A deep-gray-coated filly rests on a large, purple cushion in her room in the vast Ponyville estate owned by her parents. The room is layered with red velvet curtains, illuminated with candlelight from nearly fifty different sources. Gold-filigreed windowpanes protect her from the elements, though one, draped in white, translucent curtains, is opened just enough to allow the slightest of midnight breezes into the room and through her silver mane and tail. Her workbench rests under the window, covered in miscellaneous silverwork materials. A delicate flame is emitting from a silver heater tool below a mold of a necklace, being prepared to just the right temperature for work the next day. Two books, one opened to a specific page, fill the rest of the space – books on silver-smithy technques borrowed from the town library. A night-stand, sandwiching a large, soft sleeping-place with the desk, has two highly-detailed statuettes made entirely of silver and a delicately-folded pair of pale-blue glasses atop it. Her four-poster bed, lavishly covered in a white bedspread and located between the workbench and night-stand and encased by the thinnest of pale green sheets, is unmade, the filly having just recently awoken from a restless sleep, disturbed by her actions the day before…
How did this happen?
How did I, Silver Spoon, fall in league with one of the snobbiest ponies in Ponyville?
Sure, Diamond Tiara’s fun, sure, we’re both rich and sure, we both have our cutie marks, but she could be kinder to those poor blank flanks… It’s always been one of my big complaints about her. We’ve been best friends since I was little, but I’ve never truly been a fan of her inconsiderate ways.
Consider this: I usually volunteer at a soup kitchen once a week, helping those far less-fortunate than I or my family gain a little bit of satiation for their bleeding stomachs. She would much rather throw soup at the poor dears’ faces… and then laugh! Oh, the equinity!
I would never, in my wildest dreams, bring it up in front of her, though! I have to keep up appearances for my father, obviously. You know the type: the snobby-rich-girl-head-held-high-in-the-clouds façade. That means teasing anyone less than my status. I mean, I didn’t get my cutie mark – a silver spoon with a pretty diamond on the top – for nothing, after all. I’ve been fed with silver dishes since I can remember. Even though my parents and I live in Ponyville, we can still maintain the high tone and fancy to-do of any of the wealthiest families in Equestria. To act as if we, the rich and wealthy, are equal in any measure of society to common ponies… that would be preposterous!
…I guess I just answered my own question, didn’t I? Diamond Tiara’s dad being the filthy rich Filthy Rich, after all, and my dad being Baggin Bitts… they kind of scream “rich” don’t they?
I’m such an egotistical maniac…
Apple Bloom seems nice enough… though she’s got that low-class drawl, it’s actually, in a primitive way, kind of intriguing. The way she’s so loyal to her friends as she figures herself out is marvelous! I have often observed her from afar, wishing I could, just once, socialize with the dear and not be called a bully or a brute… I really am a brute when I’m with Diamond Tiara, aren’t I?... such a pity… I long for the day when I can freely approach and talk with her. She seems like she would be a great friend to have…
Sweetie Belle is the sister of the one mare I idolize more than any other – Rarity. Her class matches well with the grace and poise one finds in Canterlot. Even Sweetie is beginning to show the early signs of having the same poise as her sister. It is a wonder, then, that we are so far apart, merely because she possesses no cutie mark. She could be a wonderful companion. Her care and attention she gives to the tasks assigned to her by her friends is immaculate and beautiful. More so, however, is her unearthly, natural grace. Not once does she complain while in their presence. Even her… well, to preserve the grace of the lady, her less-graceful moments… are full of such poise it makes me jealous and a little envious of her.
…Diamond Tiara would have a fit if she could see these words I write now… she has never cared for them, and likely never will. I write my sigh of lament – I wish I could befriend them, show them I am not as snobbish or mean as they believe me to be. Alas, I fear it may be too late for redemption now.
