Fiddling Around At The Hootenanny
Coco Pommel sipped her hard cider from the mini-barrel that passed for a mug and gave a demure giggle.
"Rarity, I don't know how I let you talk me into these things..."
The two mares sat in a pile of hay on the edge of the milling mass of the Apple family in full-on celebration-mode. The Apples had a reputation for being a warm and friendly bunch of ponies. Any excuse for a gathering was sure to draw at least a few dozen ponies. As Coco understood it the excuse this time was that some member of the family had gotten engaged to a long-time romantic partner and the news had spread through the clan like wildfire in dry Summer brush. News of that caliber had brought Apples from all over Equestria, each bringing their own specific rural charms.
A jug-band of Apples from the swamps of the West had set up on stage. Applejack and her immediate family from Ponyville and Appleoosa had set up enough tables of food to feed the royal guard twice-over and enough barrels of hard cider to put them into a poison coma. Apples from the Southern mesa fields of Dos Caballos were trading silvery trinkets and broaches in celebration of the happy couple. All around, drink flowed and joy spiced the very air.
Being a good friend of the family Rarity had been invited to the celebration with encouragement to bring a "plus-one". Coco wasn't sure if she fit the bill for what the Apples had in mind but, nevertheless, here they were- two mares fresh off the train from Manehatten.
Coco was a very easy-going and open-minded mare. The simple charms and quaint ways of country folk were captivating to her but this sort of occasion made her anxious. Though on the surface she smiled pleasantly and laughed genuinely, inside she was as wound up as any ball of yarn had ever been.
Rarity's glorious blue eyes sparkled from beneath the brim of a straw hat she'd been given by Apple Bottom Jeans. She brushed aside a wave of her luxurious violet mane to take another frothy swig of her cider. "Oh but Coco dear, isn't this just the most darling time? Are you not having fun?"
"Oh, of course I am!" Coco beamed, holding up the shiny silver and turquoise broach clasped to her neckerchief. "Did you see the jewelry that mare was just giving away? Oh my. Uhm- Cousin Apple... Boonies? Or something." She raised a hoof to her mouth. "Oh Celestia, I can't remember. There's so many of them." She adjusted the folds of her collar, making certain the gift was proudly on display. "I couldn't believe it. Isn't this just to die for?"
Rarity looked over the top of her mug with a heavy-lidded gaze of scrutiny. "Tsk tsk, my dear. You are far too desirable a young blossom to be so reserved in such a setting as this."
Coco was confused.
"Loosen up, child. Look around you. When in Roan and all that. " Rarity draped a hoof around Coco's shoulders and made a broad sweeping motion, guiding her eye through a panorama of colorful characters of all shapes and sizes. "Look around you, darling. We are the only ponies under the ripe age of one-hundred who aren't mingling about and sharing in the festivities." She tapped a delicately manicured hoof to Coco's barrel with a raised eyebrow. "And you, my dear are the only one who actually seems to only be pretending that she's happy."
"I'm not pretending." She protested.
Rarity set her chin, examining the young mare. There were times when Coco's friend and employer seemed to know her too well. Rarity didn't so much look at Coco as look through her, seeing the things she'd rather left locked away in the comfort of the oubliette of silence, dealt with in some far-of future date. Regardless of what others said, procrastination was always an option- at least where personal matters were concerned.
Coco shrank under the penetrating gaze of the unicorn's sapphire eyes. "I'm really not."
Rarity's expression was not swayed by the feeble strength of her reassurance.
"No, really. I'm NOT."
Rarity pursed her lips as her eyes trailed around, studying Coco. The unicorn had risen from the obscurity of Ponyville backwater to the height of the fashion elite by being able to size up when a customer wasn't feeling their best and most beautiful. "My dear, I know you're not one taken to scurrilous rumors or flights of fanciful dishonesty but if you were any more uncomfortably anxious I would expect Applejack to appear from thin air interjecting some colorful country metaphor about a cat and her Granny Smith's rocking-chair"
Coco chuckled and gave up a sigh of defeat. With a nervous hoof she adjusted the lay of her bobbed mane.
"I'm just nervous I guess. I mean, these ponies, they all SEEM so nice but..."
With a crunch of hay Rarity ooched close to her friend and adjusted her draped hoof into an affectionate side-hug. "Buuuuut?" She gave a playful bump into the young mare with her rump and smirked. "Make way, darling. Ample plot coming through."
Coco relaxed and leaned comfortably into the softness of her friend. "BUUUUUT I'm.... well..." Her voice dropped to something just short of an exaggerated whisper. "I'm different, you know?"
Rarity listened as she swished the contents of her mug about, staring hard into the amber liquid and stroking her friends shoulder. "You're referring to your- shall we say 'situation' yes?"
There was no way of beating around the issue. That was indeed the root of the issue. Coco was cute. She was demure, dainty and had a very appealing figure by most standards of beauty. Any pony, stallion or mare would have to admit that.
