• Published 23rd Feb 2013
  • 2,262 Views, 193 Comments

Romancing the Clouds - KitsuneRisu



With crime rates on the rise in Cloudsdale, a single pegasus takes it upon himself to right the wrongs in his city. But for somepony who'd never stepped outside of an office before, where was he going to begin?

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Episode 4-3 :: Scrambled

Egg squeezed past the door, pushing against it as hard as he could, trying to get that extra few centimeters out of it. They had liberated a whole slew of items from the lab, and some of them required the extra space.

All hands and hooves were full with the transport of a colourful assortment of gewgaws, amongst them the semi-conscious body of the professor who lay straddled in Cookie’s strong arms. Egg himself sported the giant prism that used to be the centerpiece of the jail.

He shoved it through the opening, placing it carefully in the corner before helping the rest through.

The shelves were filled with the items as Egg barked out orders.

“Eternia. Please place her in my office. Once you’re done, please draft a letter to the school telling them that there were squatters in the old buildings, and gently suggest to them that they secure all abandoned buildings for safety. Pretend to be a concerned mother.”

Cookie nodded, sweeping the professor into the room.

“Champagne. Go disguise yourself and get to the nearest Hospital. I want you to tell them that there are six injured ponies at the University who require dire medical attention. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done without them asking questions. After that, you are to check yourself in and make sure your leg is taken care of. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Champagne said, limping back out the door.

“Ember? Please get some water for the professor. I’d like to give her some time to recuperate. Find out if she needs a shower or anything like that, and please provide for her as much as you can in my absence.”

“M-me?” Ember sputtered. “Where are you going, old stallion?”

“I need to go talk to Survey. I have to follow up on a… number of things.”

“What, now? But it’s like, one thirty in the morning! Doesn’t he have work tomorrow?”

Egg paused for a second as he made his way past the sticky door.

“Yes,” he said, after a second’s thought.

The door closed.

“Aw, man, c’mon!” he yelled to the empty room.

He stretched his head up, staring at the ceiling, the lights above casting a dull glow into his eyes.

What?” he drawled, standing in the middle of the room. “Come on!

“Use your words, Ember,” Cookie chortled, closing the door to Egg’s office noisily.

She shut it with a bit more force than usual as a politeness to the others – she was normally so silent that she found she needed to deliberately make noise while doing regular things in order to alert others to her presence. It was a kind consideration she made for her friends.

“Oh. Hey,” Ember greeted bitterly, swinging around. “What’s up?”

“Well, I have to craft a letter, yes? I shall need to think about how to word it carefully. I am not that used to… fraudulence.”

“Then let me do it! I lie all the time!” Ember begged.

“I… think it would be best, given our relative… areas of expertise, if I took care of this small task,” Cookie gently persuaded. “But do tell me, what, as they say, is eating you this time, young Emberkite?”

“Egg’s stuck me on greeting duty again! I gotta go take care of the old mare!”

“And this is a problem? I did not see you had that much hesitance in welcoming little Champagne. In fact, I believe it has been nearly two weeks and you are still welcoming her.”

“That’s different, alright? This pony is crazy and stuff! She makes bombs! Why are we throwing her a party? Why aren’t we carting her off to Big C right now to be thrown in a dungeon or something?”

“I am not sure Princess Celestia has authority. This is something quite new. And besides, as Egg has explained, she is not the enemy, yes? She is…”

“What? Working for them?” Ember spat. “Just making those gem things? She destroyed your shop, Cookie!”

“Hers was not the hoof that threw the bomb,” Cookie responded calmly.

“Yeah? So? It was that punk guy. You telling me you forgive him too?”

“I forgave him a long time ago. His was also not the hoof that threw the bomb.”

“What are you talking about?” Ember fumed, running his leg into the ground. “I’m not in the mood for all this, alright?”

“You want justice.”

“Damn right, I want justice!”

“So we must find the one who devised the plot.”

“And let everyone else off scott free?” Ember snarled, pointing his hoof towards the door.

