four hooves slid into the water, and I began to melt.
Just as a knock came at the front door.
“Dang it, dang it, dang it,” I muttered, banging my head against the side of the tub a few times. For a moment, I considered the merits of simply ignoring the door and hoping whoever it was would just go away. Let them pound at my door. This was also the only chance I would have for weeks to relax.
Perhaps it was good news, though. Perhaps somepony had found a baby dragon and needed me to take care of it for a little while until they could find a good adoptive parent. It would be nice to have someone sweet to dote on for a bit. I could scrub his little scales and tuck him in at night—until he got greedy, stole my figurines, ate my gems, and tore down my house in a horrific rampage that ended in the town being burned to the ground.
The knock came again, and I shouted, “Coming!” The hot soak, like the daydream about the dragon, had soured, no longer offering the comfort I had sought. Untempered joy had led to heartache, just as it always has.
Wrapped in a fluffy, blue robe, my mane dripping along my side and my tail dragging on the floor, I crossed the front room. Ideally, the interloper would see the state I was in and realize they’d inconvenienced me—a speckle of guilt never hurt anypony.
My hoof lay on the handle, and I eased the crankiness out of my features. The handle creaked, and I pulled the door in.
Standing on my front steps was a unicorn mare of my own age who looked rather the worse for wear. With untrimmed hooves and hair, red bruises under her tan coat, and the occasional freshly-healed cut, she looked as though she’d picked a fight with a bear and then spent a couple weeks recuperating in its cave. I actually felt a little petty, seeing how much she had evidently gone through to get here and finding me presented as I was.
The girl’s green eyes widened, and she examined me as intently as I examined her. She ducked her head and rubbed her golden blond mane awkwardly, but when she brought herself up again her eyes had lit up. I was force to take back my assessment of her, seeing her in this new light. Joy turned her from weary and bedraggled to something beautiful, accented by the mess.
It was all so strangely familiar.
“H-hi,” she said, swallowing slightly. The mare swayed a moment, seeming to be trying to gather herself up. “Hi, Leit Motif,” she started again, and my brows knit slightly. There was something important I was missing here.
Something…
“It… It’s me… Daphne.”
I slammed the door in her face.
* * *
That should have been the end of it. Naturally, given the course of my life, it was not.
It was proving increasingly difficult to block out her insistent pounding at my door. The mare—that vile, evil mare—was stronger than she looked, and her hooves rattled the door in its frame. As I lay across my sofa, staring at that door with stinging, bloodshot eyes, my forehoof tapped a sharp, staccato rhythm against the sofa’s arm.
“...makes no sense,” I muttered. “Was it Arregio? Cousin Bass? They always did think they were funny.”
“H-hello? Leit Motif? It’s me, Daphne. I need to talk to you!” she called through the door. Her horn became visible in one of the windows, and I slammed the curtains shut with a flash of magic.
“...told them not to come around. They aren’t welcome anymore,” I continued under my breath. Her hooves tapped against the window. I winced, and my hoof beat faster against the sofa, trying to figure out which member of my family had decided to play such a cruel and insidious prank. Charitably, they may have just been upset at my not returning their letters. I just needed to remain calm and not let them get a rise out of me.
My hoof tapped faster.
“Leit, please, tell me what’s wrong!” her voice begged from outside. The mare’s face stuck into another window, and I slammed that one shut, as well.
Then again, informing my parents in no uncertain terms never to darken my doorstep ever again may have triggered some resentment.
They might have simply told somepony else. Somepony simple and innocent, who would have no idea how much pain she was causing me with her prank. “Lyra!” I shouted. My voice cracked, painfully, but it got the message out. “If you’re out there and you put her up to this, you had better come clean and apologize, or, so help me, I’ll tell everypony who knocked down the south tower at school! I swear!”
The pony on the other side of the door hissed, and something hard slammed into the door. It sounded rather like her head, actually. “I could have asked Lyra where to find you? Damn it!”
That was a little off-putting. Her... her... vituperation continued sulphurously for a few more moments, too. That was language that just wasn’t used by civilized ponies, especially in public. I did not want to listen to her, regardless of whether she was cursing or singing, so I blocked it out.
