Rarity turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Rarity, what foul dust floated in the wake of her dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of mares.
"It was a strange coincidence," I said.
"But it wasn't a coincidence at all."
"Why not?"
"Rarity bought that house so that Blueblood would be just across the bay."
Yes, this is Great Gatsby with ponies. Yes, Derpy is Dr. TJ Eckleberg.
So, Fitzgerald didn't title his chapters, but I guess he also didn't write about magical talking horses.
“Now Twilight, are you sure you have everything you need?”
“Yes, Coco.”
“Textbook, check. Pens, check. Lunch, check. Notebooks, check. Very good, Twilight. You’re all set for your first day of magic kindergarden. Aren’t you excited!” Coco Pommel clopped her hooves together with a sickeningly saccharine smile after placing her completed checklist into her apron.
“Oh yes I’m positively bursting with excitement. I can’t wait to be surrounded by imbecilic foals who couldn’t tell a levitation spell apart from the crayons shoved up their nostrils.”
“Oh cheer up Twilight. It’ll be fun. You’ll finally make some friends and get out of the house. Oh my, you ought to bring some extra ink. Oh look there’s a bottle right here on your desk.” Coco Pommel used her mouth to pick up my ink as earth ponies are wont to do. Back when I was a filly, I was always revolted by how earth ponies had to rely on their mouths so much. I could not comprehend how anypony could stand being so debased as to not possess magic.
Unfortunately, Smarty Pants chose that moment to manifest on the floor in front of Coco. Her front left hoof stepped on my childhood doll and caused her to slip. The unfastened lid took to the skies, or I suppose the ceiling of the bedroom of my youth, as ink lanced across the immense void between Coco and I.
Ink defaced my freshly groomed coat and well-ironed school uniform. In a tantrum rage, I gave into my baser instincts. I marched up to Coco and struck her across the muzzle with as much force as an angry unicorn filly of five years could muster. The tip of my new horseshoes cut Coco’s muzzle and crimson droplets of blood began dripping down her face like tears.
I inhaled sharply in preparation to castigate my maidservant when my mother’s imposing shadow fell across the doorway.
“What happened?” she said emphasizing each word in a voice befitting the no-nonsense businessmare who had expanded my grand aunt's hardware business three-fold ever since she inherited it.
“Oh, Mrs. Sparkle we just had a little accident here with some ink.” Coco Pommel held her hoof to her nose, trying to stem the blood leaking languorously from it. “It’s no trouble at all; I’ll have young Twilight here cleaned up in a jiff and off to school before you know it.”
“ Coco, go clean yourself up. I will handle Twilight.”
“Yes Mrs. Sparkle. I’ll be right on that.” Coco bowed her head before leaving.
“Mother, I -” my mother’s stern look silenced me at once.
“Whenever you feel like criticizing any pony,” she told me, “just remember that all the ponies in Equestria haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.” And with that, she turned around and departed my room.
I sighed and slipped off my unused saddlebags, letting them fall to the floor.
“So, what do think Twilight?” asked a distraught voice that was invading my studying time.
“Hmm? What was that?” I lied as I looked up from the research I was conducting for my latest editorial in the CSGU News. The article ended up being as boorish and uninsightful as the rest.
“Well what do you think I should do?” asked the mare whose name and face both escaped me. I was certain I had met her acquaintance previously but I didn’t quite care enough to attempt to remember.
“I just don’t know else who turn to. I feel like I’m losing my mind, I’m at the end of my line. I don’t even think I care about what my mother thinks anymore.” cried the troubled and not entirely sober mare.
“I’m sorry, but I’m terribly busy. Furthermore I don’t even know you. I don’t feel it’s entirely proper for you to be sharing such intimate revelations.” Quite honestly I did not get involved in another incident that involved me getting dragged before the disciplinary board for being a “politician” trying to “incite unlawfulness.” It wasn’t my fault I decided to not vocally criticize somepony who decided to unionize some earth pony factory workers who happened to try to talk me.
“Is that pony disturbing you, Twilight?” an imposing alicorn sauntered over to us. I remembered her from my class but I wasn’t particularly close to Cadance Amore.
She towered over the both of us, flexing her powerful wings aggressively as if they would strike the both of us at any second. The other mare, Twinkleshine was it?, slunk away shooting a sullen look at Cadance when she turned to face me.