Scootaloo is the only one I do not believe I would have a very good relationship with. Her coltish demeanor and sporty attitude and my refined flavour and tastes would likely not mesh well. That said, however, what I have secretly observed about Rainbow Dash and Rarity may prove true for us as well, if given the chance. Sometimes the sporty and the glamorous have that spark that takes them beyond friends, their very differences fascinating each other beyond the platonic…
Oh! Oh my! Did I just spill their secret?! Naughty me… Naughty, naughty me… But it’s okay. Only my eyes will ever grace this page… I hope… I better burn this before Diamond Tiara comes over tomorrow… she’ll surely have a fit… or publish it under that Gabby Gums underground tabloid she’s been trying to start in the wake of that horrific victimization of most of the town of Ponyville last week. I am utterly sure she will include me and ruin my family’s lofty position in the world.
Or send me to play with… Snails… Ewwwwwww…!!! That settles it – I’m burning this parchment when I’m done writing.
Anyway, Scootaloo and I are so different that we may never get along, but that does not mean we cannot try.
They are trying so very hard to get their cutie marks, and when I observe their actions in private I cannot help but feel like offering a helping hoof. Yet Diamond Tiara seems to always be watching me, keeping an eye on me, corralling me… It is horrendous living under her shadow. I cannot help. I shan’t help. For their sakes, but most importantly my family’s sake, I won’t help.
And it is killing me.
Every time we make fun of them, it kills me.
I laugh on the outside, but inside… Ah, but I am becoming redundant, and nobody likes redundancy.
I oft ponder, however, if Diamond Tiara does it out of jealousy. Her cutie mark is the least-useful out of our whole class. It seems all she can do is wear that gorgeous tiara over her head, while I discovered, though ‘twas only recently, that although I had been the first of my entire generation to get my cutie mark because of my association with silver since I was naught but a foal, my passion, my true, Celestia-blessed passion was silver-smithing. My father has set me up with a beautiful shop where I can hone my talent. I am extraordinarily proud of my blossoming skills, yet recently, whenever I’ve shown Diamond Tiara a new project, she simply groans and walks away… I wish I had someone to ogle my work like the Cutie Mark Crusaders do of theirs. I have very few other friends besides Diamond Tiara, though I wonder if I should even be calling her a “friend”, now that I think about it.
I wonder if I should even be friends with someone so black anymore…
Yes. It is true. I am almost certain Diamond Tiara acts as she does out of jealousy, more than anything else. I have seen her as we watch them, each showing off their true talents in moments of brilliance so bright she turns green with envy.
“Just look at how plain their cutie marks will be!” she often mutters. “I don’t know WHY they can’t see them!”
She then gets even angrier, intent on bringing them down even faster with her taunts… Recently, she has muttered a few things in my presence even I disapprove of.
“When are you going to stop working on that and help me?”
“Why do you have to get your hooves so dirty?”
And my personal… “favourite”: “Stop working on that junk so we can think of ways to destroy those Cutie Mark Crusaders!”
But what would Diamond Tiara say if she caught me? Would it be insulting? Would I see betrayal? Would she, Celestia forbid, get violent with me? We had created that wonderful team atmosphere… the cheer, the greeting, the secret hoofshake… she wouldn’t do that to me, would she? No… she wouldn’t. Why would it be me getting “caught”, anyway? I was the one who decided to talk with them. I decided of my own free will what to do. So what was holding me back?
…I wonder if this is what’s called an “abusive relationship?”
Maybe she was trying to keep me alone, so I didn’t know of other friendships. She had also recently become mean and insulting to my last two remaining friends other than her. She had even become more selfish than I had ever seen… and it had been scaring me fairly badly. Come to think of it, she would haunt me when I talked to those friends, making snide and uncalled-for comments behind my back to them… they told me themselves this was the case.
Maybe Diamond Tiara’s friendship is no longer healthy for me, as my daddy claims.
I begin reflecting on how she spoke of me early in our lives, like I was the only one who mattered in the world. Even as a foal-filly, she made you feel special. Yet as she grew older, she had become more rebellious to the strict lifestyle she had grown up within, even though her father had tried to introduce normal aspects of life to her. She had become meaner, more callous, and certainly more degrading.
It only got worse after she got her cutie mark.