The invader’s damnable knocking didn’t stop there, however. Pity, it would have been convenient if she had split her head—well, horrifying, actually. That’s an awful thing to wish on anypony, even somepony so hurtful. There was no way I was going to try and confront her, not without somepony much bigger to help. Besides, the last thing I wanted was for somepony to see me upset at this—or worse, learn it had even happened. With her hammering and shouting, the latter was becoming nearly impossible, but acknowledging it would make it exquisitely worse.
Rising from the couch, my hooves beat out a frustrated pattern on the flooring as I paced it. No pony had a right to violate my house like this, no pony but me had a right to be in it at all if I didn’t want them to be. In a house I had built, filled with the things that I loved and that I had collected personally. How dare some wretched mare come and claim to be a part of my life, a life I had built for myself, free of anypony I didn’t want in it. Least of all some mare who was probably put up to it by an embittered relative.
Her prattling and knocking about outside continued, growing more tenacious, and I started to look for something—anything—that could distract me until she gave up. My attention was taken up examining the parts of my collection I had on display in the living room. Though tempted, I left the minotaur swords where they hung against the wall and studied the craftsponyship of the zebra masks.
It was a little world of fascinating things that had been carefully constructed and assembled to please and amaze, each piece either unique or emblematic. So what if few ponies ever saw it except those rare friends and interested collectors I let in, past the inconspicuously blank exterior walls of my house? That made it all the more special. It was my world, filled with my things, and no pony should be allowed to intrude upon that.
“Look, I just want a minute!” she called, beating at the walls and my skull at the same time.
My eye twitched. I longed for something to put my hooves on, to busy myself with. My eye fell to the sofa’s end table, where an exquisite little penguin and an artful purple glass pony—wearing a replica of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s gala dress—lay, and I gently picked them up and handled them a bit.
A thought wriggled in through the barrier erected in my mind, the notion of playing a cute little scene out with the pair of them. A crystal Princess Twilight and her battle against the villainous Emperor Penguin, fought out over the enchanted pomegranates of—
No, I told myself. That’s the sort of games foals would play. I am no longer a foal, and I haven’t been since…
Since she failed to see me that day. Since she broke her promise and left me on the river bank. Left me wanting until darkness fell, and I had to crawl back across the Everfree alone.
She broke my heart, like it was so much fine porcelain.
Whoever this witch was, alarming persistence appeared to be a key personality trait of hers. “Please, Leit,” she begged through one of the covered windows, her voice thick with emotion. “You have to believe it’s me. I’m really here. I-I’m supposed to be a human, and I came through the Everfree Forest looking for you!”
“Anypony could have told you that!” I snapped, and heard a clink as my hooves shook. I gasped and looked down with horror, checking over the figurines for damage. The penguin had a tiny little scratch on his beak from where I had tapped it against the glass fruit. Damn it, these aren’t toys, I reminded myself. It had taken this mare all of five minutes to prove my incaution disastrous.
Now I was swearing, too. Fantastic. Just one more crack. Gently, I put the figurines back on the tablecloth, resolving to get my poor little bird re-painted as soon as possible. It was almost too much. Somehow, that monstrous creature outside had violated my home—had violated me—without so much as stepping inside.
With the curtains shut and the afternoon sun banished, my living room was suddenly a very dark and foreboding place. It was no longer the safe haven it once was, penetrated by that… that thing’s shrieks.
Would that the tigers and dragons scattered about could come to life and defend my little home, but they were no more match for her than I. My home was supposed to be a safe place. It was supposed to be somewhere to take shelter from my life’s tribulations, be they natural or pony-made. My hoof tapped hard against the floor as I stared blankly at the cabinets and walls surrounding me.
She pounded again.
“Just go away!” I shouted aimlessly. “I don’t care who put you up to it, just… just go away, and leave me alone!” Another moment and I would be sobbing, so I ran for the stairwell, my hooves hammering along with my heart. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of hearing me break down.
“Wait, I can prove it! Don’t go!”