“Hmmf, if any rabble harass you Twilight you just tell me. I came over here to say you should come to tomorrow night’s hoofball game. You can write about it in your little newspaper. I’ll be the starting tight end.” Cadance bragged, not so discretely moving her legs and torso so they were precisely positioned so as to maximize any viewer’s view of her sculpted musculature.
“My aunts will be there too, so you might actually have something decent to write about. You can sit in our family’s private box.”
Once long ago I may have denied it, telling myself that my upbringing precluded such thoughts. I have a sharp, persistent distaste for most of my old classmates. Though I may strive to tolerate every pony, knowing that I cannot possibly understand all the infinitesimal threads of life that make up each pony, I know that snobbish failure is inevitable as the winds that beat against the tallest spires of Canterlot. After the riotous events of last summer I think I no longer suffer from this cognitive dissonance. I sit in my ivory tower not with pride or even contentment, but with a sense of blasé defeat that comes with the acceptance of fate.
I’ve learned that, without fail, whenever a story is told there are always details lost and forgotten or warped and coopted from other tales and experiences. I no longer trust the confessions of wild, passionate mares. There is never sufficient time or space for honesty. Generosity has no place in Equestria, though it might fervently struggle to carve one out amongst the wellbred elites of old unicornian nobility. Be it a golden bit or a sympathetic ear or unyielding devotion, nothing can be given without inexorable consequence and punishment.
Perhaps Neighton put it best: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
A painting of a stern old unicorn with a lavender coat and deep purple mane with pink stripes still glares down at me from my childhood home. It is an unchanging and constant as that day many years ago when I uncomfortably shuffled up to Coco and roughly stuffed a crudely made card into her forehooves before retreating away back to my room.
When I returned to Whinnyapolis after the Great War, I felt that sense of stormful restlessness that often besets young mares. I yearned for red-blooded action and something more than just inheriting the family hardware business as my mother had. I decided to head east, to Manehattan, to try out my luck in the bonds business. I always had a knack for numbers so I figured I might as well try my hoof at it.
My relatives debated amongst themselves which company I ought to work for until finally settling on one they found satisfactory. My mother made a quick phone call and then sent me on my way with a firm hoof shake and enough bits to cover my living expenses.
After I got off the train on the outskirts of the city, I ended up finding my way to a most peculiar geological location, nestled in the embrace of Horn Island Sound. It was as if Celestia herself had taken two hooffuls of earth and plopped them down next to each other and smoothed them out, so that the place where they connected to the existing land was undistinguishable.
The western projection known creatively as West Egg housed many rich and upcoming families such as the Riches and the Oranges. The easterly one was home to the summer houses of the old unicornian nobility. Pegasi weather teams flying above noted the oddly uniform shape of the two eggs, but on closer inspection the two ovals were far from perfect. Each had their rough edges, of rocks and such jutting out into the sound for those near enough to discern. There had not been enough time for erosion to take its natural course and smooth over the imperfections.
Before arriving, somepony in the company had mentioned a small cottage was available for rent in West Egg. It looked sorely out of place amongst the ostentatious, glittering mansions but it was only 80 bits per month which I found it quite agreeable.
With my bookshelf brimming with newly purchased tomes on finance and banking, and winter wrapped up, I felt a nervous excitement for the coming year. The trees and flowers were recovering in full force from the cold winter and there was a tangible sense of opportunity in the air.
I sat on my porch as my draconic servant dusted out all my rooms and cooked breakfast. I soaked in the sunlight as spring passed the torch on to summer, opening my first book in my new home: Banking 101: All You Ever Wanted to Know About High Finance But Were Afraid to Ask.
Soon after arriving in Manehattan, I found myself driving to the house of Cadance Amore and my second cousin once removed, Blueblood. House may not have been the appropriate title for the sprawling Celestian Colonial mansion overlooking the bay, all red brick with symmetrical, repeating windows, all open to allow the sea breeze to caress the inside. It seemed to be newly painted, the white paint accents around the doors and windows showing no signs of wear. The lawn was massive, racing a quarter mile down to the sea. It was dotted with bright marble statues, sun dials, and winding stone paths surrounded by hedges.In the front, newly planted flower beds and rose bushes lined the drive up to the mansion. Ivy traced its way along the garden walls and shined as Celestia’s sun reflected off the dark green leaves.