“Please. I beg for your patience,” Cookie said, moving beside Emberkite to sit for a moment. “But I will use an analogy.”

“A what?”

“Let’s pretend someone purposely sells me some wheat that has gone bad, yes? I use this wheat unknowingly, baking it into a bun, which I then give you to eat. You then fall sick from the bun. Will you punish me for delivering the bread?”

“N-no. Not really your fault, is it?”

“Ah.” Eternia raised a claw. “Then surely we must break the oven, yes? For cooking something so foul.”

“That’s stupid. The oven has nothing to do with it.”

“Yes. We must go for the one who has intentionally sold bad wheat. In this case, as well, young Emberkite, someone or some pony has gone through unimaginable lengths to engineer a series of events that has resulted in my bakery being destroyed by a foul magic. This same hand has also caused many events that have caused many others much distraught, yes? This is the hoof that threw the bomb.”

“What, you’re saying that we shouldn’t punish any of these other asses who are helping this pony?” Ember stamped again as he began a slow pace around the room, looking at the devices on the shelves.

“No. But as there are some bakers who might have baked a poison loaf unintentionally, there are some who will still sell that loaf knowing that the wheat is bad. Each must be taken case by case, and sometimes, we have to slide in deference to what is better.”

The gryphon let off a cooing noise, much like the sigh of an owl.

“I hate to put it in this way,” she continued, hanging her head, “but as we do not blame the ignorant or our tools, we cannot blame this professor and that punk. The punk was ignorant. The professor is a tool. That is the crude truth. I can state it no cleaner.”

“How… are you so patient? How are you like this?” Ember cried out, turning to the gryphon. “Of all of us, you should be the one most angry! Why aren’t you even a little bit pissed?”

There was the soft sound of silence landing in the room, as seconds suddenly danced on a razor’s edge.

“Who says I am not?” Eternia whispered, a glare edging out the side of her eye from behind a feather that fell across her face.

Ember swallowed. A small, unintentional gulp. An automatic reaction to when things were suddenly different.

“Little Emberkite,” the gryphon continued with a strained slowness, a low buzzing audible behind her voice. “It is not about being angry or not. It is about… knowing where to put your anger.”

Ember shuffled, avoiding eye contact with Eternia.

“We gryphons are… patient. We know how to wait. That is what they say of us, yes? Always waiting. I am perfectly capable of being angry. But there is no need to always be. I can wait for the right time to be angry. And every other time…”

She snapped two claws together as her calm smile returned and the room once again felt warm. She gently flourished her arms out, palms up, in a polite curtsey.

“... I am fine being who I am, yes?”

Ember breathed with a little more weight than was necessary, looking towards the door and then back to the room. He played with his teeth with a frustrated tongue before closing his eyes and giving up a big, deep sigh.

He swung towards the door, grabbing his bag off the rack beside it. Wordlessly, he squeezed through the exit, pausing for just a moment as he heard Eternia cry from over his shoulder.

“Emberkite,” she said. “Egg wants you to do this. He has a reason. Please get some air, but do remember your responsibilities.”

Ember closed his eyes, shaking his head. A soft breath of incredulous disbelief escaped his parted lips, and he pushed through to the streets outside.

–––

The pegasus with the streak of yellow in his red mane pulled the comic out of his bag. Shiny and pristine, sealed away nicely in a plastic bag, was Action Sky #1, first edition, proudly proclaiming the exploits of Captain Sterling Silver, leader of the Wonderbolts, against a generic villain simply known as ‘The Mob’.

Emberkite shifted his body to mimic the pose of the figure on the cover. Chest out, head thrust upward, the paragon of justice and law, here to save the city of Cloudsdale from ne’er-do-wells and other assorted unsavouries!

“Come on, son,” a voice called out from above. A figure smiled down at Emberkite, a soft, reassuring smile. A gentle leg placed itself upon his back, as he was led slowly, with shuffling hooves, away from the store and down the street.