As I reached the stairs, a new sound reached me, one that cut through my panic like a knife. I stopped, and my ears swiveled towards the door.
Five bars. The mare on the other side was vocalizing; she was both terribly out of key and yet quite distinct.
Impossible, I thought, my heart catching in my throat. No pony knows that melody.
It could have been a magic spell, considering the effect it had upon me. My legs were paralyzed. My eyes opened as wide as they could. The only thing that moved was a forehoof, tapping a beat faster and faster on the step.
Five bars again. The same ones, unmistakably. It was as though a key had turned in a latch. A vault opened in my mind, stirring ancient dust.
Our melody.
On and on it went. She would hum the tune, stop, and then hum those bars again. It kept up for what felt like an eternity, but could only have been a few seconds at best.
It could have been a trick. Somepony had done the impossible and read my mind—except I had deliberately not thought about it for years. Some mad fool had leapt back through time—but to spy upon two little girls playing in a forest? It could have been a changeling, except there was simply no chance a changeling could have happened on such a thing, and would not one simply have taken her shape, instead of this bastardization?
There she went again, humming the same bars over and over again… Her voice squeaked painfully on the latest repetition. She was atrocious at singing.
Just like…
There were little sobbing noises interspersed with the bars now, rendering them incomprehensible, but she kept trying anyway. It sounded like a heart breaking into little pieces.
Shattering like porcelain.
Somehow, the door was in front of me. A trembling hoof worked the handle. Just a peek wouldn’t hurt.
She was sitting on my doorstep, her tears streaming openly down her face as she cried, eyes shut tightly, her head hung low. The sounds were no longer coherent through her wails. It was so raw that ponies all along the street were trying not to look, unable to even gaze upon such unfiltered suffering.
I could, though. I couldn’t not.
My upraised forehoof, which had been tremblingly pattering out a rhythm on the wood of my door, felt still and silent. The stilling of that rhythm broke what little protection my thoughts had left. It no longer worked. I could no longer keep myself from hearing the similarities in her voice, from recognizing the color of her hair, from comprehending the unblemished longing on her face. No matter how hard I tried not to look, there she was.
Daphne.
Daphne.
“Daphne,” I croaked.
She choked down her sobs. “Leit, I’m sorry.”
My hooves went forward. They felt at her face, neck, chest, and barrel, making sure that she was real, that she was there. My magic flared, but no changeling was revealed under that skin. Daphne—her, it was really her—submitted to my examination. She practically slumped into a puddle right there, her forelegs heaving under her own weight.
“We were going to meet each other’s families, remember?” she said, breathless. Her eyes pried themselves open, just a touch, and she looked at me. “We were going to be sisters together. I-I’ve come so far. Th-they made me leave, th-they... I-I’m so s-sorry for scaring you. I can’t… I don’t know what you’ve been through. Oh, Leit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Her own trembling hooves found me. It was like she didn’t even know how to grip with them, the hard surfaces of her feet shaking as they awkwardly slid around me. Her saddlebags slid to the ground, and I found that her haunches were unmarked, like a foal who had grown into a mare without ever discovering her talent.
Unbidden and unstoppable, memories tore their way into the front of my mind. A little girl whose endless worlds of wonder had sucked me in day after day. A river bank where she spun tales and adventures with word and gesture. By some impossible happenstance she had been deposited here on my doorstep, beaten by things I knew not what, to come find me.
So many times before, Daphne had welcomed me into her worlds of imagination. It was only fair to take her into my world, to shelter her from the prying eyes outside. The door shut behind us with a flare of my horn, and, with a gentle click, the lock snapped shut.
* * * * * * *
Image by MoHawgo
This has been a long time coming. For us, it's been 10 months. For Daphne and Leit Motif, it has been 8 years.
Eight years of wondering, waiting, worrying. Eight years apart. Torn apart by fate, reunited by love. Neither of them thought they would ever see the other again, and yet here they are.
For me, this journey has always centered around these three people: Daphne, Leit Motif, and Amelia.