I was not well acquainted with my cousin Blueblood, only seeing him occasionally at the odd family gathering. I knew Blueblood attracted the fancy of not a small amount of mares. He had the sort of voice that drew them in like Diamond Dogs to a jewelry store. His glistening white coat and golden blonde hair that perfectly accentuated the well-muscled build typical to Canterlotian unicorns.
In college, I had never attempted to become familiar with Cadance despite her boisterous nature. She was the sort of mare who dominated a room and was not easy to ignore. She always stood with a rather pugnacious stance that challenged anyone to oppose her. She had been one of the most powerful ends in Equestria during her time at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. My peers thought I was insane for not taking up her constant offers of a seat in the special royal box. However after graduating, she seemed to just drift this way and that, like a captainless ship, buffeted by the waves of the ocean and the whims of Luna’s moon. I heard the couple had spent a year in Prance on whim, and was assured over the phone by Blueblood that East Egg was their final stop. I was not sure if he believed his own words but that didn’t seem to matter at the time.
After the war, I had visited Cadance and Blueblood’s house in Canterlot. They did not live in the palace but instead chose to build an equally opulent spire nearby. It caused me no small amount of discomfort at the thought that someone in my graduating class could afford such luxurious lifestyle. This was a mare who never had to subsist on hayburger or beg second hand textbooks from older students.
My carriage seemed grossly out of place on her property. Indeed, if they had not been expecting my presence, I do not doubt that I would have been met with an unctuously polite servant who insisted that his master was not home at the moment.
When I arrived, Cadance was standing on the front porch, cutting an imposing figure, wings spread wide. Her mane and tail were flowed with the wind, making her look like some lost hero of Pegasopolis. She was wearing a white dress that was a tad too tight around her figure, as if her muscles were trying to escape its confines. Though she no longer possessed the lean, well-defined muscles of her school days, she still could give any earth pony a run for her money. She had an air of arrogance and pride that only a lifetime of privilege and easy success could give. A mare who was unaccustomed to hearing or acknowledging the word “no.”
We exchanged pleasantries and talked for a few minutes about our days at CSGU. Cadance always enjoyed reminiscing about her old glory days which she could never quite seem to regain, no matter how much money she through at the problem.
“So, how do you like the place. I bought it from Demane, the oil mare.” Cadance gestured at her front lawn with a sweep of a large wing. Before I could answer she said, “Let’s go inside. I have something of a surprise for you,” grabbing me with the other wing and politely shoving me inside.
We trotted down a vaulted hallway framed by delicate, graceful Prench windows that let in the sunny day. The sheer white curtains were all moving gently in the breeze and as the light glittered off the many white surfaces, the whole mansion seemed alive and dynamic. The white walls stood in sharp contrast to the rich dark red rug leading into a sitting room occupied by two stallions.
Ornately framed photos of past hoofball games and newspaper clippings lined the walls. The two stallions were lying on a long white couch, suit collars rippling in the wind as if they might turn into wings and allow them to fly away at any moment. A thunderous boom echoed in the room as Cadance shut the main window of the room, causing the motion to cease.
One of the stallions was a stranger to me. He was lying with his entire body stretched out so that his hooves nearly touch Blueblood’s half of the couch. He lay completely motionless with his head slightly arched upwards as if he was looking at something supremely interesting on the ceiling. I was reminded of the marble statues in the royal palace, unfeeling eyes staring off into the distance. If his saw us through the corner of his eye he made no motion to acknowledge our entrance. I stood awkwardly for a moment, almost wanting apologize and leave for intruding on his presence.
Blueblood reached out for my hoof which I quickly if not smoothly obliged, stumbling further into the room. He said in his low masculine voice that forced the listener to lean in closely in order to hear him, “Oh, I am positively ecstatic to see you again Twilight. This is my dear friend Fancy Pants.”
Fancy Pants nodded his head and opened his lips before seeming to think better of it and instead return to his previous position, looking at some unknown spot above my head.