Thinking herself the princess, that tiara perched ever so perfectly on her head, she began teasing those without their cutie marks. I joined in initially because it was fun and there seemed to be minimal feelings being hurt. I was also relieved to finally have a friend with a cutie mark, having myself been the only one in class with one for the longest time…
…Wait. I was teased just as badly for being an “early flankie”... as we teased Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle for being "blank flanks"… Oh boy, have I screwed up bad.
Today was especially bad, however. We were doing our usual, harmless teasing routine, when out of the blue Diamond Tiara started teasing Scootaloo about being a chicken in the middle of the whole class. How she managed to get that idea into her head, I honestly have no clue. She kept beating poor Scootaloo with that idea until the coltish filly blew up, accused both of us of some kind of conspiracy, beat the tar out of Diamond, and took off. Still, Diamond continued her verbal tirade against the rest of the Crusaders. It got to a point where I couldn't take it anymore and stormed off in tears, having had quite enough of her antics. This led to me bearing witness to a fight between the Cutie Mark Crusaders about who let her know, which left their friendship on the verge of collapse...
That settles it. I have made up my mind. If she's going to do that to those poor souls, I think it is high time I made some new friends, regardless of what she says about them.
Tomorrow, I shall go and talk with Apple Bloom and apologize. Hopefully it is not too late to start over.
The silver filly approached the school. Noticing her acquaintance was not there that day, she nervously made her way into the schoolyard, towards a lone, butter-coloured redhead with a pink bow in her mane.
“Apple Bloom,” she said.
Her schoolyard acquaintance greeted her with the same disdain she had come to hate: “Oh, Silver Spoon… what do you want?”
The filly hesitated, just for a second. She swallowed and pulled off her glasses. Lowing before the one she had driven into the ground, she took a long breath.
Two weeks later, under one of the many apple trees playing with a light breeze deep within the rolling hills of the vast farm of Sweet Apple Acres, the day’s work completed and evening settling in, the silver filly is left by the young farm pony as she gratefully accepts an offer of apple juice after a day of helping out of the farm, and finding, to her shock and surprise, she thoroughly enjoys hard manual labor. She pulls out a thick book, bound in a thin wood case plated with silver embossed with a startlingly-accurate and highly-intricate image of herself and inlaid with four specially-selected, Rarity-approved rubies. She opens the book to the last entry, pulls out one of three silver quills, and begins writing, her flowing script so elegant and utterly perfect in form that it looks like every letter is analyzed, measured, constructed, reconstructed, and laid down with the care of a Fluttershy-shed feather floating specifically to the crest of a tiny wave on a bubbling brook. She smiles as she writes…
I have never been more tired… or elated… in all my life.
I was correct – Apple Bloom was the right one to talk to first. Because of her family’s emphasis on honesty and trust, I was able to apologize and re-start on the right hoof. It has only been two weeks, and yet I already feel a bond stronger with her than I ever had with Diamond Tiara – a bond of true friendship, rather than the… I guess one would call it single-sided domination I have with Ponyville’s resident filly-bully. It certainly has offered me a fresh perspective on class and friendship and the relationship one has to maintain betwixt them.
Even in these past couple of weeks, I have begun to feel the thought of the separation of nobility and commoners as necessity begin to wane upon my mind, even if just slightly. It is an interesting sensation to come to realize almost overnight that just because some ponies do not have the money nor status as you do, they still play a terribly-vital role in the cogs of the world, especially if one has been raised all one’s life to believe that money is all one needs to be powerful. The Apple family is proof of the exact opposite – that it is the relationships one possesses that are the true power of a land. Collectively, the Apples of Sweet Apple Acres have sixty-two close members of their family they can name off the top of their head - eleven unique names for each person, an overlap of ten or twelve aside, almost nine hundred members in their family circle descended from Granny Smith’s parents, and over ninety thousand distant relatives across the entire country of Equestria.
And that was only those who were “known to them”, as Big Mac put it.
When I relayed these facts to Daddy last night, he was understandably utterly shocked at the vocal power this one farm could command, even without the monetary resources we have. However, he was even more shocked when ‘twas revealed that the family held a grand total of nearly eleven percent of the entire treasury of Equestria in land values alone.