To a large degree, Amelia is an accident. As you'll come to see, she's the accidental fulcrum around which everything turns. The lever that moves the world.
It'll be up to Daphne and Leit Motif to turn it the right way.
As you can see, though, neither Daphne nor Leit Motif have escaped their childhoods without damage. They both need healing, and in order to heal they need one another... and perhaps a little something extra.
Next time, we'll see more of Leit Motif's perspective and come to understand the darkness that's settled in her heart. She'll think that this journey is all about helping her dearly beloved friend – her sister in soul – never realizing that it's about her, too, about finding out who she is, where she belongs, and what she can do to save herself and others.
For her, that journey began when a bedraggled mare knocked on her door. Where it ends, well... we'll see in time.
Also, hey, introducing our newest side character, Lyra! Hi Lyra!
Though it seems like Lyra is just passing through the story on her way to something else, you'll have to wait and see what that something else is. She's the first real pony Daphne meets, and she'll come back in a big way.
Until next time.
Remember to comment below! I read each and every comment you guys post. The more detailed, the better!
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Yay! it worked!
WHOA!! MIND BLOWN!!!
I love it! Keep it up! There's so much raw talent and emotion in this story that for a brief moment, when Leit opened her door to Daphne to be precise, I actually felt tears welling up in my eyes! BRAVO!!! 
3233674
This. This is what I long to see.
Hi Lyra!
Sorry to ignore you, but Leit Motif has my attention!
3203329
FOR YOU!!!
Great chapter, I can't wait to hear whats been going on in Leit Motif's life for the last 8 years
Also, working in Applejack and Pinkie Pie with the same level of importance as say, Thunderlane or Lyra in Daphne's eyes was a great success. Most authors wouldn't have been able to help putting more of an emphases on the mane six, or their personal favorites, despite the fact the Daphne doesn't know them, or of them yet.
I liked the way you described Ponyville. For some reason it made it feel like I was in a real town walking the streets with her, and not just hearing a description of a backdrop that the author just assumes we already known about. The town was one that Daphne had know about for a long time, but had never seen. Did it live up to her imagination I wonder?
The way you made Leit's house look like makes me instantly think of a teenagers bedroom with all of her anime collectables adorning the walls. Is she a bit of a geek? That would be awesome!
Almost the entire time I was reading this chapter, I was giggling maniacally into a pillow, my room mate finally asked me what was so GD funny. It was a little hard to explain that it was nerves and awesome that was getting to me, and not funnys. He just called me a fanboy and left, his loss. And when she started singing, and Leit opened the door to see her, really see her for the first time in 8 years.
The feels man, oh my poor heart, why do I do this to myself.
I'm glad to have been the first one to read this, other then morning_angles and proofreaders and the like. Best of luck to you, and I think I'll spend this week reading you're other works.
3233759
Leit Motif is a bit of a geek, aye, such as ponies understand it. She loves to collect, catalogue, and analyze everything that comes under her nose. Everything is neatly dissected... so that she doesn't have to expose herself to it emotionally.
(Pst, it's importance, impotence is something very unfortunate for stallions.
)
3233819 ...Whops, well... I hate auto autocorrect
3233833
Buwahahaha!
It was a very funny error~!
Now its one that no longer exists
I love this sites comment editor.
3233847
Now my comment looks hilariously out of context.
3233850 Such is life
I don't have the time or energy right now to give this comment as much focus as I want to, so I'll just say that you made me melt into a puddle for the second time today. Right now all I want to do is take Daphne's parents and rub this in their stupid jerk faces.
Now this is a lovely little spin on the tale. And a great end to this chapter. Shame it will be a bit for the next very interesting part on catching up, but worth the wait in every sense of the word.
3234439
Hopefully not too long! Just need to get through editing it.
3234182
I'm sure while they're frantic that their daughters have been missing for a week that will comfort them greatly!
3234680 haha! When it is done, it is done. And music is a language all its own, untouched by time. And a gift shared for those whom have the ear attuned, no matter how rusty it might be.
