My Little Fortress: Dawnpick

by Paaaad

140

Friesden, having finished her talk with Flux, continues to walk through Dawnpick carrying the...The grate she had made. It... Flux had said that sometimes ponies made things in these moods they didn’t want to make, and she agreed. Maybe...Maybe she could just find something else to do. As she walks, lost in her thoughts, she bumps into Falcata.

Falcata, quietly perambulating through the halls, is interrupted by the bump of a small and yellow object. Glancing down to regard the interruption, she sees little Friesden, a strange and ornate...something, carried in her mouth.
"Hi, Friesden!" she says, doing her best to sound somewhat jolly. It gets harder every day, with the spectre of war still hanging over her thoughts like a persistent thundercloud. "What's that you've got there?"

“Oh. Um. Sorry, big sister...I...I was just thinking. This...This is the thing...That...That I made.” She gestured to it. “I...It’s a grate. Um...Do you like it?” She lifts it up to give Falcata a closer look. It appears to be made of yak bone, for the most part.

"It's..." begins Falcata, taking a quick flick through her mental dictionary. "...clearly the work of a master craftspony!" she finishes, relieved. In truth, she finds the thing creepy at best. Bone bolts she can understand, but she'd never been one for other bonecarved things, even before the rainbow caravan. "I really like the...circling bone bands...uh..."

“Oh,” said Friesden, her head drooping. “You...You want me to make more...more things like this, don’t you?” she asks in a hollow voice. Maybe Flux was wrong. Maybe she was supposed to be doing this for her talent. She’d...She’d just have to get used to it.

Falcata reassesses the situation, surprised by the smaller pony’s dejection. She crouches down, going to Friesden’s eye level. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter? I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, Friesden. Nor should anypony. Why, do you not like working with bone? Who says you have to keep at it?”

“This does!” she says, pointing to the cutie mark. “And I don’t want to, I don’t! I don’t like making things from...From bones! I don’t want to!” The tears, held back, begin to start flowing again.

The cream pegasus reacts swiftly, scooping the little filly into a reassuring hug. Falcata hadn’t noticed the cutie mark on her flank, and if that’s what’s worrying little Friesden, then she can fix that easily. “Easy, sis, ssssh.” she murmurs, stroking the smaller pony’s mane. “You don’t have to make bone crafts all your life just because some- some picture on your side says so! You can do whatever you want, silly. That’s your talent, or one of them, but that doesn’t mean you’re not good at other things too!” She briefly considers mentioning something about fighting with swords being a sort of “working with bone”, but decides against it. That’s probably a bit much.

“S-s-s-so...I don’t have to?” she says, hope forming once more in her voice. “But...But everypony will expect me to... I...I want my talent to be something else! I don’t like this....I don’t want it!”

“No, they won’t, Friesden. Everypony will expect you to do what you enjoy doing, you’ll see. That’s what I expect, and I know for sure your dad and Glaive would agree. And, like I said, your mark just means that boneworking is one of your talents, maybe just the first one you’ve discovered. You have tons more potential, my little pony, and you’ll find something you’re good at and that you enjoy. I promise you.” Falcata lifts Friesden’s chin with a forehoof, wiping away her tears with the other.

“T-t-t-t-t-thank you,” Friesden says with a sniffle. “But...What should...What should I do with this?” Friesden asks, pointing to the grate she’d set down. “I...What do I do with it?”

Falcata regards the thing with a critical eye. Personally, she finds it unnerving, even in the daylight. It would certainly look sinister in the dungeons.
“Well, it’s your grate. You could maybe sell it to somepony from the zebra caravan, I hear they’re more, uh, into things like that. Or, I guess if you really hate it, you could just smash it or something.”

“I...Maybe...I’ll...I’ll talk to dad about it...Maybe...Maybe I could...” She clams up, unable to meet Falcata’s gaze suddenly.

“...Maybe you could what?” queries Falcata, keeping her voice soft.

“Well...I...I...I like...I like Excalibunny...but...but...” Her face turns to the ground, unwilling to look at her sister.

“...But it’s not a real sword, is it? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” asks Falcata, smiling slightly to show her utter lack of anger.

“...yeah...You...You’re not mad, right?” Friesden asks, suddenly anxious...again.

“Of course not, no! It’s just a training sword; I knew that from day one, Friesden. I never expected you to use it in a real battle; that would have been very foalish of me.” She takes another look at the younger pony, sizing her up. It seemed like only yesterday that she’d been a wide-eyed little filly, delighted to get her hooves on Excalibunny and to swing it around without any real care in the world. She has truly grown up.

“Thank you...You’re the nicest pony I know, big sister. I... I hope I don’t disappoint you,” Friesden says, the tears drying in her eyes and a small smile starting to grow on her face.

“I know you won’t, Friesden. I know you won’t.” smiles Falcata, feeling genuinely happy for the first time that morning.