But the Greatest of These
“Bit for your thoughts?”
Spike heard Rarity approaching long before she spoke. Dry leaves fallen from the trees around them littered the forest floor, turning it a dozen shades of red and orange and yellow and brown. They rustled beneath her hooves, and the dainty, careful pace that accompanied them could only belong to one pony.
“Just thinking,” he said quietly. Around them, the wind picked up and filled the air with blowing leaves. It carried a faint chill, a reminder that the easy days of autumn, beautiful though they might be, were a fleeting thing.
“I gathered that.” She stopped beside him and sat, a small smile on her face. “Either that or you fell asleep on your feet again.”
“Hey, it’s been years since that happened. I’d like to see you stay awake during every single one of Twilight’s lectures.”
“Ha! And I thought we were friends. I wouldn’t wish that fate on anypony.”
“Eh, they’re not so bad.” He turned his head to gaze at the others. They lounged around a picnic basket atop a hill across the clearing, chattering with the animation that came from spending time with one’s best friends. The basket itself was tipped over on its side, its contents long since devoured by the hungry ponies (but mostly Pinkie and Rainbow Dash, the latter of whom appeared to be napping on a tree branch).
Rarity followed his gaze. “You’re right, of course. She may be a bit of an egghead, to use Dash’s term, but I love her all the same.” She paused and turned back to him. “But you’re evading my question, Spike. What thoughts pushed you all the way over here? The view is certainly nice, but no better than back with us.”
“I was thinking.”
“Yes, so you’ve said. What about?”
“Well...” he looked down at the scales covering his chest. “I’ve been growing a lot.”
“Mhm, master of the obvious today.” Rarity took a moment to look him up and down. He was taller even than Applejack now, and his growth showed no signs of stopping. Tiny wings, still uselessly small, flapped occasionally against his shoulders. Someday, she knew, they would be as large as sails, and sound like thunder.
“Is that what has you moping?” she continued. “You’ll always be our little Spikey, you know that, right?”
“How do you know that?” He sat, his tail curving around him, so Rarity could meet his eyes without craning her neck.
“Oh, come now. You’re just like one of the girls! Can you imagine Twilight trying to run the library without you? It’d burn down within a week.”
“That’s... probably true,” he said. “But I’m not one of you girls. I’m not even a pony. I’m a dragon.”
“So? You know we don’t care about that.” Rarity’s eyes flicked away for a moment.
He pretended not to notice. “I know, and it means a lot to me. But how many full-grown dragons do you see living with ponies?”
Rarity was silent.
“I’ve met four mature dragons, Rarity, and they all live alone. They don’t have friends, or families, or even long-term mates. They’re not like us. Like you.” He glanced again at the picnic in the distance.
She opened her mouth, paused, and after a moment tried again. “You know, Spike, I think you’ve spent enough time alone. Why don’t you come back to the picnic?”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Young dragons aren’t like that. Remember those teenage dragons I chased around? They had friends. They cared about each other. But at some point they just...” He flicked his claws, as though shooing away some invisible fly. “Go away. They go away and that’s that.”
She frowned. “You’re speaking as though it’s a done deal, Spike. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you aren’t like other dragons. Twilight raised you from an egg, and I’d like to think some of what it means to be a pony has rubbed off on you.” She reached out and brushed her hoof against his shoulder.
“How do you know that, though? Any day, I could wake up and feel like taking a walk, and just never come back. You’d never even know what happened to me.” He looked up at the mountain rising above the crimson trees. “I’ll be up there, or in some other cave, and I won’t care about any of you any more. I won’t even realize I should care about you.”
She swallowed. Her throat bobbed, and her mouth worked noiselessly before she found the words to speak. “Are you... are you feeling like that now, Spike? Like... just walking away?”
He listened to the wind before answering her. It had nothing to say. “No... But I worry I might.”
She let out a quiet breath. Her ears, which had started to wilt, suddenly sprang back up. “Well, that’s good to hear.” She paused and glanced back at the picnic. “Do you want to know what I think, Spikey?”
“Always.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his talon, and she closed her eyes to rub against it.
“I think other dragons don’t worry about this,” she eventually said.
“So? Are you saying I shouldn’t?”
“No, I’m saying you should keep worrying about it.” She opened her eyes and looked up into his. “That sets you apart from other dragons, who don’t worry. Who weren’t raised by ponies. Who don’t have friends. Who aren’t loved.”
Now it was his turn to struggle for words. His mouth suddenly felt dry as a stone.
She stood, and before he could begin to compose a response, trotted away, back toward the picnic. She paused once to cast a glance over her shoulder, and then she continued on her way.
The wind brushed against him, chasing away the delicate lilac scent that always followed her. Behind him, the mountain loomed above the treetops, waiting.
It could wait a bit longer, he decided. He stood and started back toward the picnic, where six friends greeted him with joy.
And love.
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Cold in Gardez... there are many reasons you're one of my favorite authors. This is another one to add to the list.
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Ooooooh. Such interesting observations for just 30 minutes.
You aren't a pony, or a dragon, Spike. You're Spike.
Oh Spike, being a pony is not a question of race.
Being a pony is a question of the heart, the mind and the soul.
Your heard may be a pony's and your mind draconic, but your soul, that is for you to decide.
Cold in Gardez, you are an artist.
Masterfully done. Not a word out of place, not an emotion half-handed. I love it.
The amount of emotion you pack into these is astounding.
2244247
Yeah, Steel Hoof mentioned that Inky seemed too one-dimensional, until suddenly the last line, when a bit more of her true feelings are identified. I might go back and add a line or two early on to show the inner conflict.
One of the neat things about writing on a deadline is how much the story develops while I'm writing it. I'm not sure I even had an ending in mind when I started on Wonder, beyond Pinkie's delight that the farm was suddenly gone. The idea to bring Inky into it, and her hatred of the farm as well, didn't even really occur to me until I started that last sequence with the snowfall.
These things are good practice, if nothing else.
2244247
Okay, cleaned up Wonder a little bit. Hopefully Inky feels a bit more detailed now.
Man, I flail around for 6,000 words and three musical numbers to tackle the idea of what it means to have a destiny and here you are nailing it in a fifth the space and a miniscule fraction of the time. Stop being so good.
I wish I could fave chapters individually, 'cause this one's good. Wow.
It's quite alright I didn't need those feelings, Mr. Gardez
Simple, beautiful.
while the prose in this story is concise and eloquent where it needs to be, i felt like certain parts of it were misapplied. the similes you use in places feel out of place when you're painting a picture of an idyllic scene rife with potential symbolism, instead focusing on rote comparison. i feel like we could have gotten more of a sense of the characters, rather than the goings on around them without attachment to their conversation (though, as mentioned above, there's opportunity to ground this imagery more). some small niggles to be had about asides and elements of the description itself as well.
the dialogue felt more earnest on Rarity's part, but still potentially overdone in either direction. some people would argue that, in such a small space, overblown emotion is the only key to delivery of a sufficient revelation, but i feel like if you used a lighter touch here - a softer malaise from Spike, a less cliche reassurance from Rarity (the conclusion of the conversation felt like a reiteration, rather than a new ground being broken) - the story would have had a more earnest, real 'oomph' too it.
enjoyed the phrasing and construction a lot, though it's only the vessel to delivery of the story. interested to see what lies in the subsequent chapters.
Where do you get these prompts? I want to do some!
Nicely done, I enjoy an occasional simple fic.
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That'll keep him home!
This was so sweet! I like it a lot, well done. Wish I could hit the Like button on each of these individually!
AWWWWW.