She was also a mare in mid-transition.
Coco had been living as a mare for years. Most ponies saw her as a mare, thought of her as a mare. She was happily very passable, gifted with a tiny frame and delicate features. Even without the spells she'd been able to afford thus far, she couldn't recall the last time she had been misgendered. Still, that was at home in the relative safety and familiarity of the big-city, her city, Manehatten. This wasn't even the small-town of Ponyville. This was a microcosm of a microcosm and within it there were very few faces she was familiar with- None of which belonged to the more up-scaled fashion-circles she was used to. She hadn't realized how relaxed she had become, being seen as the mare she was by her peers, until now. Here she was in alien lands. Even among such friendly faces, growing up as she had, the threat of that one misplaced word, one out of place comment could- at best- shatter everything in her heart. At worst, who knew what could happen.
She didn't want to admit to this fear. She was an adult now. She had conquered all that and put it in the past, hadn't she? She was her own mare now, making her way in the world, defined only on HER terms. It felt embarrassing to think it- but just the thought of feeling like that again was terrifying.
"I'm not like other mares Rarity. I know these ponies are YOUR friends but they don't know ME What if they think I'm... you know? ...weird. A freak?."
"I will hear NONE of that, now." Rarity cut her off. She took a sip from her mug and exhaled, swaying slightly. She re-directed her touch from Cocos shoulders to gently massaging her withers and back. "Oh Coco, CO-co my sweet little mug of Coco..." The unicorn gave an involuntary burp and covered her lips with an embarrassed hoof. "Oo- dear, excuse me."
It couldn't have come at a better time. Her tiny pupils locked with Coco's as both mares erupted into a fit of giggling which dissolved the growing tension like a snowflake in the sunshine of Spring.
"Sweet girl, I- Oh my word. I say this has more kick in it than I'd thought." Rarity raised a hoof to her forehead and rubbed at the base of her horn with a clumsy smile. "Oo- where was I? Oh, yes..." Rarity chuckled and gave her friend a pat on the thigh. "I know that you don't get out to this part of Equestria very much and that ponies of such a... 'provincial' quality have a reputation among the more culturally astute... but I assure you that these ponies are a FAR more accepting and loving collection of souls than any of the SUPPOSEDLY more refined snobbery on display which you and I are expected to tolerate at one of our premiere events." Rarity made air-quotes with her hooves at "refined" with a distasteful sneer.
Coco had to consider that point. She looked at the ponies who stood all around them. They smiled. They talked. Some made grand gestures as they waved hoofs about. All of them seemed so happy. Stallions bellowed and bumped barrels. Mares...well, mares did the same. The Apples seemed a rather egalitarian bunch when it came to gender politics, for the most part. Foals ran and played, climbing on trees and occasionally throwing dirt or even each other in the case of the full-on brawl which had erupted in the mud of the pig-pen. Nearby, she recognized the Wonderbolt, Soarin riding about on his paramour, Braeburn's back. The navy-maned pegasus seemed to be having the time of his life, re-enacting a scene from some ancient military theater-piece with his Earth-pony fiance. Nearby, Applejack and her wife, Rainbow Dash laughed as they pretended to be operating a catapult, lobbing dirt clods at the two stallions with a small army of minions, foals of their various cousins and kin. Nopony was looking at any of them twice. Nopony was treating them differently. Their laughter wasn't the practiced mask of civility from big-city life. None of their interactions were. None of what she saw on any face, anywhere, carried with it the reserved and compulsory air of the fashion community. These ponies were genuine. Their every interaction was real and full of sincerity. They were more in-the-moment, more alive than any ponies she'd ever seen.
Maybe that was what scared her. She knew what she was. Coco had always known she was a mare, ever since she was a little filly. So many years of having to endure hearing herself be described as something she was not, maybe even now, still, maybe she was clinging to some part of that ugliness, carrying it piggy-back like a soldier's rucksack.
Rarity pulled her back from her dalliance through time with a light kiss to her cheek. The sweet scent of her perfume and soft lips gliding across her muzzle sent a rather startling shock down her spine.
"Coco. Darling, I love you. As my employee, I value your diligence, your punctuality, your competence..." Rarity struggled with a slight swooning sensation brought on by a mug too far, "...and both heart-felt commitment to artistry in our craft and providing creatures with the joy they could only receive from our transformative efforts. Rarity-For-You could NOT be the same palace of beauty without your delightful presence. As my friend, I simply adore your charming demeanor and respectable, honest nature." Rarity gave the younger mare's cheeks a squeeze. "It doesn't hurt that you have the kind of hind-quarters that are simply breath-taking when boosted by a fine pair of heels. Trust me. They'll adore you, too- regardless of whatever crockery you may-or-may-not have in your cupboards."
COOOOOOOOOWHHEEEEEEEEEE!!