The colt beamed back. It was all he could do. It was the first birthday present he was allowed since his ten years on this cloud, simply because he was promised one, and the family made an effort to save for it.

Times were difficult in Cloudsdale. Jobs and progress shared an interesting relationship – the more progress you had, the harder it was to find a job. There were jobs available, of course, but everypony these days wanted specialists and masters and ponies with things like experience; something that an unfortunate, uneducated pony didn’t have.

It was not to say that Emberkite’s father and mother were not smart. They simply didn’t have papers proving that they were. They were just unlucky.

Victims of progress.

But this year, they said, Emberkite could have anything he wanted as a reward for being their son. There was nothing more to it than that. Families didn’t have to go out of their way to be family. This was something that Emberkite’s parents believed in, and they found themselves in the middle of a promise.

It was such that the child found himself asking for a special item, one close to his heart.

Ember pulled down the street in a daze, hoof finally on the comic that he had wanted for years. He had always seen it in the window of that funny little shop around the corner. The one that sold all the other musty, old things like furniture and urns and wingball cards and all that. The young child had no idea why this comic was displayed amongst the other items rather than being in a proper comic store, but ever since he saw the striking figure on the cover and the glory of what it stood for, he knew he had to have it.

He didn’t know why his father looked so sad on the walk home. He didn’t know why he remained in silence, the lines of worry crossing his brow.

He didn’t understand why his parents argued that night.

Something was wrong.

And the child didn’t know why.

But promises were things to be kept, no matter what.

That was what his father told him that night, coming up to his room, weary and tired, passing his sister, leaving his mother downstairs to burn in conflicted anger.

Do not worry, he had said. Every family has arguments sometimes.

Was it me? Did I do it? Was it the book?

The questions of a ten-year-old.

No, his father had told him. It was a promise. His mother would understand as well, given time. In the end all they wanted was to keep their promise and make sure that Emberkite was happy with the book.

Was he happy?

Yes. Thank you, daddy. Thank you, mommy.

I will tell mommy you said so.

He did, later on in the evening, and eventually time would cover up careless promises.

That night, Young Emberkite read the comic for the first time, marvelling in the action and adventure, revelling in the dreams of romance.

Action Sky #1.

A collector’s edition. Ten years since first printing.

How was a child to know?

–––

The book lay crumpled and soiled in his hoof, a tattered thing held together by sheer will alone. The faded cover still proclaimed the exploits of his once-hero, but in faded shades and grey ink. Had he known its worth back then, he wouldn’t have treated it the way he did. But now… all that was left was the comic.

He had read it a few hundred times or more to this date, able to quote every line, remember the intricacies of each panel. None of it mattered. The comic wasn’t what it used to be. Its meaning was lost to the wind a long time ago, and he no longer knew what value it held.

Yet, every day he would touch it as if it gave him strength, as if it gave him reason. As if it was the one thing that reminded him of a purpose.

His hoof strayed to his flank, rubbing it as if it were sore.

It trailed the outline of the cloud that bore the unmistakable resemblance to a skull, and with a quick flick of his wrist, crossed along the bones of lightning under them.

“What are you thinking of?” Eternia asked, appearing behind Ember as he stood on the roof of their base, gazing at the comic.

He lowered the book in shock, flinging around and frowning at the uninvited guest. “Hey, what are you doing here? C’mon. A little privacy?”

“You have been out here a while. I have come to… be sure that you are doing well.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ember muttered, turning back toward the moonlit skies.

“You seem bothered by something.”

“Just thinking of things, okay? Not like it’s any of your concern!” Ember yelled.

A moment passed.

“I mean, I’m alright. I just…” Ember sighed.

“It is alright to speak of it,” the gryphon reassured.

“It’s just stuff. That’s all.”

“Something of your past?” Eternia approached cautiously.

“Yeah. Something I did.”

“About what?”

“Promises,” Ember huffed. “Promises and stupid.”

“But what of this mare that is making you feel this way?” Eternia motioned below them.

