Chapter 2: Shift
Never had Rarity imagined that the words “end of the line” would ever sound so melodious to her ears. Easing herself upright and groaning as her restless limbs protested her movement, the mare eagerly shuffled into line for deboarding, thankful beyond words that the trip was over. While the actual transit had only taken just over an hour, her mind was left with nought to entertain itself but worries, conjecture, and the passing landscape which had grown increasingly devoid of anything save earthy tones of red, orange, and brown. Unable to sleep for worry but neither able to justify maintaining attentiveness, the result of restlessness left Rarity feeling as though she’d splurged at an all-you-can-eat buffet after running a marathon: uncomfortable, exhausted, and twice as heavy as she should be. Stepping from the train cart brought back to mind some less than pleasant memories as her hooves were instantly coated in a fine layer of dust, and Rarity lifted sullen eyes to the simple architecture and old-style wooden signs hanging above the scant few business dotting the tiny town.
“Hello again, Dodge City. I trust you’ve been dirty?” Rarity mumbled, lifting a hoof an examining it with a sigh before lifting her eyes to the sky, which mirrored the ground in hues of scarlet and gold. Alas, I’ve no time to worry, at least not about my appearance. I daresay the ponies here probably wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference should I take the steps needed to look my best. Hmph! Glaring one more time at the dust and lifting her snout with an indignant and graceless snort, Rarity snubbed the sand and cantered through the town. There were plenty of ponies milling about, and fixing on one that stood out from the rest by virtue of her well-kept appearance, Rarity made her way over and introduced herself.
“Good evening!” she began in a courteous tone, donning a winsome smile as the earth pony mare stared blankly, blinking a few times at the newcomer. Despite having every intention of making her way to see Pinkie as quickly as possible, Rarity couldn’t help but take a few moments to appreciate how the pony’s cream colored coat complimented her milky espresso mane, neatly trimmed with just enough wave to be playful. “I must say, I absolutely adore what you’ve done with your mane,” she couldn’t help but say with undeniable enthusiasm. “Is that natural, or do you-”
“Here, drink this.” Stopping mid-sentence as a mug of steaming something was thrust towards her, Rarity took a step back at the sudden movement and regarded the mare with equal parts curiosity and bewilderment.
“I, er… I’m sorry?” she stammered out, tilting her head slightly.
“Tea: it’s for drinking,” the mare stated with dauntless conviction, moving the mug slightly closer as a faint hint of a smile teased at her lips. Though somewhat bemused, the mention of drink roused Rarity’s awareness that she hadn’t had anything to sip since leaving from Ponyville. Parched and worried that dehydration would wreak havoc on her ability to properly reason with Pinkie, and even more worried that she had thought of “reason” and “Pinkie” within the same sentence, Rarity graciously accepted the mug, nodded her thanks, and took a swig. It was mere moments after taking in the fluid that an overwhelmingly bitter taste with greater floral notes than the average florist struck her taste buds with all the gentleness of the average cast iron skillet to the cranium, and the mare maintained her neutral expression even as her gracious gift was reflexively sprayed full upon her face.
“Too strong?” she asked, watching with slightly crestfallen features as Rarity sputtered, coughed, and generally made a scene.
“T-too strong?” Rarity gasped, slightly offended that the mare even needed to ask. It was only with great effort that she restrained the tears beading in the corners of her eyes as sensory overload drowned both taste and smell with the cooling bite of mint and other herbs. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t a pony around that could possibly tolerate drinking something like that,” she concluded, levitating the cup back to the mare’s waiting hoof. “Was this some kind of-” Pausing as the mare quietly brought the cup to her lips, Rarity’s intended tirade was forcibly rescripted as she watched the wacky pony before her quietly down all but a few drops of tea. “...prank,” she finished unsteadily, strangely impressed despite her inner desire to fuss. It wasn’t until a few drops of tea splashed onto her chest as the mare quietly shook her head that Rarity realized what she’d done, adding a hefty dose of embarrassment to her already mixed emotions.