A nearby war-woop from a rather robust and healthy-looking stallion interrupted any thoughts Coco was having on the musings from her friend. The call seemed to whip up the entire gathering to a new level of excitement, signalling a rousing return of hoots and ever-broadening smiles. Raucous catcalls and whistles erupted across the barnyard from the family house to the edge of the orchard. Coco was shocked as her friend and mentor, normally the picture of elegant refinement snapped to attention. Rarity turned sharply in the direction of the shout and joined in, giving a full-on return of the call. "Cooooo-wheeeee!" For all the hardships they had shared together, this was a side of Rarity, Coco had only rarely got to see and it was truly a treasure when she did, watching Rarity really and truly let go.
An orange-coated blur bounded up from seemingly nowhere. "Hale Howdy, Rares! Miss Coco." Applejack tipped her hat with a slight bow of her head. The freckled farm pony was simply radiant in her earthy joy and healthy beauty. Her blonde mane had grown out a bit in the last year or so and she was wearing it partly braided these days. One of her cousins had threaded some flowers through it, mums of varying colors to match Braeburn and Soarin. A chain of matching blossoms set in her tail. Sparkling with an almost visible glow, she was a spirit of nature. This was her cousins big day and she was certainly living it up with all the best of her family.
Applejack offered a hoof to her fashionista friend with a flirtatious curl to her well-worn smile. "Hey, What say you stop giving that big ol' marshmallow puff of yours a turn as a cushion and wiggle some of that sugar out with me?"
"Oh Applejack, REALLY." Rarity's eyes danced with enough sparkling stars to bedazzle an entire closet of the gaudiest frocks. "You wouldn't be giving our dear Rainbow Dash cause for alarm now, would you?" With a gentle bounce of her gorgeous mane she coyly sipped from her drink giving up a smile that was equal parts coquettish and teasing. "I'd hate to think I might become involved in something untoward."
Applejack's smile broadened as her eyes rolled. "Aw, come on, now, Rares. Don't you go bustin' my bussel. You know she ain't been so concerned about us since she done slapped a ring on me." The farm pony gave the band of gold on her necklace a flick of her hoof, her barrel swelling with pride. "'Sides, you know I ain't one for that sort of wanderin'. It's just a dance." The farm-pony reached down with a muscular forelimb and grasped Rarity around the waist. Pulling her up in her powerful grip to within inches of her muzzle, she returnd her friends coy grin. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"You're a beastly thing, you know that." Rarity blushed from ear to ear and swooned, surrendering to the charms of her old friend. She giggled and draped her hooves around Applejacks shoulders as the two began to twirl about in a circle. She looked into Applejack's eyes with all the playful, genuine affection of a princess to her knight as the two began orbiting away to join the rest of the stomping, hooting mass.
Coco couldn't help but smile for her friend. There had been romantic tension between the two friends for as long as Coco had known them. Rarity had held a blazing, if unrequited, torch for the rugged Earth-mare for years. It had been devastating to her when she had finally, officially lost her to Rainbow Dash. Coco had held her friend and mentor through more tears and late-night ice-cream binges than she could count. Listening to Rarity weep and wail, she shared the sorrow through hundreds of thousands of late-night spoonfuls of butter-brickle calories until the sun came up. Yet here they were, still the best of friends, still inseparable. It warmed Coco to the core. She watched them stomp about. Rarity never laughed like that in Manehatten, no. She never smiled that broadly. Her eyes didn't dance like that- not even when she had just begun the excitement of a new project. If there were ever any pony truly in her heart, it was clear whom it had always been, perhaps would always be.
She envied them both that, if only just. It seemed it was her place so far, the friend, the support. She took a sip of the strong-smelling amber liquid in her mug and raised it in toast to her dearly-beloved friends. "Always the brides maid, never the bride", as the saying went.
Watching them, lost in the happiness of two old lovers, reconciled as best friends, she hadn't noticed a particularly striking mare whose devilish twirls had brought her dancing her way.
The blue-maned mare shuffled in a deliberate two-step dance on her hind legs. She was clearly part of the band- the Apple-banger Swampy Sum'beaches or something. Her eyes were closed as she feverishly sawed away at a violin with a smile as broad as the sky. Still, somehow she blindly managed to weave between the dancing throng of ponies as expertly as a Neighponese ninja. She moved in time with the sliding of the bow in her hoof, sliding and shimmying with the awkward grace of a cat on a scorching tiles of a summer-time roof. Coco watched the fiddle-player juke about in time with her playing, mesmerized.
She was a long-limbed mare, yellow of coat with a deep blue treble-clef cutie mark on her toned flank. She was a little unkempt but very easy on the eyes. With just a bit of care she would be absolutely stunning. Her body was lithe and slender, the build of a pony used to a sparse if healthy diet and an honest days labor followed by a raucous night of unwinding with her family. Her clothes were as shabby and disheveled as the flyaway tresses of her deep sapphire mane. She wore a green shirt which was mostly a collection of patches and stitches. Around her neck and waist she wore matching streams of bright, sun-bleached orange. Coco wondered if it was some sort of family insignia, a crest of color, rather than an emblem.