“Huh?” Ember raised a weary eyebrow in surprise, revealing his strained eyes. “What’s she got to do with anything?”

“Your anger towards her. It was a bit more than necessary, yes? It felt of a personal thing. Hmmm. It seemed to me, at least, that this is why your memories have been plaguing you.”

“Maybe I’m just an angry stallion, Cookie.”

“Oh, it occurs to me that you are. But anger always comes from somewhere. And you are frequently angry. There is only one thing that is always around you to make you angry, yes?”

“What?”

“Yourself.”

Ember frowned again.

But something fought the tide this time around. Something stopped him from bursting out, telling this gryphon to go to Tartarus, and halted him from flying off into the night.

Maybe he was just tired. There was a weariness about his wings and eyes tonight, and a weight upon his mind.

“Yeah, okay,” Ember surrendered. It was just something to respond to.

“Have you always had problems with this?” Eternia asked gently.

“I dunno. I guess it started a while ago. I didn’t really notice. I was too young. It just… was. I don’t think I know.”

His eyes darted down to the comic in his hoof again.

“I don’t think I know,” he repeated.

–––

“Emberkite, you must learn how to control your temper,” his father said at the dinner table.

It was smaller than the days before, but so was the house. They had to move to cheaper lodgings. No longer did they have two stories. No longer did they have three bedrooms. Now Ember had to sleep with his sister in the same room. It was of no concern to him. He liked his sister very much.

The new house was comfortable, though, not stifling, and rent was a steal.

Life had flown by in the four years since Ember asked for the comic. All their savings had gone into making sure Ember’s younger sister had an education. She had entered school two years before, and the family made a promise to keep her there. It was the first promise they had made after granting one to Ember all those years ago.

Today, Ember had lost a job.

Their parents scraped by with jobs of their own. Stuck in factory work and menial labour, they were the unsung heroes of Cloudsdale, doing what anypony would offer them. It was just enough for food, water and heat, and of course, the school fund.

Ember had no choice but to help out at an early age. He was only fourteen, but did what he could. He worked as an assistant once, but fought with the grocer’s son. He worked as an apprentice to a carver once, but smashed the pots when he couldn’t get the filigree just right. He was too young to be a bouncer, one of the few jobs where a heated temper could come in use, and his parents had always kept him on the straight and narrow, and thusly criminal activities would never cross his mind.

But for all his attempts, his mood always got in the way. There was a cheerful child in him a long time ago, a young colt full of laughter and fun. But each time he failed, each time he ran afoul of his uncontrollable temper, he would run back to the comic, staring at it with fury while he bridled himself in thought, losing himself deeper in hatred.

His parents didn’t understand the behaviour, and neither did he.

But his parents, in their infinite wisdom, told him that it was alright. They consoled him with an explanation. He was special. Unique. And would have a place. He had yet to discover it, but when he did, all things would start to make sense. He was a late bloomer, yet to receive a cutie mark – a child swimming in fog can rarely see the shore. But he would earn it one day, and his path would be made clear.

He need not worry about contributing. He needn’t burden himself with helping to take care of the family. They were the ones who had to shoulder that responsibility. The child was the one to be taken care of with love and patience. The parents are the ones to provide it. Let go of the past, let go of your anger – these were the lessons imparted on one whose mind was blocked by the mists of doubt.

But nothing ever provided him with the answers he needed, and as the days passed he was left with only the questions.

And he would take to the comic. Look at it. Read it. But never understand the weight of the original burden he had to bear.

–––

The night air calmed him. No matter if it was at the docks or up here on the roof of the base, that soft, dark breeze always helped him calm down. He leaned on the edge, staring off toward the quiet street with the broken lights. Nopony ever came down this street. It was quite similar to the docks at night in this regard.

It was quiet.

Emberkite found solace in that, although he usually preferred the noise. Noise was life. He liked the reminder. He felt dead up there alone, but it was a welcome feeling that night.

It reminded him of another night, much like this one, when he was sixteen.