Blueblood in the meantime pulled me down so I was now sitting on the couch. I did my very best to not come any close to accidentally brushing against Mr. Pants’s hooves or tail. One of Bluebloods forehooves laced around my own while the other came to rest on my chest as if to simultaneously push me away. “So how have things been, cousin?” he asked in that tenorous, thrilling voice that mares found difficult to forget. His face was lovely and covered in that kind of cheer that well bred stallions tend to wear as a mask for tense trouble.
“Well, on my way here I stopped in Canterlot. Your parents send their love.”
“Oh do they miss me?” he asked hopefully.
“The whole city is positively in mourning. All the curtains in the castle have been replaced with black ones and there’s a persistent wail every night when Celestia lowers the sun.”
“Oh how marvelous. Cadance, let’s go back tomorrow morning!” he clopped his hooves together forcing me to draw slightly closer. The sun shining through the window reflected off his pearlescent fur, shimmering like a daydream. I could feel Fancy Pants’s eyes momentarily forget their target and slip down briefly. “You haven’t seen our little foal yet,” she added suddenly changing topics.
“I’d like to.”
“Oh he is absolutely the cutest little darling and he’s already three years old. His crib is right in— ”
“So, what are you doing, Twilight.” interrupted Cadance who had been pacing restlessly about the room. She stopped to rest a hoof on my shoulder.
“I’m a bond mare.”
“With who?”
When I answered she gave a derisive snort. “Never heard of them.”
“You will if you stay in Manehattan.” I answered curtly.
“Oh I will.” she glared at Blueblood for an almost imperceptible second, then looked back at me, “And nopony is going to stop me.”
Mister Pants suddenly decided to join the conversation, “I’m so stiff. I’ve been lying on that sofa for ages.”
“Well don’t blame me. I’ve been trying to get you to come with me into the city all afternoon,” Blueblood lazily pointed the tip of a hoof at him.
“Well I can’t just go galloping off willy nilly. I’m in training.”
“Pff, what sort of training could you need? How you ever accomplish anything is beyond me,” Cadance added taking a cocktail from the serving a tray that was just brought in and downing the generous glass in one gulp.
“You live in West Egg, right?” Fancy Pants remarked with contempt at the fact. “ You must know Rarity.”
Before I could reply that she indeed was my neighbor, Blueblood’s glimmering eyes seemed to widen for a second and his entire shining demeanor lit up even brighter and rose up from the couch demanding, “Rarity? What Rarity?”
Another servant came in to announce that dinner was ready and Cadance grabbed me with her wing, moving me out of the room like a chess piece.
“In two weeks it’ll be the Summer Sun Celebration,” Blueblood looked at me radianty. “Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”
“We ought to plan something.” yawned Fancy Pants. Sitting down into his chair with the same level of enthusiasm as a student sitting down for a lecture after an entire night spent awake in the library reading.
“What a great idea. What should we plan?” he turned to me pitifully “What do ponies plan?”
He suddenly seemed to notice something on his pastern and looked at it with utter rapt attention.
“Look!” he pointed at her leg, white fur glimmering in the remaining light. “Cadance, you did that to. I know you didn’t mean to but you still did it. That’s what I get for marrying a big hulking —”
“I despise the word hulking,” objected Cadance.
“Hulking,” insisted Blueblood though he at least refrained from sticking out his tongue.
From there Blueblood and Fancy Pants made inane, dispassionate chatter. They seemed to accept Cadance and I being there but made no effort to entertain or be entertained. They knew the dinner and evening would soon be over and were in no rush to put it away, unlike dinners back home which were hurried along in disappointed anticipation of the nervous present.
“Civilization is going to pieces.” Cadance proclaimed forcefully “Have you read The Rise of the Earth and Pegasus Ponies?”
“No,” I answered somewhat shocked by her intense tone.
“Well, you should. The idea is that if we don’t pay attention the earth ponies and pegasi will overtake the unicorn race. It’s all scientifically proven.”
“Yes, Cadance has been getting quite erudite,” said Blueblood, face and mane perfectly catching the light of the setting sun, almost seeming to shine with some inner glow. “She reads these long books and with all sorts of —”
“Well these books are all quite scientific. It’s up to us, the dominant race to watch out or these other races will have control of things.”
“You’re acting pessimistic. You ought to visit Vanhoover or maybe Las Pegasu —” began Fancy Pants before Cadance interrupted her by banging both hooves on the table and standing up.