“Oh my goodness, I’m ever so sorry!” she exclaimed, flinching away as her hoof moved in to cover her mouth. “Is there anything I can do, miss…”
“Chai,” the mare murmured in a subdued tone, reaching behind the counter of her stall and pulling out a towel. “Vanilla Chai,” she added before mopping up what she could from her unexpected shower. “Don’t worry too much,” she said with a dry chuckle, noting the earnestness in Rarity’s eyes. “That’s not the first time I’ve made it rain with a brew too strong.”
“Even still, that’s no excuse for me to go and do that,” Rarity countered, lifting over the towel and dabbing at droplet that had escaped Chai’s notice. “I feel just awful!”
“There’s really no need, though I do appreciate your concern, uh…”
“Rarity,” she preempted, fretting a little longer over the last few drops of tea before returning the towel and donning and apologetic smile. “If it’s any consolation, your tea does leave quite the pleasant aftertaste,” Rarity commented, relaxing slightly as the mare allowed just a little more of a smile, though it was still hardly noticeable. “I should think I’d find your tea much more suitable as something that I may sip rather than greedily slurping as I did. I was just so thirsty, having come all the way from Ponyville. I just couldn’t help it!”
“Ponyville?” Chai repeated, thoughtfully tapping her chin and absentmindedly bringing the hoof to her mouth; she couldn’t resist the tempting scent of tea, no matter how faint.
“Indeed. I think that a dear friend of mine may have passed through this way,” Rarity explained, relaxing further as the expected backlash never came. Any pony from Canterlot would have been livid at something as undignified as having a few drops of tea splashed on them, let alone a mouthful, and it was with strange interest that Rarity found herself interested in the observation. There was, however, a more pressing matter for her to attend. “Is there any chance that you know if there is a rock farm near here?”
“It’s about half an hour’s walk outside town,” Chai confirmed, pointing down the road. “Just follow this path. If you set a good pace, you’ll probably make it there before sundown.”
“Well, I’d best be off then,” Rarity said, turning to leave. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Chai! I do hope to share some tea with you again soon. And… eheh, sorry again for the whole... spitting in your face thing.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it most certainly is not!” Rarity insisted, stomping a hoof lightly in emphasis. “It was dreadfully unladylike, and there was no cause for it. Well, perhaps there was- I mean, that tea was… you know, um…” Chai remained quiet while Rarity’s sense of courtesy caught up with her running mouth and grabbed the reigns. “Ahem. What I mean to say is that I could have at least aimed away from you, and I intend to repay you both for your patience and your generosity.”
“Decency is something most folk around here value highly,” Chai replied, that faint hint of a smile working its way back. “It doesn’t cost anything, but it’s worth more than bits can buy.”
“I very much agree,” Rarity seconded, sharing the mare’s smile. “Now, I really must be going, but I will make a point of dropping by before I leave home for Ponyville.”
“I’d like that. My house is just up the way,” she said, motioning towards the opposite direction of the rock farm. “You’ll probably be able to smell it before you see it.”
Though minutes before, hearing that statement come from anypony within Dodge would have garnered little more than revulsion from Rarity, but thanks to the mare waving her on, she left with growing respect for a town that she’d imagined to be full of raucous folk more given to sweating than showering. With her spirits refreshed and her mind delightfully preoccupied with her chance meeting, Rarity set her eyes towards the rustic horizon and started down the road, slightly less bothered by the dust than when she’d arrived. Slightly.
When a ceaseless fount suddenly runs dry, it is inevitable that questions are raised. Through the fringe of the Everfree forest and all the perils therein had Pinkie Pie braved in her flight from Ponyville, but such a simple task for the pony looked to as the pinnacle of pep could never have made the mare succumb to her fatigue. While her speed had been great and her journey swift, it was ultimately the weight upon her heart that brought her low in the sand-swept plains of the Ridge. Painful though it was, the truth of her dreams had been laid before Pinkie in a manner too plain to ignore, and in the wake of such a harrowing revelation, she wanted nothing more than to disappear for a time, frolicking in the land of dreams. It was a wonderful place, where any fanciful whim could be realized within a hairsbreadth of reality, but it was also temporary. Lulled into wakefulness by the comforting murmur of gentle voices, Pinkie lay still and listened, not feeling useful for much more than eavesdropping.