It was the night he earned his mark. When he was branded.

When his path was made clear.

“We can always change,” a cooing voice came from behind, speaking of the world in general as much as of the young stallion.

“Doesn’t matter what you say. I can’t change myself. It’s too late. What I did is… who I am. That’s how these marks work,” Ember said, tapping his flank.

“I never rather understood the convention,” Eternia admitted. “It seems rather odd to base your life off a single picture.”

“It’s not really like that. It’s kinda hard to explain. It’s like… if there was just one thing. Just one thing that your life could be described as, the mark… that mark is the description. It shows you your path.”

“It seems to me like it’s tying you down instead,” Eternia mused.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t invent the damn things. That’s how we were born, right? That’s how ponies are.”

“So now you are nothing but a skull and crossbones? What does it mean?”

“What do you think it means? It means death, you bat.” Ember scowled.

“Death… but you are not dead… surely?”

“No, but… it’s a long story, alright?”

The gryphon raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t about to move.

“Oh, for hail’s sake,” Ember muttered.

––--

It was clear to him that night when he was sixteen. He didn’t know why he didn’t realise it before. He didn’t know why he couldn’t simply reach out and grab what was staring him in the face for six years straight from the cover of a comic.

The Wonderbolts.

Join the Wonderbolts.

He could fly fast. He was pretty talented at that. No mark yet, but still, it was something he could do. His bravery and temper might even be a boon to the squad! Rushing headlong into battle, saving the world, just like Captain Sterling Silver, hero to the people, saviour of the streets!

He too, could be a champion.

The answers were right there in front of him all this while.

This was his calling. This was his deliverance. This was the day when he would get his mark.

It was a decision he made after a long period of consideration. It had taken him some time to work up the nerve, the shadows of his past failures always there to haunt him.

This time, though. He would control himself. This time he would do things right.

It was the first time in Ember’s life that he cried.

He couldn’t remember crying before that day, and he couldn’t remember another time he cried after. He didn’t have room for these things in his daily life. But on that day, two months after he decided to join the Wonderbolts, he cried.

He washed himself off in a raincloud before returning home, that look of anger marring his face. His regular look. That normal look that replaced the silly pointlessness of sadness.

He took the notice of discharge and threw it to the winds. ‘Unable to control temper’ took to the skies. ‘Uncooperative and overly head-strong’ fluttered on the breeze. ‘Unsuitable for admission’ blew away to the fading sun.

He stormed through the house, a night he remembered very well, when a regularly scheduled thunderstorm was to be deployed. It had only just begun raining as he burst through the door, dumping his equipment and bags into the corner.

He shocked his little sister, whom he didn’t respond to as an incessant torrent of ‘what’s wrong, Emby?’ filled the house. He moved upstairs on swift wings, throwing the savings he had made during his enlistment to his parents who were resting in bed.

It was a pittance. Something that Emberkite could have spat at and felt no remorse. A small scratch of money that, in his eyes, wouldn’t help.

For the education fund, he told them.

And then he told his parents that he was leaving.

Bitter, sour, spiteful words came pouring out that bore no resemblance to the son they once knew. They spoke of Ember – himself – as a creature of terrible faith, as a monster of great pain and one who had to do what was necessary.

He was leaving.

One fewer mouth to feed meant that his sister would be assured his portion of the money. He was keeping his promise to her, but in a way that he was sure would work.

It all began with a comic and an argument.

It ended on similar tones.

The yelling continued through the night, enveloping many reasons. Everyone was angry, some of them a bit more sad, some too young to understand, and some old enough to know better.

But as the rain poured down, words dissolved into the storm, and a decision was made. There was no stopping him. All their begging, all their attempts to convince him fell to the wayside in his determination to do what was right.

Finally, after his mother had brought his sister to bed to console her through her slew of tears and questions, he was left alone at the front door with his father.

It was an ungraceful farewell. It was a seeing-off that had no meaning.

Ember slung his bag around his neck, protecting his comic, as he turned to stare out the door into the stormy night sky.