“Even our family’s impressive wealth totals less than one per cent of the Treasury…” he had said in amazement. “Add Filthy Rich into the mix and we approach one-and-a-half…”
But that is something Daddy would be especially aware of, and not something I particularly concern myself with. I have discovered that I value friendship more than wealth.
The two of us, as in Apple Bloom and I, have become very close. She has shown me her sister’s apple-bucking techniques, and how to identify specific types of apples… with Applejack’s help, of course. I believe I prefer red gala apples the best… or were they of the McIntosh variety…? Regardless, I have shown her how I manufacture silver into different items, even going so far as to produce identical quills like the one I use now for their clubhouse, etched with a small logo of my own design. It is very refreshing to have someone approve of my work without judgment or bias. She seems to genuinely appreciate it. She has offered to make me a Cutie Mark Crusader Official Helper… but, as I expected and pointed out, and as she soon discovered, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo are not quite ready for that yet.
Don’t tell her yet, but I am currently working on small busts of her family, done up in the finest silver I could find out of thanks. I’ve never looked at Big Macintosh so carefully before. Ooh… he’s truly a looker… rugged… handsome… stoic… a real catch for the right mare…
I… I wonder if he would be interested in… no… I’m too… young for…
A small doodle of Big Mac and Silver Spoon kissing, quickly scribbled out by the filly, occupies this space in the journal. Her eyes scan over to the stallion, his powerful hindquarters, rippling muscles, and flowing, blonde mane catching her admiration for a few seconds before she shakes her head furiously and returns to writing, recognizing herself as being caught in the throes of a romantic idealism akin to that of the romance novels she steals from her mother and loses herself in on occasion.
…but a girl can dream, can she not?
Another doodle, this time of the couple sharing a sweet embrace. “As friends...” Silver Spoon insists… “Yes, only as… f-r-i-e-n-d-s…” She draws out the last word with a small sigh, dejectedly knowing it will never progress beyond her filly-crush. She slowly draws a heart around the image, suddenly stopping when she half-completes the design… and slamming her quill on another part of the page, causing ink blots to appear as she writes. She bites her lip as beads of sweat begin forming on her head. Her writing loses all the careful organization it had just moments ago.
Anyways, it took Sweetie Belle a little longer to come around than Apple Bloom. She was still incensed at how Diamond Tiara had talked with Scootaloo, and, as anticipated, she had some trouble even trusting Apple Bloom again after the fight. She certainly wasn’t going to trust me very well because of how I stood alongside Diamond Tiara, though she also seemed to recognize that the incident in the school drove a substantial wedge between us. When I explained that even I didn’t know how she had known of that… that hideous taunt, and also how I explained how angered I was at the way the tiara-flanked acquaintance of mine belittled Apple Bloom’s grandmare, Sweetie Belle seemed to come around a little. She still doesn’t trust me, occasionally accusing me of certain things, but she is working through her feelings. I take it all in stride. I am trying to make a new friend, after all, and it would do me no good to snap back this early in the relationship.
Scootaloo seems to be the one having the hardest trouble, still severely scarred by the chicken incident. We are working on her, but it is taking a long time. I had no idea how sensitive she was about that, especially so fresh after her closest friends insisted on pushing the issue merely the day before. I begin to understand the dynamic that drew Rarity and Rainbow Dash together – “Scoots”, as Rainbow Dash calls her, is phenomenally passionate about everything she does… especially when it comes to her friends and doing things together. It is… infectiously alluring, to say the least. I have respected Scootaloo’s request that I not be around in her presence so that I can show through my compliance that I am no longer host-
The quill swirls from a lazy, cursive “t” into a straight line. Her thoughts drift back to Big Mac… She quickly shakes her head, trying to get a particularly lewd thought out of her mind.
-ile.
Ah! Thank Celestia! Apple Bloom has returned with the juice! I was hoping for some distracting conversation… her brother is just too…
Oh, there I go again…
She closes the book in a hurried rush, forgetting entirely about the ink blots. Apple Bloom settles down beside her. The two newly-found friends continue their chat about silver-smithing techniques from earlier. A sly smile plays at the corner of her eyes and mouth as she quickly steals one final look at Big Mac before returning her full attention to her friend and the conversation.