“Do you think she’ll notice?” the first voice asked, her voice quavering with uncertainty.
“You’ve managed almost every color in the rainbow, sis! Of course she’ll notice!” the second voice exclaimed quietly. Even after having been away for so long, Pinkie instantly recognized the voices as none other than her sisters, and even as lifeless as she was, she felt a familiar tension around the corners of her mouth teasing towards a smile as they continued their back and forth.
“Yeah, but, do you think she’ll like it?” Inkie pressed, still sounding unsure.
“Don’t worry so much! Pinkie loves parties, remember?” Blinkie reassured the mare.
“Yeah, but...”
“Inkie, it’s fine,” her sister replied with a tinge of exasperation. There was short silence followed by the soft plod of hooves moving across tired floorboards before Blinkie spoke again in a much more comforting tone. “We did our best, didn’t we?”
“But... there aren’t any balloons... sis loves balloons...” No longer able to deny herself the simple pleasure of a grin, Pinkie rejected her enervation and let the corners of her rosen muzzle stretch into a tired grin.
“You made streamers, didn’t you?” Blinkie replied encouragingly.
“Well, yeah, but...” Not willing to sit idle while her youngest sibling worried over her, Pinkie let her eyes slowly open, revealing a blurry world of dim rainbow. Another blink brought the distant forms of her sisters into focus. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed her family until the wave of longing crashed down upon her, and while she was helpless to stop her vision from swimming further as tears of quiet joy filled her eyes, her desire to escape slowly faded away. There was nowhere left to run: she was home.
“You girls... sure are silly...” Pinkie croaked, coughing a little as she realized she could really use a drink. Before she could even ask, Blinkie rushed over to her bedside, nearly crashed into the nightstand, and hastily poured a glass of water. Gratefully accepting the cup, Pinkie relished liquid reviviscence as it soothed her parched throat, though a giggle nearly sent it out her nose as she watched her sisters staring at her as if she were Celestia herself. Ever the timid one, Inkie remained peaking over the edge of the bed while Blinkie stood in full view with a hoof on the covers near Pinkie’s hind leg, her stalwart gaze exuding strength for both her sisters.
“Parties aren’t about the color,” Pinkie continued, hoofing the glass back to Inkie with a tired smile, “they’re about the ponies.” As wakefulness slowly eased her senses back towards normal, Pinkie took one look around the room and gave an excited gasp, sitting upright as the flicker became a tiny tendril of life. While a good deal darker than the usual colors one would see at a party, makeshift streamers wrought in earthy reds, vivid greens, and deep violets hung about the room, adding color to an otherwise dull and unfurnished abode. A banner stretched wall to wall, decorated with Pinkie’s Cutie Mark and depictions of confetti, and dominated by the message, “Welcome Home, Pinkie!”
“I think she likes it, sis,” Blinkie murmured, giving Inkie a pat on the shoulder and pointing towards Pinkie’s ever widening smile. They both shared a look of mutual confusion as a small section of her sister’s flat, straight hair suddenly curled without warning like a spring that had been stretched to its limit before finally being let go.
“Like it? I love it!” Pinkie exclaimed, throwing her hooves wide as a surge of strength initiated a rebellion against the tyranny of lethargy. Redirecting her attention towards her youngest sibling, who had lifted her head from the bedside to reveal an eager smile, Pinkie clasped her hooves together like a swooning fashionista might over a particularly large diamond and tilted her head to the side, beaming back at the soft lavender eyes searching for approval. “They’re really amazing streamers, Inkie.”
“See? Told you we’d be okay without balloons,” Blinkie chuckled, grinning as a soft tinge of pink lit her sister’s cheeks.
“Do you really like it, Pinkie?” Inkie pressed, standing on her hind hooves and leaning closer in anticipation.