And on the flash of a streak of lightning, Ember was gone, leaving a hole in his house and rain water pooling on the living room floor.

He remembered it well, this night when he was sixteen.

It was the night when, flying into the darkened clouds in the distance, toward the docks, he was marked.

Forever branded with the sign of death, it was a constant reminder of the night he lost his life and had to find one anew.

–––

“This was the only thing I brought with me” Emberkite said, tapping the comic. “I don’t even know why I keep this thing anymore. It ain’t nothin’ but trouble.”

“Then why do you hold onto it so tightly?” Eternia asked.

Ember looked down. A little extra force was given to it to make sure that it wouldn’t be swept away by an errant gust.

“I suppose it still inspired me. Living on the streets, you know?” the young stallion said, holding the comic even closer. “I still used it as a sorta… whatever. Creed. Something to live by. Something to run with. I could still be that hero on the cover, but on my own terms. And now I do this.”

“But does the comic not give you more worry than encouragement?”

“Dunno. It’s not the comic’s fault, is it? Like you said back downstairs. Y’know. tools and whatever. Can’t blame them.”

“Blame,” Eternia said, playing with the word like a cat does to a ball of yarn.

“Yeah. I guess… if anything, I wanted to blame this book. I guess… I got angry because I couldn’t. Then things happened. A whole mess. That whole story. And then now I have to deal with all my crap because… of all the things.”

Ember was calmer now. It was a rare occasion when he let sadness overtake his annoyance, and he was left in a pool of remorseful thoughts and regretful memories.

“All this while…” Cookie chirped.

“What, ‘all this while’?”

“Young Emberkite, perhaps… perhaps it is not that you are looking for justice in our guest downstairs.” Eternia held out a clawed hand.

“Then?”

“Perhaps you are looking for someone to blame.”

“Huh?”

“In the stories you have told me,” Eternia went on. “It seems to me that you have lived a life where you were looking for something to blame. But there was nothing. Perhaps you have always just known this. So in the end, you could only blame yourself. That would have made you… angry. It would have made any child angry.”

Ember let loose a huff of air as he felt his mind empty of stray thoughts.

“But it was… all circumstance. Things happened, as you say,” Eternia continued on, voice trilling in the night. “All out of your control. But there is ever only one pony to blame when things keep going wrong.”

“So… so what?”

“The pony downstairs. Maybe you seek to blame her simply because someone needs to be blamed. It is what you expect.”

Ember looked away. This was a thought that had crossed his mind on quieter nights on the docks – the nights which gave him space to think about his older life. It was one of many thoughts, but one that had always been there nonetheless.

It was strangely affirming to hear the same thing from another’s beak.

And perhaps a bit frightening as well.

“You want to find those who can easily be blamed and punish them. Is that not how you conduct yourself? It is a good feeling, for one who has had no avenue in life… to find the ability to cast judgement. But… it must be handled well. Done correctly. And I believe that with just a little bit of understanding… you can forgive yourself and-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ember cut in.

“Pardon me, please?” Eternia responded.

“Don’t matter.” Ember patted his mark again, misery flavouring his words. “Even if I wanted to change, I can’t. It’s too late for me, like I said. Carved in stone. I’d…”

He trailed off.

Eternia smiled, catching his eye. “That is a sad thing to hear from you, that you think this way. I shall not argue you at this point. But still, there is something you can do.”

“What?”

“Instead of looking to find someone to blame.” Eternia nodded, tapping her beak with a claw. “Maybe you can look to find someone to help.”

Ember watched on wearily, through tired eyelids, where they stood in silence and thought for a few minutes more.

–––

The room was as Egg’s office always was. It could have doubled as the room they normally held interrogations with due to its sparseness, but it had a desk that looked more busy that its counterpart’s.

The professor sat quietly on the cushion behind the desk, not touching anything and looking at a spot on the table. In the clear light, it was easier to take in her features and her looks. As it was when they saw her in the base, she was a pale, almost-white pony with a blue tinge to her hair and skin, a messy mane and quiet disposition.