I screwed up I screwed up I screwed up I screwed up… I can’t be-LIEVE how badly I screwed up… I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO sorry!!
The same filly, in the same room, with the same furniture. Only this time, instead of regal composure, she is awash in agony and pain. Her room shows the after-effects of a panicked temper tantrum. Her bed is ruffled badly and drenched with sweat, her pillow stained with tears, her silverware projects scattered on the floor, except the two stalwart statuettes on her night table. As she writes, she occasionally leaves to pace and think.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this… Sweet Celestia, this is NOT how it was supposed to be… They’ll never forgive me now. They’ll never see past… this.
The filly lets out a piercing scream as another wave of agony takes over her form. She throws herself on her bed, tossing and turning, writhing in unknown terror and fear. She slams her hooves into her bedspread repeatedly, kicking herself inwardly. She returns to her journal after wearing herself out.
Diamond Tiara came back to school. She saw me hanging with them. I wanted her to see me… but then… then… then… She taunted me and the Cutie Mark Crusaders; that was expected… But when they began defending themselves and me against her tirade… I…
A scream.
I defended her!
Another scream. “No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no… NO!”
Scootaloo won’t speak to me now. Apple Bloom won’t even look at me, Sweetie Belle glares at me with disdain… even Diamond Tiara doesn’t give me the time of day anymore - THAT was out of the blue. The only one I can talk to about this is Rarity. I spent all day yesterday hiding out at her boutique as she worked, telling her all about it, quickly disappearing when Sweetie Belle appeared and slipping out the front door when I got the chance.
I may as well not show my face in school anymore… I am completely ruined…
I had worked so hard to earn Scootaloo’s trust, too. I had designed some new silver decals for her scooter, plating the edges with the metal. I had carried her homework home for her. I had basically tried to become a servant, hoping I would be able to get back in her good books with a little bit of hoof grease, but that one action had erased all my hard work…
You. Spoon. Brained. Silversmith!
Finishing a doodle of a certain yellow pony with a pink mane screaming, the silver pony leans back in her chair, her frustration beginning to ebb. She gets up and looks out the window. She smiles sadly as she watches the Cutie Mark Crusaders playing in the sunny town square, remembering all the times in the past two weeks since her last entry how she had played with them, happier than she had ever been in her life. She sighs, letting some of the tension go, and crosses out the last line in her journal.
It does no good to call yourself names, Silver Spoon. Remember that!
Finishing an oft-repeated quote from her mother, she looks over at a new item on her desk, taken four days ago. It’s a family photo of her mother and father, with her at the centre of the picture. She smiles, and yet on the inside she cringes.
Maybe it wasn’t quite so simple. My daddy’s off in Manehattan right now for a business trip. He left three days ago and won’t be back for another thirteen days. I didn’t want him to go. We had scheduled a wonderful father-daughter day at the Canterlot Royal Father Daughter Dance-Off for today. We had developed quite a reputation for our choreogrcartogra
She pauses and looks around, annoyed… “Oh, where is that thesaurus?” She spends several minutes tossing random books and objects around her room, leaving it in an even worse state of disorganization than before. She also discovers she has misplaced her copy of “The Early-Equestrian Language Guide: How to Write like a Settler”… Failing to find them, she frowns and throws up her hooves briefly as if to give up. Perturbed she couldn’t find the right way to spell a word and also that her journal will not be the same in style all the way through, she continues writing.
dances. We even won third last year! I was really looking forward to it, hoping to get first. I was heartbroken, but I understood. I guess I wanted some comfort… Good job with that, Silver… maybe you should get a medal for finishing first place in idiocy instead…
When I brought my problem to my tiara-flanked former friend, she just laughed and said, “You wouldn’t have won anyway” before walking off, her nose in the air.
I’m glad I don’t see her much anymore.
Rarity, although understanding of my initial problem, told me to get petty and basically turn myself into Diamond Tiara to get revenge against all four. But wouldn’t that just make me worse off than I already am?