“Really, really, reallyreallyreally like it!” Pinkie exclaimed, completely oblivious as two more strands gained their spring. Snatching Inkie from the bedside and forcibly pulling her into a tight embrace, Pinkie took a moment to cherish the warmth of good intentions before remembering that there was another pony in need of a hug. Blinkie, however, decided that said pony was Pinkie, and as Pinkie opened her eyes to motion her over, she found she’d already been enveloped in the young mare’s caring embrace. “Oh, I’ve missed you both...” Pinkie said softly, no longer feeling any resistance in her smile.
“We missed you too, Pinkie...” Inkie reciprocated with a sniffle, growing misty as she looked into Pinkie’s cyan eyes.
I wonder... is this what it feels like when I make other ponies smile? It’s... super wonderful. Normally one to chat a mile a minute, Pinkie found herself rather at a loss for words, or rather, simply didn’t feel the need to speak. Finding herself on the receiving end of comfort was always an oddity for Pinkie, at least in a serious sense, and she wasn’t about to deny herself a little piece of happiness after having one of her longest standing dreams dashed to dust. However, as she cracked open her eyes to pay her respects to Blinkie, something too exciting to keep quiet captured her attention.
“Inkie, you got your Cutie Mark!” Pinkie exclaimed, lifting the mare on a whim so she could properly inspect the mark. Unused to any prolonged contact and bashful by nature, Inkie couldn’t well stop the rush of crimson that overtook her muzzle as her flank was unceremoniously ogled by her older sister.
“P-Pinkie, c-can you... put me down?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry!” Pinkie quipped, setting Inkie back on the bed with an apologetic grin. “You’ve got a funny one, sis! It’s... a rock with a bow?” Pinkie asked, sneaking another quick peek before her flustered sibling covered herself with her tail. “So... what’s it mean?”
“I... k-kinda like decorating,” Inkie began to explain, brightening a little as her passion for spreading color dispelled her embarrassment. “See, we’ve got all kinds of rocks around the farm, and a forest full of plants on the east side! What I didn’t know is that many of them can be used to make all sorts of different dyes and such. One day, when I was bringing water for everypony, I tried to stop too fast and spilled it everywhere...” Pausing to pay her sister an apologetic glance for the umpteenth time, for which Blinkie rolled her eyes, Inkie continued with growing excitement, shifting her hooves with tiny movements as if kneading bread as she told her tale.
“Anyways, there’s all kinds of rocks and minerals out here, and it just so happened that the stuff I spilled the water on was really high in iron dust! It was kind of a yellowy brownish color, but I just... well, it reminded me of your parties, so I stuck my hoof in it and started brushing it on a nearby rock and... and... I got my mark!” Bearing witness to such youthful exuberance curled another two locks of the mares hair, but Inkie was too elated to bother commenting. “Really, I have you to thank that I got my Cutie Mark, Pinkie.”
“Me?” Pinkie asked, genuinely confused. “What did I do?” With a smile warmer than the gentle rays of the sun and a heart overflowing with gratitude, Blinkie gave Pinkie a reassuring squeeze before answering with dauntless conviction.
“You opened our eyes to a world we didn’t know existed.” Drawing away and taking a seat beside her sister, Blinkie revealed her own flank, adorned by the image of a small statuette.
“Even after you left, our smiles never faded,” Inkie explained, gazing back at Pinkie with eyes full of wonder. “I never would have discovered my love for color if you hadn’t thrown us our very first party. Before that, all I could see was the sand...”
“R-really?” It was all Pinkie could managed in the face of such open indebtedness that she didn’t even know she had earned, and where once her heart had been parched, the soothing cool of gracious words sealed the cracks and began to fill an empty glass.
“You threw us our very first party, Pinkie,” Blinkie piped up, pretending not to notice the moisture beading in her own eyes. “It was something new for me- for all of us. Even after you left, I began to look at the world in a whole new way. One day I found a rock that reminded me of a little turtle. I set it aside and kept working, but at the end of the day, I brought it inside. Working with a hoof and chisel, I started chipping away at it, and before I knew it...” she trailed off, glancing down at her side before returning her attention to the one who had opened her eyes and inspired her to be something more than just “that mare that gathers rocks.”