But now she had a thick set of black glasses around her eyes. She wasn’t wearing them in the darkness of the Unity base.

If she noticed Ember entering, she didn’t let on.

Ember paced across the floor. He scrabbled for the words. He looked for a way to begin. This was not one of his strong suits, and even if he had the thought and the feeling, the articulation escaped him.

He plodded for far too long before he stopped, threw his head up to the ceiling and uttered a single word.

Shit!” he cried out, sharply, suddenly.

Be it shock or perplexity, the professor juddered back in her seat, her eyes inching upwards for a brief second to look at the pony who had just uttered profound wisdom.

She swallowed.

“Shit!” Ember cried out again, throwing his hooves toward Polychromasia in an odd gesture. “You know what I mean? Shit!”

The professor coughed, eyes darting around the room in discomfort.

“Look, lady. I ain’t too good with words, alright?” Ember said, pouring into it. “But… I get it. I just want you to know that I sorta get it. We know what happened to you. We’ve been trying to track you down for a couple of weeks now, just to, uh… rescue you. Well, actually, we thought you were the one behind it all but then it turned out that… Whatever! We saved your ass, alright?”

Ember breathed heavily again, scratching his head roughly to get the words out.

“Alright. So this is what it is. We know what you’ve been doing and we know that it ain’t your fault. We know what you’ve been put through by these shitty Unity shits and I know you have no reason to trust us, but we just saved you, alright? That’s what we do. We save people.”

Polychromasia’s eyes grew a bit larger. She started to breathe a bit more rapidly as well, taking in small, wheezing squeaks of air.

“I’m… I’m Emberkite, by the way. Um… yeah. Look. I know what you’re feeling. I know that you don’t wanna have to face what you did. I know right now you wanna just run, or die, or hide, or whatever. You don’t wanna talk about it. You don’t wanna think about what happened or what your thingies have been used for.

“I’m… running, too. I’m running away because I made a bad decision long ago. I mean… I know it ain’t got nothing to do with what happened to you or nothing, but…”

Ember grumbled through clenched teeth.

“I’m so bad at this!” He ended up saying with hints of hysterical laughter. “I… I can’t do this! But I just wanted to say something, alright? I don’t know when you’re gonna get better or when you’re gonna get over this. But I know what it’s like. Yeah? Yeah! I know! And I want you to know that we’ve all really looked hard at this. Super hard. It ain’t your fault. We’re gonna find the ones who did this to you and abused your thingies and put him down!”

Ember gave her a half-smile, mouth open, spirit oddly charged.

“Yeah! And you know what? Yeah, it’s your thingies that did a lot of damage. I’m sure you kinda sorta knew what they were being used for. You’re scared to find out, right? Yeah. But you know what, I’m gonna get real witcha. I’m gonna drop some harsh on ya. You gotta hear this because… because it’s all gonna be alright.”

Ember thrust his hoof toward the door, shaking his leg furiously.

“Know that Gryphon outside? She was one of the ones on the team to save your ass. She was at the base. She was the one who carried you back, remember? But you know what, her bakery was bombed by one of your thingies. And that’s how she got involved in the first place.”

Polychromasia jerked her head up at that news, mouth agape.

“But she forgives you. That’s the point! Look, I know. Major, major truth bomb, right? But don’t worry and stuff! I mean… she’s cool with it. Really. She’s super cool. In fact, she was the one who told me that we oughta not take it out on you and go after the main guy.”

Ember tapped himself in the chest, that frantic smile still on his face. “So, you know what? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shoulda given you a chance. But I was angry. I went out. Did some thinking. Decided to tell you that you have that chance too. And I figured out…”

“... all by myself…” Ember punctuated, as a point that everyone should know.

“... how to do it. And it’s pretty simple. All of us were screwed over by Unity. Except for Champa– No. Nevermind. Right, most of us have a score to settle with them. You especially. And then I was thinking. We’re all tools, right?”