The mare stamped about in time to her playing. She moved at a lively, excited pace, full of the kind of carefree energy Coco was ever-so-silently jealous of in other cis-mares. It was captivating in this one, the fiddle-player.
With a sudden spring the fiddler leapt into the air and whirled about, landing in a wide-legged stance, her tail flagging in the air as her hips gyrated about in a bawdy fashion. Coco blushed and turned her head, raising a hoof in a display of faux modesty- even if she did still peek from behind it with an excited giggle and a bite of her lip. The fiddler had a very nice plot and she was certainly not afraid to show it off. Coco tried to not make it too obvious as she stared from behind her hoof, taking in the sight with an increasing pulse.
She didn't know how long it had been that she was watching the mare before she noticed that the mare was watching her back.
Coco's eyes grew wide as she realized that the mare was looking her over. With one half-shut eye, yes but still, very clearly, this lean, long-legged country beauty was undoubtedly sizing her up! She, Coco, was being 'checked out'! By another mare! All at once she was bolstered in a rush of flattered pride and also terrified as her anxiety returned with a vengeance. Her cheeks illuminated the surface of her mug with incandescent fury.
Her thoughts seemed to be trying to outpace her speeding heart. 'Oh sweet Celestia. What do I do? What do I do? What if she talks to me? What do I say? What if I look like an idiot? I'm going to mess this up, aren't I? Oh butternuts! Rarity, where are you when I need a wing-mare?'
The fiddle player was being very open with it now, directing her flirtatious attentions to Coco. Though her rambunctious playing continued, the mare planted her hindlegs and began pantomiming with her bow as if she were casting out a fishing line towards the seated Manhatten-ite and attempting to reel her in. She leaned in her direction with slide of the bow, 'casting her pole' towards the petite cream-tone mare. A torrent of notes came as her hoof circled about, making a play at 'reeling her in'. Coco sat in flushed silence. Part of her wishing she could disappear into the hay, part of her more excited than she could easily recall ever being in her entire life. Again the fiddler cast the invisible line her way, leaning low, as if stalking her fishy foe in deep waters. Coco sat, red-faced, paralyzed by the display of attention as onlookers whooped and clapped their hooves. The fiddler scrabbled the bow across the strings as if wrestling with an impossibly large fish on the line. She gritted her teeth in a stern grin, struggling with her foe, determined to draw the mare from her perch by the raw power of music and will.
Near panic, Coco looked to the crowd for her friend and mentor. Sure enough, she found Rarity in the forelimbs of her stetson-crowned country princess, still clasped tightly and twirled about with all the energy and carefree abandon of a mare half her age or less. Her violet mane flowed like the train of a bridal gown. Judging by their directed grins it seemed that they had both been watching her as well. Applejack whirled the ivory unicorn about as Rarity whooped in uncharacteristic giddy glee. She glared at Coco with eyes the size of finger-bowls as she mouthed something at her. Coco couldn't make out the words but they were clearly regarding her new blue-maned musician. She tried her best to return the communique, pleading for assistance but received no reply more than a coy smile. Applejack followed up with a jerking motion of her head and a chin set in a very suggestive manner. Tongue set firmly in cheek she motioned towards the fiddle-player with her jade eyes as her fetlocked hoofs abruptly dropped to give Rarity's bottom a sharp squeeze-earning her a surprised yelp and a poke to the ribs.
With a sharp shriek of chords from the fiddler's instrument the invisible fishing line seemed to snap. The musician hopped back with a knowing smile and a shrug as she returned to twirling about in a spinning jig. The deep blue of her mane and tail almost seemed to form a sea-foam blur as she hopped and spun, twirled and whirled. The music flowing from her instrument in a ever-increasing crescendo, driving the dancers all around her to a frenzied pace. The jug-band players on the porch rose to their feet as the song built to its final pounding beats and the cheers of the assembled clan. Hoofs pounded the earth with a thunderous beat which shook Coco where she sat. Somewhere in the mass, laughter erupted as Soarin fell from Braeburn's shoulders in a drunknn heap. Pegasi were known for not being able to keep pace with Earth Ponies when it came to many things, liquor being in their number. Coco clapped her hoofs together and cheered with the mass of ponies, losing a bit of herself in the infectious spirit of the moment.
She would not be alone for long, it seemed.
The fiddler tucked her violin into the back of her sash and approached Coco with a canter that was as much swagger as it was trot. Coco steadied herself inside as she watched her approach. She really was quite the looker. Something about her seemed so very familiar. She reminded her of another musician she had met, a Trottingham Earth mare with the Canterlot royal orchestra. Somewhere in all the rugged backwoods bluster she could see that same feminine softness, that same gentility and beauty. The mare tossed her long blue mane aside with a shake of her head, no doubt, becoming overheated with the passions of her playing. Without so much as a word, she plopped down in the hay beside Coco and gave a smile as bright and inviting as the beaches of Capybara Bay on the first day of Summer. An unruly lock of her beautiful blue mane fell into her eyes. With a chuckle she blew it aside and tucked it under the broad brim of her hat.