“The idea is that we’re unicorns. I am, and you and you and —” Cadance paused briefly before gesturing at Blueblood who winked at me. “And we’re the reason why culture exists, science, art and all that.” Her wings twitched in agitation.
A telephone rang, and a butler walked onto the back porch where we were dining. He whispered something in Cadance’s ear and Cadance followed him back into the house. The last vestiges of light from the sunset seemed to fade away, casting Blueblood’s glowing face in a slight shadow as he rose to follow them.
Fancy Pants and I shared a glance. There was a beat of awkward silence that I attempted to fill before he shushed me before I felt him cast a listening spell. I quirked an eyebrow as it settled over my ears, allowing me to hear the beginning altercation inside.
“What are you—”
“Shh. Be quiet.”
“But what —”
“Don’t you know? Cadance has some stallion in Manehattan.”
“What?” I asked although not entirely incredulously.
“Yes, I thought everypony already knew,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Although he should have the decency to not telephone the house at dinnertime.”
Cadance and Blueblood returned before Fancy Pants could tune his spell well enough to hear the conversation. Fancy Pants quickly canceled his spell and pointedly looked outward into the garden. Blueblood attempted to fruitlessly restart the conversation so that we would all forget what had just transpired.
“Oh I saw the roses outside are blooming. We should go pick some after dinner, Cadance.” Blueblood said nonchalantly.
The telephone rang again and Blueblood shook his head at Cadance. The telephone continued to ring for an agonizingly long period before some servant answered it. I looked down at my plate and focused very intently on moving the daisies from one side of my plate to the other. No butler came outside again to fetch Cadance.
After dinner Cadance and Fancy Pants went into the library, leaving a wide canyon of space between them as they entered the house. Blueblood took me along a winding path through the garden and back to the front porch. He sat down with his lovely head between his hooves. I could sense roiling emotions possessed her and attempted to make some nonstimulating conversation. A servant came outside with candles that bathed us in a soft light.
“So how is your foal doing?”
“Oh Twilight, we don’t know each other very well,” he said abruptly. “Even though we’re cousins, you didn’t come to my wedding,” he added with a vague tinge of accusation. The candle flickered, alternately lighting his angelic face or casting it in shadow.
“I wasn’t back from the war.” I said, thinking about clashing against armies of literal, not figurative, darkness.
“That’s true I suppose. I’m just so unhappy, Twilight. Lately I’ve just been cynical about everything.”
Well, he certainly had some reason to be. I tried to shift the subject back to lighter subjects.
“So I guess your little colt has started talking and...doing whatever it is little colts do.”
“Yes, yes. Say, Twilight, did I ever tell you the story of when he was born?”
“No”
“Well, Cadance disappeared as soon as she woke from the ether to Celestia knows where. I asked the nurse whether it was a filly or a colt. The nurse informed me he was a colt and I immediately burst out crying. I said, ‘Oh I hope he’ll be a fool. That’s the best thing a colt can be in this world, a handsome little fool,’” Blueblood leaned closer to the table between us, the motion causing the candle’s flame to dance. I only noticed then that he was wearing an emerald green tie clip.
“The world’s all feathered up. That’s what the experts say.” he laughed with scorn and a bit of Cadance appeared in his eyes. “I’ve been everywhere and done everything. Celestia, I’m sophisticated!”
As soon as his voice stopped, I felt the whole conversation, if not the whole evening had been some ploy to extract a certain emotion from me. I looked at his face that was just out of the radius of the soft glow of candlelight on the table between us as he leaned back into his chair. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was an outsider and that he and Cadance were part of some secret society I couldn’t possibly gain membership into.
“Let’s go see what those two are up to shall, we?” Blueblood stated and pulled me up with his magic.
When we walked into the library, Fancy Pants and Cadance were sitting on opposite ends of the room. Fancy Pants was reading aloud from the newspaper.
“Well, I suppose I should go to sleep soon.” Fancy said with a yawn, stretching his lean muscles. “I do have a game early tomorrow morning. Wake me at eight.”
“If you’ll get up.” Blueblood teased.
I suddenly recognized his face. I had seen him playing croquet in many sporting magazines all across Equestria. As he left the room, Blueblood saw my eyes follow his figure.