“I’d... made my very first pet rock,” Blinkie finished, grinning through misty eyes. “Inkie painted it the next day, and we sold it in town for a fair price. We both began working together to make more, with me carving the animals and Inkie making them all pretty, and we started our own successful little side business. Even more than that,” Blinkie continued, sniffling and drawing closer, “you inspired us, Pinkie. Working together brought us closer and made us look forward to what each day would bring. You might not know it, but you... you saved us, sis.”
First one curl, and then another, followed by three and four sprang to life as Pinkie looked from face to face. She knew that she made ponies smile, that she spread joy and good cheer on a daily basis, but there, sitting before her, was undeniable proof that she’d made more than just somepony’s day. Despite her antics and thought processes that often left ponies scratching their heads, she’d changed lives. The heart of a party was the guest of honor, and at that moment, even without streamers, confetti, or cake, the rosy mare known for her laughter let the dams break. Willingly yielding to the hooves that wrapped her in warmth, Pinkie melted under the soothing cascade of kindness that acted as a healing salve to the weeping mare, stitching together a heart torn asunder for reasons nopony knew. However, there was one who was determined to find out, and everypony looked at the door in confusion as a knock interrupted the restoration.
“Pinkamena?” her father asked, poking his head through the door. “It’s good to see you awake. There’s somepony here to see you, says she’s a friend.” Standing aside to make way for another guest, all eyes fixated on a white coated mare of refinement as she slowly entered the room. Tension thickened the air like a choking smog as Rarity stood just inside the entrance. She opened her mouth to speak, but the moment she did so, a rosen curl fell flat, startling her into silence. Like dominos falling in slow motion, the rest of her friend’s curls slowly began to unravel, falling about Pinkie’s shoulders in lifeless disarray. Rarity’s hopes for a painless reunion shattered like china dashed against granite as the very last remaining curl unwound, and she found herself unable to look away from the red-rimmed blue eyes of a mare that was left once more without the will to smile.
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Knowing the brilliance of your past stories i hope this one will be just as good!
Yep, this is going to be a roller coaster of emotions. I wonder how this Vanilla Chai is going to play into things.
Now then... Pinkie's reaction to Rarity. Could it be that Pinkie thought she was helping Rarity, but she didn't seem to get any success, and thus didn't know what to do? Why, specifically, did she have that reaction to her? Only time will tell.
Oh boy... This is a crazy cliffhanger... Jeez, I love your writing, ceru, I truly hope you get better, I love your work, and you inspire me to write, thank you.
Feature Box in less than 3 hours.
I say this as gently and respectfully as possible, but I have no idea what your story is about by looking at your description. While I appreciate trying to make one's story sound epic and interesting with the use of flowery words, once you pass a certain threshold it becomes cryptic.
In Hollywood, you're given only three strong sentences before most companies decide if they want to make your movie or not. Try to reword your story description to be a bit more literal so people will know what they're getting into. It will bring more eyes to all your hard work, I promise.
~Aegis Shield
4581049 As correct as you may be, sir, try to keep in mind this is the SEVENTH story in a series. It isn't MEANT to be a description that attracts 'new' readers so much as tease the old readers as to what is going to happen in the new installment.
4581909 My point stands.
He's back!!!
petapixel.com/assets/uploads/2011/08/happydog.jpg
So happy you're up and writing again.
Story 7? Then what's Story 6?
4582598
Nope. Story that sets up shit for the last two stories, as far as Pinkie and Rarity are concerned.
4583361
This
4583567: Ah...well, anyway, it's about time we find out what happens to Rarity and Pinkie Pie. Are they gonna find love like the rest (which both obviously yearn desperately for), or will their greatest strengths become their greatest weaknesses, and damn them to a life of loneliness?
4583566
Oh, alright.