"Howdy!" "How y'all doing?" The mare spoke in a loud voice projecting with all the same energy she put into both her dancing and playing moments ago. Her words came through in the same rapid delivery as a used-carriage sales-pony, but with all the country charm of the fabled Apple family name.
"My name's Fiddly Twang, though some folks call me Fiddlesticks. Some of my kinfolk call me Cooter or Cooter Blue. Play your cards right and maybe you'll find out why! Ha-HA!" The mare ended the greeting with a light chuckle, as staccato and sharp as the rest of her cadence. It took a moment for Coco to realize she had finished her salutation and was holding up her hoof, awaiting a return of the gesture in response.
"Oh! I'm- ah, I'm Coco. Coco Pommel." She raised a dainty hoof which her new friend clasped and shook with a warm and open smile. Up close Coco could see her better now and was rapidly becoming lost in the musician's eyes. They were like Rarity's, sparkling like gemstones, only hers were more aquamarine than the sapphire of her unicorn friend. Her lashes were unnaturally long and as raven-black as those of any runway model. Those were the eyes of a clean conscience, a good hearted soul that knew how to hold onto good memories and leave the bad ones in the past. Those were beautiful eyes. "It's very nice to meet you, Fiddly Twang."
"Well, I am plum-tickled to make your acquaintance, Miss Coco Coco Pommel."
Hearing her name brought her back from the fluffy pink clouds of her girl-crushing with an embarrassed giggle. "Oh! No, it's just Coco."
The mare's brow raised. "Oh! Just Coco, no Pommel? Shoot but that's unusual. Y'all must have a cold or something. Don't you worry none. Great Grampy Gumbo has a tonic for that, works like nobody's business."
Coco giggled again. She was liking this mare more and more. Fiddly had a very high-energy charm, there was no denying that. She was unlike any musician Coco had been acquainted with before. Outside of the vague notion of her appearance, she was nothing like the Cellist from Canterlot she had thought of earlier. She wasn't sure what she had expected to hear from the musician's mouth but it certainly wasn't this.
"Say, you mind if I grab you up something to drink Coco?"
"I already have something, thank you, uhm, Fiddly." Coco held up the mug of cider which still contained the majority of its contents.
"Oh that's cool. That's cool. Ha! I get it. Just Coco." The mare laughed. "Anyways, I hope y'all don't mind a bit of company now- me just dropping my muff'n'dumpster off here next to ya like this. It's just I was a watching you from cross't the holler and I thought to myself ain't no reason under Celestia's sweet sun that a gal with a smile that bright and a body that fine should be sitting all alone without somepony to be showing her off."
"I- what? Oh, no, not at all. I-" Coco's blush brightened to the level of minor stellar activity. Nopony had ever talked like this to her. She was being hit on by another mare, a real mare! And she was a pretty one at that! Her thoughts raced into each other like a stampede of traffic in rush hour, crashing into one another before they could make it to her mouth and form sentences.
Fiddly raised a sapphire eyebrow. "Say, you ain't all nervous about somepony trying to put something funny in your drink are you? See, I heard tell you was from Manehatten and I heared that kind a thing happens up there in them city-pony parties."
Coco shook her head. "No, I-"
"Now, you don't need to worry none about that here, Miss Coco. We Apples don't stand for that kind of chicanery and if you find somepony getting all fresh with you, you just give me or one of my cousins up there a whistle." Fiddly Twang gestured towards the group of jug-band players still seated on the bandstand, a group of some five robust and handsome stallions. Though they looked to be a friendly group Coco could see that these country ponies had been crafted, no, forged through years of hard work. Tattered vests and baggy trousers kept aloft with re-purposed suspenders concealed rippling barrels, hard muscles of spring steel and rawhide and hoofs worn into rock-crushing instruments of destruction. These were clearly the kind of country-hospitality ponies anypony would love to have for a friend but never want as an enemy.
Fiddly set her chin and spat to the side. "I tell you what, anypony what tries and gives y'all the business sweet-thing, them old boys will work him over right, tie his plot to the grain silo and light that sum'buck on fire. Leave nothing of that boy but a smoking crater, y'all get me?" Fiddly gave her a conspiratorial wink and a grin. Whether she was pulling Coco's leg or not, the protective and familiar tone was definitely helping to set her at ease. "Y'all ever heared of Ol' Nasty Rich? Filthy's cousin?"
Coco shook her head, enraptured with the country pony's verbal balancing act of machine-gun delivery and buttered mashed-potato country drawl.