“You know I think you should get married. Maybe I’ll hold more parties throughout the summer and sort of push you two together. You know, lock you up in the pantry or send you out into the bay on one of Cadance’s boats—”
Cadance interrupted Blueblood, “He’s a nice stallion but I don’t think his family should let him run around the country unchaperoned like that,” turning to me she asked, “so what did you two talk about?”
“The struggle of the unicorn races of course, dear,” Blueblood considerately responded for me.
“Did Blueblood give you a little heart to heart, Twilight? Well, just remember don’t believe everything you hear.”
I politely said that I heard nothing and excused myself from their home, complaining of tiredness. Before I left the doorway, Blueblood called, “Wait! I forgot to ask you something. I heard you were engaged to a girl back in Whinnyapolis. I heard it from 3 other ponies so it must be true”
“Groundless accusations. I’m far too poor.” Of course I knew what they were referring to, but I wasn’t even remotely engaged. One of the reasons why I decided to come to Manehattan was that I did not intend to be rumored into marriage.
As I drove back home I breathed in the night. The earth was alive, and I could see the flutter of bats across the sky as frogs began to bellow their songs. When I pulled up to my home I could see a figure at the end of the dock by my neighbor’s mansion. Looking closer I could see that it was Rarity herself. I suppressed the urge to call out to my new neighbor. There was an intimate stillness about her that I dared not break.
She stood on the dock in a flowing pink dress, looking forlornly across the vast empty bay. She reached out with a hoof as if trying to grasp at Luna’s stars far off on the horizon. When I followed the line of her leg, I saw that it was actually pointing at a single green light that must have been at the end of another dock far away.
Between West Egg and Manehattan, there is a desolate place known as the valley of ashes. Phantasmagorical trees, flowers and houses made of dust seem to grow straight from the gray ground. Most of the houses are made of scrap metal and wood, sloppily thrown together by some earth pony ingenuity that was long gone by now. A railroad cuts through, and every so often a line of steel cars comes to a stop like some mechanical creature suddenly drained of all its energy and forced to rest. Whenever this happens, earth ponies and the odd pegasus swarm out from their shacks and board the train, like black little fleas swarming a mongrel dog.
Cadance convinced me to eat lunch with her and, assuming I had nothing better planned that afternoon, bullied me into agreeing to see her stallion in the city. Before I could get a word in edgewise, I found myself being shuffled into Cadance’s newest automobile and driven recklessly into that Celestia-forsaken patch of Equestria.
I was well acquainted with all manner of dust and dirt particles on our drive over. Cadance’s monstrous car kicked up an astonishing amount of detritus into the air until it slowed down in front of one of the few businesses along the mostly empty road we had been driving down.
As I got out of the car, I turned to survey where Cadance had taken me. A massive, dilapidated billboard immediately caught my eye. Two criss-crossed yellow eyes looked down at me and advertised Dr. Derpy Hooves’s delivery business. It guaranteed on-time delivery or “Your money bac,” the plank where the “k” should’ve been had fallen down long ago. I was reminded of the old portrait of my great aunt, catching me in some act of childhood choler. Yet, these eyes didn’t have the same piercing effect. Somehow, it reminded me of the impassive gaze of my father; more parts disappointment than judgment.
Why a doctor would ever start a delivery business was beyond me. But then I guess who can ever really fortel which forking path they will take in life.
A large sign on the building read “Sweet Apple Acres: Used Cars and Repairs.” A tired-looking orange mare walked out to greet us. Maybe in some other lifetime she had strength and energy, but the pony in front of me moved with the weary steps of a mare twice her age.
“Hello, Applejack, how’s business?” Cadance smacked the mare’s shoulder in greeting and began to lead her into the garage. She didn’t bother to look back if I was following them, but I suppose there was nowhere else to go and nothing better to do.
The mare stumbled a bit and had to right herself. “I cain’t complain, I suppose,” Applejack said morosely. “Say, when are you gonna sell me that car?” she asked a glimmer of faded hope in her watery emerald eyes.
“Soon. I got a pony working on in.” Cadance replied noncommittally.
“Hmf, works kind of slow, don’t she?”
“No, she doesn’t.” Cadance’s voice was frigid and her eyes narrowed as if she were about to fight this mare. “And if that’s what you think, maybe I’ll just sell it to somepony else.”