Polychromasia raised an eyebrow.

Not that I’m calling you a tool. I mean, we’re all tools, really. You know? You’re a tool. I’m a tool.”

Polychromasia blinked, biting her lip.

“So now… now you have this chance. Your thingies were being used by them to do bad stuff. They don’t have your thingies anymore. Now, we’re the good guys, alright? You can walk right out that door right now if you wanna. Be free. We ain’t holdin’ ya. You ain’t our prisoner, and we don’t want you or your thingies. But it’s dangerous out there, and you might get nabbed again. And then we’re gonna have to bust your ass out of a weird lab somewhere a second time.”

Ember rubbed his chin with accomplisment.

“Or… you could use your thingies and fight them. You wanna make up for how your thingies have been used? Then help us. Help us go against them. We sure need a smart pony around here. None of us know the science. We could definitely use some of that. So, invitation’s open. Or else, like I said. Go ahead and walk out that door. No problem. We ain’t even mad.”

Ember threw his forelegs wide as if beckoning her for an invitation, wheezing with the rush of adrenaline as he completed his speech.

For a while the professor’s mouth flapped open and shut, as she gathered to make sense of the slew of words that were pressed against her brain.

She raised a hoof slowly, eyebrows slanted back in a soft guilt, as if she were about to be reprimanded for speaking.

Her voice was still as of silk, but this time, poured from a chalice onto a marble floor. Meek and restrained, she sounded like each word required a whisper to utter, like the winds of the fields as they danced through summer.

“H-hummingfield-theory Spectral H-harmonizer,” she breathed.

“What?”

“Not… not a ‘thingie’. They are Hummingfield-theory Spectral Harmonizers.”

“Humm...Spe…?”

“And yes. I will.” Professor Polychromasia stood up, her lab coat flapping around as she did. She looked stronger, somehow, despite the look of guilt that she still sported.

“What? Do what?”

“I will join you,” she declared, hitting the table and knocking over an eraser.



“Tell me more about the situation,” she commanded, an authoritative voice echoing through the halls. This meeting was held in secrecy. In the dark. There was only her, and two others. The only two she could trust.

“Yes, Ma’am,” the stallion replied. “Subject Egg has… rescued Subject Polychromasia. Liberated her from the base with a team of four, consisting of himself, the Gryphon, the young mare and the excitable young stallion.”

“They have taken her from Unity?”

“Yes.”

“And what do they mean to do with her?”

“We do not have this information as of yet, Ma’am.”

The mare with the commanding voice nodded. “Very well. Continue keeping an eye on him and report back to me when you have something. I trust you realise that this is a very sensitive subject. They are progressing far quicker than I would have given them credit for. I find it both a curiosity and a frightening reality, but this… Egg pony is someone that we must deal with.”

“So soon, Ma’am?”

“Yes. So soon. So soon indeed. I was wondering when this would happen, if you would allow me to speak candidly. But to happen at such an unfortunate time…”

“Perhaps it happened because of misfortune, ma’am?” the other pony, another mare, offered.

“Yes, yes. Of course. Do not mind my stray thoughts. Now, proceed with his apprehension. Try to get him alone. He seems to be quite efficient when he’s with his team, and we need to be equally efficient. The fewer who know about this the better.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And… one last thing. I have given your previous request a degree of thought and I have decided.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“You understand that there are very strict rules governing its use, and I expect you to be able to engineer our perceived role in it all.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You also understand that you will be directly responsible if anything… happens. ”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You may reopen The Eye,” the voice decreed.

Romancing the Clouds

EPISODE 4 :: End

Author's Note:

For all their time and their help -
Thanks primarily to my colluder unit Crack Javelin for all the help in working out the story and running through stuff that goes bad.
Thanks to HerpyDerpy and q97randomguy for editing assistance
Shout out to Comrade Sparkle who in part convinced me to continue writing this horrendous travesty.

And thank you, to the readers, for being patient and sticking with me for so long.