"Sure you ain't." The mare tapped a hoof to the side of her snoot with a conspiratorial wink. "Sure you ain't. See ol' Big Fish up yonder?" Fiddly pointed in the direction of the nearby cider-stand. Just off to the side of the gathered throng of guzzling ponies sat a rather husky stallion with a gray beard and tattered black hat. His rippling mass was as much made of a warm smile and bushy grey beard as it was a rather impressive network of wrinkles and scars. "Yeah, we called him ol' Big Fish what on account of this one time we was all out fishing in Cragodile Crick. Ol' Big Fish says to us he got a bite an the next thing we know, he's been plum et up by one a them mighty-mouth bass fish about ten times the size of Princess Luna's sweet patoot. I ain't lyin'. Took half the family tickling it's pickle afore it coughed ol' Big Fish up on the boggy side a the crick, yep. Hey, you know what? I forgot why I brought that up. Ha!"
They both laughed. As she traded eyes with Coco, the young mare from Manehatten had the distinct feeling those aquamarine gems and that vibrant smile were imagining any number of indiscretions taking place in the VERY near future. She had once recalled Rarity describing a drunken Applejack as "being able to commit bodily harassment while sitting quietly in the next room, unattended, behind a closed door". She had never been fully sure of what that meant until this moment.
She had to admit, it was rather flattering.
"Now, Miss Coco. WHAT in Equestria has got such a dreamy little creamy-puff as you sitting here all alone and worked up?"
Coco found that she was absently playing with a lock of her own hair, listening to Fiddly like a school-filly in Springtime rut. "Worked... up?"
Fiddly's eyes trailed around Coco's face as she nibbled at a piece of wheat-straw. "Shoot yeah. I was tryin' my durnedest to get you up off'n that pretty little plot a yours and I'll be dagged if somethin' or other wasn't bound and determined to keep you sitting on it."
Before Coco could answer, the country mare's jaw dropped. "Aw horse-apples. You ain't one of them mares what only likes stallions are you? Crap. See, I thought you was making hayloft eyes at me when I was all shaking what my mamma left me at you like you was thinking we should be checking each other for leeches in the dark and if I got the wrong impression, I'm powerful sorry."
Coco spit up her cider. This was no time to be going moony-eyed. Pull yourself together, girl!
"Oh! No! No! Fiddly, you're- I'm- that is- you're a lovely mare, simply wonderful. Please, don't think I don't find you attractive-"
She tapped her hooves together, seeking the words. Was she really ready to say these sort of things? If this mare was so interested in her, shouldn't she? Was she ready for that? Why did life have to be like this? "It's just that... well..." Coco sighed as the one thought consumed the rest of her inner monologue. 'Oh buck me'. The fiddle-player seemed to be listening intently trying to decipher an answer from her stammering and stuttering.
"You see I was nervous because you seemed interested in me and-" Coco tried not to look at the mare. Fiddly's lustrous eyes and open, lascivious intent were just so overwhelming. The way her sapphire mane just fell where it did and her eyelashes were so long, practically beckoning her to look their way. Maybe it was just Coco feeling so caught up in the moment but the simple country mare had an impossibly rakish appeal. She had seen many mares with come-hither eyes before but never one with such playful charm and magnetic energy. "Well, you're so pretty and I'm... well... I'm a...oh Celestia... And you don't like, well, you aren't interested in stallions, I can imagine..."
"Aw... yeah. See, look. I don't wanna sound like one a them bigoted unicorns from up t'wards Canterlot castle or nothin'. I know plenty of stallions and I ain't got nothin' against 'em. I got four- no, five brothers is stallions. No, six. I ain't so good with the math once I run out a hooves. Maybe fifteen cousins or so is stallions. Shoot, my paw is a stallion- I think. I ain't never seen it none but I AM here. Maw said it was like one'a them elkafunks snatching an apple out the tree. Ha! She walked funny So, I'm willing to give my maw the benefit of the doubt. They's all stallions. Nothing against 'em, just ain't none of 'em I'd want to help me knock the wrinkles out a the sheets."
Coco contemplated what stereotypes she knew about country ponies and replayed her new friend's statements in her mind. She decided it might be best to not dwell too hard on the way the fiddle-player had phrased these things- chalk it all up to clumsy verbiage.
Still, the honesty on display was all-too-refreshing. None of the upper-crust unicorns in Manehatten could survive in this environment. There didn't seem to be any filters on these Apples. They said what they said and they meant every word of it. If they felt a thing, they let it out and their family was there for them. Perhaps they did levy their phrasing with kindness. Yes. A sort of backwoods diplomacy intermixed with and coloring their word choice. To be certain, they sweetened the pot with a spoonful of their charms but all the same, they were- simply put- who they were, unafraid, unashamed and open. All their cards were on the table and in so doing, they lived freely, honestly and happily.
Maybe it was time she tried the same- just, put it all out there. Maybe she'd heard the same lie for so much of her life that some part of her still needed to let it go, to stop carrying it like a burden and free herself.
Coco wanted to be happy, too.
She nodded and clenched her jaw. Her course was set.
Coco took a deep breath and let it out.
"I'm a trans-mare."