“Err, no that’s not what I meant,” Applejack said nervously, “It’s just—”
“Cadance, is that you? Applejack, go get some refreshments for our guests,” commanded an orange stallion who was a shade yellower than Applejack. He wasn’t handsome by any respect, but he had a certain dynamic, virile energy in his gaze and movements that was as young as Applejack was old.
After Applejack meekly agreed and left the room, the stallion walked up to Cadance, who hugged him with one wing. The stallion laid a hoof over her chest as she leaned down to kiss his lips. I could hear the water running in another room.
“I want to see you, Caramel,” Cadance whispered into his ear, “Get on the next train and meet me at our usual spot.”
Cadance and I left just as Applejack walked in with a bowl of freshly washed apples. Their bright red color stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the gloomy shop.
Cadance drove the car farther down the road and parked near the train stop. While we waited for Caramel, Cadance smoked a cigarette. She glanced at Dr. Hooves and flicked the cigarette to the ground.
“Celestia, this place is depressing. It’s good that Caramel is able to get into the city every now and then. I can’t imagine how ponies can live here,” said Cadance just as we saw Caramel trot up the road, with his mane and coat freshly washed and a new tie and collar.
Caramel road in a separate train car from us for propriety’s sake. After we arrived, Caramel bought some random odds and ends in a drugstore, including the latest issue of some gossip rag. The first three taxi cabs that stopped for us didn’t seem to meet his standards. When one finally came that he approved of, he was distracted by a mare selling dogs.
“Oh, Cadance can we get one, please? They’re so adorable,” Caramel turned to the mare, “are those border collies?”
“Yes, indeed sir. Smartest dogs you’ll ever meet,” the mare pitched her wares, “Look at this one, feel how soft her coat is. I’ll give her to you for ten bits.”
I looked at the dog. Maybe at some point in the dog’s pedigree there had been a border collie involved.
“Fine here’s your money. Go buy ten more dogs with it,” Cadance threw the money at her. It ended up landing on the street as our car drove away.
The taxi stopped in front of a row of prim white apartment houses. I tried to make some excuse to leave, but Cadance insisted I see the inside of the apartment. Caramel ordered the elevator filly to fetch some milk and biscuits for the dog. He returned with a saucer and a packet full of big, tan dog treats. One of them sullenly decomposed all afternoon in the milk bowl, untouched.
Caramel immediately began inviting various guests over, while Cadance acquired a large bottle of whiskey from the kitchen. I’ll admit I don’t drink as much as most mares; I’ve only really ever been drunk a hoofful of times. I don’t completely remember when the other guests came in but suddenly they were all there, their shrieking laughter piercing in the too-small living room.
I was currently squeezed between Caramel’s flamboyant brother Braeburn and a stallion named Hoity Toity even though there was plenty of other gaudy furniture packed into the living room. Hoity Toity’s gloomy wife, Photo Finish was sitting across from us in a chair whose back had that painting of that stallion on a swing in Versailles. Some brilliant upholsterer perfectly centered the image so that the stallion’s young lover was looking up from the seat cushion.
“So, do you live here Braeburn?” I asked, seeing Braeburn eye the room and its furniture enviously. I probably normally would have been more polite, but the effect of alcohol and being dragged into unwanted social gatherings had me more than a little frustrated.
“Do I live here?” Braeburn said a tad louder than would normally be socially acceptable, “No, I live with a coltfriend in a hotel several blocks from here.”
I wonder how his roommate could stand Braeburn’s stench. It was a combination of too much cologne, mane gel and whatever god awful soap he used. It was obvious he went to a stylist often to tame and fashion his mane, eyebrows and hooves but from where I was sitting it was obvious that nature was winning.
Caramel walked in, having just changed into a sharp cream colored suit. As time went on he seemed to be possessed by more and more vitality. His cheeks colored and his eyes flushed with vibrant vivacity. What once may have been construed as the energy of a spirited vigor now took on the air of haughty disdain.
“Oh you look marvelous in that suit,” praised Hoity Toity in a voice that grated on me, “Photo Finish you ought to take a picture.”
“What, this old thing? Tell you what I’ll give it to you when I’m done with it. I only ever really wear it when I don’t care how I look,” he said with an artificial, crystalline laugh.