She pauses again, holding the silver quill up to her lips. An idea slowly begins to form in her mind. Her face slowly becomes brighter.
Maybe a party would help… Yes. I shall go talk to Pinkie Pie today. I shall hold a… oh, how would she say it… a “Silver Spoon is Super-Duper Sorry Party”… and get her to invite the Cutie Mark Crusaders to come to my place and say my piece here tomorrow. My daddy won’t mind if I spend a few extra bits to hire the premier party planner of Ponyville to hopefully patch up my new friendships. I hope they will forgive me… especially Apple Bloom. I really don’t want her staying mad at me forever.
First, though, I have to go give Diamond Tiara a piece of my mind. She’s messed with me, my friends, and my plans for the last time.
The thick book closes with a sharp slap. The silver filly looks around, shocked and disturbed by the mess she’s made. She groans and gingerly steps around the clutter now present on the floor, intent on moving on with her day without wrecking any of her hard work. She leaves the room and shuts the door, trotting down the hallway. She freezes, closes her eyes and groans once again.
A few seconds later, she bursts back through the door and begins tidying up.
“I can’t ever leave a mess untouched, can I?” she mumbles, “Especially in my own creative space.”
A tired and bedraggled silver filly walks into her bedroom and flops on the bed. She has the wildest grin on her face, exhausted from laughing and playing all afternoon. It’s towards the end of the day, and the sun is just setting over the horizon. Her room is just as neat as before, tidied up and spotless. In place of the two statuettes on the nightstand rest three new ones. Though their detail work is far from complete, one can make out the distinct outlines of three familiar school-aged fillies.
There is no other way to put it – I am exhausted. Over the past three weeks, I have done a lot to make up for the devastating blow to my new friendships… and also mended a lot of the wounds present between my old friends and new ones. That doesn’t mean they’re friends, or even that they’re talking. It just means they have an uneasy truce. I have also made an amount of money I thought would be impossible for a filly my age through my silverwork. Let’s just put it this way – the Royal Sisters pay quite handsomely for custom-designed silverware, Luna for a self-portrait especially, but that is not what I wanted to say.
The party was quite successful. Only Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle showed up, but at least they did. Apple Bloom refused to even give me a second thought. My first gut reaction was to become indignant, but I quickly squashed that feeling for one more suited to my own perceived position in Equestria. I took it in stride, having learned my lesson from observing how Diamond Tiara handled the Crusaders, especially when they dared to oppose her.
However, Scootaloo did something completely, bewilderingly unexpected at the party – she asked me for forgiveness, and she did it first! When I queried as to why, she explained that after talking it over with Apple Bloom’s sister Applejack in private, she realized I was only trying to stop them from doing to Diamond Tiara what she had done to them. I have to admit, that not only surprised me, but Sweetie Belle as well. I would never have dreamed of interpreting my actions in such a way!
Note to self – Must remember to keep Applejack in mind for future advice about life. I think Rarity is a little too cryptic for me.
After that revelation, Sweetie Belle didn’t take long to come around herself, especially with how I had proved myself to her with my actions afterwards.
“Having a party with such a yummy cake helps, too,” she had said with a chuckle.
Silver Spoon glances over her writing and smiles. “Those evening classes Mother signed me up for have made me far more like Rarity than I ever thought. I must thank her.”
It took Apple Bloom almost another two weeks to come around. With several go-arounds with her sister and her other best friends before we were able to get her to talk to me so I could apologize in person, and one final push from Applejack, I finally managed to gain her trust back. I even took two Pinkie Promises with Pinkie Pie there to witness them at Sugarcube Corner that I would not break her trust again to the best of my ability or knowledge as insurance. I even instructed Pinkie Pie to write a note for me and leave it on my door every morning. So far, she has not failed once. She even wrote me seven notes on one day, all eerily relating to every day that next week, because she was going on vacation… but that’s a different story.
Diamond Tiara’s newly-found truce, however, is… something of a shocking tale.