Silence seemed to reign between them for the first time. Coco wasn't sure how long it lasted. For a pony with an anxious heart the dilation of time can turn a matter of seconds into an eternity.
Finally, Fiddly broke the eerie quiet with her staccato country twang.
"A What?"
The question seemed more confused than anything. Perhaps Fiddly had never encountered the term before? Though the spells to switch a ponys body around in such a way weren't unheard of she knew the kind of ponies capable of casting them were not to be found in the backwoods of Ponyville- generally speaking. That felt like a good sign, something she could work with. Coco repeated herself in a slow, measured tone, touching her barrel with a delicate hoof. "I'm a trans-mare."
Fiddly's brow furrowed into a network of lines cresting her narrowed eyes. "Uh-hunh..." The response seemed to stretch out into a question.
"A trans-mare? You... I..." Did Fiddly not know what transgenderism was? She hadn't wanted to make hurtful assumptions on her education. Stereotypes were generally such awful things. "You see, I was born... different... from other fillies. That is to say, when I was a little foal, I-"
"Is this one of them Zoda-snack things y'all like to read about in them fancy city-learning papers? Them things what say you're a goat pouring water on a pig's behind 'cause you was born when Luna's rump was in regression or some-such?" Fiddly shifted the straw from her mouth and adjusted her hat. "I ain't meaning no disrespect or nothing. I think I'm supposed to be a bull giving the bee's best to a centaur or something. I don't know if I can cotton to that but to each their own and all."
"I..." Coco stammered. "No. It's not like that." She rallied to compartmentalize what she was learning about Fiddly's animal-husbandry understanding of Astrology while pushing aside the insecurities hammered in through years of being misgendered. Her newly-formed confidence was seeing the signs of buckling.
"You see..." Coco cleared her throat and set her shoulders. No. She could do this. She would do this. Honesty. Honesty, that was the ticket. Just let it all out, like these Apple-ponies did. Chips on the table and take what comes her way. "Very well. When I was born my parents thought I was a stallion because of the way my body was shaped. So they treated me like a stallion and raised me like a stallion." She risked a look from her carefully manicured hooves to the blue-maned musician. Fiddly's face had not changed from a mask of silent creases, pursed octopus lips and scanning, narrow eyes. That didn't seem to be a good thing- though then again, maybe it wasn't a bad thing. Coco coughed and continued. "But I'm a mare. I've always been a mare. It's only these last few years that I've been able to be... well... the real ME... and I-"
"Ooooooooooh" Fiddly Twang gave a long, slow nod of her head. "Uh-hunh..."
"OH!" She sat upright with a startling clarity, The mare grasped at Coco with an excited hoof. "Wait! I get it! Y'alls one a them fancy big-city transister gals, aint ya?!" Coco's stunned silence seemed to be far-removed enough from a 'no' to be all the affirmative Fiddly required. "Aw shoot, girl, why didn't you say so? Here y'all had me all worried what I found the mare of my dreams and you was dyin' from the possum flakes or somethin'! Sweet nanny's potaters, girl. That ain't nothing but a thing." Fiddly Twang shook her head with a warm smile that was as reassuring as it was confused by Coco's dread.
"It ain- uhm... It isn't?" The phrase 'transistor gals' would likely remain stored in her mind until the day she died. "Well, it's just that..." She was taken aback by this reaction. Again, she wasn't sure what she'd been expecting from the country pony. Apprehension, maybe? Confusion, definitely. But not this. Years of having stuffy Manehatten bigwigs look down their noses at her, judge her as being less than them, undeserving of the same social spaces, a pity-friend at best and yet here, this vibrant, electric mare made of jug-band music and lust for life- the kind of "simple country yokel" most of her fashion-forward friends would scoff at for lacking sophistication and civility- She genuinely didn't seem to care. "Many times, where I come from- Fiddly, mares who are only interested in other mares aren't interested in mares like me."
"Aw HELL naw, Coco. Come on, now." The country mare slapped a hoof against her thigh with a roll of her eyes. "I swear. Them city-ponies get all worked up over nothin' sometimes. Don't they teach y'all big-city gals nothing about Bye-nology up in them fancy schools?" Fiddly Twang made to pantomime the act of picking a fruit and giving it a nibble before she continued. "Some apples still got stems on 'em but they's still apples. They's just as crunchy and sweet and delicious if you're willing to let a body take a bite." Fiddly accented the last statement with a wink and a click of her teeth. "Shoot. You're about the prettiest thing I ever seen this side of the badlands. A gal like you is gorgeous as a smoking pile a' campfire logs!" The mare leaned in closer to Coco with a grin that could melt butter. "That means I'd like for y'all to keep me warm tonight, if you get what I'm saying."
Coco hadn't noticed when but she had drawn closer to Fiddly as well. She found her hoof in the other mare's, comforted by the gentle squeeze of the musician's touch. She had nice hooves, the hooves of an artists. She even trimmed her fetlocks. They were hooves like hers.