4583361 4583567
THIS is story seven, not six. You're forgetting the Pregnancy fic, and the CMC fic. (Just saying 'This' doesn't help people if they can't see that it's a link, or if they get it in an e-mail.)
OMFG FINALLY!!! IVE BEEN DYING TO SEE WHAT GONNA HAPPEN WITH RARITY AND PINKIE!!
Yay finally some love for rarity and pinkie
I sometimes wonder how the less-intelligent beings function. I guess they all flock to poorly written stories about totally-original, broody twats. I expected better, fimfic. I really did.
4589234 I'm terribly sorry, however you statement has unfortunately left me quite confused, could you please explain what it means to me differently. Again sorry for the inconvenience.
4589250 I'm saying that you guys have no standards and flock to terribad stories about super-whiny OCs 'winning' the hearts of the main six within 3k words by being broody twats. I also insulted you guys' intelligence.
4589258 You are having two main problems with your statement though. One is a matter of opinion, and two is just because someone has a different opinion, doesn't make them stupid in any way shape or form. if you don't like a story, then just leave while those who like can enjoy it.
If your story is a sequel, rather than writing a useless blurb about it, why not make use of the "Prequel Story ID" tag in story edit—and insert the numeric identification; ie, this one is 99907]—to redirect users to the previous story. It literally inserts into the description an unobtrusive "This story is a sequel to", followed by a link.
That way, it also has the added bonus of adding a box titled 'Sequels' beneath your author ID on the story page that will direct users to the next story in the line if they are starting from the ground up.
This is especially important if you write a series of interlocked tales as it eliminates any confusion that may arise. It may seem like a lot of effort on your part when users 'should' be able to find the prequels on your own, if that is indeed your mindset, but it shows that you actually care about new readers when you take the time to properly direct them toward the prerequisite materials.
4589268 The problem with your statement, however, is that it is based off of your opinion. This shit is the Twilight of MLP. You have super whiny, dumb-bitch OC (Bella), shipped with interesting (much more interesting than Bella, at least) non-OC Main Six (Edward). And this is just to have the romance. In the first story, Twilight falls in love with the loser in the second chapter. That's akin to the 5 minutes of screen time that it takes Bella to get her pussy wet for Edward.
This is terrible writing, not to even mention the super Gary Stu OC than has his cockles in a twist, because he's super angsty with his totally legit, super special talent. You guys are literally no better than the Twilight moms/girlfags.
4589279 I have one question. If you don't like it, why are you here?
4589288 I have one question: Why does it matter to you?
I came to voice my displeasure about faggots being faggots, just as you came to splurge about how much of a fangirl you are for faggots being faggots.
And then...the wait for the next chapter~
Anyway, typos were kind of present in the first two chapters, but eh, they're really not that noticable, and are pretty much tolerable.
The story so far is good, but good grief, the cliffhanger!
but eh, i'll be waiting for the next chappy patiently~
Been waiting for this one. Got worried when you went on hiatus for a while but good to see your back.
So yeah... I just read every story in this series in one week, and now I must wait for updates like everyone else. Now what am I going to do with my life?
4582148 no your point doesn't stand at all. This is the 7th story. He even said you have to have knowledge of the other 6. The description is probably meant to not give anything away. Again it is the 7th in a fan fiction series. Though just as good it doesn't need to follow the rules of published books, because it isn't a published book for the mass populace to make money. Also books and movies are like comparing tacos to pizza.
4612168 Actually yes it does.
A story description that doesn't say what the story is about fails in its function as a story description, whether it's a stand-alone one-shot or the seventh story in a series.
I feel like I need a translator.
So, let's infer shall we?
That doesn't tell me a darn thing about what this story is ACTUALLY ABOUT. I don't care if its story 50 of a series, I'm not going to read something if I have no idea what the story is about, much less go through six others just to come back to this point.
My statement stands.
Aeigus I have seen the inside of bookcovets that tell more about the story than that. Still the description actually says a lot about what the story if you are able to think it through. It really pretty much sums it up in a rather tasteful way I think.