I looked over at Photo Finish. She had a glob of some creamy white gel stuck in her hair that would bother me for the entire night. All in all, she was much more placid than her husband.
“Where’s the ice, Caramel? You’re being a terrible host for our guests,” Cadance gestured at us violently, causing some whiskey to spill from the glass held in her magic.
“I told that filly ages ago to fetch some for us,” Caramel sighed in frustration at the lower classes, “It’s so hard to find good help these days. Honestly, you have to always keep on them or they’ll just laze about.”
He waltzed into the small kitchen off to the side with her nose held in the air as if he was prepared to issue orders to a team of private cooks and waiters. When he came back, he had a bucket of ice and another bottle of whiskey.
“So where do you live Twilight?” Braeburn asked, sidling up to me a bit too close for comfort.
“West Egg.”
“Oh, I’ve been to a party there once. You know Rarity, right?”
“Yes she’s my neighbor,” I replied, intrigued by this mention of my mysterious neighbor who I had not even met. It seemed like everypony in Manehattan knew her but me.
“Well, I heard she’s distantly related to Princess Luna herself. That’s where all her money comes from.”
Before I could inquire further, Cadance made some rude joke at Applejack’s expense. I don’t remember what it was but it made everyone burst into laughter, genuine and ersatz. Caramel seemed to laugh the hardest. He had a high, biting laugh that I suppose may been intended to be attractive, but instead reminded me of a braying mule.
“You know both of them hate the ponies they’re married to,” Braeburn whispered into my ear with hot, alcoholic breathe.
“Really?” I responded, equal parts sarcasm and disbelief. At the time, I was not sure which one to pick.
“Oh yes, I heard that Cadance would divorce Blueblood in a heartbeat if it weren’t for Blueblood being a member of the Church. He’s not allowed to divorce you see.”
I raised an eyebrow at this lie. Caramel overheard our conversation and made some obscene comment regarding Applejack.
“Celestia, I was cheated into this marriage. I had no idea how low-born Applejack is until after I married her. Did you know she had to borrow the dress she wore to our wedding. How scandalous is it to not be able to afford a dress for your own wedding. She’s not even fit to pick up after Winona,” Caramel continued his rant, giving his new dog a nuzzle. Winona looked like she would rather be anywhere else than in that crowded smoky room full of loud ponies.
The time on my watch seemed to skip ahead faster than reality. I looked it at nine and then suddenly it was ten. Photo Finish was sleeping in her chair and I used this as an opportunity to wipe off the pearly gel that had been bothering me all afternoon and evening.
“Do you want to hear how Cadance and I met,” Caramel said, turning to me.
Before I even responded he began.
“We were sitting across from each other on the train. She was so beautiful, I could hardly keep my eyes off her, but everytime she looked at me I had to pretend I was looking out the window behind her. When she got off the train, I followed her and completely forgot where I had been going originally. There was a crowd of ponies exiting the station so she ended up pressing her chest against me. I thought, what have I got to lose? I’m not getting any younger. We ended up getting in the same cab once we left. It was so romantic.”
When it was truly late, Caramel and Cadance got into an altercation.
“Don’t you dare say his name,” growled an angry, drunk Cadance.
“I’ll say it as much as I damn want to! Blueblood, Blueblood, Blueblood!” shouted an infuriated Caramel until Cadance lashed out and broke his muzzle.
The there was a confusion of ponies trying to find towels to stem the bleeding. A wailing stallion. Red staining the carpet and furniture, including the scenes of extravagant, ignorant Prench nobles. Cadance sulked in a stormy corner. Hoity Toity and Braeburn fussing and chastising.
Photo Finish and I chose to escape the apartment. On my way out, I picked up my hat from the chandelier and waved goodbye to that poor dog that looked for all the world like it would like nothing better than to follow us out.
We groaned down the elevator. Photo Finish suggested we meet up for lunch some time. I enthusiastically agreed.
“Don’t mess with the slot,” yelled the elevator filly to Photo Finish.
“Excuse me I didn’t know I was touching it,” slurred Photo Finish.
Then I was standing next to her bed, looking out the window. She was sitting there with the sheet draped across her almost naked body. A glistening sheen of sweat matted her mane and her cheeks had an athletic, ruddy glow.
I fell asleep at the station, waiting for the four o’clock train.