"Asides, we ain't hopping on that rowboat just yet, is we? I mean, I ain't saying no if you're suggesting it. If you give me a whack at it, I can guarantee a big ol' backwater brush smile on them pretty cheeks of yours all the same- BOTH sets, HA! but for right now we's just funning, ain't we?"
"I mean, if we's moving too fast for you, I understand. Only, I heared that y'all city gals was fast-movers and such. Me, I'm more lady-like- BRECKT" Her lips rippled with a hearty belch. The fiddle player gave a sharp punch to her own gut, stifling the explosion with a sharp chuckle. "'Scuse me. See, I'm the sort to at least wait to the second date before that sort of thing, well, maybe the first if she don't lay a hoof upside my head. Or if she's into that sort a thing. Not that I'm one to shame nopony for having a good time. Swamp-dog knows I get Cheeks to Luna if I have a sip or two of cider in me."
And that was it. She had just been hit on by her first girl, come out to her first girl and now she was laying against a hay pile, flirting with her first girl. That was it. Smiling from ear to ear, part of her still couldn't believe it. It felt as if she had just carried every bit of luggage to the top of Steers Tower and hurled the bags over the side-rail. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to... dance.
Sometimes, the universe seems to smile on us when we least expect it.
A shout in their direction from one of the stage hands pulled Fiddly Twangs attention away as Coco mused to herself, basking in the joy of her newfound freedom. She was greeted with quite an inappropriate eyeful as her new friend rose to her hoofs in front of her. The stage band began firing off with whoops and calls, which were returned by the eager Apples in attendance. A baritone toot of the big brown jug and the clattering clank of the spoon player had drawn Fiddly upright like a marionette as the assembled Apple family began to coil up like a spring with the invisible connecting thread of the energy of the music. "Well, that's my cue, Coco." Fiddly lifted her signature instrument and bow. With a wink she turned to Coco, offering a hoof.
"Now, why don't you get up off that tight little piece of paradise you been hiding under all them worries and show me what your mama done give ya, girl?"
As inhibitions faded into obscurity, Cocos smile broadened. With a gentle, real laugh, she reached up to take the hoof.
"Aaaaaaw now that's what I'm talking about!" Fiddly helped her rise to her hind legs, drawing Coco into an affectionate, if wobbly hug. "Cooo-wheee! See, I knew what you was the mare for me the minute I laid eyes on you, girl. I did. Yes, indeed. I said to myself, that mare right there is gonna be showing you which side of the hayloft is warmest tonight!"
"Oh I will?" Coco bit at her lip and gave a coy smile. She didn't notice that she'd started playing with her mane again. "You sound pretty confident, Miss Twang."
"Yes, ma'am, indeed, I am. I could see it in them eyes, seeing as I'm one'a them Bulls what gives it to a Centaur and all." Coco laughed a free and genuine laugh of heartfelt joy as Fiddly rosined up her bow and began dragging it across the strings, much to the delight of the clapping and stamping Apple family around them.
"Yep. We'll be a getting down to all KINDS of mischief, let me tell you! You and me, I can see it ALL laid out afore me- like one a them virgins of the future!" Coco clasped to Fiddly's sides as she began stamping about and playing her fiddle, laughing in her new carefree joy as she followed her partner's bouncing motions and listened to the spinning yarns of their future together. "We's gonna have a family! Nothing too big, just maybe thirteen or so. We can adopt most of 'em if you want. You'll be wanting to hold onto that tiny figure a yours, of course."
"Oh, of course!" Coco's smile grew ever-brighter as she stamped about in time. "I'll have to keep up with all of our children! What else?"
"Oh yeah, they's all gonna be Yaks."
"YAKS?"
Aw Shoot, yeah, Yaks! Big ol' hairy gals. We'll have enough to have us a whole buckball team, all to ourselves! Ha-HA! First ever all-yak buckball team, The Ponyville Apple-bangers! Here come them Apple-bangers, they'll say. We'll be up there in the stands, just a whoopin' and a wompin' for our little band of booger-pickin' natural disasters. I tell you what! They'll ALL have them eyes like yours. That's how they'll disarm them other ponies with they unnatural beauty right afore they run 'em into mudholes and stamp them sorry sum'bucks dry!"
Elated, Coco finally did just let it all go. She found she had to, lost in her witty paramour's free-verse daydreams about their future and the simple pleasure of the country folk around her. She would dance with the blue-maned fiddle-player and many other ponies that afternoon. On into the night, she sang and laughed and carried on as she never had in her entire life. For the first time, maybe, she was truly alive and it felt so very wonderful. Much later that evening the two mares did explore the Apple family barn's hayloft. The two found a particularly warm and cozy place for two ponies to be snug and comfy, lost in the kind of joy only shared between fast friends. In each other's embrace, they counted the stars and so much more, giving them all names into the hours before dawn, living and loving- freely and honestly.
But all that is another story for another time.
The End