After the dark nature of the last few chapters nice to see a light, fun one to break that mood. Nice to see the canon characters arrive for real. The real Ponyville and real Mane 6 are so accurate and in character its a good counter that set of weird ones. Nice to see Rarity's Dad sneak in a cameo.
Cool to see Thunderlane get to steal the scene for the moment, he'd probably do best not to true and follow through with that flirtation given the whole "not actually his species" thing. Leave that kind of stuff to Flash Sentry.
I was wondering when Lyra would show up given she's been tagged the whole time. Nice to finally see her in action.
Okay so Leit is alive, well, and not the big bad. Cool. Glad we got to see her, interesting twist that it switched to her perspective. Didn't see that coming.
3234711
Good catch! Not that I made him hard to find.
"Flash Sentry's head jerks up. He hears the cry of a human maiden fair. 'To arms!'"
And she's here to stay!
So is she!
I'm very curious to see how did it all look from Leit Motif's perspective. I'm also curious to know Daphne's side of the story in more detail. I reread the appropriate fragment from chapter one but the details are never spelt out, especially how exactly Daphne's parents restrained her from going out to meet Leit and just how violent all of it was. Wonder if that'll make me see them as villains, should it ever be explained. Right now it feels like the entire situation wasn't really anyone's fault and that makes it seem all the more tragic.
3235239
Next chapter will make things a lot clearer from that perspective.
Lines like this still get me to grin, every single time.
I wouldn't be surprised if ponies actually did have a lot of songs about that and everything else, but I've always been a great fan of the idea that improvising musical numbers is just a thing they do.
That is such a wonderful little detail about Pinkie, which, combined with Daphne's reaction to it, hit me like a brick.
Which was better than the ton of bricks the next scene dealt. I'm actually grateful that you switched to Leit Motif's perspective. I'm not sure I could have handled experiencing that from Daphne's point of view without bawling like a baby. As it is, I "merely" teared up manfully. Wow. I don't use this .gif often, but when I do, I really, really mean it.
i1120.photobucket.com/albums/l498/Jamestopheles/133545919270.gif
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*picks up another brick*
Oo, I get the Orson Rarity. Handy.
"I like it I like it I like it!" Keep up the good work.
This was a sad yet heart-warming chapter, and a somewhat fun one to boot. It seems poor Leit is somewhat going through the same kind of emotion issues that Daphne is...more-or-less. Can't wait to see how the two of them get along with each other. And, it seems Rainbow Dash didn't seems to filled anyone in with what she's up to. Heh, oh boy, that'll bit her in the butt later onward down the road...
Another great chapter! Just one little thing; leather and vellum are usually made out of cow (or goat) and calf skin, respectively. Considering that cows and goats are sapient in Equestria, this becomes rather horrifying.
Alright, alright, so that was totally worth it. I wasn't sure Leit wasn't a goblin arsing around, but no, she's really there. I just wonder how the whole "I was convinced by my family and the medical professionals that you didn't exist" is going to go down.
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I was wondering if someone was going to notice that.
There is in fact an imitation vellum made out of cotton. I'd imagine ponies were not-so-nice back in the tribal days, and have quickly developed the technologies to allow them to avoid such ickiness.
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I absolutely loved writing that letter, and I love every square inch of the Wand King's castle. Look forward to more Goblin antics in Amelia's upcoming chapters. I've been planning like crazy.
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Yeah, she's a right little minx.
There are barely any words to describe the Leit's scene, the only words I can come up with is heartbreaking and sad.
It's really a nice surprise to find out that she's the next heroine instead of another character, I thought she would be just a major or secondary main character like Daphne's friends. But after reading about the original plan, I forgot that Daph's sister was supposed to be what I thought Leit would've been, anyway it's nice to see the change in perspective again and I wonder what her reaction will be when Daphne shows Leit's her friends and I'm betting that Lyra will probably become girl's unwanted sidekick (at the start of their friendship) if the mane cast doesn't help them first.
the irony......oh the irony. while reading this chapter i was listening to sad anime music (a.k.a Angel beats). well any great chapter even though my dreams were shattered. when i started reading this story back when it was first posted i thought that Leit Motif was going to be either a young luna or twilight but all well keep up with the good work.