It was a dark and stormy night, one week ago today. Everyone in the house was asleep. Suddenly, she was awoken by sirens, then her dad screaming for her to leave. Something in their house had caught fire in such a way they could not put it out. It was swift, engulfing their whole house in a matter of half an hour. She had to stomp the fire out of her tail as she left, having brushed it against a burning bookcase on her way out. She had no time to grab her favourite tiara.
Her dad ran in to find her mother while she stood outside, cold and wet in the rain, watching as everything she knew came to a crashing end. That was when I saw her – and her house.
My parents and I live a block or two down, so when we heard the commotion, we came running. Seeing the little filly shivering alone in the cold while fire carts and hoses filled with retardant appeared and snaked all over her yard filled me with compassion, even if just two nights earlier we held a fight that could have awoken the dead, and even the dead’s ancestors. After wrapping myself in a coat, I had brought an extra just in case.
It wasn’t long before the rest of town was there to help.
After a few hours of battling a stubborn blaze that licked up the very rain that fell on it as if it were an ice cream cone held by a hungry foal, the fire fighters pulled both her parents out of the flaming wreckage. Her dad was unconscious. The firemen and paramedics on-site had said he had inhaled too much smoke, but they also believed he would be okay.
Her mom, however, had joined the ranks of those in the afterlife.
The stunned look that Diamond Tiara possessed showed that she had just been shattered. Her mind, her heart, her world… it was now non-existent. She watched as the Apple family, specifically Apple Bloom, did what they could to help. Scootaloo also came to her rescue with her fire-fighter mom. Sweetie Belle and Rarity showed up fashionably late, but pitched in to help all the same. She watched as her house went up in flames, even to the best efforts of everyone in town.
She had no emotion as I invited her to my place. The Cutie Mark Crusaders, though still a little embittered by her wanton insults, also came over to make sure she was okay. Diamond Tiara asked why they came. Scootaloo, of course, was brashly honest. She didn’t want to come, but her mom said Ponyville always banded together in these crises. Sweetie Belle came to just do the right thing.
Apple Bloom, however, said the most profound statement of the night.
“It’s jus’ what an Apple does. We help everyone in need.”
I stared at her in shock. It was simply a part of her family’s culture to help. There was no selfishness among them when it came to other ponies. They just dug in and fought back whenever a friend was in trouble.
For most of my young life, I have observed the wealthy treating the not-as-fortunate with respect while in front of them, but mumbling insults behind their back. It didn’t feel right to me. Even I and my own father were guilty of this, especially when he hosted some of his particularly-lavish soirees. What Apple Bloom said hit me hard, and I have been thinking about it to this day. Even if they were mortal enemies, an Apple would not hesitate to help anyone, regardless of rank, status, or how mean they had been. It took a truly-callous action to make the Apples abandon you.
I now desire to emulate that value.
It has been hard to change my thought patterns. I had no idea how many thoughts this would mean rearranging, but I believe I am doing a good job at it. I have requested that of Apple Bloom – that she helps me with this mental reorganization of my actions. I cannot say I have not slipped up, but then again I am quite new to the whole honesty game, especially to the standards the Apples hold themselves to.
Now, I hope ponies can stick with me long enough to help.
Diamond Tiara still stays with us as her dad recuperates in the hospital. She is no longer the same confident friend she once was. In fact, she more resembles Fluttershy before
She shuffles her room around… “Oh, what was that bull’s name… he came and turned Fluttershy into a meanie for a while… where was that flier…?” After a few minutes, she decides just to keep writing. It wasn't that important, anyway.
that one motivational bull arrived than any other pony I have observed. She is at a loss as to what to do now. I and the Cutie Mark Crusaders have been working a lot with her to try and help her find a better place in life than that draconian leadership stuff she was doing before.
We shall find it. I know we will.
And this time, we’ll do it together.
She closes the book and chuckles. The night is young, but she is exhausted and filthy. She decides to turn in early, so she departs to the bath. She finds the water running and the door locked.
She bangs on the door. “Tiara! Are you almost done in there?”
A call back. “Just a few more hours… a queen does need her beauty bath after all.”
The silver filly facehoofs and groans. She returns to her book and cracks it open to pen one last line.