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Nooo, then her name would have been Luna or Twilight and this fic would have suuuucked.
head canon= shattered. but was hoping for another jenny from The best babysitter except without the fighting and always nearly dieing but we all cant get what we want
Lyra, Thunderlane and Cloudchaser, you're hitting all of my favorite side characters. And it certainly makes sense that Pinkie would know Leit.
Woah, I see things have gone fairly poorly for Leit as well.
Geez, I'm ticked that events have forcibly kept me away from this update till now. I was separated from Fimfiction for a week. 8 years would have given me a heck of a backlog.
That was packed with plenty of emotion, from sad and heartbreaking to heartwarming and awwww.
Had me almost shedding drops of liquid pride.
Bravo and keep it up !
Also loved how you painted out Ponyville and all the cameos, that place never has a dull day does it.
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"For some reason, Leit never seems to want any birthday parties."
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They last met when
Clinton was new in office!The last time we entered Iraq! (Congrats to everyone who figures out the in-setting year. To anyone who figures out the actual day the story starts on, I will tell a secret about the future.)3241056
Nope! As Leit Motif well knows.
I have looked threw all these comments... And no one seems to point out that those 3 sketches, match up to 3 characters, 1of which is already a pony. I guess we know what Daphne's cutie mark is now
Awesome chapter btw
I did think Leit was a very young Luna. But once you said only 8 years passed in Equestria I threw out my idea of Equestria's time flowing faster.
I can't wait for them to talk.
Psst..... What must I sacrifice to get the next chapter today?
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Well, no, because that's not a sketch made for Pirene. That's a sketch someone made of their head canon for Fluttershy's, Rainbow's, and Twilight's mother, respectively.
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the pegasus looks... never mind. ow well.
Really?
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Hm. In chapter 2, Daphne mentions Instagram, which was first released in october 2010. If their last meeting was eight years before the story starts, it shouldn't have overlapped at all with Clinton's presidency. Unless you meant Hillary Clinton holding office as the U.S Secretary of State. But wouldn't that be a weird thing to mean with that phrase?
Anyway, the point here is that I wanted to try my hand at solving the riddle by scouring the story in search of any details that could help narrow down the day, but I'm not sure if I can actually trust all the details.
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Whoops, I didn't mean to say Clinton.
Ahem:
The last time we entered Iraq.
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Another temporal derp:
Chapter 1, Amelia's perspective:
Chapter 3, Daphne's perspective:
Wibbly wobbly timey wimey, indeed.
Anyway, I won't benefit from any possible clarification because I'm guessing now, that the story begins on 15 October 2011, and damn the torpedoes.
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Actually, what you're witnessing with the full moon in Chapters 1 and 3 is a third world. Amelia will be revisiting that world soon. The moons of Equestria and Earth are synced, not in orbit but in phase.
Chew on that tidbit for a while.
And you're correct!
There are many things I could have accomplished today. So I read all of this in one sitting. I have no regrets.
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Approved.
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I don't want to speculate about anything that has to do with Equestria's moon until you reveal your interpretation of the whole thing with pony princesses controlling celestial bodies.
Amelia's wrongness about moon phases doesn't go away with inter-dimensional travel. She expected to see Earth's moon just like Daphne. She saw a full moon, just like Daphne. Her evaluation of how much the moon is off should be the same as Daphne's. Amelia totally dropped the ball on her werewolf readiness programme here.
Anyway, there was supposed to be a secret. What is the big secret? Was it the thing about the third world? And hey, there's Lightning Dust in the character tags. I think that's new.
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*whistle*
And well-spotted.
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Those words are excellent in combination~
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There was some serious hullabaloo about the moon phase when I picked up Pirene for editing. I had hoped we'd found all the instances of moon sightings, but apparently we missed one.
Thanks for pointing it out.
For everyone else: Chapter eight continues to be pushed through the editing process. It isn't on backlog for updating due to some personal issues presenting themselves last week, but I... think I can still get this chapter out by Friday.
Cross your fingers, guys~